by Rysa Walker
“Carefully put the weapons on the floor,” Daniel says. “Both of you.”
Both men’s knees bend slightly. Whistler recovers from Daniel’s nudge first, moving the gun away from Sam and toward Daniel.
“Not going to work on me, Corben,” Whistler says. “Although I guess that isn’t actually your name, you duplicitous piece of shit.”
“Nice seeing you again too, Whistler,” Daniel says. “And Davis, how about those Orioles. Now, put down the guns.”
The other man, Davis, is a balding guy with pale, freckled skin. He’s probably well over average height and weight, but he seems dwarfed next to Whistler. I don’t remember seeing him when I was at The Warren, but he must have been one of the Fudds.
Davis is fighting Daniel’s command too, but not having nearly as much luck as Whistler. He looks over at the girl. “Little help would be nice, Sophie.”
The black girl looks at Davis, then at Whistler. Her free hand flies up to the cut on her left cheek and her eyes go wide. “You want me to move away from him? Are you crazy? What if he wakes up again?”
Pfeifer is strapped to the gurney by four separate restraining belts. He’s not going anywhere. But if he picked up the hitchers in that other lab, I doubt that it’s his physical activity that’s worrying her.
“Just do it!” Whistler’s hand twitches. He’s gripping the gun so tightly that I’m worried he could easily pull the trigger without even intending to.
Sophie reluctantly follows his order. She takes a step forward, still keeping her hand in contact with my father’s body. Daniel responds by pushing the gun into Alex Cregg’s neck.
“That hurts! Let me go.” Alex tries to wrench away, but Daniel doesn’t let her.
“I don’t think you’ll actually shoot the girl,” Whistler says. “And to be honest, I’m not sure the Senator much cares one way or the other.”
Sophie continues to move cautiously toward the front of the lab. She tries to move the gurney along with her, but the wheels seem to be locked. Instead, she trails her hand along Pfeifer’s body, keeping contact for as long as possible. Eventually, she has to move beyond the gurney, but she keeps looking back, much like a runner gauging the distance when attempting to steal a base. Like someone who’s worried that each step might be the one that seals her fate because she can’t return to safety in time.
The pieces fall together, and I say to Daniel, “She’s a blocker. Like Maggie. Here to control Pfeifer, but she could block you, too.”
Daniel takes two quick steps backward. Although, truthfully, it’s more of a stagger. He’s dragging Alex with him, and the extra weight seems to be more of a burden than his still-recuperating body can easily handle.
Alex frowns up at him. “Hey! I said let me—”
“You’re having fun!” Daniel snaps, and the angry lines morph into the blissful expression of a five-year-old girl petting a unicorn.
Deo steps through the door and grabs Daniel’s shoulder.
“Put the guns on the floor and kick them toward me.” Daniel doesn’t yell, but the command fills every square inch of the lab. Whistler and Davis lean down in unison, place their guns on the ground, and then kick them toward Daniel.
So does Sam. And Aaron. And Taylor. I even pull the little stun gun out of my pocket, though I manage to fight back the urge to drop it. Daniel’s words even seem to have reached my father, who stirs uneasily on the cot. It the first movement I’ve seen from him since we entered the room. Sophie must notice it as well, because she darts back to him, grabbing his ankle.
Daniel tells Aaron to collect the guns. There’s no psychic push involved this time, but Aaron still gives him an annoyed look. He picks up the guns, returns Sam’s and Taylor’s, and stashes the others in Taylor’s backpack.
“What do you propose we do with these guys?” Sam asks Daniel in a low voice. “We can’t exactly call the police, but I’ve got a problem with—”
“Get out!” Aaron yells. But whatever he or anyone else says next, I don’t hear. My focus is on the words that flash inside my head.
TURN AWAY.
It’s like a handwritten sign that hangs in my consciousness for a brief moment and flickers out. I’ve seen this before. It’s Will, Jaden’s former roommate, and one of the hitchers from Lab 1 that I housed very briefly, until they learned I wasn’t quite as keen on lethal vengeance as they were.
But Will isn’t in my head now. Apparently, he’s in Scott Pfeifer’s, sending me a message. Before I have time to respond, a second sign appears.
