Blood. [Random Short Story]
A/N: I wrote this for my creative writing course. This is like our final paper or something like that. e_e; I hope it's decent...
Click… Click… Click… BOOM!
The clicking at the door had been enough of a signal for him to move. He hadn’t exactly gotten away fast enough to evade the wood and other debris that spread throughout his living room, a nice size shard of the door flying by and slicing a good, deep gash in his left forearm. A small cloud of smoke, along with its pungent ash smell quickly filled the living room. He hadn’t been prepared for this.
A few drops of blood landed on the carpet, but he cupped it with his hand and hurried into the kitchen. He grabbed one of the dishrags from the holder above the sink, quickly binding it around the gash, gritting his teeth from the sting of pressure on an open wound. Thankfully, the cloth halted most of the excess oxygen-rich liquid from seeping onto the floor.
He was scared to walk into the main room, but he was baking anyway. Their noses would pick up the scent of the cake in the oven and they would know where to look.
He slipped his glasses off and set them on the counter, his flour and blood stained fingertips both blending and standing out against the white tile. His blue-gray eyes scanned the room for something he could possibly use to defend himself.
A broom… That could work. He broke it over his knee, holding both pieces in his hands for the time being.
The boots marching from the door and the sound of broken glass. They were looking for blueprints. They were looking for her. He wouldn’t let them have her. He knew the consequences of his actions, figured it would come to this.
He wouldn’t go down without a fight.
His adrenaline pulsed to the point that his ears were ringing. The sweat beading along his brow was causing thin white strands to stick to his forehead. His pale hand brushed away the few dangling in his eyes. His brow furrowed as the timer went off to check the oven, a faint sign of disappointment on his lips. Funny, how in a moment like this, he was more worried about the cake in the oven than his life as it flashed before his eyes, trying to remind him of the more prominent situation at hand.
“Dr. Nebraska Shimizu… It’s a pleasure.”
“I wish I could say the same.”
“It’s quite alright. The pleasure’s all mine.”
Nebraska eyed the stranger as the man stalked the isle of the kitchen and ran his blackened fingertips along the countertop, like a hunter exploring the environment of his prey before making the kill. He felt his heart drop to his stomach, forcing back tears as his boots closed in on the oven.
“You were once our prized possession, doctor. Ironic how we’re coming after you now, huh?”
“All good things must come to an end.”
“Seems to be so.”
There were just three of them. Nebraska was sure he could take them, or so he thought. The last thing that he expected was to see the child of his creative innovation coming around the corner, dressed in all black just like the other invaders. This couldn’t be his little angel. Her eyes shouldn’t be glowing red like this and her fingers shouldn’t be curling around the gun in her palm, melding perfectly to the black metal.
“It’s amazing what the right hacker can do, isn’t it, doctor?”
Nebraska’s eyes widened, “You…You shouldn’t have been able to do that!”
The suit-clad stranger let out a chuckle from deep in his throat. His piercing eyes could have been mistaken for machine or monster. They were too dark and cold to be anything human.
“Project K, you have your assignment,” his voice rang with authority, playful tone suddenly giving off the same chill as his eyes.
“Kuro, you don’t want to do this,” Nebraska pleaded, fingers pressing into the wood of the broken broom in his hands. He could feel splinters here and there pressing back into his skin, pricking at it and trying to break through.
The girl in front of him only tilted her head. She didn’t know who this “Kuro” was nor why this strange man thought it was okay to call her that. She glanced at the apparent leader of all of this before aiming her gun at whose blood she was to shed.
The doctor stood strong now, tears filling his blue-gray eyes until everything in front of him was blurred, “I won’t let her live with the guilt of my blood on her hands.”
Before anyone could react, one of the broom pieces in his hand dropped to the floor, the other angling at his chest. The skin was pierced and he dropped to his knees. His vision now blurry from more than just tears. A weak smile graced his lips as he muttered his last words, just loud enough for her to hear:
“Kuro, I love you.”
~~~
The backup he’d come in with were outside, climbing into the back of a black truck, heading back to headquarters. A whole slew of men in black tee shirts and with matching cargo pants and combat boots, began to pour into the house instead.
“Hey boss… Did he really have to die?”
This weak voice was one of the rookies. He looked complete opposite of how he came in. He had been all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, anxious for his first taste of his exciting new life. Now, he looked as if he was going to throw up any second. Yeah, absolutely nothing had prepared him for seeing a man stab himself straight through the chest his first day.
