Read Online Project Paper Doll: The Trials by Stacey Kade - Free Book Online Page B

had shown me a video of a test animal, a rabbit, that had “destabilized.” I’d had nightmares. So much blood everywhere. It was
nothing but a limp pile of fur and bone in the end.
    But that was not going to be me. My body would eventually adjust and accept the changes, as Adam’s had, and I’d be Zane 2.0 permanently, new and improved. Okay, yes, it was taking me
far longer to stabilize than it had taken Adam, but that was probably just because of the way I’d started treatment.
    This
had
to work. I was determined to ignore any other possibility.
    Like reaching the point where my body would make the choice for me, rejecting all of my virus-altered DNA, and no amount of NuStasis injections would save me. Then, instead of the bloody rabbit
stew, it would be me in the middle of that mess. Whatever was left of me, that is. Which wouldn’t be much.
    Running a hand through his rumpled hair, Emerson got up with a sigh and moved to crouch down in front of me. Then he pulled a pen light out from the inside of his coat. “Follow my
finger.” He held up his index finger and waved it from right to left, with the light shining on me with blinding intensity.
    My eyes watering, I did my best. The new sensitivity was brutal. I wasn’t sure if this was something Ariane had had to deal with, or if she’d simply grown accustomed to it after
years of practice.
    “What number am I thinking of?” he asked, pulling a small pad of hotel stationery he’d swiped out of his shirt pocket and jotting something down. Emerson was unorganized and
kind of…all over the place. Not exactly the mastermind Dr. Jacobs was, but dude was obviously smart. Like one of those kid geniuses who’d never grown up. He was prone to impulse and
not always thinking things through. A trait I was exceedingly grateful for, since it had resulted in me being alive still.
    “Seventy-two,” I said immediately.
    “Yes,” he said, startled.
    “You need to think of a new number.” I couldn’t really hear thoughts. Not reliably, anyway. Just bursts of random noise, like a bunch of people shouting all at once. It was
usually strongest right after an injection. I could occasionally get a few words here and there, along with a blinding headache. It was mostly useless, more of an annoyance than anything.
    Emerson blinked at me, as if he’d been the one staring at the bright light. “What?”
    “You always pick that one. The year you were born.” Emerson was a good twenty-five years younger than Dr. Jacobs and at least a decade younger than Dr. Laughlin. He’d been the
last to join this circus of experimentation and blood sport. And he seemed to actually care about Adam and me, possibly because we represented his life’s work, but it didn’t feel like
that. I didn’t mind him. Other than the fact that he’d signed up to play in this field, but at least his method let people choose to participate rather than forcing it on unwilling
subjects.
    Then again, maybe I was just more willing to cut him slack. Kind of a side effect of someone saving your life, I suppose.
    “Oh, sorry.” He tucked his pen light away, only to pull out a temporal thermometer, running it across my forehead. “Ninety-nine,” he said absently, writing that down as
well.
    I waited, not moving, holding my breath for the verdict.
    “You know,” he said to me, “people like Justine don’t do anything without a dozen reasons.”
    I stared at him, surprised by the shift in conversation. “What?”
    He shrugged. “Just letting you know.”
    In effect, warning me. Of something I already knew but I couldn’t acknowledge, not even to him.
    “And you’re different?” I asked. I thought he was all right, but that didn’t mean I was about to trust him.
    He grinned, unashamed. “At least I’m up-front about it.”
    That was true. If Ariane, the top competitor, disappeared, and there were serious concerns about Ford’s emotional and psychological problems—common knowledge