Freak of Nature

Chapter Seven

Professor Adams attached the blood pressure cuff to Kaitlyn’s arm and turned away, one fist pumping the small bag and filling the cuff with air. “Don’t move,” he told her, his eyes on the gauge. 

This would be a good time to roll her eyes, Kaitlyn thought. As if she would have moved. 

While her arm was slowly gripped tighter and tighter by the cuff, Kaitlyn sensed someone coming down the hall, but they were too far away to determine who it was. Hopefully, it was Lucas—she hadn’t seen him all day. He was probably working on the new coding, the ‘slang chip’ they had spoken of at dinner. The day seemed longer when he was not around. She longed to see his face and hear his familiar voice. 

Instead, she had been stuck inside all day with Professor Adams running tests on her artificial heart. Thirty minutes at maximum speed on the treadmill, then a blood pressure check. Thirty minutes of sitting still, then a blood pressure check. Boring. Monotonous.

Kaitlyn glanced at the old man. His spectacles had slid so far down his nose it was a surprise they hadn’t fallen off. Not for the first time, she thought she should have hated him for taking away her old life, but for some reason, she didn’t. She only felt indifference for the professor and the rest of the staff. They had probably programmed her that way.

Kaitlyn was tired of never knowing which thoughts were her own, and which were IFICS. 

“Well done.” The professor pulled apart the Velcro and released Kaitlyn from the cuff. 

Like I have anything to do with my blood pressure. I don’t even have a normal heart. With all of her knowledge, she couldn’t even comprehend how her body was able to function properly. A medical marvel was often thrown around in regards to her body. 

The professor rolled his chair around where Kaitlyn was sitting to glance at the computer screen; it was hooked up to electrodes placed on her chest. Adams was obsessed with bio-rhythms, and was constantly tracking all of her numbers, searching for any anomalies. He said it was the mathematician in him. Bio-rhythms consisted of three cycles: physical, emotional, and intellectual. It didn’t seem very scientific to her. 

“Amazing,” he muttered, staring at the data. “Your readings are always the same. No matter what we do to you.”

There was a knock at the door, and Frank, her firearms instructor, entered the room. “Time for the shooting range.”

Finally, something that wasn’t boring. Kaitlyn had to suppress the smile that wanted to spread across her face. After her initial training, she only spent one day a week on the range. Frank claimed she was so accurate, any more time would just be a waste of bullets. They just wanted to keep her from getting rusty. 

She was quite sure her parts could not rust, but she kept her thoughts to herself. 

With haste, she made her way to the arms room and grabbed her gear. 

There was something calming about the feel of cold steel touching her palm. It was as if the gun was an extension of her hand.

Maybe they were right … maybe she was born for this. Or maybe she would never know since she couldn’t recall her life before the accident. 

Kaitlyn slammed a fresh magazine into the Browning MK III. Legs planted firmly, she leaned forward just a little, arms locked, and lined up the red dot. Letting out a breath, she squeezed the trigger repeatedly in rapid succession. 

She lowered the pistol and pushed the button to the right of her. The electronic carrier brought the black silhouette forward, edges of the paper waving in the breeze as it moved.