Deviation (17 page)

The moon is nowhere. I look for it out the windows as the scenery changes from urban to rural and the lights fade away behind us. The highway is less bumpy out here, the wheat fields stretching for miles on either side. It reminds me of a ride I took on Linc’s motorcycle. It was months ago now but feels like yesterday. I remember the urge to flee into the forest and my decision to stay. Mostly it was for Linc but, even then, I felt an underlying determination to help the rest of my kind.

Not that I’ve done any of them a bit of good.

Ida’s face swims in my mind. It blends with Obadiah’s but I shove his away. I don’t want to think about him and Morton and the others right now. Even within the safety of my thoughts, it feels dangerous with Titus sitting three feet away. I think instead of Ida and Lonnie. They are in the sleeping room, lulled by the hum of the pipes and the steady breathing of a room full of girls.

I miss it. I miss them. The meticulous schedule, the bland clothing, the rough sheets. Everything about my life in Twig City is a bittersweet loss, a fragmented piece of who I wish I could be again if only it meant leaving this life behind.

Except … Linc.

Just thinking his name brings with it such a warmth that I know I’m lying to myself. I would never go back. I accept this life—the swollen eye, the bruised cheek, all of it. And I know without a doubt I won’t willingly leave a shred of it behind unless he comes with me. Twig City is my past and I hope with everything in me that Linc is my future.

As if my thoughts have manifested him, my ears prick at a faint growl in the distance. It is the sort of noise only a two-wheeled engine can make. I stare past Alton’s shoulder and out the back windshield, straining to see a single headlight somewhere behind us. But the darkness in our wake is undisturbed on this rural, unlit road. A moment later, the sound fades and it’s only me and a limousine full of villains.

The car slows and turns left. I glance at Titus questioningly but his expression gives nothing away. He is typing on his phone, not even looking at me. I peer out the window. On either side of the narrow highway, grassy fields extend into the darkness, disappearing into forests in the distance. I can’t see what’s ahead with the partition in the way, so I continue to watch out the window for some clue of where we are. The farther we go, the closer the trees become until the forest’s edge encroaches on the now-winding road. Tall pines line both sides of the narrow lane.

We slow again, taking a sharp left curve. The trees drop away and, even in the dark, I can see a well-manicured lawn stretching as far as the darkness will reveal. It feels familiar. I scan the sparse scenery, trying to place it. It’s all open, moonless sky and grassy lawn until suddenly a gray wall slides into view. It rises high into the air and spans wider than my vantage point will allow.

The smooth stone, the glass front that disappears high into the sky like a pointed finger; it’s so familiar …

I twist sharply toward Titus. He’s watching me with a glint in his eye. “What are we doing here?” My tone is snapping to cover the fear. He’s changed his mind. My assignment is finished. “Am I … terminated?” I ask.

“No, you’re not terminated. You’re my daughter,” Titus says with such dripping sarcasm I don’t know whether to take him seriously.

The guard on my right stares up at the building like he’s never seen it before. Alton shifts uncomfortably, making a point not to look out the window. The car rolls to a stop and I hear the driver’s door open and close. No one moves. The door to my left opens and Alton slides out at the same time a gust of cool air whooshes in. It tucks underneath the collar of my coat, trickling a cold sweat down my back.

In this moment, all of the daydreaming and longing I’ve done over returning here is thrown in my face. Now that I’m back, I’m paralyzed with fear over what it means.

“Coming?”

I blink and find Titus out of the car, leaning in and watching me expectantly. His leather-gloved hand extends toward me. I slide out without taking it and he steps aside to let me through. I stare up at the expanse of stone walls in front of me in awe. It’s an imposing structure even if you don’t know the bulk of its space is hidden below ground; a prison barred by the earth itself.

“Alton, Deitrich, come along,” Titus snaps. “The rest of you wait here.”

The second guard pushes past me, his mouth hanging slightly open as he sends curious glances back and forth between Alton and Titus. “Is this …?”

“Yes,” Titus snaps. “And you’ll do well to keep your mouth shut. Don’t ask questions or this won’t be the last car ride to nowhere you’ll take.”

Deitrich blinks and keeps silent. Message received.

Titus shakes his head at no one in particular. “One of these days I’ll get that DNA structure right and won’t have to deal with imbecile humans.”

I wonder why he’s risking bringing a new guy for … whatever it is we’re doing here. I can only assume it’s because he’s done away with all of his regulars. I think of Williams. I haven’t seen him since the night he let himself into my room, thinking he’d find me in bed. I can’t bring myself to ask about him. The answer is too frightening. I shiver and fall into step behind Alton as we make our way toward my former home.

It’s strange to be on this side of the walls. The day I left is such a blur of movement that I don’t remember noticing much about the outside of the City. My memory contains a flash of stone and glass as I’d glanced out the back windshield just before the trees swallowed it up and I was delivered to Titus. Now, I take the time to look around. The drive is a large paved circle with a stone fountain in the center. It is turned off now but I can see the mirrored glint of water in the tiered trough. On the top is a carved tree with gnarled branches extending outward over the basins.

Other than us, there are no other vehicles. No visitor parking. There isn’t even a guard tower or sign of security. I wonder how Titus keeps it secure out here in the middle of nowhere. And then I realize security is unnecessary. No one is aware of the secrets this place contains.

Maybe I’ve returned to become one of them.

