by A. P. Kensey
“Go,” said Dormer to Colton. He stood a few feet away, using one of the soldiers as a body shield from the gunfire of the others. The bullets sank into the soldier’s armor and he groaned in agony. Colton guessed the bullets in the soldiers’ own guns were armor-piercing rounds never meant to be used on anyone but unarmed innocents.
Some of the bullets—the ones that normally would have missed the soldier and hit Dormer—stopped in the air, inches from his head. They fell to the ground a moment after being suspended mid-flight. Colton remembered Corva saying that a Conduit could only do that for so long before the bullets got through. Negating the velocity of a bullet drained a Con’s power quickly, as the output required for such a stopping force usually exceeded the energy they were consuming.
Dormer closed his eyes and the space around his body darkened. The soldier he was using for a body shield screamed as Dormer drew on his energy. The lights in the wall nearby exploded, sending glass shards tinkling to the ground. Dormer turned to Colton and saw he was still there. “Go!” he shouted.
Colton ran.
32
Bullets thunked into the floor at his feet. He zigzagged across the dome room, ducking behind shelves and anything else he could use for cover as he went. On the other side of the room, the door to his mother’s old holding cell opened. The door was less than a hundred feet from the training room, and Kamiko stood there, eyes blazing with blue fire.
Colton ran faster, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was focused across the room, at Dormer. A black hole had formed around his body as he moved from soldier to soldier. Any of them who passed through the black light fell instantly and lay on the ground, unmoving.
The last thing Colton saw before he kicked open the training room door was Kamiko literally flying across the room, carried through the air by long strands of lightning that shot from her back. They moved like the legs of a giant, electric spider as they carried her forward.
The door closed behind him and Colton squinted into the darkness of the training room. The overhead lamps had burned out and the back half of the room was pitch black. The only light was coming from the window in the door. On the floor, laying at the edge of the light, was Micah. Colton couldn’t tell if he was breathing. A few feet away from him was a soldier, sprawled out, unconscious or dead.
Colton took a step toward Micah and someone spoke to him from the shadows.
“Don’t come any closer.”
The voice was deep and muffled. A moment later, a soldier stepped slowly out of the darkness. He held June in front of him and kept the muzzle of his rifle buried under her chin. Her hands rested on Noah’s shoulders, who stared across the room at Micah with wide eyes.
Colton blinked heavily and his vision blurred. Blood rushed to his head and made him dizzy. The black veins that covered his body throbbed painfully and he realized it was the virus working its way deeper into his system.
He raised his rifle with shaking hands and aimed it at the soldier—he hoped he was aiming it at the soldier.
“I still have my ability,” said Colton stupidly, not knowing what else to do.
The soldier paused for a moment, then slowly marched forward. He laughed coldly from behind his mask. “Nice try. I can see the veins in your neck from here.”
“Why don’t you just shoot me then?” asked Colton.
The soldier stopped again, considering the offer. Finally, he shrugged, and pulled the rifle away from June’s throat so he could aim it at Colton. As soon as the gun was away from her skin, she raised her elbow and drove it back into his armored stomach. He let out a surprised laugh as June grabbed Noah and pushed him to the ground.
“Now!” she shouted.
The soldier was bringing his rifle back up when Colton pulled the trigger. The rifle was set to automatic mode and the bullets spat out in a steady stream. A haze of gunpowder hung in the air as Colton lowered the gun. The soldier was on the floor, a small pool of blood spreading out from his abdomen.
Noah pushed away from June and ran over to Micah. He crouched next to the boy’s body and wept. Even as Colton approached, he could tell that Micah’s skin was too pale. There was a dark bruise around his neck, and his eyes were closed peacefully, almost like he was sleeping.
Colton helped June to her feet and she gave him a quick hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. When she released him, she wiped away her tears and shook her head. “He tried to save us.” Her small smile told Colton she was familiar with the ways of children—familiar with their unclear sense of how the world really worked and also their crystal clear belief that you had to protect the ones you loved.
