Outbreak (17 page)

Her thoughts pushed weakly against him. Seven’s excitement grew. He always preferred the victims that fought back.

“Ahh, so you want to play,” he said out loud, his voice eager.

Again she shoved against his presence and attempted to pry him from her thoughts.

Seven laughed. The dream scrolled forward. Dirt filled the hole. It covered the boxed Assassin. She screamed, struggled.

But she was no match for him.

Not even close.

The Creator slammed into Seven’s mind, his presence a blaze.
Stop,
he screamed.

Seven did as he was commanded, his breath catching in his throat. The Assassin seized the moment and retaliated, slamming her own images into Seven’s mind:

Maya’s deathly screams.

The compound on fire around him
.

Seven stiffened with each new image.

Control your feelings
. The Creator’s fury was palpable.

Yes, Master
. Seven wasn’t about to fail, not again. He doubled his efforts and steeled himself against the Assassin’s attack. With a grunt of effort, he extracted the dream from her thoughts and forced it forward.

You are nothing,
he said to her.
No one.

Bring her to me,
the Creator said.
Do not harm her further
.

The last word faded as the Creator detached from Seven’s thoughts. Compliance was non-negotiable.

New voices filled the recesses of his mind. The Order, their command for the Assassin’s death.
We have your information,
they reminded him,
but you must prove your loyalty to get it. You know you want her dead as much as we do
.

They were correct. He did want her dead. And he wanted to be the one to do it.

Seven stretched his awareness, sensing his gunmen taking position along the roofline of the house. She would never escape. Not this time.

The Assassin shoved against him as a fresh onslaught of images splashed across her mind. More dirt landed on the box. Less oxygen surrounded her, filled her. The Assassin coughed. A note of panic rose to the surface of her thoughts.

You will die here. One way or another.
A promise.

I thought your boss ordered you to take me to him
. Seven slowed. Had she heard his thoughts?

Yes, that’s right. I’m in your head too
.

Rage rushed through Seven, consuming his mind, body, and soul. He could taste it on his tongue.
You’re mine,
he spat. He trapped her brain in a vice grip, stealing images from her worst nightmares:

The Samurai’s death. Her friend’s
.

Over and over the images repeated.

Seven felt the Assassin retreat from his thoughts. He smiled and increased his attack. The tighter he squeezed, the more pain she experienced, the more his own mind and body settled.

Competing orders plagued him. The Order. The Creator. Who should he follow? Was he to bring the Assassin to his master, or kill her where she sat?

Seven tossed around the decision. Each passing moment weakened the Assassin. He felt her breath stagger, felt her mind begin to close. He was running out of time.
Which to choose?
he thought as he questioned his allegiance once again.

As the answer formed in his mind, new images bloomed in front of him:

A mother holding a baby.

Two older siblings—a boy and a girl—smiling up at him.

I love you,
the woman in the vision said to the baby.
I will always love you, my precious Liam
.

Seven recoiled, shocked at the images splayed across his mind. “Bitch!” he screamed out loud as he threw the images back toward the Assassin.

“No,” ripped from her lips. Seven could hear the agony in her voice as her screams poured through the windows.

Fresh images formed in Seven’s thoughts, gripping his heart:

The Creator holding a young boy, no more than three years old. The boy looked pale and sickly. His hair was blond, his eyes a piercing blue. A younger version of Seven.

His master wiped tears away from the boy’s eyes, comforting him. “You’re safe,” his master repeated over and over. “Mother is near. You will be with her soon.”

More pictures tossed around Seven’s mind, pulling him deeper into a past he didn’t remember.

A woman cries as a baby yells.

Two older children take the baby into another room and crawl under a bed to hide.

“Shh,” the older boy says to the others. He rubs the baby’s back, coaxing him to stop crying. “He’s just mad. He’ll yell at Mom and then he’ll leave. Just like always.”

Seven stared at the baby in the vision. Same blond hair, same blue eyes. He looked at the other children and noted their similarities to him, with one exception. Where they were tan and looked healthy, the baby looked weak.

The vision spun forward and Seven watched the baby visualize his father’s death.

Anger exploded through Seven’s thoughts. More images bloomed through him:

The same woman drops the baby off at Social Services, crying as the baby screams.

The Creator takes the toddler away from a family, smiling as the child screams
.

Each picture inflicted more pain, more torment. Seven’s hands shook in response, his breath coming in short pants. Rage consumed him.

Lies!
he screamed.

Slamming the car into drive, Seven drove to the house. He raked the Assassin’s mind, extracting painful memories and fears from the deepest corners of her thoughts. He leapt up the porch steps in one fluid motion and crashed through the front door of the house.

The Assassin screamed, locked in the torment Seven caused. The Samurai lunged forward. Seven dodged and sent the Samurai reeling backwards.

“Stop!,” the Assassin yelled toward the Samurai. “Get Elaine and Mark out of here.” She grabbed her head and a piercing scream filled the room.

Seven lunged toward the Assassin. They crashed to the floor. The Samurai grabbed Seven, pulled him to his feet and away from his precious assassin.

