Landlocked (Atlas Link Series Book 2)

by Jessica Gunn

  And I’d intercepted it, saving Sophia’s life. Well, maybe not. “If I survived, it’s unlikely it would have killed Sophia. Her healing abilities and toxin resistance would have saved her.”

  “Not necessarily,” she said. “There are chemicals that would kill me before you even had symptoms. Depending on what that person did to the Link Piece, especially if they were Lemurian, I could have been killed instantly.”

  She wasn’t wrong. The seal Thompson had burned into Chelsea wouldn’t have hurt me like it’d hurt her. Maybe this was the same.

  “There’s something else,” I said. They all looked to me. “As a side effect of what happened I see the Waterstar map in my head. Like an Atlantean super soldier. Only, I see in bursts, at random. Or when I’m near Link Pieces.” Silence filled the room. “That’s why I’ve been having issues lately. Valerie took me to someone and got me medicine. It seems to help ease the pain and dizziness, but it won’t last forever.”

  “You can see the map?” Sophia asked.

  I nodded. “It’s incredible, and terrifying. It’s a lot of information to have lying about in your head.”

  “Well that’s an interesting development,” Dr. Hill said. “Some side effect. But isn’t that dangerous for you because you’re of Lemurian descent?”

  “Yes, that’s why Valerie helped me, why I went and found her in the first place.”

  “But why put the map in Trevor’s head?” Pike asked. “If their aim was to kill Sophia, why would that be the method? She can already see the map.”

  “Side effect, most likely,” Dr. Hill said. “If the Atlanteans had to experiment with genetics to get their soldiers to see the map, it’s possible there’re other factors we don’t know about.”

  “But the important part is someone did plant the Link Piece there on purpose,” I said. “We’re being watched, and they were willing to kill Sophia to get what they want. I wish I knew what that was.”

  “Did Valerie give you any more information?” General Holt asked.

  I shook my head. “Not really. She mostly stressed SeaSatellite5’s importance and how we need to find the station. Only then did Valerie say she’d answer all our questions and give us all she knows. She said nothing she’d learned would mean anything without SeaSatellite5 being home safe.”

  “So back to square one,” Major Pike said.

  “Not necessarily,” Dr. Hill disagreed. “We’ve confirmed two things. SeaSat5 itself is important, which we guessed from the hijacking attempt. And we now know we’re being watched, possibly by someone we know and have access to. If the latter is true and the person or persons in question are linked to TruGates, we could let Chelsea know and maybe she can figure it out. Keep an eye on them while she’s there.”

  And make her a double agent. Interesting. “Maybe.”

  “I don’t want to do anything yet,” General Holt said. “You’re also not traveling with Link Pieces for a while. Trevor, you need to rest, but I want you to work with Sophia on the Waterstar map angle. I want to know the extent of this development.”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Dismissed.”

  The scaffolding in the map room never ceased to scare me. I knew it was solid. I knew it wouldn’t budge. And yet it still brought out an inner fear of heights known only to this scaffolding. It was worth it though. I needed a better vantage point than the ground could give. Even then, the way my breathing came in short, shallow puffs gave me pause. If I fell from here, I’d definitely break something and land myself once more in TAO’s Infirmary.

  I grabbed onto the railing and peered at the Map. Sophia stood beside me, waiting to see what would happen. I looked for the spot on the map I constantly saw and wondered if it meant something significant.

  “Ha!” I said, finding it. Except it was basically gibberish. The part of the map that kept appearing in my dreams and waking hours alike was unfinished on our end, which made nothing in my head make sense. I saw 322BC, 2489AD, and something about a 432DNT. I had no idea what DNT meant, and apparently neither did TAO’s scientists.

  “What do you see?” Sophia asked.

  I pointed to the map. “That area. It’s always in my head.”

  She inclined her head. “Interesting.”

  “I guess.”

  “Open your mind to it.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “Try to see the map in your head. Look for the holes in our knowledge. That’s what I do when we travel,” Sophia said. “Anything we can add to the map is valuable information.”

