Chapter Nine

Nine

Jackson is going to be so mad at me. The thought circled Renee’s mind as Monroe propelled her down the hallway. His grip was heavy on her biceps, and his pace had her almost jogging. Tayler and a heavy man named Eric had gotten August onto a gurney. The woman was clearly in a good mood, another one of those vests in her hand as they pushed him down the hall behind Renee. August was still wheezing, his body in shock from whatever Tayler had hit him with. Even so, they had taken the time to strap him in—and Renee felt sick.

“Jackson knows you’re working with Tayler,” she said, breathless at the pace. “He only needed the proof. And now he has it. You and Tayler are going to be nailed to an investigation committee, and from there, Guantánamo—if you’re lucky. You’re not going to slip this.”

“I already have.” Jerking her to a halt, Monroe waved his badge at an entry pad beside a door. The heavy panel slid open, and he gave her a shove, propelling her into a small room.

Renee caught herself against a table and turned. Two chairs and the table were fastened to the floor. There was a second, closed door opposite the one they had come in. The walls went up two stories, but they became glass near the ceiling, and she could see an observation area where people could watch what happened below. Cameras were everywhere, embedded in the walls and behind cracked plastic. An odd smell permeated the stale air, and she stiffened when August was rolled past the open door, continuing on down the hall.

“Where are you taking him?” she said, and Dr. Tayler gave Eric some direction before coming in and closing the door behind her.

“I want her seated,” the woman said as she dropped the vest on the table.

“Sit, or I will make you sit,” the lieutenant general said, pointing.

Renee hesitated, eyes on the door they had come in. Unlike the other, this one had a little window. It was scratched and pitted. Someone tried to get out, she thought, chilled.

“Sit!” Monroe shouted, and she fumbled for the back of the chair and sat. It was just the three of them, and after seeing her unmoving, the large man sidled over to where Dr. Tayler stood, rummaging in the satchel she had set on the far end of the table beside the vest. “A little explanation as to your thought processes would be helpful, Tayler. We have a firm deadline.”

Tayler had a wide smile on her face. “Relax, Renee,” she said as she flipped the vest over. “I’m going to give you exactly what you came here for.”

Monroe frowned, clearly wanting to leave. “God, Tayler. You sound like a dime-store comic villain.”

“Patience, patience.” Tayler ran a finger over the wires on the vest to a control node at the back. “See, this is why I don’t like working with the military. There are other ways to deal with a problem than kill it. All I need is five minutes.” Head down, the woman studied the motherboard. “And the benefits will be bountiful.”

There’s blood on that vest, Renee thought, suddenly unsure. “Jackson is—”

“Three hours away,” Monroe said as he looked up at the empty observation ring. “You have an hour, Tayler. Then I leave without you.”

“More than I need.” Head tilted, she pulled a wire from the circuitry. “It will take longer to prep this than get the footage, and I’m almost done. Don’t leave. I will need your help.”

Monroe shifted his weight, eyebrows high. “With her? I thought you were…” He pantomimed giving someone an injection. “You aren’t bringing her?”

Tayler pulled a second wire free from the vest. “No. We don’t need her. Just what she can give us.” Smirking, she replaced the panel cover. “Thank you, Renee. I’m about to get exactly what I need. Again.” She pushed the modified vest across the table. “Put it on.”

Renee shook her head, her fingers curving under into a fist.

“We only have one Neighbor harness,” Tayler said, looking at Monroe now. “A2 and August are about the same size, and August knows English.” She smiled. “Upgrade,” she almost sang.

Monroe glanced at his watch. “If I wanted them to understand English, I would have hired a tutor. I am leaving in fifty-nine minutes whether you have your footage or not. If we are not two hours ahead of Jackson, we will not make it.”

Footage? Of what? Renee thought.

“I said put on the vest,” Tayler said, then sighed, brow furrowed as if she were dealing with a petulant child. “Put it on or Monroe will shoot you.” She hesitated. “Or maybe he’ll shoot August. They heal remarkably quickly, but pain is still pain.”

Renee drew the vest from the table. It was surprisingly lightweight. Feeling sick, she shoved her arms through the holes.

“Zip it,” Tayler prompted, and Renee did, not liking how it felt even if Tayler, Eric, and Monroe were wearing one exactly the same. Not the same, she mused as she fingered the hem. Tayler had broken this one.

