Safe (The Shielded Series Book 1)

by Christine DePetrillo

  Something inside her definitely wanted to see Foster at work. “Sure.”

  “This way.” He took his tablet and punched in a code Darina couldn’t see. Waving the tablet over a black rectangle by the door unlocked it. “Lights.” At his voice command, lighting flooded the room beyond the door. “After you.” He gestured for her to go in first then followed right behind her.

  The walls were covered in huge touch screens with some panels covered in text. Others had complicated equations Darina couldn’t begin to understand. Along another wall were shelves with bottles, boxes, and jars. She couldn’t read half of the scientific words emblazoned on the sides and felt dumber than she had in a long time.

  Out on the streets she considered herself intelligent. She knew where everything was, how to get food and other supplies, how to track a criminal, and a whole host of other useful skills.

  In this lab—in Foster’s world—she knew shit. They lived in different universes.

  “Maybe I should wait out there.” She pointed through the door to his living room.

  “Is this room making you uncomfortable?” He paused in selecting bottles and jars from the shelves.

  “Being inside Emerge Tech’s walls is making me uncomfortable.” Normally she wouldn’t admit such a thing to anyone.

  “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asked, setting his materials on a long table in the middle of the lab. “Living out in what’s left of the city is tough. In here, it’s easy. We have everything we need and most of what we want. It’s clean. It’s safe.”

  “It’s not real.”

  He stopped in his work and stared at her. “It feels pretty real to me.” He ran his hand along the table in front of him. “This table is real.” He grabbed the bottle by his hand. “This bottle and its contents are real.” He pointed his hands at himself then at her. “I’m real. You’re real.”

  “But it’s a lie, Doc. Outside Emerge Tech walls and its security field, the world is crumbling, brick by brick, body by body.”

  His dark eyebrows lowered. “Not if I can help it.” His determination made her want to believe. Want to hope the world could be saved by this man.

  He finished making the medicine and poured it into a bottle, sealing it with a dropper cap. After cleaning his workspace, he skirted around the table to her position by the door, which she hadn’t left. He took her right hand and pressed the bottle into her palm. His hand was warm and solid, and the contact tightened places deep within Darina’s body.

  Closing her fingers around the bottle, he said, “One drop of this a day and Zeke should be seizure free.”

  “No seizures at all? Really?” She met his gaze and was again struck by the color of his eyes. Such a strange light green. Had his genetically engineered cocktail made those eyes on purpose? Or had it been one of the many mistakes genetic engineering also made?

  “Really.” He led her out of the lab, commanding the lights off and locking the door behind them. “That should last you for a while. If you need more, you know where to find me. I can let the guards at the gates know you’re allowed in.”

  “Thank you.” Why was he being so nice? Why wasn’t he a rich bastard like the rest of them? He couldn’t be as perfect as he appeared. Something had to be wrong with him.

  “Why were you cast off?” Her boldness was probably going to get her kicked out of his domicile, but she had to ask.

  The sad smile on his lips made her chest ache, and she wanted to take the question back. He stepped into his kitchen and retrieved something by the sink. When he was back in front of her, he held out a bottle exactly like the one he’d given her for Zeke.

  “You have seizures too?” No wonder he was so willing to help.

  He shook his head. “I used to have them. I don’t anymore and neither will Zeke.” Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, he asked, “He’s a GEC too, isn’t he?”

  Something in his eyes made her nod once.

  “Your secret is safe with me, Officer Lazitter. It takes a special brand of bravery—or stupidity—to take in a GEC.” He offered her a slight smile that had her entire body buzzing. “Either way, I respect people like you who care for people like me. I wouldn’t be here today if someone hadn’t taken me in as you’ve taken in Zeke.”

  What made her think closing the distance between them and throwing her arms around him was a good idea she’d never know, but it happened before her logical brain could stop her. When his arms came around her back and he squeezed gently, she thought maybe it hadn’t been a mistake at all.

