by Jaime Rush
Eric’s eyes hardened. “Then we’ll get him while we’re there.”
Petra said, “Eric, what happened to laying low for a while? That was a really, really good plan.”
He ground a fist into the palm of his other hand. “I need to kick some ass. These people have to go.”
“So you’re in,” Lucas said. He took in Petra and Amy. “Not you two.”
Petra looked relieved, but Amy shot to her feet. “No way. We are a team. We’ve proven that we’re stronger when we work together.”
Lucas said, “Amy, I saw you fall.”
“So I fell. Big deal.”
His voice got low. “It was more than a fall. You were shot.”
She sank back into her seat. “You didn’t tell me that part.”
“I was waiting for the right time.”
“Then we change it,” she said. “You saw your death, but you didn’t die.”
Eric smiled in that know-it-all way. “See, told you she was a pain in the ass.”
Lucas gave her a wry smile. “I see that.”
“We are a team,” Amy said again. “Stronger together. I’m not going to play the little woman back here all worried while the menfolk are off to war. I’m in.” She looked at Petra. “Are you?”
She swallowed hard. “Okay. The good news is, they don’t think we’ll be back.”
Lucas leaned forward. “Eric, our mission tomorrow is to get Rand. I know you want to take the enemy by storm, and believe me, I want to annihilate them as much as you do. But we need to focus on one thing at a time. Rand is at the rear of the east wing, where I was. It’s an easy in and out. To get the others, we have to go farther in. It’s too dangerous. We need to find more of us. Amy’s right. We’re a team, and if we’re a bigger team, we’ve got a better chance.
“After Rand,” he continued, “what we need is information. Why are our psychic abilities so strong? Did our parents die because of the original program? What are we up against? We need to take one of them, and Robbins is our best bet. I could tell he was uncomfortable with what the Devil was doing to me.”
Amy said, “We know what he looks like.” She glanced at Eric. “We saw him when we remote-viewed you.”
“Good,” Lucas replied. “If we see him in the east wing, we take him. But we don’t hurt him.” He leveled his gaze at Eric.
Amy said, “Cyrus told me that the two men in charge of the program were extremely dangerous. It sounds like Robbins is the Devil’s right-hand man.”
“Maybe he was only pretending to be your ally,” Eric said. “So you’d cooperate.”
Lucas shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not saying we’ll be his buddy. But we don’t take him out. We give him the chance to tell us what he knows. If he doesn’t, we return him—alive.”
Eric’s eyes narrowed. “Since when are you the boss? I was the one who took charge and got you out of that place. Now that you’re out, you want to take over.”
“I’m not trying to be the boss, Eric, but you have a tendency to go off half-cocked. We can’t afford to do that. We’re not playing a game over at Radical Paintball.”
Eric pushed away from the table and went into the kitchen. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and took several swigs before returning.
Petra turned to Lucas. “I heard the woman talking to someone named Peterson.”
Lucas nodded. “He was a combination strongarm and nurse.”
“He was supposed to give you a shot the night you were rescued. Darkwell implied that it would…kill you.”
Lucas looked at the inside crook of his elbow where a faint red mark remained. “They gave me three injections of something called the Booster. It was supposed to boost my abilities.”
Amy said, “That’s what Cyrus called the nutritional cocktail the people in the original program got.”
Petra said, “He didn’t give you that last shot. The woman called him right after you got busted out. He asked her to cover for him and tell Darkwell you’d gotten it. He was worried.”
“Thank God.” Lucas’s face looked haunted. “Each one made it worse.”
“Made what worse?” Petra asked.
“I get this storm of images now that kicks me in the ass.”
Petra’s face creased in worry. “Lucas, if you go in…if they get you again, they’ll give you that shot. And you’ll die.”
His expression remained passive. “Then I won’t get caught.” Lucas turned to Amy. “Did Cyrus tell you what was in it?”
“He didn’t know. He said a scientist created it, and the ingredients were top secret.”
