Sparked (The Metal Bones Series Book 1)

by Snow, Sheena

Was I a traitor? Was I a traitor to my own kind? To humanity?

  Traitor!

  “No. No,” I breathed. “I’m not. I’m not.”

  Are you sure? The voice asked.

  “I said I’m not,” I yelled and then clapped my hands over my mouth.

  My words bounced off the walls around me.

  I said I’m not. Not. Not. Said not. Not. Not.

  Tingles shot down my arms and I rocked myself on the floor.

  “I’m not,” I whispered but when it came out, it sounded more like a sob and I choked it back down. I rubbed my shoulders, only to wince as I pressed too firmly near the bruise.

  This sentence seemed fitting. I was killing everyone else. It only made sense that now whatever it was, killed me.

  Paula.

  Dad. I shut my eyes.

  Mom. I forced my heart to go empty.

  Sydney. Will never ever know where I went and why I didn’t say goodbye.

  And Alec.

  Alec.

  My fingers went into my pocket and cupped the leaf. My leaf.

  Breathe, Vienna, breathe. In and out. In and out.

  I laid my head against the cool floor while my fingers traced the veins, and ridges and holes through the leaf—feeling the softness, feeling the bumps, feeling the cracks and tears.

  Without Dean and Paula, the cell was too silent, too quiet, too eerie. The walls seemed to be shrinking, enclosing me, and sucking the air out of the cell with every passing second.

  Breathe, Vienna, breathe.

  I listened to my breathing. In and out. In and out. And when I did, I heard the subtle voices echoing around me, whispering, darting, hiding, and slipping through the infrastructure of the bricks.

  Lie.

  Stay—

  Vienna . . .

  Forget.

  Shhh.

  I closed my eyes and let their voices flow through me. I allowed their soft, meaningless words to cover me and provide me with two things: solace and hope.

  I wasn’t alone.

  I wasn’t special.

  And I wasn’t just some random pick.

  I was part of something, of some big master plan, just like the whispers flowing around me, just like the guards strutting down the aisle.

  I had to be.

  But that’s what makes situations like this so dangerous. The mental games. The pretense of what’s to come. The sound of their boots echoing along the corridor, for you.

  Paula’s huge brown eyes filled my mind. Again.

  Traitor!

  But I’m not a traitor, Paula. They are the traitors. The ones who dragged you away. The ones you and Dean learned not to fear, are the real ones to fear. Whatever they may be.

  They are the traitors to humanity.

  If I would have just kept my mouth shut, none of this would have happened. Why? Why didn’t I? I sighed, rolling over and covered my eyes with the back of my hand.

  After a while, the floor grew too cold under my back and I dragged myself up onto my bed.

  Between the noise of the whispers and my steadied breathing, I heard a slot clicking open. I opened an eye to see a bowl of stew sitting in the wall near the floor. My stomach churned and I buried my face in the pillow as the heavy scent laid around me, threatening to bring up whatever was left in my stomach. The clank of boots jumped across the walls, coming closer and closer and closer.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath.

  The footsteps stopped, their noise hollowing out, down the passage way. A burning trailed along my head and down my back. I swallowed.

  “Where’s that fighter spirit I’ve heard so much about?” A deep voice asked.

  The lock slid open and seconds later a boot kicked my bunk.

  I gritted my teeth and kept my back to him.

  “No one ignores us, and no one ignores me.” He kicked my bunk again, and I toppled to the floor, landing on my elbows. “Might even ask Bacchart if I can watch this one.” He reached for my arm and I jerked away.

  Don’t. Touch me.

  I glared up at him and he smiled, his voice soft and sweet. “Ah. There it is.”

  And suddenly, before I could open my mouth, I was pinned under his boot, with my hands behind my back. A cold substance slid across my wrists and he yanked me up with my arms clamped together. He dragged me down the narrow passageway. My eyes roved over the walls, the doors. At least twenty of them.

  “Silly Putty we call it.” His fingers bit into my flesh. “Better than handcuffs.” I felt the cold ring of a gelatin-y plastic around my wrists. “The same stuff we caught you with.” He opened the door to reveal a large area with two guards stationed behind fiberglass walls. He nodded as we passed. The door buzzed and a guard joined him to bring me through a long range of passages.

  My heart sank. How would Alec ever find me in this? How would I ever get out?

  My hands chafed in the too-tight plastic handcuffs as we past corridor after corridor, door after door, room after room, lefts after rights, rights after lefts, and came to a stop in a room full of doors. In the center sat a wooden table, two chairs, and lights shining down in all directions.

  I was plopped down in the chair, and I squinted against the bright lights.

  A figure moved in the shadows and hissed.

  The guards fled the room and I rubbed my wrists through the cuffs.

  The shadowy figure stepped into the spotlight. “We meet at last, Vienna.”

