The Awakening (9 page)

16

D
AVISON HANDED
F
AÇADE THE LEAR JET’S
satellite phone. “It’s Victor Cross.”

Façade carried the phone toward the front of the plane, out of earshot of the passengers. “What do you want, Cross?”

Victor Cross yelled, “How the
hell
did you let him get away from you? He’s just a kid!”

Façade said, “He’s smart, and I think he’s more than just that. When we got to the Wagners’ house, they already knew we were coming. And he got away from Davison. Consider who his parents are.”

“You still have
them,
right? You’re not going to tell me that they escaped as well?”

“They’re here. And Danny.”

“So you think that Colin has inherited?”

“His parents deny it, but considering that Colin is the off-spring of
two
superhumans, well, you do the math.”

“That would make him more important than any of them. You realize that? What are you doing to find him?”

“We’ve still got the airport staked out, but it’s unlikely he’s still there, less likely that he’ll return. If we knew what his plans were, we’d have a better chance of finding him.”

“Do I have to think of everything? Interrogate his parents. Find out from them where he might go.”

“They don’t know he’s missing yet. They think he’s following us on another flight. If I tell them he’s missing, they’ll be even less cooperative.”

“Façade, the chances are that they’ve already figured it out. The other boy will have told them.”

“No, I’ve kept them separate. Look, don’t go dumping this on me. They’re your people. You hired them. If they’re as good as they’re supposed to be, they’ll find Colin.”

“They’d better. If he talks to the authorities, he could destroy this entire operation. Certain people will
not
be pleased about that, you understand me? And I’ll make sure that they’re aware that you’re responsible. You were undercover for eleven years. No one knows you and no one will care if your corpse turns up in a Dumpster somewhere.”

Façade paused. “When this is done, Cross, you and I are going to have words. Do
you
understand
me
?”

“You have to eat,” Rachel said to Joseph. “You’ve barely touched your soup!”

Joseph pushed the tray of food across the desk. “It tastes like crap. I had better food in the prison. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

I’m not surprised,
Rachel thought.
I’d be sick too, if I was forced to eat that garbage
. “It’s loaded with proteins and vitamins, Joseph. You need to get your strength back. Just eat it.”

Joseph looked at her, then at the tray of food. He pulled the tray back and resumed eating.

Since his rescue from the prison, Joseph had grown stronger and more focused, and had begun to question Rachel’s orders. Now, in order to keep him docile, everything he ate or drank was drugged with a low dose of thiopentone sodium. It had the added effect of making him very obedient.

A device on Rachel’s belt beeped twice. She unclipped it, flipped open the cover and examined the tiny screen.

“What’s that?” Joseph asked.

“It’s a palmtop.”

“A what?”

“A computer. It’s a progress report from Victor. The last of the equipment has arrived.”

Joseph said, “So who
is
Victor Cross?”

“He’s smart. He’s exceptionally good at figuring people out. That’s why he was hired. He’s one of those people who are able to get things done.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at him—”

Rachel interrupted him. “Eat your food.”

Joseph resumed eating. Around a mouthful of food, he said, “It tastes wrong.”

“Just eat it.”

He looked down at the carrot he’d speared on his fork. “It’s drugged, isn’t it? You’ve put something in the food to make me more amenable.”

“Eat,” Rachel said.

Joseph put the carrot into his mouth and chewed. “I don’t like this. I’ve had enough of people trying to control me. I thought those days were over.”

“It’ll
all
be over soon.”

“I know what happens to you, Rachel.”

“I don’t want to hear this.”

“Your people broke me out of prison because you need my knowledge of the future. I don’t know everything, but I do know how it ends for you. I’ve seen your death. It’s not pleasant.”

17

G
ENE HAD LEFT
C
OLIN IN THE CARE OF
a tiny, fierce-looking young woman who introduced herself as Trish. She looked about twenty, with large brown eyes, bright orange spiky hair and a face covered in piercings. There was a large silver ring through her lower lip that rattled against her teeth when she talked.

