by Eaton, Pam
She clears her throat. “Where are the people you took?” she asks me, still using my grandpa’s throat.
“Screw you,” I tell her, and spit in her face.
She slowly wipes it away. Her gaze drops to her hand she used, like she can’t believe I did that. She stares at that hand for a moment, and then suddenly pulls it back and slaps me across the face.
Pain explodes across my cheek, and my shoulders pull from the movement. “Answer the questions,” she orders me in her own voice.
I grip the chains above my hands. If this keeps going my shoulders are going to dislocate. I keep looking at her, trying to breathe through the throbbing ache.
“Answer me!” she demands, but I stare right through her.
She brings her fist back and slams it into my ribs over and over again. My mouth opens, allowing the scream to rip through. Tears stream down my cheeks, and the air is stolen from my lungs.
I try taking a breath, but my lungs can’t expand. I think she broke a rib.
“Answer!” Spit flies across my face, and I flinch.
I watch her arm pull back, ready to inflict another blow, but the shrill ring of Chelsea’s phone halts her movements.
“Hello.” Her whole body locks. “Fine,” she says, but sounds anything but fine with whatever he told her.
Chelsea waves off Sariah. “He says to stop,” Chelsea tells her.
Sariah looks down at her hand like she doesn’t recognize it and takes a step back.
“Put her back on the table,” she orders Henderson.
His clones undo my wrists and roughly take me down. I can’t stop the moan of pain. I’m dragged back to the table. And when my body is tossed onto the surface, I scream at the pain from my ribs. “I think you did some damage,” Chelsea says to Sariah.
“She should have talked,” Henderson butts in. “Sariah went a lot easier on her than I would have.”
Chelsea walks over with a syringe, and for once I welcome the oblivion, because I can’t handle the pain anymore. Every breath is agony.
As she injects me, she leans close. “Might want to answer them next time or Henderson will start on Tony. And that poor guy’s been through enough.”
The world starts to blur, and I feel a sharp pressure applied to my ribs. My head turns to the side and I throw up from the overwhelming pain. “Sweet dreams,” Henderson whispers to me.
The world spins, and finally goes black.
Sixteen
Mom sits on the boulder at the base of some mountain I don’t recognize. It’s craggy, with lots of fallen rocks and boulders. We usually meet near water, so this is different. I glance at her quickly, and her face lights up with hope when our gazes connect. I haven’t dreamt of her in months. And I’ve been torn about my feelings concerning that. She’s warned me in the past about things that were coming; why couldn’t she have told me about Grandpa and Grandma? Why couldn’t she have warned me about Tony leading me into a trap?
Maybe she sees the disappointment on my face. Or maybe it’s the indecision. Whatever she sees causes her to slump down on the boulder.
I avert my eyes towards the sky. It’s clear and a bright blue. No storm clouds in sight. No wind pressing in. Maybe now she’ll have the time for more answers. I grudgingly walk closer to her. I don’t look her in the eye yet; my anger is still too close to the surface.
I sit on another boulder close to hers. The silence is awkward and heavy. So much has happened since the last time I saw her in my dreams. So much has been lost.
She clears her throat and I take a deep breath before I finally lock gazes with her. Her eyes fill with tears. “I’m so sorry, baby,” she whispers, sounding tortured.
I bring my hands up and cover my face. Through everything, I’ve been strong, but those four words cut me so deep. My heart squeezes so tightly and the tears I’ve kept at bay start streaming down my face. The anguished cries are ripped from my soul.
Arms surround me, and I do something I never thought I’d be able to do in this life. I cry into my mother’s shoulder. And the tears don’t stop. I’ve unplugged the dam and it keeps pouring out of me. The pain, the loneliness, the loss, and the uncertainty spill out in tears and tortured sounds.
I’m not sure how long she holds me while I soak her shirt, but eventually the tears subside and the cries cease. I pull back and wipe at my face.
“Why now?” I ask her, my voice hoarse.
“You’ve been blocking me. The drug they gave you allowed me in,” she says, her voice still sounding concerned. She leans forward to search my face.
“Do you know?” I ask, not wanting to put it into words.
“Everything,” she confirms.
My heart starts to pound. “Have you seen my…” I can’t even finish the question, because I can feel my eyes wanting to tear up.
“Yes. I’ve seen your grandparents,” she says so softly.
I rub at my chest, feeling the ache there, the missing pieces.
“They’re with your dad.”
“Good.” I manage to croak out.
And it is good. I know how much they missed him. Especially Grandma. But I’d still rather have them here. I need them. I need them so, so much.
I lean forward, resting my head in my hands, and take deep breaths. I don’t know how long we’ll be here, but time is way too precious.
“How are you here, Mom? How are you able to come and talk with me?” I ask her the same question I’ve asked her before. I know she’s dead. I wouldn’t have my powers otherwise.
“There’s a man named Shemnon. His power is to link the dead with the living.”
Whoa.
“He’s part of a small group that monitors the world’s Urotanmians.”
“The what?”
“That’s what we were originally called, the name of our people.”
I don’t think anyone knows that name anymore, but I taste the words on my tongue. And they resonate in me as truth.
