Chrysalis, p.13
Chrysalis, page 13
When I finally thought I could stand unassisted, I opened my eyes…only to find a red circle over the field of vision in the left one. A woman walking down the street came into focus, so close I could see the text message she was writing on her phone. I blinked, and she disappeared…no, I corrected as I spotted her red coat down the road. She was at least two blocks away. I blinked a few times, staring at her phone, and brought her into focus again. Far. Blink, blink. Near. Blink, blink.
I stumbled a little again. A hand secured around my elbow to steady me, and I found myself looking at a kindly-faced elderly man. “You all right, young man?”
I blinked rapidly, and a red circle that looked like a target narrowed around his face. The circle made a beep that I was pretty sure only I could hear. Threat minimal scrolled across the bottom of my eye. Shit, shit, shit.
“I’m fine,” I croaked.
He patted my hand and walked off. A little dog in a sweater trotted behind him. I blinked rapidly, and the circle disappeared completely. I tried not to let the panic take over as anxiety clawed its way up my throat. But seriously…what the fuck happened when the threat was substantial?
A better vantage point. That’s what I needed. I should get to higher ground. I scanned the street, and my gaze landed on an apartment building slightly down and across the street from the corner store. It was an abandoned husk of a building, with aggressively climbing ivy and windows that looked like broken teeth. It looked like a damned fine place to wait and watch. I hurried across the street.
Entry to the building was pretty simple. I brushed the worst of the glass shards out of an already broken window and clambered through it. I landed on the floor in a cloud of dust and gave the dim interior a quick onceover. I wasn’t surprised to find other people already scattered about inside. Some were probably homeless, others looking for a place to crash and get high. None of that was my business.
I headed for the roof. In the stairwell, I passed a guy so odorous that it threatened to send me back a step. His clothes were all but rags as he tottered past me. “Stairs ain’t safe past the third floor,” he said with a hiccup.
“Thanks,” I said over my shoulder as I continued.
Sure enough, when I got to the third floor, half the stairwell was missing. Without thinking too much about it, I took a running start and jumped, hoping my instincts were on the money and I wasn’t about to go crashing through the floor like Wyle E. Coyote. I sailed past the broken section so fast, it took me by surprise. I landed on my feet and kept going.
So that happened.
I decided not to analyze the fact that I’d practically leaped an entire flight of stairs with ease. I made the rest of the twelve-floor journey and broke the lock on the roof access door. Then I headed for the edge of the roof. I flattened myself on the ground like a sniper, angling myself toward the ATM I’d used so recently.
And then I waited. I was still and quiet as I watched the busy street. I didn’t know who I was waiting for. I just knew they were coming…I knew that deep down in my bones.
I had way too much time to think, pressed on that rooftop. I nervously snapped the rubber band on my wrist. Gray had given it to me when I’d forgotten a bag of groceries on the bus and had a mini-meltdown. It was a simple thing that could’ve happened to anyone, but to me, it felt so much bigger. I’d already forgotten most of my past, and now I was forgetting the present, too. He rubbed my arms as he calmed me down and teased me that I was attaching a lot of significance to a bag of tortilla chips and Oreos.
“They were Double-Stuf,” I’d told him mournfully. “If that matters.”
“It doesn’t,” he said dryly. But he’d taken me back to the store to get more. Later that night, he’d given me the rubber band. “Keep it on your wrist and give it a snap when there’s something you need to remember.”
“That’s stupid,” I said, frowning down at the band.
“I believe the words you’re looking for are, Thank you, Gray.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I slipped it over my wrist. “Thank you, Gray, and that’s stupid.”
He chuckled. “It’s a well-known technique. And if it doesn’t help, I’ll know where to find one when I need it for my hair.”
I glared because he’d turned me into an emergency scrunchie, but I didn’t take it off.
