To Be Free (26 page)

“
...why is
that a bad thing?” he asks, his voice quieter now. I slip my eyes
shut, breathing through the lump in my throat. “Why is needing
another person so bad?”

“
The last
time I got attached to someone like this, I paid the price with my
sanity,” I breathe, swallowing thickly. “...now I've got a paradox
clone and my beloved trying to convince me that needing someone the
way I need you isn't a bad thing. What the fuck is my
life.”

I punctuate that statement with
a dry laugh, looking at him.

“
Promise me
one thing, Quinn,” I plea, and he loosens his hold on my wrists,
hands clasping mine instead. A gesture of forgiveness.

“
Anything,
love,” he tells me, and I take a breath before I begin.

“
If we make
it, if we are free by the end of today, I want you to honestly tell
me if you plan on leaving, on walking out for any reason
whatsoever,” I say, eyes slipping shut at the very thought, the
pain making my chest feel hollow. “I want you to tell me if you
plan on coming back.”

You already
know the answer, Sebastian,
I hear David
whisper, and I nod imperceptibly, for his eyes only.
You're only making this worse for
yourself.

“
Only when
we're free?” he questions, and I nod again, this time enough for
him to catch it. I open my eyes, the darkness of my lids too
dangerous. All I catch is the shine of a silver object, and then
it's gone.

You remind me so much of him.
Whether that's good or bad... that remains to be determined.

We're back in Seattle within a
handful of hours, the ride to the ferry and crossing the Sound an
extremely awkward experience. Kenny leaves us in Seattle, finding
the car waiting for him and casting one long, last-chance look to
Quinn, who returns the gaze with nothing written on his face.
Sighing, the man gets in the car and drives off, leaving Quinn and
I in the black Lexus, where he pulls out onto Interstate five,
following the winding road northwards.

When we're past Bellingham,
about half an hour from the border, we run into trouble.

The ride had been fairly quiet
and Quinn and I dutifully kept to our own devices, looking out our
respectful windows. One hand on the steering, the other propped his
chin up with his elbow on the sill of his window, and I just
watched the world roll by around us. We've passed Ferndale a while
back, and Quinn presses on the brakes quickly, forcing me to look
out the windshield to the blockade not twenty feet in front of
us.

“
Fucking
fantastic,” he hisses, hitting the steering lightly. I sigh,
looking to the rear view mirror where I can see the faint outline
of David, sitting in the backseat taking pictures from the
windows.

I've
forgotten to ask him if he's also a 'Novae.' He hasn't indicated or
hinted at any ability of the sort, but I think he's hiding
something. He has one, that's for sure – I just don't know
what
.

They're waving cars through
after checking the inside and verifying the papers, and the traffic
progresses through the blockade fluidly. Then, soon enough, an
Officer from Recon One steps up to Quinn's side of the car,
frowning.

“
Excuse me,
but I'm going to have to ask you both to step out of the car while
we check the vehicle. Could you please take out your papers as
well?”

The man's helmet is shining
with the bright blue light inside the visor, hinting at a display I
can't quite tell, and as he walks the shine of the chrome weapon
strung across his shoulder reflects the light of the sun struggling
to shine through the dark storm clouds.

We step out, and David casually
slips out through my door before I close it, whistling a tune I
don't know. Quinn's going to the trunk, unlocking it and looking
through the carry-on luggage for the papers his old friend forged
for us.

Quinn's name, right now, is
Alexander, and I'm his younger brother Michael Richard. Our story
is that we're visiting family up north for the funeral of our
grandparents, and plan to stay for a few weeks before coming back
down south. It's not an uncommon occurrence for people to go to
Canada to visit relatives, so it's not an unbelievable story.

He takes the papers while two
of his colleagues search through the car, and I idle by the trunk
near 'Alexander,' David standing beside me fiddling with his
camera.

Jealousy is a
powerful mistress,
he tells me, and I turn
my head slightly in his direction, a silent plea for a
clarification.
You know something's going
to go wrong. It's too easy, isn't it? Driving north and hitting the
border without a hitch?

He's right.
This is almost laughably easy, and the blockade is strangely
convenient. There's enough military personnel to fill a platoon,
with about half a dozen Humvees lining up the interstate. They're
not checking papers for people coming south – they're investigating
people going
north
.

Jealousy is a
powerful mistress, huh...
the words roll
around in my mind, and the man calls one of his buddies over,
showing him the papers. A shiver races up my spine, and my eyes
widen as the accusation graces my thoughts.
You don't think...

If you truly
love the man, fight tooth and nail for him. Don't let go,
Sebastian. Don't you let go, or else you'll end up like me – hating
yourself for leaving him behind to a fate of torture and
humiliation. Don't let go of him.
David's
holding the camera to his chest, for once no cigarette between his
lips.
Run; grab him and Run like you've
never fled them before. For the love of God, don't you fucking let
go.

“
Both of you,
put your hands up
slowly
,” the Officer states, and I
feel my heart pounding a painful rhythm in my chest. Quinn pauses
in his movements, and I feel sick.
That
Goddamn bastard...
“No sudden movements or
we'll shoot you on the spot.”

“
If I can't
have him, neither can he,”
David quotes,
and I feel the bile rise up my throat. I barely push it
down.
Actually, you might be interested to
know that the man wasn't planning on being very friendly to Quinn –
he holds a lot of resentment to your companion.

“
You're under
arrest – h-hey, I said don't move!”

The Officer pulls out his gun
as I shift my stance, flexing my fingers. Quinn takes a step back,
confusion plain as day on his face, and I lunge forward, my hands
coated with red fog from my fingers to my elbows. I push against
his solar plexus, stealing his breath and forcing the man to his
knees, turning blue in the face as he asphyxiates. Then I grab
Quinn's wrist, turning from the gaggle of Officers rushing to their
companion and pulling out their pistols, and pulling him away,
towards the border.

