Outbreak (2 page)

My hands twitch, desperate to find a way to get to my throat and release my invisible bindings. My lungs clench as my airway closes. My eyes begin to bulge. I need oxygen.
Don’t panic, Dakota. Stay calm
. Again I attempt to move. Nothing. The more frantic I become, the more the oxygen escapes my lungs. My mouth falls open and soundless screams escape. Terror seizes my thoughts, my body.

This is it—death.

It won’t be long now.

My vision blurs until my eyes roll back in oblivion. I’ll be unconscious in seconds.

Dead.

“Dakota.”

My thoughts wrap around the word, my name.

“Dakota. Are you up, yet?”

My eyes pop open. Sun streams through the thin fabric that covers the windows, brightening the small room.

“The day is wasting. Get up!”

David’s voice vanquishes the reoccurring nightmare as I push myself up on my elbows. “I’m coming,” I manage to say. “Just give me a few more minutes.”

David laughs. “No.” He walks into the room and sits next to me on the bed. “No more minutes.”

I blink away the last remnants of sleep, pushing aside the panic of the nightmare. “Why? No one’s waiting for us, are they?” I’m only half-joking.

“It’s your birthday, silly.” David leans in and kisses my neck and jaw. “I have a surprise for you.”

“My birthday?”
How did I forget?

“Yes. Now get up. I want to take you to the beach.”

“Mmm. That sounds nice.”

David kisses my forehead. “It is. So, get up.” He leaves our tiny bedroom.

I stretch and sit, eventually staggering to the bathroom to clean up. “Happy Birthday,” I say to the person staring back at me through the only mirror in our small place. Age kisses my soul. There’s a fatigue in my expression that can only come from the experiences of the past year. Fatigue and wisdom. Gone are the silly fantasies of an exciting life away from Cambria, replaced by the realities of my world and a desire to reclaim the normalcy I once avoided.

I look better than I did six months ago. No more dark circles under my eyes, confessing my lack of sleep and incessant nightmares. No more worry lines etched too deep into my face. The time away from everything and everyone is good for me.

David
is good for me.

I release a deep sigh and throw a simple cotton dress over my bikini. David waits for me on the porch. “So, are we going or what?” I say as I jog a little ahead of him.

David laughs, swings a small pack onto his shoulders and follows me down the narrow mile-and-a-half hike to the rugged shoreline below the house.

We moved into the small secluded house days after the accident. It sits on private land owned by the Hawaiians. No Trespassing signs dot the gates that surround the property. How we managed to convince the owners to rent to us is beyond me. I have David to thank for it.

I have David to thank for everything lately.

The sun begins to ascend, bathing the world in sun-kissed fog. The black rocks that poke out along our path are moist as the morning dew refuses to abate. David steadies my body, one hand on my waist as he leads me to the beach below. I’ve taken this hike a million times over the past several months. I could probably climb all of the way down with my eyes closed, except for the whole falling-to-my-death thing.

The mood is light and we reach the beach faster than I expect. The sun turns the water into spun gold. The color tugs on my memories. My eyes moisten. A quick gasp escapes before I think to stow my emotions.

“Josh would like this place,” David says. He always knows what I’m thinking, even before I do.

“Yeah,” I manage to push past the stream of grief that fills me. I can’t hide myself from David. We’re connected in ways I can’t express, experiencing each other’s minds, our emotions and thoughts, on a near-constant basis. He’d stay out of my head if I ask.

I never do.

David grabs my hand, leading me to flat spot positioned among the jagged rocks and waterlogged moss. “I brought breakfast,” he says with a smile.

I want to lose myself in his expression and forget the memories unleashed by the sunrise over the water. “Thanks.”

He retrieves a few containers filled with yogurt, berries and granola. “Happy birthday, babe. I love you.”

He says the last words every day, and although his feelings mirror my own, I can’t bring myself to tell him. So, I do the only thing I can. I lean into him, inhaling the familiar, clean scent of his skin. I brush my lips against his and I hope the act conveys everything he means to me. He is my world, my life, my safe place.

Even if I don’t deserve one.

“What are you thinking about?” David asks.

I can’t say what I really feel, can’t say that I know LeMercier is still out there. I can’t tell him about the nightmares that have returned, or the strange murderous thoughts that fill my soul. “You,” I say as I push aside the other thoughts. “I was thinking about you.”

“Mmmm,” he purrs. “I like that. Anything in particular?”

“Tell me what you remember about us. Before. When we were kids.” I ask him about our childhood often. I wish my memories were as strong as his.

David never grows weary of my questions, never evades. A smile grows on his face and he takes my hands in his and brings them to his lips. “I knew I loved you from the minute I saw you. Your tangled blonde hair always in a heap on your head. The way you’d look at me whenever you caught me staring at you, a mix of intrigue and defiance. The determination you had with every new challenge the researchers tossed at you.

“You didn’t like me at first. Do you remember that? Josh didn’t either. I think he was being protective.”

“And me? Why didn’t I like you?” I ask. David has never told me this part of the story before.

He drops my hands and sits next to me, his hand on my knee. “I don’t know, really. One day you looked at me like I was the most annoying person in the world, and the next minute it just . . . changed. I guess my charm finally wore you down.” David shoves me with his shoulder and laughs.

“Yeah, that must be it,” I joke.

