Revive (25 page)

Page after page of files fly by. Maybe it's in Malone's email. “Unstoppable? So my unit and I could be The Four's perfect weapons? Or did you plan to rent us out to groups that could use our services? Did you ever consider that maybe we don't want to be weapons?”

“We created you!” Malone's face is red. “You belong to us. The entire reason you exist is for that purpose. You are the product of decades of research, and you're brilliant.”

“I'm a person. Not a tool.” Why am I having this discussion with him? If he insists on talking, I should at least learn something useful. “Where's my backpack?”

Malone ignores that, no surprise. “You're not a person, HY1-Seven. You're my creation.”

“Yes, you created me. Doesn't mean I'm going to let you destroy me too.”

“Erasing your memories is for your own good. I'm trying to help you. I know what happened with the AnChlor bothers you, and I can make it all go away. We'll put you back to the model soldier you were. You'll be happy again.”

I press too hard on a key, and the display jumps around. Happy? Never mind shooting him. I want to beat Malone with the keyboard. “You mean you'll make me believe your lies again. Then I
will
be nothing but your creation. I like being a person instead, even when it sucks.”

Aha. Malone gave my backpack to Fitzpatrick yesterday evening to review the contents. It has to be in her office. Shit.

Time check: time to GO.

Thanks to the override, Kyle's transfer is back in progress. I take another look at Malone, slumped against the wall, and tell myself once more that shooting him will be too noisy.

But I point the gun at him. “Remember how you hunted down Kyle's mother? How you killed her in cold blood? I read the CIA's reports. I saw the crime scene photos of her body.” Malone says nothing. He stares at me so calmly it's creepy. No doubt a lot of people have pointed guns at him before. I'm not going to faze him that way. “You should be glad your attempts to brainwash me into your perfect weapon failed because I won't do the same to you.”

Then I leave. Halfway down the stairs, I realize the noise from a gunshot doesn't make a difference. From somewhere outside comes the sound of an explosion. A tremor runs through the building.

Gabe and Lev are on the loose.

I pound down the last few steps, listening closely for signs of trouble, then cautiously peer around the doorway. The guard and Malone's assistant are discussing what's going on. The explosion, on top of the security shutdown, is causing all kinds of confusion. Just as planned.

Five seconds behind schedule, I open the door into the lobby, hoping to appear casual.

“Where are you going?” Malone's assistant asks.

I blink at her, all wide-eyed innocence. “Malone needed to cut our meeting short because of the security breach. I'm going to training. Do you know what that explosion was?”

“No,” she says and stops being interested in me.

The guard's walkie-talkie comes to life. “New security alert. Two HY1s set off an explosion by Warehouse Eighteen. They're still—”

“Hey!”

I slam the assistant's desk into the two of them as the guard starts for his sidearm. They stumble in a crash of metal and desk chairs.

The walkie-talkie stirs again. “Be aware that any—”

I dive on the other side of the desk as the guard fires wildly in my direction. Keeping low, I pull the .38 from my waistband and return fire once. The assistant screams. I dash for the next bit of cover—the guard's station. It's five feet to the door from here, and I'm ten seconds behind schedule.

The guard fires again. Not wanting to waste my few shots, I hurl whatever I can find at his station toward him—a phone, an e-sheet, a monitor. Then I take a deep breath, fire one more shot their way and bolt for the door.

I make it outside, sixteen seconds behind schedule. Somewhere nearby more shots ring out, but the guard doesn't chase me. I stick close to the buildings, wondering how long Summer's virus is going to hold out.

A second explosion rocks the ground, this one coming from the woods. Four CYs jog past, no doubt part of a larger unit that's spreading out to find us. I duck inside Building Two as one of the CYs turns its heat sensors to where I'd been lurking in the bushes.

I'm coming, Kyle.

I take the stairs, straining my ears at the first landing. I'm late, but thanks to the confusion, Kyle and his escorts might be slow.

