Halfskin

by Tony Bertauski

He would have to wake up now.

  33

  James adjusted his weight.

  His left butt cheek was numb. The chair had no padding. If it did, it had been mashed thinner than rice paper by three hundred pounds of security guard. He’d already paced back and forth to get the blood flowing through his lower portions, but it only worked his bowels into a tizzy. He couldn’t hit the toilet until he was relieved, and Mr. Anderson was dead set on leaving him there until everything was squared away.

  Sometime that afternoon.

  James snapped the paper open and began reading the sports section for the third time.

  Some said the job of a security guard was 90% boredom, 10% adrenaline. James felt it was closer to 99%. Had he known he was training to read newspapers and open car doors, he might’ve had second thoughts. But it paid the bills and he wasn’t digging ditches, so he shut the hell up and shifted his weight near the middle of his left and right cheek.

  He was somewhere between the Chicago White Sox ninth inning collapse and the suspension of a biomite-enhanced recruit when the buzzing started. It wasn’t anything noticeable, sort of like a head rush when standing too quickly or temporarily seeing spots. He chalked it up to eating Mexican. Taquitos at 7:00 a.m. can wreak havoc.

  The buzz crept around the back of his neck like fingers massaging his jawbone. It crawled over his gums, his teeth, up into his sinuses and around his temples. The backs of his eyeballs itched.

  He blinked back the odd sensation and rubbed his eyes with finger and thumb. He was going to have to call in a backup and explain that Mother Nature could be an insistent bitch. Somehow he didn’t think dropping a Mexican deuce in a bedpan was going to cut it.

  He took a breath, wiping his brow. Maybe the Want Ads would get his mind off it. He was thinking about a dog anyway. His watch reported 11:00 a.m.

  Never going to make it.

  He plowed through the pet section and ended up studying real estate. He hardly noticed the buzzing. It was still there, just wasn’t bothering him. Wasn’t in the way. Seemed normal.

  The door opened. Just a crack at first.

  James looked up from the funny pages. Cali looked back with one eye. She seemed to struggle with the heavy door; then it swung open.

  She just stood there, in the doorway. She stared. He stared.

  “Going to get something to eat,” she said.

  James blinked.

  The edges of her face were blurry. Kind of glowing, like the soft light photographers use to dress up wedding pictures. James folded the paper under his arm and gouged his eyes again. When he opened them, the girl was past him. She took half-steps, trailing her fingers along the wall as she went. She stopped after each step, paused, took another. She didn’t look back, just kept going until she reached the turn. She crossed from the right wall to the left with three quick shuffles, bracing herself against the wall. It took a couple waves to finger the armrest of a wheelchair peeking around the corner, like she didn’t have another step left in her.

  Cali fell into it. Her head sagged like dead weight.

  Bells went off in James’s head, the kind of bells that were drilled into security guards. The kind of bells that sound like something between a car horn and a fire alarm. The kind that push a guard to his feet and shove him down the hall, made him ask a few questions and poke a few holes.

  Skip. Skip-skip.

  Click.

  James dug his fingers into his eyes. Shook his head.

  She was gone.

  She’d already wheeled away, down the hall, going to the cafeteria to get something to eat, because the woman just hadn’t been eating. I mean, she hadn’t eaten more than an orange slice since she’d gone in that room. Couldn’t say anyone could blame her. Her brother was near the end of a ship’s plank, about to be switched off like a light. And the news only got worse. She was going, too.

  Woman couldn’t catch a break.

  The alarm bell was drowned out by a new wave of buzzing, this time reaching over the top of his scalp and pulling his upper lip over his eyebrows. His eyes hurt from repeated grinding. The bells were still in the distance, like an ambulance going in the other direction, now around the bend. Danger over there. Not here.

  He rattled the paper and decided to start with the front page. He’d read every story, starting at the top. That’s how he stayed awake when things began to grind. Pay attention to details, listen to sounds, see everything. Nothing would get past him.

