Terminal

by Kathy Reichs

  Chance had kicked a soldier holding Ben in the face. Was that right?

  I cringed at the next memory: a snarling flatfoot, shooting Chance in the back with the strange weapon they all carried.

  Shelton. Screaming. Somewhere out of sight.

  Silence. Solitude. Minutes ticking by in a locked room. Then a flock of white coats surrounding me. A long needle. Blue liquid. Burning cold running through my veins. My mind going soft, thoughts scattering. A door slamming shut, taking the light with it.

  And now I huddled in the dark, with nothing but fragmented memories for company.

  What day was it? Where was Coop? Would Kit have missed me yet?

  The thought of my father brought fresh tears to my eyes.

  I’d always known the risk of being Viral. Had feared this day might come. But I’d never really considered the implications. Never imagined not being able to say good-bye.

  Now it was all I could think about.

  If I’m still Viral.

  I felt a surge of hope, though tinged with sadness. To save my life, I needed the cure to have worked. But the thought of never flaring again left a bitter taste in my mouth.

  Know what tastes worse? Death. Imprisonment. Never seeing family or friends again.

  Focus on what matters.

  I had to hope my powers were gone.

  There was only one way to find out.

  I closed my eyes. Delved into my subconscious.

  Sought the wolf inside.

  Nothing.

  No spark. No surge of power.

  My pack was silent, my mind still and cold.

  Whatever I’d been, it was gone.

  Viral, no more.

  I cried harder. The feeling of loss was overwhelming.

  I hugged my knees. Felt broken. Lessened. Weak.

  Lights flickered to life overhead, flooding the room in bright white.

  I bolted to my feet. Would face what came next standing up.

  The door buzzed. I palmed tears from my face as the portal swung open and the husky bald doctor from the driveway stepped inside.

  Keegan. Mustache named him Dr. Keegan.

  “What was that?” Keegan jabbed his clipboard at me. “What were you attempting to do?”

  My eyes darted the room. Spotted a tiny camera mounted in the ceiling.

  “You all do the same thing, at some point or another, if pressed hard enough.” Keegan sounded at the edge of his patience. “Close your eyes. Tense. Is that how you force the change?”

  My heart stopped. The change? And what did he mean by ‘pressed’?

  I kept my face blank. “I don’t understand.”

  “Yes you do!” Keegan smacked the clipboard with his free hand. “I’ve led this inquiry for months. Spent more time and money than you could imagine.” His bulk filled the room, anger radiating from his eyes like heat from a stove.

  I didn’t know how to respond. So I didn’t.

  “You dove off the flight deck of an aircraft carrier.” Keegan thrust a stubby finger into the air, then another. “You jumped from the roof of a three-story building. Both times escaping totally unharmed! I am not wrong. The Phoenix Inquiry is not wrong!”

  Phoenix Inquiry? What was that? How long had we been investigated?

  What did they know?

  My mind raced. Sifting facts, compiling probabilities.

  He wouldn’t demand answers if he had proof.

  The door opened behind Keegan. Two stern-faced men in white coats entered.

  One held a very large syringe.

  “Another blood test,” Keegan explained, eyes hard. “We need to delve a little deeper. I’ve read the Claybourne boy’s files. We’ve been watching Candela for years, and that led us to you. Did you know that?”

  I did. But was past blaming Chance.

  He’d sought answers. In his place, I’d have done the same.

  The henchmen approached. I didn’t shy away. To what purpose?

  Instead, I offered my arm. Glared at Keegan as the needle sank into my flesh.

  I hate you. I’ll fight you when I can.

  “That look!” The doctor snapped his fingers. “You’re all the same, even the other group. Not one of you shows the proper fear. It’s because you all know why you’ve been taken. You kids are more than you pretend.”

  Red blood flowed into the tube.

  What story will you tell? What will you reveal to these awful monsters?

