The Thirteenth Proxy, Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3, "Smoke in the Air, Foam upon the Water"

"Here. This should help with the pain," Grace injected a syringe full of clear liquid into her IV. "At least, until we're able to regain access to your pain receptors." Grace took a breath, deep in thought. Avery was just happy to not be in pain for once.

Grace slowly unbuttoned her lab coat then neatly folded it over the length of her arm to reveal what resembled a rebellious teenager underneath a facade of professionalism. Her outfit consisted of a white t-shirt with large, red letters across the front that read, "Devil in the Details." She wore a jean jacket that had been cut in half over top of the t-shirt; its frayed fabric hung loosely, flaunting her chest in an immediately noticeable way. The other half of her punk rock ensemble consisted of faded jeans with holes in the knees and a pair of black combat boots.

Grace tucked the garment in a nearby drawer, and when she turned around Avery could see that the back of the jean jacket had feathery wings stitched into it. It gave her the look of a rebellious angel, like she'd been cast out of heaven. She walked over to Avery and leaned over the surgical table, gripping its edge with both hands. "Okay," Grace began, "...we're going to need an expert on cyber warfare and memory manipulation," she sighed. "Normally, that would be you. But since it's your memories we're trying to unlock, we'll need to find someone else."

"And why is that?" Avery asked.

"Why's what?"

"Why can't I just fix it myself, if I'm as skilled as you say?"

"Besides the fact that you no longer have access to those skills? Because you can't interact with your own subconscious, Avery. It can't be done. You can't be consciously aware of your subconscious, it-it's just contradictory. And if you tried, you'd just end up fracturing your personality, forced to live out the rest of your life in a perpetual state of psychosis."

"...and why is that again?" Avery blinked dumbfounded.

"It just is, Avery. Okay? I don't make the rules of the universe."

"And you can't do it?" Avery asked disappointed.

"No," Grace said flatly. "If I tried to hack the virus again we'd both end up fried. I barely managed to initiate a quarantine before I escaped. I didn't receive the 'special' training that you did," she said sarcastically, making quotation marks in the air with her fingers. "But I might know someone who can help us."

"Who?" Avery's curiosity was piqued.

"There's a man, a cybernetic geneticist, that lives in a town not too far from here. A few kilometers," Grace explained.

"Exactly how far is 'a few kilometers?'" Avery keenly observed that the generalization of distance usually implied more rather than less.

"Uh," Grace hesitated, silently calculating in her head. "About thirty-five," she said, avoiding eye contact.

"Thirty-five?!" Avery's frustration reverberated in the small rectangular room. "How am I supposed to get there on one leg and a missing arm?"

"It's ok! No problem. I've got it covered," Grace said confidently. "But that's not the problem."

"Oh?" Avery asked. She glared at Grace. "And just what is the problem?"

Grace looked down at her boots and fidgeted with her hands nervously. "Well, it's like this," she said, still avoiding eye contact. "The town we're going to doesn't exactly welcome people like us."

"Like us?" Avery asked again. Her hardened gaze still fixed on Grace.

"Artificial life-forms," Grace said, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. "It's a meat town- a place run by Humanists. They call themselves 'The Natural Nation.' They're more like a backwoods religious cult, still living in the 20th century, blaming us for everything wrong under the sun." Grace rolled her eyes. "They don't even use drones for manual labor. They think AI's are the work of the devil," she scoffed, the very idea absurd. "And they certainly won't welcome a couple of Proxies."

"So, what are we supposed to do?" Avery asked. She sunk back into the surgical table, relaxing her posture. "Do you have a plan?"

"Of course I have a plan!" Grace chirped proudly, pumping her fist in the air. "Easy peasy," she said with a sly wink.

Avery, however, wasn't convinced. "So? Don't keep me in suspense. What's the plan?" she asked, her voice heavy with skepticism.

Grace walked down the length of the rectangular room to the end where an electronic number pad hung on the wall. Avery grabbed her IV pole and scooted off the table. She gasped at the sudden chill of the hard tiled floor. The long IV tubing dragged across the floor and the clear fluid sloshed inside the bag as Avery lagged behind Grace's footsteps. Grace stabbed at the number pad with an index finger. A green light blinked at the top, holo-lights flashed 'Access Granted' in midair. Metal groaned as the wall began to part down the middle and swing open. A beam of light pierced through the crack and illuminated the room with rosy sunlight.

"Th-that's a door?" Avery asked, puzzled. It dawned on her that there were no other exits in the room. The walls appeared to be solid on all sides. But then again, so did the wall opening up before her.

"Of course it's a door, silly," Grace chuckled. "What did you think? I beamed you into this room?" She laughed loudly.

