by Sarah Noffke
Artificial cold wraps around me at once. It’s at least ten degrees colder in this cement-floored and metal-walled space. Now my footsteps echo through the warehouse, which is large enough to house a couple of airplanes. I only know this because I ran through this warehouse a few months ago. Got lost in it.
Crates stacked three high and three in a row obstruct my view now. Since I have the map memorized, I don’t need to consult it. Instead, I take off to the right back corner, my path to the cerevitium planned. I should have expected the tug. With a frustrated growl I whip around to face Rogue, who’s already shaking his head. He doesn’t say a word, but instead, guides me behind him as he takes the front position.
“You don’t know where you’re going,” I say in a tight whisper.
“That’s why you’re going to tell me.”
“Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes at him to Nona, who looks too serious. Her soft features appear older in the dim lighting of the warehouse. “After two rows, take a left.”
He nods and takes off at a steady pace. It’s at exactly the second row, when we turn into the maze of crates, that I feel it. The energy of a Dream Traveler. Not Rogue’s. A different one. And then the door we came through shuts with a gentle click, followed by footsteps.
Chapter Thirty-One
I wheel around and grab Nona’s hand, pulling her flush against the crate. Rogue is frozen beside me, his arm across my body, ensuring I don’t move either. Footsteps, heavy like the wearer has on combat boots, echo across the cement floor. Not fast, but rather as if strolling. I press my ear to the crate. Two sets of footsteps.
“I say when we’re done here, you give me another chance to take your money,” a young male says.
“Sure thing, but we better put a cap on it. Otherwise, Travis, your wife will kill ya when you show back up broke ’n’ all.”
“No. That’s not how our arrangement works. And I’m not giving up until I master Texas Hold’em. It’s a clever game. One I had no idea about until you turned me on to it.”
Their footsteps patter down the opposite side of the warehouse, their voices growing faint as they move farther away. Rogue grabs my hand and pulls me forward, but I jerk back away from him.
“We need to move,” he whispers, his eyes wide.
“Hold on,” I mouth. And even though I know it’s crazy to sit while these two, who are probably patrolling security guards, prowl, I also know I have to. I tilt my head down low, gathering focus so I can send my feelers out. Like I’ve grown an extra body part, suddenly a new energy and ability draws into me. It’s isn’t Rogue’s. I know his power like I know my own. This one is foreign, although I don’t know what kind of skill it brings with it. There’s another thing of importance about this power I’ve just leeched. Since there’s two men, I expected at least two powers, but that’s not what I feel. There’s only one.
I pop open my eyes. “One of the guards is a Dream Traveler.”
He nods and waits, sensing I have more to say. I do.
“The other…he’s a Middling.” I sense Middlings because I can’t draw upon their power. Of course, the thought occurs to me that he could be a Defect, but Vider would never employ people like us.
Rogue stiffens, and the look in his eyes carries a truckload of defeat. His father must have suspected we’d hit the labs again and partnered the guards together so that I couldn’t easily defeat them. Dream Travelers have a serious disadvantage against me, but I’m powerless against Middlings.
“What’s his power?” Nona says in less than a whisper.
I shrug. “I don’t know yet.”
Rogue’s hand, warm and encompassing, wraps around mine. He leads us through the maze of the crates, staying to the perimeter of the warehouse. When he’s about to take another right turn, I urge him away from that path. He turns, his eyebrows knitting with confusion.
“The cerevitium is that way,” I mouth, indicating with my thumb.
Easily I read his expression of disbelief. It says, “How can you be thinking of the mission right now?”
I yank him once and he releases forward, his head falling with surrender. My eyes narrow in the dim light, trying to make out the path ahead and remember the map based on where I think we are. And that’s when something strange happens. I can see through the crates up ahead. And then when my eyes widen in astonishment, the effect disappears. I could have sworn I saw varying rows, one after another, beyond the solid crates in front of us. Instantly my feet halt. Nona runs into my back. Rogue spins around soundlessly and stares at me. I hold up a single finger. Listen for the men. Their voices are indistinct on the other side of the warehouse, which is good. I squint and when my eyes are almost closed, the effect happens again, but it’s too brief. Too hazy. Damn it.
“What?” Rogue says, up close so only I can hear him.
“Whoever the Dream Traveler is, his skill is that he can see through solid objects,” I say.
An angry sigh rips out of his mouth as he throws his head sideways. “Sonographer. That’s what the guard must be, and that’s bad news for us. Where are they now?”
“I don’t know,” I say shaking my head, crazed worry taking control over my thoughts. “I don’t know how to use his power. Not really. It just happened by accident earlier.”
Rogue doesn’t look deterred as he tucks his chin to his chest, and flicks his hooded eyes at me. “Close your eyes, Em.”
I startle at the idea.
“Do it,” he encourages.
Without another protest I close my eyes and the world around me emanates into a strange new focus. In front of me I see Rogue, but only in a tinge of blue. Behind him I spy the row of crates and behind their solid structure there’s another row and another. And three rows behind where we reside are two men, their figures cast in blue detail. What I perceive isn’t enough to make out what they’re wearing or the expression on their faces, but I do know that one is carrying an automatic weapon across his back. And the other has the gift I’m leeching now. All he has to do is turn it on and we’re doomed.