  The pair stepped back, handing over my sample as they left the room. Keegan smiled darkly, pulling at his beard as he regarded me. “Think hard about how you want things to go from here, Tory. I know you’re different. Special. I need to understand. To learn how it works. I can extract the information in a number of ways.”

  I crossed my arms to keep my hands from shaking. “You’ve made a mistake.”

  Keegan clicked his tongue. “No. I wouldn’t have ordered your abduction in broad daylight if I had any doubt left. And soon—” he jiggled the vial of my blood, “—we’ll have the proof we’ve been searching for. A power our nation alone must possess, before anyone else gets wind of it.”

  A weapon. He wants the supervirus as a tool for war.

  Please, God, don’t let my blood give it to him.

  “Who are you?” It was the only question I really had.

  “We’re the sentinels that keep America safe.” Keegan’s eyes glittered portentously. “The last line. You won’t find us on any organizational chart, but nations tremble at our footsteps.”

  He’s a fanatic. And I’m completely in his power.

  “People will look for us.” I couldn’t keep the quake from my voice. “Eight teenagers can’t just disappear.”

  Keegan’s face hardened.

  “If the prize is great enough, anything can be arranged.”

  He turned and walked from the room.

  The wait was endless.

  My eyes crawled the boundaries of my featureless cell—no windows, no decorations, no furniture beyond the hospital bed on which I sat.

  Nothing to distract my thoughts. Nothing to provide comfort.

  During the first hour I pressed an ear to the door, straining for the slightest indication of where my friends were being held. Where Coop had been taken. Eventually I gave up, returned to my sad little cot, and wrapped the flimsy medical gown tightly around me.

  My last words to Keegan seemed hollow. These monsters could make us disappear. There were hundreds of ways to fake our deaths, if they even bothered.

  No one knew we’d gone to Bolton Prep that morning. I doubted the agents had allowed themselves to be seen. If my blood came back Viral, who knew what they’d do? Eight lost teens might be worth the return, if they cared more about the virus than our lives.

  A second hour slipped past. My anxiety grew with each passing heartbeat.

  Outside these walls, where time still mattered, it had to be nearing sunset. Was Kit already looking for me? What would he do when I didn’t answer my phone?

  My eyes filled with tears, but I fought them back.

  I wasn’t beaten yet.

  I wanted to go home. To have any shot, I had to keep it together.

  Without warning, the door opened. Keegan stormed in, red-faced, a computer printout crumpled in one fist. Mustache and Buzz Cut entered at his back, faces impassive.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Keegan shoved the paper under my nose, his nostrils flaring in anger. There was a wildness to his eyes that set my teeth on edge.

  “How could I possibly answer that?” I replied.

  “Your blood work!” the bald doctor spat. “Normal. Every measure within typical ranges. How did you do it?”

  My heart leaped. Chance’s serum worked!

  Time to play the fool.

&
nbsp; “I don’t know what you’re taking about!” I whined, letting my bottom lip tremble. “What’s going on? Why are we here?”

  Keegan slapped the printout onto the cot, causing me to jump. Mustache turned slightly toward Buzz Cut, who remained stoic. With their sunglasses still in place, I couldn’t interpret the exchange.

  “You do know!” Every fold on Keegan’s neck quivered with indignation. “All of you! I’m not a fool. I didn’t have you brought here on a guess! I have every research document from Candela’s Brimstone experiment—Chance Claybourne developed a genetically tailored parvo supervirus, and he did so based on you.”

  His eyes flicked briefly to the black-suited agents stationed by the door. “We have a dozen field reports detailing events and abilities that cannot be explained by normal human behavior. The file is an inch thick!”

  I kept my mouth shut. My instincts were picking up on something.

  Keegan seemed to be speaking for the benefit of Mustache and Buzz Cut as much as me. Perhaps more. The burly doctor licked his lips, hands fidgety, eyes continually straying toward the two agents, as if to gauge their reaction. The pair merely watched, stone-faced, making no response.

  Interesting. Who’s really in charge here?

  Keep up the act.

