Torn (14 page)

Mercer liked her. But she couldn't make the mistake of blurring their friendship again. She wasn't ready, and she wasn't sure she'd ever be ready. It wasn't fair to him. Even as she thought it, Mercer's arms encircled her tighter, and she couldn't ignore the comfort in his embrace. But she couldn't worry about it; there wasn't time. All she could think about was getting safely to Durham and finding doctors who could figure out how to help her family and friends. The rest would fall into place.

 

 

Davis awoke cold and alone, the morning sunlight streaming through the sides of the trapdoor that led to the lower deck. Groggy and aching, she pushed into a sitting position.
They'd hit land.
A beautiful, hilly farmland stretched out in the distance, still too far to reach without swimming but there nonetheless. It gave her a slight surge of hope. They'd seemed to have reached a kind of inlet or river, surrounded on three sides by low-hanging trees. It was lovely; she'd never seen natural beauty in such abundance. It was like nothing she'd ever seen before.

But Mercer was gone.
Oh, God.
They had kissed. They had held each other all night. Their relationship before … it had been clearly defined; now everything was called into question. Davis didn't know what she wanted. She'd tried so long to reassure herself that her attraction to Mercer was just a normal result of being close to someone in a strange situation. She didn't feel for Mercer the same kind of passion she'd felt for Cole. She thought back to the night
Cole
had lain next to her, holding her until dawn on the roof of the hospital. That had been magical; it had made her happier than she'd believed possible. Last night with Mercer was different. It was comforting and safe, but it lacked that same magic.

She was attracted to him, though. And sometimes, their easy affection felt like something more. But at TOR-N, everything was bound to be a little blurry. They'd
had
to be close—neither of them had had anyone else. But now … she didn't know how she felt. Did he? Had he wanted this all along? And if so, how much? Davis wasn't sure she was ready for anything. Cole's death was too fresh; she loved him still. She didn't want to hurt Mercer.

The boat felt eerily still, like they'd dropped the anchor. The whole situation was odd, because Mercer had specifically said they should avoid land at all costs—it was too dangerous. The air was muggy and stifling, and suddenly it was all she could do not to scream from the claustrophobia of it all, being in this tiny ship with no way out. She struggled to compose herself, rising from the bench and looking over the side of the boat.

Where
was
he? Maybe he'd jumped off the side to “bathe” as well as he could, or maybe he was making sure the anchor was secure so they could find more supplies on land. But the water around her was still. Sunlight flooded the deck. She blinked against its rays, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

Davis pulled herself upright and moved toward the opposite end of the deck. She started to call for Mercer.

Then she froze.

The sound of a long howl broke the tranquility of the peaceful setting.

It was followed by a cacophony of barking, followed by the rattling of chains and the sound of deep male voices.

Dogs.
Police dogs.
She knew it instinctively. She'd heard those same chains rattling before, and men didn't keep dogs as pets, not since fifty years ago. Dogs were trained for service, generally in the military or police force.

She was paralyzed by fear—every limb felt weighted down by bricks, or sluggish, the way they felt in her nightmares when she tried to run and couldn't, as if she were mired in quicksand. She heard the thudding of what sounded like a pack of dogs in the distance, drawing closer, patrolmen likely on their heels.

And then she clambered down from the boat and began to run.

10

COLE

Cole had mentioned the old stone house—the one he and Worsley and Hamilton had played in as kids—when he returned from Worsley's lab. But he hadn't expected Mari to weave it into his training. He'd merely wondered if she'd played in it too as a kid—if they'd had any shared experiences. Now, though, they drew closer and closer to the edge of the Slants, north of where Cole's community was located, and he was growing suspicious.

“Where are we headed?” he asked for what felt like the millionth time, shouting to be heard over the pelting rain.

