Casey

Seventeen-year-old Casey Shaw jumped off the edge of the Ocean Heights hotel. For just a moment, she spread her arms wide like an eagle's wings, a short chain clutched tightly in one hand. If she were to commit suicide, this was how she'd do it. It felt so open, so free, though what waited a hundred yards below certainly wouldn't be so liberating. She'd realized that the first time she tried to kill herself, four years ago. That was also when she'd inadvertently found the zipline. She flung the chain around it as she passed it no more than ten feet from the top of the hotel. She caught the chain in her empty hand and held tight as the zipline realized it had a passenger. She felt her arms yanked away from her body, but let the zipline give a little before bending her elbows. The wind tore her hood off. Auburn hair swished in and out of her face and stuck in her mouth as she screamed in joy.

Down, down three hundred feet, there were cars. There were lights, sirens, horns, and speed limit signs not nearly enough people paid attention to, and stop lights way too many people ran. Engines chugged away down there, far below Casey. She wished it could stay that way forever. She laughed as she gained speed, curling her legs and preparing to let go and land. The shorter building approached fast, maybe thirty or forty miles an hour. She was probably exaggerating the speed in her mind, but up here, no one could tell her otherwise. She let go of the chain with one hand and let herself fall. She hit the roof hard, but was off her feet in seconds. She collapsed into a shoulder roll, stood, and she was still going too fast. She fell again and rolled on her back. Then she was at a manageable speed. She ran comfortably at around twenty miles an hour across the roof. Maybe it was really fifteen or sixteen. Twenty sounded much more fun. It was fast, regardless. She leapt from that building and tapped a brick at the edge of another with her foot before landing and rolling, keeping her speed.

"I am alive!" she shouted into the air. "I am free!"

It sounded corny, but up if she screamed corny lines and no one was around to hear it, only she cared.

She jumped again and hooked her chain around another zipline. She saw a person on the other end and immediately blushed. Had they heard her shouting corny lines? Probably not.

The figure waved. There was something in their hand. Casey squinted to see it.

A wrench? Was the figure a repairman? She saw him—or her—put the wrench on the pole holding the zipline. Maybe they were tightening it for her.

The wrench turned left.

Casey's joy drained in an instant. Horror replaced it, unlike any she'd felt before. She was at least two hundred feet above the ground and not even halfway across the zipline. The figure turned the wrench again. Casey felt the line drop a little.

"No!" she screamed. The figure held up a finger and turned the wrench again. The line dropped even more. Now, Casey would hit the side of the building when she landed. She would still have a chance to catch the ledge, though. She'd done that plenty of times, at least.

The line gave out.

Casey didn't even scream as she started to fall. As the wind changed direction and came up to meet her, she felt oddly introspective. It wasn't exactly her life flashing before her eyes, but it was close. She saw the cars approaching fast below her and realized that she'd die with the things she hated—quite possibly on top of one. Dani and Erica Winters' remains flashed through her mind. She'd been one of the few to see them before the police and paramedics boxed the area out. That was what she'd look like: glops of skin and hair loosely attached to a mess of blood and organs and bones on the pavement. It was how she'd expected to die, but not how she'd wanted to.

It took her all of two seconds to think all of this, and then she realized something else: she was going to hit the wall first. More importantly, it was a hotel wall with balconies. She had a chance.

Her hope vanished when she hit the wall. She heard five or six distinct, disgusting snaps before she felt them in her arms and ribs. The vision in one of her eyes shut down like an old TV screen when the side of her head hit the wall next.

Then she was falling again, broken. Her eye started working again ten feet later. Twenty feet later, she hit the balcony. She should have felt relieved that she still felt anything, but she'd landed all wrong. Lying on her back, she looked up at her lower right leg hanging over the balcony railing. A few strands of tendons or muscle or something else Casey couldn't identify connected it to the rest of her leg, flat on the ground like the rest of her. She saw the bone protruding from her disembodied knee, covered in blood. Her other leg had fared better, but on second look, she realized that, under no circumstances, should she be able to stare straight down at the bottom of her own foot. This leg had hit the railing as well, but at a different angle. The center of her calf was crushed and bloody, but her knee was bent the other way, and her shin rested on the top of her thigh, toes digging into her hip.

