Sparked (The Metal Bones Series Book 1) (11 page)

Robot,
the voice hissed.

He flexed his hand in my grip and more sparks zipped under my hand. My fingers slid along, feeling the sparks darting beneath his tips. The sparks hummed and beat steadily through me, like water tumbling down a waterfall, like waves cresting across the ocean, like bubbles popping in the air.

“Why does it do that?” I whispered.

His eyes raked over my face and he jerked his hand back.

Static shot up through my arm.

“Normally that doesn’t happen.” He swallowed. “It can happen, when we’re nervous or something.”

“Like when you’re on a deadly road trip?” I asked. “When you’re trying to save someone from a mob of mad robots.”

“Yeah . . .” His eyes grew soft. “Something like that.”

I closed my eyes.
Mob of mad robots? What was I thinking? Great, Vienna, great.

“I’m sorry.”

“I just . . . I was just . . . thinking, about something else.” He tried to smile. “Try and get some sleep.”

I turned and swatted my pillow. Why did my tongue get so loose every time I was around him? I was like a talking nightmare, awkward words sputtering out every time I opened my mouth. All I’d wanted was for him not to change the temperature and it’d turned into me talking about mad robots.

“All I meant was I like it warm in here.” I spoke into the pillow and closed my eyes.

Everything started to take its toll on me: the events, the fighting, the losses. I drifted, allowing the purr of the car to rock me to sleep.

He said something under his breath.

What was it? My mind struggled to remain conscious—pulling, digging, trying to stay focused. His words came swirling into view.

“I know.”

But sleep was lulling me deeper, the softness of the sheets, the fluff of the pillow, and warmth in the air. The words slipped past me and then everything melted together.

A blast of cold air blew on my body. I tugged the blanket closer around me.

“Rise and shine!” a high-pitched voice sang.

I cracked an eye open to find a wooden wall panel in my face. I groaned. I rubbed my eyes and sat up in the bed. The bed? My fingers spread across the comforter. And everything flooded back: family, parents, school. I sat up straight.

“We have to go back.” I fought with the covers, only to lose, becoming twisted up, and turned to find a dark-skinned woman with curly black hair sitting on my bed.

Her soft black eyes faded.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you knew you couldn’t go home?” She shook her head and her tight black curls bounced around her face.

“No, I mean I know, but you don’t understand.” My blood pumped in my veins. “Exams start next week. And I can’t miss them. I can’t. I’ll have to redo everything. The entire semester.”

Her perfectly arched black eyebrows furrowed together. “Ah . . . I thought you understood. You can’t return for the remainder of the semester. And in two weeks you’ll be officially withdrawn from your classes as a medical emergency. They’re working on the paperwork now.” Her voice softened. “It’ll be okay. With a medical emergency, you’ll be able to finish your studies when you’re recovered, or in your case”—she smiled, illuminating her light brown eyes—“when you’re safe again.”

“You mean . . .?”

No. More. School. My heart sank. All the work I’d put in, all the papers I wrote, all the exams I studied for, would have to be repeated. This was absolutely horrible. Terrible. I hated Greek Art with their stupid last names that were thirty letters long.

Breathe, Vienna. Breathe.

I was safe. I was fine. They were going to help me. I looked out the window. It would be all—

I froze.

Whoa.

Snow-covered mountains.

A panoramic view of snow covered everything. My breath hitched in my throat. The branches of the trees, the pine needles, the hills and valleys, the mountains in the distance, as far back as I could see, were covered in white. Everything was white. There was nothing but a sea of white.

“I know. It’s beautiful,” the woman said. “One of my favorite places.”

“Is it always like this?”

“I wish.” She laughed, and it was like the sound of wind chimes clinking in the breeze. “You should have seen it last night. We could barely drive with all the snow pounding at the windshield. By the way”—she held out her hand—“I’m T-29, here at your service.” Her smile widened to show flawless white teeth. “So to speak.”

