by Maira Dawn
There was a trail on the far side, wide enough for a car—if only she could get to her feet and run.
Something on the other side of the parking lot caught her eye.
A glint. It lasted only a second, if that.
Was someone out there? Or had the sun hit a patch of sea glass?
She prayed Dylan was there, waiting for the perfect time to ambush Cliff and Devon.
The scientist picked at her injured hand, muttering about it. He prodded it, almost kneading it.
Skye screamed as pain like a hot iron radiated through her hand. She pulled her arm away from the evil scientist, cradling it to herself.
When Devon came at her again, she pushed his fingers away.
“Now, dear, stop fussing,” he said. “There is dirt in your wound.”
“It hurts, Devon. Please, just leave it be for now.” Treating him well had always worked in the past, she’d try it again now even if it did seem as if he’d lost even more of his hold on reality. “I’m sorry. I’ll be braver later.”
“If it gets infected, it may cost your life, and I can’t have that. You’re too valuable to me.”
He moved toward her hand again, even though Skye tried to hold him at bay.
Devon stopped. “Unless—oh yes, that may be interesting.”
Skye gave him a wary look. “What is interesting?”
He ignored her, a sign that he was seeing a medical subject and not a real flesh-and-blood person he should have empathy for.
“Cliff,” he said, “this may give us a new opportunity. Let us see if she is vulnerable to infection. If not, we carry on like before, but with some added knowledge. But if it does become infected, we can see if she had the same regenerative powers as a starfish.”
Cliff raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”
“We cut off the infected arm and see if it grows back.”
Skye reeled back in horror, her heart racing.
“I’ve never thought to try that,” Devon continued. “Why, I don’t know. Clearly, an interesting experiment.”
Cliff chuckled as he stared at the horrified Skye. “Clearly. But I want some time with her before you start pulling her apart. Promise me that and you’ll have all the help you need.”
“Of course, Cliff.” Devon waved his hand at him. “Same set of rules, though. She must be able to carry on with the experiments.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll leave enough of her for that.”
Skye stumbled to her feet and ran. Her head spun, and the ground seemed to move with every step.
“Go after her!” Devon ordered Cliff.
“Look at her. She’s not going far. I need to get into one of these vehicles first.”
It gave Skye time. She narrowed her eyes as she tried to see clearly.
Glass shattered, tinkling onto the pavement. A false start or two of an old engine and then a roar as it caught.
It didn’t help that their group often left the older mountain community vehicles keyless and always hot-wired them.
Skye redoubled her efforts, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other as she weaved across the parking lot.
Cliff’s shoes slapped pavement as he easily caught up with Skye and pushed her to the ground.
Her chin caught the hard, pebbled surface. She bit her tongue and blood spurted into her mouth.
Cliff stepped on her back.
Skye fought, clawing at his legs with her good hand and trying to drag herself away from him.
He quickly tired of his game.
With a foot still on her back, Cliff reached down and grabbed her good hand, pulling it up toward him until she yelled.
“You never listen,” he retorted. “Are you going to listen now?”
“Yes,” Skye whimpered. “I will.”
“You can be a one-armed woman or a no-armed woman.”
“I’ll listen. I will!”
“If you don’t, I swear I’ll take this arm. You got it.”
Skye raised her head and nodded.
Cliff grabbed Skye around the middle and hauled her to her feet. He kept a tight grip on her arm as he dragged her to the van he’d already started.
He opened the side door of the vehicle and threw her in.
Skye choked back a sob. This van should take her to her beloved mountains, not wherever these evil men were going.
When Cliff backed away to slide the van door closed, he saw her eye the door.
“If you try it, I’ll come after you. I’ll get you just like I get you every time.” He stepped closer and put his face to hers. “And I’ll enjoy it. You know I will.”
Skye dropped her gaze to the floor. Her last hope of escaping died when Cliff found a zip-tie and secured her ankle to a steel bar under the front passenger seat.
As Cliff slammed the door shut, Skye took stock.
She was tied to the vehicle, had one usable hand, couldn’t go two steps without dizziness.
If she somehow got loose in the time it took Cliff to walk to the driver’s seat, could she make it across the parking lot and beyond?
The answer was obvious.
Cliff would catch her like he always did, just as he’d said. Then he would beat her. How much more of that would she survive?
Cliff strutted around the outside of the van, past the passenger seat window and the front windshield as if he had done something he could brag about and not just beat up a defenseless woman—again.
Devon waited in the front seat, not caring what happened to Skye as long as he got enough of her to slap onto an exam table and torture.
These men were in charge of her life now.
Her stomach dropped and the deep, bone-numbing fatigue of defeat overcame Skye. She crumpled to the floor of the vehicle.
There was no way out, and no one to help her.
This was her life now.
Skye lay like a lifeless husk, her eyes dull. She had nothing left—no fight, no emotion.
Only the tears running over her cheeks showed she had any life left at all.
