Fox Forever (19 page)

I see the gruesome images again. Human eyes with no lids, human mouths with no lips, discarded monsters of someone’s twisted making, their birthplace a secret lab. Just like mine.

“Half-dogs, just like you thought. That’s all,” I answer.

Overdrive

Jenna doesn’t leave with the others. She sends Miesha to stay at a small apartment she still keeps in the basement of her old brownstone, the upper floors now housing the Clayton Bender Art Gallery. She sends the others, including Livvy, on their way too. There’s no arguing with her. She alone has the experience and expertise to get me back on my feet and that’s everyone’s common goal.

I sleep most of the day, restless sleep at first, haunted by shadowy images of LeGru, packs of creatures in tunnels, even images of Raine, her silhouette teetering on the edge of an endless black abyss, the Secretary behind her edging closer and closer. When I wake with a start, Jenna gives me something to sleep deeply and I finally do.

By late afternoon, I manage to get up and hobble to the mirror. I look at my naked self. Jenna really had her work cut out for her this time. It makes me think of my mother and all the bandaged knees, all the patched-up elbows, the frozen packs of peas on bumps, the sprains, scrapes, and bruises—nearly all of those for my brother. Rarely for me. I didn’t take chances like he did. I played it safe. She’d be horrified if she could see me now. I’m not playing it safe anymore.

I step closer to the mirror and notice the healing has already begun, some due to Jenna’s skills, some due to the properties of my BioPerfect, always programmed for repair. The surface scratches have already diminished. The dozens of lines crisscrossing my face and chest where the creatures’ claws grazed me have gone from thin bloody red lines to pink ones. The gouges and gashes are another matter. The deep gashes on my right cheekbone and over my eye won’t be healing overnight. My right arm, the one I used to shield myself that received the brunt of their attacks, feels like lead. Looking at it now, I’m mystified how I held on to that child creature so fiercely. My hip has a massive bandage over the gaping wound where they tore away my flesh. No wonder I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.

I gently touch my side, feeling the familiar ache of cracked ribs too. I hit the concrete hard when they pounced on me. The ribs are almost the worst, making it difficult to take deep breaths. How quickly can I make those heal? Last time it took me a week, which is fast, but not fast enough for me now. I concentrate, not knowing how BioPerfect works. Can I will it to work at breakneck speed? If only I had a manual or there were buttons I could push, but it’s all a mystery to me. Not unlike my original body.

I look like something out of a horror movie, but I don’t regret my decision to follow LeGru. It erased all doubts I had that Karden was alive. I know it’s based on nothing but a feeling, but it was so strong I felt like I could touch it. I’m not sure what that even means but I know I have to go back, except next time I’ll have to find a way that won’t kill me. An exact location is a good start.

I grab the sheet and wrap it around my waist, limp to the bedroom door and open it.

“Yes, Angel, I’ll be home as soon as I can. Give Aunt Allys a hug for me. I love you too.” I watch her sign off, her eyes lingering on the phone tab.

“Sorry.”

Jenna whirls to face me, startled.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” I say. “I didn’t mean for you to come all this way.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?”

I nod. Friends.

I limp to the closest chair, trying to camouflage my agony with a smile.

“You don’t have to fake it with me, Locke.”

I forgot she was reading faces long before I ever did. I allow myself to wince as I ease myself into the chair. I sit back carefully. I haven’t seen what my back looks like, but by the feel, it probably doesn’t look much different than my arm, something like shredded wheat.

Jenna sits on the sofa near me. “Now that you’ve rested and the others are gone, do you want to finish your story?”

I look at her confused. Did I babble a story while I was unconscious?

“Before passing out you told me he’s alive,” she says. “I assume you meant Karden. How do you know? Did you see him?”

At the time it seemed so clear. Almost like he was calling out to me. As if he knew I was searching. Even weirder, like our breaths were in sync. With sight and sound stifled in that dark tunnel, it was like I was sensing him in another way, maybe the way I sensed Kara when we were trapped in the dark. But explaining what I don’t understand is impossible. I don’t have words for what I felt, except for the word my dad laughed at whenever my mom mentioned it.
Intuition.

I shake my head. “No, I didn’t see him, or hear him, or touch him.” I adjust my back against the chair. “Maybe I was just caught up in the moment.”

“Tell me what happened.”