  “Look, mister,” I said in a shaky voice, hamming it up as much as I dared, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you saying I’ve got superpowers or something?”

  Keegan’s body stilled. Sweat beaded at his temples. “Show me your ability. Now. Or I’ll dig it out the hard way.”

  This time I didn’t fake the tremor in my voice. “Is that why you kidnapped us? To kill us? This is crazy! I’m just a kid!”

  Mustache glanced at Buzz Cut, who continued to watch Keegan.

  “I read Claybourne’s files.” Keegan’s cheek twitched, a jittery hand rising to tug on his beard. “He talked about you at length. Things you and your friends did. The gleam that fills your eyes. You can’t lie your way out of this! I want to see a flare. NOW!”

  “Chance was in a mental institution!” I scooted back on the hospital bed until my shoulder blades touched the wall. I no longer doubted this man would hurt me. “He imagined those things. Ask him!”

  “I did,” Keegan answered, frustration dripping from every word. “For some reason he’s covering for you. But I saw his research. I saw his notes.”

  “He’s a deluded teenager, playing at scientist.” I stole a glance at the black-suited duo, who seemed to be listening intently. “A spoiled, lonely rich boy, without any friends, who invented a crazy story to make himself feel important. Chance has serious problems. I’ve been trying to help him separate fact from fiction.”

  Improvised, but I kept going. These men hadn’t seen Karsten’s files, only the Brimstone experiment at Candela. If I could discredit Chance, they might begin to doubt.

  “I’m not lying.” I lifted the crumpled printout on the cot. “You have proof right there. My friends and I aren’t some mystical group of fantasy creatures.” Ignoring Keegan, I focused my attention on the agents by the door. “We’re high school students. We have finals next month. I’m visiting colleges with my dad this summer.” I released the tears I’d been holding back. “I want to go home.”

  “Liar!” Keegan snarled, snatching the paper from my fingers. “Very well. Blood tests aren’t the only method at my disposal. I’ll find what’s hiding inside you, even if I have to cut the answers out, piece by piece.”

  My heart stopped. There was nowhere to run.

  This man would dissect me to get what he wanted. And the ability he sought wasn’t even there.

  “You’re insane,” I whimpered. “I don’t have magic powers. Please let me go.”

  Keegan shook his head, a dangerous glint to his eye. “Too late for that. You’re never leaving here, Victoria Brennan. You belong to me now. You’re my new favorite guinea pig.”

  A sweaty hand snaked forward and stroked my head. I recoiled in horror. “I’ll find what I’m after, though you won’t like how I do it. Despite all the setbacks, this project will succeed.”

  Buzz Cut turned to Mustache. Nodded once.

  Mustache stepped forward. “That’ll be all, Dr. Keegan.”

  Keegan spun, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean? One more day, surely. I can prove my theory. I can make this venture work! We’ll open up the subjects and examine their stem cells, which can’t be—”

  “This way, Doctor.” Mustache’s voice was ice cold.

  Keegan tensed. The printout dropped to the floor. His eyes darted the room.

  For a crazy moment, I thought he might make a break for it.

  What is going on?

  “I . . . I can . . . the process is imperfect at present, but . . . but . . .” Keegan trudged unsteadily toward the door, watching Buzz Cut intently. “Let me show you my research notes again. I’m not wrong here. We’re a hairsbreadth away! Nothing else can explain the phenomena that—”

  Mustache pushed Keegan from the room and followed close behind.

  The door swung shut, leaving me alone with the ever-silent Buzz Cut.

  He stared at me a very long moment, one hand cupping his chin.

  I now understood who was in charge.

  From behind the shades, I could feel his gaze boring into me. Could sense the weight of his judgment. The cold calculation of his thoughts.

  I felt exposed. Helpless. Every lie I’d ever told was written in neon on my face.

  But I endured his cold regard without flinching.

  Knew my life depended on the next few moments.