THEY WON’T LET THE FUDDS GO THIS TIME.
My eyes turn toward Sophie, who is clutching my father’s arm even tighter now. Her eyes are squeezed almost shut, and her face reminds me of pictures I’ve seen of women in labor, every muscle intent on its task.
Aside from Aaron, who must have picked up what was happening with his spidey sense, no one else in the room seems to have gotten Will’s message.
Scott Pfeifer remains perfectly still, except for his head, which whips toward the two former guards. His eyes are open now, and he’s staring straight at Whistler.
Whistler’s eyes widen. He tries to say something, but no words come out. I’m pretty sure no air is going in, either. Whistler’s feet remain on the ground, but otherwise it reminds me of that scene in Star Wars where Vader lifts the subordinate who has displeased him by his neck.
Davis tugs at the collar of his shirt. He’s not breathing either. He takes a few steps toward the gurney and then drops to his knees.
Aaron grabs Taylor’s arm and begins backing toward the door, his eyes fixed on the two men. The others are frozen in place, watching as Whistler joins Davis on the floor. His mouth is opening and closing like a fish.
“I can’t control him!” Sophie says. “You should get out!”
That snaps Daniel and Sam out of their stupor, and they both head for the exit. I expect Sophie to follow, but she remains in the room, still gripping my dad’s arm. Her eyes are firmly closed, and her head is turned away from the two men asphyxiating in the center of the room.
“What’s happening?” Alex asks in a tiny voice from her position on the floor. “Those actors . . . they are actors, aren’t they? Actors . . .”
“Go to sleep, Alex.” She curls up obediently at the sound of Daniel’s voice, her hands tucked beneath her face to cushion it.
I want to join her, even though the tile looks cold and hard. Even though it reminds me of Costello on the floor at Joe’s place and of Abbott back in the main ward. And now Whistler and this other guy. Lucas, Jaden, Oksana, Will. White tile. Red blood.
The others are talking, but I just stand there, staring down. Tiny motes of dust and ash dance in the air around my sneakers, illuminated by the headlights of Whistler’s car. White lights. Red sneakers. White tile. Red blood. White sheets. The cool side of my pillow . . .
“Anna. Hey, hey.” It’s Deo’s voice, and someone is tapping my cheek. I startle, expecting to hear that odd humming noise that precedes a vision, but it’s Aaron’s fingers on my face.
Deo stands next to him. “You were about to fall asleep standing up.”
I shake my head to clear it, opening my eyes extra wide. “Yeah. I need coffee.”
“You need sleep,” Aaron says.
“Yeah,” I repeat. “I’m running on fumes.”
Daniel, Taylor, and Sam are back inside the lab now. I see the two bodies on the floor just beyond them. There’s no blood this time, just bodies on the white tile. Sophie is in the same spot as before, still holding my father’s arm. He seems to have lapsed into unconsciousness, and I’m again struck with jealousy for those who can sleep.
“They’re dead?” I ask.
Aaron nods. “They really shouldn’t be. Unconscious, yes. But it takes several minutes for someone to suffocate. It’s . . . odd.”
Deo gives a nervous little laugh. “The part where someone choked them without ever freakin’ touching them. That was odd, too. It’s like what happened
to Lucas, when he just started sneezing and couldn’t even stop long enough to catch his breath. Do you think it was the same hitchers? The—what did you call them—Furies?”
“Don’t know. But I’m pretty sure Pfeifer picked up Will.” I tell them about the message I got just before Whistler and Davis stopped breathing.
Taylor unlocks the brakes on the gurney, and they push my father over toward the Hummer.
I glance at Alex, who is still snoozing peacefully, then at Sophie, next to the gurney. “What are we going to do with them?” I ask in a low voice.
“That’s what Sam and I were just discussing,” Daniel says. “We considered taking them with us, but . . . we should probably leave them in the containment unit.” He nods toward the small room near the back.
“Seems . . . harsh to just leave them like that,” Aaron says.
“You have a better idea?” Daniel asks, leaning back against the soot-streaked wall of the lab.
