by Emily Suvada
He walks back to the kitchen, spinning the pen again. “When Lachlan came, he said that what she’d done couldn’t be reversed. He said the damage was irreparable. He was horrified by how much she’d done to her mind, even though he’d been altering her mind for years. You have to understand—I thought she was gone. I thought she was lost forever. He said that maybe she’d wake, but she’d be like a child, and that she’d wiped the core of her personality and all her memories. Maybe she wouldn’t ever be able to speak or even communicate again.”
I grip the counter hard enough to send a pulse of pain through my wounded arm. “You let Lachlan take her.”
He looks down, guilty. “He said he’d take care of her, not back in a lab, but in the real world. He’d find someone to look after her body, and he’d work on bringing back her mind. I was so broken I could barely look at her. I knew I shouldn’t have let her go so far. I didn’t know he’d change her like this, though—overwrite her completely. Turn her into his daughter. I didn’t know, I swear. I let him take you, and then I was lost. I tried to overthrow Regina out of anger and had to run. I joined Cartaxus, trying to understand the program she’d come from, and threw myself into working my way up the ranks. I watched Lachlan from Cartaxus’s satellites after he left the organization and bought that property. I watched for months, and then one day you stepped out of that cabin and walked to the lakeshore. You knelt and picked a flower, and I almost died.”
He closes his eyes. “As soon as I saw you, I knew. You weren’t her. You were someone else. When I realized she was gone forever, I nearly broke. After that, it hurt too much to see you. I ignored you and the cabin and threw myself into neurocoding—trying to understand what had happened with the implant. I made more progress in a year than anyone had since Regina left Cartaxus, but it wasn’t enough to tell me how to save the girl you used to be.”
He smiles bitterly. “And all along, Lachlan was just suppressing your memories—suppressing who you really are. I thought you’d woken as a new person, that you’d been given a fresh start, but I should have known better. It was just another experiment. He was using the implant the whole time to hide your past from you—to hide me from you—and to keep your talents restrained. I could have come and taken you away any time, but I thought you were gone. When he told me the truth, I vowed never to make that mistake again.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my head spinning. “When did you talk to him?”
“When he came to me at central command to say he was close to finishing the vaccine, and that it was time to release the code you’d written.”
I stand from the kitchen stool, adrenaline racing through me. “You’re working with him?”
Mato shrugs. “He promised me the only thing I want—he said I’d get you back. Of course I’m working with him. Why do you think I came to the Zarathustra lab? To pick up the black-out agents? I came to find you and convince Brink to send us both here. You’re the only one who can stop this. Lachlan doesn’t even understand the Origin code—he can’t figure out how to use it. You have to come back with me to run it yourself. You’re the only one who knows how.”
I step away, shaking my head. “I don’t know how, Mato. I don’t know that code at all. We have to find another way to stop Cartaxus.”
“There’s no stopping this,” he says. “Brink isn’t going to turn back. If you don’t use the Origin code, then we’re all going to die up here.”
“If you can get through to him—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mato says, his voice sharp. “There’s no stopping him, because there’s no stopping the virus anymore, don’t you see? Now that it’s in the pigeons, it’ll mutate into something new and more lethal every week. There’s no way the vaccine will last more than a month. Brink wants to wipe the slate because he’s thinking rigidly—all he can see is vaccines and viruses and traditional human DNA. He won’t even consider the option of changing ourselves into something the virus won’t affect. We’ve tried Cartaxus’s approach to ending this plague, and it’s failed us. It’s time to give the genehackers a try. The Origin code will hold off the attack, and they can keep their bunkers for as long as they want. But the surface is ours. We can beat this virus together—you and I.”
I shake my head, backing away. “There has to be another way. . . .”
“Always a fighter,” he says, twisting the end of the pen he’s been spinning between his fingers. A dull blue light glows at one end. A chill runs through me at the sight. Mato presses a button on the side, and the blue light blinks brighter.
I back into the kitchen counter, glancing past him at the door. He’s blocking my exit. I don’t know what the pen in his hands is supposed to do, but I don’t think it’s good. “Mato, what are you doing?”
