Fearless (Dominion Trilogy #2)

by Robin Parrish

  She spoke very softly. "I can't get that baby boy out of my mind."

  Grant nodded solemnly. He was right there with her.

  "I keep thinking," she said, "about how alone he was, for so long. He cried ... and suffered ... for hours and hours. Can you imagine what that was like for him? He never even had a chance."

  Before Grant knew what was happening, Alex had leaned sideways until her head was resting on his shoulder. She slowly drew her knees up and folded them sideways against the opposite side of her seat, her bare feet slipping out of the flip-flops she'd been required to wear to get on the plane.

  It was an uncharacteristic display of weakness that caught him thoroughly off guard. But he wasn't bothered by it. A little human contact felt pretty good right about now, actually.

  "Ask you a personal question?" he prodded carefully.

  She remained rooted to his shoulder. "Sure."

  "Who were you? Before you were Alex?" he asked, verbalizing a question that had been in the back of his mind for a long, long time. "Before the Shift?"

  She sniffled but didn't raise her head. "No one that mattered," she gingerly said.

  The answer stumped him a bit. "I thought everyone matters. Didn't you tell me that a few days ago?"

  Alex never replied.

  Instead, she fell into a fitful sleep, twitching and mumbling as if chased by an unrelenting jumble of thoughts and feelings.

  Fourteen Years Ago

  "Mom, I can do this myself."

  A middle-aged woman named Nell with sagging skin and a somber expression gave a halfhearted roll of her eyes at the teenager she knelt in front of. "Becky, please don't start."

  Becky, a bright-eyed fifteen-year-old who sat buckled into a wheelchair, narrowed her eyes in anger. "I am not helpless!" she protested. "I can tie my own shoelaces!"

  Nell didn't respond. She merely finished her task at Becky's feet and then braced herself on the end of the small hospital room's adjustable bed. With visible discomfort and a bit of a lurch, she raised herself up.

  This hospital room had been the mother and daughter's home away from home for the last six weeks, where Becky was monitored while recovering from her latest surgery. This was her fifth major surgery, which was required as her body grew and matured in order for her to have a chance at a normal life.

  Born with a severe birth defect to the spinal cord known as Spina Bifida Cystica, Becky had lived in a wheelchair or locking leg braces her entire life. Her mother, Nell, was a single parent working two jobs to make ends meet for Becky and her brother. She bore the telltale signs of constant exhaustion that Becky knew would probably drive her mother to an early grave.

  But today wasn't the day to think about such things. Today, at long last, Becky was being discharged and sent home. She couldn't wait to sleep in her own bed and play with her German shepherd, Barney.

  I hope he still remembers me, she thought sourly.

  She took a deep breath and braced herself to spring something on her mom that she'd been waiting days for the right opportunity to say.

  "Steph and the girls want to take me to the lake for the day on Saturday to celebrate getting out of here," she said.

  Her mother carefully sat on the edge of the bed, and as she did whenever the two of them had important discussions, said nothing for a few moments. She merely looked ahead and thought. The waiting killed Becky, as it always did, while her mother maintained a distant calm.

  "Would anyone's parents be there with you?" Nell asked. "You know I have to work."

  "I don't know," Becky answered honestly. "Lacey's dad might be there I guess-he owns the boat."

  Nell's eyes grew for an instant, and Becky knew what that meant. The thought of her paraplegic daughter on a boat had probably caused her heart to miss a beat.

  "Why does it have to be the lake?" her mother asked in a tired voice. "Couldn't your friends take you someplace safer, like the mall or a movie?"

  "They know how much I love the outdoors, and I haven't been outside in a month and a half, Mom! C'mon, please ...

  Nell sighed again and was about to speak when there was a knock at the door.

  Olivia, her favorite nurse, appeared with Becky's little brother Mark in her arms. Mark, who was only two years old, was the product of a one-night stand between her mother and some truck driver. Becky wasn't supposed to know this, but like most of her friends, she knew lots of things her mother didn't want her to.