“Shemnon and his group have been waiting for you to come into your powers. And they knew what the future held. So Shemnon crossed into the spirit realm and found me. But I wasn’t allowed to tell you too much; they didn’t want to influence the future.”
“And now?” I ask, because this is more than she’s ever given me.
“Now these people conducting these experiments are disturbing the dead. They’re desecrating their resting spaces, and their bodies. Shemnon said if we didn’t intervene, the atrocities would be insurmountable.”
All right, no pressure or anything.
“What am I supposed to do about this?” I ask.
I’m already doing what I can, but I don’t even know how I would stop any of this from happening. And when someone like Chelsea is blocking powers, it makes it hard to find out everyone involved.
“Fight back,” she says with conviction.
I throw my arms up in the air. “That’s real rich. How am I going to do that? I can’t even tap into my powers right now. And why aren’t these people like Shemnon coming and helping? I’d love more help than a few cryptic dreams.”
Why can’t people just tell you what you need to do, how to do it, and what help you’ll get? It’d make my life a whole lot easier. And why couldn’t they have stepped in when this first started happening?
“You are more than these powers,” she says, anger threading her words. “You have been trained in more than just how to use those gifts. And I did not birth a stupid girl.”
“So basically, what you’re saying is ‘figure it out.’”
“Use that excellent brain. And Shemnon said help is coming.”
Of course, and is it going to come after we’ve all been killed? “How is help coming? Who’s coming?”
“When you commune with the dead, you’ve got eyes everywhere.”
So creepy.
A thunderous rumble starts in the distance. I turn towards it. Boulders are careening down the mountainside like they’re tennis balls. “Guessing time’s
up?” I ask, keeping my eyes trained on the mountain as larger rocks start to slide.
She nods and grabs my hand. “Don’t lose yourself to vengeance; it’ll make you bitter and get you killed. But know that on both sides of the veil of life and death, you have people helping. Trust those around you. Open up to them. Heal with them. You aren’t just an army of one.”
“Wake up, Becca,” someone says from a distance. “You need to wake up now.”
The dream world with my mom disappears in a blink.
“Becca?”
I go to raise my hand to my head, but it doesn’t budge, and I look down. I’m still chained. My head lulls to the side. Tony looks at me with wide eyes. “Transport,” he orders.
I try to shake the fog from my brain.
“Transport,” he says more urgently. “Get the hell out of here.”
I close my eyes and think about the space beside the bed. I see myself standing there without shackles around my wrists and ankles. I open my eyes, but I’m still stuck in the bed.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his eyes constantly darting to the door.
“I can’t do anything,” I tell him, panic rising within me.
His face snaps back to mine. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t transport. Why I can’t I transport? She’s not here.”
“It’s because my blood is mixed with the medicine,” Chelsea’s voice booms around us, and I let out a yelp.
“Glad to know it works so well,” she says.
I scan the room; she’s not here. “To the right,” she says, super smug.
A small camera sits in the corner, just below the ceiling. “Be in soon to ask you some questions, Becca,” she says and then she’s gone.
But what she’s left is panic like I’ve never felt before. “What are we going to do?” Tony asks.
“Well, talking about that seems stupid considering THEY. CAN. HEAR. US.” I shout the words at him.
His head rears back, and I close my eyes.
“I’m sorry.” I say the words softly to him.
“What do you have sorry to be about? I got us into this mess in the first place,” he says, sounding thoroughly disgusted with himself.
“Why didn’t you talk to me?” I ask. “I would have moved mountains to help you.”
He looks down at his bound hands. He’s still on the stone floor. Guess they don’t think he needs be strapped to a bed. “I haven’t been thinking really clearly lately,” he says.
A harsh laugh slips out, which is followed by a groan because of the sharp pain from my ribs. “You and me both,” I say.
“They never took my mom.” He says the words so quietly, I’m not sure I heard them. “They told me that after they knocked you out. Betrayed my best friend for nothing.” The last few words are said to himself.
“How did they even contact you?” I ask, because this seems so outta left field.
He takes a deep breath. “I’ve been emailing my mom every now and again, but never telling her where I was. She thought I was still working with the FBI. But yesterday there was a message from her, only it wasn’t my mom sending it.”
My stomach twists.
“They knew you had been here. They were banking on you coming back and if I wanted to see my mom again”—his voice breaks—“I had to find a way to get you back here or come with you and keep you occupied.”
Oh, Tony. I probably would have done the same thing if it was my grandpa. “It’s okay,” I tell him.
“No. It’s not,” he says sharply.
I roll my head and look up at the ceiling. “Well, we’re in this together now,” I say.
We both go silent. The only thing making noise is the beeping of Gregory’s monitor. I haven’t looked back at him again. I feel like if I let my mind go down that path, if I think about the things they could’ve done to him, then my mind will be so full I won’t have a chance to escape.
I stare at the stone ceiling above us. What are Tiberius and Xavier doing now? I know they must have realized something went wrong. But if they come in here, they might be in the same boat I’m in.
