Toys

Chapter 25

The cool, fresh night air quickly filled my lungs and began to dry the fevered hospital sweat off my skin. Adrenaline was keeping the pain at bay, and running was stretching and loosening my traumatized body.

Before long, I was pounding along the pavement at close to my top speed, fifty miles an hour.

I had to see my daughters and my wife-hold them in my arms, tell them I loved them, try to explain that whatever wicked stories they might hear weren’t true. Or, at least, that there had to be some reasonable explanation for the mix-up.

No matter what else, I wasn’t a traitor. That much I was certain of.

Our apartment wasn’t far from the hospital; I reached the building in less than ten minutes.

Suddenly, I was very nervous and apprehensive.

I paused to listen for sounds of pursuit, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Not so far, anyway. The side-door entrance recognized my bioprint and opened on contact. The police probably figured this would be the last place I’d go right now. I hoped so.

Was it possible that Lizbeth had turned on me as totally as Jax Moore said she had? Or was he lying-another part of this insanity? But why would he lie to me?

This time, when Metallico answered the apartment door, there was no robo-rap music playing, or sounds of any kind. The place felt empty. The air smelled strongly of antiseptic, and there were cleaning materials left out all over the living room.

“Hello, Hays,” Metallico said. “I’m afraid I can’t invite you in. Sorry about that.”

His tone was flat and neutral, and he seemed downright stiff-like an ordinary android instead of his usual sassy self.

“This is my house. You work here. What do you mean you can’t invite me in?”

“The apartment is being decontaminated.”

“Where are they?” I demanded. “Lizbeth? The girls? I need to know. Right now, Metallico! I’m not in the mood for games.”

“I’m not at liberty to say. That’s final.”

I groaned. This was going nowhere fast, and I was pretty sure this unfaithful robot had already sounded the emergency alarm. Indeed, my hearing picked up the sound of fast-approaching airborne cars-and a couple more vehicles stopping on the streets below. I suppose I should have expected as much.

I rammed the heel of my hand into the robot’s silicone chest, sending him spinning across the room. Metallico crashed into a wall with a bright flash as his circuits collapsed and shorted him out.

“Take that, you treacherous vacuum cleaner!” I said, standing over his crumpled body.

Next, I peeled the silicone skin off the back of his bulb-shaped head. I quickly removed his short-term-memory chip, grabbed my backup PDA from the drawer in the desk in the hall, and dumped the chip’s data into it.

“Grandmere,” I said, sighing. Of course. Lizbeth had taken the kids to her mother’s house in the suburbs. Where else?

Grandmere was an aging, but still beautiful, lady with an icy charm and a keen sense of social class. Only the best of the Elites were good enough for her.

Once upon a time, that had meant me, but no more. And, probably, never again.

Dammit though, I missed my family. Didn’t that alone prove I was Elite?