“You'll see,” she told him again. Sure enough, they came to the top of a gentle hill and the decrepit building rose out atop a smaller hill ahead of them. It was alone and abandoned against the backdrop of the wilderness. Stretching out beyond the mansion's crumbling facade was nothing but wild, undeveloped parts of the territory. It felt peaceful out there … but Cole was exhilarated by the untamed aspect of the land. He wondered what lurked in the woods past the house; it was an area he'd never ventured into. He hadn't had reason to—he didn't even know what exactly lay beyond it.

“I'd been wondering what challenge would bring you back to your past,” Mari told him, watching his face. “Then you mentioned the old Blackwell house. It's perfect.”

“Why do I need to go back to my past to train for the Olympiads?”

“You'll see. So much of winning is mental.”

Cole scoffed. He knew that well. He'd known that when he'd entered, and won, the final rounds of FEUDS. He wondered what Mari thought she could teach him about it, but he fought to keep his face neutral and his mind open. When they crossed the foyer into the house—which was musty and damp—Cole was thrust back into a torrent of memories from childhood.

The house reminded Cole of his days with Hamilton and Worsley, but also of the two or three old, crumbling chapels that remained in the Slants. This, though, was in better condition. The chapels in the Slants had mostly fallen apart beyond their facades; he and Hamilton had used to pretend the buildings were castles, as children, and they were knights. They'd loved buildings like these.

The structure of this house was still intact, but its tall ceilings and damp stone walls had a similar archaic feel. Cole remembered a conversation he'd had with Davis about his escapades in the old churches as well as in the Blackwell house, and she'd remarked that they sounded simpler and more atmospheric somehow, unencumbered by advancements. She'd seemed to like knowing that relics from the past still existed in Columbus. Cole had always wondered if it was because she was hanging onto the past in her own way, in order to connect with her mom.

Now he squinted into the dank and musty space, breathing deeply to minimize the bittersweet feeling that threatened to overwhelm him. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that the space wasn't empty and barren as he remembered it. In addition to cobwebs and dust, the room was strung with ropes and appeared to be set up to resemble some sort of obstacle course.

He turned to Mari. “What is it?”

“Some homemade challenges,
à
la Mari Braddock.” Mari puffed her chest theatrically, showing off. “They're meant to test you physically and psychologically. Because that's what the Olympiads will do. When you're out there, you have to be prepared for anything. So. Challenge number one is an obstacle course. Go.”

Cole rolled his eyes. If an obstacle course was all she had in her, this would be easy. Still, she seemed cockier than he would have liked—her arms were crossed over her chest, and her shoulders were thrust back. She stood with her feet planted hip-width apart, and with her head held high like that, her long dreadlocks resembled a lion's mane. Her mouth turned up just slightly, as though she was amused by his reaction. It didn't sit well.

He moved forward, easily ducking beneath a web of ropes until he entered a narrow corridor blocked on all sides by a puffy plastic tarp that appeared to be filled with air. The tarp-lined walls narrowed until Cole was forced to crawl on his hands and knees through a space no more than a few inches wider than his body in all directions. He couldn't see an end to the tunnel; it was pitch black. He began to back out, but he hit a wall.

“Hey!” He banged on the wall, certain it hadn't been there before. Had Mari blocked him off? What kind of twisted game was she playing? For not the first time, he felt angry that someone he didn't trust was in control of him.

“Keep moving forward, Cole. Once you're in the Olympiads, you can't turn back, no matter what happens.”

The space was so tiny he could barely breathe. Cole felt the walls closing in on him as he moved along, crawling lower as the walls and ceiling began to press down on him and converge. Finally he was moving forward on his belly, using his arm strength to pull his torso forward inch by inch. He was drenched in sweat and near panic. But he had to keep moving.

It was then that he heard it. A faint but familiar moan. He moved forward, straining to hear. It became clearer as he inched forward. But what was it? Cole pushed against the air-filled tarps. He worried that he'd just hit another wall if he kept going. Had he missed a turn? He felt panic beginning to overtake him, and he thrashed around, hoisting his body forward with as much strength as he could muster.

Then he broke free, tumbling over a ledge into another dimly lit room. The noise was all around him now, and there was no mistaking what it was: the sound of his mother's voice, guttural and bereft.

