Ordinary (Anything But) (18 page)

Nealon sat closest to him, on a bench that was small and looked uncomfortable. He had a folder in his hands, and as the v
an began to move, he opened it. “The best time is after the plane lands. They will be confident you won’t attempt anything since you’ve been so accommodating this far. If you make a run for it, you might be able to get away. Or you might just get killed,” he muttered, staring at whatever was inside the folder.

Christian’s head shot up, a frown on his face.

“Don’t look at me. Look out the window, look bored, or pissed. Don’t look like you’re paying attention to me.”

He slowly turned his head to gaze out the window to the country road. Christian’s heartbeat sped up, almost to a normal rate. His palms were damp with cold perspiration. Nealon was helping him. Why? Why would he do that?

“The cuffs I put on you are made for a person with normal strength. They won’t hold against you if you decide to break them.” Nealon was quiet for endless seconds. “They’re moving you because of Honor Rochester’s interest in you. UDs and UDKs do not interact; they do not care for each other. They see you as a threat and they want the threat removed. As the hierarchy likes to fool themselves into believing they are fair and just, they have not decided to exterminate you. Yet. But know this: if you get caught, you get killed. Remember that when you have a chance to get away. You don’t have to do it. I’m giving you an option. I’m giving you a choice. This is all I can do for you. You’re on your own after this. Understand? Blink your eyes if you understand.”

Christian blinked.

Nealon was risking his career, maybe even his life for Christian. He looked up, met the man’s unwavering gaze. He wanted to thank him, but knew Nealon wouldn’t want that. Christian looked away, down at his bound hands.

“You have to keep moving. Never stop for long.” Nealon paused. “You see me out on the streets, no matter what you’re told, it won’t be to bring you in. Blink again if you understand.”

Christian did.

The van jerked to a stop.
“Show time.”

***

The chains came off as the plane landed. Christian was guided from it, his eyes searching the wooded area around him. Three men surrounded him, pushing him toward a black SUV. Again he did a sweep of his environment. It was now or never. He tensed his body a fraction of a second before he took off running, jerking his arms apart and breaking the handcuffs in one fluid movement. Shouts rang out behind him. A gunshot echoed through the silent night. Christian headed for the trees, his arms and legs pumping like he’d never thought possible. He forgot his life was in danger for one millisecond and just enjoyed the exhilaration of it. He was fast,
really
fast. Another shot broke the quiet.

Christian’s body jerked, pain exploded in the back of his thigh. He kept going, kept pushing himself, into the trees. He crashed through brush and dead limbs, it crackling underfoot. Tree branches sliced his hands and face and still he ran. He paused long enough to glance over his shoulder. He didn’t see anyone or hear anyone. Chances were they weren
’t going to follow him on foot. His back against the base of a tree, Christian’s chest heaved up and down. He reached down and felt along the hole in his white pants. The skin was smooth where the bullet had gone in. His flesh had already healed. Christian frowned, not understanding how that was possible. He lifted his hands and watched as slits in the backs of his hands disappeared.

He heard voices and knew they weren’t far
behind. Head tipped back, Christian examined the endlessly tall pine tree. He put his hands to it, pulling himself up by grabbing at notches and lumps in the bark, his feet giving him a boost, and he climbed the tree higher and higher until it was impossible for anyone standing below to see him. Christian couldn’t believe he’d just climbed a monstrous tree. Tree sap and pine needles assaulted his senses and Christian actually welcomed the scent. It was nature, it was freedom, it was life.

The moon was so close at that height. Christian reached out, tracing the outline of it with a finger. Stars blanketed the sky, like fireflies of light. An owl hooted, crickets chirped. For the first time since he’d turned he didn’t feel suffocated, he didn’t feel strange.
There was peacefulness sitting there, watching nature. Then he glanced down, down to the ground and remembered what he was. Not hearing any human sounds, Christian slowly made his way down the tree, the rough bark scraping his palms and knees through the thin pants as he went. He jumped to the ground, wondering which way to go. Christian didn’t even know where he was, what town or state he was in. He decided to follow the moon.

He wandered for hours, a day, maybe two, always moving, never stopping for long. He slept for minutes at a time, in alleyways and behind buildings. Christian found out he was in a city called Owl Mountain, Michigan. It was a smaller city, its population under five thousand. His stomach gnawed with hunger and Christian drank water from a creek he found near the edge of town. It tasted horrible, but wet his mouth and throat. It wasn’t like it was going to kill him. The once white shirt and pants were smudged with dirt and ripped in a few spots. He drew attention to himself merely by looking the way he did, which was unfortunate.

The need to survive, to live on his own terms, propelled him onward. The thought of never seeing his family again put a pain in his heart that wouldn’t ease. It seemed to grow as the days away from them did. Christian wanted to pray they were okay, but was a monster really allowed to pray? The sun beat down on him, instead of heating him chilling him more. He could never get warm. It was unusual, but didn’t bother him as much as it first had. He’d
adapted
. Christian hated that word. The cheap flip flops he’d been given before the transfer were losing pieces and a hole was forming in the middle of the left one.

His thoughts went from Honor to Nealon and back and back again. Their kindness stunned him, but also filled him with gratitude. He wished they hadn’t shown him any niceness. It would have been easier to not care then. Christian wanted to know
why
they had looked out for him. He’d barely known Honor and he hadn’t known Nealon at all. There was no reason for it. He didn’t like the obligation he felt to them because of it.

