by Ellery Kane
“When do I go?” I asked, ignoring the screaming sirens of fear sounding in my head.
Chuckling to himself, Augustus replied, “I must say I’m surprised you’ve been so easily swayed. I was hoping I’d have to use a bit more force. But there’s just one more thing.” Augustus removed a needle from his jacket. Uncapping it, he moved closer toward me. “Just a little something to take the edge off. We can’t have you panicking again, now can we?”
I jumped from my chair, preparing to bolt for the door, but Augustus already had me by the arm. The needle slipped in smooth, effortless, as if nothing happened.
“What is it?” I demanded.
“Emovere.”
CHAPTER THIRTY - ONE
UNDER THE INFLUENCE
I WISH I COULD SAY IT WAS AWFUL, but the truth is the first time was sort of pleasant. With the trauma of my mother’s death so recent, I doubted Emovere would work on me. I was wrong. Strange, but I was reminded of the dentist deadening a tooth. It was like that. It was a kind of numbness, but in my soul. I was still aware, of course. There was Augustus’ guard escorting me at gunpoint, the wind slamming hard against me as we crossed the street, and a pigeon swooping dangerously close to my face. But I was simply oblivious, a disinterested stranger, an actress playing myself. And those voices in my head—insecure, nagging, always demanding to know why—went silent.
At the door, I screamed. I felt nothing, but the sound came out of me anyway because I willed it to. Two men, both middle-aged and chubby, came waddling toward me from inside, their weapons drawn. Their names—Ed and Joe—were monogrammed on their uniforms. This should be easy, I thought. As they approached, I saw my face in the glass door. My eyes were cardboard … dull, flat, lifeless.
“Please, help me!” I yelled. “Someone’s chasing me! I think he’s trying to break into the building.”
Ed’s forehead wrinkled with concern. He opened the door, allowing me in. “Did you see which way he went?”
“That way,” I pointed around the side of the building.
“Joe, stay with her. I’m going to check it out.” Just like that, Ed was gone. One down.
The instant the door shut behind him, I pulled out the gun Augustus gave me and held it to Joe’s head. My mind registered his fear—his whimpering, his wide eyes, his pleas—and catalogued it emotionlessly, just as I did all the other things about him, like his graying hair, his handlebar mustache, his mottled complexion. It was all the same to me.
I pulled his handcuffs, flashlight, and walkie-talkie from his belt. “Put these on one hand and cuff yourself there.” I pointed to a metal pipe running the length of the wall.
After he was secured, I ordered Joe to the ground, casting his walkie-talkie into a distant corner. He cowered, as I struck him hard with the butt of the gun. I looked on, apathetic, as a small pool of blood collected under his forehead. Without another glance, I left Joe, his flashlight in my hand, and headed into the pitch-black bowels of the historic theater. Methodically, I descended the stairs, passing row after row. The expanse of the stage drew closer, but there was no need to hurry. Nothing could stop me.
Just as Augustus had hinted, the theater was not just a theater at all. After I punched the code into a keypad near a nondescript door, stage right, the door clicked open, revealing the theater’s second life. Wall-to-wall glass panels—each emblazoned with a large, metallic Z—marked the entrance to a Zenigenic manufacturing facility. Taking a half step into the lab, I fired a single shot at the security camera. Bulls-eye! The pop of the gun was as thrilling as a stolen kiss. Inside, the shelves were lined with bottles, each containing a different compound. They weren’t labeled with trade names, but by their long, unpronounceable chemical names. I only recognized Emovere.
I circled the perimeter of the lab, taking one bottle from each section and depositing them in a duffle bag Augustus had given me. One of them had to be Onyx—not that I had any intention of delivering it to my captor. I was only collecting evidence, planning to do the very thing Augustus told me not to do. Rifling through the drawers, I folded and pocketed several important-looking documents.
Confident, I slung the bag over my shoulder and strode back into the theater, my flashlight spotlighting the exit. As I neared the entrance, something caught my eye—a shadow. I walked toward it, feeling only curious. The shadow grew larger and larger until it took the shape of another guard, bigger and stronger than the other two. He was holding a gun. Our eyes connected, and for a fleeting instant, I felt something like fear, but it was muted and gray, barely discernible.
