Into The Fire (The Ending Series) (25 page)

“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “The patrol…it’ll be
here soon. Do you have any idea what they’ll do to you if they catch you in
here?”

Probably the same thing they’ll do to you
.

Mase was suddenly behind her, towering over her small form.
“We have to get away from the door…they’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Is there another way out?” I asked.

“No.”

On cue, there was a clang on the other side of the door—a
key being fitted into the lock.

“Fuck! They’re early,” Mase hissed. Stealing my breath, he
picked up both Camille and me.

What the—

He slung us over his shoulders, and jumped. We landed on one
of the oversized shelving units…on the top shelf.

Thunder resounded throughout the cavernous space and the
metal shelf vibrated beneath us.
Holy shit!
Mase set both of us down
right before the door opened and the four soldiers I’d seen earlier stepped
inside. The three of us lay side by side, watching with bated breath.

“What the hell was that?” one of the soldiers asked. When
nobody responded, he commanded, “Do a sweep. Check all the back rooms. If
someone’s here, I want them found.”

As the three other soldiers fanned out, deftly waving their
rifles and lights around in search of whoever had caused the noise, the leader
waited by the door.

Careful not to make a sound, Mase raised his hand to his
head and tapped his fingers against his temple, and then did the same against
mine.
He wants me to use my telepathy?
Doubtful, I concentrated, fully
expecting to run into the electrified wall that had been erected in my brain
and had been blocking my Ability for the past day and a half. It wasn’t there.
Oh,
thank God!

“You got a plan, big guy?”
I asked, astounded at the
ease with which I connected to his mind. It was unlike anything I’d ever
experienced, even with Jason or Dr. Wesley’s neutralizer boosting my Ability.

He nodded minutely, and several images flashed through my
mind.

Mase leaping down to the floor like a panther and
snapping a soldier’s neck before the other man could cry out.

Camille and me quickly climbing down from the top of the
shelving unit.

The three of us sneaking through the door and running far
away.

“Can we do it without killing him?”
I flicked my eyes
toward the guard below.

Mase frowned, and three more images appeared in my mind’s
eye.

Mase leaping down to the floor and putting the soldier in
a choke hold until he passed out.

The other three soldiers coming in search of the cause of
their leader’s struggle.

The soldiers finding Camille and me, and…

I blocked the rest of his communication, not needing to see
myself being killed.
“Okay, I understand,”
I said, resigned.

Without waiting for further confirmation, Mase silently
launched his massive body off the shelf and dropped to the floor, his landing
unbelievably quiet despite the twenty-foot drop. He landed directly in front of
the patrol leader and snapped his neck before the other man even knew he was in
danger.
Holy crap…how’s that even possible?

As Mase eased the limp body to the floor, I couldn’t help
but replay what had just happened. It had taken only a few seconds, and Mase’s
unexpected grace had made the attack appear unnaturally easy. I wasn’t sure
what his Ability was, exactly, but it was obviously very physical…far more so
than any other I’d witnessed.

Camille tugged on my sleeve before easing over the edge and
beginning her climb down the oversized shelves. It wasn’t easy, but I followed,
descending beside her. My legs and arms shook, my hands felt cramped, and my
heart pounded. I beat Camille down, and as soon as Mase could reach her,
watched him take hold of her hips and lower her the rest of the way to the
floor. The motion was so protective, his hold so tender, that watching made my
heart ache.
I miss Jason.

Mase led Camille to the door and motioned for me to follow.
Shoving my loneliness away, I slipped outside behind Camille and held my breath
as Mase soundlessly eased the door shut.

19

DANI

MARCH
20, 1AE

Before she and Mase had run off in the gray morning light,
I’d convinced Camille to pay me a visit later that day. As I puttered around
the kitchen that afternoon, making one of the two things I could actually
cook—tea—I attempted to focus on the questions I wanted to ask Camille when she
arrived. It was better than replaying the memory of Mase snapping the patrol
leader’s neck and him falling to the cement floor, limp as a rag doll. I wasn’t
being very successful. There were so few sane people left alive; I felt like
we’d done something unforgivable in snuffing out his life.

