Night Whispers: ShadowLands, Book 1

by Alisha Rai

  “Take me to James,” she heard herself say. “Take me to Raven.”

  Her last conscious thought was that he never agreed.

  Chapter Eight

  James finished stuffing the last of his clothes into his small duffel on his bed. He wasn’t taking much, only a couple changes of clothes. Weapons, though? He was packing a veritable arsenal. The guns and bullets he’d appropriated had been carefully stored in the bags spread all over his floor.

  It was close to five a.m. He’d be leaving as soon as dawn broke.

  He heard the sound of his door opening and the creak of wheels. He paused. “Grandpa. What are you doing awake?”

  “The older I get, the less sleep I need. Lucky for me, since I’ve been hearing things that would keep me awake no matter what. What’s going on, boy?”

  James zipped up the bag and turned. Under the layer of grief he wore like a bad hair shirt, his heart softened at the sight of his grandfather. He’d planned on leaving a note for his only living relative, but this was better, even if it would be more heart wrenching.

  When he’d been young, his grandfather had seemed larger than life, a giant worthy of awe and fear. He still commanded respect, though his size had diminished with age. His hair was thin and snow white now, wispy enough to reveal the pink of his scalp. His arthritis gave him a lot of trouble during the night, but his wheelchair got him around quick enough. The man peered up at him from inside his doorway with eyes that matched his—in color, that is. Grandfather’s eyes were sharper.

  Which made it impossible to lie to the man—James wasn’t even going to bother. “I lost Jules’s signal.”

  “I heard. I also heard that you signed over all your other agents to Alice.”

  “I clearly need to reevaluate my judgment on who is and isn’t discreet.”

  “Don’t blame her. It’s hard to keep a secret in this place.”

  James dropped the bag to the floor. “I’m going after Jules, Grandpa.”

  The older man didn’t yell or turn red in the face—his military training wouldn’t allow his tight control to slip.

  James had figured out early on that he’d never be able to follow in the hallowed military footsteps of his grandfather and late father, who had been killed in action prior to the worldwide outbreak of the virus. Luckily, being an analyst had been enough to assure him and his mother a place of safety in the same bunker as his high-ranking grandfather. Their small family had been intact for a while.

  Grandfather studied him, his eyes hooded. “There are reasons Marc refused to send soldiers after her.”

  James waited to hear the justifications: because of protocol, because of safety, because it was important to weigh one against one hundred.

  “I don’t agree with those reasons,” Grandfather said tiredly, surprising him. The elderly man rubbed his knee absently. James swallowed his words of concern. He knew from experience they wouldn’t be appreciated. James would speak to Hema about—

  No, he wouldn’t have time to speak to the doctor before he left. When he returned, then. He would return.

  “It isn’t right. When I was young, we didn’t leave men behind.”

  “That’s why I’m leaving at first light.”

  His grandfather cast a knowing glance over his array of weaponry. “You seem prepared. I’m proud of you, son.”

  James inhaled. He had expected something more along the lines of You aren’t trained for this, son. Though his grandfather had never betrayed a whisper of disappointment in him, James knew that the older man still saw him as the gangly computer-obsessed teenager he’d been over a decade ago. “You don’t doubt my ability? What if I freeze up out there?”

  His grandfather’s palsied hand shook as he smoothed it over his leg. “Nonsense. You won’t do that.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You’re still a Bennett, aren’t you? The accident didn’t burn that out of you. Besides, I can tell this girl means something to you.”

  “How long have you known that?” Did others know?

  “Since you first started talking about her.” Grandfather gave a rusty chuckle. “Bennetts also can’t help but wear their hearts on their sleeves. So you’ll find her, because we don’t let our women go without a fight. Ever.”

  “I’ll find her.” James smiled. He started to turn back to his bed. “If it’s the last thing I—” The flashing light on his handheld unit cut him off. He’d tossed the thing on his desk when he’d begun assembling his equipment. He crossed over to the metal table, making the journey in three long strides.

