Arise (Book Three in The Arson Saga) (17 page)

A long pause. “Of course.”

“You hesitated. Everything you are is a lie, Dr. Carraway.”

Isaac’s countenance shifted. “I hid here in plain sight, hoping you’d come to identify me as your father. Hoping something in you would know it was me. I became a lie so I could watch over you. I wanted you to find me out. But you had to discover the truth on your own. I was always here, waiting.”

“No. You murdered Grandma. How can I trust anything you say?”

“Your dreams imparted that to you as well?” An epiphany struck. “You’re able to experience things you’ve never lived. At first, we thought it was because of the connection between you and your mother, but this time it’s me.”

“The blood is the connection,” Arson replied, dropping him but making certain the fire never let him out of sight.

“We’re connected too? Through blood. My, my, you
are
undeniably unique. Listen to me, her death is insignificant. Kay tried to manipulate you. You must’ve felt it. She held you back, son. We had to get you out. We needed to make sure you were safe.”

“You make it sound so innocent. I
was
safe, before all of this. You’re sick. All of you are sick!”

Tears welled in Isaac’s eyes. “I killed Kay to save you. Believe me or don’t believe me. That’s the truth.”

Arson pounded his fist against the wall. “I can’t tell anymore. I don’t know what’s real. You took away everything that ever mattered. Emery, Grandma. I should kill you, right here, right now.” A fireball sprang forth from Arson’s palm. One thought was all it would take to end this conversation.

“Killing me won’t fix it. This initiative won’t just stop with Salvation. It can’t stop here. All of this was going to happen no matter what. We just play our part.”

“What?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Isaac said. “Just let them kill me? They wanted you, Stephen. I joined their cause so I could be close. I do care for you!”

“No. No. Shut up.”

“Open your eyes. No one could’ve prevented this, any of it. It’s too big. Bigger than any of us. They planned this for decades.”

“Who?”

“Powerful people. I don’t know them by name. We call them the Overseers. They built this place, and others just like it. You’re not the only one, kid. But something tells me you already knew that.”

“Where are the others?”

“All over. Some in this country, some scattered across the world. Salvation was just a speck on the map.”

“Tell me where!” Arson demanded, pressing his ignited fingers against Isaac’s lapels.

In a panic, his father squirmed and tossed the jacket. “Denver, Rome, Tokyo, Columbus, LA, Babylon… They’re everywhere. You can’t stop it, even if you tried.”

“Babylon.” Arson recognized that place. He’d been there before, with his grandfather. The Butcher, that’s where the creep lived. “New York?”

“The mother ship,” Isaac chuckled. “It’s the end of the world as we know it. The beginning of new earth.”

“Why?”

“Because they can. Because they found a
better
way.”

“There are those who will fight for what they love.”

“And die.”

“Not everyone is corrupt, like you,” Arson said, ignoring the doubt creeping in.

“‘The heart of man is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can know it?’”

“What right do you have to make such a claim? You’re a murderer.”

“Look around you. Look at what you’ve done. We’re the same, you and me. We feel things in the same way.”

The water from the ceiling spouts attacked his face like tiny spears. “I didn’t mean to do…”

“Yes, you did,” Isaac said with the kind of approval most fathers only dole out once, maybe twice, in a lifetime. “And a part of you enjoys the killing. You feel…justified? Free? It’s human nature to want to hurt the ones who hurt you.”

“Shut up. Stop twisting this around.”

“You’re a force to be reckoned with. Why should you keep it caged up?”

Arson deeply weighed Isaac’s words.

“You’re incredible. Humanity would be lucky to inherit even a taste of what you’re capable of.”

These were the words he’d longed to hear his entire life. He wanted to know Isaac, wanted to retrace the course of time and mend the emotional scars he’d been forced to endure. But could he? Was it possible?

“Son, stop trying to fight everything, and just accept it. Accept what you are. Accept the future, as I did. Accept what the world will be.”

