Dying Breath

by Kory M. Shrum

  Ally grabs my arm. “Jesse, wait.”

  Her eyes well up.

  Oh god, don’t cry. I hate it when she cries. I have absolutely no defense against her crying. Except my anger. But getting mad at a girl who is crying makes me feel like a bigger asshole.

  “They need me,” I tell her. “Al, I’ve got to go.”

  She’s nodding, frantically, surrendering to my judgment, but the tears are streaming down her cheeks. She throws her arms around my neck and kisses me. It’s a soft brush of lips at first. Her mouth is hot and sticky. Then she’s kissing me harder and harder until I feel like she’s sucking all the air out of my lungs. The entire front part of her body is pressed against me and the wetness of her cheeks moistens my own.

  It feels like goodbye.

  “I’ve got to go,” I say again. I need to get back to the base before the others are killed. But I’m finding it so hard to leave her.

  “Go.” She shakes her head furiously. “Go but come back,” she whispers. She pulls back and looks into my eyes. She blinks and fresh tears spill over. “Come back to me.”

  I’ll try. That nagging doubt has me. I know my sanity is temporary. Caldwell. Rachel. Even Georgia. No one took on more powers and kept their minds for long.

  I have no reason to believe I’m different.

  Gabriel appears behind her, ready to help me with my jump, and I look up. Ally’s expression ebbs toward wonder again.

  “He’s beautiful.” All the stubbornness leaves her.

  I snort. “Don’t tell him that. He’ll never get over himself.”

  “They are in danger.” Gabriel’s black wings twitch, those gorgeous emerald eyes watching Ally with a regard that I don’t quite understand. “Go.”

  Measuring. That’s it. He’s measuring her.

  Don’t look at her that way, I warn him. She isn’t another pawn in your game.

  He flicks his eyes up to meet mine but doesn’t deny my accusation.

  When I step back from Ally, I’m moving toward Arizona. But even as the world opens and swallows me, the image of her lingers in my mind.

  Ally standing in Gloria’s outdated, mustard yellow kitchen. Every detail of her worried expression etched in my mind like an overexposed image burned onto the back of my eyes, as I tumble through the darkness,

  I’m consumed by the vacuum, unable to draw air into my lungs as I squeeze through the distance between Nashville and Arizona, but maybe that’s never going to happen.

  Maybe this kind of darkness is never meant to be somewhere I get comfortable. I’m meant to get out as fast as I possibly can.

  The pressure lessens and I know I’m sliding through again. I take a step, hoping that once I do, I’ll put it down somewhere solid.

  My heel connects and I’m pitched forward. My hands shoot out to catch myself and my shield blares to life around me, a flash of purple as the hamster ball encloses me, and then I’m rolling head over heels.

  Once it stops spinning, I realize why my exit was so terrible.

  The ground is uneven with crags and debris. Not only is the rubble—mostly concrete and dusty bits of broken glass—jutting skyward at weird angles, but the ground trembles too, making stability impossible.

  “What the double mint chip?” I squint through the smoke trying to figure out what it is I’m staring at.

  The smoke settles and I catch the glimpse of a white wall.

  I’m in the base.

  Correction. I’m standing on what’s left of the base.

  “They destroyed it.” I turn to Gabriel. He’s beside me, his hands in the front pockets of his suit. The air is thick with ash and fallout, but his black suit remains flawless, the white shirt underneath perfectly crisp. Is there a garment spray for that or something?

  All that was left of Eric Sullivan is gone, Gabriel says.

  I blink at the demolished building. Regret twists my insides.

  Not everything. I say, “There’s me. And Maisie.”

  “Jesse!”

  I turn toward the sound of my name.

  “Sullivan, over here!”

  I slide off the chunk of concrete I’m balanced on and jump onto the adjacent slab. It isn’t easy, but I clamber toward the voice. A flash of orange hair and a dust-covered shoulder emerges through the cloud.

  “Sasquatch?”

  She looks over her shoulder and her eyes fix on mine. A deep gash across her cheek is bleeding profusely, trailing down her jaw and neck. “Help me.”

  I follow her gaze to the rock she’s trying to move. Beneath it is one slender black hand.

