Текст книги "Angel Fever"
Автор книги: L. A. Weatherly
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 26 страниц)
12
BACK IN MY ROOM, GETTING a few more hours’ sleep was impossible – the feeling of unease was growing by the minute. Finally I grabbed my things and went to take a shower.
I was in the same cubicle Alex and I had used once when we’d snuck in here at two in the morning to take a shower together; I always used it now if it was free. The memory of the hot water pounding down on us as we’d kissed, laughing – of his body against mine, firm and warm and slippery with soap – usually made me smile.
This time it just made the fear even stronger.
I towelled myself off; my clothes clung to my still-damp body as I wiped steam from the mirror and started to comb out my hair. My worried face gazed back at me.
This is wrong. This feels so wrong. Suddenly my hands were trembling. Kara. What exactly had she told him, to make him take off like this?
With my hair still damp, I left the shower room and headed to the infirmary.
Kara was alone when I got there, asleep in one of the hospital beds. I silently drew up a chair, pity stirring in me at the sight of her battered face. I’d never liked Kara, but I wouldn’t have wished what she’d been through on anyone.
Her hand looked as thin as the rest of her. From what Alex had told me, I wasn’t even sure this would work. I hesitated – and then touched her hand, very lightly, her skin papery beneath my fingers.
I’d never tried to read someone who was asleep. It was a weird sensation. Images came through, but it was like experiencing them underwater. Kara, walking through city streets with her hands in her jacket pockets. Austin Eden, I thought dreamily. She was trying to look casual, but I could feel her apprehension; if they caught her, she’d never get out of this place. Then we seemed to fast-forward. She was in a sort of warehouse, packed with sick people on army cots.
I hardly recognized the man Alex and I had encountered in New Mexico, but could sense Kara’s sadness as she sat beside him. “Hey, Cull…you don’t look so hot.”
“Alex,” he said urgently. “Have you seen him? I’ve done something – we’ve got to stop him—”
As I listened to what followed, my spirits fell. It was all so vague; I could sense Kara didn’t understand any of it either. Then my eyes flew open as her hand jerked away.
“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed.
She lay glaring – but I could feel her fear too. Suddenly I was ashamed. “I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing my palm on my jeans. “You were asleep, and I had to know what you told Alex.”
“Yeah? So why not ask him?”
“Because he left. He’s gone to the old AK camp.”
Her good eye widened. “So there was something to it,” she murmured. “I wasn’t sure.” Then she grabbed my arm. “Wait – you were able to read me? How come you could, when none of the angels could do it?”
I shook my head. “Alex said you must have been marshalled. Maybe it only works against full-blooded angels, or something.” I cleared my throat, studying her bruises again and feeling saddened. “Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t have any right to read you while you were asleep.”
Taking in my gaze, Kara’s lip curled. “You know what? Getting these was fun compared to dealing with your father. Give me a good, honest fistfight any day. Now get out.”
She rolled onto her side, taking the IV cord with her. Realizing I was doing more harm than good, I left.
In the main room of the infirmary, I was standing slumped against the wall, trying to still my spinning thoughts, when Sam walked in.
He peered in at Kara through the small window in the door. “Oh, man, she looks awful,” he said in an undertone. “I just thought—”
“That you’d talk to her about why Alex left,” I finished. “I checked; she doesn’t know anything.” I hesitated. “But Sam, this really doesn’t feel right. I mean, I don’t think I’m just being a worried girlfriend here.”
He snorted. “Well, I’m sure as hell not being a worried girlfriend, and I don’t like this at all. Not one little bit.”
“So…what do we do?”
Sam made a face. “I don’t know. Wait for now. See what happens.”
I nodded reluctantly, because I wasn’t sure what to do either.
Somehow I got through the next few hours. “He’ll be fine,” Liz kept saying at breakfast. “Honestly, no one’s more competent than Alex.”
I nudged at my oatmeal, hating the way it stuck gloppily to my spoon. “Yeah, you’re right,” I said, because I didn’t want to give words to what I was actually feeling.
He shouldn’t have gone. He shouldn’t have gone.
“Willow?” said Liz softly.
I rose and picked up my tray. “It’s almost time for my first class with Seb.”
The room Seb and I held classes in was small; a dozen recruits sat on the floor, concentrating, with legs folded in lotus or semi-lotus positions. “Watch Willow’s angel while you move through the chakra points,” Seb instructed, lounging against the wall with his ankles crossed. “See how it fades and then comes back.”