The answer to his question finally came:
“You’ll learn: Sometimes push doesn’t come to shove; Sometimes… A good shove into the deep end is the only choice you have.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just never leave any loose ends…”
Two Months Later…
What are alleyways to someone who knows them? Nothing but hallways that sometimes end in dead ends. And to those who don’t know them? Mazes where everyone is a little, white lab rat trying to find their way out, to sort out everything. To figure out what drew them to the dark end with cold brick walls.
The eye-watering stench of urine is in one corner and month-old garbage lay in the other. The screeching of rats versus alley cats and the howling of the dogs that come to break up their petty fights. The cold night being greeted with a small makeshift bonfire of scattered newspaper, because burning the garbage would make the scent suffocating.
She doesn’t want to think about her sudden craving for blood either. All her mind has been able to think about lately is that thick, irony taste on the back of her tongue. It’s a wonder she’s made it this far without breaking. No, it’s a wonder that she has yet to be discovered; the smell of her blood…or whatever it is that courses through her veins is stronger, she’s sure. She can’t remember when her hunger started to only be quenched by blood. No, she’s never been human, always an android.
But somewhere along the way, she became more human than she could have ever imagined.
More than Dr. Shimizu could ever have imagined.
But maybe no one’s bothered to come after her because they know the truth. How poisonous this blood of hers is - a drug to humans and monsters alike. They could’ve found the shapeshifter in the forest that refused to heed her warning or the dark angel that thought he could handle anything.
Most importantly, she’s sure that she’ll be blamed for the death of her creator.
Dr. Shimizu was such a nice man. Young and highly intelligent for his age. She’ll never understand how someone could actually kill him. On the other hand, she’s seen human ignorance and jealousy at its best.
When she’d arrived at the house that particular day, there was blood splattered on the floor of the living room, all across the hardwood floor. The smell of burnt vanilla, similar to a cake, slithered from the kitchen - a scent that had imprinted itself in her skin. She eventually found his body splayed across the white linoleum floor. From the looks of the shattered dishware, scattered pots and pans, and the broken broom, the doctor has definitely put up a fight, although, futile and fatal.
At that point, she couldn’t think of anything else to do but run. She’d had her updates, every part of her was top of the line, especially the parts that the doctor had modified to fit her the way he wanted. So, she ran.
She’s hurting. That artificial heart pumping inside her aches just from thinking about him, from remembering that last conversation.
Her eyes widened when she heard the whirring of the drill. After all these years, maybe she was just becoming more human. The smell of the oil and burning metal should’ve been something she was used to by now, but the more updates and the more check-ups she got, she realized it was going in the completely opposite direction.
Dr. Nebraska Shimizu glanced up at her through the white locks of his fringe, setting the drill aside and pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Kuro, what’s wrong,” he reached up to move her hair away from her eyes so he could see her expression. The special name he’d given her causing a faint smile to touch the edges of her lips.
“It hurts,” she spoke numbly, glancing down at him. Her cyber blue eyes just as empty as her tone.
He frowned, upset with himself for hurting her, but he knew it was just something that had to be done. A moment later, he was smiling again. It was something that she realized she was only ever able to see. He was so closed off and had sheltered himself so much that it was just something no one else would see.
His thin fingers curled around her cheek as he cupped the side of her face, “I’m only helping you, okay? Once the pain is gone, nothing will hurt you again. I’m only here to protect you. Do you understand?”
She nodded. He was her protector. He always had been.
A car driving by allows her to catch her reflection. She couldn’t possibly look that awful. The puddle down beside her though only echoes what she’s just seen.
A once beautiful, human-looking female android now with her short purplish-gray hair matted and streaked with dried blood, unknown as to whose it was. Her eyes, once a bright electric blue now merged with black and crimson around the edges. Her lips and teeth stained with blood as well. The bags under her eyes making them look sunken in now, looking just as dark and sunken as her cheeks.
She goes to swat at the puddle and stops to stare at her hand. It appears clawed and her veins are protruding. She wonders if she appears to be a victim of malnutrition in the eyes of an onlooker.
“Carrigan…” Her name pains her ears. Only a selected group knew her by that name. But how did someone find her? Her eyes meet theirs.
