It slowed to a stop a few meters from where he stood, and the car door swung open. Sam stepped out, his eyebrows cocked and confusion splayed out on his face.
"So, your plan was to fight a moving car?" Sam asked. "Or stop it with your pure force of will? Dude, you can't just stand in the middle of the road like this. What if I had been one of them?"
Ryan laughed, relieved.
"I'm serious," Sam said. "What the heck happened to you, and why are you standing there like that?"
"I needed the car to go after her?"
"You didn't get her?" Sam asked, exasperated. "We went off the road just a few miles back, what have you been doing?"
Ryan motioned to the smoking wreckage behind him.
"What happened?" Sam asked. "Never mind, I don't even know if I want to know. Just get in the car. It's lucky we found you here."
Sam opened the back door and Ryan made his way slowly toward the back seat.
"Dude, we haven't got all day, she's moving fast."
"What do you mean?" Ryan asked. He stumbled and the world wavered, the dizziness almost overtaking him.
"Do you have your phone?"
Ryan felt his pockets, which were empty. He shook his head.
"We saw the helicopter, so we're assuming she was in that. We thought you might have been too, but seeing as how you're here in the middle of the road, picking fights with moving cars, that theory is a bust. Your phone must have been passed to her, because we’re tracking it on the Lit Dragons app."
"It was in my coat—" Ryan said, thinking about how cold her skin had been when he'd wrapped it around her shoulders.
"Right," Sam said, and then waved impatiently. "Dude, we've got to get this show on the road. We’ve got a lot of road to burn.”
Ryan climbed into the car, feeling dizzy and lightheaded, nodding to Dani, who had a bit of dried blood on her forehead. She smiled as she handed him a handful of baby wipes.
"For your face."
"What are these?" Ryan began to rub away the streaks of blood on his face, cleaning the area around his eyes first.
"Baby wipes," Dani said. "I'm telling you, these things are one of the best kept secrets in the world."
Sam got into the car and slammed the door behind him. It didn't close on the first try, but instead bounced back away from the car.
"Stupid cop car," he muttered. He tried to shut it again, this time harder, and though it latched, the top piece of the door frame still bowed outward. Cold air funneled through the opening as Sam drove, the whistling from that opening the only sound for nearly a minute.
"What happened to you guys?" Sam asked, finally.
"The helicopter..." Ryan said, "came out of nowhere."
Ryan's vision wavered, pulsing in and out as waves of dizziness crashed against him. He touched the back of his head and felt the raised bruising and tenderness. Something's got to be wrong, he decided after they hit a bump in the road and his consciousness flickered again. Concussion maybe.
"Before that? What happened?"
Ryan didn't hear, or if he did, Sam's questions didn't register. Just going to lay down for a minute, he thought. Shut my eyes.
"Ryan?" Sam glanced over his shoulder and Dani leaned back to shake his shoulder.
"Are you okay?" Dani asked, and Ryan didn't respond. She turned back to Sam. "I think he's unconscious."
Ryan heard them talking, but their voices sounded far away, almost as if he were eavesdropping on their conversation. Just a little rest, he thought, the bruise on his head throbbing.
"Ryan, stay with us, buddy. Dani, you've got to keep him awake." Sam's voice was further away, the distance between them a growing chasm of darkness. Just rest for a minute, and then he would be okay. They knew where Mae was being taken, so he would just ride along, and that would be just fine.
But no. There was something else they had to know before he rested. He swam up through the pulsing unconsciousness, away from the comforting darkness of sleep and the warm thoughts of Mae, toward the painful light.
"Adam betrayed..." he blurted, and then he was gone.
Chapter Forty-Eight
"Dr. Whaler tells me that you've developed quite the talent," Morales said. "Of course, he was always a stupid stupid man, despite being so knowledgeable. Whatever happened to the good doctor? I didn't see him when we picked you up."
