Catalyst (12 page)

The girl screams. Her shriek echoes so loudly that the building itself sounds like it’s in agony. She hits the ground hard, her legs scrabbling and twisting in the heavy fabric of the cloak.

Two guards walk calmly over. “Not a normal day without at least one runner.”

One of them speaks into his red bracelet. “Medical and sanitation to the atrium please.” Together, they pull her back through the arch and into the atrium, leaving a trail of smeared red blood on the pristine floor. The girl moans repetitively,
Why why why why why.

Blood pools by her body in shades of scarlet, coming from somewhere I can’t see.

“Aren’t they going to help her?” I ask. I automatically turn to Cy. He was the medic when we lived at Carus—I’ve had only a year of holo training. But Cy’s still in shock. He seems terrified to do anything. When no one makes a motion to help her, I run forward to the girl’s side. She’s clutching her right arm, and crimson stains her cloak darkly.

“Oh geez, you’re hemorrhaging.” I bend closer. “Shh. Calm down. I’m going to try to stop the bleeding.” I lift her arm and a thin spray of cherry-red blood shoots out. Instinctively, I grab her wrist and she howls in pain. It’s squishy and hot, and bone shards meet my palm.

Her hand. It’s gone.

“Oh god, oh god!” she screams. “It hurts!”

I immediately grasp her stump with both hands, holding pressure on what’s left of her wrist. “Someone get some bandages! Rip a piece of clothing, anything!” I bark.

The guards don’t even respond. Their lack of empathy is chilling. Cy finally jerks out of his shocked state and runs to the satchel I dropped. When he brings one of Caliga’s cloth bandages over, I whisper to him hoarsely.

“Holy shit. What happened here?”

“Look,” he says, and points.

Shards of shattered bracelet lay on the platform. In the center is a hand. A disembodied hand lying palm up, the dead fingers pointing to the magtrain, her failed destination.

I blink several times, but the vision of the grisly severed hand won’t disappear. It merges with the memory of my father’s hand, mangled on the street after his fatal magpod crash. With horrifying clarity, I can still see his gold wedding ring gleaming against torn flesh.

Red-clad medical techs arrive to whisk her away, leaving a garnet stain on the white floor.

“Messy way to enforce citizenship, but it works,” Micah comments quietly, waving us to an exit. He’s wearing a red bracelet too. He’s as trapped as we are.

Micah touches his bracelet to a sensor at one of the arched ivory doors. One by one, we walk out.

Fancy new magpods in all different colors zoom on the road before us. The buildings are all oval-shaped and shades of pale—cream, buttery yellow, chalky blue. Like fancy Easter candies fell out of the clouds and embedded themselves into Inky. Not a single building has windows.

“Where are we again?” Caliga asks.

“Coventry. A small city near the border of Ilmo,” Micah explains.

Before long, we’re ushered into a sleek multi-compartment magpod. When Micah banishes Caliga to a back area by herself, her shoulders crumple, as if to say, “
So. We’re back to
this again
.” Cy is separated from me, but he says nothing to reassure me during our ride. Our ride is silent, with Micah watching me thoughtfully the entire time. When we finally exit, we’re inside a dark garage. No wonder Inky loves the windowless mags and buildings. Disorientation is an easy way to keep its citizens powerless.

Fur Face emerges and Micah carries the sick girl out. She’s already worse than ten minutes ago. Not just peeling and cracking, but literally dried out and crispy.

“We need water. Fast,” Fur Face pleads.

“Will do.” Micah nods. Finally, he opens Caliga’s door. Her face is puckered and full of anger.

“About time.”

Micah chuckles. This is the Caliga he recognizes. “Nice to have you back, Cal.”

“Shut up.” Caliga pointedly steps away from me, like I was responsible for her temporary magpod imprisonment. Great. As if we needed more tension in our group.

Micah leads us inside a plain room with a silver-lined chamber at one end. It feels wrong, like it’s an elaborate, human-sized mousetrap.

“Each of you must be scanned. You’ll enter the chamber, ditch your belongings in the empty receptacle inside, and put on the clothes provided in the other receptacle.”

