Shield

by Rachael Craw

  Davis squints at me, taking in the slime and the blood and the black smears. “What the hell happened to you? Where have you been? How did you–”

  “Knox is dead.” I press against the wall and edge closer to the opening of the cell block, sounds of crashing and guns being fired. Davis and I stand opposite sides of the entrance.

  “Knox is dead?”

  “Juno killed him.”

  “Juno killed him?”

  “Davis. Stop repeating everything.” I nod at the opening. “How many?”

  He blinks and recalibrates. “Uh … Stevens. He’s in there, Thurston’s last civ. Jamie’s at full noise, no blocker in his system as far as I can tell – makes it hard to say what side that puts him on. Ethan tried to get the Spark out but Jamie wouldn’t let him anywhere near the kid.”

  Michael Jessop.

  “Ethan went after Stephanie – they’re in the surgery, though it’s gone quiet in there. I’m not sure but I think she’s trying to bring the Stray around. Jamie took out the rest of her team.”

  Wake the Stray, increase the threat to the Spark, spike the Shield’s need to protect. I could stab Stephanie in the neck right now. I know the Stray hasn’t deactivated because the tether is still there, wavering, intermittent but definitely still there. I nod at Davis, mapping out the cell block in my mind, counting the separate signals, weighing the potency of each, factoring in familiarity, gauging approximate distance. Michael is at the end of the cell block, furthest from the door, his signal like GPS around which all my navigation hangs. Do I head straight for Michael, try to subdue Jamie, or go after Stephanie? “Michael’s in the cell?”

  “Jamie took him. It was … full on. I thought he’d kill all of us.”

  My chest constricts. “Is Michael conscious?”

  “No.”

  “Is Jamie armed?”

  “He has his chains – which he snapped like they were nothing – and he’s on his fourth fluorescent light tube.”

  “Fluorescent light tube?”

  Davis shrugs. “Ripped them off the ceiling.”

  “No gun?”

  He shakes his head.

  “I guess that’s something.”

  “You haven’t seen him use the chains.”

  I grimace. “Has he killed anyone?”

  He swallows. “Not for lack of trying.”

  Relief makes my head swim.

  “Will you?” he asks.

  I finally take in his white-knuckled grasp of his weapon, the taut lines of muscle in his neck, his eyes riveted on me. “I took a dose in the elevator.”

  He releases a shuddering breath. “Evie, I don’t want to put him down … but if I have to …”

  “Davis,” I hiss, prickling all over. I point at the injection site. “This only blocks my need to kill the Stray. It will not save you if you hurt Jamie.”

  His mouth snaps shut.

  A crash booms from within and I duck through the door. There’s glass everywhere – glass – the long panelled windows shattered. It’s dark, only one strip of light left. Equipment lies in ruins and the lab looks like a bomb has gone off. Two of Stephanie’s team are sprawled on the floor, groaning. Jamie fills the corridor, eyes black and blazing, chains trailing from the cuffs still attached to his wrists, the fluorescent tube spinning in his hand like white lightning. Before him agent Stevens, a lab stool raised above his shoulder.

  “Listen – I don’t want to hurt the kid. I’m on your side. We have to get Michael out of here.”

  Jamie bares his teeth. “I told you, you’re not going anywhere near him.”

  I can’t see Ethan, though I make out a flash of movement through the window in the surgery door. Jamie whips his arm forwards and the chain flashes at Stevens’ face. He blocks it with the stool. Jamie yanks the chain back, making a fresh mark on the wall. The tether yanks behind my navel and Michael and Jamie’s signals surge inside me, potent, commanding, flipping my brain. I picture myself beside Jamie, the two of us fighting together, then the signals pulse down a shade and I remember Ethan and the plan and what’s at stake. Don’t kill anyone.

  Michael Jessop.

  Before I’ve decided what to do, the surgery door claps open and Stephanie emerges with a gun, one arm hanging limp at her side, nose pouring blood down her mouth and chin. I don’t pause to think. I aim for her shoulder and pull the trigger. A click. Nothing. More clicks. Nothing. I ran through the compound with one freaking bullet?

