Page 105 of Wrongfully Magicked
It takes an agonizingly long minute for me to reach the surface and drag him to the side of the pool, but he has long since given up struggling. I haul his dead weight over to the edge, flop his arms over the top, then haul myself out. By the time I drag his sopping wet ass out of the water, I’m panting.
I give him a few healthy whacks on his back, but he doesn’t move. With a shove to his shoulder, I roll the big lug over, then grimace. “If you make me give you mouth-to-mouth, I’m going to fry every electronics you own for the next year.”
Kneeling in a pool of bloody water, I quickly locate the center of his chest, then thump my fist into it once. When his body doesn’t react, I do it again, only harder. He bows up, sputtering and gasping, coughing up water, and I quickly help him sit as he gains his breath.
“If you knew you couldn’t swim, why the fuck would you dive into the water?” I chide him as I stagger to my feet, then plop my hands on my hips and glare down at the idiot.
“Dire wolves are nearly impossible to kill in a fight. Their bloodlust is insatiable. He would have torn through me, then gone for you.” Stryker accepts my hand, and I nearly topple over as he pulls himself to his feet with a groan. “It was the only way to kill him before we were discovered.”
My shoulders drop, because he’s right. I’m not weak, but I don’t think I would have been able to get him to the pool on my own. As we head toward the gazebo, I glance at him with worry. “How badly are you injured? Maybe you should return to the van. I can take things from here.”
Stryker is already shaking his head. “I’ve lived through worse. You’re going to need my nose underground if you want to find your sister. The sooner we find her, the sooner we can grab Anita and leave.”
As much as I want to protest, he’s right. We both enter the gazebo, and I detect a small hum of electricity coming from a bench on the right. I skirt the fireplace in the center, then lift the bench and spot the waiting keypad.
I don’t even mess with trying to find the code, just place my hand over the console, then send a surge of electricity to short-circuit the locks. Electronics burn out all the time. There is a buzz, then the door pops open. The tunnel is surprisingly well lit, which means it’s more than just an escape hatch, but a frequently traveled area.
Stryker shrugs, ignores the ladder, and walks into empty space. He drops, landing with a grunt, then surveys the area with a sweep of his head before slowly standing. I quickly follow, conscious of time ticking away.
The air is colder and feels heavier underground. The hum of electricity is so loud that it vibrates through the cement walls. “This place is a giant computer.”
I don’t dare reach out and probe for any information.
Even a tiny disturbance would give away our location.
Stryker grunts, then lifts his head in the air and sniffs. “I’m going to hazard a guess that this is the guard station as well. There are probably over thirty people or more living down here.”
“If we follow the servers, we should find my sister.” I’m so close to finding her after years of searching that the anticipation is painful. My feet automatically turn toward the source of the computers.
I didn’t realize how much I’d given up hope until now. I take two steps down the hall when Stryker grabs the back of my shirt, nearly pulling me off my feet, before pressing my back against the wall.
That’s when I hear it.
Footsteps.
A lot of them.
I glance the opposite way, spy a door just a few feet away, then grab his arm and drag him behind me. It’s too late now to try to be subtle. I slap my hand over the electrical lock, sending a spark of energy along the circuits until a little chirp sounds. Not waiting for confirmation, I shove the door open and yank Stryker in behind me, then slam it shut.
Darkness immediately engulfs us, the door muffling any noise from beyond. The lack of sound has the hair lifting on the back of my neck. I turn, my eyes adjusting slowly, and I barely make out the shapes in the room.
As I step away from the door, a familiar hum catches my attention—computers. Everything is in hibernation mode, so I didn’t notice them right away. A large rectangle, standing four feet tall and six feet long, rests in the middle of the otherwise empty room.
Dread cools my blood to ice, and my throat tightens at the coffin-like structure. It’s a tech pod used to store bodies of tech’ers who have lost their minds in the servers. It keeps theirbodies alive in a temperature cooled environment while they are trapped in the virtual world.
I’m shaking as I approach the pod, but I already know what I’m going to find. When I touch the cool metal of the machine, I release a shuddering breath and gather my courage to look down…and the world stops around me.
Charlotte is stretched out in the middle of the box in an ergonomic chair that keeps her weight off her pressure points. The chair supports her limbs separately, allowing her to be exercised daily like a fucking dog to be walked.
It almost looks like she’s asleep, her breathing so light, it’s only the slight throb of her pulse in her neck that lets me know she’s still alive. Her complexion is so pale, her skin is translucent, the lack of sun over the years giving her a ghostly appearance. Her pale blonde hair is shaved on the sides but braided back along the top to keep the greasy strands contained.
Electrodes are attached to her scalp, and her fingers are encased in mechanical gloves in lieu of a keyboard. A feeding tube goes down her nose, while a dozen other wires have been implanted in her arms.
She’s so emaciated, she looks fragile, like one touch might shatter her.
I press my hands against the glass separating us, despair eating away at my insides.
They locked her in a fucking server pod, forcing her to do their bidding. I’m not sure if it’s even possible for me to untangle her from the system and get her out alive. A tattoo is etched along the side of her neck, the intricate lines of an electrical circuit and chip so similar to my own that my breath catches.