  My name dragged out on her tongue. And for some strange odd reason, I wasn’t remotely terrified. Her icy-blue eyes, pressed suit, and slicked-back hair, took me in, sitting in the plastic chair.

  She placed her hands on the table. “Congratulations.” She traced her glossy black nails along the edges. They weren’t even pointy at the tips.

  She shifted all her weight to one white muscled leg, in contrapposto, and raised her arm to smooth back her already tamed hair. So statuesque, so reminiscent of Michelangelo’s David. So frozen. So perfect. So not real.

  Not one hair out of place, not one nail chipped.

  If I had ever pictured what robots should look like, she would be it.

  “Do you know what happens to people who don’t cooperate?” She stroked a machine I hadn’t seen before in the front of the room. Her glossy black nails shone in the light.

  I rolled my shoulders. “And who said I wasn’t cooperating?”

  Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked back to the front of the table “You haven’t been, from the beginning.”

  “Well, I would beg to differ seeing as how I haven’t even been informed of why-”

  “You can beg but it won’t bring any difference.”

  My face dropped. “It’s an expression.”

  “Soon, for you, it won’t be.” She tapped her shiny black nails on the table.

  “Soon.” Another person walked out of the darkness. “You will be ours. In every way.”

  Like Dean?

  Shh! I hushed the voice in my head.

  The glossy black nails lady faded into the shadows, and the man stepped forward. Light reflected off his onyx eyes.

  “You see those doors.” He pointed. “Over there? Now we can do this the hard way or the easy way. It’s entirely up to you.”

  Sure it was.

  “Nothing is entirely up to me,” I said. “I’ve known that for a long time now.”

  “Wrong answer.” He clicked his tongue and wrote something in a pad he produced from his suit. “But the entirely right answer for me. You are everything I expected you to be.”

  My insides cringed.

  He licked his lips. “Now for the door that is especially suited for your liking.” His hands passed ov
er the sterile, silver knobs surrounding us, caressing them, from handle to handle. “Ah, well, now I think this one will be just to your liking.” He pushed on the door. “Come.” His eyes smiled. “Meet your demon.”

  Chapter 31

  Cold air rushed out the door, blowing over my arms and through my jeans. Smoke snaked its way out, spreading and dominating the room with its potency. Goose bumps formed on my arms and ice licked its way through me, seeping through my skin.

  “Your marvelous plan is to freeze me to death?” I laughed. “That’s a fabulous plan by the way. You stalk me, watch me, hound me, and capture me . . . For this? To throw me in a freezer? You could have just done this at my parents’ house or in the back of a grocery store.”

  “Of course not,” he said, seeming appalled. “What do you take us for?”

  “I take you for absolutely nothing,” I said. “I take you for murderers. I take you for animals. I take you for looking evil in the eye and asking when you can join.”

  “Beautiful speech. Although not quite as lovely as some of the others I have heard. No matter, I—”

  “And for what?” I hissed. “What in the world did I ever do to you? What did any of these people ever do to you?”

  “Ah. Now there’s the right question for both you and me.” He smiled. “And soon . . . soon you will have done nothing.”

  “What?”

  Were we even speaking the same language?

  He snapped his fingers and icy-blue eyes held the door open.

  “We will be back in a little while.” He released something on my chair and it swiveled. “Take your time. Think. Meditate. Grow. Some time in here will help you.” He pushed me inside, pouring a warm liquid over my wrists. “I’m sure of it.”

  The cold crept along my skin, through my navy jacket.

  The door closed, a latch clicked from the outside and the only possible source of warmth, the light, went out, plunging me into a frozen darkness so thick that not even the breath from my mouth was visible.

  I pressed my lips together and wiggled my wrists. The handcuffs dissolved, freeing me.

  “Let me out of here.” I picked up the chair and slammed it into where I thought the door would be. “Cowards,” I yelled as the chair only echoed off the walls. I pounded on the door. “Who the hell locks a teenage girl in a freezer? What the heck is the matter with you? Face me. Tell me what I’ve done. Tell me!” I screamed and threw the chair into the door again. It bounced back and collided with my knees.

  “Mother!”

  Pain arched its way up my legs and I fell to the floor.

  I shivered, the cold air leeching off my heat—sucking, pulling, draining. I wrapped my arms around myself.

  “Cowards,” I whispered, as the cold air twined itself around me. My arms shook, clutching my body.

  Why a freezer? Why? Why capture me for this? Why drag me here, go through all of the trouble for cold weather?

  Think, Vienna! Think.

  I pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulders. My jacket? I fingered it. And why did they let me keep my jacket?

  I cursed again.

  These damn moronic people—

  “They know I hate cold weather,” I hissed suddenly.

  Meet your demon.

  His words replayed in my head, and I snorted.

  “Of course.”

  They’re exploiting our weaknesses.

