“Why aren’t you running around, screaming and killing people?” Tyler asked quietly.
“I don’t know.” Ashley tried to focus on the controller in her hand. Tried not to think. If she didn’t think, she could hold onto this sense of space and fog and distance. It was the only thing keeping her from screaming, but it was like a tightrope under her feet. If she thought too much, she could feel it wobbling. “Why aren’t you?” she echoed.
He nodded. “I’m sorry. About Cam. I know you guys were…actually, I don’t know what you guys were.”
“Friends.”
A trace of his old smirk crossed Tyler’s face. “Yeah. Right. I’m sorry,” he said again, turning serious again.
Ashley tried to swallow, nod. “I am sorry,” she told him. “About Liz and Danny.” Tyler blinked hard and looked away. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything.”
“Yeah, well.” Tyler let out a hard breath and got control of himself. “Join the club.” He took the controller back, and Ashley tucked her legs up, hugging them to her chest. “This Cole guy. He any good?”
“I don’t know. I think so.”
“And he’s going to—” Tyler’s jaw worked. “Get them back.”
“That’s what he said.”
“And you really have no idea where this place is.”
Ashley swallowed. They’d knocked her out, the first time they’d taken her to the facility, and then, after the incident, they’d managed to set up everything with Brody so quickly and she had been so badly injured that she hadn’t been capable of processing where she was, or where she was going. But she’d expected…
“North.” Because it had been cold there, always so cold, and she and Jase had broken through a wall at one point and she remembered the snow on the ground and the big, heavy trees. So north enough to have snow, and trees tall enough to crowd out the sky. Not Antarctica, and probably not Canada. She doubted Cole would have sanctioned crossing into another country. But Alaska. Washington, maybe, or Montana or North Dakota.
“North,” Tyler echoed with a snort.
“They didn’t let us out a lot.” It sounded pathetic. It was pathetic.
Still, his expression softened. “Nah, I guess not. This Cole guy won’t give you a clue?”
“He says he wants to take care of it himself,” Ashley heard herself say. She was only distantly aware that she was trembling. “He says it’s his mess to clean up.”
“And you’re fine with that?”
“No,” Ashley said, “I don’t think so,” and there was that feeling again. The tightrope wobbling underneath her feet. The sense of space stretching out below her. Of a very long fall, waiting.
There was a small, plastic crash from outside, and Meg came charging through the door. Brody met her halfway, took her hands. They kept their voices low, but still there was the sound of someone trying not to cry. It was a particular sound. It was hard not to notice. Tyler muttered obscenities under his breath and glared at the television. Ashley looked at him, saw her hand reach out and settle on his arm. She was pretty sure that was a decision. That she meant to do it. His skin was very warm, and she hadn’t realized until then how cold her fingers were. Tyler didn’t look over, but he paused for a moment and gave her a curt nod.
Ashley latched onto a fresh noise gratefully. “Car,” she gasped, and a few moments later Brody’s perimeter sensors beeped. Brody headed to the front window.
The car was black, with government plates. It parked in front of their home and two men climbed out, the one tall, young, and slim, and the other older, shorter, and still rather slim. They were both neatly dressed in gray suits; the older one was borderline fussy, with a vest as well, and his tie perfectly dimpled. Ashley would have run out, but Brody caught her arm, and by this point she could see that no one else was getting out of the car. She had hoped… She had hoped.
“They’d have taken them to the hospital,” Brody told her. His voice was low. “They’d have called and told us to meet them there. They wouldn’t have come here.”
Of course. Ashley forced herself to breathe in. Out. Of course they would have called.
Meg let out a harsh, unsteady breath and joined Brody at the front windows. “Friends of yours?”
The muscles in Brody’s jaw worked. “For the moment.” He gave Ashley a pointed look and headed out, the screen door thwacking shut behind him.
The younger man flipped a badge out as Brody approached and held it out for him to see, but the older one simply held out his hand. “Lieutenant.”
