Oblivion (8 page)

SEVENTEEN

Jason

So far no one had
approached me. It had been several hours since the Doctor threatened to let the
Boss punish me for my actions, and I was beginning to believe he would do
nothing. Letting me stew and worry about what he might do seemed like a
sufficient punishment. Perhaps they thought anything I could dream up would
scare me enough that I wouldn’t continue to fight them.

Although, from
what I could tell of the man, the Boss seemed to be chomping at the bit to hurt
someone. At the thought of being allowed to punish me, his heart had sped up
and I could tell he was excited.

From what I
gathered from the myriad of scars littering my torso, I had been in this
position before. Apparently sadistic bastards are drawn to hurt me. Lucky me.

The Boss wouldn’t
hurt me. After my accidental use of power, I could feel the connection to the
earth in the back of my mind. There was dirt all over the floors, probably
brought in on shoes. I could use it. Wiggling my fingers and concentrating, I
could tell the pieces of dirt were moving toward me. My attempt was something I
did not want anyone to notice. I limited my movements to only slight wiggling
of my fingers that could be attributed to keeping the blood flowing in my bound
hands. Although I could feel the dirt along the hallway outside my room, I kept
my attention on the grains within my prison. I couldn’t be certain no one would
notice if all the dirt on this level suddenly started heading toward my room.

Casting my gaze
toward the floor, I could see the grains of dirt slithering toward my bed. I
kept it out of sight of the cameras, certain that if they noticed what I was
doing, the punishment would be real, not up to my imagination.

“Jason… Jason, can you hear me?”

Jeremiah’s voice
broke my concentration, and I could feel my heart beat speeding up. It seemed
certain my anxiety was clear on my face, but I attempted to school my features
to hide it. If they noticed… maybe they would think I had a particularly bad
thought about what they might do to me.

“Jason… Oblivion wanted me to contact you.
He wants to know what you’re planning. He and I can help you.”

If I didn’t
respond, the killer would likely keep trying to speak to me.
“You’re a killer. Why should I trust you?”

There was a long
pause, and I began to wonder if he heard me at all.

“I can return you to your family. Does it
matter if you can trust me on a personal level?”
Despite his attempt to
sound nonchalant, I could almost feel his hurt that I no longer felt I could
trust him.

The thought gave
me pause. It began to make me believe what he had said about us being friends.
Why else would my distrust cause him pain? My thoughts drifted back to what he
asked.

Does it matter?
The other man had already proven he was capable of escaping this place. The
only place I knew. Nothing else in the world would be familiar to me, so if I
left on my own, would I be able to survive?

Somehow I knew I
could. But if I told him no, I doubted he would let it lie.
“I’m planning to use my powers to get out.”
Honest,
but not detailed.

If he and his
allies managed to get here before I left, I might go with them. How could I trust
that he knew my family? How could I even trust that he knew me before my memory
loss?

I could feel his
mental sigh.
“Oblivion says you are
distrustful, and I do not blame you. I would not harm you, Jason. You saved my
life. For two years I have hurt no one. These people threaten your safety and
that of people you care for. I am working with your friends to rescue you.
Please trust us!”

Desperation was
clear in the killer’s voice, and I wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe I
wouldn’t be alone as I ventured into the world.

But I couldn’t.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t trust a killer.”

“You’ve killed too!”
he snapped, anger ratcheting
through my mind.

Cringing, I tried
to bring my hand up to rub my head, but was brought up short by the restraint.
“Stop! That hurts!”
I pleaded. The truth
of his statement reverberated in my mind. I was a killer too.

Did it matter? I
couldn’t remember the act, and the memory of heartbeats ceasing made me sick. I
may have killed, but at least right now I didn’t have the stomach for it.
Ignoring Jeremiah’s repeated attempts to talk to me, I kept my concentration on
the dirt. It was time to figure out how to use it to free myself. There were
key locks on the restraints, so I directed the line of dirt into it. Doing so
allowed me to feel the inner workings of the lock. It wouldn’t take much to unlock
the restraints, but I had to figure out the lay of the land before attempting
to get out.

I sent energy
through the floor—sensing the earth within the building materials—and
determined that my main adversaries were not in the immediate vicinity. My room
was still dark, and they had told me they’d be back the next day. Perhaps they
were either gone, or in their own quarters for the night. The Doctor and Boss
may be gone, but I was not here alone. There were people walking all around the
building. Although none were nearby.

“Don’t, Jason! Wait for us, please!”
Jeremiah’s voice was tinged with desperation, and I ignored it as I continued
plotting a way out.

Of course all bets
were off once I started moving. They would see me on their cameras, and would
attempt to keep me here. The dirt I stocked near the bed now would have to
serve as my partner in my escape. And I would continue gathering it as I ran
through the building.

They carried guns.
I would stop them without killing them, and prove to Jeremiah that I am not a
killer. That I cannot be like him, no matter how much he wants me to be.
Keeping my concentration on the dirt slowly making its way into the cuff locks,
I absently wondered whether Jeremiah heard my silent declaration.

