Black smoke rose into the grey morning sky. Fields of grey ice and dead plants spread as far as she could see, and pieces of metal and engines lay scattered about.
Mae heard movement behind her. She turned and saw a gunman climbing from the skeletal remains of a black Land Rover. He raised his gun and ran toward her, shouting commands. Mae was mildly surprised that he'd not been more injured.
"Get on the ground!" the soldier yelled. Mae could hear the fear and panic in his voice and figured that he'd been briefed about her before being tasked with escorting the convoy. She turned her attention toward him and he fired his gun. She pushed with her mind, and his body, the bullets, and the flash of gunpowder flew backwards, as if swatted away.
She heard another sound, the screech of metal. She turned and saw someone dressed in civilian clothes. A guy she didn't recognize, lifting a twisted piece of metal off another guy. He was yelling that everything would be okay, the tinge of a southern accent in his voice. She began to push with her mind, to flick that switch that would swipe them away from her, but she stopped. They were not military, and she'd never seen them before. Most likely, they were not with the people who'd kept her captive.
"Mae!" She heard his voice calling her name, and her power swept away. Mae turned and saw Ryan running toward her from the field, a limp in his step, trickles of blood down the side of his face, but he was smiling with a grim determination. He came to her, and she fell into his arms, their bodies pulling together as they sank to the ground. Ryan held her and she cried, the cold wind on her skin suddenly more than she could bear. Ryan cried and pushed the hair from her face, and she shivered.
"You came. You came for me, you came," she said, whispering it over and over again, her body shivering against the cold. Her skin was still wet with that clear liquid, and it was turning to ice.
"They won't take you again, not ever again." Ryan kissed her face, her hair, kissed her cheek and lips, their tears mingling. She laughed at him crying, and he laughed with her. Mae smiled, and he loved that smile.
"I'm so cold," she whispered.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Ryan shook off his coat and wrapped it around her bare shoulders.
"Thank you,” she said.
“What happened?” Ryan said, looking all around at the smoking debris and fire.
“I… I don’t know if, if I…” She hesitated, not knowing how or what to say. Finally, she said, “I can do things. That’s why they want me. I was running that night on the plane, from them. Because, because of what I can do.”
“Did you—did that man die in there?” Ryan asked.
She looked away from him, suddenly ashamed, and began to cry harder. He held her tightly, wondering what it all meant, trying to believe that what she had said was true. He had seen it with his own eyes, experienced it, but still found it difficult to comprehend.
I can do things…
b crfl of M Dngrsaaa
None of that mattered, not right then and there. At that moment, he held her against the snow and ice and loved her, and it was just the two of them.
The moment shattered as the world around them came into focus. They heard the sound of screams and scattered gunfire, of metal debris being lifted and thrown to the side. In the distance, a rapid WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP sounded from the sky, but still too faint for either Ryan or Mae to notice above the cries for help.
"Who are they?" Mae asked, motioning toward the boy she'd seen earlier. Ryan looked in that direction and saw John struggling to lift what looked like a mangled piece of car roof off his brother Todd.
“John! Todd!” Ryan yelled, shaken that he'd momentarily forgotten about his friends. He stood up, pulling Mae to her feet with him, and looked around wildly for the others. Nearby, gunmen were struggling from the shattered windshield of an overturned Land Rover, their guns forgotten, at least for the moment. Farther away, Brooke was helping Patrick to his feet. He grunted as he straightened, and stood for less than a second before his leg buckled and he fell back to the ground.
“Go help them,” Mae said. “I’ll be okay.”
She sat back down and Ryan rushed to John's side, helping him lift the large piece of metal from off of Todd's body. They tossed it aside and John knelt beside Todd and cradled his head.
Even from where she sat, Mae could see that the boy lying on the ground was probably dead, and it was her fault. Just like it was her fault that her mom and dad were dead, and all those people in that building. Accidents, yes, but still her fault.
