Renegade's Run

by Brenna Lyons

  Jonas ran his hand over Sarah’s arm. “They set me up. They substituted doctored condoms without my knowledge. By the time I resigned, it was too late, and they knew it.”

  Lewis rubbed his neck. “Why would they want this?”

  “The psych guys said it would make Sarah, the Randalls and me easier to handle. Personally, I’d like to levy charges on them for even making predictions like that for Baker. It does imply a certain knowledge of and conspiracy in the plot,” he grumbled.

  Sarah shook her head. “It’s not just that. Baker wanted a Randall-Paige baby to turn into his personal weapon.”

  Pruitt sat back, eyeing them warily. “Do you have proof of any of this or am I actually supposed to believe it?”

  Evan pulled out his PC and recorder and hooked them into the screen set up on the table. “Where do you want me to start?”

  “Prove who she is first. We have a damned convincing file on her.”

  “Baker’s specialty,” Evan grumbled. He punched in keys, pulling up Sarah’s file from his database. Timmons hooked his own PC into another port on the dummy, and Evan motioned to the file on the screen. “Start here. This is Sarah’s real file.”

  “Punch up Katie Randall’s file,” Jonas suggested. “You can clearly see how it was changed to create the fake you have. Katie’s has been changed in the DoPT database, too. They had to wipe Sarah out of it.”

  “It’s clean in my memory files,” Evan added. “After that, hook to Pittsburgh Police missing persons open files. Sarah is a missing.”

  There was quiet discussion between the four men for several minutes. Pruitt looked up at them. “Baker did this?”

  Jonas nodded.

  “Why?”

  Evan sighed and produced a micro-disc. He placed it in the slot in his PC and punched up the files. “This was delivered by Griffin to the media and government officials an hour ago.”

  Timmons didn’t look up from his PC. “What is this?”

  “Baker’s secret files. Deleted files like Sarah’s, changed files, plans. You name it, he had a file on it. This is what Griffin had on Baker, and this is why Baker wanted Griffin dead.”

  Timmons looked up in surprise. “This says Bryant was a talent.”

  Jonas nodded. “He was. Baker suppressed the file back in twenty-ten. I wish Paul had mentioned it. I almost got Sarah killed, because I didn’t know he was.”

  Pruitt gave them a speculative look. “What was his plan?”

  Evan took a long, slow breath. “Get elected to the oval office. Place closet talent like Bryant in key positions. Stir up trouble to get civilian talent to stand with him.”

  Williams blanched. “Against who?”

  “Norms. An unbreakable talent hierarchy. A class system with him at the top. Personal freedoms would cease to exist.”

  Pruitt glanced at Sarah. “Why the baby with that army behind him?”

  Evan grinned as he pulled up a new file. “Two reasons. Look at the deleted portions of Paige’s file and multiply that by Randall genes. What does it look like to you?”

  Timmons paled. “No shit!” He flicked a sheepish look at Pruitt and bent back to his work.

  Pruitt folded his hands on the table. “And?” he prodded.

  Evan’s smile disappeared. “Give me a child until he’s seven.”

  Lewis whistled. “He’s mine for life.”

  Sarah shivered in Jonas’ arms, and he kissed her forehead. She was withdrawing further into herself with every comment.

  Pruitt nodded. “You’re saying Baker was a renegade.”

  Jonas nodded. “Baker, Bryant, and about two dozen others listed in those secret files. The rest are norm conspirators like Childress.”

  “Why would they go along with this? The norms? What was in it for them?”

  Evan shook his head. “Ask them. I doubt Baker told them the whole truth. They probably had a patriotic vision of a strong America guarded by talent like Jonas. Baker wasn’t even straight with Bryant about his whole plan. Why would he be straight with the norms?”

  Timmons spoke up. “These changed files—Some of these names are talents we have in other iso tanks waiting transfer.”

  “Yes, they are. They want their names cleared. They’re willing to take this chance and turn themselves in to get that. There’s also a list of wrongfully imprisoned and executed talents Baker set up for the slaughter. They should be out-processed and compensated as soon as possible.”

