’Til the World Ends (22 page)

If he didn’t want to talk about kinetic abilities, I had other questions I could ask. “So tell me, Ian, what brought you to Lodgepole?”

He shrugged. “I’ve traveled all over the country. Lodgepole seems like a pleasant little town that’s not too badly ravaged by the storms.”

I was about to ask him how the conditions were in the other places he’d seen, when a loud pop like a gunshot rang out, and I lost control of the SUV.

Chapter Three

Gripping the steering wheel with everything I had, I couldn’t hold it steady, and the vehicle seemed to have a mind of its own. It swerved off the highway and sideswiped what was left of a chain-link fence. We rumbled over the ground as if it were made of boulders rather than cracked asphalt, and my head bumped against the ceiling a half dozen times before the Trooper came to a complete stop.

Dazed, Ian and I both sat staring out the filthy tinted window. I saw the city skyline ahead of us, too far to walk to and arrive in time to warn its residents of what was coming. If anyone got caught out in the open, they were doomed. And it would be my fault.

I slammed my fist against the steering wheel. “Damn it!”

“You blew a tire,” Ian said. “I’ll change it for you.”

“I used my only spare last week.” Tears stung my eyes, and I slapped the steering wheel two more times just to feel my palms hurt. It helped mute the pain inside my heart. People were going to die, and I’d miss my fix. No one had to tell me which was worse, but my body and mind leveled both as equally tragic. I felt guilty as hell about it, too.

“I’ll take care of it.” Ian opened the car door and climbed out to stand within the blaze of daylight.

I joined him, happy to fry in the heat. I could call it poetic justice for any lives lost today because of me. “You can’t replace it in time, Ian. And, besides, where would you find a tire?”

He pointed down the hill to a truck turned over on its side. “One of those should do fine. And you’re right, we won’t make it to the city in time. You can’t stop the storm, so don’t beat yourself up about it. Let it go.” He trudged down the hill toward the abandoned truck.

Let it go?
He made it sound so simple. “You don’t understand,” I yelled down to him. “Chasing storms is what I
have
to do. There’s no choice involved. The storm’s victims aren’t the only ones who suffer if I don’t reach them in time.” If I didn’t chase the storms I predicted, I’d be left empty inside. It was like jonesing for heroin, and the withdrawals left me weak and shaking until the next storm.

Ian had found a crowbar and jack in the bed of the truck and was already removing the lug nuts. “You can’t save the world, Sarah. You can’t be everywhere at once.”

I gritted my teeth against the emotion that clogged my throat. Of course I couldn’t save the world, but I was compelled to try.

Ian rolled the tire up the hill, avoiding my eyes the whole time. He made an effort not to look at me, his brows furled over squinted eyes that hid from the sun. I wanted him to see me, to acknowledge the need in my eyes so that he would understand, but he wasn’t ready for that. He didn’t know me, at least not yet. I hoped to change that.

I gazed at the sky over Denver. It was as bright as a high-wattage light bulb, and it shone down on a glittering wave of sun sparks that hovered over the city. So beautiful. Like Christmas. And deadly as hell. The sparks fluttered toward the ground like millions of flaming fireflies, and all I could do was watch.

A hand curled over my shoulder, and I jerked at the sudden contact.

“You have a gift, but you can only do so much,” Ian said softly as he draped his arm around my shoulders. His fingers felt so warm on my skin, and his voice, with that subtle edge of gravel, sounded smooth as velvet in my ears. “Don’t blame yourself for what you can’t control.”

He was right, but needing the storms was wrong and that’s where my guilt came from. Yet I knew another storm would come along, and another after that. I leaned into Ian, and he held me close, comforting me. His firm touch infused me with a sudden burst of strength. It was unexpected and made me a little light-headed. The longer our bodies stayed in contact, the more intense the energy became. It reminded me of what I got from the sun, only to a lesser degree.

“Do you feel that?” I asked him.

