The sound died as abruptly as it began, and Ashley did scream then, a river of pain made sound, the release almost as brutal as the onslaught. “Just a little something I’ve been working on, with the help of Two-Oh-Nine—your friend with the wonderful talent for manipulating sound vibrations. I thought, well, it can’t hurt to have a few safeguards in place, and you do have such sensitive hearing, One-Eleven. I know you do,” Proom added. “I made you.”
Ashley sucked in air in a desperate, aching gasp. She was on the ground. She could feel the snow and the cold, the rocks biting into her.
“Now be a good girl and don’t get up. If you try to…well, there’s always this.” He waved the key fob. “However, I am well aware of how persistent you can be, so I also brought along something a little more troublesome.” He pulled a gun out of his jacket. “It’s real,” Proom assured her. She knew it was. She could smell it. “I understand you do still have some difficulty with real bullets.”
She did. And it still wouldn’t stop her. Ashley tried to wrench herself off the ground.
Then there was Brody, charging through the trees, knocking Proom back. There was the sharp snap of gunfire, and the scent of blood blossomed in the air. Ashley heaved herself up, screaming Brody’s name, as he stumbled forward. He grabbed for Proom, but his one arm was already slick with blood, and the doctor twisted away and ran. Brody would have run after him, but Ashley hauled him to a stop. “Brody, stop—you’re shot.”
“He’s getting away.” Brody tried to push past her, but she forced him to sit, lean back against the car. “You’re okay.”
“Yes.” Ashley pressed down, blood seeping over her hands, red and warm. Brody was wearing a vest, but Proom hadn’t aimed all of his bullets at his chest.
“You’re okay, Ash—you’re okay,” Brody kept repeating, running his hands over her hair, her shoulders. “Heard you screaming.”
“I’m fine. You’re shot. He shot you,” Ashley told him. Bandages. They had to have brought bandages. They brought every other thing in the goddamn world, they had to have brought fucking bandages.
Brody shook his head. “I’m fine. Get me on my feet.”
“No.”
“Proom’s getting away. Ashley.” She looked up at him. “Point-seven percent chance he’ll stop.”
She nodded. She knew it. Ashley pushed herself to her feet. “Stay here.”
Proom hadn’t gotten very far. He didn’t seem to have anywhere to go. He was simply running, and she was so much better at running. He must have heard her coming, because he turned, arm flailing out, and the sound barreled at her. It was like running point blank into a wall.
Oh god, oh god—
But she could smell Brody’s blood on him. On her. And the sickly smell of the gas, still clinging to his clothes. He tried to wipe them away, like they were nothing. They were nothing to him. She’d been so afraid of him. She’d thought she was so stupid for being so afraid, but she’d been right. She should’ve been afraid. He didn’t think about people as if they were people. He really didn’t care.
Her fingers clawed into the dirt, and she pushed herself off the ground, past the sheer flat hammer of pain. Her arm flashed out to snatch the fob out of his hand, and then the only sound was the crunch.
“Walk,” she said, “or I’ll drag you.”
Proom tried to run. Then he tried to fight. And, when she got ahold of one of his ankles and started dragging, he did his best to kick her off, and when that didn’t work, he clawed at the ground. Ashley remembered doing that herself once, frantic and desperate, her fingers biting into the frozen earth. It hadn’t worked out for her then, either.
Brody was on his feet by the time she got back. He did have bandages, and he’d done what he could with them. He smiled at her, and let her drag Proom back on her own.
It didn’t take long to find the others, huddled outside the facility in spite of the fact that the cold had turned savage. She heard the whump whump whump of helicopter blades in the distance. Ashley shielded her eyes and tried to peer up through the snow, and the dark, heavy trees. The clouds overhead were thick and close, like someone had stuffed the sky with cotton wool.
She saw Cam. A blanket flapping around his shoulders in the wind, watching her, even through that damn blindfold. She let go of Proom, and went to him. Cam tried to head towards her, but he barreled into someone, and stumbled. But she was there, catching him. He sagged into her arms. “Ashley.”
