5.
I don’t dream. At least I didn’t used to. But now my sister, Tyson, walked next to me, her green eyes sparkling from something I’d said. She always understood my jokes, just like I loved seeing her new inventions. Her honey-blond hair fell over her shoulder as she bent over something at the water’s edge.
“It worked,” she said.
“What did?”
She sat back on her heels, something gripped in her hand. “I saw this in a dream. It increases algae production.” She held the piece of tech at arm’s length, like it might bite her. Something dark crossed her face. Finally she dropped the device back in the lake. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?” She stood and wiped her hands on her jeans.
“Tell them what?” I asked.
Ty’s laughter infused my soul with joy. I tried to hold on to it, because I knew she was gone. The sound floated away, replaced by another voice.
My mother. Blaming me for Ty’s death. She blamed me for everything.
“Vi?” Jag’s voice interrupted my semiconscious memory. I opened my eyes and found him inches from me. Ty’s image faded, and anger surfaced at losing her. Again.
I jerked back. “Why are you right in my face?”
He stepped away, and I pulled the blanket up to my chin.
“You were thrashing and calling out,” he murmured.
I hoped I hadn’t said anything embarrassing or revealed something I didn’t want him to know—which was pretty much everything.
He reached out to touch me but stopped. “You said something about Ty. Who’s that?”
“No one,” I snapped, sitting up. My sister reminded me of happier times. A life I couldn’t get back. I kicked the blankets off and stood up. I had to get out of the cell, but there was nowhere to go.
“Sorry, I just—”
“I said no one. I don’t want to talk about it.” I glared at him until he sank onto the closed toilet seat.
“And I said I was sorry.” His eyes tightened and he held out his notebook. “I wrote something I want you to read and take to a friend of mine in the Badlands.”
I ignored him. The cell seemed much smaller than it had a few hours ago. The walls pressed closer, smothering me. One wall flickered and moved a tiny bit. It wouldn’t surprise me if it was programmed to shift, a control tactic to mess with my mind.
I could reach out and take the notebook from him without even taking a step. He shook it, rattling the pages. The sound set my already frayed nerves on edge.
“I don’t want to be your messenger,” I said.
“You’ve got to stop attacking me. We have to live here together.”
“Like hell we do.” Maybe if I caused enough trouble, I’d get my own cell. Isn’t that what They wanted? More trouble?
I turned and started banging on the bars. “Let me out! I gotta go!”
A Mech whirred down the hall with a guard, and together they cuffed me before taking me to the bathroom. I took a long time washing my hands, using the hottest water possible and three doses of stinky prison soap. The plastic started to wilt, and I pulled my hands apart hard. Please, please break.
As soon as I thought it, the tech popped with electricity. Shock waves splintered up my arms, and I stifled a cry. I dunked my hands under the faucet and yanked harder. With more soap, the cuffs slid easier. The thin electrodes seemed to stretch in the heat and suds.
Someone banged on the door. Tears leaked down my cheeks. I was so close! I imagined the tech broken, lying limply in the sink.
The metal fibers cutting into my wrists broke, sending a spray of scalding water in my face. Blood dripped from my arms and I hurried to press hydro-dryers onto them. But HD’s are made to absorb water for recycling, and the blood merely congealed on contact. Some of it plopped on the counter and bounced.
“Just a minute!” I called.
Just as I’d imagined, the defeated tech sat in the sink. I swept it into the garbage can with the jiggly blood. I hastily wiped my wrists on the inside of my shirt. When the bleeding stopped, I laced my fingers in front of my body before pushing the door open with my foot.
The Mech waited next to the door, but the guard stood down the hall, talking with another man—the bald Greenie from the hearing. This was so not going to work. Not with mind-reading Baldie here.
The Mech whirred toward the cell, stopping next to the two men. I continued past them without glancing over. I focused on taking one step at a time, thinking that I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
I waited outside the cell, the air too thick to enter my lungs. Keep talking, I thought. I’ll wait.
The murmur of Baldie’s voice wafted down the corridor. I relaxed enough to inhale.
Jag still sat on the closed toilet seat, the notebook gripped in his hands. “Hey,” I hissed. “How do I get out of here?” I wiggled my fingers through the bars to show him I was free.
His eyes widened as he dropped the notebook. “How did you . . . ?”
I growled. In Vi-talk, that means, Really? I don’t have time to explain.
Good thing Jag understood Vi-talk. He glanced at the guard, still talking to Baldie. “Go down those stairs at the end of the hall. There’re no prisoners in Ward C. No guards.” His eyes sparkled the same way they did in the pictures, like he was thrilled. For a brief moment, his fingers lingered on mine. Then I ran.
I flew down the stairs like they were already moving, my soft sneakers hardly making a sound. Ward C loomed dark and empty. Halfway down the first corridor, footsteps boomed behind me on the stairs. I made it to the end of the row, stopped, leaned against the wall, and tried to quiet my rising panic.
Which was pretty much impossible.
I could hide from the human guards. Mechs would cause more of a problem as they can sense body heat.
When the guards had run further downstairs, I took several deep breaths and found the showers. They were in a circular room with twenty faucets, just like Ward D. I turned the water on cold on every showerhead. The icy spray made my breath catch, and I shivered at the thought of cold-water torture. But Mechs had to be able to detect a distinct difference in temperature to locate a human, so it was self-inflicted freezing or getting caught. Plus, I had no idea where to go next, and I needed a minute to collect my thoughts.
I chose a spot in the middle of the chamber where the least amount of water sprayed. The air around me frosted my throat and lungs. After only a minute, my body shook and my teeth chattered.
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours; I wasn’t counting. All I knew was that my skin was clammy and my insides felt like they’d been sucked into a glacier.
Yeah, the Mechs found me as I was still trying to figure out the next step of my lame escape plan. With frozen fingers, I managed to switch off the first four. Their shrieking alarms screamed, echoed, ratted me out to the whole world.
I couldn’t believe I’d tortured myself for no reason.