The Unseen Trilogy

by Stephanie Erickson

  The room spun as I took my first real steps in weeks. I collapsed a few feet from the door and crawled the rest of the way.

  Help. The word kept repeating over and over in my mind, a constant mantra that kept me moving.

  Clawing my way to the door handle, I fumbled clumsily with the lock. Of course the robot had locked it. Why wouldn’t she have? She wasn’t one of the Unseen. She was a danger that had lurked among them.

  Finally, the lock released and I tumbled out into the hall, dangling from the door handle. I scanned both directions wildly, not trusting what my eyes saw to be reality. Mitchell’s words echoed in my mind: They made it very difficult for me to differentiate between the world they’d created and reality. It left me angry sometimes. They’d destroyed the person I was.

  Had the Potestas destroyed the person I was? Then I remembered the things I’d done in my grief—the selfish way I’d pursued my own goals and aims. If they had annihilated my past self, was that such a bad thing?

  Shaking my head, I tried to focus, but fear suddenly crippled me. What if I were somehow still in Shields’ mind? Could this be one of the Potestas’ games?

  “Shields!” I cried out. “You coward! Talk to me!” As I crawled down the hall, my sweaty hand went out from under me and I smacked my face on the ground.

  When there was no sign of the voice—no laughter or snide comments—hysteria bubbled up inside me. “Is this your idea of some kind of joke?” I asked, scanning the empty hall. Where was everyone? Was this just another corridor in Shields’ mind? Was I still trapped inside him after all?

  “Is this just a new prison you’ve created? Well, bravo.” I rolled over onto my back, but I couldn’t raise my arms to clap like I intended.

  Mitchell’s face materialized within my line of site. It was stricken with suspicion, tempered with the tiniest flash of concern. I frowned at him. “You’re an asshole,” I said to the voice.

  “I’m not real fond of you right now either,” Mitchell said as he lifted me into his arms, and then everything went dark.

  When I woke up, there was a cool cloth on my head. Mitchell leaned against the far wall, while David sat on the edge of my bed.

  Mitchell noticed me stirring first, but he just stared at me, saying nothing. I managed to get David’s attention by bumping him with my leg. He was solid. Warm. Real. He turned toward me.

  Sitting up too quickly, I threw myself into his arms. He held me as the worst head rush of my life passed over me. “This is real,” I breathed into his chest.

  David held me out at arm’s length and searched my eyes. “Of course this is real. What do you mean?”

  I leaned back, but nothing was there to support me, and I ended up flouncing back onto the bed. “Where do I start?” I said in a small voice, managing to prop myself up on my elbows. It was all so confusing. Though I wanted to believe this was real—that I’d truly escaped—it was hard to trust that impulse.

  “Mitchell,” I whispered. He would be able to tell me if this was real.

  David narrowed his eyes. “Mitchell has not exactly been your best advocate lately. I’m surprised you want to talk to him.”

  Hope brought a sliver of a smile to my face as my eyes went to Mitchell. He continued to glare at me. “Is that so?”

  “He thinks you aren’t to be trusted, that we shouldn’t discuss sensitive matters in front of you. He even went so far as to suggest we expel you from our ranks.” The conflict played out on my father’s face plainly. I could tell he wasn’t willing to expel the daughter he lost twice. But I could also tell he didn’t fully trust me after whatever Mitchell had said to him—it was obvious from his tone of his voice and the way he’d pulled away from our embrace. It was hard to ignore the fact that he was not touching me in any way anymore.

  “He’s right. Or at least, he was.” Both men gaped at me. “Please, Mitchell.”

  He approached the bed cautiously. “What do you want?”

  “Mitchell, what makes a really good ice cream sundae?” I asked, not even trying to hide the desperation in my voice.

  He moved closer to me, his suspicion bordering on hostility. “Why should I tell you?”

  David interrupted. “You want to talk about ice cream?”