“Sorry I took so long,” she said.
“Don’t go. Please. Don’t go again.”
“I won’t.”
“Stay. Please. Promise.”
“I promise.”
“I can’t—” He pulled their hands to his head, clawing at it. “Getting harder,” he choked. “Too much. I can’t—think. With you—I can think, with you. Don’t go. Don’t go again.”
“I won’t,” Ashley said, trying to sound calm. She didn’t feel calm, not now. The comfort in seeing him sapped when she saw him like this. “I won’t go, I promise.”
“I can think. Of you. It clears. I can see you.”
“Good. Focus on me. Watch me, tell me what’s going to happen.”
He tried a smile. “You and I.”
“Yes,” she said, smiling, even though her voice was shaky.
A man in a medic’s jacket had already gone to Brody and was trying to examine Brody’s arm. Brody shrugged him away. “You okay?” he asked her.
She smiled at him over Cam’s shoulder. “I’ve had worse.”
“Good.” Brody rubbed his hands together and turned to Proom. “Well, look who we’ve got here,” Brody said, with something as close to glee as Ashley’d ever seen. He smirked down at Proom. “Not looking too good there, slugger.”
Proom tried to get to his feet, to run, and groaned when Brody pinned him, putting his foot on Proom’s knee and leaning in. “Could you possibly enjoy this a little less?” he muttered.
Brody was grinning now. “Nope.”
“You got everyone?” Ashley asked Brody. She knew the answer, but she needed to hear him say it. “Steel said there were four more kids.”
“Phillips got two of them out,” Brody said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, to where Agent Phillips was tending to a few huddled kids. “They’re not in great shape. Not just from the gas. We’re going to need to get everyone to a hospital, soon.” There was a thrum of the helicopter blades, on top of them now. “That should be Cole. He’s going to want a few words with you,” he told Proom.
“How long do we have?” Ashley asked.
Brody looked at her. “As long as you need.”
She looked at the facility. “Got a match?”
“What? You can’t!” Proom exclaimed, pushing himself up as far as he could. “All of our research, all of the progress we’ve made—”
“You fuck—” one of the kids began.
“Oh, I know, I know—some of you were inconvenienced.” Proom waved a hand. “But the things we’ve discovered, the leaps we’ve made—”
“Inconvenienced,” Ashley said. She felt Cam’s hands tighten on her arm. “You kidnapped people, you cut them open.”
“Of course I did,” Proom said, as if explaining it to a child. “How else was I going to find out what was going on in there?”
“You took Liz,” Ashley snarled. “You took Danny, you took Cam!”
“To be fair, it’s not like they were doing anything with their abilities,” Proom said, holding up his hands. “Except for Two-Eleven—I admit, I made a mistake there—”
“Her name is Liz!” Ashley screamed. “Liz and Danny and Ian and Cam! And me—what’s my name?”
Proom half-laughed, surprised. “What?”
“My name. Jase’s name. Do you remember that? Do you remember any of their names?” She did. She remembered all of them, whether she wanted to or not. He’d given that to her.
“Of course I know their names,” Proom said, looking shocked. “Our records on them are ex
tensive. Their scientific contributions were invaluable— ”
He got no further because Ashley broke free of Cam’s grip and hauled Proom up off the ground with her hands around his throat.
She heard Cam behind her, as if she were underwater. Proom’s skin was going red under her fingers.
It would be so easy. Just a little pressure in the right place and he would stop. It would end. Because it wouldn’t end on its own, not unless she ended it. He would keep on going. He was taking people, like they were things, like it didn’t matter, like it was his right. He wouldn’t stop unless someone stopped him. She could. It would be very easy.
Her hands were shaking.
If she let him go, he’d keep doing it. He’d find a way. She knew he would.
Stop him. Stop him now. This was what they wanted, wasn’t it? They’d wanted to make her someone that could do this. This was what they’d made her. She’d done this before. She could do it again. She couldn’t see through the tears.
Cam said her name, quietly.
