Titanium (Bionics)

by Michaels, Alicia

  “Impatient bastard,” I mutter as I stand and take off after him, picking up as much speed as I can before reaching the edge. There are three bikes within our reach, and I opt for the one furthest away to give Gage the best chance to reach one of the closer ones. With one good leap, I am able to propel myself close enough to grab on to the footrest of a bike piloted by Monkey Arms.

  “What the hell?” he screams as I swing my legs up and settle behind him on the seat.

  He swings back at me and I block the blow with my arm, my shoulder screaming in protest. Pain radiates up my arm and into my chest as bone connects with titanium and I realize I’ve picked the wrong bike. This dude could knock me senseless with one punch. He takes another swing at me, but I dodge it before bashing the butt of my ARX against his jaw. Blood gushes from his mouth, but he’s relentless, going for a choke hold, but missing my neck as I lean back in the seat, nearly losing my place on the bike.

  “You Resistance idiots just don’t get it, do you?” Monkey Arms snarls, spitting blood. “We have a chance to change history, to take our place as the most powerful people in the world. Why do you want to ruin that?”

  I grip Monkey Arms by his shirt collar and pull him close, having had enough of him and his stupid friends by now. The bike stalls, but remains in the air, hovering among the other whizzing bikes, one of which I can see is piloted by Gage.

  “I won’t waste my breath explaining it,” I growl as I lift him clear of the seat, snatching his legs over the sides. “Just know that if you survive today, I won’t hesitate to rip one of your arms off and beat you senseless with it if we meet again. I’ve had it up to here with you, your friends, and your shit!”

  I let go, sending his body flying through the air. I slide forward on the bike’s seat, gripping the handlebars just as his hand wraps around my ankle with crushing force. If my ankles were still made of bone, this one would be broken.

  I glance over the side to find Monkey Arms hanging on, trying with all his might to crush what he thinks is a normal ankle.

  “Eat metal, bitch,” I say with a smirk as I cock my foot back and bring it slamming down on his face. That knocks him loose and he hurtles downward. I watch as he latches on to the branch of a tree, swinging himself deeper into the woods and out of sight.

  Gage swoops past me on his bike, his gun aimed at the second hovercraft pursuing the Neville I. The first one is overtaken by Rejects, most of whom have dismounted their bikes and are climbing in through the vehicle’s windows.

  “Take out the thrusters!” Gage yells to be heard over the wind.

  Fucking brilliant idea; I can’t believe that jackass thought of it. Grudgingly, I follow Gage as he swoops under the second craft, aiming my ARX at one of the two thrusters located beneath it. Taking it down won’t ground the craft, but it will make them about as slow as a person on foot so that we can make a getaway. The craft shudders and stalls as our red lasers tear through the thrusters, leaving two smoking, gaping holes in the bottom of the metal tube.

  “Yes!” Gage shouts, whooping excitedly as we make our escape from under the craft.

  “Nice work guys,” Jenica’s voice crackles from over my comm. device. “Forget about the other craft; looks like the Rejects have hijacked it. Now would you mind following us back to the hideout without getting yourselves into anymore trouble?”

  Gage shoots me a grin as we fall in behind the Neville I. “Race you there,” he says with a laugh.

  Despite the fact that this dude wants my woman, I can’t resist. My hand tightens on the throttle, and Gage and I are off like twin bolts of lightning.

  Dax Janner and Yasmine Zambrano

  Restoration Resistance Headquarters

  August 18, 4010

  6:00 pm

  We’ve been home for less than an hour and my body is crying out for food, a hot shower, and a change of clothes. Despite the fact that I’m operating on very little sleep, adrenaline is pumping through my veins and it’s not likely to stop until I know we’ve got some kind of plan to rescue Olivia in place.

  Yet, I know I can’t think about any of that until I’ve gone to check on my partner from the last mission. After loading the passengers into the hovercraft, Jenica flew us home, all while telling us about how things had been going back at Headquarters. She was sure to include that Yasmine had begged to be allowed to come back to Memphis with her and Gage, but the Professor and Jenica wouldn’t hear of it. I am glad they made her stay behind; even a girl with Kevlar for skin needs her rest after being stunned.

