A Perfect Machine(72)

Then, clear as a bell, this thought came to her, calming, serene: Something inside me set all this in motion. That thing that protected our people for so long. Hid us from prying eyes. It is different now, but taken root in me. It has become me. Henry is our future. Henry must survive at all cost. He is –

– a murderer, your father’s killer –

The thought slipped beneath her radar, inserted itself into her narrative. Coming from the four men:

– Kyllo killed your father –

– we need your help –

– we need you –

– No – the voice within her broke in: Kyllo must survive. He will redefine what you are. What we all are. He will reshape everything, bring about the end of –

Then back to the men again:

– come back, come back –

– he’s your father’s murderer, Adelina –

– you need to stop him, you need to –

Something like breath moved through the torso of the machine in the ground, and Marcton flinched back, tripped over busted concrete, chunks of dirt, fell flat on his back.

The other three men stared at the machine’s chest.

“Un-fucking-real,” Cleve said. He turned to Bill: “Did we do that? We fucking did that, didn’t we?”

“I think we may have fucking done that, Cleve,” Bill replied.

“Steady,” Kendul breathed. “Steady on.” He was concentrating on the torso now, directing his thoughts there specifically.

With Marcton out of the circle, still in shock, dazed, just staring, the remaining three men joined hands.

“Keep going,” Kendul said. “Focus.”

As true and as real as her previous thoughts had felt about Henry Kyllo needing to be protected, to be saved at all costs, these new thoughts were just as true and just as real: he killed her father. Rage boiled up inside her – a rage she was incapable of feeling until now.

When Palermo had died on the street outside that apartment building, she’d known it, felt it on some level, but the connection to Kyllo wasn’t there. The knowledge of who killed her father hovered and flitted at the edges of her subconscious like a hummingbird: gentle, almost unnoticeable, not wanting to be detected. And, as she now knew, actively not wanting to be detected. Actively hiding from becoming part of her memories, her psychological makeup.

But now, realizing where she was, what she really was, Kendul’s and the others’ words, desires made more sense to her, drove her more than this other, manipulative, voice. This was not some indistinct, vague endgame to be played out on a grandiose stage.

This was revenge, pure and simple, and it spoke to her like nothing before ever had.

The thrumming in her chest increased: she willed it to do so. She saw clearly what she was – an organic mechanical beast broken to pieces in the cold, hard earth – and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she wanted something deeply. Down to her core. She needed to experience something she’d been denied for years:

Life.

In whatever form that took. She wanted it.

And she would have it.



* * *



Marcton stood up, brushed himself off. “Sorry, got freaked out there.”

“It’s fine,” Kendul said. “Get back into the circle. Quickly.”

Marcton moved ahead to join the circle when a fullblown breath inflated the machine’s torso.

Inhale.

Exhale.

No one moved.

Then Cleve very quietly whispered, “Guys, should we try to reattach–”

And at that moment, Adelina’s three disembodied limbs rose up out of the dirt, shot toward her torso, and stuck fast to her joints.

“Jesus fucking fuck,” Marcton breathed.

“Never mind,” Cleve said.

Power churned inside Adelina’s chest. She felt herself fill with it. A strength she’d never felt before, never known was possible.

Was this what happened before, and then at some point I lost control, and people dismembered me?

Metal and rock-hewn shards on her face contracted, lifted, resembled a scowl of sorts. She would need to get used to this body. Try to control it this time.

“Um,” Marcton said. “What now?”

“Let’s give her some room,” Kendul said. “Come on.” He waved his arms. “Step back, stay up against this wall.” They moved against the farthest wall. Kendul reached over to the duffle bag he’d brought. He unzipped it, reached inside, produced four shotguns and a pile of ammo.

“Uhh,” Cleve said.

“Just a precaution,” Kendul said. “This is how me and Edward downed her the first time. Barely. Gotta aim for the joints.”

Each man took a shotgun, loaded it, stood and waited.

Minutes that felt like hours ticked by as Adelina’s mind got used to its host again. Still lying on her back in the dirt, she flexed her fingers, moved her enormous feet back and forth – no toes as such there, more just two slabs of steel with what looked like tread of some kind, like on a tank, except it didn’t move. She lifted a knee up, brought it back down.

The snow had been drifting down and in through the holes in the roof and the one downed wall, had been steadily gathering, more and more blowing in as the wind had intensified. There had been about an inch or two when they’d arrived, already there from the previous few nights’ snowfall, but enough now had accumulated that there were a few inches to either side of Adelina, and a solid dusting on top of her.