He blinked slowly. Waited.
“No,” she said. “Just me. Can we go?”
Soul Patch led the way out. Slick followed.
21
The elevator opened.
A hefty nurse intercepted Cali and her escort. She was doughy with a hook-shaped scar at the corner of her mouth. This was her floor. Soul Patch engaged her while Slick guided Cali past them despite the nurse’s protests. A man sat at the end of the hall next to a door, his ankles crossed and a newspaper spread open. He folded it beneath his arm and stood up.
“Turn around.” He made a twirling motion with his finger.
Cali faced the other direction and felt a scanner pressed against her back, evidently too shy to press it near her throat. “Didn’t we already do this?”
She heard the instrument slide back into the sheath on his hip. He tugged her shoulder so that she turned back around, and stepped aside. Slick nodded at the door. They waited as she hesitantly placed her hand on it. It swung open, heavy on the cushioned hinges, and she heard Slick ask the other guy if he saw the baseball game.
The room smelled like the hallway—clean, germ-free, and artificial. It was darker, more points of light—greens and reds and lighted numbers—dotted medical machinery on the wall and rolling carts. Plastic bags hung from hooks with clear tubes that dangled down to a bed—
Her back hit the door, pushing it closed.
Seeing the video… but this…
There wasn’t much to see, actually. His body was covered beneath sheets and wrapped in gauze and casts. His head was fully encased and the nose was covered. Only the eyes were exposed, the skin dark purple, tinges of yellow. A tube exited his mouth, taped in place and attached to a ventilator that whooshed in and out with air.
She knew the extent of the damage; she knew what she was going to see. She saw his body at the end of the video, but seeing it in the flesh was…
I made a mistake.
A man stood at the foot of the bed, hands folded in front. His head was shaved, his face expressionless. The neck larger than the head.
“Four guards,” she said. “You act like he’s a criminal.”
“He is.” Marcus sat beside the bed, legs crossed; he eyed her with the larger of his two eyes.
“How many has he murdered?” she asked. “How many has he robbed? Raped?”
“Worse. He’s spreading the disease of biomites.”
“Then everyone is guilty.”
“Your brother is guilty of excess.”
“And that’s worse than murder?”
He smiled. “They are one and the same.”
Cali went to her brother’s side. She held the two exposed fingers. The ventilator hissed at her. She wanted to kiss his forehead and whisper in his ear, tell him things were going to be all right like when he was little and things hurt. She wanted to tell him she was sorry.
But didn’t.
“Wait outside, James,” Marcus said.
There was laughter in the hall. The men peeked inside as the door slowly closed.
Cali rubbed his fingertips. Despite her best efforts, a tear escaped the corner of her eye.
______
“I know this must be hard,” Marcus said. “Tell me why it happened.”
“I should be asking you that question,” she said.
“You hack my personal information, show me the security footage of your brother getting beat to a pulp and I’m supposed to believe you don’t know anything?”
He laughed, looked away and shook his head. Thinking.
“The guard had no history of violence. His wife slept with his best friend and he didn’t even slice the guy’s tires. Now you want me to believe he flew into a murderous rage because he lost a chess game? Did you stick around and watch what happened after they peeled him off your brother? He blubbered like a little girl. He tried to hug your brother. He wailed apologies all the way to a holding cell and tried to kill himself the next morning.”
Marcus paused. He leaned forward, lowering his voice.
“You ruined his life, Cali. He’s going to prison for a long time. You should be ashamed. Now, you want to tell me how you did this?”
“My brother’s half dead and you want me to feel sorry for the attacker?”
“Your brother should be dead. If the hospital didn’t keep his biomites suppressed, he’d be halfskin by now.”
He had more thoughts, but was cautious she might somehow gather more evidence. He suspected something more was going on, a gut feeling he was way behind the true nature of this incident. Marcus was an intuitive man. He was usually right, but he didn’t know how she got the video and couldn’t be sure she wasn’t recording this. He didn’t want to give away too much.
Screw it. The truth is the truth.
“He should be dead,” he continued. “Without his biomites fully activated, there’s too much damage. Somehow, he lives. Want to explain?”
“It’s medicine. We’re not in the Dark Ages.”
“The doctors are mystified. They say his internal injuries should have been fatal without fully activated biomites, but activating them would make him halfskin. Either way, he should be dead. I’m confused. Do you know something I don’t?”
“I’ll tell you what I know. My brother took a beating from a federal employee, a beating the world would love to see. A beating your political career wouldn’t. Neither would the president.”
“How’d you get it?” His tone deadened.
Cali looked back to her brother. She wanted to take the tube out of his mouth. It had to be uncomfortable.
“I know your tragic past,” he said. “Believe it or not, I can make it worse.”
“None of that will help you,” she said, not looking up. “Not when the video is released to the press and the pro-bionanotechnology protest groups. Not when your personal information is released with it.”
Her expression was as lifeless as his.
“Surely you have some secrets,” she said. “Something you don’t want anyone to see.”
