Evenfall (137 page)

They-- Manacles--

--down, they were going to hold him--

Absolute, blind panic took over, the kind he had only felt once before in his life. Adrenaline slammed through his system while unadulterated terror filled him; he could barely grasp the rest of the room, could barely understand the images shining against the walls around him, all that he saw, all that he understood were the restraints--

"No!" he shouted, the panic making it into his voice and wide, terrified eyes.

The darker part of him that rose up when he was held down overcame him; the part that prowled in the back of his mind with the crazed chaos of the way it had been once, when the darkness had been shadows that had leeched inside and stained him irrevocably from the soul outward--

There was no thought anymore to his movements, absolutely nothing logical or rational or even aware; he twisted and screamed and struggled violently without any regard whatsoever for even his own safety or health, all he had was the single thought--
get away, get away, before he couldn't move, before--
Distantly, his toes brushed the ground as they dragged him closer, but all he could see were the manacles growing closer, clearer, and--
dark eyes watching in the dim light, calm and emotionless, silence descending around him and trying to choke him as he screamed--
he could feel his mind quell and shudder in fear--

Somewhere within, he found voice to groan-- "No, no, please--"

Cold metal pressed against his back and he felt his heart jackhammer, a violent thump that made his chest ache straight through his ribs, resounding through his entire body, and caused his lungs to freeze for one terrifying moment. He didn't remember them setting him down, he didn't remember--

"Oh-- Oh God--"

His head fell to the side and he saw one wrist already encased in the thick metal --
it would be impossible to get out of, just like
-- his entire body was quaking from the inside out, bone deep horror making it to the skin --

"Fuck-- Fuck, no!
Please--!"

A guard leaned over his face and distantly, in another realm, Boyd noticed the ceiling jolting slightly -- was it an earthquake or -- no, the guard just tightened something, made his entire body shift -- and he could barely breathe through the terror constricting his lungs. He was facing the ceiling but he didn't remember his head turning, he just remembered --

--
being caught--

The guards moved around him calmly, his head rolled over of its own accord and he saw them head toward the door, leaving him alone--

-- He couldn't move --

His heart was trying to rip its way free of his ribs, a constant pounding that made his lungs stop, made his throat go dry and he didn't even realize he was screaming words still--

-- No, no, this wasn't happening, he had to get away, he couldn't--

-- He couldn't fucking
move --

"Oh God, oh fucking God,
please, no!"

Someone turned the lights down further, it was getting too dark to see -- the ceiling the walls the pictures shining against them and where had the guards gone how long were they missing? -- buzzing filling his ears, muffling sounds -- like cotton
like water and he was falling under, drowning and he couldn't get back up--
he tried to flail his limbs but the currents snatched at him, twisted his body and threw him around like a toy like slamming into the floor because he hadn't expected to get yanked back by his arm even though he should have and a gun was held to his eyes
-- He couldn't see at all, it was perfectly dark but he could hear, becoming his sole focus--

"As the drugs work through your system, you will briefly fall unconscious." A calm voice, surrounding him.

The lights were out, or -- no, it was his eyes, they were closed but he couldn't open them again --"But I'm afraid we are not finished yet, Boyd. When you awake, I have a video I'd like to show you."

The buzzing grew, took away control and sensation of his entire body, his limbs-- dragged him down where white static hummed around him and darkness ebbed and surged like memories come to reclaim the living, ghosts among the dead-- and steadily, inevitably, even thought disappeared.

Unable to support the effort any longer, the world crumpled in on itself and went black.

Chapter 40

I can’t do it.

Beep.

She’s here because of m— I’m not supposed to ca— Leave her. I can’t.

Beep. Beep.

LEAVE HER.

His hand twitched, fingers clenching and unclenching unconsciously.

If I leave her… the explosion will kill her.

You’re not supposed to care.

I can’t.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The steady beeping began to pick up slightly in tempo.

He’d been running for ten minutes while carrying her limp form but even from that distance, the dark streets were illuminated by the flames that shot up from the convention center. He’d studied the maps enough to be familiar with every alley, every side street and every road that avoided main intersections. When he finally paused, it was in the deserted warehouse district near the waterfront.

The alley was small and wedged between two long abandoned factories; he kicked a door in and dropped the girl on the floor unceremoniously. She stirred, mumbled something, but he was out the door again before she opened her eyes. Staying in a warehouse for two weeks was not part of the plan but first he had to make sure he didn’t have a tail.

He ripped the microphone out of his ear and tossed it and the now useless radio into the river. They’d lost range long ago and he could deal with his partner later.

Boyd…

‘If this gets you caught you fucking
deserve
it.’

Anger.

He twitched again and this time, his teeth grit although his eyes still did not open.

