The White Rabbit Chronicles

by Gena Showalter

  She pursued me to the floor, tried to pin me. But I still held the gun and swung at her. The butt of the weapon crashed against her temple. She moaned and went lax. I flipped her to her back and straddled her. Hammered the butt of the gun at her temple, but she blocked. I tried again, and she blocked that, too. She bucked, dislodging me, and I had to catch myself with my hands to prevent a face-plant, losing my grip on the weapon.

  She unleashed another solid strike to my sternum. Uncaring about the pain, I grabbed one of the fallen pens and aimed for her carotid. But again, she blocked. The tip sank into her forearm, slicing through muscle, hitting bone. Her scream echoed from the walls. I was able to settle back on my haunches, grab her injured arm and punch the pen, sending it deeper, all the way through.

  Another scream bowed her back.

  The perfect position, I thought with a grin. Watch Ali whale. Punch, punch, punch. Her face absorbed every hit, her uninjured arm pinned by my knees, unable to act as a shield. Punch, punch. But as I raised my fist to go again, my wrist was shackled by a vise-grip and I was yanked to my feet.

  The cavalry had arrived.

  I struggled with all of my might, but the male was joined by another, and another, and both of my arms were captured, my legs lifted. Someone helped Ms. Smith to her feet. One of her eyes was already swollen shut, and there was a gash in her lower lip. She limped toward me.

  “I’ll make you regret this,” she snarled. Then she flattened her hand against my temple.

  I frowned, confused. She really thought that would hurt me? Then I felt five little spiders crawling around in my brain, and I knew. They weren’t spiders. They were fingers. She planned to cover my memories.

  “Stop! Just stop! Don’t do this! We can—”

  I...had no idea where I was. I stilled, blinked. Why was there a battered woman in front of me? Why were men holding me?

  “There, that’s better,” the woman said.

  Who was she? I couldn’t remember. Couldn’t remember anything. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. “Where am I? What’s going on?”

  She smiled without humor. “Don’t worry. I’ll get patched up and explain everything.”

  Chapter 31

  WHEN TWO

  MINDS COLLIDE

  My name is Samantha Conway and I’ve been alive for eighteen days. Well, I only remember the past eighteen days. My friend Rebecca says I hit my head during a fight with slayers and the blow knocked a few screws loose, causing amnesia. She suggested I keep this journal, write down all of my feelings and any memories that surface. So far, I just feel frustrated. I’ve remembered nothing! The only thing I don’t have to wonder about is the hole in my heart. I know it’s there—there’s never a moment I’m not aware of it. It’s like a bottomless pit of despair and it’s so not cake.

  Ugh. Did I really just write “so not cake”? Clearly there’s something more than amnesia wrong with me.

  I’m supposedly some kind of bad-A enforcer. I capture and kill the people who slay my zombies. But I haven’t gone out on a mission since The Incident—what I’m calling the world’s worst brain fart—because cleansing zombies has kept me weak, but Rebecca says today is my last cleansing. For a while, at least.

  Apparently, slayers are hunting me, determined to kill ME. I’m supposed to take them out first. I’m told I’ll head out tomorrow. But the problem is, I don’t remember how to fight! So how am I supposed to stop them?

  Enough! I threw the pen and journal across the room and rose. I was sick of writing. Sick of not remembering. Mostly sick of this helplessness. I needed to...

  I didn’t know what I needed to do. Something. Anything.

  A knock at my door. Rebecca strode inside without waiting for permission, as usual. And as usual, it annoyed the crap out of me.

  “Excellent,” she said. “You’re awake. Your presence is required in the lab.”

  Her tone was clipped. But then, her tone was always clipped. I wasn’t sure she liked me all that much, even though she’d claimed we’d known each other for ages. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure I liked her. I looked at her, and the hole in my heart throbbed.

  The same way it throbbed every time I looked at the tattoos on my arms and the one on the back of my neck.

