Outbreak

by Christine Fonseca

  I nod, understanding exactly what Mark means.

  We decide to summon the recruit in the morning and crash early, the events of the day taking their toll at last. My sleep is restless, filled with images of the new recruit, Elaine with a gun to her head, and David getting shot. More than once I call out, my legs tangled in the blankets of the bed, sweat beading on my brow. David is there every time, sweeping me into a hug with his good arm. By the time morning arrives, I am more tired and spent than I was before.

  Not good.

  “How’d you sleep?” Elaine asks as I grab a cup of coffee and fall into a chair.

  My look says it all.

  “That good?” She joins me at the table. “You’ll need to be focused today. I’ll make breakfast for everyone and ensure things are ready for you later. You go get a little more sleep.”

  I nod and stumble back to the bedroom. David stands by a window, examining his arm.

  “How is it?” I ask.

  “A lot better. Mark’s a miracle-worker. Pretty handy having a first-responder around?”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. He told me that he got his certification last year. Lucky for us, right?”

  I guess there was more to his skills than I thought!

  “Totally.” I walk over to David and take his hand in mine. “I’ve missed you.” I say, hoping he hears “I love you” in my words.

  “I’ve missed you, too.” An awkward silence forms between us. “Are the others up?” David asks.

  “Yeah. Elaine thinks I need more sleep.”

  “Do you? I know last night was rough.” Worry etches into the corners of his mouth.

  “I don’t think it’ll help. I’ll be okay. I just need a shower.”

  David nods and joins the others to plan for the day. I collapse in a hot shower and pray that our plan to confront the recruit isn’t as suicidal as it feels right now.

  The sun is overhead when I finally join David and the others. The shower helped clear my thoughts and return my resolve. I’m done being a victim to LeMercier and his plans. It’s time to face him head on. Starting with his new protégé.

  David motions me out to the porch. The sun is warm, a contrast to the cool autumn breeze that pulls the fading leaves from the surrounding trees. I put my hand gently on David’s arm, fingering his fresh bandage. “Still okay?”

  “It’s fine. I barely notice it.” David smiles, his eyes stormy.

  “Than what’s wrong. You look worried.”

  He takes my hand in his. “Do you really want to do this?”

  “What, go after the recruit?”

  “Yes. Are you sure we should?”

  A moment passes before I can respond. “I have to do this.”

  “I won’t lose you to them,” David whispers. He touches his forehead to mine. His heart beats too fast in his chest. “It nearly killed me when you left. Is this how it felt when I left you?”

  “Like you can’t breathe? Yes. It’s exactly how I felt.”

  He closes his eyes and draws a deep, shaky breath. “Let’s not do that to each other anymore,” he says. “Deal?”

  Words refuse to form, so I nod instead.

  David slides his good hand around the nape of my neck and pulls my mouth to his. Every moment of fear, every breath of hope we’ve shared, lingers on his lips. He deepens the kiss, collapsing the distance between us.

  “Please don’t leave me again,” he breathes into my hair. “I can’t handle it.” He pulls away, and the distance is insufferable. “I love you,” he says as he grabs my left hand. “Now and for always.” David slides the ring on my finger, his promise to keep me safe and never leave.

  Before I can answer, Elaine clears her throat and joins us on the porch. “Sorry to break this up, but I think we should get started. We don’t know how long it’ll take the recruit to respond. We need him to come before nightfall. It’ll be harder to fight him after dark, especially if he brings friends.”

  Something I’m certain he’ll do.

  “Agreed.” David and I say in unison.

  We walk into the house together. I sit in a chair close to the couch. Closing my eyes, I mentally imagine my thick shield thinning into nothingness. I’m here, Father. Waiting. Send your protégé. Let’s see if he can handle the real me.

  I know that last line will do the trick. All he ever wants is for me to accept my role as the Assassin again. It’s a weakness I’m all too happy to exploit.

