Torn (28 page)

Cole moved over the deck of the next building toward a low-lying, enclosed space, as per the judges' instructions. He raced into the space—which seemed not permanent, from the look of it, but constructed for this event—and tried not to worry about what might await him inside. When he burst through the door, he found himself in a hall of mirrors. They stretched out all around him, and on all sides he saw the other contenders climbing through mazes of charged wiring, contorting their bodies to bend through and around the live electric ropes. Because of the mirrors, at first it was impossible to tell where the ropes were suspended. From where Cole stood, people were reflected climbing above him and at his feet. When one slipped and was subjected to the wires' resulting shock, a scream echoed for minutes around the room, and his body looked like it hurtled for miles. Cole closed his eyes, warding off panic. Then he forced himself to block out all manufactured stimuli—strobe lights, pulsing music—and feel his way to the course.

As he pulled himself through the ropes, focusing on the coarse, uneven strands of the nonelectrified holds and avoiding the sleeker electrified supports, Priors dropped out all around him. The course seemed easy to Cole; he was surprised that so many of the others were dropping like flies. Then he realized.

Just as flies are drawn to light, the Priors were drawn to the mirrors, moving toward their images—and the small, mirrored panels that decorated the electrified cords—to the point of distraction. They were too distracted by their own reflections to pay attention to the ropes.

Cole finished easily, only a little dizzy and disoriented from the top-is-down, funhouse quality of the race. He and only three others—all Priors—made it through. Cole noted that Landon, the crowd favorite and his stiffest competition, was still in it. The last race would determine everything. Cole squared his shoulders. He'd come this far, and it seemed like every portion of the contest involved a code he could crack. He'd do it again for the finals.

“Five-minute break!”

Cole watched as the moderator approached with water. When he arrived at Cole, he also placed a small yellow supplement in his palm.

“What is this?” Cole asked, taking the water but ignoring the supplement.

“Performance enhancer,” the moderator said. “We're giving them to all the standing athletes.” Cole looked at the others; sure enough, Landon was downing his own enhancer with a huge swig of water.

“Do I have to take it?”

“You won't be eliminated if you don't,” the guy said, raising an eyebrow. “But you'd be foolish.”

Cole hesitated, considering the options. He'd never taken an enhancer. But Priors already had the physical edge. Without one of these pills, he'd almost definitely be screwed.

“Two minutes!” the moderator called out. Cole took the pill from his hand and, without further thought, washed it down with the water.

As they lined up for the final portion of the contest—a balance and dexterity competition involving rotating, vaulted beams—he felt the drug kicking in. His sense of smell was heightened, as was his hearing. He heard the wind—which he felt against his skin as a soft breeze—like a freight train in his ears. Small blobs moved in his periphery, obscuring his vision. Cole panicked. He shouldn't have taken the enhancer—his genetic makeup was different from the others', and he wasn't used to it, on top of that. He felt loopy, high. He opened and closed his eyes several times; each time he opened them, the world rose toward him in a frightening configuration of unfamiliar, leering shapes.

Stepping before his beam, he closed his eyes again. He knew what he had to do.

Keeping his eyes closed, he felt the beam rotating beneath his feet. He recalled the night with Mari, in the abandoned stone house, where he'd had to shut out all the obstacles that threatened his mental endurance. That night when they raced he'd had to look deeper inside himself, filtering through the chaos to focus on the simple things: the acoustics of the house, the way his senses interacted. Now he focused on the movement of the beam beneath his feet. He took his time, allowing the beam to set his pace as he moved forward, faltering more than once.

Everything else faded away: the crowds roaring below him, the others competing next to him, the surreal quality of the course as seen through his new “enhanced” perspective. He blocked all of it out until it was just the beam and his feet gripping it deftly, propelling him forward. The voices of his competitors, trying to distract him with catcalls from where they already stood safely on the other side, faded into nothing.

When he reached the other side, Cole collapsed. He felt stronger than ever before, but the world spun in heady circles around him.