Zachery…
~~~
The bright lights remind her of Dr. Shimizu’s work room. The steel table for lying on while he was working. The little side table like the ones in dentist offices for holding utensils. The same ones that stand by surgeons and their operating tables. The smell of oil, rubber, and metal. It touches on that circuit that sparks all of her memories to the forefront, to the point that she can even hear Nebraska in the back of her mind calling out his nickname for her, “Kuro~ Kuro~”
It’s all familiar, except for this hand touching hers. Touching it brings back only vague memories of the person it belongs to, but that still doesn’t help clarify where she is or why.
“Don’t look so afraid…Please? I’m not programmed for that…”
“Programmed? What is your programming?”
“Same as yours.”
“I am a companion. Nothing more.”
Zachery’s laugh makes her cringe. There’s nothing funny about that. Unless he knows how alone she’s been for the past two months. There’s irony in being built for companionship and having no friends.
“You need to charge?”
“Do you mean do I need to be fed? Yes.”
Zachery listens, although unsure of how to really go about cooking anything. He only knows charging. He realizes that food is something humans eat to charge. At least that’s how his brain computes just why they eat the garbage they do.
“What do you eat,” his words are slow and precise. She can tell his communication either lacks from use or from lack of proper updates.
“Blood…”
Zachery’s eyes light up, and not in the typical robotic nature. It’s more like how a human’s widens in both fright and awe. This is when Carrigan realizes that he actually has an eye color. While hers show nothing but the artificial red or blue lights there were given, his are green. A light green, similar to the pastel shade that’s usually seen on nursery walls for infants.
In his face, he looks much more human than she does, or probably ever will. With his auburn shag, green eyes, and sun-kissed skin tone. Not to mention, he doesn’t have cat ears like she does. She’s forgotten they’re there until she looks away from him, spotting her appearance in one of the glass doors of the many cabinets in the room. The fuzzy black triangles look neatly groomed, much like the rest of her.
“I hope you don’t mind. I was just trying to help,” he speaks up when he catches her staring at her reflection. His voice chip gives away that he’s not human though. His speech is broken and it breaks her heart.
“It’s fine. Thank you.”
Zachery takes the moment of silence to search for some blood to feed her, pausing momentarily when she calls out his name.
“Where are we? Why’d you bring me here?”
“Dr. Nebraska Shimizu wanted me to help you. He discovered me before he was killed. He warned me what might happen. I am to protect you and help you with solving who did this.”
“What makes you think I want-“
“The doctor’s words, not mine. He told me that even if you deny it at first, you’ll eventually give in and want to start the hunt. I’m also to stop you from making any stupid mistakes that may get you disassembled.”
“That doesn’t-“
“It doesn’t have to scare you. It scared the doctor enough. I am just the messenger. I am here to help.”
Carrigan considers this. She’s unsure if it soothes her nerves or just makes them more unsettled than before, sparking a new kind of unnamed worry in her. She slowly slides down from the table, exploring and wandering around the room. Once she feels satisfies with touching and her shallow investigating, she turns to face him, “Where do we start?”
“The scene of the crime.”
With those few words, Carrigan follows him out to a midnight blue two-seater. It’s admittedly too dark to see the make and model of the car. The leather seats and slick interior casually erase that care from her mind. She buckles in and he drives. The car still smells new. Usually, the smell would be too strong for her sensitive sense of smell, but this is just another thing that reminds her of the doctor. The leather smell seems to have a hint of him in it - a faint mix of strawberry-banana, his favorite smoothie to drink, and the one nameless cologne he always wore. The small laugh she releases makes Zachery look at her, worried. A small apology is exchanged. He doesn’t understand why she’s apologizing, but he accepts it with a smile. Carrigan suddenly wants to cry.
“Doctor, what’s a road trip? Can I have one?”
“I’m getting a new car soon. I’ll take you on a road trip.”
“Car? Oh, you drive on road trips. I remember reading about them.”
“Yes, they involve driving.” A soft chuckle. “Is there a place you want to go?”
“I’ll go anywhere you take me. I just want to see some place new.”
“We’ll run away soon enough, Kuro. Just you and me. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds perfect, doctor.”
“Carrigan, are you okay? Your eyes are leaking,” Zachery’s green eyes are filled with worry again as he takes the key from the ignition. All she can do is look away and nod. He doesn’t bug her about it anymore. Then again, he has yet to learn that there’s more to the reactions and responses people give.
