The shadows seemed more confined than ever, in the absence of Abel's presence. So I turned and kept walking, on and on into the flat infinity, waiting for the so-called virus to kick in and shake my brain out of it.
I grimaced. 'Virus' and 'brain' were never good words to have in the same sentence. Especially when the best-case scenario was going to rely on my ability to imitate an AI. The majority of my experience with robots came from watching Terminator and surfing conspiracy websites. I rubbed at the back of my neck, where a dull phantom pain twinged beneath my fingers . Either of my friends would have dealt with this better. Asha was the one who wrote the science part of our blog, anyways, and Dana probably would have programmed the virus herself.
I felt a pang in my chest. I should have asked Abel if he knew what had happened to them, seeing as he apparently had some clue about all this.
But thankfully, I didn't have long to dwell on it. The darkness around me convulsed, as though it was about to be sick, then shattered again into fragments like someone hit a dome of black glass with a wrecking ball. I clapped my hands over my ears, the vibrations from the impact tossing me backwards, and barely opened my eyes fast enough to watch the entire space rupture apart.
Color blasted back into my vision. The world spun like I was on a a carnival Tilt-A-Whirl, then accelerated to speeds even astronauts would have envied. I gasped in a breath, grabbing at the first thing in front of me to keep from toppling over. Or throwing up.
It didn't work. My stomach twisted like an old dishrag, and when the movement gradually slowed, I found myself coughing up sour bits of food and acid onto the carpet of a very nice looking car floor. The leather seat felt sticky beneath my hands.
"Boss? Hey Boss! I think his body's rejecting it." That voice -- it was the squeaky little kid from before, only a thousand times louder than any normal human voice should have been. I made the mistake of looking up, and everything lurched again. The contours of his face and blurred in and out of sharp focus. Wheels roared against the pavement, blood whooshed deafeningly loud through the valves of someone's heart, a single screw rattled about in the doorframe.
I curled my arms in towards my chest.
"He looks like he's gonna throw up again, Boss. We might wanna --"
"Pull over."
At the command, the car came to a clean stop on the side of the road.
By some miracle, the chaos stopped with it. My vision slowly consolidated, and the noises all muted down to a normal pitch. Not wanting to restart the madness, I wiped the sleeve of my sweater across my mouth, and stared resolutely at muck between my feet.
My side-door flew open. I caught sight of a row of vaguely familiar apartment buildings outside before an enormous hand grabbed my jaw and wrenched my head up. Remembering Abel's warning, I let my expression slacken, and stared dully into Race's fuming eyes.
"Operational status." He barked, searching my face.
Light glinted off of an earpiece sticking out from under his greasy hair. "Functional." I said, doing my best to imitate Siri's smooth voice. My traitorous, drumming heart pounded loud enough that anyone listening would have known the truth right away.
Race's lips twisted in displeasure -- but not murderous intent. I must have gotten it right, that the earpiece was how he ordered the nanocomputer in my head around.
In my head. I stomped out the embers of panic that the image stirred up. There would be time for that later.
"Functional. Doesn't seem that way, does it? What went wrong?" Race tightened his grip on my jaw, snapping me back into the moment.
I calmly blinked and followed his gaze to the mess I'd made. "A normal part of the adjustment process. It occasionally happens as a result of overactivity in the hyp--"
He dropped me back onto my seat. I landed straight on my tailbone, and a jolt went up my spine. "Spare me the science. I want to know if I'm getting my money's worth."
"Of course. I will run diagnostics promptly, and return the results to you." I answered in the same soft, dreamy tone. I closed my eyes for a moment, then flicked them back open. "Results conclusive: all suppression and Vacancy programs active."
The tension in Race's shoulders dropped at the mention of the Vacancy. "Hmph." He drew in a long breath that expanded his broad chest. "Then open the window next time you have an adjustment issue." Glancing at the scrawny boy beside me, he sniffed loudly. "Did I bring you along to sit there? Get cleaning!"
The skinny boy next to me reluctantly picked up a trash bag, but didn't seem keen to start his work. "Dunno why he can't do it 'imself," He murmured, softly enough that only I could hear.
I obliviously turned towards the window.