She was . . . robot.

I swallowed and scooted back in the bed.

“Vi-Vi-Vienna,” I stuttered and extended my hand. She was so human-like too, so not how a robot should be.

“It’s so nice to
finally
meet you,” she said, jerking my hand around in her grip like a rag doll’s.

“Oh?”

She released my hand and I wrung my hand out under the covers.

“Yup. I was part of the group assigned to watch over you.”

“Oh.”

How many of them were there?

“And let me tell you, you know how many creepers there were trying to get you? We were slugging them like there wasn’t a tomorrow.”

I cringed. “That many?”

She paused, taking in my expression. “Well, ha, maybe not that many. But anyways . . .” She looked out the window. “Look at how beautiful it is here and not even the wind’s blowing.” She gestured to the window. “Could you have asked for a better snow day?”

“A what?”

“A snow day.” She patted my shoulder. “You know, where you make angels in the snow, have snowball fights, those things.”

“I haven’t had one of those since I was like . . . what, twelve or something?”

“Well, then, we have a lot of missed time to make up for.”

I laughed and I realized it was my first laugh, in a long time. “I guess so.”

“Look.” She opened the window and cold air flooded in, freezing me into an icicle.

My body turned so stiff that if I smiled, my face would have cracked.

“Sorry.” She slammed the window shut “I forgot. Your body temperature, it doesn’t regulate to the outside.”

I frowned.
And why would it?

She scrimmaged through my backpack, pulling out clothes. “Here.” She thrust a blue parka at me. “Wear this and . . .” She searched, sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth. “Put these on.” She dropped a pair of black snow boots on the bed. “I’ll be waiting for you in the family room. When you’re ready, just come on inside. They are all waiting to meet you, actually.”

Oh god.

I cringed.

She opened the door, bringing in voices from the other room, and then the door shut, sealing them out.

I sank back into the bed.

They’re all in there. In the other room.

All the robots.

I shivered and rubbed my toes together.

So this was the place I was supposed to be safe? Maybe if I didn’t die of the arctic temperatures first. It was my worst nightmare come to life—robots and cold weather. I hopped out of bed then darted back under the covers as cold air slid over my skin.

“Damn it.” I rubbed my arms and was surprised my words didn’t come out in a cloud of smoke.

I zipped the blue parka up T-28, or whatever her name was, had left on the bed and then scurried around until I found a suitcase filled with socks. After four layers of socks, the snow boots she left fit me, plus my toes were really happy. I put on some gloves I found and a ski hat for extra measure.

I took a deep breath and stared at the door. Now was the moment when I would have to meet them all. Robots. A bunch of them together. I cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders.

They are helping me,
I reminded myself.

Helping.

“Right,” I said.

It didn’t matter that I turned the knob as softly and as slowly as I could. It didn’t matter that they were all sitting together in the middle of the room, far away from where I was standing. And it didn’t matter that I barely made any noise when their voices had been far louder than my door squeak. It didn’t matter at all.

Because I was standing, in the middle of the doorway, eyes down, gloves on, with a massive blue parka ballooning me into a fully ripened blueberry, and with boots two sizes too large and all five pairs of robot eyes. Focused. On. Me.

Breathe, Vienna.

Chapter 14

I thought nothing could be as bad as being attacked by a robot in your own room, in your own house, but this . . . this was right up there. Having five of them focus on you all at once is just as terrifying.

“Hi, Vienna.” T-29 jumped off the couch, her hair bouncing around her. “Perfect. You’re ready.” She headed for the door with nothing but a thin, long-sleeve T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

I stood there, flabbergasted, feet glued to the floor.

Say something, Vienna, say something.

But my lips had chosen that moment to let the cool air freeze them. Open.

Green Eyes cleared his throat and stood up from the center of the group wearing a turtleneck. His dark hair was smoothed out and his green eyes gleamed. “Everyone, this is Vienna.” Green Eyes gestured toward me.