“After the accident with Maya’s father and the lab, I knew something would happen to us. I overheard your mom and some of the others talking, saying that the experiments were dangerous. I assumed everything would end, that we would be separated.” David’s voice trails off, his eyes moving to the horizon, his thoughts lost inside his head. “But I always knew we’d find each other again.”

“How? How did you know?” The words are almost a whisper.

David faces me. “Because we’re soul mates.” He pulls me to him and lightly kisses my forehead, my cheek, my lips. “I never wanted to leave you before, in high school. Even then, before my memories returned, I knew we were meant to find each other, to be together. Josh is the one that told me who you were—who we both were. He was worried about your safety. When he filled in the missing pieces and my memories were whole, I was worried too. I didn’t want anything to hurt you.” Worry lines carve themselves into his brow. “I still shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry.”

David’s apologized a million times for leaving. He doesn’t need to. I understand. Most of the time. “Why don’t I remember that time as much as you do?”

“I don’t know.” David doesn’t have the answers I need to hear. He’s too kind to lie, even to help me heal. He leans in and kisses me lightly again, the act revealing the same pain I feel.

“Never mind,” I say once the kiss ends. “It doesn’t matter. We’re together now.”

“And I’m never leaving again. No matter what.” He offers another kiss, deeper this time. Another promise.

The sun stretches high above us before we decide to climb the hill back to our place. We are careful never to be seen together in public, not to raise suspicion. Even in the nearly deserted town of Kahakuloa, our presence would be unusual—two haoles wandering around hallowed Hawaiian land. Not tourists, not residents.

And not likely.

“Let’s go somewhere tonight. Ka’anapoli, maybe. Or Lahaina. I saw a cruise ship in port. We can blend in with the tourists.” David’s restlessness grows a little more each day. “Come on. We need to do something fun for your birthday. Please? For me.” He doesn’t want to hide anymore.

I do.

“We can’t take the risk. Not even once.”

“No one’s looking for us anymore, Dakota.”

We’ve had this same discussion a hundred times. “There’ll always be someone,” I say. “Ten years passed the last time. I think they’d be willing to wait even longer now.”

“Assuming there is someone left.” David’s voice is firm. “The lab is gone, Dakota. LeMercier didn’t survive the fire.”

I cringe at the sound of
his
name. “You don’t know that for certain. There are no reports that his body was found. My father has escaped worse.”

“Don’t call him that! He was never a father to you.” David’s jaw is set in his best don’t-mess-with-me face.

“What if he’s still out there? What if he finds us?”

David stops mid-step and turns to face me. The path is narrow and steep, the rock face on one side and a sheer drop on the other.

“Stop it!” David says with more force than I expect. “I love you, Dakota. But you need to stop assuming the world is about to end.”

“Maybe it is.” My hands fist at my sides.

“I’m being serious. I know you’re worried. I get it, all things considered. But no one is coming after us. The Solomon experiments are over. So is Project Stargate. The researchers are all dead. Tate, your parents, my dad.” David’s voice cracks on the last word. David never talks about his father, Dr. Jennings’, death.

I never ask him to explain what happened. The files on LeMercier’s laptop were clear: a fire in one of the labs. Misdirected psychic attacks. Foolish attempts to control my abilities. Like everything else, it was ultimately my fault. My eyes fill before I can stop them.

“I don’t blame you,” David says as he reads my thoughts. “His death was an accident.” He kisses away my tears. “Dakota, listen. I love you. But, if you don’t let go of the past, that place . . . if you can’t move forward . . . we’ll never be whole.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek, catching the last of the tears. “I want us to have a life together. A future. We can’t if you won’t move on.”

David’s right. He’s always right. But, I don’t know how to let go. “What if you’re wrong?” My voice trembles. “What if
he
comes after us again?”

David pulls me to him, leaning me against the mountain face. His breath is hot against my neck, a stark contrast to the cool trade winds that begin to blow through the valley.

“What if he sends new assassins? What if I am forced to . . .”

He hears my fears before I speak them. “You’re not a killer.” His lips brush mine. “You aren’t a killer,” he whispers between kisses. “Your gifts are not a curse. They are beautiful, just like you.” His mouth subdues my fear and feeds my soul. “Your destiny isn’t that of a killer. You have to learn to manage your gifts. Let me help you. Trust me.”

Trusting David isn’t the problem.

I don’t trust
me
.

Seven padded across the room, watchful and silent. He’d learned a few things since the Architect’s death, lessons that included never making yourself too known to others and never becoming too confident of your position within the Order or with the Creator. Both would get you killed. Seven knew he had to play things cool if he was going to survive whatever the Creator had planned.

The floor was cold beneath his bare feet. “Be in touch with the ground whenever you can. You will sense more of the life around you,” the Creator said. “And that will fuel your abilities.” He drilled this into Seven constantly, so much so that he almost never wore shoes at the compound.

But this wasn’t his compound now. That had been destroyed by the very people he was meant to capture. This was something new, some place foreign.

Are you ready for your next assignment?
The Creator’s voice soothed Seven’s restlessness.

Yes, Master. Always.

Come to my office. This is something we must discuss first. In person.

Yes, Master.
Seven didn’t like feeling summoned by anyone, not even the Creator. Not that he could do anything about it. He was the subordinate, at least for now. One day he would have enough strength to be considered an equal. But not yet. For now, Seven was nothing more than an apprentice.