Dangerous Dreams (A Dreamrunners Society Novel) (4 page)
Read Dangerous Dreams (A Dreamrunners Society Novel) Online
Authors: Aileen Harkwood
He smiled at her, but it was a smile that never reached his eyes.
“Who what?” the man in the grey suit asked, prompting her when her words dried up.
“Someone who takes people for–”
Instead of answering, he slapped her hard, across the face.
Stunned, Lara didn’t make another sound. She lifted a hand to her inflamed cheek, discovering blood. He wore a ring and it had cut her.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph.
“What do you see?” he asked her.
It was a poor quality inkjet print. It showed a room, or rather one corner of a room. She saw a narrow section of drapes on the left side of the photo, a nightstand and part of a bed. The wall behind the bed appeared to be paneled in dreary pine, which might date the room to the middle of the previous century. The bedspread was rust colored, the drapes the same. An unremarkable lamp on the bedside table could have been manufactured at any time in the last fifty years. It was yellow.
“A room?” she said.
“I need you to tell me where this is.”
“What?”
His expression didn’t change, but she could tell her response infuriated him. She expected him to hit her again. He continued to stare at her,
examine
her, as if he knew things about her she didn’t.
A second man joined them, older and less fit than the first. He wheeled in a stainless steel cart with three shelves. The top two were loaded down with medical instruments and tools, none of which Lara could begin to name. A car battery rested on the bottom shelf.
The sight so alarmed her she jumped up, forgetting her ankles were still bound by the zip tie no one had removed. Her body twisted awkwardly and knocked the chair to the floor. She almost fell backward over it, but the man’s hand dug cruelly into her shoulder. Like a vise, it held her on her feet. He righted the chair.
“Don’t worry,” he told her and nodded in the direction of the tools on the cart. “We’re saving most of those for later. We’ll start with something easy.”
He shoved her back down into the plastic chair, while the older man filled a syringe with a cloudy liquid.
“Please,” she said, begged. “Whoever you think I am, I’m not that person. I don’t know anything about your room. I’ve never seen it. I’ve never been there. I don’t know where it is, or what might have happened in it. Please. I won’t tell, because I don’t have anything to tell. I’m not a threat to you.”
The man in the grey suit let go of her shoulder and straightened up.
“You know what, Ms. Freberg? I believe you.”
His sudden change of tone caused the man with the cart of torture instruments to pause, the syringe half filled.
“You do?” Lara said.
Grey Man knelt down in front of her chair and placed a hand on her bare right knee. The hand rubbed her slowly, so softly, slipping down along between her legs at the beginning of her thigh, the touch light, too soft, teasing in a way that communicated not pleasure but hate, and his absolute domination over her.
“You aren’t a threat,” he said. “You’re a tool. My tool. And I’m going to use you to get what I want.”
A needle stabbed her upper left arm. Again, she felt the rush of chilled liquid forced into her by a syringe’s plunger. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, though she kept herself from crying out loud.
“What is that?” she asked, indicating the syringe.
“Something to help,” he said. “Me.”
Her body seized, back arching in her chair. Every muscle in her face locked in agonizing rictus as a door opened in her brain and the drug burst in like a fiery backdraft.
Lara knew her life was no longer her own. Where until moments ago she’d been in denial, she now understood her fate. Instead of succumbing willingly to it, however, she stopped listening to her captor’s words. She told herself to instead find some wonderful, miraculous thought to distract her and occupy the next minutes until she died.
Indigo eyes.
She pulled up the memory of that third, ghostly man she’d seen in her bedroom, her imagined, would-be rescuer. If only he was real and not a fantasy. In her mind, while Grey Man threatened and tortured her, she rushed to her rescuer and grabbed hold with all she had, buried her face against his broad chest, seeking refuge. She visualized his hard, muscled arms around her, that towering feeling of protection he gave off.
Lara
. Her imaginings gave him voice, words soothing and powerful.
Stay with me and no one will ever touch you again.
Pain like a tsunami rushed in, washing away the fantasy. She couldn’t swim against or with it. Waves of agony tumbled her over and over and drowned her a half dozen times.
How much longer until this was done?
