Authors: Megan Shepherd
The Cage (7 page)
Nok made a sympathetic pout but frowned suddenly and dropped her arms. “Do you all feel that?”
Cora did. Her skin was tingling. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck rose like static electricity. She exchanged a worried glance with Nok. “We’ve got to get the others.” They ran toward the square as a crackling sound started, but Cora couldn’t trace it. It seemed to come from
everywhere
. It built like pressure, a constrictive feeling like taking off in an airplane, and got stronger and stronger until Cora thought her body might burst.
As she rounded the corner, she saw Lucky ahead. He turned and met her eyes. She never thought she’d see someone so brave look so afraid.
A scream came from behind her, and she whirled to find Nok with a hand over her mouth, letting out frightened little gasps. A creeping feeling crawled up her neck—the same feeling she got around the black windows, only a thousand times stronger. Lucky crashed into her, holding her tight, preventing her from turning around.
“What is it?”
“Don’t, Cora. Don’t look.”
Whatever was standing right behind her was terrifying even to someone as brave as him. But he couldn’t stop her from looking. She had to.
She looked over her shoulder.
They weren’t alone.
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HarperCollins Publishers
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A NEW FIGURE—A MAN—STOOD
next to the cherry tree. He had to be close to seven feet tall. Something about his black uniform suggested a soldier, though Cora had never seen clothes like his before. They fit closely to the muscles of his arms and chest and moved with him so seamlessly that they were almost liquid cloth—except for the row of knots down one side. He wore a utility band slung across his chest, which glistened with equipment that looked far more advanced than the prototypes her father invested in. He carried himself as stiffly as a soldier in an army recruiting ad, with buzzed hair and the straight back of a warrior—except for a few key differences. His impressive height. His skin, which was somewhere in between the color of copper and bronze and reflected the sunlight like metal. And his eyes.
They had no irises. No pupils. They were entirely black.
Breath slipped from her. His was the face from her dreams. The most beautiful creature she had ever seen, yet he no longer looked angelic. He was terrifying.
And he isn’t human.
They weren’t in a dream, or virtual reality. They’d been taken by gods or aliens—or monsters.
The soldier flexed his glove.
Rolf fell to his knees. Nok crumpled next to him. The soldier’s presence screamed danger, but there was something captivating about him too, like staring into a flame. It was impossible to look away.
Coldness pooled between her shoulder blades. She leaned closer to Lucky, her heart pounding. Had this man been the shadowy figure behind those black windows? Studying them, like Rolf said? Was he the one who had dressed her in a stranger’s clothes?
Movement flickered to her left.
The black-eyed man’s presence didn’t seem to have the same captivating effect on Leon, who let out a war cry and lunged forward. Cora’s breath caught. Don’t fight back, that was the rule in situations like this, but Leon hadn’t gotten the memo—or hadn’t cared.
The soldier watched patiently, arms at his sides.
Leon collided with him.
Cora flinched. She expected cracking bones and spurting blood, but the moment Leon touched his shoulder, the stranger threw him. It was an effortless movement, no more than swatting a fly, but it sent Leon—who had to weigh 250 pounds—fifteen feet away.
All the strength from Cora’s body drained into the grass.
Leon pushed himself up, shaking the sweat out of his hair, looking stricken. “That bastard—he zapped me with some bloody thing!”
But the stranger held no weapons.
“Remain calm,” the soldier said. There was no trace of an accent, but his pitch was monotone and deep, just as unnatural as his eyes. “You are not in danger.”
“Who are you?” Lucky asked.
The soldier cocked his head. A second passed, and then another. Cora burrowed deeper against Lucky’s chest. The man’s eyes burned right through her, down to her innermost thought, hypnotizing her with a single look. She traced her eyes over his bare arms, his hands, his chest. The angel from her dreams—or rather, a demon. He looked so very close to being human, but he was beyond that, clearly from another place or time. Not just his metallic skin and otherworldly beauty, but the magnetic feeling he gave off. He radiated
otherness
.