Brody ignored the outstretched hand. “I don’t see my friends anywhere.”
“No.” Director Cole glanced at the house, and Ashley felt Meg wrap an arm around her shoulders. “May we come inside?”
“No.” Brody crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m trying to decide if you’re as stupid as I think you are, or if it actually did occur to you to check that Proom shut down his little Frankenstein’s laboratory?”
“It did. As per our agreement after the death of Mr. Spencer,” Director Cole said, “the program, including any active data collection, was suspended pending Miss Garrett’s progress. Or lack thereof. However, Dr. Proom was permitted to keep on a small staff on location to continue researching the data they’d already accumulated. We understood, from Proom, that the majority of the facility was shut down and Proom himself relocated to his offices in Seattle.”
“Don’t suppose it occurred to you to keep a damn eye on him in case he was a lying bastard, you fucking idiot—” Brody broke off and raked a hand through his hair.
“It did.”
“Not enough.”
Director Cole drew himself up slightly, but his expression remained poker-player bland. “We are here to ask for your help.”
“Really.” The word was flat and unsurprised.
“Contrary to what you might think, Lieutenant, we had no intention of conduction this operation without you,” Cole continued. “We wished to gather a little information first. As high an opinion as we have of your skills, it never serves any mission to go in blind. For example, it may interest you to know that Proom has hired a few of your old friends. Ones who passed the beta testing.”
“Who?” Brody asked.
“Tier. And Steel. And we understand that Craig has chosen to continue his employment with Dr. Proom.”
“Well, fuck.”
“Yes. Not that it is unexpected. He and Dr. Burke were discreet about their involvement during your group’s time there, but they did not attempt to conceal their relationship. I understand that Dr. Proom has continued his treatment of Dr. Burke, so it is not surprising that Craig chose to stay on. But,” Director Cole continued, “I have full confidence in your abilities. And you will not be going in alone. Agent Phillips will be assisting you.” The director gestured to the young man at his side. Before Brody could say anything, Cole shifted his attention to the house again and added, “And we would like to request Miss Garrett’s assistance as well.”
Ashley heard the screen door thwacking back into place, and realized she’d come out. It was early morning, the first warm yellow just starting to edge out the dark night blue in the sky, and the air was cool and damp and still. Her legs carried her over to where Director Cole turned to face her and held out a hand. “Miss Garrett. I’m not sure if you remember me. We’ve met once or twice.”
“I know who you are,” Ashley said.
He nodded to the younger man with him. “This is my colleague, Agent Phillips.”
Agent Phillips did not hold out his hand. He blinked down at her, his gaze bouncing from her to Director Cole for a long moment. “She’s very young,” the agent remarked, and it wasn’t clear who exactly he was saying it to.
“Her age is listed in her file,” Brody said.
“Yes. Yes,” Agent Phillips repeated. “But she’s…very young,” he added lamely, and then shot a look at the director. “Perhaps it would be better—considering her age—to let Miss Garrett stay here. It
could be dangerous, surely we don’t need—”
“Her choice.” Brody turned to Ashley, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You can still back out, Ash. Wouldn’t hold it against you and, hell, I wouldn’t blame you either.”
“No,” Ashley said.
Brody tilted her face up so she was looking him in the eye. “You sure?”
“Yes,” she said, and ignored the rocky edge of fear that threatened to yank the tightrope out from under her.
Brody gave her a searching look, his eyes sharp and focused. “Remember what I told you? You’re not doing this alone.”
Ashley nodded.
“I’ll get my things,” Brody said, but Meg was already out the door, one of Brody’s black totes swinging from a fist, sledgehammer propped on her shoulder. Tyler stumbled down the steps after her, straining to drag the other tote bag after him. “All right.” Meg tossed the tote bag at Brody’s feet. Her eyes were still swimming, but she managed a nod. “Let’s do this.”
Ashley heard herself say, “Meg—” She wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but Brody saved her the trouble.
“The hell you are,” he bit off.
“The hell I’m not,” Meg shot back.