  “But how do they know what our weaknesses are? They can’t—”

  My breath hitched in my throat.

  Alec.

  “You told them,” I whispered. “You were observing me to . . .” The words died in my throat.

  “You don’t know what I’ve done,” he said. “I’ve hurt people.”

  I hung my head.

  No. No. No.

  You should have told me.

  Alec.

  “. . . you shouldn’t be with me . . . there’s so much you don’t know about us . . .”

  “. . . you wouldn’t want to know . . .”

  My heart fluttered in my chest.

  His warnings beat in my skull.

  “. . . I’m not the hero you make me out to be.”

  No.

  “Not again,” I whimpered, “not again.”

  I collapsed, lying on the floor and my defenses, my resistance all faded away.

  Alec?

  The cold greedily seeped into me, infiltrating my entire body, diving into new bone-chilling places.

  “You should have told me.” The words were so slight, they barely slipped past my lips. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Why?

  My head rolled against the frozen floor, trying to numb my thoughts. A tingling spread over my arms as the cold encircled me, its insatiable little fingers nibbling at my skin, finding its way through my socks and shoes and licking at my toes, shortly followed by spazzing jerks. Goose bumps as big as hornet’s stings rose along my arms, littering their way across the rest of my body, claiming me into an icy surrender.

  You lied to me. Again.

  You lied!

  Will your lies ever stop?

  My fingers slid in my pocket and clasped the leaf.

  “They built this for me . . .” I wheezed out of my chest.

  For me. Especially for me.

  I clenched my palm shut, squeezing and grinding until the fragile leaf was no more, until the little leaf was gone. Nothing more than some dust in my pocket.

  My chest tightened and my teeth chattered uncontrollably, the banging traveling all the way to the temples of my head.

  Liar.

  My eyes shut. The last of me with it.

  Old Spice filled my senses and there was—I sucked in air—Dad?

  Dad’s somber gray eyes and red hair.

  “Hang in there, Vienna. Don’t let them win. Fight. Fight for me, baby.”

  “Dad, they took Paula because of me. I should have stopped her. I could have quieted her. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. I should have done something.”

  “You know that you saved us, right?”

  “You’re not listening. She’s gone. Dean’s gone. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I didn’t. I didn’t mean to,” I pleaded.

  “We’ll get you back, Vienna, I promise.”

  “There’s no point. So more robots can come to take me back again?”

  “We’ll get you back.” Dad’s eyes turned into shadows. “I promise.” Vague outlines took over his face, moment by moment, blackening him out.

  “No. Dad, don’t. Come back.” I reached for him. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me here alone. I-I need you.”

  My heart wanted to crumble and shred into a million different pieces.

  “Dad”—I reached for him—“I can’t.”

  Chapter 32

  Robots.

  Robots.

  Integral parts. Each has a role to play.

  Society.

  Society.

  Role to play.

  Imperative.

  “Imperative?”

  Imperative.

  Imperative. Robots. Imperative.

  Chapter 33

  I woke with a splintering headache. I groaned into my pillow.

  My head felt like it was a spool of yarn that had been thrown all around the room, with knots and cords hanging everywhere.

  My stomach rumbled, and I eyed the cold stew still sitting in the shoot in the wall. I licked my lips.

  I scarfed everything down and my stomach purred, contented. I put the empty bowl in the shoot, watched as the cement door closed and listened to the swoosh as it shot off.

  Technology.

  Being used for its fines
t purposes.

  I tapped on the wall where the shoot had been and pursed my lips as my fingers glided over the seamless slot. Whatever this place was, it had been well designed. From rooms full of doors to practically imaginary slots in cement walls.

  Boots echoed in the corridor, and I darted back into my bunk and threw the covers over myself, pretending to be asleep.

  Noises peeled off the walls, strumming in my ears. Footsteps echoed. Doors opened. Doors closed. Footsteps. Whispers. Locks. Clicks.

  Once the sounds diminished, further down the hall, I slithered out and crept up between the bars of the metal door. Only more bars and doors in chipped pale-gray paint appeared through the slits. I cranked my neck and waited to see if heads would pop up.

  Feet scattered further down. Boots thumped. Doors slammed. Whimpering. Doors opened.

  I frowned, maneuvering my head to try and see further down the aisle. My hands tightened around the bars, and I almost whispered Dean’s name to see if he was still here.

  Almost.

  A distinctive pair of boots pounded against the floor ahead, hard and determined. I clamored back into my bunk and threw the covers over my body.

  Click-clack, Click-clack.

  Click. Clack.

  Stop. Silence.

  I pressed my lips together.

  Squeak.

  The lock unlatched for my cell and my heart raced in my chest.

  “Put your hands behind your back,” the guard said.

  My jaw locked, and the bruise between my shoulders throbbed, reminding me precisely how much pressure he applied last time I didn’t cooperate—or rather, last time I simply glared at him.