Need (28 page)

“I'll hold you to that.” He drives to the nearest intersection, slows down, then stops. No one's on the road, which will make it easier for me to drive. At least, that's what I'm telling myself. The cold wind slaps me as I get out of the car and walk to the driver's side. Bryan is already standing next to the car.

“Keep it in second gear,” he says as I slide behind the wheel. “I'll give you a few minutes' head start and then I'll follow. Be careful.”

“You too.”

Bryan closes the door, touches the window, then turns and jogs off into the snow. For a moment I just sit there and watch him go, hoping that we're doing the right thing even as I know this is the only thing we can do. But before I put the car in gear I have one call to make. I can't talk to my mother, but maybe . . . just maybe I can speak to my father.

The phone on the other end rings. A late-night call might concern him enough to make him pick up. But he doesn't, and that's okay. Because there is nothing he can do to help me now. However, instead of a hang-up, this time when voicemail comes on, I close my eyes, picture his face, and say, “Dad, this is Kaylee. I wish you were here because there's a lot going on. You'll probably hear about it. I'm not sure what's going to happen tonight, but if . . .” I shake my head and swallow the knot that's lodged in my throat. “In case I don't get another chance, I just wanted to say that I love you. Tell Mom I love her, too.” Then I slide the phone back in my pocket and start the car.

My fingers grip the steering wheel so tight they hurt. Bryan's car is bigger than ours. I feel as if I'm going to mow down the mailboxes on the side of the road. Thank God no one else is out driving and I can stick to the middle of the street. Bryan is probably watching me, wondering why I'm going this slow, but I don't look for him. I don't take my eyes off the road as I search for the street number Dr. Jain gave me. I can do this. I can face driving alone in the middle of the night on snowy roads and whatever comes next.

The heat blasts and makes me sweat, but I don't try to find the controls to turn it down. I think about my driving and Dr. Jain and NEED. Bryan is right. There has to be a reason for creating a network that targets teens. People get freaked when kids are involved. So why create something that could cause trouble if it ever got leaked to the press? What's so special about high school students?

There. I see a light on the side of the road illuminating a sign that reads
ART
STUDIO NOW CLOSED. PLEASE CHECK BACK LATER.
The address is also visible. Someone came out and cleared off the snow.

My stomach clenches as I turn the wheel and follow a path that has been plowed up the long stone drive. I stop the car fifteen feet in and study what lies before me. There's a big white house with a snow-covered wraparound porch on the right side of the drive. A brownish gray barn sits to the left of it, along with a bunch of smaller outbuildings. A walkway has been cleared to the barn door, and light shines from one of the windows there. The house is totally dark. I guess Dr. Jain is indicating where she wants me to go.

There's no car, though. My mother's car isn't here.

I turn off the engine and put the keys in the center console for Bryan. I wouldn't blame him if he decided to get the hell out of here.

Taking a deep breath, I unfasten my seat belt and open the car door. I step outside and shiver as the cold air hits my sweaty skin. I wish I had thought to bring something I could use to defend myself, but there's nothing I can do about that now.

I slam the car door shut. There's no point in trying to be quiet. I'm pretty sure Dr. Jain knows I've arrived.

I force myself to move. One foot in front of the other. Every crack of a stick or rustle of a branch makes me jump and walk faster. I'm about ten feet from the door when I see it open.

“Hello, Kaylee.” Dr. Jain stands there with a gun in her hand. “Won't you come in?”

She steps back and smiles at me. The smile makes me want to slap her. Instead, I meet her eyes and hold them as I move forward. A crack splits the air. I hear it a second before I cry out from the pain.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. I've been shot.

W
OW
. K
AYLEE DRIVES SLOWER
than anyone he's ever seen.

Her pace means he can almost keep up on foot, though. He should be afraid, but he's not. If Dr. Jain really is behind this, she's going to do whatever she has to protect herself and the project. She isn't going to let either of them out of here alive. Still, he isn't scared as he trudges toward the house. He knows what he's doing is finally right. Maybe after this he'll be able to live with the rest.

