Resist

by Tracey Martin

  That was sixty-one hours, fourteen minutes, twenty-seven seconds ago. My internal clock is as precise as ever, but as useful as it is, I’d rather have telepathy so I could do this whole talking business in private. As far as I know, that’s not yet scientifically feasible, although I’m certain someone’s working on it.

  I push aside these random musings and more carefully assess the room. If I can’t have telepathy, and Kyle and I can’t be alone, maybe we can still talk with something resembling privacy. The others seem to be sleeping, even Summer, and Cole shouldn’t be able to hear us through the door.

  I crawl off the bed, stretch, and my new jeans slide down my hips. They don’t fit the best and aren’t particularly comfortable, but we needed to make do with what the stores had available.

  Kyle watches me warily. He changed out of his own bloody clothes earlier, grumbling over the loss of his favorite band T-shirt. In his new jeans and a plain shirt, he doesn’t look all that different than normal, unlike my unit members. I got used to seeing myself dressed in civilian clothes while at college, but something about Jordan and Lev in jeans and sweatshirts is funny.

  As I carry the room’s other chair over to Kyle, my gaze fixates on his lower lip, which sticks out in an adorably pouty way. I want to kiss it. To crawl on his lap and snuggle against him. But that would be a mistake. His dark eyes make it clear he’s not in the mood. They’re cautious, as are his movements as he sets the phone down.

  My fingers curl around the chair arm, crushing it for strength. “You should get some sleep.”

  The rest of us can handle several days of sleep deprivation if necessary, although it will slow us down. Kyle, I assume, is more human than that.

  He shakes his head. “I can’t sleep.”

  “Have you tried?” He was sitting in the same chair, playing with that phone, when I laid down.

  “I don’t need to try. I know.” Kyle’s grip tightens around the phone, and I realize his face is pale, even without its glow.

  I close my eyes, an attack of tears pressing daggers against my skull. My weakness, my helplessness, is killing me.

  Control your situation, Fitzpatrick’s voice booms in my memory. She’s been in charge of our training since we were children, and her harsh alto is forever tormenting me. Control your fear. Control your response. Control. Control. CONTROL.

  I tell the echoes to fuck off. I’m not in control here, but I wasn’t back home letting Fitzpatrick boss me around either. More to the point, I’m sick of control.

  “Kyle…”

  “Don’t.” He raises a hand. “Don’t say it again. Don’t bring it up. You explained already. I believe you didn’t know the truth about what you were sent to do.”

  I didn’t, but my ignorance is just more failure on my part. Although rationally, I’m aware I had no way to know the truth about RedZone when they sent me to Robert Treat College, I can’t shake the feeling that I should have figured it out sooner. I was made to be better than that. Smarter and savvier. Instead I was a naïve dupe who might get an innocent person killed or worse.

  I let myself be controlled all the while thinking I had some.

  I swallow past the lump in my throat because Kyle’s right—there are no apologies I can offer that will change anything. RedZone sent me undercover as a student to RTC. I unearthed Kyle’s secret for them, and there’s no chance to correct my mistake. No taking that back. The only apology I can offer is to do my best to keep him alive until he can disappear once more. But how to make that happen when his face is now known…

  That will be trickier. The technology to create a new face exists, both through legitimate hospitals and on the black market for people in exactly our type of situation. But on the black market, it will cost a lot more money. Particularly if you don’t want just any idiot with a laser and reconstructive micro-tech implants coming near your skull.

  Assuming we can come up with the money, however, we should all have it done. Although I’ll miss Kyle’s face if we do. Those long eyelashes, his sharp cheekbones, the way he smiles.

  Smiled. Past tense. Kyle has no smiles at the moment, and it’s unlikely he’ll ever have any for me again.

  My stomach rolls, and I have to get up and drink some water. The heater clicks on loudly as I do, and my hand twitches, spilling water down the side of the cup. Stupid, I chastise myself. It’s no wonder I’m twitchy, but Cole’s outside. If anything has found us, we’d know.