  Olivia placed Mark on the ground, and he waddled over to Becky's wheelchair and reached his little arms up toward her. "Hey, little man!" she squealed.

  Mark may have been an unexpected addition to their family, but he brought Becky more joy and happiness than anything else in the world. She loved him selflessly, more than she ever knew she was capable of loving anyone. And he adored her as well.

  Their family was so well known at the hospital that Mark had been adopted by the entire nursing staff, who would often give Nell a break by entertaining him for half an hour or so. Olivia was just returning from one such break.

  "I ride?" he asked in two-year-old speak, grinning at the chair.

  She grinned in return. "Come on, you can do it," Becky coaxed him. He was already too heavy for her to lift, so he had learned to climb up her legs whenever she was in the wheelchair so she could give him a ride.

  "Oh," Olivia the nurse said cheerily, "I'm sorry, Becky, but the ride will have to wait until you get home. And Dr. Bellarmo is waiting for you in the hall, ma'am," she told Becky's mom. Nell gave Becky a nervous smile and stepped outside, Mark waddling alongside her with his hand in hers.

  "Well then," Olivia said, turning to Becky, "how about I gather the rest of your things and get you out of here!"

  As Olivia vanished into the bathroom, Becky wheeled herself toward the door to the hall. It stood open a few inches, and if she could catch the gist of Dr. Bellarmo's instructions to her mom, she could save her mother the trouble of having to explain it later.

  Olivia, meanwhile, clattered around in the bathroom, piling toiletries and belongings into a travel bag. Between the noises the nurse was making, Becky heard her mother's voice speaking in a lower register. Becky was alarmed to hear her mother suppressing a heavy cry.

  "Are you sure?" her mother said. "You haven't seen any change at all?"

  "I'm sorry," came the doctor's familiar, deep baritone. "It doesn't look like the spinal tissues have responded to the surgery. We're going to need to schedule Becky for another try, after she's had a few more months to fully recover, of course."

  Becky twisted the wheels on her chair until she was facing away from the door and away from the bathroom where Olivia still plundered away. She looked out the big picture window at the green grass two stories below. Tears burned at her eyes, but she refused to let them out.

  This was life. This was her life. Surgery after surgery after surgery. All in an attempt to provide what ... a marginally better existence? Certainly not for her mom, who carried the burden of caring for a handicapped teenager and a toddler all by herself.

  "I hate this place!" she heard her mother half-shout from the hallway. Her voice changed again, this time to the one she used when she'd reached the end of her rope. "I spend all my time working to save bread crumbs to pay you people with, and nothing you do makes any difference anyway!"

  Becky heard Olivia emerge from the bathroom at the sound of her mother's outburst. She carefully closed the outer hospital room door so Becky would catch no more of this painful conversation, and then approached Becky from behind, saying nothing. She placed a gentle hand on the young girl's shoulder.

  "I-I'm so sorry, sweetie," Olivia said.

  Becky couldn't hold back the tears anymore; they spilled out and moistened her cheeks. But she didn't give in to it all the way; she refused to break down.

  She realized in that moment that she hated herself and her life in every way possible.

  Olivia carefully spun her around and knelt in front of the chair. "Your
mother loves you very much, you know."

  Becky nodded, looking away and trying to smile to cover her tears. "I know. I just wish I wasn't such a burden on her. She deserves better than this. So does Mark."

  Olivia nodded, full of understanding.

  "Sometimes I think everything would be better if I wasn't in their lives anymore," Becky admitted. She couldn't believe she'd said it out loud. She searched Olivia's kind face, waiting for the inevitable reassurance that everything would be fine and that it was normal to feel this way, and she couldn't let these feelings consume her.

  Instead, Olivia leaned in close and began to whisper.

  "What if I told you that you could live a normal life? That you could have your wish fulfilled, that every burden would be lifted from your mother's shoulders, and yet you could live a long, happy, healthy life as a regular person? That you don't have to be a burden to everyone around you anymore?"

