Pulse

by Danielle Koste

  “Rowan,” his voice adopted a teasing tone, as if he found her fright amusing. “Why don’t you stop fighting and instead show those doctors your pretty face.”

  She gave one last twist of her body before admitting defeat. When she stopped, he loosened his grip on her, making her heavy, labored breaths less of a struggle. She did as she was told, looking at the mirrored glass in front of them.

  Lyall’s eyes burned again, angry, violent black holes that threatened to suck up her soul. Considering her position, with his cheek against her hair and her skin covered in her own blood, it was a miracle she was still alive. The hungry fire in his gaze was not for her blood, though.

  She had saved him, and he knew it. This anger that made him appear a wild, monstrous creature, was for the blank faces on the other side of the glass. She could see it, feel it clearly in his careful grip around her. She worried though, that she’d end up as collateral in the war between Lyall and the monsters that caged him.

  “Now, tell them to open up those doors for us, or I’ll make them watch as I tear your pretty face from your skull.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rowan saw herself through the mirrored glass as the fear spread across her stained features, the blood swept over her mouth accentuating the terror in her eyes. She shut them tight and let her head fall, not wanting to see her trembling lips and his murderous expression.

  Lyall refused to let her off so easily, though, moving the hand on her neck to cup her chin and direct her face back up. She opened her eyes, and he was watching her now through their reflection, but nothing about the way he looked at her was hostile. His arm around her stomach tightened just barely, and he tilted his head to speak in her ear, his gaze locked on hers.

  “Don’t let them use you anymore. You’re better than that. Get angry with me.”

  His words stirred something in her. Hot lava rolled in her stomach, burning up her throat, and her expression shifted from horror to frustration and anger. The emotions that curled inside her all weekend, festering on her helplessness and despair, desperate and dangerous, roared for release.

  He added one last whisper on a breath, securing the fire in her glossy eyes. “You promised to help me, remember? Let the monster come out and play, Rowan.”

  With his words, her gut purred. Yes, she promised to help him, and she would.

  They would escape this white cell together, as monsters.

  Rowan knew only one person held the power to let them out of this room, though, and appealing to Miller’s sensibilities would be difficult since she seemed to have less and less recently. She had to try something, though.

  And then, amongst the tangle of frustration and hopelessness, Rowan had an idea.

  “Are you really going to let me die in here, doctor?” Her call was timid, not knowing what she was supposed to say, the plan forming in bits and pieces. Knowing Miller was listening even though she couldn’t see her face helped to fuel Rowan’s nervous words. “After everything I’ve done for this project? This project wouldn’t exist without me. I figured out that he drank blood, I came to talk to him over and over again, and I put my life on the line for this project.”

  Anger bloomed in her chest, because as she said it, she knew Miller was debating with herself. What should be done with Phelps’ problematic assistant, who just couldn’t play by the rules? Tears of betrayal and frustration welled in Rowan’s eyes, so she used her own emotions to her advantage, shutting them tight and letting the salty drops slide down her face.

  “After what happened to William, you promised no one else would get hurt.”

  She hoped this would do it. She prayed this would be enough to convince Miller, because she wanted to trust the woman, and she wanted her to be the mentor Rowan had been searching for. She wanted to believe Miller was still reasonable.

  The woman said so herself though, she had responsibilities as a leader that could not be compromised, and Rowan had broken all of her rules. Even ones that Miller didn’t know about yet.

  Trapped in the arms of her accomplice as he stared at their reflections with fury in his wide pupils, she offered a last plea. “Open the door, please. Don’t let him just kill me.”

  All she could do was wait, and Miller made her wait forever. Her body ached all over from the electrocution. Her neck throbbed with pain where Lyall held her, even though he was trying to be gentle. She could barely hold herself on her own two feet, grasping at his wrists to keep standing. With every second her anger and frustration grew thick and suffocating, turning the hopelessness on her face hard.

