SHARD: Book One of The Shard Trilogy (A YA Sci-fi Teens with Powers Series)

by A. M. Pierre

  Connor raised his hands and focused on the air surrounding the various fires. He could feel the clouds of oxygen as if they were floating pillows connected to his fingers by invisible threads. He clenched his hands into fists, yanking them in toward his chest, hauling the oxygen away from the flames. One by one, the fires went out—still leaving piles of debris, true, but debris that was no longer burning.

  Connor’s head pounded even worse than it had a minute ago, but he barely noticed. “Dice! DICE! Can you hear me?!” He saw a hand sticking up from behind a couple of wooden beams. It wasn’t moving, but he still felt a little stirring of hope. “Is that you?! Dice!” As he got closer, the knot in his stomach re-formed. It was a woman’s hand. Connor touched her wrist. No pulse. He felt nauseous. Time for that later. Dice first. “Where are you?!”

  “H-Here.”

  Connor saw a familiar shoe sticking above one particular pile of wood fragments. “Dice!” He scrambled over the piles of debris and dropped down to kneel beside his friend, ignoring the sharp stabs of pain he felt from stray splinters and glass shards digging into his knees. Connor frantically pulled away the pieces of wood so he could see his friend’s face. “I’m here—I’m here, Dice! Are you all right?”

  Dice coughed. “No.”

  Connor knew exactly how many years it had been since he had cried, but as he pulled the last bit of rubble away the tears started welling up. Besides the cuts and scrapes he had expected, there were two other injuries he hadn’t foreseen. Or, at least, he had hoped there wouldn’t be anything like them. Dice’s right forearm was broken, and one of the bones stuck out through the skin. Worse than that, though, a thin piece of metal poked out of his left side. Connor couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like it had gone all the way through.

  Connor touched it, but Dice stopped him with a gasp. “No . . . don’t pull . . . bleed more.”

  “Right, sorry.” Connor looked frantically through his pockets and his backpack for a first aid kit. “You’re going to be fine. Just fine. I’m gonna get you help. Just you watch.”

  “No . . . phone.”

  Connor put a gauze pad on Dice’s stomach and pressed down to try to stop the bleeding. He only hoped he wasn’t doing more harm than good. “Ah, see, that’s where you’re wrong, mate. I know you’re the best at being prepared, but I took a cue from you this time.” He fished a small object out of his pocket and tried not to notice the blood he’d got on the screen. “Burner phone. I secretly bought it at the airport with some allowance I’d saved.”

  Dice smiled. “Clever.”

  “So relax, don’t talk, and I’ll have an ambulance for you before you know it.”

  “Connor . . .”

  “Sheesh, what part of ‘don’t talk’ is so hard to understand? I think you might even be a worse patient than I am.”

  Dice grabbed onto Connor’s hand with his uninjured arm. “I’m sorry.”

  Connor blinked a couple of times and tried to smile. “Nothing to apologize for.”

  “Was . . . a set-up. I tried . . . last second . . . move it . . . push it away . . . but motion sensor . . . blew instantly.” Dice’s hand opened to show a portable memory drive. “Take . . . keep safe.” Dice fixed him with a particularly serious look. “Everyone . . . out?”

  Connor swallowed hard, thinking of the woman’s hand. “Y-Yeah, you saved them all.”

  “Good.” Dice’s eyes closed.

  “Yeah, you did good. Now you need to worry about yourself.” No response. “Dice? Come on, this isn’t funny.” Connor felt for a pulse on the side of Dice’s neck. Connor’s eyes opened wide. “No . . . don’t you dare . . .” He threw the phone to one side and started chest compressions. He needed to phone for help, but he didn’t dare stop. But she could . . . “Kaia! Kaia, please! I need your help! NOW!”

  “I’m coming,” he heard her faintly reply. “Did you find him? Sorry it took me so long, but my powers aren’t working and it was kinda hard to dig myself out with one hand.”

  Doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Nothing but Dice. Please, Dice.

  Please don’t leave me.

  Please.