It was all so life-as-usual, when really nothing was. After class I found myself waiting by the door for Seb. I hadn’t done this in a very long time, but he didn’t look surprised.
My words tumbled out. “Seb, listen – before Alex left he started to say something about the earth’s energy field. What was that about, do you have any idea?”
“The earth’s energy field?” Seb repeated. I felt his sudden alarm as he reached past me to shut the door. “I don’t know…unless he thinks he can use it against the angels, maybe.”
The earth’s energy was chaotic, untamed. Trying to harness it would be… I swallowed hard. “But that’s crazy.”
Seb didn’t deny it. “Oh, madre mía, I knew we should have gone with him,” he muttered, pressing his fists against his forehead. “I could feel that he was lying about something—”
I froze. “He was?”
Seb looked startled. “Willow, I thought you must know – that he was only lying to the rest of us! The sense of it was buried, yes, but…”
“No! He told me to trust him – he asked me not to read him!” I closed my eyes and quickly found Alex’s warm, familiar presence. He was still driving; he was all right. For now.
But when I opened my eyes, dread crashed through me again like a tide. There was no way that I could just stay here and wait for his return – absolutely no way.
My heart was beating fast. “So, um – thanks,” I said to Seb, backing up a step. “I’ve got to go now.”
His face was taut with concern. He touched my arm. “Willow—”
“I’ve got to go.” I opened the door and stepped out into the corridor – and suddenly I was running for the garage as fast as I could, my sneakers pounding against the cement.
“Willow!” I heard Seb call.
I rounded a corner and collided with Sam. “Hey, whoa!” He grabbed me by the arms. “What’s going on?”
“Let me go!” I tried to shake him off; he held on tighter.
“No way, not until you tell me what’s happening!”
I was almost crying. “I’ve got to go after him! I’ve got to. Something’s wrong, Sam, really wrong!”
Seb caught up just as Sam let go of me, frowning. “Yeah,” Sam said, almost to himself. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, you’re right. Okay, I’m coming too.”
I hadn’t expected this, and the relief was enormous. With two of us driving, we could make better time. “We’ve got to hurry,” I said. Somehow I knew Alex wouldn’t take many breaks, even though he hadn’t slept.
Sam nodded. “Grab what you need. Meet me in the garage in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m going too,” put in Seb.
“No, you’re not,” Sam said curtly. “We can’t all go; who’s gonna run the goddamn base?”
Seb glanced at me, his muscles tense – and my fear multiplied as I realized that he wanted to be there for me. He was afraid of what might happen if we were too late.
“Seb, you’ve got to stay – you’ve got our classes to teach, and Liz can’t do everything on her own,” I said in a rush, thinking I’d say anything to keep him here – anything to keep from sensing his fear the whole long drive.
He started to protest and then stopped, his eyes scanning mine. “Yes, fine,” he said tightly.
All at once I felt clammy with cold. “And, Sam, listen – tell Liz not to mention to Alex that we’re coming when he checks in.”
Sam nodded grimly. Alex would not be thrilled if he found out. He might even deliberately try to lose us. Whatever his reasons for not wanting us there, they weren’t going to magically disappear if he heard we were on our way.
“Fifteen minutes,” Sam said again.
I was already jogging down the corridor. “Make it ten,” I called back.
For the rest of that day and all through the night, Sam and I took turns driving. We took the shattered Highway 93 out of Nevada, then picked up I-40 east, slicing across Arizona to New Mexico. Without discussing it, we stuck to the main roads for speed – we’d take our chances with any Eden staff we met.
From the set of Sam’s jaw and the tapping of his large, blunt fingers on the wheel, I knew he was as anxious as I was. Thankfully, he wasn’t the type who needed to make conversation – I couldn’t have handled small talk just then. We spoke only about the route or to ask if the other wanted a drink of water.
Every half-hour or so, I checked psychically on Alex, feeling briefly soothed by his energy. He’d stopped around six p.m. to sleep for a few hours; otherwise he was on the move, though Sam and I had closed the gap and were only about half an hour behind him now. When I drove I found myself edging the speedometer higher, desperate to catch up with him – to physically grab hold and refuse to let go if I had to, so that he couldn’t do whatever he was planning alone.
We entered New Mexico just before midnight. Four hours later, Albuquerque Eden rose before us with its concrete and barbed wire – and its distant packs of circling angels, their wings silver in the moonlight.
It wasn’t a sight I really wanted to see, just then.
