Quicksilver (34 page)

“No! No, Tori, stop!”

Alison’s face swam into my vision, blurred and distorted by tears. She grabbed my shoulders, sobs breaking like mad laughter from her lips. “It’s done,” she gasped. “It’s over.”

The saw whined to a halt, leaving only a deafening silence. I was shaking uncontrollably, my right arm numb to the shoulder, and when I tried to speak, no sound came out. Weakness swept through me, and the room spun sideways as I fell—

CLANG.

It sounded like the biggest gong I’d ever heard, a deafening reverberation that shocked my mind blank and turned my muscles to water. I heard Alison scream, and then a black hole opened up in front of me and sucked me in.

PART FIVE: Regenerative Feedback

(The increase in signal strength that occurs when part of the output energy returns to the input signal and reinforces it)

Phase I

It seemed like only a minute before I fought my way back to consciousness. But when I opened my eyes, everything had changed.

I was lying on a bed in a darkened room, with tubes and wires hooked to me everywhere and a monitor bleeping softly above my head. Light slanted through the half-open door, and sounds drifted in: the rubbery squeak of shoes on tile, the rattle of a wheeled cart, the distant ring of a telephone…

A hospital. I was in a hospital.

Terror stabbed into me. I grabbed at the bedrail, trying to push myself up, but my hand passed through it like a ghost. I fell awkwardly onto my bandaged elbow, dull pain radiating up to my shoulder as my other hand flailed for support. Only when I’d steadied myself and got my breath back did I realize why I’d fallen.

My right hand and half my forearm were missing. There was nothing there now but a temporary prosthetic—a thick stump of padding that started five centimeters below the elbow joint and ended in a rounded knob where my wrist used to be.

And yet I could have sworn I had fingers. I could flex them open, curl them shut—I could even feel my nails digging into my palm. How could an illusion seem so real?

A sob trembled against my lips, but I swallowed it back. I had no time for self-pity. I had to pull these tubes out of my body, find my clothes, and get out of here fast, before—

Then something stirred in the chair by the foot of the bed, and a sleepy voice murmured, “Tori?”

I froze. “Mom?”

“Oh, thank God!” She leaped up and rushed to me. “I was afraid you’d never wake up!”

“Who brought me here?” I asked. “And when?”

“Your father drove you,” she said. “Eight hours ago. You’d lost a lot of blood, sweetheart, and none of us knew how to fix what you’d done to yourself—he had no choice.”

No wonder I felt so weak. “I can’t be in a hospital,” I said. “I have to get out of here.”

“It’s all right,” she said, smoothing my hair back and kissing my forehead. “Just rest. Your friend Sebastian said he’d look after everything.”

How? By hacking into the hospital’s server and altering my medical records? I didn’t doubt he could do it, but that wouldn’t erase the memories of all the doctors and nurses who’d worked on me since I came in. And it definitely wouldn’t stop Deckard and the people at GeneSystem from finding me.

“He asked me to give you this,” my mother added softly and pressed something into my upturned palm.

My fingers closed around a sphere of brushed metal. I lifted it to eye level, turning it in all directions. It gave no light, no warmth, not even the slightest vibration. And when I put it down on my lap and tried to twist it open, the top half refused to move.

The relay was dead. And I was here, alive.

“Oh, honey,” said Mom, touching my wet cheek. “Let me get you a Kleenex. And then I’ll call Dad—they must be finished splinting his hand by now.”

“His hand?” I took the tissue she offered and clumsily wiped my eyes. “What did he do to it?”

“Broke three bones, trying to get to you. We didn’t realize at first—we were so afraid you wouldn’t make it through surgery, and then…”

So they’d operated on me while I was unconscious. I had a feeling I’d be better off not knowing the details. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

“Shh.” She squeezed my good hand. “Don’t worry about that. He’ll be fine.”

Phase II

After all the pain, stress, and emotion of the day before, not to mention the nurses checking on me every half hour all night, I slept badly and woke far too early the next morning. My parents had gone home to sleep at my insistence, so there was nobody I could talk to, and eating breakfast one-handed was frustrating, especially when I flipped my bagel off the tray and it landed jam-side down on the blankets. But by eight o’clock they’d taken most of the tubes out, and by nine they told me I could get up and walk around a little if I wanted.

