Insert continued
To -y top ---ctor Eta:
All -- forgiven, Eta. Troops w--l be
sent w---in the week-
End
Chapter 4
I wake to wet. Wet on my face. Over
and over again. I blink my eyes open to red, with flashes of light.
Something is standing on me.
I leap up, my weapons engaging. The
rockets on my arms open, pointing at the thing that was on my chest that is now
on the floor.
Arms fold around me in a tight
restraint, and I try to break free. The arms wrap tighter, and I eventually grow
limp. I feel weak. I have never felt this way before and I don’t like it.
The arms, still holding me, place me
slowly on the bed. They release quickly and I hear a gun cock. I turn to face
it.
It’s him. The man from the garden- but
not just the garden.
I remember him.
I loved him.
“Now.” He says as he sits on a chair.
“My dog is not to be shot or anything harmful.” He gestures to the now growling
creature. He points to the door and the dog leaves.
The man points his gun at me. “I’m
going to ask you some questions, you’re going to answer them, and you won’t try
any funny business, ok?” he say. “Ok.” He responds to his own question.
“What is your name?” he starts.
“TS.”
“I asked what your name was.”
“Test Subject.”
“Are you kidding me?” he asks incredulously.
“Mari.” I say.
“Where did you come from?”
“South.”
He shrugs. “I guess that works. What are you?”
“Test Subject.”
He glares at me. “Who made you?”
“My parents.”
He snorts. “How did a machine have
parents? Are you talking about whatever made you?”
“I wasn’t always like this.” My heart
breaks (metaphorically, of course) at the memory. “I was…beautiful once.”
He stares at me. “Okay, I’m confused.
Your name is Mari, you’re from the south, you had parents, and you have a boatload of weapons. Where did those come from?”
I say nothing. I fear I have said too
much already.
He sighs. “You have questions to ask
me?”
“Who are you?”
“Kaden Anders.”
“What is the date of your birth?” I
ask.
“September 19, 2008.”
“Where were you born?”
“What was America, what is now a
wasteland.”
My breath comes in quick, short gasps.
“And…what were your parents’ names?”
“Marcos and Rebekah Anders.”
I faint again.
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