Plagued: Book 1 Page 21

  “My father is a true romantic,” Quill spoke softly. “He never stopped loving your mother. He hoped somehow his boys would meet her girls and find the happiness he and Emily never did.”

  Sky had no idea what he wanted her to say or where this was going.

  “He genetically engineered us rather from the ground up, though my mother never knew it. Built our pheromones on a very precise platform. One that would be attractive to you. He had your mother's DNA samples and managed to procure that of your father as well. He figured they would have girls, based on his calculations.”

  “So what are you saying?” She tipped her head back so she could look him in the eyes. “Your father was playing genetic matchmaker to bring us together?”

  “I told you, better loving through chemicals. Unfortunately, he couldn't know that our government would inject both Hugo and I in vitro with the generic vaccine. Thus ensuring a visit by Social Services. But he's managed it somehow. We're here aren't we? The whole family. Yours and mine. And you like me.” He gave her a sly, cold smile. “You can't help yourself.”

  “Liar,” she hissed. She couldn't believe his father was so calculating. No one was. Engineering their children to fall in love with someone else's? That was science fiction.

  “All true, dear little Sky. That's me your feeling,” he whispered. “The flush to your cheeks, the indefinable softness in your body, the surrender. Your body is telling you, 'he's the one.' I was using a pheromone suppressant spray before. I know about that nose of yours. Didn't want you sniffing me out.”

  “That's why you had no individual scent in my Aunt's kitchen.”

  Tugging her long hair with one hand, he pulled it gently to tip her chin higher. Leaning down, he brushed his lips across her forehead. Softly. Slowly. She tried to pull away. He gripped her tightly around the waist, the fingers of his other hand digging into her skin. “I decided I wanted to meet you as myself there in the kitchen. That way you would learn to know me for me. Not because of my father's chemical concoctions.”

  “Know you as a maniac!” She tried to jerk one knee up, hoping to hurt him. He was faster, seemingly able to anticipate her every move. Twirling her once, he made the whole action look like a dance move, pulling her once more into his tight embrace. Sky felt like a rabbit caught in the coils of a boa constrictor.

  He laughed.“See how well we're getting along?”

  “You're a bastard. You said you came here to kill me. Not make me like you.”

  “Not like, love.” His gave a wicked smile that made his eyes sparkle. “And love and hate are all so tangled together. At least I wasn't trying to bewitch you. Unlike my brother. You think he doesn't know exactly what effect his chemical make-up has on you?”

  Her eyes flashed up. His clear green ones stared unblinkingly back.

  “You think I'm lying. Or, you wish you thought I was lying.”

  She tried to wriggle out of his grip.“I don't want to talk to you anymore.”

  “Fine, the time for action is almost upon us.” He relaxed his hold and pushed her toward the doors, “Shall we go to the locker room and get you out of those clothes?”

  Chapter 22

  Blood Work

  “You do realize there are cameras here?” She pointed at the small black dome set in the ceiling as they walked into the empty locker room. “We're under surveillance.”

  “Not when you're with me, young Murphy-Christensen.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He made a zipping motion across his lips. “Less talk, more walk.”

  He ordered her to change out of her costume and into her uniform. Lockers were co-ed. If he thought she'd be embarrassed to change in front of him, he was wrong. She stripped down as fast as she could, not knowing what was coming next.

  He didn't stare. He was busy transforming his own costume. The harlequin coat reversed to a dull, matte black material. He removed the vest and shirt, revealing a tight, long-sleeved black T-shirt with a fish-scale pattern. A pair of plastic zip-tie manacles were fastened to the side of his pants. Pulling apart the mask, Sky saw him peel away two long strips of electronic components that he fastened around each wrist. Delicate looped wires stretched from each band to slip over the pointer and index fingers of his hands. Finally, he twisted the heels of both boots, emptying out two shiny silver cylinders with a black ring around the middle.

