The Delphi Resistance (The Delphi Trilogy Book 2)

by Rysa Walker

  I was right, Anna. Jaden said the same thing. There’s no way we could handle that kid.

  You also said that Cregg wouldn’t hurt him, didn’t you? That Cregg doesn’t kill freakin’ kids. Well, there are five dead kids in that bathroom who beg to differ, Daniel!

  Yes. Obviously, I was wrong! But, Anna, Hunter’s already dead.

  No kidding! And I’m sure you’re thinking maybe that’s for the best, right? Just like the kid back at The Warren?

  What? No! First, that’s not—that situation is complicated, okay? And second, my point was that we can’t fix the fact that Hunter is dead.

  Maybe not. But I can help him find some peace. Either way—

  Between arguing with Daniel and trying to keep my walls in place, I don’t even hear Aaron until I feel his hand on my arm.

  “We have to go! Right now!” He pulls me toward the hallway.

  “What happened? Where’s Deo?”

  “Deo and Taylor are already headed downstairs. I got a vibe. Someone’s coming. I think we’ve got a couple of minutes, but . . .” Aaron gives me a puzzled look. “What’s the matter?”

  “I can hear him, Aaron.”

  “Hear who?”

  “Hunter Bieler. He’s crying . . . God, he’s terrified, he’s crying for his mom, and I can’t just . . .” I shake my head.

  Taylor’s voice echoes up from the lower floor. “Aaron! What’s wrong?”

  “We’re coming,” he yells back and then turns to me. “Are you sure you can handle taking him on?”

  “No. But I’m positive I can’t handle leaving him here.”

  Aaron is still talking, but I barely hear him as I run back toward the bathroom, nearly tripping over one of the pipes in the floor. I yank bricks out of my mental wall as I go, praying that there is only one spirit in this room.

  The shadows hide Hunter, for the most part. Only one shoulder and part of his face are fully visible. His eyes are open, wide and glassy, fixed on the shoe of the girl next to him. The white tiles behind the tub are sprayed with something dark, and I am glad beyond belief that the room is too dim for me to see clearly. Seeing five dead kids right now would push me over the edge, and since I’m about to pick up the spirit of a kid who was murdered only a few days ago, I need to hang on to as much calm as I possibly can.

  I lean down to touch Hunter’s arm. Before my fingers even make contact, loud, hiccupping sobs rush into my head. I stumble back, and probably would have landed on my ass, but Aaron’s arms reach out to steady me. The flashlight briefly illuminates Hunter’s right side, which is spattered with blood. I squeeze my eyes shut and turn away, knowing I’m too late, knowing that Hunter Bieler has already gotten a clear look at his own dead body.

  Mom? Bree?

  Hunter—

  The woman! She’s got a gun she’s got a gun she’s got a gun—

  It’s going to be okay, Hunter.

  That makes him freak out even more. I’m about to try again, but Jaden stops me.

  Anna, you’re almost as wound up as the kid is right now, and when you’re like that, your voice comes over like I AM THE GREAT AND POWERFUL OZ to those of us here on the inside. Maybe just focus on what’s goin’ on out there? We got this.

  I’m a bit taken aback by that. I’d never really thought about how I might sound to the hitchers. But Jaden’s right. I don’t have time for explanations right now, so I quickly stack my bricks back into place and focus on getting us out of here.

  My body isn’t exactly down with that plan, however. I lean back against Aaron, fighting a wave of dizziness. He hooks an arm around my waist, and we go. Taylor and Deo are on the second floor waiting. As soon as we reach the landing, Aaron reaches out to grab Deo’s shoulder.

  “What the—” Deo begins, but we all catch on when Aaron winces and pulls his hand back. He braces himself against the wall and grips his forehead in his hands for a moment. It almost looks like he’s trying to squeeze something out of his head.

  “Their Jeep is on the dirt road now.” He continues down the stairs, holding the rail tightly. “If they take a right at the fork, I think we’ll be okay. But if they circle around by the lake . . . they’ll probably see the truck.”

  I try to remember how long it took us to get from the highway to the lake. It was slow going, given the condition of the road, but I think it was still less time than we spent walking from the truck to here. And that’s assuming they’ve only just now turned onto the dirt road.

