The Terminals (6 page)

Stopping to grapple the monster was unthinkable, especially with a useless arm. But getting pulled down from behind would be no better, and embarrassing. Cam felt like he was on a breakaway with the soccer ball and being chased. A player was always a step slower when handling the ball. He recalled a move he used sometimes on those occasions. His coach hated it, but it always resulted in a foul by the defender and a direct kick. He slowed just enough to let his mammoth pursuer get within reach of him, and then he stopped suddenly, ducked, and braced himself.

Given his bulk, speed, and inelegant gait, there was no way for his pursuer to stop. He tumbled over Cam and went down in the sand. Still upright, Cam didn't waste a moment. He dashed onward, the seconds he'd gained enough to give him an insurmountable lead.

He passed the fourth condo at a dead sprint, his own now in sight. He glanced waterward and skyward. Nothing between him and the doorway but sand. His numb arm dangled as he ran, flopping against his side. He hoped it wasn't permanent.
I'm right-handed, for god's sake.

Just then the sand, the only thing in his way, reached out and grabbed his ankle. Cam careened forward. Unable to catch himself with his dead arm, he hit the beach with his face. His mouth filled with grit but he closed his eyes quickly enough that he was not blinded. He flipped over and saw a slim hand wrapped around his leg. Kicking it away, he scrambled to get to his feet. But the sand erupted, and a figure from beneath it rose with him.

She was on her feet before he was. Female.
Obviously
female, given the accoutrements the nineteen-year-old had squeezed into her shorty wetsuit. With the light-colored sand shaken loose, her savagely chopped hair was as dark as her eyes. She was well muscled too. He could see the corded tendons in her legs, and her abs were rippled neoprene. He lost a split second staring at her while she lifted one foot. Then it shot out and struck him square in the chest. Cam flew backward and landed on his butt. She paused to fumble for something dangling from her belt. Cam didn't stay to fight. He was already in bad shape. He didn't need another dart in the arm, pole to the head, or foot in the chest. Wheezing, he pushed himself up with his left hand and staggered onward. He did not look back and didn't hear footsteps behind him. Nor did he risk looking over his shoulder. He was almost up to speed, the condo was a short sprint now, and turning would only slow him down.

As Cam approached, a boy peeked out of his hut. He looked young, had a slight build, and considered Cam through deep-set eyes. He nodded approval and waved Cam on.
Ari
, Cam realized. This was his roommate. Cam also understood that Ari would not be an obstacle. Cam ran the last few yards toward him, until he saw Ari wince.

Cam considered ducking and should have. The cord hit the back of his neck, and the heavy ends of the bolo whipped around his throat so fast that Cam didn't even realize what was happening until the paint-filled balls smacked together beneath his chin, burst open, and painted his chest red.

“Tagged,” the female voice behind him said, not without some satisfaction.

 

CAM'S PLAYLIST

5. SMELLS LIKE MONDAY
  

by Cheez Whiz

6. THE OATH

by Slinky

7. HEY, I KNOW THIS SONG

by The Nobodies

“Dude, it's like … aww, forget it.”

Cam fell to his knees on the beach five yards short of the condo, gasping for air and clawing at his throat. The cord was wrapped ferociously tight, and he couldn't breathe. Nor could he speak to ask for help. As he drifted toward unconsciousness, he was vaguely aware that the girl was standing over him triumphantly. It was Ari who bent to loosen the bolo, although when Cam's flailing hands interfered with Ari's progress, she did help by slapping them away. Finally, a breath rushed into his lungs.

“Here comes Ward,” Cam heard Ari say as he blinked and sucked in air. “He'll be asking you what you learned and have a silly catchphrase for it.”

“Like ‘the hardest part of every journey is the first step,'” Cam wheezed.

Ari laughed. “Bingo. Especially when that step is out the door of a helicopter.” He extended a hand in greeting and to help Cam up. “I'm Ari.”

Cam couldn't lift his arm. “Sorry, my arm's messed up,” he said. “I got stuck with something.”