  “Hold these for me.” He tossed them to Sky and she tucked whatever they were in her pant's pocket.

  “Come on.”

  She hung back. “Come one where?”

  “To get my mother out of the brig,” he said slowly, like she was mentally challenged.

  “That wasn't part of the deal. I'm not committing treason.”

  “Fine,” he pulled the phone out of his jacket and tapped the screen. “Do it,” he said.

  There was a scream of pain and the screen focused on her mom's face, twisted in anguish, her eyes rolled back in her head.

  “Stop it!” Sky kicked out at Quill, trying to bring him down. “Stop or I'll kill you, I swear.” Flicking off the safety, she brought her gun up, level with his head. “Stop!”

  Quill rolled his eyes. “Minion,” he spoke to the phone. “What happens if I get hurt?”

  The screen momentarily showed a man's face before he turned it to focus on a wide, jagged hunting knife. “I skin her,” said the voice through the speaker. “Then the girl.”

  Quill looked expectantly at Sky, one eyebrow high.

  Despite what she said at Hugo's house yesterday, the moral high ground was going to have to stay unclaimed. At least by her. The image of the knife and her mother was too much. Cringing inwardly, she realized this was a step she could not come back from. She was leaving the greater good behind. She'd been taught that's what cowards did. Choosing themselves over others' welfare. Then she was a coward. She could not leave her mother and Kara to the knife. Sky lowered the gun.

  “I thought so.” Spinning on his heel, Quill walked back the way they'd come.

  Still fastening the velcro closures on her vest, Sky jogged out the door behind him.

  A short distance from the brig, he stopped. “Now comes the fun part.” He handed her the zip-tie manacle. “Put these on me.”

  She did as he said.

  “Take the hood and envelope out of my back pocket. There's an I.D. inside with the papers. Put the hood on and march me into the detention center.”

  “And then do I get my mother and sister back?”

  “Don't worry, that will be part of the evening's agenda in due course.”

  Despite the hood, he walked confidently across the compound to the squat concrete bunker that housed the detention center cells and interrogation rooms. Most of the building was underground.

  “Scan in the I.D. I gave you.”

  She did as he said. The blinking red light at the entrance switched to green, the doors slid open. Inside was a secure reception area with the desk behind bullet-proof glass and reinforced concrete.

  There was only one soldier on duty, a woman with a tablet in front of her. Her fingers were flicking over the screen, restlessly scrolling as if she was online.

  “Yeah?” She spoke in a bored voice, not even looking up.

  What was Sky supposed to say? Quill hadn't told her any cover story.

  Saying nothing, she handed the papers he'd given her.

  “And?” the woman said.

  'And what?' she thought.

  The woman's eyes flicked to the card in her hand.

  Sky pushed it forward.

  Scanning it and the orders, the woman slid a key card through the slot and waved them towards a scanner with two sealed doors on either side. “Stow your weapons in the box at the door. Step in, stand next to him, not behind. Wait until the scanner gives the okay. Then proceed to Cell 44B. All the way back and then right. Don't go down the stairs.”

  Panic rising in her throat, Sky followed her directions. Quill must be packing some sort of weaponry and
she had those two metal cylinders. They would be discovered for sure.

  As they stepped through and the doors shut, red lights crisscrossed the interior, beaming restlessly over and around them in a body scan. She saw Quill move his fingers and a little buzz of energy leaped from him to her like an electric shock. A shower of sparks crackled above them and the beams flared brighter, shooting every which way before the wiring boxes on the ceiling shattered entirely. The box began to fill rapidly with smoke. Sky jumped as sparks rained down.

  “Help!” she shouted, pounding on the plexiglass. “Get us out!”

  “What the hell!” The woman dropped the tablet and began punching buttons. The door into the Detention Center slid back. Sky pushed Quill and they stumbled forward. Both of them coughing and gagging on the acrid smoke.