  “So we stick to the story, right?” I ask, following Aaron. “We tell the MPs we were fishing and wandered off exploring.”

  “What?” He shoots an incredulous look over his shoulder as we head out into the night. “No! It’s not the military police. It’s Dacia. She’s got two men with her.”

  “So much for that Snoop kid not telling them everything,” Taylor says.

  We don’t bother sticking to the tree line this time, hoping to shave off a few minutes by running across the golf course. Even though I’m scared, it feels good to run. Running is one thing that always quiets the chaos in my head.

  Right now, however, the endorphins merely reduce it to a dull roar. Jaden and Daniel are both trying to calm our new guest, but they aren’t having much success. Daniel doesn’t seem to be good with kids, and while Jaden does appear to have the knack, Jaden’s clothes are blood drenched, and he’s wearing a wound that’s pretty much identical to the one that Hunter just saw on his own head. That would have your average adult in hysterics, let alone a six-year-old boy.

  Molly, at age fourteen, is the youngest hitcher I’ve hosted, and she’d had the better part of three years to adjust to the fact that she was dead. Hunter’s had less than a week, based on the information in Tamara Blake’s interview, which has been spot-on so far, right down to the dog paintings on the bathroom walls. That doesn’t make Hunter the freshest hitcher—Jaden had only been dead about ten minutes. But thanks to Jaden’s visions, he’d known what was coming for weeks. He’d accepted his death as inevitable.

  I’m not sure a six-year-old can grapple with that concept at all, but if he can, it’s going to take time for him to adjust. As soon as we reach the truck, I’ll see if I can help calm him down. Right now, though, I need to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

  “Why do you think those bodies are here?” Aaron asks. “Why go to all this trouble to leave them in this exact location? On a military base? I don’t think it was just to set a trap for us. They could have done that somewhere else . . . and I don’t get the sense they knew we’d be here.”

  “Then . . . why?”

  We stop a few yards into the path through the woods to let Taylor and Deo catch up. Aaron leans back against a tree, catching his breath. “I think . . . I think they expected the military to find those bodies. We know that two of them were kids who hadn’t had much success hiding their abilities. Maybe the others were, too? And maybe . . . they’re here as a message to the unit that was tasked with keeping these Delphi kids undercover.”

  I nod. It makes more sense than any other explanation, only . . . “I just don’t get what changed their view on killing children? Cregg seemed appalled at the idea, and that’s not just based on my conversation with him but also on Jaden’s experience, and . . .”

  “And Daniel’s,” Aaron finishes when I hesitate, giving me a weak smile. “It’s okay. I’m adjusting. You don’t have to censor yourself.”

  Deo and Taylor catch up, both panting. I don’t care how good he was feeling earlier, you don’t bounce back that quickly from a high fever and several days where you could barely eat.

  “You okay, D?”

  “Yeah,” he says, still keeping his distance. “But I need to stay back so this amp thing doesn’t cause trouble for you two. And . . . buddy system. Taylor’s even shorter than you are.”

  I expect Taylor to give him a dirty look, but she nods, clutching her side. “I do yoga. I do not run.”

  “Well, you won’t have any trouble kee
ping up with us on this damn path,” Aaron says. “Run through here, and you’re likely to break an ankle. Just walk as fast and as carefully as you can.”

  When we reach the abandoned stable, Aaron stops and motions to Deo. “Need to see if I can pick her up again. Which I hate, because I get other stuff, too—bar fights, domestic disputes. So if I look like I want to punch someone, it’s because I do. But it’s not aimed at any of you, so don’t take it personally.”

  Aaron’s body tenses as he braces himself for another onslaught. It must be agonizing to sense so much violence at once and have no way of stopping any of it.

  “Aaron . . . maybe just move a little closer to him without touching? It might boost you enough to pick up Dacia but not the rest.”

  It does help . . . He still gets a flash from a jerk who’s about to kick his girlfriend’s cat across the room, but otherwise the only info he picks up is that Dacia and company have just pulled up to Croatan Cottage.

