I clip the iBullet to my jeans pocket. I feel my heartbeat in my fingertips. I put my hand on the door.
“We will fire if you don’t comply!”
Life is all about choices. I can fall back, rely on others to make the choices for me, but at least I’d have something.
Another car pulls up. Two more soldiers get out. Two more guns.
Or I can make my decision, take that leap of faith, and risk losing everything.
VICTORIA
Two Days Before Victor King’s Death
(Early Morning)
I turn to him around four in the morning. Derek looks so beautiful in the dying moonlight. I stroke his hair and he slowly opens his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I know I’ve been difficult lately, and I don’t mean to be. It’s just…my mind…it’s all jumbled. I’m taking it out on you.” I trace the line of his brow, his cheek. “I love you, you know that, right? Even when I’m mad or short-tempered. I love you.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry, Derek. It’s just, things are happening. I’ve done…I’m just…” I sigh. “Just hang in there with me. Alright? Just a bit longer. And then I promise I’ll be back to normal. I promise. There’s just…I feel like I pushed a boulder down a hill, and I’m not sure where it’s going to end up, or who it’ll crush or…” I shake my head, struggling for words. That’s when Derek cups my cheek in his hand.
“Don't you understand?” he asks. “Don't you understand how much I love you, how much you mean to me? I hate seeing you so unhappy.”
“I'm sorry.”
“You can trust me, Victoria. I'm here for you. Happy, sad, confused, angry. I don’t care what you are. I’m here for you and always will be.”
“So you won’t give up on me?”
He leans forward and kisses me. With his lips still on mine, he says, “I'd die for you.”
DEREK
Traffic explodes around me as I burst onto Broadway Avenue. I jerk the wheel hard to the right, narrowly avoiding a trolley headed straight for me. I see the terrified look of the driver as I pass him. But I turn the wheel too hard and sideswipe a black sedan. The noise is pure cacophony. It's loud and brash, and it's like a scream from a nightmare. The wipers are on full blast.
The sirens of the Corps truck behind me are loud, but they don't drown out the beeps from other vehicles on the road. I make a wide, sloppy turn onto Coast and press the gas pedal to the floor. The car goes airborne as it hits a pothole the size of a bulldozer. I bounce up and down on the crater-filled hill, the front bumper hitting the road with teeth-jarring impact. When I finally reach the bottom, my head snaps back and my hands actually let go of the wheel. I quickly grab it and turn a hard left. That's when I realize...
“Shit!” I'm going the wrong way.
Inbound traffic heads straight at me as I make my way south. The two lanes part for me, or maybe for the now three Corps vehicles speeding along behind me. I look in my rear view mirror just in time to see one of the smaller cars get creamed by a huge bread truck. The sirens make one pitiful little blip before they die off altogether. I'm so intent on looking at the mess in my rear view mirror that I don't see the Toyota until it's too late. I throw my arms out to brace a bit of the hit, but it feels like I was drop kicked from a ten story building anyway. The impact is forceful and fast, and the pain is immediate. Something in my back feels like it cracked.
My car spins twice before I finally get it under control again. I push the gas pedal down. The tires scream on the wet pavement before I move; steam rises and floats around me. When I finally jerk forward, I make a quick right—cutting through opposing traffic with only a graze from another car—onto Carnahan. It's a curving, dangerous road going the speed limit. It's a death wish speeding along at ninety miles per hour with soldiers chasing you.
Case in point: one of the Corps cars careens off the road, falls off the hill's edge and flips over. Well, I guess that's good news for me. But as I get to Greentree Road, I find four more vans waiting for me.
At least I'm heading in the right direction.
The exit for the parkway is about a half mile away. It's like I'm playing bumper cars for how much I bounce off other vehicles. My bumper fell off somewhere along the way, probably by the Tempeh House. My side mirrors are just gone. Totally clean off. My windshield is cracked and the right wiper keeps getting snagged as it moves over the fissure.
As I reach the exit and swing down—the passenger side wheels lifting off the street because I'm going so fast and took the turn way too sharp—I think that's just the beginning of my problems.
I was right.
Another explosion of car horns assails me as I cut into traffic. Before I even get my bearings, something rear ends me. My seat belt cuts off my air supply as I fly forward. But I keep my foot on the gas. I just have to keep going. I have to keep going.
A Corps van pulls beside me. The driver aims his rifle at me and a deafening bang makes me duck. The driver's window shatters. Glass sprays me and I feel burns along my face. Another pop and I hear the bullet ping off metal. The soldier takes aim again but before he can fire, I yank the wheel to the left, slamming my car into his. The van spins wildly out of control, slides across the grassy divider and into inbound traffic. Three cars slam into it, causing black smoke to rise from the hood.
My car shudders. It doesn't have much longer. The exit for the airport passes above me. I look in my rear view mirror. Two vans are almost touching my back bumper. I slow my pace just a bit, forcing them to hit me. But I don't move. Not yet, almost...almost...
