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“They’ll have everything packed up, the computers wiped clean, and the whole organization gone by now,” Dietrich said. “I imagine it’s just an empty building.”
Forgetting about her need to be near Kent, Lexie skipped to catch up to his father on the tarmac, curiosity consuming her. “Why?”
“Too much risk,” he said. “They’ve had a fallback position for years, what they’d do and where they’d go if anyone found out.”
Again, she asked a simple question. “Why? Did they expect it to be exposed? And if not, then why didn’t they? That seems foolish. For that matter, the fact no one’s questioned what they were doing in that building seems odd. Surely, there’ve been red flags by now. Plus ...” She drew in a breath. “Taxes.”
Dietrich came to a halt. He laughed, when Kent caught up to them, slapping him on the back. “I like your girlfriend,” he said. “She’s smart. She asks good questions.”
“Just don’t expect answers,” Kent replied.
This made Dietrich laugh all the harder. “My boy has figured women out already. I’m a proud pop.” He surged back forward.
Kent’s voice grew wary. “I made him proud?”
“Just go with it,” she said.
They barreled away from the airport, Dietrich behind the wheel, and the city and its maze of buildings faded in the distance. A more rural countryside took over. The excitement of the last few hours took their toll on Lexie at last. Her eyes pulling shut, she gave into it, laying her cheek to Kent’s shoulder. She started awake sometime later with him lifting her from the SUV. He tossed her against his chest, and she wrapped one arm around his neck.
“What is this place?” she asked, sleepy. Kent set her on her feet.
There were inside what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse several football fields in length. Gray, corrugated metal walls stretched upward to rusted steel beams. It was empty, dusted with debris from years of disuse, except for what looked like a circular railing in the center.
Dietrich headed in that direction, rounding the edge. He grasped hold of a metal door in the center and swung it upward. Beneath was a set of stairs. “Old missile silo,” he said. “Bought it about ten years ago, thinking it’d come in handy.” He waved his wife in first, then she and Kent. He came in at the rear.
The overhead door shut with a clang and the stairwell grew quite dark. At the bottom, they spread out on a landing that circumnavigated the edge. Lexie looked upward, then over the edge of the railing. It was actually a huge hole in the ground, on this level, gaping and ragged, but a few feet away, she spotted a door.
Dietrich motioned them toward it and through to a well-lit staircase. LED lights cast a blue glow on finished walls. Climbing downward, they stepped into a round room lined with computers.
Jack stood in the center. Seeing him, Lexie sprinted across the room. She threw herself at his waist, and he staggered backward.
Dietrich chuckled. “You’re supposed to hug back,” he said. “Women like that sort of thing.”
Jack’s hand landed on her shoulder briefly, and then he straightened.
She separated herself and took in his curious expression. “It’s okay to miss someone, and I missed you. Where’s Father Royce?”
Jack motioned across the room. “He’s downstairs.”
She furrowed her brow. “There’s more?”
There was, in fact, a lot more, the silo extending some two hundred feet into the ground. The different levels had been outfitted with all the modern necessities – a kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms, even a large living area. Along the way, she noticed a series of heavy, what Dietrich called, blast doors, originally meant to withstand the heat and pressure of a fired missile.
“This is headquarters,” Dietrich said, “where we monitor them.”
Lexie turned her attention to the computer monitors. Most of what was on the screens seemed illegible to her. “Question. If they started out doing good ... I mean, they wanted to protect Father Royce ... Was that wrong?”
Dietrich folded his arms over his chest. “They protected Father Royce because they wanted his knowledge,” he said. “They wouldn’t have harmed him physically, but would have mined his thoughts for information about the stone.”
“They didn’t kill that other guy though, right?”
“Elam Hedgwick,” Dietrich replied. “No, that was someone else, and that person we need to find. I suspect it’s a former associate of ours.” At this remark, he leaned over to a computer and tapped the screen. A photo of a man in a lab coat appeared.
