Countdown

by Michelle Maddox

  Oddly enough, the thought was surprisingly reassuring.

  Any thoughts, reassuring or otherwise, disappeared from my mind as I felt the jab of the needle to the back of my head. A few seconds later my eyesight went a bit blurry, and a numbness began to spread across the back of my scalp to my ears, then to my cheeks and jawline.

  Rogan sat down next to me and reached for my hand.

  "It'll be fine," he said, and his voice was muffled, as if he were speaking to me from another room.

  "Sure it will." My words were so slurred it sounded like I was drunk.

  It will be fine, I repeated internally, trying to focus on anything other than the ticking in my head. Three minutes wasn't a lot of time.

  Jonathan reached forward and chose a scalpel. I squeezed Rogan's hand and closed my eyes. Despite the anesthetic, I could still feel the knife score my skin, right where the original incision was. I felt an ooze of warm blood slide down the back of my neck before it was wiped away.

  The instruments rattled together as Jonathan took something else from the selection. First he dabbed something on the wound.

  "I'm neutralizing the connection," he said. "It should prevent the implant from exploding when I remove it."

  "It should prevent it from exploding?" Rogan repeated. "You better damn well be sure."

  I squeezed Rogan's hand tighter, and then I felt a strange pulling sensation.

  Then there was a pain so intense and pronounced that my eyes snapped open and I inhaled sharply.

  "Dammit." Jonathan's voice was strained. "Please hold still!"

  I felt a series of painful snaps, and then for a moment I saw nothing at all. I'd gone completely blind, and the total darkness felt as if it were smothering me. Just as that thought was settling in, my automatic fear of the dark closing in around me, my vision cleared and I heard a metallic thunk as Jonathan tossed my bloody implant into a metal canister filled with a clear liquid.

  He grabbed another instrument; this one was red-orange on the end, and I knew it was because it was extremely hot. He pressed it to the incision, and I smelled my flesh burn as he cauterized the wound.

  I couldn't hear the ticking countdown anymore. It was gone. I felt a small sense of relief, but we were only halfway there.

  I looked down at Rogan's hand. I'd clutched it so hard that I'd made little half-moons that filled with blood from where my fingernails dug in.

  "I'm sorry," I managed, my words still slurred from the drug.

  He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. "You're a very brave woman."

  "Thank you." I managed a small smile. "You're next."

  "There're two minutes remaining," Rogan tensely told Jonathan.

  "Then please hurry," Jonathan said, anxiety coating his words.

  Rogan and I switched places and I held his hand, being careful not to hurt him again as Jonathan began working on him. Rogan kept his eyes open through the operation, breathing steadily through his mouth.

  I didn't want to look, but couldn't help myself as Jonathan cut a line into his scalp about two inches long. He held back the flaps of skin to reveal the implant, which was an inch square. Little blue and red wires as thin as hairs disappeared into the skull itself.

  Jonathan dabbed the implant with the colorless neutralizing solution and then used another tweezerlike instrument to pluck those metallic hairs out of the tissue connecting it to Rogan's skull. When they were detached, the implant itself finally gave way.

  "What about his other implant? The prototype one from years ago?" I asked as Jonathan closed the wound and used the cauterizer on it. Rogan squeezed my hand tightly as the smell of burned flesh wafted under my nose.

  Jonathan shook his head. 'There's no time. That would be a deep cranium operation. I'd need to saw out part of his skull to get to it. I don't have the time or the facilities to accommodate an operation of that magnitude. Besides, that implant never worked. It's not a priority right now."

  I eyed the implant dangling from the end of his silver instrument. "So we're clear?"

  "Not quite." Jonathan flipped Rogan's implant into the now pinkish water along with mine, grabbed the container, and took it over to the counter. He dumped the concoction into a blender and hit the on button.

  With a churning, metallic grinding sound the implants were destroyed.

  "Now, that should do it," Jonathan said, flicking the machine off. "Not terribly scientific, but it works."

  I let out a long, audible sigh of relief.

  "Are you okay?" I asked Rogan as I stroked his face, which had paled considerably during the operation.

  He raised an eyebrow. "I'm still breathing. And you?"

  "Never felt better."

  "Glad to hear it." He glanced at Jonathan. "Thank you for helping us."

  "You're very welcome." Jonathan came over to the table and sat down heavily in a chair facing us. "Now we must see what we can do about getting the two of you to safety."

  Rogan's eyes narrowed. "That's all you have to say to me? After everything that's happened? I am grateful for you removing our implants, but that doesn't change a damn thing from the past."

  "No, I don't suppose it would. What would you like me to say?"

  "Maybe an explanation of what the hell's been going on?"

  Jonathan's lips thinned. "It's quite simple, really, and you already know most of it now. An unexpected computer virus attacked the Ellis mainframe and attached itself to the artificial intelligence program that we'd been creating. It took over Gareth's implant and has been using his power and influence to grow stronger with every passing day. It feeds off the brain waves of the subscribers through their implants. Every year he's gotten more powerful. And with the Ellis fortune to back him, all he has to do is throw money around and he has a league of employees willing to do whatever he wants. Most of them believe they're simply working for a power-hungry boss with very little moral fiber."