“A dart,” Ari said. “If it's just your arm, it wasn't even half a dose. You'll recover.”

“You guys poisoned me?”

Ari grabbed Cam's left arm and pulled him to his feet. “Relax. It takes two full doses to kill ya.”

Cam wasn't reassured, but he found Ari easy to like, perhaps even trust. The skinny guy was friendly and somehow genuine, not like an instructor with catchphrases. Cam turned to greet his beautiful assailant.

“Hi, I'm Cam,” he said stupidly. He added a conciliatory grin.

“You're dead,” the woman replied without cracking a smile. “The dead don't talk.”

Ari handed her bolos back to her. “Cam, I'd like you to meet your assassin, Zara.”

Cam waited for her to extend her hand. She didn't.

Just then, Ward arrived, followed by a small mob of other young adults, all between the ages of eighteen and twenty from the look of them.
My teammates
, Cam thought.

The big fast guy was there. Tough to miss. The red-haired hang glider was limping, but grinning ear to ear. Camouflage Donnie of the padded pole strode up in the back, his narrow eyes assessing Cam. A smaller guy stood at his shoulder like an imp, and Cam decided he must be the dart man. Cam couldn't imagine either of the soft-skinned girls he saw behind Ward sticking him with a needle. One had lips, freckles, and eyebrows so pale they blended with her skin as though someone had smudged them all together with a photo editing program. The other had eyes too big for her nose and a chin too small for her mouth. She looked like a cartoon drawing by a carnival artist who exaggerated his subjects' features so much that they were embarrassed to ever show their friends the picture. Finally, there was a girl with glasses. She didn't look very aggressive either, although her lips were puckered so tight she reminded Cam of his fussy Aunt Eunstice. He recalled that Aunt Eunstice could be a real bitch.

“Zara gets the tag,” Ward said. She nodded proudly. “But it wasn't perfect. You had him on his back and mishandled your weapon. Imagine he had a gun. Hesitate and you graduate.”

Cam didn't quite understand, but Zara didn't seem too pleased about her potential graduation.

“That was some bullshit he pulled with me,” Donnie said.

“Donnie, you also had a chance to take him out immediately,” Ward said. “But you chose to hurt him first. Bad choice. Cruelty inspires your opponent, and gloating like a supervillain just gives him a chance to escape. Instead of showing Cam who's boss, he showed you that you're not.”

Donnie scowled. “I only clocked him once. I was giving him a chance to tap out, but then…”

“But then he threw it in your face?” Ari chuckled.

Donnie shot the smaller boy a menacing look. “No honor, Steiny,” Donnie said. “I gave him a break. But it won't happen again.”

“There
is
no honor in the individual struggle here,” Ward interrupted. “Only in serving the collective good.”

“So I failed?” Cam asked, though it seemed obvious.

“Clean up and meet the rest of us up at the bunker. You'll find what you need in your condo.” Ward turned and walked off down the beach without answering the question.

The others followed, with the exception of the girl with exaggerated features, who walked to Ari's side.

“Why did that Donnie guy call you Steiny?” Cam asked.

“Because he's stuck in the a-hole stage of grief?”

The girl blushed and giggled. Cam raised an eyebrow. Little Ari had a mouth on him.

“He's a true believer,” big eyes added.

“He wants to be a Ward clone. Takes honor, duty, and the mission a little too seriously,” Ari said, seeing that Cam needed further explanation. “But you definitely want him on your side in a fight.”

“Is your last name Stein then?”

“No. We aren't allowed to tell each other our last names here. ‘Steiny' seems to be the numbskullian term for someone who is both Jewish and smart as a physicist.”

“Ari has an extremely high IQ,” the girl said with a hint of admiration.

“And you have multiple abrasions and contusions, my friend,” Ari added, shrugging off the compliment. “C'mon, let's get you some first aid.” As he spoke, Ari traced Cam's parachuting injuries with his finger to where the bruising and swelling from the padded pole were already starting. He tilted Cam's head to look at the red welts on his neck. “And some second aid. This is Jules, by the way.”