“What is the point to this?” Monroe asked, sounding tired.

“I think it’s amazing how A2 and August look alike,” Tayler said smugly. “But I suppose that we all look alike to them.”

Monroe’s eyes went to the defunct cameras, and a smile quirked his lips. “What a wonderful idea.”

A chill took Renee. “Whatever it is you’re doing, it’s not going to work,” she said, chin lifting when her voice shook. “Gorman is talking.”

“Gorman is an idiot.” Tayler calmly filled a syringe from her satchel, tapping it to get a bubble of air at the tip, where she pushed it out. “He won’t live past the week. I must admit that I was angry when you showed up with August. But this will work better than Monroe’s original idea. Though watching you deal with your world crumbling and being unable to stop it would have been extremely satisfying.” The woman dropped the vial back into her bag. “A dead scapegoat can’t talk.”

“Dead?” Renee stood. Monroe’s heavy hand slammed her back into the chair, and she cried out when Tayler jammed the needle into her shoulder. Pressure throbbed, and then both of them let go.

Renee sprang to her feet, heart pounding. “What did you give me?” she said, and then she sank down when vertigo spun the room.

“Relax,” Tayler said, and Renee shoved the woman’s hand off her when she tilted her head up to look at her eyes. “It will only slow you down. I’m not going to kill you. A2 is.”

“You mean Mikail?” Renee rose, gasping when her knees gave way and she collapsed. Panic hit her when Monroe lifted her up and plunked her back into her chair.

“You gave her too much,” Monroe said, clearly disgusted as he held her upright.

“No, she’s a drama queen.” Tayler put her foot next to Renee’s, nodding. “Close enough,” she said softly, then louder, “This is just shock. Get my scissors, will you? They’re in my bag.”

Monroe made a grunt of understanding, his grip leaving her as Tayler scuffed off her shoes. “So help me, if you kick me, I will give you enough to knock you out,” the woman said. “I’d rather they see you struggle.”

“What are you doing?” Renee whispered as Tayler took off her shoes as well. The cooler air almost hurt under whatever it was she’d been shot up with, and she tried to pull her foot away when Tayler reached for it.

“Hold still!” Tayler shouted, gripping her ankle like a vise and jamming her soft-soled lab sneakers on Renee’s feet. “Are you blind, Monroe? They are in there,” she griped, and Renee heard him shuffle through the bag again.

“Scissors,” Monroe said, and Renee’s eyes widened.

“Hey, no!” Renee protested, gasping when Monroe pinned her to the chair and forced her arms to her sides.

“You want to hurry up?” he complained as Renee shrieked, drugged and woozy as the metallic sound of the scissors rasped. Chunks of her hair were falling to the floor, and she felt as if school bullies were holding her down, tormenting her.

“S-stop it!” she stuttered, unable to move. Nausea clenched her gut, and she was afraid to move. Tayler might cut off her ear.

“You tree-hugging idiots will not be allowed to bring about our end through stupidity and wishful thinking. You of all people know that everything is fighting to survive,” Tayler said, her cuts more precise now that Renee had stopped thrashing. “I shouldn’t have to hide in an abandoned factory to find their weaknesses.”

Snip, snip, snip. More hair hit the floor, and Renee’s heart pounded when she realized what Tayler was doing.

“Hollow bones, highly intelligent,” the woman mused, her gaze focused on Renee’s new bangs, taking a little more off to match her own. “They eat just about anything, though they have worked themselves down to what, three plant species? Adaptable right down to the cellular level.” Snip, snip, snip. “It wasn’t until we realized how susceptible they are to electromagnetic waves that we had any way other than electrocuting them to get their compliance.” Tayler tilted her head, studying her work. “They are the perfect colonizers, and I won’t lose our world to them because you want to be friends. I’m sure the Native Americans wanted to be friends, help the filthy white people who didn’t know how to farm or hunt. Starving and diseased.”

“S-stop this,” Renee slurred as the drug coursing through her took a stronger hold.

“Keep her still,” the woman breathed, and Renee felt helpless as Monroe held her head and Tayler used her fingers to part Renee’s hair to match her own.

“I suppose I should thank you, though,” Tayler said as she studied her work. “Once I surrendered twelve, I was able to do some amazing things with the three remaining.”

