by Alexa Dare
Darcy Lynn was right to be afraid of the red.
“You’ll make us better,” he linked to the ground, “or you’ll be the ones to pay for making us bleed.” Blood. All over the place. He held up his hand, which seemed small and far away. Even the beds of his fingernails oozed dark red.
As if from way off, Nora edged toward him. Three barn-lengths out, in the tunnel of his dimming vision, she baby-stepped closer.
“Leave us alone.” Junior gagged on a thick glob of blood and spat. Swirls tipped and floated at the back of, then across in front of, his eyeballs. A squeezing roll heaved high up in his belly.
“You’re very ill, Junior. Sit down, before you fall.” Nora’s voice, so close, but she was way out.
He stumbled nearer to Darcy Lynn, slumped on the edge of the bed. “Why did you let him make us sick?”
“The virus and germs on the dog toy made you ill,” said Nora.
“The picture...” Raw copper-penny stench rinsed away the clean, vibrant earth smell.
“He says he had to sketch you having the full effects of the virus to make you well. Even now, he’s drawing you toward health.” She held out her hand and stretched her mouth into a pretend smile.
Lightheadedness rippled inside Junior’s head. His vision dimmed. He reached, grabbed at the bedcovers, then found and held his friend’s hand. Along with her fingers, he cupped the soft fur of the toy dog.
No use calling out for or expecting help.
No one ever came.
Chapter 11
“Until you get a doctor to help my brother, I don’t do squat.” Brody back-walked his chair. The wheels bumped over the uneven floorboards until he sat several feet from the keyboard. In the floor’s center, he folded his arms. The too-dim cabin interior sheltered golden wooden beams overhead, log walls, and hardwood floors.
With a gulp of fear chased by stale dill reek hanging in the work area, he pressed his shaking hands into his armpits and slumped against the chair back.
Delbert’s face flushed pink to match his bloodshot eyes. “You’ll do as you’re told. You heard what Yates said last night.”
“Yeah, I heard.” Brody stood, fists balled at his sides. “Look, dude, this is what I know. You can’t ship someone into the county to do what you need me to do. You can’t do it, or you already would have.”
“You no-good dweeb.” Delbert lowered his head. Like a camo-wearing incensed bull, the broad man charged.
Brody bolted behind the chair and shoved.
Delbert knocked it out of the way like swatting aside a gnat. With a lipless show of teeth, the barreling man, his boots jarring the floor, closed the distance between them.
Brody backed away. With a lunge, he grabbed for the pickle jar just before Delbert’s shoulder rammed into his midsection. He held on to Delbert’s massive back. Picked up off his feet, he clutched the man’s doublewide neck and dug his fingers into bulging muscle.
Brody’s back rammed the wall and his skull hit hard. Delbert let up the pressure on his stomach and chest, and with a fat, rock-hard fist, pounded him in the gut.
Hurt erupted in his belly. Hot, surging liquid filled his throat, then the too-greasy white milk gravy Delbert fed him for breakfast spewed from his mouth. Yellow pea-sized chunks of bacon and biscuits splashed Delbert from the chest down as Brody held his belly and sucked in air.
“Shit, man, you hurled all over me.” Delbert backed away. He held his hands out to keep from touching the clumps coating his camo t-shirt and pants.
When he sucked in a puke-tainted breath, Brody gagged to rid the nastiness from his throat and spit more yuck onto the soiled floor. “Cantrell needs a doctor.”
“You have no right to ask for anything.” Delbert smirked.
Offering his own sneer, Brody swung toward the keyboard. In deft strokes, he keyed in his brother’s reordered birth date and pressed the Enter key.
“System lockdown imminent,” a metallic voice echoed from the speakers on each side of the monitor, “in three minutes.”
Chapter 12
“Junior? Pssst.”
How long had it been since he’d faced down Nora and her son?
Where was he?
Wherever he might be, Junior hadn’t finished snoozing. He snuggled in to the warm floating webs clinging to him and settled back toward dreamland. Dreams of eating watermelon warm from the sun and baby tomatoes ripe from the vine rose into the warmth of sleep that surrounded him.
