Arise (Book Three in The Arson Saga) (24 page)

“And that’s another thing. How on earth were you working for them, for years, yet never knew he was alive?”

“Joel, they’re an extremely efficient group. I didn’t know because I wasn’t meant to know. But the fact that he escaped, and that he managed to connect with Arson, means he still has use of his powers, at least in some capacity. We may have a chance at finding the others.”

“How many are there?” Arson asked.

“Millions, by my estimation. The vast majority probably can’t even comprehend the power lurking within them. But how many do we actually have in possession? A few thousand, all in facilities like Salvation. Only problem is, I don’t know exactly where they are.”

“You just said there’s one in Denver,” Kyro reminded.

“The cities I know, but the exact locations were never given to me. Many of these facilities aren’t in obvious places. Salvation was one of the exceptions.”

“A colossal middle finger to the citizens of planet Earth.”

“You said it, Kyro.” Arson called the spark once more into himself and reached into his pocket for the flash drive. “Before Isaac died, he downloaded a ton of information onto this. Locations, people, something about a Project Sunrise?”

Kyro snatched it from Arson’s hand. “You wait until now to drop that info? C’mon, son.”

“What is Project Sunrise?” Joel inquired, shushing Kyro with his hand.

Lana grabbed the drive from the jittery street kid’s grip. “It’s the reset button.” She pulled open a drawer in the corner of the room and retrieved a mini Samsung tablet. “Sunrise is the reason they recruited me. Before the world can be changed, it must be purified…in phases.”

“Purified?” Joel’s bewildered stare begged for clarification.

“By fire?” Arson asked, and she realized he probably knew too much.

Her answer drifted out like a slow morning fog. “The new order isn’t designed for seven billion people. They’re planning to eradicate at least half of the world’s population to start.”

It didn’t take longer than a second for the tablet to catch the flash drive’s wireless output. An intermittent flash of red appeared to beep inaudibly within the mechanics of the rectangular device. Then a folder on the paper-thin LED screen instantly appeared.

“Part of the plan is to use subj—
people with abilities
from different nations to initiate strategized attacks, thus creating confusion and global distrust.”

“Once the normals start trippin’, the whole world will be reliant on these d-bags. Suckas gonna be linin’ up to get their new magic flu shot. Not me, though.”

“By our estimates, over eighty percent of the world has already been introduced to it. Those who haven’t shown signs of becoming may show signs soon. If not—”

“We die. We got it.” Kyro was visibly disturbed.

“Change isn’t always a bad thing, within reason,” Lana defended.

“This is madness, not reason.” Joel definitely wasn’t buying her point of view. “What’s to stop us from becoming mindless drones?”

“I can’t look into the future, Joel. I don’t know. But the entire idea isn’t corrupt, only parts of it; it’s the method and the soulless menaces behind it that are causing you to fear.” Lana clicked one of the names on the list and skimmed the lengthy profile. “You have every reason to hate me and no reason to trust me, other than the fact that I swear to you I’ll fight—and die, if need be—to earn back your trust. The future is still unwritten. It doesn’t have to be their story anymore. We can fight back.”

Kyro picked up the magazine full of bullets and caught a glance of the tablet, at the faces left hollow by God-only-knew how many experiments. “Who’s to say you ain’t gonna stab us in the back once you get the itch again?”

“Guess you’re just gonna have to watch your back, kid,” she answered coyly. Her fingers tapped the screen several times, opening more links.

“That’s not gonna fly.” He reached into her jacket and snatched a cell phone. Then he hurled it against the wall, and broken bits rained onto the floor. A smug smile waltzed across his lips.

“I had hundreds of contacts in that phone,” she said, her eyes laced with hostility.

“Hundreds of fools from ya past. If you ain’t rollin’ with them no more, you don’t need the cell no more.”

“That was my personal line. I was gonna destroy it once I retrieved all of the data.”

“You was hesitatin’.”

“He’s right,” Joel added, still very much on edge. “It’s better this way.”

