“So it seems.” Satisfaction laced Ava’s voice, and I felt a sudden and distinct hatred for her. What did she want from me? Was she an organ harvester? It was the only rational explanation—though utterly terrifying.
Dimitri laid something on my chest. Another IV bag. “Hold onto this.” He placed my right hand over the bag. Immediately, a delicious coolness entered my fingertips even through the plastic bag and the bandages. I blessed him silently and gave myself up to this drug-induced hallucination.
The next thing I knew, I was being rolled into a cavernous room. I had the impression of large crates and of a woman sitting in front of several computers which she seemed to be using all at once. One of the computers was connected by a thin black cord to a woven metal headpiece the woman wore on her head like a crown. Her chair turned toward us, one hand twisting up a circular section of the headpiece that obscured one eye. “Good, you’re back.” A smile spread over her face.
I stared. I’d been wrong thinking Ava and Dimitri were the most assured, compelling people I’d ever seen. This new woman had the same confident bearing as the other two, but it was coupled with straight dark hair, a heart-shaped face, slanted Asian eyes, and flawless golden skin. Her revealing green tank showed an ample bosom and a torso that fell to an impossibly thin waist, flaring again for perfect hips. Her delicacy and utter perfection was the kind that inspired poets and started wars between nations—and made me feel completely inadequate.
I knew that feeling well. I felt it often in the presence of my mother.
“Cort’s got the room ready,” the woman said. She was younger than the others, perhaps in her late twenties, though her dark eyes were far too knowing for true innocence. A chill shuddered in my chest.
“Thanks, Stella.”
I knew Stella meant star in some other language, and the name fit her perfectly.
We were moving away, and Stella vanished from my line of sight. My thoughts of her cut off abruptly as I was wheeled into a smaller room, bare except for what looked like a coffin on a long table.
A coffin!
My heart slammed into my chest, its beating furious and erratic.
Ava withdrew scissors from the pocket of her lab coat and started cutting the bandages from my feet and legs. Dimitri began at my head. I caught a glimpse of blackened tissue, the bloody stub of my left arm. Tears leaked from my right eye, but I couldn’t see anything through my left and I doubted I still had tear ducts there. Now I knew why Tom had felt the need to lie. No one could be this badly burned and survive.
If by some cruel twist of fate I did live, I would be a monster.
I tried to struggle against them, but any tiny movement sent shards of pain in every direction until it seemed pain was all I had ever known. Neither would my mouth open to scream, though hoarse sounds of distress issued from my throat, sounding grotesque and panicked. My chest convulsed wildly with the effort. Before too long, my throat became too raw for sound, and even that haunting noise ceased.
“It’s okay,” Dimitri said, his voice gentle. “It’ll be over soon.” Somehow I didn’t feel comforted.
When I was nothing more than a mass of burned and bleeding raw flesh, Ava and Dimitri lifted me into the coffin. Exquisite torture. My vision blurred and darkened. Nausea gouged at my insides.
A gelatinous substance oozed around me and the pain slightly eased. Dimitri pushed it up against my chin and smoothed a layer over my entire face. They’re drowning me in Jell-O, I thought, but Dimitri made sure I had ample space beneath my nose to breathe. The syrupy sweetness I’d felt with the IV bags was increased a hundredfold, as though each of my damaged nerve cells had become a conduit for an IV.
Dimitri’s face leaned close to mine. “I’ve added something to one of these IV bags to put you out. It’d be impossible for you to sleep in this stuff otherwise. But you’ll heal better if you aren’t awake.” Already I struggled to keep my good eye open.
Ava stood by the coffin looking in. “Don’t fight it, Erin. You’ll have your answers soon. Sleep, Granddaughter. Sleep.”
Granddaughter? I must not have heard her correctly.
Well, I suppose there could be worse ways to die than cradled in a coffin full of sweet gelatin. I gave up fighting and let my right eye close.
MY HEAD POUNDED. NO, IT was my heart. Beat, beat, beat. I was alive.
