“Sera,” Maxxer tries, her voice cracking, laced with panic. But the sound of my name on her lips only fuels my fever.
I feel my legs instinctively bend into a crouch. My muscles coil. I spring forward, reaching her in a single, lightning-fast bound. I clobber her and we tumble down the last few stairs onto the floor below. Her head hits the final metal step, breaking open her skin. Blood flows, blooming red on the pristine white carpet.
She attempts to fight but her measly stature and human strength are no match for me. In an instant, I have flipped her onto her back. I sit astride her chest, one hand pressed against her windpipe.
Do it! a raspy voice from far in the back of my mind commands.
“Don’t do it,” Maxxer pleads through her constricted throat. “Sera, listen to me.”
Do it now!
I press harder. Maxxer squeaks. The air trapped in her lungs, desperate to get out. She opens her mouth again. “This isn’t you,” she manages to croak out. “It’s them.”
Them.
The word tumbles around in my abandoned brain. Like a leaf caught in the wind. I shake my head, trying to brush it away, but it won’t stop echoing.
Them.
There.
Before.
The words Zen and I once used to talk about Diotech. To talk about my former life. When I was held captive in a lab. When I was a prisoner.
Do it! the voice commands, sounding angry at my hesitance. KILL HER!
I let up ever so slightly, only enough to allow her to speak. “What are you talking about?” I yell, the rage still piloting my body, still radiating out of my eyes and dripping into my voice.
“Diotech,” she chokes out. “They’re controlling you.”
No. That’s not possible.
My brain is aching. Splitting in half. One side is still being controlled by that unyielding wrath. The other is trying to make sense of everything. Trying to hold on.
“How?” I scream. “How are they doing it?”
“The … boy.” She’s barely able to form the sounds. They come out choppy and hoarse.
Kaelen?
But how could he possibly—
I’m not given the opportunity to complete the thought. I feel myself being yanked into the air, thrown across the room. I land hard on the sofa, my legs tossed over my head. My neck makes a sickening cracking noise.
I hear Maxxer coughing violently. The air flowing hungrily back into her lungs. The sound of her life forces me to stand again, determined to put an end to it. But one of Maxxer’s guards is already there beside me, shoving me down again. The black steel of his Modifier flashes into view.
And that’s the last thing I see.
53
DISEASED
Music is what I wake to. Soft. Melodic. Soothing.
My eyelids feel like they’ve been sewn shut. I have to work hard to open them. Even more to focus my vision once I’ve succeeded. My pupils feel lazy. Not wanting to do what my brain is telling them to do. Because it would require too much effort.
Effort I can’t muster.
When I’m finally able to stare at one thing long enough to make sense of it, I realize that I’m looking at the ceiling. Or rather through it, at dark swells of flowing water.
I am still on Maxxer’s submarine.
We are still moving. To where? I don’t know. I doubt she ever has a destination in mind. If she were wise, her only goal would be to never stop.
I try to push myself up but my arms don’t work. And apparently neither do my legs. Or seemingly any other part.
Fortunately my lips seem able to form words. Although not very well.
“Whaa happened?”
“We gave you a sedative,” I hear Maxxer’s voice respond. “It should subdue the impulses.”
I see her face. She’s hovering over me. I notice one of the guards attempting to pull her away but she brushes him off. “I’ll be fine. She has enough Cv9 running through her bloodstream to placate a killer whale,” Maxxer says.
I attempt to roll onto my side but that’s a lost cause as well.
“Help her up,” Maxxer commands the guard, and suddenly I’m being hoisted into a seated position. My head is propped up by a pillow. My legs are adjusted in front of me. I can’t move my head to look at her but thankfully Maxxer squats down in front of me so I don’t have to.
She takes a deep breath, speaking almost to herself. “I should have known they would send you.”
I’m able to blink, but that’s about the extent of my mobility. I feel sleepy. I want to go to bed. But I also want answers. I command myself to stay awake and ask, “Whaa?”
“While you were out, I did a quick scan of your brain. It appears they implanted a stimulated-response system. It’s a kind of mental programming that will only activate when certain requirements are met. Similar to a TDR. In this case, it was set to go off as soon as you acquired the antidote from me. Basically it’s computerized brainwashing.”