Uncontrollable (Beyond Human)

by Nina Croft

  Then someone leaped out of the trees. Mel. She moved fast, kicking the man in the stomach. He went down, still holding the weapon. Pete fired from across the clearing, and the man collapsed.

  Quinn ran over and stared down. The man had taken a bullet in the thigh and was clutching his leg. He’d taken another in the throat. Quinn looked higher and caught the glint of silver in the man’s hair. He went still. Well, there was the reason he hadn’t picked up the fifth man. He was wearing a reflector device, which effectively blocked off their ability to read him. They’d been developed by the Conclave back in the days when the Tribe had been working for the British government—or rather when they’d thought they had been working for the British government. When their controllers had started wearing the reflector devices—that was when they should have realized that everything was going to crap and gotten the hell out of there. But they hadn’t.

  Because they’d believed they were working for the good guys.

  Looking back, he couldn’t believe how naive they’d been.

  Though he knew why. They had seen so much shitty stuff that they’d had to justify it somehow. A world with no more lies. That had been their goal. The bad stuff was just a way forward; it would all be worth it in the end.

  But could the end ever justify the means?

  He’d seen enough gunshot wounds to know these were terminal. He hunkered down and ripped off the reflector device.

  The man was conscious, the knowledge of his own death in his eyes.

  Conclave.

  That was no surprise. His job was to stop them reaching the old tribe. The Conclave had been hunting them for years, since before Martin was imprisoned. This man believed they were closing in on their location, narrowing down their exact position. And he was here to ensure that Quinn and his little group did not get to them first.

  Unfortunately, this man wasn’t privy to the location.

  There was nothing else of interest that Quinn could find. The man’s mind was shutting down, and Quinn came out of there fast. He didn’t want to feel the moment of death.

  He was gone by the time Quinn straightened. Mel stood beside him, staring down. He couldn’t read her expression and wished, not for the first time, that he knew what she was thinking.

  “Thanks,” he said. “You saved my life back there.”

  “I thought I’d come and see if I could be of help.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  Pete approached them. He wasn’t seriously injured, which was good—they still had to get out of there.

  Something nagged at his mind as they headed back to the others. If it was the Conclave who were after them, how had they found them at the safe house last night? How had they tracked them to the plane?

  “What’s the matter?” Mel asked. “You’re frowning.”

  “Just thinking things through. Wondering how they found us last night and today.”

  As they came upon the rest of the group, his gaze fixed on Martin. He rubbed his chin as an idea formulated in his mind.

  Could there be some sort of tracking device on Martin?

  Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

  Because that was like something from a goddamned James Bond movie, that was why.

  He strolled over and came to a halt in front of Martin. They would have had to drug him to do it, but how hard was that in a prison environment? Still, it had to be somewhere he wouldn’t notice. Quinn studied the other man for a moment.

  “What?” Martin asked.

  “Turn around.”

  Martin raised a brow, but turned slowly, and Quinn stepped closer. He ran his fingers along the back of Martin’s skull, just beneath the hairline. There was substantial bruising, presumably sustained in the plane crash. But beneath that, he felt a hard lump.

  “Is there some sort of scalpel in the first aid kit?” he asked Liz.

  She went across, crouched down and rummaged through it, then came back a minute later with a scalpel, cotton wool, disinfectant, and a pair of tweezers. She was a useful woman to have around. He glanced up and found everyone watching him.

  He took the scalpel. “Sorry about this,” he said to Martin. “It’s going to sting a little.”

  “Do it.”

  He took a deep breath, ran his fingers over the slight lump, then slipped in the blade of the scalpel. Blood welled up around the wound, and he wiped it away with the cotton. Catching the flicker of silver, he widened the cut a little. He reached out, and Liz took the scalpel and handed him the tweezers. Martin’s shoulders were locked solid, but a shudder ran through him as Quinn probed with the tweezers. The object was slippery, but he finally got a grip and tugged. It came free. Small, round and flat, with a distinct dent in the middle—from the blow to Martin’s head?

  As he stepped back, Martin turned and stared at the thing in Quinn’s hand. “They bugged me?” He sounded outraged, which was almost amusing, considering everything else they’d done to him.

  “Looks like it. Well, at least that explains how they found us last night and tracked us to the plane.”

  “But why didn’t they find us on the lake?” Mel asked.

  “It’s been damaged, presumably when Martin hit his head in the crash. I’m guessing they lost the link for a while. So that bang on the head probably saved our lives.”

  He dropped the device onto a stone and ground it under his boot. “Just in case.”

  It was time to go. Hopefully without any hangers on, this time. They had to get out of here, then find out if there was any further response to Martin’s attempt to contact the tribe. It looked like it was going to be a race to get to them before they were found by the rogue Conclave.

  “Let’s go pick up Kaitlin and get the hell out of here,” he said. “I’ve had enough of nature.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  They were walking along the edge of the highway. It had been three hours now, and in that time, only two vehicles had passed them. Both had been black SUVs and clearly Quinn had decided that it wasn’t worth the risk of flagging them down.

  Had he read the minds of the occupants?