It isn’t until we reach the smooth stone to the right of the mirrored glass front that I realize the other reason Titus is most likely unconcerned with a security force. There is no door. Or, at least, not as far as Twig City’s residents know. The only exit I am aware of is the hidden passage inside Marla’s office that I left through. No one has ever seen a front door—not that any of us Imitations ever return from the surface once we’ve gone.

I shift and peer around Alton in an attempt to see what Titus is doing at the wall. Titus jerks his head toward me and glares. “Step back,” he says. Alton swivels and notices me watching. He repositions himself so that my view is blocked.

From my place behind him, I watch Titus reach into his front coat pocket and retrieve something. There is a click and then a beep that seems too loud against the silence. After a pause, I hear the slow sound of stone grinding against stone and vertigo threatens. The world seems to spin—or maybe I’m falling—and then I realize it isn’t me. The wall is sliding away. An opening is revealed.

Titus replaces whatever it is he took from his pocket and leads the way inside. Alton and I follow with Deitrich bringing up the rear. I can’t tell who is more taken aback by the fact that we just stepped foot inside Twig City, Deitrich or myself. I wonder what he knows of this place. It’s clear from the way he stares with a slack jaw that he knows enough.

“Come,” Titus says before stepping inside.

The lobby is large and open, the tip of the ceiling extending farther up than my eyes can reach. Through the sculptured glass far above my head, stars wink back at me. Secret keepers befitting of a hidden city. The floor beneath my feet shines despite the lack of light. Titus moves quickly across it, his shoes clicking as he hurries toward his destination.

My thoughts are distracted as I follow Titus and Alton deeper inside a labyrinth of halls I didn’t even know existed. The walls are white and softly lit by symmetrical fixtures above. There is carpet underneath my feet, a rich burgundy color that mutes our footsteps. The glass atrium disappears behind us as the hall winds left. We pass numerous closed doors, all unmarked and fitted with swipe pads that I assume must be operated by a key card like the cells at home. I wonder what’s kept in them if it must be locked in a building with no front door.

We make another turn, still navigating the endless hallways. Deitrich stumbles, his neck craned in another direction as his boot catches on the carpet. Titus glares at him before resuming our pace.

A long hall stretches before us. Nothing but locked doors interrupt endless wall space. There is no décor, only red lit signs at the ends of each hallway signaling “A Hall” or “B Hall.” This part looks nothing like the City I lived in. And despite the lack of doors or windows, I don’t feel sealed in. Not like I did when my world consisted of the layers below where my feet fall. There is something modern about these halls, like it’s still a part of the outside world. What lies below doesn’t feel that way.

Titus pauses in front of a door three from the end. We all gather as Alton takes his key card out and swipes it to allow our entry. When the panel clicks, Titus pushes open the door and we all follow him inside. A light comes and then my feet are crossing the threshold and I stop, staring.

The room is large, narrow but extending so far back I can’t make out the opposite wall. Two rows of shallow basins encased in plastic extend the length of the room. They’ve been raised to table height, giving me a clear view inside. Each basin contains a body, all of them unresponsive to the point of lifeless. The basins themselves are filled with a strange blue liquid so that the limbs float eerily on the surface.

None of the bodies are covered in any way. Their skin, white and black and every shade in between, is smooth and translucent. Large tubes run from their mouths to bags of milky liquid hanging at each bedside. Monitors blink red but there is no sound to indicate the readouts that scroll across the screens.

Imitations. Babies. Unborn.

My throat constricts. Why does Titus want me to see this?

I know how it works. The clinical details have been more or less explained to me, but seeing it is different. It’s a stark reminder that I was once in a tub of my own, fed juice that would eventually give me life enough to imitate a soul. But I am not human. I will never be human.

“Raven.”

Titus calls me back. I jerk my head and find him watching me, curiosity and amusement play across his features. “This way,” he says, gesturing to the doorway behind him. Alton and Tamlin hover just on the other side, waiting.

I duck my head to hide my shame and slip past him into the next room.

This one is less a science lab and more a security booth. A bank of smaller monitors sits mounted on the opposite wall. Below them is a desk with several keyboards and what look like corded two-way radios. A man in a black and gray uniform sits at the desk. He is wearing earphones but the moment Titus walks in behind me, he sheds them and springs to his feet. His neck is nonexistent below his massive chin as he nods at Titus. The buttons on his shirt strain against his gut but then he sucks in and the fabric loosens a little.

“Evening, sir,” the man says. He checks his watch. “Or, er, morning.”

“Silverton,” Titus greets the man. “Have a seat. Anything exciting to report?”

“No, sir. Everything’s tight.” The man returns to his rolling chair, sliding it sideways so that Titus can stand beside him while they both examine the grainy monitors.

I edge forward, trying to identify what’s on the monitors. They are dark and grainy and nothing seems to be moving. The sound coming from them is nothing more than an annoying hum. I shuffle closer. A voice mutters something unintelligible through the speakers.

I still.

Overlying the humming is a collective intake and exhale of breathing, slow and steady and rhythmic. The grainy images begin to take shape and I realize it’s not a cheap monitor with bad imagining and muffled sound. It’s a dark room—the sleeping room—and the humming is the pipes that I haven’t heard in so long, I can hardly remember their white noise sound. These monitors watch the City. They watch my friends. They used to watch me.