“Radio check.”
He waits a moment, then says;
“Copy that, Marcus, head back in. Duncan, radio check.”
Nathan finishes filling in the grave and starts patting down the mud, but Joe just thumbs the transmit button again.
“Duncan, come in, please.”
We all turn around to watch him. His forehead is creased with frown lines.
“Duncan, can you hear me?”
He lowers the radio and shakes his head.
“No response.”
“What… what does that mean?” I look around the group, but no-one answers. They don’t need to: I can think of only one reason he’s not responding. “Pearce is here, isn’t he?”
Scott shakes his head.
“We don’t know that. These radios are old. Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet.”
“Still,” Joe says, “you should head back to the base and get ready to move out, just in case. I’ll head to his last known location.”
“I’ll come with you,” Nathan says.
“We should all go,” I argue. Splitting up now doesn’t make any sense. If we run into anyone… I feel vaguely queasy. We’re better off as a group.
“They’re right, Anna,” Helen says. “We need to get to Toby and Doctor Cullen.”
Oh shit. She’s right. If there’s a team out here somewhere, they’re going to make straight for the base. Where Toby and Cullen are completely defenceless. I shoot Scott a panicked look, then without another word, grab his and Helen’s hands, and shift.
I take us right back to the med wing, where I last saw the pair of them. Scott’s already reaching for his weapon, and I’m quivering from head to toe, ready to grab people and shift. If AbGen are here, they’re not going to take us. Not alive.
“Anna? What’s going on?”
I’m wound so tight I almost shift at the sound from behind me.
“Toby, good,” Scott says, lowering his weapon but keeping hold of it. “We need to get ready to move.”
The scientist looks at our grim faces and nods. The doctor is here too, perched on the edge of a chair with his head hanging low. I feel a pang of guilt for not even thinking about how he must feel. Iain was my friend, but he was Cullen’s patient. He lost him, too. Best thing he can do right now is keep busy.
“You should get anything you want to take with us ready,” I tell him. “Both of you. We’re leaving as soon as the others get back.” I refuse to consider the alternative. The others are coming back. If it comes to it, I’ll shift everyone else to safety and then go looking for them, but we have to give them a chance to make their way back first. Me blundering around in the woods isn’t going to do anyone any favours.
“Anna, do you have a moment?”
I’m about to shake my head but I stop myself. I suppose I do, really – it’s not like I have anything to do other than wait – so I follow Toby into the side room, where all his papers and equipment are already neatly stacked on the worktop, no longer in use. I swallow.
“What’s up, Toby?”
“I wanted to ask you something. Personal.”
I perch on the edge of the worktop and give a slow nod. Toby risked his life to save Iain. The least I can do is answer his questions, personal or not. I’ve done a lot more for a lot less before.
“That… collar.” My hand rises up to touch it of its own accord but stops just short. A conditioned reflex. Pearce had me well trained: it was his collar, and I was not to touch it without permission. I can’t believe how many of his ridiculous rules I followed, never questioning him. I force my fingertips to move the last inch and run over the coarse, leather-like material.
“Do you really want to keep it on?”
Yes. No, I correct myself firmly. I most definitely do not still want it on. I sigh. It’s complicated, but Toby doesn’t really get the full range of human emotion, so I try to explain.
“I’m not sure I have a choice. I hate it, but I don’t know how not to wear it. That’s if we could even get it off. I don’t know what Pearce made it from, but it’s not ordinary leather.”
“I recognise the material,” he says, not meeting my eye. That’s not unusual though; Toby doesn’t do eye contact. “I designed it.” He does look up then, and he must see something in my face because he quickly adds, “I didn’t know what Doctor Pearce intended to do with it. He told me he was researching compounds for rifle slings.”
And that’s just like Toby. He can question the fundamental laws of nature, but it would never occur to him to question an order that’s a blatant lie.
“I don’t blame you, Toby.”