You did what you had to do to survive, D,
Zoe’s
imaginary voice said.
Suck it up and move on. It’s done.

I shook my head and laughed bitterly. My hatred for General Herodson
was reaching a critical level. His mind-controlled Colony was making me do
things, terrible things, and turning me into someone I didn’t want to be. Right
and wrong had been blurred for a long time, but the false utopian prison was
flipping them upside down. If I didn’t get out soon, I would lose it and either
make a poorly planned run for freedom—and get shot—or attempt to carry out a
poorly planned hit on the General…and get shot. I wasn’t a big fan of getting
shot.

A high-pitched whistle started quietly, quickly building up
to a steamy scream. I let it continue, appreciating the ear-piercing
distraction. At a knock at the front door, I switched off the electric burner and
let the teakettle slowly return to a mostly silent state.

“After the way you both ran off this morning, I wasn’t sure
you’d really come,” I told Camille once I’d opened the door for her to come
inside.

She was standing on the welcome mat, alone, smiling a small,
secret smile. Her eyes were an odd grayish color, like they’d once been hazel
but had faded along with her first life.

“Please, come in,” I said hurriedly, opening the door
further. I didn’t want her to stand on the porch long enough to draw the
attention of some nosy, mind-controlled neighbor.

Camille stepped inside and looked around the entryway. She
seemed eager, of all things, her eyes hungrily devouring the furnishings,
decor, and layout of the house.

“So…er…this is my house,” I said as I led the way down the
hall into the kitchen.

She followed, if a bit slowly.

“I made tea…do you like tea? I think I have some cookies
too, somewhere…” I disappeared into the pantry that was in one corner of the
kitchen, searching for the box of chocolate chip cookies I’d spotted the other
day. When I reemerged, cookies in hand, I found Camille leaning over the stove
and fiddling with the nobs that controlled the burners…which didn’t bode well,
because the ends of her hair were brushing over one of the burners. One that
she’d turned on.

“Camille!” I rushed to her, pulling her away from the stove
just as the thick, coiled metal started to glow orange. “What are you doing?
Are you trying to set yourself on fire?” Standing between her and the stove, I
looked into her eyes, making sure she was still the young woman I knew and
hadn’t gone through some weird body-snatching process.
I wouldn’t be overly surprised
,
I thought, considering everything I’d seen within the Colony’s walls.

Camille stared back at me, her eyes wide. Until that moment,
all I’d seen from her had been a young woman with an iron backbone and balls of
steel. But looking into her frightened eyes, I found a girl—a scared girl. Her
bottom lip trembled.

Mentally kicking myself for my harsh reaction, I wrapped my
arm around her narrow shoulders and guided her to the sofa in the adjoining
family room. She sat woodenly and stared ahead. Tears streaked down her pale
cheeks.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, but I didn’t want your hair
to catch fire,” I told her softly, sitting down beside her. I brushed her hair
out of her face with my fingers. “You have such pretty hair; it would be a
shame.”

She shook her head, and her voice was wobbly when she
finally spoke. “I live in—I’ve never been in a real house before…at least, not
that I can remember.” Her eyes seemed to be searching the wall across the room.
“Sometimes I have dreams about a place a lot like this, and there’s one about a
burning metal machine like that—”

“A stove,” I told her.

“About a stove, except real flames come out of the top,” she
said, finally meeting my eyes. “There’s always a woman standing beside me in
those dreams, laughing. She makes me feel safe and happy. And then, when I’m
laughing with her, she turns on the stove and starts to burn. Flames cover her,
and she blackens and dissolves into a pile of ashes and bones. When I wake up,
I’m crying.” Camille paused for a moment. “I don’t know who she is. Why does it
make me sad that she burns?”

Because you’re only human
,
I thought, but then
I remembered that she wasn’t, exactly. With a gentle smile, I again wrapped my
arm around her and pulled her close. Only when she could no longer see my face
did I let myself frown.
What happened in her past? What’s she remembering?
“Do
you think—is it possible she’s your mom, or maybe your sister?”