  “I could tell you if you asked me,” I begged, ignoring David. This moment had to be real. It just had to be.

  He hesitated, either debating his options or my sincerity. And those mere seconds felt like absolute torture. If I were still in Shields’ mind, he’d taken torture to a whole new level, practically erasing the lines between reality and the prison.

  After an eternity, Mitchell finally spoke up. “Fine, then. What makes a really good ice cream sundae, Mac?” he asked as he folded his arms over his chest, confident I wouldn’t answer.

  “Homemade caramel.”

  His arms dropped and his face lit up. His approach was slow and deliberate, but I saw a flicker of hope in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. I imagined the same emotion could be found in my own expression.

  “Mac?” he asked as he reached out for me.

  “Is this real?” I asked him, tears making it hard to see him, but I refused to blink them away. If I did, he might dissolve into the voice’s laughter.

  “It’s real.”

  And still the voice didn’t come, and neither did the projection screen. I searched wildly for it in the room, but I came up empty.

  “What are you looking for?” David asked.

  “The screen. The projection that showed me you.”

  “What?” David asked, but Mitchell got quiet, his face turning sad.

  “You were in there all along.” Mitchell said it like a statement, not a question.

  “Yes.” We sat in knowing silence for a few moments, but then David apparently couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Would either of you care to enlighten me on what the hell is going on here?”

  After propping a few pillows against the wall behind the bed, I managed to sit all the way up and get myself comfortable. I knew it was going to be a long explanation. Just before I began, a thought occurred to me.

  “Where is Owen?”

  Their expressions turned sad.

  “He’s in the hospital.”

  Panic and hope battled for space in my exhausted mind. He was alive, but not well enough to be with me. “How long was I out? I was hoping I’d free myself in time to go to campus and save him.”

  “Coda happened two days ago. You have been locked in your room since our last meeting.,” David said with confusion in his voice..

  “Just tell me what happened.”

  “We didn’t manage to put a stop to Coda. My contact at Homeland Security refused to cancel the event, or even move it to a more secure location, without more evidence. Their initial investigation of Professor Peterson turned up nothing—rightfully so, as it turns out—so they filed it as a false lead.” The scowl on his face did little to hide his frustration.

  I tried not to think about his words. Unsuccessful. How many lives had been lost?

  “As I understand it, the musicians were never told of the danger. The event went on as planned. Over a thousand people were killed.”

  Shock and horror washed over me, but then another thought registered. “Wait, only a thousand?” I asked. The Potestas had hoped for a much larger number of casualties.

  “It was still a lot of people.” I thought I heard a hint of frustration in David’s voice. “But Owen and a few other rogue members of our group were able to save most of the people who were there. I still don’t have all the details.”

  My heart filled with pride for the man I loved—and also broke for those he hadn’t managed to save.

  Looking to Mitchell, I asked, “A few others?”

  Mitchell nodded. “I was there. But I got out.”

  I nodded, knowing what that meant to him—that he’d gotten out while his best friend was hanging on to life by a thread. He wouldn’t see himself as a hero, only the on
e who’d escaped unscathed.

  “Unfortunately, ISIS is being blamed,” David continued. “They are denying involvement, but their word doesn’t go very far. This could lead to war, Mackenzie, and that may be exactly what the Potestas are hoping for. I’m not sure what their ultimate goal is yet.”

  The words the ultimate position of power played in my head, but before I could get them out, David went on.

  “The world is reeling, as you can imagine. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how devastated the music industry is by the loss. Many of the world’s top musicians were lost in the attack. There have been dozens of memorials over the last few days, with more to come, I’m sure.”

  I slumped at that information. Some of the world’s best musicians had lost their lives, and for what? Tears flowed silently down my cheeks, and I buried my face in my hands as David rested a hand on my leg.

  “Would you like to see Owen?”

  My head snapped up. There was nothing I wanted more in the whole world than to see him. Touch him. Kiss him.

  “Take me to him, now.”

