Into The Fire (The Ending Series) (19 page)

13

MASE

MARCH
17, 1AE

“C’mon! We have to get closer!” Camille hissed and grabbed Mase’s
wrist as she stood. Her small hand didn’t come close to encircling it
completely, but that didn’t stop her from tugging.

The two Re-gens were hiding between some bushes and a few
trees to observe the tiny woman. Begrudgingly, Mase rose from his crouched
position and let Camille drag him across the road toward the warehouse. He easily
could have tossed her over his shoulder and carried her back to the chow hall,
where they would finish their lunch hour pretending to be nice, obedient
Re-gens. He thought he probably should have; it would’ve been safer. But Camille
was determined, and Mase didn’t have the heart to deny her.

She was his first memory. It had been her kind face smiling
down at him when he first opened his eyes a few months ago, her soft, gray eyes
gazing at him with nothing but affection. She’d watched over him, taught him
how to be more like the normals and less like the other Re-gens, taught him how
to
pretend
to be just like the other Re-gens. She was the center of Mase’s
universe, the only force holding him together when the fragmented images of
someone else’s life flashed through his mind.

The other Re-gens focused all their attention on Father,
practically worshipping him. Camille and Mase pretended, did their jobs, and did
whatever it took not to draw unwanted attention. But Camille had whispered the
truth to Mase, telling him what Father had done to him, what he must have done
to her, too. He killed them. He killed them and remade them into something
else, something he thought he could control. He was wrong.

Every time Mase was near Father—the man the normals called
General Herodson—he had to fight the urge to tear the man’s head off and smash
it against a wall. He could have, easily. But there were others like Father, others
who controlled many of the normals’ minds like Father did. He was just the
strongest, largest, and evilest head on a many-headed monster. So, Mase bided
his time, watched, and kept Camille safe.

“C’mon! Pick up your feet, Giant, or we’ll miss it all.”

Mase scowled, but inside he was smiling. “Giant” was Camille’s
nickname for him, and he loved it. At night, in the barracks they shared with
the other Re-gens—vast rooms filled with row after row of bunks—she would often
sneak over to his bed and let him hold her while she slept. She would call him
her gentle giant and say he made her feel safe. Mase usually stayed up late
watching her, avoiding the nightmares that haunted his sleep.

Camille had the nightmares too, as did some of the other
Re-gens. Sometimes she would wake up crying, and the only way Mase could get
her to stop would be to press his lips against hers. Eventually she would rest
her head on his chest and fall back asleep. But he never slept after those
moments. Mase would lie awake, hungry for something he didn’t understand.

Camille looked back at him. Hair so dark it was almost black
flew around her as she jogged, and her pale cheeks were flushed pink. “Faster,
Giant, or I swear…”

Mase did smile then.
“Calm down, Camille,” he told her as they neared the warehouse. He
glared around at their potentially hostile surroundings. They were wearing
jeans and sweatshirts instead of their usual uniforms—the scrubs worn by
Re-gens—in an attempt to look like normals, but Mase was still wary. “If anyone
sees us like this…if they recognize us, they’ll report us.”

“I know, but we can’t miss it!” she said, her soft voice
urgent.

“What makes you so sure she can help?” he asked, picking up
the pace. He wanted to get out of sight.

Camille waited until they were crouched behind another bush,
but their new cover was nearly flush against one of the warehouse’s many
windows. She wiped the glass with her sleeve to clear it of rain and grime and peered
inside.

“I told you, I saw what happened in the science building
when Dr. McLaughlin shot the glowing medicine into her neck. She screamed until
she couldn’t scream anymore, and her scream made my head feel like it was going
to explode. She doesn’t want to be here, Giant, and she’s not under
his
control.
She’s perfect.”

Mase looked through the window, finding the two normals a
short way from the door in the shadowy interior. The tiny woman had stopped
struggling, and her eyes were closed. The man was touching his lips to her neck
and unzipping her coat. He ran his hands up and down the sides of her body. It
felt wrong, but Mase wanted to watch it play out, to know what happened next.
He ached to know what happened next.

The tiny woman said something, and the man turned her
around, away from the Re-gens’ view. Mase didn’t understand why she wasn’t
fighting him anymore. She’d tried so hard to get away from him before. A sudden
burst of anger surged through Mase as he imagined Camille in the woman’s place.
He didn’t want the man to do whatever he was planning.