The roads worsened again as we turned off and headed south. A few hours later the rising sun lit the rugged landscape that Alex loved – the endless desert, the bare, brown mountains. We were in the southern part of the state by then, with Sam at the wheel as I stared tensely at the highway, trying to remember the turn-off for his father’s old camp. Finally I spotted the dirt road.
“Here,” I said quickly. “We drove about twenty miles down this way – then Alex turned off directly into the desert.”
Sam glanced at me. “Can you find it?”
I nodded. Even if I hadn’t remembered the road, I sensed Alex so strongly now, leading me to him like a beacon.
My fingernails gouged into my palms. We had to get there in time – we had to. Alex, I don’t know what you’re planning, but you can’t do it. Please. You’re my life, too.
13
THE LAST TIME ALEX HAD made his way across the New Mexico desert, he’d been driving a stolen car: a boatlike thing from the eighties that had bucked and shivered across the sandy soil. He’d spent the entire journey expecting the thing to overheat – that, and being seriously distracted by Willow. They hadn’t so much as kissed at that point; the physical tension between them had been almost painful. He could still see exactly how she’d looked as she’d asked him a question about the camp: her green eyes large, her blonde hair tied in an untidy knot at the back of her neck.
He wondered if she’d ever forgive him.
He pushed all thoughts of her away harshly. Maybe Cully was delusional, he thought as the 4 × 4 trundled over unmarked desert. But if this is true, there’s got to be at least a chance I’ll survive – or I wouldn’t even be doing it.
He’d made the journey in good time, given the state of some of the roads. Only about thirty hours had passed since he’d left – and now, advancing through the desert, Alex could make out the place where he’d grown up: a cluster of white cement buildings wavering in the morning sun, with low mountains rising on the horizon behind them.
Nearing the chain-link fence with its razor coils flashing at the top, he did a quick scan. No sign of life. He could have figured that out anyway: one of the gates sagged limply on its hinges, with no vehicles in sight. As the sun burned down on the silent white buildings, Alex stopped the truck, eyes narrowing as he studied them. He took out his rifle just in case, swung the backpack over one shoulder, and got out.
Small brown lizards scuttled away as he walked to the gate. He squeezed through the gap and the chain link rattled. Another memory: Willow standing at this gate, fingers hooked loosely around a metal diamond as she looked back with that pixieish smile. I’d just really like to see where you grew up.
Do not think about her again.
Though it was late November, the heat streamed down as Alex crossed the enclosure. It was the only thing that still felt familiar. The camp’s unnatural silence weighed on him as he made his way past the mess hall and the dorm he and his brother had shared with a dozen other AKs.
Ahead lay the plain, square house where his father – and then later Cully – had lived. A grey roof, no shutters or frills. When he was little, he thought all houses looked like this. The first time he saw homes with door knockers and welcome mats, he hadn’t been able to stop staring.
Alex reached the door and scanned again, just to make sure. Nothing. The knob was sun-warm to the touch; it didn’t give when he tried to turn it.
Feeling as if he were desecrating a tomb, Alex stepped back and pressed the rifle against his shoulder. A short burst of gunfire and rapid holes appeared, obliterating the lock. He kicked the door, and it swung open.
He stepped in and groped for the light switch out of habit, but nothing happened, of course; the generators weren’t on. Then he stopped short. In the semi-gloom he could see an angel staring at him – dark, burning eyes, its giant wings outspread. Adrenalin gripped him until he realized what it was.
Oh Christ, Cully, he thought sadly.
The walls were covered with drawings of angels.
They crowded every available space – watching, beckoning to him. Alex turned and found another on the back of the door; bullet holes scorched through its wing. He traced his hand over it. Cully had drawn each feather individually.
What hit him most was the utter loneliness of the place. Cully, probably sick already by then, alone out here in the desert, drawing the beautiful creatures that had destroyed him. Alex dropped his hand. “I’m glad you’re dead, Cull,” he said in a low voice. “You’re free now.”
Enough. He had to do what he’d come for. Alex crossed to the table and propped his rifle against the worn wood. With a glance at the rickety chairs, he remembered how his father would angle one sideways and sit hunched for hours, glaring as he tried to bore his way through the ether with his consciousness.
Imagining himself doing the same, Alex grimaced. He crouched on his haunches instead and studied the air in front of him. What he’d told Willow hadn’t been a complete lie: Martin’s idea to defeat the angels did have to do with using a world’s energy field.
Just not the one in this world.