  She looks no worse for wear now, sitting up against the metal headboard of one of the many cots in the infirmary, her willowy body encased in a hospital gown. An IV is stuck into a portal built into her inner left arm—a clever device created by the Professor so that those with the Kevlar skin can still receive fluids and medicine in an emergency situation. Her thick, wavy hair is loose around her shoulders and I’m amazed by how much of it there is. I’ve only seen it pulled back and wound into a bun. Now it frames her slender face becomingly, causing her eyes to appear larger and the angles of her face softer. As I sit in a chair beside her bed, I am surprised at how attractive I find her. The strength of my reaction is something I haven’t experienced for any girl since meeting Blythe.

  It frightens me.

  “Hey you,” I say, my voice gruffer than I intend it to be.

  “Hey yourself,” she answers, a smile lighting up her face. “Glad to see you made it back in one piece. Well,” she adds, eyeing the bandage on my shoulder, visible through my undershirt, “Almost.”

  Stripping my t-shirt off and submitting to the Professor’s poking and prodding to dislodge the shrapnel from my back was not fun. The pain was so intense, I nearly blacked out from it, but now that it’s been cleaned and stitched up, I am enjoying the numbing effects of something Jenica injected into my shoulder.

  “Yeah,” I answer, touching my shoulder lightly. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”

  “Sorry I got shot,” she says, her expression one of embarrassment. “Rookie mistake, it won’t happen again.”

  “Are you kidding? You took out three M.P.s by yourself! For your first mission, you did a hell of a lot better than I did.”

  “Really?” she asks, her voice telling me she’s not convinced.

  “Yeah, but you get no details. That’s a terribly embarrassing story for another time. I just wanted to come by to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m fine,” she answers. “Professor Hinkley says my skin saved me from burns.”

  I nod. “It’s true. Getting stunned from one of those things doesn’t just knock you out; the heat from the lasers is known to leave second degree burns. I guess the neural effects got to you, but not the heat.”

  I gaze down to see her trailing her fingertips over the back of her arm. In a flash of memory, I see myself waking up in a cot that looks a lot like Yasmine’s, my body altered permanently for the rest of my life—my life saved, when I should be dead. I look up from her arm to see her staring at me, her eyes wide and earnest as if she is willing me to see into her. I find her stare disarming.

  “What does it feel like?” I ask, gesturing toward her skin.

  “You can touch it, if you want,” she offers, holding her hand out to me. “I don’t mind.”

  I smile. “Thank you, but that’s not what I meant.”

  She frowns as I reach out to touch the back of her hand. “What did you mean?”

  My brow wrinkles as my fingertips skim over her hand. “Wow,” I whisper. “It feels so …”

  I trail off, not sure how to say it without being insulting.

  “Real? Soft?” Yasmine offers with a laugh. “A lot of people are surprised by how real it feels. It is made of Kevlar, but the Professor created it using real live, donor skin grafts. It has all the properties of armor but it feels like skin should feel.”

  I jerk my hand away when I realize I’ve trailed my arm all the way up to her shoulder in my exploration. I
clear my throat noisily, embarrassed.

  “What were you meaning to ask me?” she asks, not missing a beat, pretending she can’t see how embarrassed I am to have felt her up like that. “Before, when you asked what it felt like. What did you mean?”

  “I meant the blast. You were much closer to the explosion in your city than I was in mine. I was far enough that we only suffered from the impact, not the heat and light.”

  Yasmine sighs, folding her hands together in her lap. Her eyes grow distant and watery and her voice is haunted as she speaks. “It feels like dying,” she whispers. “It’s the only way I can think of to describe it. It’s like dying a thousand deaths and wishing that each one were the last one. The white light is so intense, you think you’ll never see again. And just when you’ve gotten over it—the pain of realizing that you may never lay eyes on green grass, blue sky, or gleaming city buildings again—the burning starts and it’s so intense, it feels like tiny needles invading every pore of your skin and stabbing deep, lighting you on fire from the inside. It feels like Hell.”