I must have been drinking. I always had such vivid dreams after I drank. At least three other times in my life, I’d made a vow to give up alcohol. This time I meant it.
My eyes blinked open. The first thing I saw was the white ceiling above me, but the slick sides of the coffin came a close second.
I hadn’t been dreaming.
I looked down, surprised that my neck obeyed the command. Sure enough, I was lying in a coffin full of greenish gelatin, except instead of burned limbs and torso, my naked skin was pale pink and smooth like that of a young child.
My arm.
I lifted my left arm and sighed with relief. It was whole and normal. In fact, on closer examination it was better than normal. The thin, half-inch scar that had been on my thumb since I’d tried to open a tuna can with a knife when I was eleven was missing.
What was going on?
Easing myself to a seated position, I felt disoriented but no pain. Nothing except the pull of the IV tubes going into my chest beneath each clavicle, though their liquid seemed less important now. I began working at the tape that secured them to me. The sooner I got these out, the sooner I could leave this place. The gelatin was cool and slimy and sticky against my flesh, making me feel dirty and uncomfortable.
“Ah, you’re awake. Good afternoon, Erin.”
My hands froze as the woman who’d taken me from the hospital glided into the small room, followed by her partner Dimitri. The beautiful Stella and a pale blond man I hadn’t seen before came in behind them. Each of them was smiling at me as though it was the most normal thing in the world to be burned beyond recognition, put into a coffin of gelatin, and wake up healed.
Not to mention naked.
To a roomful of strangers.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Do you mind?” I willed my voice to be demanding instead of fearful.
Ava and the others stopped walking, confusion and then amusement running over their faces. “I’ll take it from here,” Ava said, flicking her gaze toward the door.
The blond man cleared his throat. “We have to remember how it was for us in the beginning. How interesting to see it firsthand.” His piercing blue eyes lingered on my body before locking onto my face. He was of average height for a man, slightly taller than Dimitri, but nowhere near as muscular or eye-catching. His face was too ordinary. If not for the eyes and the confidence I’d come to expect from this impressive crew, he would have been relegated in my mind to the nerdy realm. Minus the glasses, of course.
“You can talk to her about it later, Cort.” Ava continued toward me alone, apparently expecting full obedience. I wasn’t surprised when the others turned and left without another word.
Ava was as striking up close as from a distance. I’d give a lot to look like that and have her confidence. She wore a black karate uniform of some kind, though without a belt, which meant she’d lied about not being my grandmother’s next-door neighbor.
“Sorry about the coffin,” she said. “It was all we could find at such short notice.”
I did rather feel as if I’d walked into one of the popular vampire novels my fellow claims clerks at the insurance agency so eagerly devoured on their breaks. Maybe I’d been bitten and that’s why I wasn’t dead. Good thing I didn’t believe in any of that nonsense.
I lifted a handful of gelatin and watched it ooze slimily between my fingers. More yellow than green once it was away from the blue lining of the coffin. “And this?”
She grinned. “Cort’s invention.”
“Jell-O?”
“Not quite, but not far off, either. We call it curequick. Besides a heavy amount of sugar, it a
lso contains proteins reduced to their most usable form. This mixture and the IVs are the best thing for a wounded Unbounded.”
“Unbounded?”
Impatience swept over her face, but I sensed it wasn’t directed at me. “Look, why don’t I take these IVs out, and you can shower and get dressed before we talk. You’ll probably feel more . . . comfortable that way.”
“Okay.” I would feel better, even if I wasn’t really safe. I got the idea that simply walking away wasn’t an option.
“When you’re finished, I’ll tell you a story. My story. This whole thing might make more sense that way.” Ava eased off the IV tape so smoothly I didn’t feel discomfort, pressing a cotton square over the needle site for several seconds before proceeding to the next. “There, you won’t need bandages. The bathroom’s through there. I’ll put some clothes for you by the door.”