He didn’t flinch.
“We have our own public relations. Truth can easily be spun into lies and urban legends. The Associated Press won’t run it, not from a warped source like you. Unstable, unemployed. Damaged. We’ll smear your reputation and your brother’s all over the world.”
“Politics isn’t about truth. It’s making people believe the story. They’ll love what I have to show them. And it just happens to be the truth.”
Long pause. Blink.
Smile.
“I suppose we have a stalemate,” he said.
“That would mean we’re tied, but I don’t care. I’ve got nothing to lose. You have everything.”
She remained placid.
“That’s not a stalemate.”
He watched her. The smile remained but quickly hollowed. Thinking, thinking…
“What do you want?”
“I want visitation rights to see him whenever I want. I want the right to be in the same room with him at all times and relate to him as a human being.”
Marcus didn’t move.
“I want the biomites fully activated so that he can heal quickly and painlessly, despite the threat of halfskin. I want him treated like a boy that’s not imprisoned for living.”
“You forgot to ask for his freedom.”
She didn’t respond.
“Oh, but why ask? If this is a ploy to help him escape, I promise you that won’t happen. We’ll have security inside and outside of this room. You won’t get outside this hospital. If this is a chess game, Cali, then you’re in checkmate. Your brother will heal and return to the Center. I imagine after we fully activate the biomites, though, he won’t get that far. I won’t even have to fly back to Illinois, I’ll just sit in the waiting room until then and watch him shut down. You’re welcome to watch.”
If she was recording, he was screwed. He’d be seen as the tyrant the public and the press always suspected. But she threw the first s
wing. Marcus wasn’t fond of cowering. You don’t get far in politics with that.
“He’s family,” she whispered. “He’s all I’ve got.”
“I sympathize. But that’s got nothing to do with my job.”
“Perhaps you would better understand if your wife, Janine, took your boys to the store and they were in an accident.”
Marcus’s complexion turned a shade chalky.
“Maybe your tone would change if Janine died. Only Andrew and William survive, but Andrew doesn’t for long. He’s brain-dead that evening. By morning, all you have is William. They have to seed him with biomites to keep him alive. It works. Your son is alive and you watch him grow up. You come home every day and ask him about school and his friends and take pictures before football games.
“And then the authorities show up. M0ther has reported he’s redline. Despite all your protests, all your explanations, they take him from you. Despite all your connections, they treat him like a criminal when all he wanted to do was live. All you wanted was for him to live. All you wanted was to not be alone. Because the law’s the law, Marcus. There’s nothing you can do but watch him get turned off.”
Cali held his gaze. “Maybe then you’d feel differently.”
Marcus was surprised at how that felt. He could separate work from family. Always could.
“Are you threatening me?” he said. “I could have you arrested for suggesting the murder of my wife and child.”
“If you do, this goes live.”
Cali held up her phone. The video of Nix’s beating started with George bursting through the door. He didn’t watch it. He didn’t fidget, just looked off at something far away.
Thinking, thinking…
Marcus went to the door and stopped. He was about to say something, then left.
______
Cali waited a couple minutes for him to return. When he didn’t, she dared to smile while she reached for her phone. She tapped the screen and pressed it against her cheek. It rang four times. Each one pulled her stomach tighter. Colder.
“Hello?”
“Avery.” Cali let go of a long-held breath. “Come up, honey.”
The tears cut loose.
22
Marcus walked into the hall. Arms folded, eyes cast down.
His security team watched him pace away and lean against the wall. Minutes ticked by. The guards began whispering about strip clubs and a fight. Baseball tickets were mentioned and something about calling an old college buddy…
He knew her past.
He knew everything about her.
He couldn’t blame her. That family was cursed. But she was dangerous.
She knew things, things about biomites that he didn’t. He didn’t like her being in that room, but there was nowhere to go. There was no escape. He needed time to think this one out. The video couldn’t get out, not yet. And the kid wouldn’t die, not soon enough. Not with the doctors looking. He needed time to clean things up, make arrangements.
“James.” He waved his security guard over.
James squared his shoulders. Marcus kept his head down, voice low.
“I’m going to talk with Dr. Erickson about removing the biomite suppression. His sister will be allowed to stay in the room, but I want you to keep her in your sight at all times. You can rotate the watch with those two.”
James listened.
“She’s not allowed to leave. If she’s got a hotel room around here, send someone after her stuff. As far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t leave the hospital. Understand?”
James nodded. Marcus stared at him. He turned toward the other two.
“Hey!” They snapped quiet. “This isn’t a frat party.”
Their expressions shifted, darkly.
Marcus, half their size and not nearly as strong, stayed in place a few seconds. Thinking.
He told James to get in there.
And then he was down the hall. He was going to talk with the chief biomite doctor. After that, he was going to find where she lived and turn her house inside out.
If there was time, he’d text his wife.
23
Cali stared out the window, clutching her elbows. They were pointy. She rubbed the chilly bumps that seemed to always be rising on her skin. The room felt colder.