But despite her slightly menacing appearance, Colin soon discovered that Trish wasn’t scary; she had a soft, pleasant voice and a permanently cheerful smile.

She directed him into her office and pointed to a chair that was against a blank wall. “Have a seat. I want to take your picture, OK?”

“Why?”

“Officially, it’s because we’re supposed to keep records on all the kids who pass through here. Unofficially, it’s because in my experience most of you give false names and you can’t remember which name you used last time. We don’t mind false names, but we will want to know who you are if you turn up again. So, if you don’t mind?”

Colin sat down. “Go ahead.”

Trish unlocked her desk drawer and took out a Polaroid camera. “OK…” She snapped a shot. “One more for luck…OK. Great, thanks.” She locked the camera and the photos in the drawer and sat down at the desk. “Drag the chair over here, Colin. Is this your first time somewhere like this?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Colin said, lifting the chair into place.

“OK…We need to do some paperwork now. Is that all right?”

“Sure.”

“You want a soda or anything? Hungry?”

“I’m starving. I can’t remember the last time I had something to eat.”

Trish unlocked her desk drawer again and removed a bag of cookies. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks!” Colin greedily grabbed the bag and opened it. The smell of chocolate cookies made his stomach growl, and he wolfed them down.

“What’s going to happen next?” he asked.

“Next?”

“I mean, how long will I be here?”

“You’re not under arrest or anything, Colin. You can come and go whenever you like. But since you’re under age, I’m going to have to make a report to Welfare. They’ll send someone in a day or two to talk to you, try to get you back in touch with your family.”

“The problem is I haven’t run away from home. The woman I was talking to on the phone didn’t tell you?”

“No, they just tell us your name and where to pick you up. So what happened?”

“I was…” Colin was tempted to say “abducted,” but that could lead to a whole new set of problems. “I was just separated from my parents. I’m lost.”

“How did that happen?”

“We had to change flights at the airport. We weren’t able to get seats together. When the plane landed, my parents got off and I didn’t realize. I was waiting for them to come to me, and when I realized that the whole plane was empty, I went looking for them.”

Trish regarded him silently. “So why didn’t you stay at the airport?”

Damn!

“OK…I’ll tell you the truth. I was kidnapped.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really, I was. We all were. I escaped, but they’ve still got my parents and my friend. They told me that they’ve got people everywhere, even in the police, so I can’t go to them.”

Trish leaned forward and rested her chin on her hands, staring into his eyes. “Why were you kidnapped?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got the time.”

“It’s a long story that I don’t want to tell.”

“All right…Colin, you realize that we can only help you if you cooperate with us?”

“I understand that.”

“I’m going to have to assume for the moment that you’re telling the truth. If you can’t go to the police, how do you expect to help your parents?”

“There’s a man I need to contact. He used to know my parents. He’ll help.”

Trish leaned back, picked up a pencil and began to twirl it around her fingers. “And how do you know he’ll be able to do anything?”

“He used to be…good at that sort of thing.”

“What was he, in the FBI, the ATF or something?”

“I think so.”

“I see. And how are you going to find him?”

“I have no idea. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“You do know his name, though?”

“Yeah.” Colin dipped his hand into the bag for another cookie and was surprised to find that the bag was empty. “Sorry. I ate them all.”

“I’ll live.” Trish pulled her computer keyboard over and started tapping at the keys. “We’ve got links into the largest databases in the world. If your parents’ friend is registered anywhere, we’ll find him.”

“OK. His name is Solomon Cord. I don’t know how to spell it, though.”

“Doesn’t matter. This thing is good at matching names by the way they sound, not just the way they’re spelled. Now, what’s your last name again?”

Colin said, “Wagner,” and then realized that he’d been tricked; he’d been planning to give her a fake last name.

