by Dee J. Stone
“Couldn’t have done it without you.”
She smiles and we walk out of the room.
Chapter Thirty-Two
A day has passed since Cindy dug the formula from my mind and handed it to Brain, the League’s head scientist. He and the other scientists have been working on it all this time. I’m not sure what they’re doing, exactly, but I saw them extract tissues from Kale’s body and Healer’s. From what I read on their lips, they want to use Healer’s healing ability to accelerate the regeneration of Kale’s cells, because it could normally take weeks.
I’m on my bed, keeping my gaze on them like that will speed up the creation of the cure.
I can’t look into Kale’s hospital room. His parents and Lindsay are in there, hands clasped and heads lowered. I sat with them for a bit before escaping to my room.
I know I shouldn’t, and I know it’s ridiculous, but my eyes wander to Stealth’s room. Everything is as it was the last time she occupied it. Bed is unmade. Clothes and books scatter the floor. It’s as if no one wants to touch it for fear they’d get contaminated with villain-ness.
After all this and everything I’ve been through, my heart still cries for her.
As I glance around the Tower, I notice the lab empty. Scanning the elevators, I see the scientists on their way to the hospital. Brain carries the vial that contains the antidote.
I bolt from my bed, out the door, and down the stairs. I don’t have time to wait for the elevator.
A minute and a half later, I rush into Kale’s room, just as Brain and the others hand the antidote to Healer.
Samson’s worried eyes are pasted on it. Cindy squeezes his hand. “Are you sure you’ve succeeded?” he asks.
Brain nods. “It’s a difficult formula, but yes, I believe we’ve succeeded.”
“Thank you,” Cindy says. She strokes the side of Samson’s face. “I have faith in Ray’s mother and I have faith in our scientists.”
“As do I. Our scientists are the brightest people I know. But…” He stops talking as he gazes at Kale. His eyes fill up. “What if we kill him?”
Cindy’s fill up, too. “What if we save him?” She pulls her husband into her arms. Whispers something. I read her lips. “…nothing to lose.”
Samson nods and stands up. “Alright,” he says to Healer. “Administer the antidote.”
He bends to Kale and kisses his forehead. Leaves his lips there for a bit before nodding once more to Healer and stepping out of the room. In the halls, he paces, running his hand through his hair.
Cindy asks everyone else to exit the room, too. We obey, Lindsay giving me a small, encouraging smile.
I lean my back against the wall and watch what’s going on in Kale’s room. Healer pumps the antidote into a syringe. She and Cindy exchange a look before Cindy nods for her to insert the needle into Kale’s arm. Once she does, the machines surrounding his bed beep. A few flicker.
Samson’s pacing quickens and he mutters to himself.
Please, I beg no one. Let this work.
Cindy’s hands fly to her mouth as the machines quiet down. She then looks at Kale, who’s moving his head around on the pillow. A second later, his eyes spring open.
Cindy gasps.
I turn to Samson. His eyes are dead locked on me, waiting for an update. I nod, and he rushes inside. Throws his arms over Cindy as she hugs Kale close.
It worked. He’s alive. Exhaling a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I slide down the wall and bury my face in my hands.
We saved him.
A hand rests on my shoulder. “Ray,” Cindy says. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here like this. “Kale wants to see you.”
I follow her into the hospital, where Samson and some others are crowded around his bed, talking, laughing. Lindsay is clutching Kale’s hand tightly as her eyes sparkle. When Kale sees me, he smiles, waving me over. He doesn’t look tired, which is most likely due to Healer. “Hey.”
I push through the crowd. “Hey. How are you feeling?”
“Good.” He touches the side of his head. “No more pain.”
I’m so glad to hear that. “Is your telepathy gone?”
“Nope.” He beams. “My mom told me everything. Well, I read most of it.” He chuckles. “Thanks, man. I wouldn’t be here if not for you.”
I wave my hand.
“I’m serious,” Kale says. “Thanks.”
“You’re my best friend.”
