Awakening (TalentBorn Book 1)

by C. S. Churton

  I’m not sure how long I sit here just breathing, but eventually the pain in my head recedes enough for me to wonder where “here” is. I look around – an alleyway, a deserted road, a few grafitti’d tower blocks – and resign myself to the fact that I don’t recognise any of them. But at least I’m out. Away from Gardiner, away from the… No, I don’t have time to think about that. Falling apart is not a luxury I can afford right now. For all I know, Gardiner might already have someone on my tail. I need to get moving.

  I push myself up off the floor, and immediately trip over my own feet, crashing towards a wall. I raise a hand in time to break my fall and lean against the damp brickwork, catching my breath and waiting for the dizziness to pass. I stumble onwards, keeping my hand against the wall and gasping in the pungent air. Wherever I am, it’s not far enough away from Langford House for my liking.

  I’m lucky I managed to shift at all. If I didn’t have that spare pill in my pocket… It doesn’t bear thinking about.

  I blink rapidly a few times. I know I have to keep moving – but where? And how am I going to get there? I have nothing with me but the clothes I am wearing and the contents of my pockets. Somehow, I don’t feel like going back to Langford House to get my bike and the rest of the stuff stowed in my locker. I keep putting one foot in front of the other, with no idea of where I’m going. The wall falls away behind me and I stagger on without its support, drawing more attention than is probably wise from passers-by. I put them out of my head. By the time word gets back to Langford House, I’ll be long gone. Which brings me back to the pressing question. I can’t just keep stumbling on aimlessly, I need a plan. I’ve got to get home, get a change of clothes and some money, and– Go where? Do what? How do you even begin to run from something as big as AbGen? I have to try, I’ve got to find a way. I’m not letting them lock me in a cage.

  I glance up, almost tripping over a broken paving slab as I do, and see a corner shop in the distance. I keep hobbling that way, feeling in my pocket for change I’d left in there. It isn’t much, but it will have to do. I need to shift this headache so I can think straight, I’m missing something obvious, I know I am, but I just can’t–

  A bell sounds above my head as I swing open the door and step inside. From behind the counter an old woman eyes me suspiciously and with obvious disapproval – walking in a straight line is still beyond my ability, and to the casual observer I probably look like I’ve started early for a night out – but I ignore her and shuffle to the small supply of medications on an end aisle, picking up a pack of paracetamol and heading to the counter. As an afterthought I grab a chocolate bar and a fizzy drink and dump them on the counter beneath the woman’s sneer. I need to raise my sugar levels. She stares at me for a long moment and I wonder if she’s going to refuse to serve me – or worse, call the cops – but eventually she rings up my purchases and accepts my money.

  Back out on the street I eat the chocolate and wash two of the pills down with a mouthful of fizzy drink. I’m not sure how much sugar it’s going to take to get my body functional again but I’m not taking any chances, so I force myself to drink the remainder of the bottle. A bleep tells me my phone has finally rebooted, so I pull it out and fumble with the maps app. While it loads, I rummage back in my pocket and discover with dismay that my worldly wealth amounts to a little under five pounds. How am I going to get home with this? It turns out the answer is on the phone screen, staring at me next to the flashing blue dot. A train station, just a few streets from here. Perfect. I can buy a ticket to the next stop, ride the train all the way back to Whitelyn, and jump the gate when I get there. I know I can’t afford to get caught or arrested – who knows how far AbGen’s influence spreads – but security is always lapse and I think it’s worth the risk. If I stay here, it’s only a matter of time until I’m caught anyway.

  The map disappears and the phone starts buzzing in my hand. It almost slips right through my shaking fingers. An incoming call from DS Yates. Scott’s cover name. I remember his face staring at me as Gardiner and Pearce dragged me from the room. Staring and doing nothing. My heart is thumping in my throat. What do I do – do I answer? Let it ring? Start running?