Trish nodded and started tapping at the keys. “I’ve found twenty-four Colin Wagners in this state…Five of them are about your age. None reported missing.”

“I’m not from this state. I’m not even from this country. Can’t you tell by my accent?”

“Colin, we get all sorts of people in here. Half the time I can’t understand their words, let alone worry about their accent. All right, let’s find your friend. Any idea how old he is? Middle name? Location? Current occupation? Race? Religion?”

Colin shrugged. “He’s probably about…I don’t know. Forty, forty-five. I wouldn’t think he’s much older than that. I’ve no idea what his middle name is or what he does. I know that he was in New York at one stage. Oh, and he’s black.”

“You’re not giving me much to go on.” A minute later, she smiled. “OK…I’ve got one. He’s not in New York, but it might be your friend. And there’s a driver’s license photo.” She turned the monitor around to show Colin, holding her hand over part of the screen to block out the rest of the information. “That him?”

Colin peered at the photo. This Solomon Cord looked a little older than his father, a handsome man with strong features. Colin tried to picture the man wearing the armor and visor of Paragon. “That could be him.”

Trish swiveled the monitor back. “If this address is right, he lives in Richmond, Virginia.”

“Is that far?”

She smiled. “Oh yeah. Over six hundred miles.”

“How can I get there?”

“You can’t. I’m not allowed to give you any more details than that. But what I can do is get in touch with our affiliates in Richmond, ask them to visit Mr. Cord, give him the phone number here. It could take a couple of days. You feel up to staying around that long?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Danny woke up suddenly as the Lear jet touched down. He was in a tiny cabin at the rear of the jet, his hands still cuffed. A soldier was sitting directly opposite him, staring at him.

“Where are we?” Danny asked.

The soldier ignored the question.

“What happened to Colin? Aren’t you allowed to talk to me?”

The soldier just continued to stare.

All right,
Danny said to himself.
Now, concentrate! I can’t get out of these cuffs, but maybe I can speed up enough so that I can search him for the key without him even noticing.

He tried to focus only on his speed, to alter his perception of time so that everything around him was moving slowly.

It didn’t work.

Five minutes later, Danny was escorted off the plane and toward a waiting car. He looked around. This wasn’t an airport, just a small airfield. There were no other planes, no other people around.

“Where are we?” he asked Davison.

“No talking.”

“Really? Funny name for an airfield.”

Davison laughed. “Smart kid,” he said to Façade.

Façade stared back, his face grim. “Just put him in the car and make sure that he doesn’t get a chance to talk to Colin’s parents.”

Danny said, “You haven’t caught him, have you? That’s why you kept me and his parents separate on the plane. They don’t know for sure that he got away.”

“It won’t make any difference, Danny,” Façade said. “Colin’s on the other side of the country. He doesn’t know anyone in America, and he has no idea where we are. I don’t rate his chances.”

“If anything happens to him, Façade, I’ll make you pay.”

Davison laughed again. “How? You’re tied up, surrounded, and your powers don’t work. What are you going to do? Talk us to death? Now, get in the car.”

“Colin’s still free. He’ll find a way to stop you.”

Façade said, “You have to face the truth, Dan. Colin’s gone.”

18

C
OLIN WAS SHARING A ROOM WITH FOUR
other boys who all looked about fifteen or sixteen. They seemed friendly enough, but kept the conversation to a minimum. Colin assumed that this wasn’t so much because they weren’t curious about him, but more because they didn’t want to answer questions about themselves.

The room had two triple bunks and Colin was told that he could have one of the top bunks. He thought that this was a friendly gesture, since everyone would want the top, but almost immediately he discovered that it was the
least
desirable bunk, because every time one of the other boys moved, the whole bed shook.

It was late afternoon and Colin had been trying—without success—to get some sleep. The boy lying on the bunk beneath him was reading a comic book and kept laughing out loud.

Finally, Colin gave up trying to sleep. He leaned over the edge of the bunk. “Hi.”