Colton did not ask her what happened. She would tell him in her own time, if she needed to tell him at all. He took Noah’s hand and led him away from Micah, and took June’s in his other. Together, they walked to the door and looked out through the window, into the dome room.
Smoke hung in an ugly haze near the elevator hallway door. Colton could barely see the lifeless bodies of at least six soldiers on the floor. Suddenly Kamiko appeared outside the window. Blue fire exploded from her eyes and melted the window. Colton pulled June and Noah away from the door as it slammed open.
Kamiko swatted Colton’s rifle aside with no effort at all. It clattered across the floor and stopped against the body of one of the dead soldiers. The fire in Kamiko’s eyes seemed to grow more intense when she saw the bodies.
Behind her, in the middle of the dome room, Dormer was on his knees, his hands tied behind his back. He looked close to falling over from exhaustion. Half his face was covered in blood. He turned and smiled weakly at Colton. One of the two soldiers still standing cracked him on top of the head with the butt of his rifle and Dormer collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Lightning shot from Kamiko’s fist as she punched Colton in the chest. He hit the ground on his back and skidded across the floor. Noah screamed and broke free of June’s arms. He ran at Kamiko blindly, his eyes tightly closed, tears streaming down his face.
She turned to face him as a brilliant white light exploded from his body. The flash lit up the room and a wooden weapon rack hanging on the wall burst into flame. White plasma shot out of Noah’s chest toward Kamiko. It was a sloppy attack—a burst of raw, uncontrolled anger from a child with no training; from a five-year-old boy who should have been a decade away accessing his own ability.
Kamiko quickly brought her hands together in front of her face just as the plasma hit them. A shield of lightning erupted from her hands and surrounded her completely. White flames enveloped the protective shell.
When Noah’s fire died, he collapsed to the ground, unconscious. His nose was bleeding and his fingers twitched slightly, as if he were dreaming.
“Is he dead?” asked June. She huddled in the corner of the room, looking between the bodies of Noah and Micah.
The ball of lightning around Kamiko disappeared with a static crackle of energy. She floated over to Noah and looked down at him sadly. His small chest rose and fell in shallow gasps.
“Poor little Nova,” she whispered. “Now they’ll never leave you alone.”
Colton’s clothes smoked from the heat of the blast. He stood up and stumbled toward Kamiko. The black veins pulsed beneath his skin, choking his senses and dulling his mind. Kamiko reached out and grabbed him by the throat. She lifted him up in the air and screamed in anger. A storm of lightning erupted from her mouth and enveloped Colton in an electric cocoon that seized his lungs. He could not breathe. He could not fight back. Lightning crawled over his skin and burrowed into his body.
The lack of oxygen dimmed Colton’s vision. His world slowly faded into darkness, and the last thing he saw was Kamiko standing below him in a sea of swirling, shimmering, beautiful dark blue light.
33
The truck bumped across the desert as Marius drove farther from the burning virus facility. Haven’s brown, red-streaked hair whipped in the wind that blasted through the open windows. She watched black smoke bill
ow up into the sky in the reflection of her passenger-door mirror. The building was hidden on the other side of a large rise, but the smoke climbed far into the blue morning sky like a soul reaching for heaven.
“Where are we going?” asked Haven.
Marius stared straight ahead, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the distant horizon. “Billings is the nearest town. South of here.” He looked at the truck’s fuel gauge. “Not enough gas to go anywhere else.”
The truck hit a dip and bounced back out roughly. Bastian shouted in surprise from the back. He and Roku sat with their backs against the truck’s cab, shielding their eyes from the sun with their hands. Haven put her palm against the glass that separated them and melted away a handprint-shaped hole with a slow burn of blue energy.
Bastian scooted closer to the hole. “Where are we going?” he shouted. Sand whipped up around the sides of the truck. He held up the collar of his jacket to shield his face.
“Billings,” said Haven.
Bastian nodded. “It’ll be south of here, about fifty miles.”
