“Yes. Emotional spikes. Adrenaline rushes.” Zilch gave a sad little smile. “Apparently, his driving does not produce this. For him.”
“I was gonna say,” Regan gave a weak half-smile. He’d stayed quiet during most of this conversation, trying to absorb all the information he could, but he just didn’t like seeing that bittersweet look on Zilch’s face. He had to say something. “And he seems like a pretty happy guy all in all.”
“Happiness is… a necessity. Even manufactured happiness. Otherwise, people get hurt. Except for me,” Zilch’s tone wasn’t bitter. Instead it sounded almost grateful, fond. “He can’t kill me. But Eye in the Sky will kill him.”
Regan stared. “Wow. SkEye doesn’t fuck around, do they?”
“No.” Zilch closed their eyes. “They’ll interrogate him. He’ll hold out for a while. But nobody lasts.”
“I have to ask,” Evelyn’s voice was level but soft. “Does he know anything sensitive? Anything that could be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands—their hands?”
“No.” Zilch said immediately. “But they’ll think he does.”
“Why is that?” she asked in the same gentle tone.
“His taxi. That must be why they picked him up. That or they recog…” Zilch paused before continuing. “His car has a signal scrambler. Hides Radio Angel’s channel, and masks—” they stopped, eyes sliding over to Regan.
“I see,” Evelyn nodded, not seeming to notice the sentence’s sudden end. “That’s bad. They’ll connect dots where there aren’t any, SkEye’s been after her for years.”
“When they’re done…” Zilch sucked hard on their teeth. “We have to get him out.”
“Wait! His explosions!” Danae pounded a triumphant fist into her other hand. “You said that things go boom around him when he’s anything but happy—and he sure won’t be now. Won’t he blow his cell wide open? He might even be able to demolish the place and break out himself!”
But Zilch shook their head. “They’re random. Finn can’t control when. Where. Force. Never knows. He feels too hard, something explodes. Someone gets hurt.” Zilch looked pained themself. “Suppressing emotion… can be its own torture.”
“It’ll be okay,” Rose said softly. Interacting with the looming, undead-looking figure should have been immediately disconcerting. Dead flesh and stitches and staring eyes set off a primal fear reflex in any human being. But she didn’t pick up any hostility in Zilch’s admittedly hard-to-discern tone or body language. What she did read was fear, pain and desperation, and that could only come from one place. “We’ll bring him home.”
“Fast. Or he’s dead.” Their face shifted from concerned to grim, eyes narrowed to slits as if they saw nothing but bad omens and worse outcomes.
“Then let’s go.” Evelyn started down the hallway. “That’s a big fan of mine in there! You know how I feel about people hurting my babies. Somebody’s going to hurt, and it’s not going to be him.”
“Gotta say, I love it when you talk like that!” Danae rocketed off after her down the hall, and Rose and Regan hurried to catch up.
“Thank you,” Zilch said in a faint voice, drawing up even with Evelyn on surprisingly fast steps. She caught a glimpse of blue and green eyes before they pulled up their black hood, and wasn’t sure how she ever could have found them emotionless before. In her long career as one of Parole’s primary defenders, she’d seen more frightened people searching for lost loved ones than she could remember. All their eyes tended to look the same: just like the ones under that hood.
“It’s what I’m here for.” She nodded. “Now let’s go get your boy back.”
❈
Everywhere he looked was bright, blinding white light. Finn turned around slowly, then glanced straight up, trying to find some definition of corners or walls or even a floor, but there were no shadows, no lines. He couldn’t tell if the walls were right in front of his face or if the white stretched on forever. His breathing became rapid and shallow under the glare; he sweated like an ant under a magnifying glass.
He glanced down at himself to make sure it wasn’t his eyes, that he hadn’t gone blind. He wore disposable hospital clothes, a paper gown that left him feeling naked and vulnerable. He was barefoot; he instinctively hugged his upper body, and tried to make himself small. His head pounded. He ran a careful hand through his hair; no blood, but a nasty raised bump on the back of his head sent a spasm of pain through his skull at the slightest touch.