“What if I can’t?”

“You don’t have a choice,” Isaac said, wiping his dry mouth. “You’re strong, but once Project Sunrise is initiated, this world will be reborn, and you can rule.”

Adam’s similar words resounded in his mind, like an undeserved promise. “What is Project Sunrise?”

“You’re intuitive, curious, just like your old man.”

“Is that some program you downloaded?” Arson noticed a flash drive hanging from a set of keys attached to Isaac’s belt. “Give it to me.”

“You’re not ready for this.”

With a swift kick, Arson brought him to his knees and retrieved the drive.

“Last time, and it better be the truth. What is Project Sunrise?”

“It’s the endgame. Checkmate.”

“Be specific.”

“You’ll sleep better if you don’t know the specifics.”

Arson pressed his thumb against Isaac’s cheek, and a patch of skin bubbled.

“Okay. Enough!” Isaac said with a curse. “They’re gonna wipe out half the population—with you.”

“They can’t control me.”

“You think the Overseers can’t adapt? If you won’t give in, others of your kind will.”

“The others… They’re on this drive?”

A reluctant nod. “Some. The kids who have already become. We’ve created an army of powerful beings who will do as they’re told.”

“You’re insane.”

“No, no, I’m not,” Isaac said emphatically. “The ones who’ve shown promise, who show signs of changing—they’ll survive. Those who haven’t will be wiped out. Like they never existed. People like your grandmother, ordinary people who have no place in the new order.”

“I’ll stop it. I can fix this. I can save them.”

Isaac shook his head. “You can’t.”

“I have to try.”

“The world as it is now will never understand you. It has to die so the new order can live. So you can exist freely.”

“My life versus three billion lives. I can’t just let them die.”

“That’s naiveté talking, son. Those same people you want to save would let you die and never think twice. Just let the future come. Everything is in motion.”

“I’ll destroy this place.”

“Go ahead. What is, will be.”

Arson watched Isaac toy with his mutilated cheek, saw how disgusted he was with it. And for the first time, he perceived the man clearly, saw him for what he was. Arson willed a spear of ice out of his arm. He clutched it, prepared to shove it into Isaac’s torso, dead certain that no matter what transpired in the future, it would never usher in a past that didn’t exist.

“Son, wait.”

“Why should I?”

“I know where she is.”

Their eyes locked. “Emery?”

Isaac’s body was still shaking, tense. “Yes.”

“Where?”

“I can take you to her, if you spare my life.”

“Is she here?”

He nodded. “We claimed you both together.”

Arson retreated to his memories. The hospital bed. The sound of the agent’s walkie chirping. Emery getting tossed into a van.

“Oh no,” he gasped, breaking the spear of ice in two and calling into himself the flames he had created. He stared down the hallway he had destroyed in his rage. Snowflakes floated in and dissolved the second they touched the ashen floor. “What have I done?”

“It may not be too late.”

Arson was furious. He choked his father. “Why did you wait to tell me? I could’ve harmed her.”

“She’s on…lower level. Perhaps…still time.”

“Tell me where!”

“A secret…place. Arson, let me go…or she’ll die.”

He came to his senses and released Isaac. “Take me to her now,” he said, wishing he’d searched for Emery instead of wasting his time to feed his anger. Shame was the chorus in his veins.

Isaac dropped to his knees, choking. “You almost killed me.”

“And I will, if you don’t take me to her!”

“All right. Calm down.”

Arson helped him up and began to walk. “Do you think she’s all right?” he asked, nerve-wracked.

“I hope so, for your sake,” Isaac replied, stepping back swiftly out of sight. Before Arson realized why, two needles shot into his neck. The fluid instantly swam inside his blood stream.

“Spider venom?” Arson ripped the needles out as his vision started to blur. Only a quarter of the dose had gotten in. “You…deceived me?”

“We are who we are. I told you already. There is no stopping it. I thought it was possible, once, but my eyes have been opened. You’re a nuclear bomb waiting to go off. You need influence.”

