The Mechanics of Being Human (13 page)

****

Fawn and Gavin still stood embracing in the kitchen when people trudged up the stairs. She looked up and saw Jax leading her parents. When her family entered the kitchen, the two of them stepped a part. Gavin immediately seized her hand, though, intertwining his fingers with her own.

"I'm sorry to interrupt the two of you like this, but we do still have three mad kidnappers shackled to beds in my house." Jax grunted. "I figured now that everybody has made up, it would be a good time to get rid of them."

All the happy feelings between her and Gavin dispersed like dust in the wind.

"What?" Fawn's fists balled. "I thought we agreed we weren't going to kill anybody."

Jax frowned at her, brows furrowed. "Who said anything about killing anyone? I said, 'Get rid of.' Not kill. Have a little faith."

"Then what's the plan?" Gavin asked, crossing his arms. Maybe he too believed Jax wouldn't have the slightest bit of trouble throwing a hatchet at Ark.

Both her dad and Jax exchanged worried glances. Fawn had a feeling she wasn't going to like what they said. Then again, maybe that was a force of habit. The words out of their mouths brought thunderstorms more often than sunshine and rainbows.

"If I can put together an entire robotic individual, then I for sure can figure out a way to get rid of Ark and his cronies." An evil smirk crossed Jax's face. "I believe we found the answer in Metyrapone."

Fawn's jaw dropped in horror. "Oh!"

A blank expression crossed Gavin's face. "What's that?"

"Metyrapone in large doses can be used to wipe out memories." Fawn faced Jax, jaw tight. "I'm right, aren't I? You're going to wipe out Ark's memories? But isn't that bad? Metyrapone can't be controlled. You can't choose which memories to wipe and which ones to keep."

"The man killed my wife and child." Jax glowered at her. "At least allow me this. If we just dump him and his two men off in the middle of a new city, he'll just come right back and seek revenge on you and on us. But if we erase his memories of you—of me—and then deposit him somewhere safe but far away, he'll never find his way back here."

"What did you have in mind?" Fawn asked.

"Ever since Ark started hunting me, I did research on him just as much as he did research on me." Jax nodded at her. "He has an uncle who lives in Canada in the middle of nowhere. I am under the impression Ark hasn't seen him in a long time, but the man has a record of being charitable. If Ark believes he is Canadian and has little idea of his past, he would have a hard time coming back from that."

The idea of taking somebody's memories repulsed her because she knew what it was like to wake up with a blank slate. But she'd never harmed anyone on purpose. That was not the case with Ark. As much as she was hesitant to agree to such a plan, she found herself nodding. Jax deserved peace. So did her parents. Maybe if Ark was gone then they could start some sort of normal life. Or however normal a teenaged robot, her family, and her boyfriend could have.

"But what about the two drones?" Fawn asked. "What will you do with them?"

"Oliver's job will be to do the wiping. He can get the meds from his hospital." Jax stole a worried glance at Oliver. "I'll do the research on their families. I'm sure they'll have somebody to take them in."

Fawn bit her bottom lip but nodded again.

Two days later, Ark lay on the metal cot downstairs. His angry, beady little eyes narrowed at her dad who loomed over him with a shot in his hand. A small table laden with three needles was by him. As she lingered, watching and trembling, her mom wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tight. The warmth comforted her, but just barely. Jax stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest with his eyes narrowed. Gavin was not there. He stayed home with Remy because he'd gotten grounded after not coming home and not having an explanation to give her.

Ark was tied to the table with a ball gag in his mouth. Every so often he would pant, glare periodically at her dad and then at Jax, then pant against the gag again. He attempted to thrash like a fish in a bucket, but trying to escape was futile. The ties around his wrists and ankles were expertly done, making her wonder whether or not Jax had tied people to his cot before.

Her dad inserted the long needle into Ark's golden arm. The man thrashed for a minute. He then grew still and quiet, his breathing steady. Her dad pressed his fingers against Ark's throat to check his heartbeat. He threw a glance at Jax and then nodded his head. Jax nodded back.

After sighing again, her dad picked up the second shot which lay on the table next to him. He opened the second bottle, filled the canister with it, then glared down at the man. He inserted the shot into Ark's temple and the silver needle dipped further and further into his skull. But he didn't cry out or groan. The tranquilizer must have been strong. Fawn whimpered as her mom wrapped her arms around her tighter.

