The Forbidden Trilogy

by Kimberly Kinrade

  Drake had to get Toby out now. He owed the boy that much.

  The truck ground to a halt, and Drake tensed again, listening to the voices outside. He'd known they'd probably inspect the trucks as they came in, but the interruption still unnerved him. He moved to the door and waited, prepared to do what it took to avoid detection. If he had to hurt them... well, he hoped that wouldn't happen.

  The door slid open, and light from the sunset filled the space, nearly blinding Drake. Two armed military guards held automatic rifles inches from his chest. Their eyes widened in surprise, but Drake slipped into their minds and took control.

  'Close the door and tell your superiors that no one is in here.'

  They stepped back, ready to do as instructed, and Drake realized his mistake. They'd have to check the truck before they could clear it.

  'Enter the truck.'

  Someone at the gate called out. "Is everything okay?"

  'Tell him everything is fine.'

  A guard obeyed. "Yeah, just checking the truck. Everything's fine."

  The guards walked in and stood on either side of Drake, completely ignoring him. They scanned the canned food and walked out. "It looks good," one of them said. "Send it through."

  They closed the door, covering Drake in darkness once again.

  He sat back down and let out a sigh of relief. The truck revved back up and drove into the quarantine zone. Just a short drive and they'd arrive at the building where most of the kids with powers were being held.

  The truck sped up, and Drake's senses pinged. Something about his control over the driver felt off. Tires screeched outside. The truck shuddered and lost control, tilting to one side and crashing Drake into a wall of cans. He held on as the truck skidded down the street.

  Shit! He shouldn't have let himself get distracted. People under compulsion weren't as aware, and any attention at that moment could spell disaster. He kicked the door open and slid out the back.

  The post-apocalyptic look of the city surprised him. Crowds of dirty, homeless people huddled in groups. Some ran toward the crash, attracted to any form of human pain and suffering. Others hesitated, perhaps scared of the army, or perhaps beyond caring about anything anymore.

  Litter lined the streets, as though people had given up taking care of their city. Dark clouds settled in the sky like unwanted houseguests, unusual for this part of California, but certainly fitting the mood of the place.

  The truck he'd hitched a ride in had crashed into another truck while going through an intersection. The other truck had a smashed fender, but hadn't toppled as they had. At least few cars travelled the street, and no one appeared seriously injured.

  Drake opened his mind and strengthened his connection to the driver. 'You will forget you ever saw me.' With that done, he slipped into the crowd. No one seemed to notice or care about his presence. The drivers interested them more.

  Protesters rallied to "Free the Children" at a large hospital a few blocks down. Though, to call them protestors created a much cleaner, more organized mental image than what Drake witnessed. A ragtag group of humanity, staggering under the weight of their own fear, had made one last ditch effort to retrieve their loved ones in the hospital, carrying signs that could have said "Will Work for Food" instead of "Free the Children."

  That must be where they're keeping Toby.

  Drake jogged over and pushed through the desperate mass of people camped near the equally desperate mass of protestors. He couldn't figure out who all these people were or why they had come. Had more drugs been released into the area somehow? Drake had assumed Blue Power was only a street drug, which would have limited the demographic exposed, but the scene in front of him led him to believe that more than just drug users had been infected.

  Someone screamed in the distance—guys in white hazmat suits pulled an old man into a truck.

  Drake fought an impulse to save the guy. He didn't have much time before his own powers waned, and Steele had only given him a handful of vials and a large stack of cash. The purple drug lasted longer than the blue, but they still faded after time. He had to conserve. He needed the vials to help get Ana back, and each one he spent here put his own child at risk.

  Besides, maybe the old guy's in danger, or a danger to others. Maybe he needs to be handled that way. He didn't know and didn't have time to find out.

  Seven armed guards stood sentry at the entrance of the hospital—whether to keep people out, or keep patients in, Drake couldn't tell. Probably both. Controlling all of them at the same time would be difficult—maybe too difficult.

  Shit. Maybe if—

  "You there, don't move." One guard raised his gun and aimed at Drake.

  Drake put his hands in the air as the crowd backed away from him.

  The young guard stared vacantly at him through black wire-rimmed glasses. "Come with me," he said, and led him down an alley and out of sight.

  Good. The compulsion Drake planted had worked. 'Now take off your uniform.'

  The guard stripped down to his boxers and handed over his clothes.

  Drake changed into the guard's uniform, grabbed his ID—he and the guard looked close enough alike that Drake thought he could pass at a glance—took his weapon, and released him.

  'Somebody robbed you. You didn't see who did it. You will forget me completely.'

  A twinge of guilt interrupted Drake's flow. The solider would probably catch hell for this, but what else could he do? Sick of the "ends justify the means" argument he'd fed himself so much lately, he purged it from his mind and walked toward the building, flashing his ID on the way. It only took a small nudge from his power for them to glance past his face and let him through. The guise saved him from burning his drug on full mind control.

  Stepping into the hospital was like entering a different world. Clean, polished floors and brightly lit corridors greeted him. In contrast to the dirt and chaos outside, uniformed military nurses and doctors went about their business with the calm ease of routine. Just another day at work.