“How long was I out this time?” I ask. Because I’m pretty sure I only slept for an hour or two.
“I think a day,” Tony says.
“What?” I ask. “How is that even possible?”
“She came in and gave you another dose two hours ago.”
Awesome. I’ve got no clue how long this stuff lasts, but I guarantee she does. The sound of something scurrying makes my eyes shoot towards Tony. He lets out a curse and tries to angle away from the very large rat that sniffs around him. The rat sits and looks between the two of, which is weird because rats don’t do that.
My heart starts to race, and not because Tony looks likes he’s going to freak out. I try to keep my facial expression calm. “Don’t swat at it, it might bite you,” I warn, but hope is blooming in my chest as I stare at this rat.
It scurries away, and my pulse races. “Ever since Myanmar, I can’t stand rats,” he says, his voice shaking, body shuddering.
“Hey,” I say, and he looks back at me. “It’s okay. It’s gone now,” I say. I want to tell him about who I suspect sent the rat, but I can’t. Not with them watching us and probably recording us.
I’m praying that Lucy knows about the cameras in here. What am I thinking? Of course she knows.
“So, tell me about that video game you play all the time,” I say to him, and he gives me an odd look. But I need him to not think about Myanmar right now. I need him to focus, but if I’m right, Raven sent that rat as a message.
They’re rescuing us, and I’m thinking soon.
Seventeen
Tony doesn’t even have the chance to answer my question about his video game before the door bursts open. Tiberius and Xavier storm into the room, followed closely by Robert, Raven, and a few other people I don’t recognize.
Raven and Robert survey the room. I can’t believe they got him to come out of hiding. Last I saw him, he and Poppy were escaping England.
I turn my head at the sound of rats scurrying around, finding gaps in the wall and doors to squeeze through, probably scouting.
Tiberius rushes to my side, and Xavier goes to Tony. “I never thought you’d come,” I say to him, my voice breaking.
I’ve tried to stay strong. Through all the things they’ve done. I tried not to break. But the sight of Tiberius’s face is just too much. Sobs wrack my body, causing my broken ribs to scream in pain.
“Shh, I’ll always come for you. We’re family.” He strokes my hair, making soothing noises while he undoes my cuffs.
I take a couple of deep breaths, trying to get myself under control. “I can’t transport,” I tell him.
He pauses but keeps going. “Doesn’t matter, we’ll figure it out.”
“How are we going to get Gregory out of here?” I ask.
Tiberius and Xavier share a look, and alarms goes off in my mind. “No,” I say. “We can’t leave him here.”
“We’ve got incoming,” Raven warns.
“Send in the rats,” Xavier orders.
She nods, and a moment later muffled screams filter in through the steel door.
“We’ve got to go,” Tiberius urges.
I grab on to Tiberius’s wrist, pulling him towards me with more strength than either of us thought I had. “Gregory has to come with us.”
He covers my hand with his. “Becca, we don’t know what they did to him. What if we unhook him and he dies?” Tiberius says.
I look over at Gregory’s still form. He was healthy the last time I was with him. He has to be still. “Let me try transporting him,” I beg.
“You just said you can’t,” he reminds me.
Shouts and gunfire increase outside the room. “We’ve got to go now,” a man I don’t recognize says.
I ignore the warning, not ready to give up. “I have to try,” I tell Tiberius.
I slide off the table, my knees almost buckling
from the pain, but I put it aside and do my best to rush over to Gregory. “Where are you going to take him?” Xavier asks. “We don’t know yet if it’s Mr. Rivers behind all of this.”
I rub my hands over my face. I don’t know what he needs, but I know Walter won’t be able to handle anything like this. I look between Xavier and Gregory. “I’ll take him to headquarters. Text Mr. Smith,” I say.
“Becca,” Xavier warns.
“I won’t leave him!” My scream silences the room for a brief second.
“Someone’s trying to breach the door!” Robert shouts.
I grab Gregory’s hand and close my eyes. I picture the room where I had my very first physical at Project Lightning. I think of the hospital bed and computer. I picture talking to the older guy who’s the resident doctor.
“She’s flickering,” I hear Tony yell.
“We’ve got to go, Becca!” Tiberius roars as the metal door starts to break.
I close my eyes tighter and pump as much enhancing ability into my thoughts, into Gregory, into our bond.
Metal screeches, and gunshots fire. My stomach drops and I feel the pull of our bodies across space.
* * *
Alarms blare overhead and the feel of cool tile pressed against me seeps into my skin. My eyes pop open and I reach out a hand, searching. Gregory lies against me. We did it.
I turn my head and his still body pushes me into action. “Help!” I scream.
The doctor who gave me my original physical comes barreling into the room. His eyes widen at the sight of us. “Help him, please,” I beg him.
Mr. Smith comes exploding through the door. He locks onto Gregory, and if I weren’t watching him, I would miss the welling of tears in his eyes.
“We need to get him up on the table,” the doctor orders Mr. Smith.
I stand up on my trembling legs. “Step back,” Mr. Smith orders, but I don’t listen.
“I don’t know what they’ve done to him, but they put him into a medically induced coma,” I say.