  “I don’t know how. It just happens.”

  “Concentrate.”

  I looked to the map and focused on the area from my dreams. Then the map was there, right in my face, in my vision, in my mind. Connections and wind. Blue lines and dates and times and so much I couldn’t focus on. Things whizzed by my head, phantoms and objects. But no new information. The spot on the map became a black dot, a hole in the map I couldn’t fill.

  I gripped the railing harder and forced myself out of the state. “Nothing. I saw the map but nothing happened.”

  Sophia touched a hand to my back. “It’s okay.”

  I stepped toward the ladder to go back down. “Could be the medicine Valerie got me. It’s stabilized the issue. At least for now.”

  As I slid my feet onto the first rung and climbed down, the map returned with a vengeance. I held fast to the ladder, trying to keep myself in place despite everything in my vision toppling over and swooshing around like a terrible video game opening. Then, towering above me so suddenly, was a huge object I couldn’t identify even though it seemed familiar. It startled me so bad I jerked back and lost my hold on the ladder. I flailed backward and landed hard on the titled ground with a crack.

  “Trevor!” Sophia shouted.

  I didn’t want to open my eyes. That’d mean admitting my own stupidity.

  Her steps down the ladder were quick. “Trevor, are you okay?”

  “Yup, perfect,” I wheezed. My ass would hurt for days.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I saw the map again. Unwillingly.” And a colossal something or other to boot.

  She offered me a hand. “Come on, let’s get you up. What hurts?”

  “Everything,” I said as I stood. I grabbed my head, which spun like it did before I got the medicine from Butch. Maybe seeing the map caused the medicine to stop working. I groaned. “It’s back.”

  “Let’s get you to the Infirmary,” Sophia said.

  She led me there with one of my arms slung around her shoulders. I tried to fend her off, but she refused to leave my side. When we got to the Infirmary I explained the medicine to Doctor Hanney.

  “I don’t know what goes into it, only that it helps.”

  Doctor Hanney tapped his clipboard. “We can take a sample and try to replicate it. That’s the best I can offer you aside from a variety of normal drugs. I fear this may be beyond our expertise.”

  I let my head fall into my hands. “Figured.”

  “We need to tell Chelsea,” Sophia said. “She might be able to help you get more of the powder from Valerie.”

  “No, we can’t tell her.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s my medical condition, right?” I asked. “I don’t want her to know. Besides, while she’s off doing whatever she’s doing, she’s not here. She doesn’t need to know. If Valerie can get me more medicine, she will.”

  “She’ll find out eventually, Trevor,” Sophia said, leveling me with a look to end all looks. She very much disagreed with my decision, but didn’t look ready to go behind my back about it.

  “I’ll tell her,” I relented. “Until I do, please treat it like a medical condition I want kept private.”

  “Fine,” Sophia agreed. “We’ll do it your way.”

  Good. For lying about this, Chelsea would probably hate me. But we’d been there before, and this time the secret didn’t affect her. At least not the map part of the sec
ret.

  “Think you’ll make it to the Juxe show tomorrow?” Sophia asked.

  My eyes met hers. I’d almost forgotten completely. “I’m not sure she wants me there.”

  “I think you should go either way.”

  Sophia was right. As always. But I also had to go to tell Chelsea about Valerie’s hypotheses. That’s if Chelsea would talk to me at all.

  I’d make her talk to me.

  ruman’s funeral was awkward. For someone okay with the bones of dead people, I was not okay with funeral activities. I sat there in the pew, trying to think of what to say or how to act. I didn’t know Truman as well as them. Any grief I felt paled in comparison. Mara and the guys, they’d known him better and for longer. Anything I could have done to comfort them seemed stupid. Pointless. Hypocritical. Truman was dead because of me. I got him killed because I couldn’t teleport fast enough. I hadn’t been good enough.

  All these stupid powers and all I ever did was get people killed. My fists clenched at my side. I lifted my thighs and shoved my hands beneath them to hide my anger.

