The Delphi Revolution (The Delphi Trilogy Book 3)

by Rysa Walker

  “That was close,” I say once we’re inside. “But I wonder how we’re going to get the van?”

  “We’re not,” Sophie says, handing me Miller’s wallet. “I cracked a window. Left the keys inside. There’s nothing in there we need. We definitely don’t need Miller.”

  It takes a few minutes, but we manage to catch a cab in front of the hotel across the street. As we pull away, there’s no sign the police have discovered a van parked between the maintenance trucks with a man duct-taped to the back seat. The temperature is in the low eighties, and he’s in the shade. His mouth isn’t taped, so if they don’t find him by the time Daniel’s nudge wears off, I’m sure he’ll start screaming.

  I lean back in the seat and take some deep breaths. Ashley seems to be doing the same. She’s remarkably chill for a new hitcher.

  Because I was waiting for you. I wanted you to pick me up. Not Pfeifer. I don’t know him.

  We didn’t think you’d like being housed with Graham Cregg.

  I don’t. But my transportation options are limited, and . . . the enemy of my enemy.

  Taylor’s assessment of that aphorism runs through my mind, and Ashley says:

  She’s not entirely wrong. But right now, we have to prioritize. Not just for Caleb but for all of the kids at Sandalford. That’s where Dacia’s heading—

  We know. We’re on our way.

  We need to hurry. Dacia believes she can manage Caleb on her own. She said she’s good with kids. Right before . . .

  Ashley doesn’t finish the thought. I’d have been very surprised if she had, actually. Even though she’s clearly accepted that she’s dead, the process of becoming dead is not something my hitchers like to think about, especially at the beginning.

  She’s crazy if she thinks she can handle him. I can barely handle Caleb.

  Dacia is crazy, period. And judging from Lily’s reaction to her, she’s not good with kids, either.

  She’ll kill him, Anna. When she realizes she can’t control Caleb, she will kill him.

  We’re not going to let that happen. And . . . I think Caleb might have something to say about it.

  Maybe. He’s strong. But he’s still a little kid. You can distract him. And he’ll have these brief flashes of insight where it seems like he’s almost an adult, but most of the time, you can’t really reason with him. And I’m worried about Maggie. Caleb sucks the life right out of her. He doesn’t mean to, but . . .

  I know, Ashley.

  How did she die?

  It’s such an abrupt change of topic that I think for a moment Ashley is still talking about Maggie. They I realize she means her sister.

  I don’t know, exactly. Daniel and I started that conversation, but we never had a chance to finish it. And I think maybe he wasn’t ready to talk about the details. He just said Sariah trusted the wrong person.

  Yeah. That was sort of a habit with Sariah. A family trait, I guess, since I trusted Senator Cregg to let her go. I don’t think she was alive, even then. Oh, and I can promise you that Dacia and the Senator are no longer working together. Dacia was screaming into the phone yesterday. Something about money he’d stolen from joint accounts she held with Lucas. And she was pissed about the military guy ordering her around. Said she was not a soldat. That they were supposed to be partners, and it was time he realized that she’s the one with the real power. That’s why she decided to ratchet things up at Oak Ridge. The original plan was to blow up the sign at the entrance and leave. Another low-level attack to scare people. But when we got there, Dacia starts telling Caleb we’re going to play the “go boom” game. I’m surrounded by assholes in bear masks, so I can’t talk him out of it, although it really didn’t take much encouragement. Caleb likes to use his ability. He doesn’t want people to get hurt, but . . . he’s a little kid. Easy to manipulate.

  Daniel thought the explosions sounded like IEDs.

  The one at the visitor center was an IED. They set that up yesterday morning, just in case Caleb didn’t come through. But Caleb was responsible for the damage to the water treatment plant and the other building. The second building wasn’t even something Dacia planned. It just sort of . . . happened . . . once Caleb got started.

  Is that why you had him create the waterspout first? At the park last night?

