“Elaine,” I yell as I round the last corner. My body jerks to a full stop. Bile swirls and races up my throat. My legs shake.
“Hello, Assassin.”
Seven’s heart pounded in his chest. He drank in the look on the Assassin’s face as he held the girl captive, one arm around her throat, his Glock pressed into her temple. He didn’t often use guns, preferring instead to use his psychic abilities or hand-to-hand methods of inflicting pain or death. But he knew the gun would throw the Assassin off-balance, he’d learned that much rummaging through her thoughts.
“Who are you?” the Assassin snapped. She didn’t look dangerous in any way.
“Does it matter?” Seven smiled. He drank in the anger rolling off the Assassin in waves.
A low, faint pressure covered his mind. Interesting, he thought as his gaze passed from his captive to his target. Another hint of pressure. And another.
“You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to impress me.” Seven enjoyed the way the Assassin’s eyes ignited every time he goaded her.
“Don’t worry,” the Assassin said to the girl locked in Seven’s grip. “He won’t hurt you. He’s only trying to scare me.” A moment of fear passed over the Assassin’s expression.
“I wouldn’t listen to her,” Seven taunted. “I think you should be very worried.” Smug satisfaction curved Seven’s lips again as he pushed the Glock deeper into the girl’s temple. She whimpered in pain.
“You don’t want to mess with me,” the Assassin growled as she again brushed against Seven’s mind.
His shield held. He knew it would. Assassin or not, she was no match for him.
“Oh I do, I really do.” He tightened his grip around his captive’s throat. She sputtered, coughed. Her face reddened.
“Stop. You don’t want to hurt her. You’re here for me.” The Assassin’s words flowed in rapid, staccato bites. “Let her go.” She took a step closer.
Seven waited, his mind locked on the Assassin’s. Indecision ruled her thoughts, followed first by fear and then, rage.
The Assassin’s eyes widened as Seven felt her detect his mental presence. Confusion followed acceptance within a heartbeat. “You’re one of the recruits. From the compound,” she said.
“The place you burned to the ground, yes.” Seven snarled the words, sarcasm replaced by anger. “But I am no recruit.”
Again he felt her try to enter his thoughts. His gaze locked with hers as she continued to seek a way into his mind. Something about her intrigued him. What was it about her that his master needed so desperately? What did the Creator see that Seven did not?
Seven scrutinized the little details of the Assassin’s appearance. She was shorter than he, though older. They shared similar features from their hair to their eyes, but where the Assassin’s skin was golden brown, Seven’s was milky white and nearly translucent. More than anything, Seven noticed weakness in the Assassin. Fear. She was unworthy of the Creator’s attention.
“Don’t you grow tired of your feeble attempts to know my thoughts,” Seven asked as he relaxed his grip on his captive in favor of grinding the Glock into the girl’s temples again.
“Let her go,” the Assassin said, her voice steady. “Take me. That’s what they want, right? That’s why LeMercier sent you, isn’t it? To bring me back?”
Seven’s stomach tightened. So weak, he thought. So unworthy. In one swift move, he removed the gun from his captive, aimed it at the Assassin and pulled the trigger. A bullet sped forward dangerously close to her ear. Seven smiled and shifted his attention to the girl locked in his arm. In a moment, she screamed in pain. “Dakota,” she wheezed between groans. “Help.” Seven laughed and pressed the gun up against her chin, his finger on the trigger.
“Stop!” Dakota yelled.
The pressure in his mind grew as she slammed into his mental shield once again. He pushed against her and laughed. “The next shot goes into you both, Dakota.” His voice lingered on her name. He refused to think of her as the Assassin now that her weaknesses were so evident.
White-hot pain shot through his temple. The gun fell from his hand as Seven’s thoughts began to implode. He grabbed at his head, surprised. His captive fell to the ground with a cough.
Before he could recover, two hands pinned his arms back.
“Dakota, run!”
Seven watched his target grab her friend and take off. He slammed into the Assassin’s thoughts as she continued to flee, finding nothing but a stiff, cold shield.
A strong arm settled around his throat. “Now you’ll deal with me.”
The Samurai.
Seven hadn’t noticed him. He growled and hissed as the warrior released his grasp on Seven and swept his legs out from under him. Seven crashed hard on the graveled ground. Rocks sliced into his skin.
Instantly he was back on his feet and on the attack. His fists collided with his enemy’s stiff torso. His mind reached out and rammed into an unmovable shield. He spun and struck again with similar results.
The Samurai returned each blow, his moves more fluid than Seven’s. Time to end this, Seven thought. His mind extended and grasped at the surrounding rocks, making them swirl and rise. They spun toward the Samurai. The warrior dodged and pivoted, missing most of the flying projectiles.
The Samurai sufficiently distracted, Seven grabbed the gun, spun, and fired, just as darkness engulfed his thoughts.
Seven blinked away the darkness as he forced his eyes open. Double beds, a small desk and a bathroom blurred into view. His memories came back in a sudden rush: the Assassin, so weak and unworthy, her escape, the Samurai. Shame and rage carved into Seven’s heart as he pushed himself to his feet.
