The Hunt

21

Ariane

UNDER OTHER CIRCUMSTANCES, I MIGHT have been fascinated—and horrified—by the differences in life at Laughlin’s facility. I’d never imagined that anything could make me look upon my experiences at GTX with something that vaguely resembled fondness.

From what I could tell, Ford and the others had very little by way of possessions, beyond strategy manuals, weapon instructions, and books like The Art of War. There was a stack of magazines on a table to the side of their cubbies, but they all seemed to date from the last year, starting probably right around the time Dr. Laughlin had decided they needed to be “humanized.” Maybe Carter’s iPad served the purpose of additional entertainment/acclimation to human culture, but I was willing to bet that he’d acquired that technology only upon starting at Linwood. And neither Ford nor Nixon seemed to have one—by their choice or Laughlin’s, I wasn’t sure.

And to make it worse, where I’d been left to my own devices except when being tested, creating an illusion of free will, their schedule was strictly regimented.

Exactly ten minutes after our return from school, Nixon and Carter had begun to change clothes, and I had to scramble to follow suit, careful to keep my back—and the GTX tattoo on it—against the wall. There was no privacy. And no room allowed for my hesitation. Clearly, this was their usual postschool routine.

For precisely one hour, Nixon, Carter, and I ran on treadmills in a smaller room down the hall. Then there was another hour of battle simulation in a different room, one equipped with a large projector and screen, technology that was evidently intended to allow us to run through “real” scenarios. It mostly involved ducking and covering behind simulated corners and using our abilities to strip mock humans of weapons before they could fire on us. Once I got the hang of it, I did well enough to keep up, but I had no idea how Ford normally fared. I hoped that, if she was the reigning champ, anyone monitoring would think Ford was just having an off day.

After that, three-minute showers in the completely exposed bathroom unit in their quarters. (I’d kept my gaze glued to the tile wall to avoid seeing Carter and Nixon, and I’d worn my workout T-shirt in to keep my GTX mark covered. It didn’t matter if Ford didn’t usually do that; I’d had no choice.)

It was now 5:47 P.M., and we were sitting down at the small table in their room with meal trays filled with some unidentifiable paste, brought in during our absence.

I was exhausted but jittery with adrenaline. Because this was it, the moment of—well, not truth, but massive deception. According to Ford, Dr. David Laughlin visited during their dinner every night. At 5:45. Knowledge of that visit and its timing was integral to our plan.

Which was actually very simple. Laughlin and Jacobs—and maybe Emerson St. John too, though who knew?—were all so busy trying to eavesdrop on one another and plant spies in the other organizations, we were going to use that against them.

I was here as Ford. And Ford, as me, would use Zane’s phone to make a call. It didn’t matter to whom. Just so the call registered with whatever cell tower was nearby. Dr. Jacobs was surely monitoring the phone and would mobilize to track “me” down. But Laughlin, with his informants in place within GTX, would also likely hear about the call almost immediately afterward. And he’d be unable to resist the temptation—or so I hoped—to gather up his men and snatch “me” out from his careless competitor’s nose, especially since “I” was so close, practically in his backyard. Thus providing a substantial distraction that would focus everyone’s attention elsewhere and allow me enough time/freedom to get into Laughlin’s office and back out, undetected.

There were only two tricky parts to this equation. Ford had to lead them on a merry chase but not actually get caught. If she did, this would likely end in a stalemate, which would not help us. Plus, I needed Ford to be back at the school by tomorrow morning so I could hand off the Quorosene and we could switch back, without anyone the wiser. Then they could disappear at the first opportunity available for the three of them and I could vanish with Zane. At least until we knew for sure that the trials had been canceled.

All of that meant the timing for our distraction—the phone call that would lead them to pursue Ford as me—was crucial. Ford had suggested, then, that it needed to be the end of the day, when there were fewer people on staff, and after Dr. Laughlin’s daily check in with his own hybrids. We couldn’t risk him coming back unexpectedly.

But Dr. Laughlin was now two minutes late.

It took everything I had to keep my leg from jouncing beneath the table. I wanted to ask Carter if it was normal for him to be late, but I couldn’t, of course.