  As I continue to push the message out from my thoughts, the energy in the room shifts from eagerness to apprehension to fear.

  “Well?” Elaine asks when she can no longer stand the tension.

  “Shh.” David’s voice is rough, tight.

  I sense him extending his own protections to Mark and Elaine. The gesture draws a smile from my lips.

  “He’s coming,” David says at last.

  My eyes pop open, my sight filled with nothing but the other recruit. I’m coming for you, he says.

  A sardonic smile curls my lips. I’m waiting . . .

  The Assassin’s taunt settled under Seven’s skin. He hated her more than he’d thought possible. Too anxious to think, he paced, contemplating his next move. Surely the Creator would order him to kill her now. Or, at the very least, capture her. Regardless, he would answer her taunts. Now.

  Seven punched several numbers into his phone. “It’s time,” he said, and hung up. He grabbed his coat, slipped a new Glock into his waist band and left, keys in hand.

  Maneuvering the car up the sloping hills of Cambria took skill. Seven’s car rental hugged each turn with ease. He drove without thinking, focused instead on the images stolen from the Assassin’s thoughts. Disgust stirred in his mind. She was being careless, again. Weak.

  Seven settled his own shield in place, strengthening it should the Samurai decide to help his girlfriend again. Seven wasn’t going to be caught unaware this time.

  He settled back in his seat as the car spun around more curves with precision. His mind brushed the Assassin’s and he pulled images forward, the ones he knew would hurt her most. Her brother’s death. LeMercier’s revelation. With each heartbeat, Seven felt the Assassin’s anguish grow. If she wasn’t damaged before, she would be by the time he had finished with her.

  He reached the top of the hill and parked down the street from the home he had seen in the Assassin’s mind. He broadened his awareness to take in the entire property. No presence other than the Assassin, and she was in the front room.

  He retrieved his phone and made another call, telling his men to wait for his signal. He didn’t want them robbing him of his victory. Not when he was so close to attaining his goal. The Order, the Creator, they needed to know that Seven had done this—had beaten the Assassin when no one else could.

  Only him.

  He slammed into her mind with a feral ferocity. He could almost hear her breath exit her lungs in shock. Sifting through the mental images until he found what he was looking for, he shoved aside all but one dream. The dream.

  It started as it always had, the Assassin in a box, unable to see, move, speak. Seven felt her body stiffen. He smiled as he took the dream and displayed it on the wall of her subconscious, tweaking each moment to suit him. He placed himself in the dream and noted the way she struggled against the invisible binds that held her in place.

  A scream died in her mouth as she turned and spied him watching her.

  That’s right, Seven taunted. I’m here with you. Doing this to you. You will die in this space, Assassin. I will bury you alive, quite literally, and you are powerless to stop me.

  Her thoughts pushed weakly against him. Seven’s excitement grew. He always preferred the victims that fought back.

  “Ahh, so you want to play,” he said out loud, his voice eager.

  Again she shoved against his presence and attempted to pry him from her thoughts.

  Seven laughed. The dream scrolled forward. Dirt filled the hole. It covered the boxed Assassin. Sh
e screamed, struggled.

  But she was no match for him.

  Not even close.

  The Creator slammed into Seven’s mind, his presence a blaze. Stop, he screamed.

  Seven did as he was commanded, his breath catching in his throat. The Assassin seized the moment and retaliated, slamming her own images into Seven’s mind:

  Maya’s deathly screams.

  The compound on fire around him.

  Seven stiffened with each new image.

  Control your feelings. The Creator’s fury was palpable.

  Yes, Master. Seven wasn’t about to fail, not again. He doubled his efforts and steeled himself against the Assassin’s attack. With a grunt of effort, he extracted the dream from her thoughts and forced it forward.

  You are nothing, he said to her. No one.

  Bring her to me, the Creator said. Do not harm her further.

  The last word faded as the Creator detached from Seven’s thoughts. Compliance was non-negotiable.