Fifty-Four
Falling
Devon uttered a short, odd cry.
Skye jerked up from the floor.
The scientist fumbled with his seatbelt, his eyes wide.
Skye looked out the front window.
No Cliff.
“What happened?” she asked, but Devon didn’t acknowledge her.
Skye tried to turn onto her knees, but the twist-tie didn’t quite allow it. She pushed up the best she could and looked outside the van, her gaze darting from one end to the other.
Still no Cliff.
She reached down to her ankle and worked at the zip-tie.
Something slapped the driver’s side of the van.
Skye looked up.
Cliff clawed at the window with bloody hands. A bolt ran through his body below his shoulder from back to front. It scratched against the glass.
The door handle rattled.
Skye scrambled toward the driver’s chair. She needed to lock that door. She crawled onto the seat and stretched as far as she could.
Cliff stared at her. “Help me!”
Skye stared back as she pushed the lock down.
“What are you doing?” Devon yelled at her. “We need to get out of here.”
He pushed at Skye, and she fell to the floor of the vehicle. Devon stood to unlock the driver’s door.
Skye grabbed his pant leg with her good hand and pushed her free foot into the back of his knee.
With one good yank, the man fell onto the floor beside her.
Skye reached for her ankle, glancing out the window as she did so. She gasped as joy filled her.
Dylan and his mountain men ran straight for the van.
Skye jerked at the zip-tie and scanned the van for anything to remove it.
Beside her, Devon pulled a small scalpel from his pocket and held it to her face.
Skye stilled.
Quickly, Devon dropped his hand to he
r ankle and sliced the plastic holding her. He brought the scalpel back to her face and held it there as he maneuvered himself out of the van.
Then he motioned Skye out.
Devon grabbed her arm and dragged her across the parking lot.
“No!” Skye struggled. “Devon, let me go! You can’t win this. They’re coming.”
He whirled to see Dylan’s group gaining ground. His gaze darted across the parking lot as he looked for a way out.
There were only two ways—across the parking lot to the trail or onto the path for Spire Cliff. Everyone knew the path for Spire Cliff ended at an overlook five hundred feet above the ocean waves.
There was only one logical way to go.
Insane Devon did not go that way.
She pulled away, surprised at Devon’s strength as he forced her to stay beside him.
Skye curled her good hand into a fist and punched Devon square on the nose.
Devon reared back, but he clenched Skye tighter.
Skye threw another punch.
He yelled and let go of her for just a moment.
Skye whirled around—a mistake with a concussion—but quickly regained her balance. She trained her eyes on Dylan and ran toward him.
Devon followed her, his shoes tapping against the pavement.
She felt his hand in her hair.
He yanked her backward.
Skye’s scalp burned as hair tore from her skin. She fell but scrambled back up.
Devon curled his hand in her hair, gaining another handful, and jerked her close to him.
“I know just what to cut on you so you’ll never walk again,” he threatened as he held the small sharp knife in front of her.
Skye stopped fighting. If Devon crippled her, she wouldn’t be able to run.
Devon held the scalpel to Skye’s neck, turning her right and left so Dylan could see he had control of her.
The mountain men slowed.
Devon backed himself and Skye up the trail.
Across the parking lot, Ian broke from the trees and ran toward them.
Skye smiled. There was nowhere for Devon to go. He’d have to give up now.
Devon continued to step backward—up Spire Cliff’s trail—pulling her along with him.
Dylan continued to close in and was now close enough that Skye could see his frantic expression.
“Skye. Skye, darlin’, it’ll be okay.”
She started to nod, but Devon’s fingers still held her head tight. “I know, love.”
“Is this your mate?” Devon asked. “How disappointing! I’d hoped if you were already attached it would be to one of your own kind.”
Skye’s blood boiled. “For the last time, Devon, I am not Atlantian.”
“You are—a little. That is why you are the secret to the cure.”
“Devon!” Skye argued as she tried to slow their progress. “The Atlantians already have a cure. One they will share with all of us. You don’t need to search for one anymore.”
Devon screamed at her. “The cure is mine to find. I must! The world is suffering.”
“Most of the world is dead.”
Devon jerked her head back and touched the blade to the side of her neck. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Skye kept quiet, taking a step backward when forced to, but she locked her gaze with Dylan’s. It is what gave her strength.
She sent a worried look to Dylan as they passed the last trees on the trail and headed toward the overlook.
“Fall,” Dylan mouthed to her.
Skye pretended to stumble.
Dylan raised his rifle and aimed.
The scientist pulled Skye up as he made himself small behind her.
“Very clever,” he said. “But not clever enough.”
When Skye struggled, he put the blade to her neck and pressed hard enough that blood ran down her neck.
Dylan lowered his rifle.
“Thank you,” Devon said as pleasantly as if Dylan had passed him a cup of tea.