The killer’s voice
was still sounding in my head, but I made the conscious choice to ignore him.
Expending any extra energy on communication was not my priority. Escaping
before my captors decided to harm me in any way was.

“Please shut up,”
I begged, my head
beginning to throb at the unwelcome intrusion.

Expecting him to
fight me, it was a pleasant surprise when the voice simply stopped talking.
Sending out a silent thank you, I pushed the dirt in the locks, forcing them to
turn. The soft click as it released was a welcome sound, but I was careful to
not move my hands.

The camera in the
corner was just visible in my peripheral vision, and I was careful to not pay
it any undue attention. It was necessary to keep it in view as I sent a thin
tendril of dirt up the wall toward it.

Catching a glimpse
of the slowly moving line of dirt, I was struck by how much it looked like a
line of ants marching up the wall. My mouth quirked in slight amusement at the
image. My little dirt ants doing my bidding.

Pushing my will into
the dirt, I let the line speed up, wanting nothing more than to get out of this
prison. The thin line approached the back of the camera, and I pushed the particles
together, hardening them so they could cut through the wires.

It took several
minutes of extreme concentration, but eventually the wire snapped.

I sat up in the
bed and rubbed my raw wrists. I eyed the door, cautiously sensing whether there
was someone outside or not.

Now came the fun
part.

EIGHTEEN

Jeremiah

There are a lot of
things in the world capable of making me angry, but far fewer that cause me
open concern. Jason’s refusal to communicate with me at one point would have
angered me. As things fell now, it only served as a cause of concern.

“What’s
happening?”

The voice sounded
about as worried as I felt, and I turned to face the boy. “Your brother is very
stubborn.”

My comment brought
a slight smile to Sam’s face. “He always has been. What’s he doing now? You
actually seem… I don’t know… anxious or something.” His brow was furrowed in
concentration.

“Not a normal
emotion from me, correct?” I asked, my lips twitching in amusement.

He shook his head
slowly. “Not normal,” he agreed. “But not as abnormal as you want people to
believe. You’ve been concerned about my brother this whole time, or you
wouldn’t have bothered pretending to be a cop to stay close to him.”

Taken aback, I
opened my mouth briefly before closing it again. His abilities prevented me
from hiding my motivations as usual. The idea that this… this child could know
my feelings was difficult to accept. But he was not incorrect.

A quick glimpse at
the boy’s face showed an amused smirk, and I knew he had been following the changes
in my emotions. “Keep your mind to yourself,” I snapped irritably.

His smirk only
became more amused, and I resigned myself to the mild aggravation his attitude
caused. There was nothing I would do against him unless he actively attempted
to harm me.

Smirk fading, Sam
approached. “What is my brother doing?” he asked again.

“Ignoring me,
mostly,” I admitted. “But I believe he is attempting to mount an escape. In
theory he could be successful, but without his memories…”

“He wouldn’t have
a place to go,” Sam followed my thoughts clearly. “He’ll get out, but he knows
nobody and nothing.”

The kid’s
amusement was no longer present as overwhelming concern flooded his features.
“We need to go get him,” he urged.

“He’s right,”
Detective Farrow spoke as she approached. “We can’t let Jason wander off on his
own with no knowledge of who he is or where he’ll be safe.”

I sighed and
looked away from the detective for a moment. “Jason no longer trusts me, and I
am the only person other than his captors that he knows. What makes you think
he will trust you when you catch up to him?”

A flash of mental
pain went through my mind at the thought that I’d lost Jason’s trust. He’d only
just begun to trust me as Scott Nickels, and had decided to trust me despite
his memory loss. Now, he pushed me away as he’d done when we’d first met. He
believed me to be a mindless killer, and not someone who could help him.

Sam stepped
forward, interrupting my thoughts. “I can help him to trust us. You told him he
has a brother, right? Once I get to him I think I can help him remember.”

“And if he still
cannot?” I kept my tone soft, wanting to do nothing that would harm the
Tracker’s brother.

He winced
slightly, but nodded. “I can still help. Trust is part of what I can…” he
paused, casting a wary glance at the detective and his friends. “It’s part of
what I can control.”

Sam was clearly
tense at his admission, and the others eyed him with distrust. He wasn’t far
off in thinking his friends were afraid of him.

“We talked about
this, detective,” I snapped. “He is a child, learning a dangerous ability. Your
distrust is not likely to help the situation.”

She shook herself
and put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Sorry, Sam; I know you wouldn’t do
anything to us.”

I could tell she
was being honest, and the sincerity brought a smile to Sam’s face.

I clapped my hands
together. “Are we all settled now? Then we should get going. We’ll want to be
there before your brother manages to get free. He may need assistance with his
departure.”

“Paul will be here
shortly, should we wait? Do we have time to wait?” Sam asked.

Casting part of my
mind toward the Tracker, I shook my head. “He is not waiting. I believe
whatever his plan is; he already put it in motion. What do you think?”

I watched as the
boy’s eyes lost their focus, and he began breathing faster, his hands gripping
into tight fists. Taking a deep breath, he pulled away and grimaced. “Yeah.
He’s definitely moving. Alice, we need to go.”

