by S. S. Segran
Mariah noticed Tegan going still as she stared at her mother. She nudged her friend. “Teegs?”
Tegan ignored her. “Mom. Did something happen?”
Mrs. Ryder gave her daughter a helpless look. “Nothing escapes you, does it?”
“What happened?” Tegan repeated, moving closer to the laptop.
“Honey… one of your dad’s cousins—you remember Bill? We used to visit him in Florida when you were younger? He loved taking you and your brother to Epcot for the rides.”
“Yes…”
“He’s got the disease. Tegan… Dad and I spoke with his wife. He’s not doing well. She said that he’s aged so much and he’s, um, so frail, so… so…” Mrs. Ryder’s bottom lip trembled and she bit down to make it stop. “The doctor told her that at this rate, he won’t make it past next week.”
Mariah turned to Tegan, a hand over her mouth. Her friend had a glazed, faraway look in her eyes. Then, in quiet submission, Tegan said, “Please give Uncle Bill and the family my love, Mom.”
And there it is, Mariah thought, placing a hand on the other girl’s back. The brave front.
“How’s Dad dealing with it?” Tegan continued, not looking directly at the screen. “I know how close they are.”
“He’s shaken. It barely hit home when we first heard that the disease had arrived here, but now…”
“I’m glad that he has you and Damian to lean on, not to mention the Great Falls police department.”
Tegan’s mother smiled slightly. “The PD’s been so good to him, Tegan. They’re looking out for him. For all of us.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less. Is Dad on patrol now?”
“Mmhm. Police all over the state—all over the country, really—have been pulling extra shifts. The disease may not have made it to Great Falls yet, but there’s still scattered unrest from the food crisis. And some people continue to take advantage of the situation to loot stores and destroy property.”
Mrs. Ashton glared. “I don’t understand how some folks can be so selfish, so disruptive.”
“Surely it’s not all bad?” Mariah asked; she hated to think that her peaceful city could be so obscenely turned upside down.
“No, it isn’t,” her mother acknowledged. “Times like these often bring out the best in us—neighbors show love and concern, families come together. But it can also sometimes bring out the worst in people as well.”
An exuberant yell rang through the house. The girls leapt out of their seats like startled cats. Their mothers gave them enquiring frowns.
“Guess we should let you find out what that’s about,” Mrs. Ryder said. “It was lovely catching up with you girls.”
“Stay safe,” Mrs. Ashton added.
Mariah waggled her fingers at the screen. “We will, Momma. Love you!”
They ended the call and ran into the kitchen to find Marshall still on the phone, grinning broadly. Mariah tilted her head and he mouthed, “Sorry!”
Aari and Kody trotted out of Jag’s room, curious about the commotion. “What’s up?” Kody asked.
Marshall put his phone down. “I was talking to Gareth, trying to help him figure out what he might have missed with the three Deols he met in Moscow, when a call came in.” The Sentry let out a shaky laugh, some of the stress dissipating from his face. “It was Vi—Colback. Turns out he was in some serious trouble. Dev found him and they managed to break him out of the Kazakh Sanctuary.”
The teenagers slumped against the counter. “Thank goodness,” Mariah breathed.
“Yeah, especially since Reyor was there.”
The group goggled. “What?”
“I can’t imagine what that was like for them, being so close to that monster.” Marshall rubbed his arm, uneasy. “And we’re lucky. Apparently Colback nearly launched an apocalypse of biblical proportions.”
Kody’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean?”
“He lost it and fired a major concussive blast. Thankfully, the lathe’ad didn’t go off. I don’t know why it didn’t, but I’m not gonna argue with the universe over this one.”
“Me neither,” Tegan agreed. “But if an attack on Reyor could cause the lathe’ad to detonate, how are we supposed to fulfill our roles in the prophecy?”