He reaches the side of the big white house and considers his options for getting to the driveway. He could go around the back of the house to avoid being seen from the street. Or he could climb up on the front porch and sneak around that way. The porch might be quicker, but the back is less noticeable.

A car door slams. That decides it for him. Kaylee is out of the car. Quicker is best.

He tucks the flashlight Kaylee gave him into his jacket, grabs the rail of the porch, and pulls himself up and over. Ha. Take that, Mr. DeAngelos. Bryan might suck at pull-ups during gym class, but he can do it when it counts.

Crouching, he hurries across the porch to the driveway side of the house. He sees Kaylee walking toward a barn door. The door opens and he squats near the porch steps, hoping to blend into the shadows. Dr. Jain appears, and she has a gun.

He hears her invite Kaylee inside. The combination of her measured voice and the pointed gun triggers something. Resentment. Hunger for revenge. Rage at himself. At Dr. Jain. At everyone involved with NEED. Everything that changed his life forever.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees something move near the far edge of the barn. Before he can yell a warning there's a flash and a crack. He's halfway down the steps when he sees Kaylee go down.

“Kaylee!”

Let her be okay. Let her be okay.

He sees Dr. Jain swing her gun, but he doesn't stop running because the person who shot Kaylee is moving closer. He looks familiar, but it's too dark to see him clearly. When the guy with the gun stops and aims again, Bryan doesn't think. He doesn't feel fear. He embraces the anger, puts his head down, and sprints toward him.

E
THAN SMILES
. Time to finish what he started and bump up his character's kill ratio.

Ready. Set. Fire.

He pulls the trigger as something smacks into him. Hard. Pushing his arm upward.

What the hell?

The kick of the gun and the momentum of whoever just hit him send Ethan reeling backwards. He grabs a fistful of his attacker's coat to keep his balance but goes down into the snow anyway, pulling the coat with him.

His arms are pinned to the ground, so he bucks at the weight on top of him. The snow is deep and cold, making it hard to move, and having someone on his chest makes it hard to breathe. Kaylee is screaming and crying from where he shot her. She's supposed to be dead.
This isn't the way this is supposed to work,
Ethan thinks.
This is wrong.
This never happens in the game. But he's not going to stay on his back or go back a level. He's not going to be taken down. Not now. He's come too far.

The weight on his chest shifts and he takes advantage by shoving hard. His attacker rolls into the snow, and Ethan struggles to a sitting position. His gun. Where the hell is his gun? He pushes to his knees and scans the snow, one hand reaching toward his ankle for his backup piece. As good as the backup is, he wants his gun. It has to be here somewhere.

And when he hears a click, he knows exactly where it is. He holds his breath, slowly looks up, and almost laughs. Bryan VanMeter stands with his arms straight in front of him, gun pointed, looking as surprised to see Ethan as Ethan is to see him.

“Bryan?” He doesn't have to fake his confusion. Bryan isn't supposed to be here. Unless he has an assignment too. Well, only one of them can win. And when it comes to games, Ethan never loses.

“Ethan.”

Bryan's arms release some of their tension. His finger doesn't grip the trigger quite as tight. He's soft. But Ethan isn't. His fingers wrap firmly around the handle of his hunting knife.

“What are you doing here?” Bryan asks.

Ethan smiles as he slowly slides the knife from his leg holster. “Winning.”

He springs forward with the blade extended. His arm jolts as the knife slices through fabric and plunges into flesh and bone. Blood trickles onto his hand. Warm. Wet. He doesn't care. The blood doesn't matter. Neither does the fact that he's known Bryan for years. The only thing that matters is that he's won.

There's a muffled pop and his knees buckle as something punches hot into his chest. Pain. Blinding pain. He can't breathe. He can't stand. He hits the snow face first and tries to lift his head, but there's too much pain.

Help,
he thinks as his chest explodes with heat and agony. He needs help. He needs . . .

“N
O
!” I
SCREAM
as I grab my upper arm and I lurch to my feet. It hurts. God, my arm hurts, but hearing the shots and watching Bryan crumple hurts worse. “Bryan!”