  Drake approached the front desk. "I've been sent to check on a boy. His name is Toby, and he was brought in last night."

  A petite redhead shuffled her papers and clicked her mouse to open something on the computer. Her green eyes flicked up to Drake and back to the screen. "He's on the third floor, room 312, but he's quarantined. They're moving him in fifteen minutes."

  Drake had to hurry. "I've been sent to guard his door. Don't let anyone without authorization come up before he's moved."

  "I haven't heard anything about that. I don't know if I can...."

  Damn it. He did not want to control this girl. She couldn't have been older than eighteen, and probably didn't even know what was going on. But he couldn't afford to mess this mission up. He prepared to nudge her mind.

  She spoke first. "Let me see your ID."

  Drake held it up, covering most of the photo with his fingers, his powers ready in case she demanded to see more.

  "Okay. Thank you." Her shoulders relaxed. "Go ahead."

  "Thank you." Drake sighed in relief.

  He wished he could set the girl at ease, and even thought of using his powers to soothe her or to get her to look for another job, but something stopped him. She reminded him of Sam, a young girl pulled into something she didn't understand or want to be a part of, her innocence stolen from her. He didn't want to steal her choices. Maybe after this, her life could go back to normal. He hoped so.

  Maybe there's still hope for me and Sam. Maybe.

  Drake took the stairs two at a time, not wanting to get trapped in an elevator if his cover was blown. The third floor looked much like the rest of the hospital, sterile and bustling with routine activity. He checked the room numbers as he walked the hall, his attention pulled into each room he passed. One grabbed his attention more than the others. A little girl, maybe six years old and tiny, lay strapped to a bed and hooked to a mass of tubes that probably kept her unconscious and drugged. Whatever power she posses
sed, they didn't want her awake to use it.

  These people were not equipped to help these kids. Why hadn't IPI intervened to take over this operation? Surely this would show up on their radar. Drake suppressed the urge to rush in and whisk her away. He couldn't help every kid here. He could only help Toby. But as room after room revealed another kid in need of help, Drake wondered why Toby deserved help and they didn't.

  Is it because he was lucky enough to meet me first? No, not lucky. Unlucky.

  Toby had been unlucky enough to cross paths with Drake and drink a drug that made him sick and killed his mom. Drake should have stopped him, but he'd been too late. He felt responsible for Toby. That was the only difference.

  As he continued down the corridor, he knew with more certainty that Steele had another method of introducing drugs to these kids beyond what they'd acquired on the street.

  Drake heard people talking in hushed voices behind the door of one room. He peeked in and saw a soldier talking to a doctor. "Are you sure all of the drugs have been removed?"

  The doctor twisted a strand of gold hair that had fallen out of her bun. "Yes, but now we have to replace everything. The drug was found in pills and intravenous medication in every hospital in this area. Even in the blood packs."

  "Shit. What kind of sick freaks would do this? How could they even do this? Don't worry doctor, just let us know what you need. We'll work with the CDC and other hospitals to get you supplies."

  The soldier moved to the door and Drake walked away. Someone had planted the drugs in the hospital, meaning Steele had infected thousands of people. That meant a lot of deaths.

  God, all of those kids. He already knew Steele was the worst kind of monster. Now, he just had to figure out a way to stop him. Steele would pay for all of the pain and death he'd caused.

  Drake arrived at Toby's room and found him strapped to the bed, drugged. A clock on the wall said he had ten minutes left—not long to get out of here. He closed the door and unstrapped the boy, taking care to avoid the bruises he still had from the beating he'd taken. He pulled out the needles of the IV and shook Toby gently to wake him, but he didn't respond.

  Drake was going to have to carry him. But before he could take Toby, he had to make a call.

  He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Steele, I'm in. There are guards on every floor."

  "Remove them for me. Permanently."

  Steele hung up, and Drake wanted to slam his fist into the wall. He didn't want to follow this order, but he had to prove his worth to Steele in order to get close enough to stop him for good, and to avoid suspicion as he made his way to Sam. If he showed no worth at all, Steele would kill him. That was certain.

  He lifted Toby and carried him into the hall.

  The soldier who'd been talking to the doctor walked toward them. "Excuse me, where are you going with that boy?"

  Drake tapped into his compulsion. 'Take your gun and point it to your head.'

  The soldier's eyes blanked out, and he raised his gun to his head.

  Drake stared at his eyes. This man didn't want to be here. Like the girl downstairs, circumstances beyond his control had brought him to this impasse, had screwed up his life. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Drake tried to derive some level of comfort from this. He had to do this to get out and get back to Sam and their baby. He was responsible for them, just as he was responsible for the boy in his arms.

  Remove them for me.

  It'd be easy. First, the man before him would shoot himself, and Drake would collect his weapon. Then, like the Reaper himself, Drake would haunt the halls, bringing swift death to all he encountered. He'd have to take another dose or two of the purple drug—no way around that—but Steele would replenish them if he did a good job. And Drake would do a good job. He'd leave no one standing.

  Remove them for me.