The house looks the same. Looks untouched. The people around the neighborhood have always thought that the little baby blue house with the crisp white door and perfect grass to be taboo. Well, after Carrigan first came along. He’d made life instead of taken it and was shunned for it. She has times where she wishes she was human, but she’s constantly reminded to be happy that she’s not.
With the exception of Dr. Nebraska, Carrigan only knows of humans as monsters. Not like the vampires, shifters, and other kinds she’s stumbled across. No, humans are a breed all their own. They’re heartless creatures that spew nothing but venom at each other, tearing victim after victim apart to their specific liking. Even the children are exposed to this behavior and, like in the wild, they learn from watching their elders. It’s a never-ending cycle where everyone gets hurt and only the strong survive. She understands that no one is perfect, but shouldn’t there be a line drawn somewhere? But, on the other hand, lines, even figurative ones, bring out the territorial side in most animals, don’t they?
They walk up the stone walkway to the door and they both hesitate, trying to figure out how to get in. Carrigan remembers the key hidden under the welcome mat and soon they’re both inside. More memories rush back. She hasn’t been here once over the past two, almost three, months and, suddenly, the smell of death and a burning vanilla cake are stinging her sensors.
She doesn’t have a clue what they should be looking for. She’s seen the detective shows, read the books, watched the movies. Even then, the heroes never know where to start when a case directly involves them. There hadn’t even been an investigation on the doctor’s murder. It takes a moment, but that sets off an alarm. No investigation usually means someone’s covered their tracks. The cops have been paid off and the evidence erased. Everyone acts like they’ve been brainwashed, memory deleted. Blackmail or payoff?
She eyes Zachery’s movements from the corner of her eye. He was sent to her by the doctor himself, but Nebraska “discovered” him. What had he been up to before the murder? If he had been looking for her over the past couple of months, she should have been hard to find. Her fingerprints were everywhere, even if she was on the run.
“This house is big.”
“And it’s still taboo.”
“Tah-boo?”
“Yeah, bad luck. That’s what everyone says.”
Zachery looks as if he’s pondering this for a moment. Carrigan leaves him to do so. She heads to the doctor’s workroom, hesitantly since she’s still unsure about trusting this random protector she’s got now.
Just down the hall, to the right. She remembers the passcode. As far as she knows, she’s the only one to know it besides the late owner. It’s obvious the doctor had been hiding something from her. This thought makes her scared about just what secrets she’ll find hidden inside. But it’s the first step to solving everything. What other choice does she have?
The two are searching the room and there’s an awful feeling in the pit of stomach from the second that Zachery steps into the room. Her mind is having trouble processing whether he’s the cause of that feeling or if it’s all just fear in general. Her head locks around that one word: fear. She’s never really felt that before, at least not that she can remember, but she knows enough about the bodily reactions to mentally register that that might just be what’s going on with her.
An arm is around her waist in an instant, stopping her from crashing onto the floor as a result of tripping over a knee-high stool in her path. Carrigan considers thanking Zachery for the save, but her mind is more preoccupied with finding whatever it is that they’re looking for, and whatever that lingering thought of fear is that’s clinging with a death grip.
She wriggles out of his hold and is searching through papers, cabinets, and test tubes to find something, anything. Now, she feels there’s yet another ingredient being added to the mixing pot when she realizes that nothing seems to have been touched in here. It sickens her and all she can do it curl her fingers into fists at her sides to assist with getting the bile back down her throat. It’s been a while since she’s been fed, but blood definitely raises a taste worse than human food when it tries to come back up.
They both jump at the sound of glass crashing to the floor. Carrigan glances over her shoulder to see Zachery staring at a row of test tubes it looks like he knocked over. He starts pleading for her to forgive him and she just gives him a gentle smile, heading for the little hand broom and dustpan she remembers is kept stacked away under the doctor’s main work desk. Sweeping up the glass, she takes notice to what she’s sure is a flash drive. Narrowing her eyes, she scoops it up and heads over to the computer, turning it on and waiting for it to boot up.
“What’s that,” Zachery’s childish voice breaks through the silence.
“It’s called a flash drive,” she replies simply, “Portable storage device.”
He gave a sound of understanding and hovered over her shoulder, watching as she opened the various files on the little portable storage stick with eyes widened in amazement.
They were all recorded videos from what seemed like a security camera. The longer she looked, the more everything looked familiar. She could see just about every room in the house from some unknown date. There was a button for the audio and she clicked it. It didn’t take long for her to regret it.
“I won’t let her live with the guilt of my blood on her hands.