Scouting took nearly an hour; it would have been faster to go directly to Boyd, he could have dropped off the girl in a public park on the way. But only one of the routes he would take to a safe house appeared clear of emergency vehicles and cops. But first he would go back. He would leave the girl somewhere with more possibility of her actually being found.

The straps dug into him, rubbed against his skin; chafed his wrists.

The beeping continued to grow faster.

“Jason—“

He hadn’t counted on her being awake.

“What are you do—What hap--?”

“You were hurt. There was a fire.”

“But you—I thought I saw...”

“You didn’t see anything.”

Her face was badly bruised, dried blood clinging to a ghastly cut on her cheek. She looked scared. Of him. “Please just tell me what’s happening.”

Did she see something? What did she hear? His eyes narrowed slightly and the gun felt especially cold against the skin of his back. “We need to go.”

“I’m fine! Just tell me—“

“I need to go.”

The sound of footsteps. At least a dozen men.

A low exhale of breath; he grimaced.

His head snapped towards the door and then he looked at her with a deadly expression on his face.

Her eyes widened, the fear was more prominent now, she backed up. “My uncle—I called him. I was scared. I told him—I did
n’t know it was you and I sai—“

Idiot.

The door was kicked in easily—he’d already broken it. Men filed in pointing guns, a tall man entered after them and called out to Jessica.

Hale Clemons. The director of the JKS. The link to Janus. Her uncle.

A low grunt.

The leather straps creaked as his hands unconsciously wrenched against them.

Betrayal. Kill her.

Hesitation.

“Drop your weapons!”

He stared at them blankly. How did they know he had a weapon?

She stared at him guiltily.

Betrayal.

“
Tνo
, I was wrong, I know him, he’s my—“ A desperate plea, panic, she stared at him wide eyed, confused. Their eyes met and he could see the apology bleeding out of her.

Jessica.

The muscles in his jaw clenched. His hands twitched again. His heartbeat increased.

“Put your fucking weapons down or we’ll do this the hard way.”

“But he saved me! What the hell are you talking about! There were explosions and he sav—“

“You said a guy in a ski mask grabbed you-- Who the
fuck
do you think planted the explosives?” Uncle Hale had orders from Janus.

Capture. Interrogation.

He spread his arms before slowly, very slowly, removing the gun at his back. It felt heavier than usual. Colder than usual. He knelt down, eyes on the enemy.

She stared at him in confusion—Was he really… But it was Jaso— He couldn’t… The thoughts were obvious; the emotions clear across her face. “I—I must have… I must have misunderstood, maybe it wasn’t like I saw—I got hit on the hea—“

The Browning dropped to the floor, their eyes followed it.

They didn’t notice the Ruger.

His eyebrows drew together; he muttered something, his hands jerked at the straps with more force.

She screamed.

He killed four men with headshots before anyone had a chance to react.

He disappeared into the shadows.

Chaos. Shouting.

“FIND HIM!”

A glint of steel in the shadows. She screamed. Her uncle—

“NO!”

He pulled the trigger twice in quick succession… but she got in the way.

Uncle Hale landed on his side with a grunt.

Jessica got two bullets in the head, two millimeters apart.

“Jes—“

--
sica?

Strong hands yanked at the straps; the beeping picked up wildly.

Shock.

I didn’t mean to—She was innoc—

Monster. Killer. Murderer.

Frozen. Distraction. Darkness. Capture.

Pale green eyes snapped open and he was instantly assaulted with bright lights, white walls. He winced, narrowing his eyes as he flicked them around quickly, trying to figure out where he was, what was happening.

He couldn’t move his head; it was held in some kind of brace and as he looked down, he realized that the rest of his body was also strapped down to a flat, thin bed. Leather straps reinforced by steel kept his arms and legs locked into place an—

“We’re going to do this the old fashioned way,” The man drawled, thin fingers reaching out to caress his face as something clamped onto his arm, twisting and stretching as agonizing pain scorched through him, as ligaments tore.

His teeth grit, eyes narrowed, heart pounding in his chest but he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

“This is only the start,” The voice promised softly. “That tough faηade won’t last forever.”

His eyes opened wider and he yanked at the straps, eyes frantically scanning the room in confusion. This wasn’t the place—it’d smelled of rotting corpses, of mildew and disease—this place looked like a psych ward or a sterilized hospital room. Had they moved him? And why could he suddenly move his leg—

He could feel bones snapping, tendons ripping through the dazed fog and when something slammed against his legs, his arms, crushing, breaking—he finally screamed.

This was wrong. Everything was wrong. He shouldn’t be able to move. His arms, legs—he shouldn’t be able to move. Why did everything feel so heavy? Where was the pain?

Was it all a dream?