And there they are. I see them as I reach for the door handle. They're definitely being cautious under the circumstances. Kyle has three guards, which would be ridiculous ordinarily because his hands are bound. The guard in front has his gun drawn, and he does a standard sweep of the stairwell before motioning the others along.

Shooting people might be unavoidable here. They have Kyle, and I will do whatever it takes.

Intending to catch the guards by surprise, I charge down the stairs. I can't imagine the order's been given to shoot all HY1s on sight—we're too valuable—and I can't risk shooting from my angle. Not when I could hit Kyle. I have no desire to test the limits of his abilities.

“Sophia?” There's no question from his voice that I took
him
by surprise. He's adorable when he's confused, but I ignore him in order to contend with his guards.

They weren't expecting me any more than Kyle. I go after the nearest one: elbow-gut, fist-face, foot-knees. He drops like he would in a drill. It's too easy, but it's only because he wasn't ready for it.

“Behind you!” Kyle yells, pressing himself against the railing. Guard Two reaches for his gun. Guard Three for his walkie-talkie.

Both are bad, but I can't deal with both at once. Where's Jordan?

Guard Two gets my attention then—he's the one with the gun. I block his arm and duck as he swings at me.

“Situation in Building Two, Stairwell Beta,” says Guard Three. “We have a—”

Guard Two and I both jump. The sound of gunfire is deafening in this confined space. My ears ring, but Guard Three goes down, dropping the walkie-talkie. Jordan dashes up the stairs from behind. Between the two of us, Guard Two has no chance.

“What the hell is going on?” Kyle says. “What are you doing here?”

“What's going on is I'm flying you away with me.” My voice shakes, but my hands are steady as I retrieve a knife from one of the guards' belts.

Kyle's gaze shifts toward the knife. “Funny.”

“I'm serious. Turn.”

He doesn't move. “Explain to me why I should do a thing you say. This is your fault.”

I can't speak. No words are adequate.

Jordan, however, doesn't have that problem. “We don't have time for this. You will listen to her and do what she says because we're risking our asses to save your mutant life. And the only reason I'm helping you is because of her. So if you don't want to become someone's science experiment, get over it.”

“Turn, please,” I say again. “I'll explain more later. I promise.”

This time Kyle does, and I slice through the zip-tie around his wrists. He rubs his skin, his jaw hanging slightly open.

“Hey, mutant boy.” Jordan tosses a walkie-talkie at him. “Gawk later. Get on that thing and call off the reinforcements.”

Kyle looks at me. “What do I say?”

I take it from him and check the channel. “Say ‘False alarm. Building Two, Stairwell Beta clear. Proceeding with prisoner transfer.' Press here.”

He does as Jordan says, and I grab two of the guns.

“We have a problem,” I tell her. “Malone gave my backpack to Fitzpatrick. It's in her office.” I swallow because I don't want to say this next part, but it's the smartest move. “You should take Kyle and head—”

“No.” We both turn toward Kyle. “No offense, but I don't trust any of you. At least I know her.” He nods at me.

“Then I'm going too,” Jordan says. “You're going to need cover.”

“No time. You have to let the others know we're delayed. Kyle, can you…?”

But Kyle's grabbed the remaining gun. He pops the clip, checks the rounds and snaps it all back together like he's done it a hundred times. “I can handle the cover.”

“You can shoot?” I finish.

He smiles sheepishly. “We figured this day might come. You're not the only one keeping secrets, you know.”

I blink at him as I search the guard's belt for more supplies. “We? Like who you were talking to on the phone about the AnChlor?”

“You heard that?” Kyle's eyes open wide, then he shakes off his surprise. “That was my stepdad. He recognized the symptoms when I told him what happened.”

“And so you suspected someone at school might be looking for you.” The files on his computer make sense.

He nods. “I really didn't want it to be you.”

Cringing, I reach for him, but Kyle steps back, and my throat tightens in dismay. “Kyle, I'm so sorry. I—”

Jordan clears her throat. “Whatever revelations you two are sharing, finish it some other time. We've got to GO.”

As usual, with Jordan, GO is in all caps. This time she has a point.