Blue eyes. A figment, but her figment.
Please, God. Let it be him I see when I’m dead
.
Chapter 7
“The Greys have a finder?” Jack asked. “You’re sure of it?”
“We’re sure,” Gavin said.
Jack slumped against his cabin’s bedroom wall and ran his fingers through his hair, thinking. His anger over having to put the search for his Lost One on hold died, taking a back seat to dread. This was disaster. The moment they’d all feared. He, Gavin, Gavin’s higher-ups, had gone over this in meetings, tried to come to grips with the idea that it might happen sooner, rather than later, but each of them understanding it was inevitable.
For years, the Greys had sought the location of The House. They’d captured and imprisoned or killed as many as six dreamrunners in the past four years—that Jack knew of—but so far had been unsuccessful in learning where the Society’s most vulnerable were hidden and protected. As callous as they knew they were being, everyone had breathed a sigh of relief when, each time they learned of a capture, they also realized the dreamrunner stolen from them couldn’t tell the Greys what they wanted to know. Devastating though the losses had been to those who had known the victims personally, and to the larger Society community, none of the dead or missing approached being valuable assets for the Greys. None of the six were in full possession of their gifts. Neither field operatives, nor decision makers, they were innocents who just wanted to live their lives in peace. Life, instead, had burdened them with an ability they couldn’t control, making each day a challenge to their sanity, and had finally resulted in their downfall.
Taylor March’s abduction was a whole other animal. Taylor was a finder. He knew the Society’s secrets, or at least enough of them to be dangerous, none more so than the directions to The House.
Jack felt groggy, severely drained from his recent run. He should get some food, coffee, whatever he needed to kick his ass into gear. They would need him at home. Immediately. If they hadn’t already recalled all agents, he anticipated Gavin would receive the word momentarily.
“I’m on my way,” Jack said. “Have they started the evacuation?”
“Not yet,” Gavin said. “And they won’t.”
“What? Why the hell not?”
“They aren’t going to press the panic button until we know the extent of the damage.”
“The extent of the damage!” Jack was stunned.
“We don’t know if Taylor was taken or went willingly,” Gavin said. “We don’t know what he’s told them, if anything. We don’t know if he’s alive or dead, being tortured, or is injured and currently unavailable to them for interrogation.”
“They have him, Gavin,” Jack said. “They have the key. That’s all they need to know.”
“The House is on standby, Jack. They’re running the drills.”
“Drills? A kill team could be up your collective asses any minute now and you’ve got babies going through the equivalent of duck and cover?”
“I’m not calling the shots. I don’t have them doing anything,” Gavin said.
“And that’s my point,” Jack said. “Someone should be doing something. Right now.”
He headed for the kitchen, threw on a pot of coffee, and tore open cupboards in a search for energy bars, jerky or a bag of nuts, whatever he could find to consume without having to think about it. While he rummaged, his thoughts went to his own kidnapped Lost One, and knew he wouldn’t be able to eat any of it. The idea of abandoning her to the Greys made him physically sick to his stomach. He knew exactly what fate awaited her. She was his mission. His to save. Unlike any Lost One before, they’d had a connection. He knew her. This one meant something to him that he couldn’t pin down. She was special. They shared a mystery and now he would never have the opportunity to solve it. After failing to protect her on his run, he was about to fail her again because he had to make a choice. The choice pitted two equally grave duties against one another, but the scale was unfairly weighted, one life versus hundreds.
Fuck. This is not happening
.
How could he live with himself if he abandoned her? To them?
Just fuck this
.
He knew his duty. It had been ingrained in him over a lifetime.
“I repeat. I’m on my way,” Jack said. “I’ll be there by mid-morning.”
Will I be in time?
“No,” Gavin said.
“No?” Jack said.
“You’re to stay put.”
“You can’t be serious–”
“That’s an order. Stay where you are.”
“And do what? Play computer solitaire while strangers with assault rifles mow down seven-year-olds?”
“Do you think I don’t hate this?” Gavin said. “I’m not giving orders arbitrarily. We need you right where you are.”
“Why?”