  “Jackson,” I whisper, freezing mid-stride.

  “Move!” Nikki hisses and I launch myself forward. “We have to get this off her.”

  “I don’t know if you’re keeping score,” I say as I collapse to my knees beside her. “But I didn’t get the fancy moving power. Or super strength for that matter.”

  “Just get down here.”

  I slide down the rubble and place my hands on the side of the boulder. I push. Surprise! Nothing happens. No, please. Not Gloria.

  I groan, giving up when my arms ache. “Where’s some meth when you need it! This rock would be nothing for a meth head.”

  And I would totally do meth to save Gloria.

  “Can you move her?” Nikki asks. Her own face is beet red, either from wearing giant gear in the desert sun, or from trying to move the boulder.

  “We’ll never move this.”

  “No,” Nikki says. She grabs my hand.

  I pull back. “Eww. Sasquatch, no.”

  Nikki grabs it again and places it on Gloria’s exposed forearm. “Go on. Try it.”

  Ah. I get what she’s trying to say now. Thank god. Sasquatch is the last person I’d want to get sexy with.

  A low whine builds and I look up in time to see a helicopter through the smoke. The tail end of a rocket ignites in a puff of fire and smoke.

  “Fuck!” Nikki swears.

  “Got it.” I throw my shield up and enclose the three of us along with the offending boulder the second before the missile strikes. On impact the roar is awful. Aside from having my body totally blown apart, at the very least, my ear drums would have ruptured from the hideous roar.

  The explosion rolls along the shield. Swirls of red, yellow, and orange curl around us. It’s more fluid than fire, warm ink diluted in a dark pool.

  Nikki can’t take her eyes off it.

  I grin. “Admit it. I’m cool.”

  Her gaze slides away from mine. “Her pulse is weak. We got to go.”

  If I go now, Sasquatch will get all melty.

  Tempting.

  I frown. “Isn’t it dangerous to move someone who’s been crushed by a boulder?”

  “We don’t have much choice. Don’t move her and she dies. Move her and we have a slim chance.”

  I don’t have a counterargument and the blast is starting to evaporate. The attackers are bound to know I’m here now. A rocket doesn’t usually swirl in the air like this.

  With my hand on Gloria’s arm, I reach out and grab Nikki’s shoulder. Her eyes widen to the size of tea saucers. “Let’s hope I can do two for one. Even though you’re the equivalent of ten pugs.”

  Her face explodes with outrage. “I’m not 250 pounds!”

  I jump. This time it’s easier, either because I’m getting better at it, or because I’m not as worried about what might happen to Nikki as I was about Ally. Poor Gloria has no say in the matter.

  She and I never talked about a living will or a last will and testament, but I feel like “please save me from being crushed to death” is one of those things that goes without being said.

  Or maybe that’s just me.

  The dark world squeezes us into pancakes, and then tosses us sun-side again.

  Hot sand shifts under my hand. Brilliant sunlight says we’re back in the rubble of the destroyed military base, except Gloria is stretched at our feet, sans boulder.

  She looks like hell. Her face
is covered in blood. Her leg is twisted in a direction I’m sure a leg isn’t supposed to go. Seeing her like this gives me a nagging feeling I’m forgetting something.

  “Gideon!” I say.

  Nikki turns and I follow her gaze. Two helicopters.

  A net sags from beneath one copter and inside it is Gideon. He’s dangling in the mesh beneath the copter, his fingers latched onto the thick cord.

  “They want him alive?” I ask, because it’s the only reason they would bother to trap him.

  “There’s a bounty on his head,” Nikki says. She’s got her fingers pressed to Gloria’s wrist. “Take us to a hospital. Now.”

  “But what about—”

  “Come back for him!” Sasquatch barks. When I remain frozen on the spot she screams, “Or she dies!”

  I give her my best hate face before turning back to Gideon. I make a motion which I hope he understands. I’ll be back, buddy. Don’t get killed before I do.

  I hope that’s a smile I see through the mesh enclosing him, but it’s hard to tell from here.

  I grab the women and I’m gone.

  When I tumble through the other side, I know where I am instantly. The smell of chemical cleaners, bright fluorescent lights, and cold tile beneath me.