  “It won’t take her long to figure out we’re gone,” he says, pulling me back toward the trail. “And given the mud, they’ll know exactly which way we’ve gone. But we should be able to reach the truck before they can circle back around on the road.”

  “You can move faster than us,” I tell him. “Go on ahead and bring the truck closer.”

  “Yes,” Taylor says. “Go!”

  As much as Aaron doesn’t like it, he knows we’re right. I might be able to keep up with him, but Taylor and Deo can’t. And he’ll need to start up the truck and get it from where we’re parked to the path.

  “Take this,” I say, shoving the pepper spray into his hand. He squeezes my arm, and then he’s gone.

  Shortly after I drop back to keep pace with Taylor and Deo, another definitely-not-a-raccoon howls, seemingly in the direction we’re running. My hand, which had been clutching the pepper spray, suddenly feels very empty. Deo’s apparently thinking the same thing, because he pulls out our trusty sock full of pennies and keeps it ready to swing.

  Peering off to the left, I scan for headlights on the road that loops around The Hill. Even though the brush is dense, I catch glimpses of the sky between the trunks of the tall pines. No headlights, though, and when I turn back, I run smack into a branch that juts out into the path. It digs a nasty groove in my cheek.

  Behind the walls in my head, there’s a steady murmur of consoling words, faint but rhythmic—it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay. I can’t tell if it’s Jaden or Daniel, but it seems to be calming Hunter down. Or maybe he’s just silent because he’s gone into shock.

  The sound of an engine revving in the distance silences the background chatter in my brain. A squeal of brakes, then another roar.

  “Son of a bitch,” Deo says, looking stunned.

  Dacia’s crew didn’t take the road to the lake.

  They’ve got a Jeep and a footpath.

  Who needs a road?

  CHAPTER TEN

  Overhills, North Carolina

  November 3, 2019, 9:55 p.m.

  We have maybe a quarter mile head start, but I have no idea how long that will last. Deo grabs Taylor’s arm, half dragging her as we try to pick up the pace. We smash our way down the path, oblivious to the bushes and vines clutching at us as we pass.

  The sound of the Jeep grows louder as we near the fallen tree. It’s not exactly a huge hurdle—only a few feet in diameter. But maybe the roots, jutting up like wooden talons, will slow them down a bit.

  I don’t even see Aaron until I’m over the tree. His shoe is wedged beneath one of the roots and he’s clutching his ankle, clearly in pain. When he sees us, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the keys, tossing them to me. “Go. I’ll hide in the woods. Come back when you can.”

  “Yeah, right. Like we’d leave you here alone.” I toss the keys to Taylor and help Aaron up. “If you have time, circle back and see if we’ve made it to the trailhead. But if you see the lights of that Jeep, get out of here. Call the MPs. Tell them we were out here fishing, we found bodies, and someone in a Jeep tried to run us down.”

  The engine revs again in the distance. Taylor and Deo look confused, but they don’t argue.

  “Be careful!” Deo says, and then they’re gone.

  I snag Aaron’s shoe from beneath the tree, and he hands me the pepper spray I gave him earlier so that he can put the shoe back on. He tests the ankle, then clenches his fist, although I can’t tell if it’s to handle the pain or out of anger. “Should have been more careful. Damn it.”

  “Come on. We need to get off the trail.”

  Aaron puts some of his weight on me, and we work our way into the brush as quickly as we can without breaking too many branches—an almost impossible task when we’re trying to move together.

  “No,” Aaron says. “We need to go flat.” I’m not clear what he means until he drops to the ground and begins to belly-crawl through the mud and bramble. I catch a flash of headlights through the trees as I lower myself to the ground, followed by the unmistakable sound of wheels spinning in the mud.

  “Oh, dear God, please let them be stuck.” I tug the sleeves of my hoodie down to protect my hands and follow Aaron.

  My prayer goes unanswered, because I’ve barely hit the ground when I hear the Jeep break free of the mud. Instantly, that same mud, cold and damp, begins seeping through my clothes, and I wish I’d worn more layers. As soon as I’m a few feet in, I turn back and kick hard, spraying leaves and branches back onto the muddy surface of the road behind me, hoping to cover our tracks and disguise the tunnel of broken branches and briars we’re creating as we burrow through. Then I resume my commando crawl deeper into the woods, trying to keep my mind off the spiders, snakes, rats, and God only knows what else that could be in here.