  Yes. Water calms him, maybe because he spent so much time in the isolation tank when he was a baby. If Caleb had fired full blast, it wouldn’t just have been that sphere. Dacia would have gotten her wish for a bloodbath, either at the amphitheater or over at the convention center. That’s why she . . .

  And we’re back to the thing Ashley can’t face yet.

  The airfield is located on an island in the Tennessee River. You can see the water beyond the landing strip, blocked in some places by bushes. A small airplane is on the runway, preparing for takeoff, and an Army helicopter—hopefully ours—is parked on the tarmac nearby. Once the cab drops us off, Sophie goes inside in search of a changing table for Lily, and my dad and I take a seat on one of the outdoor benches so we can watch for Daniel and Smith.

  “Are you all right?” my father asks. He hasn’t spoken since he finished giving our cover story to the police, and he sounds annoyed.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Dad. Ashley apparently has a thing about hitching rides with strangers. And Cregg has agreed to behave. To stay behind the wall. I don’t think he wants to share my head with someone who’s freaking out, and she definitely would be if he breaks that barrier.”

  He shakes his head and sighs. “I don’t trust him. You shouldn’t either.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Well, you may have to trust him to some extent.” The voice is my mom’s now. “I’m not saying he’s innocent. But some of his madness was inherited. And some was shaped by his father. When you’re told that you’re a killer from a young age, does it make you more likely to kill?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe it makes you determined to never, ever do it again. Even when our choices are limited, we have to take responsibility for the decisions we make.”

  I don’t want to back down, even though I get the sense that my mother is partly playing devil’s advocate. And, to be honest, I do understand what she’s saying. Those who grow up in abusive situations are more likely to abuse. They have a major disadvantage compared to those who grow up in loving and supportive environments. But at some point, they decide which path to follow. Maybe they deserve a less harsh judgment when they simply follow the path of least resistance, but they aren’t blameless.

  Leah-Pfeifer smiles softly. “You’re right. But the easiest way to get Graham Cregg out of your head will be to help him find peace. And to do that, you may need to understand his perspective.”

  “I don’t think it’s peace he’s looking for. I think it’s vengeance.”

  A loud and resounding thump comes from behind the wall. For the first time since she came on board, Ashley screams.

  It’s okay, Ashley. That’s just code. One thump for yes, two for no.

  Maybe from your perspective. But there’s mortar on the floor in here, so could you avoid getting him to agree so strongly next time?

  Sophie and Lily rejoin us as a black car pulls up to the tiny terminal building. Three people get out—Daniel, Colonel Smith, and a very short, middle-aged woman in a gray pantsuit. She shakes hands with Daniel and Smith, and looks like she’s about to get back into the vehicle, but then she changes her mind and walks briskly toward the bench where we’re sitting. Her eyes are blazing and locked directly on my father.

  We all stand. Sophie hands Lily to me and does a little head nod to indicate that I should step back, just in case things get nasty. Then she moves closer to my father so that her block will be stronger.

  The angry little woman doesn’t introduce herself but simply says, “Dr. Pfeifer, I just wanted to tell you that your research has created more problems for this nation than anything I’ve dealt with in thirty-two years of government service. Your decision to play God is kill
ing people.”

  It’s definitely my mother looking back at first, and her expression is angry, almost defensive. But then she moves back, and my father speaks, his voice thankfully calm and level. “Guilty as charged, Ms. . . .”

  She doesn’t answer for a minute and then spits out her name. “Janet Berman, DHS.”

  “Ms. Berman. This is my daughter, Anna. That’s Sophie and her daughter, Lily. As I was saying, I’m guilty on several counts. But the Delphi serum didn’t begin with me. When the US government began funding that research, I was in kindergarten and my prized possession was a Six Million Dollar Man lunch box.”

