Outbreak (4 page)

“I . . . we . . . can’t . . .”

Words refuse to form as David takes the small ring and slips it on my finger. His face is filled with hope, love—the two things I can never have. The things I don’t deserve.

“I love you,” David says, his gaze glued to mine.

My thoughts swirl as a storm of emotions threatens to undo me. He can’t really want to be together after everything, not knowing who I really am. I mean, who falls in love with an assassin?

Seriously.

I want to get up and run away, hide until I can figure out what to say. My control over my mind falters and my head fills with the noise of everyone’s thoughts. More bits of unspoken conversations, hedonistic fantasies, pain and sorrow. It’s all too much.

David senses my needs before I say them. He pulls his chair next to mine and wraps his arm around me, extending his mental block to me. The noises immediately dampen and mute.

“Dakota,” he says and he tightens his hold on me. “I know you want to tell me all of the reasons why we aren’t supposed to work, why we can’t be together. But none of that matters to me. I’ve loved you ever since we were kids, before the training, before everything. And I know you feel the same way, even if you can’t articulate it. We’re meant to be together. How else do you explain our lives continually intertwining?”

“I just can’t be with you that way.” I push the words past my lips, my eyes glued to the table. “Not now, at least. Maybe never.”

“Why? Because of LeMercier? The past?”

“Yes, because of my father.”

David lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Stop calling him that. LeMercier is nothing more than a monster. You are not. And if I have to spend the rest of my life reminding you of that, so be it. It’ll be a life well spent.”

“You don’t understand, David. I can’t change who I am.” I pull away from his embrace and fake a sense of strength. “You’re right about LeMercier, he is a monster. And his DNA is part of me.”

David tries to interrupt. I place a finger to his lips before he can say anything else.

“I’m more like him than you’ll admit. I refuse to put you in the position of having to defend yourself against me. I just won’t do that to you.”

David’s face darkens as his voice lowers. “That isn’t going to happen, Dakota. You can’t hurt me any more than you could’ve hurt Josh. It just isn’t in you. No matter what that monster made you believe, how he twisted your mind. DNA or not, you aren’t like him. It just isn’t possible.”

“You forget that I’ve already hurt you. When we were kids. The training.”

“That was different. You bruised our skin. Our egos. Nothing more.”

“And if you’re wrong? If I wind up attacking you, or worse? What then?”

David reaches for me and I pull back again. “I’m not wrong,” he says.

“But—”

“Stop it, Dakota. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” David pins me with his stare, the intensity almost more than I can handle. “You’re more than he’s trained you to be, so much more. Let me spend a lifetime proving that you.”

I focus on the slim band of metal that circles my finger. I want to say
yes
, promise myself to him. Each day a few more of my memories return, and with them so do my feelings for him. But there are other memories that come too. Thoughts of the training and the killings. Memories of how much I enjoyed LeMercier’s praise. Echoes of the pleasure my power brought me. How am I supposed to ignore what I’ve done, what I am?

I stare into David’s eyes, wishing we could disappear into another life, one that never included our so-called gifts. In a moment, the world slips away. But instead of a beautiful life with David, all I see, all I feel, are bullets whizzing past.

Another moment passes and David shoves me to the ground. The rough cement floor grinds into my knees. David guides me toward the only door in the front of the crowded cafe. Bullets swarm around us, coming from every direction. People scream, their voices forming a cacophony of panic and fear that pushes out every other sound.

My worst fears unfold in the chaos . . .

Dr. LeMercier is alive.

And we’ve been found.

My mind spins into autopilot as we pour onto the street and lose ourselves in the mob. I picture the gunmen, their guns turning against them, their lives ending with deafening silence. Screams split the night air, along with the sounds of sirens coming closer and closer and the rapid fire of the assault weapons. I feel the lives ending around me, taste the panic in the air. Thoughts of the guilty and the innocent mix together in my mind and stop suddenly as David leads me away. A piece of me wants to go back to see if the men have died by my thoughts. Kill them if they haven’t. But I won’t succumb to that temptation. Not again.

Why was I so reckless? I knew this would happen?
The accusations wind through my brain, adding to ever-present noise.

“Where are we going?” I ask David.

“Home.” David continues to pull me through the crowd, the sirens and screams growing more and more faint with each step.

“Home? We can’t go home! They’ll find us there.” I yank at David’s arm. It’s no use, he won’t stop pulling me through the streets.

We wind our way through the town until we are alone, walking through a sleepy neighborhood. The gunfire and screams feel like nothing more than a distant echo, a dream.

David stops, his breath coming in quick, heavy bursts. “We need to go home and get our things. We can leave tomorrow.”

“And if those creeps aren’t planning on waiting until tomorrow?”

“
If
they’re still alive, they won’t find us at the flat.” David scans the landscape, his eyes darting from me to the shadows and back. “And the Hawaiians will never tell them.