Mariah’s shoulders drooped. So we have to find a cure for a disease before it kills off everyone on the planet, and stop Reyor without laying a finger on the beast. God…
Marshall’s baby blue eyes softened as he took in the downcast teenagers before him. He hesitated, then slowly pulled them all towards him into an embrace. “I know I probably sound like a broken record,” he murmured, “but you’re chosen for a reason. Doors will open for you. We have to believe that, have faith in that. And you’re my—you’re family. I will be with you every step of the way, no matter what. This may be your destiny but know that I, and the other Sentries, will walk through fire for you.”
Mariah burrowed her face into the Sentry’s side. Gah, why am I emotional all of a sudden?
Because we were just reminded that we are not alone in this journey. We’re never alone.
Mariah stood still, not blinking for nigh on twenty seconds. It was not her voice that had just spoken in her head.
Hey! Oh, dang it, she’s gone.
Mariah was sure of it now. There was a presence in her mind—tough, composed, thunder in the bones. She cautiously reached out. H-Hello?
Mariah! You can hear me?
Whoa… Wait a minute. Teegs? Mariah looked across Marshall’s chest. Tegan, on his other side, smiled at her. Reeling, Mariah stammered, B-but how?
Remember what Elder Nageau said, that it’s possible we’d achieve this at some point?
No. Way. She touched the exquisite, brushed metal pendant hanging from her neck.
Yeah! Listen, this is new for you, so… Tegan trailed off, as though there was a bad connection, then her voice returned: … hovering around in the novasphere, watching to see if you or Aari or Kody would wake up. Looks like you just did.
I lost you for a second.
That’ll happen. In the beginning, the exchange is sometimes spotty but it’ll get better the more you use it. Hold on, I’m gonna let Jag know.
A few seconds later, Jag’s presence appeared; he was like fire, simultaneously warm and powerful, charged with emotion. Welcome to the club, Miss Ashton!
Oh, why thank you, Mr. Sanchez. It’s an exclusive club.
Incredibly exclusive, yes, because you can only talk to one person at a time.
Aw, are you serious? No conference calls?
That’s not possible, as far as I know. I’ve asked Elder Nageau.
Mariah felt a prodding in her mind. Uh, I think someone else is trying to reach me. Gosh, this feels so weird.
You’ll get used to it. Pick up the phone, see who’s on the other end. Jag severed their connection.
Mariah reached out again. The new presence felt irrevocably altruistic, soft-hearted and protective. Hi? she said.
Marshall’s arm tightened around her. Good of you to join the rest of us, kiddo.
Mariah pulled away, laughing. Aari and Kody stared at her, puzzled. “So,” she said, squeezing her pendant, “I just got telepathy.”
Kody groaned. “Oh, great.” He turned to Aari and dragged him into a separate hug. “It’s okay, buddy. You and I will travel the lonely road of non-telepaths alone.”
The redheaded teenager wiggled away, snickering. “You’re an idiot.” Mariah noticed that despite his bonhomie, Aari did seem a little down.
Marshall clapped his hands. “You know what, I’m a big believer of rejoicing in even the smallest of victories, so let’s celebrate. Deverell and Colback are safe, and Mariah can now enjoy a new ability. I’ll make dinner.”
Kody stuck his nose into the fridge. “I’ll help! I’m a stupendous cook, just ask anyone. Ooh, we may have enough stuff here for Kung Pao chicken! Awesome.”
Marshall grimaced. “No, please. No Kung Pao. That’s a bad memory f
or me.”
“Bad memory? Of what?”
“Long story short? Stumbling into the nanomite plot and nearly getting killed earlier this year.”
Mariah squinted. “Do Sentries routinely get themselves into life-threatening situations?”
“It’s kind of a bad habit. I’ll try to kick it.”
Mariah, Tegan and Aari left the kitchen and sat on the steps outside the house, eyes sweeping their surroundings. “You guys feel it, don’t you?” Tegan muttered.
Aari pulled his hood over his head and scoped the apartment complex across the street from them. “That we’re being watched? Yeah. If Reyor was there when Victor got out, then whoever’s tailing us was probably warned that we’d be on the lookout. And maybe that’s why even with his hypersensory abilities, Kody can never find them when he scouts around.”