Oh no.

I stepped back and my heel banged into the door, which bounced back and slammed into the wall. The sound of knob and drywall crashing cascaded down the wood floor, across the wooden panels in the family room, and rang aloud in all of our ears.

One of the robots cocked an eyebrow.

Great, Vienna. Just great.

“I know you already know her,” Green Eyes continued. “But now you are all being formally introduced.” He turned to me, and my heart pounded. “And, Vienna, this is my unit.”

I swallowed.

My face turned bright red as I scanned each of them. Did Robotatouille tell them how I had felt about robots? Did they know how much I hadn’t trusted them? And yet, here they were helping me.

Green Eyes gestured at a man with white skin and brown hair, and the man jumped to his feet. “G-84,” the man shouted, all muscle and his head almost hit the ceiling.

I’m sure my jaw hit the ground.

“Don’t let him fool you.” Green Eyes laughed, his eyes twinkling. “T-29 is stronger and faster than he is.”

“I’m a ton of power in a little package,” the woman with the bouncy black hair said.

But
. . . I looked at her. “You’re smaller than me.”

“Psh. Size and bulk don’t have much to do with the strength or speed of a robot. That comes from the metal in our skeletal structure,” she said.

“G-84 keeps humans in check. They’re more responsive when he’s with us,” Green Eyes said.

The huge man came over and my slender hand became enveloped in his larger one. I didn’t really care what Green Eyes said about his strength. He could still take me down any day of the week. With his pinky finger.

Green Eyes moved on to the next person. Her blue eyes took me in. Her reddish-blond hair frizzed in her ponytail around soft, pale skin and a small, curved nose. She was the one who raised an eyebrow when I banged the doorknob into the wall.

Great.

“This is T-11. She knows about cutting through locks, and doors, security systems. If you need to get in or out of someplace, she’s the one to do it.”

“So you’re perfect at breaking into places,” I said. I liked the way the government omitted that robot specialty from the information as well.

Her nostrils flared and her eyes threw daggers at me.

And I just said that aloud. Didn’t I? Whoops.

“And you’ve already met T-29.” Green Eyes gestured to the woman I’d met that morning. She winked at me. “T-29’s one of the fastest, strongest robots we have.”

He gave me a gentle smile, and my heart bounced around in my chest. “Don’t let her size fool you. The smallest are the quickest. And last, but not least, is A4-96.” Green Eyes gestured to a smaller man with a pointy nose and wavy brown hair. “He’s our”—Green Eyes ruffled A4-96’s brown hair—“robot sensor. He can tell if other robots are in the area and how many of them there are. He always, and I mean always, comes in handy.” He waved his hand around the room. “This is my unit and we will do our best to protect you.”

“But why?” I blurted out.

The girl robot with the red hair, blue eyes, and peachy personality rolled her eyes.

Wonderful.

“Because.” The bouncy-haired robot walked over to me. “We want to help you.”

“Why me?”

“Why not you?”

I stood there, dumbfounded.

“I . . . I don’t know. I guess.”

She shrugged. “Vienna and I are going sledding,” she said, digging around in the coat closet.

“Sledding?” Green Eyes asked. “Really? I didn’t picture you a sledder.”

“Sledder? Yes.” I swallowed. “I mean no.” I shook my head. “I haven’t. In the longest time.” I nodded.

Why was I nodding?

I stopped moving my head. “Just wanted to try it again,” I whispered.

I was grateful T-29 grabbed my arm and swung me out the door of the cabin and outside.

“Thank—”

And then I was not so grateful.

What the hell was wrong with this weather?
I felt like a discombobulated blueberry snowman.

The cold air went through each and every layer of clothing.

I glared at the snow-covered everything. It suddenly didn’t seem so beautiful anymore.

My teeth chattered as she marched us out into the two-foot snow and somehow she sported nothing more than a T-shirt.

