VOLITION (Perception Trilogy, book 2) (12 page)

A month ago, the most action I’d ever seen was around the pool
at my house in Sol City, swimming laps or making out with Jackson. Now I was
shooting at federal agents.

I felt beads of sweat break out on my brow and harden into bits
of ice. My eyelashes had frosted up and my vision blurred. My hands were red
and my fingers formed a stiff claw around the trigger. I was running on
adrenaline and counting on many years of firing range practice to get me out of
this alive.

The battle had moved farther into the forest. I pressed in
behind a tree, wishing my clothes blended in better. Despite the cold I
stripped out of the yellow shirt I had on top. Black was better.

Shots rang out.

“Noah?”

“I’m over here.” He stepped out and shot a round so I could
make a mad dash to join him. I trusted that he was taking us closer to the car.

The noise of gun fire and footsteps rapidly crunching through
crusty snow filled the forest. The agents weren’t close enough to make out.
Which one was Grant? And where was his partner?

“We have to hurry,” I said. Grant wasn’t stupid. He’d probably
sent someone to circle around us from behind.

Screams.

My head followed the sound. It was Finn. He was on his knees,
his ginger head bobbing as he cried out. Simon’s familiar form lay beside him,
blood running out of a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead, a crimson
pool painting the snow under his skull.

I clasped my stomach. “I think I’m going to vomit.”

Noah grabbed my hand and tugged. “There’s nothing we can do. Let’s
go.” He pulled me further into the woods and we tromped awkwardly through the
snow. I stumbled over branches and twigs. Something wet was running down my
face, freezing my cheeks.

A sob escaped my chest.

“I told you, Noah! I told you someone would be killed!” And it
was my fault.

“He knew the risks. They all did.”

I heaved and my legs gave out, the image of Simon’s grey face
and that gruesome bullet hole, etched on my mind.

Noah took my chin in his hand and stared hard into my eyes.
“Get a hold of yourself! We have to get out alive, or his death is for nothing!
You understand? You can grieve later.”

I shuddered and swallowed hard, and willed my legs to follow
Noah. “Is the car this way? Are we almost there?”

A bullet shot overhead. We ducked but kept running.

“Zoe Vanderveen! Stop or I’ll kill your boyfriend.” Like a
mirage, Grant appeared in front of us, his big, beefy hands wrapped around a
long-range rifle. We skidded to a stop and Noah groaned. He dropped his weapon,
shouting at me to run.

“Zoe, go!”

“And let him shoot you?” I dropped my rifle, which landed in
the snow with a thug.

Grant shouted, “Put your hands in the air.”

His sidekick agent stepped into view.

“I’d like you to meet Mara,” he said with a smarmy grin.

Her jacket sleeves had tugged up and the sunlight glinted off
her wrists. She was a cyborg.

“Put your hands together,” she said. She snapped cuffs on my
wrists then moved on to Noah. He grimaced as the cuffs clicked into place.

“Grandpa V must be paying you well.” I snarled at Grant. “Getting
you to do all his dirty work for him.”

“There are good days and bad days,” he answered flippantly. “And
yes, the pay is pretty good. Now come with me.”

Grant nudged Noah in the back with the tip of his rifle and we
started walking. I shot a worried look at Noah. If we got into Grant’s car,
that would be the end for us. We had to make a move, but I couldn’t think of
what. All I had was to keep Grant talking and hope for a diversion.

“What’s good ol’ Grandpa up to these days, anyway?”

Grant actually smiled. “Well, if you must know, he’s getting
married.”

“What?” Grandpa had never looked at another woman since Grandma
had died.

Grant seemed pleased to be the bearer of such “happy” news. “He’s
running for president,” he said. “He needs a First Lady.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head. You’ll meet her soon
enough.”

I scowled. I would meet Grandpa’s new girlfriend while Noah
died without me shedding even one tear because the first thing they’d do with
me is wipe my mind clean of any memory of him.

We approached Grant’s car and my anxiety hit new levels. The cyborg
opened the back door. A shot rang out before she could push us in. She
stiffened and fell to the ground. The bullet had struck her in the eye.

