LITMIR.BIZ

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day with you, huh?”

      I stared at the stretch of road ahead through the windshield and beyond, avoiding the traveled road in the rearview mirror. “I’m thinking about it.”

      Later, we switched positions. I could tell Hunter was getting tired as the sun lowered in the sky, because he talked less and instead zoned out to whatever song was playing on the radio, his eyelids slowly lowering. Finally, the steady hum of the tires must have lulled him, because his eyes closed and his face turned soft with sleep.

      As I stared at the long, monotonous road ahead, I quickly realized that I didn’t like it when Hunter slept. It left me with too much time alone with my thoughts.

      Way too much time. Enough time for me to replay images from the past that I’d happily erase from my memory for good.

      Android parts, everywhere. Me, wading through piles of discarded arms and legs and other bits of machinery masquerading as human, their skin dry and lifeless under my hands. Flames, roaring in my ears, red-orange waves licking the floor by Mom’s bound feet—and the impact my shoulder made when I hit the glass separating us. Lucas’s body, crumpling when I struck him in the kidney with my fist—even though it was the last thing I’d wanted to do.

      All part of Holland’s sick, sadistic tests. All for nothing when he ordered me terminated anyway.

      Remembered terror tore through my body—the horror of not knowing what was happening to Mom while I was locked away in the tiny, barren cell in Holland’s compound … and the never-ending heart stab of realizing that now, she was gone. Was that pain ever—ever—going to go away?

      Mom had told me I was brave, only she had called me Sarah. A part of me was so determined to figure out who this mystery girl was, and the other part didn’t want to know. What I knew now was horrifying enough.

      As the tires rolled on and Hunter slept, I played our escape scene, over and over again. What could I have done differently? If I’d taken a different route through D.C.? Not made that desperate, wrong-way turn on the Kutz Bridge?

      The road blurred before me and I took a vicious swipe at my eyes.

       If you want to help me, you know what you can do? Live.

      Mom’s voice, already losing strength then but filled with a surprising ferocity.

       Live.

      I straightened in the seat, pushed my shoulders back. Everything Mom had done had been for me. To give me a chance to really live—in whatever capacity that meant.

      I wasn’t about to let her down.

      I pushed the button on the door, and the window whirred. The fresh air whipped me in the face, full of damp earth and, yes, some smoky car exhaust, but mostly the slightly sweet decay of leaves falling from trees. Crisp—chillier than I’d expected.

      Ambient temperature: 49.5 degrees F.

      Instead of refreshing me, though, my body stiffened as Holland’s wrinkled, smug face swam in my mind, accompanied by the scream of bullets. The explosive shatter of glass.

      In my head, I saw flames licking high, but this time he was the one bound to a chair. His sun-weathered face glistened as the heat drew closer, panic lightening his steel-gray eyes. His fear was a palpable thing, every bit as alive as the artery pulsing in his throat, and a strange sweetness swept through me.

      The rage nestled away in a dim corner of my mind roared its approval. I’d give him fire. I’d give him everything he deserved, everything—

      “Mila, look out!”

      Hunter’s shout startled me, and I just reacted. I slammed on the brakes, which resisted, then gave with a sudden jerk—at the same time Hunter threw his hand out, trying to grab the steering wheel. The Jeep careened wildly to the left.

      Car approaching, 12 ft.: Collision possible.

      Adjust right.

      I yanked the wheel to the right, overcorrecting in my panic, straight for a line of orange pylons. Construction zone. The Jeep’s front right wheel smacked one of them, and the crunch reverberated through the interior. The steering wheel jerked under my hands as the tires crunched across the debris scattered over the restricted shoulder.

      I hit the brakes. No resistance at all.

      Another pylon kicked up and cracked against the hood before it went flying, and in desperation, I swerved back to the left. Which plunged us directly toward a parked construction vehicle.

      My heart plummeted to the floorboard at the same time my android instincts took over.

      Obstacle, 3 ft.: Veer 5 degrees to the right.

      Straighten.

      Veer 10 degrees to the left.

      Pump brakes.

      I hit the brake pedal repeatedly. Nothing. The brakes wouldn’t catch, wouldn’t stop the car. Meanwhile, the Jeep kept rocketing forward. From my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of Hunter’s pale face. His arm was extended across my chest in a vain effort to protect me.

      Collision imminent, 11 ft.

      I tapped the brakes again. Again, no sign of resistance.

      8 ft.

      The Jeep bucked as an explosion like a shotgun blast was emitted from under the passenger side. Blowout.

      In desperation, I pumped the brakes once more. The car jerked, then jolted to a stop. I stared at the back door of the massive truck on the other side of the windshield, the two bumpers so close they could have been kissing.

      Obstacle, 3 in. ahead.

      Three inches. We’d missed crashing by three freaking inches.

      I let my head fall forward onto the steering wheel while Hunter drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “That was …” He trailed off.

      “Yeah.”

      Then I shot upright and turned to him, anger suddenly short-circuiting the relief. “What were you thinking, yelling at me like that?”

      His jaw hung open, reflecting the dazed expression in his eyes. “The lights …,” he finally blurted. “You were driving without the headlights on.”

      No lights. My night vision had initiated, and I hadn’t even noticed. The lines behind my human self and the machine were blurring, faster than I could have ever imagined. I guess the truth wouldn’t be denied.

      My hands trembled, while at the same time, a steady stream of power burned through my limbs. Power that had once felt like a burden, but was starting to feel like an absolute necessity.

      Holland’s face flashed again, but this time the fire licked at his toes. I could almost smell the acrid char of smoke, feel the heat singe my own skin, and the sensation sent a shiver through me.

      Overhead, clouds cloaked the moon like a shroud, and in the distance, a solitary star glittered, barely lighting the dark night canvas. The rolling green hills on either side of us were devoid of businesses, of houses. Of streetlights.

      I could only imagine how dark it looked without the lights on. Impossibly dark.

      I kept my mouth shut and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Waiting.

      Hunter peered out the windshield, forehead all furrowed in puzzlement. He muttered under his breath. “How the hell …” Then, with an angry shake of his head, his voice grew louder. “You could have killed us.”

      No, I couldn’t have. But that wasn’t something I could share. No, really, we were never in any danger, because I’ve got this great night vision built into my head.

      “But I didn’t,” I said. Because I felt like I had to say something. I hoped he’d leave it at that. I also hoped he couldn’t hear the thump-thump-thump pounding in my ears.

      He rubbed the

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