The Gathering

by K. E. Ganshert

  Cap rolls forward and shakes Dr. Carlyle’s hand. “Non’s waiting for you in Fray’s room.”

  Never one for small talk, Dr. Carlyle disappears into the hallway.

  All that remains is the vigilant soldier.

  “At ease,” Cap says. “You’re safe down here.”

  Clive’s shoulders relax a tiny fraction.

  I’m not so sure they should, in light of Claire.

  Cap motions to the hodgepodge of shabby furniture behind us. We all sit. So does Clive, his posture stiff as he takes in the entirety of the common room—the ramshackle furniture, a wired television, a foosball table, a few scattered desks. I remember seeing it for the first time, when Luka and I were the ones being gawked at. It’s hard to believe we’ve been here for three-and-a-half months.

  “You have quite the operation down here.”

  “We’d give you a tour,” Cap says, “but there’s no point. I’m afraid we’ve brought you into a precarious situation.”

  “I’m sure it’s better than the one I came from.”

  This is true. I was never in Shady Wood, but I know what it’s like to be locked up and drugged against my will.

  “The night we rescued you, one of our members betrayed us. She has since left. We’re fairly confident she hasn’t defected, but even so, our location has been compromised. We’ll be leaving as soon as we find new lodging.”

  “And rescue Luka.”

  Cap daggers me with a sharp look.

  I mash my lips together and swallow my escalating sense of urgency, Gabe’s advice fresh in my mind. He’s right. Cap has his limits. And too often, I don’t just toe the line, I stomp right over it.

  Cap sets his hands on top of his wheels, reverting his attention back to Clive. He peppers him with questions. Did he run into any problems? Is his strength fully intact? Does he know of any other groups like ours?

  My knee begins to bounce. “Did you know a patient at Shady Wood named Elaine Eckhart?”

  Clive shakes his head. “I was isolated from the other patients.”

  “She was the other person we were trying to rescue. When we got to her room, she wasn’t there.” A cold finger runs up my spine at the memory of all those empty beds—of my grandmother’s empty room. “Do you know where she might have gone?”

  “If her room was empty, then she’s dead. They’re killing patients off in droves.”

  His words come like a sucker punch to the gut. I don’t know why. Non led me to the same conclusion the night before. It hadn’t come as a sucker punch then. But then, I’d been a zombie, incapable of processing anything. And until now, it was just a theory. I think I’ve been secretly hoping that once we rescued Luka, we could go find her.

  “It’s happening,” Sticks says.

  “What is?” Jillian asks.

  “The prophecy.”

  “What prophecy?”

  My madness grows. I’m two seconds away from clamping my hands over my ears and screaming. Keeping the panic inside takes every ounce of effort. “Cap.” His name escapes on a desperate plea. “Please. We’re wasting time.”

  He exhales a long, resigned breath, and turns his attention to Gabe.

  “I have to go with her,” he says. “You know why.”

  “It’s a trap,” Cap replies.

  I come to the edge of my seat. “Then we have the advantage. We know it’s a trap. And we aren’t walking in blind. Link and I know the layout. Plus, we have a Cloak to hide us.”

  “Anna will be in no state to go on another rescue mission.”

  “I don’t mean Anna.” I look at the man sitting across from me—square jaw, hair cut to army regulation. Did they give haircuts in Shady Wood, or did he stop somewhere along the way and get it done? “I mean Clive.”

  “He just arrived.”

  Clive doesn’t pay attention to Cap’s concern. My invitation has ignited a spark in his eye. It’s one I recognize. Equal parts eagerness and retribution. The enemy has stolen from him, too. Two years of his life, and—if his file has anything to say about it—a wife and two sons. The fire in his eyes meets the madness in mine. “Just tell me what to do.”

  I could kiss him. I could grab his cheeks and kiss Clive DeVant square on the forehead.

  Cap runs his hands down his emaciated thighs. After years in his wheelchair with no physical therapist to keep his legs active, his muscles have atrophied. “All right. Tell me what we’re up against.”