NINETEEN

Sam

Despite my desire
to leave immediately, it did take a couple minutes to gather everyone and leave
a message with Tessa for Paul. The whole time I couldn’t stop my fingers from
tapping against my leg, and my foot was tapping on the floor. “Can we get
going?” I urged.

Jason wasn’t
waiting. No matter how much I tried to manipulate his fear or anxiety about
leaving the only place he would recognize, he still would not pause in his
efforts to get free. A wry smile crossed my face. Some things never change.
Even without memories, Jason would not stay still. Running was ingrained
deeply.

“Is he talking to
you at all?” I faced Kindred, and he cast a glare in my direction.

“As I told you
before; he no longer trusts me. He will not listen or respond to anything I try
to tell him, including that his brother is with me, and wants him to wait. What
more would you have me do?”

He seemed upset,
but the assassin genuinely wanted to help Jason escape his captors. His
question wasn’t sarcastic, but an honest inquiry. Shrugging hopelessly, I
answered, “I would have everyone
speed
up!
”

My own anxiety
seemed to push everyone to their highest speeds. Alice and Mark had on their
bulletproof vests, and had their service weapons strapped to their hips. Hannah
was already at the car, and Kindred and I were close behind.

“I have no
jurisdiction here,” Alice explained. “But this being a kidnapping, Mark does. He’s
reported to his superiors and requested my help, but we don’t have time to wait
for official word from his bosses that we can go in. Let’s go get Jason back.”

Mark grinned
humorlessly, “Better to ask forgiveness than permission. We’ll be good as long
as we get Jason out and can get his statement.”

Everyone got into
Alice’s SUV, and she drove as quickly as she could to the other side of town.

“He’s terrified,”
I informed them, “but he isn’t stopping. There is no way to tell how far he is
in his attempt, since I can’t talk to him and he’s ignoring Ki—Jeremiah. All I
know is he is not out yet.”

“We need to do
everything we can to aid him in his escape,” Jeremiah insisted. “He may not
know you or trust me, but if he sees us helping him that will be a start. And,
Oblivion? Try to avoid the temptation to use your abilities to make him trust
you. If he discovers that you were messing around in his mind, he will have a
difficult time truly trusting you again.”

I flinched at the
reprimand, and wanted to push back at the warning. My mind, however,
automatically pulled back from my brother’s mind. His comment struck close to
home. Wasn’t that what I had worried about with Hunter? It was why I was so
hesitant to let Jason know about my abilities.

Kindred was
clearly waiting for a response. “I… I—” I hesitated, not knowing what to say.

The assassin spoke
in an oddly gentle tone. “You love your brother, but you also love using your
abilities. Keep in mind that your desire to manipulate others is not a trait
that Jason would admire. Do what you must to our enemies in order to help his
escape, but do not use your powers on him directly. Not until you attempt to
fix his memories.”

My initial
reaction was to lash out. To tell Kindred that he had no right to tell me what
to do. Unfortunately, I knew he was right. The others seemed to know it as
well, because not one of them spoke up against what the killer said. Jason
always had a hard time letting people in and trusting them. It would be hard
enough to explain what I had inadvertently done to him without having to inform
him that, along with wiping his memories, I had also manipulated his emotions.

Even with his
memories, Jason had no idea what I could do. He’d been drugged and in pain when
I tried to explain it before, so I had no idea what he remembered from the
conversation. Hunter hadn’t given us much time to catch up before attempting to
kill me and sell Jason.

My silence seemed
to satisfy Kindred. In the ensuing quiet I stared out the window and kept my
mind on monitoring Jason.

“He hasn’t used
his abilities on a large scale.” Even to my own ears I sounded confused.
“Everything he’s done is small. I don’t believe he’s been discovered, but I do
think he’s moving. Are we almost to him?”

“
It’s
right up there,” Alice answered, pointing out the huge
complex. The entire area was bordered by chain link fences that had signs for a
construction company hanging from them. The cover for those who kidnapped my
brother. Any destruction he caused would likely be blamed on construction.
There were machines and people in hardhats who went in and out of the buildings
to help sell the illusion.

“Jason was near
the other side of the complex,” Kindred explained. “We can drive around the
block to get to the door I used in my own escape.”

Kindred had a
slight smile on his face, and I wondered silently what he could be finding
amusing. “Try talking to him again,” I demanded. “Let him know we’re here to
help him, and that I can get his memories back.”

The assassin took
a breath and closed his eyes for a moment before they flew open. “He… he kicked
me out. He hasn’t done that in years. How…?”

My mouth quirked
in amusement at the other man’s confusion. “He’s more powerful than you ever
were. Even not knowing how to properly use his abilities, my brother is
stronger than you. He’s lived his entire life protecting himself and others
from those he sees as a threat. Even losing his memories doesn’t take away his
instincts.”

Scowling, Kindred
seemed to sink in his seat. “Well, I have no way to even attempt communication
anymore.”

“We’ll just have
to play it by ear then,” Alice said grimly.