Broken Things (10 page)

Gus took another bowl to the next room. This boy slept on
the cot and didn’t budge as he set the bowl down. He didn’t get too close. You
could never tell what the children planned. They could fake sleep. The boy’s
face seemed permanently touched by sadness that even the peace of sleep
couldn’t erase. Some kids responded to their treatment like the first boy,
fostering resentment, others responded like this one. Nobody told him the
children’s stories, and he didn’t want to know. Robots or not, there were a lot
of creepers out there that had their own ideas of what children were good for,
and they’d sold to them all. People didn’t need background checks for toys.

The only thing he ever fed the kids was soup. Kidsmith gave
him a food budget, and two dollar packets of instant noodles let him tap into
the budget to keep up his supply of beer. His last guest wouldn’t need food.
They told him it was inoperative.

He rarely got to see adult androids. Kidsmith never
manufactured them, but there were plenty of other businesses that did. The
problem with adults was that they were designed for labor, taking jobs from
real people. Even though it made sense for productivity, those companies were
boycotted and put out of business for utilizing them. That’s why there were so
few of them around.

As far as he knew, the only places that still used adult
androids were the adult sex industry (illegal in Idaho, but not Nevada and
Oregon) and the military. Overseas the laws were different. Kidsmith, as a
leader in android technology, had stepped up to reclaim them as they wore out
or were abandoned. He imagined that they did so for access to the technology of
other companies.

They hadn’t locked it up, but dumped it in the workshop.
From what he’d been told the thing looked like an antique.

He entered the shop, his eyes instantly finding the thing.
It looked more like a desiccated corpse than any android he’d ever seen. As he
walked in the smell of rot hit him so hard he gagged. He covered his mouth with
his hand as he approached it. The damn thing would make the room stink for
weeks.

The android’s skin had shrunk tightly to its bones. Maggot
holes were all throughout its flesh and he swore he could see the things moving
just beneath. Its clothes were nothing but rags. “I can’t believe they’ve left
you out like this,” he said to the thing, “you’re infested.”

Its eyes were open, giving him the uncomfortable feeling
that they watched him.

He gripped his flashlight tightly, knuckles white with
tension and leaned in to look closer. Yes, the chest moved, ever so subtly. The
robot’s lungs still worked, pushing out stale air, and a sound, if he listened
carefully, like a death rattle.

“Well, son of a bitch,” he said, “I think you’re still
functional. How did they miss that?”

The android turned its head to face him.

Gus shouted and took two steps back, dropping his
flashlight. The thing didn’t move any farther, and he chuckled in relief. “Oh
man, you startled me.”

He bent down to grab his flashlight. He’d never been the
most limber of guys, even in his youth, and touching his toes remained an
impossibility to this day. He squatted down, feeling for his flashlight amidst
the heavy shadows that blanketed the floor. He hadn’t turned it on. He just
liked the feel of its weight in his hand.

He found it under a bench where it had rolled up against the
legs. He stood up, legs protesting, and found himself face to face with the
rotting android, its face inches from his own. Despite himself he dropped the
flashlight again. He hadn’t even heard the thing move. Its foul breath hit him
squarely in the face as its arms shot out to grab him by the neck.

Gus had a lot of weight advantage. The android had strength
built into its bones. It fell on top of him, hands tightening like vices. He
fought for air, struggled to pull the thing’s wrists away but to no avail. It
brought its face toward him, teeth snapping eagerly at his face. His vision
blurred, mercifully hiding the thing’s visage as it dug its teeth into his
cheek, but nothing diminished the pain.

Nobody living remained in the building to hear his screams.

17

It stumbled down the hall, blood dripping from its mouth and
chin as it followed the fear scent. It kept one hand on the wall for balance, leaving
a sanguine smear in in its wake. It wore the guards clothing about its
emaciated frame, hoping to give it some semblance of its humanity. They hung
from it only slightly better than its rags, but maybe enough to fool someone at
a glance.