Mae looked away from Morales, refusing to maintain contact with him. She'd woken a few seconds before, like a light switch being turned on, and found herself sitting in a wheelchair, her arms and legs duct taped to the metal frame. They were riding in the rear of a windowless van, after, she assumed, first reaching some destination in the helicopter.
It was cold and the air was dry, but she had no idea where they were going.
Doesn't matter, she thought and cleared her mind. She went through the mental steps necessary to open her mind to her surroundings, and almost immediately she felt the surge of swirling air and the smell of static.
Morales must have noticed it too, because he started to laugh.
"I'm guessing Dr. Whaler did not die of natural causes, but joined your ever lengthening list of victims." He touched his nose with his index finger, and his face was suddenly very serious.
"I know what you're doing, little Ms. Flowers-April-Showers, and while I don't much care if you do or don't, I should warn you that we're traveling through busy streets. If you take me out—this van—you'll take a bunch of innocents with you. Kind of like the bunch of men, women and children you took out when you threw that tantrum in Miami."
He made a tsk-tsk sound and shook his head. The smell of static and the gust of air waned almost instantly. Mae turned to Morales, and their eyes connected. They stared at each other, unblinking, for several seconds.
"I killed Dr. Whaler," Mae said. "And before this is over, I'm going to kill you too."
"Whoa, slow down there, bessy." Morales couldn't hide his grin. "Now, I know you're upset, but what happened to that innocent girl I last met at the airport? That girl who was so good that she left me alive to fight another day?"
Morales leaned forward and tapped her forehead.
"Is she in there still? Beneath this hard, and if I can say it, quite unbecoming exterior? You should have killed me then, Ms. April Showers, if you're the killing type, and we could have skipped all the unpleasantness that has passed between us."
"You're the killer," Mae spat back. "You shot my mom."
"No, no, no," Morales said, leaning forward and fidgeting as if excited to have this conversation. "You see, that's where you're wrong. Everyone I... terminate, deserves to be terminated. Your mother stole you from us, and kept you from us, and she would have done it again and again, and we would have had more and more unfortunate incidents like in Miami. Do you know how many people died in that building, Ms. Mae Flowers? Huh? 456 people. 456 innocent people. Well, most of them were innocent, anyway. You did that. Not me, not the big bad wolf. You."
"Well, then maybe I don't deserve to live either," Mae said. She felt tears welling in her eyes, but she refused to cry. She had never asked for any of this. All she wanted was a normal life, like the one she'd been taken from. Tire swing in her back yard, the smell of honeysuckle and lilac on the summer breeze, her mom and dad alive. Growing up and going to school. A boyfriend, friends, dates and movies. But it wasn't ever going to happen, because no matter how many times she escaped, they would keep hunting her. Because she could do things. And people she loved would help them, like Adam, because why does anyone do anything?
Never before in her life had she felt more alone and helpless. She didn't want to be a killer. She couldn't live with herself, knowing that she had killed on purpose.
The shadow that had filled her soul must have been evident on her face, because Morales suddenly looked mock-concerned. He leaned forward again, and with the tip of his fingers, wiped a streaming tear from her cheek.
"Oh, don't get any funny ideas," Morales said. "I think you'll find
that you have a lot to live for. In fact, I've got a surprise for you. Something that I'm sure will change your mind about all this."
Morales looked forward through the windshield as the van slowed to a stop.
"And you know what?" he asked, giddy with an insane excitement. "We have arrived."
Morales opened the back door to the van and jumped out. He motioned for assistance, and two soldiers appeared from around the side of the van, shouldering their weapons. They unlatched the locks keeping Mae's wheelchair in place, lifted her out of the van, and set her on the ground.
They were in a parking garage that looked as though it had been converted into a military command center. Cables and wires ran along the ground, leading to clusters of computers and banks of monitors. Fluorescent floor lamps lit the area with bright light, and people milled about, conducting their business, whatever it was. The air was freezing, despite large portable heating vents pumping warm air into the garage.
