The Forbidden Trilogy

by Kimberly Kinrade

  Just as he was about to tell Toby that the drug was worthless, something buzzed in his gut. The rotten emptiness in his chest tingled with life, as if worms were crawling through him. He groaned and rolled onto his side.

  Toby's voice came at him like radio waves that he could see, feel and taste. "What's happening, man?"

  Drake opened his mouth, and tiny fairies with glittery wings flew out, giggling. He giggled with them, caught up in their merriment. Had the worms in his heart turned to fairies? Very cool.

  Fire and ice burned through his veins, so hot it was cold, or so cold it was hot. He couldn't tell. He looked down at his arm and saw a green glow pulsing through him, leaking out of his skin. Everything came alive and the world exploded with color.

  Motes of dust in the air danced and shined and waved and winked. Toby's exhaled breath lapped on his lips like blue waves on the ocean, and Drake found himself surfing on each gust, hanging ten on the iridescent waters.

  His power hit, full and hard, making his body jerk and spasm as it knitted itself back together. He saw how close he'd come to Death's door, and waved. Death hid, spying through his peephole, then flipped Drake the bird and stalked off, sickle in hand, leaving him to heal alone.

  When his body gleamed with new skin and tissue, and his bones and organs were good as new, he felt the presence of another—one so familiar, yet so far apart.

  Sam.

  Her fear and pain tore at him. She needed him, but he was too far away, too lost in his own living hell.

  "Drake, our baby's coming. Drake!"

  'Sam, I'm here. I'm sorry, Baby. I'm here.'

  "How? How's that possible? Drake, wait, I need to tell you something—"

  She screamed out, and he felt the pain, felt the baby pushing out of her. Felt the fear and joy and fear again.

  He heard other voices around her, filtered through her own mind and awareness.

  They told her to push, to stay calm, to breathe.

  He said the same, sending her his strength, his healing, his power.

  Then panic arose. The baby! What were they saying? He couldn't hear. Sam faded out. She moved farther away from him, away from the world. He knew what that meant. He couldn't let that happen.

  'Sam, no! Don't go. Fight, dammit. Fight! Take my power. Take my strength. Whatever you need from me, take it. Keep yourself safe. Keep our baby safe.'

  "Drake, I need you. I miss you. Why did you leave me and— Ah!" She whimpered in pain like a kicked puppy.

  He focused, sending her more and more until the last drop of his power poured into her, and he felt their connection breaking—

  "It's a girl, Drake. Ana's here."

  She was gone.

  Chapter 72 – Lucy

  The sharp blade dug through the soft wood, slicing the final branch off the long tree limb. Lucy stood and tested it—perfect height and weight for a walking stick. She took a quick inventory of her bag: a computer, useless for now; tear gas, not especially helpful at the moment; a baseball cap.

  An image pushed into her awareness: Robert had worn a cap like this. Her mind replayed the moment when the bullet tore into his chest, and his cap flew off his head as he fell to the ground. She pushed the memory down, burying it with the others.

  No time for that now. Must focus. Must survive.

  She put on the cap, needing the protection from the sun, and continued her inventory of the bag. The phone and walkie-talkie still didn't work. She had one more bottle of alcohol, useful if they needed to clean a wound; her water bottle, now almost empty; and one more can of stew, which was Luke's.

  A cacophony of sounds created a symphony in the jungle. It was beautiful, in its own way, though Lucy didn't want to consider too closely what kinds of creatures were making those sounds. She focused instead on the bigger picture as she packed up her supplies and began her hike. The trees, the sky, the sound of the ocean in the distance—if she hadn't been stranded, she might have enjoyed this place.

  First stop: she needed to find the waterfall again, or another source of fresh water, and refill. Then she'd look for food. How hard could it be to find something out here?

  Whatever strength she'd derived from the canned stew waned as the hours passed. She couldn't find the waterfall they'd been to earlier. In fact, she couldn't find anything that looked familiar. No matter how far she went, everything looked the same. She'd never been the best at outdoor scouting. Her strengths lay in computers and hand-to-hand combat. Missions that required breaking in—infiltrating a secure area and neutralizing a threat, hacking into high tech computer systems—that's what she was good at. Hunting and foraging? Not so much.