“Help!” Her voice echoed all around him, followed by the pounding of fists against a wall.

“Mom? Where are you?” Cole looked around him, panicked, but couldn't see an exit.

“Won't somebody help, please!” She broke into sobs, and Cole's chest wrenched at the sound of it.

“Where is she?” he shouted. “What did you do to her?” He was overcome by fury and confusion. Had Mari and Braddock done something to his mother? He'd been a fool to trust them! Was this all some sort of trap designed to exploit him? But why? He ran the length of the room, feeling the walls until he located a crack. He followed the crack vertically until he came across a metal latch, which he flicked. It led to a long hallway—thankfully lit this time. Mari stood at the other end of the hall, watching him.

“Stay calm, Cole,” she told him.

“What have you done?” he shrieked, hearing his mother scream for help, her fists echoing on a distant wall. “Where is she?”

“She's not here,” Mari told him.

“What?” He looked around him, confused. “I hear her. She's got to be nearby, then. We need to help her!”

“No, Cole. It's a recording. She isn't here.”

“It sounds so real.” He hesitated, unsure whether to believe Mari. She approached him, raising her fists.

“Fight with me, Cole. See if you can remain centered.”

“My mom—”

“No.” Her voice was sharp. “It's an illusion.”

Cole clenched his fists. He couldn't tell whether to believe her; his mother's voice sounded immediate and desperate. He felt torn in every direction. Confused.

“Focus!” Her voice snapped him back to attention. “You think this is bad? They're going to throw you a lot worse in the Olympiads. They fight dirty, Cole.”

“But how did you do this?” And
why?
It was cruel, what she'd done.

“Easy.” She shrugged. “I'm tiny. I'm a girl. I have an innocent face. I can slip in and out of places without being seen. I got a clip of your mother's voice at that place where she's staying—that home. I copied it, used it as a template, and programmed in my own script.”

“She was never screaming for help,” Cole clarified. “Even the recording isn't accurate.” His entire body burned with anger.

“It's not. But if it were, you'd need to be able to fight through it. You need to fight through it right now. Fighting isn't technically legal in the Olympiads … but believe me, Cole, there will be rules broken all over the place. So spar with me.”

She raised her fists and came at him, swinging for his face. Cole blocked it but found himself stumbling backward from the force of it. He wasn't prepared to fight a girl, didn't know how to handle it. He was angry, but too angry. Angry enough to do real damage. He didn't want to do anything he'd regret. And his mother's voice was still all around him, pouring into his ears, distracting him.

“Concentrate!” Mari shouted. He moved after her, swinging as she ducked away. She was startlingly nimble, darting through small doorways and under mezzanines in a way that made him feel clumsy and his fists bumbling. If only he could concentrate. His mother was everywhere. It was oppressive. Every movement he made that wasn't a movement toward his mother felt like a betrayal. He didn't know what to do or where to swing—his anger and confusion about
how
to fight with Mari, especially when he was so furious, thrummed in his ears.

“It's okay to feel things, Cole,” he heard Mari say. “Emotion is what makes us stronger. It's what gives Gens the advantage. Why do you think Priors came to my father for training?” She was panting, her eyes glittering, and when he paused, she laid him flat with a dirty kick to his shin. “It's because he understands suffering.”

Cole lay on the floor in front of her, clutching his painful leg. He simply couldn't focus.

“Think. How are you going to get out of this? How can you beat me? Be smart, Cole. You have the edge. Priors don't know pain.”

Cole thought. Mari had told him to recognize his advantage. To start fighting smarter. But he could barely focus with the recording on.

That was it.
Cole needed to find and destroy the recording! With renewed purpose, he leapt to his feet. He avoided Mari's strikes, looking around him. In a stone house, the best acoustics would be … up top. Near the roof. Cole looked around him, seeing a balcony stretch high above him on the far south side of the massive room in which they were sparring.
Bingo.
It had to be there.