It didn’t matter, though. Given what I’d seen of their clockwork schedule, I suspected a two-minute discrepancy was significant. In the back of my head, a voice screamed, “CAUGHT!” over and over again.

Had Ford accidentally started her distraction too soon? The timing on this plan had to be precise, a fact I’d emphasized repeatedly, much to her annoyance. But she’d seemed to understand. Or so I’d thought.

Against my will, I glanced up at the case in the hall bearing her name. Who knew what she was thinking or what she would do with that kind of threat hanging over her head? The niggling possibility that she’d simply walked away, taking my money and ID, wouldn’t leave me alone. Although that wouldn’t explain Dr. Laughlin’s tardiness.

I shifted restlessly in my seat before I could stop myself.

Carter, catching my gaze, shook his head. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to tell me to hold still or not to worry. Either way, it wasn’t helping. I felt like a mouse with my teeth sunk into a suspiciously convenient piece of cheese, waiting only for the sudden rush of air and the crack of a metal bar on my neck.

A dull ache in my stomach started, and I was pretty sure it was only partially due to the protein paste I was forcing myself to choke down.

When Dr. Laughlin finally bustled through the open doorway, his lab coat flapping behind him, it startled me. I’d already grown used to looking up to find the hallway empty.

David Laughlin was, I realized with distaste, both younger and more attractive than the grainy photographs Zane and I had found online. His cheekbones had hollows beneath them in that fashionable manner, and his hair was highlighted with auburn streaks that were not the work of nature. Beneath his lab coat, which looked more like a fashion accessory, he wore an expensive-looking shirt with heavy cuff links and suit pants with a precise crease down the front. He was every bit the public persona he’d presented to the newspapers and other media organizations.

Two assistants—beautiful women in dark, tailored suits—trailed after him, tablet computers in hand, as if he might drop a word here or there and they would need to record it to ensure that it wasn’t lost to history.

It took everything I had to maintain what I hoped to be a relaxed but attentive expression. It would have been no problem for me to pretend in GTX with Dr. Jacobs. I was used to that. But here, in unfamiliar surroundings with unpredictable strangers, I could feel myself tensing up.

“Good evening, children!” he said, in a cultured British accent. I’d known he wasn’t American, but it was still startling to hear him. It reminded me, once again, how big this conspiracy was, how many people were involved. It wasn’t just my small hometown in Wisconsin.

He clapped his hands together with a sound like a shot. “How was your day?”

Carter, the designated spokesperson, gave the same answer before. “Within acceptable parameters, sir.”

Without warning or even so much as a response to Carter, Laughlin turned to me.

“I understand you made a new friend at school today. A human. Would you care to explain that to me?” he inquired, the casual lift of his brow making it seem as though this was a matter of simple curiosity rather than the start of my undoing.

My breath caught in my chest. Crap. The nosy teacher who’d caught Zane and me sneaking in. Ford hanging out with a regular student, without Nixon or Carter in sight, would definitely have struck him as strange, and he must have reported me to someone here. Probably as ordered.

I waited, praying for one of the bookend assistants to look up wide-eyed from her tablet and tug at Dr. Laughlin’s sleeve, or for lights to flash and alarms to sound. Something to indicate that Ford was following through on her part of our arrangement.

But nothing happened. And the seconds ticking by between Laughlin’s question and my lack of an answer were creating a gap that would soon be impossible to cross.

Across the table, Carter’s knuckles went white where he clutched his spoon, and even Nixon’s posture seemed stiffer than usual.

I needed to do something right now.

I took a breath and did my best to channel Ford. “You know the teachers there. Always eager to create reports on us that will generate your favor. And your money.” The heavy disdain in my voice, I realized, was probably a little more Rachel Jacobs than Ford’s more flat affect, but here was hoping Laughlin wouldn’t notice.

A troubled frown creased Dr. Laughlin’s otherwise unlined forehead.

No, no, no. Don’t frown. Don’t question. I am Ford, who else would I be? I sent the thoughts at Laughlin, though I knew he couldn’t hear me.

“Of course. I suspected as much. That is unfortunate, though. I was hoping that Mara’s immersion therapy was beginning to work. Carter here is looking like a better and better choice for the trials.” He tilted his head sideways, watching for my reaction.

