Renegade, page 30
“Lucas?” I tried, but the voice that I summoned sounded all wrong. Mine, but not mine. My human voice was gone, replaced by the dispassionate, robotic version that spoke in my head. My android voice.
Horror swam through my limbs, flooded my mouth. I flinched, or thought I did, but I felt . . . nothing. No movement at all. I tried to turn my head; it wouldn’t budge. Frantically, I attempted to wiggle my fingers and toes. Nothing. It was as if they were no longer under my control.
The last events came rushing back, and with it, a crushing pain in my shoulder. Oh, god. Quinn. Hunter. The things I’d said to him, when my emotions were contained. Holland . . . wait. Holland’s face was the last thing I remembered seeing. Was that when Quinn shorted me? But why? And what had happened to everyone else?
My body stiffened, as if bracing for a blow. Why couldn’t I remember? The clutch of dread in my chest grew stronger, but I forced myself to remain calm. Patient. Just because I felt apprehensive about my memory lapse didn’t mean anything terrible had happened. The information would return. I just needed a few minutes to recover from the shock.
Despite my sound reasoning, a shudder wracked my body.
There would be ample time later. Every single day.
“What . . . why can’t I move?” I said. Or at least, the smooth, digital version of my voice spoke.
Lucas shook his head. “Too many reboots in too short a time. It’s just going to take longer to get everything up and running. But don’t worry,” he said, hastily, “we will. I won’t leave you like this.”
I stared into his hazel eyes and saw nothing but determination. Confidence. No trace that he was lying. Lucas really believed he could fix me, and I believed in him. I studied him as best as I could. When I’d last seen him, he’d been bleeding, passed out. He looked none the worse for wear.
“This . . . has happened before. Without reboots. I’ve frozen up, for no reason. Called up memory fragments . . . of my mom. Of before.”
His head jerked up. “Before? You mean . . . before you were an android?”
At my nod, his eyes widened. Wow, he mouthed. He stared off into the distance for a moment, as if concentrating. “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” he finally said.
He leaned over my neck, holding some gadget that made a series of clicks. I saw his sandy hair, all mussed and lopsided as usual, and felt the first stirrings of genuine warmth I’d felt since . . .
Hunter’s face flashed through my mind, but his features were all contorted. A chill swept across my skin. Was the image real, or imagined? I shook off the image, determined to focus on the present. On what little I did know.
Lucas had rescued me, and for now, that had to be enough. I just hoped my memory would return. Soon.
Speaking of . . . “How did you get me away from Quinn and her men?”
Lucas’s head shot up, his eyes round with surprise. “Get you . . . ? Mila, I didn’t get you away. I mean, I was able to activate your tracer, and was on my way out to help . . . but then you moved. It took me two days to get to you, but I did.”
“Moved?”
Sweat drops balled on his forehead, and he reached up to wipe them away. His hand slid to his cheek, then his jaw, which he rubbed while gazing out into the distance. “I found you here. In the middle of the desert,” he said, sweeping his other arm wide. “They just . . . dumped you.”
Dumped you. Like an old TV that had stopped working.
But Lucas sounded less disgusted over their behavior than concerned.
He returned to his device, to the clicking. As I waited, a heavy weight settled in my chest. Something was off. Lucas was usually more irreverent, more awkward. Right now, he was neither of those things—just deadly serious.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. He flinched, and I knew I was right. He was hiding something. Maybe he was holding a grudge. He had plenty of reasons. “Holland didn’t find out about you helping us, did he?” My voice remained robotic, but rose in volume, which somehow managed to convey my rising concern. “Are you okay? Are you—”
“What? No!” Lucas said, looking alarmed at first. Then his expression softened, and he gazed down at me with an odd tenderness. “I’m fine, I promise.”
When he was satisfied I’d accepted his reassurance, he reached out, his hand hovering just above my cheek. “There’s, uh, hair. On your face. Do you mind . . . ?”
Now there was the awkward boy I remembered. “Go ahead.”