“But why haven’t they swooped in to grab us yet?” Mariah demanded. “What are they waiting for?”
“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”
Tegan lifted her chin and Mariah saw defiance in her friend’s steely gaze. “And when we do, we need to be prepared.”
34
Gareth stepped out of a small shopping mall, fixing a surgical mask over his face with one hand and holding a phone to his ear with the other. “So where’ll you be heading now?” he asked.
On the other end of the line, his brother clicked his tongue. “We’re on our way south to Almaty. Vic’s got a contact there that can help us get the paperwork we need to get to Tashkent.”
“You’re going to Uzbekistan?”
“Aye. Reyor’ll most likely have eyes everywhere in Kazakhstan, so we need to take the long way ’round. From Tashkent, we’ll fly to the Lodge and recoup there.”
Gareth said nothing. His brother laughed. “When you don’t talk is when I know you’re worried. Relax, Gareth. We’ll be fine.”
“You blokes are ridiculous. You must be in loads of pain, but you both sound like nothing’s happened. And Vic lost his ear!”
“Not all of it,” the Canadian Sentry corrected in the background.
Deverell sniggered. “What happened to you is rather ear-riversible, wouldn’t you say, Vic?”
“Jeez, Louise.”
“Friends, Romans, Victor—lend me your ears!”
“You’re making me irritable.”
“Don’t you mean ear-ritable?”
“Oh, my God.”
Gareth’s mouth curved slightly upward. No matter how choleric Victor sometimes was, he knew the older Sentry was fond of the twins… not that he would ever outright say so.
“Anyway,” Victor continued pointedly, “I heard you’re on the hunt for Dr. Deol. How’s that coming along?”
“Horribly,” Gareth confessed. “And it’s really starting to eat at me. I’ve checked everything probably ten times over and there’s nothing more to be found. D’you suppose you’ve any more information that could help?”
“I wish I did. All I can say is, I think she’s our best bet. From what I heard when I eavesdropped on Nate’s phone call, it sounds like she’s losing faith in the cause. Nate and the other guy he spoke to seemed spooked. They were debating whether or not she’s ‘salvageable’.”
“That doesn’t sound promising. What if they decide she isn’t?”
“I highly doubt Reyor likes loose ends, especially if that loose end engineered the virus.” Victor paused, then said quietly, “I don’t want to put more pressure on you than you’re already putting on yourself, Gareth, but we need to get to her sooner than Phoenix’s paranoia.”
Gareth fidgeted with his mask, hand clammy, mouth shut.
Deverell spoke up. “We know you’re doing the best you can. But listen, Gareth. Yours isn’t the only play—the five and Marshall are following another solution as well. We’re still in the game. Alright?”
“Mmh…” The soft patter of drizzle fell from the clouds overhead, catching Gareth by surprise. “Listen, lads, it’s starting to rain and I need to drive. Check in with me when you reach Tashkent, alright?”
“We will,” Victor assured him before Deverell hung up. “Remember, kid. Eyes forward. Always.”
Gareth tucked his phone away and pulled up the collar of his leather jacket, hurrying past an empty concert hall toward the main road where his car was parked. As he unlocked it, a small, frazzled-looking group of people rushed by and darted across the street, unperturbed by the speeding vehicles and subsequent honking. The Sentry frowned, watching the group duck into a black-roofed edifice directly across from him—the Yaroslavsky railway station. Upon closer inspection, he noted that the doors and windows of the building were broken, and the station was dark, vacant.
Now why is it that one of the major railway stations in Moscow look out of commission? he wondered. And what would a group like that be running in there for at this time of night?
He looked from his car keys to the building, then pocketed the keys and loped across the street. Atop the roof, a decorative ironwork emblem of the famed communist symbol glinted: a hammer and sickle. Gareth pursed his lips at the motif, then tailed the group through the length of the ornamental but decrepit station. Glass shards from broken windows and light fixtures crunched beneath his shoes. His breath fogged in the chilly air.
