by Sophie Davis
“Then go sit up front,” she continued when I didn’t answer her rhetorical question.
With one last glance at the love of my life, I turned to go, praying that this no-nonsense woman was as capable a doctor as her confident demeanor suggested.
“Tals?” His low, raspy whisper was music to my ears.
I spun to see Erik, eyelids fluttering spastically as he made a feeble attempt to sit up. Alarmed by the sudden movement, the medic that I’d crashed into aimed his needle towards the crook of Erik’s elbow. In response, Erik’s hand shot upwards, and his fingers clamped around the man’s windpipe. I watched in horror as the same fingers that were always so gentle when they touched me, so soft when held me, squeezed until the short man’s face turned beet red and his dark eyes bulged like a frog’s.
“Erik, no,” I breathed, even as he lifted the medic off of the ground far enough that the man’s feet dangled in empty air.
The female doctor and I reacted in unison. She went for her colleague and I went for Erik’s mind. Frantic, terrified thoughts raced through his head: fight, protect, kill. All around him, Erik saw danger. Each of the medics in their scrubs reminded him of the doctors at Tramblewood. My presence wasn’t having the calming effect I’d hoped for. Instead, it thrust Erik’s protective instinct into high gear.
There was no time to be gentle. I took complete control of Erik, mind, body, and will. Being so weak, the fragile resistance he put forth was easier to squash than a bug. Different factions of his brain played tug of war with one another, with no one faction being strong enough to fight the intrusion. I forced him to release his grip on the medic’s throat. The man dropped to his knees, gulping air by the lungful. Erik’s adrenaline was pumping so fast that my hands started to shake as a result. His heart pummeled his ribs from the inside, as if demanding to be set free. I began siphoning his panic, drawing more and more of it into me until I felt his emotions start to go numb. My own pulse spiked. I allowed my canines to lengthen until their tips pierced my bottom lip. The sharp burst of pain, mingled with the iron tang of my blood, helped me to remain focused.
Meanwhile, the female doctor had freed the needle from the medic’s hand and was fixing to stab Erik with it. Trembling from nerves, she tried to maneuver the syringe into position over a vein in his arm. She met my gaze over the stretcher, silently asking whether he was going to attack her too. I shook my head and moved closer to the stretcher and Erik’s side. His turquoise eyes were cloudy with confusion, and when he repeated my name, it came out as a question.
“I’m right here,” I assured him, my voice choked with emotion.
His eyes darted frantically from left to right and back again, never lingering on any one thing for more than a nanosecond. Strong-willed and prideful as Erik was, he began to fight me for control of his mind. Agitation and anger over being stripped of his free will caused him to emit a guttural growl that sent the female doctor scurrying backwards. While I was fairly confident that Erik was no match for me mentally, I didn’t want to test that theory.
“Do it,” I hissed at the female doctor, nodding towards the needle she had clutched in her fist.
Mustering a smile for Erik’s benefit, I leaned down and smoothed back the dark hair clinging to his forehead. “It’s okay,” I soothed. “You’re gonna be okay.” With my touch, I willed him to relax further.
“You came,” Erik murmured, the two words slurring together to become one. “He said you would.”
I had a good idea of who “he” was. And I hoped “he” was kicking himself now. Despite Mac’s best efforts, I’d still rescued Erik. The smug satisfaction I felt was lessened when I recalled the lack of security surrounding Erik’s cell. I had a bad feeling that I might be the one kicking myself soon.
“I’ll always come for you,” I sent Erik.
I held his gaze, wanting my face to be the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness. Erik’s eyelids began to droop and like a child fighting bedtime, he tried to hold them up. The doctor inched forward and with a practiced hand, and finally, inserted the needle. Erik winced slightly as she depressed the plunger, injecting a strong sedative into his bloodstream. The drug took effect instantaneously. I’d become so immersed in Erik that warmth seemed to spread through my veins, followed by a leaden sensation that made my limbs feel heavy and my mind sluggish. Erik and I both welcomed the chemical haze and the brief moment of drug-induced euphoria that occurred just before his eyes closed and the connection severed.
