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Miles swayed on his feet. This was the second violent, bloody death he’d seen that day. The first one, on tape, had been bad enough.
But at least he hadn’t had to smell it.
His stomach lurched. He bolted out of the place in a stumbling run. Out the door, across the grass, and he tumbled onto his knees, heaving coffee-flavored gastric juices onto the ornamental shrubs.
He was trembling and tearful and embarrassed when his gut finally stopped spasming. He dragged himself up onto rubbery legs, wiped his eyes and nose on the sleeve of Sean’s Armani. His phone chimed, in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the text message.
mina went2 meet mindmeld. sorry. haven in arcadia. took a beacon. code 42BB84. follow the bread crumbs if u feel like it. wish me luck pretending I have a brain. yrs cin
The world spun.Darkness slopped up over his mind.
A hand on his shoulder made him jump and shriek.
“If you’re done depositing genetic material on Beck’s lawn, could we get the fuck out of here?” Con said. “Before they haul us in?”
Miles straightened up, and held out his cell. “Davy. You know how you said you didn’t think things could get any worse?”
Davy’s eyes sharpened with dread. “Yeah?”
He passed over the phone. “You were wrong.”
Pain,pain, and more pain. White hot screaming stabs of it, slicing right through him like a hot knife through butter. He was strapped into some sort of chair. Pain was everywhere, but the molten epicenter was in his right shoulder. A guy with a bloody lab coat was holding a scalpel and tongs. He went at Sean’s shoulder with it. Gouging and rending.
“Fuck,” Sean hissed, bucking and straining.
The guy displayed a dripping bullet clamped in his tongs. “Just a flesh wound,” he said, his tone reproving.
Sean stared at the guy, baffled. “I’ve died and gone to hell?”
The guy grinned. “Not quite yet. Think of me as a preview, if you like.” He moved to the side, displaying the room with a flourish.
Sean’s chest clutched around his heart. Liv lay there, inert, hands and ankles fastened with tight leather straps to the frame of the gurney.
T-Rex stood there, fondling her. He licked his thick lips as he ran his hand up the inside of Liv’s thigh. “Nice,” he said. “Warm and soft.”
“Not yet, Gordon,” Lab Coat said sternly. “I have other plans for her. You can play with the other one. After we’re done, of course.”
Other one? What the hell? Sean could turn his head just far enough to make out a slender girl curled up on the floor. Her hands were fastened to the radiator, her hair hanging over her face. She looked up.
Cindy. That poor, silly chick. Fresh sadness welled up inside him. “Aw, shit, honey. I cannot tell you how sorry I am to see you here.”
“M-me, too,” she stuttered. “Right back atcha.”
Sean strained in his bonds, rattling the chair. “So, then. You must be Osterman. The shit-eating maggot who killed my brother.”
Osterman tipped a gallon bottle of alcohol, letting it glug out onto a cotton swab, and swiped the soggy thing, urgently, over Sean’s arm. Sean convulsed with a fresh bolt of agony. “Yes, I am Osterman,” the guy said. “Hold still while I stitch this up.”
Sean struggled with that. “What’s the point of stitching me?”
“I’m not killing you yet,” Osterman explained. “I’ll keep you alive as long as I can. I don’t want you dying of a stupid infection.”
That sounded ominous. “What the hell do you want from me?”
“Your brain.” Osterman jabbed his needle through torn flesh. “I’ve refined X-Cog so much since I experimented on Kevin with it. He was remarkable, you know. He forged new neural pathways to bypass the nerve induction, right on the spot, just to spite me. Unbelievable.”
Sean gasped with pain. “Before you murdered him?”
Osterman stabbed the raw meat of Sean’s shoulder again. “I’ve been trying to duplicate those results ever since. And here you are, an identical genetic copy of Kevin McCloud, on a silver platter. The genes must have expressed themselves very differently in you. I hear you’re quite a low achiever, compared to your twin brother.”