“This is what our mothers were involved in.” Lucas looked at Amy, Eric, and Petra. “And your dad, Amy. The Devil—Darkwell—mentioned my mom, said she was talented, a dreamweaver, but wouldn’t say much more. That’s how I can get into other people’s dreams.”
“Other people’s dreams?” Eric asked. “Not just Amy’s?”
“I was able to get into Rand’s dreams, too. Last night I told him we were coming.”
Eric said, “I went to my…my father’s house. Before the bastard turned me into the police.”
“Turned you in?” Lucas said. “Dad?”
“Yeah. Because I’m wanted for arson. Anyway, I found a letter from the president of the Society for Psychic Phenomena, sending condolences for our mother’s death. He was suspicious of the program she was involved in.”
“What did your father say?” Amy asked.
Eric and Petra exchanged a meaningful look and he subtly shook his head. “He didn’t say jack. We figure the trust funds we have are blood money, paid by the government to shut him up. Or at least stuff his curiosity. He didn’t deny it.”
“I got some money, too,” Amy said. “Cyrus told me it was an insurance policy, one that didn’t exclude suicide as a payoff.” She cleared her throat. “There’s something else Cyrus told me. Something I didn’t mention.” She looked down at her hands on the table for a moment before meeting Lucas’s gaze. “You and Eric are Ultra Offsprings.”
“Say again?” Lucas said.
“You were born of affairs between two of the subjects in the program. I told you about the sexual side effects. Well, some of the subjects got involved with each other, and their offspring are even more enhanced, more powerful.”
Just as she suspected, Eric’s face lit with pride. “Cool.”
“There’s something else, before you get too cocky. It also makes you more susceptible to the other side effect…mental instability. Cyrus said one of the subjects went on a rampage and killed three people.”
A shadow passed over Lucas’s face. “You mean we could go crazy.”
Eric leaned across the table, aiming a hard look at Amy. “Why didn’t you tell us this after you talked to Cyrus?”
“Remember why you didn’t tell Petra that her extraordinary hearing was probably bioenergetic? Ditto. I didn’t want you to get full of yourself.”
Lucas said, “Wait a minute. Eric, if you’re born of an affair between two program members—”
“My father isn’t my father,” he finished.
Petra said, “Yeah, we know that.”
A breaking news announcement caught their attention. With Eric wanted by the police, they left the television on and kept one ear open for any more broadcasts.
A woman was saying, “…a follow-up on the mysterious death of Major General Napoleon Darkwell, a highly respected and celebrated war hero who was found dead in his bed early Saturday morning. A preliminary autopsy indicates heart failure, and an investigation is under way. We will bring you updates as we learn them…”
Amy said, “Darkwell! Is that the man who’s in charge?”
Lucas stared at the television. “No, but I’ll bet it’s his brother,” he said in a low voice.
Eric went to the desk and returned with a piece of paper. “This is the sketch we made of the facility’s layout. We’ll make a plan.”
Petra said, “There’s still a hole in the fence where Amy
drove through. I overheard that it’s supposed to get fixed tomorrow morning by the Calistoga Fence Company. Their truck is in the shop but will be repaired by then.”
Lucas pulled his dark gaze from the television. “First thing tomorrow we call the fencing company and tell them to never mind, we got it fixed.”
“Robbins was the one who called, so pretend you’re him,” Petra said.
Eric’s face lit with the momentum of a good idea. “And we steal the truck from the repair shop and show up to fix the fence.”
Petra said, “They change guards at nine in the morning, so we’ll have to be out of there before then. Otherwise there will be twice as many armed men during the overlap.”
Eric held up a finger and then disappeared into the gun storage room. A few minutes later he leaped out, his arms extended. “Boo!”
They jumped at the sight of him in a gas mask that made him look like a sci-fi movie bug creature. He lifted the mask and held up a silver canister that was about six inches high and four inches around. “We have several of these and this canister of tear gas.”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “I understand the gas masks, but why would the people who built the shelter have tear gas? That’s an offensive weapon, and everything down here should be defensive.”
