The Golden Order

by Heidi Tankersley

  No one would control me. No one would take what they wanted from me.

  At the declaration, something shut down in my body, refusing to be released. Like using a switch, I’d turned off my cells, simply by deciding to. The sounds around me quieted, the light dimmed, the outside world muted. Even the hum of the numbers continuously flowing through my mind shifted into the background as my body closed down and insisted it would not be used.

  I dared anyone to try.

  As if the pilots were reading my mind and wanted to test me on my word, the helicopter started lowering.

  7

  SAGE

  The helicopter landed on concrete, thirty yards away from a parked airplane.

  The nose of the plane angled toward the hangar of a small municipal airport, big enough for private airliners but certainly not meant for anything commercial.

  Miles of dense, tropical foliage separated us from the south side of the island where I’d seen the community of people. The airport felt like an entirely different world from that little town, void of feeling, void of life.

  Portable stairs led up to the open plane door, and three men waited at the base: one in a suit, two in security guard uniforms. For some reason, Dr. Adamson stiffened at the sight of the men, or perhaps he was uncomfortable with the plane itself, I wasn’t sure.

  A hundred yards behind the airplane, the dense forest of green beckoned me. Was escape even possible? And where would I go if I did make it off this concrete? They’d search until they found me, for sure, even if I made it to the south side of the island—even if I jumped in that red boat with that old man and tried to paddle away. And what about Ollie? I needed Ollie so desperately right now that my dog felt like a rational explanation to wait. Or was I just a coward? Every mile I rode in that plane would take me farther and farther from Finn. I knew that.

  Dr. Adamson eyed me, as if reading my mind. “Remember what I said. Nothing stupid.”

  The helicopter blades slowed to a stop. Only after the noise dissipated did I realize how the rhythmic beat had pounded through my entire body for over two hours.

  Dr. Adamson unstrapped himself, and then, gun in hand, barrel trained on my shoulder, he stuck the key into the handcuffs.

  If I were going to try, this would be it.

  This was my chance.

  But as the handcuffs clicked apart, the helicopter door opened and a guard stood before us.

  “Dr. Dallamore suggests we take it from here,” he said.

  Dr. Adamson’s eyes narrowed at the guard. “I’m perfectly capable of—”

  The guard interrupted by unstrapping my seatbelt himself and pulling me from the helicopter, oblivious to the gun in Dr. Adamson’s hand. Dr. Adamson climbed out behind us. Despite the guard’s grip on my arm and the fact that the sun remained hidden behind the clouds, the fresh air cooled me, a stark contrast to the confined helicopter cabin.

  The tall man in the suit by the airplane watched me cross the pavement, his left wrist casually held by his right hand in front of him. He wore a security headset. When I reached the stairs, his stance didn’t shift, nor did the position of his arms. He nodded for me to climb aboard. When Dr. Adamson made to step onto the stairs, the man held out his hand to stop him.

  It was a strange moment, and I paused without realizing it. In less than a half-second, two sides had been established, and all with the simple motion of that man’s hand. I knew I couldn’t fully understand what was happening. I only felt I was on the precipice of a mountain, either side held equal amounts of danger and trouble, but at least Dr. Adamson was trouble I knew.

  “She’ll meet you at the mansion,” the man in the suit said. He nodded for me to continue up the steps. “Go on.”

  My moment for escape had come and gone. The more I fought at this point, the more closely they’d watch me later.

  Wait for the right time. It will come.

  I felt Dr. Adamson watching me go, like a prize racehorse being exchanged. I glanced back only once, wondering if Dr. Adamson was the safer enemy, wishing those green eyes weren’t his, but Beckett’s instead.

  If Beckett were here, we’d escape. We’d go to that red boat together, talk that old man into letting us buy it. We’d climb aboard, find Finn and Jack and Imogen, go to some deserted island and hide forever. We’d fish, and forage for tropical fruit, and forget that our fathers were totally worthless ….

