Uncontrollable (Beyond Human)

by Nina Croft

  It sounded reasonable. But then, so did everything else about her. How had she disappeared that first night? From a locked room, that had remained locked. With no evidence of anyone coming or going.

  “Something has happened,” she said. “You’re worried about something. Tell me. I might be able to help.”

  “Later,” he replied. “When we’re away from here.”

  “Okay, I—” She frowned, then glanced down. Something was flashing on her watch. An alarm? She pressed a button and the flashing ceased. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

  At the same time, he heard a call in his head. “Quinn.” It was Janelle. “There are people approaching.”

  “How many and how far out?”

  “Lots and very close.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you pick them up earlier?”

  “I did pick them up. Unfortunately, they’re in helicopters, so they’re getting here fast.”

  Shit. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then load everyone up. Do you have anyone who’s a good shot?”

  “A couple.”

  “Keep them back.” However they felt about the use of aggression, they were going to have to get over it. “And get us some weapons. We’re on our way down.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It was clear Quinn was communicating with someone and he didn’t look happy about whatever he was being told. It was hardly likely to be unrelated to her…issue.

  She glanced down at her transponder. She’d switched off the visual alarm but could still feel it vibrating against her skin.

  Class 1 anomaly. Two of them in fact and heading toward her. Fast.

  What the hell was going on?

  It had to be other agents. But why?

  “Come on,” Quinn said. “We have to get out of here.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “We’re about to be attacked.” He gave her a long hard look. “Tell me you didn’t betray us. That you haven’t brought them here.”

  She hesitated a second too long. Because the fact was, she had no clue. If it there were agents from the Bureau coming, they could have tracked her through her transponder, and she could very well be responsible. But she had no clue why other agents would be here. It didn’t work like that.

  “Christ,” Quinn said, disgust clear in his voice. He thought she was responsible, that she’d betrayed him, and she hated that.

  “No, Quinn, I promise. I haven’t told anyone. I would never. You have to believe me.”

  “I don’t have to believe anything. I don’t know what I believe anymore. Right now, we need to get out of here. Unless you want to stay?”

  “No, I don’t want to stay. I told you. I have no clue who is coming here.” That much was the truth.

  He gave her long, cool, assessing look. He didn’t believe her. Had he learned something new? It must have been that phone call this morning. Who had it been? What had they told Quinn?

  “Your watch?” he said.

  “What?”

  “It flashed a moment ago. What was that?”

  “Just an alarm.”

  He raised a brow. “A wake-up call? Somehow, I don’t believe that. I was just thinking earlier…you have no cell phone, no jewelry, nothing in fact, but that watch. A nice simple watch no one would think twice to look at. Give it to me.”

  No way.

  “It’s just a watch, Quinn. Don’t be paranoid.”

  “Then it won’t hurt to hand it over to me. We don’t have time to argue about this right now. Just give me the watch, and I’ll keep it safe for you. After this is over, you can have it back and we can talk.”

  She glanced at the door and actually thought about making a run for it. His muscles tightened, and she knew she wouldn’t make it. And she didn’t want to anyway. She wanted to stay and help. A small smile twitched on Quinn’s lips, but he appeared far from amused. In the distance, she could hear approaching helicopters.

  “Now, Mel.”

  She took a deep breath and flicked open the fastener on her transponder and placed it onto Quinn’s outstretched palm. His eyes narrowed, probably as he felt the small vibration from the ongoing alarm. He studied it closely, turning it over, but there was nothing in the outward appearance to give it away. Finally, he shoved it in his pocket. She followed him out the door and down the stairs. She wanted to say something else, just in case they didn’t make it. She couldn’t bear the idea of them dying with him thinking she had betrayed him. But at the same time, she knew he wouldn’t listen right now if she tried to persuade him of her innocence. Instead, she’d try a different approach.

  She rested a hand on his arm. “Quinn?” For a second, she thought he would shake her off and something hurt deep inside. But he paused and turned slightly toward her.

  “Whatever happens, I want you to know that last night was the best night of my life, and I’ll never regret it. I’ll remember it until the day I die.”

  For a moment, his face remained cold, and he stared at her out of hard blue eyes. Then his features relaxed and he blew out his breath. “Me, too. The best ever. So, let’s try and make this one not our last day. Because I’m burning up to know what the hell you’re really up to. And once I do, we’re going to fix this whole mess. Because, sweetheart, I want to have a lot more nights just like that one.”

  He turned and headed down, taking the steps two at a time. She had no choice but to follow him. It was probably for the best. She had no more nights. At the most, she had one more day. Unless he threw her transponder away. Or lost it or…

  The first shots broke the silence as they reached the front door. They came from somewhere to the rear of the complex.

  “What’s happening?” she asked.

  “Most of the people are away. They’re heading into the mountains. Janelle, Martin and four of their people—ones she can rely on to actually shoot—are guarding their withdrawal. One of the helicopters has landed. There are ten men.”