  "How has The Countdown remained a secret all this time?" I asked.

  "Very simple," Jonathan replied. "Fear. Those who come to work closely with Gareth sign a confidentiality agreement, which, if broken, will result in the torture and death of an employee's family first, the employee second. There has not been one instance of an information leakage. Currently we have over fifteen thousand subscribers fitted with implants, who each pay upward of one million dollars a year to be a part of the feed." He snorted softly at that. "Ironic. The feed that feeds Gareth. And there is no end to his appetite."

  I did the math in my head. The Countdown was grossing a minimum of fifteen billion dollars a year.

  Jonathan continued: "Now that the implants and his ability to feed from the subscribers is perfected, he plans to drop the subscription fees and widen his network, even spreading to Offworld. All he needs is people who want to be entertained and are willing to be fitted with the implant."

  "Why haven't you tried to stop him?" Rogan clenched the side of the table. His knuckles were white.

  Jonathan pressed his lips together. "What makes you think I haven't? I have been secretly working behind Gareth's back on a plan to put an end to all of this before it gets even worse."

  "I can help you," Rogan said.

  Jonathan shook his head. 'The best thing for you to do is to get as far away from here as possible."

  "I disagree," Rogan said firmly. "He's my brother-"

  "All the more reason for you to stay away. You're too close to the situation. You will only interfere with what I have planned. Besides, it's my duty to do what I can. After all this time, I've waited too long…."

  I watched the different emotions play on his face. "And you feel guilty about it. I read you when I was in the hospital room."

  His jaw clenched. "Yes, all I feel now is guilt. So much time has passed, and I haven't known what to do. I've watched the true Gareth slip away and a monster take his place, and all the time my fear for my own safety has kept me from taking the necessary action to stop it." He blinked, and then met my gaze.
"I'm still amazed by your abilities, Kira. Can you tell me more about them? You were marked down as a low-level psi, but if that were true you wouldn't have been able to read me so well. I am wondering if perhaps your father, since he, too, was a scientist, may have manipulated the data so you would be able to stay under the radar for so long. There are those who wish harm to anyone who may be different from them."

  I thought of Kurtis. He'd wanted to kill me for what I was. What I am. He'd been hired to take me out seven years ago. Maybe my father really did hide how strong my abilities were-and not just from me.

  "I don't know. I… I've never really used my ability much before. A little here and there, but it always hurt, so I didn't really explore the possibilities. But now that I've been using it a lot, playing this game, I can do way more than I thought I could."

  I licked my dry lips. "I can get pictures, words…. It's as if I'm actually reading somebody's mind … or more like a blueprint of what their thought patterns are. But I've always been able to tell if somebody's a good person or a bad person down deep by touching them."

  "Like a flesh-and-blood lie detector?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know if you could say that. I read you as being honest, but you've lied to me a bunch of times."

  His expression darkened and he looked away. "I'm sorry for all of that."

  "But it doesn't mean you're not honest. You obviously want to do the right thing by trying to stop Gareth. A few lies doesn't change what you are deep inside."

  "I hope you're right. I really do." Jonathan sighed deeply and then stood up from the table. "I've arranged for two tickets on the next shuttle to Offworld for the both of you. Once there you will be able to go your separate ways."

  "Separate ways?" I repeated, glancing at Rogan.

  "Of course." Jonathan nodded. "Now that you're not bound together by the ninety-foot implant parameter, you're free to part company."

  There was silence for a moment as I let that little piece of information settle in.

  "When docs the shuttle leave?" Rogan asked.

  "It will be here in four hours, at precisely three o'clock. Out back of this safe house is a set of train tracks. The shuttle appears as a regular commuter train so as not to incite a riot of people wishing to leave. It will stop here for only two minutes and then take you to the docking station, where you will leave for the journey to Offworld." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two folded pieces of paper. "Here are your tickets."

  We each took one. I stared at the small printing on it. So official. This was what I'd been wanting for so long now that it seemed surreal to actually be holding it. This was all it took? This little piece of paper was enough to change my life forever?

  "I've written the name of a man you should contact once you've arrived, Kira. He's a scientist who specializes in helping women like you who are have higher-level psi abilities. He will pay you well for your cooperation in his studies. I promise that the studies themselves will cause you no pain. In fact, the more you use your ability the less pain you should experience. It's like exercising a muscle, you see."

  I bit my bottom lip. "And then what?"

  "And then the sky's the limit, really. I can see you potentially working in law enforcement." He smiled. "What better way to find out someone's guilt than to see into their very soul?"

  "Law enforcement?" I smiled at the absurdity of the suggestion. "Are you serious? Won't they mind that I've picked a few pockets in my time?"

  He smiled. "I think they might forgive you." He turned his attention to Rogan, and I noticed that his eyes were shiny with emotion. "As for you, Rogan. I cannot express to you how sorry I am for all the pain you have been through these last four years."

  Rogan's throat jumped as he swallowed. "The past is over. I'm free now."