I was shuffling down the corridor with my IV stand beside me and my injured arm in a sling, trying to ignore the cramping in a wrist I no longer had, when I heard footsteps coming up behind me. Automatically I stepped aside to let the nurse pass, but then a voice said, “Niki?” and I turned.

It was Alison.

She looked pale and nervous, a magazine twisted into a tight spiral between her hands. But when our eyes met she gave a little smile. “You look amazing.”

“Don’t you need a barf bucket for a lie that big?” I asked, and she laughed.

“I said
amazing,
not
beautiful.
” She gestured back the way she’d come. “Do you want to go to the lounge? It’s not far.”

I looked down at my hospital gown and old-lady slippers. One of the nurses had helped me put on some pajama pants, and tied the gown up in back. But I still felt half-naked. “Is there anybody else in there?”

“No. The TV’s off.” The tone of her voice said,
Thank God for that.
“Come on. I bought you some coffee.”

The lounge was a few meters behind us, down a short hallway: a cozy, sunlit space with plump chairs, plenty of tables, and a wall of windows overlooking the street four stories below. I lowered myself into a seat across from Alison, took the coffee she handed me, and breathed the fragrant steam until I felt human again. Or as human as I’d ever be, anyway.

“So what happened back at the makerspace?” I asked between sips. “I thought I’d screwed everything up.”

“You didn’t,” she said. “You hit the detonator at exactly the right moment. Milo pulled you out of range, and I tried to reassure you, but you were in shock, and you fought us. You didn’t realize the relay had already beamed your arm—and the bomb—away.”

That was what I’d banked my life on. The relay’s beam had a limited range, so it couldn’t disintegrate two separate objects at once, and I’d guessed that the part of me with the chip in it would take priority. Though I’d also known it would quickly recognize the error and try to correct it, which was why I’d panicked when I couldn’t get away from Milo fast enough. Because if my EMP bomb didn’t go off and the relay came after the rest of me, there’d be no escape.

But Alison was still talking, and I didn’t want to interrupt. “When I looked up, I saw the relay hovering over us,” she said, “swiveling from side to side like it was confused. Then it just … dropped.” She spread her hands in a final gesture. “It hit the floor so hard the whole room turned blazing orange, like the worst migraine I’d ever had. But when the pain cleared and the taste in my mouth went away, I felt better. More than better. I felt
normal,
for the first time in ages.” She closed her eyes, savoring the memory. “That was when I knew the wormhole had finally closed.”

So that was the
clang
I’d heard just before I blacked out. No wonder Alison had screamed. “What about Barry?” I asked. “Please tell me he’s not still tied up at the makerspace.”

“Your dad found him on the way in,” she said. “That was why he was so anxious to get to you—he thought Deckard had done it. We let Barry go before we took you to the hospital.”

“We?”

“Your dad and I,” she said. “Faraday stayed at the maker-space with Milo.” She turned the curled magazine facedown on her lap and made a half-hearted attempt at smoothing it out. “I haven’t seen either one of them since.”

Dad had told me last night that Milo had a mild concussion and that Sebastian had taken him home to rest. I also knew that at some point Sebastian had talked to Mom and given her the relay. So I wasn’t worried, but I was surprised. “Then where did you sleep last night?” I asked.

“In your room,” she said. “Your dog is adorable, by the way. I don’t usually like dogs, but I’d adopt yours in a—”

She stopped, staring at someone behind me. I sighed and twisted in my chair. “Look, Sebastian,” I began, but the words died in my mouth.

It wasn’t Sebastian. It was Deckard.

“Good morning,” he said in his soft voice. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Rage boiled up in me, too hot for fear. How dare he come after me now, after what I’d just been through? “This is a hospital,” I snapped. “I am a patient. I’m calling security.”

“Wait.” He held up his hands. “Just hear me out. I’m not here to cause you trouble.”

I ignored him, looking around and under the chair in all directions. Where was the button? There had to be a call button around here—

“Tori.” Alison’s voice was quiet. “He’s telling the truth.”

