False Future by Dan Krokos Read Free Book Online Page A

spot on the floor. I put my foot on her chair and push down until it’s upright.
    “Are you going to use your power?” I say.
    She shakes her head.
    “Say it.”
    “No,” she says.
    “Good.” I give her a smile. “I need your suit.”
    Her upper lip curls slightly. “You’ll get me in trouble.”
    “Do you really think you have a choice?” She holds still while I remove the suit from her, never freeing more than one of her limbs at a time. Underneath she wears some kind of thin jumpsuit. A muscle in her forearm begins to spasm; I can feel how badly she wants to hurt me. But she’s smarter than that.
    “Tell me how the ranks work,” I say as I double-check her restraints. “What color suit means what? I want details.”
    She sighs, angling her lip so it blows hair off her forehead. “At the top are the blue suits. There are thirty of them. Below that is silver, who are captains. Then comes us, the reds, the specialists. Black or white armor are for the grunts. Satisfied?”
    “What’s a specialist?”
    She grins. “For this mission, we control the H10.”
    A chill runs up and down my spine. H9 is a kind of plastic explosive that does less exploding and more melting with anything it touches. Last summer we used lots of it to destroy the creators’ main lab in Cleveland. I’m assuming H10 is some kind of variant.
    She must sense I’m about to ask more questions. “Look, just go to the briefing and you’ll find out what you’re supposed to do. We’re using it on buildings we suspect might hold East. It’s simple.”
    “What does East have that you want?”
    “I told you, I don’t know. We were going to find out tonight, until you attacked us.”
    The audacity of that statement makes my mouth fall open— we attacked them ? I mean, yes, we did, but can one really attack invaders ? M-96 is about to laugh, but I shove her in the chest again and she slams backward onto the tub. This time the chair kicks out and she falls flat on her back.
    I take the suit into Peter’s room. I know it’s his because there’s a picture of me on his nightstand. I don’t remember the picture being taken. I’m in our old kitchen, face half turned away, my hair hanging in front of my right eye. It looks like I was posing, but I wasn’t.
    I shut the door behind me, then strip out of my suit. I lay it on the bed, next to M-96’s red one, then sprawl on the comforter. I can smell Peter in the pillow, and my eyes prick with tears. We agreed to talk after we saved the world. I promised him, even though I knew I was going to die. Now I’m back, and he’s not here, and I have no idea what he’ll think of it all. Am I the same person to him? Does it matter how many times I come back? It has to.
    It’s wrong, but I go through Peter’s drawers. I find random clothes that aren’t folded. An old T-shirt I used to wear to bed. On his dresser, disassembled guns are lined up nice and neat, freshly oiled. In his closet are a spare scaled suit and a set of military fatigues. I consider taking the sword I find on the top shelf, since I don’t feel right using M-96’s, but I think I’ll get used to Beacon’s new hilt. We’ve been through a lot together, me and Beacon, and the blade seems whole, which is what matters.
    Someone knocks on the door, and before I can say anything it opens. “Hey—Oh my God!” Rhys says, slapping a hand over his eyes.
    I jump into the closet. “Most people wait for a response after knocking!”
    “I’m sorry! I just— It’s getting late! And…”
    “Turn around!”
    He does. I creep over to the bed, then pull on the red suit of armor. It feels no different from my suit. The scales are a deep red, like half-dried blood.
    “Okay,” I say.
    He turns around, cheeks flushed. “I didn’t see anything. I saw a little bit. Not much really at all, I would say. Hey, you were the one standing around naked like a weirdo.”
    “Uh-huh. Let’s get on with it. You need to put on R-34’s suit