“Drop your weapon!” he yelled.
I didn’t. I kept walking, even as he shot at me. I had no concern for the bullets whizzing by. They were harmless paper airplanes. No thoughts, no worries to slow me down, I simply aimed and fired, striking him in the thigh, then in the shoulder. It had to be done, but to say I felt nothing would be a lie. The absence of fear feels weightless—like taking a step from the highest height and finding your wings—like freedom.
The cold air rushed in, invigorating me, as I exited the door of the theater. My legs twitched with anticipation, ready to run. But Augustus knew I wouldn’t return willingly. His men were waiting, and I was ready, landing an elbow to one of their faces. The delicate crick of his nose delighted me. He doubled over, clutching at it with his hand, now bloody. A step too slow, his surprised partner reached for me.
“I got her!” he yelled, just as I ducked out of his grasp. I turned and pummeled him with the gun—a vicious strike to the face with all my might. I pointed it at them, as I backed away. Shoot them! I pulled the trigger again and again and again, but the only sound was a desperate click, click, click. I was out of bullets. I grabbed the duffel bag and skirted into the darkness of the nearest alleyway, while Augustus’ men assigned blame for my escape.
“I thought you had her!”
“I did.”
“Well? What happened?”
“I don’t know. She’s fast, I guess. You’re the one who can’t take a punch from a girl.”
“What about you?”
Silence. Then, “She didn’t go far. I saw…”
Not looking back, I trotted away from them, their voices fading. Slumped against the wall in the alley, Ed lay bleeding from his chest, probably shot dead by Augustus’ men. I don’t feel anything, I observed, as I picked up his hand and removed his gun from its limp grasp. I tucked it into my waistband and kept moving. Shoulders back, eyes forward, I was bold. I didn’t worry, didn’t wonder what was coming next. I’m good at this.
Fifty yards ahead, in the light of a street lamp, a figure appeared. I raised Ed’s gun and fired, but there was no one. The figure vanished, seeking refuge behind the wall. I waited, then charged, bullish, rushing toward the alley’s end. My own bullets careened around me, ricocheting from wall to dumpster to wall, igniting sparks. By the time, I reached the street, I was breathless—and out of ammo … again.
I held the gun up anyway, doing a methodical spin around. A stray cat darted at the edge of my vision; a shadow shifted shape in a doorway; a leaf dropped from the gutter and flitted to my feet. Nestled in the cold unfeeling inside me was a hot kernel of discomfort. I was surprised when it began to grow into an urgent need to escape. As I turned to run, a large hand seized me from behind. Augustus’ men—both bruised and black-eyed—dragged me back down the alley and across the street. I was suddenly exhausted, all my fight evaporated.
“A little too cocky for your own good, huh?” The broken-nosed man laughed, wrenching my arm behind my back.
His partner chuckled along with him, securing my other half. “That’s Emovere for ya. The rookies never handle it well.” For the first time, I noticed his Guardian Force tattoo. Augustus employing a former enemy? Ironic, but typical.
With a careless shove, I was back in the closet. Someone had left me a bottle of water and a cheese sandwich, which I scarfed down in two bites. I sat back against the wall and closed my eyes, hoping for sleep.
The sound of a bone-chilling wail awakened me. It was my own. My shirt was soaked, drenched in sweat. Terror clamped my throat, quickening my breath. The night came flooding back all at once … Augustus’ men holding me at gunpoint, the guards from the theater approaching the door, Joe’s distraught face before I pummeled him with the butt of the gun, the bright red explosions as my bullets made impact, Ed lying lifeless in the alley, and even that pigeon swooping down at me. All of it. And with it, the most-intense anxiety I’d ever felt. Rebound fear, I whispered aloud. This was the crash.
CHAPTER THIRTY - TWO
JUST WALK
THE ANGRY SLAM OF A DOOR just outside the closet reverberated through me, intensifying the dull ache in my forehead. I hardly slept. Instead, I lay awake, listening intently, recoiling at every noise. I was only beginning to feel like myself again. My eyes followed two shadows moving on the floor.
