What Happened to Lori Read online

  Deep inside, she knew the truth. She saw the weird projected magnified image of her insides.

 
 

  Presley wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but she took that ambiguity as a good sign.

 
 

  GRIM ○ 6:59+pm

  Consciousness returned, for the fourth or fifth or sixth time.

  For the moment, the drilling had stopped.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

  Grim didn’t want to think about it.

  Oddly, the pain had faded. Grim wondered if the drills used the same tech as the Watcher’s sculptor device.

 

  Grim almost sobbed, managed to get his emotions under control, and then worked his tongue over his gum line.

 
 
 

  Bringing the penny to his lips, Grim took a big breath—

  —and spit it out—

  —catching it in Presley’s hand.

 

  Gripping the penny tight as he could, Grim sawed at the material holding his wrist captive.

 
 

  Then the drills whirred back to life, scaring him so badly he dropped the penny.

  He heard it bounce on the floor, and Grim cried out in frustration.

  A few seconds later, Grim cried out in agony as the drills dug in.

  FABLER ○ 6:59pm

  The cop exited his vehicle. Older guy, a paunch, tanned the color of latte. He swaggered up to Fabler, glancing into the back of the Jeep as he did.

  Fabler watched the officer’s hand go to his holster when he noticed the M16s.

 

  Fabler braced himself, waiting for the order to get out of the vehicle with his hands raised.

 
 

  But the order didn’t come. Instead, the cop stopped a meter behind Fabler’s door.

  “Open your window, sir.”

  Fabler complied, waiting for him to pull his piece.

  The officer let out a fat sigh, and shook his head. “Heading to San Diego, I’m guessing.”

 

  “One of these days, one of you Comic-Con folks are going to get shot, going out in public like that.”

 
 

  “So you think the costume looks authentic?”

  The cop approached, his expression jovial. “The blood looks real. Can’t place the outfit. Star Wars?”

  “Halo. You into videogames?”

  “No. No time for videogames. Those guns in the rear of your tailgate, those look pretty real.”

  “Got a buddy that works for a Hollywood studio.”

  “They fire blanks or something?”

  “No. They’re plastic. If they fired, I couldn’t get them into the convention.”

  “What is that thing? A flamethrower?”

  “Yeah.” Fabler tried on a smile. “Used for burning aliens.”

  The cop nodded. “Never been to one of them Comic-Cons. Got a nephew who loves ’em. Dresses up like that guy with the knives in his hands.”

  “Wolverine.”

  “No.”

  “Freddy Krueger.”

  “Nuh-uh. Pokémon, I think his name is.”

 

  “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

  “No, Officer.”

  “Speeding. Clocked you at thirteen over the limit. Need license, registration, proof of insurance.”

 
 

  Fabler swallowed hard.

 
 

  “Did you hear me with all that fake blood in your hair? License, registration, insurance.”

 
 
 
 

  And the worst part of all, after all of this time and effort, Fabler didn’t even know if Lori was even alive.

  LORI ○ 6:59+pm ○ 7442497503773950

  Lori thought:
 
 
 
 

  Back in her cell. On her bed.

  Lori glanced at her wrist. Saw the stump.

  The memory came back in a flood of pain.

 
 
 

  With her remaining hand, Lori rubbed her belly.

  Her bump.

  The bump moved, and she wept.

 
 

  A scream cut into her thoughts.

 

  Lori tried to cover her ears. Her real one, and the grafted one.

  But her new stump couldn’t muffle the cries.

 
 

  Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

 

  Several times, to torment her, the guards have mimicked her husband’s voice.

  And now, down the hallway, they’ve somehow figured out how to imitate Grim. Her brother.

 
 

  GRIM ○ 7:03+pm

 

  Grim had lost track of how many drilling/passing out/healing sessions he’d endured. In between the torture sessions, he had time to dwell on the many mistakes of his past, and the narrow possibilities of his future.

  But, strangely, he didn’t despair.

 

  There was a chance, albeit slim, that they could escape.

 
 

  The idea amused Grim. It also scared the snot out of him.

 
 
  “That’s over a thousand days of ball drilling.”

  Then he despaired.

/>   A noise roused Grim from his daze, and he almost whimpered, thinking it was the drill again.

  It wasn’t. The wall had opened up. A guard, coming for him.

 
 

  While thinking about the supplication collar, it activated, and Grim passed out.

  When he awoke an undetermined time later, the grey guard was transferring him to a floating gurney.

  Grim jack-knifed forward, grabbing the grey’s arm and covering up the gland, looping his other arm around the guard’s neck and falling off the gurney, letting his weight take them both to the ground.

  Energized with the fervor of a man who didn’t want to ever return to the breeding program, Grim twisted the guard’s arm behind his back in a hammerlock, hyperextending until he felt it snap, and then twisting violently.

 
 

  The grey screeched and thrashed, and Grim tried to grind his broken bones against one another, and finally, mercifully, the dude went limp.

  Grim didn’t hesitate. He quickly wrapped his bare legs around the grey’s head, and broke the creature’s neck.

  Under the gurney, in a compartment, Grim found some of his clothes.

 

  He quickly tugged on some underwear and khakis. As he put on the shoes, he considered his next move.

 
 

  Grim reached down, and stroked the moist, yellow patch of tissue—

  —and it activated his supplication collar.

  Grim screamed, retracting his hand like he’d touched a hot stove.

 

  He tried stroking the in opposite direction, bracing himself for the shock.

  No shock came, but the collar stayed on.

  Slowly, carefully, his body rigid as an oak tree, Grim reached up for the collar—

  —then touched it.

 

  He gave it a twist, remembering it had a hinge somewhere.

  The collar came off, and he began to laugh, staring at it glow and pulse at arm’s length, and then his whole world became white-hot pain as it zapped his hand.