  I chew my bottom lip and twist my fingers in my hair. Eventually though, curiosity gets the better of me. It can’t hurt just to see what he wants, right? I run my tongue over my gums and against my better judgement accept the call.

  “Hello?” I croak, then suddenly realise it could be anyone, even Gardiner himself. Not that it matters, I remind myself firmly. They’re all the enemy now. So it makes no sense when relief floods through me at the sound of Scott’s voice.

  “Anna, you’re okay. Thank God.”

  “No thanks to you!” I snap. “You betrayed me.”

  “I swear I didn’t know.”

  “Bullshit.” His voice may be genuine, but I’m not falling for that trick again. “You let them take me, and you did nothing.”

  “You think I would have gone along with this? Anna, I would never do anything to hurt you, you know that. You’ve got to believe me.”

  “Well, that’s the thing. I don’t.”

  “Anna, I know you’re scared, but please, just listen to me.” I say nothing, but push myself to my feet and start heading in the direction of the train station. I feel way too vulnerable sitting out here in the open.

  “Whatever you do, don’t go back to your flat. He’s got people there waiting for you.”

  That stops me dead in my tracks. Of course they’ve got people waiting for me, that’s the first thing he would do. I almost walked right into a trap. I can’t believe I was so stupid! But stupid seems to be my thing recently. I loose a sigh, and my voice comes out somewhere between pleading and bitter.

  “I just want everything to go back to how it was… I didn’t ask for any of this.”

  “I know, but you can’t think about that now. We’ve got to keep this short. You took out the base’s equipment when you shifted but it won’t be long before its back online. They could be tracking your phone already.”

  I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it in horror. I need to get rid of it before they find me.

  “Anna?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”

  “They’re probably listening in right now, so just say yes or no. Do you remember our first ride?

  “Yes.” I’m hardly likely to forget – that was the day we rode out to the lake, and I decided to join AbGen.

  “Can you get there?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll wait for you there.”

  The line goes dead. Do I trust him? I don’t know. But I don’t have any better options right now. I can’t go home and I sure as hell can’t risk sitting out here in the open. I need to keep moving, and that’s as good a direction as any. The train is out, though; there are no stations near where I need to be. I think for a moment, then flag down the first taxi that passes.

  “I’ve got to get to Ryebridge,” I tell him. “Please, I’m desperate. I don’t have any money, but I’ll give you my phone.”

  The third driver I stop looks undecided. I can see on his face he thinks it’s stolen, but it’s obviously been a quiet day for him.

  “Please, I need to get away from my boyfriend,” I fabricate. “He… he–” The day’s events catch up with me and tears well up more convincingly that I’d expected.

  “Alright, love, get in.”

  I don’t need to be told twice. I jump in and give him the address, then sink back onto the worn seats. The first thing I do is prise the ring on my keys apart and use it to take the battery out of my phone. I don’t know much about technology, but I know that just turning it off isn’t enough to stop it being tracked. Then I settle back and look out of the window, wondering what I’m about to walk into, and if it even matters – because really, what other option do I have? The driver tries to make conversation a few times, but eventually takes the hint and leaves me to my contemplation.
I’m fighting exhaustion, I’m hungry, scared, alone, and every few minutes a shiver runs the length of my spine. But at least the headache has gone, and I can hear myself think.

  It turns out that thinking is not my friend. My mind keeps returning to the basement, the cages, the racks and chains… it’s everything I feared AbGen would be when I first set foot in Langford House, and worse. I’d gotten complacent. It was pure chance that I had one of Toby’s pills in my pocket, otherwise I’d be locked in that basement right now, hobbled by Pearce’s EM disruptor. And that’s when it hits home. This wasn’t a spur of the moment, knee-jerk reaction to me wanting to leave. This had taken some serious planning: they’d developed the injection, tuned the disruptor, everything. They’d always planned to do this the moment I deviated from their script. I’d been Gardiner’s property from the moment he sent Scott to track me down. My freedom was forfeit right from that very first shift.