  Miller wouldn’t open the doors. She decided it was too risky. It was easier to just let them both disappear in this room, something else Miller had already implied. After all, no matter how much control Lyall had, once he starved enough, he would eventually tear her apart, if Rowan didn’t die of starvation first, and then he would starve as well. They’d both be forgotten. An admirable, but futile attempt on Rowan's part.

  She wasn’t finished fighting, though.

  “Phelps is not going to let you do this.” Rowan added after the long lack of response, her weak voice finding a new fervour. “He knows I’m still working on this project with you. Do you think he’s just going to keep his mouth shut if I disappear?”

  Finally, this garnered a reaction, and Rowan heard the telecom click on, Miller’s voice ringing through the room. “It would be his words against mine.” The response was cold, not in a way that suggested tightly trained emotions, but rather no emotions at all.

  Against her stomach, Rowan felt Lyall’s hand curl into an angry fist around the fabric of her lab coat, but she allowed a sharp smirk to lift the corner of her lips instead as response. “Not just his word.”

  Because Phelps wasn’t the only one who knew anymore. Rowan broke the last of Miller’s rules that weekend and told someone everything. Cameron, who now knew about Lyall and the project and the virus, knew what Rowan was being forced to do, and what would happen if she failed. Cameron, who now waited upstairs for Rowan’s safe return and who she’d warned what to think if she didn’t.

  A long, steady silence followed, and Rowan knew it was the sound of Miller piecing together her words. And then, beyond the deafening slam of her heart in her skull, she heard the familiar sound of the automated latch as it slid open.

  On the back of her neck, she felt Lyall exhale sharp, as if he had given up somewhere along the way, but unlike Rowan, who stood gaping in shock that her plan worked, he dealt with his surprise far quicker. Forcing her out of her motionlessness, he let go of her neck and took her elbow in his grip instead, ushering her along as he went for the door.

  Finally moving, everything hit her all at once, and her already pounding heart went into overdrive with a rush of adrenaline. They were doing this. They were getting out of there, together, with his virus intact.

  All this time, she ignored and stifled the itching desire to just free him and run, knowing it was selfish and stupid and impossible, but now that it was happening, she couldn’t keep the dark part of her from blooming. It was scary, but it was also powerful and thrilling and addictive. She let her thoughts run wild with it.

  Cameron was waiting for her. It would be easy. They could just get in his truck and take off, together. A grand escape fit for such a long and weary fight.

  She was ripped from her fantasy when Lyall walked her closer to the unlocked door between them and the observation room. Rowan paused to look at him, and she was sure he understood because he must have saw the wicked in her gaze and smelled the adrenaline in her blood.

  As if daring her to embrace the excitement she was considering, he nodded towards their escape and said, “Are you going to let me out, Rowan?”

  The corner of her mouth going up, and she pulled open the door. So what if he killed everyone? They were all monsters anyway. As long as he didn’t kill her. And he wouldn’t. Because she was special. She was his monster. As if confirming that delicious thought, Lyall grabbed h
er upper arm gently and nudged her forward, following close behind as the two of them exited the containment room.

  Her colleagues all stood still as statues, the pure horror written on each and every face, except for Miller. She found the other woman across the room, and their eyes locked. The look she gave covered something else, as if she was congratulating Rowan on her momentary win but had a trick up her sleeve.

  Lyall paused for a moment next to her, and his dark eyes scanned the room, stopping briefly on every face as he wrote them into his mind. Finally he reached Miller, who he smirked at. “It’s a pleasure to finally see all your faces. Hope you all sleep well tonight.” Leaving the room in a perpetual state of terror with his threat, Lyall’s hand trailed down Rowan’s arm to her wrist, yanking her after him into the hall.

  Upon leaving the observation room, the emergency alarm went off, signalling a floor lockdown, and Rowan swore out loud. She was so lost in the thrill, she hadn’t thought things through clearly and didn’t consider the fact that the entire laboratory had the back-up security feature.

