Evergreen trees surround the safe house, filling the air with the unmistakable scent of pine. Endless rows of corn flank the trees. The plants crinkle against each other in a light breeze. Beyond the trees and the house, a lake lazily laps at the shore, joining the staccato rhythm of the corn. Overhead, a half moon brightens the sky, refusing to yield to coming dawn.
I search the landscape, my brows knit together in deep concentration. Where are you? I walk forward, soundlessly crunching the leaves which litter the ground. Josh?
Nestled up against a tall tree on the property’s edge, I find him, barely visible. He flattens himself against the tree, hiding his body among the branches. I stare, watching as his skin takes on the tree’s color and texture. His camouflaging skills have improved in the few days since the attack at David’s.
Stay where you are, I say to Josh. We’re coming.
No need, Josh says. There’s no one here.
Promise me you’ll stay put. I squeeze David’s hand. “Found him.”
“The safe house?”
“Yeah,” I say.
David nods, his foot pressing harder on the gas pedal.
The car speeds along the empty highway. David never releases my hand as I stay focused on Josh, determined to maintain my connection to him. I can’t dislodge the lump in my throat or ease the tightness spreading across my chest. Something is wrong. He isn’t safe.
I turn to look at David, his mouth stretched in a straight line. “David—”
My words die before they leave my mouth, engulfed by images I can’t ignore: Josh, the lake, water. . .
Too much water. . .
The moon hangs high overhead, casting long shadows against the landscape. Murky water surrounds my ankles and calves. I edge forward, ignoring the cold that slides across and under my skin. Dark emotions fill my senses, pounding against my thoughts until there is nothing but a terror too real to dismiss.
Help me, I think.
There is no one to hear my pleas, no one to care.
I continue forward, each step bringing more water to surround my body. Fresh agony carves into my mind. The moon dips behind new clouds and the landscape is blanketed in darkness. Water rises to my waist, sending new shivers down my already frozen skin.
Fear joins my pain in equal measure. I close my eyes and will the dream, the nightmare to end. It’s no use, my subconscious refuses to acquiesce and the vision continues to unfold.
The lake rises to engulf me in a watery prison. I glance in every direction. There is no shoreline, no way for me to escape.
Only water.
In every direction.
My body tightens. Each moment that passes increases the heaviness of my cells. I kick to keep myself from slipping below the surface of the lake. My head bobs for a moment before dipping deep into the water, the weight of my body too much to overcome.
I kick again . . .
And again . . .
And again . . .
My body refuses to release from its watery grave. My mouth opens and liquid fire pours into every crevice until my lungs burn. I tilt my head upward, longing for the surface above that glitters just out of reach.
One more powerful kick, that’s all I need to save myself.
My lungs scream for air, cramping as I kick my legs together again.
The surface pulls further from my grasp. Panic constricts my chest, the pressure to breathe, too great. I clamp my jaw shut and will myself free from the hell I’ve created. This isn’t real, I tell myself. Get a grip on yourself.
My body nudges upward.
Sinks lower.
Ropes appear around my legs, binding them together. Weights pull at my ankles and I plummet faster.
I can’t control my need to breathe.
My mouth opens.
Water fills my lungs.
I . . .
scream . . .
“Dakota! Dakota!” David shakes me as I gasp for air, my body trembling.
Tears overrun my eyes. My chest cramps painfully and I struggle to inhale another sharp breath.
“It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re almost there.” The panic in David’s voice mirrors my own. He turns the car down the long drive toward the house. And the lake.
The lake.
The dream—the vision—slams back into me with more force than I can handle. The car begins to shake in unison with my emotions as I again feel water crushing down on me from all sides.
“Josh!” My mind separates from itself. Terror replaces thought, agony. . . reason.
“Dakota,” David says from somewhere far away. “You have to calm down. You’re making the car shake so much I don’t know if I can control it.”
The car wobbles harder. Terror slams into my thoughts and any ability to control my fear abates. A new scream swells within me. I resist and the car swerves.
Shakes.
“Dakota!” David yells, his hands tight against the wheel. “Stop!”
Josh fills my thoughts. He’s drowning.
Dying.
My body slams against the door as the car swerves harder and David tries to regain control. The tires skid against the gravel. Burnt rubber fills the air.
“Josh.” His name is nothing more than a whisper on my lips as my lungs again begin to burn.
The car pitches and spins. David slams both feet on the brake, his arm across my chest. “Hold on,” he yells.
Trees, buildings, cornfields—it all passes in a blur as the car jumps the curb and plows through a fence.
Water fills my thoughts.
The screech of tearing metal fills my ears.
The acrid scent of gasoline fills my senses.
And my mind goes. . .
Blank.
THE ARCHITECT STUDIED JOSH, NOTING THE WAY HIS SKIN MIRRORED THE SURROUNDING LANDSCAPE. He may have only recently retrieved his memories, but his gift with psychic camouflage was as unmatched as ever.
Find me, she breathed to Josh for the second time. Save me.