Avery felt embarrassed, but the sound of Grace's laughter made her smile. The warmth of a midsummer romance filled her heart just before a gust of wind blew into the room and doused the flames. Avery felt goosebumps all over her skin as the chill whipped her hospital gown. The smell of putrefaction invaded her nostrils. Her mood was ruined just like that.

"Ugh!" Avery grumbled in disgust. If she didn't need her only good arm to steady herself, she'd be covering her nose right about now, but she did, so she couldn't and she buried her face into the crook of her elbow instead. The sterile environment of the surgical bay only served to amplify the stench. "Where the hell are we?" Avery asked.

Grace playfully skipped outside as if oblivious to the horrible smell. She twirled around in a circle, her arms sailing in the breeze. She waved at Avery to follow. "Hurry up Hop-a-Long!" she teased, sticking her tongue out. Avery ignored the disparagement, rolling of her eyes. She wheeled her IV pole out onto the bumpy pebbles that littered the ground. Its wheels stuck between the tiny rocks. Avery groaned loudly, her face still covered by her elbow.

It was midday. It took a moment for Avery's eyes to adjust to the sunlight. The sun shone down from on high like a fiery spotlight. For a moment, she forgot about the odor as she stared at the ocean that spread out before her. "Wow..." her lips mouthed silently. They were standing on an abandoned beach that stretched to the horizon in both directions. The sound of seagulls was notably absent. In fact, there were no signs of wildlife at all. Only the rolling crash of waves was there to greet them. And the smell, of course. "Oh, god," she held her breath again.

The shoreline was covered in bright blue algae and some sort of foam. There was no sand. The beach consisted of small grey rocks that had been polished into smooth round stones by the tide. As the tide rolled in, the tiny rocks churned in its wake and were deposited on the shore. The crashing pebbles were akin to popcorn popping. It seemed unnatural, like a magical sound that made no sense. Large boulders the size of houses littered the beach here and there. One of the boulders was nearby, worn away by the sea it had become flat like a speartip jutting up out of the bedrock, offering dubious shelter to windworn travelers.

Avery looked back to see that the room she'd just left was actually a large cargo container that sat parallel to the beach. Its doors now wide open, it looked like a contradiction of itself. On the outside, the original logo was no longer legible underneath a thick layer of rust and graffiti. It was old and beat up, covered by dents and barnacles. The interior, however, was all tiled floors and immaculate walls that shined like brand new. Two thick coax cables ran from the side of the structure into what looked like a hollowed out rock. That's weird, she thought. Power cables, maybe? "Hey, Grace? What's that?" but it was difficult to hear over the wind and Grace must not have heard her because she just kept talking.

"And now, I'll introduce you to 'The Plan'" Grace announced with flare, putting heavy emphasis on her words. "Mark! Hey, Mark!" Grace yelled towards the large boulder with her hands cupped around her mouth. "Smoke break's over, Big Guy!"

A tall man sauntered out from behind the huge rock with a cigarette hanging from his lips. Smoke rose from the glowing tip into a cloud that wafted in his wake. As he stepped out into the open, the fiery tip of his cigarette blew off and the smoke died. The man grumbled. He held the cylinder between his fingers for a moment before flicking it away. He was covered in heavy, black combat armor. The stock of an assault rifle could be seen hanging on his back by a strap. He clutched a helmet that was tucked under his arm.

Grace was waving enthusiastically at a very grumpy Mark. He nodded and quickened his step towards them. Avery was too busy wrestling with her IV pole to get a good look at him at first. The IV tubing that dragged behind her had gotten stuck on a piece of driftwood. Avery glared at it menacingly. If her eyes were laser beams she'd set it on fire right then. She yanked hard, freeing the tubing which caused her to stagger forward and lean on the pole for support. She wobbled for a moment."Shit."

"Avery, meet Mark," Grace introduced them. "Mark, this is Avery. Now, Avery. Before you go all wackadoo you should kn-" her sentence was cut short by Avery's horrified gasp.

Her mouth hung open as she stared at Mark, her red eyes wide with alarm. Avery's body trembled with rage. "...a Repo Man?!" she growled like a wolf. "He's a Repo Man?! How dare you bring one of them here?!"

Mark's hands bolted in the air like he was being robbed at gunpoint, his helmet dropped to the ground. "Hold on, now. It's not what you think-" but his plea was cut short. Avery wielded her IV pole like a staff and whacked Mark on the side of the head with a metallic clang! Grace winced. Mark groaned painfully. He staggered away in a daze, holding his head in both hands.

"Avery, No!" Grace begged, her eyes flashed bright green, her hands covering her mouth.

Avery leapt onto Mark's back, IV tube in hand. She wrapped it around his neck. Mark fell to his knees and slipped his hands under the tubing to prevent Avery from choking him out. Avery didn't hear Grace's panicked cries. She only heard the sound of blood thundering in her ears as rage consumed her. She pulled the tubing tight with a hard yank. Her eyes blazed like fire.

