Finding Sage (The Rogue Book 1) (3 page)

7.

            
 
Silas slowly started to wake up.  The first thing he felt was the throbbing pain in his head.  The pain made it difficult for him to concentrate.  He attempted to reach out with his mind, trying to grasp anything he could wrap his mind around.  The throbbing pain interfered with his attempts, casting every possible observation of his mind into obscurity.  His other senses were slow to catch up with his mind.  He could see nothing.  His arms and legs were tied behind the chair. 

Unable to gather any information about his surroundings, he started to think through the situation.  One of two scenarios had happened: either the soldiers or the strange hobo had knocked him out and brought him here.  Either way, he was in trouble.

              His thoughts were interrupted abruptly as the room erupted in an explosion of white light, which he took a few moments to adjust to.  When he did, he saw two men walk in.  Both were wearing black and blue suits.  Silas opened his mouth to ask what was going on but immediately closed it.  The less he communicated with them, the better.

              “Grayson Thompson,” began the one in the suit, “black market dealer, member of thirteen secret and illegal societies, and known affiliate of the man known as Sage.”

              The black market part was true.  The secret and illegal societies bit was rubbish.  He never formed alliances, especially not with emotional idealists.  It was a trap; an attempt to lure him into speaking out of turn and trying to defend himself.  He knew better.  But who was Sage?

              “Of course you and I both know that Grayson Thompson isn’t your real name.”

              Silas stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. 

              “In fact, if were to choose an alias, I believe I would choose one slightly less obvious.  Perhaps one that actually showed some creativity.”

              He tried to look tough, to look firm and immovable.  His shaking knees gave him away, though.  He was scared out of his mind, and he couldn’t concentrate because of it.  He fluttered on the brink of lucidity, his senses fading in and out unpredictably.  His interrogators went on, oblivious.

              “You are not here because you are a black market dealer, Grayson,” said the second man.  “You are here because your DNA has some very specific markers in it.  You are one of
them
.”

              “So you can either cooperate and give us the names of those like you and continue in the service of this great country, or life will become very unpleasant for you.”

              Silas still said nothing, both unwilling and unable to respond.

              The first man punched Silas in the side of the head. The force caused Silas to fall over, still tied to the chair.

              “LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU!”

              The force of his fall jolted Silas to full consciousness.  Blood flowed down his face as he lay uncomfortably on the cold, concrete floor.  His bottom lip quivered slightly.  He bit it to avoid any unwanted tears.  Even while barely hanging onto his mind, he knew he could not show weakness.

              The second man spoke again.

              “Your name will no longer be Grayson Thompson.  Of course, I’m sure it never was, but now you will only be a serial number.  As far as the outside world is concerned, you are a dead man.”

              They circled him while they spoke, making it as demoralizing and degrading as it could possibly be.

              “In time, you will make yourself useful.  Whether you intend to or not is irrelevant.”

              They turned around, walked out, and shut off the light, leaving their subject alone, lying on the cold floor, blood flowing down his cheek.

              He lay there for a few hours, not being able to convince himself to do so much as move himself into a more comfortable position.  The blood dried on his face, his right arm fell asleep, and his head and jaw were throbbing with pain.  Worse than his physical discomfort, though, was his emotional turmoil.  In a time like this, people often think of those they care about.  For the first time in a long time, Silas realized that he had no one to think about.  He was alone.  A tear trickled down his cheek as he tried unsuccessfully to forget about his troubles. 

He didn’t sleep that night.

              It proved very difficult to keep track of time in his dark prison cell.  He couldn’t be sure how much time had passed.  Two days?  Three days?  However long it had been, nobody had been back.  He hadn’t had anything to eat in that period, nor had he been given any water.  His body was growing weaker and weaker each hour.

His mind, on the other hand, was growing stronger.  In fact, it was growing stronger than it had ever been before.  He no longer had to concentrate all of his ability into one task.  It was all becoming natural.  Before long, he started to sense the presence of the other minds in this dark and mysterious prison.  There were guards outside the door.  The one on his right was worried about something.  The one on the left was still grim, but vaguely optimistic.  He himself was becoming cautiously optimistic in the light of his growing power, although he knew he was at the mercy of the guards for food and water. 

              He continued to exercise his mind, looking for any weakness in the system.  This proved difficult as they hadn’t checked on him in at least three days now.  His concentration, however, was interrupted as he brushed up on a new consciousness: one that was just on the other side of the wall.  This person was weak, struggling for the will to survive.  In the midst of this flood of emotions, one word resounded with overwhelming intensity: Sage.  There the name was again.  Who was this Sage? 

Across the other wall, he sensed another presence. It was complex, like trying to untangle a spider’s web into one long strand of silk.  He sensed an innocence about this one, a type of innocence that denoted youth.  He believed it was a woman—or girl, rather.  She was filled with fear and hopelessness.  Through the link he had established in her mind, he could feel her physical pain.  Her arms and legs were sore and she could barely move from sheer exhaustion.  He sensed her raise her head.

“Hello?”

Silas pulled out of her mind reflexively.  She knew he was there.  How could that be possible?