  Stephanie isn’t so shy, aiming for my head. I launch myself through the empty window of the lab. She fires. My whole body rings, a whine as it passes my ear. I land in a mess of overturned equipment, bruising my damaged feet. I throw the only remaining thing on the counter. The strain of weight in my shoulder, the release and it hurtles through the air. A microscope. It hits the doorframe, where her head was, like a cannonball.

  Ducking, Stephanie has no time to recover. I bolt through the wreckage and ram her backwards, my knees in her chest driving her into the floor. She tries to throw me off but I’m hit by the combined signal surge of my Spark and my Synergist. It overwhelms the blocker and I lose hold of sanity. A few brutal seconds and my fists shift the bones in Stephanie’s face, her nose and mouth a pulp. The surge lifts. I pull back, shocked at the taste of blood, my slicked hands and her unmoving body beneath me. Don’t kill anyone. I clamber off her, shaking, gasping, but it’s there beneath the panic – the faint sound of her heartbeat.

  I catch a glimpse of Jamie, his body a furious blur out in the corridor. Davis is shouting something from the gym. Agent Stevens no longer has the stool. I wonder how long he’ll last before Jamie kills him. The surge hits me again – my brain and my body – like a strobe, kill … don’t kill … kill … don’t kill. Sweat drips in my eyes and it’s not from exertion, though I’m aching and panting.

  I step over Stephanie and the microscope, the soles of my feet fiery hot, and peer through the window in the surgery door. Inside, the Stray thrashes on the bed, gasping for breath, a syringe impaled in his chest. Adrenaline. I shoulder my way into the room. The lab is a mess, lamps, monitors, trolleys of equipment, medical instruments strewn everywhere. The neatly laid-out stations of Ethan’s three-phase treatment plan in ruins. The Stray winces at the light over his head. Cuffs hang loose from the side of the bed, wires and tubes torn from their monitors. Stephanie released him. Live bait.

  “Don’t move,” I whisper.

  Lurching upright, he stares, eyes wide, irises swallowed in black, his hand clutching his stomach. His chest gleams with sweat, the syringe wobbling – a tiny macabre javelin. He sweeps the room with his gaze. Confusion, terror, calculation. Precognition warns me he’s gearing up for defence, escape, a war of self-preservation and instinctual aggression battling behind his eyes.

  “I’m telling you, stay where you are, or you’re dead.”

  With a groan, he clutches his head. The bandwidth clouds, the tether blanks, unhooking, leaving me momentarily lost. I grasp my belly like I can find the link again by touch. Then it snaps back in place. Relief makes me shudder. Is Michael dying? No. I still feel him. This is Deactivation – the third phase of the cure kicking in. The Stray responds with the same shudder and looks down at his hands on his stomach as though he expects to find an actual tether plugging him in. Instead he spots the syringe and jolts, arms flailing. A scream at the pain of his damaged shoulder then, he wrenches the needle from his chest and presses his hands to his breastbone, gabbling his fright.

  “Where am I?” A spray of spittle, his eyes and nose running. He tucks his legs up in front of him, almost hiding behind his knees. “What is this? What’s happening to me?”

  A groan from the floor. Ethan, his signal erupting in the bandwidth like a trumpet blast. He sits slumped behind the door, gouges down the side of his cheek, blood in his mouth, a flood on his chest. I don’t feel my knees hit the floor, or my hands on his body, or his blood on my fingers.

  When I find the bullet hole, I press my palm hard i
nto the spot making him grunt. It pumps beneath his skin, erratic palpitations that echo through my arm. My bones carry the sound of my father’s failing heart, carry it right into my chest where my own pulse beats harder as though to compensate, trying to send its rhythm back through my bones to him. Thump, thump. Live, live.

  “Ethan …” I mean, stop. I mean, this can’t be happening. I mean, you can’t die. “What … what do I do? Tell me what to do.” I grip his shoulder and press hard with my palm. I make other sounds, wordless sounds like, This isn’t happening … I can’t do this … please … not him, not now, not like this … but it comes out as whimpering.

  Gurgling, he coughs blood. His eyes, sliding into focus, find mine, pupils narrowed to pinheads. He strains beneath me, lifting his hand to touch my face, his fingers icy and rough, his palm callused as he cups my cheek. I tip my face into the wide bowl of his hand. His thumb grazes my cheek, shifting the course of my tears, setting off the cave-in around my heart. In his eyes, tenderness, and longing and regret. “Brünnhilde.”