Mase felt Camille’s eyes on him and glanced at her, unable
to fully tear his attention from the scene inside. His face had transformed
into a furious scowl. Sometimes, when rage overtook him, his strength emerged and
he lost control.

“Calm down, Giant,” Camille whispered, reaching for his
hand. “This is not the time for that to come out.”

“I don’t understand.” Mase’s voice was hoarse and too deep.
“Why isn’t she fighting anymore? Why is she letting him…?”

Camille squeezed his hand. “I think she’s pretending. Just
watch. If it goes too far, you can go in, okay?”

Swallowing repeatedly, Mase nodded. He felt sick. He was no
longer curious to see what happened next—not like that…not with the tiny woman
who had no choice. “She’s so small,” he commented softly.

The tiny woman ran her hands down the man’s back to his
legs, and then Mase saw it. Her nimble fingers released the pistol from the
man’s thigh holster, and she pressed it against his groin. The man froze
instantly, and she began backing away from him.

Camille’s radiant smile caught Mase’s attention. “Told you,”
she said proudly. “She
is
the one who can help us. You
have
to
believe me now. Come on, let’s go help. If she shoots that gun, it’ll ruin
everything.”

Mase started to think that maybe, just maybe, Camille was
right. Maybe the tiny red-haired woman
could
help them destroy this
place from the inside, then get as far away as possible. Unlike Dr. Wesley, Dr.
McLaughlin, and the few other normals covertly working against Father,
she
was from the outside.
They
couldn’t be trusted, not completely, but
maybe
she
could be.

Following Camille into the warehouse, Mase took control of his
strength and speed. He felt it pumping throughout his body, making him an unstoppable
force.

“Stop!” Camille cried out as Mase eased the door shut behind
them. The tiny woman turned the gun on the Re-gens, and the second the man was
no longer in her sights, he rushed her.

Mase got to him first. He slammed the man against a crate,
and the wooden boards cracked behind him.

“Don’t kill him, Mase,” Camille said calmly.

Mase held the man up by the neck, but managed to restrain himself
from squeezing hard enough to crush his throat. “Don’t fucking move,” he
growled.

The normal made a choking noise, and when Mase released him
completely, he slumped to the floor.

“Are you alright?” Camille asked the tiny woman. Mase turned
to watch them. Camille was holding her hands up, looking completely harmless. She
wasn’t
harmless. “Did he hurt you?” she asked.

The woman shook her head as she lowered the gun she’d been
aiming at Camille.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice shaking. She cocked her
head as she studied Camille. “You feel…different.”

Camille smiled. “I’m Camille, and that’s Mase,” she said,
pointing to him. “We won’t hurt you.”

“Whatever you say,” the woman said as she glanced at the
other normal and then at Mase. When her eyes met his, he thought she suddenly
seemed taller, less fragile. There was a fierceness in her eyes, and he truly
began to believe that Camille was right about her. She
could
help them.

“We should take care of this,” Mase said, nodding at the
normal groaning on the floor.

“Oh, right.” Camille fished a small vial out of the secret
pocket she’d sewn inside her coat and handed it to him. It was the forgetting
medicine she kept on her at all times, just in case someone witnessed them
acting different from the other Re-gens. She refused to tell Mase where it came
from, no matter how many times he asked, but he was pretty sure she got it from
Dr. Wesley.

“Open your mouth,” Mase told the injured normal. When he
didn’t respond, Mase kicked his side, and the normal cried out. It looked like
he definitely had a few broken ribs. Mase grinned.

“Don’t hurt him!” the tiny woman shouted.

Astonished, Mase stared at her.

“It’s not his fault! He doesn’t know what he’s—” She clapped
her hands over her mouth and started backing away, her eyes full of terror.

“We know,” Camille told her. “We won’t tell. We watched him bring
you in here, and we wanted to help you.”

“How do you…is it the neutralizer? Was it given to you,
too?” the woman asked. Her iron-hard eyes were still wary, but she stopped
backing away.

Camille shook her head. “Mase and I…like you said, we’re a
little different. Not like him.” She motioned toward the normal at Mase’s feet.
“And, we’re not like you, either. I guess you could say we’re…special.”

She was right about that. Mase and Camille had made sure of
it, as had Dr. Wesley.

“Um, okay.” The woman glanced around her. “It’s a church,”
she muttered. “I almost get raped in a goddamn church? Isn’t that effing
poetic?”

Mase wasn’t sure how to answer her question, so he looked at
Camille, who shook her head, equally baffled. Sometimes normals said the
strangest things.

