Sparked (The Metal Bones Series Book 1) (25 page)

“I don’t know anyone that’s greedy,” I snapped.

“Yes, you do.” He leaned forward. “Think.”

“Well,
you
.” I crossed my arms. “You are the greediest bastard I know. You want and want and want. You take and take and take. And you never care about the consequences of the people”—I leaned forward—“that you hurt or what it is you’re taking from them.” My jaw locked. “That is true greed. And there is nothing greedier than your slimy, stinking goal. Your stupid, pathetic goal. Your—”

“Silence,” he ordered, fuming. “Or I’ll be more than happy to have your mouth glued too!”

Me too, because I wouldn’t have to answer all your useless questions.

He exhaled and opened my folder. “How come you were so difficult to capture?”

I felt all the blood drain from my face.

“How come it took twenty-six robots to capture you? Tell me.” He rubbed his chin. “How a girl handcuffed to a chair, who shuts up because she’s being threatened had twenty-six robots going in circles.”

The needles zoomed away behind me, and I shifted in the straps.

“Yes?” he prodded.

“Robots are important functions of society,” I said and immediately shut my mouth.

What did I . . .?

Bacchart laughed. “Why does everything have to be such a struggle with you?”

“Why do I even have to be here?” I said, grinding my teeth together.

He drummed his fingers on the table, taking me in. “How’s your new roommate doing?”

I gasped and caught the gleam in his eye.

“Did that”—he nodded—“specially for you. My way of giving back. You see, we work to make everything better. To fix the odds and ends that have been broken. I told you that you would understand. So let’s start again, shall we?”

The needles raced across the paper.

“Who? Saved? You?” He punctuated each word.

I looked away.

“Vienna . . .” He made a signal and Icy Blue Eyes ran to open the fourth door from the left. “Tell me. Who saved you?”

I bit my lip. She opened the door and the cold slithered its way up my legs. I rocked back and forth.
Oh-please-oh-please-oh-please.
The needles burned across the page behind me as the cold licked its way up my stomach.
Lick. Lick. Lick.

I grimaced. “No one.” I pulled my hands apart in my handcuffs, feeling the flubber digging into my skin. “I saved myself.”

“Yes.” He nodded and put my file down. “I actually think you did.”

Guards majestically appeared from the walls and wheeled me into the freezer.

The cold nipped at my arms, at my legs, at my ears, at my nose—circling me—slithering.

No.

The door closed in my face.

Click
. The light shut off. I hung my head—still handcuffed to the chair.

Checkmate.

Chapter 38

Green?

Green?

Who is he?

Wonderful.

Beautiful.

Sad.

Broken.

Mine.

“Where is he?”

Up.

Down.

Here.

There.

Snow.

Forests.

Trees.

Trees?

Eagles.

Eagles?

Scary.

Escape?

Want.

Escape.

Want.

Escaped.

Yes.

How?

Him . . .

Who?

Green . . .

Chapter 39

My head was hammering its way out of my skull.

Crack-crack-crack. Pound-pound-pound.

I thrashed in the sheets.

“Shhh . . .” Someone put their arm around me and whispered in my ear.

Crack-crack-crack. Pound-pound-pound.

I squirmed and clutched my head in my hands.

“Vienna!” the voice said.

I opened my eyes against the blinding ceiling light.

“Vienna. Look at me.”

I squinted into pale-blue eyes.

“Don’t die on me.”

My head was on fire, shooting flames through my skull. “That actually sounds good right about now.”

“That’s not even funny,” London muttered.

I grunted and then cringed at the motion.

“They really messed you up,” she said, her voice softening, “didn’t they?”

“This?” I closed my eyes. “This is nothing.”

I felt heat gazing on my face and popped an eye open.

London shook her head. “You’re something else.”

I eyed her tattoos and partially black hair. “I’m a pink-candy-colored version of you.”

Pound. Crack. Crack. Pound.

“Ugh,” I whined.

A door slammed in the distance, and footsteps echoed down the hall.

I winced.

We fell quiet and stared at each other as the steps came closer. 

They opened a cell door, closed it and then two sets of footsteps disappeared.

“Have you seen their wonderful accommodations?” I massaged my head.

“Nope.” Her mouth twisted up. “But I’m looking forward to it.”

“You’re crazy then.” I covered my eyes.

“I hope so.”

Boots echoed along the corridor, closer and closer, the pounding firmer with each step, matching the pounding of my head.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

London retreated to her bunk just as our cell door swung open.

