Relapse (The Vs. Reality Series Book 2)

by Blake Northcott

  “You never thought you’d miss him so much.” Cole’s mind is flooded with visions of Jens lying helplessly in his arms, the life drained from his body. “Sometimes you realize that the people you take for granted are the ones you can’t live without.”

  She nods and lets out a short sigh, straightening her back. “I just can’t afford to fall apart right now. I need to be strong.”

  Cole reaches forward and runs his hand along her face, using his thumb to wipe away a single tear. “Maybe that’s what real strength is – admitting that you can’t be strong all the time.”

  She leans forward and buries her head in Cole’s chest, wrapping her arms loosely around his waist. “Yeah, maybe.”

  He holds her firmly and cradles her head, letting her collapse into the warmth of his body. She soaks his shirt with tears and he stands motionless, allowing her to fall apart.

  Their moment is interrupted when an announcement blares over the loudspeakers that the recovery bay is open, and is now available to receive visitors.

  She draws back and wipes the tears from her face with both hands. “Go.”

  “Are you sure that...”

  “I’m sure,” she replies curtly, looking away. “But thank you. I didn’t know how much I needed that.”

  As he turns to walk away Allison touches his arm. “And Cole, one more thing: if you tell anyone that I cried you’ll be the first person I shoot a fireball at when I figure this thing out.”

  Dia rushes through the doors of the recovery room and darts towards Paige, who is sitting on the edge of her bed. Her left shoulder is heavily padded as a result of her surgery and her arm is supported with a sling, but she seems otherwise unfazed.

  Using her sister’s hand as an anchor Paige winces, pulling herself to her feet. “Just a flesh wound,” she says, forcing a smile. “It only hurts if I move, or breathe...or think too hard.”

  Lightly trailing her palm up and down Paige’s back, Dia allows herself a weak smile in return. “So does visiting you in the hospital finally earn me a hug?”

  She can’t help but laugh. “Alright,” Paige concedes. “Just don’t get used to it – this is a one-time thing.”

  Across the room in a similar bed Jens is still unconscious, his body entwined with multi-colored wires and tubes. A mask over his mouth assists with his breathing, and a heart monitor beeps rhythmically in the background. Staring down at his friend, Cole can’t help but feel responsible for his condition. I’m not going to let them get away with this, he promises silently, clenching his teeth.

  “He looks worse than he is,” says Goto, the sound of his irritating British accent slicing through the relative silence.

  Cole’s eyes snap open. “How’s that?”

  “Our stem cell technology is far more advanced than you might imagine. He’ll be back on his feet in no time.” His tone seems nearly genuine, as if he were emotionally attached to the outcome of Jens’ recovery. Almost like an actual human being.

  “I didn’t know you cared so much,” says Cole, remaining skeptical.

  “I don’t,” he replies dryly. “Frankly, he brings very little to the table, and having him around is actually more of a burden than anything. But we need you at a hundred percent; we need you focused. If you come apart you won’t be of much use to us, now will you?”

  “Is that how you see me,” says Cole, “as an asset?”

  “We don’t have time for you to be this tiresome, Mister Cole,” Goto replies listlessly, already growing weary of the conversation. “You’re a pawn, just as we all are. We’re on the front lines of this battle, and anyone can fall at any time.”

  “I don’t know much about chess, but aren’t the pawns those little guys that you sacrifice in order to win?”

  “That’s generally the idea, yes. The scuffle we went through back in Paris – that was nothing. We escaped relatively unscathed. But if The General attacked with that type of firepower it means that he intentionally ignored international laws, which in turn means that he’s willing to go against everyone – even the Council – in order to capture Dia. If he’s prepared to sacrifice everything to get what he wants, I doubt we’ll stop him without making a few sacrifices of our own.” Allowing time for his words sink in, Goto steps away from Cole and marches across the room to check on the other patients.

  "You seem to be making quite the recovery,” says Goto, patting Paige softly on the back of her hand. As his fingertips make contact with her skin he feels a small jolt of electricity running up his arm, through his spinal column and into his brain stem. Pictures and sounds from her past overwhelm him; her thoughts, her desires, and the darkest secrets buried in the recesses of her mind. Without warning their memories fuse, and suddenly they’re as acutely aware of each other as they are of themselves.

  "You remember," Goto whispers, yanking his hand away. He steps back, bringing his fingers to the side of his head. "Everything; the future, the Federation – and what you've been doing to your sister..."

  "Shut up," Paige interrupts, leaping to her feet.

  His eyes flick to Dia, sensing her confusion. "This whole time…you've been erasing her memories."

  "I said shut your fucking mouth!" With her good hand Paige lashes out and slaps Goto across the face, marking his jaw with a bright red welt.

  Dia spins her sister around. "What is he talking about, Paige?"

  "It's complicated," she replies softly.

  "Make me understand."

  Slumping back on the bed Paige’s mind reels; she doesn’t know where to begin, how to explain. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, but everything happened so fast, and I just...I didn’t want to lose you. You don't know what being in the future did to you. You were so angry and controlling...”

