EVO Nation Series Trilogy Box Set

by K. J. Chapman

  Golding goes next. He hands one of the torches to me. The light gives Adam an elongated shadow. As the door shuts, Golding flashes us a smile, but he can’t fool me. The sweat patches under his arms and tremble in his hands betray his fear.

  Haydn sidles up to me, shaking his head. “How am I going to fit? I can’t bend my leg,” he says, his voice shaking.

  “You will have to bend your leg,” Adam states, not taking his attention off of the control panel.

  I agree, but I do feel sorry for Haydn. I squeeze his forearm, and he turns and hugs me. His arms could wrap around me twice over.

  “Maybe it’s best I don’t go. I’ll just hold you up,” he says.

  I push him away. “And what would I tell Yana?” I snap. “That you were too chicken shit?”

  He shrugs, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop the tears.

  The lift comes back down, and Adam takes my hand.

  “Haydn’s going first, so I can make sure that he does,” I say.

  Adam’s hand tightens on my own, and I stiffen against his touch. He is contemplating forcing me inside. I can see it in his face. A split-second passes before he releases his grip on me and pulls Haydn forward.

  “I won’t fit,” he says, sliding his top half into the space, his voice choked with tears. Adam grabs his legs and Haydn cries out in pain.

  “I’ll make you fit. Sorry, mate, but it’s for your own good,” says Adam, bending Haydn’s knee and thrusting his legs in after him.

  I slam the door shut before Haydn can fight back, and Adam sends the lift up. We stand shoulder to shoulder in silence. I turn to face him, our bodies just inches apart. He smells of fresh sweat and his breath is hot against my face.

  “Thank you for doing that. Haydn’s a gentle giant. He just needs a kick up the ass.”

  “He wouldn’t have stayed,” he says. “He just wanted you to make him go. All three of them look up to you. I’ve seen it.”

  “They’ve been through a lot and just need a bit of looking after,” I say.

  The lift starts coming back down, and Adam brushes a strand of hair off of my shoulder. I tremble.

  “And who’s going to look after you?” he whispers.

  “I think I’m getting pretty good at taking care of myself.”

  “Hard-core,” he says, smiling.

  The fizz in my stomach goes into overdrive. He must have heard what Golding said.

  We’re close, so close that we breathe in each other’s air. Silence passes between us, and every fibre in my body is alert. He licks at his dry lips, and I think his head lowers to me slightly. Or does it? Oh, god, I have no idea how to act.

  The lift clicks open, startling us out of whatever that moment was. Adam steps away and opens the door. He guides me toward it with a gentle hand on the base of my spine. I turn and hug him, only quickly, but I hug him tighter than I’ve hugged another soul. I don’t give him time to return the gesture.

  I fight away my anxiety of potentially climbing into my coffin. Sidling in backwards, so I can clutch my knees to my chest, I have to bend my chin to my neck. He smiles at me, but it’s a half smile. Something in his eyes alarms me. I grip the frame with my hands, pulling myself forward.

  “Move back, Teddie” he says, turning on the device.

  My mind fires from the device, to the control panel, to Adam. “How are you going to get up?” I ask, already knowing the answer. He can’t. There is no one to work the device. “Adam, how are you going to get up?” I ask, firmer.

  He unhooks my hands from the frame, pushes me back into the lift, and starts to shut the door. I frantically kick out my legs.

  “You were never coming, were you?” I snap at him. “Let me out!”

  He grabs my legs and forces them back inside the lift. “Keep your voice down. I’ll be fine. You need to go.”

  “Not without you!” I scream, fighting my legs free, but he just pushes me in harder.

  My arm slams against the inside of the lift and I cry out in pain. His grip falters, so I use it to my advantage, kicking him hard in the chest.

  “Teddie, please, go. You’re running out of time. I’ll meet you up there.”

  I don’t believe him.

  He bundles me inside enough to start closing the door. His frame fills the whole space. I can’t let the door close. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I release a blast from my palm, trying hard to keep it as small as possible. Adam flies away from the lift, landing hard on his back. I scramble out, slamming the door shut, and kicking the device to the far side of the room.