  She tried to remember what Mr. Hatler had said about finding your way back to camp and foraging for food. The information was in her brain somewhere, if only she could access it. In the meantime, she kept walking and walking and walking. Her tired legs and sore body begged for rest, but she couldn't stop without finding water. She'd saved a drop of water in her bottle, but it would do little good. It served merely as a psychological tool to make her feel like she still had some left.

  Just as hopelessness started to win over perseverance, Lucy pushed through another set of trees and into a clearing. Energy surged through her at the sight of a river, and she ran to the water, praying it was fresh.

  At the first sip, she smiled and sank her hot, sweaty face into the welcome cold. She drank her fill and refilled her water bottle, hoping that she could find her way back here from her rendezvous point with Luke. Given the greenery around the river, maybe she could also score some food. Once food, water and shelter had been taken care of, they could focus on getting off this island and back to their assignment.

  She closed her eyes and rested against a rock, her hand dipping into the water as she daydreamed about food. It took all her strength not to eat her brother's stew, but after drinking himself into a stupor, he was going to need food and water more than she.

  Stupid idiot. You don't get drunk and dehydrate yourself while stranded with no food and water. I should kick his ass.

  It was easier to be mad at Luke. Lucy couldn't afford the alternative: being scared out of her mind. He'd never acted like this before. He'd always been there for her, no matter what. She couldn't lose her brother in this. Besides Sam, he was all she had.

  She shook herself and sat up. Time to look for food. Resting wouldn't help if all she did was worry. In the lake, a pair of eyes rose just above the surface and stared straight at her.

  Oh, wow! An alligator. Or is it a crocodile? What's the difference?

  This time her memory served up something useful. An alligator had a wide, U-shaped jaw, while crocodiles usually had a longer, more pointed jaw. A crocodile's fourth tooth on its lower jaw stuck out over their upper lip, while an alligator's stayed in its mouth. Crocodiles had a special gland in their tongues that could get rid of excess salt, so they tended to live in saltwater habitats. Alligators had these glands too, but they didn't work as well, so they preferred fresh water. Both were carnivores who tore their prey apart.

  The creature lifted its head—U-shaped jaw, no tooth, and definitely in fresh water. Alligator.

  Lucy tensed to run, but one last bit of information stopped her: people ate alligator, she was pretty sure.

  She drew her knife and took a fighter's stance, then considered her opponent and shook her head. A knife wouldn't work. She'd be alligator food before she could even get close enough to do damage. Her martial arts skills were useless here, too. But what if she couldn't find any other food? Maybe a spear would give her the distance she needed, but it would have to be heavy and sharp to even dent the thick skin.

  She found a few sticks, but none that would really work. The wood was too soft, or too thin. She looked at her walking stick. Maybe if she tied her knife to it? Nah, it would still be too dangerous, and she would lose her only weapon.

  My gun! Duh! Can't believe I forgot about that. She pulled it out of her holster and aimed at the creatur
e in the water. The right shot could take him down immediately. Then she'd have to get him out of the water, because....

  Does he have friends? Her hand wavered. Didn't matter; she had to risk it. For meat. For life.

  She held her arm steady, body straight. The alligator held her gaze, unafraid, unaware that she was about to end his life.

  End his life. Again.

  How many deaths would be on her head when this was over? Would the alligator feel pain? Would it die fast or slow? Could she eat a creature that she'd made suffer?

  Her arm lowered, her body refusing to do what her mind tried to convince it was right. The alligator blinked, then sank back into its watery home as if it had all been a test, and he her teacher. Had she passed or failed? She didn't know.

  Her stomach growled, proving that on some level she had failed. Hunger chewed through her, gnawing at her insides.

  The sun lowered. It would be dark soon, and she had to get back to camp, but what would they do without food?

