For now anyway.
There would come a time when the pain would be so great that he wouldn’t be able to control it—or himself. The surges came more often these days, inexplicable and uncontainable. Hawk might have to put him down, if the power outpaced the disease killing him. But he wouldn’t think about that today.
“Here.” His partner was giving them each fifty bucks, more than they’d had when they broke out of the Exeter facility. “That will get you food, clothes, public transportation. The rest is up to you.”
One of the women—short and plain with shadowed brown eyes and a shaven head—came up to Hawk and shook his big hand with both of hers. “My name is Holly,” she said. “It would mean a lot to me if you said it. I’ve been H-156 for so long.”
Hawk smiled down at her. “You’re free, Holly. Good luck.”
The others seemed to take that as a dismissal; they moved toward the exit. But an idea struck Taye.
“We should use them,” he said, low.
The other man eyed him. “What do you mean?”
“Move the cots outside. I can’t kill those people, man. I just can’t do it. Some of them might wake up, if they’re taken off the drugs and given proper medical care.”
“So what, we move them out to the docks and—”
“Blow the place, as planned. Then we call 911.”
“The authorities will have a field day trying to figure out what the hell happened, where all those sick people came from. And anything that makes trouble for the Foundation will be all right with MB.”
“Wait,” Taye called. “We need your help.”
“I knew it,” one of the men muttered.
“Too good to be true,” another agreed.
Hawk shook his head. “It’s not what you think. There are about a hundred test subjects like you in this facility. Only they’re not ambulatory. We want you to help us get them out before we destroy this place. It’ll take ten, fifteen minutes, tops.”
“I’ll help,” Holly said. “I never thought I’d feel lucky but at least I can still walk.”
The others muttered, and then a short, stocky subject said, “Okay. But can’t we expect their guards to start arriving soon? There are usually more of them here and they can’t be too far away, even though it’s the middle of the night.”
“If they come while we’re working, then you fight,” Taye told them. “Anything you can do. Power up. Leave nobody to tell the tale.”
Short & Stocky nodded, his eyes fierce. “I can shake the place down to rubble.”
“Leave that as a last resort,” Hawk cautioned. “A quake might take out the people we’re trying to save.”
“Gotcha.”
Taye asked, “So we’re ready to rock and roll?”
“Aw, yeah.” A dark-skinned man rubbed his hands together. “I am
so
down for this.”
“Let’s move.” Hawk led the makeshift squad out into the second ward.
A gasp went through the subjects who had been kept locked up. Taye guessed they were like him: dangerous. But primarily to those who had run the experiments. None of them looked crazy like the woman he’d put down, and they all seemed horrified by what had been done to those lying on the cots.
“Take them out the back,” Hawk called. “Out through the cell block and behind the warehouse. Crow, can you blow the lock?”
“On it.”
He jogged back the way they’d come as the others each took a cot and a machine, wheeled for portability. Taye found the back door without trouble; it looked like a business entrance. There, he even found a time clock. Apparently, the guards worked regular hours; they punched in and out. What kind of bastards worked in a place like this and never experienced a crisis of conscience? It was insane. Doubtless Hawk wanted a clean getaway but he hoped the silent alarm brought the Foundation goons out in droves because he wanted to fry them all.
Taye popped the lock with a surge of current and swung the door open. The night was cold, so his breath whirled as he held it for Holly. She had the first patient, her face quiet and determined. Others followed her. He went to help with the rescue and relocation, but it was impossible to run as he wanted because of the tubes. Nobody knew what a loss in connection might do or what experiments these people had undergone. If a bunch of them woke up, crazed as the fireball lady, while they fought the Foundation, it wouldn’t be pretty.
They had cleared the first ward when the sound of multiple engines came roaring across the docks. Taye sprinted to a window and peered out.
“SUVs full of Foundation goons,” he called. “They won’t be looking to take us alive.”
Not like Gillie or him. But they didn’t know he was here. So they’d hit hard with bullets, not tranqs. They undoubtedly had instructions to torch this place and leave no evidence behind. That was how they operated.
“Incoming,” Hawk bellowed to those taking victims out the back. “Flank them. If you’re combat ready, now’s the time for you to shine. If you aren’t, keep ferrying the others out. The Foundation needs to take this facility out now. It’s become a liability.”
“Understood.”
Taye raced back and slipped out alongside the man who had been spoiling for a fight. Together, they hugged the side of the warehouse, sticking to the shadows. The goons were unloading, assembling weapons and gear. Outfitted in black, they moved like they knew how to bring the hurt, more prepared for action than the orderlies had been down in Exeter. Surface facilities offered greater security challenges than those underground, but they had to be cheaper.
One solitary voice barked orders outside. “Clean it. If it moves, put a hole in it. Jackson, I want you laying charges. Whatever the cost, our goal is containment. Nothing leaves, you got me? Nothing leaves.”
Taye slid a look at the man beside him. The guy answered with a curt nod; he was ready to rock and roll. Without asking what the other man could do, he let the lightning come. It sizzled through him so he swore he could feel his nerve-endings going from medium rare to extra crispy. The current raised his hair, floating it around his face, and the guy gave him a thumbs-up.
“If we’re fighting together, I guess you should know my name’s Oliver.”
“Nice to meet you, Oliver. I look forward to kicking some ass with you tonight.” He didn’t have the heart to tell the guy that Mockingbird didn’t like them exchanging names. It was the best way to keep everyone safe. Taye understood from experience that he wanted to feel human again. Taking his name back was the first step.
“You know they called me O-298? I felt like a fucking prisoner in a concentration camp. I done time where I didn’t feel so . . .” Words failed him.
