Reboot (5 page)

What had they given her before?

What had they done to her?

The humans looked down at me for confirmation that I believed this ridiculous explanation.

Dumb Reboot—her brain doesn’t work right
.

A guard said that to me once.

I nodded. “I understand.”

They left the room and the door closed behind them. I slid off Ever, studying her face. Her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and even.

Asleep. I’d rarely seen her sleep lately.

I gently rolled her over and picked her up under the arms, hauling her onto the bed. I scooted her legs under the comforter and pulled it over her body.

I climbed into my own bed, unable to stop staring at her.

I didn’t sleep. Instead I spent the night alternating between gazing at Ever and the ceiling. When she began to stir I rushed to get into my running clothes and bolted out the door, hiding my face when I thought I saw her roll over to look at me.

Twenty-two was waiting for me at the indoor track, his eyes on the other Reboots speeding around the room.

“Good morning,” he said brightly.

I just nodded, because it was not a good morning. I could think of nothing but Ever and her angry, vacant eyes. Would she be back to normal now? Would she even remember?

I was ordered not to say anything.

I had never disobeyed an order.

“Let’s go,” I said, stepping onto the black rubber. The indoor track was one of my least favorite parts of the HARC facility. It was a 400-meter ring with a guard in the middle, encased in a bulletproof plastic box. The windows could lower quickly to stop a fight with a bullet to the brain.

Destroy the brain. The only way to kill a Reboot.

The ugly lighting gave my pale skin a puke-green hue. Twenty-two’s olive skin looked mostly the same, almost nice, under the glow. I looked away, pushing aside thoughts of what my blond hair must look like in here.

Twenty-two could barely run a quarter mile without stopping, which did not bode well for him escaping angry humans chasing after him. Hopefully we’d avoid those for a while.

A few other Reboots were on the track with us, including Marie One-thirty-five, who looked over her shoulder with a laugh as she blew past us, her dark hair swinging. She was one of the fastest trainees I’d ever had.

“Let’s do two minutes of walking and one of running,” I said with a sigh as Twenty-two’s pace stuttered to an impossibly slow jog.

He nodded, taking in gulps of air. I had to admit, I wasn’t in the mood to run this morning. The break was welcome.

“Were you a good runner when you came here?” he asked when he’d caught his breath.

“I was fine. Better than you.”

“Well, that’s not difficult.” He smiled at me. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“Me too. How long do we stay here? Is there an adult facility somewhere? I haven’t seen any older Reboots.”

“I don’t know.” I doubted it. As Reboots approached their twenties they stopped coming back from missions. Maybe they did transfer them to some other facility.

Maybe they didn’t.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“Austin.”

“Me too.” He smiled like we had something in common.

“We’re not from the same Austin,” I said tightly.

He frowned. “Sorry?”

“You’re from the
rico
. I’m from the slums. We’re not from the same Austin.” I had never seen the Austin
rico
beyond the lights I glimpsed over the wall that divided us from them, but I’d seen some of the other United Cities of Texas. New Dallas. Richards. Bonito (someone was being funny—it was anything but). A few hundred miles in the middle of Texas was all that was left of the large country my parents knew as children. HARC managed to save only Texas from the virus and the Reboot attacks that followed.

“Oh. I’ve never been to the Austin slums,” Twenty-two said. “I mean, except when my parents took me to the hospital. But I was too delusional at that point to remember. Do you think they’ll send me on an assignment there? I’d like to see my parents. And my brother. Have you seen your parents since you Rebooted?”

“My parents died when I did.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, his face turning serious. “They . . . they got shot, too?”

“Yes,” I said tightly, not interested in discussing my parents. “And you don’t want to see your parents. They don’t send Reboots to their hometown. It confuses people.”

“Do Reboots ever take off and go anyway?”

I frowned at him. “Of course not. Even if they wanted to, you’re outfitted with a tracker at the holding facility. They always know where you are.”

He held his arms out in front of him. “Where? I don’t remember that.”

“That’s the point. We don’t know where it is.”

“Oh,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “But have you seen the other cities?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good, right? We’d never get to see anything outside of Austin if we hadn’t Rebooted.”

