“Mark, I’m sorry—”
“So, I said those awful things. Only they don’t feel awful to me anymore. Sure, everyone says they are, but I can’t help but wonder.” He paused, running his fingers through his hair. “And weirdly enough, that’s not even the worst part.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. As I did, I took a closer look at him. “Um, Mark? How is it you don’t have any injuries from the cave-in? I mean…you don’t even have a scratch on you.”
“Oh, I’d call this a scratch.”
In response, he raised up the side of his shirt, and underneath was this long line of brownish-red about a hand’s length and width. And it was so strange…maybe it was because I had been passed out for so long, but my first reaction was to wonder why he had smeared paint across himself. Then I realized it wasn’t paint at all, but this hard, almost shell-like surface that had been revealed in places where his skin had torn away.
He wasn’t even bleeding.
I moved to my feet and took a step toward him.
“What is…” I began, my hand outstretched.
He let the shirt fall.
“The White Masks are calling it some kind of exoskeleton,” he said. “Apparently, it covers over ninety percent of my body. They found that out using an x-ray, but not until they had taken a few pieces away from me first. They seem to think it’s as strong as the granite that makes up this mountain. Nearly unbreakable.”
“So that cave-in—”
“Oh, it would have killed me eventually,” he said. “I’m sure I just would have died of thirst after days of being trapped under a ton of rocks; that sounds like it would have been fun.” He paused, then looked down and away. “The skin isn’t healing back. Like my body doesn’t see the point, given that it doesn’t technically need it anymore.”
I swallowed, looking at the haggard, confused man in front of me. I tried to reconcile him with the Mark I had known. The smiling, outgoing Mark that was so good with people. He was always planning our next adventure, whether that was climbing mountains or impromptu trips to the beach in February. And sure, he had been an asshole while drunk, and a bit of a know-it-all while sober, but now…
I reached out and placed a hand on his forearm. He looked down on it and frowned.
“I am so sorry, Mark,” I said. “This…” I shook my head. “What’s happening to you is wrong. I wish you had told me sooner. But we can still make a plan. Try to get out. Get help from, I dunno…real doctors or—”
Mark let out a bitter chuckle, cutting off my babbling.
“You know, it’s strange, but one of the things I’ve always liked the best about you? It’s this.” He nodded down at my hand. “Whenever I had a bad day, I could always count on you to be there for me. You didn’t always know what words to say, but you always cared so much. It made things less awful knowing you would be there to help pick up the pieces.”
“Mark…” My eyes filled with tears.
“And now, this does nothing for me,” he said, shrugging off my hand. “When I see you now, I only resent you, because whatever those injections did to me clearly didn’t have the same impact on you.”
I couldn’t help it. I winced.
“I know thinking that way is unfair, but I can’t deny it, even with everything you did pulling me out of that cave. I don’t even think I’m capable of gratitude anymore. So, while there’s a part of me that still comprehends guilt, I should just come out and say it. I’m sorry about leaving you on the side of the road like that. I’m sorry I’ve been a dick to you this past week. And I’m sorry for what’s going to happen next. Whatever we had before, I’m just not capable of it anymore. And the sooner you accept that, the better you’ll be. So, stop caring about me, okay?”
“Mark. I—”
“I need to get Karen, let her know you’re awake.” He moved away from the wall. “I know she’ll be happy to see you, at least.”
And with that, he left the room. I felt tears form at the edge of my eyes, overwhelmed by the frustration of it all. I looked up, trying to blink them away, when I heard a new set of footsteps making their way down the hall. Could that be Karen? I spun toward the bed, embarrassed, and wiped my eyes.
Only the voice I heard wasn’t Karen’s, but Diego’s.
“Hello there, brave girl,” he said. “We were wondering when you were going to get up.”
I cringed and turned toward him, feeling completely unworthy of the title. Diego took one look at my face and frowned.
“It looks like that boy didn’t thank you properly,” he said.
“It’s…more like I got dumped again.”
“Huh.” He looked down the hall, probably at Mark’s retreating back. “I didn’t know the two of you were an item.”
“Not anymore.”
“That’s odd,” he replied. “In times of crises, you’re supposed to cling to the ones you love, not push them away.”
“It’s…more complicated than that. The injections…Gerry thinks they can have an impact on someone’s personality. And I’m beginning to think he’s right.”
“So is you being this fearless a new thing?”
“I’m not.”
“Then I don’t think you know what that word means. And speaking of which, here comes our fearless leader!”
Giving him a look, Karen walked into the room. When her eyes met mine, they were full of worry.
“Dawn, good, you’re awake,” she said. “It’s been a while. We were starting to get worried.”
“How long?” I asked, resting a hand on my stomach. “Um…I feel like I may have missed a meal.”
“More than that,” Karen replied. “Dawn, you’ve been passed out for close to twenty-four hours.”
I blinked. “Wow.”
“Justin’s been saving you food. It’s cold but it’s something.”
“Yeah, given how terrible that shit tastes while hot, I’m not sure the guy did you a favor,” Diego said.
“Diego!”