“Well, thanks for, you know, helping me. I’m just going to,
ah…go.” The woman started for the door.

“Wait!” Camille called after her. “What’s your name?”

Halfway out the door, the woman looked back at the Re-gens.
The dull sunlight from outside glinted off her hair, turning it a coppery red.
“Dani. My name’s Dani.” And then she was gone.

Mase watched the door for a few more seconds, then looked
down at the injured normal. “I told you to open your fucking mouth.”

That time, he did.

“Do you want me to move him?” Mase asked Camille after the
man had lost consciousness, either from the medicine or from the pain. “To make
sure someone finds him?”

“Yeah, but just somewhere else inside this place. We can’t
risk anyone seeing you carrying him.”

Mase hauled the injured normal up and flung him over his
shoulder, waiting for further direction.

“How about that platform up there?” she suggested, pointing
toward the other end of the building. “There’s even a nice long table you can
rest him on. Someone’s sure to find him, and then they’ll be able to fix him
up. Dani doesn’t want him to be hurt anymore. She would probably be unhappy if
he died.”

Mase followed Camille up to the table and gently set the
normal down. “You like her, don’t you?”

Camille smiled shyly. “Yeah.”

14

DANI

MARCH
17, 1AE

Though every cell in my body was urging me to sprint the two
blocks to Gabe’s lab, I forced myself to maintain a slow, steady pace. I kept
my head down, my hood up, and I walked like my life depended on it.

Eventually, out of breath despite having only walked a few
blocks, I pulled open the glass door leading into the building housing Gabe’s
lab. I rushed through the doorway and stepped to the side, out of sight from
anyone outside. As far as I could tell, the building was empty. I leaned back
against the wall, giving myself a moment to breathe.

What the hell just happened? And who were those people?
Camille
was little more than a teenager, delicate and still filling out, with brownish-black
hair and a mixture of Asian and Caucasian features that lent her a doll-like
appearance. And the big guy—Mase—had chocolate-brown skin and was scary as
hell, and, well…huge. The man was built like a tank, and I thought he might’ve
been able to give Jason a run for his money in the World’s Deadliest Man
competition. And then there was their minds; they were just…different.

A piercing scream shattered my inner monologue, and goose
bumps rose under my sleeves. It was the second time I’d heard such a
terror-inducing scream inside this building. I knew the stupidest thing I could
possibly do was investigate, but it was also what I
had
to do. I
couldn’t, in good conscience, just ignore the fact that somebody was apparently
being tortured nearby.

The last time I heard it, I’d been on the second floor, and
it had sounded like the scream was coming from the stairwell. This time, it
sounded louder, closer. I figured the screamer must be somewhere on the ground
floor with me.

Silently, I crossed to the right side of the empty,
undecorated lobby and waited. And waited. And…waited.

After ten minutes had passed and I’d heard nothing other
than the bumblebee hum of electricity, I decided to pick one of the hallways
blind. There were only two options, so my odds could’ve been worse. I chose the
one with a hard-to-miss
RESTRICTED
sign. According to the smaller print,
only personnel with white cards and something called “Re-gens” were allowed
access.

Taking painfully slow steps, I inched down the hallway. The
walls were white and devoid of any hanging pictures or inspirational posters,
with only blue-gray doors breaking up the monotony. The floor was composed of
polished industrial floor tiles in various shades of off-white, and the air
smelled faintly of ozone. I was thoroughly creeped out.
Dumb idea to
investigate, Dani. Really dumb.

Ahead of me, a door swung open. Before I could turn and
bolt, a small man with thick glasses poked his head around the edge. I froze.
Crap.

“Oh! You must be my ten-thirty. You Re-gens are so punctual.
I can always count on you to be on time!” he exclaimed, rushing toward me and
reaching for my arm.

What’s he talking about?
“Um…”

“My last subject crashed a bit earlier than planned, so we
can go ahead and get you set up now,” he said as he guided me toward the still-open
doorway. The room beyond looked like a normal-sized classroom that had been
converted into some sort of lab-meets-doctor’s-office. There was only one door
into the room. Three of the room’s walls were covered in whiteboards filled
with line after line of precise handwriting, while the fourth was a wall of
windows, every single one shut.

“I’m not…I have a…”
…a nothing,
I thought, recalling
that my red card was still at my house.

The small man led me toward what looked like a dentist’s
chair and situated me in it. Nothing fun ever happened in a chair like that.

