Halfskin (17 page)

Something felt familiar, easy.

She was using the new breeds to communicate with her computer, to think directly into the Internet… she didn’t need her phone. She thought-commanded a search into cyberspace, looking for the last news on Nixon Richards. The results were recent and plentiful.

Biomite-Crazed Teenager Attacks Detention Guard.

She activated the video link and streamed it directly to her retinas. Her eyes glazed over as the video formed, surreally, over Nix’s head. It started with him standing in his room, the footage grainy. The door opened and George stepped in with a tray of food. He smiled at Nix, appeared to say something that made them both laugh. The fat, jolly guard placed the tray on the desk and went to the door and, just before opening it, Nix pounced, driving the man’s head into the wall.

Her brother slammed the door.

He climbed on top of the obese, hairy man—eyes wide with adrenaline, teeth bared to the glistening gums—and began to wail.

There was no sound.

But there was blood.

Lots of it.

And the shear gore of the video would carry it around the world in seconds.

Cali didn’t bother reading the interviews. The press was sure to find someone that claimed Nix’s sister was crazy, that she was losing it, that she’d lost it after the accident. Her co-workers might slip that she was on a medical leave of absence, that she’d seen a psychologist. The public would label her crazy, case closed.

There were sure to be inconsistencies that were swept under the public rug. The anti-biomite protest groups would ignore the obvious forgery. The conspiracy theorists would be dismissed as kooks. And even if it was proven false, even if Nix’s innocence was heralded in the Supreme court, it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter not one damn bit.

Because they’d already be dead.

They’d be shutdown.

And nothing could bring them back. That’s how that game was played.

It was mid-morning. Chicago was full-tilt. Bumpers on bumpers. Sidewalks hustling.

That was one of the reasons Cali planned for Nix to be transferred to Northwestern Memorial, to be in the city. She wanted people around. Millions of them, all with biomites.

This would all be easy to resolve if Marcus was seeded. The man was pure. She scanned him when he was in the room, her new breeds chattering all over his body and finding nothing but organic flesh. And that was a stroke of luck because if he was seeded even with the smallest amount, she would’ve killed him where he stood.

She would’ve reprogrammed his biomites to consume him like microscopic pitbulls or discharge a power supply, boil him from the inside.

Eat his brain like zombie tapeworms.

She would’ve dropped him, killed him, murdered him… and then there would be no escape, not right then. Even though he deserved it. He deserved to die.

He plans to murder me.

Cali wasn’t 49.9% biomite. Her registered biomites—the ones M0ther could see—held steady at 39%.

M0ther was rigged for moments like this. How easy it would be to get rid of a problem by calling it into M0ther, overriding her monitor with a false number and then push a button and—

POOF.

It was murder. And he told her with a slight smile. He knew that she knew. He wanted her to know that she’d stepped into a lion’s den when she brought the security video to him, forced him to play her game. Wanted her to know that she’d lost.

But the game wasn’t over.

First, she needed to get Nix far away from this place. As she watched a taxi wedge its way into traffic, her accelerated thought process put together a plan. There was no time to run an analysis on it.

She tapped into the hospital network, requested a wheelchair be brought to their floor and parked around the corner. Her shirt tugged off the shoulder.

“Momma?” Avery had a handful of her shirt. “Are you all right?”

“Sweetheart.”

Cali fell into her chair and wrapped her arms around her. She murmured apologies, over and over. How long had she been there, calling her name? Worried something was wrong?

Bad mom.

Cali held Avery at arm’s length. “Honey, I need you to do something by yourself. Can you do that?”

Avery nodded.

“I need you to go to the Red Roof Inn, it’s just down the street. I’ll give you directions. You’ll go to the front desk and there will be a key there, waiting for you. Tell them your name is Avery and your mother left the key for you. Can you do that?”

“I’m scared.”

“I know you are. So am I. But this is important. We all have to find the big person inside us. I just want you to be safe in the room and wait for us.”

“I’m afraid you won’t come back.” Avery sniffed.

“Oh, honey, we’ll be right there. Uncle Nix just needs to rest a little longer and then we’ll be there, okay?”

“Is that bald man going to hurt you?”

“No, no. He’s not going to hurt anyone. I promise.”

Avery puffed out her bottom lip. She nodded.

Cali showed her directions to the hotel on her phone and hugged her so tightly that Avery couldn’t breathe. She walked her to the door. James sat in the hall, looked up from his paper. Cali watched her daughter walk bravely to the other end of the hallway, past the nurse delivering a wheelchair parked around the corner.