  She walked downriver toward what she now knew was the ocean, and spied a group of trees that looked familiar. She searched, thinking they might be banana trees, but all she found were fat green leaves that would surely look appealing to some creature, just not her—not without a high-speed blender and some strawberries.

  She kept walking, frustrated and starving, and finally stepped onto the sandy beach. She wasn't too far from camp, but far enough to require a short rest. She leaned against a tree, giving in to the despair and loneliness that had been fighting her all day.

  Salty tears leaked down her face. She missed her bed at the mansion, and the other kids, and of course Sam. She'd hoped to be there for the days leading up to the birth of Ana. She was just so lonely—a longing that Luke's presence couldn't fulfill. She wanted to share herself in a way she never had, to find an intimacy she couldn't get from Luke or Sam. She wanted what Sam had with Drake.

  Well, before he became a douche bag and left her. Better to be alone than fall in love with an asshole.

  At least she didn't have to suffer the kind of pain Sam was going through. She couldn't even imagine that agony. Still, the comforts of home, the friendships and showers and food—she missed these things.

  Will we ever get off this damn island and back to our own life?

  Something hit the side of her head and shattered her thoughts. "Ouch!" She put her hand to head and saw blood. "What the hell?" It didn't seem too severe, just a bit of a lump and some dizziness.

  She drew her gun and looked around, and couldn't decide whether to laugh or curse when she saw her assailant. A coconut lay a few feet away, a bit of her blood smudged on its surface. Attacked by fruit. Real ni—

  Fruit?

  That refocused her. Coconuts were a complete nutrient. She'd heard that coconut meat and milk, blended with a banana, came very close to the nutritional make-up of mother's breast milk. She had no idea how she knew that—probably something Sam had said in all her motherhood reading—but still, mother's milk was the perfect meal. Even without bananas, coconuts could get them through this ordeal quite nicely.

  She grabbed the one that had attacked her and studied it. How the hell was she supposed to get it open? She slammed it against a rock, and milk splashed all over her, along with bits of shell and meat. Using her knife, she dug out the soft insides and ate what she could. Once she'd finished, she identified more in the tree. If she could get them down, she and Luke would have plenty of food while they worked out a plan.

  Hope blossomed in her.

  She sheathed her knife, pulled out her sweatshirt and spun it into a tight rope, then wrapped it around the tree and used it to shimmy up to the top.

  The climb went slowly, with her feet slipping a few times, but eventually she got high enough to cut down several coconuts. When a small pile rested under the tree, she climbed down and shook out her sweatshirt, then created a carrier and stacked a load of coconuts in it.

  She couldn't carry them all, but what she had would get them started, and she could come back for more when they got hungry. The tree sat close enough to the river that this would be a good "cafeteria" for them.

  The coastline wound its way west, and Lucy followed the setting sun toward the original location where they'd washed up. It was time to make camp and get some food in Luke.

  She arrived fifteen minutes later, puffing and just about to lose her grip on the sweatshirt carrier. No sign of Luke, so she found dry wood and started a campfire. The crackling fire and cool ocean breeze made it easy to pretend she was just camping on the beach, something they'd done for training a few times.

  To pass the time, she took out a few coconuts and used trial and error to figure out the best way to open them without ruining the food—or her clothes. After a few more epic messes she finally got it. First, she drilled a small hole into the shell, to drain the milk into a large leaf or to drink straight from the coconut. Then she carved a line around the top, and cut it open so they could eat the meat inside.

  Happy with her accomplishment, she called for Luke, hoping he was nearby and would come eat with her.

  He didn't answer.

  What if something had happened to him? What if he'd gotten sick and passed out? Worst-case scenarios filled her mind. She used the fire to make a torch, grabbed a coconut—he had to be starving by now—and stepped out into the darkness.

  She stuck to the path they'd walked that morning, not sure where else he might be, and not wanting to explore the whole jungle in the dark. The hill loomed before her, with the crash site on the other side. She didn't want to go there again, but something pulled at her. The sphere pulsed softly. She'd almost forgotten she had it, but the reassuring warmth gave her strength, and she walked over the hill and toward the plane.