Eric shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe one of them was paranoid like I am.” He slammed the canister on the table. “We go in with this and set it off in the hallway where Rand is. Anyone who comes down the hall will choke before he gets off a shot.” He looked at them for their reaction. “Well?”
Amy almost wanted to laugh at his childlike enthusiasm. “It might just work.” She liked the idea of the bad guys incapacitated while their guys were in the building, the most vulnerable place for them.
After more strategy, Eric said, “I think we’ve got it covered.”
Amy saw Lucas’s pale face and the smudges beneath his eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this tomorrow? You just got out of there, and you haven’t really recovered from that.”
“The fence gives us the perfect opportunity, but it’s a limited one. It’ll be an easy rescue, in and out, minimal violence, and you and Petra stay in the car ready to rock and roll.”
Once more, it was the only way he’d let them participate.
Petra covered her face and groaned. “Here we go again.”
CHAPTER 26
Amy woke sometime later sensing that Lucas was no longer in bed. It was only two in the morning, too early to start their mission. With visions of him collapsing under the storm of images, she put on his shirt and tiptoed out into the hallway. Lucas’s and Eric’s voices floated to her from the living room. She knew eavesdropping was wrong, but maybe Lucas was telling Eric what had happened to him. When they’d gone to bed, he vehemently opposed the light being off and insisted the radio be on. He was haunted by his sensory deprivation but wouldn’t talk about it. How could she help if she didn’t know what was going on in his head?
Lucas said, “I heard you killed Gladstone.”
Eric said, “I hope Darkwell didn’t punish you for it.”
“I didn’t know anything about it. Eric, you burned the guy.”
“Yeah, well, turns out he was going to kill me, just like you sketched. Amy got onto his computer’s hard drive. He kept a journal on the three of us. He didn’t like any of us, especially me.”
“With your charm, I can’t imagine.”
“Ha ha.”
After several moments of silence, Lucas said, “What Cyrus told Amy about us being Ultras. The mental thing—”
“It has nothing to do with that,” Eric said.
Amy pressed against the wall, her eyes closed.
“What about our stepmother? The house burning down?”
“I’m not going there.” She heard Eric stand and stiffened, ready to slink back to her room.
“Sit down,” Lucas said. “It’s time to stop running away from this discussion. We didn’t talk for years because you were too afraid to answer my questions.”
“Because whenever you ask, you look at me like I’m a murderer.”
After a moment of tense silence, Lucas asked, “Are you?”
“I was a teenager, for Pete’s sake.”
“So? You’d set a bunch of fires before you ever hit your teens. I know you did, Eric. I’ve seen your face when you watch flames. Darkwell said you did it psychically, which explains the lack of evidence.”
After a moment Eric said, “I’m surprised Amy didn’t tell you. It wigged her out big-time.”
“You did it in front of her?”
“She was about to get either caught or shot. It wasn’t like I was doing it for fun.”
No, but he had enjoyed it. She’d never forget the look on his face when he watched that man burn. She hadn’t told Lucas, though, because she wasn’t sure he was ready for that yet.
Lucas said, “You hated our stepmother.”
“So did you.”
“I didn’t burn her to death.” His voice was rigid, accusing.
Eric let out a huff of breath. “Yes, I did it, but not on purpose. Petra heard Ingrid talking about us, wheedling Dad—our so-called father—to send you into foster care and to send me and Petra off to some boarding school. She was a gold digger, taking advantage of a weak, lonely man, threatening to leave him. And he was caving. So I sat in school that day hating her, stewing, imagining the worst things happening to her, and…hell, you have to believe me. I didn’t know I was setting a fire. Normally I focus my attention on a specific place and I work hard at sending thoughts of fire to that spot. I didn’t do that with the house. I just sent hate. If I’d wanted to kill her, I wouldn’t have done it at the house. Hell, we lost about everything.” He paused. “I’m not a murderer, Lucas.”