  Becky was sure she had misunderstood what Olivia was trying to say. Maybe there was some life lesson that Olivia wanted her to learn and understand so she could heal emotionally.

  "Have you got some kind of miracle cure hidden up your sleeve?" Becky joked, sniffling through her runny eyes and nose.

  Olivia smiled. "I suppose I do at that. It's highly experimental and a huge secret. No one could ever know what's happened to you-not even your mom or your brother. Not that they'd believe you ..."

  Becky was shaking her head. "I couldn't do that to them."

  "They would have a shot at a normal life. Your mom wouldn't have to work so much, and your brother would get all the attention from her that he deserves. And you'd come out best of all-you would get everything you've ever dreamed of. A normal life. And a chance to be whoever you want to be."

  "I don't understand...."

  Olivia took her hand and looked into her eyes. "As long as this stays our secret, I'll answer every question you have, I promise. But tell me something first, sweetie ... How do you feel about the name `Alexandria'?"

  London

  It was midday as the dilapidated rental van came to a stop about ten blocks out from the edge of what the media was calling "the barrier" that mysteriously surrounded a key portion of London. It was as close to the barrier as they could get due to the swarming crowds of what looked like most of the rest of England milling outside the cordoned-off area.

  Out of the van spilled Grant Borrows, his sister Julie, Alex, Morgan, Fletcher, Daniel, Lisa, Hector, and Nora, looking much worse for wear. Their spirits were defeated, as if hope and the wind had been knocked out of them permanently. Jerusalem was proving hard to get out of their systems; they had barely spoken to one another over the last twenty-four hours. What was there to say?

  On the sidewalk, Grant began moving in the direction of the barrier. Alex and his sister followed immediately; the others barely noticed the movement and then struggled to keep up.

  It was a typically balmy summer day in London, though the lack of sunshine left much to be desired. The city hummed with activity, with vehicles and people packed in tighter and tighter the closer one got to the quarantined zone.

  Just to their north lay the Thames, the famous river that calmly twisted and wound its way through the heart of London. The parts of the city south of the Thames were still open; it was the area to the north that was the problem.

  Strategically, whoever had cut off access to that part of the city certainly knew what they were doing. Just north of the Thames were Buckingham Palace, the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, and countless other buildings that upheld the government of Great Britain.

  Unfortunately, the quarantine zone also held the reason they were here-the Trigate International headquarters building, a suspected front company for the Secretum of Six.

  If it was the "Upholders of the Crown" group blocking access to this area of town ... then how on earth were they doing it?

  "Hey," Julie said, walking faster to come alongside him. "Now that we're closer, can you feel anything else about those Upholders people?"

  "Like what?" Grant asked. He wasn't sure what she expected him to find that he hadn't already.

  "I don't know, more details about where they are... ?"

  He shook his head. In doing so, he noticed the stares they were getting from the crowds. Soon throngs would push their way in closer, shoulder-to-shoulder. Was that a good idea, given their celebrity status?

  Grant stopped, forcing the others to follow suit. "Wait-come with me."

  They sidestepped into the foyer of a small restaurant. Grant examined them one by one, then made a quick decision.

  "Lisa."

  "Yeah?" she replied, stepping forward.

  "Most of us are too recognizable to get very close. I want you to work your way to the front of the line and then try to talk a policeman or someone in charge into telling you what they know about this barrier."

  While not entirely thrilled at the idea, she dutifully left the restaurant and proceeded on her way. In her absence, the team asked to be seated at a table inside the quaint building, which was decorated like a tasteful tourist attraction, and ordered lunch. Memorabilia and duplicates of historical artifacts native to England were placed on tables and hung from the walls. One primary wall was comprised of a handpainted mural of downtown London.

  Half an hour later, Lisa returned and joined them at the table. The group was used to eating fast and had already downed their food in silence by the time she arrived. She snatched her sandwich along with a to-go cup and followed them outside, where they continued the trek toward the barrier.

  "Guy down there said they think it's some kind of `energy barrier,' as weird as that sounds," Lisa reported between mouthfuls. "They don't know how else to describe it."