My knees buckled, and I had to grip the stretcher with my free hand to stay upright. My brain ricocheted off the sides of my skull like a ping pong ball. I clenched my teeth as a powerful wave of dizziness crashed over me. The mental energy it had taken to control Erik was more than I’d realized. Being strong-willed, Erik’s barriers had been harder to break down than most. All I wanted was to sit and make the room stop spinning.
“Talia! Are you okay?” Crane exclaimed, coming to my aid. He looped his arm around my waist to support me.
“We’ve got it from here,” the female doctor added, nodding encouragingly.
I let Crane drag me back from the stretcher, but I refused to turn my gaze from Erik’s bruised face. Pain caused my stomach muscles to spasm uncontrollably. I doubled over, crying out. Crane’s grip on me tightened, and I leaned against him.
I watched as the medics began peeling away Erik’s remaining clothes – if you could call the tattered scraps of material clothes. His body had gone limp, his muscles unresponsive. It was for the best, subconsciously I knew that. Still, seeing him so helpless made my chest ache.
“Come on, let’s go sit down,” Crane said gently.
I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with Erik, but knew I’d only be in the way. For the time being, I’d done all I could do to help him. Now, he was in the medics’ hands. Their ministrations and Erik’s will to live would have to be enough.
Crane led me past the metal benches, now lined with Coalition soldiers and refugees from Tramblewood. A Coalition man I didn’t know was bent over Frederick, applying something that smelled like disinfectant to the gashes on his face. He gave me a small half-smile as I passed. Next to him, Janelle winced as Jared spread burn cream over the right side of her neck. Others had first aid kits out tending to injuries that, while not life threatening, needed medical attention.
Instead of placing me in a seat in the main bay of the plane, Crane led me to the cockpit and gestured to the sitting area to the left of the entrance. I settled into a cushy armchair, letting my head fall against the headrest. I closed my eyes, now heavy with exhaustion, and silently prayed to anyone listening to save Erik’s life.
I felt Crane’s presence as he eased himself down beside me. I was no longer on an adrenaline high, and I’d used so much mental energy that I couldn’t have erected my mental walls had my life depended on it. However, I also found that I really didn’t care if Crane knew my thoughts. My display beside Erik’s sickbed had clearly shown everyone watching where my head was.
In the cockpit, the soldiers’ voices were muted, and most of the sound came in the form of beeps and buzzes from the navigation system. It was hard to concentrate on any one conversation, and more than anything I needed a distraction. I’d have liked to lose myself into the sweet oblivion of sleep, but my mind was humming too loudly for that to be a viable option. So, I decided to talk.
“Have you heard from Brand? Was his team able to get all your people out? Did they encounter a lot of trouble?” I peppered Crane with questions. My eyelids felt too heavy to hold open, so I let them droop as I spoke.
Crane sighed, measured his words. “Things could’ve gone worse,” he said finally.
When the Coalition President failed to elaborate, I pressed. “How much worse?”
“A lot. Brand’s team landed in the main courtyard just fine. It took them longer than anticipated to reach the cell block with our people. The route they took had more obstacles.”
I cringed. The c
ell block with the Coalition hostages was in the rear of the main building, close to the bridge – the bridge I’d destroyed. That was why both teams had planned to land there originally.
“There were causalities,” Crane was saying gravely.
“Who?” I asked, the pain in my stomach intensifying under the heavy guilt weighing it down.
At least now Brand had a legitimate reason to hate me, I thought dryly.
“Pat Asure and Link Mahoney,” Crane said.
Neither name sounded familiar. I tied to recall the faces of the soldiers who’d gathered in the command center for our strategy meetings. Regret mingled with the guilt when I realized that I hadn’t bothered to pay enough attention then to conjure up a single image now.
