by Kate Myers
From the other side of the room, Max shifts his weight, allowing the wall to support him while trying to stand tall. He begins, “We is a relative term used here.” He side-eyes his dad. “I would like to have a civil conversation about what’s to happen, learn your intentions, and reach a favorable conclusion.”
So, if I’m reading this situation right, Keith, in the simplest of terms, wants to bury me out back, but Max is against that, possibly even on my side. They’re divided, and cracks like this are what make hostage situations that much more interesting. I don’t want to manipulate anyone, but taking a small crack like this and shattering it might just be the thing that gets me out of here alive. The next step is to figure out where everyone else stands, find out which hand I need to play.
I shift my eyes from person to person. “And what does everyone else think?”
If my deducing tells me anything, Skylar is probably going to be on Max’s side, and Wiley will follow Keith because of their bond, leaving Quinn the odd man out. I could see her siding with Keith because he’s the adult here, but she’s bonded with both Skylar and Max, not to mention she’s pure at heart and wouldn’t want to have my blood on her hands.
Skylar shrugs, peeking at Max, and Quinn seems undecided, not really showing any inkling one way or the other.
Wiley contributes. “We just want to hear you out.”
“What would you like to know?” I ask this knowing that nothing I say will make Keith trust me, he’ll only think that I’m lying.
“Is what Skylar said about your family true?”
The thing that makes me the most human to them—the thing I want to discuss the least—the thing that hurts the most.
It takes me a second to grow the courage to respond. “Yes, what I told Skylar is true.”
“What happened?” Keith asks, the question digging in like a knife.
Memories come flooding in, flashes of fear and suffering, and a heartbreak so deep you’d think it would cause actual physical damage.
“I don’t know where to start,” I say, choking on my speech as it comes out.
“Anywhere would be helpful.”
My eyes close, and I breathe deeply, willing myself to say the words, reassuring my mind that just because I say them out loud, doesn’t make them happen again. This is the past, and the past can only haunt me so much. Right now, the past seems to be the only thing that can help me.
“The Reformation,” I volunteer. “They took them.”
When I don’t say anything else, Keith asks, “What do you mean, they took them?”
More flickers of memories. My daughter’s deep-auburn eyes bore into me, bloodshot and full of fear. My wife, fueled with rage, beating against a wall violently.
My voice shakes, and I admit, “They told me it would be okay, that all people on base were to get a vaccine for what was to come. I had meetings to attend, so they went ahead to get their shots. When I finally arrived, whatever they infected them with had taken its hold.” I scan the floor in front of me, trying to find something to focus on to will myself not to break in two. “My daughter, Isabel, she…she was fading fast, the virus pulling her under. And Adrienne…” I clamp my duct-taped hands to my mouth. “She was enraged, vicious. Clearly, something was wrong. No one could explain what had happened, but there was nothing that could be done either. They were both gone in a matter of days, and it wasn’t until a week later that whispers started spreading that they had used them as guinea pigs to determine the effectiveness of the mind-controlling agents. They had intended me to be one of the recipients, too, but after what had happened, I freaked out. I took the resources I had available and got together with The Resistance.”
“Jesus,” someone mutters barely loud enough to be faintly heard.
Like pleading my case to the jury, I say, “I’m not lying when I say I’m on your side.”
“It’s not down to what side you’re on, Alex, it’s what you do with the information you’ve learned here. This cabin is our only safety from the fallout. And the biggest thing of all is Max. Being a father, you have to understand how I can’t just let you leave with the knowledge that Max’s blood brought Skylar back to life.” Keith’s eyes display sadness, a desperate attempt to help me recognize why he can’t allow me to leave.
The most humorous part of all is that I never intended to tell them of Max’s special ability. I would never do that, not knowing the damage it causes him, the risks and potential deadly outcome of ever doing the procedure again. But that doesn’t matter because they would never believe me; Keith would never trust that I would keep that locked tight in a vault, never to be spoken.
There’s nothing I can say or do to prove to him that I’m not a threat, so I say nothing at all.
49
Keith
The thought of killing Alex weighs even heavier, knowing this little bit of his past. The one that plays such a huge role in the person that he is.
