Touching Fire (Touch Saga) (29 page)

“Good morning, Princess,” Archer said from the backseat. “
Sleep well?”

I ignored him as I pushed my chair upright and blinked at the startling burst of light crashing through the windshield. “Where are we?”

“Crossing Langley,” Isaiah answered, eyes on the road. But it was the tone he used, the tension in it that had me turning to the window.

We weren’t exactly the only car on the road. There were others, moving at a snail’s pace around heaps of warped and twisted metal. Some
were still smoldering, coils of smoke rising from the lumps of useless steel. Some were upended, wheels pointing to the clear, blue sky. And yet, somehow, that wasn’t the most unusual thing.

People scampered along the sidewalks, heads bent, shoulders hunched as though shielding themselves from an invisible force beating against their backs. Their faces were downcast, but the apprehension and wariness seemed to come off them in waves.
They went about their business, ducking in and out of shops and making their way to places. But the thing they all had in common was how they avoided the small groups of officers that moved in sets of four on every street. Like the officer from the night before, they were dressed in head to toe black with gleaming black armor across their chest, forearms and calves. But unlike the officer from the previous night, these ones were heavily armed. Rifles were strapped across their backs. MP5s were looped around their necks and dangled across their chests. Other guns hung from their belts and were strapped to their thighs. Outside of movies, I had never seen so much weaponry, or so much fear.

“What
is going on?” I wondered.

“We have yet to determine that, Princess,” Archer murmured from the back, gaze fixed on the street.

“I think we should find out though,” Isaiah added. “We won’t know what we’re up against until we do. I don’t like the idea of driving around blindly.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Anyone up for breakfast?”

“Didn’t think you’d ever ask,” Archer chimed in at once.

We pulled into the parking lot of a diner next to one of the two cars in the whole lot. But in no way did that make the place empty. Inside was nearly full of people all clustered around tables and in booths, chomping down on steaming plates of eggs, sausages and stacks of pancakes. But what no one was doing was talking. Aside from the clink of metal on ceramic, the low whine of something over the loudspeakers and the odd hum of people giving orders, the place was reasonably somber. Several heads turned in our direction when we stomped through the door. The bell above our heads seemed deafening in the silence. We must not have been who they were expecting, because one by one they returned to their plates without paying us any further mind. Although, a few cast Archer wary glances, which I personally couldn’t fault. The guy looked scary in all that leather.

Isaiah motioned us towards a
U-shaped booth in the corner. We were just getting comfortable when a girl a little older than me with a mane of corn-silk blonde hair and sea-foam green eyes hurried over. She offered us a hesitant smile.

“What can I get you guys?”

“Pancakes,” Archer said at once. “With a side order of scrambled eggs, three sausages and four strips of bacon, not crispy. Toast, lightly buttered and a jar of strawberry jam if you have it. Orange juice with no ice, a cup of coffee, black and, do you guys have French toast?”

The girl, Jenna from what her name tag said, faltered, seeming as stunned as I was by the mile long order. But she caught herself quickly.

“Yes.”

Archer slapped his hand down on the table. “French toast then.”

Jenna tapped her pen nervously on her pad. “Instead of…?”

“No, no, on the side, with syrup and powdered sugar.”
He rapped his knuckles on the table. “What fruit do you have right now?”

“Blueberries and I think we might have some raspberries, but I’d have to check.”

“Add those, too.” Archer turned to me and Isaiah. “You two want anything?”

I was sure my mouth was gaping. I quickly cleared my throat. “Juice?”

I wasn’t going to drink it, but I didn’t want to sit there with nothing either. It always seemed suspicious to people and the last thing we wanted was to draw attention.

Visibly relieved by the simple order, Jenna offered me a small smile. “Orange?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

Jenna looked to Isaiah,
and then did a double-take that made me not like her quite as much. “And for you?”

Isaiah shook his head. “Nothing. Thank you.
Actually,” he said quickly before Jenna could leave. “Would you happen to have a copy of this morning’s paper?”

“Sure. I’ll get it.”

We watched her walk away.

“Are you eating for six?” I turned to Archer.

He leaned back and stretched his arms over the back of the booth. “Being here takes a lot of strength and I need all the strength I can get.”

Jenna arrived with our drinks and a folded newspaper. She set everything down without a word and hurried away again.

Isaiah pulled the paper over to him and unfolded it. He didn’t have to get further than the first page for information.

“Country wide lockdown,” he read out loud.
“Canada enlists the support of US troops to push back against terrorists.”

I blinked. “Terrorists?
”

Without
answering me, he smoothed out the pages across the table so we could all see and began reading.

“A country in terror as
the bloodshed runs rampant in our streets. But even with ten provinces and three territories resorting to Marshall Law, the brutal attacks continue, destroying homes, demolishing businesses and taking hundreds of lives. Minister of National Defence, Charles Pratt has turned to the US government for support. Troops are being rallied for a full on tactical assault. Civilians are asked to remain indoors when possible. Curfew is in effect until further notice. All suspicious activities are to be reported to the authorities.”

I suddenly wished I drank. No amount of swallowing was helping to ease the dry walls of my throat.

“Who the hell attacks Canada?” I said at last. “We’re like the most peaceful country in the world, except for Switzerland.”

“There’s more.” Archer dragged the paper closer and pointed to a page number where the story continued
in section A5.

I flipped to the right page and started at the top.

