Cryo-Man (Cryo-Man series, #1) (37 page)

“Leave her alone,” I call out.

But Black-Dome knows I’m no threat to him, even as I regain enough strength to begin crawling. I watch him stand over Mom’s fallen body. I’m relieved when she sits up but even more relieved when she doesn’t try to fight again. Black-Dome picks up her backpack. Mom flinches like she might get up but she wisely stays down.

“Now you’re learning,” he says. “Whatever you’ve got in here, I promise you won’t need anymore.”

He slams the pack against the ground and stomps on it, grinding his foot to create a symphony of twisted metal. For good measure, he picks up the shredded bag and tosses it into the river. If he wants a reaction from Mom, she doesn’t give it to him. In fact, she doesn’t even look at him. Instead, she stares in my direction. Her glass dome is cracked so severely that I see dozens of her eyes looking back at me, every single one full of despair.

“One less distraction for you,” Black-Dome tells Mom before turning to stomp toward me. “Now time to deal with the other one.”

I brace myself for another attack but he walks right by. Instead, he stops in front of my Heaven Box. I immediately know what’s going to happen. I wish he’d killed me instead. He picks up the huge box with ease and carries it the final few feet toward the river.

“No,” I beg. “Please.”

With my waning energy, I crawl toward the water’s edge, reaching Black-Dome just as he flips the box upside-down, dumping the wet contents into the river. Once it’s empty, he heaves the large box into the river. I watch it disappear beneath the water in a matter of seconds. My will to live sinks just as quickly.

The stuffed hippo has fallen on the ground but when I try to reach out and grab it, he stomps on my arm and knees me in the side of the head. I collapse in a heap and watch helplessly as he kicks Mr. Hippo into the river.

“Forget about your past,” Black-Dome says, advice cruelly given to me once before. “Time to take a nap.”

His hand reaches toward my core and I feel relieved, at least until I see him open my panel and aim for the shutdown switch.

“Please, just rip out my power supply.”

I hear Mom yelling in the background but that doesn’t last for long. I turn my head away from Black-Dome, not watching whatever he decides to do with me. Instead, I catch a glimpse of the stuffed hippo in the moonlight, lazily bobbing atop the river, just before my vision fades away…

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

             
Utter blackness turns to overwhelming brightness, light so brilliant that I shield my eyes with my hand… my
human
hand. As I watch the scene unfold in front of me, the sight of human flesh
seems
important for some reason, but my hand moves away quickly enough so I forget about it. My mind feels hazy and it’s hard to focus on any single thought. Instead, I let my mind relax, let my thoughts drift away, and enjoy watching what’s in front of my eyes…

             
I shift slightly to the side and the bright light is partially blocked by a large tree branch. The light comes from the sun above, bright and warm, shining down onto my face between the swaying branches of a tall tree. Through those branches I also see the beautiful blue sky beyond, as well as a few white clouds drifting lazily by. The sky couldn’t be more perfect; this moment couldn’t be more perfect…

I hear the soft murmuring of a crowd of people, but I’m more interested in the whoosh of rushing water behind me. I’m about to check out the river but the crowd erupts into excited whispers. They quiet as orchestral music begins to play. In that moment, I’m overcome with happiness, similar to…

The bright sun and tall tree are replaced by the inside of my house, the noise of the crowd and soft music replaced by pattering footsteps and a little boy’s laughter. But the happiness of chasing my son around the house doesn’t last long before I feel myself growing short of breath, before I feel sickness winning the battle against my body…

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I have a new thought, one that’s separate from the final memory I’m dreaming about. As I watch myself hand the cell phone to my son, I realize my Heaven Box is gone forever, I realize I will never have another memory of my children except for this one. As my son talks to CIFPOL and I die, a part of me hopes I will stay dead…

“Nikolas, Nikolas, open your eyes,” a voice echoes. “Niko, wake up.”

I keep my eyes closed, hoping to fade back to unconsciousness and never wake again. Instead, I hear the same voice – the same garbled robotic voice – repeating my name over and over. It’s not a voice I’ve heard before but I sense urgency within the mechanical tone. In the rare moments the voice stops, I hear the echo of clanking metal and human groaning, nearby
and
in the distance. I don’t know where I am, I don’t know who’s talking to me. I don’t care about either.

“Niko, please try to open your eyes,” the voice continues. “Henry and Jeremy wouldn’t want you to give up.”