Kent and Jack both said his name at once. “Ahmed Fawaz.”
“Ahmed? He’s Muslim?”
Dietrich nodded. “He has radical leanings. He’s worked with cyborgs, knows enough to be dangerous, but lacks the formula to create his own. Hence, his need for the book.”
“Can we find him?” Kent asked the question, and Lexie switched her gaze to his face. “You said to solve the mystery,” he continued. “We must find him and retrieve the book.”
She smiled softly.
“I’ve had 852 looking into that. He was close when your readings became erratic.” He glanced at Kent then. “I felt it more important to see why, knowing the Organization would try to retrieve you.” Dietrich’s lips creased in a smile. “When 852 told me you were in love, I admit I was flabbergasted.”
“Wait ...” Lexie eyed him. “You’ve been watching him, too?”
Dietrich gave no response for a moment, then waved a hand toward the array of screens and thousands of tiny images emerged, all with diagrams like she’d seen of Kent before, and the face of a male cyborg. Lexie’s legs weakened, and she fell into a chair.
“You said ...” she whispered. Said there were thousands, but knowing and seeing were two different things. “Why? And how? I have so many questions. Why are they all male? No females?”
“Only one,” Dietrich said. He motioned toward one image in particular. “241. She formed on her own, without any intervention. No one could explain it. The Organization felt it best to only have males, yet there she was.”
“She’s ... like them?” Lexie asked. She glanced at Kent then Jack, and her gaze paused on his face. Something arose there, something she recognized, but probably no one else who knew him had seen it. He probably didn’t even know what it was.
She rounded in front of him and laid the flat of her hand on his chest. “That comes from in here, doesn’t it?” she asked.
He glanced down at her, unspeaking.
“You’re in love with her.”
“In love?” Pamela circled into Lexie’s view. “With 241?”
Lexie met her gaze. “Is that so hard to believe? He’s human. He’s part of Dietrich and some other human woman. If I remember my numbers right, 241 wouldn’t be related to him, and the only child of her parents.” She spun her head back toward Dietrich. “Where is she?”
His gaze grew deep, and to her thinking, sad. “No one knows,” he said, at last. “She disappeared a couple years ago and there’s been no sign of her since.”
“Lexie?”
The sound of Father Royce’s gentle tones spun her around again. His face warmed her heart, and she detached herself from Jack and embraced him. He smiled wide.
“You’re okay?” she asked.
He waved one hand, dismissive. “I admit to being a bit confused when Jack said we had to go. But he seemed like a trustworthy young man and so smart. He said we’d see you.”
Lexie met Jack’s blank stare. “How did you know that? Anything could have happened to us.”
Jack shrugged. “You said you would,” he replied, “and I figured your God would help you.”
Silent, another thought formed in her mind. Releasing Father Royce, she reached for Kent. “Father? Can you perform a ceremony?”
“A ceremony? Yes, of course, but it depends on what kind. I can do dedicatory or ...”
“A wedding ceremony.”
He stopped speaking mid-sentence.
“I won’t go one more night without him. Please? His family’s here. You know me. I don’t need anything fancy.”
Father Royce’s broad smile seemed to light the room. “I’d be happy to,” he said. “I had a feeling about you two the very first day he arrived. Was like something whispered in my ear, ‘There’s the one.’”
She faced Kent again. “He’s the one,” she said softly. “I don’t care about anything else, except ...” She looked toward Dietrich. “His last name. I call him Kent, because ... well, that’s his name to me. But I guess Spivey’s not his real name. Do they have last names?” she asked.
Dietrich rubbed one finger down the bridge of his nose. “That is complicated. It’s basically more numbers. 653’s number is 814627. 852’s is 814638.”
“Should I ask?” She made a face.
He laughed once. “Go with Spivey. It’s much simpler.”
