by Rysa Walker
My name is Legion, for we are many.
One section of the curtains has been pulled back, exposing the hallway and the rows of chairs where Lucas now sits, talking on his cell phone. It’s in one of those weird cases with the tiny antenna like Ashley had.
When I look at him, the roar in my brain becomes even more frenzied. But I don’t think the anger is directed at me. I’m pretty sure it’s aimed at Lucas.
One at a time. I need to take them one at a time and push them behind the back wall. I’ll have to deal with them all eventually, and I don’t think even the wall will shut out all of them entirely. But it will at least get the bedlam down to something manageable, something that might allow me to think without this whirl of distraction.
I close my eyes again and try to find some coherent thread to follow. Finally, I sort Jaden’s voice out of the roar, answering the question before I can ask.
Will, Oksana, and two other women. Only four.
ONLY four?
I draw a few calming breaths as I try very, very hard not to freak out. Molly isn’t even fully assimilated yet, and counting Jaden, I now have five additional voices in my head. At once. And I can’t exactly call Kelsey to schedule an emergency appointment.
But in another sense, Jaden is right. I sensed way more than four others when the walls crumbled.
Yeah. Oksana and the other two were chosen as . . . representatives, I guess? The rest held back.
Why?
They were thinkin’ too many voices might . . . be counterproductive. And they want to help, not make it harder.
Help . . . with what?
With getting you out of here.
Really? That’s it?
Well, umm . . . no, actually. They might also be plannin’ a bit of payback.
I open my eyes and look back at Lucas, who’s still on the phone, staring through the window at me as he talks. It only takes that brief glance to get a reaction out of my new hitchers, who seem pretty keen on sitting Lucas down in here and adding a fourth corpse to the room.
If I have to kill Lucas in order for me and Deo to escape, I won’t shed any tears. Given what he did to my hitchers, what he did to Molly, and what he would have done to me if Ashley hadn’t showed up, I seriously doubt I’d lose even a single karma point. I might actually gain a few.
What they’re envisioning would be an execution, however—murder, plain and simple. If I could, by some miracle, force Lucas to sit down so that I could duct-tape him to a chair, I’d grab his security badge and focus on getting us the hell out of here. My new hitchers don’t seem to care much whether I approve of their plans, however. That means we’re going to need to have a little group chat.
But first, I need to get my head together enough to speak to Deo, to let him know that I’m okay. I can’t hear him, but he’s clearly saying my name. Tapping my cheek gently.
I try to put up another wall, to drown out the noise, to close the new hitchers off in some corner of my head. But it’s no use. I’m too scattered, too divided, to function. My head feels like it’s on the brink of exploding. As a group, they are stronger than I am, and that terrifies me.
QUIET!!
I don’t have much confidence that mental bellowing will work, but it’s all I can do. I’m not even sure how well some of them understand English, given the cacophony of different languages I’m hearing.
Jaden echoes my plea for quiet, and the furor dies down a bit.
Anna can’t function if we’re too close . . . to the front. Everyone needs to pull back. Give her some room!
Two voices I don’t recognize join him. One is male, which must be Will. That kind of surprises me . . . I guess I’d expected him to be mute. The female voice is halting, and I think she may not be accustomed to thinking in English. Both echo what Jaden said. Back off. Give her room. Chill.
Gradually, the crowded room that is my brain grows silent enough that I gain control.
“I’m okay, D.”
He lets out a sigh of relief. “You passed out.”
“How long was I out?”
“I don’t know. Ten minutes, maybe longer. Long enough for him to notice and start making phone calls. And then your eyes were open, but you weren’t answering. It was like you could see me, but you couldn’t—”
“How did I get back over here?”
“I carried you. Do me a favor and lay off the Doritos, okay?”
“Funny. Ha-ha. Maybe you need to hit the gym.” I give him a playful punch in the arm. “But really, thanks.”
His face darkens. “Wasn’t going to let that bastard touch you.”
