Created (Talented Saga)

by Sophie Davis

  Strangely, there was no one standing on the opposite side of the door. No guards. No Mac. Their notable absence sent shivers down my spine. Did I dare hope we’d gotten lucky?

  The room beyond the door was small and circular. Five doors lined the walls, and yet another hallway branched off at an angle. Immediately Frederick ran to one of the doors.

  “He’s in here,” he said excitedly, tugging on the handle.

  This one didn’t budge either. But there were no biometric security measures in place here. It was an old-fashioned lock and key door. Of course, we didn’t have a key, but that was not necessary.

  I stepped forward to join Frederick and concentrated my energy. Within seconds the door exploded. Splinters of wood rained down on me, but I didn’t care. I didn’t hesitate. I burst into the small stone room. I recognized it immediately; it was the same room I’d seen in the drawing Alex had made while we were at the Underground station in D.C. My eyes darted around the darkened space, seeking out Erik’s dark hair. A strangled yelp that sounded much like a dying animal, escaped my lips when my gaze landed on a small cot pushed against the back wall. Equal parts relief, joy, and fury filled me.

  Erik was lying with an arm flung over his head, the visible skin dark with a mixture of filth and bruises. Dirty hair hung in clumps over his face, shielding it from view. He didn’t so much as stir at the onslaught of light and visitors to his cell. Intuitively, I knew he was alive. I felt him, felt his off-the-charts brain activity. Yet, it wasn’t until his finger twitched that I truly believed I wasn’t staring at his corpse. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I didn’t wipe them away. I didn’t care if Crane or whoever else saw me crying and thought me weak. I’d never been so happy in my life.

  No one had followed me inside. Whether this was out of respect or they worried I’d lose it if he was dead and didn’t want to be in such confined quarters with me should that happen, I didn’t know or care. I heard the opening and closing of doors and muffled grunts from the circular room, and paid no attention. Whatever was happening out there no longer concerned me.

  Slowly I approached the bed so as not to startle him. I knelt beside it. Gently as possible, I brushed the matted black hair back from his forehead. I nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw his face. A jagged cut ran the length of his brow. One eye was so swollen that it looked like a golf ball protruded from the socket. His bottom lip was torn completely through.

  Tears poured down my cheeks, blurring the battered face that was still beautiful, if only to me. I ran my fingertips over his cheek, pressing my lips to his temple. I stroked his hair and moaned his name. The wounds will heal, I reminded myself. At least, these physical ones would.

  “Am I dreaming? Because if so, this is the worst dream yet. Usually you’re naked.”

  “Erik!” I exclaimed, pulling back to look at him. His better eye opened, a slit of turquoise peeking out from under the swollen lid.

  “Shhh, don’t talk, Tals. The good ones never last long,” he mumbled, managing a grotesque imitation of a smile. He put an arm around me and weakly tried pulling me onto the bed with him.

  “Erik, you need to get up!” I yelled. “We have to go.”

  “Just let me touch hold,” he begged. “I never get to hold you.”

  He thought I was a dream, or a vision, or a hallucination. I had to make him understand. I needed to get him out of here. Had his face been in better shape, I might have slapped him into consciousness. As it was, I worried that would only injure him further.

  “Erik, look at me,” I demanded, taking control of his mind now that he was fully awake. He obeyed, staring at me with one unfocused eye. “I’m here to get you, but I can’t carry you. Can you walk?” I didn’t need for him to answer; I already knew he couldn’t. Somewhere in his head he knew that at least one of his legs was broken.

  “Frederick!” I screamed. I needed help. Erik couldn’t walk, and I couldn’t support his weight alone. “Ian! Jared!” Honestly, I didn’t care who came to my aid as long as someone did.

  “I’m here, Tal,” Frederick called from the ruined doorway.

  “Help me!”

  I heard footsteps, and then hands pulled me away from Erik. I looked up: Crane.

  “We’ll get him. Go help the others,” Crane told me.

  Frederick and Crane grabbed Erik under the armpits. I arranged Erik’s arms around their shoulders. His eyes had closed again, but he mumbled something incoherently. I put my ear close to his mouth.