  “I’m not going without you,” I say, dropping to my knees beside him. He coughs from being winded, and I help him to a sitting position. “Sorry about that, but I couldn’t let you shut the door on me.” The stunned expression on his face makes me smile. “I told you I can take care of myself.”

  “If that’s the case, then you don’t need me, do you?” he says, sighing.

  I take his face in my hands and hold his gaze. You are so beautiful, I think as I lower my mouth to his. His lips are warm and moist. He tenses and pulls away just enough to look in my eyes. He is unsure of himself; his breath comes in short gasps, yet he moves his hand up to cup the side of my face.

  I push my lips to his again- harder- more purposefully. He kisses me back, wrapping his other arm around my waist until I am cocooned in his embrace. His lips gently brush mine, and I breathe in the scent of his breath. He’s not the first boy I’ve kissed, but Charlie Roves, at his thirteenth birthday party, did not kiss me like that.

  “It’s not just about needing you,” I say, sliding my fingers over his shaved scalp and neck. “I want you. I can’t leave you here.”

  He kisses me again. “I should force you into that lift,” he says into my mouth.

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  He smiles, so I can feel his teeth against my lower lip. “Fair point, but now we have a massive problem.”

  ***

  I stand behind Adam, bouncing on the balls of my feet to psyche myself up for what’s about to happen. He squeezes out a tube of toothpaste into the lift. Peering over his shoulder, I see the word ‘GO’ spelt in big letters. The door closes, and he sends the lift up for the last time.

  “We have about six minutes to get up to the laundry room and another three to get to the roof. There is a back-up fire escape hatch on every floor down here. The nearest one is in one of the corridors we’ve just come through. We’ve wasted too much time, and this place is probably swarming with TORO by now. I’m not sure how this is going to play out,” he says.

  “Will they not expect us to use the fire escape?”

  “Probably, but that’s why we cause a distraction,” he says, pulling two cylinders from a pouch on his belt. He pulls a cap from one end of the stick, and striking the cap against the end, orange sparks and smoke billow out. It’s a flare.

  The room is fast filling with smoke. Adam chucks the flare on the floor and kicks it into the laundry. Edging the door open, we slip into the black stairwell. Striking the second flare, he leaves it at the top of the stairs. We run down the corridor, taking a hard left back the way we came. The TORO is still lying in the same position as we had left him. Adam removes his helmet. His head is at a funny angle from a broken neck. I killed him.

  I stare at the TORO and take in his pale skin and blonde eyebrows. That could have just as easily had been Adam a week ago. Guilt consumes me, but I want to remember his face. The least I can do is remember his face.

  “He would have killed you if you had given him the chance,” says Adam, throwing the helmet to the ground.

  A shot sounds out, and Adam stumbles forward. Instinctively, I scream. Adam spins around, shoving me to the floor, firing his own gun. The torchlight doesn’t stretch more than a few metres ahead of us, and a figure emerges in the blackness at the far end of the corridor. Adam fires again. The figure sways momentarily, and then sprints toward us, showering bullets in our direction.
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  A gush of air whips at my cheek, and a bullet embeds into the wall just inches from my head. Dropping as low as possible, I crawl behind the dead TORO just as Adam falls backward, coughing and spluttering. He has been shot again. Dad’s blood soaked shirt flashes in my mind. I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t lose him.

  The TORO is just six feet away from Adam. I see a face through the helmet; female and cold. Her impressive build and height are deceiving. She fires again, the bullets thudding as they hit him. Adam groans in pain. I can’t watch him die.

  I concentrate on Adam’s gun and with a flick of my wrist it hovers above the ground. I don’t feel overwhelmed with power, but I feel out of control, like the telekinesis will run loose from me at any minute. I move the gun in front of Adam, and both he and the TORO watch as it rises up level with her head height. She stares down the barrel in a state of mild confusion.

  Adam jumps to his feet, enclosing his hand around the handle. “Her helmet,” he shouts at me.

  I release my hold on the gun and focus my energies on the helmet. It flies from her head as Adam pulls the trigger. Her head snaps back, and a shower of blood and scalp cascade to the ground, followed by her body.