  Don’t get too hopeful.

  Still, there was that treacherous flare in his chest. Only to be crushed again when he scanned the readout.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Jules. Her vehicle is moving.”

  “What? That’s wonderful!” Grandfather sounded beyond exuberant. “So she’s alive—”

  “The wrong direction.” James wheeled around and grabbed his two bags of weapons. They went over the shoulder of his good arm. He shoved his handheld into the bag with his clothes.

  “What?”

  “She’s headed north. The van is going in the wrong direction.”

  “Someone could have stolen the vehicle.”

  “Or she’s in it.” Even if she wasn’t, it was his only lead. She wasn’t far from her initial location, which told him she hadn’t been moving for long.

  Let her be in her van.

  Bless him, his grandfather didn’t try to reason with him or calm him. He merely wheeled himself backwards with a touch of a button as James headed to the door. “Be safe.”

  James paused and laid a hand on the surprisingly fragile shoulder. All of his grandfather’s worry was reflected in his eyes, not his carefully steady voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

  “Good. And I’ll get to meet this girl.”

  “I hope to God you will.”

  His grandfather gave a quick nod. “God’ll help, but you’ll do it on your own.” He straightened in his seat and gave a sharp salute.

  James returned it, though he knew his was clumsy and unpracticed. The panic at the thought of doing anything this huge on his own was subsumed at knowing he was Jules’s only hope. He would do this.

  He broke into a sprint as he cleared his grandfather’s sight, pausing long enough for the doors to open and shut. He didn’t pass a single soul as he jogged up two floors to sector seven. Gabriel’s office was at the end. He knew cameras must be capturing him as he walked down the hallway lit with the dim green lights. His very own green mile.

  Morbid much?

  He opened Gabriel’s door with more force than necessary. Most men wouldn’t have been in their offices in the early morning hours, but then most men weren’t trying to save the entire human race. James had considered simply stealing a car, but this would be far less messy. He did not want to burn this bridge if it was possible.

  The older man sat behind his simple but large desk, his head cradled in his hands. At the sound of the door, he looked up, instantly straightening. The lines of worry and strain carved around Gabriel’s mouth did not give James confidence as to the man’s state of mind.

  They stared at each other for a silent minute. Finally Gabriel sighed. “What the hell is going on, James?”

  James rubbed his hand on his thigh. No use lying—if his grandfather knew something was up, there was no hope that Gabriel didn’t. “I’m going after her. Her van’s on the move, northwest at the moment. She’s not headed to Cali or here.”

  Gabriel groaned and sat back in his seat to scowl. “I need this like a hole in my head.”

  “I’m going after her,” James repeated.

  Gabriel studied him, turning a paperweight over and over in his palm. “You haven’t left the Compound in three years. Since the epidemic started.”

  Each word scraped along his insecurities. “I’m well aware of that.”

  “You go to Camp David, so most people
probably don’t notice. But you take the tunnel. If you step foot outside, I would be surprised.”

  “You’re observant, Gabriel.”

  “I’m also not stupid. You don’t leave because you’re afraid, and when people are afraid, they slip up, and when people slip up…” Gabriel slammed his palm down on the table, “…they get killed.”

  “I won’t slip up.” He couldn’t die. Not until he found Jules.

  “You don’t know what the world is like out there,” Gabriel said bluntly.

  “I don’t think that’s exactly right. I’ve been looking through Jules’s and the other agents’ eyes for over a year. I know what’s out there.”

  “Your weapons training isn’t extensive.”

  “I may have been just an analyst, but I went through the same weapons training as the other CIA agents did, way back when. And you forget who my father and grandfather are. I was holding a gun before it was legal for me to do so. Plus I’ve gone through every simulation training the agents do—hell, I even designed some of them.”

  “It’s hardly the same—”

  “Give me soldiers, then.”