You failed. A projection of the Creator stood at the window, his back toward Seven. Anger dripped from every word. Anger and disdain. You allowed your feelings for her to weaken you. The Creator spun to face Seven, collapsing the distance between them in two steps. Why?
It was more of an accusation than a question.
Seven opened his mouth and closed it again, his words nothing but ash in his mouth. What could he say? He had shown weakness. He’d allowed his ego to blind him to the Samurai’s presence. He had failed. “I offer no excuses Master. This was my error. I—”
The Creator ripped through Seven’s thoughts, choking off his words. I warned you against underestimating her, his master snarled.
Seven had never seen his master this angry with anyone but the members of the Order. His brow furrowed with shame. Self-loathing coiled around him and squeezed. His mind twisted. No! Seven screamed in his thoughts. This is not my fault. The Samurai caused this. The Samurai had bested him, not the Assassin.
Never her—not again.
Still you underestimate her. You aren’t ready for the task.
A low growl pushed past Seven’s lips.
The Creator’s projection walked through Seven, fading as he reached the door. Wait until I call on you, he said in Seven’s mind. And do not fail me again.
A chill ran down Seven’s spine. He hated being threatened. Especially by his master. He collapsed on the bed, his body sore and his emotions raw.
He replayed the confrontation with the Assassin and the Samurai. Why hadn’t the Creator ever mentioned the Samurai? Surely he was a better addition to the Creator’s army. Seven made a mental note to talk with the Order. Maybe he could offer the Samurai to them once he killed the Assassin.
Kill her.
Seven allowed the words to weave through him. He had hesitated, more interested in taunting her than fulfilling his mission. Seven thought of his previous encounter with her. He had hesitated then, too. That time it cost him his home. Maya. He wouldn’t allow himself to fail again.
Seven fell to the floor and sat with his back straight and his mind focused. His eyes closed. Within moments, he felt the crackling energy of his abilities. The lights in the room flickered against his eyelids. He opened his eyes as objects began to dance around the room. Lamps unplugged an
d rose, still illuminated. Scraps of paper floated at his command.
His mind filled with images of the Assassin and the Samurai. Seven’s neck and shoulders tightened. The objects wavered. He inhaled a breath and focused. The stiffness released. More pictures scrolled through his thoughts: the compound on fire, Maya’s screams as she died, the Creator’s promise that the Assassin was necessary to their plans. The Architect had trusted the Creator too. Her loyalty was absolute. The Creator counted on her to bring his prized possession home.
But his master had not protected the Architect in the end. He had allowed her die. All because of the Assassin.
Will you force me to die for her too?
The objects crashed to the floor as the question lingered too long in Seven’s thoughts. He would not allow that girl to undermine everything he had with the Creator. He would not permit her to make his master weak. Not now. Not ever.
Seven would protect his master from the Assassin at all costs. Even if the Creator didn’t think he needed protecting.
Especially then.
The Solomon Experiments 3.0
The Order
Dr. Christyn Harrison’s Personal Journal –
February 21, 2016:
He’s too close. Ben is too close. He’s going to find Liam. He’s going to find all of the children. I have to find a solution, something that can protect us.
Josh already knows the truth, most of it. He’s confronted us, yelled at us, vowed to never speak to us. I can’t blame him. I’d have reacted the same way. Dakota doesn’t know anything, yet. This is going to rip her apart. How am I supposed to explain that her entire life is a lie?
Josh warned us, he said Dakota would figure it out. He urged us to come clean. But we didn’t. Grant and I pretended we could hide these secrets forever.
We were wrong.
Every instinct I have screams for us to run, that Ben has already discovered us. I have to act fast. I don’t know what to do about Liam. I don’t know if he’s even still alive. I can only hope my efforts to keep him safe, keep him hidden, were not in vain.
This is my fault. All of it. I knew the experiments were wrong. I saw how Ben’s mind twisted with the work. I should’ve left the minute he wanted to use the kids as weapons, the minute he refused to include me in Dakota’s training.
How could I have let this happen? How did my simple theories about mind control and psychic abilities turn into this?
Ben would say that I worry too much, that I just need to trust in him. He would tell me again how disappointed he is in me. He’d remind me of our love and threaten me not to leave. He’d lie.
What will he do if he finds me now? What will he do to the children?
What will . . .
I already know.
The bang of the shot stops me flat. “No!” I scream as I run toward the sound. “David!”
Elaine follows.
“Go back,” I say over my shoulder. “Go back!”
I close my thoughts and slam into the attacker’s mind. His shield gives way and his emotions fill me. Shock followed by rage. In moments, he falls to the ground. Unconscious.
David grabs his left arm, crimson liquid oozing over his hand. Get out of here, he screams through my thoughts. Go! I’ll find you.
He stands and walks toward the assailant. The Glock peeks out from under the frozen body of the gunman. David kicks it aside, grimacing in pain.
David? I fight the urge to run to him, to help him.
No! His voice is low and dangerous in my head. Get out of here, he growls. Take Elaine and go.
I hesitate and he pushes further into my mind. My body turns without my permission. Torn, I acquiesce to his will and run back to where Elaine hides.