  Mara hadn’t spoken to me since we’d gotten back, and I didn’t blame her for being upset. If I had just done something, anything beyond freeze up and fail to protect them, everything would be different. Truman might have lived.

  That was dangerous. I’d played the “what if” game for months after SeaSat5 was stolen. I couldn’t look at any of this objectively anymore. Realistically, I could have stopped General Allen long ago. I could have made a move the first time he’d cornered me, before he took away my powers with that god-awful serum. But he’d threatened Trevor, and if Trevor was for one moment implicated in the loss of SeaSat5, everything we’d built in our search to find the station would come tumbling down. He’d be kicked out of TAO, tried as a traitor. Then they’d come after me, and any shot we had of recovering our old ship and crew would be lost.

  And that last job… I could barely teleport myself out, never mind Mara, too. I would’ve never made it to Truman and out again before the explosion, even if I teleported a few seconds out of sync. I did what I did, and that’s all I could have done.

  Then why had nothing but guilt and grief plagued me for the past few days? Why did it always come back to not being able to save the SeaSat5 crew?

  My fists relaxed beneath my thighs with the answer. I am not Super Woman.

  I had to accept that fact.

  The rest of the funeral and burial activities passed me by in a blur of grieving faces and military dress uniforms. I went home with Josh afterward, who didn’t talk much, and Weyland went with Erin.

  Josh turned on the TV and we cuddled on the couch, my head against his chest, for hours. Every now and then his heart rate would pick up, thudding in my ears, then after a few minutes it returned to normal. During those rough patches, I wrapped my arms around him tighter. If he wanted to talk, he would, and I had nothing to say.

  I made him dinner that night, standing out in the cold to grill him a pair of burgers. I watched the flames dance beneath the grill’s grate with a renewed hatred of the element given all it meant. Truman’s death. Lemurians. Burn marks.

  Sometime before the burgers charred I took them off the grill and brought them in for Josh. We ate and I cleaned up. As I finished the last of the dishes, Josh’s warm hands clasped my face and he drew me in for an unexpected kiss. My eyes remained open, searching his face for reasons why as the kiss grew longer and deeper. I closed my eyes as he backed me up to the counter, his hands wandering.

  Understanding came with a wave of guilt that threatened to knock me over. He was using this as a distraction. He needed the distraction. And comfort. To be held. To be kept together after his good friend died almost the same way his brother had.

  Tears fell down his face, sliding down to where our lips met. I cupped his face and pulled away, wiping the tears with my thumbs. “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s okay.”

  He pulled me back to him for an embrace that lasted forever.

  I sat at the edge of the lake where I rock climbed for the first time, where I almost failed the last part of initiation into TruGates. The sun rose over the water, painting colors on the surface. Pale shades of blues and oranges and purples. It’d been a while since I watched a sunrise with this great a view. I savored each inch of the sun as it lit the horizon, promising a new day that would hopefully be better than the last.

  It had to be. In thirteen hours, I would finally be placing my call for help.

  My pen fell to the sandy shore during my viewing of the sunrise. I picked it up and positioned the utensil in my hand to write. My songbook balanced on my knees in front of me, a playlist for tonight’s show scribbled in large, uncaring handwriting. We’d close with the new stuff and open with our apparent latest nation-wide hit, but the middle songs gave me pause. I’d called Sarah late last night after Josh went to sleep and told her I’d be rearranging our set list last minute. When she asked why, I told her I needed to use my backup plan. She understood, though was freaked out because she knew it meant something awful had happened, and that I couldn’t tell her, but she left me to it. She’d also made me promise to never use the band and our popularity status like this, for work, ever again.

  Backup plan.

  Two years ago, right after Trevor and I’d started working for TAO, I’d written a song Phoenix and Lobster would never play live until we absolutely had to. Until I had no other way to get a message to Trevor.