Kuro, I love you.”
Edited: 13.2.26
Click… Click… Click… BOOM!
The clicking at the door had been enough of a signal for him to move. He hadn’t exactly gotten away fast enough to evade the wood and other debris that spread throughout his living room, a nice size shard of the door flying by and slicing a good, deep gash in his left forearm. A small cloud of smoke, along with its pungent ash smell quickly filled the living room. He hadn’t been prepared for this.
A few drops of blood landed on the carpet, but he cupped it with his hand and hurried into the kitchen. He grabbed one of the dishrags from the holder above the sink, quickly binding it around the gash, gritting his teeth from the sting of pressure on an open wound. Thankfully, the cloth halted most of the excess oxygen-rich liquid from seeping onto the floor.
He was scared to walk into the main room, but he was baking anyway. Their noses would pick up the scent of the cake in the oven and they would know where to look.
He slipped his glasses off and set them on the counter, his flour and blood stained fingertips both blending and standing out against the white tile. His blue-gray eyes scanned the room for something he could possibly use to defend himself.
A broom… That could work. He broke it over his knee, holding both pieces in his hands for the time being.
The boots marching from the door and the sound of broken glass. They were looking for blueprints. They were looking for her. He wouldn’t let them have her. He knew the consequences of his actions, figured it would come to this.
He wouldn’t go down without a fight.
His adrenaline pulsed to the point that his ears were ringing. The sweat beading along his brow was causing thin white strands to stick to his forehead. His pale hand brushed away the few dangling in his eyes. His brow furrowed as the timer went off to check the oven, a faint sign of disappointment on his lips. Funny, how in a moment like this, he was more worried about the cake in the oven than his life as it flashed before his eyes, trying to remind him of the more prominent situation at hand.
“Dr. Nebraska Shimizu… It’s a pleasure.”
“I wish I could say the same.”
“It’s quite alright. The pleasure’s all mine.”
Nebraska eyed the stranger as the man stalked the isle of the kitchen and ran his blackened fingertips along the countertop, like a hunter exploring the environment of his prey before making the kill. He felt his heart drop to his stomach, forcing back tears as his boots closed in on the oven.
“You were once our prized possession, doctor. Ironic how we’re coming after you now, huh?”
“All good things must come to an end.”
“Seems to be so.”
There were just three of them. Nebraska was sure he could take them, or so he thought. The last thing that he expected was to see the child of his creative innovation coming around the corner, dressed in all black just like the other invaders. This couldn’t be his little angel. Her eyes shouldn’t be glowing red like this and her fingers shouldn’t be curling around the gun in her palm, melding perfectly to the black metal.
“It’s amazing what the right hacker can do, isn’t it, doctor?”
Nebraska’s eyes widened, “You…You shouldn’t have been able to do that!”
The suit-clad stranger let out a chuckle from deep in his throat. His piercing eyes could have been mistaken for machine or monster. They were too dark and cold to be anything human.
“Project K, you have your assignment,” his voice rang with authority, playful tone suddenly giving off the same chill as his eyes.
“Kuro, you don’t want to do this,” Nebraska pleaded, fingers pressing into the wood of the broken broom in his hands. He could feel splinters here and there pressing back into his skin, pricking at it and trying to break through.
The girl in front of him only tilted her head. She didn’t know who this “Kuro” was nor why this strange man thought it was okay to call her that. She glanced at the apparent leader of all of this before aiming her gun at whose blood she was to shed.
The doctor stood strong now, tears filling his blue-gray eyes until everything in front of him was blurred, “I won’t let her live with the guilt of my blood on her hands.”
Before anyone could react, one of the broom pieces in his hand dropped to the floor, the other angling at his chest. The skin was pierced and he dropped to his knees. His vision now blurry from more than just tears. A weak smile graced his lips as he muttered his last words, just loud enough for her to hear:
“Kuro, I love you.”
~~~
The backup he’d come in with were outside, climbing into the back of a black truck, heading back to headquarters. A whole slew of men in black tee shirts and with matching cargo pants and combat boots, began to pour into the house instead.
“Hey boss… Did he really have to die?”
This weak voice was one of the rookies. He looked complete opposite of how he came in. He had been all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, anxious for his first taste of his exciting new life. Now, he looked as if he was going to throw up any second. Yeah, absolutely nothing had prepared him for seeing a man stab himself straight through the chest his first day.
