[Ganzfield 2] Adversary (10 page)

It was time to go. 

CHAPTER 6

Rachel’s mental connection to Sean led south, a golden thread stretching past the horizon. Drew drove us down through Massachusetts, crossing into Connecticut. We stopped for gas at one point, and Hannah made us eat something from the gas station mini-mart.

More than five hours later, as the last of the light ebbed from the sky, we pulled onto a winding, narrow road that Drew recognized. “My uncles have a property near here. It used to be a summer camp.”

I curled against Trevor and clenched my hands to my forehead as though they would somehow hold everything in place and keep my silent scream from coming out. I had everyone else’s pain, fear, and anger inside my head along with my own. It felt like my brain was going to either melt or explode.

A makeshift wooden barricade blocked the road. Flames blazed up from large metal drums on either side. Two people moved cautiously in the dark places beyond the fires. One of them slid off to the side, staying out of view. I recognized the sound of his mind from Ganzfield—Drew’s cousin, Grant. We’d come to the right place.

The other man came toward us around the barricade. Flames reflected off the metal of his shotgun as he approached with slow, wary steps. Firelight back-lit his red hair and wide-set shoulders.
Must be a McFee.
He looked older, perhaps in his forties. I felt the bright recognition in Drew’s mind. He threw open the driver’s door to jump out, and then froze with his hand half-extended. He’d needed to stop the gun from firing.

“Geez! Uncle Jim, don’t shoot!”

Jim McFee’s face mirrored the horror in his mind. “Drew? Is that really you?”

“Yeah, it’s me! You gonna lower that shotgun now?”

Jim pointed the weapon at the ground as he pulled his nephew into a tight, one-armed hug. The rest of us piled out of the van. “The minder said you were dead.”

“Dr. Williamson said we were dead?” I asked, surprised.
Why would he—?

“Not Williamson. The other one, just a kid, really…”

“Seth?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Uncle Jim nodded. “Williamson was killed. Ambushed outside of North Conway.”

The world tilted sickeningly.

No, no, no.

That couldn’t be true.
Dr. Williamson was dead?
I’d thought—I’d assumed—he’d have come here. He’d be in charge. He’d know what to do.

And everything would be okay…

The horror of the entire day came to a terrible head. I’d just lost the closest thing I’d known to a father. My whole body shook uncontrollably and couldn’t seem to get enough air. A strangled sob escaped from me and my hands flew up to cover my mouth. Trevor caught me as my legs gave out.

Grant and Uncle Jim pulled the barricade aside. Drew rolled the van between the flaming barrels into the inky blackness beyond. When the paved road ran out, we pulled to a stop next to the other two Ganzfield vans in front of a large, barn-like building. Silhouettes appeared at the lighted windows, drawn by the sound of our engine.

The door of the lodge flung open with a high-pitched cry. I recognized Drew’s mother—a McFee-sized blonde woman—as she ran to the driver’s door of the van and yanked Drew into a hug. Drew’s brother, Harrison, descended on us, as well. The brightness of their joy shone in contrast to the emotional tone of the others here. I closed my eyes and took a shuddering breath.

You’re not dead.
I felt the familiar mental voice distantly in my mind—Seth.

I never said I was. Why did you?
We usually picked at each other like siblings but we were both too traumatized to make much more of an effort at it tonight.

One of the guys we captured said his people had killed you on the road to town.
Something that felt like a tortured scream filled Seth’s mind.

False memory. The new charm’s good at it.
A sliver of hope stabbed through my consciousness.
Wait—did these same guys tell you they got Dr. Williamson, too?

Yeah.
The same thought occurred to him.
That RV still with you?

I was already on it. “Rachel!” My shout interrupted a rather demonstrative reunion with Sean. He poured a series of exuberant, passionate kisses on her that she ardently returned. “Rachel! RACHEL!”
Geez.
RACHEL!
Calling her name directly into her skull finally got her attention. “We need you to find Dr. Williamson. Right now!”

Please, God.
I really hoped I wasn’t about to give her a head full of images of his mangled corpse.

Her golden threads found Dr. Williamson, pacing in some kind of holding cell.

Thank you, God!

I started crying again as I saw the vision in her mind.

Seth saw it, too. A small sense of order fell across his thoughts with this new piece of welcome data.
It looks official. Good.

Official? Why does that matter?
Dr. Williamson’s alive!

“He’s alive?” asked Trevor. Was I leaking thoughts to him again?

I met his eyes through my tears and nodded.

“Who’s alive?” asked Hannah.

“Dr. Williamson,” Rachel answered. Nearly thirty people had gathered around us. Most were sparks from Ganzfield. A few older McFees filled out the group. People began to badger Rachel—as the only RV—for information about the whereabouts and welfare of people who were missing.

Hannah went to the lodge to treat the wounded. No other healers had made it out and five people had sustained gunshot wounds that would’ve drawn unwanted attention at an emergency room. Word spread that Hannah had a list of the dead and people approached her somberly as she moved between patients.

At the far end of a low stone bench, a brown-haired woman watched silently. The light from the windows caught the edges of the tears that streaked her cheeks, and something in her earnest thoughts held my attention.
Dear Lord, deliver us from evil. May your protecting hand be over us. Father, send your angels to keep watch over us. Yea, though we walk through the valley of death, we will fear no evil, for you are with us—

Mel touched her arm. “Aunt Leah? My mom’s looking for you.”