Its limbs worked again, maybe not perfect, but well enough.
There were parts of it still broken, but it could walk again! Its arms had more
strength than ever.

It had taken the guard’s keys along with his clothing. It
opened the door quietly. The child slept. The fear felt so much different when
they were awake. It never truly went away with the abandoned children. It
permeated their dreams, laced their thoughts.

They’d given the boy such a small room, so devoid of hope. It
walked cautiously into the room, careful not to wake him. A bowl of soup sat
cooling on the table, untouched. The boy’s captors had left his light on. It
clicked the switch, plunging the room into more forgiving darkness. It stopped
next to the cot, leaning over him. It brushed a strand of hair from over the
boy’s eyes, causing the boy to stir restlessly. Did it haunt the boy’s dreams?
How did it rate amongst all of his other fears? Did the boy even dream?

A single drop of blood fell from its lips onto the boy’s
cheek. It reached out to wipe away the blood, but only smeared it.

It didn’t sense any further damage to the child, but they
hadn’t bothered fixing him either. Should it care if they had hurt this child
if he wasn’t real? The fear felt real though, as real as anything he’d ever
sensed before.

 There was a greater purpose at work here, even if it
didn’t understand yet. It would reveal itself in time.

“Soon,” he whispered to the child, and stepped back as the
boy shifted uneasily. With practiced ease he slipped out the door with hardly a
sound.

18

Josh got up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He’d had the
weirdest sensation, like somebody had been talking to him in his sleep. The
darkness disoriented him and for a moment he thought he might be back in his
old room in the safety of his parents’ house. The illusion lasted but a second.
It all came rushing back, the mountains, and the ride back with that evil Mrs.
Hart, and the guy that planned to tear him apart.

It had to still be night, but he couldn’t tell, with the
only illumination coming in beneath the door. He focused on that slim band of
light to find his way across the room and felt around until he found the light
switch.

He blinked and squinted until his eyes adjusted. The room
remained as bland as ever. He got up, used the small toilet, and settled in to
think about the last of his remaining time. Someone had placed a bowl of soup
on the table while he had slept. He thought that a pretty lousy last meal, all
things considered, but his stomach didn’t complain.

After quickly eating he paced around the room. Maybe there
would be someone else here that actually cared. How could so many people
working with kids be so cold?

On a whim, he walked over and tried the door. The handle
felt sticky, but he ignored it. It turned easily, they had forgotten to lock
the door, or thought he was too broke to care. If no one were about he could
just walk out. He could go home! He slowly cracked it open and peaked.

The hallway’s dim lighting made the place feel cold and
desolate. The sound from his damaged head echoed off the walls, and he wondered
how far away someone could hear it. He cautiously looked both ways. The hallway
had several other doors much like his own.

It smelled strange, reminiscent of something he’d smelled
before, something like rotten meat. Dark blotches on the white tiles led down
the hall to his room, ending at his door.
That’s oil or something
, he
told himself,
it’s not blood
. It sure looked a lot like blood though.
They’d brought the thing back with them. If it were loose in the building, it
might try to find him again. He looked both ways, making sure that it wasn’t
trying to sneak up on him.

If that were blood on the floor, what was on the door
handle? He looked down at his hand and a shiver raced through his body. The
palm and fingers of his hand were stained with drying blood. He wiped them on
his jeans, his feet moving him forward of their own accord as he lurched away
from the door. It swung and slammed shut behind him. He flinched, hoping nobody
(or no
thing
) had heard it.

A large thump made him nearly leap out of his shoes, and he
let out a tiny shriek before he could bite it back. It came from the room next
to his. It could be someone working late, maybe somebody repairing something.
 

The thumps turned to knocks, and the knocking to pounding.
He slowly backed away from the door until he bumped into the wall on the
opposite side. He didn’t know which way to run. Did it matter?

“Who’s out there?” came a muffled voice beyond the door,
“Let me out!” The voice did not belong to an adult, but a kid.

