Entanglement (YA Dystopian Romance) - By Dan Rix Page 0,81

self-aware part of her, from the part she would be missing after the operation—but Amber would rather throw it away than let him have it.

Clive had never let her see his father’s studio before, and before today, she had never wanted to. She took the stairs one at a time, not sure how deep they went. She reached the bottom and peered into the darkness, and when her eyes adjusted, she felt her brain go numb with panic.

It wasn’t the white hospital room she’d expected.

Amber traversed the dingy cave and found herself under a huge machine, suddenly terrified—suddenly aware of everything she was about to lose. The thing hummed above her, dripping oil, and she could already feel it pulling at her, trying to get inside her.

***

Aaron was slammed against his car, which had stalled in first. He felt the edge of the doorframe cut into his back as he stared dumbstruck into the wild eyes of his best friend, Buff Normandy.

“Don’t touch me,” said Aaron.

“Buddy, you can’t go,” said Buff.

“You don’t even know where I’m going.”

“Tina called me and told me what happened,” said Buff. “You made a deal with that doctor.”

“In thirteen minutes,” Aaron spat, “she’ll be worse than dead. Let me go—” Aaron slapped Buff’s hands aside and rushed the car, but Buff grabbed his shoulder and slammed him against the rear door again.

“No bullshit!” he said. “Not after all the things you told me about him.”

Aaron was aware of every heartbeat, every second Amber didn’t have. He glared into his best friend’s eyes. “Do you know what she’ll be like when they’re through with her?” he said. “She’ll be a pretty little shell—that’s all!”

“It’s a trap, Buddy. You know that.”

“He wants clairvoyance,” said Aaron. “It’s either mine or Amber’s.”

“Says who? Make him use his own shit.”

“Just get out of my way,” said Aaron.

“Buddy, she’s not even your half—”

Aaron shoved Buff backwards, and his friend stumbled to the ground. Then he climbed into his car.

“I’m not coming with you,” said Buff, climbing to his feet.

“I don’t want you to,” said Aaron, “you’d only get someone killed.” He restarted the engine and burnt rubber. Behind him, black fumes boiled off his tire tracks. Buff chased him down and kicked his bumper before he squealed down the street.

So much for friends.

Aaron drove a hundred and ten on the freeway. He passed cars as if they were parked. The wind tore inside the cabin, ripped at his clothes and blinded him. His Mazda leaned dangerously around curves, right at the edge of traction. At this speed, it was like cornering switchbacks.

So Casler lied about making them halves again. Why? All he wanted to do was drain their clairvoyance. But he clearly preferred Amber’s.

The needle on his fuel gauge teetered on empty, then crossed it. There was enough fuel to get him there, to Amber—and that was all he needed.

Grassy hills swam around him, shimmering pollen-green under the bright sun—as green as her eyes had been when he sat next to her at the bonfire, more than a month ago, and gazed into them for the first time.

He didn’t have the strength to face the rest of his life without her, alone. Halfless. He had to stop her, even if it meant giving up his own clairvoyance so she wouldn’t have to.

Half a mile from Dominic’s house, he felt it. A cold patch in the air. Static electricity. The hairs on his forearms rose and swayed, as if swept up in an underwater current, and there was no question as to the source.

At ten fifty-seven, Aaron mowed over the dry brush outside Dominic’s gate, scaled the wall, and sprinted up the driveway. He felt the ground buzzing through the soles of his shoes. He circled the house.

At ten fifty-eight, the laundry room door creaked open, and Aaron slipped inside. It was like swimming through needles.

Only the house was empty.

He ran upstairs, Clive’s room—empty. The bed had been made, the walls stripped bare. As if he never lived there. He ran downstairs and checked the kitchen. Through a broken window, a breeze fanned the stench of rotting fish. It wafted over him, warm and nauseating. Flies swarmed over piles of crusted-over china, oil-smudged paper plates, and dripping take-out boxes. Sunlight burned streaks through the humid haze.

Perhaps they were already down below.

At ten fifty-nine, Aaron plunged through the aitherscope’s frozen glare. At the end of the corridor, the jagged stairs dropped into the Earth. His eyes watered from the gases rising out of