Even as he moved, his arm was twisted up behind his back and Brody slammed him into the wall. “Try it and I will kill you.” Brody’s voice was calm. It wasn’t a threat. It was simply a statement of how things were.
Craig’s eyes didn’t leave Ashley. “I don’t care.”
“Burke would,” Brody said, and merely leaned back and lifted his eyebrows when Craig tried to head-butt him.
“I’m sorry.” At Ashley’s voice, Craig turned back. “I’m so sorry about what I did to Dr. Burke.” It was hard to look him in the eyes. Hard to say it. But not as hard as she’d thought. “I hurt him. I did that, and I hate it. But I didn’t kill him.”
“He died because he was here,” Craig said. “He’s here because of you.”
“Yes,” Ashley said, but Brody spoke over her.
“He’s here because of her. He’s dead because of Proom. Proom made that call. Not Ashley. Not us. And you know it.”
Craig jerked away, and Brody let him go. He breathed in and out, hard. Once. Twice. Focused on Ashley. “I hate you.”
He was glaring at her, but she could see the sheen of tears. “You should,” she said.
Craig turned away, headed back to Burke’s bed. Craig stared down at the body for a long moment, then began to methodically unhook the tubes and wires. The air was all but clear now.
Brody stepped up and crouched down in front of her. Took a long look. Then he put a hand on Ashley’s shoulder. The high she’d felt earlier, the soaring feeling of being able to do something, fix things, drained away, taking with it the sense of comfort and stability that seeing Cam—safe and whole—had brought. It left something hollow, gnawing away at her ribs like it was trying to get out. Brody squeezed her shoulder, ran a hand down her arm, and then, noticing, flicked out a knife and began whittling out the shards of glass that her skin had already healed around. Ashley shivered, tensed, and felt the wall press into her back before she realized she’d leaned away. Brody glanced up, then paused and looked around the room. At the Medlab. At the blade in his hands.
“I didn’t think,” he said.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” He stood and pocketed the knife. “Come on.”
He took her to the stairwell. The two men who had gotten to the oxygen tanks seemed to be fine, and Agent Phillips was working urgently on the woman. Ashley breathed in deep, and fought the urge to start coughing because if she started, she wasn’t sure she could stop.
“Ash.” Brody took out his knife again, and offered it, handle first, to her. “It’s best we get everything out now.” Ashley took the knife, but the angle was strange, so she handed it back to Brody. “You’re sure?”
She nodded. He went to work, smoothly and efficiently. Ashley told herself she didn’t mind it as much, here in the stairwell. She could handle it.
Ashley glanced at Danny, who was sitting in a corner. “Are you okay?”
Danny nodded…and then shook his head. “He just tried to kill us,” Danny said.
Ashley leaned her head back against the wall and nodded.
“
All
of us. Proom—he just tried to kill
all
of us.” Danny sounded like he was trying to explain this to himself. “He just…just…what? Decided to cut his losses?”
“Yes,” Ashley said.
“He’s evil. He’s just straight-up fucking evil.”
Ashley took a hard breath, held it. “Yes. He is.” She looked down at her arms, at the crisscross of red trailing in the wake of Brody’s knife. Brody examined her one arm before switching to the next, and for a moment she felt the rush of tears and panic, racing up her throat and threatening to choke her. “I want to go home. Tell me we’re going to deal with him, and then we’ll go home.”
Brody inspected her arms, wiping away the blood to pull at the skin and confirm it had healed. Then he looked at her. “We are going to deal with Proom. And then we’re going to go home.”
“Once we locate him,” Agent Phillips said, in the pause between chest compressions and giving the woman air.
“Can you do your computer-brain-thing?” Brody asked. “Danny, take over for him.”
“He’ll be in the basement.” Craig filled the doorway, carrying Burke. He paused as Brody stood, looking blankly at him, and then at Ashley. “Proom has a safe room down there,” he told them. “He had it built before he started taking on the second round. It’s good. He’ll have headed down there once everything started.”
Ashley heard herself say, “Then we’ll just have to get him out.”
Craig looked at her for a long moment. “He’s got access to the camera feeds down there. Tunnel to the forest.” He faced down the security cameras. “He’ll have been watching. He’ll know it didn’t go his way. He’ll make a run for it.”
