Spark (11 page)

I squeeze my temples and close my eyes but it’s better to have them open because my imagination isn’t a fun place to be.

“Each time, down the line, there’s no guarantee how a pre-form will respond. It’s rare to get any reaction at all. Usually, it’s just a normal kid that carries the gene like a time bomb for the next generation.”

“And what if I hadn’t come along?”

Her knuckles tighten briefly on the steering wheel and her shoulders sag with her sigh. “Many Sparks die without a Shield. Probably more than we know.”

I groan and shake my head like I can throw the thought off. “And what if you had responded to Kitty before me? Would you be her Shield?”

“There’s no guarantee I would have been a match. I wasn’t even drawn to her. If a Warden had come through and read Kitty’s signal, they would’ve sent contract agents to make contact in the hopes that one of them would respond to her, but she’s bonded to you now and you’re the only one who’ll be able to sense the threat.”

Again the enormity of it floods over me, a cold wash.
The only one
.

“Lock the door.”

I slide the darkroom door closed behind me, set the latch and follow Miriam in, brushing through the gap in the rough blackout curtain. On the far wall, she taps the key code for the utility cupboard and opens it. She moves an old box of negatives and reaches in to the back of the shelf. At the muffled clunking sound of shifting metallic cogs, my stomach lurches and I grip the counter.

“Hence the out of bounds,” Miriam says. She pulls the shelf and it swings forwards, revealing a recess with a staircase leading not right to the basement but left beneath the front of the house where, as far as I know, there should be nothing. She steps down and a light flicks on. It shocks me to see the stairs go much lower than the basement. I follow after her, almost holding my breath on the steep metal stairs.

The room opens out into a wide, clinical space. The polished concrete floor has a large blue gym mat in the middle and a bank of mirrors lines the wall in front of it. It’s just as I saw in Miriam’s memory, when she growled at me for opening her darkroom cupboard. Four climbing ropes hang in a square formation from the high ceiling, their knots hooked against the wall. In one corner there’s a treadmill, rowing machine, weight lifting equipment and even a suspended punching bag. Beside the innocuous gym gear sits a wooden sparing dummy and objects that look like they’ve been lifted from the set of a martial arts movie. I glance at Miriam. Her brief smile is self-conscious.

“How long has this been here?”

“When I took the place I had it built. Home gym.”

My eyebrows lift. “Batcave, more like.”

A long desk sits against the far wall with a computer and LCD screen. Filing cabinets crowd underneath. A mobile corkboard backs the red brick wall, covered with newspaper clippings and photographs. But directly beneath the metal staircase lodges a glass-fronted cabinet. Guns and ammo. I clutch the cold stair rail. “I have to completely rethink my opinion of you.” The weirdness of having known Miriam my whole life and yet never really
knowing
her unnerves me. I can’t take my eyes off the artillery. “What are you doing with this stuff?”

“Come on, half of America has a gun cabinet.” She sees my scowl. “Don’t worry, they don’t get out much, but a good girl scout is always prepared.”

“How many girl scouts are packing heat?” I wrap my arms around my waist and walk slowly onto the mat. “Ninja zone?”

“Something like.” She watches my face in the mirror. “You’ll start with reflex training. Formal martial arts comes later.”

I can’t imagine it and I try not to look at our twin reflections; we’re too alike. It’s disturbing seeing my future watching me with worried eyes. “So?” I want everything, all the answers to my questions, even after the brain-clogging history lesson on the ride from the hospital.

Miriam crosses to the treadmill, flicks the power on at the wall and nods me over. “We need to get you moving first. The more we stimulate your adrenaline, increase your metabolism, the better. Your strength and stamina will have skyrocketed already and if you don’t get moving, the pins and needles will start driving you nuts.”

I can’t deny the zip-zapping has become uncomfortable and the prospect of action makes it hard to sulk. I pull my hoodie off, tingling with anticipation. Do I really have more strength and stamina? I want to test it.

“Jump on. You can warm up with a jog.” Miriam taps the arrow keys and the motor whirs. I hop on the conveyor and hold on to the handrail until I find my pace. Moving feels good, really good.

She nods, knowingly.

“This is why you always go running?”

