Outbreak

by Tarah Benner

  I expect Harper to refuse. I expect awkwardness. I expect to spend the rest of the night alone, wishing I hadn’t said anything. I don’t expect her to nod and crack a smile, but that’s what she does.

  Surprise and elation surge through me, and suddenly I don’t know what to do. It’s not as though we haven’t slept in the same bed before, but this feels different than it did out on the Fringe — more real, somehow. There’s no immediate danger — no reason for her to lie down in my arms other than the fact that she wants to.

  Harper scoots back across the bed, and I move toward her slowly.

  When I reach her side, she seems to melt into my sheets, and I lean over so I can feel her against my bare skin.

  I place a soft kiss on her lips, and she returns it with gentle pressure. I let my hand drift down toward her belly button, and her body responds to my touch.

  Then a heaviness settles over me, and Harper’s movements become more lethargic. I lie down beside her, and she rolls over onto her hip. I reach over to turn off the lamp and pull her toward me so our bodies are flush against each other.

  I invited her to stay with me, and she did.

  The thought makes me so happy and so unbearably sad at the same time.

  I squeeze her tighter and crane my neck to place a soft kiss on her cheek. She lets out a contented sigh, and that little sound sends an overpowering warmth through me.

  I take a mental snapshot of this moment, trying to commit every detail to memory. Then I match my breaths to hers and drift into a peaceful sleep.

  nineteen

  Celdon

  It’s easy to lose time in Systems. There are no clocks on the walls and no windows.

  Only the small geometric skylights filter in daylight, so one hour seems to bleed into the next until there is no more daylight. Once night falls, it’s easy to work until dawn without even meaning to.

  I glance at my interface. It’s oh-three hundred, which means Harper should have been back by now. When she left to tell Eli, I thought she’d be gone an hour tops, and I’m starting to feel the faint prickle of unease.

  I should have warned Eli that Harper knew about the surveillance but nothing else. He probably slipped up and told her everything and then spent the next few hours riding out her storm of fury. Poor guy.

  I sit back in my chair and force myself to blink slowly. I haven’t left this spot since the Owen sighting. My eyes have been fixated on the pawn shop door, but Owen has yet to emerge.

  Maybe he’s dead, I think. Maybe Eli’s little stunt out there got him killed.

  My thoughts are interrupted by a soft click out in the bull pen. I stare out through the glass at the hundreds of empty stations, waiting for some indication that I didn’t imagine the noise.

  “Harper?” I call, knowing full well it can’t be her. She couldn’t get into Systems without a key card.

  It’s way too early for even the most brown-nosey programmers to show their faces, but it could be an Operations worker here to clean. I’m on a first-name basis with the night guy, Mitchell, so I need to be ready to kill the footage if he wanders in here to chitchat.

  The place looks empty, but I still have a strange feeling that I’m not alone.

  I slide my chair out from the desk and walk out onto the main floor, careful not to make a sound.

  Instantly, the warmth from all the computers envelops me, and my jittery feelings intensify. Between the tiny fans on each monitor and the soft buzz of the server lights, it’s impossible to pick out any human noises. The little rounded stations throw shadows over the chairs, so I can’t tell if anyone is lurking in one of the egg-like enclosures.

  My nerves are stretched to the breaking point, which is strange, considering I’ve never gotten the creeps in here before. But my senses are tingling, telling me something isn’t right.

  “Hello?” I call out.

  Suddenly, a low chuckle breaks through the mechanical hum and nearly sends my heart into overdrive. I whip my head around in the direction of the noise, but it dies on the air as quickly as it appeared.

  “Who’s there?” I call, trying to sound casual. If it’s just another Systems worker, I don’t want to come off like a total psycho. But then again, starting a middle-of-the-night conversation with maniacal laughter is kind of psycho, too.

  Just then, a monitor at the nearest station flickers to life. The welcome screen floods the half-moon station with harsh blue light, but there’s nobody in there.

  Now I’m really freaking out.

  It’s fairly easy to take over any one of the computers from inside headquarters to share what’s on your screen, but that means someone is actually in here messing with me.

  I look around at the stations again, searching for the telltale blue light of another live monitor. But before my eyes have made their way to the far corner, a bank of about two dozen computers bursts to life.

  My pulse begins to race, and I’m having trouble controlling my breathing.

  “Very funny,” I call out, all traces of normalcy gone. I don’t even care that the visitor can hear the panic in my voice. I’m fucking scared.

  Then a window pops up on the computer to my right. It’s a video-chat window, but the background is completely dark.

  “Celdon,” says a man in a taunting voice. “Yoo-hoo . . .”

  That voice. I know that voice. It sends a shiver down my spine and makes every part of me recoil.

  “What do you want?” I ask, keeping my feet firmly planted and my gaze on the bank of stations. Clearly he knows where I am, but I refuse to look into the camera and give him the satisfaction of seeing my terrified expression. I also don’t want anyone to get the jump on me while I’m distracted.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a close-up of a handsome, menacing face fill the screen. My blood goes cold in my veins, and my hands ball into fists.