  They stood like that for a few moments before common sense kicked in and she released him. He held on for a second longer then dropped his arms.

  “Thanks again,” she whispered, her gaze tracing lines along the tattoo on his neck.

  He motioned to the tattoo. “I’ll tell you why I got this if you tell me about yours.” He took her hand and traced the ring of black stars on her left forearm.

  She closed her eyes as the pad of his index finger ran along the stars. She allowed herself to enjoy the caress for a moment. How long had it been since someone had touched her? Too long, and never with such tenderness. Her last official relationship had ended horribly, but what had she expected? Few good things existed in the world anymore.

  Opening her eyes, she said, “Another time, Doc.” She turned and opened his domicile door.

  With a deafening roar they hadn’t been able to hear inside, scorching orange flames reached out from the hallway and threatened to grab her.

  Chapter Three

  Foster grabbed Darina by the upper arms and yanked her back into his domicile, swinging the door shut.

  “He’s here,” she said, patting out the smoking leg of her cargo pants.

  “Probably not him personally. He’s not that stupid. Unfortunately, Mikale Warres is brilliant.”

  “Yeah, but he lacks street smarts.” Darina grinned, making him want to have her in his arms again. That embrace had been completely unexpected, but thoroughly welcomed. “We need to get you back to the outside if Warres’s crew is inside.”

  “We?”

  She faced him, her hazel eyes pinning him in place. “Look, I want a better world for Zeke. You’ve already helped with this medicine.” She patted the pocket on her cargo pants. “If you can cure the world of the plague, you need to do that. You can’t do that if you’re dead.”

  She jogged across the living room and, with a deep inhale, peered out the windows. Craning her head up, she asked, “Are we on the top floor?”

  “Yes. The roof is right above us.”

  “You have direct access to the roof then?” She walked back toward him.

  “In my office.” Foster led her to the room and opened the closet where a set of steps spiraled upward.

  “Phone?”

  He dug out his tablet, punched in the security code and opened his phone app. “Who are we calling?”

  “Our ride. We need out of this building before that fire brings it down or Warres’s men get to you.”

  “Emerge Tech has its own defense team.” Foster held up his tablet. “I can just call them.”

  Darina shook her head. “I’m not sure we can trust Emerge Tech right now.”

  “They don’t want me dead.”

  “The company doesn’t, but perhaps an individual does.”

  Maybe she had a point. There were people who agreed with Warres’s plans. Certainly some of those people could be within Emerge Tech’s walls. It was unlikely, but this wasn’t a time to play with the odds.

  “Do we have time to wait for a ride?” He handed her the tablet, a little shocked he’d actually let another person touch the device. Normally, it was on his person at all times and he guarded it with his life.

  Why do I feel so comfortable around her? It didn’t make a bit of sense.

  “The pilot I’m going to call doesn’t exactly know how to drive slowly.” She flexed her left hand, the ring of stars tattoo undulating on her skin.
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br />   “Can we trust him?” Hadn’t she just told him to trust no one?

  “He’s one of two people I trust.” Her thumbs hovered over the screen. “The question is, where will we go? Warres can get to you in the city or in here. He’s proven that today.” She frowned. “Why hasn’t he come after you before?”

  Foster puffed out a breath as he raked his hand through his hair. How much should he tell her? “Warres and I used to be very tight. I don’t think he wants to kill me, but he knows I’m getting close to finding the cure. Letting me live is no longer an option for him.” Sad to think his former best friend had put a mark on his head. At one point in their lives, their friendship was all they’d had. They’d kept each other going, challenged each other, reached new levels unthinkable in science.

  Now the closest thing he’d had to a brother wished him dead.

  An overhead sprinkler sprayed water down on them, and Foster scrunched up his shoulders against the artificial rain. Darina pulled him into the stairway where there were no sprinklers.

  Wiping his face, Foster said, “I have a place we can go, but it’s not local.”