The answer to his question finally came:
“You’ll learn: Sometimes push doesn’t come to shove; Sometimes… A good shove into the deep end is the only choice you have.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just never leave any loose ends…”
Two Months Later…
What are alleyways to someone who knows them? Nothing but hallways that sometimes end in dead ends. And to those who don’t know them? Mazes where everyone is a little, white lab rat trying to find their way out, to sort out everything. To figure out what drew them to the dark end with cold brick walls.
The eye-watering stench of urine is in one corner and month-old garbage lay in the other. The screeching of rats versus alley cats and the howling of the dogs that come to break up their petty fights. The cold night being greeted with a small makeshift bonfire of scattered newspaper, because burning the garbage would make the scent suffocating.
She doesn’t want to think about her sudden craving for blood either. All her mind has been able to think about lately is that thick, irony taste on the back of her tongue. It’s a wonder she’s made it this far without breaking. No, it’s a wonder that she has yet to be discovered; the smell of her blood…or whatever it is that courses through her veins is stronger, she’s sure. She can’t remember when her hunger started to only be quenched by blood. No, she’s never been human, always an android.
But somewhere along the way, she became more human than she could have ever imagined.
More than Dr. Shimizu could ever have imagined.
But maybe no one’s bothered to come after her because they know the truth. How poisonous this blood of hers is - a drug to humans and monsters alike. They could’ve found the shapeshifter in the forest that refused to heed her warning or the dark angel that thought he could handle anything.
Most importantly, she’s sure that she’ll be blamed for the death of her creator.
Dr. Shimizu was such a nice man. Young and highly intelligent for his age. She’ll never understand how someone could actually kill him. On the other hand, she’s seen human ignorance and jealousy at its best.
When she’d arrived at the house that particular day, there was blood splattered on the floor of the living room, all across the hardwood floor. The smell of burnt vanilla, similar to a cake, slithered from the kitchen - a scent that had imprinted itself in her skin. She eventually found his body splayed across the white linoleum floor. From the looks of the shattered dishware, scattered pots and pans, and the broken broom, the doctor has definitely put up a fight, although, futile and fatal.
At that point, she couldn’t think of anything else to do but run. She’d had her updates, every part of her was top of the line, especially the parts that the doctor had modified to fit her the way he wanted. So, she ran.
She’s hurting. That artificial heart pumping inside her aches just from thinking about him, from remembering that last conversation.
Her eyes widened when she heard the whirring of the drill. After all these years, maybe she was just becoming more human. The smell of the oil and burning metal should’ve been something she was used to by now, but the more updates and the more check-ups she got, she realized it was going in the completely opposite direction.
Dr. Nebraska Shimizu glanced up at her through the white locks of his fringe, setting the drill aside and pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Kuro, what’s wrong,” he reached up to move her hair away from her eyes so he could see her expression. The special name he’d given her causing a faint smile to touch the edges of her lips.
“It hurts,” she spoke numbly, glancing down at him. Her cyber blue eyes just as empty as her tone.
He frowned, upset with himself for hurting her, but he knew it was just something that had to be done. A moment later, he was smiling again. It was something that she realized she was only ever able to see. He was so closed off and had sheltered himself so much that it was just something no one else would see.
His thin fingers curled around her cheek as he cupped the side of her face, “I’m only helping you, okay? Once the pain is gone, nothing will hurt you again. I’m only here to protect you. Do you understand?”
She nodded. He was her protector. He always had been.
A car driving by allows her to catch her reflection. She couldn’t possibly look that awful. The puddle down beside her though only echoes what she’s just seen.
A once beautiful, human-looking female android now with her short purplish-gray hair matted and streaked with dried blood, unknown as to whose it was. Her eyes, once a bright electric blue now merged with black and crimson around the edges. Her lips and teeth stained with blood as well. The bags under her eyes making them look sunken in now, looking just as dark and sunken as her cheeks.
She goes to swat at the puddle and stops to stare at her hand. It appears clawed and her veins are protruding. She wonders if she appears to be a victim of malnutrition in the eyes of an onlooker.
“Carrigan…” Her name pains her ears. Only a selected group knew her by that name. But how did someone find her? Her eyes meet theirs.