She'd been screaming the whole time, and didn't intend to stop now that she realized she was doing it. Dying might have been the better outcome this time. At least it would have only hurt for a second or less. Whatever happened now, she wanted it to happen fast. She wanted to black out and not wake up until her legs were fixed.

She had no such luck. The pain kept her awake.

***

Alyssa wished she had Bart's photographic memory. She would have captured Casey's face the moment she realized she was going to die and drawn it, modeled it, or sculpted it and stared at it for hours. It was a beautiful expression on a lovely, gentle face. Alyssa would remember it forever. She'd have to have Kayla teach her to draw so she could copy it from her mind. That was, if she didn't snuff Kayla first. She fully intended to do so, whether Bart wanted her to or not. It was only a matter of time.

Meanwhile, she occupied herself with other projects. Casey Shaw might have lived had Kiwi not blurted her name out on the beach half a week ago. The kid was a mental wreck, so killing her was pretty much an act of mercy. Besides, she was pretty—more so than Kayla or Kiwi.

Alyssa watched the girl fall, screaming. She hit the building, left a splotch of blood, and hit a balcony some thirty feet below. The screaming didn't stop. It only got worse. Alyssa cringed, but felt herself grow moist. She had plenty of time, so she returned the wrench to where she'd found it, put her gloves in her pockets, and headed down the stairs. How would she kill Casey when she got there? Normally, she'd choke her out, but there were so many other things she could do. She could toss the broken girl off the balcony and let her splatter on the road, or she could snap her neck. She could stop her head in, or slam her head against the railing till she died, then fuck her corpse.

She'd decide when she got there.

A few stories down, she started checking the rooms, using the master key she'd swiped from the front desk. She didn't hear the screams anymore, but the soundproof walls could be a factor. Eventually, she found a room with blood leaking in under the far door to the balcony. She brushed the curtains aside.

Casey was gone.

There was a splotch of blood on the balcony where she'd fallen, some bone fragments here and there, but nothing else. Had she managed to drag herself away? It was possible. Alyssa checked the ground. Indeed, there was a light trail of blood on the carpet, but it wasn't distinctive or frequent enough to be left from a girl dragging herself away.

Someone had carried her.

Alyssa didn't panic. This had happened several times before in her career. It was rare, but she always found both her victim and her victim's savior. First, she checked over the edge to make sure Casey hadn't thrown herself off and died. She hadn't. Carefully, Alyssa tracked her prey through the blood trail. It stopped halfway down the hall.

Alyssa stopped with it. She didn't rush down to the lobby—she would likely expose herself to a trap of some sort. She waited it out instead. She entered an empty room, changed clothes into something a bit more casual: a low-cut tank top and shorts, contrasting her black sweater and sweat pants. She stuffed them into two pillow cases and slung them over her shoulders. Then she headed for the lobby at a brisk walk, stopping occasionally to admire a piece of art on the walls, or to tie her shoes. She met a housekeeper halfway down and told her she'd heard screaming a couple stories up, then continued on her way.

The lobby was empty save for a few families checking out. Alyssa waited for them, then spoke to the man at the desk.

"I heard screaming about ten minutes ago around the twentieth floor or so. Did something happen?"

The man shook his head. "I heard it too. Called the police already, but my coworkers said there was nothing up there."

"No one came running out on fire or anything?"

"Nope. Those two families and you are the only people I've seen come through here."

"Huh. I hope everything's all right."

Alyssa thought for a moment. Any genre-savvy rescuer would run straight to the lobby to be around as many people as possible, and to call the police as soon as possible.

"In case you're wondering, no one's come in or left through any other door."

The man turned his computer monitor around, showing Alyssa a top-down map of the hotel. Timers displayed above each door, indicating none of them but the front one had been opened for hours. Alyssa's confidence waned. How in the world could Casey have escaped? She had to still be in the hotel, then. No matter. Alyssa could just wait in the lobby.

She waited for a long, long time.

***

Adrian Winters looked up from his work as Kitty came in the back door. He greeted her, started to turn around, and did a double-take.

"Who's that?" he said. Kitty carried a girl's broken form, wrapped in bloody sheets. She set the bundle down on her bed.

"Casey Shaw."

"How'd she die?"

"She's alive."

Adrian stood and rushed over. He checked Casey's pulse at her neck to confirm it. "Why didn't you take her to a hospital?"