“Hello?” Finn called. His voice seemed to die in the air, muffled as if he were surrounded on all sides by several feet of snow. He swallowed hard, shivering despite the uncomfortable heat. No answer. A little cold knot started to form in his stomach.
He took three steps and hit a wall—there were walls here, then. The surface was smooth and hot; it hurt to keep his hands on them. But he felt along the wall and realized it was smoothly curving. He was inside a white cylinder, with no windows, no doors. How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was… It had been night. Outside? He’d been outside, because he’d had to go somewhere.…
Everything flooded back in a rush. Going to Danae and Rose’s house to get their things, Evelyn’s list, Zilch telling him not to worry, then Eye in the Sky… the helicopter’s bright lights bearing down on him, the impact and pain on the back of his skull. Screaming for Zilch… who lay on the ground, not moving. Why hadn’t Zilch saved him? Were they hurt? Worse? Or was Finn just not worth the effort? A chill went through him, even as the temperature rose. He could barely breathe, was there something wrong with the air?
Finn gasped. Air. How much air was in here? He struggled to keep his breathing and heart under control—and more importantly, his fear. He couldn’t afford to panic and risk an explosion.
“State your name.”
Finn started at the harsh voice that suddenly cut through the silence. He spun around, searching for a hidden speaker or camera, but found nothing but white.
“Wh—tell me why I’m here first! Where am I? What did I do?”
“You entered a secured zone in an unapproved vehicle. A preliminary scan revealed it to be equipped with illegal signal dampening, EM-signature masking and field-scrambling devices. Force was authorized to neutralize this threat, and you have been detained for questioning.”
The voice hadn’t answered his question about where he was being held, but it wasn’t hard to guess. His mouth fell open but no sound came out. Sweat poured down his face and the paper shirt stuck to his skin.
“You provided shelter and assistance to confirmed criminals. This interrogation will continue indefinitely until you provide us with the location of Evelyn Calliope and Chimera, as well as their connection to the cyber-anarchist CyborJ Syndicate.”
“What? Why?” Finn stammered. “They haven’t done anything wrong! I entered your unauthorized whatever area, fine, and I have some—the dampening devices are just to protect my passengers’ privacy, okay? People still deserve some safe places even here, that’s all, but Evelyn’s never done a bad thing in her life, so you just leave—”
“Chimera is wanted for multiple counts of theft, trespassing, espionage and murder as well as treason, and Calliope has long been identified as a propaganda-distributing agitator at militia base Emerald Bar.”
“Militia base?” Finn’s mouth dropped open. “It’s a club! Evelyn’s not an agitator, she sings! She’s like, the opposite! She makes people happy!”
“This is your final warning.”
“And who’s Chimera? I don't know anyo—”
Finn smelled the burning flesh before the pain registered. He fell over, screaming, as the floor under his bare feet erupted in blazing heat—he was paralyzed, jerking as a cruel electrical current coursed through his body. And all the while, the voice slammed into his eardrums like a tidal wave, a constant droning pounding that he couldn’t shut out, no matter how hard he clutched at his ears.
Finn twitched and spasmed on the floor long after the electrici
ty stopped its attack on his system, gasping for breath in the hot and airless room. He fought to clear his eyes and control his bowels, couldn’t even see straight, his bones felt like they turned to jelly.
After what felt like forever, the agony ceased, but he still couldn’t move. He was limp as a rag doll and helpless as a wounded dog in the pound, begging to be put out of its misery.
And all he could think was oh, God, oh, God, I’m going to die. This is an interrogation chamber, the Eye in the Sky is on the other side of this light, and I don’t have the answers they want. I am going to die. I am never going to see Zilch or any of the others again, and I am going to die.
“Are Calliope and Chimera associates of the CyborJ anarchists? Or are they Syndicate members?”
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“How long has the Syndicate been using your vehicle to mask their activities?”