  New voices filled the recesses of his mind. The Order, their command for the Assassin’s death. We have your information, they reminded him, but you must prove your loyalty to get it. You know you want her dead as much as we do.

  They were correct. He did want her dead. And he wanted to be the one to do it.

  Seven stretched his awareness, sensing his gunmen taking position along the roofline of the house. She would never escape. Not this time.

  The Assassin shoved against him as a fresh onslaught of images splashed across her mind. More dirt landed on the box. Less oxygen surrounded her, filled her. The Assassin coughed. A note of panic rose to the surface of her thoughts.

  You will die here. One way or another. A promise.

  I thought your boss ordered you to take me to him. Seven slowed. Had she heard his thoughts?

  Yes, that’s right. I’m in your head too.

  Rage rushed through Seven, consuming his mind, body, and soul. He could taste it on his tongue. You’re mine, he spat. He trapped her brain in a vice grip, stealing images from her worst nightmares:

  The Samurai’s death. Her friend’s.

  Over and over the images repeated.

  Seven felt the Assassin retreat from his thoughts. He smiled and increased his attack. The tighter he squeezed, the more pain she experienced, the more his own mind and body settled.

  Competing orders plagued him. The Order. The Creator. Who should he follow? Was he to bring the Assassin to his master, or kill her where she sat?

  Seven tossed around the decision. Each passing moment weakened the Assassin. He felt her breath stagger, felt her mind begin to close. He was running out of time. Which to choose? he thought as he questioned his allegiance once again.

  As the answer formed in his mind, new images bloomed in front of him:

  A mother holding a baby.

  Two older siblings—a boy and a girl—smiling up at him.

  I love you, the woman in the vision said to the baby. I will always love you, my precious Liam.

  Seven recoiled, shocked at the images splayed across his mind. “Bitch!” he screamed out loud as he threw the images back toward the Assassin.

  “No,” ripped from her lips. Seven could hear the agony in her voice as her screams poured through the windows.

  Fresh images formed in Seven’s thoughts, gripping his heart:

  The Creator holding a young boy, no more than three years old. The boy looked pale and sickly. His hair was blond, his eyes a piercing blue. A younger version of Seven.

  His master wiped tears away from the boy’s eyes, comforting him. “You’re safe,” his master repeated over and over. “Mother is near. You will be with her soon.”

  More pictures tossed around Seven’s mind, pulling him deeper into a past he didn’t remember.

  A woman cries as a baby yells.

  Two older children take the baby into another room and crawl under a bed to hide.

  “Shh,” the older boy says to the others. He rubs the baby’s back, coaxing him to stop crying. “He’s just mad. He’ll yell at Mom and then he’ll leave. Just like always.”

  Seven stared at the baby in the vision. Same blond hair, same blue eyes. He looked at the other children and noted their similarities to him, with one exception. Where they were tan and looked healthy, the baby looked weak.

  The vision spun forward and Seven watched the baby visualize his father’s death.

  Anger exploded through Seven’s thoughts. More images bloomed through him:

  The same woman drops the baby off at Social Services, crying as the baby screams.

  The Creator takes the toddler away from a family, smiling as the child screams.

  Each picture inflicted more pain, more torment. Seven’s hands shook in response, his breath coming in short pants. Rage consumed him.

  Lies! he screamed.

  Slamming the car into drive, Seven drove to the house. He raked the Assassin’s mind, extracting painful memories and fears from the deepest corners of her thoughts. He leapt up the porch steps in one fluid motion and crashed through the front door of the house.

  The Assassin screamed, locked in the torment Seven caused. The Samurai lunged forward. Seven dodged and sent the Samurai reeling backwards.

  “Stop!,” the Assassin yelled toward the Samurai. “Get Elaine and Mark out of here.” She grabbed her head and a piercing scream filled the room.

  Seven lunged toward the Assassin. They crashed to the floor. The Samurai grabbed Seven, pulled him to his feet and away from his precious assassin.