As her dad picked up the third bottle and filled that too, she thought of how melodramatic the scene was. She expected Ark to seize and quake as his memories were forced from his mind. But that was not the way it happened. Instead all was still. Memories could be stolen so easily and silently, just like a butterfly's wing being crushed between fingers. Even though Ark was a bad man, the sight of him losing himself made her feel sad. Nobody should lose themselves. Nobody should be forced to endure their memories disappearing from them.

And maybe this was all for naught, because her dad warned them they couldn't control which memories got erased.

"What if he doesn't forget about us?" Fawn whispered.

"Oliver got enough Metyrapone in order to wipe his mind completely clean." Her mom soothed her by smoothing down her hair. "He'll never remember us. He'll never come back."

On cue, her dad stepped away from Ark and nervously placed his shot back on the table.

"Well, I'm done," her dad whispered. "It's all over."

All of his memories were gone. Fawn gazed at Jax again. For the first time, she saw tears streaming down his face. Her dad walked over and embraced Jax.

"It's over now," her dad said. "It's all over. We'll drive him out of here and he won't be able to hurt us again."

Jax nodded slowly.

****

Fawn and her parents stood at the sidewalk and watched Jax drive away in his black SUV. In the backseat, Jax stored Ark's body. Ark's two other cronies remained inside. Jax would deal with relocating them once he got back from dumping Ark off in Canada. At the thought of Ark disappearing, her shoulders slumped with relief.

"He's gone," Fawn said.

"He's gone," her mom agreed.

"But what if the border patrol stops Jax and searches the truck?" Fawn asked worriedly.

"They aren't the most protective." Her dad shrugged. "Jax will find a way around them, I'm sure. He'll be back in no time. I just can't believe what a relief it is to know that Ark's no longer around. That he won't be stalking Jax any longer."

Nodding, she shivered and tightened her arms around herself.

"You know, with Ark gone, you don't have to hide anymore." Her mom grinned at her. "There are things you can do now that you could never do before."

Fawn's heart leapt in excitement. She thought she knew what her mom meant, but she couldn't be sure.

"Do you want to go to high school with Gavin, Fawn?" her mom asked.

With a cry of joy, she leapt into her mom's arms and held her close. Her dad chuckled, then clapped her on the back. She realized she had everything a girl, human or non-human, could hope for. People who truly cared about her.

Fawn sat at the school lunch table with Gavin who held her hand while eating a greasy, oozing piece of pizza. Across the table sat Bo and Mute. Bo held a gaming system and kept swearing repeatedly for reasons she didn't know. Gavin glanced up and over her shoulder, then his face split into a big grin.

"Ah." Gavin squeezed Fawn's hand. "There's Zelda."

When Zelda saw them, she smiled then hustled over to the table. She sat down by Fawn and nudged her with her elbow. She was glad she'd been forgiven for dragging the girl into a big mess. She was even more grateful that Zelda was now her best friend.

"So how was your first day of school?" Zelda beamed.

"Not too bad." Fawn shrugged.

"Even if you aren't used to it?" Zelda raised an eyebrow as she took a chomp of pizza. An orange drizzle of grease dribbled down her chin.

Fawn laughed, then handed Zelda a napkin. "It's all in the mechanics."

Stephanie Campbell
had her first book published at the age of seventeen. Now, at twenty, she is still whacking away at her computer, one day at a time. When she isn't reading or writing, she likes to dance, take karate lessons, and run. After all, you never know when you're about to be sucked into another world.

Chapter One

Excitement filled Pickles Bartley's heart as she sat in the cafeteria at the Walter Peabody Home for Children, which was empty except for the janitor who rolled his trash can across his floor. On an average day, she should have been in school with the rest of the foster girls, but today she had been called out for a special meeting. Blood rushed in her ears and her heart pounded. The normally bustling cafeteria's silence was horrible because it allowed her no distractions from her own thoughts. She stared straight ahead at her social worker, Mrs. Beazley. The brilliant glare of fluorescent lighting emphasized the fine lines around her hazel eyes. Laugh lines, one of Pickles' foster moms had once called them. Pickles liked Mrs. Beazley. For as long as she could remember, the woman had been there for her.

“I think we found you another foster home,” Mrs. Beazley said, tucking a strand of brunette hair behind one ear. “This one is in Seattle. A nice family. Young. What do you think?”

Mrs. Beazley slid a photographer in front of Pickles. The couple in the picture belonged on the cover of a magazine. The woman was a thin brunette and the man had dark black curly hair.

“They look nice,” Pickles said. “What are their names?”

Mrs. Beazley frowned. “Miranda and David Harris. They're from Michigan, and you will be their first foster child. They might be looking to adopt someday.”