She rolled her eyes, tense now that Kyro’s shadow circled her. Her focus turned back to the tablet screen; she knew she might be able to recall some of the more necessary contacts if need be. Her brain was the primary hard drive. The cheap plastic was just a physical shell.

“It was your plan to come here all along, wasn’t it? What, you was gonna cut us out of the picture, then escape here, right before your bosses triggered the apocalypse?”

“You were never supposed to get this far, kid. I should’ve completed the mission weeks ago.”

“What stopped you?” Kyro asked with a stiff neck.

Her palm hovered above the tablet, frozen. “My humanity.”

“Oh, didn’t know you had any left.”

She swallowed hard. “Look, I brought you here because it’s safe, at least for now. Once Trent’s family was…
removed
, for lack of a better term, this duplex became the property of his bank. The foreclosure process went unexpectedly smooth. I got wind that it was gonna be a short sale, came in under an alias, and snatched it up.”

“Awfully convenient,” Kyro said with a shrug. “And they just let you do that?”

“My employers don’t know.”

“Says
you
.”

“I’ve been meticulous about keeping this off their radar.”

“Not careful enough, otherwise Mrs. P. would be here right now, listening to you bend the truth. Gee, I wonder what she’d have to say about your newfound epiphany.”

“Cut the sarcasm. It’s really wearing thin, kid.” Lana began to transfer the files from the drive to the tablet. It was currently at 11%. “For the record, this is safe house number 3. It exists solely for an emergency such as this. So pardon the appearance, but as you can see, it doesn’t get utilized—or remodeled—all that often.”

Arson’s brows snaked toward the bridge of his nose. “So no one knows we’re here?”

“I’ve told no one about this place. Once Trent was gone, I made sure any info about this property was removed from all archives. I told you, I’ve been careful.”

“And that old broad downstairs…”

“There is no one living downstairs, Kyro. She’s a wax doll. I had her made to ward off any suspicion.”

Joel stroked his jaw, attempting to add everything up. “Back up for a second. You said safe house 3. As in, there are more. That doesn’t make me feel any kind of safe.”

She sighed, glancing at a father who was now, more than ever, at his wit’s end. “It isn’t tapped. Believe me, I checked several times. No one knows where we are.”

“What about the internet signal?” Arson asked.

They all exchanged uncomfortable looks.

“I pay for this data plan myself, in cash. This tablet is synced with a wireless phone service I had set up months ago under another alias. Shannen Doherty.”

Joel scratched his forehead. “If these animals are half as bright as you let us believe, is it really that farfetched to think they’re watching you—and your alias’s—every move?”

“Wait…Doherty? The chick who hosted that weak reality show
Scare Tactics
for a minute?”

“Is she famous or something?” Lana asked, completely and ashamedly oblivious.

“Sort of,” Arson injected. “But forget it. Look, can we please focus on the fact that this safe house may not actually be safe?”

“You didn’t kill his girlfriend in here, did you?” Kyro wondered aloud.

“Do you really want to know?”

He shook his head and plopped onto the sofa.

“We’ll stay the night, and in the morning we’ll be outta here.”

“And go where?”

“To find the others,” Arson replied forcefully, “before it’s too late.”

She felt Arson’s nervous breath irritate the tiny hairs on the back of her neck when his face materialized onscreen after she flippantly opened a folder on the tablet. She also noticed his stare reflecting off the clear display, a stare that had abruptly shifted from normal to a crystal pearl white. He looked to be having some kind of seizure, but before she or any of them had a chance to respond, Arson uttered the words, “They’re here” in a ghostly tone.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

It was the longest
moment of his life. Arson didn’t even wait for them to knock. He’d known about their close proximity because Adam had imparted that knowledge to him, and it only took a microsecond. Apparently, they’d been connected this whole time. He still couldn’t fully wrap his mind around it yet, but he knew eventually it would make sense, like his other abilities.

Arson bolted toward the door, his heart trembling against his ribs. The thumping organ was about ready to rupture, but not with excitement. And not with joy—though, from the second his thoughts brought Emery back to life again, he had indeed felt that as well. It was panic and fear creating the ruckus. The kind those helpless lab gods likely experienced before they met their end. He swore he was drowning. Panic was the sea, and fear the violent waves dragging him under. Fear that maybe Emery no longer had need or want of him. And panic for what that might inspire him to do.

