The Commandment

by Kittrell, Anna;

  What if he was too late? His throat clogged, making it hard to swallow. He wished he had something to hold onto at this moment—hope, faith—whatever it was that Briar held to so easily. Maybe he needed God.

  “And maybe you just need to man-up,” he exhaled in a whisper.

  “Good afternoon, passengers. This is your pilot.”

  Lukas jumped at the sound of the intercom.

  “We would like to welcome you to Idaho. We have begun our descent to Mandrell Memorial Airport, where the current weather is mild and sixty-two degrees. At this time, please return your seats to the upright position, buckle your seatbelts, and turn off all electronic devices. We will be landing shortly. Thank you for flying with us today.”

  Layover. And he was less than halfway to Montana.

  His stomach cartwheeled as the nose of the plane lowered, causing his seat to lean slightly forward. He ran a hand nervously over his chin, dully aware of his stubble. He didn’t have his shaving kit—or anything else. With luck, he could pick up a razor and a few other toiletries at the airport. Caster wouldn’t be caught dead with five o’clock shadow.

  ~*~

  “Lunch?” Briar threw her legs over the side of the cot. She’d been asleep since right after breakfast.

  “Yes, lunch,” the stone-faced orderly repeated from the doorway. “Make your way to the dining hall.”

  Briar rubbed her eyes, sticky from crying herself to sleep, and slid from the bed. She glanced at Harper’s cot, a fresh wash of tears overtaking her. “What did they do to her?” she asked, turning to find the orderly gone.

  She stepped through the doorway, the drape reappearing behind her. It seemed she’d just left the dining hall. It wasn’t as if she could eat, anyway. Not without Harper there to tell her which foods were safe. She shivered. After being subjected to Satan’s pitchwoman at breakfast, the dining hall was the last place she wanted to be.

  At the end of the long hallway, Briar paused before turning the corner. Light shone through the normally dark windows of an enclosed space labeled The Meeting Room. Muffled voices trailed from inside. What was going on in there?

  She glanced around. Behind her, women wordlessly continued their march to the dining hall. She knelt and waited, pretending to have an issue with her slipper, and then popped up when the hall cleared. Cupping her eyes, she pressed her nose against the window. Through a thin gap between old-fashioned lace curtains, she made out a couch, recliner draped with a knitted afghan, and coffee table. A large orange cat curled on a braided rug next to a stone hearth. She imagined the space smelled of lilacs and fresh baked cookies.

  Her heart squeezed. She could almost picture Granna Grace sitting in the cherry wood rocking chair beside the fireplace. The room looked like home. But no, that wasn’t right. It looked nothing like her home. It looked the way home felt. Inside. Within the soul. The sensation was hard to explain.

  From nowhere, a man entered the room carrying a camera and microphone stand, spoiling the ambiance. Another man placed a lamp and large umbrella beside the loveseat. Suddenly, everything in the room dematerialized. The furniture, fireplace, even the cat vanished. The lace curtains disappeared, prompting Briar to duck to the side and peek around the edge of the window. A man dragged two folding chairs to the center of the empty space and clicked a remote, filling the room with entirely different decor. The area took on a lavish feel as upscale furnishings emerged atop a marble floor and expensive looking paintings materialized on the walls. The folding chairs became a sleek, white leather sofa.

  Vanessa, minus the pot of gold jacket, appeared with an expressionless young woman in tow, and directed her to the computer-generated couch. Briar recognized the girl as one of the stone-faced orderlies, wearing a blue dress in place of the black smock. A fiftyish, motherly woman Briar had seen wiping the dining hall tables sat down beside the orderly.

  Briar squinted through the sliver of windowpane, confused by what she saw. Nothing added up…then, suddenly, it did. What she was seeing made perfect sense. The women were role playing, pretending to be mother and daughter. She was witnessing a farce. A charade. One of the infamous, staged reunions her mother and Harper warned her of. A cruel device used to exploit families of ARC residents who waited, indefinitely, for their own reunion to take place.

  She turned from the window, despair filling her stomach like hot rocks. She would never leave this place. Never see her mother again. She’d be as gone as her father, without the luxury of scrawling a soap message across the bathroom mirror.

