EVO Nation Series Trilogy Box Set

by K. J. Chapman

  Kesh kisses my forehead and says goodbye. It’s surreal, like I’m off on holiday or something, not about to die. He hands me a watch set with a timer. “That’s all you’ve got, Teds.”

  “How long do you need to get away?”

  He shrugs “I don’t know. The water may contain the blast a little more. I’m so sorry I can’t help you, Teds,” he cries.

  “Hey, this isn’t anyone’s fault except Towley’s. Now, you listen to me. You need to look after Seth. He is a gentle guy, and you both deserve a little happiness.” Kesh looks shocked, as do the others, but I wink at him with my good eye.

  I force Jude away. “Get in that van and get some distance from me.” He hugs me one last time, kisses my forehead, and then helps Kesh carry Adam to the van. I can’t stand their tears, it’s breaking me. No, I’m okay with this. I’m bursting with love and that’s enough. “Tell everyone that I love them with all my heart. Go on. Get away with ya,” I say, smiling. It’s genuine.

  Jude starts the truck, and I watch their faces retreat into a blur of tears. Let’s end this how it started- just me.

  I walk along the cliff, eyeing the rushing swell. There is something poetic about the ocean. I’ll be joining Dad. The watch ticks down to the final thirty seconds. This is happening, Teddie. This is it. I open my arms, close my eyes, and rise onto the balls of my feet. The wind is strong, unsteadying, and it feels as if Mother Nature is tugging me on.

  Ten seconds.

  I picture Adam’s face- the time he took care of me in the shower room of Facility One- the first moment I knew I loved him. Then I launch myself.

  I have jumped.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The impact is painful. I’m not sure if I’m dead, alive, conscious, unconscious. I know that I can’t breathe from the pressure on my chest. I can’t tell if I am underwater or plastered on the rocks. My eyes are clenched shut and I open them slowly. Water surrounds me in a swirling, rushing ball. I hover in the centre, weightless, but very much alive. The detonator hovers beside me. I no longer hold it. Why haven’t I been blown to smithereens? I reach out my hand and it easily submerges into the side of the orb. The icy water wets my hand and sleeve.

  A sudden, gravity defying force soars both the orb and me into the air. The contents of my stomach barely stay in situ. I fight to stay conscious. The orb drops suddenly, as does my stomach, and I’m on a small patch of shingle with the swell ebbing over my lifeless body.

  Feet approach: expensive jeans, tan shoes, vibrant socks. I look up to see an unfamiliar man staring back at me. I haven’t seen him before, but at the same time, I know his dark eyes, his hair line, his ever so slightly pointed nose. He could be Jude just twenty years older.

  His hair is full, well styled, but salt and peppered, and he smiles at me. “Hello, Theyda. I’m your grandfather.”

  “Rafe,” I mumble.

  “What you call me is up to you. I much prefer Papa,” he says, still smiling.

  “Am I dead?” I ask.

  He grins. “Not if I can help it.”

  He lifts me easily for an older man. A boat rounds the rocks, and I see Bo and Vin at the helm. The other gang members eagerly look over board. A blonde, slim woman joins them- Celeste.

  “The bomb,” I say.

  “Dealt with, for now. I managed to extract the code from Towley. The bomb development changed my plans, but we can make this work to your advantage.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  Rafe shakes his head. “Not yet. We still have use for him.”

  “Are you E.N.C?”

  “Shush now. Let’s get you well first.”

  With little effort, Rafe pushes off from the ground and we’re airborne, landing on the deck as softly as if he just took a small step.

  “You’re a Telekin too?”

  “Telepathic Telekin,” he says in my mind. “I’m going to get you away from here.”

  “My friends,” I say, a spark of life surging inside me. “I need to get back to Adam, to Jude—”

  “For now, you are dead to them.”

  The bottom falls out of my world and my tummy falls with it. The boat speeds away from the cliffs, followed by an explosion that rumbles through the air like thunder.

  “What was that?”

  “That was your death, Theyda. Trust me, this is the best way.”

  The End of Book Two

  EVO Ghost

  Book Three

  By K.J. Chapman

  CHAPTER ONE

  The bomb exploded.

