Monument 14: Savage Drift (Monument 14 Series) (23 page)

I see Dr. Quarropas and Dr. Neman and some guards coming from the direction of Rollins. They burst into the courtyard, spewing darts from machine guns.

The doctors are headed for the gate, shooting down anyone in their way.

But at the gate, Os are there. Two teenagers attacking the guard. Others attacking the teenagers.

Niko is trying to get the keys, which lie just out of his reach through the fence.

“Almost there,” I tell Niko inside my heart and then I see Dr. Quarropas notice me.

I have Heather on my shoulder and I am dragging Aidan. I am going to make it to the gate.

And then Dr. Quarropas catches my eye. I don’t know what he is trying to tell me before he raises up his gun and mows me down.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

DEAN

DAY 34

“Oh my God! No! No!!!” Astrid’s voice came screaming into my dream and I shot out of the glider.

My heart was thudding like it would burst my chest. I took the stairs two at a time and found her in the living room, clutching a note.

“What is it? What is it?” I asked.

“It’s Jake!” she cried. “He’s gone.”

“What?”

“He’s gone! He left!” She pushed the note into my hand and bent into a crouch, grabbing her belly.

“Is that all?!” I shouted. I shouldn’t have shouted at her, but my heart was hammering so hard.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to scare you but maybe … maybe we can get him back. If we hurry, Dean!” There was panic in her voice. She opened the door.

“Okay, okay!” I said. “Just calm down. This is not an emergency.”

“We have to get him back!” she cried.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Still cramps, but I’m okay,” she said.

Rinée started crying upstairs.

“I’ll get her,” Astrid said. “Can you go outside? See if you see him?”

“I will. But please, calm down, can you do that?” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll try. But I don’t want to lose him!”

Astrid looked not at all right. The circles under her eyes were worse. She looked gaunt and so pale. I noticed that when she wasn’t holding Rinée, she had her hands on her belly almost all the time, now.

She went up the stairs, slowly, to fetch bawling Rinée from her crib.

I stepped outside.

It was twilight now and I saw that, down the street, one house had its lights on. It was a small, curving cul-de-sac. Maybe six houses on the street altogether. Only two appeared to be inhabited.

Jake was nowhere to be seen.

I read the note. It was addressed to me, so it was kind of messed up that Astrid had read it first, but okay.

His scrawling handwriting slanted across the page:

Deano,

When I watch the two of you with baby Rinée, I get it. You’re good at it. You were born to be a dad. I don’t mean that as a crack. It’s a compliment.

What’s best for her and what’s best for the baby is all that matters now and it’s you.

Please tell Astrid that I will always have love for her in my heart, but that I’m not the guy for this job.

Me going away is the best gift I can give all three of you. So I’m giving it.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking I should go check on my mom.

Wish me luck,

Jake

I went upstairs.

Astrid was sitting in the glider, with Rinée on her lap.

“Did you even look for him?” she asked me crossly.

“I don’t think he wants us to stop him. I really don’t.”

She just looked at me and I saw her fight her tears down.

Her reaction was so intense. For a moment, my old insecurities swarmed up—did she still love him? Did she love him more than she loved me, somehow?

“Dean,” she said, interrupting my downward spiral. “I know he’s a screw-up. But he’s my friend.”

I blinked.

“I just don’t want to lose any more people.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I get it.”

She closed her eyes and rocked Rinée, who sat sucking on her thumb and twisting the fingers of her other hand in Astrid’s short blond hair.

*   *   *

Dinner was okay. I used the recipe off the inside of the label on the can of mushroom soup. Astrid only picked at her dinner, though Rinée seemed to really like it.

Astrid didn’t seem to be in a mood for talking. I, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to shut up.

“Tomorrow I’m going to take the hose outside and clean up around the house. Then maybe make some signs and post them around, just about Rinée and that we’re here.”

I didn’t mention the other bedroom upstairs. I was sure she’d seen it.

A room done in blue plaid with a lot, a serious lot of Legos. There were vintage Lego sets on shelves on the walls—Star Wars pieces and some kind of giant futuristic Egyptian space pyramid. It was the room of a boy. A boy who hadn’t made it home.

