Donor 23 (33 page)

“Let me think,” Bash ordered impatiently.

Nox’s voice boomed again, “I’m bringing 42 out for you.”

They looked down at the camp. Kaleb was there, next to Nox.

They tied his hands above him to a large limb of the tree. Nox walked to stand next to him.

He put his hand on Kaleb’s shoulder and spoke to him kindly, “42, your friend, 23, is up the canyon, among the rocks. You want to talk to her?”

He held his wrist phone to Kaleb’s face. Kaleb hesitated.

Nox nodded, “Go ahead. It’s OK.”

Tentatively, Kaleb murmured, “Joan?”

Kaleb’s voice boomed across the canyon.

Joan jerked her head and opened her mouth.

Bash grabbed her arm and shook his head. “Don’t answer. Don’t let them know where we are. I have to figure out what to do.”

Nox said, “23, don’t you want to help your friend?” To Kaleb, he said, “Say something else. Get her to come down.”

Kaleb shook his head. Nox pulled the phone away from Kaleb.

“A brave donor?” Nox questioned sarcastically.

It was time for more incentive. He motioned to one of the other TEOs, who brought over a large suitcase, setting it on the ground not far from Kaleb. Nox unzipped it—the machine. He and the other TEO pulled out cords and strung them along the ground, like many snakes slinking from the machine to Kaleb. The ends of each cord had applicators for sticking to human skin. Nox stuck some of these to Kaleb’s forehead, some to his arms. He ripped off Kaleb’s shirt and applied a few to his chest.

Terror-stricken, but holding his fear in check, Kaleb pulled at the ropes that bound him. Nox looked at him, right in the eyes, appearing concerned. He reached his hands to Kaleb’s face, as if he intended to comfort him.

Instead he carefully took off Kaleb’s wire-rimmed glasses, “You won’t be needing these. They might interfere with the current.”

Kaleb’s world blurred, making it even more terrifying for him.

Joan peered over a rock, “The machine. He’s hooked up.”

From her vantage point, she couldn’t see the machine—it was behind a large rock. Its black wires seemed to disappear against Kaleb’s black skin, as if they became a very part of him.
And,
Joan thought,
soon to take part of him away
.

Nox took off his wrist phone and fastened it over Kaleb’s upper arm. “So you can talk to her,” he said.

Then he stepped back to the suitcase. “Have a nice trip, 42.”

With that Nox turned a knob. There was a delay, but that was how the machine worked. First it gathered information about the subject, feeling, sensing—like a fighter in a ring, circling his opponent.

Kaleb sensed it, too. It was as if a doctor palpated his flesh, pushing his skin. It tingled gently. The tingling surged through his whole body.
Was this it?
Kaleb thought. Visions from his past shot through his brain. His mother. Father. Zenobia. Joan and Reck. The Three Musketeers. Pleasant memories.

Then the machine found what it searched for, and it acted. Waves of pain shot through his entire body, causing him to arch his back. He screamed in agony, his screams reverberating across the canyon. Then all of his muscles constricted. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even scream. It seemed to last forever. It stopped, and his muscles relaxed, allowing him to breath.

Memories again flashed through his mind—forced into his mind. Not pleasant memories. His father’s unconscious body dragged away by snatchers, unceremoniously down the apartment’s stairs, his head hitting each step. Another memory. The fire. Once his apartment caught on fire. The flames licked at his face, as he helped others put it out. His sleeve had flamed up. The fear of burning to death came back to him. He felt the heat, the burning. It was gone. As he caught his breath, he moaned quietly, but the phone on his arm broadcast his suffering.

Nox used another officer’s phone, when he spoke, “That was a low level, 23. Shall I turn it up?”

Kaleb looked toward Nox. He couldn’t see him clearly. All he made out was a thin, black blur. What must have been Nox’s arm reached toward a large, black blur on the ground—the suitcase…the machine. More tingling, then suddenly, pain flowed
through his body. The fire was back.
He
was on fire this time. The heat burned his nostrils. His screams filled the canyon.

Up in the rocks, Joan couldn’t look at Kaleb. The sound of his screams cut her heart like a hot knife.

“I can’t take this anymore. I’m going down,” she announced.

“Joan,” Bash warned and shook his head.

“Bash, please,” she looked at him, pleading.

He knew why she had to do this.

Nox grew worried and impatient. He had to turn up the level on Joan, not on Kaleb.

Nox yelled to Joan, “If you’re not coming down, then I’ll have a little talk with 42. About your mother, maybe.”

He waited. Nothing. No reaction from her.

He spoke quietly to Kaleb, but his voice boomed out for all to hear, “42, I guess your friend doesn’t want to save you. I’m not surprised. She has no loyalty.”

Nox paused, then belted out, for Joan’s benefit, “Shall I tell him, 23?”

Joan looked at Bash beseechingly. Bash steadied her with his eyes and held up his hand in a comforting gesture.

Nox sighed, “Very well, 23.”

He turned back to Kaleb, “23 was my informant. You know she turned in her own mother.”

His voice reverberated across the canyon. Kaleb turned toward the voice, but all he saw was the thin, dark blur.

Reck’s head jerked toward Joan, as did Isabel. Arrow Comes Back stared at the ground and slowly glanced at Bash.

Reck questioned, “What’s he talking about—”

They listened as Nox continued over the loudspeaker, “Gave her up to be executed. Her own mother. She informed on her own mother.”

Joan buried her head in her hands. Bash, kneeling next to her, put his hand on her shoulder.

“Joan?” Reck asked.

Joan didn’t respond.

Reck persisted, “Joan? That’s not true, is it?”

“Quiet,” Bash silenced him.