Oblivion

by Adrianne Lemke

  “How are they?” I asked, a wistful tone in my voice.

  The answer this time came from Alice. “They’ve been doing pretty well. Jeffrey still has a hard time with school, but with help he has improved. Both of them miss you and Jason a lot, but they don’t let us criticize him for leaving.”

  A small smile crossed my face, and I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, they wouldn’t take that well.”

  After Jason rescued the kids from horribly abusive situations and did nothing but protect them from anyone who meant them harm, not one of those kids would speak a word against him. Paul was the first of the kids Jason found, and was his second-in-command. He might argue with my brother in private, but only rarely would he speak against him in front of anyone. Although he would leap to Jason’s defense without a second thought. Jeffrey and Ginny were just as protective, but not as likely to speak out. They were more likely to shut out anyone who spoke negatively about their guardian.

  Alice and Hannah both had fond smiles on their faces. “No, I guess they wouldn’t. Not after everything they’ve been through with him,” Hannah agreed.

  Keeping track of our conversation became difficult as I felt a major flux in Jason’s emotional state. My vision became unfocussed as I concentrated on my brother. He was on high alert, and seemed overly focused. What’s going on, big brother?

  Taking a deep breath, I expanded my focus in an attempt to read the people around Jason. One seemed angry; ready to burst with a fury I worried was aimed at my brother. Another was cooler, more controlled. He seemed unflappable, but I could read some tension deep down. Perhaps a little concern at dealing with someone with Jason’s abilities? In theory he could squash them all like bugs, although I doubted he would ever do that.

  “Sam!” Alice spoke loudly, shaking me a bit.

  “What?” I snapped; irritated that she broke the connection I was working hard to create.

  She stepped back, eyes wide. “We were talking, and you phased out. What happened?”

  The muscles in my face relaxed, and I wondered what I looked like to her initially. “I was trying to figure that out,” I told her in a calmer voice. “Jason is getting ready for something, but I have no idea what. One of the people near him is ready to do something bad; the other is prepared to let it happen. I wish…” I trailed off, looking at the scarred assassin in our midst.

  My wish could come true. “Kin… Jeremiah, I need you to contact Jason. Try to find out what he’s planning.”

  Uncharacteristically hesitant, the man stuttered, “I… uh… I don’t think he wants to hear from me right now. His loss of control directly correlated with my escape. I think he knows exactly what I did to get out.”

  “Let me be perfectly clear,” I snapped, my words overly enunciated. “You will contact my brother. You will get him to tell you what he’s planning. And you will do it now!”

  SEVENTEEN

  Jason

  So far no one had approached me. It had been several hours since the Doctor threatened to let the Boss punish me for my actions, and I was beginning to believe he would do nothing. Letting me stew and worry about what he might do seemed like a sufficient punishment. Perhaps they thought anything I could dream up would scare me enough that I wouldn’t continue to fight them.

  Although, from what I could tell of the man, the Boss seemed to be chomping at the bit to hurt someone. At the thought of being allowed to punish me, his heart had sped up and I could tell he was excited.

  From what I gathered from the myriad of scars littering my torso, I had been in this position before. Apparently sadistic bastards are drawn to hurt me. Lucky me.

  The Boss wouldn’t hurt me. After my accidental use of power, I could feel the connection to the earth in the back of my mind. There was dirt all over the floors, probably brought in on shoes. I could use it. Wiggling my fingers and concentrating, I could tell the pieces of dirt were moving toward me. My attempt was something I did not want anyone to notice. I limited my movements to only slight wiggling of my fingers that could be attributed to keeping the blood flowing in my bound hands. Although I could feel the dirt along the hallway outside my room, I kept my attention on the grains within my prison. I couldn’t be certain no one would notice if all the dirt on this level suddenly started heading toward my room.

  Casting my gaze toward the floor, I could see the grains of dirt slithering toward my bed. I kept it out of sight of the cameras, certain that if they noticed what I was doing, the punishment would be real, not up to my imagination.