She only had a few seconds to take it all in before Morales had turned her chair around and was pushing her away from the command center and down a darkened corridor. They came to a set of elevators, the doors to one elevator already open and waiting. Morales pushed her inside and pressed the button for the main lobby. The doors closed and the elevator began to rise. Faint music played in the background, and Morales was quiet for several seconds before putting his hand on her shoulder, massaging her gently. She wanted to scream and vomit, to get his hands off her.
"For what it's worth," Morales said, his voice low and concerned, "I never wanted to use you for this. If I'd had my way, you would have been killed as soon as we found you after Miami. Once the extent of your abilities was put on full display, you were a liability. I would have been merciful. And all this business with waiting for you to fall in love with that Ryan character. Needlessly playing with your emotions."
"Please shut up," she whispered, thinking about Ryan. And then Adam. How could she have been so stupid, to get them involved. She would have saved at least one of them from certain death, and herself from betrayal. But she'd loved them both, in different ways, yes, but she'd loved them. And Ryan, well, he'd loved her back. He loved her in the same way she loved him.
"You know he's coming here?" Morales wondered, as if there was any way that she could have known. He laughed in near awe. "Keeps on coming, that boy. You must have done a number on him, to keep him after you like this. Oh, and you really didn't need to push him like you did. We were going to bring him along for the ride, not kill him. No, I wouldn't have killed him."
"You killed Adam."
"Yes, well, he was no longer useful. He was used up. You see, it wasn't hard to see that you truly loved Ryan, but held onto Adam for nostalgic reasons, which is what we expected. So he was valuable, for a time. Kept an eye on you, passed along Ryan's plans to rescue you. We were ready for them, and it was all thanks to Mr. Adam.”
The elevators opened onto an empty hotel lobby. The lights were turned off, but the daylight filtered through large windows that ran floor-to-ceiling along the front entrance. Snow was piled high against the window and was still falling from the sky. Morales wheeled her to the window and pointed to the resort across the street.
The contrast between what she saw there and the hotel lobby where she was currently sitting was shocking. Lines of cars stretched out along the road leading to the round-about entrance, some parked, others waiting for a valet. People dressed in heavy winter clothing bustled about, and armed security guards stood at the doors and along the sidewalk. The interior was filled with people, reminding Mae of a busy train station. Those inside were dressed with a certain elegance that she was unfamiliar with. Long, flowing gowns, jewelry that glimmered, even from that distance, expertly tailored tuxedos and black ties. The room was full of people who looked important, not only to themselves, but to those around them.
"Do you know what is happening there?" Morales knelt behind her and rested his chin on her shoulder, their cheeks almost touching.
"No," Mae said after several seconds.
"This is the first World Economic Summit of its kind. World leaders are gathering to solve the world's financial crisis. The most powerful people in the world are here to brainstorm ways to raise the economic status and potential of everyone, to give opportunities to the poor and helpless, to allow those who want it, to thrive. Very ambitious, don't you think. All that power, gathered in one place."
"What's going to happen to them?" Mae's voice was barely above a whisper.
"You are, my dear." Morales stood up and pulled her hair behind her ears. She cringed.
"No, I won't."
"Eh," Morales shrugged, then started pushing her chair back to the elevators. "You don't have much of a choice in the matter."
Inside the elevator, he pressed the button for the top floor, the penthouse suites, and they rode in silence to the top. Mae studied her skewed reflection in the chrome-colored doors, noticing how gaunt her eyes seemed, how tired she looked. She wanted this to be over. No amount of wishing for a better life, a normal life, was worth this. She closed her eyes against her reflection and imagined a blank sheet of paper. She drew a line down the middle and the world opened. Paper and ink, and she stayed in that place until the elevator doors slid open and she was being pushed down a lushly-carpeted hallway.