I wanted whatever she had. It looked to be working for her. Completely.

“How?” I said, and when I opened my mouth, cold air dove into my lungs. I coughed.

“You all right?” T-27, or whatever her number was, patted me on the back. “I thought you could use a little fresh air. But it looks like you got too much.”

“Ye—” I coughed again as the cold air floated in.

Maybe because it was ice air.

“I know this has been difficult. But I want to try and make everything as easy as possible.” Her pearl-brown eyes shone.

“If you want to make it easier, am I really supposed to call you all by your numbers?” I thumped my chest and avoided coughing. “Because I think I already forgot them.”

My foot caught and I fell backward into soft, fresh snow. I tried to get up but my blueberry shape only wanted to roll sideways. Which was not happening.

I grasped her hand and she swung me back up. “What if I gave you nicknames?” I breathed, hunched over on my hands and knees.

Mental note: Never fall again while in this outfit.

“Nicknames? That would be great. What would you name me?”

Oh. Of course I hadn’t thought that far.

“Umm . . .” I looked at her bright, beaming smile and gave it my first guess. “Bonnie?”

She gasped. “I love it. I can tell”—she slung an arm around me—“that we’re going to be great friends.”

Friends.

I rolled the word over in my head. Friends with a robot. I was going to be friends with a robot.

“Have you given anyone else names?”

“A little,” I said, walking with her up the hill. “I’ve thought of a name for the other girl, Peach.”

Bonnie burst into laughter that echoed off the mountains. “Where’d you come up with that name?”

I shrugged. “She has peach-colored hair.”

And she’s not exactly peachy.

“She’s going to die.” Bonnie laughed again, and the sound seemed to echo off the mountains. “I can’t wait to see her face. No one’s ever called us anything other than our classification number. And she’s a stickler for rules. Man, is she going to flip over this.” She slapped her leg. “Thank you. Really. You have no idea how exciting this is. I feel like a human now. A real human. Having a human name makes everything”—her dark eyes glinted in the sun as she smiled—“perfect.”

She feels human. My heart panged around in my chest.

I never thought . . . I never dreamed that they might want to be human, to be like us.

“I’m glad.” I swallowed and looked away.

We reached the top of the hill.

“Here.” She handed me a cardboard box. “How often have you gone sledding? Or have you ever gone before?”

“Funny.” I kneeled in the box. “I’ve gone before. I grew up in Philadelphia. Besides, how hard could it be to sit in a box and slide down a hill?”

It was hard. Very hard.

The first time down the hill, I leaned forward in the box. It flipped over, allowing me to catapult, alone, down the rest of the hill. I was a perfectly shaped snowball by the time I finally rolled to a stop. The second time, well, if you want to call it that, my box broke. It tore open right from underneath me and I was left sliding down the mountain in snow-soaked jeans.

“Sorry.” Bonnie winced. “I forgot water does that to cardboard.” She lifted my box up. There was a big hole in the middle and only the four corners left.

My knees felt numb and my gloves weren’t doing anything to help keep the chill from my fingers.

“It’s okay.” I flexed my fingers. “Would you mind, though, if we called it a day?” My knees started shaking.

“Oh my gosh. I forgot. You must be freezing. You should have said something sooner.”

“Yeah.” I took in her ensemble, jeans and T-shirt.
Maybe it was a robot thing? “About that. How is it you’re not freezing? And what did you mean when you said regulating to the temperature?”

“You mean, he didn’t tell you?”

“No. He told me a lot . . . but I’m sure there’s still a lot I don’t know about ro— I mean about everything.”

“Well, not all of us have the ability but we deal with a bunch of different situations that happen in all sorts of different environments and we need to be ready for any of them. Hence our bodies are able to adjust to the weather.”

Oh.

Well
that
would be very convenient for me right now. I was losing sensation in my legs every time I lifted them to walk. “And how does that work?”