Craig turned away then, and started down the stairs. Brody turned to Agent Phillips, who was already focused on the panel in his arm. Ashley noticed for the first time the muted lights that raced along under the skin as he was working. “Outside cameras haven’t picked up anything. Neither have the director’s spotters.”
“Then we’ll have to find him ourselves,” Brody said. “Ben, you take care of Danny. Get him out, regroup with the others, get Cole in here to evac them. Ashley—”
“I’m not leaving without him,” Ashley said. It was strange, how all the fear and anger and relief and nerves had collided together and forged into simple certainty. “He’ll get away, and he’ll go someplace else and start this all over again. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re not wrong,” Brody told her
“There is a point-seven percent chance you’re wrong,” Agent Phillips said. “If we are going for accuracy,” he added, when they turned to look at him.
“Thank you,” Brody said. “Basement. You remember where that is?” he asked Ashley.
“I remember where everything is,” she said as they started to run.
The basement was dark, the cement floor cold enough under Ashley’s bare feet to prickle her skin. She hadn’t remembered it being this small, with only space for a small garage and some storage. Proom kept the majority of his work aboveground and in the light, and he wasn’t ashamed of it.
Finding the tunnel wasn’t difficult. Proom hadn’t shut the door behind him, and even without the faint lightening of shadows, there was the icy river of cold, pouring in from wherever it connected to the outside. But it wouldn’t have mattered, because underneath the sharp scent of snow and pine, twisting up with the tinny smell of recycled air and the ever-present echo of bleach, there was
Proom
, leading the way like an arrow.
Ashley and Brody came out into the forest at a dead run. Trees stretched out around her. She wondered, briefly, dodging a branch, how far out from the facility were. If she stopped, if she turned to look, would she still see the building through the trees? But she didn’t stop. She didn’t look. She ran, even when the sound of Brody’s heavy tread faded behind her. He hissed her name, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She’d been training for this. Every day she’d run herself ragged on the beach, every time she’d pushed herself, past the pain, and the fatigue, pushed as hard as she could and didn’t drop.
The snow wasn’t deep here, not with the trees stretching out overhead, but there was enough for footprints.
The world around Ashley blurred as she shot forward. She could hear him. His heart beating. His breath rasping in the frozen air, the crunch of his shoes scraping, slipping, scrambling along the ground. He wasn’t much of a runner. Then, Ashley saw—Proom’s dark hair. The leather satchel bouncing against his shoulder. Saw a gap in the trees ahead of them and, against the snow, the silver glint of a car. He was almost there. And, stretching out behind him like the tail of a comet, the scent of aloe vera hand sanitizer, and the dulled metallic tang of electronics, and five-hundred-dollar skin cream. It curled out through the trees, it enveloped her, and Ashley found she could push
harder
. The world around her blurred, the distance between them disappearing—and then lengthening again as the speed carried her past the car. She turned easily, her feet digging into the frozen ground, the cold cutting through straight to the bone, and launched herself. The icy air whipped through her like a blade, and she landed on the roof of the Tesla, on all fours, hard enough that the roof crumpled and the windshields burst outwards.
Proom skidded to a stop.
It took her a second. She didn’t…remember him like this. Smaller. Shorter—when he had always seemed taller, bigger. Maybe that was because she mostly remembered him leaning over her surgical table. In jeans, when he had always been draped in white. His glasses were cracked.
“Well, this…certainly is interesting.” Proom gave her an easy grin—but she heard the nerves. Smelled the fear. Told herself she shouldn’t enjoy it. “Still, despite the circumstances, I must say it is very good to see you again, One-Eleven. No one told me you’d advanced so much.”
Ashley sprang off the car. Proom started to take a step back, and then stopped. “I was a little concerned after your recent injuries, but I see everything has healed beautifully,” he said, and he meant it. She could hear that he meant it. He looked at what he’d done to her, and he saw beauty. “Not that I expected any less,” Proom continued, smiling at her. “You always did exceed our expectations. But you did appear to take a bit of damage during that last little incident.”
“Incident,” Ashley echoed, still moving forward. “You took Liz.”
“No lasting damage, though, I see,” Proom said cheerfully. “Now, as much as I would love to stop and chat, my dear, I’m afraid I don’t have the time, so I am going to ask you very nicely to step aside.”
Ashley shook her head.
