Valley of the Broken (Sage of Sevens Book 1)

by K. F. Baugh

  “Are you hurt?” she yelled, unable to see him. The bowed roof had collapsed into a jagged metal barrier between them.

  “Fine,” he shouted. “Just go.”

  “I’m trying!” The car raced on, almost out of control. “There’s an overhang up ahead. I’ll try to swipe it off.” Cursing, she slowed to navigate a narrow section of the road that curved along the edge of a cliff.

  Ear-splitting howls ricocheted around them. The car’s roof buckled another few inches, and a claw punched through the contorted metal. Tim yelled as the remaining metal collapsed between them, crushing Sage’s right arm and pinning her against the window. Unable to steer, she tensed her body against the seat, anticipating a crash.

  With the deafening screech of tearing metal and the pop of shattering glass, the collapsed roof was suddenly gone. Air rushed through the car, and Sage watched as the top of the Honda catapulted into the emptiness of the canyon. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the Skinwalker balanced on the sedan’s trunk.

  Gus’s barking rose to a crescendo. He launched himself at the Skinwalker and clamped his teeth onto its arm. With a bay of triumph, the creature flung Gus’s dangling body into the rocks on their left. Sage’s heart tore in two at Gus’s wail of pain.

  “No!” she screamed. Her mind demanded she slam on the breaks, Skinwalker be damned. She couldn’t leave her best friend suffering, dying alone on a deserted mountain road. But Sage forced herself to keep the accelerator to the ground, knowing she and Tim were the creature’s next victims.

  She glanced back again. As if reading her thoughts, she saw the Skinwalker jump into the seat behind them.

  Tim lay slumped against his window. “Wake up. Wake up!” Sage tried to shake him with her crushed right arm, but the useless limb only glanced against his shoulder. Deadening despair, almost as debilitating as her injuries, flooded her. Then suddenly, in her headlights’ beam, Sage saw the rocky overhang less than 500 feet away.

  “We’re almost there!” The car dipped violently, jolting Sage forward in a painful whip. She prayed the lurch had knocked the Skinwalker off its balance. But then a vicious clawed hand clamped around Tim’s headrest and ripped it from the car. She glanced at the overhang in the distance. It was still too far away. Resignation filled her, and she let out a shuddering breath.

  “Not this time, you bastard,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and cranked the steering wheel as hard as she could to her left. The car smashed into the mountain wall, and the windshield and remaining windows shattered against her. Ricocheting from the impact, the vehicle’s tail spun to the opposite side of the road where the mountain dropped away into darkness. The Honda teetered on the edge of the precipice for a split second before settling back onto the gravel.

  With her last ounce of consciousness Sage forced her gaze to the passenger seat. But Tim was gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Voices echoed around her, and Sage fought against claustrophobia. Trapped, restrained. Every fiber of her being urged her to escape, but her limbs were leaden and much too heavy to move. Jagged darts of pain shot through her body, and her mouth felt as if it had been sucked dry by a vacuum.

  Bright lights jolted her in and out of consciousness. Excited, angry voices repeated one word over and over: serum. Minutes, maybe hours ticked by, before Sage could, with immense effort, force herself to focus on the conversation around her.

  “I want her screened every half hour,” a deep voice came from her right. “We need to see how the serum reacts to her mutations. I’m working on it in the lab as well, but here is where we’ll see the effects first. Alert me to any change. No matter how small.”

  “Yes, sir,” came a strained feminine voice to her right. “And the other one?”

  “He’s not a priority,” the deep voice responded curtly. “However, I will need him for information. Do you have an estimate on when he’ll regain consciousness?”

  “Benson ordered him to be removed from his meds nearly a day ago. Renault is keeping an eye on him now, but he’s not hopeful. If the patient comes out of his coma, it will be in the next few hours.”

  A loud beep sounded. “Her IV bags need to be replaced. Should I page the nurse?”

  “You go,” the male replied. “I’ll observe her until you return.”

  Footsteps faded away, followed by the sound of a door opening. A whoosh of air blasted her face. In the haze of her returning consciousness, Sage detected a terrible stench that seemed vaguely familiar, followed by a sharp clicking sound. She heard someone gasp and then the stench dissipated.

