Fear My Mortality Page 4

  Michael hesitated and the man strode over to him, seized his arm, and said something I couldn’t hear. Michael met my eyes over the man’s shoulder. I tried to read his expression, but I couldn’t. He nodded and left the room through the corridor that I’d snuck in through.

  The man came back to me. “Ava? I need you to listen very carefully. You need to get out of here. They’ll already be calling it in, and they won’t send the usual officers for this one, do you understand?”

  I didn’t understand. Not at all. I tried to see his features: hazel eyes, round chin, a receding hairline and a braid halfway down his back—the same age as my dad—but they were all mashed together. I felt as though I needed to remember who he was, as though it was important, but all I wanted to do was slide to the ground and cover myself with darkness. “I’m not leaving my brother.”

  If he heard me, he ignored me. “You need to get yourself to a recovery center. The nearest one is on Delaney Street, back through the tunnel. When you get there, tell them to call your parents, but don’t leave. Make sure they keep you there.”

  I reached for Josh, wanting to shove the recovery dome away, wanting to stay with him. “I’m not leaving him here.”

  The man shook me. “There’s nothing you can do for him.”

  “But—”

  His voice rose to a commanding shout, his eyes blazing at me. “Ava! Go! Now!”

  My legs moved even though I didn’t want them to, obeying the man. I fled the Mirror Room, out through the walkway with a hundred doors, and shot out through the open panel. There was an open door at the end of the short corridor and when I ran through it, I found myself in the waiting room at the front of the Terminal. Lounge chairs had been ripped apart and one wall was blackened and cracked. I’d expected it to be swarming with people, but the place was deserted. They’d evacuated everyone already.

  Only then, I realized I had no way of knowing where Mom and Dad were, how I’d even get to the recovery center. I turned to go back—I shouldn’t have left Josh—but the panel closed. I didn’t know how I was going to get anywhere, but the only way was forward, so I took off at a run toward the parking lot.

  The car was still there. When I got to it, I banged on the window because I didn’t have keys. Or a phone. I couldn’t even call someone for help.

  My hand went over my mouth. How was I going to tell Mom and Dad that Josh was dead? Not first death. Not second death. Final death. For the first time, tears burned behind my eyes, my shock turning to grief. I tried to gulp back the sob that choked my throat as I remembered his last words.

  Little sister …

  I curled downward, trying to press the pain of losing him out of my body.

  A screech around the corner of the parking lot made me jump and twist, flatten myself against the side of the car as a sleek blue sports car squealed to a halt in front of me. The engine revved and the window slid down.

  “Get in,” Michael said.

  I swiped at the tears in my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Looks like you aren’t going anywhere without me.” Michael leaned toward the passenger side window. He paused when he saw my face.

  I glared, summoning all my will to stop my tears, pushing back against the heartache. “I’m not getting in a car with you.”

  Michael left the engine running and jumped out of the car. He strode straight over to me but stopped before he touched me. “I know you have no reason to trust me right now, but you have to get out of here.”

  I shook my head, scooting along the vehicle. “Get away from me.”

  He moved to grab my shoulders. “Ava—”

  I kicked him hard in the shin. I’d meant to kick him somewhere else, but I couldn’t get my knee up. He bent, reflexively, just a little bit, but it was enough for me to hit out with the palm of my hand, straight into his nose.

  He backed away from me, holding one hand up and wiping his streaming eyes with the other. “I’m trying to help you.”

  “Well, don’t. I don’t want you near me.” I should’ve grabbed the knife and brought it with me. I caught sight of someone moving at the other end of the lot. I shouted and waved my hands. “Hey! I need help!” I slid around the car, away from Michael. “Help me! Please!”

  Whoever he was, he came at a run, and Michael backed away even further.

  It was another man dressed in black, except this one had a shiny badge and a tranquilizer gun resting at his waist. The guard slowed to a jog, one hand on his weapon and the other held toward Michael. “Back off, son.”

