Underground (13 page)

‘They're gone. But not for long,' said Jordan. She put a hand on Peter's shoulder. ‘Where is it?'

‘The windmill picture,' said Peter, staring at his dad. ‘The one with Bill's note on the back. The DVDs are stuck under the frame.'

‘Right.' She disappeared into his bedroom.

‘Peter, where have you –?' Mr Weir paused, finally releasing his son. ‘Wait. You're walking! I thought Shackleton –'

‘Yeah, he did,' said Peter, straightening up to hug his mum as she appeared in the doorway, dressed in a nightgown. ‘But the people who took me –' ‘Peter,' I said, glancing down the stairs. ‘We don't really have time for this.'

Peter pulled away from his mum and I took a step back in case he decided to attack me again. But then he nodded. ‘Yeah. I'll explain later. We need to get you out of here before the guards come back.'

There was a smashing sound and a tinkling of broken glass from the next room. Jordan obviously wasn't wasting any time getting that picture frame undone.

‘Peter, slow down,' said Mrs Weir, resting her hands on Mr Weir's shoulders. ‘What
is
all this? Why are they after you?'

‘Because they're trying to kill everyone outside of Phoenix,' said Peter, ‘and we're trying to stop them.'

His parents stared. Peter glanced nervously between them. The silence stretched out.

Finally, Peter's mum closed her eyes. ‘Okay,' she said in a hollow voice. ‘So … what do we need to do?'

I felt a twinge of jealousy. One sentence and she was right on board. Meanwhile, my mum was shacking up with Dr Frankenstein.

I pushed the feeling aside. It wasn't their fault my mum was a moron.

Jordan came up behind me. ‘Time to go,' she said, touching my arm.

I nodded at Peter's mum and dad. ‘They're coming too.'

Jordan glanced at Mr Weir's wheelchair for a second. ‘All right. But someone's going to need to –' ‘No,' said Mr Weir. ‘We're staying.'

‘What?'
Peter dropped down, eye to eye with his dad. ‘No freaking way. You can't. Don't you get what's going on?'

Mr Weir rapped the side of his wheelchair. ‘Yeah, mate. I get it.'

‘They can fix you!' said Peter. ‘There's a doctor down there.'

‘Down where?' his mum asked.

‘No, don't,' said Peter's dad. ‘It's safer if we don't know. Just as long as – You'll be out of sight of the new security system, right?'

‘
Yes,
' said Peter, ‘which is exactly why we need to hurry up and get you
out
of here!'

But I'd suddenly realised where Mr Weir was coming from. ‘We can't,' I said.

Peter's head snapped up at me. ‘We bloody well
can!'

‘No, Peter – the suppressor,' I said. ‘They're still tracking him.'

‘We'd have to be quick,' said Jordan. ‘Straight out and into the bush before –'

‘Then what?' said Mr Weir, shaking his head. ‘Say we make it back to wherever you kids are hiding – how do we deal with Shackleton if we can't set foot inside the town?'

‘Hold on,' said Jordan slowly. ‘You're saying you
want
to stay here? You want to keep working with us from the inside.'

‘What do you mean
keep
working?' asked Peter, standing up.

‘He distracted Shackleton for us,' I said. ‘The night we found you. He was the one who –'

‘You used
him?'
said Peter, fists balling up. ‘After what Shackleton did to Reeve, you thought you'd just send my dad in to follow in his bloody footsteps?'

‘Calm down, Pete.' Mr Weir reached for Peter's hand. ‘They didn't
use
me. I wanted the job. And now you're back, so I reckon I must've done all right.'

Peter's hands relaxed a bit. He kept glaring at me, but didn't say anything.

‘Pete, look at me,' said Mr Weir, pulling Peter back down to eye level. ‘I understand how dangerous this is. But you can't take on Shackleton by yourself. And we're your
parents
. It's about bloody time you let us step in here.'

Peter looked up at his mum, a tortured expression on his face.

She shivered, pulling her dressing gown tighter around herself. ‘All right, let me preface this by saying I have no idea what any of you are talking about. But if Dad thinks us staying here is going to be best for you … then that's what we'll do.'

Peter slowly stretched to his feet and hugged her again. ‘How the crap am I letting you do this?'

‘Because you know it's the right thing,' said Mr Weir.

Peter let go of his mum. ‘Better be.'

‘We've got access to the security feeds around town,' I said, turning toward the stairs. I didn't want to pull the family apart again, but we'd been here too long already. ‘If you need to get our attention, just get in front of one of the old cameras.'

‘Also,' said Jordan to Mrs Weir, ‘if you happened to be riding up that bike path over the road and
accidentally
dropped a newspaper into –'

A crash from downstairs ended our conversation. The screen door flying open again.

The security guards were back inside.

Chapter 17

T
UESDAY
, J
UNE
30
44
DAYS

‘Quick!' said Mr Weir, jabbing a finger at his bedroom door. ‘Hide. I'll get rid of them.'

But it was already too late for that.

The light over the stairs flashed on. Cook was walking up, weapon raised. Miller raced up behind him, drawing his own gun, playing along.

At least, I hoped that was all he was doing.

‘All of you, stay right where you are!' said Cook. ‘First one to move gets a bullet.'

Officer Cook's hands were shaking. He reminded me of Mike. In too deep and overcompensating by getting all trigger-happy.

‘Come on, mate,' said Peter, raising his hands above his head. He stepped across to the top of the stairs, looking not quite himself. ‘You don't want to –'

‘I said
don't move,
' Cook snapped, still edging closer.

Peter leant toward him as he approached. I had just enough time to be surprised at his sudden rush of courage before –

BLAM!

He leapt at Cook.