  “So wait,” Dia interrupts, narrowing her eyes. “Goto was telling the truth, and all that crazy shit was true? We were in the future, and you knew about it the whole time?”

  “I did, but when we came back you weren’t adjusting. There was no reasoning with you.”

  “You didn’t like who I was, so you changed me into a different person so I’d be easier to deal with?”

  “You don’t understand,” Paige pleads, “it’s not like that!”

  “Then what is it like? You might have to go into a lot of detail when you explain this, because for some reason my memory has been a little fuzzy lately.”

  Paige explains everything; how Goto was right, and the explosion from the first Large Hadron Collider in Texas caused a nearby military base to vanish – the base where Paige and Dia lived with their parents as children. How the base wasn’t actually destroyed during the accident, but was launched forward in time, over a thousand years. How Dia came to manipulate the fabric of the universe as a result of the transition, allowing her to move from one location to another. And how, after a miscalculation when traveling through one of her portals, they ended up back where they started, causing Dia to spiral into a deep depression.

  A depression that nearly killed her.

  “You were constantly cutting yourself trying to re-open a portal to the future,” Paige continues. “Intense pain was your only trigger, but it was useless. Day after day it became your obsession, and the cuts kept getting deeper. One morning I found you unconscious in a pool of blood, and that’s when I started.”

  “Erasing my memories.” Dia’s eyes lock on to her sister, cold and condemning.

  “Yes,” Paige replies with the smallest of nods, forcing her words past the lump in her throat. “I hated myself for doing it but you have to believe me, I didn’t have a choice.”

  “That is such bullshit, Paige. You always have a choice. You just chose the most convenient option like you always do. And you’ve been manipulating me for how long?”

  “It doesn’t matter, it’s just...”

  “How long?” Dia shouts, her eyes flaring.

  A moment passes and Paige looks away. “Nine years.”

  Dia steps back, rubbing her palms
into her temples. “The confusion, the uncertainty – everything I’ve been going through – it’s all your fault. You actually think you’ve been helping me? Making me a better person? You’ve been driving me fucking insane!”

  “Look...” says Paige, reaching out to her sister.

  “Just don’t,” Dia snaps, slapping her hand away. She turns her attention to Cole. “Did you know about this?”

  “No,” he replies, but not before an incriminating moment of hesitation. “Well, Goto mentioned that you might not be the person you said you were, but at the time I didn’t know what to believe.”

  “And you didn’t feel like this was something you needed to share with me? That’s fantastic – so you and Goto both knew as well. Everyone has been lying to me this whole time.”

  “No,” Paige interjects, “you don’t understand.”

  “Why do you keep saying that? I think I understand perfectly. Nobody here seems capable of telling me the truth, so I’m going to find my own answers.” Dia taps the security code into her gauntlet and manifests, her blond hair and blue eyes appearing from a swirling flash of electricity. She tears open a portal and jumps through, leaving everyone behind.

  “Where do you think she’s going?” asks Cole, staring blankly at the portal as it shrinks and closes.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen her like this,” says Paige, shaking her head. “But she’ll be back. She just needs some space right now, but I think she’ll be alright.”

  Her tone was even, and her delivery convincing.

  But Paige knows that she just lied once again.

  Chapter Thirty-One – Riposte

  Langley, Virginia | August 30, 2011 | 10:58 am, Eastern Daylight Time

  “The situation in France is a political disaster.” A young, well-dressed analyst drags her finger along the screen of her tablet, and a video appears on the holographic map of the war room.

  Everyone sitting around the extended oval table – agents, scientists, and the President of the United States – stare at the escalating riot that has erupted in central Paris. An angry mob occupies the Champs-Élysées, marching the streets and screaming for liberation. “As you can see,” she continues, “a protest has begun, and the numbers are increasing. It’s at approximately fifteen thousand people already, but with social media spreading the word we can expect it to double within the hour.”

  The General sags slightly into his chair, massaging his forehead. “I’ve seen the reports.” He realizes that his attempted raid on Dia’s apartment, which resulted in an all-too-public catastrophe, is being blamed on the New World Council; and more specifically, the United States.

  “People around the world are starting to see a pattern develop,” says the President; “the building collapse in New York, armed police in Spain, this recent debacle in Paris – and now there are rumblings about media blackouts and cover-ups. Things are unraveling.”

  “I’m aware,” The General replies gruffly, somewhat less authoritatively than his typical tone.

  “The Council, as you all know, was built on trust,” says the President, motioning to the screen with a broad smile. With his square jaw, perfectly coiffed hair and custom-tailored charcoal suit, President Maxwell Manning evokes the sophistication of a 1950s movie star, but possesses the infuriatingly upbeat attitude of a game show host. “People were willing to come together because the veils of secrecy were lifted, and freedoms were restored. But with laws shifting on a daily basis, they’re quickly losing faith. If we just let the people know that...”

  “That what?” The General interrupts, leaving everyone in the room wide-eyed in disbelief. “That our administration has completely lost control? That we’re unable to protect them from a handful of terrorists?”