“Hey! You were the one who wanted me to talk. I’ll go find the dude. You rest up, brave girl.”
After bidding our podmate goodbye, Karen turned to look at me.
“It’s probably a good thing we have a moment to ourselves.” She shook her head. “Dawn, I’m sure Mark appreciates what you did for him, but that display you put on…you know what that means?”
I felt my skin break out into goosebumps. I could remember the Black Hats heading toward me as I passed out, and what I had thought it had meant, if just for a second.
“They’re coming for you next.”
16
Alex
“You know,” I said. “This is getting a little new age-y for me.”
I stared down at Connor, arms crossed over my chest. The rest of us hadn’t moved all that much. I was still near the broom closet. Alan stood farther down the hall, looking at the guard with an expression I could only describe as “disdain.” The unconscious guard was in the same uncomfortable-looking heap he had been in since Alan had been courteous enough to kick him in the face.
I cringed at the memory. The fact that I had been inches away from pulverizing the guy? That was familiar enough. It wasn’t like I had never lost my temper before. In fact, that was the entire damn problem. It was too easy for me to fly off the handle.
I looked down at Connor, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor as if he were taking part in one of the yoga classes they ran at Colossus.
Only instead of breaking into downward dog, he flipped me the bird.
“Connecting with someone psychically over dozens of miles? Surprisingly, not easy,” he said.
“It sounds like something you two have experience with,” I said, eyebrow raised.
“Not that much, to be honest. We’re a package deal. When we’re on a job, we’re almost never separated.”
“Sounds close,” I replied.
Close enough that his partner knew what was really goin
g on with him? Before I could think about that, Lilah appeared in front of us.
Only, this version of Lilah was a little different than the one I had left at Birchwood Realty. Instead of a sweater and jeans, she was now dressed in some pale, silky gown that—I had to admit—made her look like a knockout. Gold hoops hung from her ears and wrists, and I swear that her skin glowed.
She was also somewhat transparent.
“Whoa,” I said, “you look different.”
“Not that different, I hope,” Lilah replied. “Your psychic projection is supposed to be reflective of your own mental image of yourself.”
“I meant more fancy.”
“I never get to dress up. Although these projections don’t show up in cameras or mirrors, so I’ve never been able to witness it myself.” She let out a chuckle, then her face grew serious as she looked down at the guard. “Is this the one you mentioned on the phone?”
“Yeah,” Connor replied. “Do you think you can get through to him?”
“He’s unconscious.” She crouched down next to him. “That should give me an in. For better or for worse.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know you don’t like just jumping in without an ‘okay.’”
“How is Dawn, by the way?” I asked. “If you’re here, does that mean—”
“That I had to tear her out of her memories again? Yes, unfortunately.” She paused. “And to be honest, it’s getting harder every time.”
“What?”
“I’ve never unearthed so much information in one go before. I should have judged that there would be complications.” She paused.
“Well, you shouldn’t have to do it again,” I said. “We’ve gotten plenty of intel to bring to the police.”
“Yeah, but it’s not enough to just nail SynergyCorp,” Conner said. “We need specifics.”
“And you don’t think that what we’ve found is enough? Christ! We have video of Project Regen torturing Mark. This guy, who used to work for them.” I gestured toward the guard. “Plus, an entire underground secret lair.” I looked to Connor. “Yet you’re still skeptical. What gives?”
Connor shook his head before speaking. “Forecaster, man.”
“Forecaster pressed on us the importance of getting details,” Lilah explained. “Names of people who were involved, the exact method that Project Regen used to artificially trigger powers.” She paused to gnaw on her lip. “And he implied that finding these specifics wouldn’t be easy to obtain.”
“You know I’m beginning to dislike this guy,” I said.
Connor chuckled. “Aw, man. You have no idea.”
“Might as well get started.” Lilah knelt on the floor next to the guard. She paused, looking toward her partner. “This man has been disarmed, right? You know how awful it is to get jerked out of this state.”
“Aw, Lie, you know me.”
“That’s the problem.”
“He had a gun on him, a taser, and a nightstick. All three are now locked away in one of the labs.”
“Then let’s do this.”
She reached out and placed a surprisingly solid hand on his arm. In response, the man sat up, stock straight. I jerked to attention, moving away from my position against the wall. His eyes were covered in a wash of gold. A look of confusion covered his face.
“What’s your name?” Lilah asked, her voice soft but clear.
He frowned before answering, “Ed Gardiner.”
“And who do you work for, Ed?”
“SynergyCorp.”
“How long have you worked for SynergyCorp?”
“Nineteen…no, twenty years this August.” He paused. “Supposed to give me a damn clock or something on my anniversary.”
“It sounds like you’ve earned it, Ed. Let’s talk about your job a little more. What do you do at SynergyCorp?”
A lazy smile spread across Gardiner’s face.
“Now Doc, you know that’s classified,” he said. “Gotta keep things buttoned up.”
“Why isn’t he answering your questions?” Alan asked.
Lilah sighed before speaking. “His vulnerable state gives me access to certain corners of his mind, but I’m not entirely in the driver’s seat.” She turned back to Gardiner. “Now, how about we go over what you did yesterday.”