  Would Lukas even care?

  The stocky attendant with spikey hair lumbered up the hallway. “Keep moving,” she barked, skittering Briar around the corner to the dining hall entrance.

  Food smells mingled with the scent of chemicals as she stepped into the crowded room. She made her way toward the purple section, her gaze combing the area for an empty chair.

  Abruptly, she stopped, the breath knocked from her body by an invisible wall. In front of her stood the familiar woman with the dark eyes. Charcoal eyes.

  Kate Stone.

  Realization hit Briar, strong and sure as the stench of bleach in the dining hall air. Kate never had cancer, nor had she ever checked into a cancer treatment hospital. She’d resided within the cancerous walls of the ARC all along. A prisoner abducted and held against her will, same as Briar. And Caster was undoubtedly behind it all.

  The woman readjusted her tray of food and snaked through the crowd, headed toward the blue section. Heart thundering, Briar followed close behind. She had to talk to her, let her know Gatlin was OK.

  “The purple section is over there.” A black-smocked orderly pointed Briar in the opposite direction. “Move along.”

  She nodded, keeping her gaze on Kate—so close she could reach out and touch her. But not for long. The blue table was just steps away. Briar faked a yelp and lunged, driving her body into Kate’s, propelling the woman and her tray of food to the floor.

  “I’m so sorry!” she cried, kneeling beside the woman. “I tripped. Are you all right?”

  “I’m OK,” she answered, blinking those unmistakable eyes.

  No doubt about it, the woman she’d tackled was Gatlin’s mother.

  Briar picked up the scattered silverware. “Kate,” she whispered, keeping her head near the woman’s. “You don’t know me, but I know who you are, and I know your little boy. Gatlin is safe.”

  The woman’s eyes widened, then misted with tears.

  “He remembers you. He carries your picture in his pocket.”

  “Get up.” The attendant clamped a hand above Briar’s elbow and yanked her to her feet. “Next time watch where you’re going. You could hurt someone.”

  Briar glanced over her shoulder as the orderly ushered her roughly to the purple section.

  “Thank you,” Kate mouthed from the food strewn floor. She covered her face with her hands.

  25

  Lukas reached for the cup of coffee and thanked the ponytailed cashier who eyed his trembling hands. Did she know?

  Know what? That the thought of boarding another plane turned his guts inside out? That, at this very moment, he was impersonating his older brother, whom he’d drugged, restrained, and abandoned five hundred miles away at a scientific lab? Of course, that part sounded worse than it actually was. Caster deserved every bit of it—plus an unfeasible amount more. And Lukas would be around to make sure his brother got what was coming to him. That’s what he’d continue to tell himself, anyway. It kept him going.

  Focusing to put one foot in front of the other, walking in what he hoped passed for a natural gait, he returned to the seat in his airline’s section of the airport. He shifted in the chair, pulled Caster’s wallet from his back pocket, and removed the cards from the slots. Grimacing at the cold glare of his brother’s driver’s license picture, he sifted through the cards.

  What would happen when Caster woke? Had Derby taken Gatlin to a safe place far from the lab, as Lukas had asked? When it
came down to it, could he really trust Derby, after all he’d done? Lukas sighed. He had to trust Derby. There was no other choice.

  He glanced at the wall clock. Reid would be at the ARC by now. The thought stood his neck hairs on end. His plan to reach the ARC as fast as possible was in motion—after that, his strategy screeched to a halt. He had no idea what to do once he got there. He knew he had to stop Reid from injecting Briar with the abstergent. But he didn’t know how.

  Slowly, he examined the cards, stopping to retrieve one he’d accidentally dropped. A black business card emblazoned with the metallic bronze profile of a roaring lion. “Maxwell Brown,” Lukas read. “Alternative Research Center, Director of Operations.” In Lukas’s head, a thousand bells sounded. Caster’s inside man, according to Derby. The guy who would make sure Briar never left the ARC. He had to talk to this weasel.

  He slid Caster’s flattened cuffphone from his pocket and dialed Maxwell Brown’s office number. How well did Caster know the man—did he call him Max? Maxwell? Mr. Brown?