“I am your Caretaker,” he said.
“Take us home,” Lucky demanded.
The Caretaker tilted his head, as though perplexed by the idea. “That is impossible. You are on our aggregate space station, far from your solar system. These habitats are meant to replicate the lives you would have experienced on Earth. We hope it pleases you.”
Cora drew in a sharp breath.
Not on Earth?
Her fingers fell away from Lucky and curled around the edges of a nearby tree, her stomach weightless even though nothing had changed. The tree beneath her hand wasn’t real. The grass wasn’t real. It wasn’t attached to soil; only whatever made up their space station, metal and pipes and tubing and materials she’d probably never heard of.
A cherry-blossom petal fluttered to the ground.
It landed in the grass, and she jerked her head up. Nok sobbed loudly—real tears, nothing fake now—and Rolf took her hand, as though hand-holding could protect them. Leon lay flat like he’d been knocked out cold.
Stay calm. Wait for help.
Meaningless words now.
“Why did you bring us here?” Cora asked.
“We took you for your own benefit. My people are called the Kindred. We are the most advanced among the intelligent species, and as such, take responsibility for overseeing lesser races. We are stewards of endangered species such as yours.”
“Endangered?”
The word tasted wrong in Cora’s mouth. Siberian tigers were endangered. Polar bears were endangered. Not humans.
The Caretaker flexed his black gloves. “Earth is a dangerous and unpredictable world. The practices of your species are unsustainable. So we have brought you here, where we can ensure the survival of your race regardless of your planet’s well-being. Here you have ample sustenance and a microcosm of the various habitats and cultures in your world. We have given you a variety of stimuli to exercise your minds and bodies. You will find these enrichment activities to be rewarding.”
He produced a small token from his pocket identical to the ones in the shops. It glinted in the sunlight, burning dark spots into Cora’s eyes. “There are eight enrichment puzzles in the biomes, and eight in the settlement areas. Complete each enrichment activity and you will receive a token redeemable in any of these commercial establishments. The candy and toys are authentic artifacts from Earth that will help you maintain an emotional connection to your previous home.”
She stared at him. Games. Toys. Candy. These people—the Kindred—thought they were children.
No, not children.
Animals.
Cora clenched her jaw, centering herself. Her headache throbbed, pushing her toward anger.
“Why us?” Lucky asked.
The Caretaker’s black eyes shifted among them. “You each display valuable attributes. Strength. Morality. Beauty. You are, in your own ways, paragons of your species.”
Nok started whimpering low, like a dog.
“We have three rules we require you to follow,” the Caretaker continued, oblivious to her fear, “which are for your own benefit and that of your species. The first is to solve the enrichment puzzles. This will strengthen your physical and mental conditioning. The second rule is to maintain your health by eating the food we provide for you, getting ample sleep, and cooperating in routine health assessments. The third rule is to ensure the continuation of your species by engaging in procreative activities.”
He spoke with such little inflection.
Procreative activities?
Cora took a step back as though the Caretaker had just burst into flames. “You put us here to reproduce?” she choked.
The Caretaker turned to her. “We require immediate compliance with Rule One and Rule Two, but we understand that your species does not adapt quickly to new situations, so we have granted you an adjustment phase. By the end of twenty-one days, we expect you to fully engage in Rule Three. If not, you will face removal.”
Removal.
The word had a sinister ring. “Is that what happened to the dead girl we found on the beach? She didn’t cooperate, so you killed her?”
The stranger’s eyes shifted to Cora, and she got that involuntary shiver down her spine again. There was something so unnerving about him. So familiar. He’d been in her head—in her dreams.
“Girl Three’s death was the result of an accident,” he replied.
Girl Three?
Was that how their captors thought of them, as nameless specimens? What did that make her, Girl One or Girl Two?