Josh chewed his jaw, his expression hard. A smile curled the edges of her lips. Message received.
She crouched through the trees and low shrubs that lay between her and the safe house. Josh followed, careful not to be seen.
Tires screeched along the pavement and gravel on the other side of the house. The Architect’s eyes rolled back. Her vision cleared in time to witness a car as it careened into the fence. “You’re too late,” she whispered to no one specific. “You can’t help him now.” With a slight nod of her head, the Architect willed the others into unconsciousness before returning her focus to Josh.
Find me, she thought again. Find Mom.
Josh shifted his attention toward the accident and paused for a moment.
“Oh no you don’t.” The Architect crowded Josh’s mind with images of Mom, the lake, danger.
Josh’s head snapped back, startled. He peered into the thicket.
“Yes.” The Architect’s voice was more a thought than a sound. “Come to me.”
Josh strained against her command, his hands balled into fists by his side.
“Come on,” she says a little louder this time.
Josh clenched his jaw and expelled a tight breath. Squaring his shoulders, he walked toward her, his skin again reflecting the landscape around him.
Pangs of doubt gnawed at her insides. She didn’t want to hurt Josh. He wasn’t the one responsible for her current life. He wasn’t the center of her vengeance.
Glimpses of her deepest fantasies tickled the edge of her consciousness. A life with Josh. Love with him.
You were everything to me, she said to the private world she’d created in her head. Until my father died, and you abandoned me. The images twisted and bent along with her mood.
Josh stopped, his head down and eyes closed.
“Get it together,” the Architect said under her breath. She’d only have one real shot at this. She couldn’t mess up, not with so much on the line.
Josh tilted his head. His mind attemp
ted to reach hers, brushing against the periphery of her thoughts. She stilled, refusing the invasion. For now.
Josh stepped out from the tree line and stood on the shore of the lake, staring at the Architect, her figure outlined in moonlight.
“You,” he said, his body stiff and prepared to fight. “Where’s my mom and dad?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Josh. It is Josh, isn’t it?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. I remember you. But I don’t understand why you’d hurt the people trying to help you.”
The Architect took a step closer, her arms outstretched and her palms open. “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. I was asked to find you. That’s all.”
Josh hesitated. “Me? Why?”
“Something about your mother,” the Architect looked at Josh from under her eyelashes. She wasn’t ready to threaten him. The way Josh was hesitating, maybe she’d be able to win his trust after all. “They told me to tell you where she is.”
“Who is ‘they’?” Josh’s voice was low and stilted.
“I don’t know. I never met them.” The Architect rocked back on her heels took a step back. “They tossed my house, caught me and held me captive for a couple of days. They told me someone would come to this house and I was supposed to wait and tell them to go to this address.” The Architect held out her hand to Josh, a small slip of paper folded between her fingers.
Josh studied her hand.
A heartbeat passed and the Architect could sense his internal struggle. Almost, she thought. “So, are you going to take it or what?” She nudged the slip of paper toward him.
“Why should I trust you?”
Josh’s thoughts rammed into hers, taking the Architect by surprise. She mentally pulled away, but not before he saw her plans. “I guess you shouldn’t.”
Doubt again tugged at her heart.
Too bad she’d learned to ignore that part of herself years ago.
Josh charged into the Architect. She flipped over him before he fully processed what was occurring.
“You’re no match for me now, Ninja. Not even close.”
Josh stiffened at the name she used for him. “So it really is you,” he said more to himself than her.
“Why are you so surprised? Did you think you were the only one who could curry favor with the Creator? You and your sister.”
“Of course not.” Josh stepped back and assumed an attack stance.
The Architect laughed. “Of course not,” she mocked. “I’m stronger than you now. You can’t beat me. You might as well just come with me. You may still be able to save your mother. Your sister, on the other hand . . .You’re too late for that.”
Josh bristled, lunging toward the Architect again. He caught her by the throat, his eyes wild with rage.
“That got you riled up, didn’t it?”
Josh tightened his grip around her neck.
“You think you have me, don’t you?” The Architect coughed out the last words, the pressure on her throat cutting off her air supply.
She closed her eyes and imagined herself free from his grasp. Instantly, he let go, stumbling as he did so.
“I told you, I’m stronger than you now. I’m stronger than all of you.”
Josh scrambled to his feet. His gaze darted from side to side like a hunter about to strike.
The Architect turned away from him and started to walk back toward the house. “So be it,” she called over her shoulder.
Josh took a step to follow, landing in the lake instead.
I don’t want to kill you, Josh. Submit to me. Give in.
Josh struggled, his intention clear.
The Architect centered her thoughts, mentally dragging Josh into the lake’s depths. He fought against her hold on his mind, shoving his own images into her consciousness. Pictures of her father’s death, his face contorted with pain bounced through her mind, followed by images of the Creator’s disdain. The mental attack found its mark, and for a moment the Architect faltered, a prisoner to her past, her fear.
Josh swam toward the shoreline, his mind clear.
