by Sean Platt
Maybe. But she still knows this is wrong.
She has to.
And then I see me — my body — in the chair.
But why aren’t I returning to it?
Why am I hovering above it all?
I look down and see that I’m not me in my physical form. I’m the spectral energy I was in The Void, the flowing life in human form, but I don’t have a solid feeling as I felt in The Void. Here I’m ephemeral. A wisp. The slightest wind could scatter me across a field, obliterate me to memory.
No one else is moving.
Time seems to be frozen.
A chill runs through me.
And then the darkness appears, a black circle with swirling blue lights forming in the wall behind my father.
A Collector emerges from the portal. Its dark, sinewy body shadows and blue light swirling inside of more shadows and light, twisted into a tall humanoid form.
Its blue light burns brightest in the two holes where there aren’t any eyes.
It floats from the portal, toward Clifton’s twitching, dying body. Time has stopped for all but Clifton and the Collector. And, I suppose, me.
I watch as it floats forward, past the frozen and unaware others, giving them no regard.
I wonder if it can even see us.
One of them had seen my father. And another had seen me in The Void. But here, it seems to be ignoring everything except Clifton.
It steps forward.
Clifton looks up as it approaches.
His eyes widen.
He sees it too.
I watch as it coaxes Clifton’s soul, a dark violet and red mix of swirling energy, from his body.
The Collector extends its hand.
Clifton’s soul, in an almost human form, takes it.
They turn, about to enter The Void.
But then The Collector pauses and looks toward me.
No!
Its burning bright blue eyes glow brighter.
There’s a hum I can’t hear so much as feel in my soul.
It extends its hand.
I shake my head. “No, I’m not ready.”
Its head turns, as if confused.
Images flash in my mind, The Collector projecting an image of me in The Void. Its memory of me! Me with the others.
“Come,” it says inside my head. “It’s time to come home.”
“No, I belong here.”
It stares at me, still seeming confused.
“You’re dead. Come home. With us.”
I consider the offer. If I stay, Fairchild will use me to get my father. He’ll break my fingers, maybe slit my throat. Staying would mean more pain. Possibly death.
And I know it’ll be more than my father can take.
“I need to stay,” I say, floating toward my body.
It looks confused.
A woman’s voice screams.
Irina, running toward The Collector, her hand outstretched.
Somehow, she’s able to see it, too. And she’s going to try and do what her brother had done — take The Collector’s powers.
I launch myself toward her.
And then again, I’m inside Irina.
* * * *
CHAPTER 9
Ella
I seize control, stopping Irina before she can touch The Collector.
It quickly turns, grabbing Clifton’s spectral hand, and pulls him into the portal.
The portal closes.
And time resumes.
I launch Irina toward Fairchild, smacking the blade from his hand before kicking him in the chest.
He flies backward, slapping the wall behind him.
Before he can figure out what’s going on and launch an attack, I run at him, drop to the ground, slide, and grab both sides of his face, thumbs pressing against his closed eyes, about to drill in.
A high-pitched almost digital-sounding scream stops me.
Kicks me out of Irina’s body.
And I’m suddenly floating above it all again.
But now time isn’t stopped. And Irina is staring straight at me.
She balls her fist, then splays her fingers, as if flicking me away.
And now I’m back in my body.
In the wheelchair.
Strapped and trapped.
Fairchild stands, huffing and puffing, red-faced.
I’m not sure if he’s angry or embarrassed that I’d gotten the drop on him.
It doesn’t matter. Now he’s pissed.
He grabs the blade, rushes over, grabs my left hand, slices the blade straight down, and lops off my thumb.
I scream as my thumb falls then rolls on the ground, blood spurting all over my bare legs.
“Stop it!” my father screams.
Fairchild grabs me by the hair, yanks my head back, and slides the blade against my neck.
I can feel my pulse racing against the blade.
Fairchild’s hands are shaking.
I have no doubt that he’s angry enough to kill me right here.
“Do it,” I sneer. “Do it, you coward.”
Fairchild responds, fist tight around my hair, blade still pressing sharp against my throat. “I’m going to talk slow so you both can hear me, okay? If you refuse to tell me where Niko is, I’m going to hurt her. But I’m going to drag Chelsea in here and start with her first. Then I’ll get Carla.”
“Carla?” I say, only now remembering that when I heard about Chelsea vanishing, Carla had too.
“Yes, we’ve got Carla. And I’ll strap her to a chair just like this. Hurt her, then murder her in front of you, your father, and Chelsea. Then I’ll do the same to Chelsea. Next, I’ll drag every one of your captured First Front traitors in here. I’ll interrogate and murder each and every one in front of you both. So you can watch. So you can feel the pain of your actions. And then I’ll kill Ella, again. I’ll put her soul inside Eden, and she’ll never, ever escape. She’ll live out the rest of her very long life serving me and our cause.”
Hate is roiling off of his body in sickening ebony waves.
