Page 75 of Anarchy Missing

This Sheila points to a large equipment cabinet on the far side of the cave and says, “Top shelf. In the white autoclave bags.”

“What the fuck are they doing?” I ask.

“Saving his life,” this Sheila says. “Now please, just shut up. I’m worried enough as it is without your mouth pissing me off.”

Molly Masters grabs something in a white paper envelope that crinkles in her hand and then looks over her shoulder at me with a sympathetic frown. “Don’t worry, we know what to do.”

When she goes back inside the operating room she closes the door behind her and then flips a switch on the wall and the transparent window goes opaque.

I let out a long breath of air, but… I have to admit, not being able to see inside anymore actually allows me to relax.

Out of my hands, I guess.

“We should go upstairs,” this Sheila says.

“No,” I object. “I can’t just go upstairs. Not with all this happening down here.”

I don’t even know what upstairs is. Sometimes the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. Or… however that saying goes.

One of the bigger robots, with some of the larger pincer claws, bumps up against my leg. I look at this Sheila as she says, with much more force than the first time, “We’re going upstairs. Follow me, please.”

In what kind of world do I, Lulu Lightly, well-educated lawyer and assistant district attorney of Cathedral City, have to follow the orders of a holographic image?

“Ow,” I say, pulling my leg away from the mutant lobster-bot’s grabby claws. “Fine.”

I reluctantly follow her across the lab, past the massive rainbow-colored luminescent jellyfish, and towards a dark entrance that is almost pitch black.

“Just walk up the stairs and I’ll have the door opened on the other end,” this Sheila says. She fades away as I enter. And I realize there must not be any of those lighthouse things to project her in the winding stairwell. Which, by the way, totally look like they lead to and from a dungeon, because the walls are made of stone.

I stop just short of the first turn and wonder if I could hide in here. If the lobster-bot can’t climb stairs, I bet—

“Keep walking, Miss Lightly,” comes this Sheila’s voice from above. “I have attack drones if you choose to hide in there. They will flush you out and—”

“Fine,” I huff, and continue my climb until I see a light up ahead. Sheila is standing at the top, waiting. She waves me through into a grand, open living room and when I look back to where I just came from, I realize there’s a secret panel in the wall next to a massive floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace.

I think I just came out of the Batcave. In fact, now that I realize I’m in some kind of massive mansion, I might actually be at Wayne Manor.

Or Wade Manor, as it may be.

“You can rest up here. Help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen. Don’t snoop upstairs and no, there’s no secrets up there, but it’s still under construction and I wouldn’t want you to accidentally shoot yourself in the foot with a nail gun.”

As if.

Sheila disappears.

“Hey!” I call out. “Where are you going?”

She rematerializes. “Back downstairs to my other half. It takes energy to be two of me. Wouldn’t you rather I use all my power to help Case? Or are you too scared to be left alone—”

“Fine,” I say, huffing some hair out of my eyes. “Go.”

She does. And the secret panel door closes shut in silent finality.

I’m in Lincoln Wade’s house. Just like Randy wanted me to be.

But even though I still think Randy is right about these people, I have no interest in that directive right now. The only thing on my mind is Case.

I sink into a soft leather couch and pull my knees up to my chest. I woke up to Steve begging me to get dressed, put on my coat, bring my phone, and follow him upstairs. I could tell something was wrong. His voice was filled with stress and Case was missing from the rug where we’d fallen asleep.