  Where had she heard that sound before? She strained to remember, feeling the threads of recognition pricking at her memory. Then a loud, garbled voice filled the room and the familiarity flitted away. “Dr. Storm, paging Dr. Storm.” The announcement blared several times.

  Storm? The word worked its way into her sluggish brain. She tried to understand why it alarmed her so much. Had there been a storm? No, not a storm; an accident.

  Suddenly, the details of her crash came flooding back: Gus, her dearest Gus, gone. Tim, gone. And the Skinwalker.

  The announcement calling Storm continued, and Sage’s brain snapped with sudden clarity. They were calling for Dr. Storm, Terrance Storm from the Oriel Biological Research Station. But what did that mean?

  Sage tried to open her eyes, but they remained closed, cemented shut by a force she couldn’t understand. A shout of anger and despair arose within her, but her paralyzed lips wouldn’t let it escape. The beep of her monitor spiked as her pulse raced.

  “Heart and respiratory rates picking up,” she heard the voice say and then something rustled against her bed. “Are you finally awake?” A presence leaned over her, blocking the bright light. Sage heard a noise like panting close to her cheek.

  There was another loud clicking sound as the door opened again. “They’re paging you, Dr. Storm. Benson wants you to … Dr. Storm? Are you alright? Do you need me to get you an injection?”

  “No!” the voice snapped loudly. “Just hang up her IV. We can’t afford any mistakes with this one.” One final puff of breath landed on her eyes and then the voice adjusted back to its normal volume. “We need her functional as soon as possible. The Dental Clinic is tomorrow.”

  “I’ll not leave the room until she’s conscious.”

  “Good, and remember, Sue, any changes—”

  “I’ll have you paged.” The door clicked once more as it opened and closed.

  Sage felt her hand lifted and a pressure at her wrist.

  “That should help you relax,” the woman said, and Sage heard the heart monitor began to slow.

  “Hope you enjoy your rest,” the voice muttered in her ear as a blanket was pulled up and her pillow adjusted. A hand rested on her forehead before there was sigh and the sound of distant footsteps.

  When Sage finally awoke, she found herself lying in what looked like a windowless hospital room. To her left, she was hemmed in by a wall of machines, connected to her with numerous tubes and wires. Curtains surrounded the rest of her bed, but through a gap in the fabric she could see a door to her right.

  The earlier sharp pain of injuries was gone, replaced by a dull, throbbing ache in her head and chest. When Sage tried to shift her body in the bed, she found her arms and ankles tightly strapped to the frame. She swore and jerked helplessly at the restraints.

  “So you’ve decided to join the land of the living.” The white curtain was swept aside, and a hunch shouldered man with thick glasses glided next to her. “How are you feeling?”

  “Who are you? Where the hell am I? Where’s Tim and Gus?” Sage pulled again, the restraints cutting into her skin.

  “You won’t get out of those,” the man said as he typed on a small tablet. “The bedframe’s made out of titanium, and those straps have restrained bigger, stronger guests than you.” His gaze met hers, and he gave her an ugly smirk before turning back to his typing.

  Sage’s heart raced and pr
ickles of perspiration shivered down her shoulders and back.

  “Do you remember how you got here?”

  She glared at the doctor and said nothing.

  “How do you feel? Heart racing? Headache? Chills? Nausea?” he asked almost gleefully.

  Despite her anger, Sage did a quick check of her body. Heart sinking, she realized she had every symptom he’d mentioned, except nausea. Which was too bad. She would have loved to vomit all over this smug moron’s face.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” The doctor chuckled and pushed a button that hung from a cord at the bottom of her bed. A voice came over the intercom.

  “Yes?”

  “Tell Dr. Storm that the patient is now awake.”

  “Right away, Dr. Benson.”

  He rose and studied a monitor to the left of Sage’s bed.

  “Doctor Benson? Anders Benson?” Sage asked.

  The man nodded then straightened. He picked up one of the tubes that ran from Sage’s body and plugged it into a machine.