  Michael obeyed, taking wary glances between us.

  “He’s trying to make me get in his car.”

  “I can see that, miss.” But something on the guard’s face changed. “Michael Bradley?” There was a click and Michael squinted as a flashlight flooded his face. The guard lowered the torch. “What are you doing here, son?”

  “Her car’s broken down. I was offering her a lift, but I guess she took it the wrong way.”

  The guard relaxed and laughed. “Got a way with the girls, don’t you?”

  Michael shrugged as the guard turned to me. “What’s your name?”

  Before I had time to answer, he shone the flashlight in my face. “Wait a minute … ” I sensed another change in his stance as his voice became harsh. “Are you Ava Holland? You need to come with me.”

  There was a clank of metal as he procured a pair of handcuffs and grabbed my arm.

  He didn’t say anything else.

  The light dropped, making a lazy swirl in the air around me and then a sharp plunge. I looked up from the human crumple on the ground to Michael standing behind him. He bent over the prone guard and shoved the tranquilizer gun back onto the man’s belt.

  I stared at the guard and the glinting handcuffs. “I don’t understand. Why would he arrest me?”

  Michael’s fists clenched. He swore several times. “Your brother just died. Here, in the Terminal, the worst place it could possibly happen. You can’t stay here. Not if you want to see daylight again. You just can’t.”

  I stared at him. “What are you—?”

  He said my name and his voice was loaded. Loaded with words he didn’t seem to want to say—or couldn’t. I could see his mind working over it, sifting through his thoughts. He said, “The Terminal isn’t just a games facility. My dad works here.”

  “So?”

  “He’s a scientist, Ava.”

  “What are you trying to tell me?” I pursed my lips at him, running his words around my head. “That there are secret experiments going on here? That there are people lurking in basements creating potions or monsters or something?”

  “I know you don’t believe me, but you need to leave.” He ran a hand through his hair and his voice lowered. “I just tranq’d a guard. I’m in it so deep … I don’t even know why I’m trying to help you.”

  He strode over to the car, which was still purring in the middle of the parking lot, but he paused before he slid into the driver’s seat. “No. I do know.” He didn’t look at me as his voice became hoarse. “This is my fault. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be standing here and Josh wouldn’t be back there … I’m not going to force you to get into the car, but I really think you should get out of here.”

  The guard began to stir.

  “There are more where he came from,” Michael said.

  I ran over to the car, but not the passenger side. “I’m driving.” I glared into his shocked face. “It’s the only way I’m getting in a car with you, Michael.” I poked his chest as hard as I could, right where he’d been stabbed, hoping it would hurt.

  He didn’t even flinch. “Okay, if that’s what it’ll take … ”

  He ran around to the passenger side as I slipped into the driver’s seat, scared out of my brain. A guard had just tried to arrest me, and Michael shot him. I couldn’t control the volume of my voice as I shouted. “Where’s the parking ticket?
Unless you want me to drive straight through the boom gate, you’d better have paid already.”

  He flicked me the small plastic square. I shoved the car into first gear and compressed the pedal, zipping forward and around the curve, praying there weren’t any cars coming in the opposite direction or we’d all be totaled. Finally on the lower floor, I zoomed toward the boom gate and passed the ticket over the reader. I accelerated out of the parking lot and down the road, slipping the car into fourth gear. “How do we get out of here?”

  He stared at me as if he was the one in shock. “Um. Left up here. Watch out! That was a stop sign, Ava. Who taught you how to drive?”

  I bit my lip. “Josh did.”

  He didn’t say anything and I asked, “You’re directing me to the recovery center right?” It was all clicking into place. The images flashed through my mind. “That man—whoever he was—back in the Mirror Room. He told you to take me, didn’t he?”

  “Neil Cheyne. He’s my godfather. And yeah, he told me to take you somewhere safe. Somewhere away from the Terminal. He said … ” Michael turned his face away. “He said it was the least I could do.”