“Don’t you dare make me look like a fool, Gus!” A deep voice barked. “You promised me Onyx, and you will deliver. Don’t make me come back here.”
I laid my head against the cool tile, peering through the small crack under the door. There were four feet—two of them shiny and loafered, probably Augustus, the other two scuffed and booted. The feet walked in opposite directions without another word exchanged. I rolled onto my back and struggled to reach into my pocket, removing the papers I had pilfered the night before. Most of it meant nothing to me—a jumble of codes and numbers—but when I reached the bottom, I blinked a few times to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
Product Alpha 1 (100,000 units)
Product Alpha 2 (100,000 units)
Product Delta (200,000 units)
Transfer From: CH-4352-1112-8891 ($100,000,000)
Transfer To: 8331-5647-3111-0092 ($95,000,000)
CH-0088-1145-2667 ($5,000,000)
The zeroes stared back at me, appearing to multiply each time I looked. Refolding the paper, I tucked it into my shoe. I didn’t move again until the door opened.
“My goodness, Ms. Knightley, you look rather peaked this morning.” Augustus stood at the closet—an armed guard next to him—peering in at me.
“I wonder why.” I addressed him with sarcasm, lifting my head from the floor.
“It’s a shame your mother wasn’t here to witness her handiwork. That Emovere is really something, isn’t it?” I didn’t respond.
“I heard you put up quite a fight.” He touched his nose and laughed.
“What do you want?” I hissed, growing weary of Augustus’ games. “Who were you talking to?”
Augustus gestured to one of his guards, who uncuffed my wrists and handed me a computer tablet. My reflection in the screen dismayed me—my eyes were sunken and black circled. “I thought you’d appreciate another update.” His lips curled in an ominous smirk that sent my Emovere-less heart racing. I steadied myself, scooting back against the wall.
The screen was opened to The Real Scoop, a popular online tabloid. My eyes scanned the page, as Augustus—unable to resist—pointed to small block lettering at the bottom of the cover: Exclusive: Inmate 243’s Mother-in-Law Speaks.
“Go ahead, click it,” he urged.
I shook my head. “I did what you asked. Now, let me go.”
Augustus stepped into the closet and closed the door behind him. Suddenly, there was no air to breathe. He crouched down to where I was sitting, his face dimly lit by the tablet’s glare. Reaching out his arm, he placed his long fingers around my throat. I swiped at him with my hands, but it was futile.
“This is not a negotiation, Alexandra. You do what I say, when I say it. Got it?”
“Mm … hmm.” A broken noise of agreement squeezed from my throat.
“Good.” He released his grip, and I gasped. “Now, click the link and read it out loud.”
Choking on the first few words, I began to read the news article:
Belinda Wiley, mother of Shelly Wiley McAllister, spoke exclusively with The Real Scoop about her daughter’s torrid love affair with Inmate 243, George McAllister. Wiley reported, “I hadn’t heard from my daughter in years. I’ll admit, we had our ups and downs. I didn’t even know she got hitched to this loser. Then, all of a sudden, out of the blue, she’s calling me—three days before she died—three days, telling me she’s in trouble. If you ask me, it’s pretty obvious he’s guilty as sin.”
Without a word, I handed the tablet back to Augustus. Though I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me react, inside my head, a battle waged: I knew it, I knew it, I knew it—he did it! C’mon Lex, you can’t believe everything you read. Shelly’s mom is lying—she’d say anything for the money.
Augustus opened the closet door, then turned back to me. “And, Alexandra, I will let you go—if, and only if—you do what I asked of you. Those drugs you brought me, none of them are Onyx.” He paused. “I certainly hope you’re not playing games with me.”
I avoided his eyes, uncertain of my next move.
“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you about the consequences of failure. After he’s gone through so much, it would be such a shame to see Mr. McAllister’s life cut short.” Augustus stuck out his bottom lip. “Then again, runaways meet with unfortunate ends all the time. Perhaps I’ll just kill you and let Quin fall apart.”
Augustus leaned against the doorframe, savoring the moment.
“So tell me,” he asked, “what do you know about Onyx?”