  “Must be hard to juggle your work at the Assessor’s office and your marmot research here.” Sage spat the words out. Her headache had suddenly intensified, and she felt as though her skull was being crushed in a vice grip.

  “I manage just fine, but thank you for your concern.” Benson replied and tapped the screen of one of the machines. “This should help with the side-effects. They’re usually worse at the beginning, until you get used to the reaction.”

  “What reaction? And why am I strapped to this bed?” Pain and anger tangled in a whirlwind of adrenaline, and Sage’s voice rose to a shout.

  The door opened. “Sounds like she’s doing well,” came a voice from behind the curtain, followed by the snapping of plastic gloves. Another man came to stand next to Dr. Benson, and Sage recoiled.

  Terrance Storm towered over the other doctor by nearly a foot, but despite his large frame, he didn’t give the impression of strength. His skin had a strange grayish-yellow pallor, and it hung slack from his face. Dark, curly hair covered his head and arms. Bloodshot, pale blue eyes glowed from the baggy skin surrounding them. When Sage had seen him in the ORBS gift shop, he’d looked healthy and strong. What had happened to him?

  “What are her stats?” he asked Benson, his gaze never leaving Sage’s body.

  “Above average. Heart rate is elevated, white and red blood cell count are within normal limits. Capillary and reflex reactions are excellent even in the affected limbs.”

  “Good,” Storm grinned. His yellowed, crooked teeth nauseated Sage, and she turned away. “You may leave us now.” Storm told Benson.

  “But—”

  “I said leave!” Storm snapped.

  “Yes, sir.” Benson rushed out of the room.

  Storm pulled a wheeled stool next to Sage’s bed and sat. He leaned down and smelled the length of her arm. “At last. I’ve dreamed of this day for a long time.”

  Sage concentrated every fiber of her being into not displaying the revulsion she felt, but her ability to maintain a mask of control was strained by whatever cocktail they’d medicated her with. Her head and chest felt tight, like they were about to burst. “Who are you?” she forced the words out, groggy and thick.

  “Introductions? Surely you know who I am. In fact, I believe we’ve met.” He laughed as his eyes traveled the length of her body. Disgust roiled through Sage, and she wished she could manage enough saliva to spit on his condescending face.

  Anger mutated into cold rage and helped sharpen her mind. “I know you’re Dr. Terrance Storm. But I was thinking more along the lines of, why am I strapped to this bed, where is Tim Burgney, and why are you using the people of Black Mills as your guinea pigs?”

  “Your investigative discoveries are truly impressive. How long did it take you to figure all that out?” He reached over and lightly stroked the skin on her arm.

  At his touch, a ringing filled her ears, and Sage’s vision blurred as unconsciousness threatened to pull her into its embrace. She forced her racing heart to slow and took several deep breaths. “Don’t touch me,” she ground out through clenched teeth.

  “Now, that’s not very nice, is it? Especially after all the trouble we’ve gone through to keep you and your friend alive.” He stood and walked to the machines at Sage’s left. Her vision slowly cleared, and she noticed he had a slight limp. “It took longer than I thought, but at this point you’re doing well. Your stats have finally started to improve. That’s probably due more to your abilities than any skill from these imbeciles.” He gestured vaguely to the door behind him.

  Sage strained once more at her restraints. The fabric chaffed her tender wrists and ankles. How on earth could this guy know about her abilities? Even the hospitals in New Mexico hadn’t known, and she’d visited them often enough. Until she ran away.

  “There are people in Black Mills who know we’re here.” The claim sounded pathetic even to her, but she continued, “The false information you’ve fed to the papers is wearing thin, and the town’s getting suspicious. You have to let us go.”

  Storm chuckled and leaned close to her once more. “Let’s not rush things. We’re especially curious to follow your progress with the vaccine serum. Someone like you offers us a unique opportunity. Besides we’re still missing your shadow.” He pushed the button that hung over the edge of her bed.

  “Yes?”