I am truly devastated for him. The pain I’ve felt the past few weeks, being so concerned for Wiley, and for Skylar, both of which have been so dear to my family, and then not knowing whether or not Max would make it out alive, is just a blip of what Alex has suffered. I know suffering, having felt it when I lost Maura, the most precious being I’ve ever known, but to know that her death was caused by anything other than an accident—poor timing and some idiot drunk driver—would be the end of me.
Not only did Alex have to process the loss of his wife and daughter, but he also had to do it knowing what horrible final moments they had, that were caused by a money-grubbing, power-hungry organization.
It’s almost like a switch has been flipped, and instead of killing Alex, I have this desperate desire to fight side by side in taking down these people doing such harm.
Max breaks the silence. “If these people are as powerful as they appear to be, we need to stick together. We’re all on the same side, and we have to put some faith in each other if we’re going to make it out of this thing alive. They’ve hurt every single one of us.” He catches a glimpse at each person in the small space. “We have to stand united, and we have to fight them.”
Part of me almost wants to laugh, but not because I think what he’s saying is funny, but that my mind is blown how in such a short amount of time he’s grown significantly. He’s come into his own and become this defiantly selfless human, capable of infinite possibilities. His mother would be proud. He both terrifies me and makes me happy, knowing that he will do the right things in life. Maybe not make the best decisions, given his ridiculous emotions at times, but his intentions are wholesome, and I am so proud of the man he is becoming.
“Kid has a point,” Wiley proclaims.
I ask the question that weighs so heavily on my mind. “What happens when The Resistance wants to use Max as a guinea pig?”
Alex looks me dead in the eyes. “I know you won’t believe me, and I don’t blame you for that, but I had no intention of telling them about Max. Not unless I had your permission and knew that he would be safe.”
“You’re right, I don’t believe you.”
Alex frowns slightly and then perks right back up. “Go get the logbook from my bedroom. I had written up my briefing, the thing I would be handing in to fill them in on my absence.”
At this, I nod to Wiley in hopes that he would understand I want him to go retrieve whatever Alex is referring to.
“Got it, boss,” Wiley affirms with two fingers to the forehead and then pointing them at me.
A few silent moments pass, and I ask another nagging question. “What happens if we cut you free? How do I know you won’t just kill us all right here right now and take Max with you?”
“I would hope by now you would be a bit of a better judge of my character. I wish none of you any harm.”
“I believe him,” Quinn opined finally.
I turn my attention to her, and she resumes.
“I thought what happened to Cynthia was just some fluke, some crap luck, b
ut knowing that someone is behind all of this, I’m in. After watching Skylar succumb, Max nearly dying bringing her back, I’m ready to make them pay.”
“You are my family,” Skylar voices quietly. “All of you. If anything, that’s something I’d fight for; I’m in.”
The tension in the room lifts, and a collective hoorah seems to form. Within another couple minutes, Wiley comes barging in, nearly falling down the stairs.
“Whoops, sorry, lost my footing there.” He looks to Alex. “What the hell, man?”
Alex grins, and confusion settles between the rest of us.
“I had to come up with something,” Alex says apologetically.
“I’d say so.” Wiley laughs.
I give him a look of what the heck is happening and he elaborates.
“Alex faked my death in the report, said I died before he ever got any intel of where the infamous Keith Sinclair was. Nothing about Max, Skylar, Quinn, the cabin, nothing.”
My eyes widen and my heart swells. Maybe distrusting Alex was the wrong decision all along.
50
Max
My dad is a man set in his ways, certain of his decisions, and typically, it’s because he’s spot on with doing the right thing. He’s wickedly analytical, and problem-solving is what he does best, but somehow, I knew he was doing the wrong thing in regard to Alex. I knew he needed to hear Alex out, to think without emotion and take what the rest of us were saying into consideration.
Granted that over the last few weeks, I saw a completely different side of my dad than I ever knew. I couldn’t come to terms with allowing him to become a cold-blooded killer, too.
And now, watching him cut the duct tape from Alex’s wrists and ankles, I know that there is a new level of respect between us. He’s skeptical, and he’s worried, but he put faith in what I had to say, and I’m glad that he finally sees me as an equal, at least enough to change his mind.
