Outbreak

by Christine Fonseca

  “Watch out!,” I yell as more projectiles crackle and explode.

  Elaine screams and Mark pulls her to the ground.

  “The roof,” Mark says.

  I raise my hands toward the unseen gunman. A scream and a thud.

  One down.

  David runs to the body as more bullets split the night. Retrieving the man’s Glock, David spins, shoots. Another scream. Another thud. He aims at the last man crouched around the corner of the house.

  Before he can fire the shot, I sweep my hand from left to right. The gunman collides with the garage with a heavy thud. He falls to the ground, blood pooling around his skull.

  David’s gaze meets mine. He raises an eyebrow and nods.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Someone’s been practicing, I think.” David’s smile calms my thoughts.

  “Nice shot,” Mark says to David as he pulls Elaine to her feet. “That didn’t go exactly as planned.”

  Not even close.

  “What do we do now?” Elaine asks, her voice shaking.

  Shame coats my tongue. I never should have let her and Mark stay. They don’t deserve any of this.

  Stop bashing yourself, David says, knowing every thought. There was no way you could’ve gotten them to leave.

  He’s right. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop feeling guilty.

  “I guess we need a better plan,” I say as we walk inside.

  The sun casts long shadows across the floor of Elaine’s living room. Broken furniture—a table and two bookcases—litters the floor.

  “Sorry about the mess.” I pick up several books and stack them against the wall.

  Elaine’s face is ashen. “This scares me,” she says. Her voice quivers on the last word.

  “What scares you?” Mark takes her hand in his.

  “This.” Elaine waves her hand to indicate the room. “Everything. I don’t understand it. How can anyone do what he did?”

  Mark pulls her into an embrace. “It’s okay, babe. We’ll be okay.”

  I replay the images the recruit had placed in Elaine’s mind. Fresh anger rises through me. Now I understand the fear etched in Elaine’s features. It’s the same feeling I had when I freaked out at the coffee shop. I close my eyes and push calming thoughts into my best friend. I may not be able to take away the torture the recruit inflicted, but I can sure lessen it.

  Elaine’s body relaxes against Mark. He whispers into her ear and her face calms.

  “Thank you,” Mark mouths at me. If I didn’t know better I’d think he had gifts of his own. How else can he explain the extent of his knowledge about this world?

  I continue to stack the books against the wall, careful to avoid the broken glass frames and splintered wood scattered across the floor. My mind drifts back to the recruit and the images I saw in his mind. One by one, each scene replays in excruciating detail. The woman who looked so much like Mom. The younger versions of Josh and me. The baby—my brother Liam.

  I focus on his face, noting the similarities of his features to mine. Same angled face and full eyes. Same hair color. Liam’s eyes were like Josh’s. And the recruit’s. My mind matches the baby’s features to the recruit’s. There is no doubt they are the same person.

  My mind reels, confused. No, I whisper in my thoughts. No.

  “You okay?” David asks as he stoops down to help me.

  “Not really.” I note the fresh bandages on his arm. “Are you?”

  “I’m fine.” David’s mind brushes mine. He sees the images I see, hears my thoughts. Confusion and disbelief pass across his face in a single heartbeat, followed by stoic resolve. “Is it him?” he whispers.

  “I don’t know. It might just be a trick, something LeMercier designed to torture me.” My mind circles in on itself.

  “You need to tell them,” David says as he nods toward Mark and Elaine.

  “Tell us, what?” Elaine asks.

  I hesitate, but the look on David’s face brooks no argument. I release a deep sigh and turn to face our friends. “I don’t know if any of this is true, but David—both of us—think that there’s more to the recruit that we originally thought.”

  “Like what?”

  My mouth won’t formulate a response.

  “Dakota saw images in the recruit’s thoughts that could indicate his identity.”

  “His identity?” Mark asks.

  “Yes. I saw, um, baby pictures.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Again my mouth refuses to work. David takes my hand and squeezes. It’s okay, he says in my thoughts. I’ll tell them.