  Mine and Trevor’s downfall during the hijacking of SeaSat5, aside from being horrifically unprepared for such an event, was miscommunication. We could have resolved the conflict if we were able to work together, but Thompson had Trevor convinced I was the bad guy, and I’d been convinced I didn’t trust anyone on board anymore. In order to ensure that never happened again, we formed a million in one ways to get in touch. Secret code words, Internet sites, hidden messages attached to Phoenix and Lobster’s song lyrics—you name it, we made it. Created the system, but never used it.

  Then I wrote this one song, Contents to Burn. I gave him the lyrics and told him if this song was ever played or if the lyrics appeared anywhere after we’d been separated, I was in trouble. And in trouble, I was.

  General Allen had called me into his office before Truman’s funeral. He went on and on about how I shouldn’t have spoken with Trevor at Juxe—which meant he’d somehow known I had—and how I should have learned my lesson by now. And that, in case I hadn’t, he’d arranged for a faulty job. Then he’d given me a massive dose of the serum. My powers hadn’t worked since.

  I wasn’t sure how much I believed his story, but I didn’t have a choice since no evidence to the contrary existed. So here I was, unable to determine if I was being watched. Unable to determine if I could get the hell out, or if my powers would come back so I could teleport to Trevor and tell him everything. Every part of me hated that I’d kept this from him for so long, especially since the accusations against him were clearly his business, too.

  I looked down to the page in front of me and filled in Contents to Burn in the third song slot.

  It’ll be played third. The band will help me find you in the crowd during the first two songs. They will point you out to me and I will make eye contact with you. Use the songs around it to fill in the blanks as to what the hell I’d gotten myself into. Understand?

  God, what was I doing?

  Five hours later found me in a car with Logan, heading for the Philly Juxe venue. I kept quiet. I had nothing to say. But when we turned the corner into the parking lot of a once football stadium, he asked the one question I knew he’d been waiting to voice. “What happened with you and Trevor?”

  I redirected my eyes to the stadium in the distance. “We’d been growing apart for a while. I have a new boyfriend you can rail on.”

  “Not that I’m complaining because I’ve never liked Trevor,” he said, shooting me that I have only the best intentions look, “but you really expect me to break in another guy so soo
n?”

  “Hah-hah,” I said. “Sorry to burst your excitement bubble, but Josh doesn’t need breaking in. He’s a great guy.”

  “That’s what you said about Trevor, and I think he went and slept with the girl who broke you and your previous ex up.”

  “I get your goddamn point, Logan,” I snapped, my eyes darting to his.

  He flinched. “Chels, I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t know what’s been going on lately, okay? Things are not okay. But Josh is the best thing to ever happen to me. If I introduce you two, he’s not going to be up for your big brother games right now, though. We just lost a friend. So play nice.”

  He pulled his car into a parking spot and put it in park. “Shit, Chels. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, nodding. “I have to go see Sarah now, and get the set list changes to her and the band so we can practice.”

  I unbuckled my seatbelt and went to get out of the car. Logan beat me to the rear passenger door and pulled me into a gigantic bear hug.

  “I’m sorry you lost someone again, Chelsea.”

  A deep, live-giving breath worked its way into me. I returned the embrace.

  The energy backstage before our set was different from last week. Every word someone said hung heavy, like they thought it’d be the last thing they ever said to me. When I gave them Contents to Burn and swore them to secrecy, even from Logan, they thought I’d done some deep shit. Like I’d been placed into witness protection or something.

  Tonight was no different, and I supposed their assumptions were correct.

  Everything had been perfectly planned, from the color of my shirt, to the color of Kris’ guitar. Even Sarah’s navy blue converse had meaning Trevor was supposed to pick up on, if he came at all. I hoped he would, so he’d get my message, but I knew the chances of that were slim to none after what happened a week ago. But maybe, just maybe, he’d be stubborn as hell one last time.

  As we took the stage playing our hottest song to date, the crowd-scanning portion of my instructions began. I looked straight down the middle even though I knew Trevor wouldn’t be so stupid as to stand directly in the middle of a raging crowd.