“Do you have any idea where Alistair might be?”
Bastian turned away to look at the black smoke, then shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” said Haven, and she meant it. In Bastian’s mind, no one else was working to get rid of Alistair. To him, his quest represented the only way to eliminate the threat for good. “What will you do now?”
Bastian looked at Roku. “I don’t know. We lost him and I don’t know if we’ll ever get another chance.” Roku sat quietly, his face an emotionless mask.
“Marius and I are going back to the Dome,” said Haven. “Cure or no cure.”
Roku opened his mouth to say something then quickly shut it again. Haven thought she knew what he was going to say.
“You can come with us,” she said. “Both of you.”
Bastian and Roku shared the same look again—a knowing look that carried some deeper knowledge.
“What if Kamiko is still there?” asked Bastian.
“She better not be,” said Haven. “For her sake.”
Roku stared at the tire tracks in the sand, winding like twin snakes back the way they had come. Bastian slapped him on the shoulder and tried to cheer him up. Roku pushed him away. After a moment, Bastian shrugged, then he leaned his head back against the window and closed his eyes.
Haven tucked several wind-blown strands of hair behind her ears and settled into her seat. Marius was still intently focused on the desert ahead.
“Marius wants to strangle him,” he said. He gripped the wheel until his knuckles looked like they might pop through the skin on the back of his hands. “No cure. Why did he lie about something like that? Marius should have stayed with Corva. What if she is gone by the time we get back?”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” said Haven. Even to her it sounded like an awful lie.
“Don’t say things you know are not true,” he said harshly. “Nothing we did made a difference.”
“We destroyed the Fade processing plant. That’s something. It means no one else is going to be infected.”
“Ha!” he said. “What you think, a man like Alistair isn’t going to have another place just like it somewhere? Or maybe he already shipped a hundred million needles out into the world to infect entire countries! Only way to stop it is to stop him, and he’s already killed most of us. They are all back at the Dome, dying slowly, while we drive through this desert and waste more time.”
He suddenly slammed on the brakes and the truck slid sideways over the sand. It came to a rocking stop, then Marius cut the engine and hopped quickly out of the cab.
“Marius…” said Haven. She had a bad feeling about what he might do.
“You!” shouted Marius as he walked around to the back of the truck.
“Me?” asked Bastian. His eyes were bleary from his brief nap.
“You.”
Marius grabbed his collar with both hands. He pulled Bastian off the truck bed and slammed him against the hard ground. He growled and pulled Bastian to his feet, then stuck his snarling face so close to Bastian’s that their noses touched. Then he lifted Bastian up into the air. Black veins throbbed in Marius’s neck. His bloodshot eyes studied Bastian as if he couldn’t understand why such a person existed in the first place.
“What—what are you doing?” asked Bastian.
Marius yelled and threw him as far as he could. Bastian hit the sand on his side and rolled to a stop against a large rock. Roku hopped easily from the bed of the truck and Marius turned on him and pointed a finger in his face.
“This does not concern you,” said Marius. “Let him be a man and fight his own fight.”
Roku’s face hardened, but he stayed by the truck. A few feet away, Bastian coughed sand back onto the desert ground. “I know you’re angry,” he said between coughs, “but—”
But he couldn’t finish. Marius stood over him and grabbed the back of his belt. He shoved Bastian forward and kicked him in the stomach. Yellow flame sputtered and died in Bastian’s hands as he held his side. He was unable to control his energy and small sparks of light shot out from his skin like tiny fireworks.
His breath returned and he took a long, gasping lungful. Haven ran up and grabbed Marius’s arm as he pulled it back for a punch.
“Stop it!” she shouted. Marius turned and scowled at her.
“It’s alright,” said Bastian weakly. He lay on the ground on his side, his breath pushing sand away from his face. He looked at Haven. “It’s alright.”
She slowly let go of Marius’s arm and stepped away. Roku stood next to her, watching.