He tilts his head, spinning the pen back and forth between the fingers of his left hand. “I’m making a gamble that you won’t kill me for this once you return. This device controls the socket in your head. I had to prepare for the possibility that you would fight me on this. It’s fitted with a tool to control the implant.”
My hand rises slowly to the tangled hair at the back of my head. “Mato, please. Just stop this—let’s talk. We’ll find a way to contact Brink. We have to be able to convince him to see that this isn’t a real solution. He’s just panicking. He doesn’t want millions of people’s deaths on his conscience.”
“I’m through with Brink,” Mato says. He stops spinning the pen and holds it stretched between his hands, his fingers gripping the ends. He twists it slowly, and the back of my head pulses. I drag in a breath, my legs suddenly weak, clutching the kitchen counter for balance.
“I’m going to free you, Jun Bei,” Mato says. “You’re being held back by the very walls inside your mind that you built there. I’m going to help you knock them down. It’s time for you to come back to me, and for us to work together to beat this plague the way we should have been all along.”
He twists the pen again, and the back of my head begins to ache. My lungs shudder, the edges of my vision growing blurry. I stumble back blindly, grabbing at the wall for balance. “Mato, stop this,” I choke out. “You’re hurting me.”
“I know I am,” Mato says, stepping closer, his eyes shining. “I’ve seen glimpses of you, of your true self coming back over the last few days, but only when you’re wounded. I think I need to give you a little help to find your way back to me, Jun Bei.”
“I’m not Jun Bei, Mato,” I beg. “She’s gone. Hurting me won’t bring her back.”
“Oh,” he says, tilting his head, twisting the pen again, “I think perhaps it will.”
CHAPTER 32
PAIN CRACKLES THROUGH MY HEAD, arcing across my skull. I suck in a gasp, shaking, leaning against the wall.
“I would very much like to avoid this, Jun Bei,” Mato says. “But the implant responds to your thoughts most clearly when you’re fighting for your life. I’ve thought about every possible option, and I believe this is the cleanest way.”
“I’m not Jun Bei,” I say, looking around desperately for something to defend myself with. There are no weapons close to me, but there’s a knife block on the other side of the kitchen. I throw an elbow into Mato’s chest, trying to push past him, but he twists the pen again and a blade of pain cuts into the back of my head, sending me to my knees on the floor.
The world flickers to silver, then back again. I drag in a breath, trying to get up. The base of my skull feels like it’s on fire. My nerves are blazing with pain. I try to stand up, coughing, my vision spinning.
“You’ll understand soon,” Mato says, walking over, his eyes locked on me. “I take no pleasure in this.”
I throw my hands up uselessly as he twists the pen again, and a wall of pain tumbles down on me.
My cheek hits the tiles, a scream tearing from my chest. My vision flickers, pixelating, flashing to black and white before refocusing. My legs draw in instinctively, my body curling into a protective ball on the floor.
&n
bsp; “Focus on your past, Jun Bei,” Mato says, walking in a circle around me. “This may feel painful, but I assure you it’s perfectly safe. I even tested this code on myself to make sure I wouldn’t hurt you.” He twists the pen again, burning a line of fire from my neck all the way down my spine. I scramble into a crouch, gritting my teeth against the pain, and launch myself at his knees.
He stumbles as I crash into him, and he falls back against the kitchen counter. He manages to grab hold of it and keep himself upright, but the pen clatters from his hands. It lands on the tiles beside me, and I throw myself across the floor after it, grabbing it desperately, snapping it in half.
Instantly the fog of pain pulsing from the back of my head clears.
“Impressive,” Mato says, gasping for air. He straightens slowly, clutching his side where he hit the kitchen counter. He said Anna broke one of his ribs when she gave him the adrenaline shot outside Entropia.
I stagger to my feet, swaying, looking around wildly for a way out, but Mato is still between me and the front door. If I can’t escape, I’m going to need a weapon. My eyes cut again to the knife block, my training with Leoben roaring back through me. Be more aggressive. I launch myself across the room, bolting for the knives.