  “Come on.” She waved me over with her good arm. Her other one had sported a thick bandage for the first week of my stay, and now that the bandage was gone, I could see a big black scab.

  Anger pricked at me—not at her, but at slayers. They’d hurt her, same as they’d hurt me. A group of them had invaded our building, our home, hoping to abduct me, but she’d saved my life, taking a beating for me.

  I could only guess why they wanted to stop us from cleansing zombies and making the world a better place. Their own gain.

  She led me to the bank of elevators at the end of my hall. There were thirty-two floors in the building, each a maze of hallways, offices and labs. My guards and me had an entire floor to ourselves. The one above us had rooms teeming with cages and zombies.

  Zombies I would save.

  That was the only thing I really liked about my life. Saving the lost.

  “This is Ethan,” Rebecca said as we entered an area with all kinds of medical equipment. “You met him before your accident. You adore him.”

  He was a little older than me, putting him at about twenty. He was only slightly taller than me and lean. He had dark hair and a weird expression. As if he was trying to say sorry without actually saying a word. Had we fought? We must have, because the hole in my heart was throbbing again.

  I wanted so badly to remember.

  “Ali,” he acknowledged with a nod.

  Ali? An image flashed through my mind, there and gone in the blink of an eye. But still it managed to arrest me. This boy, this Ethan, sat on a bench beside a stunning teenage girl with dark hair and eyes. He looked at her with such tenderness, such love. Beside her was another teenage girl. This one had lighter brown hair, straight as a pen, and mischievous hazel eyes.

  She was looking at me and laughing.

  The throb in my heart hurt so much I almost doubled over.

  “Her name is Sami,” Rebecca snapped. “And, Sami, I need you to get in the chair. Please don’t make me tell you again.”

  “Or what?” I quipped. I hated obeying her. But I did it. I sat. Because even though I hated it, I loved the results. Two men in hazmat suits strapped my ankles and wrists to the chair.

  Rebecca and Ethan stepped into a protected chamber within the room. The walls were clear, allowing them to watch everything that happened outside it.

  Both hazmat-clad men exited and then returned with a young zombie girl. She hadn’t been dead long, I didn’t think. Her skin was gray, but not dark, and she still had most of her hair. There was a metal collar around her neck.

  The closer she came to me, the more she struggled, reaching for me. Her nails scraped over my thighs, and I flinched.

  She lowered her head and gnawed on my arm. I sucked in a breath, the pain coming quick and hot. But soon after she started, she was jerked back. She sagged to the floor and began to seize. Her skin lost its grayish tint, and the red glow faded from her eyes. She lifted her arm to the light, turned it, studied it, and a slow grin bloomed.

  Rebecca and Ethan exited the chamber.

  A gloating Rebecca clapped. “Told you.”

  Ethan only had eyes for the girl. “Izzy,” he said, rushing to her.

  The girl gasped at him happily, excitedly. “Ethan!”

  But one of the hazmat-suit men stepped between them, preventing a reunion.

  “Out of my way,” Ethan commanded.

  The suited man remained in place.

  Scowling, Ethan turned to Rebecca. “Tell him to move out of my way. Now.”

  “Your sister ha
s been cleansed, just as I promised,” Rebecca replied. “Now she’s what we call a Witness. And we can’t just let Witnesses run wild, can we? No. We have to test her, find out what she can do and how she does it.”

  Rebecca had said the same thing about all the others I’d cleansed. I’d protested more than once, to no avail.

  Ethan shook his head. “I won’t let you run tests on her. She had enough of that during her first life.”

  Far from intimidated, she said, “And how are you going to stop me?”

  He tensed.

  I struggled against my bonds. They were going to fight, and I— What? What was I going to do about it?

  An alarm screeched to sudden life. I stilled, glanced around.

  A paling Rebecca barked orders at the guards. “You, get the Witness into the cage I prepared. You, lock Ali in the safe room.”

  Ali, again. Why?

