Catalyst

by Kristin Smith

  “I don’t see why—”

  I pull my hand out from under his and stand. “I just have to.”

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, I’m outside with Zane and Emily. I can’t believe I’m about to send my sister off with a guy I hardly know, and yet, it feels right. I know he’ll take good care of her.

  I help Emily climb into the backseat and buckle the straps across her chest. Before I shut the door, I pull her close and breathe her in. I don’t know how long it will be before I’ll see her again, and my breath hitches at the thought. Heat presses against the back of my eyes, but I blink it away. I don’t have time to be sad.

  Zane places a warm hand on my shoulder. “I promise I’ll take good care of her.”

  I straighten up and face him. “I know you will.”

  He hands me a micro-card with his info on it. “Call me. Anytime. Day or night. If you want to check on her or if you need my help.”

  I nod. “Thanks. For taking her. For coming by—”

  “Which reminds me. The reason I came by…” He pulls a small, black device out of his pocket. The transcriber. “You left this on the veranda last night. You snuck away before we had a chance to finish our interview.” His smile is sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind that I activated a trace on your Lynk to find out where you lived.”

  Yesterday? It was only yesterday? It seems like a lifetime ago. In all the craziness, I never gave the transcriber a second thought.

  “Of course not. Thanks for bringing it back.” I slide the device into my pocket. So the only reason he came by was to bring something I left? He didn’t come to see me at all. Not that I should care. And I easily convince myself that I don’t.

  Zane stares at me until heat rises to my cheeks. I know I’m a mess. I don’t need him to point it out. He looks as though he wants to say something, but then he shakes his head.

  “Take care of yourself,” he says before sliding into the front seat. The door automatically closes over him. I watch Emily waving at me, so small that she’s practically swallowed up by the depth of the seat.

  As Zane drives away, I say a silent prayer that, for her sake, I stay alive.

  ***

  Once Zane’s car is out of view, I pull out my Lynk and dial Victor. When I’m given the option to view or listen, I click on listen. I’d prefer not to see his greasy face.

  “Victor…” I don’t wait for him to respond. “I quit.” I picture his lips puckering into a sneer.

  “You don’t get to quit, Sienna. You aren’t finished until I say you’re finished.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Just deposit any outstanding money into my account.” That money can be saved for Mom and Emily. I certainly won’t need it where I’m going.

  “Sienna—” I can hear the warning in his voice.

  “Goodbye, Victor.” As I press end, I hope and pray he doesn’t come looking for me. The last thing I need is another thug hunting me down.

  After a hot shower, I force down a quick meal of yogurt and Meat Gross Delite, then lay on my bed for a few minutes. My body needs rest. I already changed the bandage on my leg, lathered on some burn cream, and popped a few expired pain pills, but my body still aches and my head pounds from lack of sleep. I can’t remember the last time I had a good night’s rest. Not since this whole episode with Harlow Ryder and the computer chip began. Damn that man.

  But I’m too wired to sleep. Sometime between meeting the Fringe and seeing my mother in that cell, a plan has formed. I don’t know if it’s a good one. Not even sure if it will work. But it’s the only one I can come up with. And it involves a lot of sacrifice on my part.

  Today, I will give up everything I’ve ever known. I will become one of them.

  A member of the Fringe.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Even though it’s daylight outside, the inside of the Megasphere is pitch dark. I’ve asked Trey to meet me here because I need a favor. And he owes me.

  I climb the stairs to the top level where the wall-to-wall windows allow the light to bathe the large room that was once a place for upscale dining. And who wouldn’t want to eat here? The view must have been amazing, being able to look down the Gateway at all the lights and colorful casinos.

  Several small, round tables still rest on the outskirts of the room, by the windows. A perfect place to dine at night—or remove a tracker during the day.

  “Sienna?” Trey hurries into the room, carrying a small medical bag. “Is everything okay?”

  “It will be, once I get this thing out.” I turn my arm over, exposing my forearm.

