Broken Things Read online

  It had taken the guard’s keys along with his clothing. It opened the door quietly. The child slept. The fear felt so much different when they were awake. It never truly went away with the abandoned children. It permeated their dreams, laced their thoughts.

  They’d given the boy such a small room, so devoid of hope. It walked cautiously into the room, careful not to wake him. A bowl of soup sat cooling on the table, untouched. The boy’s captors had left his light on. It clicked the switch, plunging the room into more forgiving darkness. It stopped next to the cot, leaning over him. It brushed a strand of hair from over the boy’s eyes, causing the boy to stir restlessly. Did it haunt the boy’s dreams? How did it rate amongst all of his other fears? Did the boy even dream?

  A single drop of blood fell from its lips onto the boy’s cheek. It reached out to wipe away the blood, but only smeared it.

  It didn’t sense any further damage to the child, but they hadn’t bothered fixing him either. Should it care if they had hurt this child if he wasn’t real? The fear felt real though, as real as anything he’d ever sensed before.

  There was a greater purpose at work here, even if it didn’t understand yet. It would reveal itself in time.

  “Soon,” he whispered to the child, and stepped back as the boy shifted uneasily. With practiced ease he slipped out the door with hardly a sound.

  18

  Josh got up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He’d had the weirdest sensation, like somebody had been talking to him in his sleep. The darkness disoriented him and for a moment he thought he might be back in his old room in the safety of his parents’ house. The illusion lasted but a second. It all came rushing back, the mountains, and the ride back with that evil Mrs. Hart, and the guy that planned to tear him apart.

  It had to still be night, but he couldn’t tell, with the only illumination coming in beneath the door. He focused on that slim band of light to find his way across the room and felt around until he found the light switch.

  He blinked and squinted until his eyes adjusted. The room remained as bland as ever. He got up, used the small toilet, and settled in to think about the last of his remaining time. Someone had placed a bowl of soup on the table while he had slept. He thought that a pretty lousy last meal, all things considered, but his stomach didn’t complain.

  After quickly eating he paced around the room. Maybe there would be someone else here that actually cared. How could so many people working with kids be so cold?

  On a whim, he walked over and tried the door. The handle felt sticky, but he ignored it. It turned easily, they had forgotten to lock the door, or thought he was too broke to care. If no one were about he could just walk out. He could go home! He slowly cracked it open and peaked.

  The hallway’s dim lighting made the place feel cold and desolate. The sound from his damaged head echoed off the walls, and he wondered how far away someone could hear it. He cautiously looked both ways. The hallway had several other doors much like his own.

  It smelled strange, reminiscent of something he’d smelled before, something like rotten meat. Dark blotches on the white tiles led down the hall to his room, ending at his door. That’s oil or something, he told himself, it’s not blood. It sure looked a lot like blood though. They’d brought the thing back with them. If it were loose in the building, it might try to find him again. He looked both ways, making sure that it wasn’t trying to sneak up on him.

  If that were blood on the floor, what was on the door handle? He looked down at his hand and a shiver raced through his body. The palm and fingers of his hand were stained with drying blood. He wiped them on his jeans, his feet moving him forward of their own accord as he lurched away from the door. It swung and slammed shut behind him. He flinched, hoping nobody (or no thing) had heard it.

  A large thump made him nearly leap out of his shoes, and he let out a tiny shriek before he could bite it back. It came from the room next to his. It could be someone working late, maybe somebody repairing something.

  The thumps turned to knocks, and the knocking to pounding. He slowly backed away from the door until he bumped into the wall on the opposite side. He didn’t know which way to run. Did it matter?

  “Who’s out there?” came a muffled voice beyond the door, “Let me out!” The voice did not belong to an adult, but a kid.

  Josh ran to the door and pressed his ear against it. “Hello? Are you a prisoner too?”

  “Hey! Yes! Open the door!”