  As I crawl, a song begins running through my head—no words that I can make out, just a low melodic and familiar hum. It’s infuriating, because I can’t quite place it. But the music is also kind of soothing, taking some of the edge off my panic.

  Our progress is excruciatingly slow, and the roar of the Jeep grows louder by the second. When they hit the mud near the fallen tree, the wheels spin noisily. I look back over my shoulder and see patches of headlights through the branches.

  The road seems farther away than I’d thought—maybe a hundred yards. As I watch, headlights arc upward and then back down, the engine roaring as they try and fail to get over the tree.

  A moment later, a door slams, barely audible over the idling of the engine. Aaron is moving into the muddier but slightly less densely forested area just ahead of us. I grab the leg of his jeans to halt him. If someone has gotten out of the car, they might hear the rustling. Might see through the leaves I kicked back for what they really are—a half-assed attempt to cover our footprints in the mud.

  The Jeep revs again and then backs up to have another go at it. The lights shoot up a bit higher and stay there for several seconds, illuminating the lower branches of some of the shorter pine trees, before falling. A man yells for the driver to go farther back this time. When they approach for a third pass, it sounds like the driver has the accelerator smashed all the way to the floor.

  This time, the lights arc up and over. Someone—a woman—gives a loud whoop that trails off as the taillights recede into the night.

  My breath whooshes out in relief as the taillights fade out of sight. That relief is short-lived, however, since I know it would have been much better if it had taken them a few more tries. The tree slowed them down, but was it enough time for Taylor and Deo to make it to the truck?

  The song in my head shifts. I know this one—“Such Great Heights”—and the disconnect between body and brain is very disconcerting. My heart pounds like an off-balance washing machine, but my head echoes with the musical equivalent of Ambien.

  I crawl a few feet forward until I’m level with Aaron. “So,” I whisper, “do we hold here until it’s safe to call Deo and Taylor, or work our way back out to the—”

  But Aaron is still h
olding his breath. In fact, his entire body is tensed, ready to spring. He holds one finger to my lips. After a moment, I hear someone stomping into the thicket behind us. I press my face into Aaron’s shoulder, muttering a silent curse. It didn’t even occur to me that the man who was shouting out directions to the driver never got back into the Jeep. They must have noticed the broken branches, or maybe the fact that only two sets of footprints continued on after the tree. A second later, a beam of light begins moving in a wide arc through the woods.

  Option A: we can start moving again, trying to stay ahead of the guy who has both a heavy-duty flashlight and, I’m quite certain, a gun. Option B: we can freeze like the deer in our headlights earlier tonight and pray he doesn’t see us.

  Neither plan is good, but I’m leaning toward the second one. Our bodies are both so covered in mud that there’s a slight chance we could avoid detection until the man is close enough for me to use the pepper spray clutched in my palm.

  The melody in my head shifts again, and it’s off-key now. “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” I think. Then Daniel’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

  Go with Option B. When the man gets close enough, I’ll convince him to go back to the road. To tell them no one’s here. Or . . . something.

  Aaron has pulled one leg under him, ready to push forward. I curl my free hand in the fabric of his jacket and pull him toward me.

  “You sure?” Aaron whispers, his mouth so close that I can feel his lips moving against my cheek.

  I nod, even though I can’t tell if he’s asking whether I’m sure about us holding this position or if he’s figured out what Daniel’s planning.

  As we inch slowly back toward the tangle of bushes and pine needles behind me, I shift slightly so that my head is on Aaron’s shoulder. Now we can both see, at least partially, through the tangle of leaves and branches.

  This is the closest Aaron and I have been physically in days, aside from the interrupted kiss the other night and the occasional hug. And there’s a man with a freaking gun walking toward us, which scares the hell out of me, so you’d think that my body would be too busy worrying about self-preservation to think about anything else. But that just seems to fan the flame. Every inch of me is pressed against him, and I feel a warm tingle deep inside, a sharp contrast to the wicked cold of the mud caked on my body. His arm tightens around me, and he presses his face into my hair, breathing deeply.