  “The first time, he was surrounded by guards. The second, there was only one. The man with the scars was there, too.”

  “Was Luka bound?” Gabe asks.

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll need to release him from the restraints.”

  “And then what? He can startle?”

  “If they’ve been torturing him, he might not be strong enough.”

  A vision of Luka, unable to lift his own head, flashes in my mind. “He’s not strong enough.”

  “Then someone will need to startle for him.”

  It doesn’t sound overly difficult, especially if there’s only one guard on duty. So why the unease? It oozes inside of me like pus from an infected sore. “That’s it? If we can do that, Luka will come back?”

  Gabe doesn’t answer. Because Gabe doesn’t know. How long can a body and a soul be separated before the damage is irrevocable? I’d ask Dr. Carlyle, but something tells me he didn’t learn that one in medical school.

  “Tess.” Cap’s grim voice draws my attention. “If he’s being held hostage and tortured by the enemy, then you need to prepare yourself.”

  The muscles in my throat tie into a knot.

  “We may be able to rescue him, but I wouldn’t count on Luka being the same if we do. There are bound to be ramifications.”

  Chapter Six

  The Truth About Bait

  There are bound to be ramifications.

  The words gnaw at me.

  I should probably examine them. Brace myself. I saw the lacerations with my own eyes. I heard his screams. I watched his body twist in anguish. How will there not be ramifications? But if I dwell on that possibility—that we might rescue Luka, and yet he might not be the Luka I know—my cracked mind will break completely. So instead, I shove his words into the same box I’ve shoved my dad’s incarceration and focus all my energy on the mission.

  There are only six chairs in the training center, six sets of probes, so Cap has rounded up a team of six. Four Fighters—me, Sticks, Jose, and Cap. One Keeper, Gabe. And our new Cloak, Clive.

  Rosie objects. Vehemently. She wants to go. It’s a ridiculous thought, one Cap doesn’t even consider. The quickness with which he dismisses her suggestion has her slinking out of the cafeteria in the middle of our plotting. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her not finish a meal.

  When the last of the plans are finalized, I go search for her. She and Bass are the hub’s two Runners, which means Rosie’s used to being needed. She’s used to being useful. Since our partially-failed mission at Shady Wood, Cap hasn’t allowed her or Bass above ground. The inactivity seems to be taking its toll. I want to check on her, make sure she’s okay.

  She sits on her knees in her room, playing a game on the floor. I watch as she bounces a small ball and swipes up a handful of silver jacks. She’s quick, but not as quick as Bass. Nobody can ever beat him.

  I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe. “You want to talk?”

  “Cap called it a suicide mission.” She bounces the ball again and swipes up the rest.

  Rosie wasn’t there for that conversation, which means she’s been eavesdropping.

  She uncurls her fingers and stares down at the jacks in her palm. “What will happen if none of you come back?”

  I picture the scene—our bodies lying in the training center with no Fighters left to come after us. What will happen to Rosie and Link and Jillian? Will they stay until our hearts stop? And if they do, will they be caught because of Claire? Will they be locked away and drugged like
Clive and my grandmother? I shake the image away. I have no idea if we’ll make it out alive. But I do know there’s a time for honesty. This isn’t it. “We’ll be back. Luka will, too. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Before she can call my bluff, I give her a tight smile and leave her sitting on the floor. Link’s waiting for me out in the hallway. Judging by the look on his face, Rosie’s not the only eavesdropper in the hub.

  I scratch the inside of my wrist. My eczema burns so hot it’s like I’m pressing hot coal against my skin. But I can’t stop. It’s turning into this compulsion, this habit I can’t control. “Will you promise me something?”

  He sticks his hands in his pockets.

  “If I don’t come back, if something goes wrong, don’t wait around. Take Rosie and Jillian and get out of here. Go somewhere safe.”

  “So you’ll let us risk our lives for Luka, but not you?”