  “Are you alright, love?” The driver is eying me cautiously in the rear-view mirror and I realise my breaths are coming in rapid bursts. I swallow and nod, and then force myself take several long, slow breaths. I need to get a hold of myself. I still can’t afford to fall apart. I have to keep it together until I’m safe. Whatever safe means for me now.

  And then there’s the girl. I can still see the dull resignation her eyes, and I feel a pang of guilt for leaving her behind, at Gardiner’s mercy. I know there was nothing I could do to save her – I barely made it out of there myself – but that doesn’t make it any easier knowing I abandoned her.

  With my emotions tearing into me, the journey can’t end soon enough, but eventually it does and then I wish it hadn’t. Now I have to face Scott. Anxiety gripes at my stomach. I don’t know if this is a trap or not, but there’s only one way to find out. I hand the phone over to the driver, ignoring his half-hearted protests, and get out. The address I gave him is a few minutes away from the lake. When AbGen trace the phone – which they will – I want to make sure the driver can’t tell them anything useful. Assuming I’m not on my way to meet an agent who’s still loyal to them.

  As I trudge wearily along the dirt track, jumping at every sound, the birds are singing and crickets chirping, and the sun colours everything with its subtle rays, warming the air gently as it ripples through the long grass. It’s far too beautiful a day for the world to come crashing down around me.

  Then I look up and see him. Scott. He’s sitting on the grassy bank, watching my approach wordlessly. He’s wearing the same expression on his face as the first time we met, but he’s clad in leathers instead of a suit. His helmet is on the ground next to him, and another one beside it.

  I look around for the rest of them, because they’ve got to be waiting in ambush: this is a trap and he is the bait. As if reading my thoughts, he calls out softly:

  “I’ve come alone,” and slowly rises to his feet, hands hanging loosely by his side. It reminds me of when I found him in standing my flat, trying not to spook me. Unbidden, the memory of his next visit to my flat flashes through my mind, with us curled up on the sofa together. I push it away angrily. I can’t afford to think of him like that, not until I know for sure whether he was behind this.

  He stoops to pick up the helmet and holds it out to me.

  “Come on, we need to get moving. They could be here any moment.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “We don’t have time for this.”

  “Make time!”

  “Look, you’ve already decided to trust me, or you wouldn’t be here. And we need to move, now.”

  I back away, throwing a glance over my shoulder. Something isn’t right here, I never should have come. If I go with him, I’ll end up in that cage, I know it. I can’t outrun him, but maybe I can shift. I’ve barely recovered from the last time, who knows where I’ll end up or what state I’ll be in… but it will buy me some time. I can’t let them take me. I need to get out of here, I’ve got to–

  “Anna, wait!”

  “For what?” I demand, my anger somewhat undermined by the tremble in my voice. “For you to call Gardiner and claim your reward?”

  “I’m not here for them.”

  I look into his eyes, I want to believe him so badly; to believe that there’s someone – just one person – in this whole mess who’s on my side. He holds his arms out to the side, showing me his hands, the same as that first time in my flat.

  “Anna, if you want to run, I can’t stop you. And I know I’ll never find you again. But they will, and they won’t stop looking until they do. You know how to run, but you don’t know how to hide. Please, let me help you.”

  He holds the helmet out to me again, and I stare at his outstretched hand, weighing my options, running his words through my head. I search his face, my racing heart betraying my desperate desire to accept his words. I hesitate a moment longer, then reach out and take the helmet from him.

  “Thank you,” he breathes.

  As I lower it onto my head he shoulders a large backpack, then pulls his own helmet on and swings a leg over his bike. Actually, that’s not his bike. I haven’t seen this one before.

  “Where’s your Bandit?” I ask him, climbing onto the inferior machine.

  “We can’t risk using our own vehicles; they could be tracking them.”

  “So where did this one come from?” I say, as he manages to kick it into life on the third attempt.

  “I borrowed it.”

