Parched (27 page)

I gulp the cool air, my breathing rattled and frantic.

It can't be true. But it is. I had seen it. Blue blood. No pain. The world dips and whirls around me, and I struggle to stay upright.

Hunter, always so curious, always slightly out of step with me.

The mutant with the long scar down his body. That's why I was drawn to him. He was Hunter. Hairless and deformed but he was Hunter. A version of Hunter. A mistake. A failed attempt to clone a human.

Hunter isn't human. Hunter is an artilect. Hunter is Aevum.

I draw in a shuddering breath. To my left is a sliver of brightly lit street that leads to the front entrance. Movement—half a dozen Quicks flash past the top of the alley. I freeze, my heart in my mouth. No, they aren't
headed this way. I spin around and begin limping right, toward the back of the building. Smoke billows from a few open windows, its stench turning my stomach.

I am once again at the back of Simutech. To my right, I recognize the loading dock, and beyond that, the entrance of the alley. To my left, the street continues onto the empty plaza and the lone water fountain.

I force myself to run toward the plaza, each step more painful than the last. On either side of me are silent, shuttered loading docks, or the backs of other large buildings, all dark and empty.

My breath is coming in croaky rasps. My ankle throbs, already starting to swell. Then there's the deep cut on my hand, the one on my head, and my ribs feel bruised: I am a bloody, broken mess.

As I near the end of the street, I breathe in the ripe, sweet smell of oranges. I realize this is Orange Grove Plaza, one of the bigger plazas in the Hive. My foggy mind tries to put the geography together.

I need to find Kudzu but there's no way I can find Milkwood on my own. The only place they'll know to look for me is Abel's. It's not safe there, now that Hunter and presumably Abel know I'm with Kudzu, but it's my only option. I have the vague impression I'm heading west. If I keep going in a straight line, I should eventually clear the Hive and be in Liberty Gardens.

Like most plazas in Eden, Orange Grove is circular with a large white water fountain in the middle. Boutiques in beautiful stone buildings, now all closed, ring the empty plaza. Running straight across feels too exposed. I wait ten seconds to make sure no one else is around. Then I slink up to the first set of boutiques and begin moving in front of their curved windows, making my way to the other side of the plaza. I have to clear about ten storefronts to get all the way around.

Almost immediately, I hear a quick, rhythmic tapping. It's the sound of Quicks running. They are coming this way.

I could never outrun them. Freezing won't work either, not when they're actively searching for me. I'm in front of a florist shop, but of course it's locked.

My body won't move.

Run
.

But I have nowhere to go.

The
tapping becomes a drumming. Like a swarm of nightmarish insects, Quicks spill into the plaza. They begin to fan out in a meticulous, symmetrical formation. There are at least fifty of them. It's only a few seconds before one of them sees me. A spike of fear, right through my heart. The entire sea of gleaming black heads swivel as one to face me. Glowing red eyes lock into mine. They surround me so quickly, I don't have time to move a single step.

My arms are forced behind my back. The powerful hand at my throat is ice cold. They are too fast and strong for me to escape in the ways Ling taught me. Without a human body's weakness to exploit, I am helpless.

A chorus of emotionless voices begins. “By order of the Trust and Project Aevum, we are authorized to act against individuals found guilty—”

“Help!” I scream hoarsely. “Somebody help—”

The grip around my throat tightens, muting my cry. This can't be how I am supposed to die. Alone in an empty plaza, surrounded by a flock of robots that won't even notice my blood on their hands.

Faces flash at me. Ling, Benji, Lana, Naz, Achilles. Abel. Hunter. Yes, even Hunter. A strangled choke of terror escapes my throat, but then I steel myself. I will not die crying.

“. . . We are authorized to execute.”

I gaze up at the sprinkling of diamond stars above the plaza, pin-pricks of light that traveled so far to meet my eyes.

Here I come, Mommy. Here I come
.

And then . . . nothing. My entire body is tense, ready for pain. Still nothing.

“Just get it over with,” I wheeze, my voice strangled through their immobile grip.