My eyes rip open, and instantly I know Rogue has caught the horror on my face. He rushes forward, his face close to mine. “What is it?”
Silently Nona tucks in beside us to listen. I slide my head back so I’m looking at the two of them. “The Middling has a gun.”
“Oh hell,” Rogue says, throwing his hand through his wild curls. “My father knew we’d come through here.”
I nod. “What do we do now?”
Nona has that look on her face, calculating and confident. Her chin raises, along with her eyes. Then she points up. “Mr. Sono won’t be looking up, I bet.”
I smile inside, loving the way her brain works with such an intelligent grace. “After you,” I whisper, holding out my hand. She’s on the crate, scaling it at once. Thankfully we’ve been climbing our house or trees all our lives. Makes for good, life-saving practice when the President is trying to have us killed.
“You next,” Rogue says, watching over his shoulder. I close my eyes. The guards are making their way through the rows, about two over.
“Together,” I suggest.
He nods and we both start our assent up the crates. The diagonal reinforced boards on the sides make for good footing, but I find I have to high step to get up to the top of the box. I’m halfway up the second box when I hear their voices. I halt. Close my eyes and listen.
“Poker takes ages to master. You may wanna stop playing for money until you get down the basics, that’s all I’m sayin’,” the Middling says.
“I think that real men wager to get better. Otherwise what’s the point?”
They’re one row over. Five feet from rounding the corner to the row where we reside. I flip my head up to Nona, who’s already at the top of the boxes. I’ve got to take my own gamble now. “Go to the cerevitium. Stick on the explosives and start the clock.”
She nods without hesitation. I love that she never doubts me. Ever. She crouches down low, running the opp
osite direction along the tops of the crates, hopping where the rows have gaps.
Rogue pulls himself up onto the top of the crate and turns to cast his eyes down on me. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t make it,” I say in a soft whisper.
“Em…” he says, but I drop on to the ground before he can rush down to me. And the guards round the corner just then and halt. They freeze as soon as their eyes spy me, which is immediately. I already knew from the sonographer skill that one is tall, the other short. The shorter one, the Middling I’m guessing, flips the automatic weapon off his back and points it at me. I don’t know anything about guns, except that they kill. And before today I’ve never seen one in person, or had one aimed at my head.
“Well, what do we have here?” the Middling says.
The Dream Traveler at his side nudges him. “Hey, you recognize her, don’t you?”
“’Course I do, Travis. Long curly blonde hair. That’s the girl the Sup’ told us to be on the lookout for.”
“Well, he also said she’d have an accomplice,” the guy with slicked back hair and khakis says, looking all around with closed eyes, using his sonographer vision. “He said she’d have a big guy with her.”
I close my eyes and scan the area behind the crates, following the path the Dream Traveler is taking in front of me. There’s nothing. Only row after row.
“I’m alone,” I say, my hands held above my head. A weird instinct tells me this is the right position to take at a time like this. I cringe, waiting for a noise overhead, something to draw Mr. X-Ray Vision’s attention up, but thankfully Rogue is silent. “Look, I got lost after my injection. They shut down the labs and I’ve been stuck in here.”
The Dream Traveler angles his head at me, a sly smirk on his face. He steps forward. “Oh, they warned us you were especially crafty. Don’t attempt your lies on us.”
“What else did they tell you about me?” I say, dropping my hands, planting them on my hips.
“Put ’em back up where I can see them,” the Middling orders, using his rifle to direct where he wants my hands to go.
I pinch my mouth at him. Shake my head. “I’m unarmed, so don’t worry.” I turn back to the Dream Traveler. “What else? Tell me. Then I’ll go willingly with you two and you’ll be rewarded for your efforts. Big rewards. Gambling-type money.”
They both seem to consider me for a second. “They said you could control us. Take our power.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because,” the Middling begins, the rifle slightly shaking in his hands, “you’re against the gods. You want to disrupt our government. You hate our order and happiness and want to ruin it because President Vider won’t allow you into the society since you’re corrupted by evil.”
“Did you question this, boys?”
They both regard each other a bit with undeniable confusion. Then shake their heads. “No,” they say in unison.
I step back. I don’t merely need to get away from them, I need to preserve my reputation in their brainwashed minds. Each person I scare on my way to expose Vider will make my ultimate mission harder. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not a bad guy. I’m not a terrorist, but I do have a job to do tonight. You can’t allow me to do it or you’ll be punished by the President. Therefore I’m going to do you a favor and relieve you from disarming me. I’m going to make it so you’re seen as innocent. And best of all, I’m totally not going to hurt you. Only cause you a bit of discomfort.”
I direct my gaze to Rogue, whose eyes are staring straight down at me. “Now!” All along I felt him overhead, crouched, waiting for my command. My single order is enough for him to know what I intend. Using his apportational ability he rips the weapon from the Middling. It disappears and the guard searches the space, holding his empty hands out with disbelief. The other guard, Travis, closes his eyes and scans the room, doing a full three-hundred-sixty-degree turn. Just as he’s completing it, confusion written on his face, Rogue drops down in front of them holding the gun.