I’d taken to snapping it when I was nervous. Like now. I popped it some more. What the hell was I? Everything was coming together to form a picture that made me nervous. The knife skills, the speed, my fighting ability…even my endurance. There were the modifications Dr. Michaels had mentioned and even the plastic surgery Gray pointed out. It all added up to one thing.
Someone had been experimenting on me.
Well, they could have it all back. Quite frankly, I wasn’t too fond of the kangaroo ankles, and I could certainly do without the fucking Robo eye. I tried to calm my racing thoughts as I snapped the rubber band anxiously. Maybe they didn’t want it back. Maybe they wanted to destroy evidence that it ever existed. That had probably been their goal when they shot me. I bet they were keen to finish the job.
I’d just about convinced myself that I was paranoid when three black SUVs pulled up to the curb near the ATM. Four men emerged from each, and without hesitation, they split in different directions. They started searching the streets and various shops nearby.
I inhaled sharply as one of them emerged from the convenience store. Andy. The guy who’d visited me in the hospital. My “partner.” Those crystalline blue eyes surveyed the block with an intensity usually relegated to hungry wild animals. His gaze landed on the roof next to me…then slid over to my perch. My heart started to beat a little faster, like a caged bird inside my chest. There’s no way he can see you.
His gaze moved on to the next roof, and I finally started to breathe again. Another guy got out of the passenger seat of the first SUV. I blinked rapidly to activate whatever alteration had been put in my left eye. The red circle appeared. Threat. Unknown.
I narrowed my eye and magnified him. From the looks of his silvery gray hair, he was older than the rest. Slender and tall, he was dressed in a well-tailored suit and a long black coat. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and tapped busily at the screen for a few moments.
All attention suddenly went up to my roof.
Shit. I lay as still as possible, almost holding my breath. There was just no way they could know. Impossible. And yet… Andy smiled. He crossed the street in a blur so fast it defied explanation. My eyes widened as I realized that yes, it was possible, yes, he did know, and yes, he was abso-fucking-lutely coming for me.
That buzz in the back of my neck. Somehow, they had activated something in me—maybe a tracking device of some sort. I knew the back of my neck wouldn’t feel any different than it usually did, but I touched it anyway. It seemed like the right thing to do when you found out that someone went Mr. Potato Head on your body.
I jumped up from my hiding spot. Hiding was useless at this point. I ran for the ladder on the side of the building, only to find one of the old man’s goons clambering up it. Fuck. I had seriously underestimated how freaking quick they were. They’d been altered like me. That only makes sense, I thought grimly as I abandoned the staircase and sprinted for the roof access door. You want to capture something other, you need to hunt with something other.
When I reached the door, I grabbed the handle and then paused. My vision wasn’t the only thing that had gotten better in the past half hour. Now my hearing was more acute as well. They were coming, and fast. My ears were so sensitive, I could even hear their heartbeats as they raced up the stairwell—six, to be precise.
I headed back across the rooftop. The adjacent building looked too far to even contemplate a jump. But that was before. I wrinkled my brow. Now I knew making it across was a possibility. But how far was my range? Did I have to say “Go, go, gadget,” or could I just fucking jump?
I had another brief second to think about it before the stairwell door flew open, sailing off its hinges. No time left to waffle. I ran toward the edge of the building. I psyched myself up as I ran—as much as you can psyche yourself up when you’re running toward certain death. I had a slight moment of hesitation at the edge as I looked at the long way down, and then I was flying, flying, flying….
That slight moment of hesitation cost me as I came up a few inches short. My eyes flew open wide as I realized I wasn’t going to make it. I grabbed for anything, crying out as my knuckles scraped against the unforgiving brick. I barely hooked my fingers on a window ledge and made another sound as the rest of my weight hit my poor arm.
I hung there for a minute as the goons shouted across the way, and then I scrambled back up. I hauled myself onto the roof and took a running leap for the next one, with no hesitation this time around. On the fourth roof, I scrambled through the roof access door and thundered down the stairs so fast, I made myself dizzy. I skipped an entire level of stairs at one point, landing with a jarring pain that went all the way up to my hips.
