Wulff hesitates with his answer. I’m listening so hard that I’m afraid to breathe. There’s a chance I’ll say no to the jacket, but it’s better than trying to medicate me, isn’t it? What is my oldest friend thinking?
“What I’m going to say will be hard to believe. I need you both to listen.”
Frenzy leans in. “What’s going on, Wulff?”
“Daryl was on the other side of the room when she took my knife.”
“You mean she went back for it?” Jules asks.
“No. The damn thing flew across the room. One moment it was in my boot, the next it was sailing through the air. It went straight into her hand.”
Shocked, I nearly fall off the top bunk. I don’t remember!
“Telekinesis?” Frenzy doesn’t look convinced. “You saw her move an object with her mi…?
“…but that’s impossible,” Jules interjects. “That kind of talent is an illusion, it doesn’t exist.”
“I know,” Wulff says. “I thought it was some kind of trick, too. But I’ve gone over it again and again in my mind. I know what I saw. If she can call the knife out of my boot, she can undo the jacket’s straps.”
“Shit,” Frenzy mutters.
Jules shakes her head. “You must have seen it wrong.”
“I didn’t see it wrong.” Meeting her incredulous gaze, Wulff silently asks her not to question him. “And I don’t have any answers.”
“If this is real…” Frenzy begins.
“…then we have no choice,” Wulff finishes.
The silence that descends is thicker than cement. Wulff has become the unofficial leader, but he’s loathe to do what must be done; Frenzy is tearing at a hole in his sleeve, desperately searching for another solution. Jules is studying the scarred table, dreading the idea of facing Crazy Daryl once more.
“I can’t do it,” she says. “You heard her. She doesn’t even like me. That means she won’t have any trouble kicking in my face if I try anything. But you two…she might be gentle.”
That’s right softy, I think, laughing at her cowardice, just back out of the hard parts. This doesn’t concern you anyway. Fuck! You have a lot to learn.
“Frenzy and I will find a way,” Wulff replies. But still, he doesn’t move.
Their inactivity amuses me. Jack would have dosed me before the others could argue. He knows I can’t sense him and he’s clever. I would have been under before I knew what had happened. As much as I love my friends, however, they don’t have a chance and they know it.
Jumping off the bunk, I grab my bag. I’m going to get out of here before they get hurt.
A sudden and intense pain slices through my chest. Grabbing at my heart, I fall to my knees. I know this pain. It is a serious and heavy warning—something horrible is coming.
The power goes out. Emergency lights flicker for a moment before failing. The hideout is now blacker than pitch. Wulff grunts in confusion as the others cry out in alarm, but only I can see the bounty hunters sneaking into the hideout. On instinct, I tap my cloaking device to life. Huddling in terror, I cower in Wulff’s room.
They’re quiet bastards, smoothly opening and closing the steel door without alarming their prey. One, two, three of them enter. The infrared sensors in their visors tell them exactly where the Criminals are. They bypass Wulff’s room completely: my cloaking device is working.
I’m too scared to intervene. Helpless to stop them, I watch with my psychic talent. The bounty hunters are moving down the corridor; Frenzy is stumbling around the common room; Wulff reaches out and grabs Jules’ outstretched arms.
“My tools are in the garage,” he says, unaware that they’re not alone. “Everybody stay calm, just stay in your seats. I’ll have the lights back up soon.”
The bounty hunters pounce.
Their technique and execution are perfect—things of rare beauty. All three of their victims go down at the same time. Cops don’t like to knock people out: bruises bring down the price. Knowing they are in complete control, they each grab a Criminal. They lock elbows and shoulders, force their prey to their knees, and tell them not to struggle. Not that they could if they wanted to. As their captives grunt in surprise, the Cops lock their hands into cuffs.
The power kicks back in. My limbs unlock. I can escape if I go now.
Taking a deep breath, willing my heart to slow down, I quietly climb onto Wulff’s top bunk. The escape hatch lifts open without a sound.
My brother’s limp body suddenly flashes through my brain. I squeeze my eyes shut. Sweet sky, I’m half way into the ceiling. Get out of my brain!
One by one I see their faces, contorted with fear and surprise. Wulff is straining against the cuffs. He doesn’t understand that it’s useless. Cursing himself, he grunts in pain when the metal bands tighten around his wrists. Soon, they’ll cut off circulation and his hands will turn purple. Jules cries out in alarm as the hunter holding her pushes her face into the floor. Running his hands over her body, he searches for concealed weapons. A growl of frustration erupts in the back of Jules’ throat. Frenzy is the only one who isn’t bothering to resist. He’s staring at the wall in front of him, glassy-eyed and shattered.
Taking control of my psychic talent, I force it to power down. There’s no way I can go back for them. The hunters will get us all and then what? This way, I can get them out of the Prison later.
That’s what I’ll do. I promise. That’s what I’ll do.
But I know that’s a colossal lie. I’m incapable of willingly stepping back into that place. If I abandon them now, I abandon them forever. Torn with indecision, screaming inwardly at my cowardice, I pull at my hair. What the fuck! What the fuck am I supposed to do?