  Mitchell helped me out of bed, and we walked over to the stairwell. But instead of going up, toward the garage, we went down.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To see Owen,” David said simply, as if the answer should be obvious.

  “But, isn’t he in the hospital?”

  “He’s in our hospital, on site.”

  I should’ve known. Of course we had our own hospital. Too many wounded in public hospitals would raise questions, not to mention it would leave our patients vulnerable and exposed.

  Many of the Unseen we passed stared at me with open distrust in their eyes.

  There are many partially burned bridges to repair, I see. The robot did well.

  David continued with his explanation as we walked.

  “Owen…” He trailed off, and I held on to Mitchell desperately, both because I wasn’t sure I could handle hearing about Owen’s injuries and because I needed help navigating the stairs. “Owen is lucky to be alive. Quite frankly, I have no idea how he managed it. We haven’t gotten his side of the story yet. He’s been unconscious since he was found.”

  “Found?” I asked. How had he not been reduced to ash by the chemical if he’d still been at Coda when it was released?

  “I have my own theories about what happened,” David explained. Mitchell looked down the staircase, listening but not commenting, as was his way.

  “Let’s hear it.” My voice broke, betraying me.

  “I believe Owen tried to talk to Professor Peterson and remove her from the school, but he was mistaken about her being a threat. I can only assume the… robot… provided her name because she was on your mind. As you know, she was a complete dead end. After that, he and the other Unseen who were with him managed to stop the performances on two of the three stages. They evacuated that part of the campus rather effectively by pulling fire alarms and calling in bomb threats—old school, but effective in a pinch. Owen somehow ended up being locked in a secure location by campus security. I don’t know if he was caught pulling an alarm or what. But I believe they were waiting for the police to come get him when the festival was slated to start. Because of his proximity to the site, he had minimal exposure to Zero. Those in his building have had a forty percent survival rate so far. He’s included in that statistic.”

  Forty percent. It echoed in my mind. I came so close to losing him.

  “Will he wake up?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.

  “Most likely, yes. He’s in a chemical coma now, while his body heals from the damage.” David paused as he navigated the stairwell.

  “Damage?” I asked, picturing him permanently confined to a hospital bed, nothing more than a vegetable for the rest of his life, all because I hadn’t gotten out in time.

  “Third-degree burns cover about twenty percent of his body. His neck, left shoulder, and both hands all the way up his arms were severely affected by the chemical. We assume his arms took the brunt of the outer damage because he used them to shield himself. But he also incurred a fair amount of damage to his lungs. The hospital is working hard to repair it, but considering how they’ve never dealt with this chemical before, they’re having a hard time knowing what to do. It’s a trial-and-error process at this point.”

  “Will he be functional?”

  “Yes,” Mitchell answered firmly without looking at me.

  David tried to catch his eye, but Mitchell continued to focus on the stairs.

  “The doctors believe he will. He may not run any marathons, but I don’t think he was too fond of running in the first place,” David filled in. “Unless it involved chasing after you.”

  A small smile formed on my face in response to David’s remark, but it didn’t feel real. None of it did. “How long will he be…?” I trailed off, not really sure how to complete the sentence.

  “Until it’s time,” David answered vaguely. “Are you ready to see him?”

  “More than,” I said as we stood at the very bottom of the stairwell.

  David touched a seemingly inane panel on the wall. The outline of his hand illuminated, and the floor beneath us slowly lowered, catching me by surprise. Mitchell took my elbow for support, and we went deeper into the depths of the facility.

  At the bottom, a sterile room awaited us. It looked remarkably similar to a real hospital. White walls and horrible florescent lights surrounded us, but there weren’t as many beds, and not nearly as many nurses or doctors bustling around. There was no receptionist to receive us, probably because it was assumed we knew where we were going. The technology that lined the walls was astounding. Some screens showed x-rays of various body parts; others showed vital statistics.

  “Are those all for Owen?”