The girl leaped forward and grabbed Cam's arm, shaking it for a moment before realizing it was limp. She awkwardly dropped it. “Sorry!”

“It's okay. Nice to meet you, Jules, assuming you weren't one of the people trying to whack me.”

“Oh no,” she said quickly. “Calliope and I sat this one out. I did take out Owen once, though. Not really. Tagged him, I mean. It was a melee—all of us in a ring carrying sticks with red paint on the ends. We never did anything like this back in Pine Bluff.”

“I thought we weren't supposed to tell each other where we're from.”

“Jules, you talk too much,” Ari said.

Jules rolled her bulbous eyes. “Like my accent doesn't give it away already.” It was true. The twang in her voice obviously had been cultivated in Arkansas or thereabouts, though there would have been no way to guess Pine Bluff.

“Inside, Cam.” Ari pulled Cam toward the condo. “You really do look like hell.”

The hut was small and amazing. Its furnishings were nautical-sized, designed for tight spaces, but of high quality. Two narrow mattresses on planks were suspended from the ceiling. Ladders of nylon rope and dowels dangled from them for access. A small wooden desk sat beneath each. Atop the desks were pencils and hand-sized notebooks with waterproof plastic covers that would fit in a pocket. No computers, Cam noted. Two footlockers contained clothes—Tec-light water-repellent shirts and a jacket. Expensive. All camouflage or black. Heavy pants and light leggings. Boots and slip-on tennis shoes. No Velcro—it made too much noise if you needed to slide your sneaks off in a stealth situation, Ari explained.

Ari and Jules tended to Cam with a small, portable first-aid kit. They were quick and efficient, obviously trained and drilled. Ari even knew what to look for to determine if Cam had a concussion—he didn't, it turned out. In addition to the cut on his face from his parachuting mishap, his head was swollen from Donnie's pole, his back was sore from the big kid, Tegan, tripping over him, his neck was striped raw from Zara's bolo, his chest bruised from her foot, and his arm was just getting its feeling back. His fingers tingled as warmth leaked back into the muscles.

“Thanks,” Cam said.

“Don't mention it,” Ari answered. “Standard procedure.”

“Guess I totally screwed up my first test.”

Jules finished applying a cream to Cam's neck. “Not really,” she said.

Ari looked him in the eye. “Dude, you made it farther than anyone else on the entire team,
unenhanced
. That's why Donnie was so pissed. You beat him.”

*   *   *

They met an hour later in the bunker, in what appeared to be the main conference room. Inside, first door on the right. They sat in chairs in roughly a V formation. Cam sat at the point of the V, farthest from the board. The new guy. Donnie sat in the front on the left. Zara sat in front on the right.

“She's sure a pretty girl,” Cam whispered to Ari.

Ari chuckled. “Pretty girl? She's a goddamned beer commercial, man. James Bond with boobs. But don't bother chasing that tail. If she wants you, she'll come find you.”

Just then Ward stepped to the podium. He seemed to occupy the entire room, as much with his confidence as with his wide shoulders. He gave the group a warm smile, and then opened one of the small notebooks and held up a closed fist to arrest their attention. He struck Cam as part counselor, part professor, part drill sergeant, and he had an entire file on Cam's life.

“I hate, h-a-t-e, hate to do things twice,” he began. “But Cam is joining us late in the game. We owe him a full-disclosure orientation. And we need his buy-in one hundred percent so we can depend on him. Questions?” He scanned the room quickly. “Seeing none, we're moving on.”

He turned to draw a pyramid on the dry-erase board. Cam tentatively raised his hand.

Ari swatted it down and whispered, “You missed questions. Save it.”

Ward turned back to the group. “You are all going to die,” he said. “It's just a matter of how soon and what you're going to do with the time the doctor left you. In the meantime, I'll try my best to keep you healthy.”