Sparked (The Metal Bones Series Book 1) (9 page)

Chapter 13

Bile rose in my throat.

How could Mom do this to me? How could Mom spring this on me at the last moment? Did she expect me to believe it? Had it been only for Dad to see?

I swallowed.

Or had it been real? Had Mom really meant it?

I bit my lip. Did Mom . . . Did Mom love me? The child she never wanted, the child she couldn’t share her deepest love with?

I pushed the thought away. I couldn’t deal with this now. And how could she? How could she do that to me? You don’t mouth something like that to your daughter for the first time, as she’s leaving, twenty feet away, in a car. You don’t mouth it, period. You tell her, out loud, to her face. You hold her. You love her. You hug her. And then you tell her you love her.

You let her know she’s loved. That she’s cherished.

You—

My head fell into my hands and I choked back a sob.

How could she?

“You all right?” A voice broke through my thoughts, followed by the scent of pinecones. I cringed. Of all people, I had to be in the car with Green Eyes, the commander. Oh no, sorry, HB-10-11-12 . . . or whatever his name was.

I ground my teeth together. “I’m fine.”

“She meant it,” he said.

“Meant what?” I crossed my arms.
Just leave me alone.

“What she said.” His hand traced the steering wheel. “She loves you.”

I snorted.
Right
. “And how would you know that?”

The hum of the car filled the air between us.

“Some things.” He paused. “You just know.”

I closed my eyes and my heart throbbed in my chest, like someone was squeezing it between their fingers.

And some things you just don’t.

Mom was gone.

The things she’d said, or hadn’t said, gone.

I inhaled, allowing Green Eyes’ scent to drift through me and ease my tense muscles.

I watched the trees pass by out the window. One after another after another.

“You’re not alone.”

“What do you mean?” I tapped my foot on the floor of the car, trying to remove the different images and memories of Mom from my mind.

“You have us.”

“Us?” I repeated. I turned to face him. “Who’s us?”

The moon silhouetted his perfect nose and full lips. Shadows from the streetlights danced across his features, showing flickers of green when the lights passed over his eyes. A strand of hair curled above his forehead. And for some stupid reason, my fingers itched to run through his hair and to smooth the ruffled strand back in place.

I slumped back into the seat. I took another peek at him from the corner of my eye and saw his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

A robot. I had just been gazing at a robot!

I rubbed my head.

“We’re not that bad,” he said. “I promise.”

I closed my eyes.
Great.

“It’s not that, it’s just you and your crew . . . you lied to me, to us, to my family. You never let us know the truth about”— my voice caught—“Robotatouille.”

And all that you really are.

He nodded. “But maybe, in time, you’ll see that we aren’t what you think.”

What did that even mean?

“How many are like your kind, er, like you?” I stared at the floor, hoping he didn’t catch that slip.

This was all so confusing.

Were they more like humans or robots? And I should be mad at them or sad for them or angry for them? Or anything?

I rubbed my forehead again.

I was being brought into a whole new world, or more like feeling lost in an uncovered world.

He played with the radio knobs. “Some are. I can only tell from what I’ve experienced.” An oldies song came on the radio. “But this can’t leave your lips. Not ever. No one, and I mean no one, can know. I have no idea what would happen if this information was leaked.” His jaw tightened. “And the public, they aren’t . . . they aren’t ready for it.”

“And whose decision is that to make?” My fingers tapped on the seat. “Saying what we are or aren’t ready for? Maybe people deserve to know what they’re living with.”

“Be honest,” he said. “When you figured it out about Robotatouille, did you panic? Did you go into shock?”

I crossed my arms. “I think that’s what normally happens when you uncover a secret.”

“Fair enough.” He tapped the wheel. “Fair enough.”

“How can you sit here and think it’s fair that robots are so much more than what we’ve been led to believe. That you’re practically”—I gestured to all of him—“human?”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

I dropped back against the seat, wishing I hadn’t won, wishing I could take all of my feelings out on him, and wishing everything in the world would just be right again and that I wasn’t stuck with this huge lie—this huge burden—to carry around.

“I want to blame you,” I whispered in my palms. “I want to say that this is all your fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault. You are who you are.” His voice lowered. “No matter what you are.”

I buried my face into my palms even further. His melancholy words. His melancholy voice. So human.

“Vienna, you
need
to know the truth about us. The whole truth.”

I gave a hysterical laugh. “There-There’s more? How much more could there possibly be?”

“All half-human robots have emotions, but more importantly we have free will. We’re sovereign over our own mind and body. And the robot that attacked you.” He took a breath. “Was like us. From what I can tell, all of the robots that work for the government, are like us.”

My giggles turned into hiccups. “So you don’t even know how many half-human robots of you there are?”

“No. Not really.”

I started rocking in the seat. “This is the weirdest crap I have ever heard. I knew something was off. But holy cow. This is insane.” My boot tapped against the floor. “This-This is worse than them even creating an army because you can choose, you can make choices.”

Horrific. That’s what this was. Absolutely horrific. There could be hundreds, thousands of these half-human robots infiltrating society, running around as humans with the super talents, with their own will, their own mind—and who knows what else.

“How do they keep you in line? They have to have some type of power over you,” I said.

“They do. GPS.” He pulled back the flap of his ear and a bright fresh scar showed on his hairline.

“Don’t they know where you are then?”

And that you’re with me?

I tugged at the door handle. It was locked. My heart pummeled against my chest just as my body wanted to pummel against the car door and out of this car.