  Pruitt sighed. “Every imprisoned talent is going to demand a new trial.”

  “I know, but I’d start with the ones in those files. I’d assume most of the others are there rightfully, especially if they have adequate witness against them.”

  “What about Griffin?”

  Jonas furrowed his brow. “What about him?”

  “He and two of his buddies slipped away before we got here.”

  “He probably figured that he was safer hidden for the time being. I’m sure he’d be happy to be freed.”

  Pruitt steepled his hands. “But?”

  Evan sighed. “On the run from Baker, he’s had to actually renegade to stay alive. A dead or alive is a serious matter.”

  “He’s not sure he’d be freed?”

  “Exactly.”

  Pruitt nodded and looked to Sarah. “Baker kidnapped you?”

  She nodded. “I’ve been kept here as a prisoner for the last four months.”

  He glanced to Evan. “Do I need to ask?”

  Evan pulled up the brief file he had saved. He paused it as the montage of images started, frozen on Jonas kissing Sarah the first time. “I’d like to skip the next few minutes,” he requested.

  “Why?” Williams asked.

  Jonas darkened. “Baker recorded us illegally. We weren’t aware of it, and neither of us want that portion of the tape shown publicly.”

  “It’s—” His eyes widened.

  “Yes. Very.”

  Pruitt nodded. “Skip it.” He shook his head. “I think we have proof enough of the relationship involved.”

  Evan punched a few more buttons, asking for the exact time stamp he needed. The image switched to Jonas telling Sarah he loved her. They watched Sarah’s discovery that she was pregnant, her kidnapping, and Baker’s gloating. The military men were silent for several moments.

  Finally, Pruitt cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you renegade?”

  Jonas closed his eyes. “They held all the cards. As much as I would have loved to skin Baker alive, until I had Griffin as a bargaining chip, I had no way to Sarah, Baker or anyone else.”

  “Did you kill Baker?”

  Jonas looked at him in surprise. “The recorder in the iso tank— The camera was working. The monitor was working. I know it was.”

  “The recorder was disabled by Baker along with the other major system interlocks.”

  Jonas nodded, considering his options. He could tell them he killed Baker to save Sarah this interrogation. Evan would back him, but there were eleven other people in iso tanks who could tell the truth before he could reach them.

  As if reading his mind, Sarah groaned. “Don’t do it, Jonas. I killed him.”

  Timmons shook his head. “That was a psi kill and you have no offensive talent.”

  Evan cut in. “It’s a defensive talent called mirroring.” He used Flynn’s term for it, giving it an official sound.

  Pruitt’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “No one had until Sarah displayed it, but Randalls are like that, aren’t they? She can’t be attacked by talent if she’s carbed up enough to handle the assault. She mirrors back energy thrown at her.”

  “What kind of energy?”

  Jonas barked a laugh. “Any kind. You name it, and she can rebuff it. We’ve seen her do it with telepathic, telekinetic—”

  Pruitt raised an eyebrow in surprise. “So, she’s the ultimate defensive weapon? She can’t attack, but she can’t be attacked?”

  Jonas nodded.

&n
bsp; “That would mean Baker attacked her,” he mused.

  Sarah’s grip on his shirt tightened. “Yes. Baker tried to kill me. I just—” She faltered.

  Jonas pulled her closer to his chest. “It was Sarah and my son or Baker. It was allowable force. Ask the others. They all saw it on the monitors.”

  Pruitt nodded. “Well, Baker drafted Steven and Katheryn Randall, so his charges of impersonating a DoPT operative are a moot point. You have some damned convincing evidence to support your position. Who killed the guard?” He glanced at a sheet Timmons handed him. “Boyonton?”

  Sarah groaned. “Bryant. Bill would have protected me.”

  Evan shook his head. “Boyonton was protecting her. He was working for Griffin, keeping her safe.”

  “Okay. We’ll review these files and question the other prisoners. I trust we can move you out to lockdown rooms? There won’t be any—handling problems?”

  Jonas nodded. “Together, if you don’t mind. Sarah needs the rest, but we should keep an eye on her. She’s never been pushed this far before.”