  “No, he was the most badly hurt, but he’s not the only one down here. Camden will be ready to go back upstairs today, I expect.”

  Camden too? The thought threatened to break my heart even more.

  We finally arrived at Owen’s room. Though I’d thought I was ready, nothing could’ve prepared me for seeing him that way. He was connected to a dozen tubes and wires. A machine hissed rhythmically as it breathed for him. His neck and arms were covered in white bandages that already had stains seeping through them, but his face looked as I remembered it.

  Mitchell led me over to Owen’s good side and sat me in a chair. I stroked Owen’s face and started talking, not sure if he could hear me, but knowing what I needed to say.

  “Owen, my love, I’m so sorry.” Leaning forward, I stroked his face, feeling how warm it was. How real.

  “We can leave you two alone if you like,” David offered, shifting awkwardly.

  “No. Now that we’re all together, I’d like to tell you what happened.” I paused, trying to take strength from the love that surrounded me. These men were all so important to me. Silently, I vowed to never take them for granted again.

  “I don’t really know where to start. Going in to get Shields seemed like a good plan, but something went terribly wrong.” My own voice sounded distant to me as I struggled to find words to explain how horribly I’d failed. “It started with Tracy. He got her easily, too easily. Then he trapped me inside my own personal hell.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at Mitchell. I had no idea what they’d done to Mitchell, nor did I want to know. My own personal paradise/hell had been quite enough.

  “I watched on some kind of projection screen from the inside of Shields’ mind as Amanda, of all people, explained what they were planning—how they would use me to infiltrate the Unseen’s facility. They had control of my body, although they didn’t use that control as well as they should have.”

  I continued stroking Owen’s undamaged face, holding on to this reality with everything I had. It might be broken, but it was real.

  “No. I took to thinking of her as a robot. Her movements were so stiff, I had to laugh as I watched her climb the stairs. I thought they’d get me kil
led just trying to maneuver my body. But, unfortunately, they didn’t. She made it all the way down to your office, David, and I’m afraid of what they’ve learned.”

  David sank into a chair behind me. “I um…” He trailed off, a stunned expression on his face. He spoke through his hand over his mouth. “I had hoped I was wrong about Amanda.”

  After a long pause, I swallowed and told them the rest. “There’s more. Coda was just a test run, or maybe even a diversion. I don’t really know. In any case, the Potestas intend to use Zero for more attacks. Something about getting into a position of power.”

  “How can we stop them?” Mitchell asked, a hint of fear in his voice. He’d lived through the Coda disaster. He had probably been out there helping Owen. Being trapped in Shields’ mind had at least saved me from seeing the devastation of that day firsthand. And yet, the memory of those screaming monkeys came back to me full force, and seeing the evidence of that horrible chemical all over my love’s broken body brought tears to my eyes. The knowledge of the damage that had been done to so very many people made them flow freely down my cheeks.

  We couldn’t allow it to happen ever again, let alone on a wider scale. But I had no idea where to begin. I looked to David for answers. Mitchell was staring at him too, I noticed.

  “Mackenzie, as soon as you are feeling a little better, we will have a detailed debrief,” David said. “You will tell me everything you know, and I mean every last detail. Something you’ve witnessed will help us.” Although it was a statement, it came out sounding a bit like a prayer.

  “There’s one more thing.” Taking a deep breath, I dove in. “I’m sorry. I wanted to say that to all of you.” I looked at the men, each with a different expression on his face. Mitchell seemed understanding, David seemed caught off guard, and Owen…

  “I know who the real enemy is now, not to mention the devastation they’re capable of wreaking. I know it’s not about me, or my grief, or the fact that my family was torn apart by these maniacs. More families will be torn apart by them if they’re not stopped.” I thought of Shields’ family, and how I’d just torn them apart, and sighed. “I understand sacrifices will need to be made for the greater good, but I also know my personal vendetta has gotten in my way. It has hindered my ability to serve the Unseen.”