Alliance

by Leigh, Trisha

  The third—I think the one controlling Polly a moment before—lands a punch across my face before I know she’s there. A cracking sound flies through my ears. I see stars, and black clouds, and have the strangest sensation of sliding across the snow before I realize they’re dragging me.

  The world fades in and out, and no matter how my brain screams at my limbs to struggle, they feel like someone poured lead into my bones.

  Through a haze, I see the plane is almost down. It’s floating, hovering like something out of a science fiction novel, about ten feet off the ground. Jude’s underneath it, his face bright red and sweat pouring out of him like rainwater in a downspout, but it’s working.

  Something heavy lands on my feet and jerks, pulling my shoulder out of the socket. I scream, but it sounds very far away, and then the pressure releases. I tumble the other direction, smacking into a warm body that smells so familiar—like herbs from a beloved garden—and in Mole’s arms, I float away.

  “Shit. Shit, y’all, what are we going to do?” It’s Goose’s voice that brings me back to reality. To life.

  The sun hurts my eyes but the panic surrounding me, infecting me, snaps me awake faster than my throbbing head would like. I ignore it, along with the woozy wobble in my knees, and follow their gazes.

  Our plane is on the ground. We’re alive.

  The relief I feel doesn’t mesh with Goose’s exclamation or the horror on Mole’s face.

  Then I hear the helicopters. Three of them, hovering higher in the sky, cameras pointed toward the spectacle we’re creating. There are noises behind me that turn out to be a handful of normal people with cameras and phones, all pointed in our direction.

  “How much did they see?” I whisper, my lips almost too numb to form words.

  Mole whirls, exhaling a breath. His eyes are red-rimmed and his hands shake. “You’re okay.”

  I nod and repeat my question.

  “I think it’s fair to say they saw at least a little bit of everything,” he tells me, his expression grim.

  Sweet Fancy Moses, this is bad.

  I look around, waiting for more Siphons to come at us, but there’s no one there. No one but us. “Where are they? The defectives?”

  “They left,” Mole says, still looking ill. “I don’t think they’re any more keen on the notoriety than we are.”

  “And I don’t think we should call them defectives,” Goose mutters. “They seem plenty effective to me.”

  “We can vote on it later,” I say, watching Haint and Athena run off the smoking plane and over to us.

  Goose embraces his brother, breaking down now that the danger of crashing has passed. Emotion smothers me, too, and when Geoff disembarks and we’re all together, it drops me back to my knees in the snow.

  Jude eyes the cameras. “How are we going to get out of here?’’

  Like an answer to a prayer none of us would have thought to utter, a fourth helicopter bursts from the forest, barely skimming the tree line. It sets down beside us and Dane’s hair, black and glossy, gleams in the early-evening sunset. He beckons us forward, and as we scramble aboard, I see Agent Warren and Agent Bishop strapped in, piloting the craft.

  It isn’t until they’ve lifted off—all of us secured behind doors so that the cameras can’t get any more free shots—that I realize someone’s missing. My blood turns to ice in my veins. “Where’s Polly?”

  “They took her.” Mole’s hands clench tighter, until semicircles of blood bead up on his palms.

  “They? The Siphons?” I look around wildly and realize this is the first Geoff, Athena, and Haint are hearing of this, too. “We have to go back. We can’t leave her!”

  “They’re already gone, Gypsy. Don’t you think we already thought of that? That we tried while you were passed out?” Mole’s vague accusation hits me with the force of a punch.

  It was me. He saved me when he could have saved her because I’m defenseless. I’m like the pet they all feel responsible for, the one that if they lost, they’d all bear the guilt, and now Pollyanna’s gone.

  “We can’t leave her,” I say again, my voice small and shrinking, like grapes left out in the sun.

  “We don’t have a choice,” Dane says. It’s a command, not just a fact.

  As long as we includes the CIA, it’s apparent none of us do. Not anymore.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  By the time we land back in Norfolk, the images of us using our abilities in the air and on the ground in Germany have been picked up by at least one channel in every major market in the world. There’s no denying there are kids running around with powers people don’t understand, and as the Philosopher promised us for all those years, normal humans are freaking out. Making plans to capture us, to imprison us. To get rid of us.

  The CIA packed us into armored cars and whisked us away to one of their official facilities where we get to sit and wait and try not to succumb to jet lag while we wait for Agent Marlow to show up. The agents who joined us in Russia are in another room, and we haven’t seen them since we landed, either. It’s just as well. I might kill one of them for putting us in this situation as bait.

  Jude is still with us. After what happened in the air, he’s stuck close to my side, wary of the others and how they’ve all started to watch him as though he’s going to turn their own powers on them at any moment.

  I’m left to wonder if Jude knows about his fate—if he’s been able to see it the times we’ve touched, too—but he says the siphon abilities don’t just happen. They have to mean to pull them from another Cavy.

  None of us speak even though we’ve got plenty to discuss. Like the fact that the world has seen our faces and we don’t have a whole lot of options as far as where to go. The CIA might offer us housing somewhere out of the public eye, if we agree to work as Assets, but who’s to say they still want us now?

