The Awakening (54 page)

             
Ben didn’t register much until they were well over a mile from the gate, and the whole place blew.  The car shook with the blast, and hot air surged through their open windows, searing Ben’s face, and the smell of smoke was suddenly overwhelming. 

             
Asclepius slammed on the breaks, waiting out the blast, and when cool air replaced hot, Ben knew it was over.  He threw the door open and stepped outside, but no one stopped him.  He squinted up at the billowing smoke rising into the air and he knew then, it was over.  Everything left in that compound was dead.

             
In the distance there were cars all over, stopped, people staring at the place where they had been healed and saved.  Everything was flames, smoke and ash, and everyone was gone.  Abby was gone.  It took only a minute for Ben to realize it, but it felt like an eternity.  The wave of anger and fury hit him like a tsunami, knocking him down to his knees.  He hit the dirt, his hands landing on old, dead grass, and the cry that came from his mouth wasn’t human.  It was anguish and anger in its purest form.

             
Mark came around the car, though Ben hadn’t seen him, and he put his hand on Ben’s back.  Ben wanted to fight him, to turn and hit him, to hurt him, to cause him pain because he knew the moment he looked up, it was all going to be real, and she was dead, and he had failed her.

             
He didn’t realize he was crying through his anger until he saw the drops hitting the dust below his face.  They were pouring out like a river, turning the dirt to mud, splattering on his hands.  He was sobbing, but it didn’t sound like him, the aching sound as his body contorted with his grief.

             
“We need to go,” Mark said quietly.  “Ben I’m so sorry, but we have to go.  Please.”

             
Ben finally looked up at Mark, at the ancient face, even if he still didn’t quite believe it, and he smiled.  “This is what you meant, isn’t it?  This is what you meant when you said war and bloodshed.  This is what you bring.”

             
Mark bowed his head.  “There’s nothing I can say that can comfort you.”

             
Ben laughed, shaking his head as the tears poured out. “She died for you, you realize.  To save your friend, to stop… to stop whatever this is, whatever it was.  She… god,” he breathed.  He wanted to say more, but his throat seized and the words wouldn’t come.  He knew he should get in the car, but it was over now.  She was gone, a war had been averted, and it was over.

Chapter
Forty-Two

              Ben hadn’t cried again after he stood up.  The tears were dry and he was composed by the time the authorities arrived, and although no one was pleased that Ben had gone off on his own, when they realized what happened, no one said anything.

             
The detective on scene brought Ben the news once the rescue team had finished on the site.  “A few people survived by ducking into bunkers, but they were pretty badly burned.  It looks like the entire compound was rigged with explosives, and they did manage to find a couple of fire proof lockers with hand-written plans by this Thompson guy explaining how they were going to take everyone out.”

             
Ben couldn’t remember the detective’s name, but he did appreciate the matter-of-fact tone he was using, because Ben couldn’t take comfort right then.  “Did they find bodies?”

             
“Not many remains,” the detective said.  He cleared his throat and offered a tense half-smile.  “Anyone at the center of the blast was nearly vaporized instantly.”

             
Ben gave a blank nod.  “Right.  Okay.”

             
“Look, I’m sorry, and if we find anything at all…”

             
Ben held up his hand.  “She’s um… she called me right before everything um…” he trailed off and cleared his throat.  “She’d been given some sort of drug, she said.  She was already on her way out.”

             
“I’m sorry,” the detective repeated.

             
“Can I email you my reports?” Ben asked, his voice growing painfully tight.  He needed to get out of there as quickly as possible.  Mark and Asclepius had already taken the unconscious man off scene, to a local hotel the police had set up for any of the survivors who didn’t need hospital treatment.  Ben had the keys to a patrol car and the directions to the hotel in his hands.

             
“Yes,” the detective said quickly.  “I’ve already spoken to your chief, and he said you were acting under orders from another county, under the advice of a detective Stella Horvath.  I don’t believe there will be any reprimands, so that’s something.”

             
Ben let out a dead laugh.  “Yeah.  Something.”  Without giving a proper goodbye, Ben turned and walked to the stale smelling car and got in.  The officer who drove this car was a fast food junkie.  Old bags and cups were stuffed on the floor, and it reeked of old ketchup and tartar sauce.

             
Fighting down a gag, Ben stepped on the gas and mechanically followed the directions he’d been given.  The hotel wasn’t far, and it was nicer than the one they’d stopped at before reaching town.  He parked the car and stared up at the numbers on the door.  Beyond the door reading two-oh-six, he knew Mark and Asclepius, or possibly Greg, sat there with the man on the bed.  The man whose name Ben still couldn’t say.

             
His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his fingers went numb and his knuckles turned white.  He fought for a moment to remember the day before, the day when he was pissed because his sister was acting like a fool and going off on her own.  The day he thought this would be a simple task of walking into a place, chastising her for being a brat, and putting her in the back of his car.

             
He wasn’t sure what a future without her was going to be.  Ben had spent most of his life chasing her from place to place, cleaning up her messes, wiping her tears when people broke her heart.  Ben didn’t know who he was outside of being her big brother.  He was a cop, yes, a damn good detective, in fact, but mostly he was Abby’s brother, and nearly all of his decisions had been made with her in mind.

             
Ben sat there in the empty parking lot and let out a small laugh.  She was gone.  He knew he couldn’t face the pain but that didn’t matter yet.  The pain would be waiting for him whenever he was ready to let it in.  It wasn’t going anywhere, it was there to stay.

