My Traitor

by Nicolette Pierce

  “Hand me that scalpel!” Natan ordered.

  Remy grabbed a medical knife and rushed it over. Realizing it was David who was making the watery sound, Remy bent over, clutching his side.

  “Don’t look if you’re squeamish,” Natan warned.

  Remy didn’t think he was a lightweight when it came to blood, but seeing Natan poise a knife over David had him looking the other way.

  “I tried to stop her,” Mikael said from the doorway. “You should have warned me it was impossible.” He stopped. His jaw swung open as he watched Natan insert the knife. “What are you—” Mikael crumpled to the floor at Ava’s feet.

  “What do you need me to do?” Ava asked, hopping over to Natan.

  “Find a sterile needle,” Natan said. “I’ll have to inject the Nalozone.”

  “I’ll find it,” Remy said, already scouring the tables. “Ava, sit down.”

  “I can help,” she insisted.

  “I know you can. Sit, please. For me,” Remy said, finding a needle that looked sterile, but how the hell would he know? He brought it over to Natan.

  David’s face was a bluish white, his body still.

  Remy swore. “Tell me he isn’t dead.”

  Natan took the needle and filled it with Nalozone. “If this works, he’ll wake up within moments.”

  Ava slipped her hand into Remy’s as they watched Natan deliver the dose.

  Nothing.

  “What else can we do?” Remy demanded. “I’m not giving up. Tell me what to do!”

  “Hang on,” Natan said.

  Hang on? While his friend was dying in front of him?

  David’s eyes flew open wide as he sucked in breath, wheezing. It was painful to Remy’s ears, but he could only imagine what David was feeling.

  He stood by David’s side, peering down. “David, are you okay?” When there was no response, he looked to Natan. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “We’ll wait and see,” Natan said. “He seems to be having a different reaction than what my cousin had.”

  “Could Boyer have changed his formula?” Remy asked.

  “Yes, it would be easy to do.”

  David looked around the room, his eyes not focusing. He began speaking, but it was gibberish to Remy’s ears.

  “What’s he saying?” Remy asked.

  “It doesn’t sound like words,” Ava said.

  “Haramine is a psychedelic chemical,” Natan said. “He might be hallucinating.”

  Hallucinating . . .

  Something about this, beyond David’s condition, bothered Remy. It was almost as if a memory was right in front of him but he couldn’t grasp it. It whispered to him, telling him to remember.

  “Remy?”

  Ava’s soft touch on his arm snatched the memory from him. Clasping his hand on top of hers, he held tight.

  “Where is Jeremy?” she asked.

  “He went after Boyer.”

  “He’ll need your help,” Ava said. “Go after him.”

  Remy glanced from Ava to David. She was right. Natan was taking care of David. French would need help with Boyer.

  “Only if you sit down,” Remy said.

  Ava hobbled over to a padded leather stool and sat down with crossed arms. “There.”

  “And stay.”

  Remy’s hand automatically reached for his sidearm as he ran out the back door. When it came to tracking people by footprints, he wasn’t an expert. But out here, it wasn’t too much of an issue. If he looked hard enough he could see that they had headed north. A natural path led through a winding section of barren slopes.

  Remy took off in that direction, hoping he wasn’t too far behind. It was only moments later when he heard the rhythmic thumping of propellers cutting through the air. He was too late. Boyer was getting away.

  A small helicopter poked up above the next hill. It tilted from side to side as if the cyclic was broken. He could just make out two people inside, and from the look of it, there was a struggle. The helicopter shot right, then left.

  They were going to crash.

  * * *

  Ava sat on the stool as Remy had requested. The sad fact of the matter was that she was no good to anyone right now, and her leg was throbbing. She badly wanted to prop her foot on something and rewrap her leg, allowing it extra room for the swelling. But she would need help. Natan was busy tending to David. The rest of his crew was outside, waiting. And Mikael was still passed out at the door.