Trevor and I moved away from the others. Their thoughts filled my head with taut emotions and urgent babble, and the pain of the injured ate at the edges of my mind. I couldn’t deal with it all.

Overload.

Our feet crunched through the crusty snow as we left the shoveled walk and took the path that seemed to lead in Seth’s direction, away from other people. Around the field’s edge, small cottages formed three sides of a square. Shoveled paths linked them together like beads strung on a necklace. The night closed around us, swallowing the noise of all those jangling thoughts.

Seth, what happened?
I didn’t want to know the details but I had to ask. Next to me, Trevor sensed the connection. I’d broadcast to him again without thinking about it. Through Seth’s thoughts, I saw his little campsite in the woods. He’d pitched a small tent next to a bright fire, as far as he could get from the other people on the property. Was it far enough to keep their thoughts from pressing in on him?

Helicopters.
Seth’s mind filled with vivid images and suddenly it was as though I was there.

Four helicopters swept over the hills just after midnight. The sound of their rotors chopped into the night. They dropped something on the little power station up by the wind turbines. A bright flash then the lights had all gone out as a low, rolling boom—like thunder—came across the lake.

I’d just finished bedcheck among the sparks. I’d…I was just about to go home.
Rotor wash kicked up a hiss of snow that stung his face.
They…they…so much hate. They wanted to kill us all. I…I couldn’t warn them.
Seth had been the only minder at Ganzfield and he couldn’t project his thoughts to non-telepaths. He’d had no way to use his ability to alert the people in the houses.

He started yelling.

The helicopters landed in front of the main building. Silver-hooded attackers immediately spread out to the various dormitories, pulling the people out of bed at gunpoint, herding them out into the cold night. Seth felt each person wake. He sensed their confusion—their fear. Each time one of the charms tried to stop them, their abilities had been useless.

Seth’s yells woke the sparks. Several started across the field to join the fight. Someone opened the weapons locker at the firing range so they were doubly armed.

Then the first shots rang out. Frank grabbed the two invaders who’d dragged him out of his room. He bashed their heads together and they collapsed in a pile. A man hauled Frank out by the neck. Frank gripped his arm and flipped him so he took the first shot intended for Frank. Then two of the silver-suits emptied several rounds into Frank’s chest, killing him.

The invaders opened fire on the assembled crowd and Seth, with his strong telepathic ability and huge range, felt the pain of every shot as it ripped into them.

No!

—pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of—

Stop them!

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happ—

Oh, God. I don’t want to die!

Someone help me!

He experienced their sick horror of watching their friends die around them. Screams and sobs burned into his brain, followed by the cold that seeped into the wounded as their lives drained away.

As I experienced Seth’s memories, I felt what he’d felt.

Oh, God.

Trevor held me close, giving me some of his strength. Several images leaked through to him, enough to for him piece together the bigger picture.

Grant McFee took down the first invader. He dropped to one knee and aimed for the heart. The crack of his rifle was covered by the attacker’s gunshots as they moved from body to body in the snow, shooting those who were still alive after the first volley. Grant’s second shot wounded another attacker. His strangled howl alerted the others to the sparks’ attack.

By that point, Katie Underwood and her cousin, Jonah Parker, had gotten close enough to use their abilities. They threw themselves flat in the snow and focused on the guns. Between the two of them, they suppressed more than half of the invaders’ weapons. Melanie cried out as a shot clipped her shoulder and the pain tore through her—and through Seth. Two more injured sparks screamed as bullets slammed into them. Seth fell to his knees in proximity to such intense agony. He curled his arms around his head as though the motion might block out his ability.

More shots. More pain.

Tom McFee’s voice cut through the confusion. “Burn ‘em! From the inside out!”

Seth felt him focus within the silver suit of one attacker, heating a spot of clothing that suddenly caught and spread. The screams weren’t loud through the helmet, but the pain of burning flesh seared into Seth’s mind. A bullet caught Tom in the chest, knocking his suddenly lifeless body back into the snow.

Invaders shrieked as they roasted alive within their gear. Ellen and Harrison added their efforts to suppress the guns. The silver-suits began a panicked retreat to the helicopters. The pilots took off while men still tried to scramble aboard, flying away from the sparks and out of their range in a rush to escape. The invaders’ fears of being left to the mercy of the freaks and monsters tasted bitter through the filter of Seth’s memories.

They were the brutal killers of dozens of unarmed teenagers, but
we
were the monsters?

The attackers who’d been left behind tried to run. Seth staggered forward and grabbed Sean’s arm. With the contact, Sean’s thoughts kicked Seth in the head. “Keep…them alive…for questioning,” Seth gasped, and then dropped his hand.

Sean nodded and passed the word, but seven sparks had been shot and two of them were dead.
Family.
Several more silver-suited men burned alive before the order to take prisoners took effect. The two survivors were now tied up in one of the outbuildings here at this old summer camp.

Back at Ganzfield, Seth hadn’t needed the men to answer his questions—he’d only needed them to
think
about the answers. “The people that left here this afternoon…what happened to them?”

Dead.
They’d truly believed we were dead. Zack had charmed the watchers into believing that they’d killed all of their targets—Dr. Williamson must’ve been on the target list, as well. Seth’s questions had filtered through the men’s thoughts. He’d seen their connection to the Sons of Adam and to their leader, Jonas Pike.