  Nikki and I are crouching beside Gloria’s unconscious body as we had in the desert. Our positions haven’t changed one bit. I guess stepping with intent isn’t required after all.

  I didn’t consciously choose a place when I jumped. I thought, Help. I wanted someone who could save Gloria.

  And here I am on my hands and knees looking up into the startled face of Dr. York. He’s standing in a doorway with the door propped open. Above the door is a giant Exit sign glowing red. In his right hand, he holds a cigarette billowing smoke into the night.

  We sit in the hospital hallway not five feet from him.

  The smoke he had intended to exhale the second before I popped into existence, pools in his mouth.

  With a surprised cough, it puffs out. Out of his nose, mouth and ears—if that’s even possible.

  His face turns red as he struggles to draw breath into his lungs.

  “She was crushed,” I tell him, that way he knows what to do for her.

  Choking, he tosses the butt outside, and lets the exit door swing closed. As soon as he’s beside Jackson, touching her wrist, feeling for a pulse, I give him my last bit of instructions. “Update Ally as soon as you can.” He looks up startled.

  Nikki frowns. “Where are you going?”

  “Where are we going.” I grab her wrist and jump to Gloria’s house. When my feet find the shag carpet in front of a lumpy sofa, there’s Ally and Winston. Winston jumps up barking and Ally rises from the loveseat.

  “Stay with her until it’s over. If anything happens, I’ll kill you, Sasquatch.”

  I only have time to kiss Ally once, a light brush of the lips and then I’m gone.

  Chapter 32

  Maisie

  Perry drags the blade of his bowie knife across my upper arm. The white-hot steel opens my skin. I’m screaming again. But even as the heat spreads down my arm and blocks out all thought, it feels as if I’m seeing this from a great distance. Like I’m floating in the sky and down below is a different Maisie who’s being cut and broken by people who were supposed to love her. Protect her.

  This is what it was like when Dad hurt me too.

  At first, all I could do was be in my body, feel every bite of pain. But after a while, something would shift.

  I’d start to float away.

  A professional would probably call this normal. It’s a weird coping mechanism I’ve developed. Whatever it is, I’m grateful for it.

  This is not a moment I want to be present for.

  My jaw hurts from clenching.

  “You should kill her,” Perry says. He’s looking at me, but he’s talking to Mom. My heart skips several beats. Did he always feel this way about me or did my leaving Chicago with Jesse destroy what little friendship we had? “Her abilities will make you stronger, won’t they?”

  Mom eyes me. Her face is slick with sweat and grit. It looks like glitter on her skin. “Yes.”

  A shadow appears on the horizon, a vaporous waif of a body moving toward me. At first I think, Sam. It’s Sam’s ghost crossing the desert, made of water vapor and smoke. Here he comes to exact his revenge.

  But this phantom is too short.

  Jesse takes shape, emerging from the liquid horizon.

  They can’t see her. Mom and Perry are looking down on me. My body is on the sand between them, tears in the corners of my eyes.

  “Yes,” Mom says. “But her gift isn’t an active power. It will only bolster what I already have.”

  But despite the blurred image, I know what I see.

  Perry twists my knee. The tendon stretches, grows hot, and turns into a burn. I suck in a breath, preparing for the intense pain. Air whistles through my clenched teeth as a wave of anger hits me like a backhand.

  Jesse disappears from the horizon and the anger disappears with her.

  Then she’s beside Perry. She yanks him back and his grip on my leg slips. They disappear.

  Just like that, the wall of Perry that’s been looming over me disappears and sunlight hits my face full force. Mom comes to attention beside me. Her hands open at her side, as if she’s a gunslinger, ready to grab ahold of her weapon.

  Perry reappears several feet away.

  On his hands and knees, he screams. Flames lick the black Kevlar clinging to his body. The fabric warps, melting to his skin. He collapses to his elbows, burning alive.

  Mom throws her hands up and a wall of sand rises. It crashes down on Perry, extinguishing the flames. But it’s too late. Perry isn’t moving.

  Another man screams. Shots are fired.

  Jesse’s killing all of them. One by one. And they can’t do anything to stop her.