              The two figures that had visited him three days before returned to the room and turned on the light.  Silas could see nothing but a white blur.  He had not used his eyes in at least three days’ time.  They picked him up off  the floor and sat him upright in the chair.  At this point, Silas realized just how weak he was. Every muscle is his body burned with pain as they moved him.  He found himself breathing heavily.  Even the simple task of sitting up had wearied him.  Then his greatest hope presented itself as truth: they placed a tray of food in his lap and untied him.  Without saying a word, they turned around and left.  He devoured the food without hesitation.  Sleep no longer escaped him completely.  He had hope, for the first time in a very long time.  He had hope.

              As he drifted off to sleep, dreams followed him.  Silas often dreamt when he slept, but due to the nature of his ability, his dreams were exceedingly vivid.  That night he could see little more than blackness.  He found himself running down a dimly lit hallway of an archaic building.  It appeared to be a hotel and he saw flashes of gold numbers as he ran past the various doors on either side.  Sweat poured down the sides of his face and he breathed heavily as the muscles in his legs were searing with pain. He felt like he was trying to run in syrup.  Not knowing what or who he was running from, but only that in order to survive, he needed to run.  He continued running until he ran into a wall, hitting it with so much force that it knocked him backwards onto his back.  Scrambling to his feet, he frantically searched for an exit.  He tried the door to his right, but it was locked.  The door to his left was also locked.  The mysterious figure was approaching him quickly and he no longer had time to try another door.  As the figure approached, he realized it was a man.  The shadowy man had a large brown trench coat and was wearing a black top hot.  He kept his head down and his face concealed.  As he reached inside of his coat and pulled out a black handgun, Silas saw a small necklace fall out of his coat bearing the emblem of a bird.  Silas started to hyperventilate as he feared the end of his life.  The man spoke.

              “Time to pay up.”

              The gun fired.

              Silas woke suddenly as his back contracted with spasms rapidly, searing in pain with each contraction.  He clenched his fists and uttered a throaty scream.  After about three minutes, the pain finally stopped and he slowed his breathing.  His throat and head throbbed with pain as his heart rate began to decrease. One of the curses of his gift was evident: sometimes his brain didn’t know the difference between the dream world and the real world.

              “Alice?  Come on, Alice, wake up.”

              Alice woke slowly to the soft hand of Rodge shaking her.  It didn’t dawn on him how she hated anyone touching her until Rodge got tired of waiting.

              “ALICE!!!”

              Alice leaped out of bed and instinctively punched him across the face.  She didn’t really wake up until she heard the thud of his head on the floor.

              “Rodge! Oh, I am so sorry, it—it’s a reflex.”

              She carefully helped him sit up on the slick hardwood floor as he nursed his bleeding nose.

              “You know, I am really starting to wonder you why aren’t married.”

              “Enough with the sarcasm. Are you okay?”

              “Yeah, I’m fine.  Why are you looking at me like that?”

              Rodge was definitely not used to a look of compassion in Alice’s eyes.  Especially not a look like that directed toward him.

              She rolled her eyes and stood up, content with the fact that he was going to live.

              “Just don’t wake me up like that again, okay?”

              “Yeah, sure.”

              “Now WHAT was so important?”

              “Well, for one, it is eleven o’clock and we need to keep on the move.”

              Alice wasn’t impressed. 

              “There had better be an ‘and’ in there somewhere.”

              “And I think I’ve found Sage’s trail.”

              Alice raised her eyebrows.

              “Seriously?”

              “Yeah.  Seriously.”

              “Well don’t just stand there, tell me what you found!”

              The real Alice was back.

              “Well I broke into the library last night and was up all night researching this and the key is in the name.   This Sage guy has been around for years—or at least the name Sage has been.  During World War III he fought for the rights of rogues.  But it gets better.  He isn’t just a writer, he’s a fugitive.  A few years back his name was released as a wanted fugitive who had escaped from prison.  I only got bits and pieces of information here and there but a man associated with Sage was released from prison after cooperating fully.  He lives in Alaska.”

              “Alaska?”

              “Yes.”

              “Then I guess that means we’re taking a road trip.”

              “Alice . . .”

              “Yeah?”

              “Are you sure you want to do this?” Rodge asked.

              “Do what?”

              “Chase after this guy.  There is a better than decent chance that this whole affair will end badly.”

              Alice looked down at the floor, and then looked at the rest of the room.  The small one-room cabin they were staying in appeared to have been abandoned.  She still wasn’t used to this lifestyle, constantly moving, constantly afraid of some enemy tracking her down and killing her.  She had learned to adjust to it, and to deal with it by strutting and boasting in the face of fear.  That didn’t mean she was okay with living like this.  She had to find a way out.  No matter what the cost, she would find security.

              “Yes, I’m sure.  I’m not living like this for the rest of my life.”

              “I fear that once we set out looking for this man there will be no turning back.”

              “Rodge, if you don’t want to come with me—“

              “No no, that’s not what I meant.  I’m just saying that if we are going to do this, we have to be dedicated to it.”

              “I am dedicated.  I am willing to do what it takes.”

              “Then I guess I am too.”

              They began to get their stuff packed up.  They didn’t carry much with them so it proved to be a fairly easy task.  They took a brief look around the room, gathering the nostalgic effect of it.  They had been running for a very long time, two years at least.  Only now were they really starting to become friends.  Alice trusted Rodge and she had not trusted anyone in a very long time.  Ever since her mother tried to kill her father she had refused to accept what people seemed to be.  The fact that she was a rogue made people even more untrustworthy.  However, she still had not told Rodge what she could do.  She was afraid he would leave her.  She still needed him and not just because he was a skilled hacker.  She needed a friend.