Touch (Denazen #1)(50)

My throat went dry. “A spy? How does something like that even get past you?”

Dad laughed. The sound sent icy needles of panic poking up and down my spine. “It doesn’t. We knew from the start but thought we could still use her to our advantage. When it became obvious nothing substantial would come of it, we brought her here.”

“Wow.”

“And that’s where you come in.”

I’m sure my face must have paled at that point. “Me?” I choked. “You can’t possibly think—”

He laughed again. “That you’re a spy? Of course not. You’re smarter than that, Deznee. You’re a survivor. I think you know how badly that would end, am I correct?”

I couldn’t help the shiver that shot down my back. His eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and something else—anger? I couldn’t tell. But worse than the look in his eyes was his voice. Icy and sharp, it held the hint of a challenge. Did he know? Could that be the reason he brought me up here? To show me what would happen? I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Nothing says guilty like a shaky voice.

“I’d like to get you up to speed so you can take over the task we set 121 with. I want you to infiltrate the rogue Sixes. There is a woman, Ginger Midlen. She’s resourceful and has been impossible to find. She’s organizing these people. Getting them riled up. We need to take care of her before the problem escalates.”

This had to be a joke. Somewhere in the background, Ashton Kutcher would jump out and I’d realize I was being punk’d. Or maybe that other old guy, what was his name—Jamie Kennedy?

“And moving on, we saved the best for last,” Dad said. He moved past several cages, stopping at the very last one. “You see? He’s locked up tight.”

On the other side of the glass, Kale sat on the floor against the far wall. His knees pulled up against his chest, he kept his head down. Like the others, he wore the regulation sweat pants and white T-shirt. It took a moment, but I realized it was the same clothing he wore the night we’d met.

“Hello, Ken,” Dad said as a man wearing the same leotard suit as the men who chased Kale through the woods, appeared behind us. He set down a black small case and dug into his front pocket, pulling out a security badge with a red stripe across the front. “Is it harvesting time already?”

The man nodded and swiped the card through the reader next to Kale’s door.

“You don’t mind if we watch, do you? I’m giving Deznee here a small tour.”

Ken gave a noncommittal shrug and retrieved his case before slipping into Kale’s cell.

“Harvesting time?” I asked, watching as the door whooshed closed behind the man. Kale still hadn’t looked up.

“The board voted to put him down, but we have a dilemma. 98 is a truly rare individual. His gift, of course, is highly dangerous, but he also has a latent ability we need. Something in the chemical makeup of his blood renders Sixes sedate and pliable. Unlike modern drugs that have nasty side effects and render the subject ultimately useless for a time, 98’s blood obliterates any and all violent tendencies and makes them completely obedient.”

“98 is an interesting case.” Dad continued. “The boy’s been with us since infancy. He was raised by another one of our residents and has worked for Denazen his entire life.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t an employee.”

Dad shook his head. “He used to be. He was given military-grade combat training and continuous physical conditioning. We used him in the most important missions. But after an unprovoked attack and his escape—and of course his abduction of you—many of us feel 98 is unsalvageable at this point. Something snapped and now he’s broken.”

Like a toy.

“You’re keeping him alive so you can bleed him dry?” I tried—and failed—not to let the horror in my voice come through.

Dad shrugged as though he hadn’t noticed my reaction. “We’ve been trying to reproduce it synthetically, but we’ve had no luck. We’ve increased the harvesting schedule from one time a day to four, in case something happens and we need to terminate sooner. Unfortunately, this will only help for a short time. After several days, the chemical in his blood goes dormant and can no longer be used in the serum. We’re trying to perfect a way to store it, but so far we’ve been unsuccessful.”

I turned back to the glass and watched Ken haul Kale to his feet. Kale looked up, noticing us for the first time. Our eyes locked and the bottom dropped out from beneath me. He was too pale, with bluish bruises under both eyes and across his left cheek. He was having a hard time standing on his own—twice, Ken had to prop him up against the wall to keep him from sinking to the ground.

“He looks horrible,” I whispered. It was the least damaging thing I could think of to say. Dad was watching me. No way he didn’t notice my reaction.

“He put up a bit of a fight the first day back. I’m afraid some of our employees were forced to be quite rough. He’s doing much better, though. Almost standing on his own.”

Rage bubbled in the pit of my stomach. I needed to get him out of here.

Dad nodded to the corner of the cell. Along the wall several glasses were lined up like soldiers marching off to war, all filled with thick yellow liquid. Orange juice. “So far, he’s been refusing to eat or drink.”