Breathe. Breathe.

“The hardest part is knowing where they put the GPS,” he said. “Once you know, it’s easy to remove.”

“So you removed yours?” I asked, on the edge of my seat, practically glued to the door.

“I removed everyone’s in my unit.”

Oh, thank goodness.

I leaned back. I didn’t know if I should be laughing or crying or sobbing hysterically.

“Th-This.” I rubbed my eyes. “It’s just so much to wrap my head around.”

The news would have a field day with this story. “Who-Who’s the person or robot you report to? Who tells you what to
do
?” My voice caught on the last word.

“The government.”

“The R.I.A.?” I whispered, turning to face him. The streetlights danced across his eyes, making them wild, alive, making the green turn and shift color . . . like . . . like a human’s eyes would.

But he’s not
.

“I believe the R.I.A. is behind everything,” he said.

“Do they know you’re helping me?” I asked, turning away from him.

“Why do you think I took our GPS out?”

Right.

I shut my eyes. “But the one that attacked me.” I pressed my lips together. “He still had his GPS in him?”

“My unit flushed it down the toilet before they started dismembering him.”

My stomach heaved, and my throat closed.

Oh, please stop, please stop
.

The memories swam back.

Robotatouille. Choking. Robotatouille flopping around on the floor. The splatter of his boots as they floundered in the soaked carpet. The robot above him smirking, watching. Robotatouille thrashing under him. Robotatouille’s hands prying the elbow away from his throat—

“Vienna!”

I gasped, ice trickling down through my arms.

“Vienna?” the voice said in my ear.

I buried my head into his shoulder and choked on gasps of air.

“It’s okay,” he said and smoothed my hair along my back. My fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt. “I’m right here. I’ve got you. We’re safe. Nothing’s going to get you.”

I closed my eyes against his shoulder and heard the idle of the car engine.

“What did I ever do?” I whispered, my lip quivering along his shirt. “Why do they want me?”

“I wish I knew,” he said, resting his chin on my head. “I wish I knew.”

His heart beat through the fabric of his shirt and against the side of my head. “Do you think they’ll ever stop looking for me?”

His hand closed over my arm. “I think they’ll eventually give up or move on to something else. Something more important.”

Is that our only hope? Something more important?

I swallowed.

He rocked us back and forth, and I inhaled the earthy sent of pinecones as it filled the car.

“You must live outside or be rolling around in forests all day long because every time I’m around you, you smell like pinecones.”

He laughed, deep and husky, and the sound reverberated against my chest, leaving a warm and soft feeling in its place.

His laugh drifted away and I realized his laugh was the first laugh I heard a robot make.

A robot.

That’s right. He wasn’t human. He was still and would always be, one of them.

Not of my kind. He was something else altogether.

I slipped out of his arms and tucked my hair behind my ear. My arms tingled from his embrace.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He hunched in front of the steering wheel. For the first time I saw bags under his eyes and areas where deep lines were soon to form.

I rubbed my arms. “I’m fine.”

“If you need me to pull over”—he started up the car—“let me know.”

I nodded. “Maybe if we stop or something. Find a fast food place. I could use something warm.” To calm my twisting stomach.

“Sounds like a plan.”

He shifted the car into gear and I rubbed my hands together.

We got off at the next exit.

The air felt cold, blowing through my body as I shut the car door but I welcomed it. The wind numbed me and I wished it could numb my mind too.

I walked past Green Eyes and headed straight for the gas station. I was so aware of him, of each of his movements, yet I refused to look at him. It was weird. It was odd. It was strange.

I was walking around, like nothing was wrong—like I wasn’t being hunted, like I wasn’t walking around with a half-human half-robot thing-person, like everything was okay, and like I wasn’t totally aware of Green Eyes’ every movement behind me.

I tried to bury myself in studying the different snacks until deciding which one to choose and then realized I had no money, for them or the hot chocolate. I closed my eyes and wished I could sink to the floor.

Ugh. Why didn’t I think to grab some cash before I left? I had nothing now. I would have to rely on them, on Green Eyes, totally and completely. For everything.

I put the cookies back on the shelf, took a deep whiff of the hot chocolate scent mottled in the air, and hoped that would be enough. I tucked my hands into my pocket, and walked back toward the car.

The car was locked, just as well.

It had stopped snowing and I walked to the end of the street, kicked off the snow, and sat on the curb facing the lights of the city below. The city below. Something I could never be a part of anymore. The simple joys, the simple lows, family ups, family downs.

Now my life would be filled with robots, running, and secrets.

“Vienna,” Green Eyes shouted my name.

I turned and he waved me over to the car with two cups of something warm in his hands.

My heart thumped around in my chest as I got off the ledge. The beats of my heart synchronized with each step I took toward him.

He handed me the steaming cup and I could smell the hot chocolate before I even brought it up to my mouth.

“Th-Thanks,” I stammered.

“You said you wanted something warm.”

I nodded and dipped my head. “Yes. I forgot to bring money. I remembered . . . just now.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I nodded again and opened the car.

On my seat were three books and a box full of the chocolate chip cookies I wanted.

“You?” I swallowed.

“I didn’t know what book to get you so I got you three. I figured, hopefully, you’d find one”—he fingered his hot chocolate—“that you might like, to read.”

I laughed. “I’ll probably read all three.”

The breeze blew through his midnight hair, ruffling it.

“We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover,” he said. “I wanted to get there before morning.”