The world swoops and spins as I struggle to stay upright. I stagger across the snow to where Bryan lies so still. Bile burns hot up my throat as I see a thick black handle sticking out from his deep blue coat and the blood that is seeping from his wound onto the snow. Streaks of his life against a cold white blanket. It should be me. He was helping me.

“Hang on, Bryan,” I say, letting my legs collapse to the ground. “I'm going to call for help. You're going to get help.”

“No, he's not.” Dr. Jain wrenches the phone from my hand and shakes her head as she steps back, her gun aimed at me. “And before you try something heroic, I will tell you that a deep knife wound in that section of the abdomen tends to be fatal without immediate assistance. There's nothing anyone can do.”

I want to believe she's lying. Bryan is alive. I know he is, because I can see the way the air frosts when he lets out a breath. But there's so much blood and he's not moving. I put my right hand on his shoulder and say his name again so he knows I'm here. He deserves to have someone who cares near. For the last year, I thought I didn't care about anything other than saving DJ's life, but I do. God, I do.

I go still as I hear the whisper of my name.

“Bryan.” I swallow hard. “I'm here with you. Right here. I'm sorry.” I'm so, so sorry.

“No.” His eyes open. There is pain in them, but something else. Acceptance. For some reason that makes this worse. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.” I lean closer, not caring about the pain that flares through me. His voice is so weak. So quiet. Oh God.

“Tell Amanda's parents that I'm sorry.” He winces and closes his eyes. I can feel his struggle to breathe and I squeeze his shoulder, wishing I could do more. When he opens his eyes again they are filled with tears. “Tell them . . .” He stops and has to start again. “I loved her too.”

“I will,” I say as his breathing slows until I can't see it anymore. I want him to breathe. Please breathe.

But he doesn't. And when I skim my fingers over his face I know he's gone. “I'll tell them everything,” I promise.

The wind flutters the hair next to Bryan's ear and I smooth it back, unable to say goodbye. Unable to walk away.

“Fascinating.” Dr. Jain's voice cuts through the silence. “The most interesting thing about being a scientist is seeing how subjects deviate from projected behaviors. Bryan's profile doesn't skew toward heroic acts. That must have been your influence, Kaylee. You're not always the most thoughtful, and you have a compulsion toward self-destructive behavior, but the thread that runs through it all is a desire to make things right. That compulsion for some reason makes you brave and unique. Bravery among your peers is not as common as you might think. Truly, I find it so intriguing that people raised in the same community can be compelled by such different things. Look at you three. Bryan's concern about his physical appearance and desperate wish for acceptance. Your compulsion to fix what is broken. Even Ethan's actions, which most people would term sociopathic, can be tracked down to his desire to feel special, and to be in control.”

Ethan?

I wipe my cheek on my uninjured shoulder and then turn to look at the body lying face-down in the snow. He's wearing a black coat and a yellow and green hat. Suddenly I get it. Ethan is the one who dug the grave in my yard. Ethan Paschal. That doesn't make sense. He's not one of the kids who loves hunting or eggs houses for fun. And yet he tried to kill me. He killed Bryan. And now he's dead too.

Because of her. As I turn toward Dr. Jain, I see the gun in the snow next to Bryan. If I can only . . .

“Don't make me shoot you, Kaylee.” She smiles. “Leave the gun where it is and stand up. Now.”

She steps forward and grabs my injured arm. The world swims around me and my stomach heaves as she pulls me to my feet. She must realize I'm going to throw up, because she turns me away from her as my stomach empties again and again.

Once the worst seems to pass, she says, “Walk.” And I do.

I don't look back. There's no point. I can't help them. I only hope I can find a way to help Nate and my family and anyone else who has been a part of NEED.

“Where are my mother and brother?” I ask as we reach the door to the barn. “You said they were coming to meet you.”

Dr. Jain shrugs. “I lied. Although if you called your mother, as I suspect you did, she and your brother are probably headed back this way now. For someone who rarely trusts, Kaylee, I'm surprised you assumed I was telling the truth. Then again, maybe you did think I was lying and it didn't matter, since you still had to come for your friend.” She motions for me to go inside the barn, then follows and closes the door behind her.