Grant returned fire in the direction of the shooter, firing
blind. The shooter had the advantage of being able to see his target. Grant
fell to the ground, blood oozing from his neck.

Taylor sprung from the bushes.

“You did this?” I said.

“Necessary evil.” He dug up a large stone with his foot. “Crouch
down and lay your cuff on it.”

Noah did it first, his knees sinking into the snow until his
hands rested awkwardly on the stone. Taylor shot his gun to break the chain. I
did the same, wincing a little as the wet cold seeped in through my jeans.

He shot me free then said, “If I were you guys, I’d get lost.”

“What about you?” I worried for his life. I liked Taylor and
even though I was about to leave with Noah, I didn’t want to see him hurt.

“I’ll be fine. Now get going.” He held my eyes for a long
moment before turning and disappearing into the bushes.

“I never thought I’d ever say this,” Noah said, shaking his
head, “but it was good to see Taylor Blake.”

Chapter
16

I settled back into the car, and Noah geared us up to the
highest speed it could go without tossing us into the next hairpin ditch.

If tension were heat, the small car would be boiling. Every
muscle in my body clenched with anxiety and stress. Noah’s fingers gripped the
steering wheel, white with nerves and the cold. Even the silence was chilly. Simon’s
lifeless body flashed through my mind, echoing with Finn’s anguished cries. I
imagined Hannah sobbing against Celia Galloway’s chest, inconsolable when she
heard the news.

“He’s dead because of me.” My breath clouded up the passenger
window. I reached up and drew a cross through it with my finger.

Noah shot me a look. “Zoe.”

“It’s true. Simon’s dead because of me. If we hadn’t shown up
there, if we hadn’t been hiding from Grandpa V, he’d still be alive.”

“This isn’t your fault. It’s your crazy grandfather’s fault.
He’s the one who sicced Grant and his machines on the commune.”

“Because we were there.”

“Yes, but they didn’t have to bring out the big guns. They
didn’t have to start shooting.”

“What’s going to happen to them now?”

“I don’t know.” Noah scrubbed his forehead, like he was trying
to erase the memory of what just happened. “They’ll relocate, start again
somewhere else. Those people are resourceful if nothing else.”

“I just feel so bad.” A lump the size of my fist formed in my
throat and I swallowed hard around it. We were only going to stay one day. If
it weren’t for the weather, we would’ve left sooner and none of this would’ve
happened. Grant wouldn’t have found us, Simon wouldn’t have died.

I wouldn’t have kissed Taylor Blake.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I said.

Noah shot me a look, like I had to be kidding, but the
expression on my face must’ve said otherwise. He pulled over.

I couldn’t remember when I’d eaten last, but whatever it was
now pooled on the side of the road. I held my hair back, a tangle of loose,
greasy strands, and gagged.

“Are you okay?” Noah shifted anxiously, his hands moving in and
out of his pockets, like he didn’t know what to do with them. Like he didn’t
know what to do with me.

I breathed in the crisp air and the sweat of sickness cooled
into unpleasant clamminess. I started shivering again.

“I think so.”

“We should keep moving.”

“I know.”

It was a relief to merge with the traffic at Salt Lake City, to
mix in with the crowd. Noah pulled into the back alley three blocks away from
the train station.

“Here’s your wig.” He pulled the pink mess out of his bag. I
shot him a confused look remembering clearly how I’d thrown it out at our last
motel.

“I retrieved it from the trash,” Noah explained. “I thought you
might need it again.”

I reached for it with shaky fingers. I pushed my shorter
brunette locks behind my ears and put it on.

Noah gathered the guns, collapsing them. He handed me one.

“Put it in your bag,” he said, “but keep the handgun in your
back.”

The rifle weighed heavily in my bag and my shoulder sank when I
slipped on the strap.

We abandoned the car. Noah tugged my hand, practically pulling
me through the alley. We arrived at the busy station and he pushed us into a
secluded place behind a large potted plant.

He pulled his cap lower over his face. “Wait here.”

I held back, keeping my eyes glued to him as he bought the
tickets.

“Sleeper room,” he told me when he returned. “We need the rest.
And the anonymity.”