  At that moment Janelle appeared, running from around the back of the house. She carried two semiautomatics that she handed to Quinn and Mel. Another was slung across her back. “Come on, Martin’s almost ready to blow the booby trap. It will hopefully take them out and give us time to get away, though we really need that last helicopter down.” Mel could still hear it in the air, the whirring of the blades, just out of sight.

  “Is there another vehicle?” Quinn asked.

  “A Land Rover in the barn to the right of the house.” Janelle grinned. Clearly, she was enjoying the excitement and had no real worries about getting away. Mel had an inkling that Janelle had hated the waiting game. “Why?”

  “We’re not coming with you. We’ll cover your rear, wait for that helicopter to pass within range, and see if we can’t clip its wings.”

  Mel wanted to say helicopters didn’t have wings but kept quiet.

  “We’ll get out the other direction.”

  Janelle gave him a long look and Mel knew they were communicating. Was he telling Janelle he didn’t trust her? Was she telling him to just kill her and come with them? She had an inkling how Martin must have felt all those years, growing up among these people while totally shut out from most of their interactions.

  Finally, Janelle nodded, casting Mel a speculative look, though not one of dislike. “You could always pick yourselves up a helicopter. I’ve a feeling there might be one up for grabs any moment now. They landed about two hundred feet to the east.”

  “Okay.” He leaned across and kissed her on the cheek. “I hope to see you again. And tell Freya I’m glad I finally met her.”

  “I will.” Janelle turned to her. “Look after him. Don’t break his heart.” And she was gone.

  It seemed a strange request. Quinn was quite capable of looking after himself. As for breaking his heart, that was just an old saying and not a real possibility.

  She could still hear the helicopter, but it appeared to have stopped its forward momentum. The
n it was moving again, heading their way.

  “You know how to use one of those?” Quinn asked, waving a hand at the semiautomatic rifle in her hands.

  “In principle.” Though she’d never actually shot one.

  “Just aim a little ahead of your target if it’s moving and keep up a continuous stream of bullets. It’s hard to miss if the target’s big enough.”

  “Like a helicopter.”

  He grinned. Janelle wasn’t the only one having fun. “Yeah. We need to bring it down to give the others a chance to get away.” He looked up, listened, his eyes narrowed. “Any second now.”

  And there it was, swerving around the side of the big barn only twenty feet or so above the ground. She could see the people in the open doors. “Eight of them,” Quinn said. “They have orders to take as many as they can alive, but not all are needed. Oh. And they’re to kill me on sight.” He frowned. “And you and Martin.” He cast her a look. “They’re not FBI, just mercs, though I suppose a rogue FBI agent would have access to such resources.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Right, on my three. One, two, three.” He stepped out from the cover of the house. Mel moved beside him, though she noticed he positioned himself in front of her almost instinctively, as though to protect her. Whatever else he was, Quinn was a good man. She copied his actions as he raised his rifle. They hadn’t been seen yet. The helicopter was clearly heading toward where shots were still being fired. She did as he’d instructed and aimed just in front of the helicopter’s path, and her finger tightened on the trigger. She held herself steady against the recoil as bullets shot from the gun. The first missed but the next ones hit the glass at the front, clearly armored. Then the men in the open doorway to the side. There were screams and a few men fired back but the shots were going wild… She kept firing, as the helicopter swerved around heading toward them now. Quinn leaped toward her, pushing her to the ground as bullets shot from the helicopter’s forward-facing guns. He dragged her up and then out of range. The guns stopped when Quinn’s own weapon put them out of commission. Then the glass shattered, and the thing was whirling out of control. Quinn grabbed her arm and ran with her, shoving her down behind a low wall and covering her with his big body. She felt the vibrations run through the earth as the helicopter hit the ground and exploded. The heat washed over her as the tanks blew. The screams of dying men filled her ears.

  This was the price of survival. But what was the alternative? To roll over and let them kill you?

  But these people, by the sound of it, were nothing but soldiers. They had no reason, other than money, for killing. Did that make them better or worse than whoever had organized the attack?

  Just when the world went silent and Quinn’s grip loosened around her, another explosion ripped through the air.

  “The booby trap,” Quinn murmured from on top of her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. I haven’t been hit, anyway.”

  “That’s good enough for now.” He was silent for a moment. “That was Janelle—they’re away. No one followed.” He exhaled, and she shifted under his weight.

  “You can move now. You’re heavy.”

  “You weren’t complaining last night.”

  He sounded almost cheerful, and she pushed herself up the little she was able and looked into his face. The tension was gone, and a grin split his face. “Do you enjoy killing?” she asked.

  He sobered. “No. But this is what they signed up for. They came after me, not the other way around. I’m glad that I’m alive and not dead like them.” The grin came back. “And I have always fucking loved explosions.”

  He pushed himself onto his knees and then turned so he sat with his back against the wall, allowing her to get up. As she made to rise, he placed his hand on her leg. “A minute longer, then we’ll check to make sure they’re all dead.”

  And if they weren’t?

