by Lizzy Ford
Turning around, she drew back and listened.
… keep moving. She’ll … Her brother was close enough for her to hear fragments of his thoughts.
Reader darted to the nearest boathouse and ripped open the door. It smelled strongly of fish and contained a massive crane for lifting goods and fish off of ships, repair and support equipment, and a myriad of other tools she cared nothing about. She stepped inside – and Jermaine’s thoughts grew more distant.
Retreating, she moved silently back to the center of the pier, until Jermaine’s thoughts became louder and she was able to identify the direction in which he was hiding. She circled one building and spotted the blood trail once more.
He had made his way up the pier, towards the waiting boat, then stopped to hide, likely when he saw her coming.
She drew a weapon and opened the door to the warehouse into which the blood led. Reader closed the door softly behind her and stood still, listening. She sensed the gun before it fired and ducked. The sound of a bullet smashing through metal rang through the empty, dark space, and she whirled, smashing a fist into her brother’s face.
He gasped and fell back. Reader snatched the arm holding the weapon and twisted, forcing him to release the gun. She shoved him to the ground and stared into the darkness, satisfaction coursing through her.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as Jermaine gathered his superpower to strike her. Reader backpedaled and slammed the door of the warehouse open. She flung herself to the side as lightning arced out of the warehouse and soared harmlessly into the sky. She climbed to her feet, tucked her gun away, and snatched one of the buckets gathering water at the corner of the warehouse.
The charge was back when she entered the darkness again. She threw the water in the direction of the uncomfortable charge and heard it hit her brother. Lightning fizzled and spurted around his body, highlighting his position and temporarily crippling his superpower.
Reader grabbed one of his legs and dragged him out of the warehouse into the circle created by one of the pier lights. Breathing hard, she released him and stood over him, glaring.
“You know I could’ve made you fry yourself!” she shouted at him.
He didn’t respond. Jermaine clutched his stomach and rolled onto his side. He climbed to his feet slowly. Pain was etched on his features, along with defiance.
“It was a warning shot, sis,” he replied, straightening to face her. “And yes, I know that.”
Reader couldn’t identify where the emotions originated, or what they were, that left her trembling. She counted how many times she could’ve killed her brother in the five minutes since she’d found him but didn’t reach for her gun, despite the voice of her father in her head ordering her never to take mercy on anyone.
“I thought we should talk,” Jermaine said. Tall and lean, he was dressed similarly to her down to the mask. The only difference was the patch on his shoulder.
“Now you want to talk?” she demanded. “What is there to discuss?” She listened to the answer in his mind and drew her weapon, furious he thought to string her along until he had a better plan.
“Whoa!” he said and held up his hands. “I’m too weak to fight you. You know what our father did to me, is still doing to me!”
“What’re you talking about? Still?”
“He’s been twisting my mind as only he can do, feeding me lies about you. About everything.”
She raised her weapon. “Lies. All of it.”
“You know he can do it, Keladry.”
She listened to his thoughts.
Jermaine was a jumbled mess. His head was filled with too much for her to zero in on one solid train of thought. It had been this way since their father broke him and left him weeping in front of his own men.
The ache was back, and Reader hesitated to pull the trigger. Yes, Jermaine’s mind was a mess and yes, their father had done this to him. But nothing he said or thought was preventing his death. Her thoughts were in the way, not his.
“You didn’t have to try to kill me,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “You could’ve ambushed me and let me escape!”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Lie!” She took a step towards him.
Jermaine backed away. “Okay, okay! So I did have a choice! I fucked up. What else do you want me to say?”
“That you won’t do it again. That we can be what we were, before the games, before our father fucked you up.”
“That’s not possible, Keladry.” Jermaine’s response was quiet, his gaze haunted. For the first time since confronting him, she sensed he wasn’t trying to lie or deceive or mislead her. “I’ll never be that person again.”
“Why not? We are … were partners. Good ones. If we work together, we could easily take him out.”
“Then what? Co-rule the city?” Jermaine shook his head. “Only one of us can take over, Keladry. It’s the way it’s always been.”
“But we’re different. We’re a team.”
“We were. We aren’t now.” Jermaine lowered his hands. “I don’t want to kill you, but I will. My mistake was not seeing the job through myself the first time. Get used to it, sis. This is the new us.”
Her hand shook, and she tried to find some part of what he said to give her hope, to remind her of the person who smoothed her hair and told her jokes whenever she cried in the dungeons.
Everything about Jermaine was different since their father broke him, down to the hardness in his eyes. It was a similar expression to their father’s, all that remained of the horrific deeds shaping him in his past.
“Come home with me, Jermaine,” she said and lowered the gun. “I can see what’s in your head. I know there’s a piece of you that wants us to be what we once were, allies against our father.”
Jermaine looked away. “That part of me is dead.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“You don’t get it! I made the choice to ambush you! I crossed the gray! Father had nothing to do with it. I want to make him pay for what he did to me, and the only way I can do that is if you’re dead and I win the games!”