  She focused her attention on David. Ever since the Nalozone, he’d begun stirring to life but was still babbling incoherently. She hoped he would survive this—and not like Natan’s cousin.

  “Can I help?” she asked Natan.

  “No, there’s nothing more I can do. I don’t know the formula that was used on him. It’s the same situation my cousin faces.” His hands rested on his hips as he looked down at David, frustration set in his shoulders. “I don’t think either will make it. My only hope is that Venom hands over his lab notes.”

  If anyone could get Boyer to talk it would be Remy, but somehow she thought they were beyond talking. These were actions of a madman.

  “Do you hear that?” Natan asked.

  Ava strained to hear. “It sounds like a helicopter.”

  “He’s escaping!” Natan closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This was to be our last push for Venom . . .” He stopped, his mouth sagged open. “Why didn’t I think of it before?”

  “Think of what?” Ava asked as Natan raced through the room, tossing open cupboards and drawers.

  “Venom. Why did he pick that name?”

  “I don’t know. I thought it rather silly, but if you’re going to have a name that strikes fear, then I guess a deadly poison is as good as any.”

  “Or, it’s because he’s using it in his formula.” Natan wrenched open a drawer and extracted a vial. “I need to get this analyzed.”

  “Why would he use venom? Wouldn’t that kill?”

  “That’s exactly what’s been happening.”

  “Then why?”

  “He’s been trying to prove the legend is true.”

  “What legend?”

  “It was an old story I was told by my savta. She said that men who drank viper venom would gain the strength of a thousand sons. There’ve been men who claimed it worked. Unnaturally strong men.”

  “But that can’t be true.”

  “I never thought so,” Natan agreed. “But what I’ve seen with my cousin doesn’t obey the laws of science.”

  “Perhaps that’s why Boyer has been mixing the venom with other drugs. If they’re hallucinating, they can be as strong as they imagine.”

  “It’s a—”

  Screeching, crunching metal had both of them staring at the open door.

  “Stay here,” Natan said, hopping over Mikael to exit.

  Ava rolled her eyes. She was not going to stay put. But as she attempted to stand, leaning her weight on her good leg, a bolt of pain rocketed through.

  “Dammit,” she cried, falling back into the chair. She was as useful as a paperweight in calm weather.

  David’s mutterings grew louder and frantic.

  “David, are you okay?” she asked.

  Perspiration beaded on his brow as he thrashed in his bed, yanking at his bindings.

  “David, stop! You’ll hurt yourself.”

  He roared, his voice shredding.

  Mikael roused awake. “What’s going on?”

  Ava stared unblinking at David, who was fighting a battle with his restraints. And he was winning. “Mikael . . .”

  “Yeah?” he asked, his wide eyes now locked on David.

  “Tell your family to run.”

  Chapter 17

  Remy hurried to the fallen helicopter that was less than a quarter of a mile away. As he drew closer, he smelled fuel.

  “French!” he called.

  There was no response.

  Fire gobbled at the twisted propeller half wedged int
o the side of a hill. The tail, crunched as if it were a bendy straw. Like a river, fuel leaked out, pooling on the ground. If the winds took the fire, it would light up like a Christmas tree.

  “French!”

  “Here.”

  Remy barely heard the word. It sounded so soft and wispy. Through the billowing smoke, he saw a hand. Remy hurried over.

  French was trapped under a skid. It crossed from his right shoulder to his left thigh.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Remy snapped.

  “Being a hero. Catching a bad guy,” French wheezed.

  Speaking of which . . . Remy cast a quick glance around. He didn’t see Boyer. Without dwelling on where the scumbag could be, Remy took hold of the steel and hoisted it, feeling the strain as his muscles burned on his shoulders, arms, and back. And yet, it barely budged. But it was enough.

  French kicked himself clear, groaning with each movement.

  Remy dropped the skid. “Stay still. You probably broke a few ribs.”

  “Fire. Fuel,” French panted.

  The fire was encroaching. Remy realized he had to move French.