“Good men,” Crane added.
“Ian, I’m –”
“You don’t have any reason to be sorry, Talia. They knew the risks. Mahoney even volunteered for this mission. Besides, at least five of my people are going home to families who thought they’d never see their loved ones again.” He paused, and I felt his eyes burning holes through my suit. “But it’s not just about the people we rescued from Tramblewood, Talia. This mission has far-reaching implications. Tonight, we showed TOXIC we are serious, that we won’t let them bully us any longer. And, we’re one step closer to proving to the world that TOXIC has been using the creation drug, which means we’re one step closer to stopping them.”
His sentiments eased my lingering guilt. Crane was right. With Erik, Penny, and I, the Coalition had irrefutable proof that TOXIC was creating Talents.
Proof was the second reason Crane had agreed to the rescue mission.
After Penny recounted her appalling tale of torture and testing while in TOXIC’s custody, Crane had given me a history lesson on the creation drug.
The United Nations International Talent Education Division – UNITED – had banned the use of the drug over a decade ago, after their own research had hit a brick wall. Unlike Mac, their primary concern hadn’t been over the short period in which most recipients exhibited talent, but rather the long-term side-effects.
Natural Talents learn to cope with the power that accompanies their talents from a young age. Even before talents truly manifest, you know they’re there, just below the surface, separated from you by an invisible barrier that you can’t seem to cross. And while it has never been proven, I’ve always believed that the talented are born with an extra gene or whatever that helps them control the power. Sometimes the combination of genetics and learned behavior isn’t enough, and your talent is your undoing. The power builds and builds inside of you until you think your skin might rip open to release it. With no outlet, the abundance of power begins to erode your mind, and eventually there’s nothing left in your skull but mush.
Nearly a century after the Great Contamination, it was rare to find a Talent strong enough that the whole brain mush phenomenon was a real concern. Well, rare to find a natural born Talent with that much power, anyhow.
UNITED referred to them as the Created, the manmade, genetically engineered Talents who resulted from the creation drug.
UNITED had encountered the same problem with the creation drug that Mac’s medical research team had. Knowing no better, they administered repeat injections to their test subjects to see if that made the talents stick, so to speak, for longer. It worked, sort of. The recipients’ talents lasted for weeks after the second injection, months after a third, and so on and so forth. Soon though, UNITED’s research team realized a direct correlation between the number of injections and brain deterioration. Even the subjects injected just once had holes in their brains. It was determined that their bodies weren’t equipped with the ability to handle the manufactured power.
Switching gears, UNITED had next enlisted talented test subjects to see whether they fared better with the drug since they were already talented. This, too, sort of worked. The hybrid talented-created showed less deterioration and sustained their engineered powers for longer, but they still weren’t completely immune to the side-effects. It was after this avenue lead nowhere good that UNITED shut down the project and banned the drug.
Crane had strong allies within UNITED, many of whom were only too happy to help bring down TOXIC over the use of the creation drug. But, they needed proof that they were using it. Penny and I alone were probably proof enough, but Erik would be icing on the cake.
Once we provided them with proof, UNITED would intervene and Mac would have to answer for illegal experimentation, genetic engineering, and generally being an asshole.
But will he have to answer for killing your parents? a voice in my mind asked. Once UNITED became involved, I worried my window for revenge would close. Sure, Mac would serve time in prison for his crimes against humanity. Was that enough, though? After my parents’ murders, I’d vowed vengeance: a life for a life. How would I feel if that never occurred?
“Ian?” a high-pitched female voice called, dragging me out of my thoughts. Crane and I both turned to look at her.
She appeared young, no more than twenty-five, with pale jade eyes and hair the color of wheat. She wore a gray scrub top over black and white camo pants and heavy combat boots. I thought she might have been one of the medics attending to Erik, but wasn’t positive.
“Can I speak with you?” she asked. Her eyes darted pointedly in my direction, and I knew whatever she had to tell him was not good news.