His breathing became labored as he yanked at the straps with increasing violence, the heart monitor beeping loudly and erratically as the steel on the bed began to whine and squeal in protest of his movements. He grunted with the effort, sweat breaking out on his face and body as he strained against the straps, causing the skin at his wrists to rip and blood to pool on the stark white sheets.

The heart monitor only seemed to get louder and he knew he didn’t have much time. The steel abruptly twisted, bent, and the leather straps popped open, freeing one bloody hand. He panted with exhaustion, staring in confusion at the broken steel but not focusing on it as he reached up with one hand to fumble with the buckles that kept his head locked into place.

Once released, he yanked his second arm free and sat up partially to undo the straps at his ankles. Although he was shirtless and barefoot, thin white pants covered his legs and once again his eyes scanned the room in confusion. It was small and white; the only thing sitting in it was the bed and the IV stand which appeared to be attached to the rail. There was a mirror that stretched across one entire wall and he stared at himself in confusion.

His entire body had been cleaned of the layer of dried blood that had previously covered it; it seemed that someone had washed him thoroughly. His hair had been shaved off and replaced by a buzz cut. The gaping wounds that had decorated his body were sewn shut neatly, the bruises completely faded. The few pounds he’d managed to gain in Monterrey had apparently melted off during the weeks that he’d been detained and despite the fact that every limb felt unfamiliar and was difficult to lift, he was actually skinnier.

…What the fuck?

How long had he been here? How long had it been since he’d been captured? Since he’d made that weak, idiotic decision? Where the hell was he? Had they moved him to a new facility? Had they figured out another method of interrogation? Was this some new game they were going to play with him now?

What had happened to Boyd? Had he escaped the city when Sin never showed up or had he gone to search, used the GPS, gotten captured as well?

He ripped the IVs out of his wrist causing blood to pool on his skin, yanked the wires off of his chest and swung his legs over the side of the bed, getting to his feet. And once again… he was confused. How was this possible? Why could he walk? His legs had been completely unusable, broken and unset… Had they operated on him? But why would they do that? Tendon reconstruction was a lot of trouble to go through for a prisoner.

He started to move forward, to take a step, but before he could move his head spun dangerously and vertigo hit him like a brick wall. He shouted in confusion, clutching his head as searing pain shot through it and doubled over as nausea began to overwhelm all of his senses. He sank to his knees, still clutching his head, and squinted at the door as he began to hear sounds behind it.

Fuck.

He tried to force himself to move, to get up, but as awareness and the fog of unconsciousness started to recede, he realized that his entire body felt foreign. His limbs felt strange, heavy and despite the fact that he could barely see straight as searing pain and a high pitched whine seemed to echo between his ears, he felt stronger.

He reached up and clutched the side of the bed, pulling himself to his feet unsteadily as he wavered and his eyes rolled in his head. He tried to ignore the pain, the dizziness, the confusion that threatened to completely consume him, and focused on the door. On the handle that was slowly turning, on the muffled argument that he could hear on the other side.

“—go in! He’s awake and—“

“He’s secured, you idiot. Calm down.”

“No way, do you know what that guy is capable o—“

Sin’s eyes narrowed and he started forward but it ended in a stumble, in him losing his balance once again as he struggled to get used to the strange way his body felt. Another violent wave of nausea overtook him and he crumpled to his knees with a frustrated groan that he couldn’t reign in.

What was wrong with him?

He had to get up. He had to move. He had to find Boyd. He had to—

The pain in his head intensified and this time he couldn’t help but scream. The same high-pitched sound bounced around the sides of his already throbbing brain and he squeezed his eyes shut, wondering if anyone else could hear it but him. He was vaguely aware of the door opening, of people rushing in, but as he shook his head wildly, covering his ears with his hands, he couldn’t even bring himself to look up.

“Damnit, I knew this would happen,” someone was saying in mild annoyance.

“What’s happening?” another unfamiliar voice asked.

Sin squinted up at them and scooted backwards clumsily, unable to see anything but white blurs through his tearing eyes.

There was a frustrated sigh as someone gave the order to sedate him.

“No!” he shouted desperately. “Don—“

But then the edges of his vision began to dim and blur, his body felt even heavier, as if his bones were made out of lead. He tried in vain to get up, to escape, but mere seconds later everything went black.

===

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Has he been stabilized?” a voice asked quietly.

“Yes. He threw everything off by ripping it out so suddenly. He has to be brought down slowly. It should be fine now,” a second voice responded.

Silence. Steady beeping.

His eyes slid open briefly and he saw a tall middle aged man with strange colored eyes, indigo eyes that nearly looked purple, gazing down at him thoughtfully.
“How do you think he broke the restraints like that? What does that mean?” a new voice asked, this one younger than the first two.

There was another brief silence and then the second voice replied, “It means...”

The world went dark again.

Beep. Beep. Beep.