“Who’s here? The bad guys? Use ya words, boy,” Kyro prodded, not at all realizing he sounded like those idiots always pressing Lassie for clues on what the frenzied pup might be thinking.

“Emery and Adam… They’re—”

A knock suddenly shook his chest. It was like he could feel his entire skeleton vibrate. He was certain, absolutely certain, they waited on the other side. He just had to reach for the handle and twist it. So simple. So utterly simple. The knuckles in his hand quivered as he touched the rusted, lukewarm steel.

And then he rotated it. And took a deep breath. And tried to gather his thoughts. There were many, all trying to shuffle to the front.

At last, the door opened with a creak, and before him stood two young-looking survivors more at war with the world than any drifter his grandmother had ever warned him about. Cuts, bruises, a little blood on Emery’s pant leg. He absorbed the unsettling image within seconds, within a half-breath, before the rest of his company had even caught so much as a glimpse. Adam should’ve healed by now. That part was strange.

Arson’s mouth hung unhinged, completely incomplete, with questions he should have asked now hiding at the back of his throat, like a thief who’d just been caught. Every desire and longing sprang to life simultaneously.

Emery’s hair slid away from those ocean eyes of hers, eyes he read like poetry, eyes he’d willingly sink into. And then he saw her completely when she tilted her head, facing him dead on. He’d seen before, when Adam had first appeared like a figment of his imagination. But this, this was real, up close and undeniable. Her face had been healed.

“Hey,” she said first, while he seemed to master the art of being mute.

Before he could respond, Joel shoved him aside and enveloped Emery,
his
Emery. Tears streamed down the man’s face. Never had a father looked so content and whole.

Adam extended a closed fist. “Hey, little brother.”

Arson accepted the greeting, ignoring the coiled-up metal that was his small intestine, and gently tapped knuckles with the bald dream walker.

Lana’s expression morphed at the first sight of her brother, as if he were a wounded ghost from the past. They embraced. It was kind of peculiar. He held himself like someone far older than what his appearance betrayed. He favored one side as he leaned against the worn doorframe, standing slightly shorter than she. If age were a mirror, he got away without a reflection.

They hugged, and didn’t seem to let go. This was only compounded by Joel swinging Emery around like a human carousel. Arson wondered if it would ever stop. He wanted to talk to her, be alone with her. Desperate to hold her, to make up for all those date nights they’d been robbed of. He hoped she might kiss him, like the lover of a soldier who had returned from battle, stained by the memories of cherished ones lost and left behind. Didn’t he deserve that?

Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he hadn’t earned it. After all, she’d been taken too. She was ripped away from her home, her life, her family. Introduced to the misadventures of pain and death. She was experimented on just the same. Perhaps he was wrong to think one was entitled to anything in this manmade world.

Kyro’s hand graced his shoulder like they were old classmates. It took him a second to remove himself from the odd family reunions taking place to even notice. “I’m here for you, dude,” his new ally offered, without as much as a reflex in his voice. Arson clung to the sincerity in his words, and though it wasn’t what he wanted, especially in this moment, maybe it was something he needed to hear, now that real, empty loneliness had slithered back inside, looking for weak prey.

Joel kept asking if Emery was okay, and her answer, which consisted of, “Yes… Geez… Yes,” seemed to play on repeat.

Stuck in the middle of the doorway, Lana and Adam stood with eyes locked. “I can’t believe how little you’ve changed. You still…look…like a kid.” Her forefinger slid across his cheek, her face caught in something of a trance.

“Minus the killer hairstyle, of course,” Adam replied with a tired chuckle.

“What do you mean, he looks like a kid?” Arson asked.

“A minor detail, Arson. Must’ve slipped my mind.” Adam shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I’m actually a bit older than you might think.”

“When Lana mentioned you were her brother, I imagined someone at least in their early thirties,” Joel confessed. “How old are you?”