  Not the bomb that Ray Towley implanted in my brain, but the bomb that was left on the rocks to ensure everyone believes that Theyda Leason died on those cliffs. I’m a living ghost and can’t quite get my head around it. Sometimes, I zone out, processing everything that has happened to get me to this point. Other times, I start doubting the reality of it. Am I really here? Did that bomb claim me? The only thing that reminds me that I am truly alive is pain.

  Sitting upright in the armchair, legs curled under me, is the only position I can get comfortable in. Unable to recline due to the lacerations on my back, I can’t fully relax or slouch. My broken ribs are tender, and basically, my whole body is a mess. At least my lungs are doing better. The agony of a collapsed lung, and subsequently, having the lung cavity fill with blood, is something I never want to experience again.

  The doctor slips into the room, feigning a smile, but I look through him. If it’s not him, it’s Rafe fussing over me. They move around me like shadows, spectres in a parallel universe, yet I’m absorbed in my own bubble. They talk to me, talk at me, tend to me. I barely see them.

  “Medication time,” says Jonah.

  The man must stick a rod down his pants to get a posture that rigid. His hair is an homage to Clark Kent, and he even has the black rimmed glasses to match. I forget his surname because I don’t care what it is. He is the Non-EVO surgeon who put the Scrambler in my head on Towley’s orders. He is also the surgeon who removed it when my grandfather, Rafe, got me back to wherever the hell we are. I haven’t asked. I don’t know the conditions of Jonah’s stay here, but I know that I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.

  He hands me a small, plastic cup filled with five different pills. I can safely take three of them; they are pain killers, antibiotics, and the such. The smallest two are some kind of sedatives or sleeping pills. Those, I never take.

  Jonah waits patiently- expectantly. “I must see you swallow them. Rafe was insistent.”

  I chuck them into my mouth, and the clink as they hit my teeth satisfies him. Taking a swig of water, I swallow them down and waggle my tongue so he can see. He peers inside my glass to ensure I didn’t spit them into the water.

  It’s easier not to talk to him and simply stare at the far wall. He silently collects his things and leaves. At first, he would ask me how I was feeling, or if I was suffering from headaches after the surgery. I never replied, so now he doesn’t bother. Once I’m certain he is a good distance away, I dislodge the two hidden pills from between my fingers and flick them across the room.

  Rafe slips into the room with a bowl of semolina. He must have just finished working out for he wears black cargo pants, a sleeveless vest, and his greying hair is slick from his face with sweat. For a sixty-five-year-old man, he has the fitness levels and physique to rival that of a thirty-year-old. His body is covered in tattoos. I’d be hard pushed to find a patch of skin un-inked. There is something intimidating about Rafe besides his appearance. There is a fiery glint in his eye, but I’m yet to find out what that fire is fuelling.

  It’s been twelve days since Rafe staged my death. Four days since I woke up from the surgery. One day since I have been able to get out of the bed. That’s twelve days that Adam has believed me to be dead, and twelve days that Jude has had to hold everything together, no doubt. Twelve days for Cooper to blame himself unnecessarily, and for Yana to have retreated into herself after losing another person close to her. They consume my thoughts morn
ing, noon, and night.

  Adam.

  My heart aches for him.

  I close my eyes and attempt to telepathically link with him for the millionth time. Yesterday, Rafe seemed relieved when I screamed at him that the link was well and truly broken. He believes that because Adam thinks I’m dead, our link has dissolved. What hurts most, is that Rafe knows what he is talking about. Like me, he is a Dual-EVO: Telepathic Telekin. He knows more on both abilities than I do on either, and I have to take what he says as gospel.

  “I’ve brought you something for supper, but how about coming to eat with the rest of us tonight?” Rafe asks. “Jonah says getting on your feet will do you good.”

  “I have just taken sedatives. I will go back to my room.”

  Rafe raises an eyebrow. “I know you don’t take the sedatives.”

  Looking away from his piercing eyes, I take to picking at my nails. I hope his comment stems from a keen intuition and not from reading me. I never realised how vulnerable I’d feel having a telepath around, especially one I don’t know or trust.