  I hope whoever he “borrowed” it from doesn’t notice it’s gone missing for a while: we don’t need the police on our tail on top of everything else. I don’t plan on trading one cage for another. Scott twists the throttle and glances back over his shoulder.

  “Hold on.”

  *

  I do exactly that, wrapping my arms around him as we rattle down the dirt track then scream off to join the crush of traffic heading for the motorway. Scott rides like a man possessed, weaving in and out of vehicles, the whole time checking his mirrors and over his shoulder. I don’t know if he’s looking for cops or his former (at least, I hope former) colleagues, but eventually he seems to decide that we’re clear and slows the bike to a less lethal speed. Blending in seems to be his main priority now, and he filters through the traffic only when necessary to avoid drawing attention to us.

  I’ve lost track of how long we rode for, but I’m shivering by the time we stop. I climb from the bike on unsteady legs and look around. We’re in a poorly lit underground car park, with only three cars parked around us. One of them has been burnt out. The back of my neck starts to tingle. If Scott thinks I’m hiding out here, he can think again. I turn around to tell him so but as my eyes meet his, the words die in my throat. He’s watching me with that expression again, the one that’s both protective and uncertain, as intensely as that day in the canteen. Was all of that a lie too?

  I turn away awkwardly and reach for the chin strap on my helmet. My numb fingers fumble with the quick release, and he reaches under my chin and does it for me, leaving a tingle where his hands touch my skin.

  “Sorry. There wasn’t time to pick up your gloves.”

  My hands are trembling, but not from the cold. I thrust them into my pockets and thrust the unwanted thoughts away as well. Scott – normally so good at reading me – seems oblivious.

  “Come on, this way. Leave your lid,” he adds. “We won’t be needing it.”

  I put my helmet on the floor next to his. I doubt they’ll still be here by the time we get back, but then I’m starting to get the feeling we’re not coming back – one way or the other.

  As we emerge into the street, he pulls a hoodie from his backpack and passes it to me.

  “Put this on – there are too many cameras around here.”

  I swallow. AbGen has access to CCTV feeds across the country. Of course they do. When am I going to stop being surprised by their reach? Scott pulls his hood up over his head, and I follow suit. And just like that, we’re two anonymous hoods in…

&
nbsp; “Where are we?”

  “Birmingham.” He glances up and down a street before leading me out onto it.

  Birmingham. We’re a long way from home. A long way from AbGen too, the optimist in me points out. Yeah, a long way from AbGen – but I sneak a glance at Scott and wonder how far from them I really am.

  “This way,” he says, interrupting my internal debate. I look up at the sign on the towering building in front of me. Birmingham International Rail Station. Surely this can’t be a good idea, there are so many people…

  Scott senses my hesitation.

  “Crowds are a good thing. Trust me.”

  Like it’s that easy. I doubt I’m going to be trusting anyone any time soon. But I suppose there’s some sense in what he’s saying. We can blend in with a crowd, and from here we can get to anywhere in the country. It might buy us some time, at least. We stop at the departures board and he scans it for a moment.

  “We’ve got some time. Let’s grab some food while we can.”

  We settle at a sticky table in the middle of the busy food court with our overpriced junk food a few minutes later. Given that the only thing I’ve eaten since this morning is a chocolate bar, I should be starving, but I don’t feel like eating. My stomach’s doing backflips and I can’t summon the energy, or the inclination, to chew. I set the burger aside and wrap my hands around my coffee cup.

  “You should eat.”

  I shake my head mutely and he doesn’t press it. There’s a sachet of sugar next to my cup, so I tear it open and pour it into my coffee, managing to spill half of the granules on the table top in the process. With a sigh, I abandon the coffee – I’m not really thirsty anyway – and absentmindedly trace patterns in the spilled sugar.

  Scott reaches out to put his hand over mine, and I pull away.

  “I saw you,” I blurt out. “When I was in Gardiner’s office.” It’s neither a question nor an accusation, but a statement. Scott pulls his hand back and sighs.