  I will kill you one day, the Samurai said in Seven’s thoughts.

  Until that day, Seven said. He pounded his fist into the Samurai’s arm, covering the bandages with fresh blood.

  The Samurai screamed.

  The Assassin screamed.

  Seven . . .

  Smiled.

  “David! Go find them,” the Assassin ordered the Samurai again, still clutching at her head with her hands.

  The Samurai slammed into Seven and threw him across the room. Seven snarled. In his thoughts he searched for the others. He slammed visions into their thoughts, their nightmares come to life. Screams floated from the other room.

  “David!” the Assassin screamed as the Samurai fled.

  Seven rounded on the Assassin. “Just you and me now!” He drew back his fist and swung. The Assassin ducked under the punch and spun. Seven swung again, his fist colliding with her flesh. He assaulted her mind and her body, unleashing every ounce of torment she had inflicted on him.

  She growled, her jaw clenched. More images floated into Seven’s mind.

  The woman, the baby.

  A family he never had.

  Seven smashed his hatred and his pain into the Assassin.

  Her body crumbled.

  Her mind . . .

  Closed.

  The Assassin’s eyes popped open, filled with fresh power. She jumped to her feet. “This ends now,” she growled.

  Seven reached into her thoughts, finding only a cold shield. The Assassin drove her shoulder into Seven, forcing him backwards. Pictures of the baby and the woman bloomed through his mind. He wobbled and reached for the wall.

  The Assassin continued her assault. “Get out!” she screamed. “Get out!”

  Bring my assassin home.

  Kill her.

  The conflicting orders swirled in Seven’s thoughts and fused with the memory-like images of the younger version of himself. Confusion, rage and pain mixed in equal proportion. Seven stumbled.

  Ran . . .

  The Solomon Experiments 3.0

  The Order

  Dr. Benjamin LeMercier’s Personal Journal –

  February 25, 2016:

  I know where she is, where they all are. Finally. The Architect will bring them to me. The Order can’t stop her. Soon they will know the extent of my plan. They will understand that I can be trusted. The Assassin and Seven will join. They will be unstoppable.

  And loyal only to me.
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  The Architect is concerned. She worries that the Assassin will not join us willingly. She may be right. But there’s more than one way to draw out her loyalty.

  Seven grows stronger each day. His loyalty continues to be absolute. He is anxious to prove it, desperate for me to see him in the same standing as I view the Architect.

  In truth, I see him as so much more.

  I am not training the Architect to bond with the Assassin. I am not using the Architect to lead my army, to secure the future. These are roles reserved for my Assassin. And Seven.

  He will learn this soon enough.

  For now, I concentrate on the Architect and her role in the coming weeks. The Order may never appreciate the events that are coming. But when the world burns and my army is the only thing to protect us, they will see that I had no choice but to take action now.

  Today.

  See you soon, my Assassin.

  See you soon . . .

  Too many images splash against mind. Pictures of my mom, my brothers, a life I’ve forgotten. I struggle against the onslaught. Rage permeates my every cell. I want to hurt the recruit, kill him in ways I refuse to acknowledge out loud. My thoughts bend, twist. I chase after him, desperate to unleash the hellstorm living in my thoughts.

  He escapes before I reach him, speeding down the twisted street.

  “Ahh,” I scream.

  David runs to me, stopping me before I can give chase. “Let me go,” I bark.

  “No.” His arms pin me and I struggle against his hold. “Stop fighting me.”

  My eyes blur. My minds fills with images of the recruit. I bulldoze into his thoughts, pulling images conjured from his nightmares. I feel his emptiness, his longing. Confusion—his confusion—merges with the unyielding pictures.

  “Stop,” David says. “Stop!”

  His voice means nothing as I continue to attack the recruit.

  “Dakota!” David spins me to face him. “Stop!”

  I look into his eyes and note the horror reflecting back at me. Before I can say anything bullets ring all around us. Elaine and Mark rush onto the porch.