The other boy glanced up at him, nodded and resumed reading. He was wearing a plain blue T-shirt, faded jeans and sneakers without socks. He didn’t look much older than Colin, but his worn clothes and rough hands suggested that this wasn’t his first time in the shelter.

The boy had a small pile of other comics beside him.

“What’re you reading?” Colin asked.

The boy showed him the cover. The comic was called
Sprout
.

“Any good?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty funny.”

The boy seemed harmless enough, even a little nervous. “My name’s Colin.”

“Nick.”

“So why are you here?”

Nick paused. “Why are
you
here?”

Colin laughed. “Ah…I think I’m beginning to understand this place.”

Nick put his comic aside. “Your first time?”

“Yeah.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirteen. Nearly.”

“God…I thought
I
was the youngest. I’m fourteen.”

Colin swung down from the bunk. “Have you been here long?”

Nick propped himself up on his elbow. “Three days, so far. They’ll probably come for me tomorrow.”

“Who?”

“My mother and her boyfriend. What about you? Who are you running away from?”

“No one. I’m trying to find someone.”

“That’s a first. Most kids here are running away.”

Colin lowered his voice. “Some of them look pretty tough.”

“You learn how to take care of yourself. Or at least, you learn how to
look
like you can take care of yourself. You got the time?”

“No. Sorry.”

“It must be close to four. What are you on?”

“On?”

“Your chores. Didn’t Trish give you anything to do?”

“No.”

“That’s probably because this is your first day. We’re supposed to help out, you know? It’s part of the whole ‘being treated like an adult’ thing. I’m on kitchen duty. Supposedly, we’ll learn responsibility.” He paused. “It doesn’t work, but it passes the time. If you’ve got nothing else to do, you can help me.”

“Sure.”

Nick climbed out of the bunk and stretched. He gathered up his comics, then paused. “Stuff like this is a kind of currency here. I have to make sure that no one’s going to find them.”

“You want me to wait outside while you hide them?”

“Yeah.”

Colin left the room and closed the door behind him.

The wide corridor had seven other doors, which Trish had told him led to other bedrooms. “We can accommodate up to fifty people,” she’d said. “Though it’s very rare that we’re full.”

At the end of the corridor was a large open area where sunlight poured in through a huge window, in front of which four older boys were stretched out on a pair of very battered sofas. Colin glanced toward them and realized that one of them—larger and older than the others—was looking back. The boy looked about seventeen or eighteen. He was pale-skinned, wearing a new black leather biker’s jacket, with long, ragged blond hair spilling down over his shoulders, and a goatee.

Behind Colin, Nick came out of the room and saw the other boys. “Oh crap. Come on.”

Colin followed Nick down the stairs, through the hallway and into the kitchen.

At one end of the large kitchen, two boys were peeling a mountain of potatoes. They were engrossed in whispered conversation.

“Who are those guys upstairs?” Colin asked.

Nick rolled up his shirtsleeves and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. “That’s Razor’s gang. You don’t want to mess with him.” He handed Colin a dishcloth that featured a faded map of Australia. “You’re drying, OK?”

“OK.”

“Razor’s been on the streets since he was eleven, I heard. He’s seventeen now.” Nick began to sort through the dirty dishes. “I hate this! Everyone’s supposed to rinse off their dishes when they’ve finished their lunch, but almost no one does!” As the sink filled with hot, foamy water, Nick gave Colin a sideways glance. “Here’s a tip. In a shelter like this, the kitchen is a dangerous place. Lot of sharp edges and hot surfaces. Accidents can happen. You know what I’m saying?”

“It’s not the place you want to be if someone’s got a grudge against you.”

“Exactly. And grudges can happen for absolutely no reason. So…” He picked up a large bread knife. “You wash things like this
last
. Keep it next to you.”

Colin paused. “It’s that bad?”