I was glad she’d pointed to a different door than the one everyone else had exited. She scooted a chair next to the coffin so I could climb out, and I wondered if I’d been wrong to mistrust her.
In the small bathroom, I headed straight for the surprisingly spacious shower. I’d prefer a hot bath, but there wasn’t one here—which was probably why they’d needed the coffin. The warm water hit my body, whirling the yellow gelatin over the white tile and down the drain.
Examining myself carefully, I seemed to be the same. Same toes, thighs, stomach, and breasts, though these were a bit sore and tender, and, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say firmer, too. Definitely not burned, though there were a few pinker patches on my calves and thighs, which ached now that I thought about it. Nothing, however, compared to the pain I’d experienced when I’d awakened near the crash, or when they’d lowered my blackened body into the gelatin.
I shuddered. Was any of this real?
Using a towel from a stack sitting on the built-in shelves near the door, I patted my skin dry. Afterward, I ran the towel over the steam-covered mirror to study my reflection. My face was also the same, except the eyebrow over my left eye was short and sparse, and my lashes there had only begun to regrow. The right eye was fine. Normal. I peered closer, trying to spot any other difference, but there was nothing to see. Then it occurred to me that the chickenpox scar under my right eyebrow was missing. Yet that eye hadn’t been burned—at least I didn’t think so. My hair was ultra short, and some of it felt prickly, as if the hair had only recently begun to grow again, but other parts, especially in the back, were slightly longer. My skull was nicely shaped, and despite its unevenness, the hair didn’t look half bad. I should have taken Justine’s advice and cut my long hair months ago.
Justine.
My face crumpled, becoming almost unrecognizable in the mirror. Closing my eyes, I fought to contain the huge sense of loss. Or at least to keep breathing. Justine would want that.
Turning purposefully, I strode to the bathroom door to retrieve the clothing Ava had set on a chair outside the door. I noticed a camera on the far wall, angled toward the coffin and the bathroom door. No wonder they’d known so quickly that I was awake. I swept up the clothes and shut the bathroom door again. The black cotton pants and short-sleeved blue blouse were a little large, and there was a snug black tank instead of a bra, so apparently they expected my new skin to be tender.
New skin?
I didn’t believe any of this. Or want to believe. Yet the pounding of my heart seemed real enough. Not a dream.
I fought the urge to collapse to the bathroom floor and weep with fear and uncertainty. There was no one here to help me—not Tom, not Justine, not my brothers, or even my mother who could always pick up the pieces when things went wrong, even if she didn’t always get them back in the right places.
There was just me. I exhaled slowly and opened the door.
This time Ava was waiting outside the bathroom, her gray eyes as cold and somber as gravestones. Eyes like my grandmother. Like me. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”
I followed her into the cavernous room. It wasn’t as large as I remembered, but still warehouse-like, with cement floors and exposed iron support bars on the walls, reaching far above our heads where florescent lighting hung on long chains. Wooden crates stacked high against two of the walls, including the one with two huge automatic doors, leaving only enough space for the doors. Tables loaded with smaller crates and bundles of folded boxes took up another wall.
Close to the fourth wall was a carpeted area, lined with couches, several large metal lockers, and an oversized television screen. Near the couches, Ava’s friends grouped around the computers I’d seen earlier. The conversation died as we passed, and I could feel their eyes on me. No one spoke, but the nerdy one who’d checked me out earlier smiled.
I inclined my head without returning the smile, saving my judgment until I knew why they’d brought me here. They might have saved my life—or they might be perpetrating a giant hoax.
“Stella, if you could cue the video for the office?” Ava said.
Stella was wearing the woven crown I’d seen before, with the single, semi-transparent eyepiece in place, and lines of code were appearing on the computer in front of her. I had the sense she was controlling the machine, though I knew that couldn’t be right. “Already done.”
“Thank you.”
I tore my gaze from the computers and continued after Ava. Walking took effort, as though I had new muscles that needed training.
Ridiculous.