“I came to tell you there’s no need to run from me anymore,” Deckard interrupted, as I drew breath to yell for help. “You and your parents are no longer part of my investigations, on behalf of GeneSystem or otherwise. And Dr. Gervais has agreed not to make any further attempts to contact you.”

“Agreed with whom?” I asked, but Deckard only gave a thin smile.

“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information,” he said. He tipped his head to me, two fingers raised as though touching an invisible cap. “Good-bye, Ms. Beaugrand. Enjoy your freedom.” His eyes flicked to my right arm, cradled in its sling. “Such as it is.”

Then he walked out.

Alison and I traded glances. “I don’t get it,” I said. “Why would GeneSystem hire Deckard to hunt me down and then call him off as soon as he succeeded? What kind of game are they playing?”

“I don’t think it’s a game,” she replied, looking troubled. “I can’t taste lies as well as I used to, but I know that wasn’t one. Or at least he believed he was telling the truth when he said it.”

So either Deckard had found the answers he’d been looking for and GeneSystem had decided they weren’t interested in studying my weird biology after all—both of which seemed unlikely to say the least—or someone had convinced them to leave me alone. Someone who was either powerful and threatening enough to scare them away or who could offer them something they wanted even more than they wanted me…

Just rest,
murmured Mom’s voice in my memory.
Your friend Sebastian said he’d look after everything.

I sat up, clutching the arm of the chair. “Alison,” I said. “I need to use your phone.”

Phase III

I texted badly, my left thumb clumsy on the keypad.

Don’t you dare leave without saying good-bye. Get up here and talk to me right now. I’m in Room 408.

But as usual, Sebastian didn’t answer. And as I watched Alison gazing ruefully at the curled-up
MAKE
Magazine on her lap, I wondered if Deckard had warned him that she was here. Should I tell her what I’d guessed about the deal Sebastian had made with GeneSystem? Or would it only cause her more pain?

“I’m sorry,” I said finally, giving back the phone. “I guess he’s gone.”

Alison took it silently and put it in her purse. Her eyes were dry, but I’d never seen anyone look so sad.

“Thanks for the magazine,” I ventured after a minute. “Or the paper telescope. Whatever.”

She gave a sheepish smile. “I don’t like hospitals. Sorry.” She touched the crumpled magazine. “I’ll get you a new one.”

Sunlight filtered through the windows behind her, and dust motes glimmered in a reddish halo around her head. Saint Alison of the Perpetual Disappointment, pray for us. “You don’t owe me anything,” I said. “You’ve already done more than I had any right to ask. If my plan hadn’t worked…”

I didn’t need to finish the sentence, because we both knew what would have happened. At best, Alison would have suffered through two or three weeks of hellish sensory overload, fighting for her sanity every second. At worst, Mathis would have beamed her through the wormhole right after me.

“Let’s not even think about that,” Alison said. “It’s bad enough that it
did
work.” She looked out the window and added, “That’s probably how Faraday feels about it too.”

“That explains why he might not want to see me,” I said. Though it hardly excused him, in my opinion. If I could deal with losing my arm, there was no reason he couldn’t get over being the one who’d cut it off. “It doesn’t explain him avoiding you.”

“No?” She raised her teacup, hiding her expression. “Well, maybe not.”

We sat together quietly for a few minutes, finishing our drinks. Then my bladder twinged a protest, so I struggled to my feet. “Back in a sec,” I said and pushed my IV stand out into the hallway.

And there was Sebastian, leaning against the wall outside my room with his arms folded and his long legs crossed at the ankles. As though he’d been waiting for a while.

“Hey,” I said, and he glanced at me in surprise.

“I thought you were in the washroom,” he said.

“No, the lounge.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “I’m doing a washroom run now, but it won’t take long. Why don’t you sit down and make yourself uncomfortable?”

His mouth twisted ruefully, but he didn’t protest. He stepped around me, heading down the corridor and into the room beyond.

I listened for the intake of breath, the sudden stop—but it never came. And when I peered into the lounge, I saw Sebastian pull out the chair I’d vacated and sit down across from Alison, folding his hands deliberately on the table between them. As though he’d known she’d be there all along.