The boy was crying, and Ryan knelt beside him, his arm around his shoulders, comforting him. Mae watched this, wondering how she had met Ryan, and why? The only energy she'd sent out to the universe, it seemed, was negative. How could such a positive force for good have randomly come into her life? They met on an airplane while she was running for her life, but had she sat in any other seat besides the one next to Ryan, all of this would be different. She had no idea what would have happened, but one thing was for sure: the boy who was lying in the frozen dirt would still be alive. There would have been no rescue mission, no reason for any of them to be in these barren and dead fields.
Mae watched Ryan, saw the gentle determination in his eyes—a look that she recognized from the many hours she'd spent with him—and realized that she loved him. Despite the danger it posed for him, the near certainty that her love for him would be the catalyst for his death, she couldn't deny the way her heart warmed to be near him. He had come for her. Ryan had come to save her.
"Mae?" A different voice came from behind her, and one that she recognized immediately. She turned, unable to believe what she heard, and saw Adam stumbling across the asphalt toward her.
"Adam?"
"Mae," he said and broke into a run. She stood and took him in an embrace. He kissed her cheek, his lips glancing across her face to her lips, and she pulled away. Adam looked at her, his expression hurt.
"How did you get here?"
"I came to save you," he said, his smile confused. "With Ryan."
Several seconds passed, the wind picking up from the north and gusting over the fields of snow and ice. She laughed and hugged him tightly, savoring the warmth of his body.
"I thought you were... I thought they killed... hurt you," she whispered.
"No." He kissed her forehead. "I'm here now, and we're okay. We're going to be okay."
"You came with Ryan?"
"Yeah."
They stood in the center of the road, silent for almost a minute. A thousand thoughts and memories flashed in her mind, and that same confusion she'd felt before rose to the surface of her emotions. She loved Ryan now, but she'd always loved Adam. Even in the darkest times, when trapped in the tank or sitting alone in a white room, waiting for endless experiments to end, memories of Adam had always been there. She had lived for the possibility of seeing him again, of being in his arms again. Mae nestled into his chest and he felt warm and familiar. He smelled how she remembered, and with his smell, a flood of memories returned. She had history with Adam that simply didn't exist with Ryan.
"Why aren't you saying anything," he asked, pulling back from her to examine her face.
"I was just thinking."
"About what?"
"When we were younger." She smiled at him, melting at the warmth and love in his eyes. The wind was howling now, making it difficult to hear. Adam leaned close, his lips less than an inch from her ear. His breath was warm on her skin.
"Do you remember the first time we kissed?" he asked. "On that mountain?"
"I think about it all the time," she whispered back, but wasn't sure that he heard.
"I think about that day, looking out over the mountains. I remember being so nervous that you would laugh at me," he muttered, his hand moving from the small of her back to her shoulders, pulling her body close. He laughed now, remembering. "Do you remember we had to kiss very quickly, so the rest of the kids wouldn't see? That was magic for me, that first kiss with you."
"Adam..." Mae nuzzl
ed against his neck, savoring the feel of him so close.
"We used to talk about going to France, to Mont-Ventoux to see the lavender fields."
"I remember," Mae said, laughing through the tears over empty dreams and lost childhoods.
Adam traced the line of her neck with his lips, kissed her. The arm around her back suddenly tightened, and with his other hand, he jabbed a syringe into the side of her neck, emptying the cold fluid into her bloodstream.
"Adam?" she said, but was already fading.
"Ce que l'amour est cet amour?" he said, his eyes and smile now lifeless and cold. It was a phrase they’d learned together, dreaming of going to France one day.
He pulled the needle from her neck and examined it as she dropped to the ground with the wide, haunted eyes of an animal that has been brought to bay.
"What love is this, indeed?" he said, nudging her away from him with his foot. "I was supposed to use this on you the night we went to his house, before it all went to hell in a handbasket. I'm sure they were pissed about it then, so they shot me, left me for dead. But this will fix it all, you'll see, because my boss-is-a-coming."