“You.” The guard pointed his finger at me.

The goo settled around my wrists and the guard hauled me out the door. I took a fleeting look at London.

“Thank you,” I mouthed and she nodded back.

The guard took me through the main chamber. Left, left, right . . .

Wait
. I looked around.

This was . . . Things hung on the walls.

The walls were painted white.

This was . . . not right.

“Where are we going?”

He tightened his grip on my arm and we continued through five more doors and six more passageways. He opened a door to a room with a sterile metal table and counters lining the walls.

“Sit.” He heaved me onto the freezing table.

A man in a white doctor’s gown came in and fussed around with the cabinets. Bottles rattled and papers ripped behind me. “This’ll only take a second.”

What would only take a second?

He assessed my vitals and scribbled on a sheet of paper. For the first time, the doctor looked at me. He had sad hazel eyes. “Everything will be all right soon. The worst is over now.”

My heart dropped into my chest. “What do you mean?”

Was this it? Were they going to kill me? After all this, and then they just . . .

He turned to leave the room.

“Wait . . .” I reached for him.

The guard intercepted me, and the doctor shook his head.

“Wait,” I screamed. “Where are they taking me? What are they doing with me?”

The doctor closed the door and the guard hauled me off the table.

My vision spun. “Please wait.” I tried to wrestle with his hands. “Let me talk to him. Please.”

The guard simply pinned my arms to my side and lifted me over his shoulder.  He walked down the hallway, the opposite way the doctor had left. My head pounded. Blood raced to my skull, increasing the hammering.

“Please,” I whispered,
pound-pound-pound
, “put me down.”

The guard stopped and then gently stood me against a wall so he wouldn’t have to catch me once I fell over. My eyes went back down the hallway, hoping the doctor would somehow reappear. But he didn’t. He was probably long gone now.

His words echoed in my mind.
Everything will be all right soon. The worst is over.

It was all an experiment. I was their experiment, another one of their guinea pigs. And now . . . I squeezed my eyes shut. And now it was over.

The guard led me through several more doors until we came to a stop in front of two large white doors. The doors buzzed and creaked as they opened.

So this was how I died. How poetic to find my long-lost cousin, finally, only to lose her again, to find the family I’ve always wanted to meet, only to have those seconds as the last ones of my life.

Light burst in through the door, blinding me, and I stumbled backward.

I heard the roar of—I frowned—people?

My eyes adjusted to blinding sunlight only to see people, everywhere and all staring at me.

“I give you”—Bacchart’s voice echoed off the speakers—“Vienna Avery. The first successful completion.”

Chapter 40

What?

Bacchart stood at the podium, a distance away from the building. “Vienna Avery is the first successful completion of all of our endeavors, of all of our triumphs, and of all of our losses. We give you, the start of a beautiful new beginning.”

The crowd stood up and clapped, their faces brilliant with smiles, grins, and laughs. The sun shone bright with their overjoyed faces, in stark contrast to the dead emancipated trees surrounding the ice draining courtyard.

Doctors, military men, prison guards, all standing, all cheering . . . for me.

For what they put me through.

For what they did to me.

For what they did to Dean.

For what they did to Paula.

For what . . . I choked and my eyes clouded . . . they will do to London.

Bacchart continued talking and their attention diverted back to him at the front of the platform.

No.

I moved toward him and something toppled me to the ground. My face smashed into the carpet runner and goo slid around my ankles.

“This is crazy.” My scream was lost by the carpet and the people cheering. “How can you . . .?”

The guard pulled at my shackles and threw me into the next room amidst everyone standing and cheering at Bacchart, no one the wiser of what was happening to me. Their attention completely occupied. I bit back tears as my arms tore in their sockets.

“You should be happy.” The guard hauled me through more doors and the cacophony of cheering faded.

My feet shuffled, one in front of the other, the goo limiting my strides. “I should be happy?” I ground my teeth together. “That I’m chained and shackled?”

Another guard sailed around the corner. “We need pictures before she can be—”

I looked up into the young guard’s eyes.

“Sergeant Hardy, what are you doing!” the female guard said.

“Nothing she didn’t ask for.” He held up his hand, and I swayed, my feet too close together to be an anchor.

“Hardy!” The female guard steadied my arm. “I’ll bring her from here.” Her fingers tightened around me as she led me through another corridor. Once Hardy was out of sight, she nimbly removed the goo from my ankles and arms. “You must be so excited.”