  Steele might even give Drake his powers back if he handed over all of these children. He'd said he would, eventually. Already, the drugs slipped from Drake's body, stealing away his powers. How good it would feel to be his old self again, to be the man Sam loved. It'd be easy to be that man again.

  Remove them for me.

  Drake mirrored the man before him, forming a gun with his fingers, bringing it to his head.

  Another scene superimposed itself over this one. He and Sam fumbled with the locked door in the Seeker's room, Mary outside. He'd been willing to kill her to save them. He'd been willing to kill an innocent person—and he was willing again. And look where that had gotten him.

  Sam hadn't allowed it, and for good reason.

  They both had great power. Drake had always thought she was being foolish, too scared to defend herself and do what was necessary. But now.... I'm so sorry Sam. I should have listened.

  He finally understood. She hadn't been scared to do the hard thing. She'd been scared of what this power could do when misused.

  'Lower your weapon.'

  The guard followed Drake's instruction.

  Steele would never trust him, but Drake would not kill these people. He could use his para-powers to do good. He'd helped Sam develop mind control so they could escape the clinic that would have destroyed them. But Drake saw that they could also be abused—by the Seeker, by Steele... by him.

  Father Patrick had once said these powers were gifts, and that they didn't define him. They didn't make him good or bad. Rather, it was how he used these gifts that defined him.

  What Drake had been about to do, regardless of the reason, was evil. He could no longer walk that path, not caring about the consequences, out to get what he wanted—even if what he wanted was good.

  He had an idea.

  Drake shifted Toby to one arm and pulled out two more purple vials. If he took these, he'd only have two left—around an hour of powers. Not enough to fight Steele.

  He downed one vial, then the other. Power surged through him—stronger, bigger, more amplified than ever. His mind expanded and muscles stretched his skin almost painfully. He reached out, connecting with the soldiers and doctors, the girl downstairs, all of them.

  'Leave, now. Leave and don't look back.'

  Steele wouldn't kill the kids with powers, but he would kill the others. This should keep them alive, at least.

  Personnel shuffled out, and Drake followed, carrying his charge.

  His phone rang.

  "Is it done?"

  "Yes."

  "Are they dead?"

  "No. You didn't say to kill them. You said to remove them, and I did. They've all left the building and won't be coming back."

  Silence.

  Steele inhaled sharply. "That must have cost you quite a bit of drug. You won't be getting anymore. You know that, right? You've let me down, Drake. I'm disappointed in you. I'll be in touch."

  The phone went dead, and Drake walked into the crowd as black trucks pulled up and men in black rushed into the hospital. Some already wheeled the kids out on stretchers.

  Drake wondered how the trucks had gotten there so quickly.

  Perhaps they'd already taken up positions in the zone. Mr. Steele could have had other people on the inside, even people in the Army. It seemed likely. Maybe he just didn't have anyone with enough authority, or capability, to clear the whole hospital.

  Until Drake joined his team.

  He slumped against the railing, Toby's body heavier than before. The drugs were fading, pulling his powers with them. Only a small amount remained, and he had no idea of how to get more. He couldn't have saved Toby without his powers, and he wouldn't be able to help Sam without them either.

  He hoped that he hadn't made a bad situation worse by helping Steele. At least he'd saved Toby from whatever fate Steele had planned, but what about the rest of the kids? What would happen to them now?

  The sun had set, and Drake walked into the crowds of homeless people, losing himself in the shuffle.

  One man stood out to him. He hadn't moved to find out what was going on;
he just sat in a corner, sipping from a bottle, lost in his own misery. A hat lay on the ground at his feet, a hopeless plea for money. Drake thought of the homeless man he'd nearly beaten to death for five dollars.

  How? How have I fallen so far?

  He stopped, pulled some cash out of his pocket, and threw it into the man's hat.

  The homeless man didn't speak, just nodded.

  Drake nodded back, a silent affirmation of solidarity in a hostile world.

  Then he walked away, boy in his arms.

  Chapter 91 – Lucy

  The crisp air smells like apples baking, as Lucy leans against a rock and enjoys the sun on her skin. She doesn't want to keep talking about their assignment in Russia, but she knows they have to.

  Luke nudges her shoulder. "I don't know, Sis. I'm not sure if we made the right decisions. How can you even know what the right decision is when you're in the middle of it like that? Maybe if we'd done something different, the scientist would have lived. Maybe even Adam would have survived. How can we know?"

  Their special valley hums with the magical chirping of birds that shouldn't exist. Somewhere across the rolling green hills, Mr. K pulses with life inside the earth.

  Lucy pulls Luke's hand into her own. "We can't do this to ourselves. We did the best we could with what we knew at the time. The past is over—we can't change it. We have to look forward."

  He pulls his hand away. "That's a cop-out. With that attitude, no one ever takes responsibility for their own actions. What if we didn't do our best? Or what if we did and it just wasn't good enough? We weren't ready. They should've sent someone else."

  "That wasn't our call to make."

  "I know, but we still chose to go. We could have said no. Maybe by being there, we made things worse."

  Lucy throws a rock into the water and it skips twice before sinking. That feels familiar, but she isn't sure why. "And maybe things would have gone worse without us. Have you thought of that? Maybe more people would be dead if we hadn't been there."