  “Talia, Talia, Talia,” he moaned my name over and over again.

  “I’m right here,” I promised him. Fresh tears poured down my face and dripped from my chin. “I love you.”

  “Go, Talia,” Frederick ordered. I didn’t want to leave Erik. He needed me. Frederick must’ve seen the hesitancy on my face. “We won’t make it out of here if you don’t cover us,” he said gently. I knew he was right, but I almost didn’t care. I just wanted to touch Erik, be close to him.

  I kissed Erik’s forehead, tasting the blood from his cut. Then I turned and went to check the main room. Marcel, Janelle, and Jared were attempting to break down the other cell doors.

  “Stand back,” I ordered and concentrated my energy. Four doors burst apart in unison, just as Erik’s had done. Prisoners stumbled out of the rooms in varying states of disarray. Some were just dirty and frail, but others sported bruises and cuts of various ages. All looked dazed and disoriented.

  Jared offered one of his spare weapons to a man clad in a dingy gray jumpsuit with a number stamped on the front, who he addressed as Tad. Janelle began unsheathing knives from her belt and handing them out like party favors to all of our new recruits. I wasn’t sure whether any of them were Coalition soldiers, but she didn’t discriminate.

  My earpiece crackled to life around my neck, and I expected to hear Brand screaming angry nothings at me. “Alpha team, I need an ETA,” came a woman’s distant voice. “I’m in position above Echo tower. Enemy is launching a counter airstrike. I can’t hold the position long. Repeat, I can’t hold the position long.”

  I looked to Janelle, Marcel, and Jared for guidance. Janelle touched her earpiece. “Donna, we’re on our way now. Five minutes. Can you hold for that long?”

  “Affirmative. Five minutes,” Donna responded.

  Janelle turned to Jared. “You and Marcel take the prisoners and head to the roof. I’ll stay behind with Talia in case there’s company. Get everyone on the hover.”

  Jared and Marcel both nodded and headed for the stairwell. I watched the group of vagabond soldiers go. None of them appeared to be in shape for a fight, but they were determined; I felt that radiating off of all of them. Hopefully, they wouldn’t encounter any trouble between here and the roof.

  Frederick and Crane emerged from the cell with Erik still between them.

  “Let’s head for the roof.” Crane looked at me. “Talia, you take lead. Janelle, cover us from behind.”

  I nodded. This arrangement was not ideal. With Frederick and Crane indisposed, Janelle and I would be the only defense. Unfortunately, this was our only option.

  The five of us moved as quickly as we could manage up the stairs. I expanded my senses again so I’d be alerted at the first sign of company. Faint screams were coming from somewhere deep within the walls. I stopped at the first landing and closed my eyes to better focus my energy and locate the source.

  “What is it?” Crane asked from somewhere below me.

  “I hear someone,” I replied, without opening my eyes. “Not guards,” I added quickly. “I … I think it’s another prisoner.”

  “There are a lot of other prisoners. We don’t have time to get them all,” Frederick grunted.

  I nodded. He was right. The deal had been for Erik and Crane’s people, nothing more. I started climbing to the next level. The screams grew louder, the words more distinct. I wanted to block them. Guilt at leaving this person behind was eating away at my gut. He, and I knew it was a “he” by the timbre of his voice
, didn’t deserve to spend the rest of his life in prison. He chanted his name over and over again, and there was no longer a choice for me. I had to free him. I owed his sister that much.

  “Janelle, switch places with me,” I called over my shoulder.

  “Talia, we don’t have time for this,” Frederick said.

  I glanced to where Erik’s head was lolling against Crane’s shoulder. No, we didn’t have time for this. But Cadence had helped Erik rescue his family. There was no way I’d be able to live with myself if I gave up the opportunity to repay the favor.

  Janelle was already brushing past Frederick, Crane, and Erik to assume the lead.

  “Go. I’ll be right behind you,” I told them.

  Crane was reluctant at first, but I’d put enough force behind my words that he soon complied. I waited until all four of them had reached the next landing. Then, I placed my hand on the cold stone wall and opened my mind. I felt a strong buzzing deep within. The prisoner was calling for help. “My name is Randy Choi. Please don’t leave me here,” he screamed over and over again.