“It can be.” He smiled. “Relax, will you? This is one of the better places. One time I was in a shelter in Tallahassee…Guy about my age got his face burned off over the stove. He made the mistake of sitting in the wrong chair in the TV room. Another guy accidentally fell down the stairs four days in a row.” Nick dumped a large pot into the sink and began scrubbing it.

“Why doesn’t anyone
do
something?”

“Jeez, you
are
a novice. You report it to the staff and next thing you know you’re getting the crap beat out of you every day. You have to let these things go.”

He handed the pot to Colin.

Behind them, the door to the kitchen crashed open. Colin turned to see Razor and his gang watching him.

The two boys peeling the potatoes suddenly remembered they were supposed to be elsewhere and ducked out of the room.

Nick swore under his breath. He grabbed the bread knife and held it under the water.

Razor said, “Hey! New boy! What’re you looking at?”

Colin swallowed. “Nothing.”

“We just thought we’d say hello. Welcome you to this place.”

“Thanks.”

“You want to shake on it?” Razor held out his hand.

Colin glanced at Nick, who was giving all his attention to the dishes.

“You don’t need to ask his permission,” Razor said. “What’s your name, new boy?”

“Colin.”

Again, Razor held out his hand. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Colin.”

Tentatively, Colin reached out. Razor’s hand was almost twice the size of Colin’s.

Colin felt a shock of pain along his right arm as the older boy began to squeeze.

“What’s the problem, new boy? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

Colin gritted his teeth. “No.”

He could feel the sweat building on the back of his neck.

“That’s good. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He squeezed harder; Colin could feel the bones in his hand grinding together.

Razor’s friends laughed. One of them said, “Hey, Raze! I don’t think he likes shaking hands with you.”

Razor frowned. “That so? Is that the case, new boy?”

“No.”

“So you’re calling my friend a liar, are you?”

Enough is enough,
Colin said to himself.
I didn’t escape from Façade and his men just to get beaten up by a gang of kids only a bit older than me!
“Let go of my hand.”

“Now, that’s not very friendly!” Razor said. “You’ve hurt my feelings. What are you going to do to make up for it?”

“Nothing,” Colin said. “You’re tough. You’ll get over it.”

Razor suddenly laughed and his grip relaxed a little. “I think I like you, new boy. You’ve got guts. Either that, or you’re extremely stupid.” He increased the pressure, his fingernails cutting into the back of Colin’s hand.

“I’m beginning to think that I’m extremely stupid. Now, please, let go. You’ve made your point.”

Razor considered this. “I heard ‘Please,’ but I want to hear ‘Pretty please.’”

Colin’s hand ached with the pain. His head was spinning and he felt like he was going to throw up.

Then every muscle in Colin’s body suddenly flinched.

Razor laughed. “You sure I’m not hurting you, new boy?”

And then the pain in Colin’s hand and arm was gone, but he could see from the taut tendons in Razor’s wrist that the boy was still squeezing as hard as he could.

Colin smiled. “Last chance, Razor. Let go.”

“You telling me what to do?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I will. I want to hear you begging for mercy.”

Colin tensed his muscles and squeezed back.

Razor’s grin faded. “No…!”

The hand felt like loose clay in Colin’s grip. He squeezed harder.

Razor gasped, his eyes widening. “Jesus! Let go!”

“You hurt
my
feelings,” Colin said.

Two of Razor’s friends grabbed Colin’s arms and tried to pull him away. Colin gave one last squeeze and Razor dropped to the floor, his eyes rolling, his skin covered in a film of sweat.

Colin let go of Razor’s hand and looked at the boy on his left, who was now backing away. “Hi. My name’s Colin. Shake?” He reached out his hand.

Razor’s gang hesitated for a second, then disappeared from the room. Colin reached down, grabbed Razor’s arm and hauled him easily to his feet. “Go away,” Colin said.

Razor turned and ran.

Colin looked around to see Nick staring at him.

“How the hell did you do
that
?”

“It’s an old family trick,” Colin said, smiling.