I stared at him, much as I imagined Ford would have, letting the unexpressed hate shine through my eyes behind the otherwise impassive mask of my face. That wasn’t hard for me.

Laughlin nodded appreciatively. “That will serve you well, assuming I allow you to live.”

He wasn’t worried or fearful. Nor did he seem to have any doubt in his control over us. Say what you will, Dr. Jacobs had always had a cautious and healthy respect for what I was capable of.

By contrast, Laughlin was so certain that their need for the Quorosene protected him, he took chances that were foolish to say the least. Then again, he had no way of knowing that one of his hybrids had been replaced by an undomesticated substitute. Killing him now would mean blowing my cover—probably trapping the three of us in here forever or getting us “eliminated”—so it was a no-go.

But still…

I watched as he seated himself on the table, dipped his finger in Nixon’s remaining protein paste, and placed it in his mouth, making a face at the taste.

“That is bloody awful, isn’t it?” he said with laugh, wiping his hand on Nixon’s sleeve. The assistants gave a polite titter, Laughlin’s devoted audience. “Have to try it every once in a while to remind myself.”

Nixon, for his part, was unmoved and unreadable as ever. But he was in there, in his head. He wasn’t an empty vessel. He’d squeezed my hand in the car.

The arrogance of that man. Beneath the table, I curled my hands into fists, feeling my fingernails bite into my palms. I wanted badly to show Laughlin exactly how weak and breakable he really was.

But that wouldn’t solve our problem. Not yet, anyway.

Dr. Laughlin stayed for several more minutes, asking Carter questions and pointedly ignoring me. I suspected that tactic was designed to make me, Ford, worry about my fate. But instead, it simply pissed me off. Made me even more determined to see him fall.

His whole visit lasted less than ten minutes. Then he left, as suddenly as he’d arrived, his coat flapping behind him and the two assistants trailing.

Watching him walk away, I felt hope draining out of me, like a cup with a leak. He’d arrived late, but he’d arrived, with seemingly no agitation or concern at events that might have occurred just before his visit. And while he’d been here, there’d been no sign whatsoever of Ford’s planned distraction.

I swallowed hard, my mouth gritty with paste and panic. Zane had been right.

Now what?

Now what? Now what? Now what? The phrase pounded in my head like a drumbeat as Nixon, Carter, and I pushed away from the table and returned to our bunks.

Carter attempted to make contact in Morse code again.

“She’s loyal. We are one. She would no more betray us than she would cut off her own arm.…”

Maybe it was just me, but his tapping sounded more desperate than before. And I couldn’t help thinking again about a mouse caught in a trap. Some of them were known to chew off limbs to escape.

I tuned out the rest of whatever Carter was saying. I needed to think.

My heart was a panicked animal trapped behind my ribs, trying to beat its way free.

Don’t panic. Breathe. Staring up at the smooth green plastic over my head, I concentrated on my inhales and exhales until a measure of calm descended.

I had two choices. One, if I could pass the night without being detected as a counterfeit, I could get back to Linwood tomorrow and sneak out. Through the bathroom window, perhaps. It would be more difficult without Ford to take her place again and with the guards watching.

But what good would that do? Ford might be gone, but the competition was still on. Laughlin would simply send Carter in her place. And God only knew what he would do to Nixon as punishment.

Dr. Jacobs would still be looking for me. And Dr. Laughlin would have a serious grudge, once he figured out what we’d done. Or rather, what we’d attempted before Ford broke ranks.

What hope did I have of avoiding them both forever? I was willing to bet that even if GTX had to forfeit the trials to Laughlin Integrated—no, especially if they had to forfeit—Dr. Jacobs would continue to look for me.

My second option, my only true choice, was to get the trials canceled, as planned.

I felt my heart flutter with anxiety again, but I ignored it, forcing myself to calculate.

My biggest advantage: I was inside Laughlin’s facility, undetected. For the moment. It was, as I’d told Zane, a one-time opportunity.

Ford’s distraction had been intended only to cause confusion and pull focus away from Nixon, Carter, and me long enough for me to slip deeper into the facility.