  His cell was not close to the stairwell the way Erik’s had been. Rather, it was deep within the maze of hallways. As much as I wanted to free him, navigating through the prison would take too much time, and I was unwilling to leave Frederick, Erik, and Crane without backup.

  I made a snap decision. One that I wasn’t even sure was possible. I would try, though. Concentrating every ounce of energy I possessed on my telekinetic powers, I closed my eyes, envisioned blowing a hole from where I stood, through tons of stone, concrete, steel, and whatever else, to Randy’s cell. Power, hot and electrifying, traveled from my mind, down my shoulder, until it reached my hand. It burst forth from my fingertips and into the wall with a sharp crackle and pop. The air seemed to still for just a second before a terrific explosion of stone and concrete erupted beneath my touch.

  I stared down at my hand, shocked and relieved that the gamble had paid off.

  “Talia?” Crane screamed in my head. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Fine, Ian,” I sent back. “I’m on my way up now.”

  The rubble and dust settled, and a gaping hole now stood where my hand had been moments earlier. Slowly, a dark form materialized in the blackened depths of the opening. The closer it came, the larger it got. I didn’t move, even though I knew I was wasting time. Finally, the person was close enough that the stairwell’s dim light illuminated his Asian features. I swallowed hard.

  “Randy Choi?” I asked, knowing full well he was. I’d have recognized him from his personnel file even if he hadn’t been chanting his name along with his plea for rescue. He had a dark, scraggly beard that covered gaunt, sunken-in cheeks. His gray jumpsuit hung loosely on his too thin frame.

  “I’m a friend of your sister,” I added for good measure. Not that I truly thought he cared who rescued him as long as someone did, but I hoped the news would light a fire under his butt and he’d move a little faster.

  “Cadence.” His voice was hoarse, most likely from the combination of screaming for the last however long and disuse.

  I nodded and offered him a small smile. “Yeah, Cadence,” I said. Then, I turned and headed for the roof, calling over my shoulder, “We need to hurry.”

  Randy fell in step with me halfway to the next landing. His legs were much longer than mine, but I was still surprised he was able to move so fast. I doubted a four by four cell allowed for any type of exercise and judging by Randy’s pallor, he hadn’t seen the sun in quite some time. I refrained from comment. I didn’t want to waste any breath talking.

  Two flights later we reached an open door leading out onto the roof. It was propped open with cinderblock, and warm air was blowing in from outside. Absently, I noticed that this door, too, was devoid of a handle. I considered that, and filed it away under things to worry about later.

  I stepped through the doorway first, followed closely by Randy. Frederick had Erik strapped to him, and Crane and Janelle were busy securing the two of them into a harness so that they could be hauled back into the transport plane hovering overhead. Crane looked up when he heard us exit. When he saw Randy, he nodded to him. Whether the two men actually knew each other, I had no idea.

  Randy stumbled forward, panting from the run up the stairs, and grabbed a dangling harness, deftly working his way into it.

  “Hurry, Talia. The others are already aboard,” Crane sent.

  “I want to wait until Erik goes up,” I replied tightly. No way was I risking a last minute attack. I’d stand guard until he was safely on the plane.

  Crane didn’t fight me. He seemed to share my concern and waited with me.

  Once Frederick had both himself and Erik in the harness, he tugged three times on the rope giving the command to bring them up. Randy followed a moment later. All three of them shooting into the night sky like missiles. As soon as they were gone, a weight seemed to lift from my chest. He was safe. I’d done it. No, I corrected myself, we’d done it. Without Crane, this wouldn’t have been possible. I owed him.

  Crane and I started securing ourselves into the remaining harnesses when a figure burst onto the roof. His gun was drawn and aimed directly at me. I froze. This time, not out of fear.

  “Talia, go!” Crane yelled.

  I ignored the order and stared into the clear blue eyes of Donavon McDonough. He wouldn’t hurt me, I knew that without a doubt. The gun he held was for show. His finger wasn’t even on the trigger. I reached out to him mentally, and scanned his thoughts.