  *

  Six hours later, the five of them were released. Jonas cradled Sarah out to the van the military set up to drive them to the airstrip and the personnel transport plane that would carry them home.

  Sarah buried her face in Jonas’ chest, her blue eyes glittering with unshed tears and wide in shock. All around them, cameras flashed and reporters pressed in only to be gently rebuffed by the soldiers that formed their protective shell. Questions were screamed at them, questions that went unanswered.

  The airstrip was secure. It was on Westover AFB. That gave them a reprieve from the insanity, though the excitement and mistrust the soldiers were throwing off was surely torture for Sarah. She fell asleep somewhere over lower NY.

  The fervor started all over again on the other end, but Sarah was blissfully unaware between her deep sleep and the shell of her shield. At Greater Pittsburgh International Airport, Mac and his crew rebuffed the reporters much as they had been rebuffed by the soldiers at Clinton.

  The door to the Randall house closed behind them, and Mac dragged Katie to his chest before sending her off to Keith and Alex. He met Jonas’ eyes and nodded. “Alpha One, huh?”

  Jonas sighed. “Not anymore, Mac.” He hadn’t been formally out-processed, but it was official. Jonas was assured that there would be no more tricks to keep him. After all, that was against the law.

  “Yeah.” Mac touched Sarah’s shoulder, but she was oblivious to his presence. “Is she okay?”

  Jonas shook his head. “She’s disconnected herself.”

  “Ah Christ! Not that again.”

  Katie sighed. “It will take time. She’s been through a lot.”

  Mac’s eyes hardened. “Like? You saying someone has been through a lot doesn’t sit well with me, Katie.”

  Katie shook her head. “She killed Baker, Mac. With talent.”

  Jonas winced at the shock on Mac’s face. “In self-defense,” he qualified. “She didn’t have a choice, Mac.”

  “What do we do now?” he asked quietly.

  Jonas sighed. “All we can do is give her space and time. We’ll be there for her when she’s ready and hope she comes out of this soon.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  September 16th

  Sarah slipped out the basement door into the darkness of the backyard, pulling the ballcap that covered the mass of her hair down over her eyes. She used the shadows to hide her from the few reporters that still haunted her parents’ house, stalking her every movement. They were impossible to get rid of, despite her blue-shirt uncles and prepared statements given to them by Mac.

  The reporters had already gathered by the time the doors at Clinton opened for them. Sarah’s memories of that day were hazy, but she remembered the mob of people: their hope, anger, disgust, frustration, and outright hate making her head spin. The reporters’ feelings hadn’t been much different than the feelings of the soldiers when she caught glimmers from them.

  Sarah didn’t remember much about the interrogation a week earlier. She knew Jonas and Evan went into the iso tank with her. Sarah knew she had been held to Jonas’ chest in the mind-numbing psi wave. She knew she answered questions, though she forgot most of what they asked immediately after answering. She told them she killed Baker, but they let her go. Sarah still wasn’t sure why they let her go.

  She slipped across the deserted expanse of Sterling Street and through the woods to the flats. On Carson Street, she hid in the shadow of Stutz’ Pharmacy. Sarah checked her watch. It was three thirty. The first 54C bus to Oakland would be there in less than ten minutes, if it was running on time.

  Sarah rubbed her forehead. She should have talked to Jonas. She still could. She could turn around and go back. He would be in Steven’s old bed where he had slept every night since their return to Pittsburgh.

  She ran her hand over the baby growing inside her and stifled a sob. He would be hunted, sought after by any nut with an agenda. Sarah was no match for what would come for him. Though she had the power to kill, she didn’t have the heart to. She couldn’t condemn her baby to that life.

  Sarah ran from the shelter of the storefront and got onto the bus, dropping her money in the tower and retreating to the seats behind the rear doors where she had a clear view. This early, there were only two other people on the bus aside from the rather bored-looking driver. The security guard half-asleep near the front ignored her, but the silver-haired woman a few rows away peered at her.

  “You okay, honey?” she asked.