  “And you,” she said to Ethan. “If you want to leave this building alive, you’ll shut your mouth and come with me. I’ll expect you to watch my back—or I’ll put a bullet in yours.”

  Wait. “Don’t leave me!” I called.

  But they’d already marched out of the room. One of the suited men took the collar-bound Witness through another set of doors while the other freed me from the chair. I made to stand on my own, but he grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me through the same doors the other suited man had used.

  A computerized voice announced, “Intruders, first floor. Intruders, second floor. Intruders, third floor. Fire, fourth floor.” On and on, the litany continued.

  My heart raced, but not with fear, I didn’t think. Was that...excitement? Anticipation? But why?

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  He jerked off the mask. “Shut up and walk.”

  I gritted my teeth, contemplated tripping him—and the impulse baffled me. We were on the same side.

  Down a hall we raced, around a corner. We came to a group of teenage boys fighting guards and zombies at the same time and drew up short.

  I watched, enthralled. Throb, throb, throb. I’m not sure I’d ever seen a more awesome sight. The tallest and most muscled of the boys had black hair—and were those violet eyes? Good glory. He was fearsome. A minicrossbow in one hand, a dagger in the other. He pushed his spirit from his body, took down a zombie, then turned in a circle, stepped back into his body and shot a guard with an arrow. His motions were fluid, a ripple of wind, as natural as breathing.

  His gaze shifted—yes! violet!—and landed on me. He stopped. Just stopped—

  —the world around me crumbled, and suddenly I was on a bed, flat on my back. The dark-haired boy was on top of me, pinning me down. He didn’t mean me any harm. His hands gently framed my cheeks as I smiled up at him. He lowered his head with every intention of kissing me. I—

  —lost sight of him and yelped. Hazmat-suit man must have decided it would be unwise to aid his friends, because he yanked my arm, tugging me away from the action. I turned back, needing to see the violet-eyed boy again.

  “They’re slayers,” Hazmat said.

  That meant... Oh, crap. They had come back to finish the job—to finish me.

  Hazmat tripped and fell, taking me with him. Impact hurt. As I crawled to my hands and knees, I realized he hadn’t tripped on his own. He’d had help. Courtesy of an arrow through the back of his neck. Blood pooled around him. But the violence of the action...didn’t shock me.

  Heart pounding, I scrambled up to face the violet-eyed boy now stomping toward me. Every cell in my body sizzled. In fear. Had to be fear.

  “Don’t hurt me,” I gasped out. Warning bells sounded in my head. Or maybe that was the still-blasting alarm. I backed away, came up against a wall. “I’ll fight you. And I’ll injure you. I will. I hear I’m quite good at combat.”

  He stopped a few inches away from me. Those gorgeous eyes danced with relief, happiness and confusion. He took another step toward me.

  I held up my hands to ward him off. “Don’t come near me!”

  The confusion overshadowed the other emotions. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Of course. You’re a slayer. I’ve taken down your people, and you now want revenge. Well, it’s not going to be easy.” I raised my fists. I might not remember how to fight, but I wasn’t going down easily.

  Two boys came up beside him. One flashed me a toothy grin. The other, a blond with tragic navy eyes, never lost his scowl.

  “Go,” Violet told them. “I’ll take care of her.”

  Off they went, and all too soon, I heard the pop of gunfire behind me.

  “Listen to me,” Violet said, drawing my attention.

  I gasped. He’d closed more distance. I could feel the heat of him now, smell the soap and strawberries of his scent. I swear my heart skipped a beat.

  “My name is Cole, and I’m here for you. To take you away. I’m not going to hurt you. Would never hurt you.”

  I wanted to believe him, but Rebecca’s warning blasted through my mind. I spat, “Liar!”

  “Ali-gator,” he said, his tone gentle. “Ali.”

  That name again... I frowned. It struck me with the same force as one of his arrows, my chest throbbing, throbbing so intently. “I’m Samantha.” Wasn’t I?