I didn’t have that luxury anymore. But maybe I didn’t need it. I knew from Mara that Ford and the others had previously used loopholes in Laughlin’s commands to slip outside the facility and stalk Mara. For example, Laughlin may have told Ford to go to her quarters, but he didn’t say stay. Or how long to stay, even. She just couldn’t leave permanently. And rather than punishing her for finding these gaps, he’d seemed amused by them, if Mara’s telling of it was in any way accurate. He’d altered their orders at some point, obviously, because the stalking had stopped.

But how many people here knew that? Would someone watching question my wandering the halls, especially if I didn’t try to leave the facility? The distraction had been intended to address this concern, but maybe I could do it without that.

Laughlin was so certain of his control, so sure that Ford and the others wouldn’t challenge him because they needed what he had. Did others have the same faith in his power?

I’d seen no signs otherwise.

I bit my lip and immediately released it, figuring that would not be a Ford move.

The final and largest issue was simply, was it worth the risk to try?

No! My human side shrieked. Just stay here and hope for the best.

But that nonhuman part of me had run the odds and gave the equivalent of a shrug. It depends on what you value more: the slim possibility of permanent freedom or the certainty of a few final days.

You’d get a chance to find Zane to apologize, to tell him you were wrong. To spend those hours together.

True. But what good were those hours when we both knew the end was coming and it would be ugly? Jacobs would find me, and any chance of a life would be gone. Then I would have to do anything and everything he said, just to keep him from using Zane as “motivation.”

The certainty of that impending doom would color my last encounters with Zane, assuming he would even accept my apology and want to spend time with me. It would be misery with every breath counted, every second ticking away on a clock neither of us could see. And when fate caught up with us in the form of a GTX retrieval team, who knew what would happen? I couldn’t guarantee Zane’s safety unless I surrendered willingly, which went against every unnaturally fragile bone in my body.

I looked to my right and the curved wall only inches from my face.

Carter had given up trying to signal a few minutes ago, after my lack of response.

I could only imagine what he was feeling, abandoned by Ford and ignored by me. He and Nixon had both taken a chance, and neither one of them had done anything to deserve this result.

I turned on my side and started tapping out my new plan, quickly and quietly.

You’d think with all the experience I’d had blending in, pretending to belong, that wandering the halls as Ford would have been easy.

After all, I didn’t even have to pretend to be human this time.

But my whole body was shaking, particularly as I passed through the gallery. It took every bit of self-control I had to keep from stopping to stare and mourn.

I stuffed down the human emotions rioting in my head—Look, do you see what’s going to become of you? Why couldn’t you just wait? You would have been free tomorrow—and kept moving, the clear and analytical voice of my alien side a welcoming presence.

According to Carter, the Quorosene was kept locked in a safe in Laughlin’s office, both of which they were strictly forbidden to approach unaccompanied. From the layout Ford had quickly described at the school, Laughlin’s office was aboveground, on the fourth floor. I had to find my way out of the maze and to an elevator that was somewhere near the doors to the parking garage.

So the security team monitors would, most likely, be expecting me to slip outside to further torture Mara or whatever other nefarious errands Ford had devised on her various field trips before Laughlin restricted them to the facility. (Speaking of which, how exactly had she managed all of that? Had she stolen a car? Managed to get Carter and Nixon on a bus? I had no idea, and all of the possibilities seemed equally unfathomable.) They would not be expecting me to approach his office. Which, I hoped, meant it would catch them off-guard and scrambling.

Or it might mean that they’d jump all over the panic button the second I headed for the elevator.

The cameras above my head, scanning the hallway with a faint mechanized whir, felt like living, breathing beings, watching over my shoulder and tracking my every move.

The good news was that, as Ford had predicted, after Laughlin’s evening visit almost everyone had left. I passed two white coats who were too busy arguing over something to even give me more than a glance. I suppose that, unlike GTX, the sight of Ford and the others moving through the halls wasn’t uncommon. The door on their room didn’t even lock.

Still, moving quickly as I could, without looking suspicious, was imperative. I didn’t want to get caught in the middle of a security shift change or something. Ford had said this time of evening was best for the attempt to reach Laughlin’s office. With no other information to go on, I had to trust that she was right in that, at least. But the sooner I was back in the hybrid room, the better.

Finally, dozens of bad paintings and fake trees later, I found myself at the double doors to the garage.