“Taylor’s got a couple of bottles of water in her backpack and a candy bar,” Sam says. “We’ll contact the Senator’s Sanctuary hotline . . . I mean, they’re both adepts, even if one is his granddaughter.”
Yeah,” Taylor says. “And I don’t think it’s too harsh at all for Alex. She may look all angelic now that you’ve sent her to la-la land, but she was in on the plot to kill Pfeifer.”
“The lock on that containment unit isn’t going to work with the power out,” Aaron says. “How long do you think your nudge will last?”
Daniel shakes his head. “I don’t know. Probably quite a while with Deo boosting.”
“It won’t work at all on me,” Sophie says.
Daniel frowns. “We could move some of the equipment in front of the door. The fridge, maybe? There are also some weights in the back room that they used for testing how much the telekinetic kids could lift.”
Aaron grabs Alex’s shoulders, and Deo grabs her feet. They carry her into the containment area. Sophie watches but doesn’t follow.
“You need to go into that cube with the other girl,” Sam says. “You’ll be okay. We’ll leave you with water, and we’ll let your employer know to come get you.”
“I don’t have an employer,” Sophie says, her voice shaking. “An employer pays you a salary, right? They let you go home at night. All those people give me is food and shelter, and they lock me in. They point their guns or their tasers at me, just like you’re doing, even though I’ve done nothing wrong. This isn’t some battle where you’re the good guys and everyone who wound up on the other side is evil. When The Warren caught fire, I ran for the nearest exit like everyone else. Those of us who went out one door were locked up in Nevada. And those who went out the other door were locked up in North Carolina.”
Daniel says, “So . . . what do you want us to do?”
“I want you to take me with you. It’s not safe out there. I don’t have money or identification. I’m ready for a change of scenery, and you’re going to need me when this guy wakes up.”
“You weren’t able to save Whistler and Davis,” Daniel says.
Sophie cocks her head to one side. “What makes you think I was trying? I am glad they’re dead. Do you know how many people the two of them hurt? How many deaths they were responsible for? I wasn’t trying to protect Whistler and Davis. You’re lucky I was able to keep them from killing all of you.”
I’m not sure if the others notice the plural. She kept them, not him, from killing us. Does she have a sense of how many hitchers Pfeifer is hosting?
“We already have a blocker,” Taylor says.
“Maggie, right? The Fudds tested us together a bunch of times. She’s good, but she’s only a kid.” Sophie’s hand swipes toward the cut on her cheek. “You really want to put her in harm’s way? Anyhow, I don’t see her with you.”
“She has a point,” Aaron says, and then turns to us. “Maybe she can give us some more intel. As confident as Maria is in the information from her psychic intelligence squad, I’d personally like to confirm some of their readings with people who’ve actually been with Dacia’s Bear Brigade.”
Sam still seems a little reluctant to take Sophie with us, but I caught a glimpse of Daniel’s face as Aaron was speaking. The point about Sophie having information on Senator Cregg’s people won him over, because she could have information on Sariah. Daniel’s feelings for Sariah—Caleb’s mother and Ashley’s sister—are conflicted, mixed with guilt and some other emotions I was never able to pin down. And if she’s still alive, she’s with the other camp. I don’t need to read Daniel’s mind to know that he’s eager to ask Sophie some questions and also terrified of the answers he may receive.
“So . . . we leave Alex”—Aaron motions toward the containment unit—“but the rest of us need to get out of here. Can we all fit in that Hummer?”
“Maybe,” Daniel says, “but I don’t think we can get back through the tunnel.” He looks at Deo, and they both shake their heads.
“Okay,” I say. “You were breaking up a lot on the phone. What exactly happened?”
“Um . . . yeah,” Deo says. “We were still in the parking garage when you called. I didn’t get Taylor’s text until we surfaced.”
He’s not answering the question. Daniel doesn’t look too eager to dive in, either, but he says, “I think maybe a section of the tunnel is a bit . . . flooded. We might not be able to get through.”
Deo smirks. “You said there was a wall of water. That’s not the same thing as a bit flooded.”