My jaw locked.

Her smile widened. “Come.” She pulled me along after her. We went through several more doors until we stopped. She licked her lips. “Here we are. You ready?”

I looked away. “Just get it over with.”

The doors buzzed open and blinding sunlight streamed through again.

I hissed and staggered back as it burned my eyes.

Didn’t these people realize the last time I saw sunlight was right before they got their hands on me?

Cameras clicked and voices filled the crisp air.

I squinted against the sun and camera flashes to see Bacchart smiling at me, now at my side.

“Vienna.” Bacchart’s smile was just as blinding as the sunlight. “I’d never have thought we would be standing here, together.” His voice drifted under the noise of the people gathering below. “Not after we had our first session.” He turned to the staff assembled in the courtyard, his voice still hushed. “You were an enigma to me. And in some ways”—he bowed his head—“you still are.”

“And here I thought you had me all figured out.” I stared at the people, with smiling faces below us.

I did nothing but stare right back at them with as much hatred as I could possibly put into my face.
How could they be so unaware?

Another camera clicked, and Bacchart turned so that we were facing each other, in clear view of the camera lens.

“Oh, Vienna,” he sighed, “I could never have you all figured out. You’re nothing like anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“How encouraging,” I whispered. “Just what a girl who has been shackled in chains wants to hear.”

My hand fisted and before I could even throw a punch Bacchart’s way, the guard took my hand and lifted it up before the people, pulling at my already throbbing socket. I winced, receiving the message, and the crowd roared.

“And that’s exactly what I’m talking about.” Bacchart gave me a wistful smile. “I will miss you, you know. I will.”

I scanned the crowd and wished I could just shout and tell them everything, but they would never hear me without speakers and chances were they knew exactly what had been done to me . . . and to all the people still locked inside, chances were they were the ones who had done it
.

Bacchart cleared his throat and moved away from me to speak into the microphone someone handed him. “Thank you all for coming out today. I’m so excited to share this groundbreaking moment with every one of you. I know I shall never forget this . . . and I hope, I hope, you won’t either. It has shown how far we have come but most importantly, how much further we have to go.” He raised his hand toward me. “And now, at long last, Vienna Avery.” He turned to me and the crowd cheered. “We officially release you.”

What?

I gaped, totally at a loss.

The crowd cheered, jumping up and down, celebrating, their noise turning to fog in my ears.

My heart dropped into my stomach at their cheers.

My fingers tightened over the ringlets left on my wrists. My hair fell in greasy lumps around my face. My clothes smelled. My breath reeked. My skin itched with icy memories and my heart . . .

My heart broke with longing for the families and friends that I left behind, all the innocent people left behind, for the education I was forced to give up, and for the happiness I was forced to give up.

Alec.

“And lastly.” Their cheers quieted and Bacchart gestured to me. “We would like to extend the courtesy to you that you have so graciously bestowed upon us.” He regally stepped down the stairs to a waiting black van and opened the door. “To return you from whence we found you.”

The guard beside me prodded me down the stairs, my feet clattered along each step, the sunlight harsh against my eyes, and my face hot with hundreds of eyes burning through me.

I stopped in front of the van. The guard tugged on my arm but I stiffened and Bacchart raised his hand.

“You are making the biggest mistake of your life,” I whispered into Bacchart’s ear. “I will find you and when I do”—I stared in his onyx black eyes—“I will destroy you.”

His eyes softened. “How”—his voice caught, as if he were mesmerized—“how is it you still have all this inside of you?”

“I will never,” I said, “be what you want me to be.”

“Oh, Vienna.” He nodded, and the guard ushered me in. “You already are.”

They shut the door locking me in and the crowd exploded in exuberance outside.

I squeezed my eyes shut against them. I squeezed my heart shut against them.

A cloth wrapped around my eyes. “What are you—?” My arms jerked backward as duct tape wound around them. My laugh sounded weird in my ears. “And here I actually believed you.” I gasped for air. “I actually thought . . .”

This had all been a joke. Another part of the test.

“I actually thought you were going to free—”

Something jabbed into my arm and a coldness spread under my skin.

“What are you . . . daboing . . . to gee?”

Numbness flowed through my body, my arms, my legs, my fingers, my toes.

I’m going to . . .

I collapsed onto the floor, where calming waves washed over me, weaving through me, removing any fear, removing any pain, removing . . . everything.

“Shh . . .” a voice whispered in my ear. “We’ll be there soon enough.”