  “Sorry,” Remy said, taking the top of French’s shirt to drag him away. Between French’s curses and the fire, Remy only heard a slight commotion coming from Boyer’s lab.

  Natan was running toward him. He hoped David and Ava were okay.

  “Why the hell did you engage with Boyer on a helicopter?” Remy growled.

  “He would have gotten away, you giant ass,” French gritted.

  Remy held back a surprised laugh. The young French wouldn’t have dared to call him a giant ass, even if he was one. “He did get away.”

  “Not everyone can be as perfect as you,” French retorted.

  “Stop being sarcastic.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  Natan rushed over. “Let me help.”

  “You take care of him,” Remy said. “Boyer took off. I’m going after him.”

  Natan scowled for a moment but then nodded and took over French’s care.

  “Be careful,” French warned Remy. “Don’t trust him.”

  Remy jogged back to the helicopter, keeping a wide berth from the fire. He had to find Boyer’s tracks.

  More commotion from behind caught his attention, but he had to focus on catching Boyer now. If he didn’t, this would all be for nothing.

  To the left, a shuffled track led to the north. Judging from the scuffs, Boyer must be hurt.

  Remy took off, following the marks for a few hundred yards until they disappeared. He halted, scanning the hilly area. He knew Boyer had covered his tracks. He was trying to hide, hoping Remy would pass by.

  “Come out, Boyer!” Remy called. “I know you’re here.”

  A shot whizzed by Remy’s leg, ripping a patch from his pants. “You’re getting rusty, old man,” Remy taunted, stepping back from the line of fire. Now he knew exactly where Boyer was hiding. A slope to the east had a small cluster of bushes with a few unnaturally red leaves.

  Boyer was definitely hurt, but he still had a gun and was obviously willing and able to use it.

  “We can do this the hard way, the easy way, or I can just let you bleed to death,” Remy shouted.

  The leaves rustled. Remy aimed his gun, but Boyer stayed hidden. Remy knew he could blast a few rounds, killing Boyer. But that wasn’t what this was about—not that Remy wouldn’t kill him if he had no other choice. Boyer had to be stopped.

  “Come out,” Remy said. “I won’t fire if you come freely.”

  “Go to hell!”

  “I need the antidote for David.”

  “There isn’t one.”

  Dammit! Remy prayed that the stuff Natan injected David with was helping. If not . . . no, he wasn’t going to go down that path. If Remy survived, David better damn well survive too.

  “Why did you do it? Why me?” Remy couldn’t help but ask.

  For a moment, there was no answer, and Remy thought he might have to fire a warning shot.

  “You want the easy answer?” Boyer asked, his voice gruff.

  “At this point, I’ll take any answer.”

  “Too many boys dying.”

  “You’re killing them.”

  “I’m trying to save them. If they were strong, if they could conquer their fears and enemy advances, they’d be unstoppable.”

  “You destroyed the innocents we were protecting.”

  “They were one suicide bomber away from death’s door. We can’t protect them. Not from terrorists.”

  Boyer’s words about too many boys dying and not being able to protect them had Remy guessing there was more to the story. Boyer wasn’t trying to save everyone. Just one.

  “This isn’t about saving our soldiers or anyone else; it’s about your son,” Remy said. “They killed him, used him as a message to others, and you were getting revenge. But it was on the wrong people. None of these villagers had anything to do with Tom’s death.”

  “They stood by and watched it happen!” Boyer growled. “Not one person tried to help.”

  “And so you took their strongest, hoping to weaken them further,” Remy stated. “But that still doesn’t answer why you were taking your revenge on me. Why?”

  “You were there. You should have saved him!”

  Remy felt that guilt gnaw on his conscience daily, but he still couldn’t have done anything differently. Each time he replayed the day, he tried different scenarios, but they all resulted in the same outcome. Tom had stolen weapons from both sides. And his father continued his treason.

  It didn’t make Remy feel any less responsible for Tom’s death.

  “Why David? You had no reason to hurt him.”