The mention of my sons’ names engulfs my sadness, turning it to rage.

“How dare you… argh!”

I open my eyes – at least as much as I can – and a wave of pain crashes over my face. I quickly close them but it does nothing to make me feel better. Acknowledging consciousness brought about this pain; now there’s no going back. I open my eyes slower. Everything is dark and blurry. I only see shadows through my squinted vision. I try to rub away the blurriness, but the moment my metallic hand puts pressure on my skin, pain explodes even greater. I moan, an odd sound now that it’s so heavily robotic.

“Try not to touch it,” the robotic voice says.

Out of spite for the robot, I place my pincers gently against my face. My cool metal exterior feels good against the throbbing heat. It’s strange how my body feels so strong – my power obviously regenerated – yet my spirit has never been so weak. The robot speaking to me is lucky I don’t impale my own core, an idea I strongly consider.

“Don’t mention my sons ever again,” I say.

“I’m sorry,” the voice says. “About everything. We were so close and I got foolish.”

I’m confused; the throbbing doesn’t help with that. The voice is definitely one I haven’t heard before. I understand the words though they sound garbled, as if echoing from down a long tunnel. I might’ve blamed my hearing if everything else didn’t sound so normal.

I finally sit up and turn my head. My vision remains dark but it’s not from any damage I suffered. The place I’m in is dark, dank. My eyes focus just enough to see metal bars in front of me. I’m in some kind of cell and based upon the groans of those around me, mine isn’t the only one. A huge figure stands in the next cell over. But when I see the shadow of a familiar human head atop it, I don’t understand why she sounds the way she does.

“What happened to your voice?” I ask Mom.

“It must’ve been damaged when he attacked me,” she says.

“Are you okay?”

I suddenly don’t worry so much about my own injuries. I force myself to stand, swaying a few steps before regaining balance.

“I’m fine, take it easy,” she says. “Don’t rush.”

“Where are we?”

“Beneath one of the buildings,” she says. “In some kind of dungeon. This is where they keep a lot of the… people. But I think there’s something wrong with them.”

The drip… drip… drip of water echoes nearby, almost as loud as the groaning. I’m glad there’s nobody else in Mom’s cell, though she remains in the shadows.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine.”

“Then come closer where I can see you.”

She sighs but does as I ask, stepping toward the row of bars that separate our two cells. There’s barely enough light but I see she’s not ‘just fine.’ Her body is covered with dirt. Her helmet is so severely cracked that her face looks like a mosaic within. The glass is chipped in some spots and I see spots of blood on her withered cheek. I shake my head.

“Something was jarred in my voice box, that’s it,” she says. “I’m okay besides that. And before you start trying to convince me otherwise, you should consider what
you
look like.”

I don’t want to hear the answer to my next question but I can’t stop from asking it.

“My Heaven Box?”

She shakes her head. “Gone, everything. And it’s all fault everything was ruined.”

Somehow, seeing her anguish doesn’t make me feel quite so bad about everything that’s happened.

“No, don’t say that,” I say. “You got me here, you found my Heaven Box, you gave me a chance. It was ruined long before I ever dug it up.”

“The box wasn’t buried deep enough,” she says, continuing to lament on its loss. “And it was too close to the tree. The ground around it must’ve been disturbed when the tree fell over; that’s probably how it ended up so wet. It never should’ve been put so close to the river. Just foolish.”

“My family couldn’t have realized that,” I snap at her. “Nobody could’ve anticipated that tree falling over; it always seemed so big and strong, like it would stand forever. Besides, how could my wife and kids know I’d stay frozen for so long?”

“You’re right,” she says. “They couldn’t have. I’m sure they tried their best.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air between us. I try to control my anger, though it’s tough to hear Mom blame my wife and kids for ruining the Heaven Box when she’s just as much to blame for Black-Dome tossing it into the river. But I remind myself she’s my only ally, a fact made all the more evident by the continued sounds of human moaning.

“What are they going to do to us?” I finally ask.

“I don’t know,” she says. “But something you said must’ve interested whoever’s in charge. The soldier may have pounded on us pretty good, but he could’ve destroyed us if he wanted. After he shut you down, he had us taken down here but didn’t exactly treat us badly. I don’t know who he answers to but we must intrigue them enough to keep us alive.”

“Black-Dome should’ve killed me,” I say.

Mom frowns. “Black-Dome? Oh… yeah, because of his… I understand. And no, he shouldn’t have just killed you. You can’t give up, not after everything we’ve been through.”