“Is this your first time, er…” He picked up a clipboard from
atop a nearby medical cart and glanced at the top sheet of paper, which appeared
to be a schedule printout. “JD-two?”

First I was a “Re-gen” and then I was “JD-two”?
What the
hell’s going on?
The day was really starting to suck. How I’d managed to
get myself into not one but
two
precarious situations so early in the
day was beyond me. Not knowing how to respond, I nodded, fearing arguing with
or disputing his assumptions would land me under the General’s radar—the one
place I
really
couldn’t afford to be.

“I’m called Dr. Maxwell, but most of you just call me Dr.
Max.” Dr. Maxwell was talking to me like a young child. “It’s very nice to meet
you, JD-two. Are you familiar with your”—he glanced down at the clipboard again—“telekinesis?
Have you noticed that you can move things without touching them?”

I stared at him, wide-eyed. If I was supposed to be
telekinetic, then Dr. Maxwell was going to be mightily disappointed in my
Ability, or lack thereof. “I, um…no?”

He sighed. “Fortunately for you, that’s where I come in. I’m
going to hook up some electrodes, and then we’ll strap you into the chair…”

Wait, what? Strap me in?
I glanced down and noticed
padded straps dangling from the armrests and along the sides of the chair.
Oh,
crap. Why does he need to strap me in?

“The process is painful, but you’ll find that it’s very
effective in strengthening your telekinesis,” Dr. Maxwell told me.

I was getting the impression that it was time to make a run
for it. I was pretty sure I’d discovered the source of the screams, and I
really didn’t want to be the next one to emit them.

While the doctor’s back was turned to me, I quietly shifted
so my legs dangled over the side of the chair. I was preparing to make like a
tree and get the hell out of there, but as soon as my feet touched the floor,
another, much larger man entered the room—Mase.

Unlike Dr. Maxwell, who was wearing a white lab coat, Mase
had changed from his street clothes into light blue scrubs. Under the
florescent lights, I could see that his irises were an unusual grayish-brown. He
narrowed his eyes when he looked at me, and I knew he recognized me from our
recent encounter in the church-warehouse.
Maybe he’ll help me—or at least let
me leave.

But Mase seemed to read my intentions and, after flicking
his eyes to the doctor and back, shook his head the barest amount. For whatever
reason, he wouldn’t let me go, or couldn’t. And he was blocking my only exit. I
was stuck with a new, awful decision—torture, or death.
First rape, then
torture…damn it all to hell!
Internally, I screamed, being sure
not
to
lace it with any telepathic power. If I let on now that I wasn’t the
telekinetic “Re-gen” Dr. Maxwell had been expecting—that I’d been pretending
and therefore had been wandering around a restricted area of my own accord—the
jig would be up.
Damn it! I can’t believe I left that damn red card at the
house!

Dr. Maxwell shot the briefest glance at Mase. “Ah, there you
are. MA-one will help you get situated,” he told me without looking my way.

Optionless, I scooted back on the chair while the dark
mountain otherwise known as Mase approached me. I sat quietly, watching his
face as he strapped me in. He met my stare multiple times while he worked, his
smoky-brown eyes intense and pitying. Pitying was bad…
really
bad.
Whatever was about to happen was going to hurt—a lot.

Then I had a realization that made me want to hit myself,
except my arms were restrained.
Oh my God, I’m such an idiot! I can talk to
him in his head!
I focused on Mase, on his not-quite-right mind. Camille’s
had felt the same, almost like it was somewhere on the scale between animal and
human, but not belonging to either group.

“Please help me,”
I said to him silently.

He’d been focused on the restraints he was fastening just
above my knees, but he froze for the briefest moment and glanced up at me.

“You can talk to me silently by thinking
at
me.”

I had the impression that he was trying to respond, but no
words were coming through the mental connection. Instead, I heard bursts of
white noise and, in my mind’s eye, saw something that reminded me of television
snow.

Panic and frustration were doing a pretty good job of
overwhelming me.
What about…
animals’ communications always came through
as images, not words.
“It’s not working. I can’t hear you. Try thinking in
pictures,”
I told him.
It was a long shot, but it was the only shot
I had.

Mase resumed strapping my legs down, but images began to
flash through my mind. Though they started out indiscernible and choppy, they
quickly formed into recognizable scenes.

Me, sitting on the chair, strapped in and cooperating
while Dr. Maxwell stood beside me.

Mase, running down the hallway.

Mase, talking to Camille.

Camille, talking to Dr. Wesley.