  “Please Link, promise you won’t try to save me.” I scratch my wrist harder, wishing the fire would go numb. I want the past seventy-two hours to be one giant nightmare. I want to wake up inside a hub where Luka is okay and my grandmother’s still alive.

  “Hey.” Link reaches out and gently stills my scratching fingers. “You’re Xena Warrior Princess, remember? You can save yourself.”

  A throat clears loudly behind us.

  Clive stands at the end of the hallway. “The captain sent me to find you. He says we’re ready.”

  My heart speeds up as I follow him through the antechamber toward the training center. I focus on Link’s steady presence beside me and stare hard at the back of Clive’s shoulder, grateful he’s here. On the cusp of his freedom, he could very well be marching to his death. “Thank you for helping us.”

  Clive doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow or turn around. Our shoes echo in the silent hallway, and then, just when I think he won’t say anything at all, his low voice fills the quiet. “I know what it’s like to be separated from someone you love.”

  By the time we arrive, the training center is crowded. Only a few are missing: Non, who stands guard above ground; Declan, who’s taken Gabe’s place at the door; Anna, repotting plants in the greenhouse while casting a cloak around the hub like always; Fray, who left two hours ago with Dr. Carlyle because his heart is on the verge of ruin. And Luka, asleep inside his dark room. Rosie slips quietly inside behind me and stands next to Jillian, who places her hand reassuringly on Rosie’s shoulder.

  Gabe lifts Cap from his wheelchair and sets him in one of the chairs. Once Cap is settled, he addresses the team, though his attention locks on me. “We do not, under any circumstances, leave Clive’s cloak until I give the command.”

  I nod.

  “As soon as Luka is free, Gabe will get to him and startle. Once they’ve startled, all of us will follow. If you are in danger, you will startle before we complete our mission.”

  I want to object. I want to shake my head in protest. Instead, I force myself to sit in the last remaining seat. Link gives us each probes to attach beneath our collarbones, then quickly hooks another probe to our left temples.

  He saves me for last.

  “Come back to me, Xena.” He sets his hand over mine. I was scratching my wrist again. “All the way back.”

  I think I know what he means, so I nod.

  He nods at Jillian, who stands behind the computer with her finger poised over the keyboard, then turns back to me. “Go time in three … two … one.”

  One second I’m looking into Link’s eyes. The next I’m not.

  *

  I start linking. First Cap, then Gabe. Things are fine until I search for Sticks. It takes longer than it should, and when I finally manage, a stab of pain pierces my temple. Wincing, I blink rapidly and pull in Jose. The pressure in my ears mounts. It’s like my brain is being squeezed.

  “You okay?” Cap’s voice sounds far away. As if I’m at the bottom of a well, and he’s yelling down from the top.

  “I’m fine.” But my voice sounds far away, too.

  This usually doesn’t happen until I’ve linked at least eight people. My max is nine. I’m only at four, with one more to go. Breathing heavily, I use every last drop of mental energy I have to find Clive.

  It’s not easy. The pain is sharp and intense. But I finally manage.

  The six of us stand in a circle. I wait for the pressure to stabilize. This is what happens when I’m done linking. The pressure ebbs a little, but not nearly enough. I’m still breathing like a woman in labor.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Cap asks again.

  I wipe the prickles of sweat from my forehead and nod. The six of us hold hands as I squish up my face and think about Luka.

  Nothing happens.

  There’s no tug of a doorway. No shift in gravity. We remain standing in this nebulous dream space. I force my rising panic down and squeeze Cap and Clive’s hands harder.

  Luka … Luka … Luka …

  Nothing.

  I blink a few times—an attempt to chase away the blurriness encroaching from the periphery of my vision—and try again.

  Still nothing.

  This happened in my dream with Link on the beach, but my dream wasn’t stable because I wasn’t sleeping well. I don’t have that excuse here. The probe hooked to my left temple ensures that I am in a deep sleep.

  I try again, and again, and again. Until beads of sweat roll down my temples and my chest heaves.

  “Tess,” Cap says.

  I don’t stay to hear what he has to say. I startle awake and tear the probes away.