Proom sighed and lifted his hand. He was holding a key fob. He pressed a button.
The sound hit her like a train. It wasn’t simply sound. Sound was only heard. This was felt, every bone jarring with it, every muscle clenching in agony against the onslaught. Everything in her was screaming; she should have been screaming, too, but her lungs were in a vice and there was no air to scream with.
The sound died as abruptly as it began, and Ashley did scream then, a river of pain made sound, the release almost as brutal as the onslaught. “Just a little something I’ve been working on, with the help of Two-Oh-Nine—your friend with the wonderful talent for manipulating sound vibrations. I thought, well, it can’t hurt to have a few safeguards in place, and you do have such sensitive hearing, One-Eleven. I know you do,” Proom added. “I made you.”
Ashley sucked in air in a desperate, aching gasp. She was on the ground. She could feel the snow and the cold, the rocks biting into her.
“Now be a good girl and don’t get up. If you try to…well, there’s always this.” He waved the key fob. “However, I am well aware of how persistent you can be, so I also brought along something a little more troublesome.” He pulled a gun out of his jacket. “It’s real,” Proom assured her. She knew it was. She could smell it. “I understand you do still have some difficulty with real bullets.”
She did. And it still wouldn’t stop her. Ashley tried to wrench herself off the ground.
Then there was Brody, charging through the trees, knocking Proom back. There was the sharp snap of gunfire, and the scent of blood blossomed in the air. Ashley heaved herself up, screaming Brody’s name, as he stumbled forward. He grabbed for Proom, but his one arm was already slick with blood, and the doctor twisted away and ran. Brody would have run after him, but Ashley hauled him to a stop. “Brody,
stop
—
you’re shot.
”
“He’s getting away.” Brody tried to push past her, but she forced him to sit, lean back against the car. “You’re okay.”
“Yes.” Ashley pressed down, blood seeping over her hands, red and warm. Brody was wearing a vest, but Proom hadn’t aimed all of his bullets at his chest.
“You’re okay, Ash—you’re okay,” Brody kept repeating, running his hands over her hair, her shoulders. “Heard you screaming.”
“I’m fine. You’re shot. He shot you,” Ashley told him. Bandages. They had to have brought bandages. They brought every other thing in the goddamn world, they had to have brought fucking bandages.
Brody shook his head. “I’m fine. Get me on my feet.”
“
No
.”
“Proom’s getting away. Ashley.” She looked up at him. “Point-seven percent chance he’ll stop.”
She nodded. She knew it. Ashley pushed herself to her feet. “Stay here.”
Proom hadn’t gotten very far. He didn’t seem to have anywhere to go. He was simply running, and she was so much better at running. He must have heard her coming, because he turned, arm flailing out, and the sound barreled at her. It was like running point blank into a wall.
Oh god,
oh god
—
But she could smell Brody’s blood on him. On her. And the sickly smell of the gas, still clinging to his clothes. He tried to wipe them away, like they were nothing. They were nothing to him. She’d been so afraid of him. She’d thought she was so stupid for being so afraid, but she’d been right. She should’ve been afraid. He didn’t think about people as if they were people. He really didn’t care.
Her fingers clawed into the dirt, and she pushed herself off the ground, past the sheer flat hammer of pain. Her arm flashed out to snatch the fob out of his hand, and then the only sound was the crunch.
“Walk,” she said, “or I’ll drag you.”
Proom tried to run. Then he tried to fight. And, when she got ahold of one of his ankles and started dragging, he did his best to kick her off, and when that didn’t work, he clawed at the ground. Ashley remembered doing that herself once, frantic and desperate, her fingers biting into the frozen earth. It hadn’t worked out for her then, either.
Brody was on his feet by the time she got back. He did have bandages, and he’d done what he could with them. He smiled at her, and let her drag Proom back on her own.
It didn’t take long to find the others, huddled outside the facility in spite of the fact that the cold had turned savage. She heard the
whump whump whump
of helicopter blades in the distance. Ashley shielded her eyes and tried to peer up through the snow, and the dark, heavy trees. The clouds overhead were thick and close, like someone had stuffed the sky with cotton wool.
She saw Cam. A blanket flapping around his shoulders in the wind, watching her, even through that damn blindfold. She let go of Proom, and went to him. Cam tried to head towards her, but he barreled into someone, and stumbled. But she was there, catching him. He sagged into her arms. “
Ashley
.”