The words stung, though Reader understood the sentiment all to well. While there was a whisper of yearning in his mind for them to return to the relationship they’d had their entire lives, most of her brother’s thoughts were geared towards the sole purpose of vengeance, no matter what – or who – he destroyed in the process. She was an obstacle to him, the only thing standing between him and their father.
She’d lost him a year ago. There wasn’t enough of him left to save.
Hurting worse after witnessing the truth of his mind, Reader raised the weapon again. “I’ll at least make it quick,” she whispered.
“Do your worst, sis.” Jermaine stepped towards her and swept his arms outward, exposing his body.
Reader slid the safety off with her thumb and aimed at his head, willing to grant her longtime ally a quick death. Jermaine held her gaze, his tortured, broken thoughts sailing through her mind.
She drew a breath, steadied her breathing, and counted down.
Three.
Two.
One.
I’m not ready for this.
The corner of Jermaine’s lips curled up.
Her brother hadn’t hesitated in his attempt to kill her, so why wouldn’t her index finger obey her command to squeeze the trigger? Why was panic sliding through her at the thought of losing him permanently?
What was wrong with her?
“I didn’t think you could do it,” Jermaine said. “Father told me you were the weaker of the two of us.”
“I’m not weak!”
“Then prove him wrong.”
Reader tried again without success. She had murdered dozens of men point blank and hundreds more from a distance. Jermaine was one man, the second to her father in his attempts to murder her. If he were her father, he would’ve been dead before he had the chance to open his mouth.
&nb
sp; But he wasn’t. He was her brother, the man who had been the anchor of her world until a year before, when her anchor broke. She’d been adrift since then.
Jermaine was smiling confidently. “Next time, sis.” He limped towards the railing, holding his stomach once more.
Reader kept her weapon trained on him and tried again to squeeze the trigger. Her finger didn’t budge. Instead, she watched her brother climb the railing with some difficulty. Jermaine saluted her then leapt off the pier into the dark waters below and the boat that had shifted to the side of the pier to fish him from the river.
Lowering her arm, Reader stared into the space before her, frustrated with her weakness and furious with the uncontrollable emotion twisting her insides and preventing her from doing what she had to.
Jermaine’s thoughts faded as the boat pulled away from the pier, taking him to safety and leaving her alone. Her brother had turned from her only friend to her first arch-nemesis. He had crossed the point of no return the night he tried to murder her. She had to do the same, to pursue him with the same tenacity and lack of mercy. She had to be ready to kill him next time or better – prepared to hunt him down.
But not tonight.
The light patter of rain filled the air around her as she stood, pensive and frustrated.
“Reader!” Igor called from the base of the pier.
She replaced her weapon and glanced towards the river. The light of her brother’s boat was visible a quarter mile away. She still had time to blow him out of the water using the heat-seeking missiles stored in her lair, or by providing his position to a helicopter equipped with heavy explosives. In five minutes, she could resolve the issue of her brother.
Reader turned away and began walking down the pier towards Igor. She ignored the thoughts of her lifelong supporter, not wanting to see his concern. She didn’t deserve it tonight, when she’d failed at living up to the namesake she wanted so badly to claim.
“Did you find him?” Igor asked.
“No,” she lied. “He was already gone.”
By the split second of silence between her statement and Igor’s reaction, he knew the truth.
“The cleaners will take care of the warehouse,” he said. “Your father has sent the next task in the games.” Igor handed her an envelope containing a single piece of linen cardstock with instructions.
Pleased at the distraction, Reader opened it and shifted to see the words written in her father’s elegant handwriting.
Task 6: Uncover the secret Reader’s savior is hiding, the reason why he came here. Use any means necessary – but keep him alive. As a reminder, the score is Reader 3, Thunder 2.
“Dammit,” she muttered and handed it to Igor. “Couldn’t be something simple like burning down one of the mayor’s houses again or torching the city’s oil supply.”
Igor read the card.
“Add another team to the doctor’s surveillance,” she instructed him.
“Do you want us to take the doctor in?”
“Not yet,” she said, mind racing. “I’m going after my brother. I need some leverage.”
Thoroughly disappointed by her evening, she trailed him to the car and hopped inside, unable to shake the ache inside her or the sense her father was about to start pursuing those she didn’t want harmed. After her discussion with Jermaine, he wasn’t going to spare anyone she cared about. He’d be healed from his wounds by morning and wouldn’t hesitate to corner the doctor and torture him, if that was what it took to level up in the games. Now that her father had inserted the doctor into their games, the chances of Kimber living through this were slim.
I have to get Igor out of town, she thought, gazing again at her nanny. The doctor, too.
But how? Was there another way to keep one or both of them safe?
“I figured out the word you were looking for,” Igor said. “Admire.”
“Admire.” Reader repeated. She met his gaze briefly in the rearview mirror. “I like that word.”
I don’t want anything to happen to the doctor, because I admire him.