I stare at the floor trying to remember. “Shortly before I was attacked I got this overwhelming sense. I felt close. It was like another part of me took over. Not my eyes. Not my ears. Something else. I was standing there in the darkness and…” It’s ridiculous, but I say it anyway. “I just
knew.
Not very scientific, is it?”

Locke.

I look up, her silent voice reaching me.

“Lots of things aren’t explainable. Yet. That doesn’t make them unscientific. I remember before I destroyed the copies of you and Kara, I heard you both calling out to me, begging me to hurry. I didn’t understand it, and my father said it was impossible, but it didn’t make it any less real.”

I remember Gatsbro telling Kara and me the same thing, that it was impossible for our voices to reach through our digital netherworlds to each other. But somehow they did and his denial didn’t make it any less true for us.

Jenna leans forward, taking both my hands in hers. “Look what’s happened to us, Locke. Our entire brains scanned.
Everything
. Even the farthest corners. Who knows what skills and senses left over from our Neanderthal days have become like a useless appendix because we haven’t used them? Maybe some hidden dormant abilities—like a sixth sense—don’t know they’ve been retired and now our Bio Gel has given them a second life.” She smiles. “I believe you. Even if it isn’t something you can totally understand or rely on, it still isn’t something to ignore.”

And that’s the thing about Jenna.

In all the world she’s the only one who understands what I’m going through. She’s like me. I look down at her hands, still holding mine. She pulls them away and stands. “And now I need to get you some dinner. My job is to get you back on your feet so I better do it.” She pauses halfway to the kitchen. “I’m sorry I yelled at you this morning. You
are
doing something important, Locke. Something that matters, just like you told Miesha. I know that means sometimes there are risks.” She goes to the kitchen and I listen to her hum as water runs, cupboards open and close, and dishes rattle.

I’m about to call out to her to see if I can help when my iScroll ripples in my hand.
Come on, Carver, give it a rest for—

I look at my palm. It isn’t Carver.

It’s Raine.

Panic hits me. She can’t see me like this. But I want to talk to her. I need to, except I don’t remember how to accept a call without the vidcast. I take a stab and say, “No video. Accept call.”
Come on, Percel, help me out here.

Raine’s image looms in front of me. She looks confused.

“Locke?”

“Raine.”

“I can’t see you.”

Thank you, Percel.
“I just got out of the shower. Video’s off.”

“What’s the matter with you?” she asks. “Your voice sounds strange.”

Is it the medication Jenna gave me? Or do I simply sound weak? I make an effort to speak slowly and clearly.

“Must be the echo in the bathroom.”

“I heard your mother isn’t well. Is that why you didn’t meet me last night?”

“That’s right.”

“And you can’t come to the meeting tonight either? Is there something I can do?”

“No, it’s only one of her bouts. She’ll be fine. I need to stay home tonight and help her out but I’ll be at tomorrow’s meeting.”

“I can’t wait that long,” she says. She’s flustered. Her hair is in disarray around her shoulders. Her cheeks flushed. She’s someplace dark, maybe a closet?

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“I—” She looks down briefly and then straight into my eyes, and even though I know she can’t see them, somehow her gaze finds me and drills into me. “Locke, I’m skipping the meeting tonight and coming to see you instead. I hope that’s all right. I need to see—”

“No, Raine. You can’t—”

Her image disappears. She’s clicked off. Or someone cut her off. I try to call her back but there’s no answer. Did her father intercept her? Hap? I try to call again. Again, no answer.

What happened? My mind races with the possibilities. She doesn’t even know where I live. Did she mean she would see me at the park? There’s no way I can make it there. I barely made it from my bedroom to this chair without collapsing. Maybe if I—

I pull myself up. If I shower. If I get dressed. Maybe I—

I stumble and grab at the back of the chair, feeling woozy.
Do this, Locke. Figure it out.

I walk with shuffling steps to my bedroom, concentrating on every move, trying to will my ribs and hip into compliance, and when I finally make it to my room, I decide I will have to skip the shower. Dressing will be challenging enough. I’m pulling my pants on when Jenna walks in. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I need to go out.”

She laughs. “Look at you. How far do you think you’d get before passing out?”

“I’m feeling better.”

“Oh, please.” She rolls her eyes. “Whatever it is, it can wait until—”

We hear a knock at the door. My heart goes into overdrive. For once I hope it’s Carver and he’s pestering me again. But he wouldn’t knock. He’d just walk right in.