  What am I doing? He never let anyone go where he was thinking. That place was for him and a small group of… friends. Officer Darina Lazitter was not a member of that small group.

  And she wasn’t exactly a friend.

  She narrowed her eyes. “How ‘not local’?”

  “Vermont.”

  Muscles in her face tensed as she considered his reply. “It’ll have to do.”

  “I can get myself there. You should leave. It’s not safe to be around me.” He didn’t want to endanger her life. She had a boy depending on her, a boy whose life she’d changed with her care. If Darina was taken from Zeke because of him, Foster would never forgive himself.

  She shook her head. “I haven’t finished the job. You’re not safe yet.”

  “Surely getting me here was good enough.” Though he didn’t want her to go. Not at all. Sharing his burden with someone lightened the load.

  “I don’t do ‘good enough,’ Dr. Ashby.” She tapped on his tablet’s screen then reached past him to close the closet door, sealing them in the stairwell and keeping out the dark smoke that had crept into his domicile.

  “Call me Foster, please.” No need for formalities if they were going to be spending more time together. How much time? And why did he want that?

  “So we’re friends now?” She rolled her eyes. “Is there anything in your domicile you absolutely need to complete your work?”

  He gestured to the tablet still in her hand. “That’s all I need.”

  “Light traveler. Excellent.”

  The tablet vibrated, and she looked down at it. “My buddy, Ghared, will meet us on the roof in five minut—”

  A loud siren cut off her words. The sound banged around in Foster’s head, making him wince. He spent so much time alone, sequestered in his lab, that his ears weren’t used to such noise.

  Darina, on the other hand, sat on one of the steps, looking totally unaffected. She grinned up at him. “This is nothing,” she yelled. “You should hear Zeke snore after a seizure.”

  He actually laughed. His domicile would be consumed by flames any moment now. Warres’s men were probably nearby, waiting for the building to crumble and confirm his death. His research could fall into the hands of the enemy, and the human population would be wiped out by the plague, but here he was in a stairwell, laughing with a police officer he’d only met hours ago.

  What is happening?

  He’d thought the world had gone mad after the Unplug and Mikale unleashing his disease, but clearly Foster had only, just now, lost his mind.

  The siren stopped, and he checked his ears for blood while Darina waved his tablet at him.

  “Here,” she said. “I don’t want to be responsible for this. I’ll protect you, but you have to protect your research.”

  “Delegating. Smart.” He shoved the tablet back into his pocket and prayed it’d be safe as he zipped it closed. “Were you a cop before?”

  “Before the Anarch? Yeah.”

  “Did you join the search for them or the fighting?” He could easily picture her engaging the enemy head on, guns blazing.

  She shook her head and got a faraway look in her eyes, then she met his gaze. “No. I would have.” She flexed her left hand as she had before. “I was… injured at the time.”

  He waited for her to say more, but she didn’t. Instead she glanced up the stairs. “Let’s get to the roof.”

  She led the way and Foster stayed close behind her. At the door to the roof, Darina hesitated.

  “Don’t think about it,” he said. “As far as your mind knows we’re on ground level.”

  “Ground level, yes. No way we’d plummet to our deaths at ground level.” She nodded and proceeded out the door. “Of course, we could die in an all-consuming fire instead.”

  “Not on my agenda for today.” He nudged her toward the middle of the roof in hopes flames would not blow the door behind him clear off its hinges.

  Darina took out her weapon and scanned the area, squinting up to the sky. “C’mon, Ghared. I don’t like being out in the open like this.”

  Seconds after she’d uttered the words, a light droning grew in volume. Before Foster could ask a question, a hovercopter appeared out of nowhere and wobbled over the roof.

  “Let’s go.” Darina’s voice was full of authority, as if she did this sort of thing all the time.

  Maybe she does. How would he know? He didn’t know anything about her. Only that she was a cop—probably an amazing one. She had a son she saved from dismantlement and obviously cared about greatly. She didn’t like rich bastards.