My breath comes in short pants when I reach her. “Come on,” I urge as I drag her away from the scene and back toward the Juice Bar and my car.
Everything is too loud, too overwhelming. The streets are chaotic as neighbors wrestle with the destruction of the myth of safety in this no-longer-quiet town. I block out the bombardment of voices and sounds that filter in and out of my restless mind. No relief. My senses heighten further and I’m aware of each breath of wind in the air, the slightest of variations in temperature and scent. My skin prickles with energy, sending waves of both excitement and dread through the whole of me.
Elaine and I make it to the car before I can settle my thoughts. I reach out for David and find nothing but a mental wall separating me from him. I push against the invisible barrier, struggling against the distance he’s created between us.
Go, he says. His voice is so real that I turn, expecting to see him behind me. Water stings behind my eyes when nothing greets me.
“Where are we going” Elaine finally asks. Her face is ashen, her eyes made wide by the excess of adrenaline pumping through her veins. “Wh . . . Who was . . .?”
“Shh, don’t try to talk. You need to settle down. You’re in shock.”
It’s a feeling I understand; one I seldom discuss. Shock had overtaken me after my parents disappeared. Shock fueled my rage when Josh died. And shock drowned me in numbness after the confrontation with my father.
Elaine inhales too-fast breaths, gulping for air as though she is suffocating.
I push her into my car and scan the landscape before I slip into the driver’s seat. “Focus on your breathing,” I say. I maneuver the car onto the street and drive to the only place I can think of. “Try to slow the world down. Take longer, deeper breaths.”
“I . . . can’t . . .” Elaine’s hands shake. Her breath continues to come in panicked spurts.
I grab her hand in mine. “You can do this. Like me, inhale slow and deep. Exhale.”
Elaine mimics my breathing patterns. In. Out. In. Out
“Again,” I say.
She follows my rhythm and her breathing slows. Her eyes lose their shine as her pupils relax. Her hand no longer shakes in mine. The color rises in her cheeks.
“Good. Very good.” I release her hands and return my focus on the road. “You’re okay. Safe.”
“How can you say that?” Elaine’s shock gives way to bitter anger laced with fear. “None of us are safe. That guy had a gun. He wanted to kill you. Kill both of us. If David hadn’t—”
“I know. But he’s gone.” I can’t have this conversation with her. “You’re safe now.”
Nothing I say calms Elaine so I opt for silence as we weave our way up the familiar hill. The sun is covered by a thick layer of clouds, casting the landscape into a stormy gloom. I have no doubt our stalkers are watching my house. I won’t go back there. Not with her. Elaine’s house is close to mine, but not too close.
“Where are we going?” Elaine asks. “My place?”
“Just for now. You said your parents were gone for a few days?”
“Yeah, until next week.”
“Good.” My mind scrambles for a plan.
“What if those people come looking for you? For me.?” Her voice quivers.
“They won’t come here. At least, not right now.” I hope they don’t. “To be safe, I’ll leave in the morning. Early.”
Elaine nods absently and retreats back into her own world. A light rain taps on the windows as the clouds break open. We wind around the streets, twisting our way to her house. It’s risky staying the night, but I can’t leave her in this state. Especially since it’s my fault this happened in the first place.
Why did I come home?
We pull into the driveway as lightning streaks across the sky and the rain begins to pour. Thunder crashes around us. Elaine reaches into her purse and retrieves her phone. Tapping several buttons in rapid succession, she replaces her phone just as the garage door opens as several lights in the house come on.
“Now what?” she asks as I park the car.
I have no idea.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. David still has not contacted me and his absence increases my dread.
Silence eventually gives way to
small talk as Elaine’s adrenaline finally abates. “Can I ask you something?” she asks, her eyes fixated on some imaginary spot in the distance.
“Of course.”
“What did you do to those gunmen?”
A deep silence permeates the space.
“You did something, I know you did. I just don’t know what.” She faces me, her green eyes vacant.
I know that look. Fear. My abilities terrify her.
They should.
“It’s complicated,” I say, not knowing how to explain to her what happened.
“You used your abilities, didn’t you? To stop them.”
I nod and my breath catches in my throat. My chest tightens with new pressure.
“Are they . . . dead?” The last word is nothing more than a whisper. “Did you kill them?” She knows the truth before I open my mouth. Her eyes widen and she turns away.
“Elaine, you have to understand, I can’t always—”
“I get it. You’re like him. The one who had me. David is too. Is this what the experiments were about, turning kids into killers?”
Her words stab through my defenses.
“I didn’t want to hurt anyone” A lie. In this moment, I want nothing but their pain, their deaths. And that’s what scares me most—I like inflicting pain on those who hurt me.
A loud silence stretches between us.
“I’m glad you hurt those men,” Elaine says finally. “I wish you had killed the other one. The psychic one.”
Elaine’s words hit too close. Her fear and her rage are my mirror. I can’t tell her what the attack on the gunmen had cost me. I can’t explain that every time I hurt someone, I’m drawn closer to the realities of who, what, I am. I can’t say that I am the ultimate weapon, trained to kill without remorse or regret.
Outbreak Page 9