  Voicemail.

  “Hello, Mr. Brown.” He decided on the formal, as the guy’s recorded greeting sounded no nonsense. “This is Caster Stone of Stone Labs. It is imperative I speak with you.”

  Lukas paused, formulating what he would say next. He wished the guy would pick up.

  “This is Max. Go ahead, Caster.”

  Relieved, Lukas cleared his throat and mimicked his brother’s voice. “Max. There’s been a sudden turn of events. Under no circumstances, is Reid Laughlin to enter the ARC.”

  “What are you trying to pull, Stone?” It sounded as though Max’s teeth were clenched. “I put my neck in a noose for you by altering your wife’s SAP readings to have her institutionalized—and this is how you compensate me? For months I’ve risked my career, trusting you’d keep your end of the bargain. The OLG would have me locked up because of the things I’ve done for you. Lining your pockets with ARC funding. Kidnapping your brother’s test subject for who knows what reason. All for what? Bad deals and broken promises? That doesn’t work for me. The plan—a plan you called to arrange—was for Reid Laughlin to deliver the abstergent. You can bet your designer haircut I’m letting her in.”

  Lukas couldn’t believe it. What Derby said was true—Kate was still alive. Caster planned to sell the abstergent to Brown to keep her in the ARC.

  “If Reid enters your facility—specifically, if she comes near Briar Lee—all agreements are off.”

  “You won’t get another cent until I get the abstergent.”

  “I don’t care about the money.”

  Max laughed. “Are you sure you’re Caster Stone? If I wasn’t staring at your number on the screen, I wouldn’t believe it.”

  Lukas swallowed hard. “I’m on my way. Detain Reid until I arrive or watch me pour your millionaire dreams down the drain.”

  Lukas ended the call. He pressed his brother’s phone between his palms and rested his chin on top. Reflected in the airport’s plate glass window, he appeared to be praying.

  ~*~

  Briar pushed away her untouched food, and widened her eyes at her glowing tattoo. On the back of her hand, the bronze lion blazed like the sun.

  Other women in her section glanced down at their hands, along with several orderlies scattered throughout the dining hall. Whatever was going on, the pit of her stomach didn’t like it.

  “Come with me, please.” Cleo smiled at Briar and offered her hand. “It’s time for therapy.”

  Harper’s twisted scars flashed through her brain. “Please. I don’t want to go.” She couldn’t hold her voice steady.

  “Honey, don’t be afraid.” Cleo smiled, though lines creased her brow. “It’s nothing to worry about. It’ll be over before you know it.” She helped Briar to her feet.

  Heart climbing to her throat, Briar walked with Cleo to the hallway where they joined five other women and their escorts. Together, they strode to the laboratory wing, and into a white, sterile looking room with six chairs.

  “Please be seated,” Cleo said, patting Briar on the back.

  When all six women were seated, a lab technician with a handheld wand scanned each of their fleshcards, while another drew and labeled their blood, carefully setting each vial into a compartmentalized tray.

  “Thank you, ladies. Please follow your escort to an individual examination room and wait for your therapist to arrive.”

  “Here we are,” Cleo said. With her tattoo, she dissolved the iridescent drape, revealing a purple exam room. “I’ll be right out here if you need anything.” She patted Briar’s shoulder and gently nudged her inside.

  The drape rematerialized, along with Briar’s fear. If she could only see Cleo, she wouldn’t be as frightened. Right away the curtain flickered, filling her with relief. She smiled. Cleo was letting her know she was still there.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Lee.”

  Beneath her skin, Briar’s muscles jumped. The smile slid from her face as the drape disappeared.

  Reid stepped through the opening, medical case in one manicured hand. An identification card hung from her neck.

  “Cleo!” Briar yelled.

  Cleo stepped in. “Miss Briar would be more comfortable if I stayed.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Reid thumped her case to the countertop.

  “Don’t leave me alone with her. She’s insane.”

  Reid raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the one confined to a facility.” She tapped a few times on the medical kit’s keypad, solving the combination. The case popped open. She cut her gaze to Cleo.