  “The elevator will be disabled. There’s no other way to get out of these labs. It’s designed that way for this exact reason.”

  Lyall slowed for only a brief moment to glance at her and smirk, like he took her words as a challenge, then picked up his pace into an almost jog. Her limb still tight in his grasp, Rowan practically ran to keep up with him. Her heart raced, thrashing in her chest like a caged animal, the loud sirens blaring around them only making her anxiety more overwhelming. And yet, a grin lingered on the corner of her mouth, tugging at her cheeks until they ached.

  As they took the corner to the elevators, she remembered the security guard they were approaching. She opened her mouth to say something, but it was already far too late. She pulled her wrist from Lyall’s grasp and retreated back around the corner, covering her ears as the sound of assault rifle fire broke through the screaming emergency sirens.

  The shots lasted forever it seemed, and when they finally stopped, Rowan opened her eyes to see the wall across from her littered with countless bullet holes. She stared in horror as she realized: Lyall was superhuman, but certainly not bulletproof.

  She turned quickly to peek around the corner where Lyall had been, where she failed to warn him of the danger, expecting to see him dead, or at least bleeding profusely on the floor, but to her shock, he was standing.

  His shoulders rose and fell with labored breaths, but otherwise he seemed completely untouched. At the other end of the hall, the security guard stood frozen, his eyes wide with horror, his gun still aimed and pulling the trigger even though he already emptied it.

  Rowan moved to reach out to Lyall, but he acted, using his speed to appear in front of the guard before she could reach him. He took hold of the gun by its barrel with one hand and forced it back so the butt hit hard against the guard’s shoulder. Then, in a swift motion, he jerked the gun to the side so its stock slammed square across the guard’s face, flooring him.

  She approached as Lyall used the gun for support to lower himself over the guard. He grabbed the man by the front of his hair and lifted him up to inspect the bloody, broken nose he created. With the sight of the blood, Rowan watched Lyall’s face slide into a familiar, dark expression. He discarded the gun and grabbed the guard by the collar, his heavy head falling back to expose his neck.

  Instantly, she felt like she was hit in the gut, her regret resurfacing and killing the excited high from before. All those thoughts about not caring who he killed, the monster inside her could growl the idea all she wanted, but the fact was, she did care. It was why she kept that dark part of herself stifled, because that wasn’t who she was. She didn’t want anyone to die. No one deserved to die.

  “Lyall, no!” She cried out her objection when he opened his mouth, staring with nervous horror as he stopped and turned his wild eyes to look at her.

  “He tried to kill me,” Lyall argued, his grip around the man’s collar tightening.

  Rowan swallowed hard, her voice breaking as she begged. “Please…”

  Lyall stared at her for a moment longer before closing his eyes and sighing heavily. He rolled his shoulders, and when he opened his eyes again, it was as if he eased the animal back, his expression settled. He shoved the guard back down to the floor, then got up and stepped over him towards the elevators.

  Rowan didn’t follow this time, unsure if he wanted her to, now that she had shown him that she couldn’t be the monster he wanted her to be. She could never accept this darkness that he lived by. It wasn’t her.

  He got five steps before he stopped to glance back at her. “Are you coming?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  They arrived at the elevator, their next obstacle since it was the only way out of the underground. Lyall moved to tear the doors open like a pair of window shutters, but Rowan stopped him.

  “I might be able to override the lockdown. Let me try first.” She wasn’t suppose to know about these details of the security system, but Cameron had a big mouth. With a key card that had high enough access, it was possible to use it and an emergency code to get things working again. And she still had Phelps’.

  She scanned the card and tried a few different codes, her fingers shaking with panic and adrenaline. She glanced over her shoulder every now and then, even though she knew none of the doctors would take the risk to try and stop them. This likely meant though, that if they were stopped, it would be once they reached the upper floor, after reinforcements were sent for.

  Lyall, who seemed less concerned about being interrupted, leaned his shoulder against the wall next to her to wait casually. Something resembling amusement played in his eyes as he watched her fiddle with the touchpad.