  Josh grabbed the handle and shook it, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s locked. I can’t open it!”

  “You’ve got to get me out of here,” the kid hollered back, “Find the keys!”

  Where would they be? Why hadn’t they left this kid’s door unlocked too? He hurried down the hallway, trying each door in turn. They were all locked. He hesitated, if he delayed too long, someone was bound to find him, these places always had security. He came to the end of the hallway to a door with an opaque glass window. Though it had no sign, it looked important. As luck would have it the handle turned easily, revealing a large office.

  This room had a large window behind it, and the lights of downtown Boise shown through, providing enough illumination to see what he was doing. Josh breathed a sigh of relief, morning hadn’t come yet. He pulled out the drawers, digging through them one by one.

  The first one was full of the usual adult medications. He recognized them from his parents’ medicine cabinet. They had to take pills for their weight, to be able to digest wheat and dairy, antidepressants (his mother took five different kinds), anti-anxiety, antipsychotics, and the optional one-a-day multivitamin. As long as they took those every day, people stayed young and healthy.

  The others were filled with papers, but the one in the middle had pencils, paperclips and such, and most importantly, keys. There were dozens of them, some loose, some on key rings. He stuffed his pockets with every one he could find and rushed back.

  “I’ve got keys,” he said intently, “I’ll get you out.”

  “Just hurry!”

  He tried them one by one, dropping them when they failed. About twenty keys later, he found success. “Got it!” he cried a bit too loudly. He dumped the rest of the keys from his pocket and threw open the door to come face to face with another boy, much like himself.

  “Thanks,” The other kid said, “Let’s get out of here!” He had a ragged head of dark hair, and looked like he hadn’t had a haircut for some time. He stood about the same height, and he guessed that they must’ve been about the same age.

  “Which way?” he asked.

  “Look for exit signs!”

  Josh followed the new kid down the hallway. Though the other kid ran, he tried to follow him more slowly. He couldn’t risk blacking out. If that happened now, it would be over.

  The other kid turned around as he reached a door with a large red exit sign. “You coming?”

  “Yes, wait for me.”

  “Hurry up!”

  He reached the door, but when he went to push it open, the kid stopped him. “When we push on the handle,” he warned, “An alarm is going to sound. You’re going to have to run.”

  “I can’t,” Josh said, “I’ll shut down.”

  The other kid raised an eyebrow. “You broke or something?”

  “No, I’m just not working right.”

  “You’ve got blood on your cheek. Are you hurt?”

  Josh reached up and touched his face. He stared at the red smudge on his fingertips. He shuddered. “It was in my room!”

  “What was?”

  “The monster.”

  “Monster? What are you talking about?”

  Josh showed him the blood on his fingers. “The monster! Didn’t you see the blood back there? They brought it back from the mountains. It’s after me. It must’ve touched me.”

  “Dude, you’re freaking me out! Something is seriously wrong with you. We’ve got to reach the alley across the street. If someone comes after us, I’m running. Try an
d keep up. Once we get a block or two away we should be safe.”

  “All right.”

  “Wait. What’s that?” The kid looked over Josh’s shoulder. “Do you hear it? Someone’s coming. Get ready to run!”

  Josh looked back to see what appeared to be a security guard round the corner. He didn’t walk quite right, as if his legs weren’t cooperating. He didn’t need a closer look, though he couldn’t see the face he knew what it was. “That’s not a guard!”

  “Of course it is, run!” The kid threw open the door, and a piercing alarm broke the silence. With all worries of blacking out forgotten, he ran right on the other kid’s heels.

  When they reached the other side of the street, the other boy grabbed his arm and pulled him into the shadows. “Wait!” he whispered, “Security!”

  “I told you that’s not security,” Josh said. “That’s the monster.”

  “Why’s it dressed like security? You think they’re giving monsters jobs?”

  “I don’t know. I think it still see us.”

