I twisted the cap off before handing it to him.
He shook his head. “I don’t drink. It slows the reflexes.”
“This isn’t drinking, Ian. It’s anesthetic.”
He grunted and accepted the bottle, then took a long pull. This obviously wasn’t the first time he’d ever indulged, though probably never under these circumstances.
“I used to drink too much,” he admitted. “After my family...”
After his wife and child died. I could see how such tragedy might motivate a person to drown his grief in alcohol. “That’s understandable.”
His lips relaxed in a soft smile. “Those memories don’t hurt as much now. Moving around brought me peace, and helping those who needed what I could do did a lot to ease my mind.”
“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” I told him. “You didn’t cause the storms.”
“But what if I could have stopped them?”
I shook my head. “Not then, but you might be able to now. After what we just did together, I’m willing to explore how far we can go. We’re strongest when we work as a team.”
Too distracted to consider much more than dulling his pain, he ignored me and guzzled more vodka.
Using scissors from the kit, I snipped away his shirt and gently peeled the fabric from his skin. He hissed in a lungful of air, and his whole body tightened like a coiled spring. Once I had the shirt off, he exhaled a slow breath of relief, his muscles going slack beneath my hands.
He didn’t squirm or yell, not even when I used a bottle of water to clean the blood away, and then antiseptic to sterilize his wounds. There had to have been more than a dozen cuts, but none were especially deep. The powerful muscles of his back rippled as I plucked the offending splinters from his tan skin. My fingers skimmed lightly over his flesh, and he shivered.
“Tickles,” he mumbled into the pad where his face was buried. He didn’t laugh. His tone was matter-of-fact, as if stating what time it was or pointing out the color of the sky. I liked that about him. Ian was a straight shooter, and despite his bitterness, he had a good heart. As my mom would say, a good heart trumped everything.
When I was finished tending to his back, I cocked my head to admire my work. Not bad. “How does that feel?” He answered me with a muffled snore.
Chapter Eleven
“Why did you let me drink so much?” Ian groaned as he sat holding his head.
“You were in pain. Then you passed out. I thought you would sleep it off,” I said, pacing the garage floor.
He smirked at me. “Do you know what a hangover’s like?”
“No.” And I hoped I’d never find out.
He shifted his position and winced. His back had too many puncture wounds to bandage properly, so I’d left them uncovered, allowing them to scab naturally. Only problem was that whenever he moved, the wounds split open and he’d start bleeding again.
My focus shifted to the heap of metal that had once been a powerful solar car. “We need another one of those.”
Ian snorted. “We walk back to Lodgepole to get your father’s SUV, or we use bicycles to get there. Two wheels are better than none.”
I jerked my head at the open doorway. “Let’s go find us some bikes.”
He grimaced. “We should wait until daylight when the Berserkers crawl back into their holes. We’ve had enough trouble from them for one day.”
Point taken. Besides, he was in no condition to fight off wild people. “Okay, but in the meantime I want to figure out a way to channel the power of the sun.”
Ian’s thoughtful scowl made the scar through his eyebrow more pronounced. “You’re looking for a way to end your addiction.”
He understood the feeling of helplessness that came with being out of control, so he knew what I needed. I seated myself on the floor beside him. “If I can tap into a direct source of power, I won’t have to siphon off yours, and I won’t have to depend so much on the sparks.”
“You want to use the sun itself?”
I nodded. “I can’t control my forecasts, but if I miss a storm, I shouldn’t have to go through withdrawals every time. I want kinetic energy when I need it and not be forced to accept a few paltry sparks that come and go on a whim.” I warmed up to my own conviction as I imagined how my life would change. I could choose which storms I chased. I could end my slavery to the sparks.
“And you need my help.”
“We’re far stronger together than we could ever be apart. Come with me.”
He frowned. “Where are we going?”
“To the surface of the sun.”
His snarly smile gave me goose bumps. “Do you have a supersonic, heat-resistant rocket ship I don’t know about?”
“Sort of.” I pointed at my head. “It’s in here.”
He laughed. “It must be, because you have quite an imagination.”
“Except that it’s not my imagination, Ian. When I forecast, I get visual messages from the sun inside my head: a time and a place. So why not visit the sender the same way?”
Looking puzzled, he asked, “With your mind? But I don’t receive messages from the sun.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re a powerful Kinetic who got your power from sun sparks. Whether you like it or not, you’re linked to the source of those sparks. You can join me.”
“Inside your head?” he asked, his tone incredulous.
“You and I have a bond. We’ve both felt the power working through us when we engage our emotions through physical touch. That’s what triggers it.” The thought of his consciousness merged with mine gave me an unexpected thrill. “With your weather ability, you may even discover a way to stop the storms. Trust me, okay?”
“Of course.” His grin told me he’d go along with whatever I wanted, but it didn’t necessarily say he believed me. I’d just have to prove to him, and to myself, that I was right.
We both sat Indian style, and I swiveled around to face him, motioning for him to turn his body so that our knees were touching. “I’ll let my mind touch the flares on the sun’s surface, extract their energy. Once you and I merge, you’ll be able to watch.”
He whistled. “That’s a tall order for something you’ve never done before.”