  Inside the jet, the smell of new leather hit my nostrils. A round man sat in one of the cream leather seats, looking comfortable. He wore a suit and a dress shirt that fit snuggly around his large belly.

  “Pretzels?” He held up a small bag of snacks. Grayish, ruddy hair grew around his ears but refused to cover the top of his head.

  “Please, have a seat. I’m Dr. Dallamore, your escort to the Vasterias mansion.” When I hesitated, he added, “You needn’t be afraid of me,” and waved again to the chair across the aisle.

  I felt frozen. Unable to make a decision, as if a single step farther into the plane sentenced me to something horrible and unknown.

  Maybe there was some untapped part of my brain that would provide the information I needed to fly a plane? Is that how these heightened capabilities worked? If pressed hard enough, maybe my mind could do anything I asked of it? If so, then why wasn’t I hearing things like before? Back on Vasterias’s island, I heard the helicopter coming even miles away. And why were my numbers so quiet—the usual hum in the back of my mind all but silent?

  The man named Dallamore studied me with curiosity, unaware of all the thoughts racing through my head.

  It all felt like too much. I couldn’t think about any of it for a second longer.

  I dropped into the seat across the aisle from him, defeated. The scent of new leather washed up into my nostrils.

  “Fine choice,” Dallamore said. Was he referring to my seat? Or that I sat down instead of running?

  Out the window, Dr. Adamson waved his hands as he shouted at the man in the suit at the base of the stairs. Dallamore gazed out his own window and smiled.

  Dr. Adamson scowled up at the plane and dropped his arms, shoulders stiff with the forced surrender.

  He stormed away from the steps, his cell phone already out—no doubt calling in orders of his own. Whatever had been said, whatever line had been drawn, whatever rules had just been outlined for him, he wasn’t giving up. This was only the beginning.

  “A grand party is happening at the mansion,” Dallamore said. “And you’re the guest of honor. Someone’s already picked out your dress, and it’s the perfect color for your skin tone. You’ll sparkle wonderfully in the spotlight when we make the announcement for people to bid on your eggs. People need a visual. They need to see what they’re getting. They need to see you.”

  My breath caught in my chest. If I let myself fully absorb the words Dallamore just said, I knew I’d fall apart completely.

  I wanted to talk with Jack and Beckett. They’d know what was going on and how to handle their father. They’d get me out of here. Even Imogen’s crass jokes would be better than nothing at the moment. But no one was here. No one could help me sort things out; no one could help me escape.

  Dallamore furrowed his brow, perhaps registering my feelings on some level. He held up the pretzels, silently offering them to me again.

  Ollie loved pretzels. He’d be happy for the treat when I saw him. I accepted the snack, settled deeper into the cushioned seat, and placed the bag of pretzels in my lap.

  “How long until we arrive at the mansion?” I said. My voice sounded tired, even to me.

  “We’re at the front end of an eight-hour flight and a two-and-a-half-hour drive from the airport.”

  “And my dog, Ollie, is it true he’s there? At this mansion?”

  Dallamore appeared surprised by my knowledge of this. “Yes … yes, as far as I know, the gardener took him in, and I believe the animal is still there.”

  I nodded and closed my eyes. For just a moment, I would forget tha
t the cells of my body were some highly coveted scientific prize and would let myself get lost in the simple consolation of holding my dog sometime within the next twenty-four hours.

  8

  BECKETT

  “Stop!” Imogen held her hand up to block Jack from knocking out Finn for a third time.

  Finn was just starting to stir again.

  “I can’t take it anymore,” Imogen said. “Let me just try to talk to him or something.”

  Imogen had tied my shirt and Jack’s around Finn’s wrists and ankles. It kept him contained, but every time Finn regained consciousness, he started screeching at us.

  “Can’t you see it in his eyes?” Imogen said. “He’s only acting like this because he’s scared out of his mind, and he’s in pain. He looks desperate. It’s like he wants to be finished, put out of his misery. Can’t you tell he’s sad? He knows his sister isn’t here any longer.”