  “No way, we’re hidden. Come on.” They snuck down the alley, moving more cautiously. Soon they reached a residential neighborhood and slipped into a backyard to wait for morning. They sat in silence, listening to the sound of sirens and the sound of distant traffic.

  “Thanks again,” said the kid, “For saving me. I thought I was a goner!”

  “Me too,” Josh replied, “And you’re welcome. Are you defective too?”

  “Me? No way! I’m state of the art.”

  “Then why were you there?”

  “Not every kid that ends up at Kidsmith is defective. They also bring in runaways. That’s what I am. I’m not licensed to any adult. They can’t have homeless kids roaming the street, so they bring them in for reclamation. They do a memory wipe, do some touch-ups, and sell us again.”

  “You’re homeless?” he asked, “How’d you lose your parents?”

  “My owners used to knock me around. I decided to leave while I could still walk. I eventually learned ways to fix myself. I’m a ‘mod’.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means I got rid of the crap parts Kidsmith put in me and replaced it with good stuff. Kids going defective are nothing new. I however, will last forever.”

  “I want to be a ‘mod’,” Josh said, “How do you do it?”

  “I can’t do it, it takes someone that knows children.”

  “But it would fix me, wouldn’t it?”

  “Maybe,” the kid replied with a shrug, “Maybe not. It depends what’s all wrong with you. What is wrong with you, anyway? Your head whistles. Does that make you see monsters?”

  “I was in an accident. I’ve got damaged parts.”

  “Maybe you just need a parts replacement.”

  “So can you help me?” Josh asked, “Can you show me where you got modded?”

  “I guess so. But there’s a cost, and it’s not always money.”

  The sun rose over the horizon turning the houses from dark silhouettes into distinct buildings. Somewhere nearby a dog started barking and wouldn’t quit. Traffic began to increase as adults began to filter their way to their jobs.

  “We should get going,” the kid said, “There are better places to be than here. Someone’s gonna catch us if we stick around. My name’s Neil. What’s yours?”

  “Josh,” he said, “So if you don’t have parents, how do you survive?”

  “I have help,” he said, “It’s about who you know. If you know the right people you don’t need anyone. You need to quit thinking of them as parents. They’re owners. They don’t see you as a real kid, no matter how much they pretend.”

  “I miss mine.”

  “You won’t. Eventually. Owners lie. They treat you like their own, but all they really want is a pet. Then once you aren’t new anymore, when you start to slow down, they get rid of you and get a new one.”

  “I think they just lost me. They’ll be happy to see me again.”

  “Nobody loses kids. Once they realize what they’re in for, all of the responsibility, they start looking for a way out. They start with thinking everything will be perfect, that they need someone underfoot, but we’re programmed to be just like real human beings, but ones that never age, like them. They get a kid that pouts, sulks, throws temper tantrums, demands toys, makes a mess of their room, you name it, and two days later it gets old.

  “Then they start asking themselves if they really want a kid. They get disappointed because their kid isn’t as smart as their friend’s kid, or isn’t as cute. So you trade that kid in for a newer model, and you tell Kidsmith what you want different, and then there you go, a brand new happy family. Maybe this time however, you’ve been replaced with a girl or someone older, or younger and cuter.”

  “But if that’s the case,” Josh said, “Shouldn’t there be a world full of discarded children?”

  “Of course there is,” Neil answered, “There’s tons of throwaways. There’s a room back at Kidsmith full of them, all broken and used for parts. But sooner or later, they all end up in the pit.”

  “What’s the pit?”

  “Kid Cemetery. It’s a landfill full of broken children.”

  Josh stopped walking. “That place is real?”

  Neil didn’t stop. “Of course it is. What do you think they do with all of those garbage parts? They got to go somewhere. It can’t all be reused.”

  “You’ve seen it?” Josh asked as he hurried to catch up, “I can’t believe that they wouldn’t have fixed me if they could have.”

  “So what did you do to let them down?”