Gently, he pushed the strand back, tucked it behind my ear. His eyes were wary, uncertain.
“What is it?”
He sighed, glanced down at the device. “It’s just . . . I don’t get it. I don’t understand why they’d just . . . leave you out here. I’m trying to make sure they didn’t alter you in any way, or, I don’t know . . . steal something. That’s what I’m checking on right now.”
He went back to the device, moving down my arms and legs.
“Quinn messed with my circuitry. She could have done anything.”
“This will pick up anything unusual, but I still don’t understand why she would leave you out here. You were her vision.”
“Maybe she got pissed because we bypassed her emotion chip.”
He smiled. “Yeah, you didn’t turn out to be what they expected. But still it’s odd.”
He grew so quiet that I got antsy. “Anything?” I asked.
“Everything seems to check out so far. Now, I’m just going to insert this card into your neck port. I sort of . . . borrowed it from the lab before I left. It will run a systems check, make sure I didn’t miss anything. After that, we should have a better idea of when you’ll be able to move again.”
Systems check. Systems check. That reminded me—a lot of weird things had happened since I’d last seen Lucas. Maybe he had some kind of explanation.
I opened my mouth, but he was already brushing the hair away from my ear, exposing my port. The same one he’d introduced me to, back at the compound.
“This shouldn’t hurt at all,” he said, lifting the card, which was attached to the device in his hand by a thin cord. “You ready?” The skin around his eyes crinkled with worry, and I managed a tiny smile.
“Yes. Thank you. Thank you for everything. Without you . . .”
He shook his head. “But there is no without me, so there’s no sense in thinking about it.” His free hand went to his collar, rolling it in a way that had grown familiar to me, even in our brief time together. He was anxious about something.
“What?”
“It’s just . . . hang on.” Oh so gently, he inserted the card into my neck. A tentative smile formed on his lips, which grew in magnitude, lending a softness to his usually angular face. He gazed down at me, and though his eyes were pretty with their green and gold flecks, it was his inner beauty that lighted them. “It’s going to sound really lame, but I’m just so glad—”
Inside my neck, a spark of awareness, a surge of electricity. A sunburst of hot pain. I jerked, my face twisting, and I couldn’t help but cry out, just a little.
“Mila, what the . . . what’s wrong?”
Through hazy eyes, I watched Lucas punch frantically at buttons as the heat surged into my fingers, my toes. Screamed through my brain like someone had lit every last neuron on fire.
Dimly, I realized that it shouldn’t hurt. The underlying sensations were exactly what I’d experienced every other time a card or USB or any type of digital device had been plugged into one of my ports. So why the pain now?
“Jesus. Hang on, I’m going to figure this out. I just . . . wow, look at that. I can’t even . . . but that’s a good thing . . .”
Suddenly, my arms twitched, and with a heavy, sweeping rush of energy, I could move them again. And my head. And legs.
“Hey, I can move.” I frowned, feeling a strange sensation on my abdomen. I lifted my shirt partway, revealing a long incision. “Looks like someone tried to steal a kidney—bet they were disappointed,” I joked.
But I shut up when I saw Lucas’s face. Despite the last words he’d uttered, the color had drained from his cheeks, leaving him paler than usual, and his hands trembled. His mouth opened and closed, his throat clenched as he swallowed, then his mouth opened again.
“No. No, no, that can’t be . . . damn it!” Lucas’s words were choppy, choked.
In my head, a red light flashed.
Systems Check: Complete.
Functional.
But despite that seemingly good news, Lucas bowed his head before me. And then he shocked me by completely abandoning his usual calm and collected self by viciously slamming the device to the ground. Sand flew up, the tiny particles spraying like water.
I pushed to a kneel and reached for his shoulder, feeling his sharp flinch as my fingers landed. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he took an audibly deep breath and forced his head up.
And his incredible, sweet, compassionate eyes glittered with moisture.
“Just tell me,” I whispered, as sharp talons of dread dug into my back.