  When I force myself to stop pacing and sit, Kyle is staring at the phone again. He’s biting the pouty lip.

  “Who?” I ask, because it’s obvious why he’s so anxious.

  The phones are supposed to be so we can contact each other should we need to split up and run. Kyle, on the other hand, has friends he could contact, plus an adoptive mother and a stepfather.

  Technically, I suppose I have friends too, people like my roommate Audrey at RTC. But though I’m worried about her and am sure she’s worried too, everything she believes about me is a lie. She’s better off if I stay away.

  “Kyle?” I ask when he doesn’t respond, and I put my hand over his.

  The once-familiar gesture startles him, and he draws back. I lie to myself and pretend it doesn’t bother me. “My mother. I tried calling her, but she’s not answering. It’s not like her, and I’m worried.”

  I grimace. I wouldn’t put it past Malone to go after Kyle’s mother, to use her as a way to draw him out. I hadn’t mentioned it earlier, but maybe I should have. Of course, there was nothing we could have done.

  I want to lie to Kyle and say she’s probably fine, but I’ve lied to him enough, and he wouldn’t believe me anyway. So I stay silent, helpless again.

  “Malone will kill her if he finds her,” Kyle says at last.

  “No.” That much I believe. Malone might, but not immediately, which means we have a chance to save her if she’s in danger. “If she’s dead, she’d be worthless to him. If anything’s happened to her, she’s alive. Count on it.”

  “No, they’ve tried killing her before. They’ll do it this time. After what she did to them…”

  “What she did?” I’m confused. As far as I know, Kyle’s adoptive parents had nothing to do with RedZone. I was briefed extensively on his history before my assignment at Robert Treat College, and while a lot of what I’d been told was bullshit, I have no reason to suspect anything about his adoptive family was. It was Kyle’s biological mother, Sarah Fisher, who RedZone wanted and who they eventually killed.

  Kyle’s back to fidgeting with the phone. “She defied them. Then tricked them. It’s why we’ve been hiding my whole life. Malone wants her dead.”

  I blink at him slowly, hoping the chips implanted in my brain can help the rest of me make sense of what he’s telling me because I’m feeling overwhelmed. “Back up. Are you saying your mother—the one who supposedly adopted you—is actually your biological mother?”

  Kyle nods. “The papers for my adoption were forged in case anyone got too curious. She was trying to put an extra layer of protection between us, so no one would know I was her biological son. If anyone found her then, they’d have no reason to go after me too.”

  “But…” I’d seen photos of Sarah Fisher’s dead body. Were they faked? Was I lied to about it? I was just pondering how easy it is to change a face, and it’s easier still to doctor a photo. And yet my mind reels at the implications. Did Malone know all along that Sarah Fisher was alive?

  Though I’m struck dumb, Kyle merely looks weary as he stifles a yawn and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “After she destroyed her lab and went on the run, my mother was placed in witness protection by the CIA. I guess someone there leaked her location. So, after that, she decided Malone might have informants everywhere, and she faked her death and went into hiding on her own. I don’t remember any of it. I was just a baby.”

  I wet my dry lips. “And
your stepfather?”

  He laughs once, but without much humor. “Really is my stepfather, also adoptive obviously. He’s the guy my mother hired to teach her self-defense years ago, after the death-faking thing. They’ve been together since I was little. I have no idea who my biological father was. She doesn’t talk about him, and I think he’s dead. Killed by RedZone. I never knew him, and I kind of have more important things to worry about. Stefan helped raise me—as far as I’m concerned, he is my father.”

  I sink back into my chair, processing everything Kyle’s told me. The whole time I’ve known Kyle he’s been evasive about his family and his life outside of school. Suddenly, much more about him makes sense.

  Back at RTC, I’d learned he was rightfully paranoid about his safety, suspecting people might be searching for him and the secrets in his blood. But how he knew who’d they be and the fact that he’d showed himself to be proficient with a gun, like he’d been waiting for the day when he’d have to use one…everything is starting to come together.