  Trey crosses the room in two strides and stares down at my arm. I can’t see the device they put inside, but I can still see where the large needle was inserted into my skin.

  Trey runs a finger over the site where they injected the tracker. “Is that what I think it is?” He glances up at me, his eyebrows knit together. “A tracker?”

  I nod. “Can you get it out?”

  He slowly exhales. “I think so.” His eyes rove around the room, assessing what he has to work with. Two chairs are quickly placed at the table with the most light. He pulls out an antiseptic spray, cleans the table, and then instructs me to sit.

  Taking a seat in the adjacent chair, he arranges the medical tools on the table. There are latex gloves, a knife, a syringe, and iodine, among other things. I turn my head away. It’s probably best to keep him talking, so I’m distracted.

  “Have you ever done this before?” I ask. I bite my lip and fold my hands to stop the shaking.

  Trey raises an eyebrow as he snaps on the latex gloves. “If you’re asking if I’ve ever removed a tracker, then the answer is no.”

  I force a laugh. “No, I mean, you seem comfortable around all these supplies.”

  He takes out a cotton swab and reaches for my arm. My skin heats up at his touch as he cleans the area around the tracker injection. “Lucky for you, my mother was a nurse, so I spent quite a bit of time with her in the infirmary.” He shrugs. “Guess it rubbed off on me.”

  He lathers another cream over the site and blows on it. The cool air from his breath causes a shiver to run up my spine, but I’m not sure if it’s from cold… or fear.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t inject this area with a heavy numbing agent or else it might mess up the tracker underneath. It’s best if we leave the tracker intact.” He blows on my skin again. “I used a topical numbing cream. It should take the edge off.”

  I nod, because my throat is too dry to speak.

  He reaches for the knife and glances at me as he digs the tip into my skin right above the site.

  I feel pressure, but not the pain I’m expecting.

  “Okay?” he asks. The knife is now poised, ready to cut into my flesh. The first one was practice, now this one will be for real.

  “Remember, the first layer of skin is numb, but after that—” He blinks rapidly, and I notice his long lashes, so uncharacteristic for a guy. “After that, there’s nothing.”

  My breath hitches. Why is he telling me this? He must not think I can handle the pain.

  “I’ll be okay,” I breathe. I squeeze my eyes closed and try to calm my racing heart. The pressure of the knife builds against my forearm, and I hold my breath. At first, there’s only the pressure, and I make the mistake of opening my eyes.

  Bright red blood oozes from the two-inch long incision. For a moment, I have an out-of-body experience, as if I’m looking at someone else’s arm. Someone else who is being mutilated by a man with a knife.

  The pain hits when he cuts through the next layer of skin and muscle. I cry out as heat fills the back of my eyes and tears sting my cheeks. Biting my tongue, I close my eyes again. I can’t see it. I can’t watch my blood spill onto the wooden table.

  “I’m through. Now, I just have to find it,” Trey mutters.

  My eyes snap open, and I stare at him. At the concentration lining his face. I focus on the arch of his eyebrows, his thick lashes, and the
dark stubble on his cheeks.

  “There’s too much blood.”

  Not what I want to hear.

  Trey suctions some of the blood with a bulb syringe-type thing, and I grip the side of the chair as he sticks his fingers into the incision.

  I feel dizzy, lightheaded. The pain is unbearable. It is hot, white, and it rolls through me like a thunderstorm. The thud of my heart is the thunder, and the lightning is the pain. Now all I need is the rain.

  I feel warm drops run down my arm and fall onto the table beneath me, and I think the rain has come. I open my eyes, but it’s not rain I see. Blood. Large, warm drops of blood. My blood.

  I moan as darkness pricks the edge of my vision. I don’t know how much more I can endure.

  Before I can tell Trey to stop, the room tilts. Everything goes black. And I am gone.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Sienna…” a voice calls out through the fog. I know that voice. Its melodious lilt and deep, rich tone.

  Zane.