Nix was still asleep.

Cali sat next to him.

And began to think.

32

Nix dreamed of the lagoon.

It wasn’t the same as going there. Dreaming was more like thinking, but it was better than nothing. So Nix dreamed his dream. He flew with his arms out, over the white-tipped waves that washed foam on the north shore. He brushed over the tropical trees, the leaves shimmering in his wake. He imagined his girl there, waiting on the beach for him where they’d sit by a fire and wait for the moon to illuminate the still waters.

Excitement buzzed the sky.

Warmth bled deep into the jungle.

Nix felt safe.

Peaceful.

If he was lucky, he’d stay that way, maybe never wake up. Just bask in the sweet healing glow of the dream. It had been so long since he’d felt that way. He knew it was the new breeds that soothed his nerves and calmed his mind, but he’d felt that way before. He’d felt safe and wanted when he was younger, when he was composed of so many less biomites.

When he was mostly organic.

It was mostly when he went to bed, all curled up beneath the comforter with his head sunk in a pillow. The adult voices murmured from the front room. When his parents died, Cali and Thomas took over for the voices. Theirs were sharper and higher, but just as safe. Sometimes it was just the two of them talking about their day. Sometimes they had friends over and glasses would clink and bottles pop, but no matter how many cars rushed down the road or how many creepy sounds the house made, Nix was safe.

Nothing would touch him. He’d throw the cover over his head and melt into the safety of their voices.

When Cali was nervous or scared or worried, he could always count on Thomas to bring the safety back. He was strong and smart. He knew how to hunt and how to drive a boat. He could bait a hook in seconds. Nix still had a picture of his first off-shore catch, 10 years old, holding a yellow fin tuna—Thomas helping him hold the silver-sparkling fish high enough to take the picture.

And then there was the time some guy got weird outside the market. He asked for money. He smelled bad. His eyes red where they should’ve been white. He grabbed Cali’s wrist and Thomas chopped the guy in the neck, dropped him like a tree branch. Said he learned that in the service.

Nix never felt so safe.

And he deserved it.

After everything he’d been through.

And when the phone rang, when Nix was 12 years old watching TV and his sister answered and her mouth opened and closed like the yellow fin tuna’s did when he reeled it onto the boat’s floor… he knew.

He knew.

It happened again.

Another car accident.

The details, irrelevant.

Nix was exposed, again. No security blanket. No safe feeling. He’d lost, again. That’s what no one in the world realized, what everyone took for granted, what Nix never did…

You can lose everything at any moment.

So he reveled in the dream’s security. He rolled in the warm emotions like salty bathwater. If he could make it happen, he would never wake up.

Stay asleep. Forever.

But then Cali’s voice echoed in the dream, calling down from the blue dream-sky like God.

He would have to wake up.

Cali needed him. He had to
be
the security blanket. She needed him.

He stayed in the dream and listened to her projecting thoughts into his mind. Plans had changed.

He would have to wake up now.

33

James adjusted his weight.

His left butt cheek was numb. The chair had no padding. If it did, it had been mashed thinner than rice paper by 300 pounds of security guard. He’d already paced back and forth to get the blood flowing through his lower portions but it only worked his bowels into a tizzy. He couldn’t hit the toilet until he was relieved and Mr. Anderson was dead set on leaving him there until everything was squared away.

Sometime that afternoon.

James snapped the paper open and began reading the sports section for the third time.

Some said the job of a security guard was 90% boredom, 10% adrenaline. James felt it was closer to 99%. Had he known he was training to read newspapers and open car doors, he might’ve had second thoughts. But it paid the bills and he wasn’t digging ditches, so he shut the hell up and shifted his weight near the middle of his left and right cheek.

He was somewhere between the Chicago White Sox ninth inning collapse and the suspension of a biomite-enhanced recruit when the buzzing started. It wasn’t anything noticeable, sort of like a head rush when standing too quickly or temporarily seeing spots. He chalked it up to eating Mexican. Taquitos at 7 AM can wreak havoc.

The buzz crept around the back of his neck like fingers massaging his jawbone. It crawled over his gums, his teeth, up into his sinuses and around his temples. The back of his eyeballs itched.

He blinked back the odd sensation, rubbed his eyes with finger and thumb. He was going to have to call in a backup and explain that Mother Nature could be an insistent bitch. Somehow he didn’t think dropping a Mexican deuce in a bedpan was going to cut it.