  The door to the hospital waiting room swung open, and Connor looked up expectantly then slumped again. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Thanks.” Kaia sat down next to him.

  He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “That’s not what I meant.” Not exactly.

  “Did our chauffeur ever show up?”

  “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Silent?” Connor shook his head. “It looks like he took off after the thirty minutes were up and never looked back. What did the doctor say about your wrist?”

  Kaia held up her left arm, now encased in a white cast. “He said a lot, none of which I understood, but I think the cast speaks for him. What about you?”

  “The ringing in my ears seems to be fading and my head isn’t pounding quite so much, so I took a couple of pain pills I had on me.”

  “Connor, you need to let someone look at you. You could have a concussion or something.”

  “I’ll be fine. You shouldn’t worry about me so much. Worry about Dice.” If you had worried about him a little more instead of tackling me, this might not have happened. Stop that. This wasn’t her fault. Maybe not all her fault, but . . .

  “Has he come out of surgery yet?”

  Connor shook his head again. “I don’t think so. It’s been a while since they’ve told me anything. I should say, it’s been a while since they’ve come through the door and jabbered incomprehensibly at me. It’s been fun—I can’t understand a bloomin’ word they’re saying, so I’ve been going on facial expression alone. So far, I’d say they all looked rather serious but not completely dire.”

  “Good. I’m sure he’ll—”

  The door swung open again, and Connor looked up hopefully. This time a nurse walked in, one he hadn’t seen before. “Are you young Mr. Kamina’s friends?”

  Wait . . . English? “No, I’m here with—” Cover identity, moron! “—I mean, yes, sorry, yes, we are.” He shrugged apologetically. “Long day.”

  “I understand.” She had a kind smile. “I am sorry no one has been able to speak with you before now. I only came on duty a few minutes ago.” Her smile faded. “Your friend’s injuries were quite severe. In addition to the visible wounds, he had internal bleeding and several broken ribs.”

  Connor grimaced. “Those were probably my fault. I gave him CPR until you showed up. I was so desperate I was probably pushing too hard.”

  The nurse sat down next to him and laid a hand on Connor’s arm. “That is possible, yes, but do not feel bad about it. Your friend would not be alive right now if not for you.”

  “Is he going to be all right?”

  She blinked a couple of times then looked away. “He is out of surgery, but he will be in the intensive care unit down the hall until he is stable. I’m sorry, but I cannot promise you anything except that we will do all we can.”

  A thought occurred to Connor, something that had been worrying him since they arrived but which he’d been unable to ask anyone. “Did you scan his medical history from his UNID card? I know he’s had problems in the past.”

  The nurse nodded. “Of course, Mr. Simon. We are taking excellent care of your friend.” She lowered her voice in a confidential manner. “Especially considering who his father is.”

  Connor tried not to smile. Dice had probably changed the profile on his UNID card again. He may have made himself a diplomat’s son like he did in New Zealand. Or maybe this time he had aimed even higher. “Of course. I will make sure his family knows of the care he received.”

  The nurse nodded modestly in thanks before standing and leaving the room. Connor fiddled with the memory drive in his pocket. None of it made any sense. Dice had said the people at the compound were refugees, not rebels. Surely the bomb didn’t
belong to them. Especially since they all ran for their lives when Dice told them about it. Would the government have planted it to kill those people? If they did, why wait to detonate it until the three of them were there, too? After all, the government had hired them. Or was it all some weird coincidence of bad timing?

  Perhaps the refugees weren’t the target. And if it was intended for the three of them, it meant another possible instigator—The Company. After all, there had been that parachute malfunction, too. But why wait until they were on site? The Company could’ve bombed the safe house or had their silent chauffeur take them out before they even got there. Maybe a third party stood to gain something. Was there a Mafia in this country?

  Connor rubbed his eyes. It really wouldn’t do him any good spinning his wheels on random theories until he’d had an opportunity to look at Dice’s memory drive.

  Kaia must’ve been watching him. She patted him lightly on the shoulder. “They probably won’t let us see him for a while. We could take turns getting some sleep. You can go first—I’ll wake you up if they tell us anything new.”

