Winter's Wrath: Sacrifice (Winter's Saga #3) (9 page)

Canon took pleasure in his assigned task.  The beating was merciless.

Creed found himself focusing on the silence enveloping him.  Th
e jungle held its breath.  He
felt himself slip back far into his mind and dissociate from his body.  

From the distant corner of his complex thoughts, Creed’s heart ached with sadness that hurt far worse than the abuse his body was sustaining.  His lonesomeness so all-consuming, he pleaded inwardly for the ability to disconnect from it. 

Even when his blood dripped from the fists of his abuser and sprayed deep red on the leaf-blanketed ground, he still felt nothing but emotional anguish.  No physical pain slipped past the locked door to the self-imposed castle turret in his mind. 

When he finally hung slack against the unrelenting hands holding his arms wide, it wasn’t from the assault.  It wasn’t because of his mauled face, broken ribs, punctured lung, or bruised organs that Creed hanging limp in surrender. 

It was the abject loneliness he felt that caused his submission.  Even as the rabid dogs dragged his body back to the where Williams waited in an abandoned building, Creed slipped in and out of dreams. 

The dream was perfect. 

In it he was wrapped in Meg’s warm, white blanket of peace.  He ached for missing her and all she represented. 

At least she’s safe.  Please, God,
Creed prayed for the first time in his life. 
Please let her be safe.

***

Creed woke to
the
sound of metal objects scraping.

Not wanting to give away his alert condition, he held still, kept his eyes closed and listened to the sounds around him.

“What else did he say?” It was Williams’ voice.  “Did he say where the serum was?”

“He insinuated it was somewhere in the
St. Paul
house,” Gavil said from the other side of the room.

Creed tried to take stock of his location.  He seemed to be tied to a chair, hands behind his back, ankles secured to the
wooden
legs.

More metallic scraping sounds

“Have we heard from Slider and the other two?” Williams asked calmly.

“Slider is on his way back.  He was injured by Dr. Winter after he successfully killed
St. Paul
before their plane took off.   He said M57 killed the other two,” Gavil reported casually.

“So they
engineered
a cure for my special malarial parasites.  I must admit, I’m happy to hear she recovered, and even more: my daughter has finally become a killer.  Beautiful.  I would have liked to have seen her first kill
.
”
Williams’ voice was smiling with some sick sense of pride toward Meg.

“You know, Gavil, she was the first metahuman to survive the testing.  She was the first in my perfect race.  Aw, and she is so perfect,” he cooed affectionately at the memory.

“Yes, sir.  You’ve told me.”  Gavil sounded as though he was speaking between clenched teeth, obviously not thrilled with the turn in the conversation.

Ignoring Gavil’s disinterest, Dr. Kenneth Williams continued his verbal reverie.  “She was such an extraordinary child.  Her gifts were as powerful as they were complex.  The conditioning to mold her into a lethal weapon really didn’t have the chance to begin before she was stolen from me, but look at her now,” Williams let his voice trail. 

“She’s becoming exactly what I always planned for her.  The scientist in me would love to know what she experienced as she killed. With her emotions so heightened, did she feel some death herself, empathetically?  Did she feel regret or remorse afterward?  She killed twice, so it obviously wasn’t debilitating, whatever her internal reaction.”  Creed heard Williams sigh wistfully.

“Where do you think they’re going?” Gavil asked,
no doubt
trying to change the subject.

“Hum?” The scraping metallic sounds stopped momentarily.

“The Winters, where do you think they’re going?”

“Oh, well.  Where ever they go, I will find them.  My daughter needs me, Gavil.  She may not realize it yet, but she is a part of me.  My prodigal child will come home, eventually.”

Oh thank you, God.
  Creed prayed silently. 
They escaped
.  Now, no matter what happens to me, at least my family got away. Then he swallowed the sadness he felt for Paulie.  It was so unfair.

“Shall we try rousing our friend, again?” Williams asked.

“How do you suggest I try this time?” Gavil growled.

“Don’t you find it unusual that nothing has brought on any level of consciousness?” 

Gavil must have responded nonverbally. 

Williams spoke again. “You’ve tried fire to the palm, dousing him with ice water, breaking a finger, hum…I have an idea!”  The metallic scraping finally stopped.

“Dr. Chaunders, please bring a syringe with .30 milliliters
of epinephrine
for our guest.” Williams said, obviously having placed a phone call.

S
ilence

“Yes, I’m fully aware that will stimulate his adrenaline
,
possibly increasing his strength and aggression.”  Dr. Williams said with a frustrated sigh.

M
ore silence

“I realize that’s twice the amount usually used to treat anaphylactic shock.  Stop blabbering, Chaunders.  Just bring the requested med, immediately!”  Williams slammed what sounded like a cell phone down and mumbled profanities at the room.

“I would kill that imbecile myself except we may need him for the return flight.”

Creed thought of the damage his body had undergone and wasn’t surprised nothing physical had awakened him any sooner than his own internal will.  His pain was turned off, even in his unconsciousness.  He wouldn’t have felt any attempts at rousing him. 

Now, adrenaline,
he thought. 
That could be useful.

Minutes later, Creed heard a knock.

“Dr. Williams?” said a quivering voice. 

“Gavil, have the other soldiers come into the room—just precautionary, of course.”

Creed heard the shuffling of a dozen boots crunching across the littered floor.  The rabid dogs were in place—standing around for security.

“Proceed, Dr. Chaunders,” Williams said with a note of anticipation.