The hope that never quite died with each disappointment began to blossom again. Pickles had hopped from one foster family to the next, but what she really wanted was a family to call her own. Mrs. Beazley had once told her that her parents had abandoned her on the footsteps of a police station when she was three years old. Pickles recovered from the abandonment and had been in the foster care system ever since. Her dream, though, was always to find one thing — a family who would love her.

“Do you think they would like somebody like me?” Pickles asked. “Didn't they want a baby?”

Mrs. Beazley's pale face grew red. “Well, yes, but so does everybody else. When they couldn't get a baby, I asked if they would like to try foster care. You're a sweet girl, Pickles. Never, in all of my years of working this job, have I met a girl as nice as you. I believe with all of my heart one of these days a family is going to adopt you permanently.”

With a slow nod, she concentrated on the smiling couple in the picture.
Please let them be the ones to love me enough to want me for always.
With her thought finished, she lifted her face and met Mrs. Beazley's kind gaze. “When can I meet them?” Pickles asked.

“Tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock.” Mrs. Beazley grinned at her. “How would you feel about going to lunch? I'll come over early to help you look pretty. My daughter has outgrown a lot of her dresses and I think you might fit one of them.”

“Oh, Mrs. Beazley, thank you.” Pickles leapt to her feet, grinning.

“Anytime, Pickles.” Mrs. Beazley's smile faded as she slowly got to her feet. Confused, Pickles cocked her head as she also stood. “Mrs. Beazley, is something wrong?”

“No.” Mrs. Beazley fought back tears. “It's just sometimes I wish you could be my own daughter.”

With a grin, Pickles stepped forward and hugged Mrs. Beazley around her plump middle. Mrs. Beazley hugged her back until the air was choked from Pickles' lungs.
Sometimes I wish I was her daughter too
. Mrs. Beazley smelled of bacon along with a sweet floral perfume, which Pickles had come to know as well as love. It was comforting, like home. When Mrs. Beazley stepped back, Pickles smiled at her, though she felt her heart clench with hope, nervousness, and fear. None of her past homes had worked out for her, but this couple appeared perfect. She couldn't help but feel excited and anxious at the same time. Tomorrow would be a frightening day for her.

“Don't worry about me,” Pickles said. “If they adopt me, I'll be real happy. If they don't, then this isn't such a bad place to be. I mean, I could be out wandering the streets, right?”

Shaking her head, Mrs. Beazley reached forward to tousle Pickles' short bob. Blonde strands of hair got in her face. Laughing, Pickles tried to straighten it.

****

The next day, she shook with excitement and nervousness. Pickles stood in front of the mirror with Mrs. Beazley beside her. Her roommate, Prudence, sat behind her. Pickles was short, dense but not fat, with a jaw-length bob, plump red cheeks, and bright green eyes. Prudence was her complete opposite, tall and thin with long brunette hair and toffee colored eyes. Pickles believed if Prudence didn't get adopted, she would be picked up by a modeling agency, which was actually one of the other girl's goals.

“That dress looks good on you,” Prudence said. “But in the green, you really look like a little pickle.”

They both laughed. Mrs. Beazley stepped over to pat her head. Pickles spun in the mirror for her and the knee-length dressed fluttered around her plump kneecaps. Nothing in her dresser was as fine as this.

“You like it?” Mrs. Beazley asked.

“Do I ever!” Pickles exclaimed. “It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

“Then it's yours.”

With a cry of delight, Pickles stepped over to embrace Mrs. Beazley. She squeaked in surprise before hugging her back, tightening her grip. Today the woman didn't smell of bacon, but she wore the same perfume.

“Maybe your new foster parents will get you clothes a lot better than this,” Mrs. Beazley said. “Maybe you'll get a hundred new dresses.”

“I would just settle for good parents,” Pickles said.

Once again, Mrs. Beazley remained silent. She then grabbed Pickles' hand. Pickles stared up at her in wide-eyed confusion.

“You ready to go to the restaurant to meet your new foster parents?” Mrs. Beazley asked.

“It's not fair your social worker always takes you to cool places and gives you clothes.” Leaning against the wall, Prudence pouted. “Mine always makes me meet people in the dumb cafeteria. I don't think she even remembers my name half the time.”

Mrs. Beazley gave her an apologetic look. “Maybe I'll talk with someone one of these days and help you out, okay, Prudence?” Then she glanced back toward Pickles. “You ready to go?”

“Of course.” Pickles beamed.