I shrugged. “Who says it’s never been done? It’s just never been done by me. Or by you.” We both knew there were other Kinetics, so it wasn’t a stretch to believe that one or more of them had tried tapping energy from the sun. And possibly succeeded. “Ready?”
I closed my eyes and held my hands out to him. He laced his fingers with mine, the heels of our palms pressed together. The sensation was electric, and not just because of our abilities. It went further than that. I was connected to him in a way that went beyond the twining of kinetic energy. I sensed his heartbeat through my hands, and it thrummed in rhythm with my own. It felt good. It felt right.
I opened my eyes for a split second, just to see his face. He stared at me, his eyes smiling, though his lips were not. There was a liquid sheen to his gaze that gave my heart a jolt. He felt what I did. And best of all, I saw the joy it gave him.
My eyes closed again as I summoned calm to my quickening heart. I focused on the sun, saw it as a place rather than a symbol of death. Its purpose was to give life, not take it away, and I sought the positive energy that had given me the gift to forecast its storms.
Ian’s power flowed into me like water from a faucet. A hum of energy slithered over my skin and tingled down my spine as it tugged my consciousness upward, through the ceiling, above the building, hurtling me high into the sky toward outer space. The feeling of weightlessness was unlike anything I’d ever experienced: Free from my body and from the baked planet that died little by little every day. But I wasn’t free of my need for sparks.
As my consciousness approached the giant, flaming orb at the center of our solar system, I wasn’t afraid. It was as if part of the sun lived inside me and was returning home to visit. I felt no heat, no cold, no physical sensation of a
ny kind. I was pure energy, and the sun embraced me like a mother embraces her child.
Ian was there with me. I could feel him settle calmly inside my head, watching everything I saw. I sensed his wonder but also his acceptance of what was happening. He shared in my experience and had the same sense of familiarity as I did. The sun was inside us both because it had made us what we’d become.
Giant flares shot from the sun’s surface like graceful fountains of fire. It reminded me of volcanic eruptions.
This incredible journey fed me what I needed. My soul gobbled up the sun’s fire like a treat I couldn’t get enough of. I felt Ian reach out beyond our link to explore the fiery surface, testing the limits of his power, but he must have gone too close. He yanked back, and our link snapped like a rubber band.
My consciousness plummeted back to earth. The force of my return jolted me loose from Ian, and I sensed something wrong. One look at Ian’s hands and I nearly screamed. He had blisters on his fingers.
“Oh, my God! Did the sun do that?” I asked, knowing it couldn’t have happened any other way. “I had no idea...”
He grimaced and held his hands out, palms up. “I shouldn’t have gone so close.”
“This is all my fault.” I grabbed the first aid cream from the kit and started applying it to his hands. “I didn’t think this would happen.”
“My power isn’t strong enough to stop the storms, even combined with yours. I need more...” He seemed to struggle for the right words, but I wasn’t sure there were any. “Juju? Mojo? Hell, I don’t know. Just...more.”
I blew on his fingers. “How does that feel?”
He grinned. “Better. Don’t stop.”
The smile I gave him was a half-hearted one. I should have known this wouldn’t be easy. It was mind over matter, and I had no clue how that worked. I understood, though, what he meant when he said he needed more. For the two of us to take on stopping a sun storm, we needed backup. We needed more people like us. And there was only one place that could provide them.
That clinched it. We couldn’t afford to wait until daylight to find bicycles for peddling the ten miles back to Lodgepole. We had to step it up and find the bikes now. Had tapping into the sun cured my addiction to sun sparks? Probably not. I felt stronger, yes, but my energy was already starting to drain. If I got hit with a premonition for a new storm, I no longer had the means to chase it. Getting the Trooper was my only hope.
Chapter Twelve
“One of the stores at the outlet mall used to sell bicycles,” I told Ian as we walked together down the sidewalk. I felt thankful for the light offered by the Night Rainbows.
“It’s dangerous to be out in the open at this time of night,” he said.
“I know, but we need to be mobile soon as possible. How are your hands?
Ian stretched his greased-up fingers. “Not bad. There are only a couple of blisters on each of them, and they don’t burn anymore.” Which was odd considering it had happened less than an hour ago. Maybe it was because the burns were psychosomatic and not physical.
We’d abandoned Nichol’s solar car after retrieving every useful item we could carry. The agent had had two backpacks in the trunk, one filled with clothes and the other with food and water. If we could just find a couple of bikes, we’d be set.
“Discount Mart!” I pointed at the stark rectangular building without a single window intact. “My mom and I used to go there all the time for school clothes when I was a kid. They carry everything you can think of, including bicycles.”
Ian tossed me a quick look and kept on walking. “Yeah, I know. There’s not much left in there now. It’s been ransacked, but we’ll take a quick look. I want to show you something inside anyway.”
“What?”
“You’ll see.”
We stepped over jagged chunks of glass that had once been display windows. Even the carpet inside had been ripped up. However, most of the signs inside were still standing.
I stepped quickly through the women’s clothing department. Broken hangers were strewn across the floor and wedged under display shelves. I had a sudden memory of when my mother and I were browsing through dresses, looking for something new for her to wear for my parents’ anniversary dinner. She’d been so happy back then. “Hey,” Ian said gently. “You okay?”