“Um…” I spoke slowly, giving myself time to think. “What do you want to know?”
“Alexandra, please don’t answer a question with a question.” He stroked his goatee. “How about you start with the chemical formula? Surely, you must know that.”
“Well…” I was about to fail Augustus’ test unless …
I quickly rattled off the formula for Emovere, hoping Augustus wouldn’t know the difference.
“Repeat, please.” With a bony finger, he began to type onto his computer tablet. I was in big trouble. He turned the screen toward me, Emovere in the search results. Augustus shook his head with disapproval. “You’re a smart girl, Ms. Knightley. Surely, you didn’t think you could fool me.”
“I may not know as much about Onyx as I thought,” I admitted.
Augustus’ eyes were fire. “What did you say?” His words were steam, searing hot. He pulled me up by the arm. “Let’s go,” he directed, cuffing my wrists in front of me. His breath was like steam on my neck. Jostling me forward, I had no choice but to walk.
We were only a few steps down the hallway when I felt something hard and cold pressed to my head. “Where are you taking me?” I was terrified of the answer. I had witnessed Augustus’ rage before.
“Just walk.”
CHAPTER THIRTY - THREE
THE LEDGE
WHOOSH! With a push from Augustus, the door to the roof flew open, and I stumbled out, the wind tangling my hair in my face. “Keep walking,” he instructed, nudging me with his gun. “To the ledge.”
Frozen, I stared ahead. We were high up, at least eight stories. I could see the tops of the surrounding buildings. “Augustus, please—”
“Move!” He growled, jolting me forward. The guard echoed Augustus’ sentiments, giving me another forceful shove.
I walked slowly, trying not to panic. Think, Lex, think. But my thoughts came in pieces. Arranging them was tedious, like trying to reassemble the fragmented shards of a broken vase.
“Stand on the ledge.” Augustus sneered at me. His fire cooled to a slow burn. He was enjoying himself now.
I considered the ledge. It was concrete, a mere twelve inches wide, crumbling a little in disrepair. “Why?” I asked, stalling.
“Really, Ms. Knightley? Don’t insult my intelligence. You know why. Now stop talking and do it.” Augustus used the barrel of the gun to punctuate his message, pressing it insistently into the base of my neck.
One shaky step and a deep breath, two shaky steps and a hand out to steady myself. I was up. Don’t look down, don
’t look down, don’t look …
Below me, the world looked small and benign, mostly abandoned buildings and poorly maintained streets. But it was the expanse of blue sky—hanging between me and the world—that I feared.
The wind swished and swooshed around my ankles, billowing its way up through my shirt and whispering insistently in my ears. I willed myself to breathe, and my lungs expanded, sucking in the cold air. But my legs were not as compliant. They trembled beneath me like a child’s unsteady block tower on the verge of collapse.
“Quite a view from up here, don’t you think, Ms. Knightley?”
I didn’t answer. It took all my energy to maintain my balance. I gulped as a small piece of the ledge broke loose and tumbled away.
Augustus seemed delighted with my struggle. “Imagine this view with Emovere.” He stretched his arms out wide. “No fear of heights. No fear of death. If I told you to jump, I wouldn’t have to ask twice. You’d just fly.”
On the street, an indistinguishable figure was pointing up and yelling. A few onlookers began to gather. “Gus, I don’t want to interrupt.” The guard’s voice was tentative. “But we’re attracting some attention down there.”
I didn’t dare move, but I could feel Augustus step toward the ledge and peer over the side. “Then we’ll have to make this quick,” he muttered, annoyed. “Pity I won’t get a chance to see you take that step on your own, Ms. Knightley.”
Then, to the guard, he directed, “Get rid of her.”
This is it. This is how it ends. On this ledge with Augustus. The thoughts matter-of-factly marched themselves through my brain, a determined army.
I turned my head to meet the guard’s eyes and was surprised to find reluctance under the ice of his gaze. Still, he aimed his gun toward me. Some small part of me felt grateful he planned to shoot me first. With any luck, I would be dead before I hit the ground. I closed my eyes and waited.
“Why is she still standing there?” Augustus asked. “Do I have to do everything myself?”