“Did I . . . say anything while I was coming to?”
“Not a word. Why? Did you manage to pick up that Will guy?”
“Uhhh, yeah.” I look up to where Lucas was sitting. He’s no longer there, but I still can’t really say much more when they could have every inch of this place wired. “This could be very interesting. He’s . . . strong. That could be a prob—”
I’m outside and I’m running. Deo is a few feet in front of me. It’s cold, but he’s not wearing a shirt. Only sweatpants.
Usually, I can keep up with Deo. In fact, most of the time, he’s the one running a little behind. But my ankle is throbbing, a slow dull ache that keeps me from putting my full weight on it.
We’re in a clearing, with just a few scattered trees, running slightly downhill toward a more densely forested strip of land. Even though the sky is dark, I can make out the shape of a building off to the right and another one, at a distance, to the left. A muffled noise, like a car alarm, sounds several blocks away.
As we run, the alarm noise either stops or grows too faint to hear. I look back over my shoulder again at one of the buildings. The one we came from. The structure looks as though it’s damaged, but it’s not the ruined building from Taylor’s drawing.
A light from above sweeps over the ground behind us. Once, twice. There’s a rapid thwop-thwop noise overhead, but it fades quickly. A plane. No, a helicopter. It sounds familiar, like one that Abner rode in during Vietnam.
I turn to see if I can spot where it’s going, and that’s when I see someone behind us, closing in fast. A man. He wasn’t there the last time I looked back. He’s not big enough to be Lucas. Thinner. More like—
“Faster, Deo! I think it’s Cregg!”
The man is shouting my name. We push into the trees, and the ground begins to drop off. The tree cover is dense, but I see a road ahead. A flash of lights from a car. Power lines above us. And in that split second that I’m looking upward at the utility lines, I trip over something. A rock, or maybe a tree root. My ankle howls in protest.
A hand grabs my arm as I start to fall. I open my mouth to tell Deo to keep running, certain that it’s Cregg, but all that comes out is a scream.
And then I realize it’s Daniel.
He says, “You’re going—”
“. . . wrong with her? She was awake a minute ago.”
Deo’s arm is around me and I’m leaning against his chest when Lucas’s hand connects with my face. It’s not a gentle tap like when Deo was trying to wake me up earlier. This is a full-bore slap, and it’s all I can do to keep control away from the three Furies roaring inside my brain. My fingers clench into claws, ready to rake the eyes out of Lucas’s head.
Most of their thoughts aren’t in English, but the few that are make their intent pretty clear.
Stop his heart.
Throw him through the glass wall.
The ideas keep on coming, each a little more gruesome than the last.
STOP! I can’t think!
“. . . happens sometimes. Most of the time, actually. Her brain had trouble . . . allocating space . . . for the new guy. She had to . . . shut down for a while.”
I doubt Lucas can tell that Deo is lying. He also might not realize that Deo’s having a very hard time controlling his own temper, something that’s clear to me not only from the sound of Deo’s voice, but also from the way
his arm is shaking.
“And you hitting her sure as hell isn’t helping, so just—”
“I’m okay.” I open my eyes before Deo can finish his sentence. Lucas might do more than tase him.
When I speak, Lucas takes a step back. There’s a touch of fear in his eyes that I haven’t seen before.
I like it. And so do my resident Furies.
His hand slides inside the jacket he’s wearing as he moves away, making me think that Lucas might have a little sixth sense of his own. He doesn’t actually draw the gun. But he keeps his hand there, at the same spot where Aaron wore the holster he showed me that night at the townhouse.
“Did you pick him up? The deaf-and-dumb guy?”
“Will? Yeah. Not deaf. Just mute.”
Lucas gives me a who-cares look. “So . . . you know what I’m thinkin’ now?”
“You’re thinking you’d like to shoot both of us and be done with it. But I didn’t need Will’s gift to figure that out.”
Deo’s arm is still around me, and it’s hard to catch a breath. “It’s okay, D. You can relax.”
