The Delphi Resistance (The Delphi Trilogy Book 2)

by Rysa Walker

  These are all positive goals, and they’ll be so much easier to achieve if Daniel is with us.

  So, with those things in mind, I reach across the railing of the bed and take Daniel’s hand. I expect it to be cold, but his skin is warm and dry.

  It’s time to go home, Daniel. Back to your body, back to your family, back to running the show. You can do this.

  But the only thing I feel is resistance. Almost like he’s following through on the threat he made before, to latch on to my cerebellum and refuse to go.

  We had a deal, Daniel. The kids are safe. Cregg can’t hurt them anymore. You need to go. While you still can.

  There’s a long pause, and then something whooshes through my head, as turbulent as the wind from the helicopter at the airfield. The movement is agitated, almost frantic.

  This is definitely not the way I’d imagined the transfer happening. When I thought about this moment, I’d envisioned focusing on the positive and feeling a gentle flow of power from my hand to his.

  Instead, a bolt of pure fire runs through me. My eyes fly open, and I press my lips tight to keep from crying out.

  Aaron is at my side immediately, worried. Asking if I’m okay. But I can’t answer him until I know what happened. I close my eyes and focus on the corner where Daniel has been for the past two days.

  I don’t see him. I don’t hear him. I don’t feel him.

  Daniel’s ibbur, his ghost, his psychic echo. Whatever you call it, it’s no longer here.

  “Anna? What happened?” Aaron is shaking me gently, trying to get me to respond.

  “I’m okay.”

  The chair is now several feet away from the bed. I don’t know if I pushed myself away from Daniel, or if Aaron did that for me.

  My head aches again, not like the roar the morning after the attack at the airfield, but more of a dull throb, similar to the one running down my arm.

  “What happened?” Aaron asks again.

  “I don’t know. Daniel’s not in my head anymore. I’m certain of that. But . . .”

  We can both see that there’s no change to the body in the bed. The machinery continues with the same gentle hum, the same readings. Daniel doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. The only thing that’s different is his blanket, which I apparently managed to untuck when the transfer jolted me backward.

  “Just because we can’t see anything, that doesn’t mean it failed,” Aaron says. “He’s been immobile, unresponsive, for a long time. It may take a bit for body and brain to reconnect.”

  “I know. I didn’t expect . . .”

  And that’s kind of true. I didn’t expect there to be an instant reaction.

  But I hoped. I really, really hoped. Especially after that intense jolt, which was nothing like the odd slipping sensation I get inside my head when a new hitcher comes on board.

  “We should go,” I say. “Let Taylor see him.”

  We’ve only been in here five minutes at most, but Aaron says, “Sure.”

  He steps back over to the bed, and I follow, looking down at Daniel.

  “I hope you’re in there,” I say. Then I tuck the blanket back around his body and squeeze his hand gently. “I hope you’re safe.”

  Daniel’s hand doesn’t move.

  Except for his thumb, which grips my fingers against his palm with surprising strength. He holds it for a moment, releases, then squeezes again.

  I look up at Aaron, tears springing to my eyes. “Did you see that? He squeezed my hand, Aaron. He’s in there! He’s really in there.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “I’m positive. It happened twice.”

  He sighs. “I hate to get Mom’s hopes up, but we probably need to tell them.”

  I nod, but reach over the rail to try again before we go downstairs, squeezing his hand tightly. “Come on, Daniel. Give us a clear sign. Show us you’re in there.”

  Aaron is watching this time as Daniel squeezes my fingers, his grip firm enough that the knuckles stand out against his skin.

  Even though Daniel’s expression hasn’t changed, the spikes on the monitor seem a bit more distinct now. He continues to grip my fingers, but this time, he raises his forefinger to give the back of my hand three short taps, followed by three slightly longer, harder presses. Then three more short taps. After a moment, he repeats the pattern.

  Three short, three long, three short.

  And again, three short, three long, three short.

  I don’t even have to dig through Abner’s memories of Morse code to recognize that one.

  Aaron knows it, too. “He’s signaling SOS.”

  “We should call the doctor—”

  At that word, Daniel’s eyes flutter and he groans, a muffled version of the huff he makes when he’s frustrated. It’s a familiar sound, one that I’ve heard frequently over the past two months any time he thinks I’m being unreasonable or stupid.

  Daniel’s grip tightens on my hand again, and he repeats the SOS pattern. But this time, at the end, he raises his finger upward and holds it there.

  He’s pointing directly at me.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  There are often bits of truth mixed in with even the wildest fiction, and in my acknowledgments for each book I write, I like to take a few minutes to separate the purely fictional from the bits and pieces that have a basis in reality. Unlike the CHRONOS Files, which pulled in many historical figures and events, most of the Delphi Trilogy is fiction. Several of the settings and situations are, however, real.