“There better not be any cameras in there,” Caliga says, her surliness barely concealing her worry. When Micah doesn’t answer immediately, she blanches whiter, which I thought was impossible.

Micah helps the sick girl into the chamber. Several minutes later, the door opens and she steps out wearing new clothes already stained with blood. Her eyes roll up into her head and Fur Face cries out in alarm. Micah catches her mid-faint, and hoists her into his arms.

“Next,” Micah orders us.

Fur Face goes next, emerging wearing a wheat-colored cotton sheath dress. Then Cy. When he’s done, he’s got a matching khaki outfit like Micah’s. I search his face for information, but he’s a blank slate. Finally, after Caliga and Blink go, it’s my turn. They both have stunned expressions.

“What?” I ask, my voice warbling with blossoming panic. Caliga won’t answer, just shakes her head and keeps her eyes shut, as if trying to erase whatever just happened to her.

“You’d better just get it over with,” Micah says.

Lovely. The words “get it over with” are never associated with anything remotely pleasant. I step inside the chamber with its tiny, arched ceiling. After the door closes, a small aperture opens on the wall in front of me.

“Place all your belongings in the space provided,” a calm female voice intones. “This includes clothing, jewelry, holo studs, and any other paraphernalia.”

“Fine,” I growl. I put my duffel bag in the black space, and it’s immediately sucked away. I pray that Ana’s glass unicorn isn’t shattered. I peel off my dirty clothes and shove them into the void. They stink anyway. The clothing disappears with a whispery whoosh. All I have on now is my necklace and the red bracelet.

Now I’m stark naked and the light is glaringly bright. I’m doing my best to cover myself with my hands. Where are the new clothes? I look for a drawer, but don’t see one. An apple-green line appears at the ceiling, dropping slowly to scan me and the chamber. When it touches the necklace at my throat, it changes to red. Damn.

“Foreign material identified. Please place items in the receptacle.”

“I . . . I can’t get rid of that. See, I kind of need—”

“Foreign material identified. Please place items in the receptacle.”

Perspiration leaks out of my pores. I try to breathe deeper to catch up to my accelerating heartbeat. “Look. I have to keep this. I can’t toss it in your receptacle, okay?” I yell at the walls.

“If you play nice, you’ll get it back.” A very masculine, very non-digital voice suddenly enters the coffin-like space. My hands immediately jump off the pads to lamely cover my body.

“Who is that?” My voice sounds very squeaky.

“You’re not in a position to be asking questions,” the voice says. There’s a slithery smile tucked into those words.

I don’t trust whoever that is, any more than I can trust Micah, or my body to breathe normally on its own. I hear a gusty sigh from the mystery man, and a deep chuckle.

“You can choose to keep your necklace, Zelia, but it means you’ll stay in this scanner for hours. The view I’ve got is absolutely precious.”

“Fine!” I yell, unclasping it quickly and tossing my necklace into the black hole. The man snickers faintly, but that’s it. Soon, the scan finishes without a problem and a small door slides open, with clean underwear and a matching shift dress like the others. As soon I’m decently covered, the doors open and I bolt out of the tiny space.

“That took forever,” Micah comments. He’s still carrying the unconscious flaky girl in his arms.

“Your creepy, voyeuristic colleague was being ever so welcoming.”

“I knew I was being watched,” Caliga says. “I heard him breathing.” Her arms are crossed, and I do the same.

“They took my necklace,” I say faintly.

Micah smiles kindly and tries not to jostle the sick girl too much. “I can try to get it back for you. I may be able to pull some strings, explain your situation.”

I don’t get this guy. After what he’s done to me and Dyl, he does this. Something that seems genuinely nice. I can’t get a consistent read on him.

“Well, um. Thanks.”

Micah almost beams at my response. He leads us away from the silver scanner and to a massive pair of ebony doors. At his command, they open wide.

“Welcome to Avida.”

CHAPTER 11

W
HEN THE DOORS OPEN, WE STARE IN ASTONISHMENT.