He lowers his eyes to the bed. I bet he’s thinking what I’m thinking—that we couldn’t save Stretch the way I saved him. I know I can’t wallow in the past. I know I need to get over it, and I slowly am. I just need to have these feelings of sadness, grief, and bloodlust in me. It’s the only way to make sure Stretch’s death is avenged.
“X,” Kale says. “I’m sorry I lied to you about the headaches. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t want to tell anyone. I mean, I finally got a power and I didn’t want to lose it.”
“I get it, but you’ve got to take care of yourself.”
He nods. “I will. I’m sorry.” He laughs a little. “My parents are probably gonna yell at me.”
“Yeah. You really scared us.”
“I know.”
Quiet.
“Hey, um. What happened to Stealth…?” He shuts his mouth as his eyebrows furrow. He’s reading me, discovering the truth behind the fake girl we trusted. “Wait a minute.” His mouth hangs open. “Stealth is Vlayne’s daughter?”
I don’t say anything as he continues to read me.
“Holy crap. All this time? She tricked us. Tricked me. I was so sure we could trust her. Wow.” He reads more, his eyes narrowing. His mouth opens, then closes. “Dude, you were adopted? Scar—”
My eyes snap to him. It’s too painful to relive.
“Sorry!” he says. “So that’s what Vlayne wants? The antidote? Not to kill my parents or anything?”
“That’s what it seems.” It’s in the League’s possession now. What will she do if she finds out?
A few more League mates head to Kale to congratulate him on his recovery, and I’m slowly pushed away. They’re all talking loudly, happy that everything is back to normal. Maybe for them. Nothing will be normal for me again.
X, Kale says. Maybe we can hang out later and play or talk or whatever.
I nod. See you later.
I slip through the exit and head to my room.
***
Kale and I are seated side by side in the Game Room with our controllers in our hands, but we’re not playing. I let Kale scan my thoughts some more. It’s easier than to tell him about my past and what Scar told me.
“Wow,” he says each time he learns a new detail of my life. “Scar was friends with your mother?” He leans back and scrunches his nose. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”
I turn to him.
“To hear about Vlayne and Scar’s pasts,” he continues. “That Vlayne has the ability to love and that Scar has a soft side.”
I shrug. “I’m not too surprised with Scar. It’s rare to see emotion from him, but I’ve seen it. The way he cares about his family in the sewers. He’d do anything for them.”
Kale twists his lips. “Yeah, I guess. His family is like all he cares about.”
“It’s all he’s got.”
“Yeah, after losing the only friend he had…” Kale stops talking and turns to me. “Sorry.”
I don’t say anything as I finger the controls.
“Do you miss her?” Kale asks.
“I barely knew my mom.” But I feel like a whole chunk of my heart is missing. I’ll never get it back.
“Stealth, I mean.”
I don’t look at him.
“Sorry. Dumb question,” he says. “Obviously you do…”
“I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Right.”
He starts up the game and we play in silence. I’m off, causing my guy to die a bit too many times. I try to push Stealth out
of my head, but it doesn’t work, which is the reason I’m sucking.
From the way Kale’s playing, it’s hard to imagine he just woke up from a coma.
I don’t know what I would have done if he died.
Chapter Thirty-Three
We’re all seated around the living room table, eating the grandest meal we’ve ever had. Samson and Cindy went wild, hiring the greatest chefs and caterers to celebrate Kale’s recovery. Loud music plays and some members are dancing around the table, conga style. Tonight, the entire mansion is alive.
Kale is sitting at the head of the table, a place reserved only for his parents. Lindsay is on his left and I am on his right. He’s answering questions—where was he all this time (he doesn’t remember), could he hear us (no), did he feel close to death (he doesn’t remember), what was it like to wake up (awesome!).
Kale slings his arm over Lindsay’s shoulder and presses his mouth to hers. I tear my gaze away. It’s selfish of me to think about myself and my lack of a girlfriend when Kale almost died. I can’t help it. She’s still haunting me. I look around at anyone and anything, just to keep her out of my head. But all I see are more couples kissing and smiling.