  The door opened.

  Cali stepped out. “Forgot my bag.”

  She slung a heavy canvas bag over her shoulder and walked down the hall, all the way to the end without touching the wall or stopping for balance. No wheelchair down there. She turned the corner.

  The alarm bell was deafening.

  James stood, reached for his phone, took a step—

  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

  Next thing, he was sitting. Face in hands. Both cheeks numb.

  There was a bell in his head, but he didn’t know exactly why. In fact, he couldn’t recall what that sound even meant, forgot what he was all about. But then it came back; he remembered. He considered looking in the room but knew there was no reason. Nothing could get past him. They couldn’t crawl out the window; they’d have to walk past him to get out.

  And he hadn’t seen anyone in hours.

  James rattled the paper. Started at the top of the front page. He’d read every story, top to bottom. And the taquitos had passed.

  He felt better already.

  34

  Nix lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Waiting. Waiting for Cali.

  She slumped in the chair next to his bed, head back. Eyes closed. If anyone walked in, they’d think she was sleeping. Anyone watching the cameras would believe the same.

  [Okay.]

  Her voice was inside his head.

  [They’re watching,] she thought to him that morning. [They’re watching.]

  She relayed everything he was supposed to do into his head. It was weird, talking that way. At first, it was like talking with his ears plugged, echoing with the volume up. It took some adjustment, some getting used to, before he was able to exert some control. She explained the new breeds were like wireless computers aggressively taking over his body and brain.

  [We need them to outnumber the old-generation biomites.]

  [Why?]

  She didn’t answer that. He imagined the new breeds were super soldiers, Pacmen gobbling up cell after cell, biomite after biomite. He didn’t ask the obvious question, didn’t ask… Am I becoming a computer?

  [Okay,] she whispered into his mind again, eyes closed.

  Nix pushed onto his elbows. His ribs ached. He took a second before pulling the covers off and sliding his feet over the edge. The floor was hard and cold. His skin, tired. He covered his eyes. A spotlight was blazing through the window; the sun was a beam of pain stabbing his brain.

  His fingers crawled over the bed and snatched up the clothes Cali laid out. The top was an orange sherbet blouse, the white pants rolled at the bottom. It took longer than usual to put Cali’s clothes on. A few weeks ago, they would’ve been snug.

  When he was dressed, he moved his weight onto his bare feet. His bones were fragile. Joints popped, ligaments creaked. He turned back to the bed, stuffed the extra pillows beneath the covers and pulled the sheet up high like someone was sleeping in the comfort of darkness. He made it to the end of the bed and stopped, taking a breath.

  His skin sizzled with the heat of active biomites. New breeds.

  The door was five steps away. He focused on the handle. Five steps, that was his goal. Get to the door handle first. Get to the door. He took deep breaths, let go of the bed and started after it. Earlier, his sister helped him to the bathroom. He pulled out his catheter with the help of new breeds numbing the pain in his urethra as the balloon-end popped out. He walked back on his own, but he was wobbling.

  Like now.

  He held his hand out. The last two
steps turned into three. He caught the handle and hit the door with his shoulder. The impact made his insides quake. Rattled his lungs. He needed a moment, took one and then another—

  [Go.]

  Cali’s voice was a whip, lashing his hand into action. He pulled the door open—

  A big man looked up from his paper, sitting outside the door. Not happy.

  Nix watched him, waiting for him to do something. But he only stared. Confusion swirled in the glassy orbs beneath his thick brows.

  [Go.]

  Nix yanked the door with unexpected strength. Weakness shook his brittle bones. His muscles were taut. Renewed vigor surged through his nervous system. He was burning adrenaline and needed to go before it hit empty.

  “Going to get something to eat,” he muttered, like his sister told him to say.

