Unstoppable: Truth is Unstoppable (Truth and Love Series) (22 page)

DEREK

The minute I get to my car, I pick up the iBullet. I double-tap again and the pixels spread out. They're too huge now though, so I spread my arms and then move my hands until they're about half a foot apart. I do the same again at the top and bottom. Now the icons fits perfectly between my palms, the images taking up no more space than the steering wheel. I scan the contents, looking for anything else from or about Martin Grammor. I don’t know all the details, but he’s involved somehow. He had the motive. He has a gun. Granted, it was the wrong type, but that doesn’t mean much. He could have a whole arsenal in his basement for all I know. But he had to have killed Victoria’s father. It makes sense. He’s angry, he’s resentful. And he doesn’t seem all that stable.

But it’s certainly not enough to take to the Corps. I can’t just show them the conclusion. I need to find the way, light the path, and connects the dots on how I got there.

Victoria’s father was shot. She is being charged though she has no motive.

William was never looked at twice, though he has money, motive, and means.

Martin Grammor was broke and pissed. All of a sudden, he could afford a three week vacation to the U.S. Qualifiers.

Did William hire Grammor?

I sigh and furrow my brows. That part doesn’t seem right. I mean, I guess William could’ve, but it just doesn’t settle well. Why would he hire such a loose cannon like Grammor? I mean, William is a billionaire, he could’ve hired the best. Hell, he could have hired D.R. Gibbs himself. So why Grammor? Especially when an email could so easily link the two men together.

And then there’s the fact that the Corps hasn’t given any of this a second glance. That has to be because of William.

I shift in my seat and take a deep breath. It feels like I’m trying to swallow cotton. The car has passed the point of boiling-over-a-fire-in-a-cast-iron-cauldron-hot, so I roll down my window. As I do, I feel rain drops land on my arm. I roll the window back up and turn on the car and AC. 

William. William is the key to all of this. I feel it in my gut that I’m right. His actions don’t make sense: he comes over the day Victoria and I are swimming and collects Mr. King’s devices. (Or tries to, at least.) William somehow gets them later, but instead of turning them over to the Corps, he hides them.

Because they showed was something incriminating about him?

And then later, William and his father meet up at the HYP Club, where it ends in a physical altercation. And even though I clearly have no idea what was said, the meeting resulted in one thing:

William needed to clean up another mess.

He needed to kill his father.

And he needed someone else to take the fall.

I try Sabrina’s cell again. No answer. I shut my eyes. Five deep breaths later, I dial another number, my body going numb as I hear his voice.

“Dad,” I say, “that Corps captain, he told me to call him.” I swallow. “What number did he give you?”

Dad tells me. And I dial.

VICTORIA

A soldier enters my cell. His face is blank, almost bored, as if he’s done this a thousand times. He tells me to follow him, and the two soldiers who come in next make sure I do. They each hold my arms. My feet barely touch the ground as we pass cell doors and head to the elevators. The car seems to shoot down at the speed of light.

To my surprise, it doesn’t open to any sort of hallway or main lobby. When the doors open, I’m staring at rosebushes too vivid, grass too green, and rain too cold. I’m staring at the courtyard. And the ten men on the opposite side of it, rifles resting at their sides.

DEREK

I place my phone on the passenger seat. It rings, but I don’t answer.

He’d only try to stop me.

“Derek Archer!”

Flashing lights shine in my rearview mirror. Two soldiers stand behind the open doors of their car, guns trained on me.

Life is all about choices. The doors we open when we’re young, the paths we choose to take, are what forms us when we’re older. If only I had gone to that party Friday night. If only I hadn’t. If only I had said no, if only I had said yes. I should’ve taken that class, I should’ve taken this class. I should never have gotten in that car, I’m so glad I took that ride. I should’ve, I would’ve, I can’t, I won’t...I never tried.

“Get out of the car now!”

Life is all about choices. I think of my choices now. I think of my choices leading up to it. And while I don’t question any of the decisions I made, I can’t help but let my mind wander over the roads not traveled, past the ultimate what-ifs.

“Put your hands up. Derek Archer, do it now!”

At the end of one path, I see my parents, my career, Sabrina. At the end of another, I see Victoria, the apartment, our life together. But the funny thing is, neither image lasts.

I clip the iBullet to my jeans pocket. I feel my heartbeat in my fingertips. I put my hand on the door.

“We will fire if you don’t comply!”

Life is all about choices. I can fall back, rely on others to make the choices for me, but at least I’d have something.

Another car pulls up. Two more soldiers get out. Two more guns.

Or I can make my decision, take that leap of faith, and risk losing everything.

VICTORIA

Two Days Before Victor King’s Death

(Early Morning)

I turn to him around four in the morning. Derek looks so beautiful in the dying moonlight. I stroke his hair and he slowly opens his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I know I’ve been difficult lately, and I don’t mean to be. It’s just…my mind…it’s all jumbled. I’m taking it out on you.” I trace the line of his brow, his cheek. “I love you, you know that, right? Even when I’m mad or short-tempered. I love you.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry, Derek. It’s just, things are happening. I’ve done…I’m just…” I sigh. “Just hang in there with me. Alright? Just a bit longer. And then I promise I’ll be back to normal. I promise. There’s just…I feel like I pushed a boulder down a hill, and I’m not sure where it’s going to end up, or who it’ll crush or…” I shake my head, struggling for words. That’s when Derek cups my cheek in his hand.

“Don't you understand?” he asks. “Don't you understand how much I love you, how much you mean to me? I hate seeing you so unhappy.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You can trust me, Victoria. I'm here for you. Happy, sad, confused, angry. I don’t care what you are. I’m here for you and always will be.”

“So you won’t give up on me?”