There was a smash of glass and the house went dark again as Cook's bullet shot through the light fixture above our heads. Mrs Weir screamed.

Peter and Cook went rolling over each other down the stairs, almost taking Miller with them as they tumbled past.

‘Pete!' yelled Mr Weir, as Jordan and I bolted down.

Below us, Peter and Cook had already hit the bottom. Cook's gun was gone, but he was getting up on his hands and knees, pinning Peter to the ground by the shoulders.

Jordan leapt down the last few stairs. I dashed after her, reaching the ground just in time to hear Peter let out a strangled roar.

And then, impossibly, Cook was flying backwards.

SMASH!

He went straight through the front window, onto the verandah on the other side, one of his legs still hooked over the windowsill.

I stared down at Peter, who was flat on his back in the hall. ‘What was
that?'

He got to his feet, grimacing, right hand clutching his shoulder, and ran for the front door.

‘Wait – stop!' called Officer Miller, thundering down behind us.

Jordan dashed after Peter.

What just happened?

It was impossible.

But what did that even mean anymore?

‘Luke!' Mr Weir called down. ‘What's going on?'

Hard to say,
I thought, heading outside.

‘Stay there!' I called back over my shoulder.

Mr Weir started grumbling that he didn't have much choice, but by then I was out the door.

Cook was on his feet again, backed up against the bike rack at the far end of the verandah. Even in the dull glow of the porch light, I could tell that he was bleeding pretty badly.

Peter stepped toward him, maniac fire in his eyes.

‘Miller!' Cook roared. ‘Get out here!'

Officer Miller stepped into the doorway.

‘Peter, come on,' I said. ‘Time to go.'

I grabbed his arm to pull him away. He jumped at the touch and spun around, sending a fist rocketing toward my face. I don't know if he even knew it was me. I reeled out of the way, knocking into Jordan, finding my feet just in time to stop both of us falling down the verandah steps.

Officer Cook took advantage of the distraction. He ran at Peter, grabbing him around the middle. They wrestled to the ground again and somehow Peter got back on top. He grabbed the officer's wrists, squeezing like he was trying to snap them right off.

‘Peter!' I yelled. ‘
Leave
him!'

Miller pushed past me, into the fray. I stepped aside, and caught something moving in my peripheral vision.
Oh, great.
Two more officers were coming up the street.

I doubled back. ‘Jordan!'

She was up the other end of the verandah, and –

No. Oh no. Not now.

Jordan was bent double over the railing, coughing and shuddering, fighting for breath. Halfway into another one of her visions.

I moved to help her, one eye still locked on the approaching guards. ‘Jordan!'

She stopped shaking.

‘Hey. You okay?' I asked. ‘Are you here?'

Her eyes opened and she took in a gasping breath.

I backed off a bit. ‘Jordan …?'

She got up from the railing, slipped past me, and started down the steps.

‘No – wait!' I said.

No response. The two guards bolted in through the front gate, but Jordan just kept walking like she couldn't see them. Which, obviously, she couldn't.

I gave Peter one last backward glance before going after Jordan. Miller had got well and truly dragged into it now, and it was kind of hard to tell who was fighting who.

One insane disaster at a time. Was that really so much to ask?

Jordan was still headed straight for the guards.

‘Hey – hold it!' said the guy in front. Blonde hair. Glasses glinting in the darkness. Only a few years older than me. I'd seen him before, but back then he'd been working a coffee cart outside the mall.

One of Calvin's new recruits,
I realised.

He raised his gun at Jordan and all thoughts flew from my mind.

‘Put it down!' said the other guard, an older guy I didn't recognise. ‘If you shoot her, Shackleton'll –'

SMASH!

The guards' eyes shot to the verandah.

A whole section of the railing had just blasted apart. Officer Cook sailed out onto the lawn, crashing to the grass in the middle of a pile of broken wood palings.

Peter stood silhouetted on the verandah, staring down at the crumpled guard.

I couldn't see Miller anywhere.

‘Hey!' shouted Coffee Cart Guard again. ‘Hey! I told you to
stop.'

Jordan was seconds from slamming straight into them. The older guard reached out to grab her. His hands closed in on her shoulders –

And they kept going. Straight
through
her body.

‘Aahh!' I shouted, jolting back.

The guard gasped and jumped aside, staring down at his hands like they were infected with something.

I heard screams from over the fence. Neighbours, coming out to watch.

Coffee Cart Guard backed up, raising his gun again, point-blank at Jordan's chest.

‘STOP!' I ran forward. ‘You can't –!'

BLAM!

I ducked down, hands over my head. ‘NO!'

More screaming.

I opened my eyes again. Jordan was still walking. Unharmed, unflinching. The bullet had gone right through her, like she wasn't even there.

Jordan closed in on Coffee Cart Guard. He dived out of her way, dropping his gun. She gazed off to her left, eyes widening in shock at something none of us could see.

Someone shot past me, a shadow charging across the grass. Peter, running at Coffee Cart Guard, low growls rumbling in his throat. He'd seen him fire on Jordan, and he was not happy.

Coffee Cart Guard jumped to his feet, fumbling with his gun, and then –

I don't know what happened.

Suddenly he was shooting across the lawn like a soccer ball. Peter hadn't even
touched
him. The guard crashed into the front fence and landed in a heap. Peter ran after him.

I felt like my head was caving in. Too much insanity all at once. I mean, obviously Phoenix had never been
normal
, but I thought we were all still obeying the laws of physics, at least.

Jordan was running now. She stopped at the fence and reached down, pulling frantically at the empty air, like the gate wasn't open already.

‘Jordan!' I shouted, closing the gap between us.

I grabbed her shoulder, or
tried
to anyway. My hand went straight through her. She ran out onto the street, oblivious.