653 stood at the edge of the room, a sea of doubts washing over him. As if the ceremony itself wasn’t confusing enough, being in here with her and no one caring went against the restraint he’d been taught to have where she was concerned.
“Why are you over there?” Lexie asked.
Perched on the edge of the bed, fully clothed, she motioned for him, but he found his feet stuck to the floor. “I don’t understand,” he said.
She stared up at him then rose and approached. She made no effort to touch him. “What don’t you understand?”
“I promised to love you ‘for better or for worse,’” he quoted, “but I would do that anyway. You knew that and so did I. Why did I have to say so?”
Lexie folded her hands at her waist and inhaled. “The others needed to hear it. You have to promise to do it before other people. That’s the difference.”
“Obedience.”
She sighed. “No, not like you’ve been programmed. When God created man in the garden, He wanted children that worshipped Him because they chose to. That’s why you having no thoughts of your own upset me so much. God didn’t make an endless line of mechanical devices. He made men and women with thoughts and feelings.”
“He risked much.”
Thoughts and feelings, he discovered more every day, were the cause of the greatest amount of risk. Many things in life could be done successfully. But because of fear or temptation or any other number of wayward mental sensations, they either didn’t get done or were done incorrectly.
“And he created woman for man,” she continued. “You know the verse.”
He searched the database in his head and quoted it fluently. “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh. Genesis two, twenty-four. We have to leave?” he asked.
“No. It’s figurative. It means you become the responsible one. Remember the children at the park?”
He nodded.
“They can’t be left on their own. They need their mom and dad’s help. But you’re a grown man. You know how to live on your own, how to take care of your wife.”
That made sense. He would take care of her. But still, his reluctance remained. Tonight, he would cross a line he was never meant to cross. He’d become the first cyborg to marry, the first to have a wife, and now, the first to know what came next. But there was the thing. He didn’t know what came next. No one had told him. All he had was a whole lot of feelings for her that he didn’t know where to place.
“I’m afraid,” he said.
“Of me?”
“Of this. What if I do something wrong? What if I hurt you?”
A smile trembled on Lexie’s lips and fleeted away as quickly as it had came. She took his hand and shifted it aside, fitting herself against him. “You let me worry about that.” She tossed her head back, meeting his gaze. “I’ve never done this either, so all the things you don’t know, neither do I. We’ll figure them out together, and I promise the end result will be okay.”
“Faith,” he said.
She didn’t respond, but brought her mouth to his, and the love in his heart all but choked him. Searing, blinding, he gave into it, and found in their union, in each touch and glance, the tangle of limbs, the beating of their hearts, something he’d never thought to gain. Knowledge.
She lay at his side after, her body pasted to his, and truth formed in his mind. “852 is in love with 241,” he said, repeating the revelation.
Lexie draped one arm over his chest. “Yes.”
“I didn’t see it before, but they grew up together. He spent time with her. I think ...” He paused, a memory fleeting. “I think they’ve done this.”
Lexie twisted in place. “You think they’ve had sex?”
He nodded. “I saw them, but I didn’t understand.”
“But ... she disappeared and ...” Lexie’s gasp pulled her upright. She swiveled to face him. “How long before she disappeared?”
He searched his database. “Eight weeks, two days, and five hours. Why?”
Lexie gazed down at him, and suddenly, what they’d already done, he wanted to do again. He held himself back.
“Two reasons,” she said. “One, how do you know the hours?”
His desire escalated, and he curled his hand into a fist. “I saw her leave.”
“You saw her?”
“Yes.”
Lexie ran one finger across her brow. “Let me ask you this. Was she any bigger than she was before? I mean, had she gained weight?”
“To the human eye, not enough you would notice.”
She waved one hand outward. “To your eye. That’s what I’m asking. You said you knew how much I weighed, so I take it you know how much she did.”
“She had gained two-point-three pounds,” he said. “It is unusual. Cyborgs don’t gain weight. Our bodies are efficient.”