  “You’re no fun,” the man whines. “I was hoping to play around a little more . . .”

  Without meaning to, I glance down at the video chat. He gives me an easy grin, and it’s even creepier that his smile appears genuine. “Did you like my little trick with the monitors? I thought it would add drama.”

  I scoff. “Kid stuff. Why don’t you come out here like a man instead of hiding behind your monitor?”

  He looks vaguely surprised, and then his eyes whip around in my direction. I know I’m out of range of the camera, but it still feels as though he’s looking right at me.

  “I was just going to say the exact — same — thing.”

  At that moment, he shuts off the monitors, thrusting me into total darkness. My eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden change in light, and my unease intensifies when I realize I can’t see him approaching.

  “Boo,” says a soft voice behind me.

  My heart stops, but somehow I manage to keep my expression neutral.

  I pivot slowly in the aisle, my body primed to run, and come face to face with Devon Reid.

  Devon is tall and trim, but I still tower over him by at least two inches. He’s got smooth, handsome features; dark, smoky eyes; thick chocolate-brown hair that twirls into a wave at the front; and a smile that would kill if he didn’t constantly use it to make creepy declarations.

  Even though it’s the middle of the night, his white slacks are pressed to perfection. His blazer is hanging open casually, revealing a low V-neck that frames a few tendrils of dark hair. He moves toward me like a white panther, and I get a whiff of expensive cologne.

  “Like what you see?” he asks in a silky voice. “I’m sorry to say I’m here on business.”

  Right. Like that would ever happen.

  “What do you want, Devon?” I sigh.

  He looks taken aback, as if he always wanders into Systems in the middle of the night.

  “What do I want?”

  He takes another step forward, and I recoil automatically.

  “Is that any way to treat an old friend?”

  I squeeze my fists together so for
cefully that I hear my knuckles crack. Beads of cold sweat spring up all over my forehead, and I get a flash of Devon’s face between two prison bars.

  I could never forget that face as long as I live. It was seared into the back of my eyelids as Devon electrocuted me and dumped bucket after bucket of freezing water into my airways.

  “Why are you here?” I manage to choke.

  “I’m here to extend another offer,” he says, cracking a genial smile as if he’s offering me a regular job.

  I glare at him.

  “Oh, don’t be like that. You should feel flattered. I don’t like having to repeat myself, and I almost never beg.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to beg,” I growl. “I don’t want any part of whatever sick bullshit you people are planning.”

  “Don’t say that,” he says, feigning a pouty expression that makes his face look strangely inhuman. “You’re bound to hurt my feelings. And when my feelings get hurt, I get mean.”

  “What are you going to do?” I ask, acting more ballsy than I feel. “Kill me right here? Drag me in to torture me some more?”

  “Oh, no. You’re much too valuable. Constance could use somebody with your particular skill set . . . but you already knew that.”

  I do know. Their security sucks. But I resist the urge to throw that in his face.

  “I have a job, Devon. Thanks for the offer.”

  “So do I,” he says, gesturing around at Systems. “And it’s a very good job. Good money. Fulfilling work. Fun, smart coworkers. Sexy uniform.” He flicks his blazer open and lowers his chin so his eyes smolder when he looks up at me. I wonder how much he’s practiced that move. “But Constance gives me something else.”

  Devon leans forward so he can whisper in my ear, and I get a whiff of his overly minty breath. “I’m untouchable.”

  “You only think you’re untouchable,” I growl.

  He shrugs. “You know what they say . . . as long as you just believe.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  Devon’s smile widens, and my stomach does a nervous little flip. I’ve positioned my body between him and my cube with all the monitors displaying Fringe footage, but it wouldn’t be difficult for him to blaze past me and get a good look at what I’m up to.

  “See, I think you’re just playing hard to get. I think you are interested. In fact, I think you have a very specific interest in what Constance is up to.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re hiding something. Whatever you’re doing, you’ve gone to an awful lot of trouble to cover your tracks. You wouldn’t do that unless you were working on something truly juicy.

  “So I’m curious. What is it that you’re trying so hard to hide? Or would you prefer to tell me on our little jaunt over to HQ?”

  It takes me a moment to realize that he’s talking about Constance’s headquarters, and I get a perverse flash of excitement at the thought of checking it out.

  But clearly it’s a trap. There’s no way they’d let me take a field trip down there and then walk out without pledging my allegiance.

  “No, thanks,” I say. “My answer is final. If you want to torture me, go ahead. But my answer will still be the same when you’re done.”

  “Torture?” Devon looks mildly offended. “No, no, no. I’m sorry. I think we got off on the wrong foot.” He raises his hands in surrender. “I’ll be the first to admit that was probably not the best approach. But you have to understand that those orders came from up top. My hands were tied. If it were up to me, we would have tried a different tactic.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He quirks an eyebrow. “I think you do.”

  “Get out. You’re disgusting.”

  “Oh, get your mind out of the gutter!” he says with a wave of his hand. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I meant what I said: I’m here on business. And I believe I have some information that you might find . . . interesting.”