  “He would have given me away.” Boyer coughed. “I was on to something when you survived. You were as mad as a category four hurricane, but you survived. I started my research in earnest then,” Boyer said. “I didn’t mean for you to kill the entire platoon though. I didn’t plan for that.”

  Remy paused, wondering if he’d heard correctly. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you remember? I thought that might be why you never came out of hiding.”

  Remy didn’t like the direction Boyer was taking. Nothing good came from that day.

  “Do you remember when I summoned you to a briefing?” Boyer asked, his voice struggling.

  Remy knew he could rush Boyer and be done with it, but Boyer prickled memories long forgotten. Boyer was dying, and Remy was too selfish to let the answers die with him.

  “Yes, I remember. Why?”

  “Do you remember what happened after?”

  “I woke up in an enemy prison.”

  “Anything else?” Boyer wheezed. “You don’t remember, do you?”

  “You stuck me with a needle again,” Remy surmised. Fury ripped through him, causing his gun to shake from his unsteady arm.

  “Broke through the bindings and took off. The next thing I knew, I was called to the scene. A bloodbath. And it wasn’t the enemy. It was one of our guns. Yours. You killed them all.”

  * * *

  David thrashed on the table, one arm already free. His vocal cords neared exhaustion as his rants grew louder. Ava wanted to help him, but she had no idea what to do. She just hoped the rest of the bindings held strong. It would keep him safe.

  When she gave Mikael the order to evacuate, she didn’t quite think how she’d defend herself if it came to that. Right now, she was a sitting duck with a broken wing.

  With a growl, David busted one binding after another. They snapped like rubber bands as he tore them away and stood.

  Ava kept silent. She didn’t know this man who stood before her with red-rimmed eyes and veins throbbing like engorged rivers. Perhaps if she stayed quiet and still, he wouldn’t notice her. She actually wondered if he noticed anything at all. It was as if he wasn’t focusing. Just a blank stare. Eyes blood-red and dead.

  He stepped toward her.

  Ava searched for something
to defend herself with.

  He closed in, reaching out to grab her. Ava instinctively dodged, only to realize too late that she’d used her injured leg. She toppled, screaming with a pain so intense and excruciating that the edges of her vision began to blacken.

  Natan crashed through, the door banging hard as it slammed open, tearing David’s attention away from Ava.

  Natan drew his gun.

  “Don’t kill him,” Ava hollered.

  “I have two injured already,” Natan said. “I can’t risk anymore.”

  Ava wanted to ask who else, but there was no time. David charged at Natan, knocking him three feet into the air and bashing him into a wall. As Natan fell, he shot, blasting a hole clear through David’s shoulder. The back spray rained down on Ava.

  David plowed his fist into Natan’s jaw, not even slowing from his own wound, then he took off through the open door.

  “Wait!” Ava shouted.

  If Natan’s bullet didn’t kill David, the blood loss would. He had no idea he was even bleeding.

  “Natan!” she called. When he didn’t move, she cried out, “Remy! French! Anyone!”

  “Well, I’m glad I come before anyone,” French gritted, limping in. He leaned heavily against the doorframe, clutching his ribs. His normally pale skin a touch more so. “Nice job on the makeup.”

  Ava wiped David’s blood away from her face with her shirt collar. “You’re hurt.”

  “I think it might be contagious,” he said dryly.

  “David—”

  “I know. He blew past me.”

  “He’s bleeding. He won’t last long out there.”

  “He might not make it either way,” French said.

  Ava looked at him aghast. “We have to go after him!”

  “How? I can barely breathe, and you can’t walk.”

  “Sit down,” Ava said, frustrated. She pointed to the chair she had just tumbled out of. “We’re a sorry lot. Does Natan look okay?”

  French glanced over and nodded. “He’s breathing.”

  “Where’s Remy?”

  French flicked an irritated glance at her before easing into the chair. A jagged breath shuddered out. “He went after Boyer.”

  “By himself?” Ava asked.