Avery didn’t complain.
She was in the corner, telling a story with two stuffed animals. Security brought all their stuff from Marriott that first night. They went through it, she was sure. They wouldn’t find anything. She’d purged her laptop, databombed the hard drive and wiped out all her accounts.
The same was true of the house. Sooner or later, they would find the basement lab. Once this was over, they would haul everything out and pull it apart, piece by piece. But they’d find nothing. Cali knew she wasn’t going back. Everything she needed was inside her.
And her brother.
New breeds.
Sometimes Avery would sit on her lap and tell a story, one she made up on the fly. Cali told her to write them down so she could practice becoming a writer. She would do that on scraps of paper and leave them around the room. Eventually she got bored and started telling the stories out loud again.
“What do you think the bad guy’s name should be, Mr. James?”
The security guard didn’t answer. He never did. He just stood there watching them. Didn’t read, didn’t watch TV. Just watched with his mouth closed.
Outside, it was raining big gray drops, blurring the city below. Cars were jammed up and pedestrians walked beneath umbrellas of red or black or whatever. Some took cover beneath an awning. It was probably warmer outside than it was in the room, but the loneliness seeped through the glass like a wet kiss, springing a fresh layer of chilly flesh.
“Momma, I’m hungry.” Avery pressed Mr. Pillsbury—a fat, brown bear—against the window. “Look how far up we are.”
“I’ll get something to eat pretty soon.”
“Can I get ice cream?”
“The cafeteria probably has something good.”
Avery cheered. She walked Mr. Pillsbury across the room, stopped in front of James and did a little dance.
Three days of this.
Three days since they activated Nix’s biomites and started an aggressive healing program. Almost fifty trillion cell-sized biomites were mending bones and tissue. Internal bleeding had stopped. His body temperature was slightly elevated from all the activity, but the color around his eyes had turned from black water to jaundice yellow. The respirator sat quietly in the corner. Nix breathed easily on his own.
Still, he lay unconscious.
Come on, Nix.
There wasn’t much time. Marcus had given her everything she asked for, but there wasn’t much of a window here. She was feeling the pressure. What was I thinking, we’d just walk out of the hospital? She doubted herself, wondering if it would’ve been easier to bust out of the Center than escape the hospital. This wasn’t what she planned. Nix had to be healthy to leave. Had to be awake.
Before he became halfskin.
She needed him to wake up.
“Mr. James?” Avery called. “I have a question. Do you have a dog?”
James didn’t answer.
Avery continued about what kind of dog she wanted and what she would name him.
Cali leaned her head against the window. The glass felt good. She wanted to stop thinking but didn’t want to leave Avery all alone. Her head was filled with a white noise, like static, electric cotton. It fogged her focus. She hoped these weren’t side effects from the new breeds. She didn’t have time to test, just seeded herself in the basement lab. It was stupid, but there wasn’t a choice. If they were failing now, well then, it was game over.
“What’s your favorite ice cream?”
Silence.
“I like chocolate chips in mine but not too many. Have you ever put peanut butter in your ice cream?”
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
> “WILL YOU ANSWER HER?” Cali swung around. “She’s not asking you to put your gun up your ass, she just wants to know what your favorite ice cream is.”
James turned his head, regarding her without expression. Avery pulled her legs onto her chair and wrapped her arms around them. She hid behind Mr. Pillsbury.
“I’m sorry.” Cali flopped into the chair next to the bed. She pulled her legs under her and rubbed her tired face, scratching her scalp.
“You need something to eat,” James said, his voice deep and demanding.
“I know.” Cali laid her head back. “I’ll get something soon.”
Avery shuffled across the room, leaning against her mother. Cali made some space for her to sit. She squished next to her, nice and warm and cuddly. Cali laid her cheek on top of her daughter’s head.
“Tell me a story,” she whispered. “A good one.”
Avery started with a bright sunny day. She was on the porch with her mother, and Uncle Nix was in the backyard, digging a hole to the middle of the world, where they would make their home. Where no one could hurt them.
Cali closed her eyes. She smiled.
Then she projected a thought, one she hoped would be heard.
[Wake up, Nix. Wake up.]
24
Trapped in a long night.
Pain wrapped around Nix like a coffin. He willfully fled into unconsciousness. The new breeds kept him alive, but they couldn’t heal. The longer he stayed in bed, the less they helped.
He got worse.
It got painful.
Not what he expected.
Minutes were days. Hours, months.
There was no rest. The large blank periods were not measured in time. He returned to self-awareness somewhere in the formless space of his mind. He couldn’t sense the confines of his body, just the agony. He couldn’t move his fingers, his toes. Couldn’t open his eyes.
He sensed pressure. Felt disharmony. Experienced floundering organs and broken pieces. If he could disconnect entirely, he would.
Death.
That would be a good deal.
It would only take a thought-command directed at the new breeds working so tirelessly to keep his body alive.
Halfskin Boxed Page 9