I didn’t so much as pause, passing the doors and then making a sharp left when the hallway ended. To hesitate in this instance might truly mean death. Anyone watching had to believe I was acting under orders.

The elevators were where Ford had indicated they would be.

I pressed the button, UP my only option, my finger slippery on the plastic, and it lit up immediately.

Watching the numbers glow above the metal doors in descending order, I was reminded of the last time I’d been waiting on an elevator and trembling with nerves.

It had only been a few days, but it felt like years ago that Zane, Rachel, and I sneaked out of GTX. Well, sneaked out of the lab part. We’d most assuredly gotten caught before crossing the threshold outside.

Maybe it was the memory of that moment, but when the bell chimed gently, signaling the elevator’s arrival, I stepped to one side.

The doors rolled open, but no one burst out. No demands for me to “Hold still and do not resist” emerged.

When I peeked around the corner, the space was empty except for a brightly colored poster on the wall advocating the necessity of a flu shot, and quiet but for the buzzing of the fluorescent bulbs overhead.

I stepped in and pressed 4. No special key or key card required, which was good because Ford hadn’t prepped me for that.

Then again, perhaps security would be that much tighter on the actual floor.

I braced myself, preparing to fight. Even if I was confronted, I might have a chance if they weren’t ready for me. Uncontrolled, unconnected me. Ford, Carter, and Nixon were so interconnected that that had to work against them in situations like this. I wanted to save Carter and Nixon, yes, but I didn’t know what it was to feel someone else die. That fear had to slow their responses. There were three of them, which made them three times as vulnerable. I was risking only myself. As much as I’d hated being alone—one of a kind, lonely and isolated—it was a saving grace in this situation. The more people to whom you were attached, the greater your exposure.

I thought briefly of Zane and then pushed him from my head, the ache in my chest too distracting right now.

The doors rolled back, revealing nothing more sinister than a swath of pristine white carpet. A few feet beyond that, the main part of the floor was open in the center, making it like a balcony that overlooked the floor below. A glass half wall encircled the opening to the lower level.

I stepped out cautiously and looked down. A few people still scurried among the cubicles, not even stopping to chat. Of course, it must have felt like the boss was standing over them, watching.

And, in effect, he was. Directly across from me was a giant glass box filled with black leather and steel furniture. Laughlin’s office. Had to be.

And it was empty. Even the two desks in front of the door—belonging to the twin assistants who’d been following him around, probably—had been abandoned. The chairs were pushed in, the computers dark.

Closing my eyes, I focused, listening for thoughts and emotions near me. But with all the people a level below, it was difficult to hear anything.

The elevator doors closed behind me with a thunk that sounded horribly loud. No one appeared to be on this floor right now, but it would take only one person on the third floor looking up at just the wrong moment. Ford hadn’t mentioned that part of this gig. Then again, it occurred to me right now that perhaps she’d never actually been in Laughlin’s office. That all of her information had been gleaned secondhand, from the minds of humans around her or even schematics pulled from somewhere.

Great.

Wishing I’d found a lab coat lying around to throw over my distinctly nonoffice clothes, I inched forward, keeping away from the glass half wall and moving as smoothly as possible.

Running would draw attention. And so would looking sneaky.

Head up, shoulders straight. Don’t look down. Funny that the instructions sounded pretty much like I was crossing a rope bridge over a bottomless gorge. Felt that way too. One wrong move and the end would rush up quickly.

I’d never seen the inside of Dr. Jacobs’s office, but Laughlin’s screamed arrogant male. Everything was stark contrasts and sharp lines.

Choking on the overwhelming scent of new leather, something I’d associated with positive things—new shoes, bags, and car interiors—until today, I pushed forward into the office.

I was halfway into the room before I realized the obvious problem, something I should have picked up on much faster.

Glass walls. On all four sides. No wall safe. It wasn’t possible.

My stomach sinking, I turned in a small circle, checking for other obvious options. A floor safe was always a possibility, I supposed. Or maybe something built into the desk.

I skirted the chrome and leather sofa that looked more like Mars landing equipment than someplace to sit, and stepped behind the desk.