I studied Ava as she led the way. She was taller than me by a few inches, and her golden blond hair was short and stylish. She carried herself with unmistakable grace, while, by contrast, I tripped on a cord taped to the cement floor. Ava’s glance flickered toward me, her eyes taking on a bit of warmth. “Sorry about that.”
We arrived at a door, which led to a narrow, antiseptically clean office with all the amenities: carved oak desk, client chairs, a comfortable couch near several metal filing cabinets, pictures of exotic places on the wall. Unexpectedly nice, except the only window looked into the warehouse instead of outside the building. She closed the door behind me and went, not to the desk, but to the couch. “Have a seat.”
I did as she requested, keeping an arm’s length between us. “That stuff, the gelatin. Does it heal burns? And scars?”
“Not exactly.”
“If the gelatin didn’t do it, how—” I stopped and looked down at my clothed body. “I was burned, wasn’t I? My arm was . . . gone. Or did I imagine it?”
“No, but whether or not you were put into the gelatin you would have healed, though it would have taken a lot longer than three and a half days. Weeks at least. The curequick gives our bodies enough nutrition to speed up our already accelerated recovery by as much as five times.”
I blinked, digesting that fact. The prickly hair on my head told me I hadn’t been here long, but healing from such massive burns, even sped up five times, would have taken months. “That’s impossible. What really happened to me? Who are you people?” Every muscle in my body tensed for the answer.
She held up a hand to still my panic. “The story, for me at least, begins a long time ago, when I was your age.”
Frustration momentarily overcame my fear. “What do you mean? You’re my age now.”
“Things aren’t always what they seem, Erin. Now do you want to hear this or not?” She spoke as though to a child, and I nodded, feeling oddly abashed at the disapproval in her voice.
“When I was thirty, I had a near-death experience, and like you, I survived. It was then I met a couple who claimed to be related to me—my eighth great-grandparents. They said that because I recovered, it meant I was Unbounded.”
“Unbounded. You used that term before.” I ignored for the moment the claim about her long-lived relatives.
“A derivative of the early Greek word boundary. Our temporal boundaries are not like those of regular mortals; thus, we are unboundaried. The word has been changed and shortened over the centuries.”
&
nbsp; “Temporal boundaries. What does that even mean?”
Her chin lifted with an elegance I could never hope to emulate. “It means I’m your fourth great-grandmother, I’m three hundred years old, and I have every intention of living until I’m two thousand.”
What kind of an idiot did she think I was?
I jumped to my feet. “Look, I don’t know who you are or what you’re trying to do, but I don’t want any part of it. If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave now.”
Ava arose and went around the desk, sitting in the chair and tapping on the computer keyboard. “Come here. You need to see this.” Her calm tone hadn’t altered in the slightest at my outburst.
Reluctantly, I obeyed. My eyes skimmed past a mug full of pens, a stack of papers, a black cell phone and came to rest on the computer monitor. A video was playing of Ava and Dimitri bringing in a bandage-wrapped form on a hospital bed. I watched as they cut off the bandages and slipped the grotesque figure into the slimy curequick. Ava touched something on the keyboard, and the image zoomed in on the mass of burned flesh. Me. I remembered the torture, and if nothing else, one side of my face was clearly recognizable. I was surprised anyone could be that destroyed and still live.
Another key speeded up the film. Before my eyes, the body shed the black shell and new pale skin gleamed underneath. As the curequick disappeared, more buckets of the gelatin were dumped into the coffin over the unmoving body. The amputated arm regrew, pushing and stretching out grotesquely in the sped-up video.
I swallowed hard. On some level I knew all this; I’d lived it. Yet seeing it on the screen made it all too real. Either they’d gone to great lengths to create a realistic hoax, or they were telling the truth.
“I should have died.”
Ava shook her head. “There are only a few ways Unbounded can die, and fire isn’t one of them. I’m sorry we didn’t discover your nature before the accident. I know it was painful.”
The Change (Unbounded) Page 2