  “Thank you,” I say, before I realize why those words are spilling from my lips.

  Kyle looks up sharply. “For what?” The suspicion in his voice stabs me in the gut. He still expects betrayal.

  I bide my time, sipping my water, wishing I’d held my tongue. What I’m about to say sounds so stupid, but I will keep my resolve not to lie to him anymore. It’s the only way he might ever trust me again. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about your mother.”

  Kyle swallows noticeably and drops his gaze to the phone once more. “I probably shouldn’t have.”

  The sadness in his voice and on his face kills me. I can’t sit any longer. The painful tears I’ve been holding in wail inside my skull, and my breathing is heavy as I walk away.

  “Sophia, I’m sorry. I…” He can’t finish because he has no reason to. He certainly has no reason to be sorry. Sorry for what? Hurting me? He can’t hurt me as badly as I hurt him. Besides, any pain he inflicts on me is deserved.

  I take my time, counting the brown circles on the room’s hideous drapes. Eighty-eight. Eleven rows of eight. I count way too quickly, and I don’t have my composure back before I finish. “It’s okay. You’re right. You shouldn’t trust me.”

  Stepping around the scattered shopping bags, I head outside. The cold air whips me in the face, a chilly slap of reality and one that reminds me I don’t have time for this emotional baggage. A few flurries blow by, and I suck in a breath of the night, a strange mix of wood smoke and exhaust. The air feels lighter out here, and it lifts some of my tension.

  I don’t want to leave Kyle, but I’m glad he won’t come outside. My head—or is it my heart?—needs a rest.

  Of course, the reason Kyle won’t come out here sips his coffee, watching me with concerned hazel eyes. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I don’t attempt to lie convincingly because Cole’s seen my face. I should have adopted a happier expression when I left the room. Then maybe he would have believed me.

  But it’s too late for that, so I turn my back on him to avoid the hundred questions dancing over his face. Our room is on the second floor. Like most motels, the hallway is on the outside, and I rest against the half wall, gazing down into the parking lot. The night is surprisingly quiet.

  Cole puts a hand on my back. “Sophia, talk to me.”

  “About what?”

  “Funny. Where do I start with the list?”

  Usually Cole is a source of comfort for me, but I suspect I know what he wants to ask about, and it’s the last topic I’d care to discuss. Although I’m not in the mood for weighty conversation, if I want to avoid the one he wants, I need to bring up a more important one. “I have proof, and as soon as we can, I’ll share it with you.”

  He sets the coffee cup on the floor and leans in next to me. His body heat is welcome, but this closeness makes me nervous. “I don’t doubt you have solid reasons for why you ran.”

  His tone suggests otherwise. And solid reasons aren’t the same as believing I have proof.

  “You really think I’m that irrational?” I wince.

  “I don’t think you’re irrational at all.” He punches me lightly in the arm. “I do think you’re a gentle soul, and your mission at RTC kept you undercover for three months. That puts a lot of strain on an agent. You know it as much as I do.”

  I roll my eyes. “So I’m not irrational, but I might be acting irrationally due to stress. Gee, I feel better.”

  “Don’t twist my words.” His shoulders slump, and he hangs his head. “I trust you had good reasons, and I trust your heart is in the right place.”

  “And my head.” My hands curl into fists, wrapping around the soft fabric of my new sweater.

  Cole seems to sense my tension. He raises his head and slips an arm around me in a loose hug. “Of course. I always said you were the smartest of us all.”

  I have to laugh. “You were always a flatterer.”

  “It’s true, although I might be a bit biased.”

  Grinning, he pulls me closer, and my heart flutters, though not with happiness. That might have been the case at one time, but now these feelings only exacerbate my confusion, and I can’t rid myself of the fear that Kyle will look out the window and see us like this. Even if this hug is innocent on my part, it’s not on Cole’s.

  I inch away with a smile on my face, hoping that will be enough to convince him I’m not trying escape his arms. “If you want to go inside and warm up, I can start my watch early. I don’t mind.”