  The overhead sprinklers kicked in as they emerged and a fire alarm began to whoop as the smoke from the scanner seeped into the hallway.

  “Go!” The soldier motioned them away. “Just go while I turn off the goddamn alarm.”

  Sky saluted automatically. The woman wasn't even looking.

  Once they were out of sight, Quill gave a twist of his hands and the restraints fell away.

  The sprinklers in this part of the Detention Center had not been activated. “There are still cameras on in here,” Sky pointed out.

  Black camera boxes were embedded in the ceiling every so many yards.

  Quill aimed his fingers at them and made shooting motions. “Pow, pow, pow! Not anymore.”

  She saw the red light on every camera he pointed to blink off.

  “How?”

  “Later. Come on.” He pulled the hood off and threw it aside. “She's downstairs.”

  Quill ran ahead, taking pieces of something from his jacket pockets. She couldn't see what he was doing but their use became apparent very quickly. An armed man in uniform stood at the top of the stairs. He aimed the thing he'd assembled at them.

  “Halt! Who are you and what are you...”

  He didn't get to finish. A jagged bolt of electricity shot from the weapon in Quill's hand. The guard fell to the floor, twitching uncontrollably.

  Quill brought the weapon, which looked like a stapler of all things, up to his lips and blew at imaginary smoke from the barrel.

  They could hear feet pounding in their direction from the corridor below.

  Pocketing the weapon, he calmly pointed at her pocket. “The cylinders.”

  She pulled them out and tossed the pieces. He caught both with one hand. Flashing her a crooked smile, Quill twisted one once and tossed it to the floor below.

  An explosion out of all proportion to the size of the projectile engulfed the hallway. The sound of the shock grenade roared up the staircase with enough force to knock Sky off her feet completely. Quill, still smiling, stood easily as though the shock wave traveled around him.

  His mouth moved and Sky couldn't hear the words at first for the ringing in her ears. He stepped over and pulled her to her feet. She half fell, half walked down the stairs as he dragged her roughly along.

  Two men lay writhing on the floor. Quill stopped at each and pushed the weapon he held against their neck. The spark of light flicked out. They jerked once and lay still.

  “Did you kill them?” Sky said staring at the still forms.

  He laughed. Quill seemed to be enjoying himself. “They'll wish they were dead when they finally wake up. We don't want anyone raising the alarm quite yet. Come on.”

  “What about the soldier in reception?”

  He pushed her down on her knees at the bottom of the staircase. “Speaking of...”

  “Frederick, Cooper!” a woman's voice called loudly. “Respond.”

  'Don't move,” Quill whispered.

  Sky heard the soldier at the top of the stairs.

  “Hey, are you all right?”

  Quill stepped out from the side of the metal stairs. He used Sky as a springboard to launch himself from a standing start twenty feet up the staircase with the grace and power of a Bengal tiger. Grabbing the soldier around the neck, he pulled her with him into a backward somersault. Sky scrambled out of the way as they tumbled down. The woman flailed wildly. Quill looked in perfect control. When they landed on the floor, he slipped around fast, coming behind and pulling her gun up and over her head. He used the butt of the weapon to strike her. The soldier dropped in an untidy sprawl.

  Without waiting, Quill ran down the long corridor, keeping an eye on the cell numbers until he came to 31A. “Come on, use the key card.”

  “It's for 44B,” she protested.

  “This isn't a hotel. The cards actually work on any door.”

  She did as he said, the door slid back and Sky saw a woman inside. Bruised and battered, both eyes blackened, her blond hair in knots. Her white T-shirt and bright yellow drawstring pants with POW across the front were stained with sweat and blood. Even in this condition, Sky recognized her as the woman from the porch at Hugo's house.

  “Bastards,” Quill growled. “I'll cut their throats for this.”

  He moved to help the woman, she waved him away.

  “I can walk. Let's go,” she said tersely.

  With Quill in the lead and Sky at the rear, they went back the way they'd come, stopping by the unconscious guards. She needed to change out of her prison garb or she'd be spotted immediately.