  We twisted and turned our way out of the Terminal Precinct and entered the tunnel. The headlights from another car jabbed my eyes. I tried to blink away the black spots left behind. I tried to forget about my brother’s body. I’d left that behind too.

  Josh had been trying to convince Mom and Dad to let him fight at the Terminal for as long as I could remember. But when I’d watched him fight Michael, it was as if he’d been there before—or somewhere like it. There’d never been any self-defense classes or martial arts lessons or anything like that. Josh played soccer and video games and drove his car like a lunatic, nothing else.

  Except for all the times he disappeared.

  I ran a hand over my eyes and then clenched it around the steering wheel.

  Michael said, “You need to be in the right-hand lane.”

  “What?”

  “The Delaney Street exit is on the right. You’ll miss it if you aren’t in the right lane.”

  Hysteria set in. “My brother just died and we’re talking about lanes.” I choked on a sob. “Do you know what the stupidest thing is?” I glanced at him, his face flickering as the tunnel lights whizzed past. “I always wanted to drive one of these cars.”

  I started to cry, even though it was a dangerous thing to do. Crying while driving. I tried to sniff the tears back. I blinked hard as my vision blurred. I expected him to shout at me, tell me to pull myself together, but he stared through the windscreen at the passing lights as if he didn’t care anymore.

  He said, “Why did Josh die? He was at Implosion last year. He healed almost as fast as me. The Bashers only want the strongest. If he was one of them, how could he die?”

  Michael’s words traveled around and around my head, spinning in their own little hurricane, all tangled in with my own confusion and sadness. And anger. I said, “I bet they tried to recruit you, too.”

  Michael’s jaw ticked. A flash of rage was quickly replaced by an expression that reminded me of something ripped apart. “I’d never join them.”

  But Josh had. I wondered if I would ever know why. Our parents had never made a big deal about healing and they’d never taught us to hate people who didn’t heal fast. Josh had never said or done anything to make me believe that he would ever try to hurt anyone or take part in destroying homes and workplaces. In fact, I remembered when we were kids and Josh had come to the defense of a boy others were teasing because he’d cut his leg and he didn’t heal for a whole minute. Disappear on me, yes. Hate, no.

  Through my tears, the Delaney Street exit loomed up ahead. I thought about driving on. Just driving and driving until we left Dell city and ran out of gas and ended up in the middle of nowhere. I wondered if everything would make sense once we got to the end of that road.

  Instead, I turned the wheel and took the exit. A big blue sign announced the recovery center with arrows to the entrance. I pulled the car to a halt in front of the wide doors and stared straight ahead as the silence enveloped me. I spoke to the windscreen and didn’t look at Michael. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  I jumped out of the car and rushed away into the bright lights.

  Chapter Four

  The recovery nurse told me to wiggle my fingers. “All right. That looks fine. Show me the cuts again.”

  I turned my wrists up.

  “I’m going to turn off the lights to have a look. Okay?”

  I nodded. She pulled the blinds and the room went dark before she flicked on the ultra-violet overhead lights and examined my arms.

  Turning the light back on, she pursed her lips at me. “You’re a slow healer.”

  On another night, I would have flinched at the insult.

  A small smile touched her face, as though she hadn’t meant to be so harsh. “Well, you’ve certainly got quite a bit of blood on you, so I’m sure I’m just seeing the final closing of a deeper wound.”

  I sniffed, blinked. There was a hot well of water behind my eyes, but I was determined not to cry.

  She patted my arm in an awkward gesture. “You’ve been through a lot. Those Bashers have enough to answer for, let alone ruining Implosion for you.” She busied herself with flicking open the blinds again. “You’ll need to stay here until we can locate your parents.”