In the second drawer, I scored. The drawer was a front that pulled away revealing a safe. Digital code with thumbprint authorization.

Uh-oh. Nobody’d mentioned that. Not that it was a problem. I could get through both of them, but it would take more time.

Unless…if the thumbprint scanner was a redundant system, more like a secondary lock than an alarm, then maybe I could bypass it.

I focused on the tumblers I knew had to be within the door. I hadn’t ever seen this model of safe, so I had to hope that the ones I’d practiced on during my years with my father would be close enough. (Apparently cat burglar was a backup career plan if “normal human” didn’t work out.)

After several long sweaty moments on my part, the tumblers clicked into place.

Success!

I pulled the heavy safe door open hurriedly, the hinges moving without so much as a squeak.

There was a sudden blur of motion and what felt like a bite on my skin.

I fumbled, lifting a rapidly numbing arm, to find something sticking out of my neck. Something I recognized by feel, if nothing else.

With shaking fingers, I pulled the dart out.

I twisted around to look for a guard, even as my already slowing thought process reminded me the dart had come from the front.

My center of gravity shifted abruptly, and I fell sideways with no ability to stop myself. It was like being trapped in an oversize bag of sand, my body the sand and my consciousness a speck within it.

As I toppled, I caught a glimpse of the safe’s interior. No bottles or packets of pills. The safe was, in fact, empty but for a device similar to the tranquilizer guns I’d seen Dr. Jacobs’s security team use.

It was a trap. Laughlin had somehow known I was coming. The desertion of this floor and no one challenging my approach had not just been luck.

Ford. I felt a hot spark of fury and fought to hold on to it, to breathe life into it, but it slipped away from me, growing dimmer under the onslaught of the drugs.

Seconds later—or perhaps minutes, it was hard to tell—I heard the soft shush of footsteps on the carpet.

Laughlin stood over me. His sharply angled face, upside down, appeared an odd collection of parts, triangles, lines, and squares rather than a whole.

“I thought one of them would figure out a way to try for it someday,” he mused, as if this was an academic dilemma finally resolved. “Of course, I wasn’t expecting it be you, 107. That’s what they call you, isn’t it?” He leaned down closer to me, his gaze cold and calculating.

“When the school called earlier, I wasn’t sure. It did strike me as a large coincidence that my Ford would begin associating with humans on the same day we learned you were missing, but unlike the others, Ford can be…unpredictable. One of her finer qualities, actually. I wanted to see what she was up to.”

He reached down and tapped the end of my nose in what would have been an affectionate gesture from almost anyone else but instead felt like a creepy signal of ownership, a dismissal of my right to exist as an independent entity. “But you, my darling, made a mistake,” he said in a gentle scolding tone. “I could, perhaps, believe that Ford had chosen this point to make her final stand against me. I might even have been willing to believe that she’d found a way to fracture the bond with the others that she seems to hold so dear. But Ford knows there’s only one way this can end. And she wouldn’t have bothered with coming here for the Quorosene in that case. She would have simply destroyed herself and the others. The ultimate power play.” He shook his head, twisted affection and reluctant admiration playing across his handsome face.

“But don’t worry,” he added, patting my shoulder. “Operations are already under way to recover Ford from whatever hole she’s scampered into.”

So Ford had betrayed us? Or…had I simply messed up and revealed myself? I couldn’t tell for sure from what Laughlin had said, and, frankly, at the moment I didn’t actually care.

I wanted to scream, to choke Laughlin, to stop his heart. For the first time in my life, I was certain I could have killed without regret. But I couldn’t gather the focus; it was like falling downhill. I couldn’t stop the momentum of the drugs or their effects.

White sparkles mixed with dark spots in my vision. I was disappearing down a long, dark tunnel.

But I wasn’t so far gone that I missed the slow smile that slid across his face. “In the meantime, you and I will have a chance to spend some quality time together,” he said softly.

I would have shivered if I could.

“The pictures really don’t do you justice, you know.” He touched my cheek, smoothed my hair, and every nerve in my body shrieked in muted outrage. “I’ve wanted to do a true comparison, to really understand the differences between you and Ford. What a happy opportunity this is for me.”

When my eyes finally shut and I drifted further down that tunnel, I could still feel his fingers against my skin.