Page 110 of The Love Interest
“Caden. We need to go. Come on!”
I let him pull me forward and then we run down the hallway.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
I press the card against the screen. It shows Craike’s face, and the sheet of glass descends, sinking right into the floor. Juliet goes first, holding the gun in front of her. We all step through after her.
“Oh my—” says Juliet.
At the far end of the room is a small army of Stalkers. Rows and rows of them, all standing perfectly still. They’re all dormant. At the very back of the room, in a glass cabinet, is a Stalker made of white plastic. It’s bigger and chunkier than the others. My first guess is that it’s a prototype.
The rest of the room is taken up by a lab eerily similar to Juliet’s, albeit one that’s much cleaner. It’s filled with silver benches covered with neatly organized scientific equipment: test tubes, circuit boards, microscopes.
Sitting at one of the desks, peering through a microscope, is a man in a long white lab coat. He has thinning brown hair and a gaunt, bony face. Square glasses sit at the end of his nose, making his brown eyes look much bigger than they really are.
I step in front of the others, shielding them with one arm.
He looks up from the microscope. “There’s no need for that nonsense, Caden. I’m not going to hurt anyone.”
“How do you know my name?”
He stands up and makes his way toward us, walking around a peculiar device. It’s a circular pad, about a yard in diameter, that sends up a pillar of soft blue light. The base of the pad is attached to a thick gray cable that leads to a computer.
“Of course I know your name,” he says. “You have destroyed two of the most important advances in human history. Two of my creations. My children. You butchered them. So when you’re marched to the incinerator, and trust me, it will happen, I’m going to watch with a smile on my face.”
“What happened to not hurting anyone?”
“I won’t kill you myself, you idiot.” He turns to Juliet and bows. “Hello, my dear Juliet. My name is Dr. Scheinman, and I’m incredibly excited to meet you. A mind like yours, well, it’s like mine, rarer than one in a million. In the future, you will create as I have created.” His eyes focus on the Bolt Glove on my right hand. “And you already have. It would take an extraordinary weapon to destroy my extraordinary weapons. And you made this with minimal training in a shed in your backyard. You have so much potential, Juliet, and if you align yourself with an organization that can provide you with the right resources, you’ll conquer the world.” His eyes light up. “Speaking of, if you continue to create like you do, my employer will become interested in employing you. In fact, I believe they already are. The others must die, but you can live if you join us.”
Juliet crosses her arms. “Thanks, but no thanks. I have no intention of inventing things that assist slavery.”
He barks a harsh laugh. “But you’re willing to kill people? Come on, Juliet, you’re a creator, like me. You are as close as possible to the beings all those feebleminded religious people pray to. You are a goddess, Juliet, an inventor. It doesn’t matter what lesser people do with what you make, all that matters is that you made it.”
“You’re wrong, that’sallthat matters. Also, you’re a murderer, so no offense, but there’s no way I’m going to take career advice from you.”
“How many people have you killed?” growls Dyl. “You created the Stalkers, right? They captured Love Interests and brought them back here to die. No, not Love Interests, they capturedkids. Kids who are now dead because of you. You’re disgusting.”
The scientist rolls his eyes. “And you’re a gullible fool. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that…”
I realize what he’s doing. He takes another slow step to the left. Toward the blue light.
“Stop him!” I cry.
It’s too late.
He leaps into the light. Pinpoints of blue neon illuminate each of his joints.
At the back of the room, one of the Stalkers lights up. The man steps forward, and the Stalker mimics his movements. It sprints toward us.
Dyl dives forward with his arms outstretched. He flies through the blue light, his arms wrapping around the man’s frail torso. The light flashes red as they both sail out of the column. They hit the ground and roll once.
“Get off me!” cries Dr. Scheinman. Dyl pushes him away and stands up. The scientist remains on the floor.
The Stalker is standing in the middle of the room, rigidly upright, but motionless. It’s now totally black.
I tilt my head to the side and step toward Dr. Scheinman. “You were controlling them?”