"You son of a bitch!" Avery screamed. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" she repeated over and over undaunted by Grace's pleas to stop.

The tips of Mark's fingers were turning purple. His eyes bulged and tears ran down his face as he stared helplessly at Grace, silently pleading with her to intervene.

Grace had enough, this was going too far, so intervene she did. Her expression turned cold as she stormed over to the two of them. "That's enough, Avery!" she snarled. Grace grabbed Avery's arm and pried her fingers from the plastic garrote. They struggled with it briefly, but in her condition, Avery was no match for the strength of a Proxy at her peak. With one hand holding the IV tubing and the other grasping the back of Avery's neck, Grace both freed Mark from the strangle hold and flung Avery backwards onto the rocky beach in one swift synchronized motion. They both gasped; Avery had the wind knocked out of her and Mark was finally being able breathe again.

"Mark is our friend and I won't let you hurt him," Grace said sternly as she removed the last of the plastic tubing from around Mark's neck. "I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" Grace knelt down next to him.

Mark fell forward, knees bent, hands on the ground, laboring to breathe. He let out a wet cough. Sharp breaths stung his throat as he desperately tried to control his breathing. "Th-that crazy bitch," Mark wheezed. "Keep her away from me!"

Avery laid on the ground like a turtle, wiggling from side to side as she tried to get up but she couldn't. She was dazed and confused. "What the hell, Grace? They're killers, all of them! And you're taking his side?" Avery complained.

Mark righted himself to a sitting position, though his breathing was still erratic, his throat bruised where the IV tube had choked him. He holstered his assault rifle, cocked the hammer, and aimed it at Avery. "Try that again, ya psychopath. I'll put you down!" Mark threatened.

He had a crude American accent, what used to be called an East Coast accent from times before the war. His words were mostly contractions, saying things like ya, whut, and gonna. He was taller than Avery and his stature made Grace look like a pygmy. He showed obvious signs of muscle grafts throughout his body, giving him an extremely muscular appearance. His biceps bulged from under the full body kevlar he wore. His dark hazel eyes matched his coffee colored crew cut. He didn't care much for vanity. He always seemed to have a thick layer of day old stubble.

"That's enough, both of you!" Grace shouted. She grabbed the barrel of the gun and buried it in her chest. "Go ahead, tough guy. Shoot!" Grace glared at him, her green eyes glowed with anger. Her frustration was emphasized by a distant crack of thunder far off shore. Dark, menacing clouds rolled in from the sea as the wind suddenly shifted.

Mark lowered his weapon, dropping it on the stony ground. He prodded his bruised neck with one a finger. "Fuckin' robot," he cursed under his breath while glaring at Avery.

"What was that?" Grace snapped at him. She'd lost all patience. She may be small, but she was fierce when angry. "I didn't quite hear you." Her eyes narrowed at him. He looked a far cry from the hulking tower of soldier that was struggling with Avery just a few moments ago. Now, he resembled a child that'd just been scolded.

"Nothing..." Mark said, avoiding eye contact.

"Nothing what?!" Grace bellowed like a drill instructor. Ethereal clouds of anger billowed around her.

"Nothing, Ma'am." Mark replied defeated. He nudged a rock with the steel-toe of his boot and hugged his knees.

Avery had finally managed to sit up straight. Her hospital gown was torn and frayed from the struggle. Several gears and components from her empty leg socket laid strewn across the pebbles of the beach. She opened her mouth to speak but was immediately shut down by Grace.

"And you!" Grace hissed, whipping around. She stomped over to Avery, wagging her finger. "You want to ruin your only chance to fix that mangled mess of metal you call a body?"

"I, uh-" Avery gulped, unsure of what to say. She followed suit with Mark and avoided eye contact. Mark was smirking at her from behind Grace's back, clearly enjoying the fact that he wasn't the only one getting chewed out.

Grace leaned down, inches away from Avery's face and pointed towards Mark. "He pulled your sorry ass out of the river," she yelled, her voice trembling as tears began to well up in her eyes. "He was the one who brought you to me, and he is the only way we can contact the Humanists." Grace turned away from Avery, pacing between them as if struggling with her words. She stopped and gazed down the length of the beach. "I just got you back..." She wiped away her tears with a thumb before continuing her rant. "But by all means, go ahead! Kill each other!" Grace threw her hands in the air to demonstrate just how pissed off she was.

Avery and Mark looked at each other and nodded. A silent truce had been struck. Mark stood up, dusted himself off and slung his rifle over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go have a cig while you two ladies have a talk," Mark said flatly. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a half empty pack of cigarettes. He disappeared behind the rocky shelter.

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Deadman