  “Send in Tim Burgney.” He turned to her with excitement dancing in his strange eyes. “I think it’s time for all of us to get better acquainted.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Storm adjusted various bags of medication and machines while Sage closed her eyes in the futile hope that this was one of her visions, a dream she would soon wake from. When she blinked and found the white walls and curtains still surrounding her, she struggled not to whimper in despair. Storm studied the monitor displaying her pulse, blood pressure, and other numbers. Grudgingly she realized that whatever he’d done, the pain in her head and chest were receding, and her mind had sharpened. She almost felt back to normal.

  The door clicked and a nurse pushed a wheelchair-bound Tim into the room. His head slumped over his chest and most of his body was covered with bandages and gauze. He barely looked alive.

  Sage closed her eyes to hold back the welling tears, but they escaped, burning the scratches and abrasions on her face. First, her precious Gus had been taken from her, and now Tim was barely clinging to life. Sage took a deep breath. She could not afford to waste time in grief or fear; Tim’s life depended on her figuring out this madness and rescuing him, regardless of what happened to her.

  What was this vaccine or serum they kept talking about? They were obviously planning to use it on the people of Black Mills at the Dental Clinic. Shuddering, Sage pictured Liddy, Elena, and the children who had clustered around the float the day she first met Tim. What would happen when they got a dose of this experimental cocktail? She considered the pounding head, aching muscles, and clammy coldness that were only just diminishing in her body. If her reaction to it was any indication, the general population was in for some serious trouble.

  Storm strode to the door and flung it open where a nurse waited. He gestured angrily at his computer tablet. A rustle drew Sage’s attention, and she looked at Tim. He had pulled his arm from its sling, and his eyes were fixed on her face. He winked, then silently raised his finger to his lips and gave her a crooked smile.

  Are you okay? she mouthed frantically.

  Tim gave a barely perceptible nod. His gaze returned to Storm, and they watched as the doctor followed the nurse into the hallway, demanding she find Benson immediately.

  The second the door shut, Tim sat up straight and wheeled his chair closer to Sage. “Do you have any idea what’s happening?”

  “I don’t know,” Sage tried to reach for Tim, but her arm restraint rattled against the bed. He stretched a bandaged hand to hers. At his touch, Sage suppressed a choking sob of relief. “They’re testing some serum on me. I think they
’re going to give it to everyone at the Dental Clinic. But it’s bad, Tim, it’s poisoning me. I feel so sick. If this is my reaction, it’ll kill a normal person.”

  The door slammed and suddenly Storm was next to Tim’s chair.

  “So you’re awake now? How nice of you to join us.” He crushed Tim’s bandaged shoulder with a white-knuckled vice grip, and Tim gave a sharp cry. “Did you have something to say?”

  “Not to you,” Tim rasped.

  Storm contemplated Tim for a moment, smirked, then casually struck him across the face with the back of his bony hand. Tim’s head snapped, and his wheelchair jolted backwards.

  “Stop!” Sage jerked helplessly against her restraints.

  Storm studied Tim, looking for a response. When there was none, he turned back to his tablet with a sneer. “Coward,” he muttered.

  Tim groaned but after a moment sat up straight again and turned his now bloodied face towards the doctor. “Maybe I am. Still, that’s interesting, coming from you.” He spat out a mouthful of blood. It fell on his chest, staining the white bandages with a fiery mark that glowed in the stark medical room. “Aren’t you the one hiding away in the mountains, injecting the populace of a remote town with an untested serum, awash in your delusions of grandeur?”

  Storm shuddered, and his gaze slowly travelled back to Tim. In the blink of an eye, he flung the tablet to the floor and struck Tim across the face again. Sage screamed in helpless rage and watched as Tim, more slowly than last time, returned to his upright position. Blood drenched his mouth and chin, but as his eyes met Sage’s, she saw there was no cowardice in them. He nodded at her then jerked his head in the direction of Storm.

  “And obviously,” Sage gasped, hoping she’d understood Tim’s lead to further enrage Storm, “the serum’s been a raging success, right? I mean Tabitha and Shaun are doing so well … wait, I forgot. You killed them. That’s what all good scientists do when they make a breakthrough. Destroy their test subjects.”