  A lone tear slips down her cheek and my insides jerk, hard. I swallow past the lump in my throat and blink rapidly to get rid of the extra moisture pooling in my eyes. Yasmine swipes at the tear on her milk-chocolaty cheek and forces a smile.

  “So,” she says, recovering nicely, “is there a plan for rescuing Olivia?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” I answer. “As soon as I got home I came here. I wanted to make sure you were okay first. Now I guess I should go shower, change and meet up with the others. Getting into Stonehead a second time will not be easy.”

  “Go,” she says, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “Don’t worry about me. As you can see, I’m fine now. Just do me a favor, will you?”

  “Sure,” I offer. “What do you need?”

  “Try to sneak some desert in from the cafeteria. They won’t give me any real food until tomorrow morning and the nurses keep making me drink these God-awful protein shakes.”

  I pull a face and grunt in remembrance of the chalky taste of the protein shakes she’s referring to. “Ugh, you poor girl. I’ve got your back. Chocolate mousse or vanilla cake?”

  “How about both?”

  When I enter my room, I immediately peel my soiled undershirt off and begin rifling through my drawers for clean clothes to wear. I passed Jenica in the hallway and she informed me that we were meeting in the Professor’s quarters in twenty minutes—just enough time for me to shower, shave, dress and scarf down a few strips of beef jerky and drink some water before joining the meeting.

  Without thinking, I throw open the bathroom door, forgetting to knock like I always do. The connecting door to Blythe’s room is hanging open and I can see her and Gage inside, seated on opposite sides of her narrow bed, talking.

  “I’m sorry I failed you,” Gage is saying as I drop my clothes onto the bathroom counter. My jaw tightens as he reaches across the bed to take her hand. “I failed all of you.”

  “What happened to Olivia wasn’t your fault,” Blythe says, curling her fingers around his. “I don’t blame you.”

  Gage shakes his head and lowers his eyes. “You should.”

  “Hey,” Blythe says, reaching up to his jaw with her free hand. “No more guilt, okay? Remember, we’re a family here. There is no condemnation here. The mission was dangerous and we should never have attempted two rescue missions simultaneously. It put all of us at risk, including you. I would never have forgiven myself for being part of making that decision if something had happened to you.”

  “Hey guys,” I call loudly from the bathroom, as if I’ve just walked in on them. “Meeting in the Professor’s quarters in twenty.”

  Blythe drops Gage’s hand as if burned and stands quickly. “Oh, hey Dax. I guess we better get ready then.”

  “Right,” says Gage, shooting me a glare as he stands as well. “I need to change, too. I’ll meet you guys there.”

  He turns to Blythe and bends down to kiss her cheek. Murderous thoughts my mind and I find I’m starting to enjoy them.

  “Thanks,” he says gently before leaving the room, pausing to shoot me another glare. I raise my eyebrows and shrug as if I have no idea what he’s so pissed about. Asshole.

  Once he’s gone, Blythe turns to me, arms crossed over her chest, a hint of a smile curling her lips.

  “Stop it, Dax!”

  I hold my hands up and shrug. “What? What did I do?”

  “You know exactly what you did. Stop acting like my guard dog.”

  “Hey, speaking of dogs, where is Dog?”

  I haven’t seen our wiry, furry little friend since we got home.

  “He’s in Mosley Hall with the kids, and stop trying to change the subject.”

  “Okay, fine! I’m sorry, okay?” I say, stepping forward to pull her into my arms. I’m done playing the nice guy. “It’s just …”

  She pulls back slightly, but not completely out of my embrace, which leaves me feeling a bit smug. “It’s just that you told me you loved me and I haven’t told you how I feel.”

  I nod, giving her a little squeeze and reveling in the feel of her pressed up against me. She nods and places her hands against my chest and pushes slightly, forcing me to let her go.

  “Look,” she says, taking a step away from me. “You want the truth? I don’t know how I feel.”

  I nod and rub my chin nonchalantly. “Fair enough.”