  Berman starts to interrupt, but he holds up one hand. “No. You marched over here and started indicting me, so have the decency to let me tell you my side. I’ve spent the past fifteen years thinking about this, and I freely admit that I didn’t pause to consider the ethical issues when I accepted government funding for my research. My only concern was learning more about how the brain worked, and how we could build on hidden talents that, frankly, I would have sworn didn’t exist before I joined the project. I was in it for the science, for the knowledge, and if you’d asked me back then, I’d have told you that my responsibility ended there. If you had complaints about the application of that research, I would have directed you to take it up with Washington. My views changed over time, mostly because my wife forced me to look up from my research occasionally and pay attention to the world outside my lab. So yes, I am responsible.” He glances at me. “As my daughter said a moment ago, we all have to take responsibility for the decisions we make. But there are a whole lot of people in the government—the government that pays your salary and that of Colonel Smith—who share in that responsibility. One of those individuals is currently exploiting my research to further his own economic and political interests at the expense of pretty much everyone else. I’m going to do what I can to stop him, and it would be nice if others who work for the government who funded the mess actually stepped up to the plate to do the same.”

  Berman’s narrowed eyes remain fixed on my father’s face as he speaks, her mouth pursed into an angry little bow. When he finishes, she continues to stare at him for a moment and then shifts her gaze toward Smith.

  “Call me once you land.” Then Berman turns on her heel and returns to her car.

  Smith doesn’t say anything, either to her or to us. He just begins walking toward the helicopter.

  Daniel follows Berman for a few steps, and I hear him thank her for the meeting. He motions for us to follow Smith to the helicopter, although I can’t say I’m entirely certain whether Smith’s offer of a ride still stands.

  Pfeifer veers slightly to the right of where the helicopter is parked. “I’m going to go . . . vent . . . over by the river. I’ll be back.”

  “Very good idea,” I say, handing Lily back to her mother.

  “Not much of a diplomat, is he?” Daniel says when he catches up to us.

  I fight back a laugh at the irony of that coming from Daniel. “Maybe he just has a low tolerance for hypocrisy.”

  “So . . . was he able to pick up Ashley?”

  “No. She decided she’d rather ride with me.”

  “And that’s . . . safe?”

  “Graham Cregg’s key goal in all of this is stopping his father. He’s agreed to stay behind the back wall in the interest of accomplishing that goal.”

  “Don’t—”

  “Trust him? Don’t worry. I won’t.”

  NEWS ITEM FROM CREGGFOROURFUTURE.COM

  April 27, 2020

  All campaign events scheduled for tomorrow have been canceled due to a family illness. Senator Cregg urges all supporters in Connecticut, Delaware, Maryland, Rhode Island, and Pennsylvania to get out and vote. The campaign will resume its regular schedule on Friday with rallies in Indianapolis and Gary, in preparation for next Tuesday’s primary election.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Carova Beach, North Carolina

  April 28, 2020, 3:17 p.m.

  “It’s pretty, isn’t it, Lily?” Sophie points down at the water. “See? That’s the ocean.”

  “Not yet. That’s just the sound.” Daniel points off in the distance to the wider expanse of blue. “That’s the ocean over there.”

  I tell the pilot to pivot to the north as we cross the sound, so that we can land at the fire-and-rescue station without flying directly over Sandalford. The station is only a few miles up the coast, however. If Magda has the guards watching in both directions, they may notice that it’s a military chopper, rather than one of the rescue helicopters that more typically fly along the coast.

  “That’s Long Point Island,” I tell Daniel. “The one shaped a bit like an arrowhead. You can see the Quonset huts that Magda had built on that side. And . . . there’s a boat up on the shore.”

  “Do you think it’s Jasper and Miranda?”

  “No clue. But I’d feel a whole lot better if we knew whether Aaron managed to contact them.”

  The pilot curves down to the south as we approach Carova Beach and the coastline comes into view. “I’ve never seen the ocean from the air,” I say. “The waves look like tiny little dots from up here, but they can pack a pretty big wallop down there on the shore.”

  “I’ve never seen the ocean at all,” Sophie says. “Lake Michigan a few times. And Lake Erie a bunch of times, but the beach there is mostly rocks and dead fish, at least where we went. I like to swim, though. There was a pool at The Warren.”

  That surprises me, but Daniel is nodding, and I get internal confirmation from Ashley.