  The big man seemed to be working out what the simple phrase meant, like he’d just heard a thick accent and the pieces of what he was seeing and hearing weren’t fitting. Nix didn’t wait for Cali to jar him with another thought. He started down the middle of the hall before shuffling to the wall for support. He stepped quickly past doorways.

  The wheelchair was there, right around the corner. Waiting.

  He focused on it and didn’t look back. His goal was to get to it.

  Nix panted.

  He stopped across from his goal. Summoning the courage, he took three quick steps across the hallway’s gulf to the other side. The tank had reached empty. There were no steps left in him. He fingered the wheelchair closer and collapsed into the cushioned seat.

  Made it.

  There he was, in the hall. In the wheelchair.

  The big man reading his paper.

  Nix backed up.

  Out of sight.

  Where he waited.

  35

  Cali wasn’t a juggler. But she managed to keep several balls in the air.

  So far.

  She sat down and appeared to take a nap. She looked exhausted. She was exhausted and she did need to sleep, but when she curled up on the chair and closed her eyes, she didn’t slumber. Her mind expanded, feeling the various networks and biomites within a certain perimeter. Her reach wasn’t unlimited—she couldn’t connect with people on the streets—but she was expanding. The new breeds were learning, were dividing and evolving far quicker than she guessed. She was becoming a technological telekinetic, wirelessly talking to anything that chattered computer-speak.

  First, she penetrated the security camera fastened in the corner of the room. Once she tapped the video loop, she followed it back to the security servers and downloaded several minutes of Nix lying in bed while Cali stood at the window. She stitched that into a loop and put it on a seamless repeat cycle. It would fool any passing eyes for a few hours, and that was more than enough.

  Next, she sensed the security guard outside the door. James was bored, reading a paper. She passively observed his behavior. There were moments when she could actually see what he was seeing, as if through foggy glass. His biomite content primarily enhanced his reflexes and senses, in particular his sight and hearing. He was naturally suspicious and calmly disciplined. Despite the boredom and aches of long periods of waiting, he remained vigilant.

  She didn’t want to do this. If it failed, it was all over. But there was no other way. Now or never.

  Now or never.

  [Go.]

  Cali occasionally checked on the security loop while firmly maintaining a connection with James’s biomites. Her next diversion was Nix. She stayed connected to monitor his health and strength. Even if everything went right, this might be too much. She could end up pushing him too far, drive him into overload. There would be no need for Marcus to come shut him down.

  She might do the job for him.

  When he was dressed, Cali began to manipulate James’s biomites. Slowly, she took control of his sensory input. When Nix reached the door, when he pulled it open, she made him see what she wanted him to see.

  It was a struggle, a delicate balance. If she pushed too hard, he’d go unconscious and draw attention. He had to believe what he was seeing. He had to put his suspicions aside and see her going to the cafeteria like she’d done several times over the past week. Those memories supported the false input.

  Nix started down the hall.

  James’s suspicion eased. He accepted what just happened. But that wasn’t the hard part. He needed to forget she just left, needed to believe that she’d walked past him to get her bag. Cali opened her eyes and grabbed the bag off the floor. The security loop was still showing Nix sleeping, her staring out the window.

  When she opened the door, James nearly slid out of her mental grasp. His biomites shuddered like molecules put to flame, threatening to slip from her grasp like ornery children who didn’t want to do as they were told.

  She squeezed him.

  It was a tiny jolt, one that temporarily knocked him into a blackout. It would feel like a head rush, and while he was senseless, she planted a reasonable explanation in his unconscious, that he was bored and tired and achy. And there was no way Cali and Nix could escape, not when their biomites were being monitored. If they left the hospital, an alarm would go off and they could track them. And if they got too far away, they could shut them down.

  There was hardly a need for a guard.

  Nix was in the wheelchair. Three nurses were down the hall. Cali connected with their biomites and simply commanded that they weren’t their patients, no one that they should be concerned with. Cali turned the wheelchair around and pushed it to the end of the hall and waited for the elevator.