She flung Proom away. He crashed to the ground and lay still. Ashley clenched her hands into fists to keep from going after him again. “He took you.”
“Yes,” Cam said.
“He hurt you.”
“Yes.”
She turned on Cam savagely. “He won’t stop. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him for what he did to you. Please, tell me it’s okay, and I’ll kill him.”
“I can’t—” Cam told her, and his voice was almost a sob. “It’s not. It’s not okay. You don’t need me to tell you it’s not okay.”
Ashley squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers clawing into his shirt. “He doesn’t deserve to live.”
Cam pulled her closer, and she leaned into him. “Please. Please, don’t you be the one to kill him.”
She looked at Brody. She knew that expression. He was leaving it up to her. Ashley let out a hard breath, and forced herself to turn her back on Proom.
Liz said, “Ashley.”
Ashley shook her head.
“What are you doing?” It was one of the new boys, his voice reverberating with shock. “Why did you stop, why didn’t you kill him?”
“I’m not going to kill him,” Ashley said.
“I’ll do it. I’ll do it if you’re too scared,” another one said, jabbing an angry finger at her.
“We are not going to kill him,” Ashley said.
“Do you know what they did to us?” he shot at her.
Ashley looked him over. His face was raw and ragged, and a railwork of fresh scars stood out on skin that looked like it was pulled too tight. He looked like he was more bones than boy.
“Yes,” Ashley said.
She felt Brody’s hand settle on her shoulder, heard the murmur of, “That’s my girl.”
“I’m still going to need a match,” she said.
Brody tossed her a book.
Ashley looked down at her hands, wound with Cam’s, his fingers clenched so tight the skin on the knuckles had begun to crack and bleed. “We won’t be long.”
It was strange, walking through main entrance, into the shadowed reception area, and remembering the lights, bright and light and glaring. Strange to hear only their footsteps, when there had always been the quiet hum of machines in the background. Proom cared too much for this place, and his machines, to let the rooms go stale and dusty, but they hadn’t been used for a while.
“You all right?” she asked Cam.
He nodded, once, forcefully, the muscles standing out on his neck. Ashley combed a hand through his hair before she could stop herself, but it made his shoulders relax. “Closet,” he said.
Ashley looked over, saw it tucked into a corner. The door was locked, but it came off its hinges easily enough. There were neatly stacked rows of cleaning supplies; far too many of the bottles were marked organic and non-flammable, but she found enough with the little flame warning symbol. She loaded a number into Cam’s arms, and took the rest herself. They went from one end of the floor to the other, unscrewing the caps off the bottles one at a time, glugging the chemicals out along the tiles. The smell was painful and almost overpowering; Ashley decided she liked it.
It took a few tries for a match to catch. When it did, she touched the match to the box so that the whole thing flared up in her hand, then dropped it. The flame crawled along the small trail of accelerant she’d left; Ashley took Cam’s hand and turned her back. They left as it slipped further inside the building, and joined the others who were standing in the snow a safe distance away, watching, and waiting.
“Feel better?” Brody asked when they returned.
“No,” Ashley said. “But it’s a start.” She eyed the facility. Several of the windows were broken, and one or two were leaking smoke, but mostly it just dark and quiet. “Ian. I don’t suppose—” She glanced at the trees around them, judging distance. “You could give me a moat?”
“For you, Ash?” He scooped her up and smacked an enthusiastic kiss on her cheek. “Anything.”
“Can you do a moat?” Danny asked.
“One way to find out.” Ian cracked his knuckles.
It built slow. There was a rumble, or rather the sense of one, a feeling more than a sound. The earth rocked gently underfoot, like the swell of a wave. The pavement around the facility trembled, vibrated. Blurred.
Then cracked. Separated. A broken seam arced a jagged circle around the facility, the edges pushing up, chunks of broken concrete piling up under each other, blocking off the building.
The vibrations died away, and Ian leaned over, hands on his knees, breathing deep. “How’s that?” he asked. He was sweating and his breathing was labored.
“That’s cool,” Danny said. “And new.”