  Sarah managed a weak smile and nodded.

  “Bad breakup?”

  She bit back a sob and nodded again. It was over, but Jonas didn’t know it yet. He’d never forgive her. He’d never understand. She’d lose him after this.

  The woman nodded. “I can always tell.” She handed Sarah a Kleenex and settled back in her seat. “You’re better off without him, honey. If you’re that miserable, that’s a given.”

  Sarah dropped her chin to her chest and mopped at her eyes. She wouldn’t be better without Jonas, but Sarah wouldn’t curse her child with a mother that half the world considered a renegade and a lineage that would ensure torture.

  Halket Street came up all too fast. Sarah considered staying on and following the loop all the way back to Oakland a second time, but the people entering on the other side of the bridge were making her distinctly nervous. There was too much possibility of someone recognizing her in the brightly-lit bus.

  She meandered up and down the strip between Halket and Craft, window shopping for things she didn’t remember looking at two windows later. She bought a donut at Mr. Donut that she trashed after a single bite and avoided the eyes of the other people on the street. Even at four in the morning, Oakland was never devoid of foot traffic. There were always college students heading to and from Kinko’s, campus security and police getting a cup of coffee at McDonalds or Crossroads, and the nameless rabble that Sarah intended to blend in with if she could.

  Sarah wasted an hour that way before she couldn’t find the drive to keep hiding in plain sight. The clinic wouldn’t open until eight thirty, but the hospital lobby was open twenty-four hours a day. Sarah slipped in the doors and found a seat in a corner out of sight of the desk.

  For more than an hour, her ploy worked. No one noticed her, until a security guard passed the waiting area. He stopped and backed up to look again, taking in her oversized jacket and Pirates’ cap with distaste that rang clear even without the grimace that pulled at his lips.

  Sarah smoothed the jacket and fought a grimace of her own. There was something irreverent about wearing a man’s clothes while you planned to abort his baby, but Sarah’s own clothes didn’t fit. She shook her head to dislodge that idea. Sarah had argued this with herself at least a dozen times.

  Using the talent allowance for a late-term termination, she would simply have to swear that she didn’t know Jonas was talent when she got pregnant. She would be lying
, but not by much. Sarah certainly didn’t know what kind of talent Jonas was, and she hadn’t had the opportunity for an early termination she should have had. She had considered terminating when she found herself pregnant, though only as an alternative to having Jonas share the experience with her. Sarah wouldn’t have to press charges on him as a renegade, because they had been using condoms. Technically, her plan was foolproof—except that she would lose Jonas in the bargain.

  Sarah groaned as the guard walked to her, dropping her gaze and hoping that he hadn’t seen her face. Her hiding time was over if he had. If he recognized her, Sarah would never make it until the clinic opened. If he didn’t call the press, someone he told would, and they would be all over her.

  “You can’t sleep here,” he told her in a crisp voice.

  Sarah cleared her throat and forced her voice to calm. “I’m not sleeping. Just got off work and waiting for the clinic to open.”

  “That’s more than two hours away. You’ll have to leave.”

  “And go where?”

  “Home.”

  “Too far,” she lied. Sarah could make it back and forth three times with favorable busses and six times in a car, but the guard couldn’t know that.

  “Go get some breakfast at Mickey D’s.”

  “Fasting procedure.” She wasn’t sure if it was or not, but the thought of food made her feel sick anyway.

  The guard nodded. “Okay.”

  Sarah sighed as he moved away without a backward glance. For the remaining two hours, she sat with the cap pulled low over her eyes, scanning the doorway, hall and minds for any signs of pursuit.

  She didn’t wait for the guard to tell her that the clinic was opening. The last thing Sarah wanted was to give someone a second look at her. She hesitated with her hand on the doorknob. She had to do this.

  Sarah resisted the urge to run her hand over her baby. “No choice. I can’t let you live this way,” she whispered. She pushed the door open and walked to the desk, determined to follow her course to the end.

  “Can I help you?” the nurse asked without looking up.

  Sarah stilled. Emotions assaulted her despite the stronger shield she had erected.