  There’s no way I’m letting them use us again, not until we talk about what happened.

  If they do give us the option to figure out where we want to go, our only choices are back to Saint Stephen’s or to find someplace to hide out for the rest of our days. My dream of going home to my father’s, as silly as it was to begin with, has been blown completely off the table. I imagine he’d have an even harder time explaining his brand-new teenaged daughter down at the law firm now.

  “We don’t agree to anything they say,” I tell my friends in a voice that’s only loud enough for them to hear. “They used us as bait to draw out the Siphons and almost got us killed. We lost Pollyanna.”

  One by one they nod, and my eyes prick at the mention of Polly. It’s strange how it turns out we’re all desperate to have her back when I know we’ve all wished she’d leave us alone on many occasions. She’s a constant, though. Never changing. We need that, and we need her.

  “The computer virus is still out there,” I add. “We still have clues we can follow to try to stop it. See if it’s connected. But we’re not doing it with the CIA.”

  I glance at Mole and find that his face is turned in my direction, as usual. There’s a connection between us, a warmth that’s increased over the past several weeks even as we’ve grown more distant from each other, at least in comparison to the way that we used to be.

  “I still love you, Gyp.” His lips curl into a smile, but it’s more determined than anything else. “For caring about that virus.”

  “After what we saw in St. Petersburg, there’s no way I can ever not care.” Haint pales, licking her lips, then realizes everyone doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “We saw one of the victims right after it happened. It was awful.”

  “We’re all in this together.” I reach out and grab Jude’s hand, ready for the vision, prepared to push it to the side. “And that includes Jude now, too.”

  The hydrangeas and the blood blur together as I release his hand, still nervous that I know what he can do no matter what he said about how it works.

  No one argues with me, but there isn’t time before th
e CIA agents return en masse. They stand in front of us in a line, arms crossed over their chests, feet spread like they’re about to execute an all-cop version of the YMCA.

  “We’re disappointed with the way things went down abroad,” Agent Marlow starts. “But with your help and the information you were able to uncover, we have found and destroyed the laboratory and research that led to the virus. We were not able to identify the person or persons behind the attacks, or to apprehend them due to unforeseen circumstances. They could rebuild the system, but it is the opinion of our experts that it would take years. Decades maybe.”

  My blood starts to simmer. “Unforeseen circumstances, like us almost getting killed by rogue Cavies that you knew existed this whole time?”

  “You are speaking to the United States government, Miss Crespo. We work on a need-to-know basis and that’s not going to change because some snot-nosed experiment tells us otherwise,” he growls in response, eyes nearly glowing with rage.

  “Yeah, well, we’re the best option you’ve got, apparently.” My eyes flick to Dane, who I catch looking back at me. My heart squeezes flat, tries to beat. Betrayal forces unbidden tears into my eyes. “How could you do this? Use us to draw out the Siphons? You said I could trust you.”

  His lips press into a thin line. Dane doesn’t answer, but I’ve never seen more misery in the eyes of another human in my entire life.

  “You remain government property, for all intents and purposes,” Marlow continues, ignoring us as we all tense and mutter at him labeling us as property. “You will be offered housing at one of our secret facilities while we ascertain the best and most nonthreatening way to introduce you to the public.”

  “What if we don’t want to go?” Athena’s face is a breaking storm, barely held back. “Are you going to force us?”

  “I’m sure you’re aware that we have the ability to force you, with others like yourselves who have already accepted their rightful place in the system.” He pauses as though we’re going to argue with him. “We are not, however, going to exercise that option at this time. If you can find another place that meets with our approval, then we will see about making that happen. With the caveat that you will be available in the event of an emergency.”

  I give Athena an approving smile, because now we know, at the very least, that we have options. One, anyway.

  Silence falls over the room. It appears Marlow isn’t going to tell us anything else—not about the Siphons or our future in the program. Not about who’s really behind the computer virus.

  They aren’t letting us go, either. Not really.

  I don’t know if Marlow is waiting for us to say something, but none of us breaks ranks. Just when I’m about to ruin the party by getting up and demanding they give us a ride back to South Carolina, Dane steps out of line. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides and his face is set with a determination so fierce it makes me sit up and pay attention.

  “Tell them,” he says, his voice soft with the edge of a threat. “Tell them the truth about Dyatlov Pass or I will.”

  Marlow stares Dane down, but he doesn’t budge. My heart hammers against my rib cage, curiosity returning despite the shitshow of the last two days .

  Dane opens his mouth, but Marlow cuts him off. “That is classified information, Lee. Far above their pay grade…were they to have one.”

  “They almost died today. They lost one of their own, and because of how everything went down, their lives are changed forever. They’re hostages wherever they go. Hunted. They deserve to know everything.”

  “That’s all very touching, and Langley and the US government appreciate their service,” Marlow snaps, his movement and tone lazy, like a snake about to strike. “It changes nothing.”

  If my mutation allowed me to see auras, there would be a flood of red around Dane, I’m sure of it.