Kill them… Kill them all.
An eerie calm spreads through my mind and body. I can do that.
Careful not to make any noise, I lower myself back onto the bunk. The bounty hunters don’t know I’m here. They won’t see me coming.
Like all doors in the hideout, Wulff’s door opens noiselessly. Taking in the scene, I stare at the bounty hunters’ backs. The hunter closest to me has a knife strapped to his calf. That’s all I’m going to need.
I’m a heartbeat away from the other hunter. My hands reach out. Placing them on either side of his helmet, I wrench his neck to the side. In one fluid motion, I reach down and grab his knife, letting his body fall to the floor. The woman turns around and I ram the wicked blade into her jugular. I know her armour is weakest where it’s made to bend. The knife slips through and blood spurts from the wound.
He makes a fatal mistake when he lets go of Frenzy. My friend falls to the side, giving me full access to his captor. If the Cop were smarter, he would have used his catch as a shield. But, like any good Cop, his first instinct was to preserve the value.
I can’t let him reach for a weapon. Holding his shocked gaze, I charge. The Cop fumbles and then drops his own knife to the floor. I crash into him full force, knocking him back and into the counter. He grunts in pain when my knife finds his throat. The blood gushes onto my hand; the bounty hunter wheezes his last breaths.
Half-crazed, I study the red stains on my hands.
They’re dead. They’re dead and I’m the one who killed them. This isn’t like the patroller a few days ago. He died when I dodged a weapon. These three, like Beck, I crushed with my ow
n hands. I quiver with ecstasy as the power saturates my being. This is who I am now.
I’m hungry for more.
“Copper,” Wulff calls, “look at me.”
I turn around. My hand, still holding the dripping blade, is still. Jules has already retrieved the keys for her cuffs and unlocked them. Kneeling by Wulff, she does the same for him. Frenzy waits patiently for his turn; Jules wisely gives me a wide berth. But Wulff and I are staring at each other. His gaze let’s me know I’m dangerous.
This was too close; they nearly went to the Prison. You can’t allow that. Not ever. Better they die instead. Better they know release instead of horror.
“Copper,” Wulff calls again, “drop the knife.”
I look down at it and icily contemplate the power that I hold. It’s no mystery what I might do with this blade. I see my friends, throats cut and gasping for life, writhing on the floor. I could do it. I could save them from the possibility of misery. Wouldn’t that be merciful? It’s the right thing to do. My hand tightens around the hilt.
Jules dies first.
“This is the second time you’ve saved me,” Frenzy mutters from the floor.
His words make me hesitate. Jules has already unlocked his cuffs and he’s rubbing his tender flesh. Staring at the other side of the room, Frenzy fights to control his erratic breathing.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“The second time you’ve saved me,” he repeats. Slowly getting to his feet, he holds my questioning gaze. “I remembered a long time ago, Copper. You were the one who let me out of Cremin’s cage and delivered me my revenge. There was no way to thank you, so I didn’t say anything. It’s okay. We aren’t going to the Prison. We don’t need to die.”
“Those words,” I rasp. “They’re in my head. You can’t hear them.”
“We hear you, Copper,” he assures. He steps towards me, holding out his hand for the knife. “You won’t ever allow us to go into the Prison. Thank you.”
“We hear you…” I echo.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, either. I’ll take care of you,” he promises. “It was my fuck up that put you in the Prison. If you hadn’t led them away, we’d all have gone in. Understand that, Copper. Understand that you saved us all. And now we’re going to save you.”
Gently, he pries the knife out of my hand. Once it’s gone, I snap back into lucidity. “We’re getting out of here. Grab what you need.”
They don’t move. I’m covered in blood and I just threatened to kill them all. Why should they listen?
“Now!”
Jumping into action, they all rush to gather their things. This hideout is dead space. We have to get out as soon as possible. The woman mentioned a fourth person, someone named Leonato. It’s possible he or she is waiting for them to return. If they don’t contact the hunter soon there’s no telling what will happen.
The three of them, carrying bags stuffed with their belongings, return to the common room. Nodding my approval, I lead them to Wulff’s escape hatch. Frenzy scrambles in, followed closely by Jules. Although he wants me to go first, I motion Wulff through. Shaking his head, my friend pulls himself on to his top bunk.
That’s when I feel the fourth bounty hunter coming through the steel door.
He’s quiet. Wulff doesn’t know he’s here. And he’s quick. Following his sensors, he heads straight for Wulff’s door. I won’t have time to escape. With an anguished cry, I jump onto the top bunk and push Wulff’s legs through the hatch. Slamming it shut, I place my head against the cool surface of the wall. My heart beats wildly in my chest.
“What the…?” Wulff isn’t happy that I’m not with him.
Desperate for him to escape, I hit the ceiling. “Get out of here!”
Turning around, I note the slicing shell in the bounty hunters hand. If he throws it, the metal ball will attach to my ankle and slash my tendon. Cops only use them in desperate circumstances. It severely damages the value of their catch.