  Link places his hand on my arm. “Whoa, whoa. What’s going on? Why are you awake?”

  “I can’t get to him. I can’t get to him!” We must be too late. Just like we were too late with my grandmother. I tear the last probe off my chest and hurry out of the room. Away from all the stares.

  If only I could get away from my panic.

  It follows me. Hounds me. All the way to Luka’s room. I stand for a moment on the threshold. Then I go to his bedside and drop to my knees. I tear the hemp bracelet off my wrist and tie it onto his.

  “Please, Luka. I need you to be okay. I need you to come back.” I bury my face in his sheets and clutch his warm, lifeless hand. Tears leak from my eyes, soaking into the thin cotton. “All of this is my fault. You didn’t want to go. You said you had a horrible feeling. You begged me to listen, but I didn’t. I went anyway.”

  And because I went, so too, did he.

  The truth of it—that he was captured and tortured, all because I wouldn’t listen—crushes me. I cry until the tears run dry. I cry until my entire body aches. I’m supposed to be his breath of life, and yet I feel like I’ve lost mine.

  “Tess?”

  I twist around, my kneecaps smarting against the hard floor. Cap sits in his wheelchair in Luka’s doorway. I sniff and wipe my cheeks. “We waited too long.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “But I couldn’t get to him. He’s—”

  “Bait. You don’t get rid of the bait before you catch the fish.”

  “Then why couldn’t I find him?”

  “You were having a hard time linking.” Cap rolls inside. “You never have a hard time linking.”

  I lean back on my heels.

  “Link seems to think that you’re too distraught, and because of that, you’re not performing like you’re normally able to perform. You used all your energy linking everyone. You didn’t have any left to reach Luka.”

  “So how are we supposed to get to him?” My question comes out breathless. Hopeful. Terrified.

  “We know Luka’s captor is somewhere in Detroit, well within Link’s territory.”

  “But he can’t link all six of us. The most he’s done is four.”

  “He doesn’t have to. You can get there on your own. As far as the rest of us, Link will do what he did when we rescued Anna. He’ll link one of us at a time. As soon as we’re through the doorway, he can sever the link, and link someone el
se. He’ll take Jose’s place in the chair, which means we’ll be down a Fighter.”

  I wipe at my face again. “You really think he’s still alive?”

  Cap jerks his head toward the door. “Let’s go find out.”

  Chapter Seven

  Death March

  Water drips somewhere. A slow plink-plink that echoes into the silence. Clive and Gabe are already here, crouched to my left. In front, the same wooden crates Link and I hid behind earlier. I peek over them and there he is. Luka. Relief comes like a seismic wave. It tears through my body, making everything—muscle and ligament, bone and marrow—quake. Luka’s still here. He’s not gone. He lies unmoving on the floor, bound by one guard. Just like last time.

  Cap puts his hand on my arm.

  He’s arrived and crouches beside me with his finger held up to his lips. Sticks has arrived too. All of us squat beneath Clive’s cloak.

  I motion toward Luka. I want to shout, “Now!” I want to race ahead, fight off the solitary guard, grab Luka, and startle awake so all of this can be over. But Cap’s grip tightens on my arm, his attention sliding from one corner of the chamber to the other. When he’s finished with his inspection, he waves for us to follow him around the crates, out into the open. Clive’s cloak is strong and bright. There are no holes or thin spots like Anna’s.

  Luka stirs on the floor.

  Clive’s cloak broadens and spreads, allowing us to move apart, to surround Luka and the guard on all sides.

  Luka stirs again.

  The guard shifts.

  All of us stop.

  And suddenly, out of nowhere, Scarface appears. He stands in front of Luka, his hands clasped behind his back, his head slightly cocked, as though listening for a pin to drop. “Is that you, Little Rabbit?”

  I hold my breath. He can’t see me. There’s no way. Not inside Clive’s cloak. But my heart thunders so loudly it drowns out the plink-plink of dripping water. So loudly that maybe he can hear me.