“I don’t—that’s not—”
“Is the radical malcontent known as Radio Angel in league with the CyborJ group or an independent agent? Do your EM-dampening devices and signal scramblers serve to disguise her location as well?”
“I don’t—wait,” Finn stopped. “Why would you ask, when… you could just look at my car. You don’t have my car, do you?”
Silence.
A shaky smile spread across his face. Zilch. They must have gotten away. They must have taken Finn’s taxi and gotten away. For the first time, a flutter of hope rose in his chest. “You don’t actually have anything on me, do you?”
“The name Evelyn Calliope was found on your person during processing.”
Finn’s mouth twitched but no sound came out. A rushing filled his ears. Frantically he lifted up the paper shirt, and felt his hot panic turn to a cold chill of terror when he saw the still-clear and intact swirling ink autograph, letter ‘I’ dotted with a heart.
“I… I like her songs.”
Tears of fear and pain flowed down his face now, and he curled into the fetal position and tried to bury his face in his arms. His ears were ringing, eardrums felt like they had to be exploding…
Wait. Something was wrong. Because nothing was exploding. No thunderous bursts shook the ground; there was no boom and flare of fire and shrapnel. And that sent another cold jolt through his stomach—what was wrong with him? His uncontrollable detonations were his only defense, and they weren’t coming.
“Where are Calliope and Chimera? How are they connected to the CyborJ group?”
“I don’t know! You can ask me as many times as you want, and I’ll never—”
The floor erupted into lightning again and he fell back into the ocean of pain.
White. No air.
He arched his back, screams ripped from his throat as the blinding fire of agony consumed him—
Then it stopped. He was allowed a brief time of silence, though little residual currents still snatched at his body. But still there were no explosions. No sound. Nothing. His mind didn’t race, it didn’t even crawl, it was blank as the cell walls. In the emptiness, he was almost happy. For just a moment, the pain was gone. The absence of pain was the sweetest thing he’d ever felt.
“‘Zilch.’”
Finn’s head jerked up. He froze.
“How did you obtain knowledge of this designation?”
Desig…? Finn didn’t know what any of that meant, but Oh, God, he hadn’t even known what he was screaming when the electricity had ripped through him. He must have yelled for Zilch to save him.
“Zilch, that’s all I can tell you, nothing! Nothing! Zilch!” He shrieked, voice unnaturally high, hysteria creeping in from all directions.
There was no answer. He waited, hands balling into fists. Any second now they’d shock him again, the pain would come back… but nothing. Just the sizzle and stink of burned skin and paper cloth. He started to breathe again. Then screamed.
Finn wailed his heart out as the silence pressed in.
❈
“Ev, pull over!” Danae shouted, as Evelyn stepped on the accelerator. “Right there!”
“Gotta get there if we’re gonna get there!”
“Can’t believe I’m the one telling you to slow down—but we gotta think for two seconds before we just charge right in!”
Rubber burned and screeched as Evelyn pulled the car up against the curb and slammed on the brakes.
“It’s a scary night out tonight, duckies,” the ever-present girl on the radio said, usually cheerful voice dead-serious in warning. “A little bird told me that there’s been another arrest, and it’s a guy I love a whole lot. Baby, if you can hear me, stay strong!”
“Finn…” Zilch cranked the volume up just a little too loud.
“We’re all pulling for you, and I’m not gonna rest until you’re home safe and sound. And neither will your friends. You’re loved, and you’re not forgotten, just hang on! Help is on its way, we are all—”
Letting out a growl that made them all turn and look, Zilch grabbed the old circular volume dial and twisted it so hard it sounded like they might have snapped something clean off. At least it turned off the radio. “Five minutes. Then I go in. With or—” They stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide, mouth hanging so far open their jaw looked like it might unhinge, nothing coming out but strangled gasps.