  “No, Ethan. Please. Wait. We can … I just need you to tell me what to do.”

  He smiles, his eyes scrunching in the corners.

  My throat is a vice. I rock on my knees and spill tears on my father’s blood-soaked chest. “Please … wait. Ethan … Dad … don’t go. I brought her back – I brought Miriam back. She’s awake. Helena is with her. She’s safe.”

  His eyes widen and he tries to speak but can only gurgle.

  Noise behind me makes me twist away from Ethan’s touch. The Stray has slipped off the edge of the gurney and onto his feet. Blue scrubs hang low on his hips and his chest rises and falls hard and fast. “Stay there!” I swap my hands over Ethan’s wound and slam the door shut beside me – so hard it rattles the frame. I leave a smeared handprint of my father’s blood and my head screams if only I got here sooner. If only I hadn’t wasted time arguing with Juno. The Stray doesn’t back away. I see him deciding to escape, the resolve solidifying behind his eyes. The signal surge hits me in the bandwidth again, nothing but shadow and threat. A colossal crash echoes out in the cell block and I feel Jamie, all his intent turning towards the surgery. A chemical surge of hate and want burns through me, drawing on Jamie’s signal as though calling him to me. Then it lifts and the tether fades again. I shake my head and remember … the plan. Save the Stray. Don’t kill anyone.

  “He’s coming,” I whisper. “Get on the floor. On your face. Don’t make eye contact.”

  It’s too late. Jamie opens the door. No bursting into the room. No explosion of force. He steps in and simply stands there, the control making it all the more sinister. The Stray shuffles backwards. Jamie’s shirt hangs off him in shreds and there’s blood on his hands, gouges on his arms and the side of his neck. The chains hanging from his wrists trails on the ground, clinking softly.

  I grab the hanging links, forcing Jamie’s attention down to me. I don’t think he even sees Ethan. His eyes are full black and his jaw locked, muscle knotting in his cheek. He breathes hard and fast through his nose.

  “No.” I twist the chain around my wrist. “I can feel it lifting. The drug is in his system. Let it set. There’s no threat to Michael. You just have to wait.”

  “More agents will come. They’ll use Michael as bait. We do this now.” He tugs sharply on the chain, jerking my shoulder, yanking me away from Ethan who groans and slumps lower on the floor. “Let. Go.”

  “No.” I scramble to my feet, gripping the chain tight.

  The tether surges and we all groan. Jamie moves hard against me grabbing both my arms, power rolling off him, sending arrows of heat through my core. “What are you doing, Evie? You can feel it. We can save him.”

  I know he means Michael. The response in my body is something like lust and hate – need for Jamie and loathing for the Stray. It would be so easy to give in – align myself with Jamie and let my body fall into its natural purpose. The rightness of it floods me, the rush of how perfectly we were designed to move together, fuse together, kill together, our signals layering and looping, making us stronger, faster, unstoppable. The ultimate Shield – two made one.

  It’s a second of thought, then I twist out of his hold and barge him with my elbow. He bares his teeth as he staggers back and yanks on the chain still looped about my wrist. He pulls me off my feet and sends me flying into the gurney. I hit the bed and it flips, crashing to the floor. Monitors smash into the cupboard and a trolley ricochets off the wall. A flurry of movement behind me. I fight my way out of the mess, free of Jamie’s chain at least, though it lashes the air above my head as he stops the Stray from escaping out the door.

  The Stray has nothing but raw fear and primal survival instinct in his arsenal. It doesn’t last long, like some vicious feral animal against a much larger and more dangerous predator. Jamie’s intent flashes in the bandwidth, how he’ll snap the boy’s neck. The Stray is somehow in the air before Jamie slams him into the concrete floor – his eyes roll back and he’s limp. Jamie has the boy’s head in his hands, about to twist. I throw myself at him, yanking his arm away, getting a blinding thwack of chain in my face from the whiplash.

  We tumble onto the floor, Jamie’s hot skin, breath and brutal strength now focused on me. I smash my knuckles into his jaw. His fist cracks my shoulder and we’re a furious mess of limbs, tearing at each other, drawing blood, bruising tissue, wrenching joints. My ribs are full of fire. I hold my own at first but Jamie flips me onto my stomach, fists his hand in my hair, twists my neck, his whole weight bearing down on me. A shudder moves through him as his intent fissures in the bandwidth, his hard want clashing with his hostility – our Synergist bond at odds with the Fixation Effect as though he doesn’t know if he wants to kill me or take me here on the floor.