“I am relaxed.” His arm loosens, but he doesn’t step away from me. And given that he’s watched me keel over twice in the past half hour, that’s probably not a bad idea.
Then I get a flash. It’s visual, like a written note:
DON’T LIKE THIS.
THEY NEED TO HURRY.
I’m confused momentarily, until I realize Will must be feeding me Lucas’s thoughts, the way he jotted down thoughts he swiped from people in the cafeteria. It’s nothing I couldn’t have guessed—Lucas glanced toward the door a few seconds ago. I suspect most of Lucas’s thoughts are pretty obvious. He’s about as deep as a puddle in the middle of a drought. But I can definitely see where this ability could come in handy.
Wait. Will said THEY. Cregg and Timmons? Cregg and Dacia? Someone else?
There’s a pause, and the answer comes from Jaden, not Will.
Not sure. He sees it as words not . . . full thoughts.
That’s okay. Just . . . let me know if you get anything else from—
I stop midthought, startled by a loud sneeze. It’s Lucas. A second sneeze, even stronger, follows, then a third. Both hands instinctively fly to his face.
The very instant they do, I discover that I’m no more in control of the three Furies in my head than Lucas is of his body right now.
Deo steps away from me, back toward the wall.
Lucas stumbles forward as two more gargantuan sneezes hit him.
It still feels like I’m at the front, like I’m in control mentally, but I’m physically unable to pull my eyes away from Lucas. And I hear laughter, even though I don’t think I’m actually laughing. It’s just echoing in my head.
Either way, it scares me. Because whatever is going on with Lucas right now, they’re doing it. I’m doing it.
Lucas’s hand gropes for his holster, but before he can grab the gun another sneeze hits, this one so violent that it drives him to his knees. A thin line of blood runs from one nostril.
I hear the plink of metal against metal behind me, then a thick spray of white dust hits Lucas square in the face. He keeps sneezing. I can’t tell if the Furies are doing it or if it’s from the fire extinguisher. My guess would be the Furies, because I still can’t move, still can’t look away from his face.
“Get his badge!” Deo screams. He pushes me forward as the spray begins to sputter out.
A burst of anger surges through me, directed not at Lucas, but at Deo for pushing me. I turn back and snatch the red canister from his hands.
“Ne chipayte mene!” The words fly out of my mouth before I can mentally translate. Don’t touch me.
Deo raises his arms and steps back. “Anna?”
My hands are brandishing the canister like a weapon. The other voices are talking now, and whoever the hell has control of my hands is distracted just long enough for me to shove her backward and spin around to face Lucas.
Who is still coughing, still trying to catch his breath, and very clearly reaching for his gun.
I swing the metal canister with every bit of force I can muster straight toward Lucas’s temple. His head snaps to one side. Before he can slump to the floor, I swing back, in the opposite direction. This time, the bottom of the canister connects directly with his forehead and the skin splits.
Deo rushes toward Lucas and kicks him over. One of the security bracelets is in his back pocket.
I stand there, frozen, with the canister lifted over my head, remembering how frightened I was back in my room. Imagining how it would feel to bash Lucas again. And again. The scariest thing is that I’m pretty sure this time, it’s all me.
“Anna?” Deo’s voice is hesitant. He looks at me, a question in his eyes. “Are you okay? Because we need to go.”
I toss the canister onto a cot and follow Deo to the door. He waves the bracelet at the panel, but the door opens before Deo’s hand even touches the knob.
Cregg stares past me to where Lucas lies on the floor. A look of disgust passes over his face as he reaches inside his jacket. He drops the cell phone he was holding into his breast pocket, then reaches toward what I’m positive is a holster.
Damn it! Why didn’t you grab Lucas’s gun?
It’s not one of the hitchers this time. Just me, yelling at me. And yes, I was distracted by way too many voices in my head, but it didn’t even occur to me to grab the gun. I totally suck at this.