  Jonathan nodded. "As I said, Gareth has had a few sentient moments over the years. He was able to arrange for a bank account to be set up for you in the new city in your name. I personally arranged to have your criminal record cleared, so your name will cause no red lights upon your arrival on Offworld. You should be able to access the bank account number I've written on your shuttle ticket without any problems. Gareth wanted you to have enough money to last the rest of your life."

  Rogan stared at the ticket. "He … he did this for me?"

  Jonathan nodded. "You should know that he begged me once to kill him while he was in control of his body, but I couldn't do it. The virus within has always looked at me with suspicion since that day. He doesn't trust me. He has associates with him … bodyguards … every time I'm in the same room with him."

  "And how were you able to get away today?"

  "After your escape, Gareth was furious. The headquarters were in chaos. I had a feeling that you might be headed here, and when you pressed the buzzer I was able to simply slip away. I'm afraid I won't be able to stay for much longer, though. In fact, I must leave immediately."

  "I'm coming with you," Rogan said firmly.

  "No, you're not. My plan does not involve you. I must do it myself."

  "What is your plan?"

  His expression was tense, and he was silent for a moment before he fished into the front pocket of his pants and pulled out a small card. "I will contact you in a week to tell you if I was successful. However, if you don't hear from me, then it means that I failed. Wait a couple of weeks until everything has calmed down and then go to the location on this business card, even if you must return from Offworld."

  Rogan looked at the card. "Why can't I help now?"

  "It's too dangerous. Especially with your recent escape. The moment they see you they will kill you. They'll kill both you and Kira."

  I held on to Rogan's arm and glanced at the card. It had a strange H-like symbol on it and an address here in the city.

  "What is this place?" I asked.

  Jonathan lips thinned. "Just a small glimmer of hope after years of darkness."

  "You do talk in riddles, do you realize that?"

  He gave me a meager smile. "It's one of my talents, actually."

  Rogan took a step closer to Jonathan. I wasn't sure what he was going to do until he thrust out his hand toward the other man. Jonathan took it and shook firmly. Then Rogan grabbed the other man into a rough hug.

  "Thank you," he said. "And I wish you luck with your top-secret plan, whatever the hell it is. Please do what you can to save my brother."

  "I will." He nodded and his eyes were sad. "But I should have done more. Sooner."

  "Hell yeah, you should have. But better late than never."

  I gave Jonathan a hug, too. "See, I knew you were a good guy after all."

  "I wouldn't go that far." He pulled away, and I could see that his expression was sad.

  "Thank you for the tickets," I said.

  He nodded. "You have four hours. Stay inside this house until then. Understand? There are clean clothes upstairs if you would like to change. Good-bye." He turned away and left the kitchen. A moment later I heard the door slam behind him.

  Rogan looked at me.

  I stared back at him.

  "My head is fucking killing me," he said. "I have no idea why."

  "It might be because a big piece of metal just got yanked out of it."

  "Yeah, that could be part of it." He looked at me for a moment longer. "I shouldn't have let him leave. I should be helping him."

  "You heard him. He has a plan."

  "I wish he would have told me what the hell it was." His expression was grim, his attention on the path Jonathan had just taken to leave the safe house. "But you're right. It would be crazy to interfere. Right now, after everything we've been through, I just want to get as far away from here as possible. I want you to be safe."

  "I'm really sorry about your brother," I said.

  He didn't look at me. "Yeah, so am I."

  I reached around to the back of my head and felt the hard ridge of cauterized skin. "I can't believe the implant's gone."

  "I know."


  "And here I thought I was going to have to get used to having you within ninety feet or less of me for the rest of my life."

  His smile faded at the edges. "Good job they're finally out, right?"

  "Yeah. I'm … I'm going to go upstairs and look into that change of clothes Jonathan mentioned."

  "You do that."

  I swallowed hard and turned away from him, leaving the kitchen. Around the next comer was a flight of stairs to the second floor.

  Once we got to our destination we'd go our separate ways. Was I thinking there would be another outcome to this story? Rogan had enough problems to deal with without having me-one big problem magnified a thousand times-in his life. He was better off without me.

  And I was better off without him.

  After all, I was getting my wish. I was getting the chance to go to Offworld, just like I'd dreamed of doing for years. I was going to go where my father had planned to take me and my mom and my sister all those years ago. I wondered what my life would be like now if that plan had gone through. If, instead of living on the streets of this dying city for seven years, I'd lived those years on Offworld, the start of a new civilization with tons of potential and future happiness.

  However, I wouldn't have met Rogan.

  I pushed the thought away. We'd been thrust together- neither of us had had any choice in the matter-and we'd dealt with it the best we could, and now it was over. It was just dumb luck that I'd fallen hard for him.

  I'd never been in love with anybody before.

  It sure hurt like hell.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I took the stairs up to the second floor of the safe house very slowly, as if there were weights attached to my feet. At the top I tapped the light pad on the wall so I could take a better look around. The house was small, but fully furnished. In some ways it reminded me of the house I grew up in. Or maybe it was just the fact that it was a real house, not some crappy place where I could crash for the night to get off the streets.

  The stairs behind me creaked, and I realized that Rogan was following me.