On Through the Never

by Melissa E. Hurst

  37

  BRIDGER

  APRIL 4, 2147

  “He’s waking up,” a familiar voice says. It sounds like Shan.

  I open my eyes and find myself lying on a bed in a dim room. Shan is sitting next to me, and Grandma is standing at the foot of the bed. They’re both wearing Inhibitors around their necks, like I am.

  I swear, I’ve never seen Grandma look so angry in my life. And I’m angry, too. At Dad, at Anderson—even at her.

  “How are you feeling?” she asks, her face softening a bit.

  “I’d probably feel a bit better if I hadn’t just found out that the psycho leading the DTA is my biological grandfather. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Wait, what?” Shan asks, his mouth dropping open in shock. “Anderson is our—”

  “Grandfather,” I finish.

  We both look expectantly at Grandma and she lets out a loud huff. “There was nothing to tell. He was assigned to me as a sperm donor. I had Leithan. I had the option to involve Anderson in Leithan’s life, but I declined. End of story.” I want to ask even more questions, but Grandma holds up her hand. “I said end of story. I will not talk about that man anymore.”

  I push myself into a sitting position and take in my surroundings. The room is windowless, with steel-gray walls and floors, and recessed lights. It holds just two beds in addition to the one I’m sitting on, a desk, and several sturdy chairs. Nothing extra for comfort.

  “To answer your question, I guess I’m okay,” I say. That’s a lie. My head is pounding. “Where are we?”

  “You can’t remember what happened?” Grandma asks.

  As soon as she says those words, the memory returns in a rush: my dad pushed Alora over the side of the DTA building. I lean over, gasping for air. It’s like someone just punched me. Alora couldn’t have survived that fall.

  She’s dead.

  Just like so many more people will be dead after tomorrow. Ellis was right all along.

  Grandma sits next to me and begins rubbing my back. “Bridger, you have to compose yourself. Anderson had to give you two doses of Calmer already in the shuttle. You don’t need any more right now.”

  “But why … why did Dad do that? He didn’t have to push her over the side,” I say in a quivering voice. I cover my face with my hands and then run them down my cheeks. “And the bioweapon. We have to figure out a way to stop it.”

  “Aren’t you even worried about Mom?” Shan asks.

  “What? Of course I am.” I glance around the room, looking for her. “Is she here?”

  “Are you serious? Dad hates Mom. When he came to get me, she tried to stop him and he hit her with a full-blast stun three times. I mean, at least she punched him first.” Shan’s breathing is heavier now, and his face is scrunched up like he’s about to cry. “But I don’t know if she’s dead or alive, Bridger. I don’t know.”

  Shan’s words, along with the look of horror on his face, give me a punched-in-the-gut feeling. Mom can’t be gone. She can’t. I know we’ve clashed a lot over the years, but I can’t imagine my life without her.

  I thought my world ended when Dad died last year. I didn’t think anything could feel any worse. But this, I can’t deal with it. Alora dead. Mom hurt or possibly dead. So many people doomed to die tomorrow. All because of blind hatred and fear.

  It’s Dad’s part in this that’s really killing me. I feel so betrayed. He was my hero. I’ve wanted to be just like him, my whole life. And now he’s becoming this … thing.

  Like Grandma said, a monster.

  Grandma draws Shan to the bed and wraps her arms around us both. For a moment, we just sit. Then she says, “Boys, I want you to know that thing Anderson resurrected isn’t your father. He may have his memories, and he may have a replica of Leithan’s body, but he is not Leithan. Your father would never have agreed to murder so many innocent people.”

  “How do you know that for sure, Grandma?” Shan asks. He leans back and wipes tears from his eyes. “Dad worked with General Anderson for years. We don’t know what Dad learned from him. I mean, on the way over here, Dad told me I could start calling the general Grandpa.”

  I almost puke, hearing Shan say that. The general’s confession today was sick. We may share genes with him, but he’ll never be family.

  Grandma’s features settle into a gritty determination. “It means nothing. They are nothing to us.”