  Jack leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, at least willing to let Imogen give it a try. “Since when did you get so sensitive?” he said, but below the comment, I sensed his relief.

  Imogen ignored Jack and started talking to Finn. His eyes opened, and they looked just as she described: terrified and consumed with pain.

  I had to turn away.

  “She’s not here, mate.” Imogen held up her hands as a signal of good will. “They took her, and we’ve got to get her back. Can you help us? We’re going to find a way to get your sister.”

  Finn responded by lunging toward her and snapping his teeth at her hands. She jumped back.

  Jack moved in to help, but Imogen held up a hand for him to stop.

  She squatted down again, not getting so close this time. “I know what it feels like.” She swallowed. “After they killed my mom, I felt trapped inside myself, and there was no one on my side.” Finn lunged at her again, and she jumped out of the way.

  She sighed and looked at Jack. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “I’m thinking on it,” Jack said.

  “We’ve got to do more than think about it,” I snapped, frustration coating my voice.

  I hadn’t spoken since Jack arrived in the cell. The anger threatened to boil over inside of me each time Jack knocked out Finn, every time Finn woke up and shrieked out in despair.

  “We’ve been sitting in here for an hour, just ‘thinking.’ We’ve got to do something. Dad’s probably already halfway to headquarters by now, and we’re—”

  “I said let me think!”

  Finn growled at Jack’s voice, his attention pulled from Imogen. He made eye contact with me for just a moment, the gaze blank and feral. It was all too much. Seeing Finn so animal, so not himself, and knowing he was likely going to die. More anger than I’ve ever felt for Jack came rushing out of me. I couldn’t even trace its source.

  I punched the wall. “No! No more thinking! We’ve got to DO SOMETHING!” I shouted.

  There was a second of silence, all eyes on me, even Finn frozen in place.

  As if in answer, the lock on the door clicked, and the door swung open. It was the same guard who’d punched Jack in the face an hour before.

  “Change of plans. It’s time to go. Cunningham is coming for you after all.”

  We all stared at the guard, except for Finn, who thrashed on the floor, pulling at his bindings.

  “You work with Cunningham?” I said skeptically.

  “I’m letting you go, aren’t I?” He scowled at me. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t have orders from him.”

  Arms still crossed, Jack lifted away from the wall with a press of his shoulders. He stared the guard down, his eyes penetrating and suspicious.

  “The whole time Cunningham has been working with us, he never once mentioned anything about you.”

  The guard snorted like he didn’t care one way or another.

  “Look, there’s a boat for you out in the water, just offshore on the east beach. You can go or stay, makes no difference to me. I’m sure your father would be happy if you kept your butts here until he could summon you. But, if you’d like to go to Kansas City and meet Dr. Cunningham, take the boat straight east to the island five miles away. Cunningham’s helicopter will be waiting for you there. I’ve cleared the southeast halls. You have five minutes to make it out of the building.”

  The guard tossed several tranquilizer darts in through the half-open door and walked away. One of the darts rolled to a stop in the center of the cell.

  Jack stared at the door, frowning.

  Imogen stood up. “Well, they don’t have to tell me twice.” She picked up a tranquilizer dart and jammed it into Finn’s thigh. “Sorry, mate, it’s time to go.”

  Finn dove toward her. His fight didn’t last long. In thirty seconds, he went still.

  Jack stared at the door, still contemplating. I stared at Jack, wondering why he hesitated.

  Imogen slipped her arms under Finn’s torso and looked at us both like she couldn’t believe we were still just standing there.

  She rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well? What are we waiting for?”

  9

  IMOGEN

  Nonsense. All of it.

  Vasterias, this plan, everything that had happened.

  I wasn’t going to look back.

  Our boat flew across the water, already a half mile from shore. The small vessel bounced over the waves, Jack steering, Finn lying in the bottom of the boat, Beckett near the front, me in the back.