  “You were captured, brought here. Took us a while, but we finally found you. I don’t know what they did to you, but I can assure you they aren’t your friends. We are. None of us would ever hurt you.”

  I edged around the corner, backing away from him.

  “A lot of people are worried about you.” As he spoke, he inched toward me. “Nana, my dad. Reeve. Do you remember Reeve?”

  I racked my brain, came up empty and shook my head. Chest...throbbing harder...

  “Emma, your little sister, has been helping us look for you. But Anima used pulses to surround the perimeter, so she wasn’t able to get inside until after we’d disabled them. Then I wouldn’t let her in the building. I knew you would be upset if anything happened to her.”

  Emma...Emma... The name made the throbbing far, far worse.

  Could I trust this dangerous boy?

  “All right. You’ve left me with no choice.” Before I could decide, he was on me, hefting me over his shoulder. “Time to make the vision come true. At least I finally understand it.”

  Answer: no, I couldn’t trust him. “Let me go!” I beat at his back and slammed my knees into his torso.

  “Never again.” He lifted a gun and marched forward.

  “I mean it. Let go,” I demanded.

  “Never. Again.”

  “You keep saying that. What do you want with me? What do you want from me?”

  “What I’ve always wanted. Everything.”

  “Well, you can’t have it.”

  There was something familiar about the scene....

  Another flash of this boy kissing me.

  A flash of this boy stripping me and touching me.

  A flash of this boy smiling at me, violet eyes sparkling.

  A flash of this boy studying his cuticles while I killed zombies.

  Killed zombies, rather than healed them?

  I must have. If these flashes were memories. But that would mean Rebecca had lied to me.

  Why would she lie?

  Cole stopped at the end of the hall. Smoke billowed, layered with the scents of rot, gunpowder and blood. To the left, the blond boy with the tragic eyes fought a handful of guards—on his own. He had a gun in both hands, aimed, shot, aimed, shot. Bodies crumpled around him.

  “We’ve got slayers all over the building,” Cole said. “River’s team is with us, and we’re taking every floor. There will be nothing left of Anima when we’re done.”

  I twisted. Two men in lab coats raced around the corner.
They caught a glimpse of Cole and backtracked. Cole shot both in the legs. Then he returned to his easy pace, as if nothing had happened.

  “Do you know where Smith is?”

  Smith. Rebecca. My friend—who wasn’t really a friend.

  I gulped. I couldn’t tell him. He’d kill her. And even though I wasn’t sure I liked her, even though I didn’t know if she was friend or foe, I didn’t want her dead. Did I?

  Throbbing again...

  I’d never been so confused.

  Another blond boy came tearing from the opposite direction. “Can’t find Smith. But I see you found my cupcake.”

  “Mine,” Cole snapped.

  Uh, was the cupcake supposed to be me? Because it was a weird nickname for a supposed enemy.

  “Ali,” Cole said, “I’m going to set you down. Don’t run. If you run, I will chase you, and when I catch you, I will spank you.”

  “Excuse me?” I hated the idea of being spanked. Really.

  “Why would she run?” Blondie asked.

  Cole eased me to my feet, and I did contemplate running. Now was my chance. But curiosity held me immobile. These boys could have hurt me. They hadn’t. They had spoken to me with affection.

  “I can help you,” a woman said. A tall, slender blonde with eyes as freaky a blue as mine appeared out of thin air.

  Throb.

  Cole stiffened. “We don’t need your help, Helen.” He stepped in front of me...protecting me?

  Throb, throb.

  I...didn’t like that he was upset. Why?

  “Who do you think has been feeding Emma information all this time?” the Helen lady snapped. “Me. Now, do you really want to leave this building without taking care of Rebecca? Because the choice is yours. If it were up to me, I’d rather you did something. I love my daughter and never want to go through something like this again.”

  Daughter? Throb, throb, throb.

  Cole cracked his jaw, nodded. “Fine. Lead the way. But if this is a trap...”