  Luke sat on a rock near the crash site, drinking a bottle of rum.

  Lucy rushed to him, tears in her eyes, angry and sad and relieved all at once. She took a breath, about to yell at him for leaving her, when she saw the heartbreaking sadness on his handsome face.

  "Hey, Bro, I found food." She held out the coconut.

  He looked up, but didn't smile. "Nice."

  He didn't take it, so she sat next to him and cut it open. "Here, you need something in you besides rum. Try it."

  Luke stared at it as if it was poison, but then his hunger and thirst kicked in and he snatched the coconut and sucked it dry.

  She showed him how to open it up so he could get to the meat. "I have more back at camp. Plus I saved your stew. But for now, drink my water. You need it."

  He took the bottle and drank greedily.

  "So, I know where we can get more food and water. Now we can focus on our mission. We still have all of our supplies. The base camp can't be far from here. It could even be on this island. It's huge and we've barely scaled the surface of it. We should at least try."

  Luke shrugged. "Maybe."

  Lucy's temper flared despite her resolve. "Maybe? What's that supposed to mean?" She stood up and faced him. "If we don't do anything, Rent-A-Kid's going to do the same thing to those kids that they did to us. Is that what you want?"

  Luke threw the empty coconut against the plane, where it thudded loudly. "Well, our life wasn't so bad, was it? We had our own rooms, a bunch of cool shit. I had a sixty-inch television screen. Sixty inch! How am I supposed to get something like that now? Hmm? Maybe what we had wasn't the best, but it was pretty good. Better than getting killed." His voice broke and he stopped talking.

  Lucy heard the tears in his voice. She knew he didn't really prefer their life at Rent-A-Kid over this, not after they'd killed their friends and teachers, impregnated Sam, and experimented on them. No, something else bothered her brother. "It's not your fault. What happened on that plane, what happened to those people—Rent-A-Kid did that, Beleth and his team. Not you! You can't blame yourself." She sat and put her arm around him, but he shrugged her off.

  "It is my fault. Morrison died because of us. Because of me. If I'd held that s
hield, I could have saved him. I could've stopped those freaks from shooting everyone."

  Lucy grabbed his hand, refusing to let him push her away again. "They knew the risks when they accepted this mission. Even if you hadn't been on that airplane, Rent-A-Kid would've still attacked it, and everyone would still have died. Except then, there'd be no one left to complete the mission."

  Didn't he see? They had to finish what they started. They owed it to those kids and to the agents who died for this mission.

  Luke's breathing calmed, and he shook his head. "But I was on the plane." He stood and walked away. "I'll see you back at camp, Sis."

  She stood to follow him, but sat back down. He needed space, for now. She regretted dragging him into the plane. He hadn't been ready for that.

  She dropped her head. I should've been more understanding, but still, he has to get his shit together. I can't do all of this alone.

  Those kids needed them, and she needed her confident brother back.

  So she'd give him his space for a bit. Then she'd sit him down and tell him that it was time to move forward. He had no choice. Neither of them did.

  Chapter 73 – Drake

  Drake opened his eyes, and Toby was once again staring at him, this time in awe. "You did it, man. You healed yourself. I have to get this to my mom!"

  Drake shook his head to clear his mind as the kid ran off. Sam. My baby. I have to get to them.

  Then another thought jolted him: the boy believed the drug would heal his mom. "Toby, wait!"

  But it was too late. Toby had already reached the street and turned right, presumably toward his house.

  Drake needed more of the drug. For that brief moment while the drug worked in him, he'd been whole again, and he'd heard Sam.

  First, he had to stop Toby. The drug wouldn't work the same way for his mother, and Drake didn't know what damage it could cause a person who didn't have para-powers.

  With full strength back, he ran after Toby. He turned right and searched the street. The boy turned left a few blocks down, so Drake sprinted to catch up. He skidded around the corner just as Toby entered a beaten-down shack a few houses up.