“You’ll be working,” I said. Newbies always had questions about traveling to other cities. It was one of the only perks of becoming a Reboot—the occasional trips elsewhere for special assignments. HARC instituted a “no travel” policy years ago to stop the spread of the KDH virus, and it was still in place today. But his questions were too much this morning. They were making my head spin. “Pick up the pace,” I said, breaking into a jog.

He couldn’t talk while running, but when we slowed to a walk he opened his mouth with yet more questions.

“Do you believe in the evolution theory?”

Maybe
. I gave him a sharp look. “No.”

“But it sort of makes sense, doesn’t it? That Reboots are just evolved humans? We found an immunity to the virus. A way not to die. I’ve heard theories the KDH virus is man-made and I think—”

“Twenty-two!” I snapped. HARC was wall-to-wall cameras. They heard and saw everything we did, and they didn’t tolerate that sort of talk. “Enough.”

“But—”

“Can you please save the questions?” It came out more tired and sad than I had intended, and he looked at me in concern.

“Oh. Yeah, sure. I’m sorry.”

“I’m just tired,” I said. I didn’t owe him an explanation. I shouldn’t have said that.

“Sorry. I’ll be quiet.” His smile was small and sympathetic and something I couldn’t identify tickled my chest. Guilt? Is that what that was?

He was quiet the rest of the run, the only sounds his gasping for air. When we finished I nodded at him and walked away, to my quarters for clothes and then to the showers.

I pressed my clothes and towel to my chest as I shuffled into the steamy room, the sounds of laughter and grunting filling my ears. The showers were often rowdier after the arrival of a new batch of Reboots, and the party was in full swing this morning. Two female Reboots darted past me, one barely holding on to her towel as she screeched in excitement. A male Reboot held open a shower curtain and one of the girls slipped behind it with him.

The showers were for sex first. Bathing second.

They were not technically coed, but the boys’ shower was directly next door, and there was nothing but a curtain to separate the two rooms. Occasionally the guards came in and ushered all the boys out, but mostly they didn’t care. Reboots did almost everything they were told, except for this.

For a human, sex was connected to love. My mom wasn’t much for talking about anything that mattered, but I vaguely remembered the conversation. Sex and love went together.

Not here. The teenage hormones were still there, but the emotions were gone. The general attitude was that none of it mattered anymore. We weren’t even human.

The tile was slippery beneath my shoes, and I shuffled carefully past the closed curtains and ducked behind one at the end of the row, still fully clothed. That used to get weird looks, but now everyone knew. I didn’t flit around in a towel. I didn’t have any interest in sex. I certainly didn’t want to be gawked at like some freak.

A few of the girls had scars from their human death, but not like mine. I was dead for so long that by the time they got around to sewing up my three bullet holes, my body thought that’s what my skin was supposed to look like. The result was four permanent ugly silver staples holding my skin together in the middle of my chest, and two ragged scars shooting out in either direction. One stretched oddly over my left breast and had become even more misshapen as my breasts grew.

No one needed to see my horribly mangled chest. Not that anyone had ever approached me for sex anyway.

No one wanted to touch a One-seventy-eight. Mangled or not.

EVER WAS PALE WHEN I RETURNED TO OUR QUARTERS JUST before dinner. I had been avoiding her, but now I found it difficult to tear my gaze away from her pasty skin and shaking hands. If she’d been a human I’d have thought she was sick.

She lifted her eyes to mine as I walked to my dresser to pull on a sweatshirt.

“Hey.” She tried to smile at me and I had to look away. She didn’t know.
Shouldn’t she know?

They said not to say anything. It was an order.

I stopped in the doorway, pausing when she just sat on the bed, twisting the white sheets around her fingers.

“Are you coming?” I asked.

She looked up at me, a bigger smile on her face. She waited for me; I never waited for her. It appeared she liked it.

Her legs shook as she stood, and I wanted to ask if she was okay. Stupid question. She wasn’t. HARC did something to her.