He let go and shot me a puzzled look. “Yeah. What was it?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.” But I felt better. Whatever had happened between us had diluted my sense of loss at having missed the storm. I wasn’t feeling sick, either.

I gazed at the skyline again, which was now clear of sun sparks. The danger had passed, but a few casualties might have been left behind.

“The tire’s changed. Ready to go back?” Ian asked.

“No.” I slid onto the driver’s seat, my back stinging from exposing my skin to the sun for too long. “We need to go into the city.”

Ian plopped onto the seat beside me. His eyes filled with concern, he said, “You’ll only torture yourself, Sarah. You can’t undo what’s been done, and you can’t heal whoever got infected.”

He thought I should
let it go.
But that was impossible. “Exposure knocks people out, and if they can’t get out of the heat, the sun will cook them alive.”

“Maybe that would be a more merciful death than slowly wasting away from fever,” Ian said, the shadows beneath his eyes making him look more tortured than tired. He obviously knew something about what the fever was like. Had he lost friends or family to the disease? I made myself a mental note to ask him later.

I turned the key in the ignition, and the Trooper hummed to life. I prayed the frame hadn’t been bent by the accident. Rolling the vehicle forward, the ride felt smooth and even. Ian had done a good job with that tire. “We’re going in,” I told him. “It’s not up for debate.”

He remained quiet but tense for the rest of the drive. His gaze darted side to side as we drove through desolate streets flanked by charred trees and a variety of refuse, from gutted cars to dented Dumpsters. He jerked in his seat a few times, his lip curled and eyes feral. He was on the alert for something, and based on his angry scowl, it wasn’t storm victims. I inched along, peering up and down each street as we got closer to the State Capitol. What had once been an emerald carpet of perfectly manicured lawn in Civic Center Park was now a vast field of abandoned cars and hollowed-out fire pits dotted with mounds of trash and partially burned furniture. I spotted a few tents, too. If they hadn’t been zipped tight to keep out the sparks, the occupants were goners.

I slowed the Trooper and pulled to the curb.

“Why are we stopping?” Ian asked.

“Those tents over there.” I pointed at the park. “There could be people inside.”

“If they’re inside, they’re protected from the sun.”

“But if they were infected, they’ll need medical attention. There’s an infirmary inside the Capitol Building.”

Ian looked agitated, but he apparently wanted to help. “What would you like me to do?”

Rather than tell him, I got out of the SUV and led the way to the cluster of tents. All but one was vacant. I peered inside and found a young couple that looked to be in their early twenties. The woman cradled the man’s head in her lap, her eyes round as she stared up at me while gently combing her fingers through her companion’s hair.

My heart dipped when I saw the purple rash that covered the man’s face. The sparks had infected him.

“Please,” the woman said, her voice shaking. “Tell me there’s a cure now. You can make him better, right?”

I held my composure as I knelt on the floor of the tent.
My fault, my fault.
“No, hon, I’m afraid not.”

Ian hadn’t come inside but stood looking through the open tent flap. “I’ll go back to the SUV and get them some water. I’ll need the key to get inside.” I tossed it to him, and he vanished from sight, his fading footsteps crunching over dry brittle grass.

Tears welled in the woman’s eyes, and her lower lip trembled. “It happened so fast. We’d been at home in bed, in a basement apartment two blocks from here, but I woke up and couldn’t get comfortable enough to go back to sleep. I thought a short walk might help.” Her hands absently rubbed her bulging belly, her unborn child a pillow for her husband’s head. “We’d just rounded the corner when my husband spotted the sparks. He got us to this tent before they fell. He pushed me in ahead of him, but he didn’t make it—” She choked out a sob. “The sparks touched him.”

I held my breath to keep from screaming. I had to help this woman and her husband. They were my responsibility now. “My friend is getting you water, and then we’ll help you both to the infirmary across the street. I hear there are good people there.”

She nodded. “I heard that, too. Maybe my husband will get better on his own. It can’t be that bad, can it? Only a couple of sparks touched him.”