  Gabriel clenched his fist. “I can’t.”

  “Then I have to go, Gabriel.”

  The other man sighed, glancing down at the table in front of him. “I’m guessing you love her.”

  “Yes.”

  Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you do. Damn it all to hell, there’s always something.”

  If he hadn’t been so anxious to go, he’d have apologized to Gabriel. “I’m going.”

  “For the love of… Fine. Go. But, James…you get your ass back here in one piece. Got that?”

  He exhaled roughly. “I plan on it.”

  “You do know how to drive, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.” He hadn’t actually driven since before coming underground, and even then it had been sporadic, since cars were too difficult to manage in the capital’s congested traffic. But he’d done simulations. They all had, in case they needed to leave in a hurry. Plus, he’d been watching Jules drive for years. Surely it couldn’t be too different, right? He’d be fine.

  Gabriel’s mouth was tight. “Then there’s a car waiting for you at the entrance.”

  James stared at the other man. “You knew you wouldn’t be able to talk me out of this.”

  “I knew there was a distinct possibility you would stick to your guns.” Gabriel smiled faintly.

  “Even knowing about my…” It wasn’t a phobia. He hoped it wasn’t a phobia, because that would imply something so debilitating it would take more spirit than he had to overcome it. Fear? Inclination? “Weakness?”

  “We all have weaknesses, kid. You want something bad enough, you overcome it.”

  James hoped it would be that easy.

  “Remember your endgame. Eyes on the prize. Make sure your sat phone is charged, and I want regular check-ins every few hours.”

  “Yes, sir. Thanks. I’ll see you.”

  “Absolutely. Good luck.”

  He would need it. As he left the room, his nerves and fears coalesced into a giant ball of lead sitting in the pit of his stomach. Endgame. Eye on the endgame.

  Chapter Nine

  Jules’s ease into consciousness was accompanied by irritation. I am so fucking sick of waking up after being drugged.

  Or whatever had happened to her this time around.

  Her skin felt tight and achy and so hot she wondered if she had come down with an instant fever. She breathed through her mouth to calm the lurching of her stomach. Expecting the harsh glare of day to burn her eyes when she opened them, she was moderately relieved to discover that cool darkness was there to meet her. She blinked up at the tan cloth ceiling above her. There was a hole in the fabric that she’d never noticed before.

  Dark wasn’t good, if she was in her van. Horrible idea to drive at night, since she could be a sitting target if the van failed while she was chugging along. And how had she been driving while sleeping? Talented she may be, but even she had her limits, and driving along a deserted road in the middle of the night was one of them.

  “You are awake.”

  Erik. She rolled her head to the side, but no one was sitting in the driver’s seat of her van. Which she was not driving, because she was securely belted into the passenger seat.

  Actually, Erik wasn’t driving either. “Back here,” he said.

  It took more energy than she thought she possessed to turn around completely in her seat. Unbuckling her belt, she half-lurched to look over her shoulder.

  Erik had made a makeshift bed for Carrie out of her sleeping bag on the floor of the van. Maybe not the most highway-safe way to travel, but probably far more comfortable. Jules wouldn’t mind hopping back there and stretching out too. But she hadn’t been the one bit. The girl was huddled, her long legs tucked under her. Her chest rose and fell, so at the very least, she was still breathing.

  The light of the interior of the van shone over the two of them. Erik was crouched next to her, rummaging through Jules’s first-aid kit. He still wore his tattered, dirty fatigues, and he’d paired it with one of her largest shirts, a baggy thing that came to her knees, which she occasionally used to sleep in. On him, the seams looked about two deep breaths away from splitting.

  He must have already changed Carrie’s bandage because it was no longer stained with blood. “Is she okay?”

  “She is unconscious. Has been since we left the lab.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “A few hours.”

  Not long enough for it to be dark. She squinted outside of the windshield and realized they were in a garage of some sort. “Where are we?”