I turn the wheel hard to the right at just the last minute. The driver's side of my car scrapes the guard rail as I fly up the Moon Township exit. The Corps van that was directly on my tail can't make the turn in time. It tries to, causing it to hit the guard rail and roll. Causing the van directly behind that one to be totally blocked from following me.
Seizing my chance, I pull into some random apartment complex’s underground garage. My tires squeal and scream as I quickly jam my car in the first space I see. I don't turn it off though. I listen.
Silence.
No sirens.
No other screeching tires from Corps vehicles following me.
I grab the iBullet and run, thunder shaking the ground beneath me, lightning tearing the sky above me.
VICTORIA
My breath leaves me in heavy gasps, full-body pants, and I still can’t force the air into my lungs. The two soldiers who walked me down push me against a tall pole and force my arms back. I jump at a loud crash of thunder and elements.
Metal bites into my wrists. The hard rain plasters my hair to my face and into my eyes, and I can’t even wipe the strands away. A soldier in a black raincoat steps forward.
“By order of the Honorable Judge Joanne Spear, servant of this Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, you, Victoria Elizabeth King, have been charged and tried for the murder of Victor William King. Your sentence is death by firing squad, to now be carried out. May God be with you.”
Black dots swim in my vision and then a woman wraps a cloth around my head. It’s soaking wet in a matter of moments and I’m scared it’s too heavy to stay on my eyes.
“Soldiers, on my word.”
I gasp. My arms press against the cuffs and my body strains even though there’s no way to move.
“Soldiers, ready!”
A cacophony of sound. My life really does flash before my eyes.
“Soldiers, aim.”
Images assail me, one right after the other, fast as a strobe light. And when they all end, the last one is of him.
“Soldiers!”
DEREK
I scream his name. I pound on the front door and when no one answers, I break the window beside it and climb in.
I run upstairs and down the hall.
I nearly knock the door of its hinges as I slam it open.
“Will—”
I stop in my tracks, my heart freezing, my min
d blanking, everything shutting down.
William is behind his desk. Supine. Half-hidden but I can see his face and the open eyes.
The gun in his hand, and the fatal wound in his temple.
Footsteps rush in behind me. I spin around. My eyes widen, my mouth starts to form the word no. But I never say it.
The gun goes off and my world goes black.
DEREK
DEREK
DEREK
DEREK
I open my eyes slow. White is everywhere. White walls, white floor, white ceiling. My blankets are white. The table to the left is a young medical student’s dream. The curtains are white. In fact, the only bit of color in this sterile hospital room is the man in the chair in the corner.
“Dad.”
Dad launches himself up and practically throws himself on me. He cries as I have never heard him cry—deep, bone-crushing sobs. I bring my hands up and place them on his shoulders. I tell him it’s okay, but it’s hard because sobs jam-pack my throat. I keep trying to swallow them down with mixed results. Dad is already so upset, the last thing I want to do is add to it.
We break apart in the next moment, and that’s when I notice the other person in the room. Captain Pearce. My heart plummets. I look at him, and images assail me: the car chase, William, the gunshot. They flash through my head and all sink in at once. Any good feelings I had about seeing Dad disintegrate.
I clear my throat. “What happened?”
“Well,” Captain Pearce begins, “after you called me, and ignored my directions to stay away from William, I headed there myself. I came moments after you. One of my soldiers must have beaten me there by seconds however, as he was already in the house with you. When he saw you in William’s office, he fired. I managed to knock his aim off a bit.”
Dad says, “The doctor said he missed your heart by millimeters.”
Jesus. I take a breath and force the feeling to go back into my body.
“And William? Is he really, um, is he really—”
Captain Pearce nods. “He left a note on his desk. In it, he confessed to killing his father and setting Victoria up for the blame. He wrote that inheritance was the reason.”
It feels strange to hear him say this, like he’s telling me the outline of a movie. It doesn’t seem real. But I saw William, I saw the gun and the blood. He shot himself. I try to sit up a bit, but all of a sudden I feel like an elephant is laying on me. My chest begins to hurt unbearably.
“Dad, I’m not feeling too well.”
He gets it immediately. “I think maybe it’s time we give Derek some space. Let him rest.”
Captain Pearce moves to the door. “I’ll be back in a little while.” He says goodbye to Dad.
“Oh, wait,” I say. Captain Pearce turns. “Am I…am I in any trouble? I mean, because of everything I did.”
He looks at me a long moment. “There were a couple accidents on the road yesterday, but no one clearly saw the driver. As for anything else…nothing has come across my desk.”
“And if it does?”
A small smile quirks up his lips. “Forms gets lost all the time.”
He gives me a small nod and leaves. That’s when I notice someone else…or at least, the absence of someone else.
“Where’s Mom?”
Dad sits down next to me. He takes my hand in his. And he tells me. And I finally let the tears fall.
DEREK
I fall asleep and my mind slips into a void. I don’t dream. I don’t stir.
Somehow, someway, I know someone is standing above me. And then…
A whisper rests on my lips, confessing soft secrets and heated promises. The gentlest stream of air slips through the seam of my mouth and I open under the cool pleasure. Something warm cups my face. Something solid sits beside me.
I open my eyes.