  You didn’t see all of The Warren. There’s a reason that many of the kids were happy there. It was a pretty good place from their point of view. Until it wasn’t.

  Sophie seems happy right now, looking down at the beach. Happier than I’ve seen her before. Lily is chattering and pointing out the window, too. I think Sophie could be right about Lily being a bit of an empath.

  A twinge of worry twists my gut as I watch the two of them, and I can tell that Daniel is thinking the same thing. Maria’s talk about the adepts fighting the “bears” on the beach keeps running through my mind. I have no idea what we’re heading into. Stan’s paths could be wrong. We could be wrong about Dacia heading here—

  Thump. Thump.

  And then Ashley gives Cregg’s opinion a strong second.

  We’re not wrong. She’s here.

  Okay. Dacia’s here. But we still shouldn’t be bringing a baby into this.

  So what’s today’s cutoff for too young to be in a war zone? Caleb’s age? Peyton’s? Maggie’s?

  Fine. We shouldn’t be bringing another baby into this.

  Smith clearly thought so. He’d tried to convince Sophie to stay at Fort Bragg. To be honest, I thought Smith was going to keep all of us there. I’m pretty sure he toyed with the idea, otherwise we’d have been here two hours earlier. We sat in the helicopter for nearly an hour, and then Smith sent some enlisted guy out to tell us we should come inside. By that time, we didn’t argue because we were all in dire need of a bathroom.

  But Sophie and Lily got back into the helicopter with the rest of us. She was adamant that she will be needed, and after her recent separation from Lily, there’s no way Sophie would leave her daughter behind. As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right. Dacia may think she can handle Caleb, but Maggie is doing the handling, and she can’t do it alone.

  Daniel’s meeting with Berman apparently consisted of him talking and her listening. He spoke to Smith a few times on the flight from Knoxville to Fort Bragg, but he got only monosyllabic responses, and Smith offered no guarantees on whether he’ll be supporting us. He simply told Daniel he has to make some calls and that he’ll be in touch. You’d think he could have made those calls during the two hours we were stuck at Fort Bragg or, better yet, let us leave and then make them.

  Leaning forward, I ask Daniel, “How much influence were you able to exert over Berman and Smith?”

  “Some
.” He rubs his forehead. “I gave Berman an extra nudge as she went back to her car. But here’s the deal. They’re both operating within a bureaucracy. Nothing gets done on the say-so of any one person. And if a political deal has been reached . . . do you really think this administration will care if Cregg is dirty? Or if his family profits from the drug sale?”

  Sadly, I know he’s right. And that means this lift to Carova may be the only bit of help Smith gives us. Maybe all he can give us. And when the time comes to fight, we could be facing not just Magda’s private security and Dacia’s bears but also Smith and whatever military force he’s been ordered to use against us.

  Could the government simply wipe out the adepts without anyone knowing? It’s possible. Carova Beach is still relatively empty this time of year, although a few cars and brightly colored beach umbrellas are out. There will be even more a week from now. This stretch of the island is less densely populated than most areas, but warm weather is on the horizon, and soon, most of these houses will be occupied. People would definitely notice then. They wouldn’t be happy about having their vacation disrupted.

  But given the recent mob violence against adepts like Cameron Applebaum and against those simply perceived as possible psychics, like all of those kids in Florida, I can’t help but wonder whether the rest of the nation would even care?

  If the public was magically granted an eyewitness view of our battle against Cregg and, quite likely, US soldiers, would they cast us as the heroes or as the villains of this tale? Would it matter to them that we are fighting to protect children? That most of the people who will be fighting on our side are children?

  Maybe I’ve spent too much time reading the comments sections lately, but I suspect that it will not matter to most “neurotypical” people. They will view us as a mistake of science to be purged from the face of the earth. A select few will be sincerely troubled. A larger group will tsk and say it’s a pity, but hey, that’s what happens when you tamper with nature. Others—a far larger group than I would have believed even a year ago—will cheer our demise, and the fact that most of the victims are children will not matter to them at all.