Countdown (4 page)

Rogan was frowning. “Jonathan, there has to be some way out of this. You have to let me speak to—” He broke off and yelled, clutching his head. The next moment he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
I watched him fall and then raised my horrified gaze to Jonathan.
“I’m very sorry,” he said.
I opened my mouth to say something, I wasn’t even sure what; but before I got out a word, the lightning-fast pain ripped through my brain and everything went black.

I OPENED MY EYES SLOWLY AND BLINKED UNTIL everything came back into focus. Along with my vision, my anger returned in full force.
I absolutely hated the idea of somebody out there with their finger on a little button that could cause me pain like that. However, I did like the idea of finding whoever was in charge of that little button and giving their groin a nice, sharp introduction to my knee.
My head hurt. Badly. But at least I still seemed to be in one piece.
I glanced around and realized I was somewhere more populated. Not another empty, clinical room. I could hear voices. There was a faint sound of clothes swishing and rubbing together as a few people passed, nearby but out of sight.
There was a heavy weight pressing on my shoulder, and I slowly realized that it was Rogan—specifically his head. He was still out cold and currently using me as a pillow. We were both sprawled against a wall like a couple of homeless people. Pretty accurate, really. But this wasn’t the street. Linoleum tile felt smooth and cool against my hands. We were inside. Somewhere.
I know this place.
And then it dawned on me.
We were in the mall a few blocks north of the village. One of my main haunts. The same place I’d been when this nightmare first began—when I’d stolen my new pair of shoes. I looked down at my feet to see that the bright red sneakers were still there.
I jostled him. “Rogan.”
He didn’t wake up.
I moved my hand to the back of my head and took a moment to feel the incision mark. Then I felt for the same thing on Rogan. His dark hair slid through my fingers.
Strange. I felt not one but
two
incision marks on his scalp. Why were there two?
He appeared so innocent while asleep—and very nearly handsome. His eyelids f luttered, and I wondered what he was dreaming about. I looked closely at the scar on his face, and traced the line with the tip of my finger.
“Are you really as much of an evil bastard as they say you are?”
I glanced around the hallway. No one was within spitting distance, and as far as I could see, neither were the f lying digicams. I wasn’t sure how long this f leeting moment of privacy would last.
I felt at his throat for his steady pulse, warm and alive beneath my touch. Then I slowly trailed down to his collarbone and under the edge of his ripped T-shirt to press my hand against his chest. Skin to skin. And I opened myself up to whatever it was I could do.
I didn’t think I was psychic or anything. But then, it couldn’t be my imagination. The pain made it real. Before, on the street, I hadn’t sensed anything from Rogan but a jumbled mass of…something.
Something
.
I needed to know if I could do it again. If I could figure it out, get more this time. If I could get some sort of sense of just how bad Rogan Ellis really was and how much I should hate his guts.
All I knew for sure was that bad guys had this bad vibe that was impossible to ignore when I did this, like a cold blanket of darkness that sucked the warmth right out of me.
I didn’t know what this strange ability of mine actually was. What it meant. But I needed it to work.
I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate.
Then I suddenly found my hand in his as he pulled it away from his chest. “Hey—I’m out for a few minutes and you suddenly can’t keep your hands off me?”
I scowled at him. “Hardly.”
A glimmer of amusement lit up his ocean-green eyes. “Then what were you doing?”
“Just making sure you weren’t dead. FYI…you’re not.”
He gave a humorless laugh and glanced around wearily. “Where are we now?”
“We’re in the mall.”
“The mall,” he repeated with a frown. “Why are we in the mall?”
I reached back to feel my incision again. “We need to get these implants out.”
Rogan grabbed my wrist. “Don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“You can’t tamper with it or it will kill us.”
“Who told you that?”
“Nobody. But it makes sense, doesn’t it?” He rose to his feet and held out a hand to help me up. I ignored it and got up on my own.
“You have two incisions. Does that mean you have two implants?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”
I nodded, surprised at his calm reaction to such a strange— to me, anyway—observation.
He reached around to the back of his head to feel. “Maybe they made a mistake when they were digging around. Put it in the wrong spot.”
“Maybe.” My gaze traveled to his wound. “What Jonathan did to you back there. That antidote. How do you feel now?”
He gingerly touched his shoulder. “It worked. I feel stronger already. It doesn’t even hurt much anymore.”
I couldn’t figure it out. “Why did he do that? Seems kind of risky for him to help somebody he doesn’t even know. Just another contestant.”