  “Dakota saw pictures of herself, Josh, her mom. And Liam.”

  “Liam?” Mark asks. “Why would the recruit have a picture of him in his head?”

  Elaine’s gaze moves from me to David and back. “Oh my gosh. You think this recruit is Liam?”

  My body stiffens against David. He strokes my arm, gently encouraging me to relax.

  “I don’t know anything right now.” The words pour out too fast. “But when I attacked him and ripped his memories forward, I saw pictures of my childhood in his thoughts.”

  “Maybe he was trying to trick you,” Mark says.

  “That’s what I think. I mean, there’s no way the recruit can really be Liam, right?”

  “He could be,” David says in a soft whisper meant only for me.

  “Let’s figure this out logically,” Mark says. Clearly he’s the most reasonable one of our group. “Tell us exactly what happened.”

  I explain the sequence of pictures I gleaned from the recruit’s thoughts. The image of LeMercier and the toddler. Mom, Josh and me. The vision of baby Liam crying and Josh comforting him. As I retell the story, my mind reels. Fresh confusion rises through me.

  “And these pictures, memories, do they look familiar at all?” Mark’s tone is calm, the exact opposite of what I feel in this moment.

  David senses my emotions and puts his good arm around me.

  “That’s just it,” I say. “I’m not sure. They felt real enough. But no, I can’t say that I actually remember them.”

  “Hmm.” Mark taps his finger on Elaine’s shoulder as he thinks. “I say it’s a trick. It wouldn’t have been hard for the recruit or the doctor . . .”

  “LeMercier.”

  “Yeah, it wouldn’t be that hard for them to plant those images on purpose. Just to mess with you.”

  “I don’t know,” says David. “I think we need to assume that the images are real. The recruit seemed as shocked as Dakota to see them.”

  “Excuse me,” Elaine cuts in. “but does any of this matter? The recruit is a bad guy, right? He wants to kill us.” She trains her razor-sharp gaze on me. “He wants to kill you. Why do we care if he’s your long-lost-brother that you never knew about? Whoever he was before, he is a killer now.”

  Elaine had a point. The recruit wanted me dead. Regardless.

  I stand, no longer able to control the anxiety threatening my mind. I pace back and forth. Back and forth. A nagging feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Blurred memories rise from the depths of my mind. They settle behind my eyes, just far enough beyond my reach that I can’t make out the details.

  Try to relax, David whispers in my thoughts. You won’t figure anything out when you’re this stressed.

  I’m trying, I say. It’s hard. I need to know if it’s Liam. I have— Before I finish, a new presence enters my mind. I slam my defenses shut at the threat, but the presence still comes. Chills chase down my spine as my skin turns to gooseflesh.

  Dakota. The voice is familiar. Water pricks behind my eyes and I look at David, wondering if he hears her.

  He locks his gaze with mine. Shock toys with the corners of his mouth and I know he can.

  Dakota. It’s me. It’s Mom.

  Tears overflow my eyes as the voice continues to speak. Trust your instincts, Dakota. This recruit—this boy—is your brother.

  My eyes widen and I forget to breathe. />
  David takes my hand in his, his eyes never leaving mine.

  Mark opens his mouth and David raises a hand, stopping Mark’s words.

  How is this possible? Are you . . . dead?

  Mom laughs in my thoughts. No, she says. I am very much alive.

  My heart clenches. An acrid taste forms in my mouth.

  I know you have questions. There will be time for them soon.

  “When?” I say out loud. “When will there be time?”

  “For wh—” David silences Elaine with one look.

  Mom, why are you here now? Why haven’t you come sooner? I needed you. I can’t stop the tears from pouring down my cheeks. I still need you.

  I know, baby. And I am trying to get to you. I am.

  My head spins as longing, anger, and grief still my breath.

  I need you to find Liam, sweetheart. I need you to free him from LeMercier. Can you do that for me?

  I stare at David, unsure of how to respond, what to think.

  Please baby. I can’t do this without you.