He took a breath, wiped his brow. Maybe the Want Ads would get his mind off it. He was thinking about a dog anyway. His watch reported 11:00 AM.

Never going to make it.

He plowed through the pet section and ended up studying real estate. He hardly noticed the buzzing. It was still there, just wasn’t bothering him. Wasn’t in the way. Seemed normal.

The door opened. Just a crack at first.

James looked up from the funny pages. Cali looked back with one eye. She seemed to struggle with the heavy door, then it swung open.

She just stood there, in the doorway. She stared. He stared.

“Going to get something to eat,” she said.

James blinked.

The edges of her face were blurry. Kind of glowing, like the soft light photographers use to dress up wedding pictures. James folded the paper under his arm and gouged his eyes, again. When he opened them, the girl was past him. She took half-steps, trailing her fingers along the wall as she went. She stopped after each step, paused, took another. She didn’t look back, just kept going until she reached the turn. She crossed from the right wall to the left with three quick shuffles, bracing herself against the wall. It took a couple waves to finger the armrest of a wheelchair peeking around the corner, like she didn’t have another step left in her.

Cali fell into it. Her head sagged like dead weight.

Bells went off in James’ head, the kind of bells that were drilled into security guards. The kind of bells that sound like something between a car horn and a fire alarm. The kind that push a guard to his feet and shove him down the hall, made him ask a few questions and poke a few holes.

Skip. Skip-skip.

Click.

James dug his fingers into his eyes. Shook his head.

She was gone.

She’d already wheeled away, down the hall, going to the cafeteria to get something to eat because the woman just hadn’t been eating. I mean, she hadn’t eaten more than an orange slice since she’d gone in that room. Couldn’t say anyone could blame her. Her brother was near the end of a ship’s plank, about to be switched off like a light. And the news only got worse. She was going, too.

Woman couldn’t catch a break.

The alarm bell was drowned out by a new wave of buzzing, this time reaching over the top of his scalp and pulling his upper lip over his eyebrows. His eyes hurt from repeated grinding. The bells were still in the distance, like an ambulance going in the other direction, now around the bend. Danger over there. Not here.

He rattled the paper, decided to start with the front page. He’d read every story, starting at the top. That’s how he stayed awake when things began to grind. Pay attention to details, listen to sounds, see everything. Nothing would get past him.

The door opened.

Cali stepped out. “Forgot my bag.”

She slung a heavy canvas bag over her shoulder and walked down the hall, all the way to the end without touching the wall or stopping for balance. No wheelchair down there. She turned the corner.

The alarm bell was deafening.

James stood, reached for his phone, took a step—

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Next thing, he was sitting. Face in hands. Both cheeks numb.

There was a bell in his head, but he didn’t know exactly why. In fact, he couldn’t recall what that sound even meant, forgot what he was all about. But then it came back, he remembered. He considered looking in the room but knew there was no reason. Nothing could get past him. They couldn’t crawl out the window, they’d have to walk past him to get out.

And he hadn’t seen anyone in hours.

James rattled the paper. Started at the top of the front page. He’d read every story, top to bottom. And the tacquitos had passed.

He felt better already.

34

Nix lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Waiting. Waiting for Cali.

She slumped in the chair next to his bed, head back. Eyes closed. If anyone walked in, they’d think she was sleeping. Anyone watching the cameras would believe the same.

[Okay.]

Her voice was inside his head.

[They’re watching,]
she thought to him that morning.
[They’re watching.]

She relayed everything he was supposed to do into his head. It was weird, talking that way. At first, it was like talking with his ears plugged, echoed with the volume up. It took some adjustment, some getting used to, before he was able to exert some control. She explained the new breeds were like wireless computers aggressively taking over his body and brain.

[We need them to outnumber the old generation biomites.]

[Why?]

She didn’t answer that. He imagined the new breeds were super soldiers, pacmen gobbling up cell after cell, biomite after biomite. He didn’t ask the obvious question, didn’t ask…
Am I becoming a computer?

[Okay,]
she whispered into his mind again, eyes closed.

Nix pushed onto his elbows. His ribs ached. He took a second before pulling the covers off and sliding his feet over the edge. The floor was hard and cold. His skin, tired. He covered his eyes. A spotlight was blazing through the window; the sun was a beam of pain stabbing his brain.

His fingers crawled over the bed and snatched up the clothes Cali laid out. The top was an orange sherbet blouse, the white pants rolled at the bottom. It took longer than usual to put Cali’s clothes on. A few weeks ago, they would’ve been snug.