He motioned toward the eastern horizon, at the approaching helicopter. That was the sound she'd heard earlier but hadn't noticed. The dim light of the morning fading quickly.
"Adam, why—" she choked on the words. Her lungs constricted and her heartbeat slowed.
"You stupid, naive little girl," he said. "Why does anyone do anything?"
"But, I loved you," she managed to say.
"I've been watching you since you came home, but not once did you try and come to me. You knew where I was, but instead, you stayed with him. So don't talk to me about love. Such a fatuous little thing, love."
"I didn't want to hurt you."
"No, you did exactly what they said you would do," he sneered. "You know how long they've been paying me to bide my time in that dump of a town? They said you'd come home one day, and when you did, I was to bring them to you. I might have backed out of that arrangement, if you'd come to me first. But no, you aren't the girl I knew. You're just a freak who can do parlor tricks."
The helicopter was almost upon them when it started firing its gun, a M230 chain gun that thundered. It swooped toward Mae's rescuers, firing 30 mm rounds. Dirt and ice exploded from the ground. The noise was deafening.
"No!" Mae yelled. She focused on the helicopter and tried to trigger that place in her mind where her abilities rested. She concentrated hard and felt the warm hair swirling around her, smelled static in the air, but it slipped away. She closed her eyes, concentrating on recalling the power so she could push. It was Morales, she knew. Always, they were hunting her, and Adam was helping them. Whatever he'd given her made it feel as though her mind was swimming. She felt dizzy and faint, as if everything was under water.
The gun fired its weapon all around her, cutting down everyone in its path, the sound cracking the air and world asunder. A missile launched, rocketing toward its target and shaking the ground with its explosion. She felt the heat of fire on her face, felt the flames scorch her skin. She knew the helicopter had to be the backup plan, the fail safe to her escape, and it was annihilating everything that stood in its way.
Through the blurriness of her mind, she focused, but the thought persisted: Adam was helping them, all along, Adam was helping them.
If you don't do something now—
i can do things
—Ryan and all these people who came to save her would be dead.
Ryan...
She opened her eyes and saw Ryan running toward her. Adam looked on and smiled, enjoying the spectacle.
No, she thought, Ryan stay away. They'll kill you, stay away stay away.
Mae's world darkened, threatening to blink out. Her eyes floated closed, so heavy, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
They were going to kill Ryan.
No, she thought, summoning every bit of mental strength she could muster. With a single push, she forced her ability. She opened her eyes and Ryan was almost to her, but once he got there, he would be dead.
She pushed with her mind, flexed with every ounce of power, and shoved Ryan back. As if an invisible hand had taken him and thrown him backwards, he shot backwards through the air, away from her. Away from the helicopter and the guns. Away from Adam. The hunters.
She fell back to the asphalt with that final push, her eyes closing involuntarily.
Seconds, or perhaps years, later, she opened her eyes and was still on that road. Adam was standing next to her, as if guarding her.
He's using me, she realized, as a bargaining chip.
why does anyone do anything, his words came back to her mind.
The helicopter landed, its rotors spinning, sweeping the snow into swirling devils. Mae drunkenly raised her head and saw Morales climb from the helicopter. He flashed her a wicked smile, and she wanted to scream.
"You've been an invaluable asset," Morales said to Adam. "Thank you."
"I want the money, here and now, before you take her."
"Adam, Adam, my boy." Morales removed his Desert Eagle from a holster at the small of his back and pointed it at Adam. He was casual, just another day of work in the office.
"No—" Adam started, but Morales pulled the trigger.
And she was being carried to the helicopter.
"Mae flowers, April showers," Morales said with a cheerful voice. "Boy, is it good to see you again."