“I do.” He stares down at his fingernails. “Listen, I designed it to be unbreakable, but there was a weakness I could never manage to rectify. It can’t be cut, but if you super-heat it, then apply an acid to the surface while it’s still hot, the molecules become susceptible to a high magnetic force.”
As usual with Toby’s explanations, I have to roll it around my head a few times.
“You’re saying you can remove it?”
He nods. I process that for a moment, but my elation fades quickly. The panic I felt last time me and Scott attempted it is still all too vivid. Even now, I feel dizzy thinking about my exposed throat. I gnaw my fingernails.
“I want you to, I do, it’s just…” My fingers trace the skin above and below the collar. “I’ve had it on for a long time. I don’t know if I can.”
“I don’t know much about cognitive conditioning, but I have something that might help.”
I raise an eyebrow and he slides open a drawer. He pulls out a strip of black fabric and places it on the worktop, smoothing it out and laying it flat. I frown and twist round to get a better look.
“What is it?”
I pick up the strip of fabric and run it through my fingers. It’s heavier than it looks, strong but soft, with a small silver clasp on either end.
“It’s a choker. Its measurements are identical to your… um, collar. It’s lighter, but not by much. Over time we could probably substitute it for less dense materials, until you’re ready to remove them completely.”
“This is what you’ve been doing while we were out in the woods?”
He flushes and ducks his head.
“I couldn’t give you back Iain, but I thought maybe I could give you your freedom.”
It’s about the most emotionally perceptive thing I’ve ever heard him say. My breath catches in my throat for a moment, then I set my lips and nod.
“Then get every trace of that vile man off me.”
Toby is nothing if not thorough – he salvaged everything he needed from the Ishmaelians before they cleared out. A few minutes later, I’m laid out flat on the floor. He chose the floor because it’s the least heat-conductive, non-flammable surface in the base. Like I said, thorough. With Scott’s help, he’s fed a heat-proof cloth of some sort between my neck and the collar, because ideally we’re hoping not to kill me in the process. Under that is an organic-based cloth that he assures me is acid resistant. Scott took my locket from around my neck so the metal isn’t damaged by the extreme heat, and so the heated chain doesn’t brand itself to my neck. It’s lying on the floor between us; a reminder that we are one. As an after-thought, I sweep my hair well out of the way, because guys just don’t understand the importance of these things.
“Are you ready, Anna?”
I catch myself before I nod, in case I move the cloths and die horribly.
“Yeah, let’s just get it over with.”
Scott parks his backside on the floor next to me and takes hold of my hand. My throat constricts and I can feel my own rapid heartbeat bouncing back off the floor and through my chest. Jesus, I hope this works.
“Okay, hold really still.”
What does he think I’m going to do, start rolling around while he’s playing with a blow torch inches from my face? The device roars into life and I flinch. Scott squeezes my hand. I turn to look at him as I feel th
e heat coming closer. Sweat starts to prickle across my skin; it’s like sitting in front of a roaring fire for too long, until the flames start to feel uncomfortable against your flesh, and it’s still getting hotter. The pitch of the torch changes as the blue-white flame touches the collar. Oh my God, it’s so hot. I swallow, feeling my throat press more tightly against the heated band. The heat is seeping through until there’s a ring of fire around my neck and sweat is pouring from my forehead. Is it meant to be this hot? I shoot Scott a panicked look.
“It’s okay,” he says, wiping a strand of damp hair from my face. “Not long now.”
Despite his promise, the flame keeps roaring, getting hotter and hotter until my whole body feels like a lobster that’s been chucked in a pan of boiling water and sweat’s dripping from every inch of my skin which feels too tightly wrapped around me.
“Scott…” I whimper, my eyes pleading with his. This was a bad idea, it’s too hot, it’s too much. We need to stop, I can’t survive this, no-one could survive this.
“Sshh, it’s okay, nearly there.”
I whimper again, and the quivering presses my throat tighter to the band of fire. I grit my teeth to keep from crying out and clench my hands tightly. Scott’s still holding one but he doesn’t complain. I stare into his eyes and take a juddering breath. He won’t let anything happen to me.