  “Jason… Jason, can you hear me?”

  Jeremiah’s voice broke my concentration, and I could feel my heart beat speeding up. It seemed certain my anxiety was clear on my face, but I attempted to school my features to hide it. If they noticed… maybe they would think I had a particularly bad thought about what they might do to me.

  “Jason… Oblivion wanted me to contact you. He wants to know what you’re planning. He and I can help you.”

  If I didn’t respond, the killer would likely keep trying to speak to me. “You’re a killer. Why should I trust you?”

  There was a long pause, and I began to wonder if he heard me at all.

  “I can return you to your family. Does it matter if you can trust me on a personal level?” Despite his attempt to sound nonchalant, I could almost feel his hurt that I no longer felt I could trust him.

  The thought gave me pause. It began to make me believe what he had said about us being friends. Why else would my distrust cause him pain? My thoughts drifted back to what he asked.

  Does it matter? The other man had already proven he was capable of escaping this place. The only place I knew. Nothing else in the world would be familiar to me, so if I left on my own, would I be able to survive?

  Somehow I knew I could. But if I told him no, I doubted he would let it lie. “I’m planning to use my powers to get out.” Honest, but not detailed.

  If he and his allies managed to get here before I left, I might go with them. How could I trust that he knew my family? How could I even trust that he knew me before my memory loss?

  I could feel his mental sigh. “Oblivion says you are distrustful, and I do not blame you. I would not harm you, Jason. You saved my life. For two years I have hurt no one. These people threaten your safety and that of people you care for. I am working with your friends to rescue you. Please trust us!”

  Desperation was clear in the killer’s voice, and I wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe I wouldn’t be alone as I ventured into the world.

  But I couldn’t. “I’m sorry, but I can’t trust a killer.”

  “You’ve killed too!” he snapped, anger ratcheting through my mind.

  Cringing, I tried to bring my hand up to rub my head, but was brought up short by the restraint. “Stop! That hurts!” I pleaded. The truth of his statement reverberated in my mind. I was a killer too.

  Did it matter? I couldn’t remember the act, and the memory of heartbeats ceasing made me sick. I may have killed, but at least right now I didn’t have the stomach for it. Ignoring Jeremiah’s repeated attempts to talk to me, I kept my concentration on the dirt. It was time to figure out how to use it to free myself. There were key locks on the restraints, so I directed the line of dirt into it. Doing so allowed me to feel the inner workings of the lock. It wouldn’t take much to unlock the restraints, but I had to figure out the lay of the land before attempting to get out.

  I sent energy through the floor—sensing the earth within the building materials—and determined that my main adversaries were not in the immediate vicinity. My room was still dark, and they had told me they’d be back the next day. Perhaps they were either gone, or in their own quarters for the night. The Doctor and Boss may be gone, but I was not here alone. There were people walking all around the building. Although none were nearby.

  “Don’t, Jason! Wait for us, please!” Jeremiah’s voice was tinged with desperation, and I ignored it as I continued plotting a way out.

 
; Of course all bets were off once I started moving. They would see me on their cameras, and would attempt to keep me here. The dirt I stocked near the bed now would have to serve as my partner in my escape. And I would continue gathering it as I ran through the building.

  They carried guns. I would stop them without killing them, and prove to Jeremiah that I am not a killer. That I cannot be like him, no matter how much he wants me to be. Keeping my concentration on the dirt slowly making its way into the cuff locks, I absently wondered whether Jeremiah heard my silent declaration.

  The killer’s voice was still sounding in my head, but I made the conscious choice to ignore him. Expending any extra energy on communication was not my priority. Escaping before my captors decided to harm me in any way was.

  “Please shut up,” I begged, my head beginning to throb at the unwelcome intrusion.

