Crystal Keepers (31 page)

The drone forced Cole into the room. The tall robot had to crouch a little to fit through the doorway.

“You led us on a merry chase,” the woman said. “I didn't think you'd make the mistake of coming back this way, but the Hunter was right. Maybe one day I'll learn not to doubt him.”

The drone was still gripping Cole. There was no way to run. All he had left were words. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Sure you do,” the woman said, producing a syringe. “It's over, kid. Try to relax.”

While the drone held Cole steady, she swiftly poked the needle into his arm and pressed the plunger. Cole squirmed and bucked, but it did no good.

Whatever she had injected into him acted quickly. His head became light, and the woman began to blur. Within a moment Cole limply swayed as the floor seemed to tilt. The drone held him up.

“Don't do this,” Cole said, the words mushy. “Please, let me go.”

“Don't fight it,” the woman said. “Relax. You have a train to catch.”

The woman lifted the hinged lid of the coffin, and the drone placed Cole inside. It was padded. Cole fought to keep his eyes open but lost consciousness before the lid closed.

C
HAPTER

30

THE HUNTER

C
onsciousness returned by degrees. All Cole knew at first was that he still felt too tired to open his eyes. The hard surface beneath him failed to ignite his curiosity. Where exactly was he? Did it matter? He had awakened in many different places over the past couple of months. At least it was quiet. On his back with his eyes closed, he could be anywhere.

When he moved to wipe his eyes, Cole found that his arm was restrained. His eyes snapped open, the drowsy calm dispelled. He discovered that his arms and legs were cuffed to a metal table inside a bare, white room. A panicked burst of struggling proved that the restraints were solid. A counter with a sink and several drawers looked to be the only furnishings besides his metal slab.

Getting captured came back to him in a rush. How had he forgotten? The injection must have left him groggy.

How long had he been out? His mouth was really dry and
had a coppery taste. A long time could have passed. Where was he? It looked like a room in a hospital. Maybe a mental hospital? Or some kind of prison?

“Rise and shine!” greeted the youthful voice of the Hunter from a speaker in the ceiling. “I guess you can't rise yet, but I'm glad you're awake. You had a nice trip?”

“Where am I?” Cole asked, unsure if the Hunter could hear him.

“You're at my favorite retreat in Zeropolis,” the Hunter said. “I'm here too. I'll come see you in a minute.”

“Could you bring some water?”

“You bet. Sit tight.”

Cole waited. It wasn't long before the door opened and a person entered dressed all in dark leather. A helmet hid the face. The person set a glass of water on the counter, then closed the door and locked it.

Pulling off his helmet, the person revealed himself to be a boy about Cole's age. The kid stared at Cole for a long moment, his face lighting up with joy and relief. His huge smile looked involuntary. Tears shimmered in his eyes.

“I can't believe it's really you,” he said.

The reaction left Cole confused. “Man, you really wanted to catch me.”

The Hunter laughed, still looking delighted. “Yeah, I guess I did. You didn't make it easy.”

“You're the Hunter?” Cole asked.

“You knew I was young,” he said. “Almost as young as you. I'm a little older than I look. My shaping powers make
me age slowly. Take a good look at me. Do I look familiar?”

Cole was at a loss. The kid had brown hair and a friendly face. “Not really.”

The Hunter came closer. “Come on. Look hard. Think. Nobody is listening anymore. Who am I, Cole?”

“Have we met before?” Cole asked, thoroughly perplexed. Was this some kind of weird form of torture?

The Hunter looked a little disappointed. “You've known me most of your life.”

“Most of my life was back on Earth.”

The Hunter watched him. “You're getting warmer.”

“I knew you on Earth?”

“In Idaho and Arizona,” the Hunter said.

Cole looked him up and down, trying to place him. “Has it been a while? Were you a lot younger or something?”

The Hunter shook his head. “Part of the time. You've known me since you were born. The last time you saw me, I looked pretty much like this. Come on, think.”

“Are you just messing with me?”

“No. We both love soccer. Your parents are Bryant and Liz Randolph.”

“How do you know that?”

“They're my parents too, dummy. I'm your brother. Hunter Randolph.”

Cole was speechless. This was ludicrous. What kind of game was the Hunter playing? The kid was not familiar at all. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Don't, Cole. I'm serious. Look at me. Can't you see the family resemblance?”

Cole supposed he and the kid shared some physical similarities. But they were hardly twins. “You look my age.”

“I'm about two years older than you. In more than two years, I've only aged about six months. Chelsea is a year older than me.”

Cole shook his head. “You are such a liar. You searched me on the Internet. Nice try. No way am I believing you.”

“Think, Cole,” the Hunter said. “Nobody back home remembers you. I was taken before you, so you don't remember me. I hoped that maybe since we were both here now, there might be a little spark of memory.”

Cole honestly had no shred of memory of this kid. It had to be a lie. Surely he would remember his own brother. “Why would my brother work for the High King?” he challenged.

“The same reason the CIA works for the president,” the Hunter said. “The High King is in charge. He's been good to me. You've gotten involved with some bad people, Cole. You have no idea.”

Cole shook his head. This was so bogus. “You must think I'm dumb as a rock.”

“Use your head,” the Hunter said. “If you're not my brother, you're just some runaway slave. Why would I go to all this effort to bring you in without anybody knowing?”

“To get me to betray my friends.”

“I wouldn't mind that,” the Hunter mused. “But there are easier ways to get to your friends. The patrolmen could force you to give them up. Or the legionnaires. They have cruel methods that work. I'm trying to give you a second chance. You got mixed up with the wrong side. I get it. I know what
it's like to be new here. It's confusing. You got brainwashed. When I saw your picture in Carthage, I realized who you were. I got permission from the High King to let you join us. You're my brother. I'm trying to save you.”

