Away From the Sun (11 page)

“You shouldn’t worry about it,” she said. “I will find a way to transport it to me if I need it.”

Nothing more was said. I don’t know what came over me, but for some reason I gained the confidence to move closer to the crack in the door. I wanted to see the killer. I wanted to see the man that was responsible for Willow’s death, for the crazy people that attacked anything that moved.
 

I didn’t touch the door. I tried to see out the best I could. At first, all I could see was the back of their heads as they walked toward the exit, the woman leading the way. Then, she stopped suddenly and turned around. Her blonde, cheek-length hair framed her face. She was pretty, maybe in her forties, but her blue stare was fierce.

“Get out your gun,” she said. “We don’t know how many of those creatures are out there.”

The man reached into his coat and pulled out a pistol.
 

Turn around,
I thought.
I want to see your face. I want to see the face of the man who is responsible for Willow’s death. The man that created this…virus.

I never got that chance. Before I could blink twice, the two of them were out of the room and I wouldn’t see either of them again until this morning, when I saw the woman who was instructing Samuel—the woman who, now I’m sure, is Shadowface.

I sit on a cot in the same room I was locked in earlier, but now the door stands wide open. I stare at the cylinder in my hands, not knowing what to do with it. What I said in the meeting still sounds like a good idea to me. Smash it. Get rid of it. Would Shadowface really kill me out of spite if I did such a thing? What would be the point?

I unscrew the canister and look at the glass vial inside.
 

Blood. Blood of a Starborn. I wonder who it might have come from. If he or she is dead or still alive. I’m assuming dead. And the power…the power must be particularly unique if someone is willing to kill over it. I think about myself. Would someone kill over my power? I nearly laugh at the thought. I would almost kill just so I
didn’t
have it. I don’t like seeing the future. Especially when that future consists of the death of people I care about.
 

Like Ethan.
 

The thought of him being shot in the middle of the street plays in my mind over and over. I can’t get it out. And every time I see his face, I’m reminded that I need to keep a close watch on him. Though last night proved that I can change the future I see, it doesn’t mean it’s easy. And the feeling of regret fills me every time I think about how I could have tried to save Lucas. But I was so shocked the first time it happened that I didn’t know what to do.

I now look at a flash of the future as a warning for me to spring into action. Only once did I see a future that had a positive outcome, and that was when Ethan and I had been sitting next to a fire and a greyskin came up on us. I had grabbed Ethan’s hand and a white flash burned in front of my eyes and I saw him kill the greyskin. I now know that I could have done something to change it, or leave the future as I saw it.
 

No other vision has been good. There was Lucas. Hank. Gilbert. I feel like there must have been something I could have done for each of them. At least Hank wasn’t dead. He was only missing a hand. But that was a moment when I tried to change what I saw in my future and couldn’t.
 

I wish I could talk to someone about this, but there isn’t anyone that would understand. Ethan knows, and I’m pretty sure Gabe knows, but it’s not like I can talk to them about it. They wouldn’t know what to say. I wouldn’t know what to talk about. I know that if I told Ethan about the vision that I saw of him, he would just tell me not to worry so much; that we would figure it out.
 

But it isn’t that simple. I assume the only reason I was able to change the future I saw with Scarecrow was because it directly involved me. I was in the situation and the outcome was based off my decision. That being the case, I changed my mind. So, the outcome changed. It seems to me that I can’t change anyone’s future unless I am directly involved with the vision.

But I can’t think that way about Ethan. Though I may have not been in the vision, that doesn’t mean I can’t do
something.
I am still so new to this ability, so I know that it will just take some thought and preparation. My ability is not meaningless, or useless. It is there for me to change the outcome. It’s just a puzzle that I have to solve.

An unfamiliar smell hits my nostrils. It’s like smoke mixed with something I can’t place. I look up and jump slightly when I see Jeremiah standing in the doorway.
 