  “I need time to figure it out, but the problem with that is that there is no time. The government is breathing down our necks, Olivia is imprisoned at Stonehead, we just had to shut down one of our most valuable hideouts and fuel-smuggling operations, and don’t even get me started on those Reject freaks.”

  “I get it, B. I understand.”

  She sighs as if releasing a ton of air along with doubt and worry. “So we’re agreed. I’m allowed to be undecided for now.”

  I shrug again. “For now.”

  “And you don’t get to make me feel guilty about it.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “And you’ll stop treating Gage like shit.”

  I wince as if her statement has physically hurt me. “Now, see, that’s going to be tough.”

  Blythe folds her arms over her chest and pretends to frown. “Try harder.”

  Coming in close again, I grasp her shoulders and pull her up against me. Her arms drop to her sides and her body melts into mine.

  “That’s the thing,” I say, my mouth inches from hers. “When a guy wants the same thing I want, I tend to get sore about it.”

  “Just remember that I belong to no one,” Blythe says, the quavering in her voice betraying the straight face she’s wearing. “This isn’t a pissing contest and I am not a prize to be won.”

  “No,” I say, my lips brushing hers lightly. “You are not a prize, you are the prize. And I don’t intend to lose you.”

  She sways into me and it’s all the permission I need to cover her mouth with mine, groaning deep in my chest as she opens her mouth to me, the warmth of the inside of her mouth mingling with mine. When our tongues touch, she pulls away her eyes wide. I smile and chuck her on the chin lightly with my knuckles.

  “I said I’d let you go on undecided, I never said I’d stop showing you just exactly where I stand.”

  She continues to stand there, silent and motionless until I finally grab her by the shoulders and steer her back towards her room.

  “Less than twenty minutes, B. Unless you want to see me take my pants off, you should go. Or stay, it’s really up to you.”

  My laughter follows her as she runs from the bathroom and slams the door.

  Everyone is gathered and waiting in the meeting room in the Professor’s quarters when Blythe and I arrive. The Professor is at the head of the table, his characteristically messy brown hair like a bird’s nest around his head, his clothing rumpled and unkempt. Jenica sits at his right side in a fresh, black flight suit, her hands folded on the table. Gage is at the foot of the t
able, slouching with one foot resting on the opposite thigh. As Blythe and I take our seats, I am acutely aware of the fact that Olivia’s chair, across from Jenica, is empty. A cold fist knots in my stomach as I notice the video panels pulled up on either side of the professor, each depicting scenes from Stonehead. I blink and look away from the one showing Olivia’s battered and bruised face.

  Once Blythe and I are seated, Jenica stands and begins the meeting.

  “I trust that you all have seen this footage. It’s been all over the news since Olivia was captured at Stonehead.”

  Everyone nods silently and Jenica continues.

  “Olivia—and the others imprisoned at Stonehead—are scheduled for execution at 9:00 o’clock a.m. eastern time. That only gives us a few hours and a very narrow window of opportunity. Our last attack was well planned, but we did not anticipate that our EMP would be targeted.”

  My eyes swivel to Gage as I realize that no one has explained yet how things went wrong at Stonehead. Agata’s EMP was supposed to knock out the M.P.s weapons, but it’s obvious from the footage that this is not what happened.

  “They knew about Agata,” Gage says in answer to my unspoken question. “I don’t know how, but they did. They had some kind of device, something that emitted a high-pitched frequency that only Agata could hear. It rendered her unable to do what we brought her to do.”

  “Is she okay?” Blythe asked.

  Gage nods. “She’s got a little headache, but it’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”

  “I am working on trying to figure out how they knew about Agata,” Jenica says, “but we all know that the most pressing matter is getting back into Stonehead and getting Olivia and the other prisoners out alive.”

  “I hate to sound negative, but how the hell do you propose we do that?” asks Blythe.

  “With these.”

  Jenica reaches behind the panel and comes out with two M.P. helmets. She drops them onto the table with a ‘clunk’, their black, gleaming faces turned toward us. I can see myself in the reflection of one of them.