Landon leaned over him, his face so close that Cole could smell mint on his breath.

“You'd better watch yourself in the finals,” he told him. “I'll die before I let an Imp win the Olympiads.”

Cole pulled himself to his feet. Landon backed away, but the very real threat hung between them. Cole could tell Landon had meant every word.

It was up to Cole, then, to see Landon to his death.

19

DAVIS

As the sun came up on Durham, Davis wended her way through the streets of the city, uncertain where to go. The shock of her mother's betrayal was still fresh. It frightened her that her mom had been as emotionless as she was. It horrified her to have such coldness in her blood. What had her mother been like when she and her father first met? Had she changed over time, become so consumed by physical perfection that the most important thing—human connection—died out altogether?

Davis's thoughts turned to Cole, and how close they'd been. She wondered if her mother and father had ever experienced that level of closeness, and the thought that they hadn't made her sad. For all his faults, her father loved her—everything he'd done in his life had been for her and Terri and Fia. How much of that was a result of not feeling loved himself? Everything she thought she'd known started to fall apart as she examined it more closely. Her father had never revealed her mother's true nature—if he had, would she have been better off? Davis gazed up at the buildings looming above her. The city suddenly seemed sinister and threatening, and as she looked upward the buildings seemed to tilt as if about to cave in. Her palms sweated and her heart began its frantic race, making her queasy. All she wanted was to be in Columbus already, with her family.

Davis was so lost in her panicky, splintered thoughts that she didn't see the tall, uniformed men approaching from behind her. When a set of strong hands wrapped themselves around her wrists and clamped over her mouth, she was too startled to try to wriggle away. Her body was seized by terror, and all the times she'd narrowly avoided capture rushed through her head. She'd come so far, only to find herself again in the hands of the enemy.

“Ms. Morrow? Ms. Morrow. Relax,” one of the guards said, bending close to her ear. Davis bit down on his hand and he grunted, swearing and pushing her away. She stumbled along the sidewalk, ignoring the curious looks of passersby. She scanned the rows of buildings for an out, but she knew even as she did that it would be impossible. There were two guards that she could see, maybe more lurking somewhere. They were almost certainly from TOR-N. She had no recourse. Still, her flight instinct had kicked in. She darted through the crowds, knocking into pedestrians as she went. An elderly lady cried out, stumbling, and Davis was overcome by a flash of shame. When the guards seized her again, she didn't resist.

“I'm not her,” she said desperately. “You have the wrong person.”

“We're here on orders of your father,” one of the guards said. “Mr. Robert Morrow.”

“My … my father sent you?” Davis was breathless. “How could he have?”

“So you
are
Davis Morrow.”

Davis swallowed hard, caught in her lie.

“Get her ID,” one guard, a trim man of average height with a small mole just below his left eye, instructed the other. The second guard, redheaded and lean, patted her down, pulling out the fake ID she'd brought into the city. Davis cringed as his hands wandered briskly over her body.

“Right person,” the redheaded guard said. “But this ID is about as real as my grandma's teeth. How the hell did you get in here? Never mind. Let's go.” The guards ushered Davis into a nearby building; the one with the mole hummed the whole way. They stepped onto an elevator that ascended to the rooftop at lightning speed.

“Where are you taking me?” Davis fought to keep the fear from her voice. They'd said they'd come on her father's behalf, but the helicopter waiting for her on the rooftop was very real, and their words could easily be nothing but a lie to ensnare her.

“We're going back to Columbus,” the redhead said, holding open the door to the helicopter. “Get in. Now.”

“How do I know you're not lying?” she said. “How can I be sure you're not taking me back to quarantine?” The other guard stopped humming and sighed impatiently.

“Ms. Morrow. With all due respect, it doesn't matter whether you know for sure. You can get in of your own volition, or you we can forcibly take you. We have no orders other than to bring you back to your home in Columbus. Do you have another option?”

Davis gritted her teeth but climbed into the waiting chopper.