Clarity didn’t last long.
“Cut it off,” the Architect shouted to the trees and corn that surrounded her. “Stow it away.” With a deep, feral scream she attacked Josh, dragging him deeper into the water. She imagined him opening his mouth, felt the burning sensation when his lungs took in too much water.
Suffocation quickly followed. Josh’s eyes bulged, his lungs crippled.
Josh stopped fighting. His body grew still. He floated face-down on the surface of the lake, lifeless.
The Architect stared at the water for several minutes. Tears tightened in her throat as Josh’s corpse floated toward shore. Her legs buckled and she stumbled to the ground. Gravel and pine needles ground into her skin. A loud sob escaped her lips. Josh was dead by her hands. She wasn’t sure what to feel, how to act. She only knew that his death barely put a dent in what she owed the Creator. He gave her purpose, a reason to get up and face each day. Now, as she watched Josh’s body bounce along the lazy current of the lake, she wondered why she’d ever wanted this life.
You have done well. The Architect hadn’t sensed the Creator’s presence until he spoke. Bring the others home. Bring her home.
Project Stargate 2.0
The Solomon Experiments
Dr. LeMercier’s Personal Journal –
November 11, 2002
Day 135:
She’s killed, at last. Without remorse. Without shame. She understands the necessity of taking action, of murder when required. She is willing to comply, to follow orders without objection. Tate is not as confident as I. He believes it’s too early to trust in her killing abilities. She has only killed a few lab animals. Nothing compared to the taking of human life.
He’s right, of course, though his concerns are unfounded. The Assassin enjoys the kill. The spark in her eye when her victim inhales his last breath—she wants more, craves more. And I will provide it in exchange for her fealty.
I wish Christyn shared my excitement, my anticipation for the future. She is distracted, withdrawn. I only see her during our debriefings. The rest of the time she counsels the recruits or hides herself away from me.
It pains me, but I don’t trust her actions anymore.
I will not tolerate disloyalty of any form, especially from her. Can’t she understand all that we’ve accomplished? Doesn’t she marvel in the impossible things we’ve brought to life? These experiments are a success. We’ve—I’ve—created the perfect weapon, one our enemies will never outwit. Surely Christyn can grasp the impact of this accomplishment. If she can’t . . . if she won’t . . . then I will do what I must.
I cannot afford to keep anyone here who is not committed to the project, including Christyn. She knew the price she’d have to pay to be involved with this, she knew what I expected. She cannot simply walk away. No one can.
What am I going to do if I can no longer trust her? What will she force me to do?
I BLINK ONCE, TWICE IN RAPID SUCCESSION AS THE MORNING SUNLIGHT STREAMS INTO THE CAR. My head pounds mercilessly. “Ouch,” I groan, still not fully aware of where I am and what’s happened. I glance to my left. David slumps over, a deflated air-bag in his face. A thick trickle of blood reaches from his temple toward his chin. I reach over and brush my hand against his arm. “David,” I say. “David, you okay?”
He groans, his pain mirroring my own. “Yeah,” he manages to push through gritted teeth. “You?”
“I think so.” I release my seatbelt and push aside the deployed airbag. Last night comes back in a rush—the shaking car, jumping the curb, crashing through the fence. The car door creaks on its hinges as I force it open and the most important part of my memory returns.
“Josh!” I swing my legs free from the wreck. “I need to get to Josh.”
My body refuses to comply with my mind. I force my body to stand, every muscle screaming in protest.
“Dakota, wait.” I can tell David hurts as much as I do. He frees himself from the car with a grunt and wipes the drying blood from his face. “I’m coming with you.”
I walk away without a word as dread chokes my reply.
“Dakota!”
His words bounce off of my mind, unacknowledged. I mentally search for Josh, pushing into the spaces that surround me. Nothing. His presence is gone, leaving nothing in its place—no shadow to pursue, no echo to lead me to him.
“Josh,” I whisper. My heart clenches as I swallow down my worry and walk toward the lake. “Come on, dammit. Let me find you.”
Pushing through the tight thicket, I press toward the lake. The sun rises above the horizon, turning the rippling water into conjoined rivers of gold. It glitters against my eyes and renders them useless.
“Dakota. Where are you?” David’s voice sounds far away, my mind still concentrating only on Josh.
“Here,” I answer. “By the lake.”
I blink away my blindness and squint against the brilliant sunrise, my eyes glued to the rhythmic water gently lapping at the shore. Visually, I trace the banks of the shoreline, hesitating on each mound or lump. My heart rate jumps with every breath, preparing me for the inevitable. I shove down the gnawing doubt, unwilling to acknowledge the truth rising through me.
My search continues as my sight moves down the shoreline. Nothing appears out of place. Still, my breathing grows more erratic, shallow.
“Have you found him yet?” David asks as he catches up to me. “Can you sense him?”
“No. You?”
“Nothing. But locating people was never my strong suit. That was more Mari’s thing.”
Collide (The Solomon Experiments Book 1) Page 12