  Grim fell to his knees, unable to stop his hand from letting go, his muscles clenching the collar involuntarily, and he passed out.

  When he awoke an undetermined time later, the collar had fallen from his grasp.

 
 

  He dragged the grey to the door, and wiped his arm against the transparent plastic.

  The door opened.

 
 

  “Or take the gland.”

  The guard had no weapons.

  But there, on the floor.

 

  “This is gonna get messy.”

  Grim snatched it up and began gouging.

  FABLER ○ 7:04pm

  Unsure of what to do next, Fabler heard the cop snort.

  “What’s that stink? That you?”

  “It’s the newest thing. When you cosplay, you match the odor to your costume.”

  “It’s disgusting.”

  “Registration in the glove compartment. Can I reach for it?”

  The cop nodded, holding his nose.

  Extending the opportunity, Fabler opened up his glove compartment and snatched an old registration paper, making sure he rubbed it on his soggy, stinky leg. When he handed it to the cop, it looked like a big blood clot.

  Fabler had been hoping to wipe out the dates on the paper, but his trick proved even more effective; the cop looked repulsed and refused to touch it.

  “It’s your lucky day. I’m letting you off with a warning. Slow it down.”

  “Thank you, Officer.”

  Fabler was extremely cautious pulling back onto the highway, and maintained the speed limit until the cop took an off ramp.

  Then he jammed on the gas pedal again to make up for lost time.

  PRESLEY ○ 7:39+pm

  When Presley couldn’t hold it any longer and sat on the toilet, the plastic shaped itself to her body and freaked her out.

  She pulled away, mid-stream, and the toilet melded back into the floor.

  On the second attempt, when she finished, a blowing/spraying/sucking feeling ensued, and she stood up clean and dry.

 

  Then she became thirsty and realized that her only means of liquid was the toilet.

 

  The water didn’t taste good, but she kept it down.

 
 
 
 

  Presley tried again to communicate with the people in adjacent cells, and got nowhere.

  She examined her cell again, and got nowhere.

  After an indeterminate amount of time, a slot in the ceiling opened up. A circle, no larger than a few centimeters in circumference. It appeared for a few seconds, something dropped through and fell to the cell floor, and then the hole closed.

  The capsule-shaped object that fell weighed a few ounces, and smelled vaguely of stale bread.

 

  Presley ignored it until her stomach rumbled, then tried a small bite.

 

  After waiting a while to see if the bite had any weird effects, Presley ate the rest of it. When she finished, she picked something out of her teeth.

 

  She spent several minutes trying not to puke.

 

  Then Presley did crunches until her abs refused to do any more.

  Taking a breather, preparing for more reps, Presley heard a tapping on the transparent cell door.

  Grim. Half-naked, bloody, smiling like an idiot.

  “I found you.”

  She hurried to him, placing her hands on the divider, wishing she could take him in her arms.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Karma is real, Presley. Everything I did to Fabler. Every single wrong thing I’ve ever done in my life. I just paid for it.”

  “The breeding room wasn’t an alien orgy?”

  “Two words. Testicle drills.”

  Presley winced. “Ouch.”

  “I kept passing out, which was good. Then they used one of those sculptor healing rays on me, so I’m not in any current pain.”

  “It’s been a bad day all around.”

  Grim grinned. “Are you kidding? This is the best day ever. Today is the day I learned I’m going to be a daddy.”

 

  Presley’s eyes welled up, and she quickly changed the subject. “How’d you get out of your cell?”

  “I killed one of the guards. You know those weird, yellow patches they have on their arms that open the doors? I opened mine with his wrist. Then I tried to cut it off, to use as a key.”

  “Did it work?”

  Grim pressed a piece of bloody flesh to the wall.

  Nothing happened.

  “Next time, I’ll take the whole arm, rather than just the gland. My cutting options were kind of limited.”

  “How’s my hand?”

  Grim waved at Presley, with her fingers. “I suppose I don’t have to ask for your hand in marriage, because I got the real thing.”

 
;

  “How does it… feel?”

  “Feels like mine. Like I’ve always had it. Really strange. I don’t know if it suits me, though. It lacks a certain rugged masculinity.”

  “Take care of it. They can attach it back.”

  “I will. But I may put it to some good use first.” He waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

  Presley felt herself turn red. “You’re a pig.”

  “I’m a guy. All guys are pigs. Look… I know all of this has been crazy, but…” His voice trailed off.

  “But what?”

  “Give me a sec. I haven’t said this to anyone in a while.”

  “Are you serious right now?”

  “Presley—”

  “Grim, this is hardly the time to—”

  “I love you.”

 

  Presley shook her head. “All that’s going on, you really want to go there?”

  “I gotta have something to hang onto.”

  “Do you expect me to say it back?”

  “No. Of course not.”

 

  “I love you, too, Grim.”

  “Really?”

  She shrugged. “Why the hell not?”

 

  “We’re going to get out of here, Presley. Don’t give up hope.”

  “I can’t give up hope. I’m the one that is supposed to save us, remember?”

  “I remember.” He didn’t say anything. He just stared.

  “Are you… ogling me?”

  “You’re in your underwear.”

  “Seriously? Weren’t you just drilled in the junk?”

  “You look good. Can’t help it. Want to try to kiss through this plastic divider?”

  “No. And don’t screw up my manicure. I just had that done at the spa.”

  “I won’t. I’ll be back.” He placed his palm on the window.

  She placed hers up to meet his. “Don’t get caught.”

  “There is no way I’ll let them catch me again.”

  Grim wandered down the hallway, out of sight, and took a little bit of Presley’s heart with him.

  FABLER ○ 7:51pm

  Heading into Albuquerque, the sky opened up, blankets of rain pummeling the Jeep until visibility neared zero.