Morales stopped at one of the two doors in the hallway and rapped lightly on the dark wood. The sound was hollow and foreboding, the sound of an executioner's boots on the gallows. The door opened and she was pushed into a well-lit suite. A soldier stood at attention, guarding the door.
"Harrison?" Morales asked.
"In the main room, sir," the soldier said, motioning to his left. Morales pushed Mae through open French doors and stopped. Morales exhaled loudly, so excited he could barely contain himself.
"Harrison."
At the far end stood a man, peering at the sky from the wall of glass. He turned at the sound of his name, taking a few steps forward before stopping to study Mae. His smile was warm and full of love. The tears that were welling in her eyes suddenly flowed, streaming down her cheeks.
"Hello, Mae." Harrison knelt in front of her, and she was crying now, unable to contain herself. He touched her face and wiped away the tears, like he'd done so many times before. When she could speak, it was only one word.
"Dad?"
Chapter Forty-Nine
Music played softly, accompanied by bursts of static and seconds of silence caused by the poor radio reception. Ryan opened his eyes, waking up at once, and stared out the back window of the police cruiser. The fuzziness that had been in his mind before he'd fallen asleep was gone, replaced now by well-rested clarity. He stared at the darkening sky and the snow covered cliffs on either side of the winding road. For a brief moment, he considered how crazy it was to have these mountains just spring up from the plains. He couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours, yet the flat farmlands and prairies were long gone, replaced by these behemoths.
Ryan sat up and leaned between the two front seats.
"Good morning, sunshine!" Sam was in the passenger seat and Dani was driving. He was fiddling with the radio, trying to find a station with consistent reception.
"Hey," Ryan said, rubbing at his eyes. "Where are we?"
"We've been in Colorado for awhile now," Dani said, "but the mountains just started an hour ago maybe."
Ryan stared out the window at the looming Rockies. They passed a section of cliff that had lines running down it every few feet, from where sticks of dynamite had been dropped down holes to clear the path for the road. The wall was too perfect, and it clashed with the immense natural beauty of the surrounding vistas.
"I saw your light wink out on the Lit Dragons app, when you crashed."
Dani held up the phone, displaying a shattered screen.
"It hit the windshield when we crashed," she said. "Guess it shut off."
"Were you guys okay?"
"Yeah, but can't say
the same for the original drivers of this beast, or the car we were driving. Luckily, this old hoss is a tank." Sam smacked the dashboard of the police cruiser with the palm of his hand.
"How about Mae?"
Sam took the phone from Dani and opened the app with the dragon icon. Through the cracks, Ryan could see a blinking dot. The dot looked as though it was located in a medium-sized city, stationary.
"Looks like she's arrived at whatever her final destination was. She's been there for a couple of hours now."
"Okay." Ryan considered this, thinking about their next steps. Mae would be heavily guarded, and they no longer had the vehicles to use as weapons, nor anyone else besides the three of them to help. He took a deep breath, thinking about the players who'd lost their lives trying to rescue Mae.
"Did you..." he started, but hesitated. The players had known the risks going into this mess, just like he did. They drove for the adrenaline, for those exact risks that had taken their lives, but he still felt a degree of responsibility.
"Did you see if there were any survivors? Back on the road?"
Dani stared ahead, her eyes wet.
"Yeah." Sam looked away. His voice was low. "There weren't any. Looks like Todd may have died when the car crashed, but the others were shot. Most of the military guys were shot too. They killed their own men, just shot them."
"Did you call it in?"
"I tried, but couldn't," Sam said. "The operator was not responding."
The operator was a reference to switchboard operators on early telephone landlines. In the games, the operator was Heather, and she would arrange medical and emergency personnel, if needed, once the games had concluded.
"I haven't been able to get hold of her either, not since passing into Nebraska yesterday afternoon," Ryan said. He reached into his pocket to grab his phone, wanting to call her and see if she was okay, but he remembered that his phone was in the jacket he'd given to Mae.
The Snow Swept Trilogy Page 66