Kitty blanked out for just a moment, presumably checking the Internet to see what a hospital was. It was how she learned language beyond what he's programmed into her basic communications corelets.

"Sorry," she said. "Should I take her now?"

"Yes. I'll drive us there. If anyone asks, you flagged me down from the side of the road."

"All right."

Adrian saved his work, threw a blanket over the half-finished cyborg beside his computer, and joined Kitty in the car. She stayed in the back seat with the injured girl, who was conscious and crying now.

"They're going to amputate her legs," said Kitty. "Can they give her legs like I have?"

Adrian shook his head. "I don't know how you managed to carry her here, but your legs only work because you're so light. I have—had—more disposable income for you than the hospital will for her."

Kitty nodded and absently petted Casey's hair. In the mirror, she looked almost like a mother tending to a hurt child. Adrian's mind quickly eliminated that comparison. Casey was a year older than Kitty.

***

In the emergency room, all eyes immediately shifted to them. Casey was fully conscious when Adrian carried her in with Kitty in tow.

"If the police show up, disappear," Adrian whispered to Kitty. She nodded. The hospital staff must have decided this particular emergency was more urgent than the several others in the emergency room, but apparently, they agreed. No one raised a complaint when two nurses rolled a stretcher out for Casey—especially not after the nurses unwrapped the sheets and everyone got to see Casey's legs. They stared at Kitty, pretty much ignoring Adrian, then disappeared through a pair of double doors.

"Kitty Grant?" said an old man in the corner of the room. "It's actually you. You're alive, aren't you?"

Kitty smiled at him, but didn't answer his question. "It's me," she said. Adrian wondered what corelets led her to avoid the sensitive response. He certainly hadn't programmed that. Then again, Kitty was learning and growing, and that, he had programmed. It didn't surprise him how human she acted now, even if, by many means, she was a computer. Two processors in her head, one using standard 48-core computer technology and the other using right-brained computing, worked together to create an artificial human so convincing that Adrian would think she was real if he hadn't made her himself, and if he didn't spend so much time with her that he noticed all the smallest flaws. He could iron those out. He still hadn't figured out the big one: why could he still not look at this Kitty Grant as the one he'd played tennis with just months ago? Right now, she was perfect. Everything he loved about Kitty was there. So what was missing?

"Adrian?" said Kitty. He looked up. The old man was looking at him. Kitty continued, "He drove me here. I found Casey hurt, but I didn't have a cell phone. So I waited for a car and he came along."

"You've died and come back," said the old man. "Can you tell me what heaven is like?"

Kitty thought for a moment. Adrian figured she was Googling a generic response from people who had actually died shortly, then came back. What she said surprised him.

"Telling you that would be like telling you how your favorite book ended before you finished it. At any rate, you won't be disappointed."

The man reached out and touched her neck. Adrian tensed. This would test both his craftsmanship and Kitty's acting.

"They tore your throat out," said the old man. "But I can feel you breathing. I can feel your heartbeat. You're warm. You're alive."

Adrian cracked a smile.

"You must be an angel."

Perfection.

Adrian stopped his entire train of thought, derailing the entire back half. That was it. That was the big flaw that prevented Kitty from being truly human. After ironing out the flaws, his artificial Kitty was perfect. Perfection was unattainable by any human—he had to give her flaws.

He stopped that train of thought as well. That meant he had to intentionally change Kitty for the worse.

***

Casey woke up periodically. Each time she did, she saw a different scene. First, there was the emergency room. Then there was the ceiling as it moved past her. Then a still, white, sanitized room. Then, after seeing nothing for what seemed like hours, even while unconscious, she saw her parents, Kitty Grant, and the young man she'd been with—she recognized him as Adrian Winters, who she remembered seeing at school during her freshman and sophomore year.

"Kitty?" she said.

"You just lost both your legs," said Kitty. "I'm more worried about you than whether I'm alive or not."

She was right, of course. Casey pictured the rest of her life in a wheelchair. If she had been at the top of a tall building right then and there, she would have willingly fallen to her death. Stuck on the ground, surrounded by cars and horns and lights forever—she'd rather die.

"We'll get you a wheelchair for now," said a doctor. "We can also get you fitted for prosthetics, but they're not free."