“Hi, boys,” Rogue says, a cute coyness in his voice as he hands the weapon off to me. I point it in their direction, but I’m nervous about how to hold it. About what I could accidentally do with it.
I’ve already scanned the boxes and know that the single row of crates to the right of us are empty. “This one,” I say to Rogue, angling my head at it. “Can you take the lid off?”
Rogue nods. Then pries the lid from the box, letting it slide off the side and clatter to the ground.
“Get in,” Rogue says, motioning to the crate. The guards stand frozen, staring at Rogue and then the box.
“He means,” I say, explaining, “that you two need to both crawl into this box. It won’t be comfortable, but you won’t be hurt. And in the morning you’ll be found alive and innocent. No harm done.”
The men exchange uncertain glances. “Look,” I say, “it’s this, or I kill you, which I don’t want to do. Please note and express to all that I never hurt Reverians if I can help it. I’m not the monster the President would have you believe I am.”
“I’d advise you to crawl into this box,” Rogue says, picking up the lid.
Again, the two exchange glances then focus on the gun in my hands. “I don’t wanna die,” the Middling says with a shrug, stepping forward. “Sounds like an okay compromise to me.”
Behind him the Dream Traveler waits. “How do I know we’ll be able to breathe in there?”
I direct a single finger at the box and then focus a tiny thread of charge on it. The shock sprints out of my finger and singes through the wood, creating an inch-wide notch. Smoke and the smell of burnt wood wafts through the air. “There,” I say. “Now you’ll have enough air.”
Both men clamber for the box at once, pushing each other, jockeying to be the first in the small compartment. When they’re safely squatted down low Rogue slides the heavy, oversized lid over the top of the box, managing it easily. Four metal clamps ensure that the lid stays on tight and its contents don’t escape. I set the gun on top of the wooden lid, glad to relieve myself of the cold metal machine.
“Sleep tight, guys,” I say, patting the side of the crate. “Someone will find you in the morning. And thanks for your cooperation.”
Muffled harrumphs echo through the box. I look at Rogue, feeling strangely unnerved by how easy that was. He’s shaking his head at me, a quiet pride in his eyes.
“What?” I say.
“Nothing,” he says, grabbing my elbow and hurrying me back the way we came. “That was just more fun than a short stack on a Sunday morning. And watching you order grown men around was the syrup on those pancakes.”
We return to the entrance, scanning the area for Nona. We weren’t far from where the cerevitium is supposed to be stored. It shouldn’t have taken her long. But for two full minutes we wait, my hip pressed into Rogue’s body as I stand and hardly breathe.
Finally I say, “Should we go look for her?”
Rogue turns to me, seeming to weigh on the decision. Then his eyes widen, but before he can say anything, a whoosh of wind collides with my back.
“Why would you look for me when I’m right here,” Nona says, rising from a crouching position, her voice tattered with ragged breaths. Her cheeks are flushed, but the smile on her face is genuine. My eyes reach up to the fifteen-foot drop she just made from the stack of crates in front of me.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I say, pulling her closer and checking her over. Besides the rush of adrenaline making her blood beat wildly under her skin, she looks fine.
“Just enjoying the element of surprise,” she says, a neat smile tucked at the corner of her lips.
“Well…?” I say, anticipation beating in my chest.
“It’s all done,” she says, striding around Rogue and me, a new confidence in her gait. “Set to detonate in one hour.”
“Have I mentioned how glad I am that this one is on our side?” Rogue says to me, indicati
ng Nona.
I agree with a nod.
Nona is already at the door we came through, propping it open with the toe of her foot. “Shall we? We have a few thousand more vials of toxic formulas to destroy.”
I march forward. “Well, when you put it that way.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
A new confidence surges through my limbs as I stride down the hallway, taking the lead. Rogue finally allows this. He slows, bringing up the back of the group, keeping Nona protected between us. The synthesizing labs connect to the back of the doctor’s offices. That’s where I discovered Rogue those long three months ago. I’m also hyperaware that close to this area is another set of offices where Middlings bring their infants for withdrawals. The labs are a maze of unmarked rooms, though, making it impossible to figure out where that area could be. Instead, I head straight for the main synthesizing room, where Parker has indicated most of the cerevitium is stored.
Luckily Parker’s badge gives me the proper access to enter the locked door. I swing open the heavy door and realize at once that I’ve never been in this room. It’s twice the size of the other lab rooms I’ve seen. In almost all ways the room appears innocuous in its plain starkness. Unlike the other lab room I snuck through, this one is orderly. All lab equipment and test tubes have been placed flush to the backsplash. The counters are clear and every cabinet along the wall is shut.
Nona starts for the door on the other side of the room, her shoulders high and back.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I say, racing to her and blocking her path.
She rolls her eyes, a small smile on her face. “I’m going to go be efficient. I’ll start on the doctors’ offices, while you two knock out the supply in here.”
“How are you going to do that?”