Taye knew just what he meant. “I was T-89.”
“That mean you were taken before me?”
“I guess. You ready?”
Oliver nodded, moving forward. A blue white glow kindled at Taye’s fingertips and rippled along his right arm; he threw lightning arcs most often with it. He waited to see if his temporary partner needed to power up, but he shook his head and waved him forward. Whatever he did, it was instantaneous, like Hawk. This should be entertaining.
They hit the SUVs first.
You heard the man. Nothing leaves. Including you assholes.
Taye slammed the gas tanks, and the vehicles went up in an orange fireball, rocking the pavement. To dodge scraps of burning metal, he took cover behind some barrels. Automatic gunfire sprayed the cylinders, which sucked because they started spewing chemicals. God only knew what in a place like this. Could be anything from crude oil to toxic waste.
He scrambled away just as another round came in. Whatever was inside the containers, the shit was flammable. The liquid caught; fire blazed a path wherever it ran, and a chill wind blew it back toward the Foundation goons.
“Cover me,” Oliver said.
In reply, Taye fired dual bursts from each hand, suppression rather than intent to fry. He didn’t have the juice; these sparklers were just for show, and to ignite the liquid trickling toward the goons. The SUVs burned merrily, black smoke swirling up toward the dark sky; they also gave the only light for several hundred yards. Which meant their enemies couldn’t see them too well. Taye would present a better target with the energy crackling around him, but he couldn’t help that. He’d just have to keep moving. As he tucked and rolled, a spray of bullets hit the pavement behind him. Broken bits of cement stung him, even as something bit into his arm. Flesh wound.
He levered up with his good arm and saw Oliver going at a run. Shadow wrapped him like a living force; it was hard to get a good look at him for the roiling mass around him. He was like a walking cold spot, so wrong it hurt to look at him. His shadow drank those men in.
Their bodies wavered and went amorphous, lines pulled as if they were photos a kid spun through some weird Photoshop filter. They fought and screamed, but they fell into him as if he had irresistible gravitational pull. The shadow swelled, pulsing with an eerie black purple light. Then it dropped away, and Oliver stood alone, hands on his knees. Black sand at his feet blew away with the wind, skittering across the pavement toward the open ocean.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Mockingbird’s damn sure gonna want to recruit you.”
“I don’t know if I’m down for that,” Oliver said. “That shit . . . it don’t feel right. I got parts of them inside me now. Like I can hear them screaming, I can feel every bad thing they ever done. I don’t need more of that . . . I got my own burdens.”
Damn. At least the lightning’s just
killing
me.
“Well, hear him out at least. It’ll be hard for you to stay free on your own . . . and I ought to know.”
“You signed on ’cause they were hunting you so hard?”
“Yeah. They want to sell me to China, and I’m guessing what you can do would be worth a lot, too.”
Screams came from the other side of the warehouse, reminding him that while they had won one fight, it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. And unlike the Foundation thugs, Taye cared about safeguarding those he could. These folks had suffered enough. Maybe it had been wrong to use them to try and evac the ones hooked up to those machines. Maybe he should have told them to run, blown the place, and let the unconscious ones die.
But he didn’t have it in him to play God. Not after what had been done to Gillie and himself. He was a foot soldier, not a decision maker. This was Mockingbird’s war.
“This way,” Oliver muttered.
The other man took off. Taye knew a ripple of pride, watching him.
This is true bravery. The man’s barefoot in the snow in his fucking prison pajamas, fire burning all around, and he cares. He
cares
.
Though the Foundation hadn’t meant to—and despite Rowan’s megalomania—they had, in fact, created a new breed of human, where pain lifted him above life’s circumstances and made him willing to fight. That personal anguish refined the goodness in them and burned away the damage. Like him, some of these folks had probably been completely worthless before the Foundation forged them into something new, something strong and wild and utterly empowered. Sadly, the process wasn’t working out the way the company had hoped; they weren’t loyal drones. They were heroes.
It gave him chills.
Or maybe that’s just the wind. Get a move on, dumb shit.
He followed Oliver around; they paused at the corner to check out the situation. Foundation goons had Holly and a couple of other women pinned down. They weren’t fighters; but even these women, who—like Gillie—could not set someone on fire or break their bones, tried to protect the comatose patients.
The pop of automatic weapons cascaded. Four gunmen. Sparks brightened the night with each spray. One girl—she couldn’t have been more than eighteen—took five bullets in the chest, standing in front of the gurney, blocking the shots with her fragile body. He didn’t know who was laying on it. Taye doubted she did either. That wasn’t the point.
True courage.
He’d never seen it before this night. Blood spread across her thin, gray pajama top, and she slumped forward. Red stained the dirty snow, innocence lost.
That could be Gillie.
Madness took him then. The lights were still on, a bare bulb outside the back door. Knowing he’d die faster, Taye threw a hand out, drawing the electricity to him. It rolled through his body like a flashflood, kindling a weird amber glow beneath his skin. He took too much power this time; his skin pulsed with it. In addition to the lightning, his magnetism rose. He didn’t use that much because he didn’t have good control over it. Like the electricity, it hurt him.
His whole body blazed in white-hot anguish. The medical equipment beeped, drawn to him uncontrollably.
Shit, no. I don’t want to kill everybody back here. Gotta keep from going Chernobyl here. I just want to take out these assholes.
But the feeling just got bigger and bigger, swelling past what he could manage or contain.
The muzzles of their machine guns bent, yearning toward him. A couple of them lost their grips and the weapons flew, slamming into Taye. He didn’t need guns. He was the fucking weapon, a bomb about to blow.