"That sucks," said Casey. "Wheelchair it is." She looked at her parents in turn. From their expressions, she guessed they'd seen the actual figures.

"We'll save up," said her mom. "We know how much you like to run."

"It's too much, isn't it?"

They both nodded.

***

At home, Casey lay on her bed, both arms in a cast, ribs wrapped, and her legs feeling strangely . . . well, gone. There was nothing she could do about that. Her parents had come clean with the cost of prosthetics. Their insurance wouldn't cover it, especially not after the accident that had sent her to the rooftops to begin with.

Casey wanted to die, but she couldn't move, and she didn't want to bite her tongue.

Her phone vibrated. Slowly, painfully, she moved her arm and took it. She had a message from Kitty Grant.

"I can help you," it said. "I'll come over tomorrow. Be happy."

***

The Summermount News E-edition
June 2

Kitty Grant: A Hero from Heaven

Seventeen-year-old Casey Shaw fell from the top of Bay Inn yesterday, June 1. A balcony on floor 20 saved her life, but also tore both her legs off. According to her, someone cut the zipline she was riding on.

"I'd been riding the ziplines for four years," Shaw said. "I've met people up there on the rooftops, but this is the first time anyone's tried to kill me."

As Shaw lay on the balcony, Kitty Grant opened the doors and carried her out.

"She tied sheets together and took me out a second-story window," said Shaw. "She told me that if someone was trying to kill me, they'd find me in the lobby and follow me home."

Grant then used the sheets to wrap Shaw's injuries, thereby saving her life. Shaw and Grant got a ride to the hospital from Adrian Winters, a 20-year-old computer technician on his way home from repairing a family computer.

"If the Summermount Slaughterer is ending lives," said Winters, "then Kitty is saving them. She's the hero we've all needed since serial killers first existed. Not to mention, I have my tennis partner back."

Grant has since contacted the Summermount News and requested we open donations to give Casey Shaw her legs back as prosthetics. She was a long-distance runner on the track team until now; Grant says she'd like to get her back on her feet in time for her first meet.

Obviously, Kitty Grant is alive and well, though we still have no word on how she came back to life. Shawn Bay, a local painter who spoke with Grant in the hospital, said, "She draws breath and her heart beats. Her skin is warm and her smile is bright. She truly came back from the dead. I think the Kitty Grant wandering Summermount now is an angel."

All she's missing is the flowing white robes and a harp. Though in an age of bikinis and twerking, a nice, modest hoodie and loose jeans are as close as we're going to get.

Fay Ryan, intern editor

Comments

Adrian Winters (9:17 a.m.)
You're getting better at this whole article writing thing, Fay.

Antonio Night (9:22 a.m.)
Can't Kitty just out And say how She came back?

James Bennett (9:30 a.m.)
^^

Kitty Grant (9:33 a.m.)
And ruin the surprise? Isn't it more fun to speculate?

Fay Ryan (9:37 a.m.)
Honestly, I don't think it matters. She's here and she's doing good things. But it would be interesting to know how she came back, yes. Also, Adrian, thanks. Your English is getting better, too.

Tara Lei (9:45 a.m.)
Telll us kitty!!!

Harry Mead (9:45 a.m.)
yeah tell us, Kittty

Alpha Enhancement (9:46 a.m.)
Iiiiit's back! Try our VIAGRA SO STRONG it brought Kitty Grant BACK TO LIFE. If it can raise a girl from the dead, it can TURN YOUR TINY PECKER into a RAGING BONER, TIMES 1000!!!!!

Adrian Winters (9:48 a.m.)
You can tell it's not really a spambot because it doesn't link you to its "amazing product."

Jane Drier (9:53 a.m.)
Kitty, tell us what happened. How are you here?

Ken Cormack (9:54 a.m.)
Tell us, really.

Kitty Grant (10:00 a.m.)
A mad scientist stole my corpse from the morgue and replaced my brain with tiny computer chips. I'm actually . . . a cyborg!

Antonio Night (10:03 a.m.)

Lol

James Bennett (10:03 a.m.)
haha lol

Tara Lei (10:06 a.m.)
HaHa!!!!2 No, really tell us cmon we wanna know.

Kitty Grant (10:08 a.m.)
I'm going to disappear for now. Casey needs your help. Her legs are more important than anything concerning me.