“Therapy for body and soul, trust me,” she lifts her voice above the whir of the treadmill.

“So where did Carolyn take you?”

“I don’t actually know. They always put you to sleep before transportation. You wake up in the facility, somewhere underground.”

“Underground?” I grip the handrail so I can look at her as I jog.

“I was only there a few hours. I’m guessing the rest of the time is spent travelling, maybe by air. I really don’t know.”

“It’s big?”

“Pretty big. Bigger than an airplane hangar. There are different levels. Departments. A hospital. Training rooms. Sleeping quarters. It’s where you’ll go when they take you in.”

I blow through my lips. “What did the tests show?”

“Just that my signal’s taking longer to cool than usual.”

“Because of me?”

“Fluctuations in signal strength aren’t unheard of, especially during periods of high stress. April’s only been gone a month or so and I’ve been settling you in. I let them believe it’s post-traumatic stress.”

I ignore the pang in my chest.

She touches the back of her neck, checking the magnet and tape are still in place.

“The tracker thing – they can find you but you don’t want them to find me?”

“Not yet. For Kitty’s sake it’s best if they don’t know about you.” She waves at the treadmill for me to get moving. Distracted, I nearly trip again and she taps the arrow key, increasing the speed to a proper run, forcing me to concentrate or risk wiping out. She waits for me to find my rhythm. She really has to raise her voice now, to compete with the motor and my pounding feet. “It’s hard to explain. For them, we’re the assets. Sparks are collateral damage, useful only because they bring the Shields to light. I mean they want you to succeed, for sure, but the survival of a Spark is not a primary objective.”

She presses on before I can voice outrage. “There are two primary objectives. Acquisition of assets is the first. Shields are the assets. They monitor, train, protect and utilise the assets for the second primary objective. Deactivating Strays. Saving innocent lives is gravy.”

I duck the migraine material with another question, struggling with the idea of the Affinity Project requiring anything from me. “They’ll expect to utilise
me
?”

“I suppose it’s waste not, want not. Mop up the mess and make the most of the assets. Only fully matured Shields,” she gestures to herself, “are used for contract assignments.” She leans in to check the readout on the panel and nods in approval. “You’re not even puffing.”

I hadn’t noticed, too busy taking it all in. I remember what she said about Wardens sending contract agents when they sensed an active Spark and it dawns on me. “That’s what you do. They send you to a town to shake hands with some poor bastard with an invisible target on his head and hope you’ll bond to his signal?”

“Yep.”

“That was Phil?”

She nods.

I shake my head. “Did you actually do a photo shoot?”

“I did. Vocational matching’s a bonus.”

“But they don’t do it for the sake of the Spark?”

“For the Affinity Project, saving Phil would be counted as the indirect benefit of fulfilling a primary objective, eliminating the Stray.”

I want to punch something.

“It is what it is, kiddo. I don’t get involved with the politics. Besides, there’s no democracy in Affinity. There’s protocol and that’s that.”

“You mean rules.”

“Big rules.” She taps the arrow key, forcing me into top speed. I let out a cry, nearly losing my balance. Righting myself, I lengthen my stride. The motor rumbles. I’ve never felt so energised. Miriam smiles. “Feels pretty great, huh?”

It does. After months of inactivity, I’m surprised my muscles haven’t atrophied. I thought for sure my thighs and calves would burn in minutes and I’d have to hit the stop button to collapse on the console red-faced and gasping. But the burn doesn’t come. My lungs fill and empty with ease. I realise my body is simply cruising and if I wasn’t limited by the capacity of the motor, I could, in fact, go faster. Much faster.

“One of the most important rules we live by is never allowing our Spark to know they’re in danger.”

The rightness of it seizes me. Imagining the fear Kitty would experience if she knew what threatened her life is completely intolerable. “Good. That’s good.”

“I wish I could tell you it’s for the benefit of the Spark. I suppose in an indirect way it is, but for Affinity it’s just part of protecting the organisation.”

I scowl at the mercenary truth, but another thought demands my attention. “How do you protect someone without letting them know they’re in danger?”

She gives me a sad smile. “It’s an art form, kiddo. You’ll learn. You have a major advantage. Kitty’s your friend. You have an excuse to be near her.”