  I rush at Adam, my hands searching the holes in his vest.

  “I’m okay,” he says, unbuckling the vest. His grey uniform is still grey, and I exhale for what feels like the first time in minutes. “You’re amazing. Thank you,” he says.

  I press my forehead against his, and he laces his fingers in mine.

  “Let’s move.”

  As soon as we round the last corner, I can see the fire escape hatch. Its appearance is similar to that of the dumbwaiter, only it has a large wheel handle to open it. It makes sense that the fire escape hatches would be manually operated and that we would potentially use them to escape. A heavy feeling settles in my stomach, but I don’t have time to act on a feeling.

  Adam winds the wheel until the door opens and cool, damp air seeps out of the dark hole. He takes the torch and shines it inside. The fire escape is a long, vertical, stone tunnel with a ladder running the entire length. There is no sound.

  “Would you feel safer going first or last?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Perhaps, you should go first because you’ve got the gun.”

  He climbs inside, swiftly moving up the ladder, so I can follow. Passing him the torch, I gingerly step out over the pit to nothingness to get my footing on the rungs. The metal is icy under my bare feet, and gripping the rungs is agony for my arm. I stretch over, pulling the door closed behind me. The tunnel reminds me of a well. I cannot see further than the torches reach above or below me. Not the time for claustrophobia.

  Adam starts up the ladder. He moves fast, causing it to vibrate and dust to fall into my face. I begin to climb from one rung to the next, using my good arm to pull me up. Higher and higher we climb until we come to another hatch. It is open, but the corridor is jet-black.

  I look up at Adam’s boots. He keeps one foot on the ladder and positions the other against the wall for support. Raising his gun, he peers in the hatch, and I watch him with bated breath.

  “It’s clear. Yvette must have brought the others through here. We need to climb higher to get to Top Site, and you need to move quicker, Teds” he whispers.

  It’s the first time he’s called me Teds. The others throw it around like a pet name, but hearing Adam say it makes my tummy bubble. My feet ache from where the metal presses into the bridges, but I whisper an ‘okay’ and follow him upward.

  Noise carries down the tunnel from above us. Adam slows to a stop, and I hold myself to the ladder to catch my breath. He steps quietly, pulling himself up against the next hatch. The door is closed, but there is something going on behind it. Adam places an ear to the door and puts a finger to his lips. I’m not making noise, but I try to hold my breath.

  Something bangs against the hatch, and Adam jumps away, losing his footing and body slamming the ladder. Another bang is followed by a woman’s screams- it’s Yana. Adam wrenches the wheel handle on the door and kicks it open. His whole body sails through the hatch in one fluid movement.

  I scramble up the remaining rungs just as the body of a TORO is tipped through the hatch above me.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The TORO slams into my head and shoulder and knocks me off the ladder. I fall briefly, but manage to grab a rung with my bad arm. It’s as if a hot poker is shoved into the bullet wound. I cry out. Dangling precariously over the tunnel, I swing my legs towards the ladder until I can hook them through a hole and grab the side with my good arm.

  I’m in a sitting position, facing the wall. A hand reaches up and grabs the back of my scrubs. I see grey in my peripheral- TORO grey. I’m yanked downward, but my legs catch in the ladder, leaving me hanging upside down and looking into darkness. My scrubs fall up to my armpits, and rough hands grate on my bare skin. My knees are all that are holding me in place as the rung digs hard into my knee caps.

  The TORO and I are face to face, and blood from a cut above his eye, swipes across my cheek. I fight his hands away, but he has gained his footing and grabs at my waist band, tugging violently. I can feel my legs slipping loose from the rungs. I want to use my telekinesis, but I’m too scared to let go of the side of the ladder. I scream out again, this time, in sheer fear of falling to my death. I’m panicking - I can’t breathe - I can’t think.

  A foot shoots passed my head and hits the TORO square in the face. Another blow from the foot, and the grip on my waist band vanishes. I see the TORO falling, his head slams into the side of the tunnel, and then he disappears into the darkness.