  “The roof.” Buzz Cut’s voice was surprisingly soft and high-pitched. “Three stories down, into a shallow pond.”

  “We were being chased.”

  “Chance Claybourne did create a supervirus. And a cure. He has files for both.”

  “He created a fantasy. A delusion centered on me. Chance doesn’t know how to make scrambled eggs, much less a medical miracle. This is all a horrible mistake.”

  Buzz Cut’s chin rose, as if evaluating my response. “Where are Marcus Karsten’s files? We know he ran his own parvovirus experiment at LIRI. We believe you saw records. Were you involved?”

  I bit my tongue, tried to look confused as I shook my head.

  “You and your friends have a long list of enemies. An astonishing number, actually, for a group of teenagers. I’ve heard from many of them.”

  I forced a chuckle. “We can’t stay out of trouble, that’s certainly true. Perhaps that’s what Chance first noticed. But we’re not fairy-tale creatures. The proof is right in front of you.”

  I pointed to the printout lying on the tiles.

  Buzz Cut intertwined his fingers behind his back. For another endless moment, he regarded me without speaking.

  Finally, he broke the silence. “Want to know what I think?”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to reply.

  “I think Keegan is right.” Buzz Cut paced slowly across the room. “I think you caught a supervirus from this Dr. Karsten. I think the virus did something to you. I think you’ve been lying this whole time.”

  That’s it. I’m done.

  “Glass fragments on the floor of the van.” His lips curled into the barest trace of a grin. “Not much, but I noticed. A small vial, perhaps? My partner should’ve searched you. Thankfully, I found the package Claybourne dumped in the woods.”

  Oh no.

  “But what was inside those empty vials?” The smile broadened a trace. “My guess is the antidote. Probably the same substance we scraped off the basketball court.”

  I froze. Tried to keep the horror from my face.

  Buzz Cut’s smile vanished. “You took it, didn’t you?”

  I swallowed. What could I say that he didn’t already know?

  “That�
��s why your blood came back clean,” he continued, folding his arms across his chest. “You kids drank the serum while locked inside the vehicle. I’ll wager you forced it on the other group beforehand as well.”

  My eyes dropped to the tiles. All our secrets, laid bare.

  “I really wish you hadn’t done that.” The agent stepped closer to my cot. “Because now you’re useless to me.”

  I finally found my voice. “What are you going to do to us?”

  “We don’t need you anymore, Tory Brennan.” He spoke in a cold, dispassionate voice. “Any of you. We have Claybourne’s files. Every step he took to recreate the supervirus. And we recovered a sample of the antidote. Not much, but enough. You and your friends tried to deny us these things, but we got them in the end. Now it’s time to tie up loose ends.”

  “Please.” My voice cracked. “Don’t.”

  “A pity I never got to see you in action.” Buzz Cut shrugged. “I was so looking forward to the show. Over the last few weeks, I’ve listened to a conversation between you and Claybourne at least thirty times. Typed the transcript myself. You know the one—when he first told you he could flare, that he’d infected himself, that his eyes burned red, not gold. That there were other Virals.”

  My blood turned to ice. Checkmate.

  The agent smirked, his cruel mouth twisting with amusement. “Powers. Flares. Pack. It all sounded so . . . exciting. But now it’s gone. From all of you. A pity, as I said.”

  Buzz Cut abruptly removed his sunglasses. Regarded me with sharp blue eyes.

  Then he leaned close, his scarred face inches from mine.

  The man terrified me, but I didn’t look away.

  I knew his next question would determine my life.

  “Can you keep a secret, Tory Brennan?” he asked softly.

  I nodded as my arms began to tremble. “If I must.”

  He smiled wide, showing perfect teeth. “I hope so. For your sake.”

  Then Buzz Cut spun and strode for the door.

  A mad impulse took me.

  “Sir?”

  He paused. Turned.

  “Please don’t hurt my dog,” I begged. “His name is Cooper. He’s just a puppy.”

  Buzz Cut snorted, then left the room.