See? Human. Whatever else you are, you’re still very human.
And then I was out the door and running down the back alley. I didn’t look back. I just ran as if my very life depended on it. And at this point, who knew? Maybe it did. I remembered my days in the hospital, stupidly wondering why no one was looking for me.
Be careful what you wish for.
The chip in my neck was a problem. A big fucking problem.
I hustled down the street, suspicious of every shadow and every person that looked at me a little too long. As long as I had that glorified tracker inside of me, there was nowhere I could hide. No place I could run. It had to come out immediately.
I hated to stop moving even for a few minutes, but I took a chance and ducked into a corner store. I hustled down the aisles, grabbing a few items I could use as I went. A pack of razor blades, some antiseptic, and some bandages were first. A bottle of cheap vodka and a couple of candy bars joined them a minute later. As I hurried past a brightly lit case of sports drinks, I caught a glimpse of my reflection and winced.
I looked like hell. My jeans were torn and dirty, my knuckles abraded and speckled with blood. Nothing to do about any of that now. I headed for the front of the store. As I let the items tumble from my arms and haphazardly onto the checkout counter, I gave the clerk a reassuring smile.
She checked out my items, looking at me with wide eyes as she put them in the bag. I tapped my fingers on the counter, wondering what the nice version of “hurry the fuck up” was. I needed to get that bloody chip out of my neck. I couldn’t do that while Suzy Slow here tried to make a new Guinness World Record for ringing up someone’s purchases at the speed of sloth.
Unless she was one of them.
Christ, you’re going crazy. She couldn’t have been over eighteen years old and looked as sweet as pie. I stabbed my hands through my hair. I was just starting to see them everywhere, and they weren’t.
She finally gave me my total, and I dropped some crumped bills on the counter. A couple of them had a smear of blood on the edges. We stared at the money together for a few beats before she lifted her wide gaze to mine.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Had a razor in my pocket.” I grabbed the two bags she’d set on the counter and hustled out of the store.
“I didn’t give you your change,” she called out.
“Keep it.” I might be new to this “on the run” business, but I was pretty sure you didn’t wait for change and a receipt.
I hustled down the street. I couldn’t look more suspicious if I tried, so I didn’t try to blend in. I spotted the black SUVs turning the corner a few seconds later, and I took off in a run, cursing as I cut through another back alley. I leaped a fence and then another, before spying the bus terminal.
I wound through the people in the busy station, ducking into the nearest bathroom I found. It was filthy and smelled strongly of urine, but it was empty, which was all that mattered. Wasting no time, I upended my bag into one of the dirty sinks. Then I wrestled with the cap of cheap vodka and unwrapped the razor. I had minutes—maybe—to complete questionable surgery in less-than-ideal conditions.
I felt around the back of my neck, probing until I found a small lump underneath the skin. I splashed vodka back there, most of it running down the back of my shirt, and then splashed some over the razor for good measure. Then I took a deep breath and started to cut. My hands were about as steady as an addict’s on day three of going cold turkey.
The bathroom door banged open, startling me. Luckily, I was able to keep the razor fairly straight and continued the line across my neck. I looked up in the mirror to see a guy stumble in. Judging from his state of dress and his odor, he was probably one of the regulars that called the bus station home base. He glanced at me with bleary eyes, taking in the blood running down the back of my neck and the razor in my hand.
That woke him up pretty quickly. He gaped. “Jesus Christ, man!”
“I assure you that’s not my name,” I grumbled. “And this isn’t what it looks like.”
“Looks like yer tryin’ to off yousself,” he slurred. “But mebbe I could be inclined to forget for the right price.”
“Just hush and you can have the vodka and some cash when I’m done.”
I started digging in the slit I’d made with clumsy fingers. I gritted my teeth from the pain, which was incredible. In the movies, cheap liquor was supposed to numb the pain a little. That shit was clearly made up by someone who’d never tried to conduct their own surgery.