“We went over this,” Brody said.
“And you were full of shit then, too,” Meg finished. “But I let you get away with it. Not again. He is my boy—”
“And I swear—Meg, I swear to you I will get him back. But you are staying here.”
Meg swung her sledgehammer down to heft it in both hands, her grip tightening until the knuckles went white. “I am not. Last time you left, you came back without Cam—I am not going through that again. I am going with you, and that is an order, soldier.”
Brody snatched up his tote, glaring at Meg with a look that could’ve melted steel. She didn’t blink. “Go to hell, Meg,” he snarled.
“Brody—”
“Meg.” Brody hesitated. “We’re not doing nothing.” He swung a bag up on his shoulder. “Trust me.”
“I do trust you. I don’t trust him. I’ve heard the two of you talking. I don’t trust what he’s doing to—” Meg couldn’t continue. Brody went to her, pulling her in close, and Ashley had to turn away from the sight, from the sound, from the thing that Meg had voiced that Ashley couldn’t, wouldn’t let herself face.
“I’ll make arrangements,” Director Cole said after a moment, holding the back door of his sleek black car open. “We’ll have transportation waiting for us.”
“No.” Meg shook her head and pulled herself back. “I’ll give them a ride. I can at least give you a ride.”
Brody took Meg’s elbow, and they shared a look. “We’ll follow you,” he told the director.
“It will be a restricted airfield,” Director Cole said, then, continuing smoothly after a glance at Brody’s expression, “but I am certain we can arrange something.” He nodded to Ashley. “Miss Garrett.”
The doors on the black car swatted shut as Meg and Brody headed for her Jeep. Ashley looked at the sun, which was well and truly up now, and felt the warmth of it on her skin.
“Ash.” She turned to look at Tyler. “Here.” He kicked at the other black tote at his feet. “What the hell’s in there? The thing’s fucking—heavy,” he finished as Ashley swung it easily up onto her shoulder.
“I don’t know.” She’d never needed actual weapons before. Her hands had been enough.
“Well, you want to use it all on that guy, consider this the green fucking light, okay?”
“Okay,” Ashley said.
She would have turned to the Jeep, but Tyler called her back. “Not just Cam,” he said. “You have to promise me that. Danny and Liz are there, too. You can’t just think about Cam, you have to think about them, too. Promise. You get everyone back.”
“I’ll get everyone back,” she said. And felt the warmth in the words spread along her skin.
Tyler nodded. He stayed, standing on the sidewalk, watching as Ashley headed to Meg’s car and swung herself in. Watching as Meg gunned the engine and they peeled away.
Ch. 24
Cam had lost count of the CAT scans. To be fair, he’d never actually started counting, and he was reasonably certain it was somewhere around ten. It had been enough that he could find the room on his own if needed. He wondered if that happened, if they were able to wear a subject down enough that they’d feel safe letting him trot back and forth on his own, like a good dog.
He doubted it. He’d seen Ian shuffling along, as near a zombie as it could get, and he still had guards. Big guy that he was, even zombie Ian was intimidating.
Cam thought, once, when the guards weren’t looking, that Ian had caught his eye, and winked. But it was fast, and Cam couldn’t be sure it actually happened, because by the time he turned to look, Ian was shuffling on. Maybe he wanted to have seen it. Maybe he wanted it to be real, because he didn’t want to think about what this place could do to someone to turn them into that.
He never saw Danny or Liz. But he did see one or two others—a skeletal-looking boy about his age and a girl several years younger who was generally ushered out of the CAT scan room as Cam was ushered in.
They took Cam to the CAT scan room every—well, often. Very often, it felt like, but there was no way to tell in this white box. The lights were never dimmed. There were no clocks. Food came through the slot in the door every so often, though it wasn’t anything that could be identified as breakfast, lunch, or dinner. He’d fallen asleep a couple of times, but never, it felt like, for long.