When I look at Deo however, I discover that he does not suck at this. He’s holding Lucas’s badge in one hand and Lucas’s gun in the other.
“Hands where I can see them!” Definitely not a kid anymore, although his voice does crack the tiniest bit when he yells, “Drop your ID onto the floor and kick it toward Anna.”
Cregg does as he’s told. “The lab is being monitored. There are dozens of employees in this building. You’ve got about thirty seconds before—”
“Shut up!” Deo says.
I scoop up the bracelet. “He’s got a gun, D.”
“I know. Down on the floor,” Deo tells Cregg. “Slowly.”
As Cregg drops to his knees, Jaden speaks up.
He’s lying about the monitors. Yes, there are dozens of employees in The Warren, but only ten who work the Highside, the side where you were staying. That’s where they place the newbies and the . . . problem children. And only six of the workers know what goes on in this lab. Those six include Lucas and Dacia. All of the others believe we were transferred, except for—
Daniel and Ashley. Yeah, I know.
Deo waves the gun at Cregg. “Now lie on your stomach and put your hands behind your head. If you move at all, I will shoot you. Anna, take his gun.”
Cregg complies with Deo’s order, taking a deep breath as he stretches out on the tile. Once he’s down, I put a foot on the small of his back and tug at Cregg’s jacket to expose the gun. I take it, but as I stand back up, I catch a glimpse of his face, eyes closed, his expression almost serene.
Déjà vu hits me, but it’s not one of Jaden’s flashes. It’s a Molly memory of Cregg sitting in the cabin, legs crossed, as she snipped off her own finger.
“Deo, watch out!”
When I look up, Deo has the muzzle of the gun flush against his right temple. His hand is shaking, and his mouth simply opens and closes for a few seconds, like he can’t get any sound out. Then he croaks, “Move away. Or I’ll do it. I really will.”
The words may be coming from Deo’s mouth, but I have no doubt that they are Cregg’s. I do as he says.
“Now, slide the gun toward me.”
I don’t even consider taking the command literally and sliding the gun toward Deo. I know exactly what he means.
Cregg lies there, hands behind his head, not moving. His eyes are mostly closed, just tiny slits, so I don’t know if he can see me. If I pointed the gun and pulled the trigger, would it buy Deo enough time to move the gun from his head? Or would there be an instant chai
n reaction? Boom-boom. Two guns, two bullets, two bodies.
There’s a very good chance of the latter, I think. And I won’t risk it.
I bend down to slide the gun across the floor, but a rumble of protest is building inside me. This time it’s not only the Furies. Will’s voice is in the mix as well.
SHOOT THE SON OF A BITCH. YOU’LL SAVE WAY MORE THAN ONE LIFE.
Will is moving forward now, trying to take control. I shove the gun toward Cregg so hard that it bounces into his shoulder. For a moment, I’m terrified that I’ve startled him, that the gun Deo has pressed against his head will go off.
STUPID MOVE. HE’LL MAKE THE KID PULL THE TRIGGER ANYWAY. YOU WATCH.
The sick feeling in my stomach says that Will is probably right. Cregg told Lucas not to harm me because I could be of value. I think that probably still holds true. I’ve passed his tests after all. But Deo? It’s a pretty safe bet that Cregg considers him completely and totally expendable.
Will isn’t the only one who’s angry. I don’t recognize many of the words the Furies are using, although idiot seems to be the same in several languages. And even though I’m still at the front, my eyes are now locked on Cregg the same way they were locked on Lucas a few minutes ago.
Not on his head. On his chest.
The popping sound of the explosion is almost drowned out by Cregg’s scream, a high-pitched shriek. His suit jacket catches fire almost instantly. As he rolls onto his back to escape the flame, a gun goes off.
My head whips around to Deo, who’s still standing, his face pale. He’s holding the gun, but it’s pointed toward the glass wall now. Definitely not regular glass, because it didn’t shatter at all, despite the brand-new hole about five feet from the floor.