  I still want to know where we are, but before I can ask the outlines of two people appear, wavering near the foot of the bed.

  And then Alora and Nate Walker materialize.

  38

  ALORA

  APRIL 4, 2147

  Bridger, Shan, and their grandmother stare at me and Dad as if we’re ghosts. I get it, since the last time they saw me, I was sailing over the side of the DTA building. I try to smile and give a little wave, but Bridger leaps out of bed and practically tackles me with a hug.

  He holds me tight, as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear again if he lets go.

  “Hey, I can’t breathe,” I say with a laugh.

  He lets me go reluctantly. “How are you even alive?”

  “Do you remember how I used to gripe about those lessons with Professor Jackson? Well, I’ll never complain again.” I explain how I managed to shift to safety mid-air, and how we had to wait several hours to make sure that they would have reached their destination before we could shift to them. So in the meantime, Dad and I convinced Mom to warn Professor March, Chancellor Tyson, and our friends to get out of town.

  I notice how Bridger keeps shooting dark looks at my dad. Judith doesn’t seem too happy that he’s here, either. Then I remember—they know he was working for Jode Lincoln.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but please listen to me.” I glance over at Dad. He’s standing perfectly still, staring at the floor. “Dad didn’t want to hurt anybody, but he didn’t have a choice.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Bridger asks

  “Lincoln forced Dad to do all those awful things because of me. He threatened to have me killed if Dad didn’t follow every single one of his orders. No matter how terrible they were.”

  “I guess, under those circumstances, I can understand,” Judith finally says once I’m finished speaking. “But that still doesn’t mean I have to forget. You shot Shan, and you almost shot Bridger. You even took innocent lives. Your actions had grave consequences.”

  Dad makes eye contact with Judith. “I know, and I’m deeply sorry for what I did. It’s something I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. But I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for my mistakes.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” Judith replies. Then she inclines her head toward the door. “Now, we need to figure out a way to escape. There’s a guard posted just outside. Do you think you could steal his weapon and force him to open the door? It has a biometric scanner, so only one of the military personnel from this station can do it.”

  “Do you know where we are?” Bridger asks her.

  “I think so. Or at least I have a general idea. Before the Second Civil War, the government was already building secret underground bases around the country in case war ever broke out. I’m sure we’re in one—I just don’t know which one. After Anderson knocked you out on the shuttle, I wilded out on him and his clone sedated me.”

  “It doesn’t matter where we are,” I say as I cross to the door and try and peek outside. The window is narrow, but I can just make out a guard to the left side of the door. If I can shift to his immediate right, I might be able to yank the gun off his shoulder before he knows anything. Maybe.

  I turn around and ask, “Are there sensors in here to detect cloaks?”

  “Probably. This is an old base, but I imagine Thomas had it fitted with them, to be on the safe side,” their grandmother says.

  “Just great,” I mutter.

  Shan joins me at the door. “I can get you guys out.”

  “What? No, you need to stay here,�
� Bridger says.

  “You don’t understand. When Dad brought me here earlier today, he gave me a tour of the place to try to cheer me up. I have a good memory. I’m usually the first one to find my way out of buildings when we take time trips,” he says, puffing out his chest a little.

  “So, all those Sim Games have helped you, huh?” Bridger asks. He sounds like he’s impressed with Shan.

  Shan shrugs. “I guess. But anyway, I remember the way to the shuttle bay. So that means I’m going with you.”

  “Sounds like we don’t have a choice.” Bridger’s grandmother stands on the other side of me and Dad and clasps her hands. “All right, kids, we have to go save some lives. Let’s get started.” Peering out the door, she whispers, “Alora, he’s looking away. Shift now.”

  I take several deep breaths to steady myself, close my eyes, and concentrate on reappearing just in front of the door. When I open my eyes I’m there, and I grab the soldier’s gun. He’s so surprised that he lets it slip right through his fingers. Backing away from him, I point the weapon at him. “Open the door,” I say in a low voice.