“You mean control.”

“Influence,” Isaac reiterated with doorslit eyes.

“But…Emery.”

“She’s not here. Sorry, but I don’t know where your girlfriend is. In this storm, she’s probably dead.”

“No,” Arson sighed, his insides feeling like jelly, his sight a grey-white haze.

“You know, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all my years, it’s that it’s better to be on the side of the devil than to oppose him. Forget about Emery. Forget about what could’ve been, and dwell on what
will
be. You have a new purpose. We’ll take care of you.”

Arson’s mind replayed the incident with the recluse. How he’d touched it. One bite, and then the venom had entered. He’d used his powers and, as a result, slipped into a coma. If he tried to use his powers now, would the same thing happen?

“We can be a family,” Isaac said.

“Emery…is my family.” Arson heaved a brutal scream, not caring of the consequence. He unleashed a blood-red fire from his eyes that split Isaac’s chest, devouring organs, spine, and skin.

With a look of wonder and anger, Isaac fell like a lead weight and died.

Arson wept bitterly. “I want the pain to stop.” His body emitted a new fire that licked at Isaac’s heels, burning the edges of the leather shoes. “Make it stop!”

The fire wrapped itself around Isaac’s legs, continuing to wilt the helpless corpse. He didn’t know why his powers still worked, why the venom hadn’t sent him into a coma this time. For the moment, he still had functionality in his body. For the moment, he was beating it, but he wasn’t sure for how long.

Arson looked at the flash drive in his hand, seeing double but aware that it was a side effect of the dosage.

You can’t stop it. You’re just one boy.

The lab room. A part of it had been untouched by the fire. He had to know what files Isaac had downloaded, and there wasn’t much time.

The future is coming
.

Rising to his feet, he experienced a severe case of vertigo, and nearly lost balance. Luckily, he recovered and melted the lock on the door so he could enter.

Once inside, he touched one of the vertical glass slides, and colors bloomed into a desktop page. It was all still a bit too much for his mind to piece together, but he inserted the drive into the wall, and a clickable folder appeared on the display. He tapped the folder labeled Babylon with his finger, and a series of images flooded the window. Images of people, of data, of blueprints and digital mockups of something called Ariel. Before Arson exited the folder, he opened a slide of files labeled 217, 218, 219, and the numbers continued on and on. Hundreds of numbers, several out of sequential order.

He clicked on 219, and a myriad of information about him splashed before his eyes. Pictures, newspaper clippings from the firecracker incident and when he’d gone nuclear for the first time on Mandy’s beach. Pictures of Emery holding his hand. Unflattering snapshots of Grandma, and then of her body divided into bloody sections. He almost vomited. Some of the data appeared jumbled, but he managed to get the gist.

He checked 218 and 217 next. Emery’s file and Adam’s. He hadn’t expected Adam to be bald, but for some reason, he looked wiser that way, like a monk or something. There was so much information on this drive. It was clear why Isaac had stayed behind, to keep Salvation alive.

Arson finally vomited, unable to quell the dizzying sensation any longer. Next, he yanked the drive out of the wall and held it in his grip. He would make sure to read everything, but later. Now, the main objective was to disappear before the public tried to swarm the asylum, costing more lives. He knew what had to be done.

Stepping out of the room, Arson glanced one last time at the corpse, at the remains of his father. He stared into those eyes. In seconds, Isaac’s body was nothing but ashes, and with the roar of a hundred soldiers, Arson unleashed a holocaust of power and lay waste to Salvation Asylum.

Chapter Twenty-One

R
edd was stuck in
a half-awake, half-comatose state. Images split in front of her. Blood leaked from a forehead wound. From where she lay, she watched Joel fight. He couldn’t pull his legs free from under the ruptured dash. His efforts were useless. She knew; he didn’t. His mouth moved; she couldn’t make out the words. Her eyes just dragged from left to right like an addict. The crooked rearview mirror reflected Aimee and Kyro, both hurt badly—gashes on their arms and chests, violet facial bruises, broken glass all over, like dandruff on their shoulders.