             
His phone buzzed, and Ben picked it up.  It was a text.  He was terrified to open it, to see the recipient.  His mind raced.  Maybe she’d gotten out.  Maybe there was a safety bunker, a bomb shelter.  Anything.  Asclepius had sworn up and down they wouldn’t waste her body, they needed her.

             
The number was a San Diego number.  It was Stella.  It read,
I heard, I’m sorry
. 

             
Ben felt the pressure in his chest increase and he thought for a moment he would suffocate.  He got out of the car, his body moving slowly, stilted, like a machine, and he went to his own private room.  It was stale and quiet, but it was clean.  The bed was softer than before, and he collapsed on it. 

             
His phone was ringing again, but this time he turned it on silent and closed his eyes.  The darkness surrounded him as he curled up in that cold, empty motel room, and while the grief waited, Ben slept.

~*~

              An hour passed before Asclepius announced that it was time for him to go, and then Greg’s body dropped down on the second bed, lying still for so long Mark thought Greg would be unconscious for the rest of the night.

             
Yehuda hadn’t moved, aside from a few quiet groans in his slumber.  With the IV out of his arm, his color was coming back, and his breathing was even and steady.  He was clean, as he had been in the hospital, his hair long, curly and his chin dark with the growing beard.

             
Mark was tense, and frankly he was sad.  He knew something was going wrong the moment he heard the alarms, but even in the worst case, he hadn’t imagined that Abby would sacrifice everything to get Yehuda, Mark and Ben to safety.

             
His chest was tight, his eyes aching from tears that wouldn’t fall.  He did his best to remember that she’d done it for what she believed in, but every time someone died for his cause, every time blood was shed, Mark mourned.

             
“What’s going on?” came a groggy voice, and Mark turned to see Greg finally sitting up, rubbing the injured wrist with his other hand.

             
“It’s over,” Mark said with a small shrug.  He glanced over at Yehuda who had still not moved. 

             
“What do you mean, it’s over?  Where are Ben and Abby?”

             
At the sound of her name, Mark felt his hands begin to tremble, and he couldn’t meet Greg’s eyes.  “Ben’s somewhere.  Possibly still at the scene, I’m not sure.  Abby um…” his throat tightened and for a moment, he couldn’t go on.  “Abby didn’t make it out.”

             
Greg’s eyes went wide and he stood up.  “What do you means she didn’t make it out?  Make it out of what?”

             
His voice heavy with grief, Mark told the entire story, sparing no detail.  When he finished, a few tears had fallen and he brushed them away with an impatient hand.  “By the time I had a real idea of what was happening it was too late.  We had moments to get out safely, and even then, we barely made it out unscathed.”

             
Greg put his hand over his face and dropped into one of the chairs near the window.  “How many were lost?”

             
“I’m not sure.  I don’t think the officers on scene got an accurate count, at least not by the time we were sent here.  I know the evacuation alarms started with about five minutes to get to safety, so I’d imagine not everyone made it out alive.”

             
Greg swallowed thickly and looked out at the darkening parking lot.  “I don’t know what to say.”

             
“I don’t think anyone does just yet,” Mark replied, sitting on the edge of the bed near Yehuda’s bare feet.  “You know, when he wakes up, I don’t know what I’m going to tell him.   I haven’t seen him in so long, and to have him wake up to this…” Mark trailed off and let out a frustrated chuckle.  “And Ben.  I can’t imagine what he’s going through right now.”

             
“I feel like I should go and find him,” Greg said.  “I mean, he probably shouldn’t be alone.”

             
“Don’t underestimate his ability to deal with his grief,” Mark warned.  “The one thing he probably needs right now is to be alone.”

             
Greg let out a little sigh.  “You do realize it’s not over, don’t you?”

             
Mark looked at him sharply.  “What do you mean?”

             
“They wanted you for a reason, and don’t for a minute think that just because their human vessels were destroyed that they’ve been stopped.  Slowed, maybe, but even then, they haven’t been slowed down much.  Whatever it is they want, it involves you, and I’m sure it isn’t a joy ride in an immortal human.”

             
“Yes,” came the cracked, aching whisper from the figure on the bed.

             
Mark jumped up, whipping around to face Yehuda, who had opened one eye.  His lips were cracked open, his breathing heavy, but he was conscious.  “Don’t talk,” Mark breathed.  “Not yet.”

             
Yehuda swallowed dryly and shifted slightly.  “Danger,” he whispered again.

             
“Get me some water,” Mark ordered Greg, who jumped up to obey.  A moment later, Mark knelt by Yehuda’s head and very gingerly, lifted the cup to his lips.

             
Yehuda sipped, just a little, coughed but managed to get down a few swallows before falling back, exhausted, against the pillow.  “They want…” Yehuda whispered, his voice sounding painful, “you.”

             
Mark felt his face flush and he set the cup down.  “We can talk about this when you’re well, Yehuda.”

             
Yehuda gave a tense smile and shook his head gently, once, from side to side.  “Well.”

             
Greg, at this point, stood up and walked to the door.  “Look, I’m going to go.  I’ll either get my own room, or see about getting a flight back.  You two have a lot to figure out, and he obviously has a lot of info that I don’t want.”

             
Mark realized what sort of danger Greg would be put in with even the smallest knowledge of the old ones’ plans.  He rose from Yehuda’s side and extended his hand to Greg.  “Thank you.  For everything.”

             
“I’ll be in touch when I can,” Greg said, squeezing Mark’s hand briefly and then he stepped away.