There’s a huge dent in his helmet. Moments of recognition are often disorienting. By the time I realize that the fourth bounty hunter is Selim, he’s already recovered from his own shock. Now I just have to claw my way out of my own.
Reaching out with my psychic talent I see Wulff, Frenzy and Jules scrambling through the escape route. They’re safe. That’s all I can ask for.
As I jump down to the floor, I catch my reflection in Selim’s visor. Covered in blood and stony faced, I look superior and defiant, a far cry from the nervous wreck that I am.
Slipping into despair, I watch him pull a small metal box from one of his side packs. I’m fucked. Selim hasn’t underestimated me; the motion inhibitor will make sure he gets me back to the Perimeter and into an interrogation room. Swallowing hard, I do as he ordered.
He steps into striking range but he’s faster than me. Before I have a chance to react, he places the box on the side of my head. I fall to the ground, completely limp, and blink uselessly. Selim releases the lock on his helmet and takes it off. Staring down at me with a confused expression, he carefully examines my face.
“Chen,” he says into a microphone sewn into his sleeve.
“I have one of the Criminals.”
Selim leaves my field of vision and I know he’s checking on his fallen comrades. The intense waves bombarding my brain are making me ill. Before I pass out, I hear Selim curse—his friends are dead.
26
Waking from a technologically induced coma isn’t pleasant. My whole body spasms before I regain control of my muscles; my stomach churns violently. Gasping, I try to lean forward but a thick leather strap, buckled tightly over my chest, prevents me from moving. I try to wriggle my fingers, but they’ve been taped together. My hands are swaddled in thick fabric. The bandages around my arms have been removed, revealing dozens of fresh cuts and tiny scars. My wrists and ankles are manacled to the arms and legs of my chair. Even my head is being held in place by two thick metal plates locked around my neck.
With no other options available, I open my mouth and puke all over myself. The acidic vomit burns my throat and mouth, leaving a vile taste that makes me gag. Any attempt at dignity will now be severely hindered.
“The nausea will pass soon,” Selim assures as my eyes adjust to the light. His voice is gentle, almost concerned.
A cup is placed against my dry lips. Cool water slides down my throat, neutralizing the terrible burn in my esophagus. I enjoy the sensation while I can; this will be the last kindness that my captor will offer me.
Swishing what’s left of the water around in my mouth, I spit it out. It runs down my chin and drips onto my chest, but I don’t care. I’m in an interrogation room—this is the place of no return. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the black chest. It’s waiting patiently for Selim to get all the information he wants before it takes me for the last ride. I won’t be released until I’m back in the Prison, and then there won’t be anything left of me. But, oddly enough, determination overrules my fear. I’m not in the black chest yet. There might be some way to get out of this.
Ignoring the pain in my eyes, I concentrate on the man sitting in front of me. He’s close, hardly half a meter away, and looking at me with intense curiosity. Little by little, his features come into focus.
I can’t help but smirk. “We meet again.”
“Do you know where you are?” Selim asks.
He gently wipes my face with a soft cloth but he does not look happy. That’s strange considering he’s just made the catch of a lifetime. I’ve been caught next to the bodies of three murdered bounty hunters. He can retire with the credits he makes off of me. Not to mention there are probably dozens of Cops
waiting for a chance to get their hands on me. The only thing holding them back is the fact that I’m Selim’s catch. He decides what happens to me. I’m completely at his mercy.
“Do you know where you are?” he repeats.
“The Perimeter,” I answer.
“What’s your name?”
Even if I were thinking clearly I wouldn’t know what answer to give him. The last time I was in this position I just told them my alias. The Cop didn’t ask questions. But that was a straight up catch, my captor just wanted to get his credits and get out. Selim, however, saw me walk straight through a gate and into Cop Sector. He won’t be fooled. If I’m caught without a real name, if the system thinks I’m a ghost, it will send me straight to incineration. If I can’t get out of here, that’s exactly what I want.
“Your name,” Selim repeats, growing impatient.
My name isn’t the issue here. What he really wants to know is burning in his eyes: how did you get into A Sector?
But he doesn’t have the courage to ask it; there are too many consequences if I answer honestly. It’s a scary notion, Criminals being able to infiltrate A Sector. It would be the end of the world that he feels entirely secure in. Studying my captor’s handsome face, it suddenly dawns on me how Luck has blessed me. Out of all the bounty hunters Selim was the one who brought me in. I can avoid hours of agonizing torture. With a little creativity, I might even find a way out of this chair.
Glancing around the small room, I’m glad to see that he’s decided to interrogate me alone. He’s not a fool—he knows what’s at stake if I start talking about our little encounter yesterday..
“Your name,” he demands once more. “You have no identity card. Yesterday, a woman from E Sector, Yulie Thorp, entered the Perimeter but never officially exited. About ten minutes later, Daryl Rhys went through a gate and a moment later I stepped through the same one. Now, what’s your name?”
I use the name that will fuck up his world the most. “Daryl Rhys.”
“Bullshit,” Selim shoots back, “Daryl Rhys was a Cop.”
“And an orphan,” I reply.
The Line Page 19