  Mel thought it likely.

  Instead they’d hidden in the trees at the edge of the road until the vehicles had passed. And then they’d returned to the tarmac; the terrain off road was so rough, they would never get out of there. As it was, it would be another two hours before they reached their destination—the small town of Fargo.

  Unfortunately, the trees had given way to open grassland. If anyone came, there was nowhere to hide. But at least they all had weapons now, taken from the dead men who had attacked them. She could feel the comforting press of the pistol at the small of her back where it was tucked down her pants. But she didn’t want to kill anyone.

  Quinn was carrying the stretcher with Pete. Mel had taken a turn to give him a break, as had Martin, but Pete claimed he was okay, that the wound was just a scratch. He’d taken over again when Martin had started flagging. Quinn had been at the head of the stretcher the whole time. He appeared tireless. They’d left the supplies behind except for the bottles of water tucked around Kaitlin on the stretcher.

  Hopefully, once they reached Fargo, they could call for assistance, if the bad guys didn’t cut them off first. Her hand strayed to the pistol. She wanted to die much less than she didn’t want to kill someone.

  She felt alive.

  And different.

  Last night, she’d fallen asleep with Quinn’s arm around her, and it had felt good, and strange, and she wanted to explore the feelings further.

  In front of her, Quinn came to a halt. He spoke quietly to Kaitlin then looked down the long straight road in front of them. Mel concentrated and heard the sound of a vehicle, distant but definitely heading their way.

  “Police,” Quinn said. “But they have orders to pick up anyone on the road and take them in.”

  “Orders from who?” Martin asked.

  He shrugged. “Above,” he said cryptically. “Apparently
, you’re an escaped prisoner. Who would have believed it? They are to apprehend you and anyone you might be traveling with. And we’re armed and dangerous. So, they’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “But we can tell the police what’s happening,” Liz said. “They’ll keep us safe.”

  Mel thought about mentioning the fact that the people chasing them had thought nothing about knocking a plane out of the sky. They would hardly be worried about taking out a police car. But she decided to stay silent. Liz was clearly at the end of her tether. Unlike Pete, she had no military training to fall back on. She was a flight attendant. She’d done amazingly well to not fall apart all this time. She could be allowed a little lapse of judgment. And most people trusted the police.

  The car was approaching now, slowing down. They’d obviously been seen. There was nowhere to hide, but Quinn didn’t seem unduly concerned.

  They lowered the stretcher to the ground, and Mel hurried to it and crouched down next to Kaitlin. Her eyes were open and lines of pain bracketed her mouth. “You okay?”

  Kaitlin cast her a look of disgust. “No,” she snapped. “I have a broken leg, and I’ve run out of scotch. If help doesn’t arrive soon, I may just have hysterics. And honestly, you would not want that.”

  “She’s right,” Quinn said with a shudder. “She used to have the most appalling tantrums when she didn’t get her own way. So, let’s hope help comes soon.”

  He sounded amazingly calm, considering. She wasn’t sure where they were expecting this help to come from, but maybe they knew something she didn’t. Hell, that was a given. She squinted down the road, beyond the police car, which had pulled over on the side of the road. But she could see nothing else. She searched the air. Again nothing. If help was coming, they were leaving it pretty late. A uniformed officer got out of the car and walked slowly toward them. Mel’s hand slipped to her pistol. Quinn must have seen the movement, because he gave a small shake of his head. “Wait,” he said. He still appeared unconcerned, his hands hanging loosely at his side.

  She had limited time. Two days and then she would be yanked out of here. And she wanted to solve this case, now more than ever. She wanted to know who Quinn was. Where he had come from. How he tied into the time displacement anomaly that had been picked up in her time. Being arrested did not fit in with her plans.

  The officer was only ten feet away. He’d drawn his weapon and it hung at his side, while his other hand rested on his radio.

  And at last, another car appeared on the horizon, driving fast. A big four-wheel-drive truck, bright red. The officer must have seen it as well. He paused and stared as it drew closer. It pulled up in front of the police car. The windows were tinted, so Mel couldn’t see inside.

  The policeman pulled his radio out, opened his mouth, and crumpled to the tarmac, before he could say a word.

  The door of the truck opened and the woman from the prison break stepped out. Rose.

  She stalked toward them, coming to a halt with her hands on her hips. “Been having fun without me?” she asked.

  Quinn grinned. “I think I love you.”

  “I know you love me.” She peered around. “That’s because I’m super lovable. Now, let’s get this mess tidied up.” She waved at the downed police officer. “Put him in his car with the driver. Then we need to get as far from here as we can, before they wake up.”

  “How long?”

  “Half an hour, maybe.”

  Quinn crossed to the body, picked it up, and heaved it over his shoulder,

  Rose hunkered down beside Kaitlin and reached out to take her hand. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

  “Better now.”

  “Jesus, I’ve never been so scared in my life. You all just vanished. There was no report of a crash. Nothing. I called Jake, and there was Kane going totally ape shit. Apparently, this was Jake’s fault and he should never have let you leave Uganda. There wasn’t any mention of the rest of you. Just sweet little Kaitlin.”