  “If you can’t slow your heart a little, I’ll have to do it for you.”

  Suddenly aware of the painful pounding in her chest, Rowan lifted her gaze to see his fall to the line of her neck. She scowled slightly, pulling her hair over her shoulder and turning back to her work.

  “You can’t, yet. There’s the antiviral in my blood.”

  She realized immediately what she said, flushing as the look in Lyall’s eyes spread into a wolfish grin in her peripherals.

  “Yet?” He pushed off the wall, and she tried to ignore him as he leaned towards her to whisper, “Does that mean the offer stands later?”

  Rowan pretended to not be bothered, but goosebumps flared over her skin at the touch of his breath on her ear. She wanted to taunt back, to indulge finally in the fact that they were alone again, without an audience, and without a wall between them. They didn’t have time for his particular form of pleasantries, though. The touchpad chimed as she landed on the correct set of numbers, recalled from the back corners of her memory, and she snaked away from him, entering the now opened elevator.

  “Cameron is waiting, but… They’re going to be waiting for us up there also, so… I don’t know how you want to do this.” Rowan warned, the doors closing behind them, silencing the ambient wailing of the alarm.

  “I can kill them all without a problem.” Lyall tested, his lips curled at the end.

  “I don’t think that’s the best solution.” She glared, stepping forward to scan her keycard. “Where should we go after this?”

  Behind her, Lyall sighed, sounding sour that she ruined the fun. He leaned back against the far wall of the elevator, staying silent until Rowan purposefully caught his gaze.

  “We’re not going anywhere, Rowan.”

  She frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

  Rowan watched him, his expression forced from disappointed to cold. His blue eyes like ice now, he said, “I mean, you and I, we’re not going anywhere. This ends here.”

  Her eyebrows sunk further down, her chest beginning to tighten but refusing to accept the panic setting in. “I don’t understand.” She did though. She just didn’t want to.

  Lyall seemed to soften. “What did you think was going to happen?” The question was
sharp, but its intent was genuine.

  When Rowan tried to answer it though, her mouth came up empty and dry. She had no idea what she thought. She didn’t think that far, considering this whole thing had just been a dark, illogical desire sprouted from the shadows of her heart. There was no after-plan, but she definitely hadn’t expected it to end like this.

  Or perhaps she had, and simply refused to acknowledge that the only thing left for Lyall to do after escaping was to disappear. Maybe Rowan thought she would disappear with him. Maybe it was why she didn’t care about the consequences she would have to face for helping him.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered, feeling her throat constrict as the pain stung at her nose. Her eyes threatened tears, but she fought them back as hard as she could.

  “It can’t be any other way.” Even though he was right, something about the way he said it was bitter. She tasted the flavor in her mouth, sharp like the smell of the blood, and it made her feel ill.

  Rowan gnawed hard at her lip as she nodded, fending off her crumbling heart. “What should I do then? After this.”

  Lyall stayed silent for a brief moment as he thought, then pushed off from the wall and approached her and the touchpad. He reached around her to select the ground floor, and the elevator came to life.

  “When I tell you, you’re going to close your eyes, and before you open them again, I’ll be gone. It will be like I was never even here. They’ll find you alone, and you’ll answer the questions they’ll have for you. You’ll tell them you had no choice but to help me, I threatened to kill you if you didn’t, you were just trying to stay alive. You’ll tell them I manipulated you this whole time, because that’s what I did. You were nothing but a tool to me. I was using you this whole time. Do you understand, Rowan?”

  Rowan gasped, the tears brimming her eyes now, but she refused to let them fall. She swallowed down the lump in her throat, shaking off her reluctance, and nodded. She didn’t want to agree with him, because agreeing meant letting go. She understood what she had to do, though. She had to play her part just as he did all this time. She had to pretend to not care, pretend to be a victim, so perhaps she wouldn’t have to feel the pain of the truth.