  Mom turns in each direction, drawn by gunfire or a howl. But she doesn’t have a target. Jesse’s moving too fast.

  I can’t look away from Perry. My eyes are glued to the heap of black fabric smoldering several feet away, blackened like a log of wood. Am I sad? Do I regret his murder?

  I don’t know. And no one gives me time to process how I feel about it.

  Someone twists my hair and pulls me to my feet.

  The back door slams open and Jesse steps out. Her ponytail is loose. Stray hair falls around her face. The purple shield shimmers around her as she slides off the two concrete steps into the backyard.

  “Wow,” she says, her gaze sliding from me to Georgia. “This is an all-new low for you.”

  She pulls out the ponytail holder before gathering up her hair and retying it. Her eyes flick to mine.

  Are you okay? Jesse’s voice is loud and clear in my mind despite the distance between us.

  Yes.

  Liar, liar.

  Dad. For a second, the sound of her voice, and the way she speaks to me—mind to mind—reminds me of Dad. It’s something he would do.

  A memory overtakes me. Dad slices open my palm with the edge of his pocketknife, the silver blade cutting into my life line so you won’t forget. A wound on the hand is like a wound in the mouth. You’ll reopen it again and again, unable to help yourself. Each time the pain will be fresh.

  Jesse’s face hardens with anger again.

  I can feel her pull back from my memory. The warmth that radiates from her cools, and for the first time, I register Mom’s slick sweaty palm on the back of my neck.

  Mom keeps holding me in front of her like a shield. She doesn’t think Jesse will kill me to get to her. And it’s working.

  Don’t, I tell her. She’s a monster. Sam—what she did to Sam—I…I…so wrong.

  I’m a coward and I know it.

  If it stops her—

  Jesse’s hard and angry expression falters. Her eyes soften and she stops circling Mom.

  “None of this is your fault,” she says. She uses her words. “Don�
��t let her brainwash you with all that bullshit.”

  Sadness threatens to seal my throat shut. I’m not worth it. Save them.

  Gideon. Gloria. Ally. Winnie Pug. Hell, even the whole world. Even one of them means more than me.

  “You’re wrong,” Jesse says, tears in the corners of her eyes.

  A breeze blows through me. Azrael’s coolness slides down my spine. Be brave little one. I am here.

  My heart beats faster. The last time Azrael told me to be brave, Dad hurt me. Bad.

  This won’t be different.

  Mom’s nails bite into the back of my neck until the skin breaks. Burning fire grows there.

  The ground disappears. I gasp and look down. I’m floating. As if I’ve sucked in too much helium and instead of a funny mouse voice, I’m a balloon floating away. Five feet, then ten until Sam’s body is a smear of red on the desert floor.

  I can still feel Jesse. Feel her fear and anger like a second skin writhing on top of my own.

  “Shield her or shield yourself,” Mom says. She doesn’t even glance at me. What’s to see really? The moment Mom takes her power off me I’m going to fall. My brains are going to be all over the sand, like Sam’s.

  Jesse takes her gaze off Mom long enough to look up at me suspended in the air. She steps forward, moving to align herself beneath me as if she’s going to catch me. Mom moves forward too.

  “I won’t let you catch her,” Mom hisses. “Shield her or yourself. That’s your choice.”

  It’s like being at the top of a roller coaster. I know the drop is coming, and I also know my safety harness won’t hold.

  My palms sweat. My heart pounds. All I can do is wonder if I’ll look as busted and broken as Sam when I hit the ground.

  Because Jesse can’t possibly save me. If she shields me, Mom will strike her dead and then she probably won’t even stop my fall. I’ll die the same moment Jesse does.

  And if Jesse dies the whole world is lost. Me, Winnie Pug, and all our friends. Because Mom will honor Dad’s vision of the new world order. She’ll destroy it, and rebuild it in her subservient image.

  Don’t fall for it, I tell her. As soon as she drops me, use your fire to kill her. I know she can hear me. I know this distance doesn’t matter at all with the mind tricks she’s inherited from Dad. I say a prayer to Azrael while I’m at it. Forgive her. She doesn’t have a choice.