“Thank you, sir, for fixing my hand.”
Max stares at me, uncertain, when his wrist lights up. He glances down at the message, and then at the door, and as he darts to the entrance, he tosses strange, wild looks at me over his shoulder, as if he’s afraid to turn his back on me.
Max grows more bizarre by the moment.
When the door opens, the room is flooded with sound. Flashing lights pulse through the slice of open doorway, shouts and footsteps thundering down the hall. I hear metal crashing into metal, the distant blare of an alarm.
My heart picks up.
I’m on my feet before I can even stop myself, my sharpened senses oblivious to the fact that my hospital gown does little to cover my body. All I know is a sudden, urgent need to join the commotion, to do what I can to assist, and to find my commander and protect him. It’s what I was built to do.
I can’t just stand here.
But then I remember that my commander gave me explicit orders to remain here, and the fight leaves my body.
Max shuts the door, silencing the chaos with that single motion. I open my mouth to say something, but the look in his eyes warns me not to speak. He places a stack of clothes on the bed—refusing to even come near me—and steps out of the room.
I change into the clothes quickly, shedding the loose gown for the starched, stiff fabric of a freshly washed military uniform. Max brought me no undergarments, but I don’t bother pointing this out; I’m just relieved to have something to wear. I’m still buttoning the front placket, my fingers working as quickly as possible, when my gaze falls once more to the bureau directly opposite the bed. There’s a single drawer left slightly open, as if it was closed in a hurry.
I’d noticed it earlier.
I can’t stop staring at it now.
Something pulls me forward, some need I can’t explain. It’s becoming familiar now—almost normal—to feel the strange heat filling my head, so I don’t question my compulsion to move closer. Something somewhere inside of me is screaming at me to stand down, but I’m only dimly aware of it. I hear Max’s muffled, low voice in the other room; he’s speaking with someone in harried, aggressive tones. He seems fully distracted.
Encouraged, I step forward.
My hand curls around the drawer pull, and it takes only a little effort to tug it open. It’s a smooth, soft system. The wood makes almost no sound as it moves. And I’m just about to peer inside when— “What are you doing?”
Max’s voice sends a sharp note of clarity through my brain, clearing the haze. I take a step back, blinking. Trying to understand what I was doing.
“The drawer was open, sir. I was going to close it.” The lie comes automatically. Easily.
I marvel at it.
Max slams the drawer closed and stares, suspiciously, at my face. I blink at him, blithely meeting his gaze.
I notice then that he’s holding my boots.
He shoves them at me; I take them. I want to ask him if he has a hair tie—my hair is unusually long; I have a vague memory of it being much shorter—but I decide against it.
He watches me closely as I pull on my boots, and once I’m upright again, he barks at me to follow him.
I don’t move.
“Sir, my commander gave me direct orders to remain in this room. I will stay here until otherwise instructed.”
“You’re currently being instructed. I’m instructing you.”
“With all due respect, sir, you are not my commanding officer.”
Max sighs, irritation darkening his features, and he lifts his wrist to his mouth. “Did you hear that? I told you she wouldn’t listen to me.” A pause. “Yes. You’ll have to come get her yourself.”
Another pause.
Max is listening on an invisible earpiece not unlike the one I’ve seen Anderson use—an earpiece I’m now realizing must be implanted in their brains.
“Absolutely not,” Max says, his anger so sudden it startles me. He shakes his head. “I’m not touching her.”
Another beat of silence, and—
“I realize that,” he says sharply. “But it’s different when her eyes are open. There’s something about her face. I don’t like the way she looks at me.”
My heart slows.
Blackness fills my vision, flickers back to light. I hear my heart beating, hear myself breathe in, breathe out, hear my own voice, loud—so loud—
There was something about my face
The words slur, slow down
there wassomething about my facesssomething about my facessssomething about my eyes, the way I looked at her