  He’s a young soldier, maybe in his early twenties, and he looks scared. He hesitates for a moment, then places his palm on the reader. Once the door clicks open, I shove him inside.

  Judith takes the gun from me and points it at the soldier. “Don’t move,” she commands. “I’m General Judith Creed. We are being held here against our will. You will do exactly what I tell you or I won’t hesitate to put a hole through your heart. Do you understand?”

  The soldier’s eyes grow wide and he nods.

  “Good. I can tell you’re a smart boy. The first thing I want you to do is get undressed.”

  “Excuse me?” the soldier says.

  Bridger hisses, “What are you doing?”

  “We need to be accompanied by a guard when we travel the hallway, and he certainly can’t be trusted. That means you get the job.”

  I’m sure my face is flame-red. “I’ll just be over here,” I say, retreating to a corner. Behind me, I hear Dad snickering. Thanks for the support, I think.

  Several minutes later, Judith says, “Alora, you can stop being so damn modest and get over here now. We’re ready to go.”

  I find the soldier in his underwear, tied up on the bed. They’ve ripped one of the sheets into strips to hold his arms and legs in place, and gagged him with another sheet.

  I feel sorry for him as we leave. He’s just following orders.

  Dad’s standing at the door with Bridger, who’s now dressed in the soldier’s fatigues and carrying his rifle. “Once we’re out there,” Dad says, “we’ll have to move quickly. But do not run unless we’re caught. Is that clear?”

  Once we agree, Judith opens the door. Bridger goes out first and waits for us with the rifle clenched tightly in his hands. Shan directs us to head to our right. We go down several tunnels, all a dark, metallic gray with dim lighting. We make several turns—enough that I begin to doubt Shan really knows where we’re going—and finally get to three sets of elevators.

  “Take the middle one,” Shan says. “That’s the only one that goes to the top level, where the shuttles are parked.”

  But as soon as the elevator door opens and we take three steps, an alarm booms throughout the cavernous area we’re now in—a shuttle hangar. Ahead of us, three rows of parked shuttles stretch across the space.

  “Run!” Bridger yells.

  Around the perimeter of the shuttle hangar, two soldiers stand along a catwalk, eyes trained on us through the scopes of their rifles. One of them fires a few shots at us. Adrenaline spikes through me and I run faster. In the distance, I hear someone else yell, “Hold your fire. They are capture only. I repeat, capture only.”

  We finally reach the nearest shuttle and scramble to get aboard. Judith immediately starts it and closes the door. I glance up through the cockpit window. The overhead blast door in the top of the shuttle hangar is also sliding shut. It’s about halfway closed.

  “How are we going to make that?” I ask in a frantic voice.

  “I didn’t become a Brigadier General just by looking pretty,” Judith says with a smirk. Then she yells, “Everybody strap in. This should be interesting.”

  Dad buckles himself into the co-pilot seat while I stagger to the seat next to Bridger. Shan sits across from us, looking way too pale. Bridger’s hand wraps around mine. “We’ll be okay,” he says. “Grandma is used to this kind of stuff.”

  The shuttle lifts off at a faster rate than normal, and heads straight for still-closing blast door. Over the intercom, we hear someone ordering us to turn around. Judith silences it.

  I hold my breath as we approach the exit. It’s three quarters of the way closed. Bridger’s grip tightens on mine.

  And then we’re through, soaring into the cloudy night sky.

  “Well, we’re safe now,” Shan says. “What’s next?”

  “We have to save everybody else,” I reply.

  And then Judith interrupts. “I need a little help up here. I’ve been shot.”

  39

  BRIDGER

  APRIL 5, 2147

  We abandon the shuttle a little after seven-thirty in the morning. Alora’s father had to take over flying after Grandma told us that she’d been shot in the leg by the perimeter guards. Alora and Shan made a tourniquet and led her to one of the passenger seats, where she passed out after instructing us to stay on course to New Denver.

  Once Grandma woke up and realized we were being followed by two shuttles from the military base, she insisted that we land immediately.