He continued, “She attempted to swim too far through the ocean habitat before we had properly adjusted the saline levels. On Earth she was a gifted swimmer; we had not anticipated how far she could go. The problem has been corrected. There will be no more accidents. Your safety is of utmost importance to us.”
Cora turned toward Lucky and dropped her voice. “Are you buying all this altruistic stuff about saving us?”
His face looked grim. “Not even a little bit.”
Despite the Caretaker’s dazzling appearance, he was a liar. A kidnapper. A criminal. Well, after eighteen months locked up with teenage murderers and pushers, she had plenty of experience dealing with criminals.
Don’t fight back. Don’t try to escape.
That had been her father’s security officer’s advice for kidnapping situations, and she’d followed the same logic in juvie. She had kept her head down, barely spoken to anyone, scrawled her fear and frustration in her song journal instead of letting herself feel anything. She had waited for help to come, as she was supposed to do. She had obeyed the rules.
But help wasn’t coming this time.
She was close enough to see the set of his jaw, the ropelike muscles in his neck. The metallic sheen of his skin hid most imperfections, but not the bump in his nose or the scar on the side of his throat. His chest rose and fell with each breath. Flaws. Breathing. So he wasn’t a machine—which meant he could be hurt.
One of the apparatuses strapped to his chest gleamed like the hilt of a knife.
That
could even the playing field. But how could she reach it, when he could move with such incredible speed?
“I need help,” she blurted out. “My wrist. I hurt it when I woke in the desert.”
Lucky shot her a warning look, but Cora didn’t tear her eyes away from the Caretaker. She took a step toward him. He regarded her coldly, as though he could see straight through her lie. A crackling sensation began in the air, and the hair on her arms tingled. He was going to vanish as suddenly as he had appeared.
“Wait!” Cora took another step forward. “Don’t go yet. I need help.”
“Do not come forward.” His voice was cold as the pressure built faster. He started flickering in front of her, and she knew he’d be gone in seconds, along with any answers. Right now—this moment—was her only chance.
She lunged for the knife hilt, but his hand was on her wrist in a second, and she let out a cry. Electricity pulsed through her bare skin into her nerves, tingling and jittery and just short of painful. Now she knew what Leon meant about being zapped. Only it wasn’t a zap, it was plunging into an icy pool of water. Falling toward nothing. Dying, all at once. She jerked her arm but couldn’t get free.
Lucky called her name. Footsteps ran through the grass. But she was swallowed by the pressure. She
was
the pressure. It coated her skin, wormed into her head, until she thought she would shatter into a million pieces.
Then, just as suddenly, the pressure was gone. Lucky’s voice calling her name was gone.
But the stranger was not.
His hand still held hers, his skin against her skin, flooding her with that wild sensation she couldn’t name. They were no longer in the town square, but in a plain room. The only light came from seams in the metallic walls and radiated out like starlight.
The Caretaker released her hand. She fell backward, blinded by the starlight, elbow slamming into the hard floor. She scrambled into the corner. Her elbow screamed in pain, but so did every other part of her.
The Caretaker stood over her, speaking words she didn’t understand into a device on his wrist. His voice was rushed. The staticlike voice that spoke back to him in guttural bursts sounded furious.
She dared to peek between her fingers, like she had as a little girl watching a scary movie. A window was set in the wall in front of her, three feet tall and six feet long, but this one wasn’t liquid black and opaque. It was almost like a one-way mirror, cloudy but transparent, and beyond it Lucky and Leon and Nok and Rolf argued soundlessly in the grass. She pushed herself to her feet with shaky steps, cradling her elbow.
“This is how you watch us,” she whispered. “You can see us, but we can’t see you.”
The Caretaker paused in speaking into his wrist, and looked at her. A muscle twitched in his ropelike jaw. He had called it an enclosure, a habitat, but she knew better.
It was a cage.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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LUCKY SHOVED ASIDE THE
cherry tree’s weeping branches for the millionth time, but there was no sign of Cora. “She can’t just vanish!”