As he was about to speak, Emery jumped in. “Geez, Dad, c’mon… Does it matter? Age isn’t really a thing anymore, ask anybody.”

“What are you, like, a male cougar or somethin’?” Kyro chided, clearly proud of his remark.

Adam didn’t answer. He didn’t seem to understand what the comment meant, but it didn’t really matter. What did matter was how Emery had reacted to her father’s question, like it was an interrogation tactic, or like there was something to hide. Arson folded his arms, trying to keep his rage from bending him.

Lana couldn’t seem to get past the fact that, while time had spitefully dragged her from adolescence into her tiring thirties, Adam looked barely eighteen. The fact that he was her older brother only made it seem all the more weird. Two different products from the same DNA pool. Life was a mystery.

“Emery, I missed you,” Arson finally whispered. She heard it. He knew she heard it, but she didn’t turn to him immediately. She was brushing away a tear that appeared as though it was sneaking out of her eyes without permission at the mention of her mother. Her father never should’ve said a word on the subject. What an utterly stupid man. Arson didn’t care if Joel used to be a man of the cloth, he’d shut him up just for making Emery cry.

It was your fault, wasn’t it? Like the little girl all those years ago. Only this wasn’t an accident. You
meant
to destroy that place. You left it in ruin. And you liked it.

Deep down, even if a part of that were true, had to be true, it wasn’t fully. Had he meant to bring an end to a corrupt asylum? Yes. But sending Emery’s mother to an early grave was the king of all his mistakes.

The world was cracking. He swore he could hear the foundation of the planet splinter while two once severed families were privileged enough to find healing in the company of blood. And at such a fragile time in human history. Where was
his
family?

Dead, remember?

Thoughts. Cursed thoughts
.

He desired a connection—a real, physical, human connection. And he wanted it with Emery, even more than he wanted a family to hold. But there was nothing he could do or say in this moment of disillusion. Was Aimee’s death the catalyst for the distance between them now? Whether they spoke or didn’t speak, found each other’s eyes or didn’t, he could feel it. Something
different
. Hearts trapped under the spell of gravity.

“Are you all right?” That was a pathetic thing to ask, he knew. Her father had already covered it about nine times.

She nodded slowly and stepped closer.

He slid several strands behind her ear, lightly caressed her cheek, where once there’d been scars and mutilated skin. “It’s amazing,” he said, noticing her pull away a little. “You’re like a different person.”

“You think I’m that different?” Her stare found every object to behold except him.

The bruises and cuts on Adam’s scalp once more came into focus. “He healed you?”

Her head moved up and down, and an unsure smile curled the reluctant corners of her mouth.

“It’s incredible, really,” Lana said, guiding everyone into the apartment and shutting the door.

“Why aren’t
you
healed completely, Adam? And why isn’t her leg healed? I thought you were protecting her.”

Emery winced. “Arson, chill out. He
was
protecting me.” She was still in pain but tried to mask it.

Joel peered through the ripped denim and examined Emery’s cut. Lana quickly located some bandages and peroxide, which had both been buried in the back of a cabinet. Then she proceeded to roll up Emery’s right pant leg.

Emery’s face twisted into a scowl as liquid splashed against the cut.

Arson was troubled by the wound. “How’d it happen?”

“I was stealing clothes.”

Joel looked taken aback. Not upset, just seemingly startled that his little girl had volunteered that bit of information so matter-of-factly. “Brave new world, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice, Dad.”

“I know. What about this?” he asked, pointing out the burn on her wrist.

Adam clenched his fists. “Drunk low-life tried to hurt her. I made him stop.”

“We’ve been through a lot,” Emery confessed, a sort of guilty tone peeking through. “He’s more than proven himself.”

A stab. Arson definitely wasn’t prepared for that. What he would’ve given to trade places with Adam when it happened. If only he could’ve been there.

Lana finished bandaging up the wound and tilted her head toward her brother. “Can you still control your powers?”

Before an answer took form, Emery blurted, “He’s been blacking out, but yes, they work, on and off.”