  “Near Idaho. I needed to stop.”

  “That’s a pretty roundabout way back to California.”

  “Yes.” He pulled out a few materials from the kit and moved closer to Carrie.

  Circuitous wasn’t bad, if it kept the crazy people off their trail. At the same time, Carrie didn’t look like she was in such great shape. “You know what’s wrong with her?”

  “Between the bite she took and the multitude of drugs pumped in her system over the past year, there are many things that could be wrong with her.”

  Erik was working on the knot to the girl’s scrub pants. Jules struggled to move. “Here, let me see to her.”

  He glanced up at her from beneath his lashes. “I hardly have a prurient interest in this child.”

  She subsided. First, because she was too exhausted to move, and second, because he’d seen her in a lot less while she had been kicking her habit, and he’d never strayed into inappropriate territory.

  Things could have changed, but she trusted him enough to watch him take care of Carrie from a few feet away.

  He placed a towel over the girl’s lap for modesty and worked the dirty material of the pants down so her hip was exposed. He ripped open an alcohol pad and wiped the area clean.

  She was curious, but not alarmed. Until the light glinted on the scalpel she saw in his right hand. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  He didn’t glance up. “I had a small object on my right hip. I felt it there after one of my many experiences in the laboratory. I feared it might be a tracking chip. So I removed it.” He probed the girl’s hip and made a satisfied sound. “And I see they inserted one in her as well.”

  She was already reaching for the fastening to her own pants when Erik spoke. “I already checked you. You are clean.”

  That was a relief. Still. “Please don’t undress me when I’m sleeping.”

  “I had no choice. And you were more than sleeping.”

  No, she didn’t want to think of that. Didn’t want to think that though the doctors hadn’t had time to insert a tracker into her, they clearly had done something. “Someone could be right on our tail.”

  “I know. That’s why I stopped. And why we’ll shortly be going in another direction.”

  She gave a terse nod,
finally understanding the willy-nilly driving. “Ah. Smart.”

  He glanced over at her, and she was pinned by his pigmentless eyes. “Your body probably needs to relieve itself. Do you need help or can you manage?”

  Her bladder was killing her. “I can do it on my own, thanks.”

  Somehow she did, maneuvering out of the van. The garage was dim, but Erik had left the door open. She made her way outside to find a few small houses parked far and away from each other.

  It would have been nice to go inside one of those houses to use the facilities, but they were in a hurry. She went around the side of the garage, dropped her trousers and did her business, wishing, not for the first time, that she was a man.

  When she was done, she took a moment to lean against the garage and take a deep breath. Her lungs hurt. Her muscles hurt. Her head and stomach? Yeah, they hurt too.

  In the light of day, she dared to look at what she knew was the source of her pain. Erik had taped gauze over her biceps. Why, she wasn’t sure, since she hadn’t been bleeding. So she wouldn’t see the ugly red striations popping up on her?

  He hadn’t covered up enough skin. Lines of red streaked out from beneath the white cotton, the raised bumps ominous.

  Pigmentless flesh marked with raised red veins…

  She touched one. It was hot.

  Jules took a deep breath. No time right now to worry about this. Once they were away from the bad guys for good, then she would consider what this meant for her.

  She made her way back into the garage. Erik stood by the van, washing his hands with some of her bottled water. She assumed the puddle on the ground was tinged pink with blood, though it was too dark to see. His blood, Carrie’s blood. Who knew. “Did you get it out of her?”

  “Yes. Hopefully there are no more trackers in any of us.” He touched his collar. “Or on us.”

  “I can try to cut the collar off,” she offered.

  “Unless you have a buzz saw stashed in here, that will be impossible. These were made to withstand sawing with a knife.” He shrugged. “It is unlikely there is a GPS in here. This is pre-Illness technology. They had barely managed to manufacture these as prototypes for electroshock purposes. None had been invented with dual capabilities.”