  “Come down. Conversation will do you good,” he coaxes.

  “I have nothing to say to you or your people.”

  “Just listen, then.” He offers his hand, but I shift away from him, flinching in pain as I do so. “Deep down you know that we’ve made the best of a bad situation, Kiddo. If Towley and the world believe you to be dead, then your family and friends will be safer for it. Even Syndicate are better off with Theyda Leason out of the picture. That’s hundreds of EVO who are safer because of the decision made twelve days ago. Your wallowing is for yourself.”

  My temper flares. “I don’t know why I’m here and they’re not? I don’t understand why you’d exclude them- exclude your own son?” I cough from the outburst, sending pain slicing through my chest and ribs.

  He places the bowl on the coffee table in front of me and takes the seat opposite. “If you are ready to ask questions, I am ready to answer them, but first, I want you to come down to dinner with me. You don’t have to stay long, just show your face.”

  His eyes implore me. I can’t get over the resemblance Jude shares with him. Rafe is bigger built and not as arrogant looking, but there is no denying they are father and son.

  Holding out my hand, I allow him to help me from my chair. All movement hurts, so I take baby steps whilst hanging from his arm. “Just because we are blood, it doesn’t mean that I trust you. That’s why I don’t take the sedatives. I don’t know who you are or what set up you’ve got going here?”

  “We are Shift.”

  “So you say. Bo was E.N.C.”

  Rafe smiles, and that riles me more than anything. “Yes, she was. So was Jude and Adam, and the majority of your friends: Wheeler, Emiko, Seth, and October. Not forgetting Dominic Cooper, who I believe was not only E.N.C, but a convicted criminal. Arson, wasn’t it?”

  “I’m aware of Cooper’s past. He is a Pyrokin, and things got out of hand when he was a teen. Don’t judge someone you’ve never met.”

  “I don’t care about any of that. As I was saying, Bo is Shift now. She told me what you said to her in the fight house. I’m proud of who you are, Kiddo, considering all you have been through.”

  I don’t need compliments, I need answers. “You know an awful lot about my friends.”

  “I make it my job to know.”

  His cryptic responses only add to my frustration. “What I don’t understand is how Bo found you? Nothing about this makes sense.”

  “No more questions until after dinner.” He isn’t going to give an inch, and I may as well be banging my head against a brick wall. “You can come down in your pyjamas, no one will care.”

  I look down at the loose fitting, checked pyjamas that Rafe has lent me. He snipped and tacked the elastic in the waistband to fit me comfortably. I need loose garments because any pressure on my back is pure agony. Everything is a chore of pain and emotion. It’s the only sensation to stop me feeling numb and void. I’ve been sleeping for just a few hours a night in a hospital bed, as near to sitting as possible. Half on my belly and half in the foetal position on my left side to minimise pain to my ribs. I know that’s why Rafe wants me to take the sedatives. In truth, I know that he cares in his own, weird way. I just don’t know if I care that he cares.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks. “You pout when your lost in thought.”

  “I thought you’d already know what I’m thinking?”

  Rafe faces me dead on, places his hands on my shoulders, and hunches until we’re at eye level. “I will not read your thoughts without your permission, but I expect the courtesy to be returned.” His sincerity catches me off guard, and I find myself nodding. “This might cheer you up. I have someone who is desperate to see you. He’s been driving me bloody insane this past fortnight, but we were unsure about him being over-zealous with you whilst you were healing.”

  Over-zealous? Who would be over-zealous with me? There is a scratching at the door. Rafe opens it, letting in a blur of fur. Darcy bounds out me, almost knocking me off of my feet. He nuzzles against my legs, and I scruff at his neck. I could cry. His is the first familiar face I have seen since waking up here. I’m sure I dreamed of him and those heterochromatic eyes of his when I was sedated. In fact, I’m pretty sure I dreamed of everyone.

  “You brought him here that day,” I say, choking on a sob. “Thank you.” The words taste funny in my mouth, but I am genuinely grateful that he saved Darcy.

  “I couldn’t leave him on the cliffs, could I?” says Rafe. “I’ve had him wormed and bathed. Come now, Darcy.” Darcy doesn’t look to move. “He’s stubborn like you,” Rafe says, pushing Darcy ahead of us.