“Sorry I took so long,” she said.
“Don’t go. Please. Don’t go again.”
“I won’t.”
“Stay. Please. Promise.”
“I promise.”
“I can’t—” He pulled their hands to his head, clawing at it. “Getting harder,” he choked. “Too much. I can’t—
think
. With you—I can think, with you. Don’t go. Don’t go again.”
“I won’t,” Ashley said, trying to sound calm. She didn’t feel calm, not now. The comfort in seeing him sapped when she saw him like this. “I won’t go, I promise.”
“I can think. Of you. It clears. I can see you.”
“Good. Focus on me. Watch me, tell me what’s going to happen.”
He tried a smile. “You and I.”
“Yes,” she said, smiling, even though her voice was shaky.
A man in a medic’s jacket had already gone to Brody and was trying to examine Brody’s arm. Brody shrugged him away. “You okay?” he asked her.
She smiled at him over Cam’s shoulder. “I’ve had worse.”
“Good.” Brody rubbed his hands together and turned to Proom. “Well, look who we’ve got here,” Brody said, with something as close to glee as Ashley’d ever seen. He smirked down at Proom. “Not looking too good there, slugger.”
Proom tried to get to his feet, to run, and groaned when Brody pinned him, putting his foot on Proom’s knee and leaning in. “Could you possibly enjoy this a little less?” he muttered.
Brody was grinning now. “Nope.”
“You got everyone?” Ashley asked Brody. She knew the answer, but she needed to hear him say it. “Steel said there were four more kids.”
“Phillips got two of them out,” Brody said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, to where Agent Phillips was tending to a few huddled kids. “They’re not in great shape. Not just from the gas. We’re going to need to get everyone to a hospital, soon.” There was a thrum of the helicopter blades, on top of them now. “That should be Cole. He’s going to want a few words with you,” he told Proom.
“How long do we have?” Ashley asked.
Brody looked at her. “As long as you need.”
She looked at the facility. “Got a match?”
“What? You can’t!” Proom exclaimed, pushing himself up as far as he could. “All of our research, all of the
progress
we’ve made—”
“You
fuck
—” one of the kids began.
“Oh, I know, I know—some of you were inconvenienced.” Proom waved a hand. “But the things we’ve discovered, the leaps we’ve made—”
“Inconvenienced,” Ashley said. She felt Cam’s hands tighten on her arm. “You kidnapped people, you cut them open.”
“Of course I did,” Proom said, as if explaining it to a child. “How else was I going to find out what was going on in there?”
“
You took Liz
,” Ashley snarled. “You took Danny, you took
Cam!”
“To be fair, it’s not like they were
doing
anything with their abilities,” Proom said, holding up his hands. “Except for Two-Eleven—I admit, I made a mistake there—”
“Her name is Liz!” Ashley screamed. “Liz and Danny and Ian and Cam! And me—what’s my name?”
Proom half-laughed, surprised. “What?”
“My
name. Jase
’s name. Do you remember that? Do you remember any of their names?” She did. She remembered all of them, whether she wanted to or not. He’d given that to her.
“Of course I know their names,” Proom said, looking shocked. “Our records on them are extensive. Their scientific contributions were
invaluable—
”
He got no further because Ashley broke free of Cam’s grip and hauled Proom up off the ground with her hands around his throat.
She heard Cam behind her, as if she were underwater. Proom’s skin was going red under her fingers.
It would be so easy. Just a little pressure in the right place and he would stop. It would end. Because it wouldn’t end on its own, not unless she ended it. He would keep on going. He was taking people, like they were
things
, like it didn’t matter, like it was his
right
. He wouldn’t stop unless someone stopped him. She could. It would be very easy.
Her hands were shaking.
If she let him go, he’d keep doing it. He’d find a way. She knew he would.
Stop him. Stop him now.
This was what they wanted, wasn’t it? They’d wanted to make her someone that could do this. This was what they’d made her. She’d done this before. She could do it again. She couldn’t see through the tears.
Cam said her name, quietly.
She flung Proom away. He crashed to the ground and lay still. Ashley clenched her hands into fists to keep from going after him again. “He took you.”
“Yes,” Cam said.