The Fray Theory: Resonance (19 page)

A fatal crash. A violent clash of
metal and flesh, and yet, it is the hammer that breaks, not the nail.

And within seconds, the dense
fusion loses steam, lurching to a rocky stop.

Neve staggers back and looks at
the dent her body inflicted on the SUV. It’s almost like the front of the car
is wrapped around an invisible column.

Dazed, and struggling with her
balance, she peers through the windshield at the trail of destruction she
carved into the road.

And like light at the end of a
tunnel, she discovers Romer lying on his side in the middle of a shallow
crater—where
she
had stood mere moments ago.

He’s moving
.
He’s alive
.

With a throbbing head, burning
skin, and a body much too heavy to support, her knees buckle and the ground soars
up to catch her fall.

Romer
rolls onto his back in the middle of the crater. His left side is writhing with
bone-splitting pain. He was so adamant not to land on his head that his
shoulder wound up burdening the worst of the brunt.

But he's alive.

Thank you
, he squeezes his eyes shut,
thank you
,
thank you
,
thank you
, reliving the horrible sensation of freefall. For the life of
him, he can’t believe they’re not scraping him off the ground.

As his lungs settle into a normal rhythm,
he rolls back onto his side and struggles onto all fours.

Like
he feared, his left shoulder is in pretty awful shape. He can barely
put any weight on his left arm.

With a gust of wind from further
up the road, he catches a whiff of burnt plastic. People rush past him in a
flurry of noise and color, far more fascinated by the crash to concern
themselves with his wellbeing.

Probably a blessing in disguise.

His eyes follow the ravaged road
to the wrecked SUV, and he catches a glimpse of Neve’s body before the aggregating
crowd blocks her off.

She’s fine
, Romer exhales a big sigh of relief right before confusion
consumes him.

How could she have possibly
survived a crash like this? Anyone else would have been killed on impact. And
she completely decimated the car
and
the road!

The cemetery
…

He remembers how incredibly dense
Neve’s flesh felt in his grasp, and how impossible it seemed for him to pull
her out of that grave.

But how did she suspend him in the
air?

Romer glances
Romer glances
up at Galen’s building and locates the
broken window he emerged from. Seems like the men who shot at him are steering
clear of it.

Probably on their way down
.

As he struggles to his feet, he
catches a glimpse of Dylan’s bloodied switchblade by his foot. And right next
to it, there’s a slick and unusual gun not unlike the weapons the men upstairs
were aiming at him.

He quickly snatches both weapons
before anyone notices, and makes his way into the alley across from Galen’s.

The shock of his impact with the
ground is slowly wearing off. He’s starting to feel the bone-splitting pain
pulsating through his flesh and bones.

And then he can’t stand it anymore,
and stumbles back against the alley wall, struggling to breathe.

His mind keeps reliving what it felt
like for the ground to race up to him—the rush of his plunge like the sudden dip
of a rollercoaster.

But gravity abandoned its resolve.
The turbulent wind in Romer’s ears allayed to a soft whisper. And when he
looked down, he saw Neve’s glossy hair rise up like black ink in clear water,
her eyes aglow with the most ravishing shade of red he’s even seen.

Until what he had intended as his own
salvation swiped her from beneath. Until the air became thin again, and the
ground, hard.

He winces as a sharp stab of pain
shoots through his left shoulder. And it’s familiar. He knows exactly what he
needs to do. So he slides all the way down against the wall, sitting on the
cold ground.

“C’mon,” he mutters under his
breath as he grabs his left wrist. “C’mon,” he repeats over and over, but the
courage he seeks keeps evading him.

Do it fast
.

Do it hard
.

He swallows the tension in his
throat and YANKS his arm as hard as he dares, popping his shoulder back into
its socket.

He inhales his scream, body
trembling from the painful jolt.
“F—
fuck
—”
he shudders, the scars Isaac adorned his body with pulsating like fresh wounds.

Today is just not his day.

He takes a few deep breathes, and
then sneaks a glance at Galen’s building entrance.

No signs of the men in black.
Yet
.

From the inside of his jacket, he takes
out the gun he found in the crater, and pulls out the magazine to check the
ammo.

The hell
?

He cranes his neck down for a
closer look. Instead of bullets, the magazine is stacked with glass darts containing
a faint blue serum. Are these what they were shooting at him upstairs?

He jerks his head towards Galen’s
building just as two men in black emerge from the lobby.

Romer slides the magazine back
into its chamber and hides the weapon behind him. He then slumps forward and
pretends to be passed out.

He can only hope they’ll spot him
before they spot Neve, or there’s no telling what will happen to her.

Come on
...
Over here
, Romer peers through the veil of his
draping hair. And the instant he is discovered, he shuts his eyes, relying on
his ears to keep track of the men’s whereabouts.

His heart’s pounding against his
chin. And despite trying to keep calm, he can feel himself trembling.

With the crash drawing everyone’s
attention, they can kill him on the spot and get away with it.

He hears a click from a few feet
away as one of the men cocks his gun. And then another.

This is it
, Romer thinks.
I’m done
.

He feels a kick against the side
of his foot, but he’s so paralyzed with fear, his body doesn’t react.

A firmer kick lands higher up on
his calf.

“He’s out,” says one of them.

“The ambulance is en route,” says
the other. “Do we want it here, or—”

“We shouldn’t be transfering them
together,” says the first. “Not after what happened. It’s too risky.”

“What about the girl?”

“They’ll take care of her. Let’s
clear this one out.”