Tiles in burnished orange, fuchsia, and egg-yolk yellow pave a path through a lush garden. On either side, tide pools tremble with clear water, aglow with incandescent anemones. Darting jeweled fish zoom to hide under the lotus flowers at the surface. Every inch of space in the deep room is blanketed with plants.

Caliga whistles. “So this is where Micah’s been hiding these last six weeks.”

“Wish Vera could see this,” Cy says sadly. Hearing Vera’s name makes my throat ache. As lovely as this is, it’s not our home. Wherever Vera, Hex, Ana, Dyl, and Marka are—that’s home. And we still need to find it. I can’t waste time being impressed with this pretty prison.

Right now, the only person I can ask about how to get to Chicago from Inky is Micah, which makes my stomach churn.

“Can we get on with this?” I try to move forward, but Blink is crouched on the path, blocking me. She’s pointing to a small school of coppery fish that wriggle playfully near the surface.

“Look, but do not touch,” a voice whispers from only inches away.

“
Dieu!
” Blink chirps, and scrambles back from the water.

A woman’s face emerges straight out of the water, only a yard from Blink. Her skin is olive-toned but reflects light with faint iridescence, blending into the water.

Micah laughs, as does the water girl. Her hair is oily and black, spreading in a silky fan at the surface. She’s totally naked under the water.

“You’re late. They’re waiting for you.” Her voice sounds bubbly, as if she’s got water caught on her vocal cords. Her black eyes scan all of us, but linger on the passed-out girl in Micah’s arms. “Give her to me.”

We all swivel to look at Micah and his heavy burden. Fur Face steps forward, still holding the limp girl’s hand. The concern on her face turns to hope. “You’ll take care of her?”

The water girl rolls her eyes. “No, I’m going to eat her for lunch.” She waves an elegant, iridescent hand. “Bring her in. And take those stupid clothes off her.”

Micah lowers the girl to the golden sand, then turns around. Fur Face carefully pulls off her new clothes, shedding huge flakes of dry skin crusted with blood. Blink has a horrified expression on her face, and Caliga averts her eyes.

“I’ll help you.” I crouch down to tug the girl’s dress off, my hands growing slippery with blood. The metallic scent is overwhelming. This feels really, really wrong, stripping an unconscious girl of her clothes. “Are you sure this is okay?” I whisper to Fur Face, and she nods. Under all that hair, her face is squished together with worry.
Furry worry,
I think to myself. Then I mentally slap myself.
Stop it.

Finally, we carry her to the water. The water girl envelops the sagging body in her arms. Inch by inch, they recede into the water. Bubbles flutter from their mouths and noses as they sink, the edges of their bodies blurred by the depths. And then they’re gone.

Fur Face stares in the pool, as if they’re still there. “When can I see her again?” she whispers.

“Soon,” Micah says. He puts a strong hand on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “It’ll be okay. I know what it’s like to lose someone. At least you get to see her again.”

I want to tell Fur Face not to believe him. He’s a beautiful liar.

A few flakes of the girl’s skin lie on the shiny cobalt tiles. They’re the size of large coins and I pick one up, turning it this way and that. It’s translucent, with the texture of a microthin polymer, rather than dry skin. I slip it into my pocket without a word. When I look up, I realize everyone has moved on except for me and Cy, who’s standing a few feet away, studying a piece of her skin too.

“I wonder if she can breathe through it. Her skin, I mean,” I murmur.

“I was thinking the same thing.” He holds it up to the light and I take a step closer. “Maybe it’s oxygen permeable.”

“Maybe—”

“Cyrad! Come.” Blink waves at us from behind a flowering plumeria tree, twenty feet ahead.

“Maybe later,” I say lamely. To my surprise, Cy grabs my hand.

“Later. I promise.” He looks toward the exit, where Blink awaits. “She’s not our enemy, you know. You’ll love her when you get to know her.”

Cy lets go of my hand and walks forward, leaving me to follow in his wake. God, even Hex would hold my hand through this heartache. I already know Cy loves Blink. What I don’t know is if he loves me anymore. A year is a long time. Maybe . . . maybe I wasn’t worth the sacrifice. Maybe I wasn’t worth the wait.