“That must be Xavier,” Jenna says. “I gave him a list of supplies.” She’s already headed toward the door.

I limp after her. “Jenna, stop. It might be—”

But she’s already swinging it open.

Visitors

I watch the sharp intake of Jenna’s breath as she looks at Raine. It tells me everything I already suspected. Raine is the mirror image of Karden. Probably all the way down to the obstinate tilt of her head.

“Hello, I’m Raine Branson,” she says. “I’m here to see Locke. Is he available?”

Maybe even the timbre and cadence of her voice is the same.

Jenna blinks and takes another deep breath, trying to regain her composure. I wish there had been the time to tell her the truth about who Raine is. I watch Jenna’s face, almost seeing the gears of her mind turn as she puts each piece together, and I pray she doesn’t blurt out the name Rebecca. She clears her throat. “I’m not sure if—”

“Yes. I’m here.” I know I should have ducked back into my bedroom before she saw me. I should have sent her away. I should have at least put on a shirt before I called out. But I didn’t. The shakiness of her voice made all the shoulds disappear. I don’t understand what Raine does to me—she makes me become someone else—someone who takes chances that I shouldn’t. Jenna swings the door wider and Raine sees me standing in the bedroom doorway.

Her lips part and she looks like she’s trying to suppress any reaction at all in front of Jenna but then she walks right past her over to me. “My God, Locke, what happened to you?”

“I—” I glance at Jenna, who shrugs and has no words to help me out. “I took a tumble. Down the stairs.”

“But all the scratches, the cuts, the…”

The gashes. She stares at my bare chest. “There were cats involved. And glass I was carrying. Top of the stairs. It was dark. Late. Three cats I think. Feral.” I keep piling on explanations, hoping one of them will stick.

Jenna begins to close the door, and a large golden arm reaches out to stop her. Hap enters the doorway. “You may not shut the door unless Miss Branson is on this side of it with me.”

“Sorry,” Raine says. “I forgot. May he come in too? I had to bring him.”

I look at Hap. He looks at me. At least we have one thing in common—mutual distrust. “Sure,” I answer.

Jenna lets Hap pass and she shuts the door. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I have some things to take care of in the other room.” She pauses as she passes me. “Left out a few details?” she whispers, and then adds, “I won’t be far if you need anything.” She obviously has her doubts about Hap too.

As soon as Jenna’s gone, Raine puts her hand on my chest, touching the small raised lines, and gingerly moves to the thicker more tender ones that Jenna has woven back together.

Her hand drops to her side. “You lied to me.”

I can’t deny it. I hobble to the sofa and she follows. I’ve lied to her on so many levels, I don’t even know for sure which lie she’s talking about. We both sit, though it takes considerably longer for me to ease myself down than it does Raine.

I look back at Hap, who hasn’t moved from his post by the door, but whose eyes haven’t veered a centimeter from me. He looks like he’s ready to finish me off. “What about him?”

She sighs. “Hap, privacy, please. Voices off.”

“That’s it?”

“It’s not really necessary. But yes, that’s it.”

She waits for an explanation but I’m not sure which one she wants to know. I hate lying to her. Everyone has—for years. I don’t want to be like everyone else. I want to be so much more to her. “What do you want to know?” I ask.

“Is it really that hard to figure out? The truth. Your mother wasn’t having one of her bouts. You hurt yourself. Why did you make up a story? There’s no shame in taking a tumble—unless that’s not what really happened.” She scrutinizes my chest again. Glass, cats, and stairs? There’s suspicion in her eyes.

For her sake, I know I have to make this good, plus I’m not entirely sure Hap isn’t listening in. “I did take a tumble, Raine. That’s the truth. I was stupid and careless. I’m embarrassed about it. Don’t tell anyone. Please.” And then I go into a long explanation, pausing at all the right moments, looking away at all the right moments, using all the tricks I learned from Kara about being convincing, telling her how my father ridicules me for being careless, for not paying attention, if he got a whiff from the Collective about me missing meetings and why, well, I didn’t want him to know, and neither did my mother, because arguments between us don’t go well. They go very badly in fact. My father is strict and expects perfection—one reason my mother and I are both glad to be away from him for a while. I pile lie upon lie until I’ve painted a mirror image of her relationship with her own father, until her face goes from disturbed to sympathetic, and I hate myself when I’m done.