Mato’s footsteps pound behind me. I force myself to run, urging every fiber of my tech-enhanced muscles to engage. I don’t have time to come to a stop when I reach the counter, so I slam into it, the gray marble lip hitting my stomach hard enough to knock the air from me. I have just enough time to grab a knife and whirl around, flinging the blade at Mato.
It hits him in the shoulder, embedding itself halfway. Deep enough to make him cry out and stumble back, clutching the wound. His eyes grow wide with shock as he looks down at the blade, then he yanks it from his shoulder and lifts it, blood streaming over his hand.
“I guess I’m going to have to hurt you the old-fashioned way,” he says.
Ice shoots through my veins. He lunges across the kitchen at me, the knife flashing, and I barely have time to throw myself out of the blade’s path. He’s still angling himself between me and the door, so I shove away from the kitchen counter and race down the hallway, searching for another exit. Past the dining room, past a bedroom with genehacked ivy clawing into the plaster.
I throw a glance behind me, seeing Mato with the knife in one hand following me with eerie calmness, his mask opaque and matte. A chill runs through me. I grab the wall for balance and throw myself into the room at the end of the hallway. There’s a heavy-looking steel chair with legs that look like spikes, a small wooden table, and a daybed with a linen cover and blanket draped over it. But no exits. The window is barred, looking out over the desert.
I’ve run into a trap.
“Shit,” I gasp, spinning around, but it’s already too late. The glass door hisses shut behind me, its gleaming hinges locking with a click. Through the glass, Mato regards me with what might be a smile.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this earlier,” he says, his voice muffled through the door. “Much cleaner to keep you in here. I’ll figure out a way to bring you back, Jun Bei, don’t worry.”
I look around wildly for a weapon, a way out, and a dark smudge in the desert beyond the window catches my eye. A Comox is sweeping in from the south. It has to be the others. I spin back to Mato, but he’s already turned away. He stalks back to the kitchen and runs the water in the sink, scrubbing the blood from his hands, then grabs his jacket from the counter and pulls it on carefully over his wounded shoulder. He slides one of the kitchen drawers open, lifting a handgun out, tucking it into his waistband at the small of his back. He closes the drawer and strides back through the living room to the front door as the Comox approaches.
He’s going to hurt them. The Comox swings lower, dropping toward the driveway. I try frantically to send a comm to Cole, but my tech shows him as offline. He must have gone dark. The others don’t know what they’re walking into—Mato could kill them. He could torture them if he thought it would help destroy the walls inside my mind. The two of them have been lying to me—for all I know, they’ve been planning to hurt me too—but they’re still my family.
I can’t let them walk into a trap like this.
“No!” I shout, pounding at the door.
The Comox lands in the driveway, sending up a billowing cloud of dust. I slam my hands desperately against the window as the ramp descends. There’s no sign of Leoben, but Cole walks out, squinting, and Anna follows. They must have followed me here—found the house somehow. Maybe Cole could track the jeep. Anna’s rifle is over her shoulder, but her other hand isn’t near it, and she’s half-turned away from Mato to scan the desert as he walks out.
“No!” I scream, beating at the glass, but Cole doesn’t even glance at me. Anna walks across the driveway toward Mato. Her lips part, but I can’t hear what she’s saying.
Whatever Mato says in reply, it seems to leave Anna satisfied. Her shoulders relax, and I don’t know how she can’t see that he’s dangerous. He has a knife wound in his shoulder, a handgun in his waistband. And yet he holds out one arm, gesturing for Anna and Cole to come inside, and the two of them walk toward the house.
I turn from the window, my mind spinning with panic. I need to get out of this room. My eyes dance over the ceiling, the vents set into the baseboards, the sensor lock at the door. Nothing easy to hack, not enough time.
But there’s also a wall of glass opening up to the living room, and that I can definitely get through.
I whirl around, grabbing the steel-pronged chair, swinging it at the wall. It bounces off the glass, but the sound echoes through the room, and Mato flinches. The movement sends a shock of pain up my wounded arm, but there’s a fresh, gleaming chip in the glass. I grab the chair again, gritting my teeth, hurling it back again. This time, the chip becomes a crack. I let out a strangled cry, swinging the chair once more at the fraying glass, and it shatters.