  That’s where we are now, on the edge of a field ten miles north of the Academy.

  Our problem right now is that she refuses to come with us, and she’s decided that Shan needs to stay with her as well. “We’ll slow you down,” she says after I beg them to come with us again. I hate the idea of separating.

  Shan scowls at her. “I can keep up with them.”

  “But I could use the company, Shan. You wouldn’t want your poor grandmother to stay out here all alone, would you?”

  Heaving a sigh, Shan says, “Fine, I’ll stay.”

  “But you need to get to a med center,” I say to her.

  Grandma laughs. “The soldiers who are following us will be here soon.” When she sees the alarmed expression on my face, she laughs again. “Don’t worry. They’re not going to hurt us. That idiot back who shot me is probably being punished as we speak. They’ll get me to a med center and I’ll be fine, and I won’t let them hurt Shan. You, Nate, and Alora, on the other hand, need to get to the DTA building and find that bioweapon. Do whatever it takes.”

  I lean down to kiss Grandma on the forehead. “Are you sure you want to do this? We can carry you.”

  Alora says, “I can shift to a med center right now and have somebody out here in a few minutes.”

  “Absolutely not. I want all three of you to stay together. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I reply. Alora does the same.

  “Nate, take care of my grandson. Please. You owe me.”

  He offers a genuine smile. “I will.”

  We start to leave, but Grandma calls out, “One more thing. You do whatever is necessary to stop that bioweapon from going off. Do you understand? Whatever it takes. Don’t let sentiment cloud your judgment.”

  I know what she’s talking about, but I’m not sure I’m ready to go there. I realize the cloned version of Dad isn’t stable. But he’s been brainwashed by General Anderson. Maybe that means that there’s hope—that there’s some good left in him. Some way to make him see reason.

  On the walk over, Alora comms her mother to make sure she left the city. She said she did, as well as Everly and Tara’s families. But Elijah’s parents refused. Adalyn begged Alora to shift to her now, and Alora had to end the call in tears.

  “I hate doing this to her,” she says, swiping at her eyes. “I’m all she has left.”

  Nate wraps his uninjured a
rm around her shoulders. “I promise, you’ll see her again soon. Who knows? Maybe I can convince her to give me another chance. Or maybe not. But no matter what, we’ll still be a family. Always remember that.”

  Damn, that nearly makes me tear up. I still feel a little bit of resentment toward her father, but at least I understand why he did what he did.

  My dad is the one doing something unforgivable.

  My DataLink chimes. It’s Professor March. When I accept his comm, he lets out a loud sigh. “Good God, Bridger, I’ve been trying to track you for hours. You just came back into my viewing area. What are you doing north of the Academy?”

  I give him the brief version of our ordeal.

  He runs his hands over his head. “Anderson is certifiably insane. I’m on the way to the banquet now. I’ll meet you there. You might need help getting past security.”

  I shake my head. “Professor, you should get out of the city. You’re a Dual Talent. If we fail, you’ll die.”

  “I don’t care. Alora and her father are with you, and there will be other Dual Talents at the banquet. I can’t abandon you or them. I have a feeling it’s going to take all of us to make things right.”

  A half hour later, we reach the Academy first and take a shuttle to New Denver. By the time we get to the downtown area, it’s ten minutes after ten in the morning. The banquet will take place at twelve o’clock sharp. Our objective is to get inside the building and find the bioweapon before it starts. The fewer people there, the better it will be for us.

  Upon arrival at the DTA building, we discover that it’s crawling with high-level security assigned to protect the president. The few guests to arrive this early are submitting to being scanned and searched.

  We discuss our options and Alora comms Professor March. “New plan. We can’t get inside from down here. We’re more than likely on the wanted list for the feds.”

  “Then what are you going to do?” he asks.

  Nate interrupts. “I’m going to shift to the rooftop and secure it. Alora and Bridger are will steal a Pod and pilot it to the roof. We’ll enter that way, so keep an eye out for our signal.”