Ian followed her line of sight, his gaze steady when our eyes met. “You might as well tell me here, Cheryl,” he told her, but he didn’t break eye contact with me.
“Sir, I really think that –” Cheryl started to say, but Crane cut her off.
“She’s a mind reader with exceptional hearing,” he inclined his head in my direction, “There’s no point in us speaking privately.”
Cheryl seemed unconvinced, but didn’t argue further. She swallowed hard, and seemed to measure her words before she spoke. A cold sweat began to spread across my skin, coating first my face, then my arms and legs with a thin layer of ice.
“Four of his ribs are broken. The internal damage is … extensive. But it’s the blood loss that’s really troubling. He needs a transfusion,” she finally said. Cheryl looked at Crane, and Crane looked at me.
“Will he be … okay, until we get back to California?” My throat was so tight that I was surprised the words squeezed out. He had to make it, he had to make it.
“I’m not sure. The longer it takes to get him treatment …” Cheryl’s voice trailed off, but the unspoken words rang in my mind. If Erik didn’t get treatment, he would die. All of this would be for nothing.
I felt the tears teetering on the edge of my eyelids, I didn’t want to cry. Not again. It seemed like that was all I’d been doing lately. I bit down on the inside of my cheek until a coppery taste filled my mouth. The pain dampened my desire to sob, but I wasn’t sure how long I could fend off the inevitable. Crane’s sympathy leaked into me, and the tears fell.
“There’s an Underground station in Tennessee; we can be there in less than an hour. Do what you can for him until then and be ready to move once we’re on the ground,” Crane instructed her in a low, even voice.
“Yes, sir,” Cheryl replied, and without another word she retreated.
Crane hit a button on the arm of his chair. “Get me a line to the other plane. I need to speak with Brand.” He was no longer wearing his earpiece, and Brand probably wasn’t either.
“Right away, sir,” the reply came from a speaker that I couldn’t see.
Crane reached towards me as if to take my hand, but thought better of it at the last minute. Instead, he patted my shoulder once then drew back. The gesture was nearly lost on me, though; no amount of empathetic gestures would console me.
“Meadows,” a voice crackled through the unseen speaker.
“Change of plans. We’re going to land in Gatlinburg. I need for you to take the soldiers from our plane back to base. The fighters will accompany you.”
“What’s wrong?” Brand’s staticky voice asked.
“We need don’t have adequate medical supplies aboard. Gatlinburg is the closest camp.”
“It’s too dangerous, Ian,” Brand said. “It’s only a matter of time before they launch a counterstrike. We were followed out of there. We need to put more distance between ourselves and their fighters.”
“We are landing in Gatlinburg. That’s an order, Captain Meadows.” Crane’s tone held so much authority that it reminded me of Mac.
“Yes, sir,” said Brand, his words punctuated by a burst of white noise. Then the connection broke.
Thanking Crane seemed like the right thing to do, but I found I lacked the strength. The icy sensation that had come over me left my outsides numb and my insides hollow. The tears flowed freely and I no longer cared. I wanted to tuck my knees to my chest, close my eyes, and pray that I would wake up and find this had all been a bad dream.
“He needs you right now,” Crane said softly, startling me out of my misery. “The blood loss alone might be too much. I overestimated how much TOXIC wanted to keep him alive.”
I hugged myself, trying to quell the trembling wave starting to make its way through my body. I tucked my chin to my chest and rocked slowly back and forth.
“But, I’ve seen men come back from worse,” Crane continued. “You know what separates the ones that make from those who don’t?”
I said nothing.
“Strength of will. If Penny is any indication, McDonough will have done everything in his power to break Erik’s.”
I shook harder.
“Good thing for him, you have more than enough for both of you.”
I finally looked at Crane, astounded. “I can’t will Erik to live,” I said incredulously.
“No, but you can give him the strength to want to.”