“Hey,” Regan leaned forward from the back seat, feeling an uneasy chill. If he recognized anything tonight it was that look of shock and panic. He must have worn something like it when Hans had possessed him and stopped his breath. “What—”
Zilch pitched forward, slumping against the steering wheel. The horn blared and they all jumped. Danae lunged forward and dragged them back to stop the noise. They couldn’t answer—their fingers curled into hooks, as they clawed desperately at their hollow chest, eyes wide with terror
“Help me—”
“Zilch? Listen to me, just breathe, okay? Just breathe.” Regan leaned forward from the back seat, talking quietly in their reattached ear. “In and out. I’ve… we got this. It’s okay.” He paused. He had no idea how Zilch actually breathed, or if their lungs were even in their chest at all—somehow he doubted it—but he did know one thing. “There is… there is enough air.”
They shut their eyes very tightly. Gradually, over several seconds, their spasmodic hyperventilation and violent shaking slowed, and finally stopped. Their hands loosened their desperate hold on their own shirt and chest, and finally fell into their lap, shoulders and head dropping. When they were still, their eyes opened again, and they turned their head the slightest angle to look up at Regan, partly pulling back their hood to better see his face.
“Thank you, Chimera.”
“Don’t mention it.” A shaky smile spread across his face.
Zilch turned slowly around to see Evelyn, Rose and Danae staring at them and Regan with near-identical wide-eyed expressions of awe. Their own face now showed no indication of distress, returning to their relatively neutral default. “Now. Plan.”
“Okay, cool,” Danae took a deep breath, shaking it off and gearing right up. “So as far as I’m thinking, we split up—now I know what you’re thinking, that’s how we get killed, right? But no, no, we all have different talents. And at least two of us are really good at being really loud. Ev?”
“Naturally.” Evelyn smiled, recovering fast. “We’ll be outside on diversion duty, while everyone else gets in, search-and-rescues Finn, and gets out as fast as possible.”
“Figure his explosions will give us some cover,” Danae picked up again automatically. “But we still need something big to draw their attention.” She smirked, which Evelyn just as automatically mirrored. “Which we got more than covered. So. Plan?”
Zilch must have been considering, but their stare didn’t change one bit. It rarely did. Finally they nodded.
“Of course, there’s Finn himself,” Rose spoke up for the first time since arriving; she’d been sitting deep in thought the entire way and only just emerged. “There’s no te
lling the state he’ll be in once we actually reach him.”
“Good point,” Evelyn nodded. “Poor kid’ll be totally traumatized—maybe I should go, I can sing him down, fast and easy.”
“That might work,” Rose acknowledged, but looked unconvinced. “But that means I’d be covering the outside. I bet whatever distraction I could think up, yours would be bigger and louder. And honestly, you’ve got the action experience here.”
“And you’ve got the trauma-rescue experience.” Evelyn nodded, seeming almost relieved.
“Then there’s the question of how we even find him.” Rose’s brow remained furrowed in deep consideration. “And then get back out again. Every minute we’re in there is longer he’s in danger—we all are. If we don’t even know where they’re holding him—”
“He’ll be in interrogation. Ground floor,” Regan answered without hesitation. Everyone turned to look at him, and he raised his own eyebrow ridges in surprise.
“Are you starting to remember something?” Evelyn asked hopefully.
He thought hard. “Maybe. I know this building. I know its layout, how to get in and out.”
“How do we get in?”
“Same as everyone else. Drop-off isn’t locked, no reason. We just have to get everyone away from the intake door, that’s all. It’s a detention center, it’s designed to keep people in, so the hard part will be getting back out.”
“No it won’t,” Danae snorted. “Trust me.”
“Do you think you were held here before?” Evelyn studied Regan’s pensive expression with one of her own.
Regan frowned, didn’t answer. He glanced up at Zilch for some indication or at least a clue either way, but they’d pulled their hood back up, and what he could see of their face was as inscrutable to him right now as others must find it all the time.
“Remember anything about surveillance?” Danae squinted through the grimy windshield at the building, voice low and cool.
“Tons.” Regan muttered, feeling his frill beginning to twitch and wishing he didn’t have such an easy giveaway when his heart began to pound. “But I don’t know where they’ll come from, and there’s nothing we can do about that.”
Chameleon Moon Page 19