Monroe let go and Renee took a huge breath of air. “You butchered her,” she rasped, feeling her breath slow in her lungs. “You took Raphael’s wings off. You cut off Han’s hand.”

The woman shrugged. “How else would I know if they could regrow complex tissue?”

“Do you need me anymore?” Monroe said, and Tayler scrutinized Renee, sitting unbound and helpless in her chair.

“Almost done,” the woman said as she shrugged out of her lab coat. “Hold her up.”

Oh, God. They were dressing her in Tayler’s shoes and lab coat. They had cut her hair to the woman’s short bob. They were going to put her and Mikail together—and film what happened. He’s going to kill me, she thought in sudden terror.

“No,” she whispered, and Tayler smirked as Monroe yanked her up and shoved her arms one at a time into Tayler’s lab coat.

“She only now figured it out,” the woman said, laughing.

The coat was still warm, and Renee felt sick as Monroe dropped her back into her chair. She fumbled to get it off, crying out when Monroe crushed her hand in his.

“Stop, or I will break both your hands,” Monroe promised as Tayler buttoned the coat up.

Renee could do nothing, blinking blearily at them as they backed up and studied her.

“It wouldn’t fool me,” Monroe said.

“Keep the lights bright. He won’t be able to see well” was all Tayler said.

“All right. I’m leaving.” Monroe touched his pocket, then snapped his sidearm holster closed. “A2 knows how the doors work. I’ll tell Eric he’s sedated, and when he goes into his cell…” He shrugged. “You had better be behind lead walls or he’ll find you before he finds her.”

Tayler glanced up at the observation glass. “He’ll find her. Give me five minutes to get the cameras on. Once he kills her, I’ll turn the sonic cannon on him until his heart stops. We walk away and leave them and the bodies and the footage.” The woman smiled as if it was Christmas. “Congratulations, Renee. You are going to save the world.”

Monroe walked out, chuckling. “Eric!” he bellowed. “Do you have August in a travel harness yet? I need your help with A2.”

Renee’s pulse hammered, but she couldn’t get up. They’d made her look like Tayler. Put her in a vest that didn’t work. They were going to give Mikail his freedom, then kill him after he killed her…on film. They were going to use it to make the government force the Neighbors back across the portal and close it. “Jackson knows they aren’t violent,” she said around a cough, and Tayler gave her face an insulting pat.

“Oh, but they are when provoked,” she said, glancing at the cameras overhead. “We have hours of footage.”

Feeling was beginning to come back, her fingertips tingling as she gripped the table. “I won’t do it.”

Tayler pushed up from her. “You already have.”

Struggling, Renee turned her head to follow the woman as she tugged on the second door to make sure it was locked. “You would kill them to promote a lie? They aren’t dangerous!”

“They are colonizers, Renee, and we are the next world on their agenda.” Tayler checked her pulse and nodded in satisfaction. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure Jackson avenges you.”

“Tayler, wait,” Renee said, trying to stand, but the woman had left and the door had clicked shut. Locked. “Son of a bitch,” she whispered. Her hand shook as she lifted it, and she felt unreal as she tried to make a fist, her fingers hardly moving.

Her shoulder throbbed where they had injected her, and she staggered to her feet, hand on the table and her eyes wide. She had no idea what Tayler had injected her with, but it was beginning to abate.

“Oh no,” she whispered as a muffled thumping and cries shifted the stagnant air. He was loose already. From up above, the lights on the cameras lit.

Frustrated, she felt her eyes warm as she tugged at the locked door. Her fingers couldn’t manage the lab coat’s buttons, much less the snaps of the vest. Every movement seemed to hurt, and she gasped, spinning to put her back to the wall when the door buzzed and the biggest mer she had ever seen slammed it open.

“Mikail,” she whispered, teeth clenched as she forced her hand high in greeting. But she couldn’t use her right arm, and using her left was reserved to greet the dead.

Mikail’s red skin was marred with new scars, burn marks on his wings where they’d tortured him to get him to behave. Naked, he stepped into the room, his whistles and clicks harsh as he slammed the door shut behind him and, with no wasted movement, lunged at her.

“I’m not Tayler!” she shrieked, and then his long-fingered hand backhanded her.