As one, the Quicks' eyes change color. They switch from red to white. My arms and throat are released. I almost collapse, doubling over and gasping for breath. The robots all turn away, going from the plaza, their feet drumming loudly on the clean stone inlay.

Then they are gone. I stand, dumbfounded, alone but for the gentle burble of the water fountain.
Why did they stop
?

A lone figure emerges from the shadows, walking slowly toward me.

It is Hunter.

His green eyes seem to glow. No. They
are
glowing, pulsing with some kind of power that has never been human.

“Th-That was you, just then,” I stutter in disbelief, my hand still rubbing my throat protectively. “Those Quicks—you serfed them.”

His face is devoid of expression. “Yes.”

My survival instinct kicks in. “Someone might see us. Someone human.” I gesture behind me. “These boutiques are all locked—”

The sound of the door unlocking cuts me off. Without a word, he strides past me and opens it, walking inside. A moment to take this in—Hunter as masterkey—and then I follow, closing the door securely behind me.

The fresh perfume of flowers hangs heavy in the air. Dozens of beautiful bouquets spill out everywhere—enormous white lilies the size of buckets, full red roses that smell just like chocolate, a bird-of-paradise with bright feathers growing from its stem.

A huge oval mirror hangs above a glossy pink counter. I lock eyes with a beast. I start in fright before realizing the beast is me. Dried blood cakes one side of my face from the cut on my head. My skin is darkened with smoke and dirt and rubble. The ends of my hair and parts of my eyebrows have been singed off. Red marks shaped like fingers bracelet my throat.

My tronic glows in the dim light, four words embedded under my skin:
No feeling is final
.

Hunter comes toward me. I don't know if I should be scared of a killer or thankful for a savior. His voice is just a murmur. “You're hurt.” A thin hypodermic needle plunges into my forearm.

“Ow!” I try to wrench my arm away, but Hunter holds it securely, pumping cool, clear liquid inside me. “What is that?” I ask in a panic.

“Nanites. A form of microrobotic technology—”

“I know what nanites are!” I exclaim. “Why am I chock-full of them?”

“They'll help you heal faster.”

He extracts the needle carefully. As I rub where it had pierced my skin, I can't help but stare at him. I look like a war zone. He just looks like Hunter.

This must be a mistake. A huge and terrible mistake. Maybe Hunter does work for Simutech but he can't—There's no way he's actually—

There's one question that'll answer this. My voice is not much more than a whisper. “Who is Emily Anderson?”

Shadows pool around his face, his expression still completely unreadable. “A memory I wrote,” he replies quietly.

I spin around, away from him, one hand clamped over my mouth to stifle a cry. I grab the counter for support.

“You're not my uncle's assistant,” I say.

“No.”

“You're not a student.”

“No.”

“You're . . .” I can't look at him. “You're . . .”

“Say it,” he says, in a strangely urgent voice.

I squeeze my eyes shut, hard, then force them open. I turn to meet his gaze coldly, channeling my most mechanical self. “You're a combination of human clone tissue and machine. You have an artificial nervous system, powered by robotic neuron and glial cells. Your DNA sequences are genetically engineered. You're not human. You are . . .” I pause. “You are an artilect. You are Aevum.”

In the darkness of the boutique, I catch the faintest glimpse of a smile on his mouth. “Right again, Tess Rockwood.”

A flood of memories pours over me. Hunter's fingers running up Mack's handle the day we met, the way his eyes darted so quickly to mine. The pleasure of discovering Malspeak. The questions, the curiosity, the awkwardness. The endless repertoire of facts and figures and information. Magnus was connected to the streams. He could see everything. That's why Hunter knows so much about art and history. He was in the streams the whole time. How could I not see? How could I not realize what he really was?

“But—But you were always at Abel's,” I stutter. “How is that possible? Why weren't you locked up at Simutech?”

Hunter's eyes slide sideways. “That information is classified.”

“Screw classification!” I exclaim. “Hunter, it's me, it's Tess.”