I smiled. “Maybe.” Though I knew the number of sparks didn’t matter when it came to exposure, but I couldn’t tell her that. Not now when her grief was still so fresh. It could be a blessing that the fewer the sparks, the less aggressive the fever. He could last as long as a month and might even see the birth of his child. “We can hope, right?”

“Yes,” she said, her smile shaky as she wiped a tear from her cheek and kissed the top of her husband’s head. “And believe in a better future. For my baby.”

Believe
. The word echoed between my ears, and the voice saying it sounded like my mother’s.

Ian should have been back by now. “I’ll just go outside to check on my friend,” I told the woman, and left the tent. I glanced at the street where I’d parked the Trooper. Both Ian and the SUV were gone.

Chapter Four

“Ian?” I called as I trotted to the curb where I’d parked the SUV. But it wasn’t there, and neither was Ian. Had he really stolen my car? I glanced up and down the deserted street, then ran to the next block and checked there, too. Not a trace.

“That son of a bitch,” I muttered between gritted teeth. I knew he was hiding something, but I never would have taken him for a thief. He’d seemed genuine, sincere. When would I learn to stop being so trusting of others and simply trust my own instincts? Opportunists were everywhere.

I paced the sidewalk in front of the park. How would I get home? And how the hell would I chase storms now? My heart pounded with panic. As my mind raced with strategies to get me on the road, I started back toward the tent with the storm victim inside. The least I could do was help that couple get to the infirmary. I’d work out my own issues later.

Halfway across the park, I heard someone yell, “Interloper!”

I turned around, looking left to right, and saw no one. Then I glanced up into a charred cottonwood tree. I spotted a man wearing a black mask and black cape. His flabby bare chest was hairless and sunburned. Wearing faded swim trunks and a pair of trashy work boots two sizes too big, he looked like the ghetto version of a superhero. Since he was obviously a nut job, I ignored him. I wasn’t in the mood to be messed with.

I kept on walking, and again he shouted at me, “Interloper! Trespasser! You don’t belong here.”

I stopped and narrowed my eyes at him. “Who put you in charge?”

“I did.”

“Yeah?” I shook my head and tossed another hopeful glance at the street. Still no Trooper and no Ian. “Have fun with that.”

“Get out.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, get out of my city!” He flung his arm toward me, and it felt as if I’d been kicked in the stomach. My body flew up and backward, landing just short of a very nasty metal couch frame. He was a Kinetic. Crap.

“I’m The Law and you’re a puny human.” He spit on the ground. “Get out of my city.”

This could be a problem. Not only did I have no means of leaving, I took issue with getting pushed around by some deluded freak with a God complex. If this were to be a battle of kinetic powers, I’d lose before putting on the gloves. I had nothing to fight with.

“Okay,” I said, hoping to placate him. “I’m leaving.” I waved him off and resumed walking toward the tent.

Suddenly unable to breath, I gasped for air as invisible fingers crushed my windpipe. Standing on the branch of his mighty cottonwood, the man glared down at me while leaning against the trunk and holding out both hands clenched into fists. He was going to kill me for trespassing. Instead of hitting me, he choked me, hands-free.

Panic overcame me as I dropped to my knees, my eyes swelling in their sockets and my hands desperately grappling at what wasn’t there. My fingernails dug into my neck in a desperate attempt to free myself from the stranglehold. Skin slick with my own blood, my hands slid over my throat as they searched for the tightening band that cut off my air. The light around me dimmed. I was about to pass out.

The squeal of braking tires sounded in the distance and was followed by the patter of running feet. Strong arms grabbed me around the waist and lowered me gently to the ground. Whoever it was yelled something I couldn’t make out, but I managed to catch a few words: die, kill, crazy bastard. A sudden wind whistled in my ears and tousled my short hair. I blinked, my vision clearing as the choking sensation faded, and I could finally breathe again.

I gulped in air and saw Ian standing over me, his hands whipping in circles above his head. He’d created a cyclone, and it had lifted my assailant from his tree branch, holding him about twenty feet aloft. His superhero mask had slipped off, and his huge, frightened eyes begged for freedom, but Ian wouldn’t give it to him. I could tell by the expression on Ian’s face that he was dangerously pissed off.