We boarded the MagLev cross-country train and I followed Noah
to the sleeping cars. Each room had a locking door and a narrow bed, really
only big enough for one person. Noah saw me staring.

“We’ll make it fit.” He lifted our bags to the rack above and
crawled into the bed, lying on his side, pressed up against the wall. “Give me
your hand gun,” he said.

I removed it from my waistband, and he slipped it under the
lone pillow.

“Do you mind if I take this off?” I asked.

His eyes widened, and I smirked before pointing to my wig. It
was too cold to remove anything else.

He smiled and nodded. I tossed it up with the bags.

We’d taken a pee break at the station, so there was nothing
left to do but to climb in and spoon together. Noah patted the space beside him,
and I snuggled in, pulling the blanket up underneath our chins. After a while I
stopped shivering. I even stopped feeling afraid.

I realized I hadn’t asked Noah where we were going. I’d only
heard him say we’d go as far as this line would take us.

“Noah,” I mumbled. “Where are we headed?”

“East,” he whispered. His breathing fell into a deep, steady
rhythm and I knew he was sleeping. My eyelids felt like cement and I let them
close, joining him.

Chapter
17

Noah nudged me awake. “We’re almost there.”

My eyes squinted at the morning light cutting through the
blinds on the little window. I must’ve been knocked out cold. I hadn’t even
noticed Noah crawling over my body when he got up, which if I were awake I definitely
would’ve noticed. He handed me the pink wig.

“There’s a public restroom at the end of the hall.”

I took the wig and my shoulder bag and shuffled out. My limbs
felt weak from the physical exertion of the day before, and my emotions were
raw. The whole battle played out in my mind—Grant and Mara, dead at my feet.
And of course, poor Simon.

The lighting in the restroom was brutal. I washed my face with
the disposable hand towels and fished out my toothbrush from my bag. I touched
up my deodorant and brushed my hair, pushing it behind my ears. I added the
pink wig. I might not look like Zoe Vanderveen/fugitive, but I certainly wasn’t
invisible. How many girls would have pink hair where I was going?

I met up with Noah just before the train came to a stop. He
looked me over with approval and took my hand.

I was wrong about sticking out with pink hair, though. The
inhabitants of this city had hair of every kind of color—blue, red, green and
yes, pink, and in every style—short, long, short
and
long, mohawk.

They dressed in mismatched clothing, long and short
trench-coats, wool scarves and hats. Many wore army boots.

I felt like we’d traveled to another planet.

“Where are we?” I asked.

Noah pointed to the welcome sign: St. Louis.

“Missouri?”

“As good a place as any,” he said. “Far away from the Senator
in California, and even if he makes it to DC after the election, St. Louis is
an unlikely destination. The Gap population here is very small.”

“But it’s cold.”

The train station was part of a warehouse that encompassed a
lot of retail outlets, including a used clothing store. Noah guided me inside.

“Used? As in other people have worn it already?”

He shrugged. “The price is right.”

I’d borrowed clothes that belonged to other people before, like
the Rangers and the Blakes back at the commune, but I’d never worn anything
that used to belong to a complete stranger before, someone I’d never met.

Noah fished through a rack of winter coats and handed me
something in my size. I felt my nose crinkle in disgust.

“I’m not wearing that.”

Noah’s eyes shot up. “Why not?”

“Who knows where it’s been?”

Noah slipped one on. “Who cares? It’s warm.”

My teeth were starting to chatter again. I
hrumphed
and
reluctantly put mine on. Noah was right, it was warm. I supposed warm was more
important than clean at the moment.

Noah paid the cashier in cash. The guy never even raised an
eyebrow. I suddenly felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. I wasn’t in Kansas
anymore.

We bought hot dogs from a street vendor—not exactly my breakfast
of choice, but I discovered I was starving and ate it quickly.

“So, now what?” I asked, wiping mustard off my chin.

Noah’s mouth dropped opened but nothing came out. His gaze
fixed on something behind me. I turned slowly, until I spotted a digital
billboard. I gasped. Huge images of mine and Noah’s faces flashed back at me in
neon lights.

I choked back worry. “Grandpa’s never going to quit looking.”