  “Huh. As if he could keep me anywhere.”

  “Jake got him under control—I would have punched the fucker. But he was really worried. Isn’t that sweet?”

  “I might just vomit.”

  “Have you contacted Jake?” Martin asked. “Does he know we’re alive?”

  She nodded. “I did, as soon as Kaitlin got hold of me this morning. I’d come as far as I could from the plane’s last transmission. I was about fifty miles away.” She grinned at Kaitlin. “She’s fucking good. And getting stronger.”

  “We all are,” Kaitlin said. “How’s Dave?”

  “Out of danger and pissed off he’s missing all the fun.”

  “Okay, let’s get out of here,” Quinn said. He and Pete picked up the stretcher and headed toward the truck. “You couldn’t have picked a less obvious vehicle?” he asked as Rose opened the back door.

  She shrugged. “This was the only thing the rental place had that was big enough. But you’re right, it’s a little conspicuous, so let’s get away from here.”

  They slid the stretcher into the back seat.

  “Liz, go sit in the front,” Quinn said. “The rest of us will go in the back.”

  Liz nodded and slowly climbed into the front seat, clearly at the end of her strength. She kept casting small glances at the police car and its unconscious occupants, no doubt convinced she’d fallen in with bad people. Maybe she was even scared that they would kill her now. Get rid of any witnesses.

  Quinn must have picked up on it as well—was he inside the woman’s head? He moved to stand by the open door. “Everything will be okay,” he said to Liz. “As soon as we get clear of here, we’ll drop you off somewhere, and you can get back to your lives.”

  She swallowed and gave a small nod. Quinn shut the door, then moved around and jumped into the open truck bed. Then he held out a hand to her. Mel took it and he pulled her up. She sank down onto the floor, her back against one side of the truck, her feet braced against the other. Quinn sat beside her. Pete and Martin climbed in, settled themselves, and a few seconds later, they were on the road and accelerating.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  Quinn had been staring into the distance, a slightly unfocused expression in his eyes. Was he talking to someone? Rose perhaps? “Jake has organized a house about thirty miles from here in the middle of nowhere. We can hide, clean up, get ourselves organized, and decide what we do next.”

  Mel blew out her breath, then closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She’d survived her first plane ride and her first plane crash. A couple of times there, she’d had some serious doubts. But nope, she was alive…and bruised, battered, tired, and hungry now. And thirsty. But definitely alive.

  As if he could read her mind, Quinn reached down beside him and pulled up a bottle of water. He handed it to her.

  “Thanks.” She peered at him out of the corner of her eye. He was so beautiful. All dark shadows, his cheeks hollow, his lips full. Right now, his eyes were closed, but as she watched, he opened them. They were brilliant blue in the sunlight. She glanced away quickly and caught the twitch of his lips. Why did she get the impression that he liked having her look at him?

  She remembered the feel of his hard body against her last night, his hand holding hers.

  How strange. The things that had gone from the world of the future.

  She tried to remember if her real mother or father had ever held her hand. She’d been a small child when they had died, caught in the middle of a battle that had had nothing to do with them. A stray rocket had demolished the nearby dam, already old and near-derelict, and it had released its waters, as if with relief. The whole valley where they’d lived had been flooded. Her father and brother had been out hunting. Her mother had told her to run for the high ground. Had she held her hand then? Mel really couldn’t remember. But the water was too fast, and she’d been swept away, then caught up in a fishing net, tangled, unable to move. It had probably saved her, but she could still feel the s
ensation of being trapped, the water pulling her under, her lungs filling. The blind panic as her body ran out of air. Then, a feeling of almost peace.

  She hadn’t died that day, though the rest of her village had. Her mother, father, brother—all dead, though she’d never seen the bodies. Her adoptive father had been part of a peace-keeping corps, working for the Federation, ensuring that the Earth wasn’t totally destroyed in its first meeting with other civilizations. Or that was what she had always thought. But his role had actually been more that of a referee than a peace keeper. He’d been there to make sure that the Federation’s rules were not broken. The Federation didn’t really care about the future of mankind. But there were forces in the universe that could do far worse than destroy a single species, or a planet. Forces that could literally rip the universe into pieces.

  He’d told her they’d found her snarled up in a tree branch. At first, they’d thought she was dead, just another casualty. When she’d proved them wrong, her father had decided it would be interesting to adopt her. Like a pet. Get a better understanding of humanity.

  The weird thing was, in his own way—which was very, very different from humans—he’d come to care for her. And she, for him.

  But it was certainly true to say that he had never, in all the years since, ever held her hand.

  She had no clue what the battle that had killed her family had been about. By that point, there had been very little worth fighting over on Earth. Much of the planet was a lifeless shell and had been for nearly two thousand years.

  She looked around at the countryside. All this would be gone. Nothing left but a wasteland.

  And no one knew who or what had caused the Cataclysm.

  Nothing had been left to allow them to piece together what had caused the initial explosion. And historians had pored over what remained of the records from the time running up to the explosion but had found nothing to account for it. No asteroid sightings. No record of extraterrestrial activity.