Creed sensed someone near him and even felt slight pressure on his right thigh.  Within seconds, the physiology of his body respond
ed
to the thick dose of adrenaline.  His heart began racing, his breathing quickened and he felt an intense surge of strength.

Calmly he raised his head, opened his eyes and got his first image of the mutated Dr. Williams.  The picture was so disturbing, it imprinted on his memory. 

Holy crap!
Creed thought, not letting his facial muscles register the revulsion he felt.

“Hello, Mr. Young.  So glad you could join us.  I’d like to get right to the point.  It’s obvious you turned traitor, against your own kind, too,” he shook his bloody head as though deeply wounded.  Creed tried not to stare at the flap of loose flesh dangling from what should have been Williams’ chin.  “Gavil tells me you had a remote detonator on your person.  Tell me about that.”

Creed peered around the room as the director spoke, counting mutant soldiers, exits, and any items in the room that could be of use.  There wasn’t much.

“The Winter family are good people.  They only wanted to be left alone,” Creed said more to test the functionality of his jaw.  His mouth felt thick and thirsty, but he was coherent.

“I’m not interested in your
opinions
.  You have
no idea
what you’re talking about,” Williams eyes began to ooze blood from what should have been tear ducts.

“Tell me about the detonator and the serum.”

Creed breathed, dramatically.  “They left me to destroy everything in the lab at the house.”  He dropped his eyes, pretending to feel sadness at being left behind.

“Why didn’t they just destroy it themselves?” Williams asked.

“They were planning to, but ran out of time,” Creed spoke a half-truth.

“Yes, speaking of that: How did they know I was coming?  They seemed very well prepared.”  Dr. Williams’ bloody, colorless eyes locked onto Creed.

There was no way in hell he was going to tell him about Meg’s evolution.  The family needed Meg’s evolved gift to remain a secret for as long as possible. 

“Logic dictated you were coming for them once you knew I turned against you.”

“Why not just leave the island if they were so sure I was coming?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Apparently.” Williams closed his eyes as he chose his next line of questioning.

“How do you feel?” he asked, as though he were a real doctor.

“Why do you care?” Creed said defiantly.  His vision was distorted by the swollen flesh around his eyes. 

“Oh, I care deeply, my dear boy.  I believe there’s something very different about you, something—extra.”

Creed hated feeling like every word of this conversation was hazardous to his family’s health.  Any misstep could cost them everything.  Truth be told, Creed was feeling the effects of blood loss.  Even with the adrenaline coursing through him, he felt strangely anxious and weak at the same time.

“Did you know nothing we did to you would rouse you from your unconscious state?”  Williams kept talking though it was clear to everyone in the room how one-sided this conversation was going to be.

Creed remained silent.

“I think you’ve been holding out on me, my dear Creed, since that day of your Retribution Match.  When Gavil here stabbed you and beat the weapon into your side, you shouldn’t have been able to come back to win the match having suffered as you did.  Then today,” he waved a gloved
hand
at Creed as though he were on display.

“Just look at you!  Yet your breathing is steady and your voice is calm.  There is not one quiver of pain, no muscle spasms, nothing.  You have a gift too, don’t you Creed?”

Creed’s anger was palpable.

“Well, first we’ll go retrieve the serum, then we can have a reunion of sorts back at the Facility where I know several of my scientists will be anxious to test your limits of pain tolerance,” Williams smiled widely, exposing the bloody gums where teeth should have been.

“Gavil, take him back to the St. Paul home and retrieve the serum—take four of these, too,” he said motioning to the mutant metasoldiers as though they were things and not living beings.

Gavil nodded once, and called, “Oscar, Gideon, Canon, Darius—collect the traitor and load up.”

The soldiers obeyed without question by carelessly slicing Creed’s binds and dragging him to the SUV waiting outside. 

When they were alone, Williams called Gavil closer.  “Take this,” he handed Gavil the detonator.  “How convenient of Margo to make it so easy to remove all evidence of the Infinite work done in that backwoods laboratory.  Once the serum is retrieved, level the lab.” 

With a nod, Gavil turned and followed the bloody trail left by his brother to the waiting car. 

Creed didn’t have a plan. 

He kept willing his brain to think, but the physical damage his body had endured over the last forty minutes was causing him to have bouts of near blackouts.  It was taking all his concentration to keep his pain sensors turned off.

Feeling like a lamb being led to slaughter, he was half dragged by the rabid dogs into Paulie’s lab.

“Where’s the serum?” Gavil barked into Creed’s ear.  Creed wasn’t faking when his eyes rolled back into his head.  No amount of yelling was going to stir him from this blackout episode.  Furious with Creed, and impatient with the whole freaking task, he turned to the two soldiers not holding his brother and ordered them to search the lab. 

Equipment crashed, drawers were ripped out and dumped.  File cabinets were up-ended, the contents of built in cabinets were thrown to the formerly pristine floor. 

Excited by the anarchy, the two soldiers whose job it was to hold Creed, dropped him and joined in the destruction of glass beakers, vials and costly medical equipment that made the coolest shattering sounds when thrown against the cement walls.

Moments later, Creed began crawling, slowly at first, then with more determination and resolve.  He knew where he was going. 

The partially obscured refrigerated cabinet at the back of the lab looked very unassuming from the outside, but in it laid the two vials of the Infinite serum Evan created using his own blood.  He prayed as he crawled, willing his body to move with speed it was incapable of in its state of abuse. 

The contents of the room w
ere
flying overhead and crashing
—
arbitrarily punctuated with primal screams of destructive joy from the rabid dogs.