Cole laughed. “Is that why I'm locked up?”

“You're locked up until I decide you won't do anything stupid. Come on, Cole. I'm not familiar at all?”

“Not a bit,” Cole said sincerely.

The Hunter reached into his pocket and took out a wallet. He removed a little photo and held it up to Cole. It was the family picture that hung in their living room. Cole knew it well. A few years old, the picture showed him, Chelsea, and their parents. And some other kid.

Cole blinked, then squinted.

“Wait a minute,” he said.

“That's right,” the Hunter encouraged. “Do you see?”

The other kid in the photo was the Hunter, looking not much younger than he did right now.

“No way,” Cole said. “You faked this.”

“I brought the picture here with me. Look at it.”

Cole closed his eyes.

“I said look,” the Hunter urged.

“Give me a second,” Cole said. He was trying to envision the picture in the living room. There was no extra kid in it, was there? He had a faint recollection of noticing another kid in the shot, and briefly wondering who it could be. Was that even a real memory?

Cole opened his eyes. The Hunter was unmistakable, right in the middle of the picture. He was wearing the right
clothes and had the right hair style. In the picture, he and Cole definitely looked like brothers.

“It looks real,” Cole said.

“Because it is,” the Hunter said. “I still look like myself. I haven't aged much, and I haven't dyed my hair.”

“I was trying to avoid detection,” Cole said.

“I saw the e-mails you sent to the family account,” the Hunter said. “Did you see mine?”

“No,” Cole said.

“I've been sending them for years,” the Hunter said. “It was funny to see you sending the same kind of messages while not opening mine.”

“Can I see?” Cole asked.

“Sure, I have a thruport here,” the Hunter said. “There are plenty of other pictures of me in the family e-mail account and on social media. Maybe now you'll recognize me in them.”

Cole didn't want to believe any of this. But what if the Hunter wasn't lying? What if it was true? “You lived in our house?” Cole asked.

“Right across the hall from your room,” the Hunter said.

“That's the guest room,” Cole replied.

The Hunter stared at him meaningfully. “Maybe now. What about all my soccer stuff? My trophies? My posters?”

Cole scrunched his brow. What exactly was in the guest room? Were there trophies? He couldn't form a clear picture in his mind. “I don't know. I don't remember any of that.”

The Hunter laughed bitterly. “Now we have two guest rooms. And even more unnoticed trophies.”

“I don't remember you,” Cole said honestly. “This seems impossible.”

“The Outskirts is a weird place,” the Hunter said. “I hate that you can't remember. Think. Practicing soccer in the backyard. Christmas mornings. You have to trust that I remember you! You're my little brother! We'll become friends again. We did it once.”

Cole stared at the Hunter. Could this be true? He had always thought it would be cool to have a brother. Could those yearnings have replaced his actual memories?

“I don't know what to say,” Cole said.

“I knew this might be hard for you,” the Hunter said. “I knew you might not remember. I'll give you lots of proof. This isn't a trick. I know all sorts of things you can't find on the Internet. Remember when that peacock chased Chelsea at the Phoenix Zoo? Remember when Mom backed the car into the garage door? Remember that time we camped in the backyard and you wet your sleeping bag?”

“That was just with Dad.”

The Hunter shook his head. “It was the three of us. I went and got you fresh underwear and sweatpants.”

“Who is my best friend in Mesa?”

“Is it still Dalton?”

“Who was the old guy in Boise that probably killed our cat?”

“Mr. Barrum.”

Cole tried to think of more things only a family member would know. “What does Mom keep in the bathroom to read?”

“Those condensed books.
Reader's Digest
. And Dad sometimes brings in
Sports Illustrated
.”

Cole stared at the kid who was probably his brother. “What is Chelsea allergic to?”

The Hunter scowled in thought. “I don't remember.”

Cole rolled his eyes. “It's a food. You should know this.”

“Right! Frozen berries. They give her weird little sores on her tongue.”

“What animal does Mom hate?”

“Geckos.”

Cole felt like he might cry. How could the Hunter know so many obscure details? Cole considered how much he hoped his family would remember him. His brother had been going through this for years now. “How are you the Hunter?”

“People call me the Hunter. Really I'm just Hunter. Hunter Randolph. Your brother.”

“But you're on the wrong side,” Cole whispered.

Hunter shook his head. “You're just brainwashed. It'll be okay. I'll help you.”

“No way, Hunter. You might really be my brother. If it's true, I'm so sorry I don't remember you. But if you think you're on the right side, you don't know the whole story.”

Hunter sighed. “I'm sure they told you all sorts of things. Every criminal has excuses. Some probably sound pretty good. The Unseen are terrorists. They're trying to destroy the Outskirts. It may take some time, but I'll help you see what's really going on.”

Cole tried to stay calm. He had to believe Hunter didn't
know some key facts if he was happy fighting for the High King. What information was most likely to sway him? “Do you know who you've been chasing?”

“A slave girl named Mira,” Hunter said. “She ran away with secrets vital to the High King. He wants her alive.”

“Do you know who Mira really is?” Cole asked.

“I just told you.”

“Do you know about Stafford's five daughters?”

“Everybody does. They died in an accident a long time ago.”

Cole shook his head. “Their father faked their deaths. He stole their shaping powers with shapecraft, and wanted to keep them imprisoned, but they got away. Losing their powers made them completely stop aging. They lived in exile for decades. Mira is Miracle Pemberton. For some reason, the shapecraft that took their powers started to unravel, and Stafford started to lose his stolen abilities. He wants his daughters back so he can take their powers again.”