With Race back in the shot-gun seat, the car motor started up again. I tried to get a glimpse of the street signs we passed, but my vision still swam every time I concentrated too hard. By the clogged, honking traffic, it must have been somewhere around mid-day. I clenched my jaw. That put us, what, four hours from when I'd last been conscious?
Leaning back against the seat, I noticed the driver up front for the first time. Her horn-rimmed sunglasses prevented me from seeing her eyes in the rearview mirror. Springy brown curls tumbled playfully down her shoulders. At a stoplight, she turned towards Race. "You know, you do have to wonder where he got the guts," The woman said, her black-gloved fingers tapping on the steering wheel. "Trying something like that as his age."
Race scoffed. "It was hardly bravery. You read the posts -- his type'll do anything for a spot of fame." He spat brown flecks of tobacco into a steel cup. "I hate the media."
A cold pit hollowed out in my stomach. That answered my question quickly enough.
They knew. They knew, and the only question was what exactly zombie-me had told them. My hand itched to throw the door open so that I could hurtle out. We were barely moving, so how hard would it be?
"But still," The woman persisted, shaking her head. "Coming alone to a place like that, middle of the night, just to get some footage..." She trailed off at the look on Race's face.
"If it weren't for Mayic's paranoia, we would have been ruined by his precious footage." He growled. "I've become too trusting, too comfortable with our bases. I won't make that mistake again." His lips curled up at the edges. "But, then again. Hiding may not be necessary if all goes as planned."
Another glance at the door revealed that it was securely locked. I grimaced.
The kid next to me, pretending not to listen, clicked on his phone. 12:00 already. How was I supposed to get rid of the bugs in my head alone, if even Abel's program could only buy me time?
As the car turned the corner, the phone in the kid's hand tumbled to the floor. He reached down to pick it up, and my eyes widened before I could remember to keep my face straight. Like tiny plumes of steam, shadow tendrils began to rise off of the screen.
This had to be another illusion, then, if the Tremors were still here. Except Abel had said the virus deactivated everything. Not that I could trust someone who might only exist in a hallucination, but what motivation would Race have for giving me hope? Why would he pretend?
Too many unanswered questions. My head started to pound. The skinny kid went on scrolling through his Instagram, and Race and the lady spoke in low tones ahead of us. Neither seemed to see the shadows coalescing, swirling together in a tiny gray cloud. The boy's bony finger even slid through them, which did nothing more than cause a slight ripple in the mass.
The car came to a slow stop beside a chain of mini-shops and cafes. Small herds of people bustled along the sideway. I frowned slightly. Coming to a place this obvious didn't seem like the best move for a known criminal.
"Listen closely, Owen Charleson," Race slammed a hand down on the shoulder of the seat as he turned. "Or, well. Perhaps we'll find a better name for you yet. The media loves a hint of drama, doesn't it?" Toothpick let out a weak chuckle to my right, but the driver just pursed her lips. I decided the woman was the best of the three.
"Ready for orders." I droned. The skin on the back of my neck prickled.
"The task is simple." He dropped something into my hand. I blinked, and curled my fingers around the familiar weight of my own phone. The case had somehow become cracked in all of the excitement. "First and foremost, stay in the car, no matter what. And start recording. Live, but keep the audio off for a moment. The boy wanted to show his readers something special tonight. I simply want to help him along."
I didn't like the look in his eyes, not one bit. I numbly opened the camera, and stared at the red button that would start the recording. Any readers on the blog would see this immediately. Would see me, here, with Race.
It was either this, or get killed here on this seat. With ashes on my tongue, I pressed the button.
"Hold it up to the window, yes, that's good. Now for the real task."
"Your handiwork with the policeman today was... impressive, I'll admit." He rolled his neck and slipped his enormous gun out of the harness on his back. "Clearly your host wouldn't have acted that way on his own. But, I'd like to know how deeply loyalty can be programmed. How deeply humanity can be crushed under the heel of its own invention. After all, it's one thing to defend me against strangers." The safety clicked off. "Another entirely to not keep strangers safe from me."
The people outside laughed at cafe tables, checked their watches, held hands. I froze.
Cheeks flushed, Race turned to me and smiled. "Audio on."