I have no doubt that he’s capable of doing everything he just said.
He’s a monster, and he is holding all the cards.
Fairchild takes the blade from my neck, wrestles my right hand into position, then bends my fingers, sliding the blade beneath them, as if he’s going to slice all four fingers in a single upward thrust.
I try to fight him, to twist my head so I can bite him, or something.
But either he or Irina is freezing me, same as my father.
“Tell me, Ben. Are you willing to watch everyone you know, everyone you love, die just to keep me from Niko? Just to save a bunch of people who will hunt then kill you? Is it really worth it?”
My father’s eyes are watering.
His shoulders are hunched.
And the pallor is gone from his face.
He’s a beaten man and knows it.
His voice cracked, he says, “No … it’s not.”
“Just tell me where Niko is. Then you and Ella, and Chelsea and Carla, and everyone can all live happily ever after. Once you see I’m right about the humans. Once you see my vision coming to light, you’ll beg me to unleash the virus. Like I said, Ben, I hate to do this, but I had to get through to you. Now, do we have a deal?”
I try to yell at him not to say anything. That it’s not worth it. That we can’t trust Fairchild. He’s a liar who’ll probably kill us the moment he has Niko.
But my mouth is held shut.
And, to be honest, I’m glad.
I’m suddenly not sure if it’s worth it, either. Fairchild has already tortured me and killed Clifton, a nice old man who wanted nothing more than to be of service to The First Front and my father. I’m not sure I can watch him torture and kill Carla and Chelsea. It would kill me.
The battle that hasn’t even begun isn’t worth the personal toll of everyone I know and love.
Fairchild has won.
There’s nothing we can
do but accept his offer.
My father nods. “We have a deal.”
“Good.” Fairchild lets go of my fingers and withdraws the blade.
* * * *
CHAPTER 10
Ben
I can’t believe I gave up Niko.
Irina heals Ella’s thumb while keeping me stuck to the bed, wondering if there’s any power the girl hasn’t grabbed. Fairchild’s taken one of the most powerful Deviants yet and corrupted her to his vision.
And now he’s going after her brother, Niko, an even more powerful Deviant. Niko, who can somehow take a virus that Fairchild and Eden created and unleash it instantaneously around the globe in digital form.
I should’ve killed Niko when I saw what Fairchild planned to do.
That was the only way to prevent this, and now there’s no stopping Fairchild’s vision from becoming the one to write tomorrow’s history.
The war is coming, and it’s all my fault.
I watch as Irina stands up and is escorted by the guard out of the cell, leaving Ella and me alone.
Ella sits in the wheelchair, unable to meet my eyes.
And I can’t meet hers.
I traded humanity for … for what?
A clone of my daughter’s soul?
Fairchild was right. It was easier to let him torture Ella when she was in another person’s body. But putting this thing into Ella triggered every protective parental instinct I have.
I couldn’t sit there and watch him hurt my baby girl.
But is that really who she is?
Is she what was released from Eden when she died? Something that Eden created? A copy of Ella’s soul. A copy of my wife’s mind, even though I already have a copy in my head.
As if on cue, Willow appears beside me on the bed, looking at Ella.
“Go to her, Ben. She needs you.”
I can’t.
“Why not?”
I stare sideways at Ella, quickly averting my eyes when she glances up.
It’s not her.
She’s not real.
“Yes, she is.”
No, she’s not. She’s a copy. A creation.
“Maybe there’s more. Maybe there was some part of Ella still alive in her body, like with Eden when you brought her online. Maybe some part of Ella’s soul stayed in her body? And now she’s whole again — or close to it.”
I shake my head, trying to silence Willow’s argument before it can root.
Ella says, “I’m sorry … about all of this.”
“Why did you even come here?” I ask, still not looking at her. Staring at my hands as I try to massage the feeling back into them now that Irina has given me control back over my body.
“I told you, Grandfather wanted me to give you a message.”
“Yeah, well we all know that was bullshit.”
“I’m sorry,” she whines.
“Please, just … stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Talking! Stop talking. You’re not Ella. You’re not my daughter!”
And then she gives me the silence I wanted.
She spins her wheelchair around, letting her long dark hair fall over her face as she looks at the ground.
Her shoulders hitch.
“Great, you made her cry,” Willow says. “Go to her and make this right.”
I can’t make it right. Nothing will make this right. Fairchild is going to get Niko right now. Then he’s going to kill nearly every man, woman, and child on this planet. And for what? Because I didn’t want him to hurt a ghost?
I stare at the back of Ella’s head. I hear her sniffle.
Damn it! Stop it! Stop using my daughter to weaken me!
I get up, crossing the room quickly, eager to turn her around, look her in the eye, and let her know that I won’t put up with this shit.
That thing needs to know that she isn’t my daughter, no matter what she thinks, or what cruel science Fairchild invokes. She’s not Ella, and I refuse to see her as anything but what she is — a monstrosity. A freak science experiment.