“VANCOUVER, BC—Authorities are stumped as the violent attacks on Canadian streets continue. No known or unknown groups have come forward in association to what has become the worst assault Canada has witnessed since the
October Crisis of 1970
. The government continues to ground all transportations in or out of the country. Border patrols have tripled since last week’s near annihilation of several major cities, including Ottawa—”

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” Jenna had returned to the table with the first of what was sure to be many trays of Archer’s meal.

“What the hell happened?” I demanded.

Jenna
stared at me as she placed plates of eggs, sausages and toast in front of Archer. “Don’t you know?”

“We’re from out of town,” Archer said, straightening in his seat.

Jenna laughed like he’d made a joke. “Right.”

“What?” I said.

Jenna shrugged. “Well, unless you’ve been living under a rock the last five months, there is no way you don’t know what’s been happening. It’s all over the country. I’ll get the rest of your meal.”

“Five months?” I grabbed the paper, flipped it to the front page, uncaring when a few pages tore
, and stared at the date stamped at the top in bold, black letters. “It’s May.” I shoved the paper towards Isaiah. “How is that possible? We were only gone three days.”

“Time works differently
once you step through the nexus,” Archer said between mouthfuls. “I guess I should have told you that.”

It had been
December when we met Ashton in that park. Five months of my life had just flown by without any knowledge from me. I didn’t know how I felt about that. But if I felt anything it was overshadowed by a much bigger problem.

“I still don’t understand how this happened,” I said, pushing the
absence of time to the side.

“We need to keep moving,” Isaiah said, glancing towards the bay window overlooking the street and a twisted heap of bent metal that had once been a minivan.
“I don’t like how open we are.”

No sooner
had he said it when the bell above the door gave a wild jingle and four officers stomped in, weapons in hand. They surveyed the diner, the curious and fearful faces. Then they found us.

The one in front
, I recognized him even before he pointed straight at us and shouted, “Them!”

Our table rattled as all three of us leapt to our feet. My orange juice toppled over, washing the tabletop with its contents. It soaked into the newspaper and trickled over the lip, making the only sound in the
room as all eyes snapped in our direction.

The officer from the previous night stomped forward, the bruise on his jaw a violent purple blossom. I grimaced just looking at it.

“Thought you got away, huh?” he said, aiming his MP5 straight at us.

“Kinda.”

I elbowed Archer to keep him quiet as I tried to smooth things over. “There’s been a misunderstanding—”

“Quiet!” He motioned us out of the booth at gunpoint. “You three are under arrest.”

The fight broke out right out of nowhere. One minute, everyone was quietly watching while we were treated like criminals. The next, two men at the back had upended two tables and were rolling around on the ground with their hands around the other’s throat. By the window, a girl drew back her arm and for no apparent reason at all, slapped her companion clear across the face. Jenna, our lovely waitress, slammed her tray into the face of a nearby woman for reasons I couldn’t fathom.

“Get ready to run,” I heard Archer mutter over the chaos.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Isaiah reach into his pocket. He ducked a split second later as a pitcher of water crashed into the wall behind him. The officers were having the same problem. People were rushing them, armed with spoons and knives. I wasn’t sure if they were going to beat them or eat them.

“Order!” one of the officers bellowed over the noise. His reward was a plate of eggs in the face.
It would have been hilarious, if, in unison, the officers didn’t train their weapons on the crowd.

No
, I thought.
They wouldn’t.

“Ready!” the eggs in the face officer shouted.

“Wait!” I shouted.

“Aim!”

I started forward. It was us they were after.
Maybe if
… Archer grabbed my wrist just as Isaiah hauled up a chair and smashed it through the bay window.

“Go!”

I was shoved none too gently through. Isaiah and Archer were a step behind me when I landed on the sidewalk. But no sooner had they touched down on either side of me when the air was riddled by the deafening eruption of bullets exploding through automatic weapons and tearing into flesh. Screams, maybe mine, punctured through the horror.

I couldn’t breathe.
I started to turn back, to try and help only to find myself swept over someone’s shoulder as though I weighed nothing and propelled away from the blood curdling howls.

Archer dumped
me down next to the Cadillac. I hit the side of the trunk, knees unable to support me. Something in the distance was wheezing, a horrible, injured animal sound that was only adding to my dismay.

“Fallon.” Hands rested on my shoulders and I was gently shaken.

It was only then I realized the sound was me. I was wheezing. I was on my knees, trying desperately to swim through the sea of red.

I had no
memory of being scooped up and forced into the backseat of the car, only that I was strapped in and left to slump against the window. All I could hear and see was the massacre we had caused. All of those people, all that blood, it was on our hands.

“Fallon.” Isaiah reached back
from the driver’s seat and put a hand on my knee.

“We killed them…”
I gasped, digging blunt nails into the wet curves of my cheeks. I didn’t feel the pain.

“No! Fallon, look at me.”

I shook my head and squishing my face into my hands and closing myself in darkness as screams continued the rampage between my ears.

I stayed there even when the car rolled to a stop
. I felt the metal frame rattle as someone exited the car and slammed their door. A moment later, my door was thrown open and I was forcibly removed from my seat. I was shaken until I had no choice but to face Isaiah’s furious scowl. Thankfully, I wasn’t crying anymore. I was just pissed.

“Stop it!” I threw his hands off me.

“You stop it!” he shot back. “That wasn’t your fault.”