He smelled fried food, cakes, coffee, body odor, perfume; all of it mixing together to assault his now sensitive nose. Christian saw two men striding down the sidewalk toward him, eyes on him,
guns at their hips. A second of recognition froze him. They’d found him. It had taken them long enough. They’d been popping up every half day or so, but Christian always managed to elude them. They weren’t exactly inconspicuous with their hard, determined expressions and guns. Plus he was faster and stronger than any of them. Christian turned in a circle, noting the structures around him, looking for possible escape routes. People crowded the streets, going in and out of businesses. He saw a small crevice just large enough for him to fit through between two buildings not far from where he stood and dove through it. He raced through the tight space, his shoulders hitting the stone walls on either side of him. Each time the rough exterior of the buildings rubbed his skin raw it immediately grew back.

A man and a woman stood at the end of the alleyway, creeping toward him, their guns ready. Christian sucked in a steadying breath, glancing from them to the tw
o men behind him. He looked up. Determination twisting his features, Christian jumped to the flimsy metal stairway and hauled himself up the side of the building and through an open window. He felt like Spiderman only he wasn’t a superhero. If anything, he was the bad guy Spiderman was supposed to take down. Christian was a fugitive even though he’d done nothing to warrant it. If they captured him, he was dead. For good.

He was in a living room. The television was on low. An elderly woman with short gray hair was sprawled out in a brown recliner, mouth open, snoring. She wore a pink and white flowered bath robe and fuzzy white
slippers. It smelled like coffee and old people in the brown-paneled room. Christian crept by, his eyes on her, careful not to make a sound. He paused, cocking his head as he listened. They were outside the apartment, four of them, waiting. They thought they’d outsmarted him. He went back to the window and leaned out. He was at least four or five stories up. Christian balanced on the windowsill; his body crouched, and jumped.

Wind feathered through his hair and kissed his face. He briefly closed his eyes and imagined he was a bird and free. His feet hit the pavement, sending a jolt through his legs. Christian was amazed when he could stand,
amazed when his legs weren’t broken.

A small child stood by an open door, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide. She had blond curls and brown eyes, a dirty pink dress on. She reminded him of Annie. “Are you Superman?” she asked in a high voice, awe on her face.

“Not quite.”

Christian quickly strode away, not wanting to call unnecessary attention to
himself. He wasn’t sure where to go, he had no destination in mind, but he had to get out of Owl Mountain. He wouldn’t be able to evade them much longer. He wished he could go home. Christian wished he could go back in time to last week, and not have any of what had happened happen. Wishes were for children who didn’t know any better. There was no going back. There was no cure, no magic pill to change him back.

This was what he was now.

***

Christian had allowed himself to doze off for a few minutes. His eyes snapped open and he stiffened where he sat between two dumpsters that smelled worse than anything he’d ever smelled before. If he’d had the capab
ility to vomit, he would have. It was nighttime, but he could see as easily as if it were day. Christian’s eyes shifted over unmoving shapes, searching for the UDK. He smelled her, heard her breaths, even her heart beat. It was too fast. Honor was near and she was scared, worried. Why was she there? Why had they sent her? Was it a trick to make him think she was there to offer aid when really she was there to dispose of him? Was Honor really that duplicitous? He didn’t want to think so, but Christian couldn’t trust anyone, not even her.

He watched her, the moon casting a glow to her, like a halo. Her features were in shadow, her body outlined. It didn’t matter. Christian still saw the expression on her face. Determination and fear warred to take over her with a touch of sorrow added in
to really make her miserable. He hardened himself to her. He couldn’t afford to feel anything for her, even empathy. She was the enemy, the one sent to do him in. If it came down to her or him, he would choose him, every time. He ignored the part of himself that wanted to argue that, to call him a liar.

He pounced before she knew what was happening. As his arms went around her, her warm body mocked him, showed him all he was not. Christian flung her against the wall, showing no mercy. He twisted her shirt in his fist, his body flat against hers. He wondered if he stayed that way long enough, if her body heat
would seep into him, warm him. “What do you want?” he growled, glaring down at her. She wasn’t afraid of him. Why didn’t she have enough sense to be?

“Christian. It’s me…Honor.”

His name on her lips…it was enough to almost ring him to his knees. His name was Christian. Christian Turner. He was eighteen years old. He couldn’t forget that. He had to remember, no matter what. Again she must have been under the misconception the virus altered his memory. He remembered her. Christian always would. He knew that as instinctively as he used to breathe. 

“I know who you are.”

She stared into his eyes, searching for something. Honor must have found it because her body relaxed slightly. What did she see when she looked into his eyes? She seemed fascinated by them.

“You have to get out of here. They’re hunting you down.”

As if he hadn’t known that already. “And what are you doing?”

Her throat convulsed as she repeatedly swallowed. “They said I had to talk to you, had to try to make you come willingly.”

“So why aren’t you?”

“It’s not right, what they’re doing. It’s not right to any of us. You have to get out of here, before they make you go back.”

Christian studied her eyes for a mistruth. He found none. “And if I don’t go back?”

“They’ll kill you. They’re right behind me. You have to get out of here, Christian.”

He hung his head, his face near her neck. Christian inhaled her sweet scent, a part of him aching for everything soft and warm that he would never have again. “Where will I go? They’ll find me no matter what.”

“Cut it out.”

Christian lifted his head, stared into her eyes. Honor looked back, unflinching. “What?”

“There’s a GPS chip in the skin under your left ear. It’s the size of a pencil eraser. Cut it out.”

He’d suspected something along those lines. That was the only explanation as to how the UDKs could always find him. Why would she tell him that?

“Why should I believe you?”

“They put it in when you were unconscious. That’s how we could find you.” Christian heard them approach, watched Honor as she realized they were no longer alone. “They’re coming. Get out of here!
Go
.” She struggled against him, trying to push at him. Honor’s attempts were laughingly ineffective. If he ran, he would probably die. If he stayed, he would probably die. Those weren’t exactly winning odds.