  I reach out for him. Surely, he’s come to save me from this storm. The thunder and lightning that rages through and all around me.

  “Sienna.”

  I can already imagine the scene. His broad chest and muscled arms enveloping me in a tight embrace. I can practically see his perfect smile, and his chocolate eyes staring into mine—

  “Sienna!”

  Wait. That’s not Zane’s tantalizing tone. Someone else is forcing me awake. I squeeze my eyes shut, intent on my vision of the genetically modified man, in all his perfectness and glory.

  “It’s over, Sienna. I got the tracker. C’mon, wake up.” The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but it’s too husky to be Zane’s.

  And then I remember it all. The truth flashes through my brain like a sick and twisted movie reel—my mother locked in a prison cell, Radcliffe’s leering face, the tracker…

  I gasp as my eyes fling open. I still feel lightheaded, probably from loss of blood, but I’m relieved to see I missed the rest of the procedure. My arm is now heavily bandaged and resting across my stomach. And I’m laid out on the ground. I try not to think about how filthy the floor is.

  “Six stitches. Well done,” Trey says from his perch on the chair beside me. He raises an eyebrow. “I thought I’d lost you there for a minute.”

  I rub my eyes with my good hand. “What happened?”

  “You blacked out. It’s pretty typical, though. Sometimes, our bodies want to escape the pain and don’t know how else to do it.”

  I sit up and glance around the room. “Where’s the tracker?”

  “Safe—”

  I move to stand, but Trey stops me. “Uh-uh, you’re not going anywhere, not yet.”

  “But I need to get rid of the tracker—”

  “Why not just leave it here? They’ll storm the Megasphere, search for a few hours, and eventually, they’ll figure it out, but not until they make fools of themselves.” He leans closer. “Besides, you need to recover from your surgery.”

  I blink a few times as I stare at him. It’s hard to believe he’s the leader of the most violent group in our society. He seems so… nice. Maybe everyone has the Fringe all wrong. Maybe they aren’t this vigilante group after all, but a group of misunderstood people.

  His kind eyes draw me in. For a moment, I’m not sitting here with the leader of a terrorist organization, but rather with a guy not much older than I am. One whose bronze skin and dark hair accentuates his chiseled chin.

  Blinking rapidly, I try to force the thoughts from my mind. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I’ve never been the boy-crazy type, but here I am thinking about two different guys in the same sitting. Must be all the passing out I’ve done lately. Can’t be good for the brain cells.

  “Did you find your mom yet?” Trey says, bringing my focus back to the second reason I called him today.

  “No. I need to find the underground bunker where they’re keeping her. And that’s where our mutual friend should be able to help.”

  “I assume the last time you asked Chaz to help that he gave you the Compound on purpose?”

  “I think so. I have a feeling he was worried about me and didn’t want me to tackle the government bunker alone.”

  “So he sent you to me instead.” Trey grins. “Smart guy.”

  Swallowing my pride, I rush forward with the next words. “So, will you help me? If we can locate the bunker, will you help me get my mom out?”

  Trey tilts his head. “Considering I’m the one who got you in this mess, it’s only natural for me to help. And a chance to stick it to the government? Of course, I’m in. I’m sure some of the other Fringe members will be eager to join us.”

  “Thank you, for everything.” I give him a small smile. For the first time in days, I feel something I haven’t felt in a while. Hope.

  He ducks his head like he might be embarrassed, but I find that hard to believe considering who he is. “Don’t mention it,” he says before clearing his throat. He stands and crosses the room, pretending to busy himself with cleaning up, but the table looks pretty clean to me. He must have wiped all the blood up while I was passed out.

  I slowly sit up. The dizziness is gone, and for the most part, I’m ready to take on the world. Trey turns in time to see me push myself off the ground.

  “You sure you’re ready to be up?”

  “I’m fine.” I finger the small, metal tube that was once in my arm and now rests on the table.

  He nods to my pocket. “I think you got some messages while you were recuperating.”