The group vaulted over a row of half-height turnstiles and ran through the shattered glass doors that led outside, from where agitated voices could be heard. Gareth followed and found himself under the painful brilliance of floodlights. He grunted, shielding his eyes until they adjusted, and found before him a crowd of thirty or so people wrapped in warm clothing. Razor wire fencing cordoned off all eleven platforms and sixteen tracks, but Gareth couldn’t see anything else through the throng of people. As he worked his way between the masses, the sound of crying filling his ears.
What’s going on?
His heart missed a beat when he reached the front. On the other side of the fence, personnel in military hazmat suits with submachine guns and assault rifles shoved dozens of men and women onto the centermost railway track. The civilians crouched on the iron rails, rocking back and forth in the cold. The drizzle grew heavier but the soldiers patrolled the platforms between the tracks without offering anything to the shivering civilians for warmth.
Beside Gareth, a distraught teenage girl with dark hair and pale skin held a little boy close to her. The Sentry grabbed her arm. “What’s happening?” he demanded in Russian.
The girl turned to him, shooting a glare. He let go of her and held his hands up, softening his tone. “Please, tell me. What’s going on?”
She eyed him guardedly. “The infected. They’re being shipped out.”
Gareth looked back at the men and women on the railway tracks several feet below the platforms. A few of them clamped their heads between their knees or jammed the heels of their hands against their temples, groaning to themselves.
“Where are they being shipped to?” he asked the girl.
“We were told that the trains will take them to a hospital away from the cities. But I’ve heard rumors that…” Her voice shook, and the little boy in her arms burrowed into her hair. She glanced down at him, then back at Gareth. Catching her hint, the Sentry leaned in, and she whispered, “I heard that they’re taking them away to be incinerated.”
When her words finally sunk in, Gareth slowly met her eyes. “That can’t be true.”
“That’s what we heard.” The girl raised her gaze upwards, fighting against the forming tears. “This is not the only place where it’s happening, either, but it is happening. Quietly.”
“No, that can’t be. Who authorized it?”
“Nothing happens without the approval of the government.”
Gareth looked skyward, unable to believe his ears. “And… why are you here?”
She hugged the little boy tighter as the rain changed from a drizzle to a downpour. “Our parents are sitting on those tracks.”
Distraught, Gareth turned away, running his hand
s through his wet hair. He wanted to do something, to help, but deep down he knew that he was powerless.
He pulled a small box of surgical masks from his jacket, passed one to the teenager and fit another on her brother. “You shouldn’t be out here without this.”
The girl adjusted her mask, a little surprised by his gesture. “Thank you. We just returned from visiting our grandparents outside the city and found out the military had taken our mother and father.”
“Are your grandparents here as well?”
“We lost them in the crowd.” The girl looked up at the Sentry through the fast-falling rain, aggrieved. “Everyone here has someone they care about on the other side of the fence. But nobody can stop this.”
An alarmed shout wrenched away their attention. An infected woman clambered onto one of the raised platforms and screamed as the guards approached her. Using the muzzles of their weapons, they nudged her back into the gap. She spat at them, her words becoming more and more incoherent. Another woman shrieked, scrambling up the sides of the barrier. A man followed her only to get a military boot in his face that sent him falling back onto the tracks.
The girl beside Gareth grasped his wrist. “Their eyes—they’re bleeding out of their eyes!”
The guards slowly backed away as the infected crawled up to the platforms, beating their heads and moaning, teeth gnashing. Some clawed at their cheeks and eyes. The guards moved with nervous energy as they tried to herd the sick group back onto the tracks, to no avail.
Then, a silence fell. Those that had been banging their heads stopped and peered around, eyes like saucers, heads low. The rest of the infected kept clear of each other, as if wary.
They’re acting like frightened animals, Gareth realized.
A feral cry ripped the silence. A man in a tattered suit threw himself at one of the guards, hurling him onto the ground and repeatedly bashing his head into the concrete until he moved no more. Two other guards shot him and chaos broke loose as one after another the infected surged onto the armed personnel.