  He nodded slowly. “Okay. I don’t know how comfortable hard plastic chairs are for sleeping, but at this point I think I could—” His mobile vibrated in his pocket. “Who on earth could be calling me?” He looked at the screen, still smeared with blood. It wasn’t anyone calling him. It was texts. A bunch of texts. “Who even has this number?”

  “You never told anyone at Mark’s Place you have a phone?”

  “It’s not that, love. When we first landed here, I bought this mobile as a last resort. A contingency plan, as it were. Good thing, too. But I wasn’t exactly advertising the fact I had it, so who would be texting me?”

  “I bet you it was Dice. When they were loading him into the ambulance, he asked me what your number was since I had the phone then. Maybe he borrowed one of the paramedic’s phones and texted you on the way.”

  Connor nodded. “Makes sense. If he was out of a service area when he finally sent them, the texts could have been delayed for a bit.” His finger hovered over the button that would open the first message. He knew what he was feeling, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. He was scared. What would Dice have been so desperate to send to me? Some more information about the bomb? Some “final thoughts” like a last will and testament? Or—? Connor pushed it.

  It was gibberish.

  Connor sighed. He should have expected it, really. The poor guy had been brutally injured and in shock. It was amazing he’d even been able to type in the right phone number, let alone anything coherent.

  dont b upset. i said dont b UPSET. bad stuff AWAITS us ALL! u r a survivor. so survive.

  i spy with my little EYE—an OX! and its a RUNT!

  MYTHS: PI is a mathematical symbol that has led to Acts of VIOLENCE

  And there were nine more after that. Connor put the mobile back in his pocket. He’d look at them all later. Maybe there was something less nonsensical a little further on. He stretched out as best he could on the line of molded plastic chairs, trying to bend his body so the edges of the seats weren’t cutting into him too badly, and curled his arm under his head to act as a pillow. Despite how uncomfortable it all was, he felt himself drifting as soon as his eyes closed. His conscience poked at him, but he ignored it as he faded completely. It’s all right. I can take this one little break. Kaia will wake me up if anything’s wrong.

  * * *

  Something was very wrong. Kaia couldn’t be certain what exactly was going on (since she had that tiny “I don’t speak the language” problem), and Connor had only got a half-hour’s sleep, but she didn’t want to take any chances. “Connor?” She lightly shook his shoulder. “Wake up.”

  “Wha’s goin’ on?” He looked around slowly, bleary-eyed.

  Kaia swallowed. “A couple of minutes ago they made an announcement over the loudspeaker and then people started running down that hallway from everywhere and bringing in equipment and trays and one person had those electric paddle things they have in TV shows where they say ‘Clear!’ and I don’t even know where Dice’s room is but I’m—I’m scared. Do you think we should go check it out?”

  The sleepy look vanished. “You bet I do.” Somehow Kaia felt a little better as he stood up. “Which way were they going?” Kaia pointed down a nearby hallway. Connor walked towards it, then stopped and turned back, holding out his hand. “Together.”

  Kaia nodded and grabbed on, and the two of them walked hand-in-hand into the unknown.

  The commotion was definitely coming from the ICU. Doctors and nurses pushed past each other as they came and went, desperate and frantic. One part of Kaia’s brain observed it all from a distance: That’s odd. I thought doctors were supposed to remain calm and detached. The other part churned wildly, sending waves of anxiety through her: Whose room is it? I can’t see inside, all the names on the doors are in a language I don’t know, and no one here can tell me anything! Should I start yelling questions until someone gets the nurse who speaks English?

  Connor broke away and walked purposefully towards the door. Kaia hustled to walk alongside him. “Are you sure we should?” she said quietly. “No matter what it is they’re doing, we’re going to get in the way.”

  Connor was white as a sheet. “I know, but I have to find out.”

  An island of noisy, fluttering doctors and nurses completely surrounded the bed, making it impossible to be sure what was happening or who it was happening to. Everything seemed to slow down around her. Kaia felt like she was walking through water, with the voices and noises of the ICU filtering through as completely incomprehensible burbles of sounds. One noise cut through everything else—high-pitched and droning.