Alex moved his awareness up through his chakras and kept it poised, hovering outside of himself. As he viewed the room from the ethereal level, his pulse skipped.
He straightened in a daze as he stared. Jesus. Cully had nearly done it all right. Where there had once been nothing, there was now a slight wavering in the air facing him, like rippling water.
Relief and dread rushed through Alex. He mentally reached out and explored the wavering. It felt like a section of flimsy paper in the midst of solid plaster. Cully must have been so damn weak, to have come this close and then stopped.
Alex let out a breath. Okay, so…it was true, then. Instinctively, he knew what had to come next.
Slowly, he cautioned himself.
He focused his awareness as tightly as possible, until it was needle-thin. The sensation brought a rush of light-headedness; he ignored it. Tracing the needle carefully over the shimmering wall, back and forth, he found a tiny section that gave more than the rest. He pushed at it, but the wall felt elastic; the needle pressed harmlessly.
Fine – let’s try this another way, he thought after a frustrating few minutes. He drew back and stabbed hard.
His awareness pierced the wall. Suddenly it felt like a hurricane was shaking the tiny needle. He gritted his teeth, hanging on for dear life. Do it now or get out, he told himself.
He steadied himself – and began to make the needle larger.
Muscles trembling, Alex sank to the ground, eyes closed as he strained. He could sense the pinpoint growing to the size of a tennis ball…a car tyre. With his fists clenched on his thighs, he felt a sudden release of resistance that sent him sprawling to the floor.
Breathing hard, he slowly rose again, groping at the table for support as he stared. There was a hole in the air. Through it, he could see another room. A plain white wall. Where the opening ended, so did Alex’s view of the room; the outer wall was still seamlessly covered with angels.
Blood pounded at his brain. The two realities danced before him. He’d actually done it.
But so far he’d only manipulated energy on the ethereal level – for his father’s plan to work, he had to be physically over there. And when something tangible passed through that hole… Alex’s own voice came back to him: It’d be suicide. Can you even imagine the burst of energy if he tried it? This whole place would blow sky-high.
Alex’s gaze flickered again to the walls around him. Cully must have thought surviving this was at least possible – but, Jesus, here Alex was, surrounded by hundreds of staring angel eyes. Had this place really been the work of a sane man?
He straightened his spine. Enough of this crap. This was what he’d come for, wasn’t it? Millions of angels were feeding on humanity and would go on doing it for ever unless something stopped them – everything else paled in comparison. Everything. Even his own life.
Keeping his eyes on the opening, Alex picked up his backpack and put it on. His pistol was in the holster under his trousers; he reached for the rifle and hooked it over his shoulder, ducking his head under the strap.
Then he looked down at the woven bracelet on his wrist – and unable to stop himself, touched it briefly, remembering the night Willow had given it to him: the smell of her hair, the feel of her in his arms.
He let his hand fall. He shoved the table away with a single harsh screech and backed up to the opposite wall, facing the opening. The other room still waited. Alex squared his shoulders, not taking his eyes from it.
“Okay, let’s do it,” he muttered.
“There!” I said, sitting up straight and pointing.
It was just like I remembered: white buildings clustered in the desert. And oh, thank god: Alex’s grey 4 × 4 was parked outside the gate. I let out a breath as we drew closer, rumbling over the rough terrain. Too relieved to smile, I closed my eyes to feel what Alex was feeling – and gasped as his heightened emotions slammed into me.
“No,” I whispered, gripping the dashboard. “Sam! Stop!”
Sam screeched to a halt. Before he’d completely stopped, I flung open the door and scrambled out, running as hard as I could. Alex, you can’t go through with whatever this is – please, you won’t survive it—
As my feet beat over the sandy ground I could feel the coolness of tears on my face. Everything had slid into slow motion: a hawk circling above, the gate ahead of me as it grew larger.
“Alex!” I screamed. “Alex!”
Alex stood poised, his gaze fixed on the opening. Now that the time had come, he felt only an intense determination, all other thought banished. The angels watched from the walls as the strange room sat cloaked in shadow.
Now, he thought, and started to run.
He threw himself into the air at the last possible moment, meeting the opening head-on – and as he did, he thought he heard someone call his name.
The impact was like slamming into concrete.
The explosion screamed through him as the world erupted. The route between worlds vanished. Angels were shattering into pieces, flying up into the blue sky. Alex was falling, floating, being ripped apart.
Pain…oh Jesus, the pain.
Willow…I’m sorry, he thought.
It was the last thing he knew.