I need to get out of here, but it wouldn’t be right. I’ll have to endure this.
Kale gets to his feet. He clears his throat, his eyes moving around the room, focusing on each member. “I just want to thank everyone for coming and joining me in celebrating. So thanks.” He laughs. Then his face turns serious. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my mom and X.” He grins to Cindy and me. “I know it wasn’t easy,” he continues. “I know they risked their lives, and for that I am forever grateful.” He looks at me. “X, when you found out you had the formula in your head, you could have destroyed it or done nothing about it. But you gave it to me. Saved my life, man. Thanks. I owe you.”
Everyone claps, a few cheer. I wave my hand. “You don’t owe me. There was no way I’d let you die.”
He smiles and holds out his cup of Coke. “To awesome family and friends.”
We all raise our cups.
A loud noise comes from the foyer. It sounds like someone slammed the front door. Lowering our cups, we exchange confused glances.
I use my eyes to check out what’s going on, and I leap to my feet. Because the person who walked through those doors is wearing Stretch’s yellow uniform. It’s covered with dirt and mud. So are his sneakers.
Both Kale and Cindy turn sharply to me. They’ve seen it in my mind. Cindy must have sent the image to Samson, because he jumps to his feet, too.
The imposter is heading toward the dining room. He pokes his head inside and gives a small wave.
Kale’s mouth falls open. “It’s really—”
“Hi,” the guy says, pulling off his eye mask to reveal familiar green eyes. “What’s going on?”
He looks like Stretch. Identically. The room spins. I grab onto the table to support myself.
His thoughts… Kale says to me. He’s him.
Impossible. He died. Kale and I were there. We had a funeral. He was buried.
The room is dead silent as we all gape at him. At each other. Confused, shocked, horrified. Some people who were in middle of eating have their forks in midair, not noticing the food dropping onto their plates and the table.
“Why are you all looking at me like that?” Stretch’s twin says, twisting his fingers around each other.
Samson clears his throat. Open his mouth. Shuts it. His eyebrows knit. No one moves.
Twin Stretch’s eyes fill with fear and confusion as he continues to look around the room. When they land on the table, he says, “Dude, food!” He rushes to the table and begins to stuff his face. No one stops him, we just watch like we’re frozen. The only sound in the room is from Stretch gobbling the food. “I don’t know why,” he says between bites. “But I’m starving.” He continues to stuff his face like he’s a vacuum cleaner.
Cindy and Samson eye signal one another to do something. They don’t seem to know what. Finally, after a few seconds, Samson says, “Andrew…please…can I…can I see you in my office?”
Stretch’s face smeared with food, he raises his head. “Why?” He looks around again, studying each League member. His eyebrows furrow. “Everyone’s here. Except…where are my folks?”
“Now, please,” Samson says, then he turns to Kale, Cindy, and me. “I’d like you to join us.”
Stretch’s eyes go from Samson, to Kale, to me, and finally to Cindy. His mouth hangs open. “How’d Cindy get out of her coma?”
Samson motions for us to follow him into an elevator. As we head toward it, Kale and I exchange glances. Stretch lingers behind us, his back hunched in the shape of a question mark, gaze glued to the floor. He must be trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
X, Kale says. How can he be alive?
I don’t answer, because I can’t.
My blood rushes through my body. Does Vlayne have anything to do with this? Did she clone Stretch?
We enter the elevator and no one utters a word. I see Samson and Cindy exchange telepathic messages. As I stare at the floor, I notice the mud stains from Stretch’s shoes. My eyes scan the dirt on his uniform once more. It looks fresh.
Kale follows my gaze. Our eyes connect.
Either Stretch walked out of his grave or the Blades do have something to do with this.
The elevator doors open and we walk toward Samson’s office. Once inside, Samson tells us to sit down. I remain standing, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed.
