Touch (Denazen #1)(48)

“Hmmm,” the man said, circling. “Side effects?” He leaned in a bit closer, studying me. His breath smelled like Cheetos.

“I’m tired, and a little hungry,” I said casually. No way was I going to tell him I felt like I’d been dropkicked from a plane then rolled through a pile of searing glass. Two days here and I could already see how things worked. Kale was right. They dug deep in your brain, looking for the soft spots.

“We’ll have to run more tests,” he said, but not to me. He was flitting through the room, opening cabinets and talking to himself. I didn’t like how excited he sounded.

“Tests? What kind of tests?”

He started as though he’d forgotten about me. “Physical tests. Reaction times, stimulus responses, things like that. We’ll also need to see what your limits are. I’d like to do that on a day you haven’t—mimicked, is it?—something large.”

He was being vague and that scared me, but I didn’t question it. Over the next several hours, the man, who finally introduced himself as Rick, assaulted me with a million and ten questions. With each answer, he grew more and more excited.

By four o’clock I was haggard and ready to fall over. The effects from mimicking my entire body hadn’t gone away. The headache was finally bearable, but the dull, aching pain in my muscles and joints was making me want to puke.

Rick, mercifully out of questions, smiled. “I just want to get your blood pressure. Then I’ll hand you over to your father.”

“Perfect timing, Rick.” Dad was leaning against the wall, arms folded, watching. It reminded me a little of when I was a kid and used to ride the carousel at the county fair. With each round, I’d look to see him watching with a wide smile on his face. Exactly like he was now. Only the smile was different. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I’d seen what I wanted.

“I heard you did very well today, Deznee,” Dad said as Rick slapped the cuff on my upper arm.

“Piece of cake,” I forced a smile. “So, what’s the deal? I still don’t know what I’ll be doing here. Want to give me a hint?”

Dad’s grin got impossibly larger. Loaded with dark, unspoken promises. “All in good time.”

“Amazing,” Rick breathed from across the room. “One twenty over eighty. Perfection!” He unwrapped the cuff and beamed at me. “You are a find, my dear.”

He turned away to jot down some notes and Dad stepped forward. “I have a reward for you.”

The way he said it was patronizing and insulting, and I wanted to deck him, but curiosity won. “Reward?”

“I expected you to give Rick a hard time, making this an unpleasant day for all involved, but you behaved exceptionally.”

“Maybe before we head home you could let me crash on the couch in your office and we’ll call it even?” I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open.

“If you’d rather rest than take a tour of the holding cells, that’s fine too…”

He had my attention and he knew it. “The holding cells?”

“I thought it would be a nice treat to take you up and show you that boy behind bars. Locked up where he can’t hurt you.” He put his arm across my shoulders, leading me out of the room. “Maybe this will give you some peace of mind.”

Seeing Kale in his old element—locked up like an animal—would only make the nightmares worse.





19


When we stepped off the elevator and onto floor nine—the furthest I’d been—I felt it right away. The air was different. You couldn’t classify the other floors as laid back, but compared to the atmosphere on number nine, the rest were a damn party. In the middle of the room sat the same round desk as the lower floors, this one manned by an unhappy-looking man in a white coat and matching gloves. He ignored our entrance, speaking to a man at a desk on the far side of the room. I only caught bits and pieces of their conversation, but words like incineration, disposal, and cleanup were the gist of it. After that, I tuned them out.

As we made our way across the room, my footsteps clapped loudly against the floor. I looked down and saw it was concrete, with brownish stains scattered everywhere.

“It’s easier to clean,” Dad said when he caught me looking. “It gets a little messy up here at times.”

Messy? I swallowed the bile rising in my throat as I followed him through the remainder of the room, picturing someone hosing it down to wash away blood and bits from the latest termination. By the time we made it to the other side and out another door, I was ready to puke.

“The ninth floor is sort of our problem-solving department. When Sixes get out of control, they come here while we determine the best course of action.”

“Best course of action?”

“This job isn’t glamorous, Deznee. And it’s not always pretty. I have to make some tough choices from time to time. Some of those include deciding if a Six is salvageable or needs to be put down.”

Put down.

Like an animal.

I bit my tongue and tried not to scream. A foul, coppery taste flooded my mouth as Dad continued talking.

“I know it may sound harsh to you, but what we do here is for the good of the community. Communities everywhere.”

We kept walking. Dad pulled out his security card and swiped it, allowing us access to a small white room with a simple desk and a single red door on the far side.