Lucas hesitated. “Thanks for finally telling me the truth.”
“I’m not a murderer,” he repeated. “I only kill when I have to.”
After a moment, Lucas said, “I know.”
“Don’t tell Petra. I know she wonders, but I don’t want her to know for sure.”
“All right.”
Eric said, “There are things you don’t tell us either. Like connecting to Amy’s dreams.”
“That’s personal. It has nothing to do with murder.”
She heard someone push away from the table and walk toward the hall. She ducked into the bedroom, ready to jump into bed if it was Lucas. A few minutes later she caught the scent of paint. She got out of bed again and hovered at the doorway.
From a different direction Lucas said, “How did you find out about your father?”
“He told me, just before he called the police on me.”
“I’m sorry, man.” She heard the sincerity in his voice.
“It’s no big deal,” Eric said, but Amy could hear pain in his denial. “Do you ever wonder who your father is?”
“Not really.” A pause. “Sometimes.”
“I want to find out who my father is. What could he do? Maybe I inherited the remote viewing from him. Maybe I’ve got other abilities. I want to find out everything I can about BLUE EYES. Darkwell said you’d inherited your dreamweaver ability from your mother. My mom could probably set fires the way I can, which is why she burned to death. But why burn herself?”
“Cyrus said they got crazy. Maybe my mom’s car accident wasn’t an accident after all.”
“No, man, go with the accident. It’s easier to live with.”
“I know. Amy’s had a hard time with her father’s suicide. Your mom’s death was probably an accident, too.”
Eric’s voice revealed emotion when he said, “I hope so.” After a pause, he said, “Petra knows where the files may be kept at the asylum. Getting to them is going to be tricky, though.”
“Do you want to risk your life to find the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Even with your ability, you’re not invincible. We need to focus on rescuing Rand. Offspring come first, the truth, second. Don’t get c
razy.” After a minute of silence, Lucas said, “I saw Amy getting shot, and dammit, I can’t tell whether it’s going to happen today or not. Eric, you have to promise you’ll watch out for her. Keep her and Petra safe.”
“You make it sound like you won’t be around.”
“I’m just asking in case…something happens to me. What they put in me, I don’t know what it’s going to do.” After a pause, “And promise me something else: if I go…crazy, put me out of my misery. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“You’re thinking of that guy in the first program who went nuts and killed people. But that’s not going to happen to you.”
“Promise me, Eric.”
“All right, all right.”
She felt dread wash over her. No, that couldn’t happen.
“I’m going to sleep for another hour or so, if I can,” Eric said.
She closed the door and heard Eric return to his room. She knelt down at the cabinet and pulled out the sketch Lucas had drawn of himself dead. There wasn’t a lot of detail. He was lying down…on the ground, on a table? She wanted to believe this was from his captivity and that they’d circumvented fate.
Please don’t let it be anything to do with this mission. She knew he wouldn’t be dissuaded. Stubborn recognized stubborn, after all. She put away the sketch and walked out. Lucas sat in front of an easel, wearing nothing but jeans so ratty she caught glimpses of his skin through several holes. For a moment she saw intensity in his eyes as he painted, but then he saw her and stopped.
“What are you doing up?” he asked with a soft smile.
“Couldn’t sleep. Like you, I’m guessing.” She came up behind him and slid her arms over his shoulders. The waves in his hair were soft, not as tight now that it was freshly washed. He had just started a new canvas with abstract ribbons of cobalt blue. “Whatcha painting?”
“Anything. Nothing. I just needed to smell the paint, feel the brush gliding against the canvas.”
She leaned forward and pressed her cheek against his. “Don’t let me stop you. Can I watch?”
“Better yet…” He took her hand and led her around to sit in front of him. Then he put a brush in her hand. “We can make it a collaborative effort.”
