sleep, and cooperating in routine health assessments. The third rule is to ensure the continuation of your species by engaging in procreative activities.”
He spoke with such little inflection. Procreative activities? Cora took a step back as though the Caretaker had just burst into flames. “You put us here to reproduce?” she choked.
The Caretaker turned to her. “We require immediate compliance with Rule One and Rule Two, but we understand that your species does not adapt quickly to new situations, so we have granted you an adjustment phase. By the end of twenty-one days, we expect you to fully engage in Rule Three. If not, you will face removal.”
Removal. The word had a sinister ring. “Is that what happened to the dead girl we found on the beach? She didn’t cooperate, so you killed her?”
The stranger’s eyes shifted to Cora, and she got that involuntary shiver down her spine again. There was something so unnerving about him. So familiar. He’d been in her head—in her dreams.
“Girl Three’s death was the result of an accident,” he replied.
Girl Three? Was that how their captors thought of them, as nameless specimens? What did that make her, Girl One or Girl Two?
He continued, “She attempted to swim too far through the ocean habitat before we had properly adjusted the saline levels. On Earth she was a gifted swimmer; we had not anticipated how far she could go. The problem has been corrected. There will be no more accidents. Your safety is of utmost importance to us.”
Cora turned toward Lucky and dropped her voice. “Are you buying all this altruistic stuff about saving us?”
His face looked grim. “Not even a little bit.”
Despite the Caretaker’s dazzling appearance, he was a liar. A kidnapper. A criminal. Well, after eighteen months locked up with teenage murderers and pushers, she had plenty of experience dealing with criminals.
Don’t fight back. Don’t try to escape.
That had been her father’s security officer’s advice for kidnapping situations, and she’d followed the same logic in juvie. She had kept her head down, barely spoken to anyone, scrawled her fear and frustration in her song journal instead of letting herself feel anything. She had waited for help to come, as she was supposed to do. She had obeyed the rules.
But help wasn’t coming this time.
She was close enough to see the set of his jaw, the ropelike muscles in his neck. The metallic sheen of his skin hid most imperfections, but not the bump in his nose or the scar on the side of his throat. His chest rose and fell with each breath. Flaws. Breathing. So he wasn’t a machine—which meant he could be hurt.
One of the apparatuses strapped to his chest gleamed like the hilt of a knife. That could even the playing field. But how could she reach it, when he could move with such incredible speed?
“I need help,” she blurted out. “My wrist. I hurt it when I woke in the desert.”
Lucky shot her a warning look, but Cora didn’t tear her eyes away from the Caretaker. She took a step toward him. He regarded her coldly, as though he could see straight through her lie. A crackling sensation began in the air, and the hair on her arms tingled. He was going to vanish as suddenly as he had appeared.
“Wait!” Cora took another step forward. “Don’t go yet. I need help.”
“Do not come forward.” His voice was cold as the pressure built faster. He started flickering in front of her, and she knew he’d be gone in seconds, along with any answers. Right now—this moment—was her only chance.
She lunged for the knife hilt, but his hand was on her wrist in a second, and she let out a cry. Electricity pulsed through her bare skin into her nerves, tingling and jittery and just short of painful. Now she knew what Leon meant about being zapped. Only it wasn’t a zap, it was plunging into an icy pool of water. Falling toward nothing. Dying, all at once. She jerked her arm but couldn’t get free.
Lucky
He spoke with such little inflection. Procreative activities? Cora took a step back as though the Caretaker had just burst into flames. “You put us here to reproduce?” she choked.
The Caretaker turned to her. “We require immediate compliance with Rule One and Rule Two, but we understand that your species does not adapt quickly to new situations, so we have granted you an adjustment phase. By the end of twenty-one days, we expect you to fully engage in Rule Three. If not, you will face removal.”
Removal. The word had a sinister ring. “Is that what happened to the dead girl we found on the beach? She didn’t cooperate, so you killed her?”
The stranger’s eyes shifted to Cora, and she got that involuntary shiver down her spine again. There was something so unnerving about him. So familiar. He’d been in her head—in her dreams.
“Girl Three’s death was the result of an accident,” he replied.
Girl Three? Was that how their captors thought of them, as nameless specimens? What did that make her, Girl One or Girl Two?
He continued, “She attempted to swim too far through the ocean habitat before we had properly adjusted the saline levels. On Earth she was a gifted swimmer; we had not anticipated how far she could go. The problem has been corrected. There will be no more accidents. Your safety is of utmost importance to us.”
Cora turned toward Lucky and dropped her voice. “Are you buying all this altruistic stuff about saving us?”
His face looked grim. “Not even a little bit.”
Despite the Caretaker’s dazzling appearance, he was a liar. A kidnapper. A criminal. Well, after eighteen months locked up with teenage murderers and pushers, she had plenty of experience dealing with criminals.
Don’t fight back. Don’t try to escape.
That had been her father’s security officer’s advice for kidnapping situations, and she’d followed the same logic in juvie. She had kept her head down, barely spoken to anyone, scrawled her fear and frustration in her song journal instead of letting herself feel anything. She had waited for help to come, as she was supposed to do. She had obeyed the rules.
But help wasn’t coming this time.
She was close enough to see the set of his jaw, the ropelike muscles in his neck. The metallic sheen of his skin hid most imperfections, but not the bump in his nose or the scar on the side of his throat. His chest rose and fell with each breath. Flaws. Breathing. So he wasn’t a machine—which meant he could be hurt.
One of the apparatuses strapped to his chest gleamed like the hilt of a knife. That could even the playing field. But how could she reach it, when he could move with such incredible speed?
“I need help,” she blurted out. “My wrist. I hurt it when I woke in the desert.”
Lucky shot her a warning look, but Cora didn’t tear her eyes away from the Caretaker. She took a step toward him. He regarded her coldly, as though he could see straight through her lie. A crackling sensation began in the air, and the hair on her arms tingled. He was going to vanish as suddenly as he had appeared.
“Wait!” Cora took another step forward. “Don’t go yet. I need help.”
“Do not come forward.” His voice was cold as the pressure built faster. He started flickering in front of her, and she knew he’d be gone in seconds, along with any answers. Right now—this moment—was her only chance.
She lunged for the knife hilt, but his hand was on her wrist in a second, and she let out a cry. Electricity pulsed through her bare skin into her nerves, tingling and jittery and just short of painful. Now she knew what Leon meant about being zapped. Only it wasn’t a zap, it was plunging into an icy pool of water. Falling toward nothing. Dying, all at once. She jerked her arm but couldn’t get free.
Lucky
Similar Books