If we cross, we're free.

“
Run, Quinn!”
I shout, my legs pushing me faster than I've ever run before. I
don't see David around at all. “Your fucking
friend
sold us out!”

“
That's
impossible!” he counters, and I shoot him a withering look as we
bolt past the Humvee, the door open and engine idling. I get a
crazy idea, letting go of the man and bolting for the driver's seat
– he catches on, pulling into the passenger's seat a second before
I peel out towards the border, the Officers scrambling into the
other vehicles to break chase. Pulling the door shut as I speed
along the asphalt, I notice David shimmer back into existence,
standing between our seats in a half-crouch.

“
Don't tell
that to me! Tell that to the fucking telepath haunting me!” I snap,
weaving between the traffic honking in protest at us. The others
chasing after us are quickly catching up even if I'm going a
hundred fifty, barely managing to control the truck as is. I pass
an imposing eighteen-wheeler, shaking my head when Quinn demands a
clarification. “There's this paradox clone of a man I'm supposed to
know – or I will know, I think, I forget – with us right now, the
future self of someone I'm going to meet someday. He's been helping
me a little.”

He looks behind us to the back,
making a confused sound.

“
You won't be
able to see him; he's not from our time,” I inform him, swearing as
one of the chasing vehicles pulls up to my left. One of the
Officers leans out of the window and begins shooting, making me
swear as I slip a truck between us and our pursuers to the left. “I
can only see him because I'm starting to be able to see the future.
It's how I knew who their forgery expert is and saw so many
outcomes where you...”

I shake my head, refusing to
finish the sentence. Quinn nods, however, accepting my explanation
as fact.

You're right,
but I tend to consider myself an empath instead,
David offers, and I roll my eyes, almost slamming
into an SUV and barely managing to avoid it.
I dabble in a few arts, which is why I ended up being so damn
valuable to Prototype Ace.

I look at him through the rear
view, silently asking for a clarification just as I swerve around a
line-up of three cars, crossing the grass between both lanes to the
opposite side, swearing vividly. The cars veer away from me,
honking relentlessly, but I forge on regardless. Quinn leans
forward, looking to the GPS set in the dashboard.

Telepathy,
empathy, and I'm also a good telekinetic,
he offers. My eyebrows shoot up, and I bite back the urge to
whistle.

“
Ten minutes
to the border,” Quinn tells me, and I nod briskly, swearing under
my breath in every colour manner possible – if my mother could hear
me, she'd cry.

“
You know,
David, it's a
damn
shame you can't do anything,” I hiss, unable to help it, and
Quinn looks at me in confusion. I shake my head, refusing to get
him caught up to speed. “I can't fucking teleport a car to a place
I've never been to, but you could throw us over the damn border at
the very least!”

Your skill isn't developed
enough, unfortunately. You were able that one time, when I hit that
dick – Ken, was it? - but I doubt you'll be able to do it again.
Not yet anyways.

The drive is heart-stopping,
and they refuse to relent – shooting for the tires and the gas
tank, trying to slam into the car I'm driving as I push the motor
to one-eighty. It's taking a beating, but it's starting to go
down.

We're
literally within sight of the toll booth when the back tires give
out, and David shouts that the truck's going to blow if we don't
leave it, like,
fast
. I relay the warning to Quinn, pushing my door open through
the squeal of the wind, and jump out onto the grass at the same
time as my companion. The truck continues on, crashing into the
booth itself. I look up from where I've rolled, my leg hurting
something fierce, and I shield my eyes as it explodes, the heat
searing through the air and threatening to swallow me
whole.

It's Quinn
who pulls me to my feet, shouting through the ringing in my ears
about getting back up, running to freedom. That we're almost there
and
damn it, don't you dare give up on me
after all this time!

I cry out as I put weight on my
right leg, tipping forward, and Quinn catches me, draping an arm
over his shoulders and supporting my weight. I'm shaking my head,
but he's not listening to my words.

“
Quinn, just
leave me here and go!” I snap, but the man wants nothing to do with
it. He glares at me as he begins dragging me along, and I follow
his lead as best I can. “I'm going to slow you down, and we'll both
get caught! At least, if you go on your own, you'll make
it!”

If he fucking
lets go of you, I will end him,
David
warns, and it's at that moment I realize that David's friend Cian
said the same thing, and he actually listened.

No wonder he can't forgive
himself.

They cock their rifles,
preparing to mow us down as they step out and take aim. Quinn grits
his teeth, swearing vividly, and we stop in our tracks, the man at
my side looking to the procession as the Officers shout at us to
drop to the ground and surrender, or they will use force. I look as
well, seeing the thirty-or-so men and women lined up, ready to gun
us down.

You have a gift – a special
ability that people will give up anything for. Your friend, Quinn,
is in even more danger; you know this, don't you? What his
potential is?

The words, the memory of a
conversation I had with Johannes a while back, ring in my ears as I
look to the man beside me. His hand on my waist, keeping me up, has
tightened to the point of almost being painful, but I don't
complain. I take a deep breath, and focus my energy, my ability, to
my right leg where the pain throbs the most, willing time to
accelerate, to heal the wound and fix the injury. The process takes
only a few seconds, but it makes me see stars and I almost fall to
my knees, the pain so unbearable I'm pretty sure I black out a
second. Quinn never lets me go, holding me against him as best as
he can as I try my best to keep my limp body upright. He's glaring
at the Officers.

“
We're almost
home,” Quinn whispers. “We're going to make it out alive, love. I
promise.”