“I’m sorry for not running when you told me,” I say. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make sure they let you go.”

She shakes her head. “You’ve always been thick-headed,” she says, frustration creeping into her garbled voice. “Don’t you realize we’re in this together until the end?”

“I’m thankful for all you’ve done, but you don’t have to blindly follow your obligation to E anymore,” I say.

“This has nothing to do with him,” she snaps back.

Once again I’m left feeling as though she’s holding something back. At least I no longer have to walk on eggshells around her.

“What aren’t you telling me? What secret did you and E have?”

“He didn’t want me to tell you about your past,” she says. “He tried experimenting on your long-term memory but didn’t want to risk damaging your brain. When he learned about your Heaven Box – learned that your family left relics for you to find – E thought finding that would be the best way to restore your memory, along with … other things. I guess we’ll never know about the box but nothing else has seemed to work.”

“So that’s it? In the end, I was just an experiment for him?”

Mom shakes her head. “Not at all, you were very special to E. He spoke of you the way I would speak of my children.”

“Well I’m a man, not a child,” I say. “And I told him I wanted my memories back, no matter the risk.”

Mom places her hand between the bars, trying to reach for my hand the way I held hers when we entered Robotropolis. But I don’t want comfort, I don’t want to be coddled. I shake my head and take a step back. She waves me over.

             
“Please, come here,” she says.

             
Though her voice is strained and her face mostly hidden behind splintered glass, I recognize her sincerity. I move toward the bars but still ignore her hand reaching out to me. Her hand snaps out and grabs mine before I can move. I try to pull away but she holds on roughly enough to get my attention. I finally stop fighting and look into her eyes.

             
“I meant what I said when the robots were rushing toward us. I can give you your memory back,” she says.

             
“That wasn’t a lie to get me to run away?” I ask.

             
“I
did
want you to run,” she admits. “But it wasn’t a lie.”

             
“How?”

             
“E knew how important your memories were, so important that he made
me
a guinea pig,” Mom says. “He wasn’t just satisfied in bringing me back to life. He found the spot in my temporal lobe that housed long-term memory. After connecting a wire to that part of my brain, he ran it into my power core. The resulting effect was a spark in my memories.

“Later, he admitted that he tried the procedure on you one time when you were in shutdown mode. But he removed the wire from your brain before you woke up. He didn’t want to risk overloading your brain.”

              I think back to those first few days I spent with E at the Cryonics Facility. I recall a time when I powered up from shutdown mode and tried to keep hold of what I thought was a new dream, a new memory. It had quickly swirled away to nothingness, like smoke in the wind. But now I seem to remember the Heaven Box in that dream, my son, Mr. Hippo…

             
The fog in my mind clears a little but still not enough to remember.

             
“I wish E had left it in,” I say.

“We might not have a lot of time but if you trust me, I can try to put the wire in,” Mom says.

“How do you know how to do that?”

Mom explains that was just one more thing E showed her while assembling Black-Dome.

“And you’re just telling me this now?”

“I hoped E would be right, that your mind would clear on its own, that seeing the Heaven Box would spark your memories,” she says. “I also assumed we’d have more time. If the Heaven Box failed, I planned to tell you what I could do. Needless to say, I didn’t expect to be thrown in jail. But if you want me to connect the wire, we shouldn’t wait. Black-Dome may have kept us alive for now, but I don’t know how much longer that’ll be the case. If we’re going to die, you should at least remember your sons.”

I nod but it suddenly dawns on me that Mom hasn’t been completely truthful.

“You’ve known about your past this entire time?”

Mom looks away and nods. I pull my hand from hers and take a step back. I feel like a fool. All along, I thought the two of us were in the same boat, I thought we shared a connection about being lost souls, wandering together in this strange new world, searching for clues of our past. I’d even pitied her for not having a Heaven Box of her own, for having no chance to remember who she once was. But apparently she’s been the one pitying me, humoring me by going on this treasure hunt.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she says.

“Will you at least tell me your name?”

“I like being called Mom; makes me think of my kids,” she says. “And my real name doesn’t matter now. What matters is that Black-Dome destroyed my bag containing all the spare parts, including the connecting wire we’ll need for your brain.”

“Couldn’t you just unplug one of my other systems?” I ask, though I realize this is a bad idea as I’m saying it. “If they’re going to destroy me anyway, I don’t need my sight or hearing anymore.”