  The corridors are dimly lit and cold. There is nothing impressive in the décor of plain, grey linoleum and concrete walls. It isn’t a house, though. The room I was in constitutes a lounge as far as the armchairs and the coffee table, but there is nothing homely about it. My bedroom is a bedroom because there is a bed in it- simple as that. There is a toilet with a sink, but no shower or tub. This morning, I had my first sponge bath in over two weeks, and even then, Jonah had to be present to help bathe and dress my wounds. I hate being dependant. Worse, I hate being dependant on those I don’t trust.

  “One question before dinner. Where and what is this place?”

  Rafe unlocks a bulky set of doors, hesitating briefly. “We are in a secure location in North Derbyshire, the Peak District. This is Shift headquarters – base - home. The section where you have been staying is my personal quarters, but beyond these doors is the heart of the home, so to speak. Are you ready?”

  The question jars with me. Ready for what?

  He opens the doors onto a staircase that leads down to a large foyer. People bustle around, most heading through an archway and toward the source of the noise that carries in the air. A wall has been graphitised with a large logo. I’ve seen the logo before on the Shift membership ring Leoni had shown me; an ‘S’ made to look like a strand of DNA. The graffiti is pretty sloppy, but serves a purpose. The electric blue colouring makes an intimidating, powerful impression against the plain, grey walls.

  “Shift is a big organisation, but we’re also a ghost organisation. We have been waiting for the right time to make a comeback. Our numbers have doubled since Woodman’s broadcast.”

  “I thought all the original members were murdered apart from Leoni?”

  The light leaves his eyes. I’ve heard snippets of what darkens his thoughts from Leoni and Grayson James. Shift out dates the E.N.C, but abruptly ended when every member was hunted and killed by the government. Grayson, leader of Syndicate, was a Shift member until his wife was murdered and he gave up the names of every one on Rafe’s team. Grayson had his reasons, but it still doesn’t explain how Rafe is alive, or how he has managed to claw back his organisation

  “They were silenced for standing up for what is right, but fortunately, it’s not so easy to eradicate an idea,” he says through gritted te
eth.

  He turns on the stairs, manoeuvring them backward to guide me down in a slow, safe manner. Darcy waits patiently at the bottom. Two women cross toward the archway, watching us with curiosity. They both smile before rushing out of sight, and the noise suddenly wanes, the crescendo replaced by the hum of lowered voices.

  Rafe leads me in the same direction and through another set of swing doors. “This is the quietest this place has been in as long as I can remember. I think they’re awaiting your arrival,” he says.

  As soon as we enter, a deathly hush falls over the vast room. Hundreds of people sit at long, canteen-style tables. Most of the members are young in comparison to Rafe, not that I’m surprised. Women and men in aprons serve up food to the line of people waiting with trays.

  “We call headquarters ‘The Hive’, and you can see why,” he says.

  All eyes are on me and I hate it. One man stands up and begins stamping his foot and clapping. More people stand until the whole room is on their feet, stamping and clapping.

  “I don’t like this,” I whisper to Rafe. “Why are they doing that?”

  “Because you are Theyda Leason. They are showing you support. Also, it is custom to welcome every new member like this. It’s a rite of passage for those who join.”

  “Make them stop. I’ve not joined anything.”

  He throws me a pointed look, but waves his hands to settle the onlookers. “Teddie is still recovering, so introductions can wait. She just wanted to show her face and let you know she is back on her feet.”

  “I don’t want to eat out here… too many eyes,” I whisper, smoothing down Darcy’s fur just to feel something familiar.

  Rafe escorts me toward the dinner queue, followed by cheering and whooping. A couple of people welcome me, yet all I can do is smile and move on. I must come across as rude, but in truth, I am overwhelmed.

  Rafe balances my tray with his own and gestures for me to follow him. Without his arm to steady me, I feel weak and at risk of collapse. Knowing all eyes are still on me as we leave the canteen, I keep my own focussed on the back of Rafe’s head and try to maintain a strong constitution with Darcy’s reassuring presence at my side.