  Kaia knew she knew that sound. It meant something, something important, but her brain wouldn’t tell her what it was. One of the nurses—the English-speaking one—saw them standing in the doorway. She rushed over, arms opened wide to usher them out. “You should not be here. Please, go back to the waiting room.”

  “No. I won’t.” There wasn’t any anger or threat in Connor’s voice, but Kaia didn’t doubt for a second that he meant it.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Simon, I truly am, but—”

  The yelling had stopped. The clustered group of people around the bed slowly separated and started walking away. Kaia hadn’t understood a word they said, but something in their hunched postures and hushed voices came through loud and clear.

  It was defeat.

  The room emptied, and Kaia could finally see the bed. Dice was lying on it. He’s not, he can’t be . . . And then she finally realized what that droning, high-pitched sound was.

  Flatline.

  Kaia’s whole body went numb. She wasn’t really here. This was a dream, a nightmare, that someone else was having. The nurse was still talking, but none of the words made sense.

  “I’m so sorry. He had an allergic reaction to medicine he received post-op—we followed his UNID profile, of course, so this must have been an allergy his previous doctors were unaware of—and he entered anaphylactic shock. We used every means at our disposal, especially given your friend’s status, but our supply of epinephrine was . . . well, I hesitate to say ‘stolen’ or ‘misplaced’ since I simply don’t know, but we did not have the necessary medicine on hand to help your friend. Again, I am so very sorry. Is there anyone you would like us to call? Are your parents in the country?”

  What is this woman talking about? Dice is fine. I could walk over and nudge him and he’d wake right up. After a few days of rest, Dice should be well enough to walk, then we’ll all go home together. Until then, we’ll stay in the nice waiting room with the nice nurse and hang out watching TV shows we don’t understand and eating hospital cafeteria food and feeling the wind in our faces—

  —the wind?

  Kaia’s hand reached up automatically to hold her hair down. Yes, it sure is windy today in the ICU.
Kinda funny, that. The fog encasing her brain lifted enough for her to realize what it meant. “Connor, no . . .”

  Connor stared straight ahead, his eyes vacant and devoid of all life. Wet trails glistened down his cheeks. His hands floated in front of him as if on invisible cushions, and his hair, short as it was, whipped back and forth through the sheer power of the gale he was creating.

  Kaia grabbed onto one of his arms and tried in vain to pull it down. “Connor, please. Connor, listen to me. Don’t do this. There’s a lot of people here—innocent people. You’re going to hurt someone.”

  Connor’s blank gaze didn’t waver. The gusts picked up speed, coursing through the surrounding hallways and howling as they went. Other noises joined the chorus—panicked voices, equipment crashing and breaking as it blew off of tabletops, furniture screeching on the floor as it slowly began to move—but they all faded into the background. Kaia’s only focus was the grief-stricken boy in front of her.

  She pushed against the force of the wind, which seemed to get stronger every second, and managed to maneuver so she was standing right in front of Connor. A pen flew past her face, narrowly missing her eye. Kaia flinched backward in spite of herself. Be strong. You can do this. She forced her hands up, inch by inch, and placed them on either side of his face. She yelled the words, shoving them through the screaming wind with sheer willpower. “Stop this, Connor! You have to stop! It won’t bring him back!”

  He didn’t even blink. A half dozen syringes slammed into the plaster-covered wall behind him. The stand that had held Dice’s IV fluids soared across the room and crashed through the window on the far side. The end table behind her lurched up into the air as Kaia threw herself to the ground, its legs clearing her head by only a couple inches. Kaia looked for the heaviest thing in the room—the bed—and lunged sideways to grab onto one of the legs for dear life. “CONNOR!”

  The wind rushing by her face died down slightly, and Kaia thought he might have heard her, but the storm had only changed direction while blowing even harder. It was all pushing up now, swirling madly near the ceiling, nails popping from the pressure of the winds trying to force their way through. At this rate, it will probably—