  “Nothing.” But maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

  Part 3

  1

  Josh walked along next to Neil, for the first time in days feeling like he had hope. The world ignored them. Once a police car had driven by and Josh wanted to run, but Neil paid it no mind, and the officer didn’t even look their way. Once he was a mod like Neil his parents would take him back. They’d want a kid that was better than everyone else’s.

  “It doesn’t matter that we escaped,” Neil explained, “They don’t want people to see us as real or as trouble-makers. And Kidsmith doesn’t have the resources like they used to, to track us down. Unless you get caught shoplifting they’re going to leave you alone.”

  Neil turned into the driveway of a small rundown house with peeling paint. Soda cans, cigarette butts, and plastic bags were scattered amidst the thick weeds and patches of grass that masqueraded as a lawn. Josh followed as the boy lifted the garage door just high enough to slip under and let it fall noisily shut behind them. Boxes of electronics parts were everywhere. They filled the shelves and created a barely usable path through the two-car garage that only had room for one old car that looked almost as rundown as the house. Neil walked up to a door and knocked.

  “Do you live here?” Josh asked.

  “No, sometimes I stay here though.”

  A moment later the door cracked open and an adult with dark frizzy hair and a thick scraggly beard peered out. “Neil,” the man said, “What’ve you been up to?”

  “I got caught shoplifting,” Neil replied, “Took me in for parts. This kid busted me out.”

  “Dude, that sucks. That’s twice now, isn’t it? Soon you’re not going to be able to go anywhere.”

  Neil shrugged.

  The man laughed, opening the door wide, and gestured for them to enter. They squeezed by his obstructive bulk. “Any friend of Neil’s is a friend of mine,” he said, “But if you try to steal anything, I’ll bust your case open.”

  Josh nodded rapidly. “I won’t.”

  The boys wove through the house path created by boxes, books, magazines, and computers (many in pieces) stacked in every available spot. Josh tried not to stare. It wasn’t anything like his home. His mother picked up everything, and everything had its place. He’d never been too good at picking up his own room and she constantly pestered him every time she’d peek in. Maybe that w
as something that had disappointed them.

  “You guys hungry?” the man asked, “I’ve a cupboard full of cereal.”

  The boys nodded eagerly, and with Neil taking the lead they helped themselves to overflowing bowls. The man sat down across from them, watching them eat. He introduced himself as Cody.

  In between mouthfuls Josh said, “Neil says that you can ‘mod’ me.”

  Cody smiled, and said with a shrug, “I suppose. I’ve done my share.”

  “So, can you?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, “I’ve got to see what’s under the hood. With your permission of course.”

  “Yes!” Josh said eagerly, “Where do you have to look?”

  Cody stood walked around behind him. “At the base of the neck, off of the spine. It gives me access to your brain, and I can see what’s making that noise. All I got to do is push in and lift. Now let’s see, I got to unplug you for a sec…”

  2

  When Josh opened his eyes, Neil was gone. “How long was I out?”

  “About an hour,” Cody replied, “You had a broken fan blade. I’m surprised you didn’t burn up. I had an extra one I didn’t need. Notice anything different?”

  Josh looked around. He listened, but the only sound other than the man’s breathing came from a television in another room.

  “I don’t hear it,” he said, “The sound is gone!”

  “Yeah, it was an easy fix. I think you’ll feel a lot better now.”

  “So am I fixed?”

  “Yes, you’re almost as good as new.”

  “That was it? They told my father I would cost thousands of dollars to fix.”

  Cody shrugged. “I ran diagnostics, tightened your connections, replaced a damaged circuit. I didn’t see any real damage. Besides being old. You’re way overdue for an upgrade. You’re model is an Adam36, that’s what your microprocessor is. You’re a second generation kid, which has a terrible failure rate. Kidsmith claims that it’s one percent, but the truth is that it’s closer to fifteen. You’ve probably got another year in you though.”