Gasping, she felt herself lifted until she hit the floor and slid into the wall.

“I’m Renee!” she said, almost crying as she tried to whistle. But her lips were too dry, and nothing came out. “Renee!” she tried again, using her left hand to force her right high in greeting as he bore down on her. “Mikail, I’m August’s friend!”

But Mikail didn’t hear, the mer’s whistles harsh as he grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the wall.

Her breath caught in her lungs, and she felt her eyes bulge. Frantic, she clawed at his hands around her neck, nails digging until his blood flowed. I’m Renee, she thought desperately, unable to speak, unable to move. I’m Renee, and I am trying to help you.

Blackness spotted her eyes, and Mikail bore down harder, his teeth inches from her face, his wide eyes gold with pain even as he strangled her. I’m trying to help you, she thought, her grip on his hands faltering as images of her and August flitted through her brain: his sour doubt, then shock, at the tang of a blueberry; the unexpected treat of piscy wings pulled from her desk; his somber wing-knuckle droop when they stood under the quarantine tree and she wept over Han and Raphael.

Warmth flooded her, tickling the back of her head, reminding her of when she had snapped. No, flung, a distant part of her mind corrected her even as the memory of August’s pride filled her, pride at having shushed her mind. August flung me, she thought in a sad satisfaction as her body begin to shake, deprived of oxygen for too long. August flung me, and I will never see him again.

The thought hit her hard, the unexpected heartache seeming more important to her than her life ending. She wanted to sob, but she had no air, and yet a tear brimmed hot in her eyes and fell. It hit her hand atop Mikail’s grip, and she stiffened at the sudden and certain warmth rising through her, bathing her in a heady energy. I’m dying, she thought, bitter that she wouldn’t be alive to see August safe. The work of renewing his world would be left undone.

And then Mikail whistle-clicked, the shocking, loud sound jolting through her as his grip on her throat vanished.

She gasped, sucking in air even as she felt herself caught by the same hand that had nearly strangled her.

Bad language, she thought, remembering having heard that particular Neighbor oath in quarantine. Jackson had spent three weeks trying to duplicate it before giving up. The man does take pride in his swearing.

Blinking, she coughed as she felt herself gently touch the floor. She squinted up at Mikail, his wings high in surprise, her hands warm around her neck. Why are my hands glowing? she thought as Mikail frantically whistle-clicked, his wings clamped tight around himself in unease as he backed up, staring at her.

“Hey, hi,” she whispered, not sure what had changed, only that her hands were glowing gold and her neck didn’t hurt. Actually, nothing hurt. “Um, I’m not Tayler,” she said, and Mikail retreated even more. “Oh, shit, I scratched your hands.”

Her shoulder didn’t hurt. Neither did her face where Mikail had hit her. Or her hip where she had hit the floor. Bewildered, she got to her feet, head going down as she looked at her hands. “Why are my hands glowing?” she whispered.

But Mikail was still whistle-clicking at her, and she licked her lips to whistle hello. It came out thin and weak, and she tried August’s name next. Hand high in greeting, she came closer. “I am Renee,” she said, trying to make the whistle that August said was her name. He wouldn’t tell her what it meant in Nextdoor. “Renee.”

Mikail eyed her up and down, looking almost scared as he cautiously reached out and tapped his hand to hers.

And then they both jumped when the glow about her vanished, soaking back into him to make his wing knuckles droop.

Wings clamped, Mikail retreated, his eyes going to the cameras, her, and then the door.

“Yeah, I want to get out of here, too,” she said. One of his whistles had sounded like August’s “no words” excuse, and her thoughts went to how good she felt. Dang, had Mikail healed her with his creation spark? Why would he do that? He had been trying to kill her.

“August. Noel,” she whistle-clicked, pointing to the door.

Mikail bobbed his head and offered his hand again, low, as if a friend. Smiling, she met it, blinking fast. Her breath came in slow, and she turned to one of the high cameras. Eat shit and die, Monroe. They are not savages.

“I am going to screw you to the wall, Tayler!” she shouted, knowing they were probably watching. “You hear me? If you hurt one inch of August’s skin, I’m going to do something really, really bad!”

Shaking, she turned back to Mikail. “It’s nice to meet you, Mikail. Let’s go get August.”