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says. “Stephen told me where I could stay, but he didn’t show me. I guess I’m in the wrong place.”

I shrug. “I don’t really know what to tell you. I haven’t been here much longer than you have.”

He nods, smiling. He leans against the doorframe and looks down at the floor. I can’t help but stare at his face. His eyes look tired. Maybe like he’s having an allergic reaction to something. He seems pale, too. He looks up at me again and I turn my eyes down.
 

“What you have in your hands is very powerful,” he says.

“But you don’t know what power it holds?” I ask.
 

He shakes his head. “Wish I did.”

“So, all I have to do is drink this and I’ll have whatever ability the previous Starborn had?”

“That’s the idea, I think,” he says. “There’s a lot of theory that floats around when Starborns are researched. A lot of guessing. Truth is, drinking that blood could kill you. Or you could gain the power and lose control of it. Or you might be perfectly fine, with an amazing gift.”

“Gift,” I repeat, looking down at the blood. I’m tempted to tell him about my
gift.
He really would be the person to talk to, wouldn’t he? If he has studied people like me in the past, he might know what I should do about it. Or he might be able to give me some answers. I decide to play it safe.

“How does a Starborn gain the power in the first place?” I ask.

“It’s in their blood,” he says.
 

“I know that, but why does it show up at different times for different people?”

“I think it comes about when the person needs it the most,” he says. “When a person with Starborn blood is in danger, it just manifests. It’s a survival instinct. Then they have the power forever.”

“Are there ever unexplainable ones?” I ask. I hope I’m not being too obvious.
 

“What do you mean?”
 

“I mean, like if a person found that they could read someone’s mind…or see someone else’s future or something…but it didn’t necessarily help them immediately.”

“Sounds pretty specific,” he says, grinning. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“There is a lot that I’m not telling you,” I say, setting my jaw firmly. “I don’t know you from Adam. I’m not saying I know anyone with Starborn powers. I’m just interested is all.” I feel like I’ve given myself away; that I’ve said too much.

He narrows his eyes, but the smile on his face hasn’t faded. “There was one case I studied that had me perplexed,” he says. “There was a man that had the gift of long life. He didn’t know it until he was diagnosed with a rare disease that should have killed him within weeks. But as soon as he learned of it, he started getting better.”

“So,” I say, shrugging.
 

“So, he didn’t die for another one hundred and fifty years or so. And even then, he only died because he was killed by someone.”

“Why would someone kill him?” I ask.
 

“Wrong place at the wrong time,” he says. “But the point is, I’ve never come across a case where the power manifested itself unless it was necessary for the Starborn’s survival.”

I stare at my feet as I sit on the cot. His words make me more frustrated because I don’t know what to think about myself. When I gained my ability, it seemed that I was meant to save Lucas. But I didn’t.
 

“Do you think there are variations from this scenario?” I ask.
 

“I’ve never seen one,” he says. “I can’t say that they don’t exist. For all I know, a person could have been born with a power, and grew up using it. Again, I’ve never seen such a thing, but who am I to rule it out?” He nods at me, looking at the glass in my hands.
 

“You might want to at least keep that hidden away,” he says. “If you have it on you when Shadowface gets here, you might as well be handing it to him.”

I nod at Jeremiah and he smiles at me again.
 

“Now, if I can just find my room,” he says with a chuckle. “People stay in a place like this for so long, they think outsiders already know where everything is.”

He turns to leave, but I stop him this time.
 

“Hey.”
 

He stops and looks at me.
 

“Do you really think Shadowface is coming here? Isn’t there a possibility that he didn’t hear about me? Or that he might not have heard the radio?”

“Well, I wasn’t there,” he says, “but if your sister’s recollection is correct and there was a blonde woman and a man named Samuel in the room, then I would bet my life that they will be coming here. I don’t mean to scare you, but Shadowface is a planner. Everything he does is with calculation and precision. That’s why I think it would be a great plan to have your sister go and try to recruit Paxton, but Stephen won’t have it.”