Redd couldn’t escape the blood. Every one of them was stained because of what happened. And how
did
it happen? How? Again she was certain that somehow, somewhere, there was error.

Or maybe… Maybe this crash was intended. Maybe she was supposed to be dead. Maybe they were all supposed to be dead.

Hoven…you…lunatic!
She wanted to move, had to get out and away from this, but her muscles weren’t responding. The fumes from the propane truck spilled into the car and took her mind through the memories of her past.

She was a little girl again. Full of hope, eager to take on the future. She’d mapped out most of her life by the time she turned ten. She’d go to the co-ed Catholic high school because it boasted a far better advanced program than Bethpage’s public school circus. As far as specialty subjects in which to excel—either psychology, chemistry, or algebra. She was a master at studying how and why things thrived or failed when placed in certain environments, a result of being possessed by such a calculating brain. It never seemed to stop working. From there, she’d likely get a scholarship to Yale—her dream university—where the night hours would be spent swimming or in an art studio, two other would-be passions she’d always planned to someday embrace. Someone exciting would stumble into her life in college, lost and in search of love, someone who shared her passions and never made her feel out of place for what she wanted or believed. It made sense in her ten-year-old head.

But Adam was never supposed to go. It all started with his ridiculous exodus. Because of what he could do, the Grey Man found him, wanted to study him. In no time, her brother was taken, promised a better, more perfect future. She didn’t have the slightest idea how such an old soul could promise things like that, not to mention how he dared guarantee her brother’s safety, but Adam told her not to be afraid, that it would all be okay. He looked her right in her tear-soaked eyes and lied. He was the only person in the world she trusted with everything…and he lied.

Following her thirteenth birthday, there was the brutal divorce and the countless months of screaming that preceded it. People aren’t designed to handle the kind of pressure and emotional chaos that comes with having a child born with
peculiarities
, she told herself. But she knew deep down that they just couldn’t live with the choice they had made. One choice, and it changed everything. They signed over the rights to their son simply because he had been born with extraordinary gifts that—they were ashamed to admit—frightened them. At the time, they didn’t understand what they were doing. She let herself believe that lie too.

What became of her father’s income didn’t allow for unnecessary spending, which included attending the elite private school she’d been promised. Her mother ultimately blamed him for exiling their firstborn, and said she could no longer look at him because he reminded her of what she’d lost.

Redd was there when it happened. She didn’t say a word, but she saw it happen. Her father, once a man who seemed capable of moving mountains, struggled to put a chair in the proper place. She watched him toss several connected neckties around the ceiling fan in his bedroom. He had probably presumed the door was locked, or maybe thought she was scheduled to stay after school to catch up on homework. The truth was, she hadn’t ever caught the bus that morning because she hated that stupid school, hated how the teachers did nothing when the boys and girls ridiculed her because she just didn’t blend well enough. It was hard to be a social butterfly surrounded by such vermin. She lived for years with a gaping hole in her gut, prepared to do anything, give anything, just to hug Adam again. To hear his words of comfort.

Or witness his powerful resolve to end her pain. He’d fix it all, and she wouldn’t blame him the way she had at the carnival.

She swore she wouldn’t cry. Redd didn’t judge her father for doing what he did. He only sought to end the pain. So how could she dole out judgment? Once he was done with it, and his body stopped fighting the inevitable, she entered the bedroom, and saw the letter on the floor. There was no return address, but it had been sent by the Grey Man. It spoke of the infinite progress happening as a result of what her brother had done. How his blood, his genetic code, would forever alter the future, for the better. She must’ve read that stupid phrase,
for the better
, about four times in the one-paragraph letter. But the last part of it hit her like a sack of bricks; made her wish it’d been her who’d hanged herself with a series of wrinkled neckties. The final sentence of the letter explained how Adam’s body had begun to reject their treatments, and how it had taken a toll on him, eventually claiming his life.