  Zane. Emily.

  I whip out my Lynk and scroll through the most recent messages. There’s one from Zane. I have the option to listen or view, and I press listen because I want to hear his smooth, deep voice. Crushing the communicator to my ear, I lean into the wall, trying to be discreet and not blast the message for Trey to hear.

  Zane’s voice sounds too perfect, even through the phone.

  “Sienna, just wanted to check in. We went swimming, and Emily seems to be having fun. She’s such a sweet girl, and no, I haven’t seen that monster side yet like you warned me about.” He laughs, and I can picture his perfect white teeth. He clears his throat and lowers his voice. “I hope you’re staying safe, Sienna. I’ve been worried about you… Really worried. In fact, I can’t stop thinking about you.” I hear Emily’s little voice in the background, slightly muffled. “Hey, I have someone who wants to say hi. Here she is.”

  “Hi, Si-Si. I love you. See you later.” She’s off and running before the Lynk even has a chance to settle back into Zane’s hands.

  “Take care of yourself, Sienna.”

  The message clicks when it’s finished, and I press end.

  Trey is pretending to study the crumbling skyline and looks at me when I finish listening to the message.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yep, just needed to check in with my little sister.”

  Trey raises an eyebrow. “Sister?”

  “Yeah, she’s five.”

  He walks toward me. “Where is she?”

  “With a friend. For now.” I know he’s curious, but I like that he doesn’t pressure me to say any more.

  Trey nods and scoops up his medical bag, while I throw the tracker in a corner of the room. When his eyes meet mine, I smile. “So, I was thinking of joining the Fringe. Do you have any objections?”

  Trey grins in return. “We’ll be lucky to have you.”

  As we exit the Megasphere, the sun is blinding, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the brightness. I hear the squeal of tires just as Trey’s arm presses me behind him. A car door slams, and then another. Peeking over Trey’s shoulder, I see the unmistakable image of Victor and his greasy sidekick, Carlos, making their way toward us. My heart plummets to my feet.

  “I’m not here for you, Trey,” Victor calls out. “I’m here for the girl.”

  They know each other?

  “Sorry, Victor. She works for me now.”r />
  I sidestep Trey’s arm because I don’t need him protecting me. I can take care of Victor myself. “Victor, I told you I was done. Now go home. You aren’t getting anything else from me.”

  Victor’s lips curl back into a sneer. “Well, hello there, Sienna.” He pauses, staring at me. “I told you before that you’re not done until I say you’re done. Remember?”

  Trey’s body tenses beside me. “Listen, if Sienna says she’s done, then you need to leave her the hell alone.”

  Victor grins. “You always were a hothead, Trey. Like that time in the bar a couple of years ago—”

  “Shut up, Victor,” Trey warns, his voice low.

  Carlos takes a few steps forward and cracks his knuckles. I’m sure these guys are packing heat. I only hope Trey is too.

  Victor turns his attention back to me. “You know, Sienna, the Devil doesn’t take too kindly to people breaking their promises.”

  Trey takes a step forward, his fists clenched. “You tell the Devil that if he has a problem, he can take it up with me.”

  The air is charged with tension. Every muscle in my back is stretched taut, ready to fight or run, whichever comes first. Carlos reaches in the back of his pants, but Victor’s hand stays him. “That won’t be necessary. Trey knows better than to pick a fight with us again.”

  I wonder what he’s referring to, but I keep my mouth shut.

  Victor stares at Trey, his eyes menacing. “I’ll be sure to send The Devil your regards.” His eyes turn on me. “As for you, this ain’t over.” He strides back to his pimped-out car with Carlos following on his heels.

  “You know Victor?” I ask as they drive away, tires squealing and bass pumping.

  “I’ve had a few run-ins with him here and there,” Trey says, sounding vague.

  “Run-ins?”

  “Look, just forget about it.” His eyes follow the car until it has turned the corner. “I don’t trust him.”

  “Well, me neither, but that’s nothing new—”