  “Braids, if you insist on being here, hold her still.”

  Cleo jammed a hand to her hip. “Braids?” She glanced at Briar.

  “Show me your credentials.”

  Reid rolled her eyes and lifted her badge.

  Cleo scrutinized the card.

  Reid snatched it back. “It’s legit. Question me and I’ll complain to your supervisor.”

  “Don’t believe her, Cleo. She’s lying.”

  Reid stretched on a pair of gloves, filled one syringe, and then another.

  Cleo turned her gaze to the open case on the counter, her eyes bulging as she spied the cranial drill. “Lady, if you think you’re going to touch my girl with that thing, you’ve got another thing coming.” She stepped in front of Briar.

  “Then I suggest you find some other place to be.” Reid’s heels clicked the tile as she stepped toward Cleo.

  “I’m calling security.”

  Reid lunged as Cleo turned toward the drape.

  Briar caught hold of Cleo as her legs melted out from under her.

  “What did you do?” Briar screamed, cradling Cleo’s head on the floor. A bomb detonated behind her eyes. “You’re a monster,” she yelled, rising to her feet. Like a machine, she marched forward, chopping the air as Reid backed away, blocking with her arms.

  “Relax.” Reid held up a syringe. “It’s a sedative. It’ll wear off.” Reid’s pink lips twisted into a sarcastic smirk. “Braids will be just fine.”

  Briar drew her fingers into a fist and punched, hoping to make Reid’s surgically fattened lips even fatter.

  Quick as a snake’s strike, Reid grabbed Briar’s wrist. “Gotcha!” She smiled and backed away, letting Briar’s wrist drop.

  Briar winced. Something was pinching her. Her gaze swam to the syringe jutting from her arm.

  The purple room swirled to black.

  26

  “I agree, you probably are exactly who you say you are. But that’s not the point. The point is, you don’t have clearance to enter the ARC. Therefore, if I let you in, I lose my job.” The man shook his head. “It’s out of my hands.”

  Lukas glanced away from the security booth’s barred window and squinted at the iron gates in the distance. The place was a fortress.

  “I’m sorry to keep repeating myself, but it’s very important I gain entrance to the facility. You say Mr. Brown never called to inform you I was coming, but wh
at’s hindering you from calling him? A little inconvenient, perhaps, but I’m being a little inconvenient as well—correct? And I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stand right here, continuing to be inconvenient, until you reach my friend, Max Brown.”

  The man flared his nostrils and knocked his fingertips against the screen that encircled his forearm.

  Lukas enjoyed watching the irritated tick in the man’s jaw, and was a tad ashamed of himself. But being an annoying jerk was actually kind of interesting when he was flashing someone else’s I.D. And since his brother was, indeed, an annoying jerk, Lukas was simply keeping it real by playing the part.

  “Maxwell Brown,” a man’s curt voice sounded from the guard’s cuffphone.

  The guard uncurled the device from his arm and snapped it flat. Glaring at Lukas, he placed it against his ear. “Mr. Brown, this is Samuel Dupree at the security booth. There’s a—” He stopped to read the identification card Lukas had given to him. “Caster Stone requesting admittance. Says he spoke with you by phone earlier.”

  The guy frowned. “A picture? Yes, sir.”

  Lukas held his breath. Max wanted the guard to text a photograph. Could he pass for Caster in full sunlight?

  The guard took the phone from his ear and snapped a picture of Caster’s I.D. “Sent the photo to you just now, sir.”

  Lukas exhaled, relief washing through him.

  Finally, the guard spoke into the phone. “Right away, sir. Thank you.”

  Lukas grinned, anxious to hear Samuel Dupree’s affirmative verdict.

  Instead, the guard made another call. “Joe. Bring the car. A guy at the booth needs a ride in.” He tossed an irritated look at Lukas. “He’s clear. Got the word straight from Brown.”

  ~*~

  “Special?” Briar mumbled. Someone had glued her eyelids together. She didn’t really mind. She could use the rest—if not for that annoying nibble at the edge of her brain telling her to wake up, that something wasn’t right.