“I’ve told you,” Tom croaked.
“No, you haven’t! You’ve lied!”
I am not protecting him! Tom wanted to scream at him. I DON’T CARE about Vengerov! But it would be like screaming into a strong wind. Useless. So useless.
“Vengerov isn’t worth this.” Blackburn leaned closer, his voice right in Tom’s ear. “You can’t trust him. He’s the one responsible for all those deaths. Not just the soldiers in my testing group. Others.”
Tom’s dad’s shouts and the policemen’s shouts were dying down, and he knew on the screen, he’d see himself standing in the middle of the train station watching his father get carried away in handcuffs. He started to follow, and then he stopped, realizing where he’d end up if he did. He’d find himself in some foster home somewhere. His dad wouldn’t want him to follow. And Tom still remembered that feeling of being hopelessly lost in the middle of a busy crowd, wondering what he was supposed to do now, where he was supposed to go, feeling like he was slipping down some drain. It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t remembering the feeling. It was there right now inside him.
“We weren’t the first whose minds he butchered,” Blackburn went on. “One thousand Russians were, back when Vengerov was in charge of LM Lymer Fleet. He’d just inherited his old man’s company, and he figured he’d make a name for himself by taking a bold step with other people’s lives at stake. Most died, just like with us. The difference was, the Russians killed the broken survivors to bury the whole project. That’s why Vengerov had to come here. They would never have let him do it again, and he needed living subjects, living adults. He told our military that all he needed was a few hundred. Surely at least a handful would survive the neural processors, and that was all he needed. So they assigned a few hundred of us to the great experiment.”
Tom found himself staring at the new image on the screen, a smiling blond woman.... His mother, looking so young, back when he was so little he’d forgotten this. She was looking at him and smiling, her hair spilling over her shoulders. Tom clung to her, getting a piggyback ride down the dark street....
Blackburn must’ve seen something on his face. He stopped talking and his eyes followed Tom’s, to the screen.
She spun him around in a circle, streetlights whirling before his eyes. “So what are we gonna get for dinner?”
“Ice cream, Momma!”
His mother whirled to a stop, laughing, and staggered a bit. “We’ll get a tub of ice cream bigger than your head, Tommy. And hot fudge, too.” Her hair was all scrunched up against his face, and …
The memory scorched its way through his head. Tom was aware of the beams digging into his brain, but he couldn’t stop looking because he didn’t remember even living with his mother. He didn’t have any memory of his mother, well, loving him. He didn’t remember her like this. He couldn’t bear to see this.
“It’s that painful seeing her, is it?” Blackburn remarked, looking at him again. “Then I can guarantee you, you’ll see more of her in the hours ahead if you don’t give me—”
And then something happened.
Tom was looking through his own eyes and he was not, he was seeing fire, and then the census device was fused to his brain and sparks fountained from the controls. With a spike of rage, Tom sent an electrical current whipping from the metallic claw.
Blackburn yelled out and crashed to the floor.
Tom snapped back into himself, the stench of smoke in his nostrils, his heart jerking against his rib cage. Blackburn lay, heaving ragged breaths for several stunned moments. Then he struggled back to his feet, one arm clutched uselessly to his side.
He surveyed the census device, his eyes wild. Dark smoke curled up in a twisting line. Comprehension flooded his face. “That was you, wasn’t it?” His gaze dropped to Tom’s. “You interfaced with it.”
Tom didn’t know. He didn’t know anything right now, except he was tired and sick and he wished he’d killed him. “I’ll fry you again if you turn it back on!”
Blackburn circled the census device, singed arm clutched to his torso. “You burned out one of the legs to stop me.” He paused a moment, a strange smile on his lips as he took a moment to absorb the idea. “Who knew you could do that? Thatta boy, Raines.”
“I’ll do it again, I swear!” Tom screamed at him.
Blackburn just seemed intrigued. He raised his good arm and grabbed one of the still-functional legs. “Go ahead. I’m touching it. There’s no way you can miss. Do it again.”
“I’m not bluffing! I’ll electrocute you!”
“And I’m waiting with bated breath.” Blackburn didn’t even sound sarcastic. “Do it, Raines.”
But Tom couldn’t. His chest felt tight. He couldn’t seem to get enough air in his lungs. He felt like he was going to break down, and he’d rather be flayed alive than let Blackburn see that. “You’re insane.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that tune.” Blackburn released the leg and lowered his arm back to his side. “And I see you can’t do that on command. That’s useful to know for tomorrow morning.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
TOM WOKE UP still strapped in the chair, his brain aching in his skull, his head stuffy like it might burst. His thoughts were scattered, strange things to him after hours of culling. He stared dully at Olivia Ossare, who stood in front of him, jerking the straps off his wrists, muttering to herself. “This is savage … just a child.”
His voice came out scratchy. “You came.”
“Tom!” Her warm palm cupped his chin. “Are you all right?”
His head pounded. He closed his eyes because it was easier than answering that. She helped him stand and then wobble down from the chair on rubbery legs.
“Is this over?” he asked.
Her grip tightened on him. “I’m working on it, Tom. Right now, Lieutenant Blackburn can’t be reasoned with. It took me this long just to get in to see you.”
Tom’s vision blackened and he swayed. She eased him down to the floor. He sagged to the ground, his head flopping against her arm, the ceiling spinning overhead in frantic circles.
He felt her fingers threading through his hair. The memory of his mother, so close to the surface, flickered up as she stroked his hair. He kept his eyes closed, a knot rising in his throat.
“Please let this be over soon.”
He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until she told him, “I’m doing my best. I’ve been trying to get in touch with your father.”
“My dad can’t help me.”
“He can, Tom. He can sue for custody of you.”
Tom’s eyes snapped open. He sat up quickly enough to make his vision blacken. “Custody?”
“The military can’t retain custody of you if your father withdraws consent.”
Tom’s head ached. He felt like he might vomit. “I’d have to quit to get out of this?” Blood buzzed up in his ears. “But the neural processor can’t come out. Not ever.”
“Your brain becomes dependent eventually, but you only had it installed five months ago. I spoke to Dr. Gonzales, and he said it’s early enough to allow for a phased removal. They’re doing something similar with your friend Stephen.”