He leans forward and kisses me. With his lips still on mine, he says, “I'd die for you.”

DEREK

Traffic explodes around me as I burst onto Broadway Avenue. I jerk the wheel hard to the right, narrowly avoiding a trolley headed straight for me. I see the terrified look of the driver as I pass him. But I turn the wheel too hard and sideswipe a black sedan. The noise is pure cacophony. It's loud and brash, and it's like a scream from a nightmare. The wipers are on full blast.

The sirens of the Corps truck behind me are loud, but they don't drown out the beeps from other vehicles on the road. I make a wide, sloppy turn onto Coast and press the gas pedal to the floor. The car goes airborne as it hits a pothole the size of a bulldozer. I bounce up and down on the crater-filled hill, the front bumper hitting the road with teeth-jarring impact. When I finally reach the bottom, my head snaps back and my hands actually let go of the wheel. I quickly grab it and turn a hard left. That's when I realize...

“Shit!” I'm going the wrong way.

Inbound traffic heads straight at me as I make my way south. The two lanes part for me, or maybe for the now three Corps vehicles speeding along behind me. I look in my rear view mirror just in time to see one of the smaller cars get creamed by a huge bread truck. The sirens make one pitiful little blip before they die off altogether. I'm so intent on looking at the mess in my rear view mirror that I don't see the Toyota until it's too late. I throw my arms out to brace a bit of the hit, but it feels like I was drop kicked from a ten story building anyway. The impact is forceful and fast, and the pain is immediate. Something in my back feels like it cracked.

My car spins twice before I finally get it under control again. I push the gas pedal down. The tires scream on the wet pavement before I move; steam rises and floats around me. When I finally jerk forward, I make a quick right—cutting through opposing traffic with only a graze from another car—onto Carnahan. It's a curving, dangerous road going the speed limit. It's a death wish speeding along at ninety miles per hour with soldiers chasing you.

Case in point: one of the Corps cars careens off the road, falls off the hill's edge and flips over. Well, I guess that's good news for me. But as I get to Greentree Road, I find four more vans waiting for me. 

At least I'm heading in the right direction.

The exit for the parkway is about a half mile away. It's like I'm playing bumper cars for how much I bounce off other vehicles. My bumper fell off somewhere along the way, probably by the Tempeh House. My side mirrors are just gone. Totally clean off. My windshield is cracked and the right wiper keeps getting snagged as it moves over the fissure.

As I reach the exit and swing down—the passenger side wheels lifting off the street because I'm going so fast and took the turn way too sharp—I think that's just the beginning of my problems.

I was right.

Another explosion of car horns assails me as I cut into traffic. Before I even get my bearings, something rear ends me. My seat belt cuts off my air supply as I fly forward. But I keep my foot on the gas. I just have to keep going. I have to keep going. 

A Corps van pulls beside me. The driver aims his rifle at me and a deafening bang makes me duck. The driver's window shatters. Glass sprays me and I feel burns along my face. Another pop and I hear the bullet ping off metal. The soldier takes aim again but before he can fire, I yank the wheel to the left, slamming my car into his. The van spins wildly out of control, slides across the grassy divider and into inbound traffic. Three cars slam into it, causing black smoke to rise from the hood.

My car shudders. It doesn't have much longer. The exit for the airport passes above me. I look in my rear view mirror. Two vans are almost touching my back bumper. I slow my pace just a bit, forcing them to hit me. But I don't move. Not yet, almost...almost...

I turn the wheel hard to the right at just the last minute. The driver's side of my car scrapes the guard rail as I fly up the Moon Township exit. The Corps van that was directly on my tail can't make the turn in time. It tries to, causing it to hit the guard rail and roll. Causing the van directly behind
that
one to be totally blocked from following me. 

Seizing my chance, I pull into some random apartment complex’s underground garage.  My tires squeal and scream as I quickly jam my car in the first space I see. I don't turn it off though. I listen.

Silence.

No sirens.

No other screeching tires from Corps vehicles following me.

I grab the iBullet and run, thunder shaking the ground beneath me, lightning tearing the sky above me.

VICTORIA

My breath leaves me in heavy gasps, full-body pants, and I still can’t force the air into my lungs. The two soldiers who walked me down push me against a tall pole and force my arms back. I jump at a loud crash of thunder and elements.

Metal bites into my wrists. The hard rain plasters my hair to my face and into my eyes, and I can’t even wipe the strands away. A soldier in a black raincoat steps forward.

“By order of the Honorable Judge Joanne Spear, servant of this Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, you, Victoria Elizabeth King, have been charged and tried for the murder of Victor William King. Your sentence is death by firing squad, to now be carried out. May God be with you.”

Black dots swim in my vision and then a woman wraps a cloth around my head. It’s soaking wet in a matter of moments and I’m scared it’s too heavy to stay on my eyes.

“Soldiers, on my word.”

I gasp. My arms press against the cuffs and my body strains even though there’s no way to move.

“Soldiers, ready!”

A cacophony of sound. My life really does flash before my eyes.

“Soldiers, aim.”

Images assail me, one right after the other, fast as a strobe light. And when they all end, the last one is of him.

“Soldiers!”

DEREK

I scream his name. I pound on the front door and when no one answers, I break the window beside it and climb in.

I run upstairs and down the hall.

I nearly knock the door of its hinges as I slam it open.

“Will—”

I stop in my tracks, my heart freezing, my mind blanking, everything shutting down.

William is behind his desk. Supine. Half-hidden but I can see his face and the open eyes.

The gun in his hand, and the fatal wound in his temple.

Footsteps rush in behind me. I spin around. My eyes widen, my mouth starts to form the word no. But I never say it.

The gun goes off and my world goes black.