“Don’t know.” A grim smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Must be my charm. I’ve always been able to win people over. Make them do whatever I want.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “It’s working so well with me so far.” I glanced around again. I could see the main mall from where we were, but they’d tucked us down a hallway that was roped off for maintenance. I looked at Rogan. He wasn’t hunched over anymore, and I got a better sense of his height. He was tall—I’d guess a couple inches over six feet. Also, even with all that dirt and grime he was…well, I had to admit that he was far from ugly. I wondered what he might look like all cleaned up.
Like a cleaned-up mass murderer, probably.
I was fooling myself if I thought there was more to this guy. Wouldn’t matter if he was the most gorgeous boy in the universe. What he’d done made him hideous.
He seemed to f linch at my appraisal. “You don’t seem to like what you see.”
That wasn’t entirely true, unfortunately. But it was better for both of us if he believed that. “
Should
I like you, Rogan?”
He gave another half laugh that sounded pained. “Absolutely not.”
“Then I guess we’re in agreement.” I turned my back to him and tried to focus. The mall. I hung out here all the time and so did a good friend of mine. “Come on. I think I know someone who might be able to help us. Got to find him before that camera catches up to us.”
Before I got too far, his hand on my shoulder stopped me. “What are you talking about?”
“I know a guy, he’s like a computer genius. At least that’s what he’s always telling me. If I find him, he might be able to help us get rid of the implants—disarm them, remove them, whatever—and we can end this once and for all.”
“You think it’s that easy?”
“I think it could be.” I tried to pull away from him.
His grip on my arm increased. “You touch these implants, and unless you have the right tools, they’ll explode. Turn your brain to goo that’ll drip out your ears while you finish dying. Is that what you want?”
I grimaced at the thought. “You sound pretty certain. I guess I didn’t get the manual when I woke up on the do’s and don’t’s of implant ownership. Did they give you a quick course in juvie?”
He glared at my sarcastic tone. “People talk.”
I turned away again. “Doesn’t mean I have to listen.”
Without waiting to find out if he was or wasn’t going to follow me, I made my way out of the hallway and into the mall. Finally, I was somewhere I knew. It felt good, like I’d been returned home. It gave me some sense of control in this crazy situation.
Pre-Plague, this had been one of the largest malls on the east coast. Over a thousand stores in a complex that spanned blocks and blocks. Now there were about thirty stores still open. Three places to eat in the food court. Some old people said that it had an eerie, ghost town kind of feeling for them, just like the entire city now did. It didn’t seem that strange to me since I’d never known any other way. It was a good place to hang out indoors, and that was all I cared about.
I glanced over my shoulder. Rogan trudged after me. Just looking at him made me realize that we’d better make this quick. We didn’t have too much time before we got kicked out. Security wasn’t all that tight, but torn, dirty and bloodied clothes did not represent your average mall shopper. Luckily I knew where I was headed.
The food court. My friend Oliver hung out there a lot. If he wasn’t there, then he was at his other main haunt, some basement in the city where he disappeared for days at a time to play networked games with other geeks. I meant that term fondly.
I actually let out a small whimper of relief when I saw him sitting in his usual spot, tapping away on his laptop, an extralarge soda in front of him on the table. There were about ten other people in the large food court, scattered around at different tables. A clock hung from the ceiling in the center of the court. The glass on it had been broken months ago but hadn’t been fixed yet. It still worked, though. It was just after five o’clock.
I walked right up to Oliver and stood in front of him. He didn’t immediately look up from his screen.
“Oliver,” I said.
He finally glanced at me, and his eyes widened. “Kira, hey. I’ve been looking all over for you. You totally disappeared yesterday.”
Yesterday? How long had I been unconscious before I woke up in that room? How long had I been unconscious before this
level?
I let out a shaky breath. “I need your help. Badly.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You look serious.”
“You have no idea.”
“Are you in some sort of trouble?”
Rogan’s hand curled around my arm. “Kira, this isn’t a good idea.”
Oliver’s gaze shifted to him, and his eyes widened again. “New friend?”
I looked at Rogan and then back at Oliver. Rogan outweighed the shorter, scrawnier kid by at least fifty pounds of muscle.
“Uh, this is Rogan Ellis.” I gulped. “We both need your help.”
“Rogan Ellis…” Oliver’s eyes widened even more at hearing the name. I guess I was the only one who hadn’t heard of his crimes before today. “Kira, do you have any idea who this guy is?”