“Well,” Daniel snaps, “there sure as hell wasn’t—”
“Hey!” Sophie calls from across the hall. “The tunnel is fine. There’s no wall of water or dragons or herds of zombie cows or whatever you think you saw. Whistler realized the cops were following us. And that you were following us. So he told Pfeifer to do something. To send you a suggestion. Mess with your heads.”
Daniel’s back is to me so I can’t see his face, but Sophie can, and she laughs. “Ah. The big bad Fudd doesn’t like it when the tables are turned and someone puts the whammy on him, does he?”
The spider-rat in my head doesn’t like what she said either. He has stirred occasionally in the past few minutes, but he’s still lethargic. Listening, and definitely still looking for any opportunities, any chinks in my armor, any chances to move to the front of my head. His reaction to what Sophie said is different, though. He retreats even more quickly than he did when I brought that brick crashing down on his leg. What Sophie said scared him. Did this ability she mentioned come from one of the hitchers in Lab 1? Someone who was particularly powerful?
The timing seems off, though. Whistler ordered my father to send out that psychic attack, or whatever you want to call it, when he realized they were being followed. So it couldn’t be a hitcher who was waiting in Lab 1. They hadn’t even gotten to this part of the building yet, let alone had time for Pfeifer to pick up a hitcher.
I file this away as something to discuss with the others later. Sam takes the unpleasant task of going through Whistler’s and Davis’s pockets to find the car keys, while Daniel tosses a few bottles of water and a Butterfinger that Taylor reluctantly parted with into the containment unit with the still-snoozing Alex Cregg.
We decide against a barricade at the last minute, mostly on my insistence. Whistler said he wasn’t sure the Senator would rescue her, and I didn’t get the sense he was joking. There doesn’t seem to be much love lost between Senator Cregg and his son, and if Alex took her father’s side against the Senator, I can’t imagine her grandfather being happy about it. They might rescue her eventually, but I could easily see them leaving her here for a while as punishment. This way, when Daniel’s sleep spell wears off, she’ll be able to hike out. She’s unarmed, so she’s really not a threat.
The eight of us would probably have fit into the Hummer if not for the gurney—and none of us are eager to take the straps off Pfeifer. We load him into the rear, along with Sophie, Daniel, and Sam. The rest of us walk. I’m fine with that
. It’s less than a half mile to the surface, and despite being so tired that it’s a major effort to put one foot in front of the other, I’d rather keep moving.
As we walk, Aaron tells us about his misadventures trying to get into the elevator shaft at Memorial Hall. This involved kicking in a lot of plaster, uncovering a host of insects, and several large rats.
“Be glad you weren’t there,” he says, squeezing my shoulders.
I laugh because it’s a shared joke, and I definitely wouldn’t have been thrilled to deal with any of that. But truthfully, I think he got the better end of the deal. I’d happily tackle an entire roomful of regular rats rather than face the spider-rat in my head.
“So,” I ask Deo, “what did you see in the tunnel?”
“Fire. Well, not an actual fire, but lots of smoke. And . . . I could have sworn I heard Patrick’s voice.”
Patrick is his asshole stepdad. Deo has burns on his forearms, so it’s not too surprising that anyone tapping into his deepest fears would dredge up smoke and Patrick. I don’t ask, but I’d be willing to bet that the smoke smelled a lot like cheap cigarettes.
“Daniel backed the car out at damn near full speed,” he says. “I’m amazed he didn’t crash into the wall. I thought he smelled the fire, too, but then he started talking about a waterwall and . . . I could have sworn he also said something about Caleb just before he popped the SUV into reverse.”
For some reason, the door of Room 81 pops into my mind. When Caleb was housed in that room, I saw the metal of the door pulse out into the hallway, almost like ripples in water. And when Daniel was in my head, it was abundantly clear that he’s frightened of Caleb. Also frightened for Caleb. The latter seems much more reasonable. It’s hard to imagine a more angelic-looking toddler. In another universe where there was no Delphi Project, Caleb could be the adorable tyke in the Huggies Pull-Ups commercial.
“Why Caleb?” Aaron asks.
I keep quiet. Daniel and I have a bargain. We learned far too much about each other during the time we were forced to share my head. He keeps my secrets and I keep his. Anyway, what I picked up about Caleb and Sariah was more emotion than fact.