But maybe he would.

“I think we end up staying here awhile, maybe there’s a way to write to Alex and let him know where we are.”

Astrid was just moving her food around on her plate. She took a little sip of orange juice.

“I could just use totally fake names. He’d know my handwriting,” I went on. “And that way he won’t worry.”

Rinée was banging her spoon on the tray of her high chair.

Astrid leaned her head on one hand.

“Hey,” I said. “Maybe you should go back to bed.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “My back hurts. And my head. I guess I’m just exhausted but maybe … maybe we should find a doctor tomorrow.”

“Yes, of course. That should be the first thing we do.”

Durr, what was wrong with me.

“Don’t worry about it,” Astrid said. “I’m fine. Do you think you can give Rinée a bath? She could use it.”

I told her I was pretty sure I could manage it. Of course, I had no idea how to give a two-year-old a bath, but I’d figure it out.

*   *   *

The bath was uneventful, except for the fact that I got soaking wet.

After I got Rinée down, I thought about my own shower. No way was I going to put on my dirty clothes, so I threw my own, and Astrid’s, into the washer.

I decided not to wash the safety suits. God knows what the fabric was made of in the first place. And I didn’t want to damage the whistler.

I hung one suit on a coatrack near the front door and one on a hook in the back of the master bedroom door. If another drift came through, I hoped the whistles would alert us in time.

Once I got our wet clothes in the dryer, I got in the shower.

Oh man, did it feel good. I stunk of sweat and terror. Down the drain it went, along with a lot of grime.

There was a knock at the door. But before I could say, “Come in,” Astrid pushed in, rushed to the john and threw up.

I shut off the water and stepped out, wrapping myself in a towel.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

She looked up at me and started to nod yes, but was overtaken by another wave of puke.

*   *   *

I pulled on a pair of the husband’s pajamas. They were stupidly the wrong size. Both too wide and too short, but I didn’t care.

“What can I do? Tell me what I can do?” I asked her.

“Get me some water,” she said. And I did, but after that, I didn’t know what to do.

She was curled on her knees, her belly nestled into the space between her legs. Her forehead pressed to the cold floor of the bathroom.

“What can I do?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

I tried to get her to drink more. She’d take a few sips, then puke them back up.

“Just leave me alone,” she told me.

They had Gatorade. I found crystals in the back of the pantry and I made it for her. She drank some. Then puked it up.

“Just leave me alone!” she growled.

I went to get our clothes out of the dryer. I got dressed.

“Maybe we should go to the hospital,” I told her, from where I stood in the hall.

She reached out with one hand and swatted the bathroom door shut.

*   *   *

I spent the night sitting on the bed, terrified.

Astrid spent the night in the bathroom, vomiting and sleeping on the floor.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

JOSIE

DAY 35

Something is wrong.

I can’t move my arms or legs.

And it’s very bright.

It’s very bright and I don’t know where I am and I can’t move my limbs.

My heart is flooded with panic and everything amps up.

White ceiling, dotted with LED cans. Walls are pale green. No windows.

My arms and legs are buckled in leather cuffs, tied down on a bed. There’s an IV going into my right arm. The insertion point is taped neatly—a square of semitransparent white tape against my cocoa skin. My knuckles are bandaged up.

There is also a bandage on my left hand. I can’t remember why.

I hear voices arguing outside my room. They are what woke me up.

“I am telling you, Savic, this girl is the key.”

I am clean.

This hits me.

Someone has washed me.

I could cry for relief and for shame.

“You cannot, you will not perform tests on an underage minor without legal consent!” Heavy accent. Maybe Russian?

My head feels light. I can’t feel with my hands, but I think they have cut off my hair.

My mouth is dry, dry, dry.

“Hey!” I croak.

They don’t hear me.

“How the hell do you think I’m going to find her parents, Savic? This girl has what we need, don’t you see? Look, I’ll get her to sign the consent form. It’ll stand up. It’ll be fine.”

“We need you on the VACCINE, Cutlass, not this super-soldier bull crap!”