Twice now they’d had to take him to the Medlab for bandages. He tried to fight back when they came for him, and so far it hadn’t worked out well. So far, the only thing he’d managed to do was give himself a black eye and a split lip, and it was deeply and profoundly embarrassing that he was still uncoordinated and shaky enough that he had done these things to himself. The guards were quite capable of getting Cam to go where they wanted without having to hurt him. The fact that they’d looked bored while defending themselves only made it worse. Anger and shame and hate churned a red-hot spiky ball in his gut. He hated that he couldn’t fight back. That it didn’t matter if he did. That for him it was his life, and for everyone else it was simply 9-to-5. He wanted to hurt them, wanted it sometimes more than he wanted to get away, and the black seething need of it turned his mouth bitter.
Cam stared at the ceiling, willing the bitter taste out of his mouth. Ashley had gone through this. For years. He wanted to rip through the walls after only a few days—a lot less than that. He’d known it was awful, had to guess at exactly how awful, from what little she said. But living it now, knowing, cut deeper than his hate.
Cam thought of Ashley a lot. It hurt, in a way. But in a different way, and it was a hurt he could live with. It was a comforting hurt. Much easier than thinking about Meg or Naomi or the way the white walls seemed to warp in towards him out of the corner of his eye. She would find him. She’d come for him and she would find him. It had become his mantra to live by, the drumbeat inside his chest that kept him on his feet when he wanted to crawl. He knew she would come because they were friends and he was—important to her. A different important than Danny or Liz or Ian—and further than that he couldn’t think.
The lock clunked back in the door, and there was a split second of hope, but it was only the guards. Cam managed to hook both his feet around the leg of the cot, which bought him a couple moments, and he tried going slack in the hall, but they simply dragged him along like a petulant child. Last time they’d simply thrown Cam over their shoulders like a sack of potatoes, but that had been a mistake because that had put Cam at hair-and-eye level. Cam had still been the loser in that scenario, but one of the guards had a wonderfully comforting bald spot on the back of his head.
They didn’t take the turn to the CAT scan room. Maybe they’d grown tired of him refusing to play with the future so they could map what part of his brain lit up. This time they took him to the Medlab.
Th
ere were restraints on the gurney—more like handcuffs, really, but to be fair there were restraints on everything here. On a tray by the gurney were several needles, sealed in protective wrapping, and a row of small bottles with neatly printed labels in electronic type. The bottles were new. They meant something more than just tests and blood samples. Cam looked around desperately for something he could grab. The gurney was secured to the floor—the tray, the needles? There wasn’t anything he could use to defend himself. He tried to kick out at the tray of needles, but the security team easily caught him off guard and he fumbled and missed and crashed hard to his knees.
“Ah, Two-Thirteen. Thank you, gentleman.” Proom nodded cheerfully to the guards as they hauled a twisting, kicking Cam towards the gurney. “Still full of vim and vigor, I see.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
“You’ll be very happy to know that we’ve finished the preliminaries. And we all know what that means. This is one of our most exciting times.” Proom was humming to himself as he flipped through his tablet. “You’ve been doing very well, and we’re all very impressed with your ability. But it does seem as though you are not living up to your potential. Our tests have given us reason to believe that you’ve quite a bit of resources you have yet to tap. You’ve been holding out on us.” He wagged a finger at Cam, but his eyes were twinkling. “But—we are going to see what we can do about that. Amplify your signal, as it were.”
“I don’t want to amplify anything,” Cam spat out.
“Of course you do. Everyone wants to know just how far they can go.” Proom nodded to Craig and his friend, who lifted Cam bodily and hefted him onto the gurney. “Think of it this way: Right now you have basic cable. We’re going to upgrade you to satellite, with a free weekend of HBO. And perhaps Showtime, if we’re lucky. Relax, it’s just a little experiment. We are reasonably sure the effects will be temporary. A few days at most.”
“I don’t want satellite.” Cam fought even as the metal restraints bit into his wrists. “I like basic. I have worked long and hard to get basic. I have basic for a reason. I can only have so much in my head at one time.”
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