  My legs wobble and David steadies me.

  Why can’t you do this, Mom? Why can’t you be here to do this? I shake my head, willing the strange dream to end.

  But this isn’t a dream.

  David is telling the others about the conversation in my thoughts. He explains that Mom is alive. I hear his words, but can’t react. I’m too lost within the recesses of my own mind.

  Please Dakota, find your brother. Bring Liam home. Mom’s voice leaves as quietly as it came.

  I reach for her in my mind, unwilling to let her leave.

  Too late. She’s gone, leaving nothing but an empty void.

  Again.

  “Damn her!” I yell. “I can’t believe she’s still alive and hasn’t tried to find me these past months. Where the hell was she when Josh was killed?”

  David tries to soothe me. He enters my thoughts and I toss him out, too hurt, too scared, to be comforted.

  “Where was she?” I say before the pain overtakes me.

  My mind spins and David tries to wrap me in his arms. I shove him back. “Don’t side with her!”

  “Dakota, no one is siding with her.” Elaine’s voice is low and filled with caring.

  “There’s no excuse for leaving us,” I say between sobs. “For abandoning Liam.” I run out of the room, locking myself in the hall bathroom.

  A scream rips from my throat. Too many emotions trying to escape at once.

  Remorse and regret for Liam, the baby brother I’ve never known.

  Guilt and grief over Josh’s death.

  Resentment toward Mom for abandoning us when we needed her most.

  Everlasting bitterness at being cursed with these damned “gifts” and living in a world I never wanted.

  Dakota. David’s voice comes from everywhere, surrounding me. Please, babe. Let me in.

  My screams end, my throat raw.

  Please, Dakota. Let me help you.

  I unlock the door. David opens it and I fall into his arms, sobbing.

  David rubs my back and whispers assurances in my ear. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

  “She left me. She left all of us,” I say between heavy sobs. “Why did she do that?”

  “I don’t know.” David runs his fingers through my hair. “But I know she loves you very much. Whatever her reasons are for not being here, I know it’s to ensure your safety.”

  “Like why you left me?” I’m picking a fight, I know. I need to fight with someone.

  David wraps his arms around me in a tight embrace. “Let it go. Let it all go.”

  I move my shoulders, pushing against his hard body. I pull my arms and hands in front of me and shove at his chest. My breath comes in labored pants as the sobs continue.

  “Let me go,” I say as I struggle against him. “Let me go.”

  “No. You can hit me, claw me, or do whatever you need to deal with your anger. But I’m still not letting you go.”

  I accept his challenge. Using all of my strength, I shove at him, claw at his skin. He doesn’t move. I slam into his thoughts and he doesn’t flinch as I rifle through the memories I know will hurt him.

  His father’s death

  —because of me.

  Josh’s death

  —my fault.

  The goodbye letter I left with his ring.

  His mind absorbs every image, every thought. I shove my hands against his chest and push again. Still, he doesn’t move.

  “I hate you,” I growl. “I hate all of this.”

  “I know.” David pulls me tighter, pinning my hands against his body.

  His mind stays open to me and I pour my anger into every crevice. The uglier the images, the tighter he embraces me.

  Until finally, I crack.

  Break.

  A feral scream rips from the deepest parts of me. I yell until my throat burns, burying my head in his chest. Tears overcome my eyes and my screams become sobs once more.

  The tears refuse to abate. Every heartache, every stolen memory, every pained loss pours through me and onto David’s shirt.

  Slowly, my eyes begin to dry.

  My body stops shaking.

  My mind quiets.

  “Better?” He whispers when my sobbing finally stops.

  No words form so I nod my reply and melt into his embrace.

  David releases his hold to allow some space between us. The distance hurts so I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him back into me.

  A moment passes. My breathing steadies.

  Another moment.

  And another.

  Ready to let go yet? David smiles as I process his thoughts.

  I exhale a tight breath and release my grasp.

  “We’ll get through this,” he says as he rubs my back. “I promise.”