“Tell that to the Pentagon, because I’m under direct orders—”

“HEY!” I manage.

The doorknob turns.

A short Asian nurse with thinning hair hurries in. She’s wearing medical scrubs decorated with cartoon drawings on them, the Traindawgs.

“Sunshine!” she says with a smile. “You’re awake!”

Two doctors in white coats step in.

One of them is brown-haired. Late forties? He has rugged good looks—movie star kind of looks. Or maybe it’s that he reminds me of a movie star. But I can’t think which one.

The other is older. Must be the Russian. He’s tall and silver-haired with a paunch and a kind of grim dignity. He leans on a cane.

“Where am I?” I manage.

The handsome doctor comes and stands over me. He looks anxiously into my eyes.

“You are at USAMRIID,” the older doctor says. “We are a government medical research facility. I am Dr. Savic and this is Dr. Cutlass. You have been exposed to the warfare compounds. Do you remember that?”

I nod.

Then suddenly I remember—Mario dying and the drift and NIKO.

I try to talk, but my throat is too dry.

I make a strangled sound.

The nurse brings a plastic cup of water with a straw in it up to my face.

“Here you go, sweetheart. Drink up.”

Somehow, she has a thick Southern accent. Sounds like a Georgia peach. Looks Chinese.

The water fills my mouth. It’s sweet, clean water.

“Niko found me,” I manage. “You have to take me back.”

The doctors look at me for a minute, then back at each other. They begin to speak again, disregarding what I’ve said.

“There is a level of integration in her blood that is unparalleled,” handsome Dr. Cutlass says.

He has a minitab in his front pocket and he takes it out, pulling up something to show the other doctor.

“Your ethics are on a very slippery slope, James. You know I feel this way,” says the Russian.

Huh. They have completely written me off. They think I’m crazy.

“You are required to get a full release form on this girl,” the Russian says. “There are rumors of people being tested against their will and those rumors have reached the president.”

He says “rumors” like an accusation.

“Hey!” I say. They’re ignoring me. “Look, my friend Niko came for me. I shouldn’t be here! I should be back there! You have to take me back—he came all that way for me!”

Dr. Cutlass nods to the nurse.

She smiles at me kindly as she does something to my IV involving a syringe.

“It’s okay, hun,” she tells me. “You’re safe now.”

And a heavy warmth seeps up from the mattress, dragging me down into a deep, heavenly sleep.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, sugar,” the nurse says and she looks, for a moment, like an angel, with the ceiling lights her halo.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

DEAN

DAY 35

In the morning there was a knock at the front door.

“Jamie! Lizzie! Are you there?”

I guess I’d fallen asleep for a while, because the knocking woke me up.

I hurtled down the stairs and looked out the three glass panes at the top of the front door.

All I could tell through the swirly glass was that it was a black woman.

“Jamie, it’s me! Open up if you’re home!”

I opened the door and she jumped back when she saw my face.

“Don’t be scared,” I said. “We found Rinée and brought her home. That’s all.”

“Oh my God. Where are Jamie and Lizzie? Do you know where they are?”

“Why don’t you come in and I’ll tell you?” I told her.

“Tell me first, then we’ll come in.”

She held her hand up in a halt position toward the car. I saw a boy there, watching with his face pressed up to the glass.

“Is that—”

“Rinée’s brother, J.J.—Jamie Junior,” she answered. “I told him to wait. Didn’t know what I’d find. I got a call from his school yesterday. Whole bunch of kids were not picked up. I went and got him, but we had to spend the afternoon at the hospital with my husband. He was attacked—I’m sorry. I’m a mess. I’m Lea, Rinée and Junior’s aunt. Please, tell me what you know about my brother and his wife.”

“Lizzie … We don’t know where Jamie is, but Lizzie. Rinée’s mom. She was killed. I’m so sorry.”

Tears filled the woman’s eyes.

She nodded.

“Is … is Lizzie here in the house?”

“No,” I said. “The body is not here.”

I didn’t tell her where it was or how her sister-in-law died. I planned to, I did, but it could wait.