  “We’re done here, Devon.”

  “We are not done here,” he says, half angry, half flirtatious. It’s a weird combination. “Not until you hear my full offer.”

  “I don’t need to. I already know what my answer will be.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Look. There’s nothing you could possibly offer me that would make me want to join your sick organization. You’ve done nothing except hurt my friends. You nearly got Harper killed.”

  “Oh, please. That was just a little stunt to shake up Lieutenant Parker. No big deal.”

  “Get out, Devon! I mean it.”

  I’ve lost all patience, but he’s just warming up. “Are you telling me you really don’t care to know what happened to your mother?” he asks, leaning heavily on the M word.

  That’s when I lose track of everything. My vision goes all fuzzy. I can’t feel my legs. I almost forget to breathe.

  “Hmm? I know that question has haunted you your entire life.”

  I don’t say anything for a long time. My mind is still trying to catch up to my ears. How could he possibly know?

  “It hasn’t, actually,” I say too late, nervous excitement humming in my veins.

  “That’s not what your file from the Institute shrink said.”

  Suddenly, that excitement dissolves into rage. It’s so intense and so sudden that it feels as though an electric current just surged through my entire body.

  I take a step forward — ready to deck him — but he steps out of the way easily and lets out a low, infuriating chuckle.

  “Easy now. Don’t want you hurting yourself . . .”

  “You read my file?” I growl.

  “I apologize. It was a flagrant invasion of your privacy. But it’s my job to know my subjects.” He shrugs. “You understand.”

  I let out a loud, crazy laugh. “Well, you know, that almost tempted me. The thing is, it might have been a different story if you’d come in here yesterday, but I just found out everything I need to know. You really should cover your tracks better.”

  The second I blurt it out, I know I said something really stupid. Devon’s eyes light up in satisfaction, and he can barely contain his gleeful smile.

  Now he knows that we were digging into our parents’ history.

  “And what happened to her?” he probes, undeterred by my ballsy declaration.

  “You people — or the board or the Fringe Program Committee or whoever — brought her in and killed her. It’s how you got all the Fringe babies.”

  To my immense surprise, Devon doesn’t seem put out that he just lost his only bargaining chip. He’s wearing a wicked smile that compounds my unease. “Did Harper tell you that?”

  “I —”

  “You know, it really is a shame that your best friend would lie to you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The compound leaders didn’t need to have your mother killed. They never had to get rid of her at all.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask, more desperate sounding than I would like.

  “Your mother . . . How should I put this?” He purses his lips as though he’s considering the most delicate way to phrase it. “Let’s just say the likes of her would have traded her baby for a hot meal.”

  I stare at him in disbelief, unable to process the words spilling out of his smug mouth.

  “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Celdon, but your mother was, well . . . a whore.”

  “No.”

  Devon frowns and shrugs. “She gave you up.”

  “You’re bluffing,” I croak. My throat is so dry the words are barely discernible.

  But I’m not so sure that he is.

  I’d like to believe Harper’s version of events, but it doesn’t quite fit. For one thing, the compound guardians gave her a completely different story than they gave me when it would have been so much easier to explain my mother away with radiation poisoning.

  Hell, it would have been better for my well-bei
ng to tell me I had a mom and a dad who loved me enough to bring me into the compound — not that I was found by some Recon worker with nothing and no one.

  “You’re just pissed that you’ve got nothing,” I say finally.

  “On the contrary. I’ve got more than that little tidbit of information.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  He smiles.

  “What is it, then?”

  Devon’s expression melts into delight. “Now, why would I show my entire hand before you agreed to join Constance?” he asks in a flirtatious voice.

  This is actually fun for him, I realize. What a sick bastard.

  “You’ve got nothing,” I growl.

  Devon’s smirk grows, and something about his expression tells me he might not be bluffing after all.

  “Actually, I do. Your dear whore mother is still alive, Celdon. And I can take you to her.”

  twenty

  Eli

  An interface buzzes from the bedside table, and I roll over to stop the noise. The overhead lights in my room are turning on slowly to mimic natural daylight, and as the room swims into view, I’m surprised to see the perfect gentle line of Harper’s back disappearing under the covers.

  Memories of the night before hit me all at once, and it takes a moment for me to believe they were real.

  It doesn’t feel like a Monday morning — not with Harper in my bed.

  I can’t believe I’m starting the day with Harper in my bed.

  Careful not to disturb her, I reach out and stroke the skin above her spine with the pad of my thumb. Her skin is so soft.

  Then I hear another interface buzzing, and Harper stirs. She turns off the alert, checks her messages, and groans.

  “Did Jayden summon you, too?” she asks.

  “Uh-huh.”

  The blankets shift as Harper rolls over, and my mind goes completely blank when I see her lying there in front of me. Her eyes look brighter than usual against my charcoal blanket, and her hair is tussled in a sexy, natural way.

  “She wants us to come to her office for a briefing in, like, twenty minutes,” she says.

  “Yeah . . . wait, what?”

  “A briefing. They must be getting ready to deploy us.”