“Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“Is it wrong that I miss them?”
Josh chews his jaw in silence. “We need to find her,” he says after a moment. “Before something bad happens.”
The drive to Maya’s house is uneventful as we pass more cornfields and barns than I think possible. It’s mid-day by the time we reach the low mountains of the Adirondacks and the town marked on the map. The air smells sweetly of wildflowers and grass, no remnants of the rain that stormed on through the night.
David and Josh talk most of the drive, as I lose myself in landscape, numb. Snippets of their conversation float by as they reminisce about their dreams of being superheroes and changing the world. Josh is happier than I’ve seen him in years. He laughs and jokes like when we were kids; before the fight with Mom and Dad, before he left.
David tries to pull me into the discussion more than once. I ignore his advances, not ready to acquiesce to my feelings for him yet, not trusting my ability to keep myself from going all X-Men crazy again.
Too late.
Pictures of the institution, the experiments, penetrate through my mind. I am certain that I’m responsible for whatever made us leave. If only I could remember what happened.
We drive up a long dirt road to Maya’s house and goose bumps start to spread across my skin. Everything is wrong about this place.
David touches my shoulder and I startle. “You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. I have that weird feeling again. Like at home.” I meet Josh’s gaze. “You know?”
“Me too. Stay in the car. David and I will go.”
I’m out and next to them before they say another word. “Like I ever follow your orders.”
Josh nods as we slowly climb the stairs to the house. The chills expand across my skin. Every instinct screams at me to leave. “Anyone sense anything?”
“Other than an overwhelming need to split, nope.” David’s voice is low and cautious.
“Me, either,” Josh whispers.
I lay a hand on the door and close my eyes. An image of the interior opens across my eyelids. The house is tossed, reminiscent of mine. “We’re too late.” My voice cracks on the words. “She’s not here.”
Josh opens the door as David pushes me behind him. The house is a mess. Every drawer emptied and on the floor. We explore each room, finding no signs of Maya.
I go upstairs in search of a clue to point us in the right direction. The first two rooms are in shambles. The last room appears untouched, the door closed. I place my hand lightly on the heavy wood. Nothing reaches to me from the inside the room, no presence I can sense. I swallow back my hint of fear and crack open the door.
The bedroom, hers based on the lavender walls and lace covered duvet, is as messy as the rest of the house. The desk and nightstands are up-ended and broken. I step over the scattered pieces of Maya’s life, still searching for a hint of her whereabouts. Pictures lay torn and crumbled across the floor. I scoop up a few, smoothing out what I can. The top picture features an image of her as a child, holding hands with a familiar looking man I can only assume is her father. The next is a photo of her in front of a familiar farmhouse.
I know that house.
My hands shake the last picture. Three smiling faces look up through the wrinkled paper. Maya, Mari and me. We’re so happy, so complete. In the image, we hug each other tightly with grins so wide I can’t help but smile too. The same familiar house is in the background.
Tears overcome my eyes as flashes of emotions flit through my body. Joy. Acceptance. Love. Things I’ve craved since before I can remember. Things I believed I’d never find.
I shove the picture in my pocket and run from the room, unable to hold back the stream of tears. I’m down the stairs and out the door within a few heartbeats.
“Dakota,” David yells as I run past him.
“Leave me alone.”
“Wait.” David follows me to the car, grabs my arm and spins me toward him. “What’s wrong?”
There’s so much I want to say. “I can’t,” is all that comes out.
“Talk to me. You used to be able to tell me anything.” The pain in his eyes is palpable.
“No . . . I just . . . can’t.” I turn, the tears flowing more freely now.
David wraps his arms around mine in a tight embrace. “It’ll be okay; I promise.”
“I wish everyone would just stop saying that. It’s not going it be okay.”
I’ll never be okay again.
THE ARCHITECT WALKED THROUGH THE FORESTS SURROUNDING THE TINY HOUSE AND EDGED UP TO THE PROPERTY UNHEARD. Things appeared exactly as she’d planned—the house trashed, enough evidence to keep them intrigued. Scared.
Perfect.
She’d lead them this far, now all she had to do was push them into her trap.
The Ninja walked out of the house and scanned the landscape, his body tense and his hands fisted at his sides. He paced across the porch before he walked down the stairs and toward the property’s edge. The sun filtered through the trees as she scrutinized his movements. She wanted to join his presence, understand his thoughts. Risky. She wouldn’t be able to stay hidden, not from him. Instead, she contented herself with studying him as he surveyed the property, pushing through the low maples and ferns typical in the forest. Pine needles crunched underfoot as he came within a few feet of her hiding spot.
Confusion rolled from him in waves. The Architect didn’t need her psychic abilities to sense his chaotic emotions. He pulled a crumpled photo from his pocket. She recognized the picture immediately. Same five children all smiling at the camera; same four doctors dressed in lab coats that reflected the camera’s flash. He rubbed his thumb over the picture and swallowed hard.
The Architect imagined herself running to him, comforting him. She remembered the way his blue eyes pierced her heart, longed for a relationship he never offered. It crushed her when the Creator accused him of betrayal, nearly destroyed her when she learned that the price for joining the Order would be his death.