  “No,” the President responds emphatically. “I’m suggesting that we go back to playing fair. We can’t continue to manipulate the rules that we helped put in place just because it’s convenient. We’re supposed to be setting an example for the rest of the Council.”

  “But we’re close, Mister President. And if we can buy a little more time, then...”

  “We’re finished here,” exclaims the President in a jovial tone, clapping his hands together. “Thank you all for attending. The General and I are going to continue this discussion in private and we’ll let you know our decision momentarily.”

  Everyone silently gathers their belongings and the room quickly clears.

  The President walks towards The General and sits on the table next to him, loosening his tie and unfastening the top button of his dress shirt. “I have a second term to think about, Doug. You’ve done a fantastic job so far, but we both know how this has to end.”

  The General stands upright, incredulous. “You can’t.”

  “I can, and I have to.” The President shakes his head, his eyes filled with regret. “Ordering troops to open fire in a heavily-populated urban area? You’ve been in this game longer than I have – you knew that was a risk. And you had to know that there would be blowback if it didn’t produce results.”

  “We’re close, Max. Once I capture the last of these terrorists I’ll cut off their drug supply, and there won’t be any more attacks.”

  The President motions to the screen once again, where the news is reporting from the disaster site in Paris; a journalist stands in front of the fissure that swallowed dozens of vehicles, and the surrounding buildings are riddled with bullet holes. “You’re turning the world into a warzone, and we can’t hide it anymore. How am I supposed to sell world peace in the upcoming election when something is blowing up every week?”

  “Everyone knows what you represent, Max. You’re everything the Council stands for; transparency, accountability...” The General remembers only a few years ago when the President signed historic legislation that banned corporations and anonymous billionaires from making unlimited donations to politicians. He recalls Manning’s bold decision to prohibit firearms from public use, including the police, and how so many other countries followed suit. And his most recent triumph, co-signing the treaty that is ushering the world into a post-nuclear age – a treaty that The General was instrumental in creating.

  “The people want transparency,” the President replies, “but there are a lot of politicians who don’t. James Kerrigan is one of them. If he gets into office next year and becomes President, he’ll gut the Council. We can’t keep continuing down this path, and we can’t keep giving the media ammunition to use against us.”

  The General shakes his head slowly, his eyes projecting a ghostly calmness. “So you’ve made your decision then.”

  “You’ve done a fantastic job,” says the President, patting his friend on the shoulder. “I have nothing but admiration for your accomplishments, and all your contributions to my administration. So I’ll give you a week and then you can resign; you can walk out of here with your head held high and your legacy intact.”

  The intercom on the table beeps several times and a call is automatically patched through on the emergency line. “General, we have a security breach in the main lobby,” says a security guard, trying desperately to maintain his composure. “You’d better get down here, sir. You need to see this.”

  The General slaps his hand down on the intercom. “I’m in a meeting with the President, for god’s sake. This can wait.”

  “No,” he continues, “it really can’t.”

  The General rushes into the main lobby of the CIA headquarters; a vast, imposing grey corridor lined with square marble columns.

  A team of security guards – every guard on duty, it seems – surround the iconic sixteen-foot seal that emblazons the floor, with guns drawn. They’re holding a tight perimeter when The General approaches, shoving his way through the crowd to confront the intruder.

  The flowing platinum hair and electric blue eyes give him pause, and he's certainly never seen her dressed in a revealing black tank top, tight fitting pants and leather boots. The last time he saw his daughter she had dark
hair and brown eyes, and he’s fairly certain she was wearing a chocolate-stained t-shirt with cartoon kittens on the front.

  "Danica?" His weathered face creases into a gentle smile; an expression that he’s not even aware he’s making.

  "Hey dad," she replies. "Everyone calls me Dia now."

  To be Concluded in ‘Legacy’ – Vs. Reality Volume 3

  Books by Blake Northcott

  THE VS. REALITY SERIES

  Vs. Reality

  USA / UK / Canada

  Relapse (Vs. Reality Volume Two)

  USA / UK / Canada

  Legacy (Vs. Reality Volume Three)

  USA / UK / Canada

  THE ARENA MODE SAGA

  Arena Mode

  USA / UK / Canada

  Assault or Attrition (Book Two in the Arena Mode Saga)

  USA / UK / Canada

  Final Empire (The Conclusion of the Arena Mode Saga)

  USA / UK / Canada

  NOVELLAS

  The Manticore Ascension

  (A Short Story in the Arena Mode Saga)

  USA / UK / Canada

  About the Author

  Blake Northcott is an author, Twitter-er, and Slayer of Vampires (only the ones that sparkle).

  She enjoys comic books, novels, movies, travel, and the occasional rum & Coke. Turn-offs include Wheel of Fortune and Ke$ha.

  Blake lives just outside of Toronto, Ontario, Canada with her family.

  If you want to know more about Blake, visit her on one of those social media thingies. Or her website ... she has one of those too.

  BlakeNorthcott.com

  facebook.com/BlakeNorthcott

  twitter.com/ComicBookGrrl