Zachery…
~~~
The bright lights remind her of Dr. Shimizu’s work room. The steel table for lying on while he was working. The little side table like the ones in dentist offices for holding utensils. The same ones that stand by surgeons and their operating tables. The smell of oil, rubber, and metal. It touches on that circuit that sparks all of her memories to the forefront, to the point that she can even hear Nebraska in the back of her mind calling out his nickname for her, “Kuro~ Kuro~”
It’s all familiar, except for this hand touching hers. Touching it brings back only vague memories of the person it belongs to, but that still doesn’t help clarify where she is or why.
“Don’t look so afraid…Please? I’m not programmed for that…”
“Programmed? What is your programming?”
“Same as yours.”
“I am a companion. Nothing more.”
Zachery’s laugh makes her cringe. There’s nothing funny about that. Unless he knows how alone she’s been for the past two months. There’s irony in being built for companionship and having no friends.
“You need to charge?”
“Do you mean do I need to be fed? Yes.”
Zachery listens, although unsure of how to really go about cooking anything. He only knows charging. He realizes that food is something humans eat to charge. At least that’s how his brain computes just why they eat the garbage they do.
“What do you eat,” his words are slow and precise. She can tell his communication either lacks from use or from lack of proper updates.
“Blood…”
Zachery’s eyes light up, and not in the typical robotic nature. It’s more like how a human’s widens in both fright and awe. This is when Carrigan realizes that he actually has an eye color. While hers show nothing but the artificial red or blue lights there were given, his are green. A light green, similar to the pastel shade that’s usually seen on nursery walls for infants.
In his face, he looks much more human than she does, or probably ever will. With his auburn shag, green eyes, and sun-kissed skin tone. Not to mention, he doesn’t have cat ears like she does. She’s forgotten they’re there until she looks away from him, spotting her appearance in one of the glass doors of the many cabinets in the room. The fuzzy black triangles look neatly groomed, much like the rest of her.
“I hope you don’t mind. I was just trying to help,” he speaks up when he catches her staring at her reflection. His voice chip gives away that he’s not human though. His speech is broken and it breaks her heart.
“It’s fine. Thank you.”
Zachery takes the moment of silence to search for some blood to feed her, pausing momentarily when she calls out his name.
“Where are we? Why’d you bring me here?”
“Dr. Nebraska Shimizu wanted me to help you. He discovered me before he was killed. He warned me what might happen. I am to protect you and help you with solving who did this.”
“What makes you think I want-“
“The doctor’s words, not mine. He told me that even if you deny it at first, you’ll eventually give in and want to start the hunt. I’m also to stop you from making any stupid mistakes that may get you disassembled.”
“That doesn’t-“
“It doesn’t have to scare you. It scared the doctor enough. I am just the messenger. I am here to help.”
Carrigan considers this. She’s unsure if it soothes her nerves or just makes them more unsettled than before, sparking a new kind of unnamed worry in her. She slowly slides down from the table, exploring and wandering around the room. Once she feels satisfies with touching and her shallow investigating, she turns to face him, “Where do we start?”
“The scene of the crime.”
With those few words, Carrigan follows him out to a midnight blue two-seater. It’s admittedly too dark to see the make and model of the car. The leather seats and slick interior casually erase that care from her mind. She buckles in and he drives. The car still smells new. Usually, the smell would be too strong for her sensitive sense of smell, but this is just another thing that reminds her of the doctor. The leather smell seems to have a hint of him in it - a faint mix of strawberry-banana, his favorite smoothie to drink, and the one nameless cologne he always wore. The small laugh she releases makes Zachery look at her, worried. A small apology is exchanged. He doesn’t understand why she’s apologizing, but he accepts it with a smile. Carrigan suddenly wants to cry.
“Doctor, what’s a road trip? Can I have one?”
“I’m getting a new car soon. I’ll take you on a road trip.”
“Car? Oh, you drive on road trips. I remember reading about them.”
“Yes, they involve driving.” A soft chuckle. “Is there a place you want to go?”
“I’ll go anywhere you take me. I just want to see some place new.”
“We’ll run away soon enough, Kuro. Just you and me. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds perfect, doctor.”
“Carrigan, are you okay? Your eyes are leaking,” Zachery’s green eyes are filled with worry again as he takes the key from the ignition. All she can do is look away and nod. He doesn’t bug her about it anymore. Then again, he has yet to learn that there’s more to the reactions and responses people give.
The house looks the same. Looks untouched. The people around the neighborhood have always thought that the little baby blue house with the crisp white door and perfect grass to be taboo. Well, after Carrigan first came along. He’d made life instead of taken it and was shunned for it. She has times where she wishes she was human, but she’s constantly reminded to be happy that she’s not.