  Behind us, that bloody island grew smaller and smaller. Everything I’d known for the last two months dissolved in the gray humidity of the morning.

  And good riddance.

  I crossed my arms and clenched my teeth together. I would not look back at that island again.

  Yes, you heard me. Good riddance.

  I felt tears forming and held my eyes open in the wind so they would dry before anyone saw.

  Why couldn’t I push it all away? Why couldn’t I push him away?

  Caesar.

  He was supposed to be in this boat with us. And he’d died back there on that island, with that modwrog, in that cell.

  Caesar had loved Jack like a brother.

  Caesar had loved me, too.

  Someone had actually loved me. I don’t know how, or why. But he did, and he told me so, and now he was gone.

  I knew it probably hurt Jack to think about it, but he didn’t show it, so I wasn’t going to show it either.

  I buried that pain deep, deep inside me. No one would find it. No one would ever see it on the outside.

  I turned my attention to Finn’s unconscious body and occupied myself with making sure the wrap around his arm held tight.

  This would help me stop feeling all the pain. It would distract me from the terrifying feelings stirring deep inside. Feelings of wrath and revenge didn’t scare me—those were my constant companions. But pain? Pain is not controllable.

  My hand rested on Finn’s arm. Distraction.

  This boy Finn would not die, not if I had anything to say about it. I could focus on that. Just nothing, nothing else.

  10

  SAGE

  We landed at LaGuardia Airport in the darkness of New York at 4:00 am.

  Locked in the airplane, we waited for three hours for our ride to arrive, Dallamore saying something about miscommunication of our landing time to headquarters.

  Finally, a car approached our plane.

  Wind blew through my hair as I stepped outside the plane’s interior.

  The light was just peeking over the horizon. The guard who greeted us at the base of the steps warned me with his eyes. Don’t try to run.

  We were in the section for private jets, and I didn’t see anyone else boarding or disembarking in the early morning quiet. But the guard was right. Too much open concrete to try to escape at LaGuardia.

  My feeling of confinement escalated when I climbed into the back of the Mercedes and the door shut behind me.

  1
1

  JACK

  My bullet wounds had almost completely healed by the time we escaped from the island, rode in the helicopter, stopped for gas, re-boarded the helicopter, stopped for gas again, reboarded, made it to Kansas City, and took a fifteen passenger van from the airport to the northeast part of the city. The same man who co-piloted the helicopter drove us from the airport himself.

  It was 7:00 am in the outskirts of Kansas City. Our day was supposed to be ending, but thanks to the eight-hour time zone hop, and fifteen hours of travel, we were arriving at the start of a new day instead of the end of one.

  I stared at Dr. Cunningham as I hopped out of the van into the partly-cloudy skies of an early summer day in Kansas. The temperature here felt similar to the island, only the air held no humidity, and devoid of the moisture, it felt crisper, more endurable.

  Dr. Cunningham stood in front of an old brick building that was situated on the outskirts of a mixed residential and commercial area. The building looked like it could have been part of a university campus at one point but now appeared too dilapidated for much of anything at all.

  Imogen and Beckett unloaded an unconscious Finn from the back seat of the van, Imogen barking orders at Beckett to “be careful of Finn’s arm, look out for Finn’s head.”

  I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Cunningham.

  He wore jeans and a nondescript button-up shirt. He smiled at me, looked happy to see me, actually, but … he wasn’t what I had pictured.

  It had been a decade and a half. The last time I saw him, I was three years old. He looked to be the same weight and stature, the same head of full brown hair. But the angle of his cheekbones was a bit more severe than I remembered. And his nose had a sharper angle. Had time passing, along with the pressure of hiding, forced his features into something tighter than I remembered? I knew it was possible—time and stress did something to people that even the best plastic surgeons could never hide—and Dr. Cunningham hadn’t had an easy life by any means; Vasterias had been after him and his science for twenty years.