Claiming his life?

She swore she wouldn’t cry. But that night, she broke her word. The years passed, and her mother only turned colder. Her father’s death made little impact. All her over-achieving test scores meant nothing. She got the scholarship she wanted, but it wasn’t to Yale. It was a much less prestigious, more affordable institution. Still, she went, knowing full well that returning home was never an option. If Adam had left so the world could be made better, if he had died to make that dream a reality, she’d do the same.

She never found time to join the swim team or explore art in the traditional sense. Her other studies demanded too much. She acquired dual degrees in psychology and criminal justice. Her pursuit was the art of the mind. On the rare occasion she wasn’t buried in a classroom textbook, she locked herself in the library, where she devoured every book she could find on topics of pathology, unexplained phenomena, and coping with suicidal tendencies.

After her graduation ceremony, she and her mother had their last conversation. “I never want to see you again,” she told her, right in the parking lot, surrounded by happy families she couldn’t be a part of. Still, Redd swore it wasn’t because of the past but because of the future. “There’s something I have to do, for Adam.” Her mother didn’t understand, probably never would.

Earlier that week, Redd had received a certified letter, again with no return address. She’d recognized the fashion. It had been sent from the organization that had recruited—stolen—Adam. They requested a meeting face to face to discuss “opportunities,” which she at first declined but, upon further contemplation, accepted. An invitation to dinner seemed appropriate.

“We want you to be a part of Project Sunrise,” the Grey Man said, after taking a sip of wine. The information concerning the project was sparse, left vague on purpose, but he assured her that soon she would comprehend the assignments more clearly, and all might be revealed. There were three other men with him. The first man was a stuttering doctor who probably looked like he didn’t belong no matter where he went. The second was a soon-to-be federal agent with a proclivity for chewing tobacco that Redd found gross. The final, scrutinizing stare belonged to an old vulture of a man named Saul Hoven.

“Why me?” she asked after moments of awkward eye games.

“We’ve kept a close watch over you for years, my dear.”

Years? She didn’t like that.

“No need for alarm or fear. We’re on your side. We want you to join our cause.”

“My brother’s dead because of you.” She played with her knife and, when the time seemed right, stuck the edge of the blade into the Grey Man’s hand.

He didn’t yell, didn’t curse. He simply gritted his teeth and pulled the metal from his skin. “You’ve been waiting for years to do that, haven’t you?”

She didn’t reply.

“You have anger, Lana. We’d like to use that.”

Still in awe that he had removed the knife and not tried to hurt her with it, she asked, “How can you guarantee I won’t end up like him?”

“We c-c-can’t,” the doctor said, obviously aggravated. “But we both know y-y-you-you will never be satisfied with an ordinary life.”

“You, like your brother, are very special,” the Grey Man interrupted.

“I don’t have any extraordinary…gifts.”

He tapped his temple. “On the contrary. You have an extraordinary mind. Tell me, child, how many books did you read last semester, not counting your regular classroom texts?”

“Forty-six.”

“And if I were to test your retention of the material—”

“I’d ace it,” she answered without even blinking.

He smiled, wrapped a cloth napkin around his hand, and turned to the men in his company. Then he slid a piece of paper toward her. “You are exactly the kind of mind we need. Sign this, Lana. Consider it an invitation to be a part of history. There’s greatness in you, I know it.” He paused, giving her a moment to think. “Help us finish what your brother and I started.”

“Finish…what…we started,” Redd gasped, catching the blur that was her weapon lying at her feet. In the playback reel of her mind, she kept signing the contract that the Grey Man put in front of her. She imagined the ink as blood. It might as well have been.

The gun
. She had to focus on the here and now. She had to get to the gun.

Joel’s shouts now possessed a deafening volume. “Aimee! Are you okay? Aimee!”

