Anarchy Found (SuperAlpha, #1)(45)

“That can’t be all. What you see is not what you get with Lincoln, Case, or Thomas. So why should it be that way with you?”

“Oh, please.” I snort. “What’s his special power then?”

“He writes languages.”

“What? Languages?”

“Computer languages, Molly. Specifically, he writes computer languages that rewrite other computer languages. Do you know what a retrovirus does?”

“A retrovirus, like AIDS?”

“Yes, like that.”

“No, not really,” I admit. “I’m a cop, OK? I’m not a scientist.”

“A retrovirus inserts itself into your DNA and recodes. DNA is a code, Molly. And all codes can be rewritten. That’s what Lincoln’s computer languages do. They insert themselves into a system, rewrite the code, and then take it over without a trace.”

“So he’s a hacker. I didn’t know that, no. But it’s not surprising given the mad scientist cave we’re standing in.”

“He’s not a hacker, Molly, he’s a god.”

I snort.

“That,” she says, pointing to the operating room, “is his life’s work.”

I stare at her, utterly confused. What is she talking about? “I don’t see anything in there but a bed and a light, so you’ll have to give me more details.”

“That’s because he’s not in there at the moment. And he is his own greatest achievement.”

“Cryptic much? Is there a bathroom I can use? Or should I just go wake up Lincoln and tell him about our little conversation?”

“By all means, I’d love for you to go wake him up. Turn the lights on in there, while you’re at it. Ask him to take off those gloves too. See what he does then.”

Is she threatening me? Is she trying to make me think he’s going to hurt me? I sigh, not sure what to do, but I am curious about those gloves. So I ignore my bladder and walk back the way I came. I pass by a chair where his leather jacket is hanging off the back and spy that anarchy symbol on the shoulder.

It’s a sharp reminder that Sheila is right. I have no idea who Lincoln is. I have no idea what he’s been doing down here. And I have no idea what he’s been doing out there to those Blue Corp scientists.

I force myself to continue walking. My feet are freezing all of a sudden. The cold concrete floor sends a chill up my body as I head towards the open door, and when I get there, I stop just inside the darkness and feel around on the side of the rock wall for a switch.

“Where is the light?” I whisper.

“They’re voice-activated.” Sheila is directly behind me, but on the other side of the threshold. “So just say, ‘Lights on.’”

I swallow down the dread that is suddenly pulsating though me and force the words out. “Lights—”

They flicker on before I even finish.

What I see shocks my heart. My eyes scan the walls of the cave, taking it all in. And even though my heart wants to make it all disappear, my brain won’t let me and I fall against the side of the cave in shock.





Chapter Twenty-Nine - Lincoln




The lights flick on and I’m awake and out of bed instantaneously. “Molly?”

She’s pressed against the cave wall, her mouth agape, staring up at my ceiling, then panning her eyes across the walls. Sheila is standing behind her, behind the threshold she is not allowed to cross.

It takes me a minute to realize what just happened. Then I turn slowly, my eyes glued to the bedroom walls. I take it in. I take it in the way Molly would. And when I turn back to her, she’s looking up at me with tears in her eyes.

“W-w-what…” she stutters. “What are you?”

My shoulders hunch and a sigh escapes. She was going to find out. There’s no way to keep this a secret if I want her in my life.

Molly snatches a computer printout from the wall. “What,” she yells as she walks forward and thrusts the paper into my chest with all the force she can muster, “is this?” She looks down at my legs. The metal plates running down my outer thighs are in plain sight now. She never had the opportunity to touch me much last night. I was doing all the touching. “What the f*ck is on your legs?”

But there is no good answer for any of these questions except the truth. “I’m a monster,” I say quietly, owning it out loud to someone I care about for the first time ever. “A monster, Molly. The monster they made me.”

She turns away, her hands covering her face. “You’re a killer.”

“Yes.”

“A serial killer.”

“Yes.”

“You really are the one responsible for killing those Blue Corp scientists.”

I sigh. “Yes.”

“I have to go.”

I grab her by the arm and twirl her around, a wave of nausea rolling in my gut. I let go of her immediately to allow the inhibition sickness to pass, but I catch the anger for manhandling her. “Just wait, Molly. Let me explain.”

“Explain? What exactly is there to explain? You’re a murderer.” She scans the wall, taking in all the newspaper printouts I’ve collected over my fifteen-year career. “A mass murderer. And these,” she says, ripping more printouts off the wall, “are your trophies? How many are there, Lincoln?”