  I nodded, intertwining my fingers to stop them shaking so much. The medic at the Terminal—Cheyne—had told me to stay at the recovery center, not to leave. I didn’t know why and it was all starting to feel wrong. My brother was dead and I was supposed to skulk around the center, waiting for my parents. Recovery centers were for people who needed a recovery dome or who were still regenerating—or if they got in the way of a police pursuit and were accidentally tranquilized. Sometimes doctors had to dig bullets or shrapnel out of people who healed too fast, but I had no reason to be there. Hysteria rose again, pushing up through my chest, rushing to my mouth, and I was sure I was going to scream.

  The door crashed open and Mom rushed into the room. “Ava!”

  Relief slammed through me. “Mom.”

  The next thing I knew, I was smothered in the comforting scent of her favorite perfume. I closed my eyes as she hugged me. If I stayed right there, with her perfume surrounding me, maybe everything else would disappear, but she pulled away too soon.

  “They won’t tell me what’s going on. Dad’s still in a recovery dome—they said he was hit with a tranquilizer by mistake—and I woke up just now. What happened to you? How did you get here? Did the Hazards bring you?”

  The feeling of comfort fled. “They haven’t … ”

  My voice choked up. She didn’t know about Josh. I put my head into my hands. The nurse watched us both, her pen hovering above her clipboard. She looked as if she was going to speak up. I’d told her everything the minute she walked me into the examining room. She’d listened without speaking and then she’d made a single phone call. She’d had a look on her face as if I was a case for a mental health clinic.

  “Mom … ” My voice broke. I wondered how I’d make my mouth form the words. Josh is dead.

  A knock at the door stopped the sound in my throat.

  “Mrs. Holland?” The man wore the typical green Hazard suit, close-fitting around his body and up his neck, a sharp contrast to his red hair. My breath seized and my heart constricted. It was the same officer with the wasp that shot my parents at Implosion: Aaron Reid’s brother.

  The image of the wasp firing tranquilizers at my parents and then coming for me dashed through my mind. I glanced at Mom, but she didn’t seem to remember anything, just looked blankly at him. He had a slim face, high cheekbones, and piercing eyes. He looked like the kind of guy others underestimated. The kind of wiry fighter who could move fast, light on his feet like a dancer.

  “I’m Officer Douglas Reid, ma’am.” H
e flicked open his ID. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Holland. They said it might be better if you had a familiar face right now. Can you come with me, please?”

  Mom was trying hard to keep it together. “Yes, of course, it’s nice to see you again, Douglas. It’s been a long time. Of course, we see Aaron a lot, but … ” She still hadn’t moved.

  He took hold of her arm, prompting her to her feet. “I’ve been away at training in Chasm. But it’s good to be home. Could you come this way, please?”

  The nurse had stood as soon as the officer knocked. For the first time, the expression on her face changed, draining pale. She looked at me and then at Mom. Her mouth opened as if she was about to drop to the floor. I read her expression: maybe she wasn’t dealing with a mental health case after all.

  Mom’s face turned fragile, ready to crumble. “What’s going on? Nobody will tell me.”

  “Ma’am, if you’ll just step outside with me, I’ll explain everything.” His hand on her arm tightened visibly and it was clear she didn’t have a choice.

  Mom kissed my forehead. “I’ll be back in a moment, sweetie. Just sit tight, okay?”

  I couldn’t even nod. She left with Douglas Reid and he shut the door. They stood outside the room and I watched them through the window. Mom was really still like one of those mime artists pretending to be a statue. Officer Reid spoke, but she just stood there, and then her legs must have buckled because suddenly she slipped out of view and he reached out to grab her and I heard her screaming all the way through the cold window glass.

  The doctor leaned toward Mom. “Mrs. Holland, have you ever suffered a serious injury?”

  Tearstains gouged streaks through Mom’s makeup, dark smears where she’d tried to clean up her mascara. Her hand clamped over mine, so hard that it hurt, but I didn’t say anything as we sat together in the doctor’s office. I needed her to hold me together as much as she needed to know I was still there.

  Officer Reid stood outside the door, a slim line of green through the misty glass.

  “Um.” She bit her lip. “Yes, when I was young. My eye.” She gestured. “A kid at school poked me with a stick.”