  “Tell us what happened there.” I’m surprised by the forcefulness in my voice. “We know something did. That the victims of the virus saw something or learned something they shouldn’t have.”

  “We don’t know who was behind the incident in the fifties. Not for sure,” Marlow says. “Just as we don’t know who’s behind the virus.”

  “But you have a guess,” Mole hazards, sounding as sure as I feel. “It’s the Siphons.”

  “We don’t have a name or an address or any proof, but yes, we have our suspicions.” Marlow rubs the bridge of his nose. “We were hoping to be able to nab one of the Siphons and interrogate them.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Geoff’s face is beet red. “You really were using us. Do you even care that the virus is going to kill people?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course. We’ve made sure that it can’t be replicated for many years. Maybe not ever.”

  “Maybe you’re the ones behind the virus,” Geoff continues, the pitch of his voice escalating to a shout. “Maybe the CIA were the ones experimenting in the fifties and this whole thing was designed to get rid of the people who know the truth.”

  Furniture in the room starts to lift off the ground. Pens and papers and staples join other office supplies in a twister above our heads and fear encroaches on the agents. No matter what they say, no matter the Cavies on their side, they are afraid of us. Of what we can do.

  “Geoff,” Haint says, reaching out for him with hesitant fingers. “Calm down. They’re not worth it.”

  He turns furious eyes on her. “We lost Pollyanna for this bullshit. Who knows if we’re ever going to see her again. The Siphons want to kill us, remember?”

  And Polly dies within the year, I think. They don’t know.

  “I know.” Haint’s soothing tone almost hypnotizes me but does nothing to stop the angry whirl of objects around the room’s perimeter. “We’re going to leave. And together we’re going to figure out how to get her out, and maybe who was behind these computer attacks to begin with. And then, no matter who it was, we’re going to make sure they never do it again.”

  The way she looks at Marlow when she makes that promise would cause anyone else in the world to cringe, but he looks back like she’s boring him half to death.

  It could be that Geoff’s accusation might not be that far off. If we find out Marlow and the CIA were behind the deadly computer virus, that they allowed civilians to be killed to either cover up their involvement in what happened to the those hikers all those years ago or simply to lure the Siphons into the open, I’ll wring his neck myself.

  “She’s right,” Mole chimes in. Nerves show in the tightness of his cheeks. Even though he can’t see, there’s no way he’s missing the disruption to the natural lack of wind indoors. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We have no idea where to go or how to get there without being lynched by the American public, but the seven of us walk away. I can’t help but smile when I hear the flying objects crash to the ground all at once, along with several exclamations of pain in their wake.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It’s Jude who gets us home—or to Charleston, anyway—without being spotted. He has a contact number for his CIA handler, someone low on the totem pole who hasn’t yet been briefed on how to advise or discourage him, and even though taking help from the CIA stings, we don’t have any other ideas.

  The guy arranges for a private flight back to Charleston and transportation to the safe house where Madeline and Flicker are staying once we’re there. Flicker’s going with us wherever we go, and honestly, I’m too exhausted and devastated to put up a fight if Madeline wants to come along.

  The short consensus is for us to go back to Saint Stephen’s. We assume the Olders knew about the Siphons, and they’re still keeping other things from us, too, but the abandoned church is safe and hidden, two things that appeal quite a bit at the moment. The bottom line is that we’re staring at a bunch of crappy choices. The Olders are the least horrible one, as far as we can see.

  The CIA safe house looks exactly like we left it, with one significant difference—Flicker�
�s sitting on the front step, bundled up in coats and blankets and eating a bowl of ice cream.

  We fly out of the car, all talking a mile a minute while she smiles faintly. The slight panic on her delicate, fair features betrays her being overwhelmed by the sudden company, and just as quickly, we all realize now isn’t the time or place for celebration.

  It was nice to think we’ve had a small victory, anyway. For a second.

  “I saw y’all on the news,” she says softly, as a way of greeting.

  I’m reminded again how little we know her, about her, or what her life has been like since she disappeared from Darley over five years ago. It occurs to me that she’s probably thinking the same thing about us.

  “How long have you been awake?” I ask, determined to take baby steps.

  “Couple of days. Three, maybe. Pretty much right after you left, according to Madeline.”

  “Where is Madeline?” Haint asks, peering into the house.

  “She left. She said that y’all aren’t going to have a choice but to go back to Saint Stephen’s, but she can’t go.” Flicker’s face hardens, as though she’s turning into an ancient statue in front of our eyes. “I’m not going back there, either.”

  “We don’t know what we’re going to do yet,” Mole soothes, but the words do little to convince any of us. Saint Stephen’s isn’t any of our first choices, but it’s better than the lying, manipulating, murdering government. We don’t have the resources to strike out on our own, and the idea of camping at a homeless shelter—with no way to get any kind of answers—is worse than living with the Olders.

  “Come on,” I start. “Let’s go inside and talk. It’s freezing out here.”

  The temperature inside the house is much more pleasant. My shivers haven’t stopped since we landed in the snow over what turned out to be Germany—the edge of the Black Forest.