“Yes, but you have to listen to me…” I trailed off. I suddenly felt something. A strange sensation like we were being watched.
I glanced over my shoulder and was positive I saw a silver digicam slide behind the far corner.
“We can’t involve your friend in this,” Rogan whispered only loud enough for me to hear. “Unless you want to get him killed.”
Oliver’s knuckles were white, and he gripped the edge of the table. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, Kira, but if you need my help, you know I’d do anything for you. But him—” His voice caught a little with fear. “I don’t want him anywhere near me.”
Oliver had a crush on me. Thankfully, he’d never acted on it, but it was always there, an undeniable presence in the room with us. And I’d admit it, I took it as a compliment. It was nice to feel wanted. I was banking on that crush to make him want to help us. To help
me
. But the last thing I wanted to do was to put him in danger.
And that was exactly what I was doing by even talking to him.
Damn. Rogan was right.
“Where do you want to go?” He closed his laptop and stood up from the table.
“You know what?” I swallowed and shook my head. “Never mind.”
He moved a step toward me. “Kira, you look really stressed. Tell me what’s wrong.”
I took a step back and felt Rogan behind me. “This was a mistake.”
He eyed Rogan with a mix of fear and hate. “Is it him? Is he forcing you to do something?”
“None of your business what I’m doing,” Rogan growled.
Oliver’s jaw tensed, and he turned his glare from Rogan to me again. “I can help you. You just have to come with me.”
“Help her? Yeah, you look so tough.” Rogan snorted. “You think you can save her from me?”
I really wanted him to shut up and not make this worse than it already was.
“If I have to.” Oliver gave me another confused look. “Is he hurting you?”
I shook my head. I had to back away. I couldn’t get Oliver involved in this. It had been a mistake to approach him. “No…Rogan and me…we’re together.”
“Together?”
I nodded. It was better to hurt him now if it would keep him safe in the long run. “I just wanted you to know so you… so you stop bothering me.”
He put a hand to his chest. “I’m bothering you?”
“Just leave me alone, Oliver.”
He blinked. “He’s a murderer, Kira. Don’t you know that?”
I gave him a blank look and turned my back to him. “Maybe I don’t care.”
Wow, what a huge lie that was.
“Kira—”
“Don’t follow us,” Rogan snarled at him.
“Or what?”
“Or you’ll regret it. Trust me on that.”
I didn’t look back as I left the food court with Rogan at my side. I never should have gone there in the first place. Oliver must hate me. I hadn’t wanted to hurt him. He had nothing to do with the mess I’d somehow gotten myself into.
Tears of frustration slid down my cheeks. “You didn’t have to be such a dick to him.”
“I did what I had to do.”
I brushed my tears away before Rogan could see I was crying.
Two men in security uniforms approached us.
“We’re going to have to ask you to leave the premises,” one said. He had a hand on the gun at his side. “Now.”
Rogan’s lips twitched. “My, how times have changed. How do you know I wasn’t about to do some shopping with my daddy’s gold card?”
One of the guards eyed his dirty clothes and the bloodstain on his shoulder and then glanced at me. “Is this boy bothering you, young lady?”
They didn’t seem to recognize Rogan like Oliver had.
Tell them!
my mind screamed.
Tell them everything. They can help you.
I caught a f lash of silver out of the corner of my eye. The digicam.
“The level’s already begun, hasn’t it?” I asked Rogan quietly.
“Yeah, it has.”
I knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, if I told the security guards what was going on, I would be severely and painfully punished. And the guards themselves would probably not walk out of here alive.
“He’s with me, actually.” The words felt thick and unnatural leaving my mouth.
The other guard grabbed my arm. “Then you’ll both have to go.”
“Fine. We’ll go.” I wrenched away from him.
We cleared the food court and headed down a mostly abandoned hallway toward the exit. More tears burned my eyes, but I forced them back. Crying wouldn’t solve a damn thing.
“What are they doing to us?” I asked after a moment, mostly to myself. “How could anyone find this entertaining?”
“You’d be surprised. Some people are sick.”
Yeah, he should know. “Why did they even put us here in the mall? Just to mess with our minds?”
“Something like that.” Rogan’s arm tightened around my waist then, as if he was trying to comfort me. Weird. A moment later, as if he realized what he’d done, he pulled away from me and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you remember what Jonathan told us this level is all about?”