“So, what’s next?” Wiley asks curiously.
Alex rub’s his wrists and stands, surveying Dad for an answer.
“Good question.”
“Maybe we should sleep on it?” Quinn suggests.
Dad looks to Alex out of the corner of his eye.
Alex reacts by extending his hand. “I don’t fault you for your reaction. I may have done the same, given the circumstance.”
Dad stares at Alex’s hand before taking it into his and giving it a firm, manly shake.
“Let’s sleep on it then,” he settles. “It’s been one hell of a day, and I think everyone could use some rest. Let’s talk about it over pancakes in the morning.”
At the sound of pancakes, my stomach growls and Skylar gives me a shy smile. “What can I make you?”
My heart flutters at the sight of her dimples, a calmness settling over me, letting me know that even though everything is massively screwed up, that we might make it out of this okay. And even if we don’t, and we go down swinging, at least we have each other.
Skylar was kind enough to satiate my hunger with a grilled cheese sandwich, and when we finish eating, we head back to my bedroom. The space feels so much smaller than it did prior, now that we’re both conscious and not being held alive by life support.
“You take the bed.” I motion toward it.
“Are you crazy?” she scoffs.
“I’ll sleep in the chair, it’s okay. I’ve grown rather fond of that old ratty thing.”
“No way in hell you’re sleeping in that chair.”
“Come here,” I say, tugging on her shoulder and bringing her into me. Her hair, a mix of summer and that everlasting scent of lavender, is both intoxicating and soul soothing. Her weight settles against me, relaxing into the embrace. I hold her close and whisper into her ear, “Thank you.”
She flinches just slightly in confusion. “For what?”
“For being here. For coming back to me, for not giving up on me.”
“I won’t give up on you, Max.”
She says the words, and they somehow turn into glue, piecing together all the broken pieces of me, giving me hope that I’ll be whole again. That no matter what, I’ll rise from the ashes, with her by my side. I hold on to her tighter and then gently wrench myself away, placing my hands on each side of her face, staring into her ocean-deep eyes.
“Whatever you need me to be, I will be that. Okay? I don’t want to lose you again, not now, not ever. You mean so much to me, you always have, Skylar Morgan. And I don’t know if it’s the gravitational pull or some kind of invisible string, but I promise you, I will be here for you.”
Tears well in her eyes, and just for a second, my heart breaks at the unknown, the possibility that she might reject me—that she might turn and run as far from me as possible. But then she blinks, and a tear rolls down her cheek, and for the slightest moment, she looks to my lips. She stands taller and tugs me down at the same time, déjà vu hitting me as I place my hand on the small of her back, and when we’re finally close enough, she presses her angelic lips to mine.
Everything fades away and, in this moment, I know that I am hers and she is mine.
Whatever this world has to offer, we will face it together.
Tonight will be a time for rejoicing and relishing the little moments that impact us the most, and tomorrow, tomorrow we will stand united and take back what is ours, and fight for what has been lost.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to every single person who supported The Deranged—without you, this book would have never come into fruition.
A huge thank you to my patrons, for monetarily (and morally!) supporting the behind the scenes of writing this book: Victoria, Tyler, The Mask Hunter, The House of Masks, Sir Smiles 555, and Christa Stanley. Your support means more to me than you’ll ever know.
Emmy Ellis at Studio ENP, thank you for your editing skills.
The entire team at Mibl Art, you are creative geniuses.
Victoria, you get another thank you for your endless support with, yet again, another book.
And to my biggest cheerleader of all, my tiny human. The greatest accomplishment of my life was creating you.
Also by Kate Myers
The Consequence - Prequel
The Deranged - Book One
The Comatose - Book Two
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About the Author
Kate Myers has been writing fiction since 2013. She obtained a bachelor’s degree in accounting and business, only to realize writing was her true passion. Kate does her best writing when she’s drowning in coffee and not distracted by cats. She is an avid reader and book lover, young-adult fiction being her favorite to read and write. Kate lives in small-town Ohio. When she’s not writing (or reading), you’ll probably find her making endless to-do lists that she will either lose or never complete.
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