“What you don’t understand, Skye dear, is that I must find a cure and will do anything for it. Anything. Do you understand? It is my entire motivation in life.”
“I do understand. But Devon—"
“We cannot trust the Atlantians! I do not care if they say they have a cure. I don’t believe it. It is more likely a poison designed to wipe the rest of us from the earth. I started this disease as a weapon against them. Why would they help us?”
Devon weaved both of them through the end of the safety fence that surrounded the overlook and stopped.
Skye kept her gaze on Dylan and, with her one good hand, grabbed the top of the thick metal railing.
“Devon. Where are we going?”
“Why over the edge, dear.”
Skye’s heart hammered. Barely able to breathe, she said, “We won’t survive that.”
“We will, dear. We will. The Atlantians jump it all the time and survive.”
“We are Human, Devon. Human!”
“So it would seem, and yet we are not, are we?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I guess I can finally reveal one final truth to you. After all, we are going on this little adventure together.” Devon cleared his throat.
“I also have Atlantian DNA.” He sighed. “There, I said it. I don’t mind telling you, I went a little crazy when I found out.”
A little crazy?
“I ran the blood test fifty times before I believed it. Literally.”
Devon took a step back.
Skye kept her grip on the fence, stretching her arm to the limit.
Her fingers slipped from its slick surface.
“Don’t worry, dear—only a couple of steps left.”
Skye looked at Dylan, the love of her life.
His face turned ashen and his gaze darted from one side of the cliff to the other, looking for a solution.
There wasn’t one.
If Devon was determined to go over the edge, he’d take her with him.
“I love you,” she mouthed to Dylan.
“No!” he roared.
“You are everything to me. Everything,” Skye said aloud. “Tell Jesse, Wade—everyone how much I—“
Devon’s arms locked around her—one around her middle and one around her throat.
“See you at the bottom, Skye dear. Then we will start anew.”
Skye felt Devon take another step backward. His foot slipped against the edge of the cliff.
He squeezed her tighter.
She stared at Dylan. She’d take this last look with her. Her eyes filled with tears as she fell backward.
Dylan raced to the edge, throwing his rifle to the side as he ran.
Skye raised a hand to him.
Their fingers grazed.
“Skye!” One word screamed Dylan’s anguish.
The wind rushed past her ears as they free fell.
She would have screamed except for Devon’s arm around her throat, restricting any intake of air.
Instead, she watched the side of the red rock cliff zip by.
It was both longer and shorter than she expected.
His heavier body hit first. It bucked as he hit the water.
There was a crunch Skye both felt and heard as a hundred bones in Devon’s body broke at the same time.
His body protected hers.
The warm water surrounded her, and his lifeless arms released her.
Skye shuddered with shock.
A wave lapped over Skye’s head, and she kicked upward to break the surface again.
Nausea, dizziness, and pain returned in full force. Skye struggled to keep it at bay as the ocean sent a barrage of waves toward her.
Each push of water sent her further downward.
Skye kicked and pulled at the water, trying to reach the surface.
Two waves collided with her in the center. The tumble sloshed her already bruised brain.
The water’s pow
erful surge forced her down.
Skye was too weak to push back.
She slipped under the surface and watched the light darken.
Fifty-Five
Walk Away
Skye woke, sputtering and coughing, only half aware of her surroundings.
There was a sharp pain in her damaged hand.
She jerked it to her, but someone held it fast.
Skye’s chest tightened with panic, and she fought.
“Hush, darlin’. It’s all right now.”
“It’s almost over,” Sonora added.
Skye opened her eyes and glanced around. She was in the medical tent she had helped set up for the battle.
Ian held her arm as he ran the healer over it. Sonora stood beside him.
Dylan was on her other side, cradling Skye’s other hand in both of his. Her gaze searched his.
“Ian thought it was best to heal up that hand before you woke. He knew it would hurt some.”
Skye gave Dylan a tight smile as another sharp pain ran through her injury. “I’m just glad he can heal it. It felt so bad, I was afraid to even look at it.”
“Look at it now,” Ian said with a smile.
With a bit of hesitation, Skye raised her hand and flexed her fingers.
No pain. No sign of any injury. She almost wept. “Thank you!”
Ian nodded. “We will send two healers with you when you go back to your mountains.”
Skye beamed as she pushed herself into a sitting position. “Oh, Ian. That will help our community so much.”
Dylan agreed. “Sure will.”
“I am happy for that,” Ian said. “Your people and mine work together now. My father will also have other items for you.”
Outside the medical tent, a group of people stood. In the middle of the circle, someone in a dark blue shirt laid on the sand.
“Is that him?”
“Yes, darlin’, but he’s gone now. You don’t have to worry.”
Skye bit the inside of her cheek, then said, “I want to see him. I need to.”
Dylan helped her out of the cot. As soon as Skye got her footing, she was able to walk on her own over to the group.
Ian and Sonora stood beside Skye, arms wrapped around each other as they stared at the body.