“Okay, Anna,” Toby says, and the heat source suddenly disappears, but the fire around my throat remains. “That part’s done. You need to stay completely still for this. Don’t even talk. Blink if you need me to stop.”
From the corner of my eye I watch him take a small pipette filled with a clear liquid. He moves it closer to my neck with gloved hands, and out of my line of sight. That’s the acid. One misplaced drop of that and it will eat through my skin. I lock every muscle down tight, resisting the impulse to drop my chin and watch the terrible liquid being dropped around my throat. There’s a hiss and some smoke rises up from my neck. No, not my neck, it’s just the collar. A thrill of excitement bubbles up inside my chest – it’s working, it’s actually working. Toby’s going to get this collar off of me. Pearce will never again leave his mark on me. At least, not on the outside.
Toby leans close, inspecting the collar for damage. He nods, apparently satisfied, and sets the acid aside.
“That’s the tricky part done,” he announces, picking up a small lump of metal from beside him. The magnet.
He presses it to the seared collar and rubs it back and forth rapidly, pressing down with just enough force to make it uncomfortable against my raw throat. I tense the muscles in my neck so that the pressure doesn’t crush my windpipe.
“Get the blade,” Toby says to Scott without breaking his rhythm. Scott disentangles his hand from mine, and I reluctantly let him go, focussing on keeping my neck taut. I watch as he picks up what looks like a Stanley knife – though I’m going to assume it’s not, because there’s no way such a flimsy blade would have any impact, even after everything the scientist has done.
“Start slicing a straight line here. I need to keep the magnet working so the molecules don’t have the chance to reform.”
The pressure doubles as Scott starts slicing the blade into the collar, and I try not to think what will happen if he slips. I really, really don’t want him to slip. I clench my jaw tighter and try to keep the muscles in my neck firm – if they suddenly go slack the collar’s going to move, and I don’t even what to think about what will happen if that blade – now coated in the acid residue – comes into contact with my skin.
The pressure stops. I want to ask what’s wrong, but I don’t dare move. Scott’s hand falls away, and the blade clatters as he puts it back on the ground. And that’s when I realise: the collar feels different. Looser. A rubber-gloved finger works its way between the collar and the cloth protecting my neck, and the collar moves again. He wraps his other forefinger under the collar too, on the other side of the cut Scott made, then takes hold of the fabric and pulls. It tears like tissue paper. I lift my neck just a fraction and he slides it out from under me like he’s handling a venomous snake. It’s… off.
Scott pulls the protective cloths off my neck, then wraps a hand around my shoulder, helping me into a sitting position. I look down at the collar sitting innocuously on the floor beside us. It’s off. It’s finally off. Shit, it’s off. Oh God, I…
“Easy, easy,” Scott says, like he’s calming a wild animal, and I can’t blame him: I’m panting like a race horse, on the verge of a full-blown panic attack and he knows what that looks like because he saw it last time we even attempted to get the damned collar off. And this time we’ve actually done it, my neck is completely exposed, open. I go to claw at the place my collar should be, but Scott’s hands beat me to it, gently wrapping the black choker around my throat. He sweeps my hair gently aside and latches it closed behind my neck. The pressure is just a little less than what I’m used to, but I can breathe again. I take a few deep, slow breaths and wait for the pounding in my chest to slow.
He picks up the locket and shakes it carefully from its chain and into his palm. I watch him with a frown, but I can’t find my voice yet to ask him what he’s doing, so I watch in silence as he lifts it to my neck and attaches it to a tiny silver hoop I hadn’t even noticed.
“There. Now every time you look at this choker, you’ll remember it belongs to us, not him, and wearing it is your choice.”
