“The hell’s the matter with her?”
“Separation anxiety, looks like. I’ve seen it before with the new ones. Sorry creatures can’t handle the stress of being separated from their, well, whatever you call them. Masters? Owners?”
“Whatever. I don’t want to know anyway. My contract’s up in three months, and then I’m out of here. It’s too weird on this island. Isn’t natural.”
The man holding Lux grunted. “You got that right. Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”
“But you have to know what it is you’re guarding,” a third man said.
“I already know more than I want to know. Take my advice, Thornton: stay out of it. Corpus pays well, but I’ll be damned if they aren’t the shadiest, prickliest employer I’ve ever had. And that includes Colombia.”
“You ran in Colombia? Hey, I knew a guy worked down there. Maybe you knew him . . .”
Their conversation wandered out of Lux’s grasp, and she gave up trying to listen. Her heart pounded in her ears. Without Jim to balance her, the world moved too quickly and confusingly, sucking her down and crashing against her like the waves.
Soon they reached a building on an open hill, and Lux gazed at it in wonder. It was huge and black against the setting sun. She didn’t want to go inside. She wanted to run back into the trees to find Jim. But the men dragged her along even when she dug her feet into the ground, and then she had to relent and go with them because don’t fight them.
Inside she found a strange new world, a world of walls and too-bright lights and solid floors that squeaked beneath the shoes Jim had put on her feet. Strange floor, hard and smooth beneath her feet. She stared at it and fought down the panic that battered at her brain.
“You found her!” cried a voice, and Lux looked up. A woman rushed toward her, a woman with tight black curls and blue eyes and a big white coat. She reached out and took Lux’s face in her hands, studied her all over. The men let go of her arms and she stood trembling as the woman turned her around, looked at her hands, at her feet, her scraped knees.
“Poor thing, she’s been all over the island in this state?”
“Found her with the pilot, just like you said, but he got away.”
“Come with me, Lux. I’ll get you cleaned up. Thanks, Thornton, I’ll take her from here.”
The men left and Lux was glad to see them go. The woman held her hand and led her into a room. She looked around in a daze, taking it all in, trying to make sense of the strange new objects and sounds and sensations.
“Sit here,” the woman said, patting a thing Lux suddenly knew was chair.
She sat.
“Let me take care of those hands and knees.” The woman moved around, picking things up, opening drawers and jars. She pressed a wet cloth to Sophie’s cuts. “I’m Dr. Moira Crue,” the woman said. “I’m going to take care of you, dear.”
“Where is Jim?” Lux asked.
“I don’t know. But we’ll find him, you’ll see. I’m sure he’s fine.” The woman’s voice was low and soothing and listening to it, Lux relaxed a little. I’m sure he’s fine.
“You’ve had a very stressful awakening,” Dr. Moira Crue said. “I know you must be very frightened and confused, but just trust me, all right? You’re safe here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“I want Jim.”
“I know.” The woman’s eyes pinched at the corners. “I know.”
She took a thing from her pocket—flashlight—and shone it in Lux’s eyes. Lux winced and tried to turn away, but Dr. Moira Crue held her chin and murmured that it was okay, she wasn’t going to be hurt, but Lux didn’t care about hurting she just wanted Jim where was he why did he not come why did he leave her—
“Lux!”
She blinked, her thoughts grinding to a halt.
“Lux, you’re panicking. You need to breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out.”
I do not want to breathe I want Jim I want Jim where is he where is he—
Lux yelped as pain pricked her arm. She looked down to see the woman sliding a needle into her skin.
“I’m sorry, Lux, but you’re having an anxiety attack. It’s common among newborns, but Jim isn’t here to calm you down, so I’m giving you some medicine. Do you understand?”
“Hurts . . .” Lux whispered, but then a warm, soft feeling washed over her and she swayed.
“There. See? Everything’s fine.” The woman held her up. “I only gave you a little bit. Can you walk?”
“Walk,” Lux echoed dreamily.
“Come on. Try.”
Lux locked eyes with the woman. “What am I?” she whispered.
Dr. Moira Crue’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “What?”
“What am I?” Lux gazed at her in anguish.
“Lux . . . you’re a Vitro. A girl. A . . . a human being—what a strange question.” She tilted her head, studying Lux closely. “Why would you ask that?”
Lux sighed deeply. The woman gave her answers, but none of them were right. There was still something missing. Something big, something so so important . . .
TWENTY TWO SOPHIE
The padded cell in which Sophie’s mother had deposited her was in a lower basement level that had no windows and none of the upper floors’ outdated resort chic. The room was small, ten feet by ten feet at most, with the floor, walls, and even ceiling covered with stark white pads. It was one of several like it; she wondered what cause Corpus had for such rooms. She sat curled in the far corner, facing the door, outwardly silent but inwardly screaming.
If Jim was murdered, his blood would be on her hands. There was no way around it. Her pulse pounded in her ears, beating out a steady rhythm by which she could mark time’s passage.
The room was lit by a fluorescent bulb high above her; it was covered by a grate wrapped in foam. The light flickered every few seconds, with a faint metallic click. Other than that, no sounds issued from the hall. She was, as far as she could tell, the only person on the entire basement floor.
Her mother had been silent as she led Sophie away. At first, Sophie had thought her mom might let her go. When they were out of Strauss’s hearing, Sophie had suggested they run for it. They could find Jim and Lux and Nicholas and flee the island together. She thought surely after Strauss’s display of power and menace that Moira would see reason, would understand that this was no place for either of them.
She should have guessed that her plea would do as much good as trying to dry a flood with a Kleenex. Moira had only given her a look, a look that said stop talking now before you get in worse trouble, and Sophie said no more on the matter. Her heart had sunk lower and lower, until she felt as if she were dragging it behind her on a string, and now it lay pathetically at her feet like a despondent pet.
She’d been silent as her mother opened the door to the padded cell, silent as the door shut behind her, silent as Moira’s footsteps faded down the hall. Hours had passed, as best as she could judge, and she hadn’t made a sound. She drifted in and out of sleep, but her dreams were filled with a chaos of voices and images that left her feeling less rested than she had before she shut her eyes. She wondered what time it was. By the ache in her stomach, she’d missed several meals.
When the door finally opened, she lifted her head just enough to see who it was. Moira was there, and Strauss, and Dr. Hashimoto peeking over their shoulders.
And there was someone else. She stood in front of Moira like a ghost, like a reflection in a pooclass="underline" Lux.
Again Sophie was left breathless as if punched in the gut. But this time it wasn’t the physical resemblance between herself and Lux that had her reeling; it was the look in Lux’s eye: deep, hollow sadness, as if her heart had been carved out of her with an ice cream scoop.