The Ninja tucked the picture back in his pocket, wiped his eyes and walked back to the porch. She wasn’t ready to kill them all. Not yet.
Are you ready to carry out your assignment? There was no anger in the Creator’s voice, no disappointment that the others were not yet dead. Only the genuine acceptance she’d come to need from him.
Yes. All three recruits are here. Should I take them now? Kill them?
A pause broke through the Creator’s thoughts. It wasn’t like him to hesitate, even for a brief moment.
The Architect stared at the Ninja and waited for instructions. She’d imagined her vengeance numerous times, each without a twinge of doubt. Now that her victory approached, she was unsure.
I want you to bring them to me, the Creator said in her thoughts. All of them.
Sir?
The Creator had guaranteed her revenge. Doubt or not, she wasn’t willing to relinquish the promise he’d made.
Bring the recruits home, the Creator said. I need all of them. She needs to experience true pain. She needs to be vulnerable. And she needs to know I was the one to cause it if I am to make her join us.
The Architect opened her mouth to protest, closing it before the words “I don’t understand” escaped. She’d never known the Creator to get personally involved. But this was different.
For both of them.
Weave yourself back into their lives, the Creator told the Architect. Gain their trust. Make sure they know you are on their side. Then, when the time is right, bring them to me.
And if they won’t come?
Make sure they are too tempted to play hero to say “No”.
If they figure out what’s happening?
Make sure they don’t. The Creator left her thoughts as the Ninja glanced in her direction before turning away.
The noonday sun settled high above them, still blocked by the tall pines. The Ninja made one last tour of the property before he stood a
t the edge of the house, stiff and unyielding.
The Architect drew a mental image of the safe house and his parents in complete detail—the house perfectly positioned between cornfields and the lake, and his parents pacing the porch with strangled anticipation. The recruits drove up the long drive, anxious for a reunion that almost never happened. It was everything the Ninja wanted.
And the only way the Architect could fulfill her mission.
She closed her eyes and pushed the image carefully into his thoughts. At first his mind closed, startled by the vision’s presence. In a heartbeat, he opened up to the hope the vision represented. He embraced each detail, as though he, alone, had created the image. His emotions followed his mind, tracing the pictures and allowing them to confirm his deepest desires—his parents waited for them in safety.
The Ninja’s knees wobbled and he stooped over to catch his breath.
“Hey!” the Samurai yelled. “You okay?”
The Ninja stood up and stretched his back. “Yeah,” he said. “I know where they are; Mom, Dad, Maya—I know exactly where they are.”
He ran to the car as the Architect watched his excited chatter with the others
Let the games begin, she thought, pushing aside the regret lodged in her throat.
Project Stargate 2.0
The Solomon Experiments
Dr. LeMercier’s Personal Journal –
October 5, 2002
Day 98:
The Assassin is unmatched. Her capacity to inflict pain belies her young age. Her psychic potential exceeds my own. Every day I grow more attached to her, almost fatherly. She’s more like a protégé than a recruit.
Tate’s confident she’ll master killing within the next few weeks. I’m not sure I agree. But for now, I’m satisfied with her training. She’s everything we’ve hoped for and more.
Jennings and Christyn work with the other recruits while I focus my efforts with her. They assure me the others are not a disappointment. According to their research notes, several recruits mastered projection and telepathy. One even developed psychic camouflage. Our hypotheses about psychic training programs are correct. The progress of the recruits has proven it again and again.
The Solomon experiments are a succes, even the CIA agrees.
Jennings’ attitude still worries me. He doesn’t believe the outcomes are all good. He expresses concern over his son, despite my assurances. Worse, his concern infects the others. Despite the evidence of our enemies’ progress, years ahead of what we’ve accomplished, the others insist we exercise caution. They want to slow down our progress. They fear the impact the training has had on the social and emotional development of the recruits.
Christyn, in particular, expresses her concerns over my recruit on a continual basis. Most recently, she’s asked to counsel the children. Despite my feelings for Christyn, I’m not certain I can trust her. But, what choice do I have? I must show some unity with Christyn in order to maintain her faith in the project. If I lose that, if the others doubt what we are doing and report their concerns to the CIA, the entire project could be threatened. I will not allow failure, not when we are so close. I must allow Christyn time to see there’s nothing to fear. The recruits have adapted to the conditions of the project.
They are everything we’ve trained them to be—good soldiers.
WE WASTE NO TIME GETTING BACK ON THE ROAD. JOSH AND DAVID SIT IN THE FRONT, AS I SIT IN THE BACK, MY EYES CLOSED. A memory reaches up from somewhere deep and forgotten. A long narrow lake, punctuated by a few lonely docks stretching into the water. A brick Colonial surrounded by a large porch. Three adults dressed in lab coats walk the length of the porch. The house is old, weathered. The interior tells a new story. Nothing is antique or rustic, only white, sterile and more reminiscent of a hospital than a farm house. The images fade in and out of my mind. I scrunch up my brows as I cling to the fading pictures.