“Junior,” the whisperer asked, “are you awake?”
Happiness punched his gut. Through the groggy stuffiness in his head, he lazily grinned at her without opening his eyes. “If I was, Darcy Lynn, my eyes would be open.”
“You’re talking to me even though your eyes are closed,” said the seven-year-old.
His eyes, as if glued shut, refused to open. He stretched his lids. Gave up. He breathed in the smells of dirt and damp stone. Inside Briar Patch Mountain. Still. He sighed. “I’m resting.”
“Since we’re not sick now, can you tell where they are?”
“They?”
“The twins,” Darcy Lynn said. “Where are they?”
Wait. His throat clicked dry, and he tried to push past the out-of-it silt in his head. With a tremendous effort, he wedged his eyelids apart. “You’re not Darcy Lynn.”
“You’ve been a bad little boy, Junior Burke,” said Nora, talking in her regular voice and hovering close above him. “By the way, we cleaned you up from where you wet your pants.”
Heat flamed Junior’s face. “You talked like her to trick me, but where’s Darcy Lynn?”
“Resting, and before you ask me twenty questions, no she is no longer sick, nor are you. My son, Vincent, the Master of the Void, saw to that.” Outright smugness dripped from Nora’s words like hot candle wax.
“He made us sick in the first place.” Junior angled his head off the pillow trying to gauge the size of his cot. He barely saw slits of light between his eyelids. “Besides, none of us want to be here.”
“You are children. You don’t have a say.”
Junior pressed back and yanked at the bindings on his ankles and wrists. His arms, upon his belly, moved at the elbows. The movement wrenched his shoulders, while his legs bent at the knees but, mostly, stayed in place. “Let me go, and I’ll show you how much of a say I have.”
“I’m going to leave you for a bit, and let you think about sharing where the others are.”
“I left them. They went one way in the woods, and I went the other, so I don’t know where they went. Or where they are. Not even where they are going.” He pulled at the ties on his ankles and wrists. “Now let me go.”
Nora leaned and brought a fake, flowery lavender smell with her. “Near where? What part of the forest or area?”
As if made of limestone, Junior lay like a statue on the hard bed.
“I wish I could say that I regret what’s about to happen.”
His tummy twisted tight, Junior held his breath.
“Remember,” Nora said, “I offered you a chance to share and get in my good graces.”
“You can take your graces and—” Something to his side shifted. A plastic-heavy breeze rushed at him as a large shape closed in over top of him. A lid slammed closed only a few inches form his face.
“You’ll remain locked away,” Nora’s muffled voice said, “to give you time to consider telling me what I need to know.”
“Don’t,” panic raised his voice to a squeak, “lock me in.”
“Tell me, Junior, does our little container remind you of your time spent in the cellar?”
“Please...” He clamped his lips tight. His aunt left him even longer if he pleaded. Lifting his gloved hands and found the lid. Following along the line of the flat surface, he explored the seam of the top, then scooched on to his hip and examined the sides.
Like she said, a box. He was closed in.
Air thickened around him. Not able to breathe fast or deep enough, a tilting, l
ooping sway circled inside his head. The chemical stink of the stupid rain suit and the box gouged his nostrils and turned his stomach. “I…I…I want out.”
Each second stretched a mile. This was worse than the room where Nora’s son visited. Maybe even worse than…
The cellar.
Where damp, mud-packed walls closed in on him.
The day, no, the night they took him, his aunt forced him inside. For not tending to the spinach plants. Yuck. He hated spinach, and she noticed him not bringing nourishment from the earth to the row of plants.
“Please, Aunt Pearl,” he muttered.
By moonlight, she had dragged him out by the hair. Then the men came. His aunt fell, calling out his name. They carried him away. Toted like a sack of potatoes, he looked back. She never moved. Lying in the plowed rows of her hateful, beloved garden, that’s where she’d met her end.
Closed in. He punched upward. His fists pounded the lid. He hit until his knuckles throbbed and a deep ache built in his chest.
“Darcy Lynn hates you.” The low muffled words cut to the bone.