Lexie drew in a breath. “Okay, given that, I’m going to toss this out there. I know what you said about your reproduction ... But given ... uhm ... what just happened between us, I’m going to say it’s possible. Plus, you aren’t supposed to feel anything and now, you do. That’s not planned either.”
653 dug his fingers into the mattress. Too much. He felt too much and didn’t know how to turn it off. It stole his thoughts, captured his breath. It was consuming, the worst and the best emotions all at once. He focused on Lexie’s face, wishing what she was saying made more sense. But all he could think of was becoming part of her again. It was addictive. She was addictive, and he was helpless in the face of it.
“What if she was pregnant?” Lexie asked.
“Pregnant?” The word fitted itself in his mind. “It isn’t possible.”
“But you saw them together, and you said she’d gained weight she shouldn’t. She probably took off because she was hungry, and no one would feed her enough. Plus, she would gain even more weight and then ... then they’d probably take the baby from her.” Lexie covered her mouth. “Oh, that’s awful. Would they do that? Would ...?”
And he couldn’t take it anymore. He reached for her and dragged her downward, his mouth finding hers. “I am through talking,” he said, husky in her ear. “My circuits are on overload.”
Lexie laughed, once. “Then by all means ...”
“You are in pain?” Jack asked, his gaze curious.
Lexie halted in place, an ache in her thighs spreading outward, and considered her answer. “Yes and no. Let’s say you cyborgs have no use for sleep and leave it at that.”
His head tilted.
She grasped his arm for leverage and lowered herself into a chair, heaving a sigh. “I want to talk to you.” She glanced over her shoulder, seeing no one. “Kent told me you were down here, and I asked him to distract the others. So it’s just me and you. I want you to be honest.”
“Tell the truth,” he said.
She nodded her acknowledgement. “It’s about 241.”
At mention of the girl’s numbers, his face changed noticeably, his eyes growing moist.
“You love her.” She held up one hand. “That’s not a question. I know you do. What I want to know is if you and she ... tried to reproduce.”
His expression became blank again, and she inhaled. “Do you know what I’m asking?”
Still, he didn’t respond, so she tried a different angle. “The movie we watched. You asked Kent what lust felt like, and you acted surprised by his answer. So I’m going to guess what you and 241 did, you both were unprepared for. No one explained it to you?”
He turned aside then, his gaze somewhere across the room. “She left.”
Lexie started, understanding slipping into place. He didn’t know what he’d done, so, of course, wouldn’t understand the consequences.
“And you assumed it was because of you? Jack, look at me.”
He was slow in turning, when he did, all questions she had about his behavior fled. She took his hand, and he glanced downward.
“She had to leave. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to be around you.”
“You don’t know that,” he replied.
“I’m a woman. I do know. Your brother and I talked about this, and I’m almost positive I know why. It’s a miracle, one that changes everything for everyone.”
He stood to his feet, pulling away from her, and turned aside. Undeterred, Lexie followed. Moving in front of him, she placed one hand on his chin. “You were young, and they didn’t tell you what can happen when a man and woman are together. They didn’t want you to know because it was too dangerous. Your father, Dietrich, said she wasn’t supposed to exist. Yet she did. God created her for a purpose, and maybe you and she didn’t go about it right. But He can fix this if we’ll ask Him.”
“Your God,” he said.
She bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. She exhaled softly. “Our God. He isn’t God because you don’t believe in Him. I promise we’re going to find them both.”
“Them?” Jack’s eyes rested hard on her face. “Who else is missing?”
He really didn’t know, and the innocence of that settled hard on Lexie’s shoulders. She held her answer in until her lungs ached with it, then lowered her hands to his. Curling his fingers into hers, she prayed for wisdom.
“She left because she was pregnant. Jack, somewhere out there, 241 had your baby.”
He stared at her, blank, then sagged, his knees bending, his spine curving, and crumpled into a ball at her feet.