His eyes flit to mine before flitting back to the floor. After a pause,
he says, “Abel told the Trust the reason Magnus killed your mother was because he was not socially conditioned, and that I must be allowed to operate in society as a normal boy in order to be safe. The Trust refused. A compromise was made.”

“You could be at the house,” I say. “You could travel to and from Abel's home.”

The walk by the river. That's why he was so excited. That was the first time—I shake my head, almost unable to comprehend it all—that was the first time he'd even been to the river.

My feet move toward him to get a better view. He looks
exactly
like a normal boy. His hair, his skin, the color of his eyes.
A perfect clone. Of whom?

I wonder. “You're amazing,” I breathe, stunned. I can't believe Abel did it. My fingers reach to touch his skin—skin that doesn't rip or tear, skin that doesn't seem to feel pain, skin that looks human but must be improved somehow, modified, strengthened—before I remember where I am. Who I am. Who Hunter is.

“The presentation,” I remember. “Hunter, I saw the presentation at Simutech.”

Nothing. He's silent, unmoving.

“I saw the Builder kill those men,” I continue, my horror growing with every second. “You did that. You took control of that Builder and you killed them.”

I will him to say no.

“Yes,” he says. “I did.”

I'm having trouble breathing. “I can't believe you did that. I just—I just can't believe that. You're a murderer!” I cry, before catching myself and dropping my voice to a frenzied whisper. “You're a murderer. You killed ten people.”

“Yes, I did.”

“And you're supposed to carry out Project Aevum. You're supposed to”—my voice wavers; I snatch it back—“
kill
everyone in the Badlands.”

“Technically, I'm anticipating a ninety-six point seven percent success rate,” he muses quietly. “But essentially, yes.”

“That's why the Trust created you.” My mind is racing, trying to pull everything together. “Project Aevum wasn't your idea, you're just . . . you're just the means to the end. You can make subs kill people.”

“Yes.”

I swallow hard, panting with adrenaline. “Okay. Okay. We'll go
back to Abel's together,” I think aloud. “We can wait there for Kudzu. Once we find Ling, she'll know what to do.”

“Kudzu?” Hunter blinks before his face clears into understanding. “That's why you used the off-cycle scratch,” he murmurs. “You're part of Kudzu. That's who broke into Simutech.”

There's not point denying it now. “Exactly.”

“If I'd known that . . .” A subtle grimace touches his features.

“What?” I ask in alarm. “If you'd known that, what?”

Hunter looks momentarily lost in thought. “I might not have sent in all those Quicks.”

Hunter sent in the Quicks. The Quicks who killed Lana. It was him.
He
authorized the Quicks to kill. For a moment I can't bear to look him.
He didn't know
, I remind myself fiercely.
He's a puppet. You have to save him
.

I grab his arm and pull him a few steps toward the door. “We have to get out of here.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise the Trust will force you to kill millions of people,” I snap, more out of fear than annoyance. “We have to get out of here now!”

Hunter pulls his arm easily from my grip and steps back to put a healthy distance between us. His voice is dead calm. “The Trust isn't forcing me to do anything, Tess.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I am choosing to perform Project Aevum,” he says simply. “Removing the human element from the Badlands is the most effective course of action for the ongoing prosperity of Eden. You saw what happened on the Northern Bridge. The Badlands are a threat. It's very fortunate I can stop it.”

I'm dumb with disbelief, before I choke out, “You can't really think that, Hunter. I mean, you can't actually
believe
that.”

“Yes, I can.”

“But these are people's lives. You'll be ending people's
lives
.”

“What's the alternative, Tess? Everyone starves to death?” Bizarrely, his voice switches to my voice, an octave higher than his. “ ‘
It's not really living out there. It's surviving. And most people aren't even doing that. They're just dying.' ”

I said that to him. They're my exact words.

“I'm not sadistic, if that's what you're thinking. Project Aevum is designed to be humane,” he continues in his regular voice. He turns and
wanders away from me, his voice echoing around the darkened shop. “That's why the Trust built me to be able to do this. A human would be pointlessly distracted from the task by emotion. I see the problem. I fix it.”