  My body is lifted back into a sitting position. Adam stands just below me, so our faces are at the same height. I take deep, gulping breaths and my whole body shakes uncontrollably. He wraps an arm around my waist, sliding my legs out of the ladder without speaking, and manoeuvring me in his free arm, he lifts me over his shoulder. He is strong, and as he climbs, I feel his muscles flexing and relaxing under my stomach and thighs.

  At the hatch, another pair of hands drags me through the door. Haydn staggers on his knee, but his grip is sturdy and sure. I cling to him for a moment before feeling confident enough to let go.

  My legs are standing, but they haven’t realised the fact. They wobble unsteadily underneath my weight and from the battering they have just received. I crouch down with my hands against the wall, desperately trying to calm my breathing.

  “I’m so sorry, Teddie. I didn’t realise you were below the hatch,” said Haydn, his eyes swimming with tears.

  I wrap my arms around him and kiss his cheek. It’s all I can manage; speaking will confirm the panic attack I’m still overcoming.

  We are in an office. Filing cabinets cover the majority of the wall space, and a wooden desk sits in front of a window with a laptop and photographs positioned on top. The blinds are shut, diffusing the sunlight that streams in. I never thought I’d be so happy to see sunlight.

  I pick up one of the frames. Roscoe’s pudgy face is beaming up at me; his arm around a severe looking, blonde girl in her early twenties. They have the same nose. I put the frame back down and look around the normality of Roscoe’s office. I don’t know what I had imagined to see in his office- heads in jars perhaps.

  Golding sits at the laptop muttering to himself. The tablet is beside him in pieces.

  “We have five minutes and twenty seconds to get to the roof,” Adam says, closing the hatch.

  “We’ll never make it. What if we meet more TORO?” says Yvette. She stands by the door, clutching a sobbing Yana. “What happened down there? Why did you not send Teddie up? You disobeyed a direct order.”

  How dare she? ‘You know what needs to be done.’ Her voice swims through my mind. She had ordered him to stay behind. I step forward, about to unleash a tirade of pent up anger on her, but Adam squeezes my hand.

  “Later,” he says. I’m not sure who he is talking to- me or Yvette. “There is another option.�
�� He points to a vent above Roscoe’s desk.

  Yvette looks at it horrified, and Yana lets out a half groan half sob of understanding. She rushes me, wrapping her arms around my waist, and I hold her, stroking her hair as she whimpers.

  “What about these things?” Golding snaps, slamming the laptop shut and holding out his gloved hands. “Butter fingers over there smashed the tablet.”

  Haydn sighs, and I feel him shrink in size. “I said I was sorry.”

  “The gloves have trackers in them. We need to remove them, but as soon as you try they will sedate him,” says Yvette.

  Adam grabs Golding’s arm, pulling a knife out of his belt at the same time.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you going to do with that?” Golding asks, his face white and sweaty.

  “I’m going to break them off, even if it means carrying you.”

  “As tempting as that sounds, dishy TORO, I’m going to pass.”

  Golding tries to free his arm, but Adam drags him closer still, sticking the knife in the join of one of the cuffs.

  “Wait,” I shout. “What about Haydn? You’re a Technokin. Can’t you do whatever it is you do on them?” I ask him.

  He shifts uneasily, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I don’t know?” he says.

  I roll my eyes. “Just try.”

  Haydn takes Golding’s wrist and places his hand over the cuff. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. Golding watches Haydn’s face intently. There is a small beep followed by a click and the cuff falls to the floor.

  Haydn looks at Golding in disbelief. “Ha, I did it. I actually did it,” he cheers. He takes a hold of the other cuff, and that, too, falls from Golding’s wrist.

  “Cheers, Hay,” says Golding, grinning.

  Adam slaps him on the back. “Nice one, mate.”

  Haydn’s chest puffs out from his praise.

  Golding’s hands are red raw and peeling. He rubs them together and flexes his fingers. No wonder the poor guy wanted them off so badly. He positions the gloves on Roscoe’s desk, so they’re flipping the bird, and then grins at me. I have to smile.