The Extinction Trials(8)
How much time had passed?
And where was he?
The ceiling above was high, and from the way the sound echoed around him, he assumed the room was cavernous. A warehouse, perhaps?
Faint footsteps approached, and he leaned his head up just in time to see a nurse bot stride into his cubicle, its body covered in shiny silver metal and milky white plastic. The head was a weak attempt at human form: the face was nearly flat, with a glass screen that showed an image of eyes and a mouth, but could likely display vitals and other information to patients and doctors. The bot held an injector in its left hand.
“Get away from me.” Owen’s words came out awkwardly, as if he had a mouthful of dirt.
The bot stopped. “You are due for your pain medication—”
“If you come closer, I’ll bash your glass face in.”
“Are you refusing treatment?”
“Get out.”
“Without pain medication, you will—”
“Get out. Now.”
It turned and marched away without another word. Seeing it reminded Owen of the firebot that sprayed Cole and pinned him down. His rage built as he thought about it.
He was still stewing over that when a tall man with close-cropped hair pulled back the white sheet to Owen’s cubicle and entered. The man’s eyes were focused yet expressionless. He wore a ribbed black sweater that only partially hid a muscular physique. Owen figured him for military.
“Mr. Watts, my name is Parrish. I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“I’d like to ask you some too.”
A smile tugged at the edges of Parrish’s mouth and quickly disappeared. “Mind if I go first?”
Owen nodded.
“You responded to a fire alarm in the Oasis Park building. In unit 1107.”
“That’s right.”
“You jumped out of a window carrying a young girl. What happened to her?”
Owen stared a moment, then laughed. “That was going to be my first question for you. She’s not here?”
“No.”
Silence stretched out. Then Parrish asked, “Do you know what happened to her mother?”
“She was in the apartment when we arrived, alive but unconscious.”
Parrish nodded, seeming to consider that.
“Can you tell me what happened to my team? Cole and Selena?”
Parrish shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t know.”
“What’s happening out there?”
“We think the fires were part of a widespread terror attack.”
“The firebot attacked my crew.”
“There have been similar reports around the world. Someone hacked the robots and AI and embedded systems.”
“Who?”
“We believe a scientific terror group is responsible. But there are other possibilities.”
“Such as?”
“An artificial intelligence uprising. Alien invasion. Some even think it’s the government.”
“Why hack the bots? What’s the reasoning behind the attack?”
“That’s also unknown. There are rumors that this event is the start of something called The Change. But we don’t know what that is yet.”
“What organization did you say you were with?”
“I didn’t say.” Parrish turned to leave. “Thank you for your help.”
“Wait.”
Parrish paused.
“Is my family okay? My mother?”
“Sorry. I don’t know.”
Parrish grabbed the white sheet, ready to pull it back and leave, but something caught his eye. He leaned over the chair where Owen’s clothes and firesuit lay crumpled, and he picked up the paperback copy of The Birthright.
“This yours?”
“Yeah,” Owen replied.
Parrish turned and looked at Owen with renewed interest. “Where’d you get it?”
“My mother gave it to me.”
Parrish walked back to the bed, laid the book at Owen’s side, and picked up the medical tablet hanging on the bed rail. Whoever the man was, his retinal scan gave him access to the information.
“Eight,” Parrish mumbled as he read, his face betraying a shred of disappointment.
“What’s an eight?” Owen asked. “What does that mean?”
“It means this is probably the last stop for you.”
Parrish scrolled through the information, then glanced back down at the book by Owen’s side.
“But it shouldn’t be.”
Chapter Eight
Maya woke in a hospital bed in a large open space. Curtains divided the makeshift patient rooms.
Muffled conversations and cries of pain filled the space. She listened for a moment, hoping for clues about where she was.
Her head pounded. Moving—even slightly—caused a low, throbbing pain. She winced as she sat up.
It wasn’t just the pain: her brain was foggy, probably a result of whatever drugs they had given her. They impaired her movement too. Her limbs felt three times heavier than normal. She wanted desperately to get out of bed, to get dressed, and get out of here. She needed to escape; she knew that much, but to her surprise, she didn’t know why.