“I . . . ,” he started, shuddered, then tried again. “Do you want the good news, or the bad news first?”
“Good news.” If only because he looked like he could use some.
He drew in a deep breath. “So, you remember that body scan we did, back in D.C.?”
At my sigh of impatience—did he think I could possibly forget?—he continued. “Well, things have changed since then.”
“What things?”
“The good news . . . the good news is that some of your live cells appear to be regenerating.”
Regenerating. Which meant—
“That explains the newfound pain. You’re becoming more human.”
More. Human. Everything I’d ever wanted . . . coming true. It felt like too much to believe and yet, deep inside me, a spark fired to life.
But I couldn’t let it flare too brightly yet. “And the bad?” Though surely, surely it couldn’t compare to the good. Lucas had to be overreacting—
“Well, Holland must have rigged the scan, too. He wanted to hide something.”
He paused, closed his eyes—as if drawing strength. When he opened them again, he reached forward, taking my shoulders in his hands.
“I know why the V.O. ditched you. Holland . . . Holland hid a bomb inside you.”
Around us, there was nothing—just mounds of sand and the whisper of the intermittent breeze, and in the distance, a few stray cacti. Lucas was talking, but for once, I couldn’t focus. All I could see were Quinn’s and Samuel’s faces, frowning at something that showed up on my abdominal scan. All I could hear was that one word, beating a terrifying drum in my soul.
Bomb. Bomb.
Bomb.
“There’s more. The V.O. must have primed it, somehow. The slightest provocation could set it off now.”
I could feel a heart that wasn’t really there, a pulse that didn’t really exist. But somewhere, inside my body, an actual bomb ticked away, and I couldn’t feel that.
“How long?” I whispered, not wanting to know and needing to know, all at the same time. “How long do I have, once it’s set to go off?”
Lucas looked at me helplessly. “Two hours.”
Two hours.
Lucas grabbed my hand, and I clung to it, fighting back the mounting despair. All this time, I’d been searching for the truth, when really, I should have known.
The most important truths were the truths I held inside me. Other truths could be manipulated, distorted. In some cases, even memories lied.
But the truth in my heart was pure. Real. And right now, it was telling me one thing.
I didn’t want to die.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book was only made possible through the attention and care of many, many others. (In other words: HELP, I needed it!) Thanks so much to all of the wonderful folks at Harper, from copy editors to cover designers to media specialists—your enthusiasm for this series never goes unappreciated. Thanks to my editors and agent—I never would have made it through the hair-pulling sequel process without you. Thanks to my family for their support, even during such a challenging year—I love you. Thanks to the bloggers and readers out there, and the other YA writers—you all make our community great.
Finally, a special thanks to my friends, both writers and nonwriters. This past year has been challenging in ways I never would have imagined, and your support, strength, and compassion is what pulled me through. Thank you for being there when I needed you.
BACK ADS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DEBRA DRIZA is the author of MILA 2.0. She is a member of the teen lit blogging group the Bookanistas and a former practicing physical therapist who discovered that tormenting her characters was infinitely more enjoyable. These days you can find her at home in California, wrangling one husband, two kids, and an assortment of Rhodesian ridgebacks. You can visit her online at www.debradriza.com.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors and artists.
Books by Debra Driza
MILA 2.0
CREDITS
Cover art © 2014 by BENJAMIN DELACOUR
Cover design by ERIN FITZSIMMONS
COPYRIGHT
Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
MILA 2.0: RENEGADE
Copyright © 2014 by HarperCollins Publishers
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks.
www.epicreads.com
* * *
Library of Congress catalog card number: 2001012345
ISBN 978-0-06-209039-3
* * *
EPub Edition © APRIL 2014 ISBN: 9780062090416
14 15 16 17 18 LP/RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FIRST EDITION
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East – 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers New Zealand
Unit D, 63 Apollo Drive
Rosedale 0632
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
77-85 Fulham Palace Road
London, W6 8JB, UK
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
Debra Driza, Renegade