“Columbus,” the guards told the pilot. For the first time, Davis began to allow herself to hope it was true. Still, her anxiety didn't subside. She wouldn't be able to relax until the chopper touched down in Columbus. Every part of her told her to stay alert. She wouldn't feel completely safe until she was there, in the arms of her family and friends. She realized with a horrible flash that she didn't even know whether they were all still alive. What horrible surprises awaited her there? She took a breath, trying not to think about it. She couldn't; it was too terrible.

“But how did you know I was here?” she asked, once her heart had slowed and her breathing had returned to something resembling normal.

“Reports came in a couple of days ago that you'd escaped TOR-N along with a young man. Since Mercer Wells is from Durham, we put people on it. There have been flyers distributed all over town. Alerts were sent out to everyone's tablets. Someone called in a tip last night around eleven p.m.”

The party. Someone must have spotted her there and given her away. Had it been Mercer or someone else? Had he betrayed her a second time? Her heart raced, and shame filled her being. If it wasn't Mercer—because it was too painful to think that he had lied again—who could it have been? Had people from TOR-N located him, too—and if so, would he be sent back?

Three hours later, the helicopter hovered over the roof of Davis's building. Columbus spread below her like a dream; she was overcome by excitement at the thought of returning home. But imagining the city without Cole provoked a wave of fresh pain. There was something different about the city, too, that she couldn't pinpoint from so high above. It was almost as if she were seeing it through a different, foggier lens. Something felt off. When she peered closer, she realized what it was. The buildings didn't shine as brightly as they used to, or as the buildings in Durham had. The streets were empty, yet somehow cluttered. Broken tree limbs lay about and cars rested abandoned on the sidewalks, their doors hanging open. Very few people were walking about. She fought off a pang of worry. A roar from behind her caused her to swivel in her seat, and as the chopper rotated slightly, preparing to land, she gasped, realizing at least one reason why no one was in the streets.

The arena where the Qualifiers had been held, and where the Olympiads were held every year, was jam-packed. The biodome was retracted, as it was only once a year, for the games—and she could see straight in. The games were in full swing, and from the sound of the crowd, it was a close race. A small part of Davis couldn't believe she wasn't there herself, competing. A larger part of her could hardly believe she'd ever thought it possible, or that that had been her life. There was something about the scene that felt larger than life—the athletes at their prime; the course designed for an entire year by Columbus's brightest innovators; the way the entire city turned out for the event. It was hard to believe they were all under the threat of death. From the air, they looked invincible.

Her thoughts fell away as she identified several small figures waiting atop the roof. It wasn't until they touched down on the roof of her building that Davis really allowed herself to believe she was home to stay.

Davis barely waited for the helicopter to fully touch down before she leapt from it and crossed the roof, leaping into her father's arms. Her dad scooped her up, whirling her in a circle like he had when she was a child, and after he set her down, she was shocked to see tears in his eyes. Her father had always been stalwart; now he was overcome.

“Sweetheart,” he said, drawing her close again, his deep brown eyes brimming over. “You can't know how much we've missed you. Having you home … it's like a dream come true. You don't know how happy it makes me.” She leaned into him, breathing in his familiar, oaky scent and allowing her own tears to spill down her cheeks.

She wanted to stay like that forever, soaking up his love, but the feeling of urgency inside her was overpowering. “Dad,” she said, pulling back, her voice thick with tension. “You've got to do something. TOR-N isn't what you thought—they're abusing patients, they're stealing money, no one has good food or care—”

“I know,” her dad told her, and her mouth dropped open in shock.

“Then why—”

“I didn't know when I sent you there. I thought it was the best of the best. But when you ran away, and they reported it, they tried to keep me at bay. I got suspicious. I had always wondered why you never answered my videos. It all seemed weird, the way they wanted to keep you away from me. So I sent people out there to check it out. They told me what it was like.” He grabbed her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. “My baby,” he said simply. “I'll never forgive myself for sending you there.”