​Chapter 12: Where is Jodie?

Chapter 11 Summary

In the heart of the city, within the glass-clad conference room of the family tower, David Hughes meets Arnold Cosworth to finalize the plans for a marvel of modern engineering—a bunker designed for Mr. Rockfellow that boasts reinforced walls, a state-of-the-art filtration system, and a self-sustaining power supply. With blueprints spread out before them, they assess the intricate details, with Arnold expressing unequivocal faith in David's abilities as the foreman to execute the project flawlessly.

After their meeting, the charmingly flirtatious Belle at the front desk sends David off with good luck for his monumental task. Meanwhile, David contemplates the challenges ahead as he meticulously plans the construction work in his office, drawing upon a legion of robots and a skilled human crew. The combined force gets to work, deftly maneuvering through the volcanic tunnels, while David oversees their progress with a decisive and encouraging hand.

As structures rise from once chaotic natural mazes, the enormity of the task becomes clear—this bunker, a beacon of security and ingenuity, is going to be completed in a record-breaking week, thanks to the immense team. Although logistics pose a costly challenge, David is already planning strategies to improve future operations, recognizing potential advancements within the UDA.

Finally, as the bunker nears completion, David marvels at its features—from the secure armory and vigilant CCTV room to the high-tech kitchen designed to offer comfort in crisis. The bunker stands as a testament to human resilience and the power of collaboration. Ready for whatever the future may hold, David steps out with renewed optimism, the setting sun ushering in a sense of accomplishment and readiness for the next chapter.

Chapter 12: 

I tap my manicured nails on the desk, staring at the phone in my hand. Jodie's voice mail greets me for the third time today, her chirpy tone a stark contrast to the growing unease in my chest. Something's off. She's usually prompt with her responses, especially when it comes to business matters.

I decide to call the mayor's office, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach as I dial the number. The secretary informs me that the mayor is tied up in a meeting, but she'll have him call me back as soon as he's free. I thank her, my voice strained, and hang up.

Next, I dial Drakor Industries. The receptionist transfers me to the CEO's assistant, a brusque woman with a voice like sandpaper. She informs me that the CEO was last seen with Jodie at the Soggy Doggy, a local dive bar. My heart sinks. That was the last place Jodie was seen too.

"Miss Hughes?" the assistant's voice breaks through my thoughts. "Are you still there?"

"Yes," I manage to say, my mouth dry. "Thank you for the information."

I hang up, my mind racing. Where could Jodie be? My gaze falls on the tracking app on my phone. I've always insisted that our family have GPS trackers on their phones, for safety reasons. I open the app, my heart pounding as I wait for it to load.

But Jodie's phone is offline. The tracker shows her last known location: the Soggy Doggy. I stifle a groan, frustration and fear warring within me. I need to find her. I need to know she's safe.

Just as I'm about to call the police, my phone rings. It's the mayor. I answer, my voice shaky.

"Miranda," the mayor's voice is both cautious and assertive. "I am here to help."

"Do you know anything?" I ask, my grip tightening on the phone. "Anything at all?"

"I'm afraid not," he says. "But I've got my best people on it. We'll find her, Miranda."

I thank him, my voice barely a whisper, and hang up. The knot in my stomach tightens, a sense of doom settling over me. Something's wrong. I can feel it. And I won't rest until I find out what it is.

I step out of the Umbral Tower, the cool air a welcome relief from the stuffy conference room. My heels click against the pavement as I walk, the sound echoing in the quiet afternoon. I see a flock of birds gathered a short distance away, their dark forms a stark contrast against the gray concrete. They're pecking at something, their beaks moving in a frenzy.

"I wonder what the carrion is, that is drawing that crowd?" I mutter to myself, my curiosity piqued. I adjust my blazer and start towards the birds, my steps quick and purposeful.

As I approach, I can see that whatever they're feasting on is about the size of a human. My heart skips a beat, a chill running down my spine. The birds squawk loudly, their cries piercing the air. They're aggressive, their wings flapping as they jostle for position.

I quicken my pace, my heels clacking against the pavement. I'm close now, close enough to see the tattered remnants of what looks like a shirt. My stomach lurches, bile rising in my throat. I force myself to keep moving, to keep looking.

The birds are in a frenzy now, their squawks growing louder and more frantic. They're fighting over scraps, their beaks stained red. I can see bones now, the stark white a sharp contrast against the blood-soaked concrete.

I stop, my breath coming in short gasps. I can't look away, can't tear my eyes from the gruesome scene. The birds continue their feast, unaware of my presence. I stand there, frozen, as the reality of what I'm seeing sinks in.

Something's wrong. Something's very wrong. And I need to find out what it is.

I shoo the birds, waving my arms and yelling at them to scatter. They squawk in protest, their beady eyes glaring at me, but they eventually take flight, their dark forms disappearing into the sky.

What's left behind is a sight that turns my stomach, a sight that sends a shiver down my spine. It's Jodie, her body shredded and beaten, her once vibrant clothes now nothing more than tattered rags stained with blood.

"Oh, Jodie," I whisper, my voice barely audible. I step closer, my heart pounding in my chest. She's lying on her side, her face turned away from me. I can see the rise and fall of her chest, a small sign of life that fills me with both relief and dread.