“You…you…you’re lying.”
“She wants a family, because she no longer has one,” Nora’s voice, as if cushioned in cotton, said. “And all you did was bring her a stupid stuffed animal.”
“She loves her toy.”
“Not anymore.”
“Because of you. You. Did. This.” Silent, choked half-sobs bumped Junior’s shoulders against the blanket-covered box bottom. “Not me.”
Panicked, he kicked and pounded the lid, with the toes, his knees, his double-handed fist, even with his forehead. With his teeth, he tugged at the glove’s fingertips. The gloves were too thick to chew through. The cuff fasteners cut at his lips as he tried to pull them free.
He coached himself to breathe, until after a while, the quiet blended with the plastic-wrapped darkness. “Just wait.” He spoke the way he did beneath his aunt’s house, so low that only he and the ground heard. “You’ll see who gets the ground ripped out from under them.”
Chapter 13
Later in the day, Nora assisted Ross as he retraced Junior’s steps through the woods. With quick swipes, she fanned wisps of ground fog away to reveal yet another print indented in yellow-tipped green moss covered by golden pine nettles.
Outdoors, much of which she had been deprived of for many years, offered the comfort and welcoming scents of pine, cedar, and honeysuckle lifting on the light forest breeze.
Mashed and displaced leaves revealed a previous step. A broken twig marked the one after that.
“Amazing how he travels so well without shoes.” The general’s former aide knelt beside Nora and pointed toward the brush deeper in the trees. He leaned close and spoke in a soft drawl. “He came from the direction of Devil’s Ridge.”
The chill of the early morning settled in a mist over Nora. Like a veil, the moist layer covered the exposed skin of her face.
“Care for some huckleberries?” Ross held out a palmful of what looked like blueberries, but smaller and a deeper purple in color. Thick, dark lashes framed his somber gaze.
“Uh, no…”
“Come on. Hold out your hand.”
Nora, a flush staining her cheeks, offered her palm.
Ross dribbled a few berries into the stretchy leather sheath that covered her hand.
With a lopsided grin, she popped a berry into her mouth. She moaned aloud at the sweet, faint root beer tinge of the flavor. “So good. I haven’t eaten one of these in years.”
With a slow smile, Ross nodded.
Seizing the straps of her backpack, she didn’t want to look at him. Couldn’t meet his gaze. “Let’s go.”
Three miles of hiking passed before either of them spoke. In the rocky terrain, Ross searched the ground. “Brody’s tracks head off toward the next ridge over, while the girl’s and boy’s veer down into the valley.”
“Two sets of larger footprints.” A salty sheen of sweat layered Nora’s upper lip. “Brody found his brother, then?”
“I’m not so sure. The scuff marks look as if one is being dragged along by the other. Doesn’t look good for the young man, whether it’s his kin or not.”
Had she chosen to keep Brody locked within the facility… Yet his getting her and the little girl out had been their bargain. Yet, he and the others obviously returned and attacked.
But the ruin of R-19 and the death of the general—oh, yes—well worth the trade.
“We may have use for his skills.” Among the cedar and pine scents, Nora longed for another place in time. After spending most of her life inside an underground mountain facility, she inhaled the freshness and freedom of the outdoors.
“We’ll locate the computer whiz, but first the twins.” Ross led the way into a shallow gulley. An hour or so later, he knelt and gestured for Nora to go to ground. He angled his head toward an area deep inside the woods.
Twenty to thirty yards ahead, the two thirteen-year-olds, as if they had stopped to rest, huddled under thick pine boughs.
Ross inserted a blue-bodied dart with muffled clicks into the chamber of his gun. “How well will the sedative work?”
“In the past, the tranquilizer type drugs stopped them. With the changes due to the new collars though, I don’t know.” Nora removed a device from her pack.
Ross eyed the cylinder Nora pulled from her backpack and quirked a brow.
“Brainwave disrupter,” she said with a wry smile. “This should work well. You’ll be affected the least and will recover more quickly since Brody’s design specifically targets higher Electromagnetic Fields. His comprehension of EMFs is, well, quite amazing.”
