In the Afterlight - Bracken Alexandra (онлайн книги бесплатно полные TXT) 📗

“What?”

She wrote, What does this prove?

“The fact that he felt like he had to write this is a pretty big clue he thinks I’ll do it again—take his memories, I mean. Send him away.”

Zu calmly folded the note back up and then reached up to smack me in the nose with it with her patented are you serious? look.

Seeing I still wasn’t getting it, she picked up her notebook and pen again. OR—he wrote it because he was scared someone else would make you do it, like his brother. He says he wants to stay. This means he wants to stay, with you, with us, even knowing what happened. Did you even ask him about it? Does he know you took it? She gave me a very different look now. You shouldn’t take things that don’t belong to you.

“I haven’t talked to him about it,” I admitted.

Did you miss this? She pointed to the last line.

I shook my head, swallowing hard. “I saw.”

Zu studied me for a moment, dark eyes penetrating, flickering with understanding. Do you feel like you don’t deserve it?

“I think he...I think he deserves better than the best I could offer him.” It was the first time I’d admitted it out loud, and somehow putting it into the open only added to the weight of truth. I felt sick, lightheaded. He deserves better than me.

She looked torn between kicking me and hugging me, but settled on the latter. Too late, I’d realized how this would affect her—how someone already so panicked and afraid would react to seeing the people she thought of as her rocks crumbling.

When he comes back you have to talk to him, okay?

“Okay,” I said, not as certain as she was that he’d want to talk to me.

If you go to the bad place again, she said simply, tell one of us so we can help you back out.

“I don’t mean to be such a burden,” I whispered. All I ever wanted to do was protect you.

It’s not a burden if people are willing to carry it, she pointed out and, having made her final point, let herself drift to sleep. I rolled onto my side and tried to do the same.

It must have taken at some point because then I was dreaming, walking the damp, dark hallways of HQ, taking the path to Alban’s cluttered office, eyes tracking the exposed light bulbs overhead. The next moment, I was in a different hallway, cold tile under my feet, small hands fisted in my shirt.

I jerked back, my mind ripping out of the foggy haze of sleep, scrambling away from Zu’s terrified look. The lights in the lower-level hallway were switched off, as they always were after midnight. She stood in contrast to the shadows, worry overtaking confusion on her features. Her brow creased as she stepped toward me tentatively, reaching for the hand I’d pressed over my heart, trying to steady it.

“Sorry,” I told her, “sorry—sleepwalking—stress—it’s—” I couldn’t get my tongue around the right words, but she seemed to understand. Zu took me firmly in hand and walked me back toward our room, never once letting me stumble. My head felt light enough to drift away, and when I climbed back into bed, I banged my clumsy knees against the metal frame. The last thing I was aware of was Zu stroking my hair, smoothing it again and again until the pain pounding in my skull eased, and I was able to breathe normally again.

In the earliest hours of the next morning, the Op team and I set off for the open desert of Nevada.

15

I KEPT MY BELLY DOWN flat against the wash, ignoring the tinge of pain in the muscles of my lower back. It seemed wrong for the desert to be so damn cold, but I guess without the sun, and without the benefit of thick-leaved trees and brush, there was nothing to trap the heat of the previous day. Nameless mountains hovered behind us, the lighter of two deep shades of black. I kept looking over my shoulder as the hours passed, watching their jagged shapes lighten to the color of a new bruise. Aside from the yellow, dried-out clusters of low, prickly desert shrubs, there wasn’t much anything else to look for.

“What was that?” I heard Gav ask. “Is that a rattlesnake? I heard rattling.”

“That was me drinking from my canteen, dumbass,” Gonzo said. “Jesus, dude. Did you leave your balls in California?”

I shushed them, and then shushed them again when one of the girls started complaining about having to pee.

“I told you not to drink that much water on the drive,” Sarah told her. “You never listen to me.”

“Sorry I don’t have the bladder of a freaking sloth.”

“You mean camel,” Sarah corrected.

“I meant sloth,” the other girl said. “I read somewhere they only have to go once a week.”

I rolled my eyes heavenward for strength, wondering if this was what Vida felt like every moment of every day.

“Status?” Cole’s voice was clipped in my ear.

“Same as an hour ago,” I said as I pressed my earpiece. “Nothing so far, over.”

We’d taken the two SUVs down to this barren stretch of Interstate 80 and were dropped off on the side of the road; Lucy and Mike turned the cars around and drove them back to Lodi. Cole and I had mapped out the sweet spot on the highway in terms of distance from the camp. Just far enough from the camp that no one would notice the vehicles making a quick stop. But the only cover we had to hide in was the wash running along the cracked asphalt. We curved our bodies to fit its shape, and waited.

It was another ten minutes before my ears picked up on the faint hum of a distant engine. I knew I hadn’t imagined it when the others began to squirm, trying to get a better look at the lip of the wash. A few seconds later, the first pinpricks of light appeared—headlights that grew in size and intensity, slicing through the darkness.

I glanced down the wash—and there it was, three bursts of light from a flashlight. Ollie had been stationed there to check the markings on the truck. It was the right one.

Zach slapped my back, the excitement bringing a grin to his face. I felt it like a jolt of electricity to my system and flashed a smile back at him as I stood.

I walked out into the middle of the road, hands shaking only a little bit as the semi-trailer truck barreled down the road. I held up my hands as the headlights blinded me—I couldn’t see the details of the driver behind the windshield, but I saw the quick movement as his hand went to strike the horn. I let the invisible hands in my mind reach out blindly, feeling for his, stretching, stretching, stretching—and connecting.

The truck rolled to a stop three feet away from me.

There was a flurry of movement at my left as the makeshift tact team came scrambling up from the wash, moving toward the rear of the truck to open the trailer and jump inside.

I pushed the earpiece as I jogged around to open the passenger side door of the truck’s cab. “We have our ride, over.”

“Fantastic. Proceed with second phase.”

The driver was frozen behind the wheel, waiting for his instructions from me. I searched through his memories and teased one up from the week before, of him making this exact ride in. I pulled that to the forefront of his mind and said one word. “Drive.”

I crouched as low as I could in the cab, drawing the black ski mask down over my face. I pulled myself up to look over the dash periodically to make sure we were still heading in the right direction. The truck driver had been blasting some rap music that was angry and pounding enough to set me on edge, so I reached over and switched it off, missing the exact moment the gray, sun-bleached two-story structure and its ten-foot fence came into view.

“In sight,” I said. “Everyone good at the back of the bus?”

“Peachy,” was Zach’s reply. “ETA?”

“Two minutes.”

I took another steadying breath as we turned and headed off the highway onto a dirt road. The two PSFs at the gate dragged the thing open as the driver, a thick-waisted, bearded man in a short-sleeved button-down, went through the motions of turning the truck and reversing through it, his face blank. A tarp was spread out over the loading area adjacent to the main building. There were already flatbed carts out, waiting for the supplies to be unloaded. Two PSFs were sitting on them, smoking, but threw the cigarettes away and stood as the truck backed toward them. The others, having secured the gate, were hurrying back over as I took one last deep breath.