“I have no idea. I just know I’m never hot or cold the way humans are. It’s like we have internal heaters and air-conditioners inside of us.” Bonnie shrugged. “I’ve heard about sweating and freezing and I’ve seen the reactions but”—she shook her head—“never experienced it.”

“You’re not missing anything. Believe me.” I was starting to lose feeling in one of my toes. “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to have a shower here, by any chance?”

“Of course we do!” Bonnie said.

We reached the cabin steps. Fire was smoking out of the chimney. I hoped that meant the heat was on, if they had heat.

Warm air flooded my body when we opened the door and for that moment, I felt like I was in heaven.

Then I saw the male robots sitting by the fire. They nodded at me. I gave a weak smile.

The cabin was small and there were tons of couches set up in a semi-circle around the fire.

“This door”—Bonnie opened it—“is the boys’ room. And this one is the girls’ room.” She pointed at the door next to it. “Since we are an even number, it’s three and three for the sleeping arrangements. We figured it would help you if we made the rooms boys and girls. Here, let me take you to the shower.” Three beds and three suitcases were neatly stacked against the guys’ wall. In the corner, was a single-person bathroom. “Unfortunately, it’s the only one we have, so if you need to use it during the night you’ll have to come through the boys’ room. Don’t worry.” She winked at me. “They won’t bite!”

At least they had a toilet and shower, which is more than most places like this had inside the house.

“I’ll bring in your stuff and leave it right outside the shower door. Oh,” she said, “there is a whole rack of towels above the toilet that you can use. Bang on the wall if you need anything else.” She closed the door.

I pulled off my parka and tried to dust some of the snow off into the shower. I undressed and hopped. My mind wandered back to all that I’d left behind. Sydney, Carmen, Jayla. I squeezed my eyes shut. My heart clenched. I didn’t get to say goodbye. What were they going to think? Would my parents tell them what happened to me? Aunt Becky, Joel, and Uncle Leroy. Would I see them again? And my parents.

Mom.

I pushed my friends and family from my mind and let the steam from the shower fill the tiny bathroom. It was heaven on earth. Pins and needles stung my legs and then my arms, as blood flowed back into my body.

I turned off the water and cracked open the door to grab my stuff. Cold air blew in, making me freeze again. I dressed in the warmest clothes I could find, my warmest socks, leggings, jeans, and three layers of warm shirts, and a jacket. I dried my hair as much as I could. And right as I exited the bathroom, Green Eyes entered.

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t know you were done. Bonnie wanted me to tell you there wouldn’t be any hot water left soon.” He glanced at the steam entering the room. “Glad to see that wasn’t a problem.” His eyes darted back to me and roved over me.

Heat spread across my face. I was a mess. My wet, tangled hair was like a mop on my face. I pulled at it and ran my fingers through it. They caught on the knots and I gave up, letting my hair fall back around my shoulders.

“Thanks. For the warning.” I tugged at my T-shirt. “By the way.” I walked over to the window. White mountains tumbled over each other in the distance. “Where are we?”

I could feel him walking over to stand next to me, the hairs on my arms rising in awareness of his nearness. I pulled my arms closer to myself. He gazed out the window with me. The turtleneck outlined his broad shoulders, muscular arms, and toned figure.

“We’re in Croghan, New York.” His voice held an edge to it.

“Never heard of it.”

“Most people haven’t. We’re in Lewis County, up in the mountains. Probably a couple hours northwest of Albany.” His arms tightened across his chest. “You’ll be safe here. It’ll be hard for anyone to find you. When it snows, you can’t see where you’re going and when it doesn’t snow, things leave tracks.”

“What kinds of things?” I whispered.

“You know what kinds of things.”

“I don’t think I ever thanked you properly.” My fingers played with wet strands of hair. I bit my lip. “For everything but also about pulling over and helping me . . . while we were driving. You didn’t have to . . . and you did . . . and I just wanted to say thanks.”