EDGE OF DAY

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Day perched on the back seat of the police truck, arms awkwardly stretched above her where the cuffs had been attached to a chain locked into the roof. Apart from the four droids, she was alone. Will had been knocked out by a stun gun, and tossed into a different truck. She had no idea what had happened to the shikshak.

The truck hovered along the metal tracks. Day was cold and sweaty at the same time. At least the taut rubber tube around her breasts seemed to be protecting her back. She could feel the sting and dampness but considering her arms were strapped above her head, and the skin was being stretched, the repairs were holding together well.

She shivered and avoided eye contact with the droids. Her head was messed up from being inside Sarah. The truck barely felt real compared to the memory of kissing her mom. The worst that could ever happen had already happened years ago.

Eventually, the vehicle came to a halt. A droid unlocked Day's cuffs from the chain and closed them around the chain on his belt. Droids dragged her into the harsh daylight. Her eyes didn't adjust fast enough to see her surroundings. She was pushed through a plastic tunnel, air blasting a cleansing and disinfectant mix around her, and stumbled out into a police station.

The droids, all of them six feet tall with similar dark hair and brown eyes, marched her through the lobby, down a corridor and into a room with a transparent holographic desk and two transparent chairs.

They all left, except for one. Day slumped into the chair, cold, miserable and cursing Monday for the crap she was putting her through. Monday was a selfish bitch. She hadn't thought about how her washed-out personality implant, aka Day, would cope with this situation. She hadn't been savvy enough to consider what might happen if the shikshak didn't remove the implant. She'd counted on luck. If she was that reckless, Monday didn't deserve to get her life back.

A strange sensation roused Day from her self-pity party. She glanced up. The police officer was watching her. A weird, smile flittered across his narrow lips. He chewed a cocktail stick and sucked through his teeth, raising an eyebrow at her and looking pointedly at her rubber knickers. She gave him the finger. Not a droid after all.

"That looks like an invitation," the officer said.

"If that looks like an invitation you're IQ must be lower than a maid droid."

"Hmm, maid droids," he said, pushing off the wall and swaggering over. "Now we're talking."

"You're not talking, you're dribbling like a brain-dead coma victim."

"Droids pass the time, but I don't care what they say, there's nothing like the real thing. I like a bit of trouble. A bit of resistance."

His words scuttled across her skin like town gutter rats. She already had goose bumps from her state of semi-nakedness. Now the hair follicles stuck up all over her arms and neck. If he tried anything, no one would hear her shouting. The thick door was bullet proof and sound proof. And her wrist monitor was broken so the irregularities in her body functions would not be picked up. No medic droids would appear to assist her.

Her heart kicked up until it was hammering in her chest. The police didn't stop at the desk, but walked around it. He stood looking down at her, his leg so close she had to open her thighs a little so he wasn't touching her. His eyes sparked with lust.

Her thoughts seemed to switch off, and a heightened awareness of the room, and the officer took over. She heard him swallow. She sensed the heat jerking across his body, as his breath grew shallow and tight. He ran a finger across her shoulder. She froze as it moved up her neck and crossed her lips. He pushed it through her lips into her mouth.