  The woman's uniform was too short; one of the men's was tall enough. Working quickly, Quill pulled off jacket, boots, and pants, tossing them to his mother.

  She stripped out of the POW shirt and pants, struggling hurriedly into the uniform. When she wasn't beaten up, Sky thought Helena St. James must be a strikingly beautiful woman. It was obvious Quill had inherited his sensual good looks from her.

  “Transport?” Helena barked.

  “Handled. I met a girl from the motor pool willing to part with any number of things for a price.” He gave his sly, crooked smile. “Among them, information. Come on, there's a van in the parking lot with everything we need.”

  No one stopped them as they exited the Detention Center. No one paid any attention at all.

  “Why isn't the fire department here?” Sky asked as they took off running.

  “Blocked the signal, didn't I?” His voice sounded smug. “Set up a little black box earlier in the evening making sure the alarm would only loop back internally.”

  Jogging to the parking lot, Quill brought them quickly to a white van with government plates.

  Inside, he pulled out three, well, Sky weren't sure what they were. Harnesses and fuel tanks of some kind. As he laid them out, she understood. They were jet packs. Seniors trained on them with simulators. She and her squad had watched a session once.

  Grabbing one, he talked as he fastened the heavy contraption across her chest. “Have you flown these before?

  “Of course not! Even Seniors only fly them virtually. You have to be regular Guard. A grown-up.”

  “You're a gamer though. It will be easy. Think of the handles as a joystick. Right button for thrust. Left for braking. Use both wrists to steer. Just follow me. Oh, and here.”

  His mom already had hers on, locked and loaded. She pulled a long silver pin attached to a chain and slapped a button in the middle of the harness before rocketing almost silently into the air. Sky watched, as Helena sped up, disappearing over the fence.

  “Just like that,” said Quill smiling broadly.

  She grabbed his sleeve. “What about drones? They'll shoot us down without the proper codes.”

  The U.S. military had coped with the lack of boots on the ground quite well. Automated drones patrolled the skies, crisscrossing counties, states, and the coastline. Drone warfare the unforgiving muscle behind secure borders and safe transport. Most drones were controlled by computers, not human operators on the ground. The machines didn't care if you were carrying a cargo of puppies and wide-eyed orphans. If you traveled through restricted areas without proper codes, you were dead.

  “Thes
e are programmed with codes for cadet training.” He slipped the straps and closed the buckles with practiced ease. “Oh and this.” He slapped a sticky black patch over her name tag. “There. We're good to go. One, two and...” He pulled the pin on her chest, slapped the ignition button and Sky shot straight up.

  She might have screamed. In fact, she was pretty sure she did. The Base shrank to the size of a dollhouse in seconds.

  Quill soared next to her. “Turn!” he waved. “This way!” He banked to the left.

  'Video game,' she repeated to herself. 'Think of it as a game.'

  Pushing the handles, her upward trajectory stopped abruptly and followed the direction of her hands.

  Quill had become nothing but a vapor trail by now. Pressing the right button again, the jet pack kicked into a higher gear. Steering was not quite as simple as Quill said. She kept shooting up and down and left and right like a pigeon on drugs.

  He braked, slowing enough so she came abreast of him.

  “Fun, right?” The jet packs were so quiet he hardly had to shout.

  “Not so much,” she looked down and felt light headed. “I'm getting air sick.”

  He gave a bark of laughter and zoomed ahead.

  Chapter 23

  Blood Poisoning

  Quill and Sky entered the blood vault through a different door than the one in the old movie complex. This one was a wide metal hatch concealed in the ground around a quarter of a mile away from the building. Which was a good thing, since Sky inadvertently used a couple of pine trees to slow her descent. The result had been a lot of noise, much of it her cursing, and some lost time in untangling the gun strap and jet harness from the branches. Not the most surreptitious of entrances.