“So, you’re just going to stay here and try to fight with us? Doesn’t that seem a little dangerous to you?”

He shrugs. “My job is to hunt down Shadowface and stop him. If he’s coming to me, then why would I leave? He doesn’t know I’m here. We will be as ready as we can, and we will be okay. Just, whatever you do, don’t let him get that cylinder.” His face is very serious now. “If there is a gun to your head and Shadowface says you can live if you give it up, you might as well take the bullet. You’re dead anyway.”

“That’s why I feel like we should just smash it,” I say.
 

Jeremiah shakes his head. “No. It could be your only chance to have the upper hand. With that small vial of blood, you can essentially put the gun to Shadowface’s head. Just pray it plays out to your benefit.”

I nod at him, thoughtfully. He taps the side of the doorframe and smiles at me again.
 

“We will be ready,” he says. “Don’t you worry. Mitch is preparing to leave right now to get us some extra weapons. We won’t be caught defenseless.”
 

With that, he leaves. I sit and think to myself, and I can’t help but like Jeremiah. He is mysterious, and I don’t fully trust him, but there is something about him that makes me feel comfortable. Maybe it’s his confidence. He doesn’t seem afraid at all, which calms my fears considerably.
 

I leave the room and find Ethan eating lunch in a kitchen. From the looks of it, it was never really a kitchen, rather a small conference room with a refrigerator. Ethan looks up at me and smiles, a piece of ham dangling out of his mouth. I can’t help but laugh at him because he looks sheepish.
 

“They’ve got some pretty good stuff in here,” he says.
 

“You know the ham probably has an expiration date of two years ago,” I say, sitting down across from him.
 

He shrugs. “It was a little freezer-burned, but it’s still good.”

I watch him as he takes another bite. I can’t help but feel scared for him. I feel other things, too, but I’m not sure what they are. I know I’ve only known him a week, but it feels like a lifetime. I think about talking with him at the fire; about how he encouraged me.
‘The moment you start to think you aren’t going to make it is the moment the enemy starts winning,’
he said. It has been good to have Ethan near me. My thoughts travel to the night in Crestwood—full of nightmares—where I felt him holding me tightly, doing everything he could to comfort me. But every time I think about him, it always comes back to the vision—his future.
 

“What’s wrong?” he asks me, probably noticing the emotions of my thoughts, played out in my expressions.

“I don’t know,” I lie. “Everything just keeps getting crazier and crazier.”

“You’re right about that,” he says. “It’s been three years straight, with no end in sight.” He sets his sandwich down on the plate in front of him and looks at me in the eyes. His face is serious, maybe with a concerned look, I’m not sure. “How do you feel about being one of them?”

“One of who?” I ask.
 

“What Jeremiah was talking about,” he says. He lowers his voice. “A Starborn.”

“I’m not sure that’s what is happening to me,” I say. “I mean, I guess it explains a lot. If you would have told me about something like that three years ago, I might not have believed it, but given the world we live in, I think anything is possible.”

“It has me thinking,” he says. “You saw a different future than what you let on for Gilbert.”

“I don’t really want to talk about that,” I say quietly.
 

“I understand,” he says. “It’s just…you held my hand last night. Since I’ve known you, if you deliberately touch someone, you see a glimpse into their future. Have you seen anything for me?”

I don’t want to tell him. I want to get up and leave, but that wouldn’t help. Part of me wishes I would have never told anyone about it. Because he knows about me, I have to answer questions like these. Do I lie or give him the truth?

“I…” I can’t get the words out. Do I tell him that I saw him dying in the street? Do I say that no one was around him and that he would die alone? Do I explain that there is no way for me to help prevent this future because it is impossible for me to know when or where it will happen?

“You saw something,” he says. He looks away from me and stares down at the table. “It’s bad isn’t it?”

I look up at him. I can feel tears forming in my eyes. There is no denying it now. “I saw you get shot,” I say.