It fit, even if the sentiment was so very foreign.
Nine: Villains will always betray you
Kimber’s night out was worth the hangover. It was the first time he slept through the announcements over the intercom and the busyness of the bay where doctors and nurses working overtime came to rest.
Kimber awoke groggy with a headache pulsing in his temple – but otherwise more rested than he could recall being since arriving to Sand City. He was alone in the bay and checked his phone for the time, pleased to see he had awoken before his alarm.
He showered and dressed then took his belongings to the locker room to secure them before his shift. The locker room, too, was quiet. Kimber left, wondering where everyone was, until he reached the chaos of the emergency room.
It was packed, both with hospital staff and dozens of people. The normally quiet area was loud with cries of pain, orders issued among the staff, and concerned visitors. He gazed around, trying to understand what had happened to cause the sudden influx. Whipping on his coat, he crossed to the nursing station, which was jammed with impatient visitors demanding news of their loved ones.
“What the hell happened?” Kimber asked, bending over between the two frazzled nursing aids.
“The Savage twins blew up a bus station this morning,” one replied. “We’re short staffed in resuscitation and minor surgery.”
His stomach sank, filled with dread.
Kimber rose and left, weaving through the crowd towards the hallway leading to the minor surgery rooms attached to the ER. Patients lay on stretchers lining the hallways or on the ground. Whatever he thought about Keladry’s insane aspirations to become a villain, it was clear she and her brother were menaces to the city.
“Doctor.” Someone gripped his coat and tugged him to a halt. “I need help.”
Kimber gazed down at the man seated on the floor, clutching his bloodied head. He knelt beside him. Kimber shone a penlight in the injured man’s eyes. He was in his early twenties with short, dark hair, dark eyes and an athletic frame covered in bloody clothing.
The man’s gaze was dilated and unfocused.
“May I take a look?” Kimber asked, reaching out to the t-shirt the man had used to create a bandage.
The wounded man lowered his hands. Kimber unwrapped his head gingerly, took one look at the gaping wound in his skull, and rewrapped it.
“Any numbness? Chills?” he asked.
“I can’t remember how I got here.”
“Can you stand?”
He was answered with a nod.
Kimber helped him to his feet and supported his weight. They wove through the crowds. Kimber waved over one of the nurses and very slowly guided the wounded man towards the area designated for high risk patients.
“Do you help all of these people?” the dazed man asked.
“I help as many as I can,” Kimber said.
“Hey, are you the hero doctor from the newspaper?”
Kimber almost sighed, hating the photographs in the papers. “It’s my picture, yeah.”
“That makes me feel better. You rescue people all the time, don’t you?”
“I do my best.”
“Why?”
Kimber glanced at the man. “Why do I help people?”
“Yeah.”
“Because they need it.” He lowered the man to a bed and straightened to address the nurse. “Priority one. Suspected cerebral edema.”
The nurse nodded and went to the head of the bed.
“We’ll get you taken care of,” Kimber told the man with a smile.
“Thanks, Doc.”
How many other people in critical condition were floating around the emergency room? Kimber looked around, hating the Savage twins for causing such pain and suffering. He was equally disappointed in himself for caring enough about Keladry that he hoped she wasn’t responsible for this.
“Doctor Wellington!” one of the nu
rses called.
Kimber turned. He dismissed all thoughts of them and anything else, throwing himself into assessing those wounded who had not been seen by a doctor or nurse.
The injured people kept coming. Whenever he had a moment to breathe, another influx of patients appeared and overloaded the ER. The hospital was at max capacity by noon – and the flow of patients showed no sign of stopping.
In addition to the bus station, he learned a mall had been attacked as well as a college sporting event. Sand General was the nearest to all three events. The more he saw of the damage, the angrier he became. How could the police allow the Savage twins to destroy the city this way? Would no one stand up to them? How did the people of Sand City not demand more of their city government?
He wrestled with the thoughts during his few breaks. It was not the first time his double shift turned into twenty hours. At the twenty four hour mark, he was ordered to sleep by the administrator acting in Tish’s place while she was out sick.
The bay where he had been sleeping for the week – aside from the night at Keladry’s – was packed with doctors and nurses trying to catch a few minutes of sleep before wading back out into the human suffering.
Kimber grabbed two blankets from those kept in the linen closet and left, heading towards the wing housing the managers’ offices. He went to Tish’s darkened office and walked in without knocking or bothering to turn on the lights. Setting his alarm to go off in four hours, he stretched out on the couch butting against one wall the best he could given his height and closed his eyes.
“Reader didn’t do this.”
Kimber snapped up into a sitting position. He’d been too tired to notice if anyone was in the room when he entered. How he missed the hulking frame of Igor, though, was beyond his ability to guess. Kimber flicked on the flashlight on his phone and shone it in the direction of the voice.
Igor was perched on the edge of the desk, dressed all in black.
“What’re you doing here?” Kimber demanded as he swung his legs over the couch.
“What the boss ordered.”