Romer feels their hands on him.
And that means even if they plan on killing him, they don’t intend on doing it
here.

And if their hands are full with
carrying him—

Romer grabs the gun he’s been
hiding and puts a dart in each of their necks.

Completely stunned, the men stumble
back. They reach for their guns, but are already starting to fade.

Before either can pull the
trigger, their weapons slip from their grasps and fall to the ground.

And moments later, they both
crumble in place.

Still in awe of his luck, Romer struggles
to his feet and stares down at their listless bodies.

What now? Should he snag their weapons?
Check their IDs in case he’d ever need to report them?

He immediately decides against
both. There’s no way for him to know when and how poking the bear might wind up
biting him in the ass. He’s already in enough trouble as is.

He looks down at the weapon in his
hand, and with his wine-dampened shirt, starts to wipe off all fingerprints.
His
and
Neve’s. He drops it down by the unconscious men’s feet, and then
inches towards the main street.

From around the corner, he sneaks
a peek in the direction of the crash.

Two police vehicles are already on
scene.

That was fast
.

Romer canvases the area: three officers
seem to have their hands full with keeping the crowd at bay, and the fourth is questioning
potential witnesses.

With a giant leap of faith, Romer
throws on his hood and ventures back onto the street.

He weaves into the boisterous
crowd, looking as inconspicuous as he can manage. Every step brings him closer
to Neve, and yet it feels like she’s miles and miles away.

And as though the cops, the crowd,
and his aching body weren’t challenging enough already, the sirens of an
approaching ambulance start to drown out the city’s cacophony.

You’ve got to be kidding me
, Romer frowns, then glances at the cops managing the horde
of onlookers. They don’t strike him as particularly dangerous. But the
ambulance—which is now turning the corner—is a whole other story.

The crash
just
happened.

The only way for the ambulance to
have made it here so quickly, is if someone called for it prior to the
accident.

Smart
, Romer thinks to himself as the ambulance infiltrates the
scene. There is probably no better way to transport someone you plan on killing
without anybody questioning it. This must’ve been their plan even before things
got out of hand at Galen’s.

And it suddenly dawns on Romer why
it was so easy for he and Neve to escape Dylan’s building and break into
Galen’s: they were walking into a trap.

With the numerous obstructions
blocking Neve from his vision, Romer can’t tell whether or not she’s conscious.
And if she’s not, that leaves him with next to no options. He can’t exactly
wrestle her away from the paramedics, especially now that he knows they can’t
be trusted.

And he doesn’t trust the
cops either.

So what does that leave
him with? Should he get a head-start towards the hospital and try to intercept
them there? But what if the ambulance isn’t even headed to the hospital?

He’s starting to panic. Everything’s
happening too fast.
They’re
already bringing out the stretcher.

But on the bright side, it
looks like Neve is awake and talking to the paramedic.

If Romer can only get
close enough, he just might be able to warn her about them.

He glances back at Galen’s,
and then towards the alley. When he doesn’t detect any signs of immediate
threat, he starts towards the back of the ambulance, where it’s significantly
less crowded.

But a few steps into the
endeavor, he notices one of the cops approaching in full stride. And judging by
his unblinking stare, he
is singling
Romer out.

Are
the cops in on it? Should he run?

He can’t anyways. Not in his
condition.

In the precious few moments
he has left, Romer sizes up the ensuing threat, desperately hoping his luck
hasn’t already run out.

Tucking his blonde locks
behind his ears, Romer winces as a
sharp
stab of pain shoots through his left shoulder. And with his chin lowered, he
takes a whiff of his damp, wine-soaked shirt.

Even if the cop isn’t with
the men who attacked him, reeking of alcohol is still not something Romer would
want to have to explain.

“Don’t I know you..?” the
officer bridges the gap and stands fortified between the young man and his
objective.

“You’re asking me if
you
know
me
?” Romer quips with his mind on Neve.

They’re sliding the
stretcher into the ambulance.

And without warning, the
cop’s inquisitive squint broadens, brightening his expression.

“You’re that kid,” he says
with a self-satisfied grin, “Romer Anthony. I was the one who processed you a
few years back, remember?”

What—you wanna chat
? Romer sneaks a glance in Neve’s direction.

The ambulance is taking
off
.

“Is there something I can
help you with? Or are you just brushing up on your solo good cop/bad cop
routine?”

With that remark, the
cop’s face darkens slightly, but he masks it as though it’s second nature.
“Fancy running into you here,” he grins from ear to ear, his tone loaded with
subtext. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would’ja?”

“Nope,” Romer crosses his
arms. “Just a regular, impartial bystander.”

“That right?” the officer
takes a half-step forward, standing far too close for comfort. Close enough to
smell the wine vaporizing off Romer’s clothes. “Then why the hell are you so
nervous?”

With a burst of static
from his radio, the officer lowers his chin to his collar. He listens as
someone relays information about a pair of unconscious men in the alley up the
street.

His gaze darts back up and
meets Romer’s. “Roger that,” he says into his mic, and then slowly raises his
head without breaking eye-contact.

Romer fights the impulse to
swallow, determined to keep his cool. But if someone has ratted him out about
what he did in that alley, it’s already over.

The cop takes a deep breath
through his nose and shakes his head disapprovingly as he exhales.

“You need to get your shit
together, kid,” he eyes Romer’s clothes, and then bumps shoulders with him on
his way to the alley.

OW
.

σ

The howls
of the ambulance are becoming more and more distant.