Nora set the iced tea pitcher-sized gadget atop the gravel-strewn ground. With a tight smile, she pressed the setup button. A wand-type antenna extended from the top. At six-inches tall, the slim wand whirred to a halt.
“How will you and I be affected?” asked Ross.
“Some symptoms include fainting, confusion, dizziness, or pressure-type headaches.”
“Like what you undergo when you use your ability?” Ross placed his hand upon the back of her glove on the disruptor.
Nora breathed in his nearness. She savored his masculine freshness but yanked her arm away. “Sorry. I fear touching anyone.” A chuckle rasped dry from her throat. “That happens when you kill everyone you touch.”
“You and they will remain unable to react for how long?”
“Long enough for you to sedate and subdue the teens.” Nora held her index finger over the activate button. “Please get us all back safely to Briar Patch Mountain.”
“Of course.” Ross nodded but held up his palm. “There’s no way to daze them without you enduring the effects as well?”
“Part of the drill.” Nora took in the rugged angles of Ross’s face. “With one look, the boy could burn us to a crisp. The girl’s anger might pound us to death with giant balls of hail. For the next few moments, I’m trusting you with my life, Fitz Ross.”
“You’re in good hands.”
Were that only true…
Nora sighed and pressed the button.
Energy fields within a seventy-yard radius fell. An unseen surge in Nora’s head knocked her off balance. She pitched over. Her hip banged the hard, rocky ground. A hush stuffed her ears. Heated ozone filled her nostrils.
An out-of-it Ross lay on the rocks beside her. Blood dripped from a gouge along his cheek.
A metallic tinge capped her teeth.
Ross’s face came into view. His lips moved as he spoke, yet his gentle drawl didn’t reach her blocked hearing.
Unable to manage any other movement, Nora blinked in answer.
With a thumbs-up gesture, he walked out of her line of sight.
High-end brainwaves slowed, at that moment, she was normal. For a blessed short time. A regular person. Woman. Not a killing machine designed by covert research. The constant concern of not touching others lessened. Tears eased from the inner corners of her eyes
. What had she come to that lying on the cold, hard ground, unable to move, was a treat?
Within minutes, Ross came back and raised double thumbs. Good, he must have subdued the twins. In the beams of sunlight through the trees, neither of them moved. As he knelt beside her, Ross’s probing gaze both frightened Nora and lifted her spirits.
“For a short time,” she forced words through numbed lips, “my touch won’t cause harm.” Unable to gauge the volume of her voice, shame flamed upon her face. Gifted with a few more moments, Nora tugged off her right glove.
To match her motion, Ross held out a hand half again as big as hers.
A strange warm jolt jarred her chest. Her glove fell aside, and she reached out. She trailed the length of his index finger with the pad of hers. As her chest tightened, she withdrew her hand.
Fitz Ross’s strong fingers captured hers. The glint of his gaze hit her straight on. Nora trembled and stayed still as Fitz gripped her hand and squeezed.
Dizzy swirls wobbled before her eyes. As if she must swallow the last bite of creamy, sweet chocolate and set a holiday gift box aside, Nora tugged free. Her limbs shook. Wet pops cleared her ears and her hearing returned. The sound of her rapid panting and his ragged breathing greeted her.
Gaze steady, Ross reached for her.
“Don’t touch me.” Nora scooted away. “It’s no longer safe.”
Chapter 14
“What have you done?” Delbert’s mouth pursed as if he sucked on an unripe persimmon. His gaze magnified by his glasses’ lenses bulged extra wide. In sidesteps, he all but danced around the mess on the floor.
“I put you out of business, at least, electronics-wise. Maybe for good. Unless you get Yates in here right now.”
Anger shook Delbert’s hulked frame. Glops dripped from his shirtfront to splat on hardwood, and the big guy tiptoed to step around the yuck. “What kind of man upchucks on another?”
“One that ate your greasy breakfast and who you then punched in the stomach.” Brody cradled his aching belly.
“Lockdown in two minutes.” The synthesized female voice added a dramatic touch to the situation.