I kneel beside her, my hands hovering over her body, unsure of where to touch, where to start. Her hair is matted with blood, her skin pale and clammy. I can see the imprints of fingers around her neck, the skin bruised and swollen.

"Jodie," I say again, my voice stronger this time. "Jodie, can you hear me?"

She doesn't respond, her body still and silent. I reach out, my fingers brushing against her cheek. She's cold, so cold. I pull my hand back, my fingers trembling.

My fingers press onto the watch, activating voice recognition. I order dex to send a medical squad to my location.

I hang up, my gaze returning to Jodie. I can see the tears in her clothes now, the bruises on her skin. I can see the pain, the suffering. I can see the fight, the strength.

"You're going to be okay, Jodie," I say, trying to suppress my emotions. My words are ragged. "You're going to be okay. What ever fucker did this will pay!" Tears begin to flow.

I stay with her, my hand on her shoulder, my eyes on her face. I watch as her chest rises and falls, as her breaths come in shallow gasps. I watch as the life in her flickers, as it fights to stay alive.

And I wait, my heart pounding, my mind racing. I wait for the sirens, for the help. I wait for the moment when Jodie will open her eyes, when she will look at me and say that she's okay.

But until then, all I can do is stay with her, hold her hand, and pray. Pray that she will be okay, that she will survive. Pray that she will find the strength to fight, to live.

And as I sit there, my hand on her shoulder, my eyes on her face, I make a promise. A promise to find out who did this to her, and to punish them.

* * *

The medical-bot crew comes into view, their movements precise and efficient. They're a far cry from the EMT squads of old, before the bombs dropped and changed everything. I watch as they carefully collect Jodie's still form, their metal hands surprisingly gentle.

The urgency of the situation is palpable, and before I know it, we're in a medical room that looks like it's straight out of a sci-fi movie. The tech here is top-notch, the best that money can buy. Various computers and machine arms for surgeries are mounted on the ceiling, their main visual sensor a large, all-seeing eye. It's both fascinating and terrifying.

The bots, all named Dexter, work tirelessly to stabilize Jodie. They're analyzing her every vein, every cell, their movements quick and calculated. I've seen organ replacements before, but this is something else entirely. The effort they're putting in to stabilize her shock is immense, and I can't help but feel a sense of awe and gratitude.

I pull out my phone, my hands shaking as I dial David's number. He picks up on the second ring, his voice filled with concern. "Miranda, what's going on?"

"It's Jodie," I say, my voice breaking. "She's...she's been attacked. They found her outside, beaten and shredded. The medical-bots are working on her now, trying to stabilize her."

I can hear the shock in David's voice as I give him the play-by-play, the tremor in his voice mirroring the quake in my own hands. The medical-bots are moving faster now, their movements a blur of quicksilver as they work tirelessly to save Jodie. I describe everything in detail, my words tumbling out in a rush, a waterfall of information that I can't seem to stem. It's my way of coping, my way of dealing with the emotions that are threatening to overwhelm me, a tsunami of fear and worry that I'm desperately trying to keep at bay.

"David," I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "They're doing everything they can. The bots are working on her, trying to stabilize her shock. They're analyzing her every vein, every cell. They're even prepping for possible organ replacement."

I can hear David's breath hitch on the other end of the line. "Organ replacement?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yes," I reply, my voice firm. "But they're the best, David. They're the best we've got. If anyone can save her, it's them."

I can hear the hope in David's voice as he asks, "And Jodie? How's she doing?"

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. "She's a fighter, David. She's strong. She's going to pull through this. She has to."

I can hear the determination in my own voice, the resolve. I'm Miranda Hughes, the family's rock, the steadfast anchor. I can't afford to crumble, not now, not when Jodie needs me.

"I'll keep you updated, David," I say, my voice firm. "I'll stay here with her. I'll make sure she's okay."

I can hear the gratitude in David's voice as he thanks me, his voice filled with relief. I hang up the phone, my hands steady now, my resolve firm. I'm not going to let Jodie down. I'm not going to let anyone down. I'm going to be strong, for Jodie, for the family, for myself. I'm going to be the rock they need me to be.

I pivot on my heel, facing the medical-bots once more, my gaze laser-focused, my thoughts crystal clear. I'm braced for whatever the universe hurls at me next. I'm prepared to battle, for Jodie, for our family, for my own self. I'm Miranda Hughes, and retreating is not an option.

Without warning, Jodie's voice reverberates through the room, cutting through the silence like a knife. "Where am I?"

A gasp escapes my lips, my hand instinctively flying up to cover my mouth. "Jodie, darling, you're in the medical bay. You're safe now, I promise."

David's voice is a faint echo in my ear, barely audible as I zero in on Jodie. The bots continue their work, their movements now slower, more precise. She's stable, for the moment. But the journey to full recovery is a marathon, not a sprint, and I can only pray that she possesses the resilience to endure it.

"Miranda?" David's voice pulls me back to the present. "Are you still there?"

"Yes," I affirm, my voice laced with newfound strength. "I'm still here. And so is Jodie."

And with those words, I feel a surge of determination. We'll weather this storm. We have to. For Jodie, for our family, for our future. We'll unearth the culprit behind this atrocity, and we'll ensure they pay for their actions. But for now, all I can do is remain steadfast by Jodie's side, and cling to hope.