  “I’d rather talk to you.”

  I was afraid he’d say that. If distracting him by talking about my proof isn’t going to work, I’m not sure what will. But I need something, and I wrack my brain for a new idea.

  I’m too slow.

  “Tell me about Kyle.”

  Shit.

  Cole stuffs his hands in his pockets, and I turn back to the parking lot, well aware that my unwillingness to look at him—hell, my whole evasive posture—is a dead giveaway to my thoughts. I’m too stressed to care. Too sick of pretending to be someone and something I’m not.

  “Soph, look at me. Please.”

  Sighing, I face him. “Copy, fearless leader.”

  “Really?” Cole’s expression is properly chastising. “Can we lay off the sarcasm for a moment? I just want to know what role Kyle played in your decision to run away.”

  “What role?” I cross my arms because the cold is finally starting to bother me, and I decide how I want to interpret the question. “None actually.”

  That’s sort of true. When I’d discovered the illegal activities that Malone was up to, getting out had been important, regardless of Kyle. The fact that I was supposed to bring him in, however, and the timeline for doing so, had made my escape more urgent.

  Cole’s expression is blank, and he stares over my shoulder. Whether it’s because he can’t meet my gaze while we discuss Kyle or because he’s interested in the car pulling into the lot, I can’t say. I hear the car’s engine rumble through the snow, but I can’t tear my eyes from Cole to check it out.

  Finally, he blinks. “So all this was independent of Kyle?”

  “That’s what I said. Why?”

  “I don’t know.” He raises his hands in a gesture of defeat. “It’s just weird that you know this guy for three months, and suddenly your world is flipped upside down. You’re running away from your life and taking him with you.”

  “Saving him.”

  “Do you like him?”

  I freeze and immediately try to shake off my reaction. “Yes. He’s a friend.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  No, it’s clear what Cole meant. It’s evident in the fierceness that spreads over his face, and I feel like utter crap. Before I left on my mission, my relationship with Cole was starting to change. It’s changed
more since, but not in the way he wants.

  “I know what you meant, but it hardly matters. Does it?” I can’t be with Kyle anymore. Our relationship was built on lies.

  Cole scowls, but some of the tension seems to drain from his stance. “No, I guess it doesn’t. He’s not one of us. He’ll never understand you. He’ll always fear what you can do. But you should know better than to get emotionally attached to the people you meet on a mission. It can get you in trouble.”

  “Believe me, I’m aware.” I spent most of my mission berating myself for that very thing. Too bad knowing it and being able to do something about it are not the same things. “It’s not easy though.”

  “I’m sure it’s not.” Cole’s longest mission lasted only three days. He wouldn’t have personal experience. “But if it were easy, no one would need us.”

  No one does need us—that’s what I want to say. We aren’t essential. We weren’t trained so we could save the world, fight injustice or protect the innocent. We were created to be weapons, and people only need weapons when other people have weapons. Weapons are for hurting people, and no one needs that. It’s the wrong word.

  Without showing Cole my proof though, my thoughts are pointless. Cole is a good soldier, not only a good weapon. He believes in things greater than us.

  He grabs my arm, and I let him gather me into a hug, relaxing into his warmth. There’s no denying it feels good to hold him. I’m craving comfort.

  A second engine disrupts the peaceful moment, and I frown into Cole’s chest. Two cars arriving in the last five minutes is odd. It’s awfully late for new guests, and now that I think about it, I never heard anyone get out of the first car.

  Cole holds me tight as I try to pull away. I shouldn’t have come out here. Our conversation has distracted us both.

  Discreetly, I jab Cole in the back with a finger. “I think we have a problem.”

  Chapter Five

  Early Tuesday Morning: Night of Escape

  Cole’s heartbeat quickens. Pressed against him, I can hear it. He lowers his face to my ear. “Go inside, alert the others. It doesn’t look like a big team. They’ll want this to be discreet.”