Josh ran to the door and pressed his ear against it. “Hello?
Are you a prisoner too?”

“Hey! Yes! Open the door!”

Josh grabbed the handle and shook it, but it wouldn’t budge.
“It’s locked. I can’t open it!”

“You’ve got to get me out of here,” the kid hollered back,
“Find the keys!”

Where would they be? Why hadn’t they left this kid’s door
unlocked too? He hurried down the hallway, trying each door in turn. They were
all locked. He hesitated, if he delayed too long, someone was bound to find
him, these places always had security. He came to the end of the hallway to a
door with an opaque glass window. Though it had no sign, it looked important.
As luck would have it the handle turned easily, revealing a large office.

This room had a large window behind it, and the lights of
downtown Boise shown through, providing enough illumination to see what he was
doing. Josh breathed a sigh of relief, morning hadn’t come yet. He pulled out
the drawers, digging through them one by one.

The first one was full of the usual adult medications. He
recognized them from his parents’ medicine cabinet. They had to take pills for
their weight, to be able to digest wheat and dairy, antidepressants (his mother
took five different kinds), anti-anxiety, antipsychotics, and the optional
one-a-day multivitamin. As long as they took those every day, people stayed
young and healthy.

The others were filled with papers, but the one in the
middle had pencils, paperclips and such, and most importantly, keys. There were
dozens of them, some loose, some on key rings. He stuffed his pockets with
every one he could find and rushed back.

“I’ve got keys,” he said intently, “I’ll get you out.”

“Just hurry!”

He tried them one by one, dropping them when they failed.
About twenty keys later, he found success. “Got it!” he cried a bit too loudly.
He dumped the rest of the keys from his pocket and threw open the door to come
face to face with another boy, much like himself.

“Thanks,” The other kid said, “Let’s get out of here!” He
had a ragged head of dark hair, and looked like he hadn’t had a haircut for
some time. He stood about the same height, and he guessed that they must’ve
been about the same age.

“Which way?” he asked.

“Look for exit signs!”

Josh followed the new kid down the hallway. Though the other
kid ran, he tried to follow him more slowly. He couldn’t risk blacking out. If
that happened now, it would be over.

The other kid turned around as he reached a door with a
large red exit sign. “You coming?”

“Yes, wait for me.”

“Hurry up!”

He reached the door, but when he went to push it open, the
kid stopped him. “When we push on the handle,” he warned, “An alarm is going to
sound. You’re going to have to run.”

“I can’t,” Josh said, “I’ll shut down.”

The other kid raised an eyebrow. “You broke or something?”

“No, I’m just not working right.”

“You’ve got blood on your cheek. Are you hurt?”

Josh reached up and touched his face. He stared at the red
smudge on his fingertips. He shuddered. “It was in my room!”

“What was?”

“The monster.”

“Monster? What are you talking about?”

Josh showed him the blood on his fingers. “The monster!
Didn’t you see the blood back there? They brought it back from the mountains.
It’s after me. It must’ve touched me.”

“Dude, you’re freaking me out! Something is seriously wrong
with you. We’ve got to reach the alley across the street. If someone comes
after us, I’m running. Try and keep up. Once we get a block or two away we
should be safe.”

“All right.”

“Wait. What’s that?” The kid looked over Josh’s shoulder.
“Do you hear it? Someone’s coming. Get ready to run!”

Josh looked back to see what appeared to be a security guard
round the corner. He didn’t walk quite right, as if his legs weren’t
cooperating. He didn’t need a closer look, though he couldn’t see the face he
knew what it was. “That’s not a guard!”

“Of course it is, run!” The kid threw open the door, and a
piercing alarm broke the silence. With all worries of blacking out forgotten, he
ran right on the other kid’s heels.

When they reached the other side of the street, the other
boy grabbed his arm and pulled him into the shadows. “Wait!” he whispered,
“Security!”

“I told you that’s not security,” Josh said. “That’s the
monster.”

“Why’s it dressed like security? You think they’re giving
monsters jobs?”