Marius pulled his leg back for another kick. Right before it connected, a yellow bubble of energy swelled out from Bastian’s hands and burst. Marius flew back ten feet and landed hard on his shoulder. Bastian scrambled to his feet and stood there, half bent over from pain, panting to catch his breath.
Marius got to his feet slowly, his eyes fixed on his target.
“What do you want me to say?” asked Bastian. “That I’m sorry? Because I am. I’m sorry I took you away from your wife. I’m sorry she’s sick.”
Marius walked toward him, his heavy shoes leaving deep impressions in the sand. He looked like a bull in a slow-motion charge.
“But that didn’t change what we had to do,” said Bastian. Marius was just a foot away when another bubble of yellow energy popped in his face. The second burst hit him like a sledgehammer and slammed him down to the ground. He lay there, groaning, holding his head as if it were made of glass.
“I have a lot to atone for,” said Bastian, panting heavily. He wavered on his feet and bent forward to put his hands on his knees for support. “But to pay for it out here would be pointless, especially considering the road ahead.”
Marius kicked Bastian’s ankle, hard. Bastian screamed and lifted his foot off the ground. Marius kicked his other leg out from beneath him and Bastian hit the ground on his back. Marius rolled to him and sat up, then swung his leg over Bastian’s torso to straddle his chest. He pulled back his fist, ready to strike, but stopped.
Bastian fought for air, gasping like a fish on dry land, as Marius’s fist hovered over his head. The energy seemed to leave Marius all at once and he slumped to the side. He crawled away on his hands and knees, coughing, then collapsed in the sand and wept.
Roku knelt down next to Bastian and helped him sit up.
“I’m okay,” said Bastian. His voice was weak and strained, as if he had been screaming for days. “Thank you.”
“I did nothing,” said Roku.
Haven walked over and sat next to Marius. He lay face-down on the hot ground, his tears forming small patches of mud where they fell. He coughed and spat black blood onto the ground.
“Is getting worse,” he said.
Haven put a hand on his back and let some of her energy flow out through her palm, into his spine. He stopped quivering and relaxed.
“We’ve all lost someone,” said Haven. “Some m
ore than others. But Corva is not gone yet. As long as she’s alive, you still have hope.”
Marius pushed away from the ground and sat up. One side of his face was covered in a thin layer of sand, like half-finished clown makeup, and Haven was unable to control the giggle that slipped out. She slapped her hands to her mouth to stifle the rest.
“Marius is no good at this kind of thing,” he said. “He is best at simple things, like punching and revenge. It hurts somewhere deep inside to think about losing her. It hurts more than anything in the world.”
Haven smiled at him. “So let’s get you back home, okay?”
He sniffed and wiped his face with his sleeve. “Okay.”
She helped him to his feet and they walked back to the truck. Roku boosted Bastian up onto the bed and climbed up after him.
“Are we going to make it?” asked Roku.
Haven looked at Marius and he nodded as he got into the driver’s seat.
“I think so,” she said.
She closed his door and walked around the front of the truck. Marius turned the keys in the ignition but all that came from the engine was a steady, slow wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh, then silence.
Haven stood in front of the truck, staring at the front grille. Marius keyed the ignition again and the chugs came slower and weaker: wuh…wuh… wuh.
“This not good,” said Marius from behind the wheel.
“Let me take a look,” said Roku. He hopped down from the truck bed and joined Haven at the front as Marius popped the hood. Roku lifted it and a cloud of acrid smoke rose into the air from the hissing engine.
Haven coughed and waved some of it away. “I’m guessing that’s a bad sign,” she said.
Roku touched parts of the engine, pausing for a moment on each one to feel the temperature. He knocked on a plastic tank bolted to the side panel next to the twin batteries. It thumped hollowly under his knuckles.
“Electrical problem?” asked Marius from the cab.
“Could be the starter,” said Roku. The radiator cap sizzled against his fingers as he unscrewed it. He waved away some of the smoke and peered into the radiator. “It’s also out of coolant.”