  That last one bugged him. Yes, he was rich. Emerge Tech paid handsomely for the work he did. He had all the major comforts of the wealthy. As he’d told her though, he wasn’t a bastard.

  At least I try hard not to be.

  Was it possible he didn’t realize he was, in fact, a bastard? Had he been avoiding that categorization? Had he been too wrapped up in his work to see he was an asshole? Did being wrapped up in one’s work make someone a bastard?

  What does it matter?

  Bastard. Not a bastard. The only thing that mattered right now was staying alive long enough to finish the cure. He was too damn close to fail.

  Darina’s hair whipped around as the hovercopter touched down on the roof. She ran for the aircraft and ripped open a door on the side. Turning back toward him, she waved him over.

  Foster hadn’t been aware of the distance between himself and Darina. He’d fallen behind in his bastard-not bastard internal debate. As he looked at the hovercopter, however, he groaned. The vehicle appeared to have been patched with parts from about twenty different machines, none of them matching or exactly fitting together with a perfect seal. It didn’t look as if it could stay up in the air for very long.

  And how had it gotten past Emerge Tech’s walls and security field?

  He was about to tell Darina he’d organize for other transport, but she’d already hopped into the hovercopter. She clearly had faith in its ability—and its pilot’s ability—to get them the hell out of there, despite her fear of heights. She leaned forward to the cockpit where Foster now realized two people sat, not just the pilot. When her head popped back out, she waved him over again with a hurry up expression on her face.

  And he wanted to hurry up. He really did. He wasn’t imagining the growing heat beneath his feet. If he stayed any longer, he’d be toast.

  But letting these people into my sanctuary?

  He didn’t like this.

  He didn’t like being dead more.

  Foster sprinted toward the hovercopter. When he reached it, an explosion vibrated the building beneath him. He stumbled and fell to the roof a few yards from the waiting aircraft, banging his forehead when his arms didn’t move fast enough to prevent the impact. As he attempted to get to his feet, the roof caved in to his right. He rolled
to his left and gazed up at the sky clouded with smoke and ash. The sky inside Emerge Tech’s walls never looked like that. The air purifiers made the sky an ever-present blue, intense and reminiscent of a summer Boston afternoon circa 2015.

  The black plumes of smoke mesmerized him. He couldn’t blink, couldn’t move. A fleeting thought that this was the end made regrets rocket through Foster’s mind.

  Why hadn’t he abandoned the city altogether and stayed in Vermont?

  Why had he worked so hard and played so little?

  Why hadn’t he at least tried to find someone to love?

  Too late. He was meat cooking on the rooftop now.

  A tug on his arm made him angle his head toward the still-waiting hovercopter. Darina crouched by his head, her hair a wild storm around her face—her beautiful, concerned face.

  “C’mon, Foster!” she shouted above the roaring in his ears.

  His name sounded wonderful coming from her lips. He wouldn’t mind hearing her say it again. Sitting up, he waited for the roof to stop spinning, but that didn’t seem to be happening. He brought his hand up to where his forehead had hit the roof and his fingers came away bloody.

  “Shit.”

  “A little flesh wound. You can zap heal it on the hovercopter,” Darina said. “We’re all going to have major flesh wounds if we don’t get the hell out of here like now.”

  Foster rolled to his knees, trying desperately to clear his head with no success. He managed to stand and focused on the rickety hovercopter and what he could now see of the long-haired pilot.

  A short beard surrounded the pilot’s jaw, but a long slash ran through the scruff along his right cheek. No hair grew there, indicating it was probably the remnant of an unpleasant injury. He was solid and a bit more muscled than Foster. A sleeveless gray shirt that revealed a full sleeve tattoo on his right arm covered his torso. The ink appeared to start under the shirt somewhere and from what Foster could see, it looked like a barbed-wire design with... with… were those skeletons trying to free themselves from behind the wire?