Impressive? Yes. But still, not my child.
I stop short just behind her.
Sensing me, she stands, still facing away from me.
“I’m not sorry about coming here. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you. That I let Grandfather convince me to do more Jumps than we’d let on. If I hadn’t been so eager to find my freedom, to do what I wanted, none of this would’ve ever happened.”
She looks up at me, and it’s like a knife through my heart.
“I’m so sorry,” she says again, this time falling against me, crying into my chest, arms wrapped tightly around me.
I feel her warmth, smell her scent, and God, even though every logical part of me says this isn’t Ella, my heart tells me otherwise.
I hug her mysterious body, fighting back tears.
She has Ella’s memories. She has Ella’s shell. She has a copy of Ella’s soul. Is she not Ella?
Maybe old definitions no longer matter. Science has changed everything. We changed everything.
I open my eyes to see Willow standing just behind us, smiling.
I wish I could bring her into the hug.
* * * *
CHAPTER 11
Ella
I watch from my spot on the floor as my father sleeps on the cot, exhausted and beaten.
My mind is reeling, so much has happened, so much I’m struggling to take in, to understand.
This isn’t like any other Jump.
From the moment I was back in this body, it felt immediately different from every other host I’ve ever been in.
The memories were immediately firing, neural pathways lighting up, triggering others, like a giant unfolding web of life unspooling. So much is accessible to me now — my earliest memories as a little girl to the most embarrassing moments, like that crush I once had on a cartoon character.
I felt right. Not like an interloper. This body isn’t a host.
This is me, Ella.
And any doubts I had about who, or what, I was were erased the moment I found myself at home, back in my body.
When my father rejected me, I wondered if I was wrong to feel this way. Was I a creation stealing his daughter’s life? But as he hugged me, that fear receded. And I was myself again.
Now, as he sleeps, I stew in the guilt that he gave up his friend, and possibly all of humanity, for me. I can’t let that sacrifice be his defeat.
I need to find a way to make this right. To find a way out of here. To rescue Chelsea, and now apparently Carla.
I also need to find a way to free the other Deviants.
But what can I do from here?
Fairchild warned me before he left: if I even tried to Jump, he’d kill Chelsea and Carla. And after experiencing his brutality firsthand, I’m inclined to believe that he’ll deliver his threat.
If I thought I could Jump and make a difference, I probably would. But now that I’m back in my body, I’m not sure how Jumping will work. During the two-hour conversation with my father after Irina left, we not only swapped stories but also hypothesized the many What-ifs? that might play out.
He seemed to think that now back in my body, or at least a body that I felt at home in, I probably won’t Jump whenever I went to sleep, pass out, or die. I’d likely still Jump at random intervals, but he doubts that I could control it.
In other words, I might be stuck in Ella, in this underground dungeon, unless I can get to a Chamber.
Even then, who would I Jump into?
I can’t Jump into Irina — she’s too powerful. Fairchild probably is, too. I can’t Jump into Chelsea. She’s pretty much powerless.
And then it hits me.
The Jump Chamber!
Chelsea might be powerless, but she can reach out to others. And I know just the person who might be able to help.
It’s a long shot, but right now, that’s all we’ve got.
* * * *
CHAPTER 12
/> Ella
It’s been nearly an hour since I reached out to Chelsea and telepathically asked her to hit the Chamber and deliver my message.
I’ve woken my father up and told him my plans to escape this room.
Dad said that we need to find Eden. If he can connect with her, he can control the entire facility. And if he can control the facility, he can let everyone go, and we’ll have people fighting for us to get Niko back.
Now, we’re just sitting on his cot, anxiously waiting to see if Chelsea will come through.
“It won’t be easy,” he warns. “Irina might kill us all.”
“Is this your idea of a pep talk, Dad?”
He laughs. It feels like forever since I’ve heard the sound. It also feels good to call him “Dad.” He flinched the first few times, but now he seems to be warming up to it.
If we make it through this, I wonder if he’ll ever truly think of me as his daughter. Or will I always be a painful reminder of the girl he lost?
He reaches out and takes my hand, examining the healing scar — all that’s left of Fairchild cutting my thumb off.
“Irina did good work,” he says.
“She’s not bad. She’s just confused. If only we could talk to her in a less volatile situation. I think we could win her over to our side.”
“Maybe, after she gets Niko back.”
“Maybe,” I say, hopefully. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he says, his brow furrowing.
“Eden and Fairchild told me that The First Front killed a bunch of people. She showed me headlines like ‘Child Found Decapitated in Oak Park’ and ‘Family Killed in Suspected Arson’ and a horrible one about a homeless man taking a baby from a woman before killing himself. Is any of that true?”
“What do you think? You saw my memories. Did you see anything like that? He was just trying to turn you against us.”
“What did you do? When you uploaded memories into me, you didn’t give me many recent ones.”