Did Mase and Camille know Dr. Wesley?
What the hell is
going on?

Mase tensed his face in concentration, and one last image
appeared in my mind.

Me, smiling up at Mase and then hugging him tightly.

I pursed my lips, trying to understand his meaning. He was
saying I would be happy with the result of what he had planned, that I would be
grateful…assuming I was interpreting the final image correctly.

Mase looked up at me, raising his eyebrows and nodding. He
wanted me to agree.

Happy and hugging him was determinedly better than whatever
form of pain Dr. Maxwell was preparing to use to supposedly enhance my Ability.
I locked eyes with Mase and nodded.

“I am finished. May I be excused for a few minutes, Dr.
Max?” Mase asked. Unlike in the warehouse, his speech sounded odd, stilted.

“What?” Dr. Maxwell glanced at him. “You just had your lunch
break.”

“I feel wrong…here,” Mase said, patting his abdomen.

Studying Mase, the doctor took a deep breath, then expelled
it slowly. “Fine, but make sure you talk to your Domestication Officer about
whatever pains you’re feeling, okay?”

Mase nodded, maintaining eye contact with the doctor.

“Be quick about it,” Dr. Maxwell said. “I’ll need you once
she starts to fight it.”

That sounds really,
really
bad.
Without
sparing me another look, Mase left. I desperately hoped he found Camille
quickly.

For once, my hopes were realized. Mase returned minutes
later, before the doctor had paid any further attention to me. He met my eyes
and nodded minutely, and I allowed myself a single, relieved breath.

“Alright, JD-two, let’s begin. We’ll start small and work
up, so it’s not too painful to begin with,” Dr. Maxwell said, turning his
attention to a small, high-tech switchboard. “MA-one—the bite protector?”

Mase moved to my side and gently tapped my chin. Fearful, I
looked up at him. He nodded and tried to smile, but I could tell his heart
wasn’t in it; pity had filled his eyes again.

Pressing on my chin, Mase opened my mouth and inserted a
rubber mouth guard. My fear quadrupled, and then multiplied exponentially when
he secured one last strap over my forehead. I felt like I was in an electric
chair.

Dr. Maxwell turned a dial on the switchboard. As an
uncomfortable staticky sensation passed through my body and all of my hairs
stood on end, I realized I hadn’t been wrong about the electric chair. I
shifted my focus back to Mase and implored him with my eyes. I tried to speak
to him telepathically, but the moment I reached for my Ability, a searing pain
ricocheted in my skull and singed outward to my nerve endings. Groaning, I bit
down on the mouth guard.

“See, it’s working already,” Dr. Maxwell said.

I hated him. He turned another dial, the electrical current
increased, and I hated him even more. I felt like I was floating in a bathtub
filled with stinging jellyfish. When I whimpered, he turned it up again. My
lungs seized, paralyzed by the electricity coursing through my body. I couldn’t
breathe.

“One of the straps is tearing, Dr. Max,” I heard Mase say. His
voice sounded far away and fuzzy. “Do you want me to hold her down?”

“Yes, yes—it would be counterproductive to stop now. Are you
wearing your gloves?”

Though the doctor was fiddling with the dials on the
switchboard, increasing the current further, my agony suddenly decreased and I was
able to catch my breath. I glanced down to find Mase crouching beside the
chair, one hand encased in a thick, black rubber glove and covering part of the
strap holding down my hips, the other wedged between the chair and my lower
back, the flesh of his palm pressed flush against my bare skin. As I stared
into his grayish-brown eyes, I understood. He was absorbing the electrical
current, sharing my pain by diffusing the current with his much larger body.

Holding his gaze, I screamed into the mouth guard,
pretending my agony was so great that I couldn’t possibly take any more. I
hoped the show would finally convince the doctor that it was time to end the
electroshock session. It didn’t.

Instead, Dr. Maxwell made another increase, and I jerked and
screamed again, no longer pretending. I couldn’t believe Mase was holding still
of his own accord, his clenched jaw his only sign of discomfort. Tears streamed
from my eyes, and I shook my head back and forth as much as my restraints would
allow. It wasn’t his pain to bear, and I didn’t want him to be hurting for me.
He
doesn’t even
know
me.

The door opened and a tall, dark-haired woman in a white lab
coat strode into the room.

“John, stop this at once!” she demanded. “This isn’t JD-two!
She’s a special project of mine and you might be ruining her with your tests!”
Through the white haze clouding my vision, it took me a few moments to identify
her as Dr. Wesley.