  Expecting him to fight me, it was a pleasant surprise when the voice simply stopped talking. Sending out a silent thank you, I pushed the dirt in the locks, forcing them to turn. The soft click as it released was a welcome sound, but I was careful to not move my hands.

  The camera in the corner was just visible in my peripheral vision, and I was careful to not pay it any undue attention. It was necessary to keep it in view as I sent a thin tendril of dirt up the wall toward it.

  Catching a glimpse of the slowly moving line of dirt, I was struck by how much it looked like a line of ants marching up the wall. My mouth quirked in slight amusement at the image. My little dirt ants doing my bidding.

  Pushing my will into the dirt, I let the line speed up, wanting nothing more than to get out of this prison. The thin line approached the back of the camera, and I pushed the particles together, hardening them so they could cut through the wires.

  It took several minutes of extreme concentration, but eventually the wire snapped.

  I sat up in the bed and rubbed my raw wrists. I eyed the door, cautiously sensing whether there was someone outside or not.

  Now came the fun part.

  EIGHTEEN

  Jeremiah

  There are a lot of things in the world capable of making me angry, but far fewer that cause me open concern. Jason’s refusal to communicate with me at one point would have angered me. As things fell now, it only served as a cause of concern.

  “What’s happening?”

  The voice sounded about as worried as I felt, and I turned to face the boy. “Your brother is very stubborn.”

  My comment brought a slight smile to Sam’s face. “He always has been. What’s he doing now? You actually seem… I don’t know… anxious or something.” His brow was furrowed in concentration.

  “Not a normal emotion from me, correct?” I asked, my lips twitching in amusement.

  He shook his head slowly. “Not normal,” he agreed. “But not as abnormal as you want people to believe. You’ve been concerned about my brother this whole time, or you wouldn’t have bothered pretending to be a cop to stay close to him.”

  Taken aback, I opened my mouth briefly before closing it again. His abilities prevented me from hiding my motivations as usual. The idea that this… this child could know my feelings was difficult to accept. But he was not incorrect.

  A quick glimpse at the boy’s face showed an amused smirk, and I knew he had been following the changes in my emotions. “Keep your mind to yourself,” I snapped irritably.

  His smirk only became more amused, and I resigned myself to the mild aggravation his attitude caused. There was nothing I would do against him unless he actively attempted to harm me.

  Smirk fading, Sam approached. “What is my brother doing?” he asked again.

  “Ignoring me, mostly,” I admitted. “But I believe he is attempting to mount an escape. In theory he could be successful, but without his memories…”

  “He wouldn’t have a place to go,” Sam followed my thoughts clearly. “He’ll get out, but he knows nobody and nothing.”

  The kid’s amusement was no longer present as overwhelming concern flooded his features. “We need to go get him,” he urged.

  “He’s right,” Detective Farrow spoke as she approached. “We can’t let Jason wander off on his own with no knowledge of who he is or where he’ll be safe.”

  I sighed and looked away from the detective for a moment. “Jason no longer trusts me, and I am the only person other than his captors that he knows. What makes you think he will trust you when you catch up to him?”

  A flash of mental pain went through my mind at the thought that I’d lost Jason’s trust. He’d only just begun to trust me as Scott Nickels, and had decided to trust me despite his memory loss. Now, he pushed me away as he’d done when we’d first met. He believed me to be a mindless killer, and not someone who could help him.

  Sam stepped forward, interrupting my thoughts. “I can help him to trust us. You told him he has a brother, right? Once I get to him I think I can help him remember.”

  “And if he still cannot?” I kept my tone soft, wanting to do nothing that would harm the Tracker’s brother.

  He winced slightly, but nodded. “I can still help. Trust is part of what I can…” he paused, casting a wary glance at the detective and his friends. “It’s part of what I can control.”

  Sam was clearly tense at his admission, and the others eyed him with distrust. He wasn’t far off in thinking his friends were afraid of him.

  “We talked about this, detective,” I snapped. “He is a child, learning a dangerous ability. Your distrust is not likely to help the situation.”