“I know what those are from a book I read, but I don’t have
any of those. I only have Father.”

“No, I mean, from before you di—from before you became a
Re-gen
.”
I said the word stiffly, trying not to load it with the disgust I felt for Dr.
Wesley and her unnatural science projects.
Dead is dead
…
or at least
it used to be
. I had no idea what it was like to be a Re-gen, to have died
and been brought back to life with fractured memories at best, but it was just…wrong.
Did any of them even have a choice, or were their bodies stolen and used
without their permission? What happened to letting the dead rest in peace? What
about souls, if there is such a thing?
I shivered, terrified by the
possibilities.
What if—

“Dr. Wesley told me most of us don’t dream,” Camille said,
drawing my attention back to her, “but that if we do, it might be our memories
trying to resurface—so maybe you’re right. But she also said our memories
shouldn’t have been able to survive the process. She said those synapses are
too fragile and they die too quickly.” She paused. “Synapses…I don’t know what
that means.”

“Synapses are…” I searched for a simplified way to explain
the complex processes that occurred within our brains every
millisecond—processes I didn’t hold a firm grasp on myself. Talk about the
blind leading the blind. “Synapses are what happens inside our heads that make
us do and think things. There are different synapses that do different things,
like store memories or make our mouths open so we can speak.” I was pretty sure
I was botching the explanation…royally. “They’re electrical, so—”

“They’re electrical?” Camille asked, pulling away and straightening.
She looked at me curiously. “Like, electrotherapy?”

I eyed her. “Yeah…”

“Do you think that, maybe, electrotherapy might bring the
memory synapses back to life?” Her pupils expanded with her excitement,
drowning out the lighter gray in her eyes.

“I—I don’t know. But if it did, wouldn’t it affect all of
the Re-gens, not just you?”

“Well…” Camille raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips,
looking like she was deciding whether or not to hold in a secret.

I mirrored her eyebrow-raise. “Well…?”

“You know how Mase works with Dr. Max a lot of the time?”

I nodded, suspicion sneaking around in my mind.

“Well, he has keys for that electrotherapy lab—”

“Wait,” I said, holding up a hand. “
That
electrotherapy lab? As in, it’s not the only one?”

She nodded and continued. “Some nights, after all the other
Re-gens are asleep, we sneak into Dr. Max’s lab and do it to each other.”

“Do
what
to each other?” I squeaked, dreading the
answer. I had a sinking feeling she wasn’t about to tell me they spent the wee
hours of the night playing doctor.

“Electrotherapy,” Camille said. She was practically bouncing
on the couch cushions.

Again, I paused her with an upraised hand. “Let me get this
straight. You and Mase sneak into one of the electrotherapy labs and
electrocute
each other?
Why
? ’Cause it’s so damn fun?”

She swatted my leg and giggled. “No, silly. So we can be
more powerful than everyone else.”

Uh…that’s not creepy or anything…

“When we first wake up as Re-gens, we’re a lot weaker than
normals—regular humans, like you—and it takes a lot of electrotherapy to bring our
Abilities back up to whatever strength they were at before. But we can also become
stronger than normals by doing more electrotherapy, because it’s too dangerous
for them. But I heard Father tell one of his Controllers that he doesn’t want
us to be
too
powerful, because he wants to make sure they can avoid any
‘Spartacus situations’ before they have a chance to turn everyone into Re-gens
or T-Rs.” She cocked her head, looking at me quizzically. “What does that mean,
a ‘Spartacus situation’?”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the young woman sitting
beside me.
How does she know all this? And why is she telling me?
“A…uh…‘Spartacus
situation’ would be a rebellion—a
slave
rebellion,” I told her, then
whispered, “So he
does
consider us all his slaves.” Biting my lip, I
studied the diminutive Re-gen. “Camille, what’s a T-R? Is it like a Re-gen?”
Holy
crap—does the General want to kill
everyone and make them into perfect
little Frankenstein slaves?