“Well, I took out the trash,” he said. “That one took a while.”
“The trash?”
The guard turned his head to the left. “What’s that, Doc?” There was a pause, as if he was waiting for an answer before he said. “The big one? I’m gonna need some help with that.”
And with that, he stood up straight so fast he almost smacked into Lilah. He headed down the hall. For a second, I thought he was going back to the broom closet where I had found him, but he walked past right past it.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“He’s caught up in a memory. Probably something fresh in his mind as it happened ‘yesterday,’ for him,” Lilah replied. “It’s best to let it play out. If he breaks out of my trance, putting him back under is going to be near impossible.”
So, we followed him, trailing behind him like baby ducks. This led us to the end of the hall, down a stairwell, and through another set of doors. We ended up in a wide, open room dominated by a large staircase that looked to be made of some sort of glass. It forked out in opposite directions. We stood at the top of one direction, and our vantage point gave us a good view of the room.
Not that anyone would have missed out on the body at the base of the stairs.
There was only one of them this time, dead in that creepy, bloodless way that so many of the men in the garage had been. He wore a black uniform, making him Gardiner’s “coworker.” Not that Gardiner reacted that much as he walked past the guy. Instead, he let out a sigh.
“You got that side?” he asked, nodding in my direction. Even knowing he was caught up in a memory, it was hard not to be unnerved by it. He let out a grunt, as if picking up something heavy, then began to make his way across the bottom level.
“Phew,” he said. “This is one of the lifers too, ain’t it?” He paused, as if listening to a response, then laughed again. “Yeah, me too. I mean it’s not like they’re fed all that well. Come on.”
He started to walk, his gait clearly impacted by whatever weight he was dragging. His attitude was otherwise unchanged. He talked to his invisible friend, asking him about how “Martha was holding up after everything” and if he thought “the boy” was going to make the football team freshman year. It was typical office chatter, not all that different from what I saw at Colossus around the water cooler. I half expected him to mention something about the weather.
There were five exits in the room, including the two on the upper level. On the bottom, there were three, an exit on either side of the stairwell, and a set of double doors made of fogged glass. As we drew close, I could see that the glass doors were partially opened.
Gardiner ignored this entrance, heading instead to the door on the left, which was made of some sort of metal. It was also locked with a keypad. After entering a six-digit code, it let out a familiar series of beeps and the guard walked through.
The room was some sort of crematorium, complete with an ash-filled oven. Several different tools—including a metal poker and a long broom—hung on a nearby wall. A metallic track, about seven feet long, lined the middle of the room.
“All right,” Gardiner said, as he and his buddy drew up next to the track. “On three. One, two—”
He let out a much louder grunt of frustration and stumbled slightly as he hauled the invisible body up to the track. Gardiner let out a sigh of relief, brushed off his hands, and turned to his right, where Alan stood.
“Okay, Doc,” he said. “You need anything else hauled in here?”
Alan blinked in surprise. “Why is he talking to me?”
“He thinks you’re someone else,” Lilah said. “Ed, what is it that you typically do
next?”
“Not stay in here, that’s for sure,” Gardiner replied. “Phew, the smell of this place has ruined barbeque for me, let me tell you. No, I just need the doc to give me my orders, and then I’ll head on to the next task.”
“And what’s the doctor’s name?” Lilah asked, her voice catching in excitement.
That’s what we needed. Names of doctors, the people in charge. Not some low-level guard. I found myself leaning forward in anticipation. Gardiner turned back toward Alan.
“Oh that?” He said. “That’s…that’s…”
And then, he blinked several times, the gold fading from his eyes.
“Damn,” Lilah said, tightening her grip on the guard’s arm. “Ed, I need you to—”
In response, Ed pushed her away. Lilah crashed into Alan, her psychic projection going out like a light bulb the second that she hit Dawn’s brother. You’d think that might freak out a guy, but Gardiner had clearly grown used to seeing weird shit in here because he immediately turned to the wall and grabbed the nearest weapon, the poker. Barely breaking in speed, he spun back toward Alan, the sharp tip of the weapon slicing across his chest.
Or at least, that’s what he had been aiming to do. Instead, the poker met air as Alan exploded into…blackness. Shadows, it looked like, which quickly retreated to a dark corner.
I dropped my bag to the floor and vaulted over the metal track, happy to finally have something to punch. Gardiner, who was pretty fast for an older guy, was already there, swinging that poker like a club. I caught it with my wrist guard, then socked the guy across the face. He went down hard, the poker clanging against the floor. I kicked it toward Connor, who stood tall, arrow of light at the ready to take the man down. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.
I took a step back to give him a clearer shot, only when I did, black shadows began to gather across Gardiner’s face, seemingly pinning him to ground. The man let out a strangled, choking sound. Was he being smothered?
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Connor draw back his arrow as if to shoot.
“Stop!” I said, raising a hand. “I know this sounds crazy, but I think that’s Alan.”
Silver and Gold (Red and Black Book 3) Page 17