Outbreak (7 page)

What if I’m wrong,
he thought.
What if this is a mistake?
A jolt of white-hot pain shot through his temples. Seven grunted as his body stiffened. He had his answer. Compliance wasn’t optional.

Seven pushed the buttons in rapid succession. Within moments, five black screens dropped from hidden openings in the ceiling. One by one, the screens illuminated. Pixels fused and formed images of each member of the Order.

Seven’s breath caught in his throat. He had never met the members of the Order. He’d never even seen all of them. He only knew that the Creator didn’t trust them.

Maybe he shouldn’t trust them either.

Seven blinked his thoughts away and stowed his emotions. His gaze raked across the projected images from left to right: a man with heavily wrinkled tea-colored skin. His teeth were sparse, his eyes bright. In the next projection stood a woman with ebony skin. Her golden eyes gave her the appearance of a leopard.

The next screen held a face he knew too well—the woman who visited the compound. The one his Master distrusted the most. She had small, dark eyes that held no emotion. Glossy black hair framed her face. In her hand was a small device that resembled a remote control. The woman gave the impression of being the leader. Seven knew she held much power within the Order. Little was ever said or done without her knowledge.

The last two screens held images of gray-haired men in white lab coats. Quiet and disinterested, these two appeared to be here by obligation.

Seven swallowed hard. The Order had come. To speak to him without his Master’s knowledge.

This wasn’t going to be good.

“You summoned me?” Seven’s voice sounded more like a nervous schoolboy than a well-trained psychic warrior.

“Yes,” the familiar woman said. “You’ve been tasked with finding LeMercier’s pet project, correct?” The disdain in the woman’s voice was unmistakable.

“Yes,” Seven replied. He could understand why his Master distrusted her.

“Was that the extent of your orders?”

Seven secured his thoughts. He didn’t want to reveal too much. He wasn’t about to betray the Creator.

“Well?” the woman asked again, the words barely able to escape her clenched teeth.

Seven remained silent. Immediately his head felt like it would explode. He grabbed at his temples with both hands as water blurred his vision.

“Your compliance is not a choice,” the woman said. She held up the small device. “You will answer me or I will turn your brain into mush.”

Seven’s eyes widened.

“Oh, is see. He didn’t tell you.” A malicious smile covered the woman’s face, reaching up to her eyes. “There is a failsafe chip embedded in your brain. The Order’s condition to funding LeMercier’s little projects. We didn’t want more disasters like the first versions of these experiments. We insisted on a way to control his
pets
, destroy them if needed. Now, I’ll ask you again, what else did he order you to do?”

Seven watched her finger hover dangerously close to buttons on the device. He focused his thoughts and swallowed hard. Locking his gaze to hers, he drew a picture of his own brain inside his mind. He saw each nerve ending, saw how they lit whenever she tapped on the buttons. One by one, Seven imagined his nerves quieting, dulling. The woman continued to tap on the buttons, but each tap brought less pain, less impact to his nerves. It was working, he was controlling his mind.

For now.

Sweat beaded on his brow. He couldn’t hold off the pain much longer. He felt his control falter.

The woman tapped the button. More pain exploded across his mind.

Seven weakened. He closed his eyes and took a breath.

“The next button I push ends you.” No emotions registered on the woman’s face.

Seven tried to reach into her thoughts. Nothing. He had no choice. “He only wanted me to find her and report back.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Nothing more?” The woman’s gaze narrowed.

Seven shook his head, too weak to speak.

“We have additional orders for you. The Assassin is never to return to LeMercier. You must kill her.”

Seven felt the color drain from his face. “But—”

“Kill her or we kill you,” said the leopard-like woman.

“I won’t betray him. I can’t.” Seven’s voice was scarcely more than a whisper.

“We know about your past, Seven. The time before you came here.” The low voice came from the wrinkled man. His voice sounded thin, papery. Like his skin. “We can tell you about your childhood, give you the reason you need to get away from LeMercier and serve us. Or we can kill you.” The man smiled and Seven’s skin turned to gooseflesh.

The screens faded, all but the center one. The woman, the leader. “Kill the Assassin. Kill her and we will give you the information you want. The memories you crave. We will fill in the missing pieces of your memory.” The screen began to fade. “Fail us and you will die.”

The grip around Seven’s skull released as the screens returned to their hidden alcoves. Seven slunk to his knees.
Kill her or we kill you. We know about your past
. The words looped through his thoughts.
We can give you your memories
.

Seven swallowed hard. He left the office and stowed away his emotions deep within his mind. Forming a picture of the Assassin, he embraced his mission.

Both of them.

The Solomon Experiments 3.0

The Order

Dr. Benjamin LeMercier’s Personal Journal –

March 5, 2015:

The experiments are progressing nicely. Seven continues to make progress. He reminds of the Assassin, though I remain unsure whether or not he will ever match her skills. Regardless, he has something the Assassin does not—complete loyalty to me. I am his family, the only one he has ever known. He does whatever I ask. He always will.

The Order is on board with my plans for Seven and the Architect. They believe it was their idea. Just as I had orchestrated.

They don’t see the larger goal. They never have. They can’t. Their minds are too concerned with the status quo—their power and wealth. They don’t see that there is more at stake, more to gain. Through these experiments we can change the balance of power in the world. Forever. Their short-sighted views of power are insignificant compared to my larger goal. They lack the vision to see it. They lack the trust to let me guide them there.

