Beyond Fearless (20 page)

Yes,
she whispered in his mind.

But before he could lead her off the beach, a movement out in the blue water caught his attention.

Anna's mind must have been tuned to his, because she followed his gaze.

“What's that?”

At first the object was far away and indistinct. Then he saw that it was a boat—speeding toward the island.

Anna made a small sound.

“It's him! He's coming here.”

 

CONFUSION
swamped Zach.

But the thought uppermost in his mind was to protect Anna.

“Don't run.” Keeping her close, he shifted her so that his body was between her and the beach.

Maybe San Donato had invaded their dream. But he didn't think the bastard was on that boat.

But if not him, then who?

The craft was speeding toward them, and Zach dragged in a startled breath as he took in the shape.

He blinked. It was
his
boat. “What the hell?”

“What?” she asked.

“It's the
Odysseus
.”

As he stared at the approaching craft, he could see a man and a woman standing at the rail, staring intently toward the island.

They both had dark hair. The woman was small and pretty. The man was taller and tougher. But they both looked determined—and also relieved. They stopped about thirty feet from shore, the boat bobbing in the waves.

Who are you?
Zach challenged, deliberately asking the question in his mind—not out loud—to see if these people could communicate that way.

We've been trying to reach you,
they answered together, the words echoing in his head—and in Anna's, he knew.

You're in danger.

Yeah. We know that. Who are you?
he asked again.

Jordan and Lindsay. We helped the pilot keep the plane from crashing.

You!
Anna exclaimed.

How do you know us?
Zach asked.

We've been casting our thoughts outward, trying to locate other people like us.

Other people like us? Psychics?

Not just psychics. There isn't time for a long explanation now. But we're all the result of the experiment at Dr. Remington's fertility clinic. He was trying to create superintelligent children. Instead he created telepaths whose powers are dormant until they connect with another subject from the experiment.

A fertility clinic,
Anna gasped.

Your parents told you about it?

Yes,
she answered.

But Zach shook his head. He'd never known that part of his personal story. Now he had a sudden insight into why his father had been so disappointed. He'd paid through the nose to have a child with his second wife. And he hadn't been pleased with what he'd gotten.

The clinic was funded by a quasi-government agency called the Crandall Consortium. But the project went wrong.

Anna raised her head.
Wait a minute. My powers weren't dormant. I was using them to make a living.

We know about your psychometric act. We're impressed that you could do that by yourself. But your powers have blossomed since you bonded with Zach, haven't they?

Yes!
she answered.

A man named Jim Swift is trying to kill as many of us as he can find. That's why we changed our last name from Walker to West. He hired the thugs to get you on the plane.

They drowned,
Zach said.

The woman breathed out a small sigh.
I hope so. We're trying to find out what happened to them.

We have another problem,
Zach said.
A local man who wants Anna for his wife.

But you've bonded with her. He can't.

He's trying,
Zach answered.
He'll be happy if he can get me out of the picture.

The woman started to speak again, but her silent voice was cut off by a strange roaring noise. The ocean began receding from the shore, sweeping the boat farther from where Zach and Anna stood.

Wait. Come back,
Anna cried out.

The woman shouted something, her voice drowned out by the the roaring water. Zach reached out a hand to them, but they were too far away for communication now.

“What's happening?” Anna whispered.

Your Vadiana friend's screwing around with us,
Zach silently answered.

His gaze went from the receding water to Anna. She stood stock-still, staring in terrible fascination at the suddenly exposed sand and rock, where fish and other sea creatures flopped up and down on the wetly shining surface.

“How?” she breathed.

“I don't know. But this didn't come from your mind—or mine. He did it somehow.” As he grasped the implications, he grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the shoreline. “Run. Run for your life.”

 

JIM
Swift—or Stone, as he called himself now—checked his e-mail again. Wild Bill should have checked in by now. But he hadn't heard anything. That was bad news.

Had the woman freak gotten away? And the guy? And where the hell was Bill?

Afraid to check in because he'd screwed up?

Jim wouldn't put that past the little bastard. But that left him in the dark and cursing.

Maybe he could find out if the plane had even taken off from Grand Fernandino—and if it had come back.

He opened an Internet window and started searching the news. A plane
had
taken off from the island and not come back.

So did that mean Anna Ridgeway and Zachary Robinson were dead? And what about Wild Bill and the freelancers?

If luck was running his way, something had happened on that plane. And the problem had taken care of itself.

But he wasn't going to count on it for sure.

“RUN!” ZACH SHOUTED
again, tugging on Anna's arm. “Run!”

She made a strangled sound, then turned and dashed back into the jungle.

He pelted along beside her, and they reached the tree line just as a roaring noise sounded behind them.