“Are you okay?” Josh’s voice floats through the non-stop movie now flashing in front of me.
“Dakota?” David reaches back and grabs my hand, squeezing hard. “Dakota!”
I open my eyes, blinking in the bright sun. “Um, what?” My mouth won’t work properly.
“You started calling for Mom. Were you dreaming?” Josh meets my gaze through the rear view mirror.
“I did?” No more words form.
“Yeah,” David says, again squeezing my hand.
“I think . . .”
“What?” David’s piercing green eyes reach through me.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m starting to remember.”
“Remember?”
“Yes. Our lives before. The safe house. We did live here, near a hospital. Or perhaps a lab. An institute.” I don’t believe what I’m saying.
“Are you sure?” The tone of Josh’s voice alerts me. He never uses this particular tone, one that’s both firm and cautious, except for bad news.
“I keep seeing parts of memories, flashes of . . . something? When I reach for them, they disappear.”
David and Josh say nothing.
“You guys think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say crazy.” Again Josh speaks in the worrisome tone. “Stressed, maybe. You’ve been under a lot of pressure. We all have. I’m not sure any of us should trust our memories at the moment.”
“You think I’m making this up?”
“I didn’t say that,” Josh quickly replies.
“We just want to make sure you’re okay.” David’s attention darts from me to Josh and back.
I turn and face the non-stop fields. I’m tired of arguing, tired of the craziness. Just tired.
“Dakota—”
“Forget it,” I say before Josh can say anything more.
We drive the next few miles in silence before Josh turns the car toward the long narrow lake from my memories.
“We’re getting close,” he says.
“Good.”
“There!” David points ahead to an old Colonial house that rises up in the distance.
The house is similar to the one in my thoughts; same but different. I survey the details as we turn down a long driveway. White shutters flank large windows on the upper level. A wrap- around porch engulfs the large house.
So many similarities to my memories.
The lake stretches behind the old estate. Out to the left an old barn and another structure flank large cornfields. I take it all in as an involuntary shudder passes over me.
“You okay?” David asks as his hand brushes along my arm, sending another chill through me.
“Yeah,” I lie, wishing I could stop myself from reacting to him. I stare at the house, my mind extended, searching for Mom and Dad. Nothing but cold emptiness greets me. “Are you sure they’re here?” I ask as Josh parks the car in front of the house.
“Yeah. I saw them here. All of them.”
I close my eyes again and reach for them. Again only my thoughts greet me. My skin erupts in gooseflesh, never a good sign.
“Come on,” Josh says as he leaves the car, his body showing the same apprehension as me. “Let’s go.” His eagerness is contagious, but false. I know no one’s here.
I climb from the car, disappointed. “Josh—”
My voice leaves in a rush, stealing my air. At once my legs refuse to bear any weight. I reach for David, stumble, fall. David’s secure arms wrap around me.
“Josh!” David’s voice does nothing to quell the panic that overtakes my senses.
“Head . . . in pain . . .” White-hot pain streaks across my vision, reminiscent of the feelings I experienced in one of my visions, moments before death. I grab my head and squeeze my eyes shut. Focus Dakota, I yell. Nothing in me complies. The world begins to spin, faster and faster. Screams—my screams—escape my mouth.
“Dakota!” David pulls me tighter, his embrace threatening more pain.
“Stop . . . let go!” I manage to push out. “Hurts . . .”
The ground rushes up under m
e as the bones in my skull continue to push together. Darkness eclipses thought and agony weaves through every emotion.
“Hold on, Dakota. Hold on.” David strokes my head, his warm breath my anchor.
Time to pay, a voice screams up through my pain.
My brain detaches. My eyes pop open as a feral rage unleashes in my screams. I pull away from David.
“Dakota!” Josh meets my glare, his arms motioning me to stop.
I refuse to listen.
Rocks swirls around me in a vortex. Another animalistic growl emanates from deep inside. I spin around, desperate to release a power that will not be contained.
Laughter explodes in my thoughts. My head feels like it may explode as another round of agonizing torture begins. I fall to my knees. “No!” I yell. “I won’t subm—” Darkness swallows my words and covers my sight.
I fall back and my body collides with the hard pine-needle covered ground.
The warmth of the sun on my skin pulls me from the murky waters of a dreamless sleep, followed by the strong scent of espresso. I push myself up on my elbows, disoriented. Blinking away the fog from my thoughts, I look around the room. The walls are reminiscent of David’s house, and for a moment I think we never left that place. Until everything comes back in a rush—the emptiness of the house, the agonizing pain, and the knowledge that I was about to die.
“Shh. You’re safe, Dakota. You’re safe.” David walks to me and kneels, taking my hand in his. “You’re okay. We all are.”
The tears come before I can stop them. David wipes them away with his thumb. I shudder, in part because of his touch and also because of the crazy-train I can’t seem to avoid.
“Where am I?” The words scrape against my already raw throat. “What happened?”
“We’re at the safe house,” Josh says, staring out of the window, his back toward me. “Mom and Dad aren’t here.” His voice hides none of his despair.
Collide (The Solomon Experiments Book 1) Page 9