Freedom. I lurch through the shattered wall, my newly mended wrist aching. White spots burn across my vision, my legs going weak. I push off the wall and race for the kitchen.
“Cole!” I scream.
The front door is open. The three of them are standing in the living room. Mato turns, regarding me coolly. Cole’s eyes cut to me, taking in my face, but I can tell from his expression that he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know that Mato’s hurting me. Anna sees it faster—the situation, the threat. She reaches for her weapon. I lurch past Mato, drawing in a breath to scream that he has a gun, and time slows to a crawl.
Mato’s hand shoots out and grabs my hair. Cole’s eyes flash to black. The horizon tilts as Mato yanks me closer, dragging me in front of him. I stumble, trying to bring up one elbow to hit him in the face, but I realize too late that Mato is holding his gun.
Anna’s rifle is out, but it’s still at her side. Mato’s is already up, microseconds faster. He lifts it in a clean arc, inhumanly fast, on a straight path to its target. I try to pull away from him, or throw out one arm to knock his aim off course, but it’s too late.
A single shot echoes through the house as he shoots Anna in the chest.
CHAPTER 33
A SCREAM TEARS FROM MY throat as Anna flies backward, her body jolting from the bullet. The sound of the shot echoes through me, saturating my senses. The gun in Anna’s hands clatters away as she hits the floor like a doll, her head bouncing hard on the tiles.
“No!” I shout, sending an elbow back into the knife wound in Mato’s shoulder. He gasps, his grip on me loosening just enough for me to break free. I scramble forward, launching myself at Anna. Her eyes are fluttering. Dark spots of her blood glisten on the tiles, her fingers tracing scarlet streaks on the marble as she reaches across the floor for her gun. I drop to my knees beside her and press my hands to the wound in her chest, scanning the room. There’s still time to save her. She’s a black-out agent. Her body is full of cutting-edge tech. I can get her through this if I can hack into her panel. I drag up my cuff�
��s menu, but Cole lets out a cry of pain.
“Not so fast,” Mato mutters.
I look up. Cole is on his hands and knees on the floor, his muscles tense, struggling to breathe. His face is white, his skin beaded with sweat. He looks like he did when Leoben’s jeep exploded—like he’s hurt so badly it’s crashing his tech.
But there’s not a scratch on him.
Mato tilts his head, and Cole collapses on his side, gasping in pain. Mato must be hurting him through his tech somehow. I press down harder on Anna’s chest, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood. She’s bleeding out. She’s dying. Mato steps across the floor and kicks her gun away.
“Stop this!” I shout. “Please, Mato!”
“You can save them both,” he says. “This should be easy for you, Jun Bei.”
“No, please,” I whisper. I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to get me to fraction and split my mind to save Cole and Anna. He knows I’m on the edge, that it might bring down the wall inside me. I can already feel it crumbling, the ocean pressing against me. I’m on the verge of losing myself. Pushing my mind any further might break me.
But I don’t have a choice.
I pull my cuff’s interface into my vision again, sending out a pulse. Flickers of light blaze across the room—around Cole’s panel, and Mato’s. His mask, the jeep outside, Anna’s arm beside me. I lock my focus onto Cole’s panel, sliding into his black-out tech, but Mato beats me to it.
His response is immediate, deflecting my attack. Clear, swift, perfect code batting me away from Cole’s tech. For the first time I can glimpse the true extent of Mato’s skills. Even bent over, one hand clutched to his shoulder, his grip on Cole’s tech is like nothing I’ve seen before.
He is killing Cole in more than one dimension—I can sense it, feel it prickling at those same corners in my mind. Mato’s eyes gleam, the mask a slash of black across his face, and for the first time I can see what Cole must have when he saw me wearing the cuff. I understand what he was trying to warn me about when he said that Jun Bei shouldn’t have been trained by Cartaxus—why you shouldn’t mix science and death.