Images flashed through his mind—footage that tourists had shot of the tsunami in Thailand. They'd captured pictures of an enormous wave plowing in from the ocean, pounding resort towns along the coast, destroying everything in its path, knocking down buildings, sweeping away men, women, and children who were caught in the deluge.

He knew Anna had picked up the horrific images from him. He hated scaring her. Yet he knew the vivid pictures made her run faster.

He led her back toward the house, keeping pace with her as they plunged into the underbrush, his hand still firmly clasped in hers, willing her to speed up.

In one part of his brain, he was thinking that this was a dream and the water gathering speed behind them couldn't really hurt them. But he knew deep down that if he went on that assumption, he was going to end up dead.

Had San Donato seen the same tsunami TV footage, or was he making this up as he went along?

Would the bastard kill Anna, too? If he couldn't have her for his own, would he make sure nobody else could?

The roaring sound was coming closer. Zach kept running, pulling Anna along, even when he knew the water moved faster than they could.

Not just a tsunami. A super tsunami.

The leading edge of the tidal wave reached them, slamming them in the back. His hold on Anna's hand snapped.

“Anna!”

He heard her call his name as he went flying into the trees. She screamed, and he thought he saw her being swept toward the house. Toward safety, he hoped. If the water didn't bash her into one of the walls.

He was pretty sure now that San Donato didn't want to kill her. He wanted to kill his rival.

As if in confirmation, the water swept Zach in the other direction—into the jungle. He banged against tree branches and hidden obstructions as the huge wave carried him inland. Desperately he struggled to grab something that would stop him, but the branches had turned slippery.

All he could do was try to stay on the surface, but the wave dragged him under, down, down into water churning with logs and fish and other debris.

From years of diving, he'd made himself into an excellent swimmer. He was as at home in the water as he was on land. And he could hold his breath longer than anyone else he knew.

Trying to keep his cool, he pushed toward the surface. He had almost reached the open air when something caught his foot and dragged him back under the surface.

It was exactly like what had happened two days ago, when he'd been at the shipwreck with José and the man had been terrified of Pagor.

Zach made a disgusted sound. He knew where the unfortunate image had come from. His own mind supplied the information to San Donato, who was happily using it against him.

Screw you,
he silently shouted as he called up the rest of the remembered episode. José had wrenched himself away. He'd done it then, and Zach could do it now.

Zach pictured the earlier scene, focusing on the moment when the panicked diver had broken free. But the hold on his ankle only tightened. And he knew that he was going to drown.

Drown in a goddamned dream.

And the worst part was that he'd done it to himself. He never should have come here in the first place.

No you don't,
he snarled. If San Donato could change the rules, so could he.

He pictured a long-bladed knife in his hand. As he did, he felt his fingers closing around the hard rubber handle.

His lungs were bursting, but he reminded himself that he was perfectly comfortable underwater. He could hold his breath for three minutes—if he had to.

He whipped around, seeing a hand clamped around his ankle. No body, no arm. Just a damn ghostly hand.

Lunging for the fingers, he slashed at them with his knife and had the satisfaction of hearing a bloodcurdling scream. The rest of San Donato might be invisible, but that didn't prevent him from feeling the pain of cut flesh in the dream he'd invaded.

How do you like that?
Zach gibed as blood spilled from the cut fingers, turning the water red.

Zach stabbed again, and the grip around his ankle loosened, then let go entirely.

Freed from the ghostly hand, Zach shot toward the surface. He could see the sunlight above him, but before he reached it, a log came shooting through the water right toward him like a torpedo launched from a submarine.

Before he could dodge the guided missile, it hit him in the head, and the dream turned black.

 

FOR
a long time, he knew nothing. Maybe he was dead. Or on the way to heaven. His mind floated in blackness. And that was fine with him.

Then, from somewhere below him, he heard a woman's voice.

“Zach. Wake up. Don't you dare leave me, Zach. I can't do this by myself. Not when I've finally found you.”

The words drifted by him, like fish swimming in a calm pool.

He wanted to be left alone.

But the woman kept talking.

After a long time, he realized it was Anna. Her name was Anna. And she said the same thing, over and over.

Too bad he couldn't come back. His thoughts were vague and disconnected, but one thing he knew. He wasn't supposed to return to the earth. His enemy had told him he was supposed to stay up here in blackness, detached from his body until the husk of his mortal existence withered away and died.

“No!”

Maybe Anna had caught the finality of that wayward thought floating through his mind. If she could, more power to her.

Come back, damn you.

Leave me alone.

A searing pain slashed into the hulk of his body, and from far away, he heard himself moan.

“That's it, you coward. Come back.”

Coward? Where do you get off calling me a coward?

If you're not afraid, then you can damn well come back.

The pain flashed through him again, pulling him back.

“Cut that out!” he shouted.

The pain came again, and this time his eyes blinked open. To his astonishment, he was lying naked on the couch where they had gone to sleep the night before.