  "Highly unlikely," Daniel muttered, his first words since they'd landed in London.

  "Want to say that a little louder, Doc?" said Grant.

  Daniel wasn't given to looking others in the eye anymore, so when his head popped up at Grant's remark, he immediately looked down at the ground again, leaning heavily on his cane as they walked.

  "Assuming that whatever's keeping people out of the city is the work of a Ringwearer, and I think that's a safe bet ... The scientific qualities of your unique abilities-and they are enhanced, measurable, mental capabilities, and nothing more-dictate that each ability that manifests should be an extension of something the brain can already do."

  "So what?" Grant replied.

  "I've identified over two hundred potential ways the human brain could be enhanced, and none of them have anything to do with the projection of . . . `force fields,' for lack of a better term."

  "Two hundred?" Morgan was taken aback. "Really? That many?"

  Daniel nodded without looking up.

  Grant glanced over at Morgan as she digested this number. And he had the distinct impression that it didn't fit with some fact she knew to be true.

  Lisa spoke up again. "Actually, that lines up with what the policeman said. According to him, whenever a person approaches the barrier, they simply change their mind and decide not to go through to the other side. They've tried everything they can think of, but no one can maintain the desire to pass through it long enough to make it."

  "Hm," Grant thought aloud. "Sounds like we're dealing with someone who can affect will power. Have they tried placing a vehicle on automatic and just going along for the ride?"

  Lisa nodded. "As soon as they hit the barrier, they're consumed with a desire to get back to wherever they started. They've had people jump from moving vehicles-driving over bridges no less-to avoid going inside."

  Grant shook his head and focused on Morgan. "You ever hear of a Ringwearer that can affect hundreds of thousands of people all at once?"

  Morgan shook her head.

  "So the river marks this side of the barrier?" Grant clarified.

  "And there's no way across the river," Lisa concluded. "All boat traffic has been stopped. All of the bridges are shut down. Even the Eye is closed."r />
  Grant looked up and spotted the colossal white observation wheel known as the London Eye, a four hundred-and-forty-foot-high marvel of modern engineering. It stood deathly still, about five blocks to their right. Grant envied its chance to rest.

  "What if we came at the barrier from the north?" Alex suggested, the first time her voice had been heard in a while.

  Grant snuck a peek at her. Her eyes still looked hollowed-out and her shoulders still drooped, but a curiosity played at the edges of her expression. Maybe the curiosity of all these pedestrians surrounding them was empathically giving her an emotional boost.

  "How big is the area?" Morgan asked.

  Lisa looked up, remembering. "Guy I spoke to said they're not sure about the specific lines of delineation or exact square mileage, but they believe it's roughly rectangular in shape. He said they know it stretches from Paddington Station to some township called Poplar on the `sides,' with the `bottom' being the river. The `top' is somewhere above ... Izzington?"

  "Islington," Morgan corrected. "At least two kilometers north of here, which isn't that bad, but going around Paddington or Poplar would certainly be taking the long way around this ... whatever it is. With all of the major arteries clogged, it could take hours to get there in the car. Trying it on foot would be worse with the size of these crowds."

  The crowd was noticeably murmuring now, as Grant and his team were weaving through the crowd, nearing its front. It wasn't long before all eyes were on them as they stood at the head of the crowd, just behind white beams on A-frames that were used by the police to keep the crowd at bay.

  "You there!" shouted a policeman. A mid-sized man in a crisp uniform and checkered police hat trotted over to Grant. "You're-are you really-?"

  "Yes, I am," Grant replied. "And this is my team. We've come to help."

  The man showed signs of relief. "This thing takes anything we can throw at it. If you think you might have better luck, then by all means ..." he motioned toward the riverbank, a hundred meters ahead. The policeman hefted the A-frame aside so Grant and his people could get through.

  "Have you thought about restraining someone while they ventured through the barrier, but configure their restraints to open after they've reached the other side?" Grant asked the policeman.