  Somehow I doubt it.

  David and I stay in the bathroom until my heart stops racing and my pulse slows. “Come on. We should go back,” I finally say. David kisses my forehead before guiding me to the living room and our friends.

  The look on Elaine’s face tells me what I already know, they heard every word. “Stop looking at me like that,” I say. She knows I hate pity-glances.

  “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Elaine says. “We both do.” Mark nods in agreement.

  “Yeah, I’m okay.” That is, for someone who just found out her dead mother is alive, and the brother she never knew about is hell-bent on killing her.

  An uncomfortable silence fills the room. Mark shifts his gaze between us. “Well this has been a helluva day, hasn’t it?”

  I look at Mark and start laughing. We all start laughing.

  Definitely a helluva day.

  Dusk settles in as Elaine orders pizza. I am too numb to eat, but they all insist I try. No one mentions Mom or Liam, but both presences linger in the air, the unspoken worry we all feel.

  “Okay,” I say as I plop on the couch. “We need a plan. Where do we go from here?”

  Mark and David exchange glances as Mark says “Damn!”

  “What can I say? I know my girl!” The look on David’s face is triumphant.

  My brow furrows in confusion.

  “They had a bet,” Elaine says. “Mark said you wouldn’t try to make a plan until tomorrow. David said there was no way you’d wait.”

  “What did you say?” I ask.

  “Nothing. I’m staying out of it!”

  I laugh before turning to David. “I hope you won something good,” I tease, and Mark hands him a twenty-dollar bill. “Seriously though, what are we going to do now?”

  The smile left David’s face. “What do you want to do?”

  “Run away,” Elaine says.

  I wish.

  “I can arrange that,” David says, a glint of hope in his voice.

  “You know I can’t do that.” I close my eyes and consider our options. “I have to help him,” I say.

  “I know.” David’s smile stops before
his eyes.

  “Not because Mom asked for this. I’m doing it for Josh. He would never allow someone to hurt one of his siblings, not if he could help it. For him, I have to do this.”

  “I’m assuming you believe that the recruit is your brother,” Mark says.

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “Okay, how should we do this?” Elaine asks as she gathers the pizza from the delivery boy.

  Seven slammed the door of his hotel room so hard the walls shook. He paced the tight space as his thoughts spun more and more out of control. His hands fisted at his sides. The lights flickered on and off and on again.

  “No,” he said aloud. “No!” He slammed his fist into the door, leaving a large indentation.

  He paced again, apprehension and rage pouring through every cell. “She lied!” His vision blurred with his hatred. “She. Lied.”

  Seven expelled a harsh breath as the memories replayed through his thoughts like an old film reel. Clips of a woman—his mother—flashed before him. His brother. His sister.

  This can’t be real, he said in his thoughts. No!

  Settle your emotions. The Creator’s voice was unwelcome in Seven’s frayed mind. Seven tried to block the images that looped throughout his thoughts but it was too late, the Creator had already seen. He already knew Seven’s feelings, his pain.

  I grow tired of this game, the Creator said. You continue to underestimate her despite my warnings. You leave me no choice. The scattered images of the life Seven never knew fell away as the Creator took control of Seven’s mind.

  One by one each picture detached from Seven’s consciousness and faded into oblivion. He reached for them, unwilling to release the memories, no matter how painful they had been. It was useless. The Creator’s culling had been exact. Complete. Seven seethed as his mind blackened.

  Settle your thoughts, the Creator warned, and finish your task. Bring the Assassin to me.

  Yes, Master, Seven said, unable to form any other words.

  The Creator’s presence dimmed. Loneliness crept into the folds of Seven’s nearly empty mind.

  Do not underestimate her again.

  Seven slid onto the floor of his room, his back against the bed. Closing his eyes, he settled into his meditation. He reached for his missing memories, finding only the cold void of his master’s culling. He tried again. And again. The more desperate he became for the images, the more distant his mind felt. Releasing a heavy sigh, he acquiesced to the growing darkness in his mind.