I will kill you one day,
the Samurai said in Seven’s thoughts.

Until that day,
Seven said. He pounded his fist into the Samurai’s arm, covering the bandages with fresh blood.

The Samurai screamed.

The Assassin screamed.

Seven . . .

Smiled.

“David! Go find them,” the Assassin ordered the Samurai again, still clutching at her head with her hands.

The Samurai slammed into Seven and threw him across the room. Seven snarled. In his thoughts he searched for the others. He slammed visions into their thoughts, their nightmares come to life. Screams floated from the other room.

“David!” the Assassin screamed as the Samurai fled.

Seven rounded on the Assassin. “Just you and me now!” He drew back his fist and swung. The Assassin ducked under the punch and spun. Seven swung again, his fist colliding with her flesh. He assaulted her mind and her body, unleashing every ounce of torment she had inflicted on him.

She growled, her jaw clenched. More images floated into Seven’s mind.

The woman, the baby.

A family he never had
.

Seven smashed his hatred and his pain into the Assassin.

Her body crumbled.

Her mind . . .

Closed.

The Assassin’s eyes popped open, filled with fresh power. She jumped to her feet. “This ends now,” she growled.

Seven reached into her thoughts, finding only a cold shield. The Assassin drove her shoulder into Seven, forcing him backwards. Pictures of the baby and the woman bloomed through his mind. He wobbled and reached for the wall.

The Assassin continued her assault. “Get out!” she screamed. “Get out!”

Bring my assassin home.

Kill her.

The conflicting orders swirled in Seven’s thoughts and fused with the memory-like images of the younger version of himself. Confusion, rage and pain mixed in equal proportion. Seven stumbled.

Ran . . .

The Solomon Experiments 3.0

The Order

Dr. Benjamin LeMercier’s Personal Journal –

February 25, 2016:

I know where she is, where they all are. Finally. The Architect will bring them to me. The Order can’t stop her. Soon they will know the extent of my plan. They will understand that I can be trusted. The Assassin and Seven will join. They will be unstoppable.

And loyal only to me.

The Architect is concerned. She worries that the Assassin will not join us willingly. She may be right. But there’s more than one way to draw out her loyalty.

Seven grows stronger each day. His loyalty continues to be absolute. He is anxious to prove it, desperate for me to see him in the same standing as I view the Architect.

In truth, I see him as so much more.

I am not training the Architect to bond with the Assassin. I am not using the Architect to lead my army, to secure the future. These are roles reserved for my Assassin. And Seven.

He will learn this soon enough.

For now, I concentrate on the Architect and her role in the coming weeks. The Order may never appreciate the events that are coming. But when the world burns and my army is the only thing to protect us, they will see that I had no choice but to take action now.

Today.

See you soon, my Assassin.

See you soon . . .

Too many images splash against mind. Pictures of my mom, my brothers, a life I’ve forgotten. I struggle against the onslaught. Rage permeates my every cell. I want to hurt the recruit, kill him in ways I refuse to acknowledge out loud. My thoughts bend, twist. I chase after him, desperate to unleash the hellstorm living in my thoughts.

He escapes before I reach him, speeding down the twisted street.

“Ahh,” I scream.

David runs to me, stopping me before I can give chase. “Let me go,” I bark.

“No.” His arms pin me and I struggle against his hold. “Stop fighting me.”

My eyes blur. My minds fills with images of the recruit. I bulldoze into his thoughts, pulling images conjured from his nightmares. I feel his emptiness, his longing. Confusion—his confusion—merges with the unyielding pictures.

“Stop,” David says. “Stop!”

His voice means nothing as I continue to attack the recruit.

“Dakota!” David spins me to face him. “Stop!”

I look into his eyes and note the horror reflecting back at me. Before I can say anything bullets ring all around us. Elaine and Mark rush onto the porch.

“Watch out!,” I yell as more projectiles crackle and explode.

Elaine screams and Mark pulls her to the ground.

“The roof,” Mark says.

I raise my hands toward the unseen gunman. A scream and a thud.

One down.

David runs to the body as more bullets split the night. Retrieving the man’s Glock, David spins, shoots. Another scream. Another thud. He aims at the last man crouched around the corner of the house.

Before he can fire the shot, I sweep my hand from left to right. The gunman collides with the garage with a heavy thud. He falls to the ground, blood pooling around his skull.

David’s gaze meets mine. He raises an eyebrow and nods.

“What?” I ask.

“Someone’s been practicing, I think.” David’s smile calms my thoughts.

“Nice shot,” Mark says to David as he pulls Elaine to her feet. “That didn’t go exactly as planned.”

Not even close.

“What do we do now?” Elaine asks, her voice shaking.

Shame coats my tongue. I never should have let her and Mark stay. They don’t deserve any of this.

Stop bashing yourself,
David says, knowing every thought.
There was no way you could’ve gotten them to leave.

He’s right. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop feeling guilty.

“I guess we need a better plan,” I say as we walk inside.