“When you’ve recovered from your run, I need to you to go back in after Taylor,” Gavin said. “I need you to find him.”
“Me? But the regulations don’t allow another run for hours.”
“A little over twenty,” Gavin acknowledged.
“I don’t understand,” Jack said. “You’ve got at least two other finders who can do what I do.”
“And they’ve both failed. What do you think has been happening since I hung up on you?” Gavin asked.
Jack nodded to himself, taking in this information.
“What did they find?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Not even a trace of Taylor’s signature in the fields?”
“Nothing.”
“Which means?”
“We don’t know. Dead. Incapacitated. Sold himself out to the Greys and they’ve discovered a way of hiding people from us.”
Jack’s coffee maker belched the last of its steam, signaling the pot was done brewing. He grabbed a mug and poured some, while thinking through the possibilities Gavin had just laid out.
“No,” he said. “Taylor may not be the most responsible guy I’ve known, but he’s not a traitor. He has no motivation to be. He’s richer than sin. No amount of money is going to tempt him. He’s not the least interested in power. I’ve never known him to hold a grudge, and can’t think of a single thing someone could use to manipulate him. If they have him, they took him against his will.”
“Agreed,” Gavin said. “My guess is he’s either dead, near to it, or they have him drugged with the same stuff they used on your Lost One.”
Jack pictured her face the moment Gavin said this. That resilient beauty. Pale blue-grey eyes that had already experienced too much that wasn’t good for her. Where was she now? What were they doing to her?
“You said it yourself, I can’t run for almost another whole day,” Jack said. “Knowing what’s happened to Taylor would be great, but at this point it’s a luxury. The Society has more important worries. I’m heading to The House.”
Gavin went silent on the line and Jack was forced to wait for him to continue. The brief respite gave the adrenalin that had flushed into his system a chance to work its way through and out.
“Jack, tell me…” Gavin finally resumed their conversation. “Do you think you’re the only one who can save the day up there? The only one already committed to playing hero? The House has its defenders, and they’re good. Believe me. They’re ready, and they know what they’re doing. Let them do their jobs. We need you to stay…put.”
“For how long?” Jack asked.
“As long as it takes,” Gavin said.
“Look, I’m fine. I can make another run right now.”
“No one’s fine this soon after a run. Especially like the one you had.”
“Six hours. I’ll wait six.”
“No. You’ll wait until you’re authorized,” Gavin said. “I’ll make you a deal. While you’re waiting, I’ll send Zeke down there to work on a sketch of the girl with you.”
Jack sighed, knowing Gavin was right. He had to be honest with himself. He was in no shape to attempt a reconnaissance, or a rescue mission. Go now, and he wouldn’t be the only one in danger. Considering the lousy shape he was in after this latest run, he could get others killed.
“All right,” he said.
“Good,” Gavin said. “Zeke left two hours ago. He should be at the diner in Yarnsport in another hour-forty-five.”
Zeke was half way here? Gavin had put his plans in motion before Jack had even called back. Figured. His superior, with his cold, Rubik’s cube of a mind, rarely surprised him. Though it did reassure Jack that in the midst of onrushing tragedy, Gavin could still be human. He hadn’t written off the Lost One after all.
When Gavin spoke again, it was as if he’d read Jack’s mind.
“We could be dead at any moment,” his boss said. “It doesn’t mean we have to stop being who we are.”
Chapter 8
Lara picked her way over the hundreds of bodies that scattered the ground, smoke and a noxious chemical that burned her eyes, still rising into the night air. Only a few of the bodies were complete, with arms, legs, a head. Most were pieces, many no longer recognizable as human
.
Dizziness sent her stumbling forward, unsteady on her feet at the unexpected transition from her cell to this place
.
What am I doing back here?
It was the same dream. Why was she dreaming it again? She never had the same nightmare twice. Yet, she was held captive by it, made to see the same things as before, play the same role
.
She reached out for the trunk of a nearby tree to keep herself upright and her hand came away covered in gore. As before, she doubled over and tried to vomit, but her body wasn’t any more successful at purging itself this time. Thankfully she was too spent, too drugged to give the pain that sank, along with someone’s blood and viscera, into her hand much notice
.