Anna was also naked, and she was crouching over him, her expression fierce and her hand raised to slap him in the face, and he knew she must have done it before, more than once.

“What the hell?” he gasped out.

“Thank God.”

“What…?” he tried again.

“What's the last thing you remember?” she asked, her voice urgent.

“Going to sleep…” He considered that for a moment. “No, waking up. You were still asleep. And dreaming.”

He dragged in a breath as memories came flashing back at him—fast and furious as his brain began to function again.

He'd seen she was asleep. He'd decided to see if he could join her in the dream. He remembered the beach, and a man and a woman on the
Odysseus
. And then…

Anna had followed his thoughts. “The tsunami caught us,” she supplied.

“Jesus!” The end of the dream flashed into his mind, and he made a strangled sound. “He tried to kill me. Every time I almost made it to the surface, he came up with something else.”

“He washed me up onto dry ground. Into the house,” Anna said, as she curved her hand around his shoulder. “I saw you go under. I was so scared.”

“He dragged me down and held me under.”

She gasped. “Was he really there?”

He made a gagging sound. “Just his hand. But I gave myself a knife, and I cut him.”

“Good.”

“He had control of the flood. He sent a log slamming into my head.” As he spoke, he pulled her down so that she was lying half on top of him.

“He was trying to keep me asleep,” she whispered. “I fought him. I woke myself up. It seemed to take forever. But when I finally did, we were both lying on the couch. Only you were pale as death. Your skin was clammy, and you wouldn't wake up when I shook you.”

He grimaced. “Was I breathing?”

“Barely.”

He pointed toward the ceiling. “I was up there. Well, not in this room. Somewhere up there in the darkness. I mean my consciousness. I heard you yelling at me, trying to wake me up.”

“I was shaking you.”

“But I couldn't feel it.” He dragged in a breath and let it out. “When the shaking didn't work, you slapped me, right?”

She took her lower lip between her teeth. “I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing. You finally got my attention.” He stroked his fingers over her shoulder and down her back, comforted by the contact with her soft skin.

“I thought you were going to die,” she whispered.

“I thought I
was
dead. I'm sure I would have been—if you hadn't brought me back. How long was I out?” he asked.

“I'm not exactly sure. It felt like hours. It was probably only a few minutes.” Her hold on his arm tightened. “Does he know where we are?” she asked.

“I don't know. But we have to be on our guard.”

She winced.

He hugged her to him, wanting to make love to her, but wondering if they were safe from the San Donato guy. He was getting stronger, more able to invade their minds when they were closely bonded.

She caught his thoughts and eased away. They both stood up, and he saw that neither of them was quite steady on their feet.

“We found out something good,” she murmured. “I was right about…Lindsay and Jordan wanting to help us.”

“Yeah. If they can.”

He pulled on his shorts and shirt, then walked outside to the edge of the patio, momentarily astonished that the landscape hadn't been flattened by a giant wave. That had only been a dream, he reminded himself.

Something else struck him. In the dim light of evening he hadn't noticed that whoever had lived here had planted a virtual forest of fruit trees. Not just one variety but a whole bunch of them.

Well, that certainly increased their range of food options.

After looking at the trees, he walked down to the beach, unable to face the water without cringing. But again he reminded himself that the dream had not been real.

Still, he didn't know how much power San Donato had to reach into their real lives.

If the bastard found them in a dream, could he find them in reality?

Zach shaded his eyes, scanning the sea. No boats. Which meant this place probably wasn't on anybody's regular shipping or recreational route.

They'd have to worry about that later. Right now, they needed to eat.

Returning to the vicinity of the house, he picked some ripe bananas off a bunch, then pulled off his shirt and used it to hold avocados, figs, plums, mangos, and breadfruit. At least they had some variety. With protein bars added it would be nourishing.

When he came in, he found Anna had opened two bottles of water.

Deliberately not touching her, he asked,
What are you thinking?

She caught the question and answered immediately.
That we have to get out of here before something else happens.

I agree.

And get away from Grand Fernandino.

They carried the food out to the patio, where they sat on another tablecloth, eating and sipping the water.

Zach picked up a plum. “All this fruit may have a bad effect on our…uh…digestion.”

“The banana will help with that.” She looked out toward the jungle. “Maybe you can find a bird's nest and get us some eggs.”

“How about snake eggs?”

She winced.

While he ate some avocado, he thought about what they should do.

She picked up a banana, then started to move so that her shoulder would be touching his.

Don't touch me.

Okay.

I want to practice talking in our minds without physical contact.

She hitched in a breath and let it out, and he knew she was probing his thoughts.
You think there's not much chance of boats passing this way.

I don't know how long we can hang around here. I thought it was safe, but not if he can come here so easily.