We walked down the stairs to the cafeteria in silence. After we filled our trays I had the wild thought of going to sit with her. But she headed across the cafeteria, shoving a piece of steak in her mouth. I trudged to the One-twenties table.

I watched as Ever plunked down opposite Twenty-two, who looked up and smiled at me. It faded as he watched Ever desperately stuff meat in her mouth. He wrinkled his nose, looking from me to her, like,
What’s wrong with her?

I had no idea.

He motioned for me to come over, but I certainly couldn’t do that.

Well, I could. It wasn’t a rule. But it would be odd.

Twenty-two patted the seat next to him and I frowned and shook my head. Ever turned to see who he was gesturing to, her eyes skipping down the One-twenties table. She laughed, and I turned to see the trainers all watching me, matching confused expressions on their faces.

Lissy opened her mouth and I stood, picking up my tray. I didn’t want more questions or more weird looks. There was no rule that I had to sit with them. I could sit wherever I wanted.

I strode across the cafeteria, dropping my tray on the table next to Ever. Twenty-two looked up at me, dark eyes sparkling.

“Oh, how nice to see you, Wren.”

Ever stared at me in amazement as I plopped down in the chair. I glanced over at Twenty-two’s tray to see nothing but an untouched piece of bread and a brownie.

“What is that?” I asked. “Did you already eat a real dinner?”

He looked down at the food. “No. I’m not very hungry. At least, I don’t think I am. It’s hard to tell.”

“You’ll be able to tell if you starve yourself too long,” I said. “It’s not fun.” Hunger signals for Reboots didn’t come as quickly as they did with humans, but when they did come, they were intense. Our bodies could survive without food indefinitely, but it was not appreciated. I’d barely eaten a thing my first few days at the facility and had woken up one day so weak and starving I’d practically had to crawl to the cafeteria.

“Clearly you’re hungry,” Twenty-two said to Ever with a laugh, pointing to her massive cheeks. It looked as though she’d tried to stuff every piece of meat on her plate in her mouth at once. She managed a weak smile as she swallowed.

I must have looked concerned, because she glanced down at her empty tray and then to me.

“I feel weird,” she said quietly, the distress coming through in her voice.

“Weird how?” I asked.

“Like really hungry. And sort of fuzzy.” She frowned. “I can’t be sick, right?”

She looked at me expectantly and I said nothing. She returned her gaze to her plate in disappointment.

“The food makes me feel a little better, though. Less shaky,” she added.

I felt a pang of something, perhaps that guilt again, and I quickly slid my meat onto her plate. She looked up and smiled at me gratefully.

“You can have my food, too,” Twenty-two said, beginning to slide his tray over.

I grabbed the edge of the tray and pushed it back, giving him a warning look. “At least eat a little. You need your strength for training.”

“Why do you get to do it?” he asked, pointing to where my meat used to be.

“Because I tell you what to do, not the other way around.”

Ever giggled as she popped a giant hunk of beef into her mouth. “I prefer the meat, anyway.”

“Do I ever get to tell you what to do?” he asked me.

“I doubt it.” I grabbed my tray and got to my feet.

“No, please don’t go.” It was Ever who spoke, her eyes wide and pleading. She looked like the thirteen-year-old girl I met years ago, sitting on the bed, absolutely terrified to be rooming with One-seventy-eight. She didn’t speak a word to me for a month. One day she had simply piped up with, “I’m from New Dallas. You?” and continued talking like we’d been friends all along. She’d had four sisters back home and I think she eventually decided she had to adopt me as a sort of replacement or she would lose her mind.

Still, I never would have guessed I was any sort of comfort to her. I wanted to sit back down and enjoy the sense of being needed, the feeling of someone who liked things about me other than my number and criminal-catching skills.

I sat. It felt like the right decision as soon as I did it. Ever smiled gratefully and I smiled back. Twenty-two looked so delighted suddenly that I dropped my eyes to my plate and concentrated on eating my beans.

A low growl woke me in the middle of the night. I rolled over on my mattress, blinking in the darkness. Ever stood over my bed.

I bolted up to a sitting position, my heart pounding furiously. Her growling stopped and her bright eyes bored into mine.