Once they’re seated, Samson clasps his hands together and bends forward. “Andrew, why don’t you tell us what happened?”
“What do you mean?” Stretch asks.
Remaining composed as always, Samson continues. “You entered through the front doors. Where did you walk from?”
Stretch’s eyebrows furrow. “Dunno. I woke up in front of the Tower. Figured I was sleepwalking or something.”
He has done that a few times, but we all know that’s not the case here.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Samson asks.
Stretch’s eyes flick to Kale and me before returning to Samson. “Us three in the warehouse. Hey, how we’d get free? And, hey, what about…” His voice trails off as his eyes widen to the size of the exercise ball in the gym. “I lost my memory.”
“Andrew, you were killed,” Samson says.
Now Stretch’s eyes practically pop out of their sockets. Words and sounds escape from his mouth as his body stretches all over the office. His arms tangle around the chair, his legs sweep across the room.
Cindy stands up and wraps her arm around Stretch’s shoulders, or what’s left of them.
“Please, relax,” Samson says. “I need you to try to remember. Did you see anyone? Did anyone talk to you?”
“No. We were in the dungeon. We were talking about stealing the keycard from the guard to warn you about the Blades.”
Which all happened minutes before Lightning killed him. He has no recollection of his death.
“Where are my parents?” Stretch asks.
Samson leans back in his chair. “After your death, they couldn’t bear living here and left.”
Stretch stares at the floor as his body slowly retracts.
“It seems as though you have been…brought back to life,” Samson says. “Are you sure you have no memory of this?”
Stretch shakes his head, his eyes still shocked. Samson gets to his feet. “I’d like Healer to check you out and make sure everything is okay.”
Stretch nods.
“I’ll call your parents and let them know you’ve…returned.”
Stretch looks up at him. “How’d I die?”
Samson intakes a sharp breath. He exchanges glances with the rest of us. “You’ve had enough shocking news for one day. Please excuse Cindy and me for a moment.”
“Okay…”
He steps closer to Stretch and hugs him. “Welcome back.
If you remember anything, please let me know immediately.”
“Okay…”
After giving his shoulder a pat, Samson leaves the room. Cindy hugs Stretch tightly, then follows her husband out. I watch them enter the Conference Room and sit around the table, most probably discussing all of this. From their lips, I read that they want to perform tests on Stretch to make sure he isn’t a fake.
“Wow.” Stretch puffs air out of his cheeks as he rests his elbows on Samson’s desk. “Dude, what the heck happened to me?”
We don’t answer.
“C’mon guys. Don’t be like that.”
Kale turns to him. “You don’t get how weird this is. You’ve been dead for four months. Lightning murdered you. And now you just show up out of nowhere?”
Stretch’s eyes grow big. “L-Lightning m-murdered me?”
We slowly nod.
“How? Why? What happened?”
“You don’t want to know,” I say. “Trust me.”
“I do,” he says. “Really, really do.”
Kale shrugs. “There’s a lot you’ve missed. Just sit back and watch.” Kale closes his eyes. He must be sending Stretch his memories of that night and the months following.
“Since when did you become a telepath?” Stretch asks.
“Just watch, man.”
Stretch’s eyes are dazed, lost, as he views the events that took place that day in February. His face fills with horror, probably as he witnesses his death. He tears up at his funereal.
A few minutes later, his eyes return to their usual state. He gapes at us, his jaw practically sweeping the floor. “Dude,” he gasps. “That was intense. Did all that really happen to me?”
We nod. He slinks down in his seat, scratching his brown hair. “Then how the hell am I here now?”
“Good question,” Kale says.
“Someone resurrected you,” I say.
Stretch twists his fingers, biting his lip. “I guess, but who? Why? How?”
I shrug while Kale says, “Don’t know.”
We’re quiet, each of us staring at different things. My eyes penetrate the walls to watch Samson and Cindy, who are still discussing Stretch. Kale stares at his father’s desk, and Stretch at the floor.