With the exception of Dr. Nebraska, Carrigan only knows of humans as monsters. Not like the vampires, shifters, and other kinds she’s stumbled across. No, humans are a breed all their own. They’re heartless creatures that spew nothing but venom at each other, tearing victim after victim apart to their specific liking. Even the children are exposed to this behavior and, like in the wild, they learn from watching their elders. It’s a never-ending cycle where everyone gets hurt and only the strong survive. She understands that no one is perfect, but shouldn’t there be a line drawn somewhere? But, on the other hand, lines, even figurative ones, bring out the territorial side in most animals, don’t they?
They walk up the stone walkway to the door and they both hesitate, trying to figure out how to get in. Carrigan remembers the key hidden under the welcome mat and soon they’re both inside. More memories rush back. She hasn’t been here once over the past two, almost three, months and, suddenly, the smell of death and a burning vanilla cake are stinging her sensors.
She doesn’t have a clue what they should be looking for. She’s seen the detective shows, read the books, watched the movies. Even then, the heroes never know where to start when a case directly involves them. There hadn’t even been an investigation on the doctor’s murder. It takes a moment, but that sets off an alarm. No investigation usually means someone’s covered their tracks. The cops have been paid off and the evidence erased. Everyone acts like they’ve been brainwashed, memory deleted. Blackmail or payoff?
She eyes Zachery’s movements from the corner of her eye. He was sent to her by the doctor himself, but Nebraska “discovered” him. What had he been up to before the murder? If he had been looking for her over the past couple of months, she should have been hard to find. Her fingerprints were everywhere, even if she was on the run.
“This house is big.”
“And it’s still taboo.”
“Tah-boo?”
“Yeah, bad luck. That’s what everyone says.”
Zachery looks as if he’s pondering this for a moment. Carrigan leaves him to do so. She heads to the doctor’s workroom, hesitantly since she’s still unsure about trusting this random protector she’s got now.
Just down the hall, to the right. She remembers the passcode. As far as she knows, she’s the only one to know it besides the late owner. It’s obvious the doctor had been hiding something from her. This thought makes her scared about just what secrets she’ll find hidden inside. But it’s the first step to solving everything. What other choice does she have?
The two are searching the room and there’s an awful feeling in the pit of stomach from the second that Zachery steps into the room. Her mind is having trouble processing whether he’s the cause of that feeling or if it’s all just fear in general. Her head locks around that one word: fear. She’s never really felt that before, at least not that she can remember, but she knows enough about the bodily reactions to mentally register that that might just be what’s going on with her.
An arm is around her waist in an instant, stopping her from crashing onto the floor as a result of tripping over a knee-high stool in her path. Carrigan considers thanking Zachery for the save, but her mind is more preoccupied with finding whatever it is that they’re looking for, and whatever that lingering thought of fear is that’s clinging with a death grip.
She wriggles out of his hold and is searching through papers, cabinets, and test tubes to find something, anything. Now, she feels there’s yet another ingredient being added to the mixing pot when she realizes that nothing seems to have been touched in here. It sickens her and all she can do it curl her fingers into fists at her sides to assist with getting the bile back down her throat. It’s been a while since she’s been fed, but blood definitely raises a taste worse than human food when it tries to come back up.
They both jump at the sound of glass crashing to the floor. Carrigan glances over her shoulder to see Zachery staring at a row of test tubes it looks like he knocked over. He starts pleading for her to forgive him and she just gives him a gentle smile, heading for the little hand broom and dustpan she remembers is kept stacked away under the doctor’s main work desk. Sweeping up the glass, she takes notice to what she’s sure is a flash drive. Narrowing her eyes, she scoops it up and heads over to the computer, turning it on and waiting for it to boot up.
“What’s that,” Zachery’s childish voice breaks through the silence.
“It’s called a flash drive,” she replies simply, “Portable storage device.”
He gave a sound of understanding and hovered over her shoulder, watching as she opened the various files on the little portable storage stick with eyes widened in amazement.
They were all recorded videos from what seemed like a security camera. The longer she looked, the more everything looked familiar. She could see just about every room in the house from some unknown date. There was a button for the audio and she clicked it. It didn’t take long for her to regret it.
“I won’t let her live with the guilt of my blood on her hands.
Kuro, I love you.”
Edited: 13.2.26