His wife didn’t speak.

Kyro mumbled, “Sure, Cass. I’m a’ight. Your boy’s a’ight.”

“Kyro, check her pulse. Please, God… Check her pulse!”

The boy reached over lethargically and pressed two fingers against Aimee’s wrist. When he detected no pulse, he jabbed her throat with his thumb. Kyro shook his head. His eyes looked lost.

“She did this. She caused this, Cass!”

“What…are…you talking about?” Redd returned, hoping the equilibrium in her brain would finally get with the program.

“No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen,” Joel stammered. “It can’t be.”

A small spark suddenly ignited a few feet from the car. The collision had pushed a number of plugs out from under the smashed hood onto the slick highway. With an electrical current still surging, the spark had come alive and spread.

Joel’s legs looked crushed between his seat and what was left of the dash. But she didn’t see blood. Maybe there was still a chance he’d walk.

“We gotta get out,” Redd said. “We have to get out.”

“I’m stuck,” he said, unable to pry himself loose. Any extra pressure on his leg, and he screamed.

Redd unfastened her seatbelt, feeling flakes of snow dab her skin. Her cheek was so cold, but her teeth didn’t chatter. “When I tell you, move your leg.”

“What are you going to do?” Joel asked frantically.

“Just trust me.”

He nodded. The tears in his eyes were a mixture of uncertainty and complete fear.

“One,” she started, and Joel took a deep breath. Streaks of pink sweat seemed to hemorrhage from his temple wound.

“Just do it!”

Redd heaved, using all her strength to force the dash to the right with her heel so Joel could swing his leg out from under. She could only imagine the pain his body endured, and coming to terms with that took the concentration off her own. She watched his chest swell and collapse about a half dozen times before he tried to leap into the backseat to give Aimee CPR.

“Joel, we have to get out now,” she said. “There isn’t time.”

“’Course you’d say dat, she-witch.”

“Kyro, shut up!”

“I can’t leave her.” Joel was the portrait of her father, crumbled by the regret of losing a child and a wife. He’d die to keep what he loved.

“I got her, Cass. She ain’t breathin’, but I got her. Take care o’ yaself.” Kyro removed Aimee’s seatbelt and kicked open the door, falling out into slush.

Redd grabbed Joel’s shirt and pulled him toward herself, eventually dropping him on the ground. She quickly picked up the gun from the floor. The fumes sifted into each nostril, and the chill of winter enveloped her completely.

Several mental memories ignited in her mind when she saw Joel crawl toward Aimee—toward his wife. Had there ever been a chance of romance between them? The failed preacher still loved the unfaithful nurse. Real, genuine love that canceled any spite or the sting of emotional crisis the couple had been forced to accept. He’d die for her now; that much was very clear.

Finish what you started, Lana. Do it!
Her backside hit the wet slush first, followed by her neck. The chill cradled her spine as she drew the gun on Joel. He and Kyro were so focused on getting Aimee to breathe that neither of them noticed. She rotated her position, got a clear aim. This was the time. The internal war had to end. It was the only logical choice. She had let her weakness, her adolescent notion of compassion, confuse her judgment.

But the regret came from something else. Something inside that should’ve died years ago.

“Adam,” she whispered, about to pull the trigger. Without warning, her sedan caught fire, and a deafening boom shook her chest. Steel chunks whirled in every direction. Leather ruptured into hundreds of pieces around her. She curled into the fetal position, feeling the heat lick her back but not enough to burn. The gun never left her palm. The grip she had on it was so tight, her nail had carved into her flesh.

Past the rising black smoke, she could see all the traffic on their side of the interstate come to a frenzied halt. Multiple car accidents occurred because of abrupt reactions and slippery road conditions. She didn’t care if anyone was harmed, though. There wasn’t time for compassion or sympathy. Apathy had to be god in this moment. How long did she have to see it through to the end? How long before the eyes of these petty bystanders realized what she’d done?