  The Delphi Project is obviously my own creation, but predecessor programs like Stargate and Project MK-Ultra are very real. The military’s remote viewing program has been well documented, and numerous reports claim that one of its leaders really did think you could create psychic soldiers capable of walking through walls.

  Overhills Lake is located on Fort Bragg in North Carolina. There was once a posh resort on the premises, owned by the Rockefeller family. While I haven’t gone exploring there in person, others have, and I stayed fairly close to the posted images in my descriptions. Links to images of Croatan Cottage and the other buildings at Overhills can be found on my website at http://www.rysa.com/overhills.

  If you’re looking for someplace to wait out World War III, there are several companies that have converted old missile silos into heavily fortified housing. My descriptions of the bunker where Cregg is holding the Delphi adepts is based in part on the various online images of these renovated buildings.

  The Outer Banks of North Carolina are obviously real, and gorgeous, and you should go if you get the chance. You might even encounter some of those wild horses if you venture up toward Carova. (You might encounter me, too, depending on the time of year.)

  One reason that I’ve usually chosen, as a writer, to blend fact and fiction is that I find it easier as a reader to accept the fantastic elements of a book if the rest of the story mirrors the real world. If I had possessed an active CHRONOS key earlier this year, however, I’d have jumped back to my Writing Cave in the fall of 2015 to caution my slightly younger self about the perils of setting a book in a near-future based on our own reality. I’d have told her to seriously consider setting the Delphi books in a distant future, or in a galaxy far, far away, because less than a year later, fiction about politics and conspiracy theories would have a difficult time topping the stories on the nightly news.

  But while I have several CHRONOS keys, I lack the gene to use them. As a result, my research for this second book in the series took me down quite a few dark and scary rabbit holes. I truly appreciate the family and friends who listened to me screech and bang my head against my desk during the research phase. Pete, Ian, and Ryan—you deserve medals for your patience, your understanding, and above all, your ability to determine whether my shriek of frustration was a plea for a hug, for caffeine, for wine, or for holy water to cleanse my eyes. (Frequently, it was for all of the above.)

  My support team at Skyscape has been incredible, as always. Cour
tney Miller, my managing editor, is a rock star. Special thanks go as well to Adrienne Procaccini, who stepped in to keep the ship afloat while Courtney was away managing a very special (and adorable!) side project. Amara Holstein, my developmental editor, again offered stellar advice, most of which I took, and even more of which I probably should have taken, but like most writers, I’m stubborn when it comes to killing my darlings. Thanks as well to the behind-the-scenes crew at Skyscape who do so much to get my books into the hands of readers.

  Mike Corley has created another beautiful cover, and I’m delighted to have his artwork as the “face” of this series. Virtual hugs and kudos to my incredible narrator, Kate Rudd, for breathing life into my characters—I am so grateful to once again have you as part of my team.

  Writing can be a somewhat solitary occupation, but thanks to social media, I’m surrounded with friends even when I’m in the Writing Cave (and really should be working). If you’re among my friends on Facebook or in one of my online author groups, thanks for keeping me informed and entertained when my brain simply wasn’t ready for work. My beta readers deserve a special mention for their excellent advice: Cale Madewell, Karen Benson, Chris Fried, Karen Stansbury, Hailey Mulconrey Theile, Billy Thomas, Meg Griffin, Kristin Ashenfelter, Shell Bryce, Fred Douglis, Jen Gonzales, Dori Gray, Donna Harrison Green, Susan Helliesen, Stephanie Johns-Bragg, Christina Kmetz, Jenny MacRunnel, Trisha Davis Perry, John Scafidi, Antigone Trowbridge, Jen Wesner, Dan Wilson, Jessica Wolfsohn, Tracy Denison Johnson, and Becca Porter. (Apologies in advance to the person I’ve forgotten . . . because there’s always at least one!)

  Finally, thanks to my family for everything you do and for simply being you. And thanks to Griffin for sharing my snacks and keeping my feet warm this winter.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2014 Jeff Kolbfleisch

  Rysa Walker is the bestselling author of The Delphi Effect. Timebound, the first book in her CHRONOS Files series, won the 2013 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award—Grand Prize—and was the Young Adult Fiction winner. Her career had its beginnings in a childhood on a cattle ranch, where she read every book she could find, watched endless episodes of Star Trek, and let her imagination soar into the future and to distant worlds. Her diverse path has spanned roles such as lifeguard, waitress, actress, digital developer, and professor—and through it all, she has pursued her passion for writing the sorts of stories she imagined in her youth. Now living in North Carolina, she is focusing on the final book in The Delphi Trilogy. Discover more about Rysa and her work at www.rysa.com.