  It’s only a hair’s breadth pause but I throw myself into the bandwidth, latching onto Jamie’s signal and dragging him down deep, deep. I don’t even know I’m going to use it before I thrust my KMT into his mind. The memory of Aiden lying in a pool of red. The light glinting off his black hair, his blank eyes, his inching blood, the top of Kitty’s blonde head where she lies just beyond the ebb of Aiden’s life. My feet splayed before me, Aiden’s blood swimming in around them, shimmering beneath my legs. The trembling in Jamie’s body as he kneels beside me and lifts me out of my brother’s blood, my name a whispered prayer. I fill the KMT with the backlog of my unresolved grief, the sucking black hole of it, until he’s gasping in the present and his tears drip hotly on the side of my face. The corded tension in Jamie’s body gives and he collapses into me. “No, no … Evie. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t–”

  “You have stopped.” The tether still tugs but it’s growing fainter. “Let me up.”

  “I’m sorry …” He moves off me, his hands trembling and gentle as he helps me turn over. I wince at the pain in my ribs. “Everton. Love. What did I do – what did I do to you?”

  “I’m okay.”

  He helps me into a sitting position, his eyes flicking to the unconscious Stray. “Don’t let me near him.”

  “Help Ethan. Please. He’s hurt. It’s bad. I–”

  A shadow in the doorway cuts me short.

  A single terrific clap.

  Jamie’s eyes spring wide.

  A bright burst of fire in the socket of my shoulder.

  A perfect red hole in Jamie’s torn shirt, just beneath his collarbone, inches above his heart. The echo of my father’s wound. Symmetry and horror.

  A scream – mine, I think.

  Jamie reaches towards my wound, his eyes glazing as his chest pumps red. He collapses against me. I hit the floor beneath him, unable to hold his weight against the pain in my body.

  Stephanie staggers through the door, her nose at an angle, her lip torn, one livid eye the other swollen shut, her arm extended, gun trained. “How can you choose this? How is it worth it?” She limps close, aiming for my head. “You don’t deserve your DNA.”

  I go rigid,
no strength to call out or beg but Jamie’s heartbeat sputters and my tension gives. I don’t want to fight. I lie there breathing Jamie’s scent beneath the tang of sweat and blood and I wait.

  A deafening double blast. A curious splash of red out the side of Stephanie’s neck. A meaningless red hole in her forehead. A grunt from the floor. Senseless, I roll my head to see Ethan where he’s dragged himself from behind the door, a gun clattering from his hand. Stephanie falls. Beyond her Juno holds herself up, leaning on a lab desk, her gun still poised before her.

  The sound of feet pounding through the lab. A rush of signals into the surgery. Juno, Davis, Lane, the gentle static of the civ – agent Stevens. I wrap my arm around Jamie, press my hand over the wet hole in his back and close my eyes. His signal is there, pulsing erratically. I lock hold of him in the bandwidth, wrap my mind around him and don’t let go. My memory opens and I fill my Transfer with images, moments, touches, silence, looks, a living gallery.

  All around us, people move, their voices rising and falling. Someone cries, a woman, her broken “No … no …” and my father’s name. I squeeze Jamie and stay in the dark, his signal slipping away. In my head No … no … Behind my navel the tether melts away and the storm cloud of the Stray. Jamie shudders, air sighing from his lungs. A letting go.

  No … no

  Electricity burns through me, my spine crackling with bolts of power. I bear all my concentration on gathering it inwards, drawing deep down, in and in. Instinct rather than reason. Desperation rather than faith. A savage clawing refusal to accept another loss. I take the thinning threads of Jamie’s signal and wrap my will around it like a fist. The pressure builds and builds till my skull, my bones, my skin rings. A piercing note in my inner ear. I hold Jamie in the bandwidth and release the valve. My signal punches into his, a telepathic blast forcing my way deep, claiming him, all of him, the multi-layered territory of his body and mind. Breath and heartbeat. Bone to soul. Obliterating every promise, I bind him to me and fall into darkness.

  SYNERGIST