My eyes stung with unshed tears. I wished I could be strong the way my mother had been, to see the good in everything the way she had, to imagine a bright future when the world would be normal again. My throat clogged with a sudden surge of grief. I grieved for my mother, for friends I’d lost to either disease or disaster, and for the town I’d called home since the day I was born. Most of it was gone now. My sick and confused father was all I had left, and I loved him dearly.
Though I missed my mother, I hadn’t cried for her since the day she died, but Ian’s concern touched me to the core, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I let the tears flow, silent and hot, and the release was like a long-needed cleansing of the darkness I’d bottled up for too long. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. I buried my face in his chest and sobbed, as if wringing every last bit of loss from my heart.
The pounding of feet brought me up short, and I jerked away from Ian to peer in the direction it was coming from. A small group of half-naked, filthy Berserkers trotted our way.
I’d had as much as I could take from these people. They were pathetic, yes, but they were also dangerous, and I’d be damned if I’d end up collateral damage in one of their savage tantrums. Rage flamed through my veins, and I shook all over. I grabbed a bent clothing pole off the floor and hoisted it over my shoulder like a baseball bat.
I hardly recognized my own voice when I screamed, “Bring it on, bitches!”
The Berserkers gawked at me in surprise. Maybe they thought I’d become one of them, and at the moment, they weren’t far off. All I knew was that I refused to add one more tragedy to the toppling stack that had become my life. I swung my metal pole at the air in front of them.
“I didn’t take your Johnny!” I screamed, then swung the pole in the other direction. “I didn’t burn down your freakin’ house!” I pounded the pole on the floor, releasing the frustration of having lost so much and knowing I’d never get it back.
The little group actually backed up a step. I lunged forward, growling like something feral, and they turned to beat tracks out of the store.
I blinked at their retreat and tossed the pole down, my chest heaving and my blood pounding between my temples. I thought my heart would bang its way outside my chest.
I heard clapping from behind me and twisted around to see Ian grinning.
“Well done. Remind me never to go berserk around you.”
Dazed by my own outburst, I felt suddenly drained. I wobbled on my feet, and Ian rushed over to steady me. “Let’s get you someplace where you can calm down.”
I nodded and let him guide me toward the back of the store and a set of stairs leading down to a stock room. He slid a flashlight out from his backpack and aimed the light at the shadows. There were mostly empty boxes and trash down here, but the smell was horrendous. We came upon a closed door with a metal bar wedged across the frame and a heavy padlock attached to a chain that held the whole thing together. Ian dug in his pocket and withdrew a key that he slipped in the lock. The shank popped free.
He opened the door and ushered me inside. Peering out into the stockroom, he swept the flashlight’s beam from one end to the other before slamming the door shut and relocking it from the inside.
“Wow, you have quite an elaborate safeguard.”
“One can never be too careful when keeping out Berserkers.”
“I’m guessing this place is yours?” I took in the sparse furnishings of a room that appeared well lived in. It was filled with all the comforts of home: bed, dresser, table, kitchen area. “You did this?”
“Yep.” He shrugged off his backpack and gestured for me to hand mine over. He tossed both in
the corner of what appeared to have been an employee break room. There was even a three-legged vending machine leaning against the wall. “I lived here before moving to Lodgepole. I had to fight a few Berserkers for it, but I can be quite persuasive when need be.”
I knew that for a fact. “Why did you leave here?”
“I was looking for someplace to call home, a community to live in.” He turned a slow circle where he stood. “Living in the basement of an abandoned store in a town full of Berserkers isn’t my idea of home.”
I couldn’t blame him for leaving. I wouldn’t want to live here, either. “It’s a lot more comfortable than the garage.”
He shook his head. “This place is crawling with Berserkers. I figured a locked car with AC would be safer than this dump.”
I gave him a dubious look. “Really?”
He nodded. “There was no telling what would be waiting for us in here. We’re damn lucky we didn’t get ambushed.” He waved a hand at the chair and the cot. I chose the cot and flopped down onto it with my forearm slung over my eyes. He handed me a bottle of water. “Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.”
He sat in the chair across from me and pulled the fifth of vodka from one of the backpacks.
“Are you really going to drink more of that?” It bothered me that he felt a need for more alcohol so soon.
“No.” He twisted off the cap. “You are.”
When he offered me the bottle, I pushed it away. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
“I’m not trying to get you drunk, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I gasped. He presumed way too much. “I already told you I trusted you. What makes you think I changed my mind?”
Ignoring my question, he waggled the bottle at me. “Just a couple of sips. Your nerves are frayed, and you’re wound tighter than Ebenezer Scrooge at Christmas. Consider it medicine.”
I’d only ever had one drink my entire life and that was at my high school graduation party nearly eight years ago. I hadn’t gotten drunk, but I did end up feeling warm and fuzzy all over. I could use some of that right now. “Just a sip.” I accepted the bottle and tilted it to my lips. The vodka felt cool against my tongue and tasted kind of sweet, but once it reached the back of my throat I almost choked on my tonsils.
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