  Nix sat with his arms in his lap. His complexion was good, his head upright. She liked what she was seeing. His strength was better than she anticipated. The elevator arrived. Cali sensed it was empty before the doors slid open, accompanied by the sound of a bell.

  She pushed him inside and hit the button. They both stared down an empty hallway while the doors slid closed. She resisted hugging him. Instead, they stared at each other in the warped reflection of the silver doors. They made it this far, but it was only the start. And hardly that.

  [Ready?] she thought.

  Nix nodded.

  They instinctively took deep breaths, preparing for a deep dive into the unknown. Cali closed her eyes. She was firmly connected with Nix’s new breeds. She held her next thought-command on the edge of her mind, like the crosshairs aligned with a target, finger on the trigger.

  [Off.]

  Cali’s legs buckled. She caught herself on the wheelchair. Her skin tingled as her new breeds compensated for the sudden deactivation of ALL the old-generation biomites. She’d shut down a third of her functioning body. The new breeds struggled to keep her from passing out, to keep her organs functioning and her brain from freezing.

  Nix was limp.

  But he was breathing. His pulse a distant rhythm.

  He was alive. Barely.

  They needed time to recover, for the new breeds to complete the transition. Now that the old-generation biomites were off.

  Now that they were invisible.

  Cali’s gut dropped as the elevator lurched upward.

  36

  Bad food.

  Swamps soaked James’s armpits. A toxic fog lingered behind his eyes; fuzzy edges haloed the newspaper. He needed to call in backup. He wouldn’t be any good puking on the floor. Not that there was anyone he needed to be chasing down, but he was going to be in the bathroom within the next ten minutes.

  He reached for his phone—

  The doctor trotted around the corner, his lab coat fluttering behind him, a nurse on his heels. James stood up. They passed him, not paying any attention to him, hit the door and rushed inside. James wandered in behind.

  The doctor yanked the covers back, exposing pillows. “Where is he?”

  James filled the doorway, hand on the heavy door. He didn’t have enough sense to even shake his head.

  “This was in the bathroom.” The nurse handed the cat
heter to the doctor.

  He put his hands on his hips, looking around the room like Nix might be hiding in a corner. He even bent slightly, peering under the bed.

  James hadn’t moved.

  “Call your boss,” the doctor said, pushing past him.

  James was going to puke, for sure.

  M0THER

  Comic Book Hero

  ______

  Rodney Chandler was a superhero geek.

  His dad boasted the world’s greatest collection of comic books, all cataloged and sealed in mold-proof sleeves and stored in the basement. He would let Rodney look at the covers, but not take them out. God, no.

  But when the old man was away, Rodney slipped into the musty downstairs and flipped through the paperbacks organized alphabetically and by edition. Superman, Green Lantern, Thor, Hulk, X-Men… he never knew where to start, the colors so vivid.

  He’d read them by flashlight, afraid to turn on the light in case someone passed the house. The old smell of the pages tingled his sinuses. And the thrill of getting one over on his old man twisted his guts. Made him smile.

  He watched all the movies, collected the posters. Bought his own vintage comic books and hid them from his old man’s grubby mitts. When he was old enough to get seeded with brain biomites, he experienced submersion films: virtual trips into the world of superheroes. He became the Man of Steel, flew around the world, stopped speeding bullets and saved the distressed. After a while, he played the villain. Sometimes he even won.

  But even that got stale.

  Eventually, the submersion film ended and he woke up, plain old Rodney. Nothing special, nothing good.

  Just another street rat.

  But there were people that could help, people that had money and access to biomites that others didn’t. And didn’t cost Rodney a dime. All they asked in return were favors. That was it.

  It’ll be painful, they said. It’ll hurt like a bitch until the biomites acclimate, change your body. You understand?

  Rodney half-listened. He was in, no matter what. He was tired of being Rodney. He’d give anything to matter.