I drop my hand, and Kyle looks torn but relieved. I have to push down the sick feeling in my gut because this is neither the time nor the place.

Jordan passes us up the stairs, and after she gives the all clear, we hurry outside. The sun is cresting the mountains at last. The snow—I hadn't even noticed it earlier—is falling more thickly, turning the asphalt slick. I wonder where the others are. If Octavia's been located. If Summer's gotten the van and supplies. If Gabe and Lev have any more tricks planned. If any of them have been captured.

I take Kyle's arm and pull him into the shadows of the building nearest to Fitzpatrick's office. Jordan's gone off in the opposite direction. Security is still down as far as I can tell. Guards and CYs are taking to the roofs, searching for us, but thankfully that doesn't do much good since the buildings are only one story.

“What's in your backpack that we need so badly?” Kyle asks, catching his breath.

“Proof about what's going on here and money.”

“That's it?”

I wet my lips. There's a lot of open space between here and Fitzpatrick's office. “Not a little money. A lot. It's the money I was going to share with you on Saturday so we could disappear. If you wanted to do it that way, I mean.”

“You weren't going to hand me in?”

I want to smack him for even asking, but I suppose it's a fair question. Still, the horror must show on my face.

“I hoped not,” he says.

I grasp his arm tighter in response, afraid I'll babble if I speak. Then, pulling myself together, I poke my head out of the shadow. The guard on the next roof has his back turned. “Follow me and stay low.”

We make it across the road and up the walk, and I throw open the door, fearing for a second that Fitzpatrick will be in there or the door will be locked.

She's not and it's not, which means security is indeed offline. I pause a second to wipe sweat from my forehead. Kyle rubs his arms against the chill, but compared to the outside, this office is a furnace.

“Backpack, backpack,” I mutter. “Where would you be?”

“Closet?”

I try the handle. Locked, of course, with an ordinary key.

“Keys now.” I don't know why I'm saying these things out loud, but Kyle takes it as instructions. We begin tearing through Fitzpatrick's desk.

Kyle goes through the lone drawer on his side and moves on to the shelves. “So why did you end up telling them about me? Do you know who these people are?”

I want to tell him not to ask me these questions now, let him know I can't concentrate on escaping and begging his forgiveness at the same time, but I owe him. He said it himself—he doesn't trust me anymore.

“These people raised me, Kyle. Worse, really. They created me. They
grew
me, and they think they own me. But I had no idea who they were when they sent me to RTC to find you. When I discovered that, I knew I had to keep searching for you because once they knew you were alive and went to school there, they wouldn't stop. If I disappeared, they'd just send someone else to pick up where I left off. I planned to see what you wanted to do, but when we got to South Station, I had to take out the tracker they stuck in me. When I did that, I…” Rebooted. But that's one more thing I don't have time to explain. Besides, I'm rambling. “I hit my head, and you know the rest.”

I slam the drawer. Fitzpatrick must have her keys on her like Malone did.

Kyle shoves aside a trash can. “Good. You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

Grabbing a paperclip, I kneel in front of the closet lock. This is far from ideal, but I don't even want to think about how late we are for the rendezvous. “You don't sound happy.”

“Well, it's… Um, is that a bomb counting down over here?”

“What?” I almost knock him over in my haste to see what he's staring at by the trash can. “Oh, shit.”

“That's a yes, then?” He snatches the paperclip from me and runs to the closet.

Twenty seconds to go. I inspect the device. It's a crude thing. Bondar would fail Gabe and Lev for it, but it's not like they had a lot of time to be clever. And it's not like I have any wire cutters on me to disarm it. “They must have thought it'd be funny to blow up Fitzpatrick's office. Ha. Ha. It is too. But, Kyle, we should go. I don't think even you can withstand C4.”

“Give me a second.”

“You have seventeen. Sixteen.”

“I don't work well under pressure.”

“Thirteen. Twelve.”

The closet door opens, and Kyle grabs my pack. “Told you way back when, didn't I? I pick a mean lock.”

“You're awesome. Run and shoot.”