“Ian,” I rasped, though I wasn’t sure he heard me. “The guy is sick in the head. He can’t help himself. Don’t kill him.”

Ian’s gaze swiveled to mine, and I saw his fury and his pain. I wondered if his anger was meant for someone else. I added that question to my “Ask Ian” list, if I ever talked to him again.

The cyclone spun the unmasked fraud toward the Platte River. I had a feeling it might be a while before he came back.

Ian dropped to the ground beside me, his face pale and sweating. The power he had used to create the twister had apparently sucked a good amount of energy from him. He lay back on the hard ground and closed his eyes.

I should have left him right where he was. But at the moment, I was as exhausted as he was. My throat felt bruised, and I touched my neck, my fingers coming away bloody. I’d clawed myself good.

“You’re bleeding,” Ian said, still catching his breath.

I glared at him. “You noticed, huh? Did you also notice that I’d have no way to get back home without the SUV you stole from me?”

He looked away to stare at a heap of trash behind the tents. “I didn’t steal your car.” His tone wasn’t convincing.

Though I’d stood at death’s door only minutes ago, I forced myself to my feet. “Enjoy what’s left of your life, Ian.”

“I came back,” he yelled at my retreating back. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

I stopped and turned to face him. “Why come back? And why run off in the first place?”

“It’s complicated.”

I folded my arms across my chest. There was no excuse for what he’d done. Or almost done. I waited for an explanation.

“To be honest—”

“Oh, let’s, shall we?” I glowered at him.

He stood and brushed pieces of dead grass from his pants. “I spotted an auto parts store down the street and thought I’d make a quick run to get a can of coolant for your air conditioner. As I was driving back, I had an overwhelming urge to get away.”

“Get away?” That was crazy. He wasn’t anyone’s prisoner, least of all mine. “Ian, you’re a free man. You can go anywhere you want.”

His dark eyes were full of misery. “I’m free now, but I haven’t always been. Someone’s after me, Sarah. He wants to use me and any other Kinetic he can get his hands on. If you’re not careful, he’ll take you, too.”

Ian helped me get the couple out of the tent and into a building a block away that had an infirmary. I treated the scratches on my neck while we were there. Ian remained silent the entire time, and I was bursting with questions that I couldn’t ask until we were alone. I probably shouldn’t have agreed to take him back with me, but I wasn’t cruel enough to leave him stranded. Now that I knew what he was capable of, I’d be watching him carefully. Duplicity aside, his ability could help people.

“How could you not tell me any of this?” I asked Ian on our drive back to Lodgepole. “Being stalked by a kidnapper is not a healthy secret to keep, not for you and definitely not for me.”

He sat slouched in the passenger seat, eyes averted from mine.

“I want answers, Ian. Right. Now.”

He rubbed his forehead as if it hurt. “I know how it looks, but it’s not what you think. I’m not a criminal.”

“Convince me.”

“I will,” he said, sliding his gaze to give me a hopeful look, then glancing away again. He licked his lips and swallowed. “First, I need to make a confession.”

I swung my head around to look at him, nearly giving myself whiplash. “What?”

“I knew about your SUV before I knew about you.”

A liar and a thief. I really knew how to pick ’em. “So you’d planned to steal my car all along.”

He sighed. “Before I met you, I saw it in the ambulance bay and tried breaking in to steal it. I was desperate for a way to put distance between me and the guy who’s after me.”

Desperate
. I really hated that word. “Yet when you got the chance to steal my car, you didn’t. Why not?”

He swiveled in the seat with his back to the window, his attention only on me. “Several reasons. One, I’m not a thief. Two, I couldn’t leave you stranded. Three, we’re both Kinetics, which means the guy after me will come after you, too, and I don’t want you getting hurt. And four...”

I waited. “What’s the fourth reason?”

“I like you too much to leave you.”