  She sat beside him and took stock of herself. There was nothing serious. A few bangs, probably from when Quinn had thrown her around. He reached out and stroked his thumb down over her cheek. “Blood,” he said. “But only a small cut. Flying glass probably.” He turned slightly so he could peer over the wall. “There’s nothing moving. And if anyone is still alive, they’re unconscious. I’m going to take a look. You stay here.”

  He slipped over the wall. She waited for thirty seconds and then followed him, coming to stand beside him next to the burned-out chopper. Her eyes skittered over the bodies. She didn’t want to know what they looked like. She didn’t want to turn them from enemies into people. It occurred to her how much more death there was in this time. Her parents had been killed in the last of the intergalactic battles, before the Federation had declared the planet a no-war zone. And since then, peace had reigned. Violence was almost unheard of in the general populace. But then it only took a few lessons before people learned not to go up against the Federation.

  “Let’s go see if there’s more left of the other helicopter,” Quinn said. “Otherwise, we have a long drive ahead of us.”

  She’d prefer to drive, truthfully. She didn’t much like leaving the ground in these primitive flying vehicles. But she kept quiet—she was getting good at that.

  “Stay a little behind me.”

  She followed him away from the house, about ten feet behind him, admiring the effortless way he moved. His body was a mix of tenseness and looseness, ready for anything. It was clear he’d been well trained and that he’d seen enough action to take it in his stride. Suddenly, she wanted to know everything about him. His past. Not his future. Because there wasn’t too much ahead, and that hurt to even think about.

  The bullet came without warning, hitting her in the side and spinning her around to face the shooter. She stumbled but managed to keep her feet. She felt no pain. Shouldn’t there be pain? But her every sense was focused on the man in front of her. The pistol aimed at her head. Everything slowed. She recognized him. Brent, the man she had last seen in the future. “Brent?”

  His finger was tightening on the trigger. She knew, at that moment, that she was going to die. And at the hands of her own people. And all she could think of was how fucking pissed off she was that she had absolutely no clue why. Then a bullet whizzed past her. A hole blossomed in Brent’s forehead, and he tumbled over backward, lying face up, staring at nothing. She searched the area and found the second man, standing still as though deciding whether to run or to try and finish his mission.

  “Don’t move,” Quinn said from beside her.

  She knew she had less than a minute. She walked toward him. He held his weapon at his side, but Quinn’s was already aimed at his head. He was the man she had seen with Brent. His partner? She came to a halt in front of him. A quick glance showed the red charging light on his transponder.

  “Why?” she asked.

  He swallowed, his gaze flickering to Quinn who had come up beside her.

  “I can’t read him,” Quinn said. He raised his pistol and aimed it at the other man’s chest. “Talk or I make you.”

  The man gave a small shrug, his transponder flashed green, and then he vanished.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “What the fuck?” Quinn said. “Not even a puff of fucking smoke.” He stared at the spot where the man had stood only moments ago. He glanced to the side. At least the dead body was still there. He turned his attention to Mel. “What the hell just happened? And if you say, ‘I don’t know,’ I may very well shoot you, too.”

  “Already been done,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Christ, he’d forgotten. Seeing disappearing people would have that effect on a person. She’d been shot. She was clutching her side as blood seeped through her fingers, and panic flared inside him, churning in his stomach.

  “God, Mel. Are you okay? Hell, no of course you’re not okay.” He hurried to her side, crouching down beside her. “Let me look.”

  “We need to get out of here,” she said.

  For a moment, rati
onal thought returned. “Are there more of them? He reached out, but he wasn’t picking up anybody. But then, he hadn’t picked up the man who’d shot Mel or his friend. What the hell was going on? He had no clue, and he hated that.

  “I don’t think there are more,” she said.

  “Let me look at you, and then, I promise we are out of here, so fucking fast.”

  She nodded, not that it would have made a difference. He was looking. He gently moved her hand out of the way, then lifted her shirt, peeling it away from the wound. The air left him in a sigh of relief. The bullet had taken her in the side, just above her waist, grazing her rib cage and bouncing off. It looked messy, but the damage was minimal. The bleeding had already stopped. He could take her back to the house, but he didn’t think it was urgent and he wanted to get the hell out of here.

  He thought about the two men. He hadn’t been able to read them, even though they clearly hadn’t been wearing reflector devices. Just like Mel. And she’d called one of them by name. Then the other had vanished. None of this was making him happy. They needed to get to somewhere safe and have a good long talk.

  “You’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

  “Just a second.” She pulled down her shirt, wincing at the movement, and then crossed to where the body lay. She kept her eyes averted. For an FBI agent, she obviously wasn’t very comfortable with death. But then again, she wasn’t actually an FBI agent, was she? She crouched down. What was she looking for? She didn’t search him but went straight to his wrist. He was wearing a black watch, just like Mel’s. She unfastened it, rose to her feet and came back to him.

  He held out his hand for it. She pursed her lips but gave a nod and handed it to him. “Just tell me something. Can these things, whatever they are”—he dangled the watch in front of her—“be used to track you?”

  “They can be. But I didn’t know they were here and looking for me. I swear.”

  The thing was, he believed her. He pushed it into his pocket along with hers, then turned and headed back the way he’d been going.