Her chocolate brown eyes are inches from mine. Her hair hangs over her shoulders and tickles my skin. She smells like lavender and star-filled nights and every wish I’ve ever made. She leans down and I shut my eyes as her lips meet mine. I bring my hands up. She feels like silk and steel and something fragile and strong. She’s soft. Familiar. My hands roam over her back and I press forward until she’s lying against me. I touch the beauty mark I can’t see but I know is there.
Beeps fill the air. I open my eyes just in time to see her pull out the cord connected to the monitor.
Her lips come back to mine. She tastes like holidays and brisk mornings, peppermint and tears.
“Victoria.”
DEREK
Two Weeks Later
It's the first time in two weeks Victoria and I have been apart. We’ve been living with my parents since she was released; the apartment we were going to get fell through after neither one of us went to the closing. But I don’t mind the arrangement one bit. Mom and Dad are at the store. They seem to be at the store a lot these days. Reason 847,309 why I love my parents: they understand when to give me space.
It’s a rare quiet moment and I grab a sandwich, eat some grapes. I go upstairs to take a shower. As I undress, I look in the mirror at my chest. The scar is almost totally gone, courtesy of the new MEB laser technology. I can't wait to learn all about it.
I stand under the spray, eyes shut, and another girl I haven’t seen in a while comes to mind. The last I heard from Sabrina was two days after I got released from the hospital. She had sent a package to the house. When I opened it, a cross necklace lay on white gauze along with a simple slip of paper. It read, Have Faith. I slipped it on that very moment and haven’t taken it off. It’s corny beyond belief, but it makes me feel closer to her. I called her again. No answer.
I turn off the water and wrap a towel around my waist, feeling more refreshed and better than I have in a long time. I pad to my room and turn on the TV. D.R. Gibbs is just about to arrest the bad guy.
Since I’ve been home, Mom hasn’t been too bad about babying me. She cooks every single meal and snack, but other than that, she’s been great about giving me space. But as I look through my dresser and closet for something clean to wear, a part of me can’t help but wish she’d do my laundry.
I know.
Sighing, I pick up a pair of jeans from the floor that have definitely seen better days. I shake the wrinkles out as best I can, and that’s when a small black device falls out.
William’s iBullet.
I hold it for a moment, marveling that I had forgotten to turn it over, that they had forgotten to ask. Well, I suppose the Corps confiscated other things. Maybe they didn’t need it. It feels weird to hold it though, wrong and awkward. I set it on my desk. I reach for another pair of pants when suddenly, that breaking news beep sounds over the TV.
“As reported several days ago, there was a break-in at the house where Issy Campbell lived. So far, the Corps is not releasing many details, except to say that”—a picture of a dining room flashes across the screen, then a quick shot of a dresser—“a neighbor reported seeing a tall, thin man who they think is in his twenties climb through the back window.”
As another picture flashes—this time of said back window—ticker tape begins scrolling across the bottom of the screen. The weather, the sports scores, then info about the Li Kang hotel. The picture switches to the news reporter again.
I dive for the remote. It's not that picture that has me rewinding the story; it's not even the one of the back window. It's the image of the dining room that has me pausing the frame and walking so close to the TV that my nose almost touches it.
All at once, I’m back in Biology II. The class assignment was to look at various virus specimens and figure out what the components were, what the symptoms might be, all that stuff. For some reason though, I couldn’t even get a handle on the shape of it. The very form was beyond me. In fact, I was so startled by it, I raised my hand and asked my teacher if this was normal. To be honest, I was convinced that I was staring at some new strain, some killer virus that would wipe us all out. I mean, it had to be. Nothi
ng else made sense. I had been studying for this assignment for weeks; I knew my stuff. But this specimen…I had no clue. So by default, it had to be some killer strain. In my head, I had already named it the Archer Virus.
Dr. Wiseman came over and peered at the sample. And then, without word or warning, he drew his arm high above his head and slapped the microscope so hard, it almost toppled.
“There you go,” he said and then he walked away.
Startled, I leaned forward and looked at the specimen. Just like that, my Archer Virus had been demoted from the apocalypse to a common sinus infection. Just like that, what I was so sure of moments ago had been totally rearranged.
“…while we don’t know the reason for this break-in, the Corps tells us nothing was taken…”
I race to my computer and pull up the Corps file. My palms go sweaty, my heart beats in two-time, as I click through document after document, seeing the treasure trove of answers I never realized was hiding in such plain sight. I carry the computer downstairs to the living room and turn the TV on. I bring up the news report and once again freeze the image. I shake my head, marveling at the simplicity, the incredible irony. Marveling at the small object in the corner of the screen, winking out as if it were taunting me.
Slowly, I shut my eyes. Pain and pressure fills every inch of me. My hands squeeze around my computer until I’m shaking. I’m breathing, but it hurts.
Suddenly, nothing makes sense.
Suddenly, it all makes sense.
“Fuck!”
I whip the computer across the room, where it hits the wall and breaks my whole world to pieces.
VICTORIA
Unstoppable: Truth is Unstoppable (Truth and Love Series) Page 19