Chapter Forty-Seven
The sensation of flying was the last thing Ryan remembered, the way the air whistled through his hair and around his limbs as he tore through the air. Ryan struck the ground hard, sliding across the asphalt, rolling limply, his limbs twisting and turning beneath his body. Consciousness winked out when his head struck the road with a THUNK that reverberated in his teeth. Although his body felt pain during the brief ordeal, it was a distant pain, as if the sensors transmitting the pain from his body to his brain were operating in slow motion. Before the pain even registered, his conscious mind was turned off.
Everything went dark and stayed dark for some time. Finally, Mae appeared in the darkness, standing by herself, and then he was approaching her, taking her in his arms and dancing a slow, circling dance.
Something in his mind told him that dancing was impossible, because he was lying down and it was so very cold. He turned his head and saw that Mae was lying next him, their faces close and their fingers intertwined. Everything was white, and he saw that it was snowing. They were lying in snow, soft and fluffy, but not cold. The flakes fell all around them, drifted onto their skin and faces, but it wasn’t cold. The snow was pure and white, comforting even.
“They will hunt you,” she whispered, and her eyes twinkled. Something was about to happen, and she was almost giddy with excitement. In the back of his mind, he knew this wasn’t real.
“They will never stop hunting you.”
“I love you,” he replied, and then she was ripped away from him with such ferocity he couldn’t hang on. He tried, his hands gripping hers tightly, but she was pulled away.
“Ryan!” Her face was twisted with fear and panic, but he couldn’t hang onto her.
She was torn from his grasp, slipping away into the white flurries of snowflakes. He gasped, opening his eyes and staring at the cold grey sky above, the snow from his dream falling onto him now, but blanketing him with freezing cold. Agony coursed through and over his body, so intense that he felt as though he could not hang on to conscious thought. His mind threatened to slip back into that peaceful darkness, to recall the memories of Mae and happier times, but he knew that to give in to that comfort would be the last decision he made. He kept his eyes open and staring at the dark sky, counting the falling snowflakes until he could catch his breath. He moved his arm to his face and felt the blood freezing to his skin.
A strong gust of wind blew the falling snow sideways. Ryan watched the horizontal streaks for several seconds, then lifted his head. He was ly
ing on the side of the road among a tangle of dried weeds. Along the western horizon, he saw smoke rising from the destroyed vehicles and the missiles fired by the helicopter, but he was too far away to make out any specific shapes. If the helicopter was still where it had landed before, he couldn't see it.
Ryan turned his head in the other direction, toward the eastern horizon. The sun was a rising orb, a faint peach-colored light cutting through the grey skies. On the road, he saw an approaching car. The sunlight glittered off the red and blue lights atop the car and Ryan laid his head back on the ground, resolved to his fate. If he could roll over and get to his feet, he could try and run. But with nothing but empty fields for as far as he could see, the chances of getting far enough away to avoid being shot easily were slim to none. He would run, and they would shoot him like a fleeing animal.
No. Ryan refused to be shot in the back as he ran. Plus, he needed a car. Mae was gone, torn from his grasp once more, but he wouldn't stop. The fear in her eyes was real, and there was more than just fear—something like raw desperation and hopelessness. Ryan had no idea who these people were who had taken Mae, but they couldn't win. He thought of finding Mae floating in that tank of clear liquid and shuddered. At the same time, he saw what she'd done to the doctor, and if keeping her in the tank prevented her from doing whatever she had done, then maybe... No. He loved Mae, and he knew her. She was kind and gentle, quick to laugh and smile.
A killer, his mind insisted. Dangerous.
No matter what, he would do everything he could to follow her, and rescue her if she needed or wanted rescuing.
He rolled over onto his stomach and slowly pushed himself to his hands and knees. His mind swam dizzily, and his mouth filled with blood. He spat on the snow, a bright red spot, like the final punctuation point to his story. Breathing heavily, he pushed up to a kneeling position and stood up, absently glad that no bones were broken and he could stand. Joints in his shoulders popped as he stretched, and he walked slowly to the center of the road, before turning toward the rising sun and the approaching police cruiser.
The Snow Swept Trilogy Page 65