So, I will play along with their ideas for now. I will allow them to dictate terms and manipulate them into giving me what I want. I will let them order me to use the Architect to bring the Assassin home. I will follow
their
plans to groom Seven. I will be . . .

Weak.

My true vision is never far from my thoughts. Seven and the Assassin will learn to combine their skills and fight as a pair. Together, they will form the foundation of the army I have longed to create, the one I envisioned in the wake of the Cold War. Together they will train more warrior teams. My army will be an unbeatable force.

The Order would never approve. They made their funding contingent upon their ability to control Seven and any others I create. As if explosive devices, even those placed in the temporal lobe, could ever stop my warriors. I need the Order for now. So I have complied with their requests. Seven and the others have been tagged.

The Order doesn’t know that Seven will never be controlled by them. He can beat that device. His loyalty to me is above question. He will be controlled by no one but me. The Order is naive to believe otherwise.

But they will learn soon enough.

The Assassin will come. She and Seven will link their powers and learn to fight as a team. And they will receive their first mission—

Kill the Order.

Not at once, however. Not a simple assassination.

First they will eliminate the Order’s wealth and power. Eradicate the control they think they have over me and these experiments. The Order may think they are in control right now. But the days of their power are limited. I am in charge.

Only me.

And one day I will remind them.

Our old SUV bounces along the road as I stare out the window. I know Mom and Dad are disappointed in me. Again. Their voices blur together and I tune them out. I can’t bear the idea of yet another conversation about what to do with me. I don’t know how many more times I can apologize for freaking out and almost landing in Mountain View.

The car speeds as the landscape blurs at a faster rate. Voices grow louder. Mom turns and yells at me. I can’t understand what she’s saying.

“What?” I ask. She opens my car door, throws me out. I scream. Roll along the pavement. Stop.

Two black SUVs overtake the car. Men pour out of open doors. Some come after me. Some go to our now-destroyed car, mangled in a collision with several trees.

I open my mouth to scream. Hands, my hands, cover my mouth before the sound escapes. Men with guns run faster and faster toward me. I push into the shadows, my focus divided between the men and my parents.

The world spins away too fast. Guns ignite. Men scream. My parents scream. Faster and faster the images come. Part of me knows this is only a dream, the nightmare that changed my life. Part of me is lost in the scene, reliving a horror I can’t shake even during the day.

I shut my eyes to the onslaught. Cover my ears
. Wake-up! Wake-up!
I push against the dream, desperate to prevent the world from spinning.
Come on Dakota. Wake-up!

My eyes open. The world stops. No more gunmen. No screams. No sounds at all save the subtle inhale and exhale of my breath.

I tentatively stand, my ears straining to find my parents. One step toward their car. And another. The landscape sharpens as the dream world appears to become more real. More steps. Closer and closer to the vision I never wanted.

The front end of the SUV weaves with the pines that line the highway. My father—no, not my father, the man who raised me—slumps over the steering wheel, a half-deflated air-bag sagging against his face. Large gashes cut into is skin. The hair on my neck stands as I reach in to feel his neck for a pulse. Nothing but death.

I glance at the passenger side, realizing that my mother is not there. Her car door is open. I run to that side of the SUV as I search for evidence that she somehow escaped. No footprints lead me to her. No broken vegetation gives away her fate.

“Mom!” I yell, hoping this is more than a dream. “Please. Where are you?”

The images shift and move. I grab the door, not wanting to fall as the world rearranges itself around me. The landscape scrolls forward and I am in front of my house.

“Mom,” I yell again. “Mom!”

My body shakes. My mouth dries, lips crack. “Mom,” I sputter across a parched throat.

“Are you okay, Miss?”

I push against the unfamiliar voice. The scenes fade. My vision brightens.

“Miss?”

I blink and light fills my eyes.

“Are you okay?”

The voice orients me this time. I turn my head and blink again. A young woman dressed as a flight attendant bends down next to me. “I think you we dreaming,” she says. “Not very pleasant dream by the sounds of it.”

Heat flushes my face. “I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“Don’t worry. Did you lose your mother recently? I had nightmares after I lost mine. All the time.”

I pull myself up in my seat, keenly aware of the eyes fixed on me, not to mention the wave of thoughts from the other airline passengers as they speculate about the depth of my insanity. Nothing like making yourself look crazy in front of a crowd. Again.

So much for a covert trip home.

The voices swell. I mentally create a shield between myself and the sound. The noise begins to mute. The flight attendant asks something, what I can’t be certain. I nod, mumble more apologies and she finally walks away.

Dakota?
David’s voice pushes through the invisible barrier.
Where are you?

I should’ve know he’d try to find me. The shield becomes metal in my mind—something strong enough to keep David out. I have no idea if it’ll work. It should, since David is the one who taught me this trick.

Come home,
David’s voice continues.
Ple—

The sound leaves as quickly as it came. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. A sob wells in my throat. It pains me to have left him. I need him right now, need the way he can always chase away the demons that visit each time I close my eyes. But I can’t ever risk being with him again—can’t risk him getting caught in the crossfire, a pawn to be used by my father. It wouldn’t be fair to him. Or me. I don’t know what I would do if I was the reason for his death.

I expel a deep breath and release the idea of seeing David. I focus on the present. I’m on a flight bound for San Jose and Cambria.

Home.

I don’t know why I chose to come home. Especially since I’ve spent most of my life trying to leave. Now it’s the only place that feels safe.