  Indecision warred in his mind, but the choice he was trying to make wasn’t whether to shoot or not. He wanted to come with us, wanted to run away from the life he’d been born into. But obligation and duty to TOXIC and his father had been hammered into him since birth, and leaving this life behind was not a step he was ready to take.

  “Donavon, please come with us,” I urged him. I considered using my will to force him into submission, but that felt wrong. Going against his father was a decision he needed to make for himself. He certainly wouldn’t thank me for taking the choice from him.

  “Get out of here, Tal. Get out of the country, if you can. They’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth if need be.”

  “Donavon,” I pleaded again.

  He shook his head and pursed his lips. “Go, Natalia.”

  I felt Crane’s gaze on me, silently questioning what he should do. Instead of verbally responding, I tugged my rope and began zipping upward. I kept my eyes locked with Donavon’s as long as possible, and then continued to stare down at his shrinking form once eye contact was no longer possible. He stood on the roof of Tramblewood, watching me walk out of his life for yet another time. There was a finality that hadn’t been there before. He’d made his choice, and I’d made mine. We would fight on opposite sides in this war. I hoped when it was over we’d both be able to live with our decisions.

  Chapter Three

  The metal doors clanged shut and the plane was darting forward before I had a chance to untangle myself from the harness. My fingers felt too thick, were too clumsy, and the process took longer than it should have. Cursing, I tripped over the jumble of ropes before finally freeing myself. I raced to the back of the plane, shoving past Janelle and Jared in my haste to reach Erik.

  Thin, yet shockingly strong arms circled my waist from behind.

  “Get off of me,” I growled.

  “Let them do their job,” Frederick replied calmly, his mouth so close to my ear his breath tickled my neck. I struggled against his hold, kicking and clawing like a wild animal. “You’ll just be in the way,” he muttered.

  Part of me knew he was right. But I could ease Erik’s suffering, dull his pain, like he’d done for me on so many occasions. No, I decided, the best place for me was by his side.

  While Frederick was stronger than I’d given him credit for, he was no match for either my strength or my manic need to touch Erik. A well-placed boot heel to the side of Frederick’s knee and I was abl
e to break free. The medical team was crowded around Erik’s stretcher, one young woman barking orders with the authority of a drill sargent. Machines and contraptions were produced as if by magic as the team assessed the situation.

  An explosion rocked the plane, and I stumbled sideways, my shoulder slamming into the wall of the aircraft. My brain barely registered the pain, my nerve-endings unreceptive to any sensation that interfered with my need to reach Erik. The medics blocking my view shifted with the plane, and I caught my first glimpse of Erik in the harsh neon glow of the overhead lights.

  I gasped at the sight of his naked torso. Erik’s chest looked like a black and red checkerboard, complete with misshapen lumps for playing pieces. Bands of shiny, raw skin ringed his biceps and wrists from where he’d been restrained with ropes or too-tight metal cuffs. Track marks covered both of his hands, his wrists, forearms, and even the side of his neck, creating a giant constellation of red stars across his ashen skin.

  A second eruption – from below this time – sent me pitching forward several paces, and into the back of a short, squat medic readying a syringe. He grunted as the female medic who appeared to be in charge grabbed my arm to steady me. Any other time I would have thanked her, at least acknowledged her. Not then, not when my eyes were glued to Erik.

  “Oh god, no!” I cried, reaching past the medic with the needle to take Erik’s limp hand.

  “You need to stay back, miss,” the woman in charge told me. She wasn’t unkind, but the tone of her voice suggested that disobedience wouldn’t be tolerated.

  Ignoring her subtle warning, I curled my gloved fingers around Erik’s. Through the thin suit material, his skin felt normal, but the easy way our hands slid apart when the woman drew me backwards told me it was clammy with sweat.

  Daring to pull my gaze from Erik, I looked up at the female medic and snarled. We were nearly the same height, my boots bringing me almost level with her hazel eyes. I gave her a withering glare, anticipating she would wilt like the delicate flower she appeared to be. Only, like me, her size was misleading. Despite being a waif of a woman, when she straightened her spine and said, “Do you want him to die?” I was the one who wilted. Her tone wasn’t cold or impersonal, just matter-of-fact.