It doesn’t feel like a sufficient answer but my questions are backing up. “Aren’t you breaking the rules – not telling them I’m active? I don’t understand how that helps Kitty.”

“Most newly triggered Shields don’t have the benefit of a live-in mentor,” she almost has to shout. “Most of us think we’re losing our minds and some of us actually do. When your DNA Sparks there’s a period of time before the Wardens pick up on the signal, track you down and take you in. Usually after your first Spark.”

I listen keenly, pumping my arms and legs.

“It takes time. In the beginning your frequency sensitivity is weak. The more exposure you have to your Spark the stronger your signal and sensitivity become. If I told them you’d triggered, they would take you in now and put you through orientation.”

“Like training and stuff?” I call over the motor, beginning to breathe more deeply. “Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“Orientation takes a month, minimum. You wouldn’t be allowed to leave the compound.”

I put one hand on the rail to steady myself. “But surely if they knew Kitty was–”

“No. They wouldn’t let you leave, for any reason.”

I punch the stop button. The motor groans and I jump off the back of the conveyor. “They’d leave her unprotected?”

“You’re the only one tuned to her signal. If they took you, I could watch her but I’d have no way of knowing when the threat was coming.”

Momentarily speechless, I shake my head, unable to think of any curse foul enough for the situation. “That can’t happen. They can’t find out.”

She holds my gaze, pity in her eyes. “Come over here.” She crosses to the sparring dummy, pulling it out into the middle of the floor. “Watch me closely and concentrate.” She shoves one of the protruding handles. The dummy whirs on its base. She brings her hand up to stop the spinning; a thwack of wood against bone. Then she lifts her knee, tapping one of the sticks with her foot so that it spins in the other direction. An arm whips towards her face and she stops it with a deft block. “It’s only a matter of time, Evie. They know you’re living with me now and they keep a close eye on families who’ve produced AFS. They will have been monitoring you since you were fourteen or fifteen.”

“They’ve been watching me?” I shiver. “What am I going to do?”

“Pay attention.” She repeats the maneuver with the dummy, creating a rhythmic muted smack with each turn. “It’s not like the countryside is crawling with agents. Until now, I was the only registered Shield in the district. Carolyn’s been my Watcher for years. I’ve never given her reason to doubt me and I’ve been in for a debrief. That will buy us a little time before they sweep the area again.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know.” She stops the spinning dummy and leans her head on it. “They don’t send out a timetable to let you know, hey, we’ll be coming your way March, August and December, but they’re regular and mostly they’ll track homicides. New Hampshire isn’t what you’d call a hotspot. Plus, I’ve just completed an assignment. So for now they won’t be looking for a high frequency here.”

“Timing? Luck?” I throw my hands up. “That’s all that’s to keep them from coming for me?”

“Our location works in your favour.” She starts up again, striking, blocking, grunting with each thwack as the dummy spins back and forth. “Water blocks our signals. Large bodies of water. Rivers, oceans, lakes, springs, that sort of thing. But even rain or a running tap can distort your senses, make it hard to pick up small sounds. A Warden would need to cross the Border River into town to feel your signal.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It’s the facts, kiddo. When I’m active, I can feel a Warden’s approach. Not sure about in between times.”

In between times
. Life ruled by mutant DNA.

Miriam steps up her speed and what looks at first like solid form quickly becomes fierce intensity, ducking, twisting, her arms blurring. She spins and thrusts her foot against the thick mid-section. The dummy careens towards me. With no time to cry out or even think, I jump back and stop it with my foot. The impact shoves me and I land in a partial squat, bug-eyed at my involuntary response.

“See you got the boobs, then.”

I straighten up, adrenaline thrumming in my arms and legs. “They’re because of this?”

“It’s like you’re on fast forward.” She frowns. “Most newbies develop gradually.”

Indignation makes me hot and I spin, in an echo of my aunt’s maneuver, collecting the dummy with a loud smack, sending it spiralling back towards her. The ease and accuracy of the move shocks me.

She stops it with one hand. “
See
. Rapid Kinetic Learning. Let’s see if you can do it with something else.” But she doesn’t explain. “And I meant your frequency sensitivity, not your boobs.”