  She shook herself and put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Sorry, Sam; I know you wouldn’t do anything to us.”

  I could tell she was being honest, and the sincerity brought a smile to Sam’s face.

  I clapped my hands together. “Are we all settled now? Then we should get going. We’ll want to be there before your brother manages to get free. He may need assistance with his departure.”

  “Paul will be here shortly, should we wait? Do we have time to wait?” Sam asked.

  Casting part of my mind toward the Tracker, I shook my head. “He is not waiting. I believe whatever his plan is; he already put it in motion. What do you think?”

  I watched as the boy’s eyes lost their focus, and he began breathing faster, his hands gripping into tight fists. Taking a deep breath, he pulled away and grimaced. “Yeah. He’s definitely moving. Alice, we need to go.”

  NINETEEN

  Sam

  Despite my desire to leave immediately, it did take a couple minutes to gather everyone and leave a message with Tessa for Paul. The whole time I couldn’t stop my fingers from tapping against my leg, and my foot was tapping on the floor. “Can we get going?” I urged.

  Jason wasn’t waiting. No matter how much I tried to manipulate his fear or anxiety about leaving the only place he would recognize, he still would not pause in his efforts to get free. A wry smile crossed my face. Some things never change. Even without memories, Jason would not stay still. Running was ingrained deeply.

  “Is he talking to you at all?” I faced Kindred, and he cast a glare in my direction.

  “As I told you before; he no longer trusts me. He will not listen or respond to anything I try to tell him, including that his brother is with me, and wants him to wait. What more would you have me do?”

  He seemed upset, but the assassin genuinely wanted to help Jason escape his captors. His question wasn’t sarcastic, but an honest inquiry. Shrugging hopelessly, I answered, “I would have everyone speed up!”

  My own anxiety seemed to push everyone to their highest speeds. Alice and Mark had on their bulletproof vests, and had their service weapons strapped to their hips. Hannah was already at the car, and Kindred and I were close behind.

  “I have no jurisdiction here,” Alice explained. “But this being a kidnapping, Mark does. He’s reported to his superiors and requested my help, but we don’t have time to wait for official word from his bosses that we can go in. Let’s go get Jason ba
ck.”

  Mark grinned humorlessly, “Better to ask forgiveness than permission. We’ll be good as long as we get Jason out and can get his statement.”

  Everyone got into Alice’s SUV, and she drove as quickly as she could to the other side of town.

  “He’s terrified,” I informed them, “but he isn’t stopping. There is no way to tell how far he is in his attempt, since I can’t talk to him and he’s ignoring Ki—Jeremiah. All I know is he is not out yet.”

  “We need to do everything we can to aid him in his escape,” Jeremiah insisted. “He may not know you or trust me, but if he sees us helping him that will be a start. And, Oblivion? Try to avoid the temptation to use your abilities to make him trust you. If he discovers that you were messing around in his mind, he will have a difficult time truly trusting you again.”

  I flinched at the reprimand, and wanted to push back at the warning. My mind, however, automatically pulled back from my brother’s mind. His comment struck close to home. Wasn’t that what I had worried about with Hunter? It was why I was so hesitant to let Jason know about my abilities.

  Kindred was clearly waiting for a response. “I… I—” I hesitated, not knowing what to say.

  The assassin spoke in an oddly gentle tone. “You love your brother, but you also love using your abilities. Keep in mind that your desire to manipulate others is not a trait that Jason would admire. Do what you must to our enemies in order to help his escape, but do not use your powers on him directly. Not until you attempt to fix his memories.”

  My initial reaction was to lash out. To tell Kindred that he had no right to tell me what to do. Unfortunately, I knew he was right. The others seemed to know it as well, because not one of them spoke up against what the killer said. Jason always had a hard time letting people in and trusting them. It would be hard enough to explain what I had inadvertently done to him without having to inform him that, along with wiping his memories, I had also manipulated his emotions.