One sight of blood and Kyro issued a deeply sarcastic, “Perfect.”

“She has a theory, but that’s all it is.” Adam spoke with confidence. “Since wandering into Arson’s head during his coma—”

“Wait, coma?” Emery stopped him.

“Yeah, he decided to use his powers at a dangerous level with recluse venom in his system. He woke up thanks to me, no big deal.” Adam didn’t permit any further discussion on the matter. “Anyway, I’ve noticed…a change in the…way my abilities operate.”

Arson scratched his jaw. “You can’t control when they come and go?”

A reluctant nod. “I guess.”

“Interesting.”

“Why?” Lana asked.

“I’ve grown more powerful since I woke up.” Arson’s left palm instantly ignited with a pale yellow flame. It crawled between fingers delicately. Then he followed one of the veins in his right forearm as it produced a thin blade of ice.

Kyro’s head hung low at the sight. “You create ice too? Dang. You guys suck. Cue Ball’s got some clutch healing powers and Sparky over here gets to play with fire and make knives out o’ freakin’ ice? Shoot, man, I didn’t bring any of the cool toys to show and tell.”

“Duality,” Joel pointed out. “Perhaps your abilities are a manifestation of what lurks under the surface.”

“Meaning?” Arson said with a raised brow.

The reply came coldly. “A divided soul.”

Arson absorbed his powers immediately. He didn’t like Joel’s analysis. What, just because the guy read the Bible cover to cover a couple of times and probably had an office full of plaques and awards showcasing his knowledge, he somehow felt like he had the right to get critical?

“What about the spider venom?” Lana wanted to know. “Did they inject you with it?”

“Both of us,” Emery said.

Lana’s brow arched. “That could be responsible for your powers fluctuating. Your body’s at war.”

“It’s different. I can’t explain it, it just is.”

“What’s with the venom?” Joel asked. “Is my daughter going to be okay?”

She fired off an answer as if she were frustrated by him asking the question. “It temporarily neutralizes abilities.”

Concern revisited the broken man. “But she doesn’t…have any abilities. Do you, Emery?”

Silence shrank the room.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“They injected me too,” Arson divulged. “My powers fought it and beat it.”

Emery looked uncomfortable by him taking such control of the conversation. And he didn’t care. He was glad she picked up on his tone, however cavalier it may have come across.

“Where are we?” she said, hoping to navigate away from the touchy subject of powers. “Is it safe here?”

“Verdict’s still out. Lil’ Redd says it is.”

“Kyro, the last thing she needs right now is anxiety,” Lana replied. “Yes, it’s safe, Emery. Are you hungry? I don’t have much, but I can fix you both something.”

Emery’s shoulders slumped, a mixture of fatigue and rest settling into her bones. “Soup or PB&J… Anything with calories, really.” She limped to the couch, Arson wanting to help her every step of the way but Joel once more taking charge.

“I can’t believe it,” she said.

“What?” Arson asked, standing across from her, waiting for her to ask for him to take a place beside her.

A shaky, intruding chuckle pervaded her tone. “We’re still alive. We shouldn’t be. Mom’s not, but—”

“Don’t do that, sweetheart.” Joel massaged her hand in an attempt to make up for months apart. “You’re alive.” The tears came back. “God has restored the months the locusts have stolen from me. He’s given me a second chance.”

The intensity and perspective in her father’s claim forced Arson into himself. An examination he neither intended nor desired but one that struck him right in the heart.
He
was the swarm of locusts that could plague a family with grief as a result of one careless action. He wore their insect skin too, their crunchy scales, even glided, not walked, with their wicked, stuttering wings; and they in turn traded scales for flesh and bone, trying to be human, or something like it. To her, he must’ve adopted quite the vile shape, because the glow he remembered stemming from her eyes the night he’d saved her on that beach now seemed to radiate everywhere except on him. Emery’s hurt stare drifted unenthusiastically, nervously, in his direction, a certain kind of tainted necessity, if he could decode it at all. But then again, it wasn’t like any blame could fall on her. Aimee was gone—because of him.