I press my lips to Scott’s, but before either of us can cause Toby to blush, we hear voices coming from the next room. We break apart, but I keep hold of his hand as we move back into the main room. Joe, Nathan and Marcus have made it back. If any of them notice the state I’m in, they don’t comment on it. On the other hand, if I noticed a couple coming out of a side-room looking hot and bothered, I don’t think I’d comment on it either – even if Toby was there too.
It takes a moment for their grim expressions to register. I glance to the door, but no-one comes through it.
“Where’s Duncan?” I ask, eventually. Joe just shakes his head.
“We found his radio,” Nathan says, looking over my head to Scott.
“Wait, what does that mean?” I ask, looking between the two of them. No-one answers me for a moment, and the extra radio hangs from Nathan’s hand.
“It means we need to get out of here,” Scott says. “Now.”
“But what about Duncan?”
Joe shakes his head grimly.
“He’s gone.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Gone. The word reverberates through my skull as I try to take it in. Gone. Taken. Because I insisted we bury Iain. Pearce’s men were out in the woods, and they snatched him. When will my choices stop hurting everyone? We’re only lucky they haven’t found the rest of us. Yet.
Scott’s eyes meet mine and drag me out of my stupor. I shake a glucose pill from my pack and start to chew. We can’t wait ten minutes for it to kick in, but that’s fine. I’m not as reliant on them as I used to be, and knowing Pearce is out there gives me all the kick I need. Fear is fuel, and I am not going back to his basement. Not ever. And nor are any more of my friends.
I don’t waste any time grabbing hold of the doctor and Toby – they’re the only two of us who are completely defenceless. If Pearce’s men burst in right now, the others could at least hold them at bay for a minute or two, and that’s all I’m going to need.
“Wait.”
My head snaps round to the source of the instruction. It’s Joe, so I don’t need to ask aloud why he wants me to wait.
“They’ll be defenceless out there, too. Take me first so I can secure the area.”
I nod. He’s right; anything could happen to them out there alone. I wait long enough for him to snatch up a half dozen weapons plus our radios and cram them into a massive pack, then grab him. I fix my mind on a spot about half a mile from the new Ishmaelian base, take one peek at my memories from the basement, and shift. We’re outside, on the edge of a field populated mainly by
cows.
We look around, but it’s deserted. I guess Ephraim hasn’t posted guards this far out. Sloppy. Joe’s already shouldering the pack as I shift back to the base.
I blink as my eyes adjust to going from the bright sunlight to the semi darkness my EM pulse has left the base in. It’s disorientating – but it never would have bothered me before. I grit my teeth and take hold of Toby and the doc, then shift again.
The light breeze splays my hair as we solidify in the same place I left Joe. Toby stops retching long enough to cast a nervous look in the direction of the herd of grazing cows. Figures. I really need to get him out of the lab more. I point to a thick hedge marking the boundary of the field where I can just about make out Joe, weapon to his shoulder as he scans the area.
“Wait for us over there, and keep your heads down. I’ll be right back.”
They stumble towards it, Toby still clutching his papers and laptop to his chest. I watch them go for a moment then shift back to the base, still chewing frantically on my pill and trying to squeeze as much glucose from it as I can. I’ve got another three shifts to make.
Relief floods through me as I see my four friends – well, three friends plus Marcus – still in the room, taking up defensive positions around the door. I strain my ears but hear nothing: they’re not here yet. There’s still time to get the rest of them out. I make to grab Scott but he shakes his head and gestures towards Helen and Nathan. Like now’s the time to be selfless! I don’t have time to waste objecting though, so I grab hold of them, trying not to think how Scott and Marcus would cope against a raiding force on their own. It takes me only seconds to dump them in the field and point them at the hedge where the other three are waiting, then I’m back at the base again, heart pounding and head throbbing. I sway on my feet slightly and then Scott’s behind me, an arm wrapped around my shoulders, supporting me as he steers me to a chair. I shake my head.
“We don’t have time.”
“Make time,” he insists, pressing me into the seat. Marcus glances back over his shoulder at us, but keeps his weapon trained on the door.
Unleashed (TalentBorn Book 4) Page 23