“Yeah,” Ian agreed, and for once he didn’t sound like he was having fun. “One sec, I think I’m going to puke.”
For several long minutes it was quiet. And then there were crackles, and smoke, and flickers crawling up the windows, floor by floor—and then suddenly the flames were everywhere. Ashley could feel their warmth.
She saw Liz take Danny’s hand, and several of the other kids gather close, together, to watch. One girl was sobbing openly.
Then Ian cheered. There were tears streaking down his face, but he punched his arms in the air and cheered and picked up Danny and Liz and spun them around and around until they were all laughing. Then he set them down and, still cheering, wove his way through the crowd, slapping high-fives and threw his arms around Brody, hefting him up off the ground in a bear hug. “I love you guys! Brody? I fucking love you, Brody—” Ian staggered and dropped hard on his ass into the snow. His breathing was raspy, and he had to take a moment to swallow a couple times. “Give me your phone,” he gasped, grinning. “I got to call the girls!”
Brody tossed Ian his phone. Then he glanced at Proom, who was slumped off to the side, hands and legs tied, still unconscious. “Want to wake him up for this?” Brody asked.
Ashley shook her head. “This isn’t for him.”
She looked around, at the trees, and the stretch of ground, dulled with frost. She remembered exactly how hard it was, and the crunch of old snow underfoot, and the way the cold bit into her bare feet. She looked up, and she could see now the arctic grey clouds of the sky and, farther in the distance, looming up past them, the mountains.
Cam wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they watched the building burn.
Ch. 30
A dream. That’s what it felt like, the world soft and white, and Cam floated numbly along.
Step up someone told him, and he stepped, and knew it wasn’t a dream when he felt the cold bar under his bare feet. It was never cold in dreams, not like this, and his feet, which needed concentration to use, slipped. But there were hands under his arms, lifting him, helping, and then straps. Cam felt them click into place and tried to fight against them, panic rising fast and bitter in the back of his throat, but Ashley was there. Ashley. He pulled the blindfold off, ignoring the v
ertigo and the nausea, so he could look at her. Clothes torn and bloody, but she smiled down at him, and she was calm, and so was he. He heard the thrumming, the sound driving through the air. It beat the air into the cabin, icy flurried rivers of it. The floor shook and the forest stretched out beneath them. He saw Brody, glancing back at him, sunlight glaring off his sunglasses, red blood on his tan face. He saw the ocean, the sun rising up over the water, fresh and new, pouring into the cabin, pouring over Ashley, through her hair, the gold of it, as the wind whipped it around her face. He felt her hand in his, the only still, sure thing in a world spiraling with possibilities and blurred with pain.
The pain was new, and sharp, but he watched the sun, and Ashley, and he could ignore it.
The world dipped, and the sound faded. Step down, they told him, and had to help him again. He was pressed back against a gurney, and fought again, but they were stronger, and pushed him along. Ashley’s hand slipped out of his.
On the third day, Brody had brought in Proom’s colleagues, the two who had survived. The normal doctors kept going into rooms, and leaving visibly confused and scribbling in their files. So Brody left alone and early and, even with his one arm stitched and in a sling, returned with company. Ashley wasn’t sure how he had convinced them to help—though pulling them out of a room full of poisoned gas and making sure they didn’t die probably helped—but she did care that they went right to work on Cam. And the others, though they were holding up surprisingly well. Even Liz. Ashley knew they’d done some work on Liz, but not, Ashley hoped, a lot. They hadn’t had time to do a lot.
They hadn’t had a lot of time to work on Cam, either.
“You trust them?” Meg asked in a low voice. She was sitting next to Ashley, and she had a hand on Ashley’s arm. It was the only thing keeping Ashley seated and mostly still.
“I trust them to want to make me happy,” Brody said. He didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Isn’t that right, George?”
“The Phoenix Program aims to please,” the doctor replied, his voice raspy. He had a plastic cannula hooked up to an oxygen tank, and he paused to breathe in deep before swabbing Cam’s arm to draw blood.
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