Maybe you’re crazy, I thought wildly as I continued to probe with bloodstained fingers. Maybe there was nothing to find. I blotted the area around the wound with paper towels and went back to digging. Disturbed by my strange activity, the homeless guy retched in one of the stalls, I dug a little deeper and finally brushed across something small and metal.
“Yahtzee,” I murmured.
I wormed my fingers around the tiny wires connected to the device. I hesitated before yanking it out. I wasn’t too keen on powering myself down like a Roomba who’d been away from its charging base too long. Surely this was just a tracking device and nothing more. I’d deal with those people eventually. I had no choice. But it would be on my terms and certainly not because they’d hunted me down like an animal.
That resolve gave me the courage I needed. I pulled on the chip violently. There was a small spark and then nothing. I turned the bloodstained chip over in my fingers, examining it carefully. It was no bigger than the end of my pinky nail, and the back was covered with a tiny circuit board.
The homeless guy’s mouth dropped open. “I told ’em,” he exclaimed. “I fucking tole ’em. We’re all bein’ monitored by the fucking government. Big brother fucking everywhere.”
Not everyone, I started to say. Then I closed my mouth. It was kind of hard to deny the evidence in my hands. I shrugged and dropped it on the floor, then crushed it under my boot. I glanced at my watch again. I’d been here way too long.
I splashed the back of my neck with water and handed the bottle over to the homeless guy. He made a face at my bloody fingerprints on the neck of the bottle. That didn’t seem to stop him from taking a swig, though. He watched avidly as I unwrapped a bandage and slapped it on my neck. It immediately bled through, and I swapped it for a fresh one.
“You promised me cash,” he reminded me.
I dug in my pocket and threw him a few bills. “Anything else in that sink you think you can use, you can have.”
I headed out the door and made my way through the crowded terminal, trying my best to look inconspicuous. The blood on my collar and my shirt made that a little difficult. And then there was another problem. I spotted Andy standing near terminal three, surveying the area with a narrowed gaze. I slouched down even more until I reached the door. I was so busy looking backward that I ran smack-dab into someone.
The man in the suit with the silver hair. The pieces fell in place, and I remembered him as the guy from the abandoned apartment building. The one with the device that tracked me down like a wounded wildebeest. Aw fuck.
“Sorry,” I said automatically, and his eyes gleamed.
I pushed past, and he grabbed my arm. “Chris,” he said. “You don’t remember me?”
“I think you’ve got the wrong guy.” I tried to shake him, but he hung on like a limpet.
His gaze landed on my bandage, and the color drained from his face. “What have you done to yourself?” he cried.
I evaded his hand as he tried to touch my bandage. I tried to step around him, and he stepped in my path again. “Chrysalis,” he said firmly. “It’s time to stop all this nonsense and come back with me. Quietly.”
“Get out of my way. I would hate to hurt you.” I hardened my expression. “But I will.”
“Chaos,” he suddenly cried out. “He’s over here!”
Well, Chaos certainly fits him better than Andy. Chaos started pushing his way through the crowd, and I gave the old man a shove. I hit the street at a dead run, fully aware of the irony of running away from my past—literally—at top speed. Apparently, top speed for me was fast…maybe a little too fast. I startled when I realized I’d passed a bicycle and slowed—the wide-eyed man watching me nearly ran into a mailbox before he jerked the handlebars and corrected his path.
Back streets. Back streets would be safer. I zigzagged and cut through several backyards to make sure I wasn’t followed. When I was satisfied that I’d lost the android squad, I headed back to Gray’s. I checked over my shoulder most of the way.
13
I could hear two heartbeats in the kitchen before I even came through the door. I rubbed my ears as if I could turn them down. My nose wasn’t much better. Gray was at the stove, and he was making something spicy. My sense of smell was suddenly so sensitive, I could pick out the individual spices in the pot.