“You think they’re dead?” I ask, not really wanting his reply. I know they are; I know what I’ve done.

David looks at me, a sad smile covering his face. “It wasn’t your fault. You were acting on instinct. But I want you to try to control yourself more, learn to fight that urge.”

Everything tells me to argue back, to deny what I’ve done. The picture of the gunmen, their weapons turned loose on themselves ends my mental chatter immediately. I look at David and nod. “Okay,” I whisper.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and turns away. My mind spins. How did they find us? I think of the dreams, the nightmares. Maybe LeMercier tracked me through my thoughts. The hair on my arm stands before the idea is complete. I led him here, I led them all here—me and my traitorous dreams.

“We have to leave,” I mumble as David finishes his call and returns his phone to his pocket. “This is my fault. I did this. I . . .”

David takes my hand and squeezes it. “Shh. There’s no time for that now.” He heads for a dirt path that flanks the neighborhood. “Come on. I found us a ride.”

Seven sat on the cot in his room, his mind at odds. He knew there was so much the Creator wasn’t telling him, so much he needed to know in order to make the right choice and stay alive. Seven shook his head, hoping to empty his thoughts. But it was no use, the more he tried to center his mind, the more his fears betrayed him. He needed to get himself under control and quick.

Seven stood and stretched. There was only one place he could focus. He left his room and walked away from his make-shift home, going deep into the surrounding forest. Pine needles crunched under his feet as he forced his way through the thick pines. The light grew dim as the canopy of trees thickened overhead.

After several minutes, Seven slowed and took a deep breath. The air was crisp and slightly damp. It cleared his mind, quelled the tempest brewing throughout his body. A few more steps and he was in the glade. Seven had formed this glade himself, clearing away the trees and low-brush with his thoughts. It was the only place he could think, the only place he could find some semblance of peace when he felt this unbalanced. Large boulders poked through the low grass, forming a loose circle. Long wooden staves littered the ground, blending into the moist pine needles. He walked to the center of the circle and took another breath.

Center your thoughts
, he ordered himself. He exhaled and the last of the noise quieted in his mind. He picked up two of the shorter poles and began to swing them in rhythmic patterns punctuated with loud taps on the stones. It looked like a long forgotten tribal dance,
swing-swing-tap-tap-tap-swing
. The pattern repeated faster and faster as Seven lost himself to the ritual. Each swing cleared away his worries, each tap clarified his goals. After several minutes, he tossed the short sticks aside and picked up a longer one.

Seven balanced the weight of the pole in both hands and closed his eyes. Within moments, small rocks swirled around him, then darted toward him. He opened his eyes, his gaze pinned to the distant trees in front of him. He swung the large staff, batting away the flying stones. More rocks took flight and his arms moved faster. He contorted his body at odd angles, easily defeating every stone that tried to pummel him. His gaze never left the pines, despite the strange movement of his body and the increasing speed of the rocks.

The training continued, Seven’s mind focused only on his movements. No thoughts of the Creator and his next assignment. No worries about the Order and what they might demand of him. Nothing but his training.

Sweat beaded across Seven’s brow as the rocks began to slow and drop to the ground. He tossed aside the heavy pole and collapsed, his body and mind spent.

“Your strength is improving. Good.” The Creator’s voice pierced through Seven’s calm thoughts. “But, how focused is your discipline?”

Within seconds, a large boulder freed itself from the ground and accelerated toward Seven. He ducked and scrambled to his feet. Another boulder let loose and followed the first. Seven grabbed two of the poles still littering the ground and shoved the thick boulder from his path, splitting his pole in two.

“Why use the pole? It limits you,” said the Creator, now appearing in the glade. “Use your mind. You need no other weapon.”

Seven nodded. Another boulder flew across the glade and narrowly missed his shoulder.

“Again.” The Creator raised his hands and unleashed a combination of rocks and small boulders at the young apprentice. They collided with Seven’s body and caused him to grunt with pain. “Focus,” the Creator said. More stones took flight.

Seven steadied his footing and narrowed his focus. He dodged and spun away from the stones, pushing them aside with his thoughts. But for every rock he escaped, three more smashed into his body, riddling his skin with bruises.

“Your mind betrays you. You are frustrated. Confused. Don’t give in to it. Don’t let it stop you. Use your confusion, the chaos. Harness the anger it represents.” The Creator barked more commands.

Seven resisted. More rocks pelted his body. Pain smashed into his thoughts.

“Don’t resist. You know what’s expected. You know what you must do.”

Seven’s eyes rolled back and he opened his thoughts to his Master. Blackness followed as his mind gave in to his Master’s orders.

Seven jumped and bent his body, avoiding the stony bullets. Panting, Seven took control of the stones with his own thoughts, and tossed them into the trees. He met his Master’s gaze with a look of both defiance and submission.