The Next Chronicle (Book 1): Next (22 page)

Ray could only hold on so long. Eventually he would falter and every person in the facility would die.

Kit didn't think about the damaged room, held together by the young boy's will. She didn't think about those already dead.

In the end, the only way to do it was to think of nothing at all, to not allow herself even a moment of doubt. She raised the pulse gun and fired.

The world came crashing down.

In the following moments, Kit was many things. Dead was not one of them.

Another unseen hand pushed her to the floor, followed by a grunt of effort. Much of the room collapsed, though the small pocket surrounding her was miraculously stable.

“
Jesus, this is heavy,” A voice grunted.

Dazed, she turned and found John Franklin. His gangly teenager's arms stretched over his head, legs pushing and back bent as he held an enormous slab of stone at an angle. She let her gaze wander toward the spot where Thomas stood a few seconds earlier. Stripped of his power, the ceiling above had nothing holding it together.

Her mind turned away from it, wouldn't lock in on the awful truth. The rubble was piled deep enough to hide the evidence. For now at least, it was a blessing.

Gravity had done its work. The room could have been pulled from any disaster flick. Few portions were recognizable as the lab it had been an hour before.

“Ray,” Kit croaked, choking on dust. “Ray, are you alive?”

“
I'm fine,” he shouted back. Her vision was obscured by the dust.

“
Where are you?” Kit asked.

“
Over by Archer. Here.” A corridor of clean air appeared as if by magic. “Now you can see. Get over here.”

Kit hurried toward him. “Stop using your powers,” she said. “I saw how hard you were working to control it.”

Ray stood next to Archer's body. “I'm fine,” he said. “It's not the amount, really, just how fast I was absorbing it. I'm good. Now help me get him down.”

Kit wrapped her arms around Archer's dangling legs, her face pressed against his outer thigh. A crash echoed from the other side of the room, causing her to jump. Just John putting down his section of wall. Or the place was about to cave in completely. Hopefully the first.

“Don't lift him,” Ray said. “Just hold him still. I'm going to get that piece of metal out of his chest. I don't want to do any more damage.”

Kit's brow wrinkled. “I don't think that matters at this point, Ray.”

A slight pause. “He's still alive, Kit.”

She almost dropped Archer's feet. “No fucking way.”

“Yes. Now hold him steady.”

A moment later there was a popping sound as air rushed in to fill the void left by the vanished support beam transfixing Archer. This was followed by a more disturbing sucking noise as his insides struggled to equalize pressure with the atmosphere. Kit flinched, expecting a wave of viscera to roll from his torn body, but it didn't.

Ray caught Archer's front half as it tumbled free of the wall, helping Kit get him to the ground. She was surprised to see the big man bare from the waist up, and gave Ray a quizzical glance.

“
It was that or cut the shirt off him,” Ray said. “This way seemed easier.”

Dust continued to drift down from the ceiling. The area around them was clear, a perfect dome of clean air. She heard John coughing as he called out to her.

“Lady? I don't know your name...are you okay?”

“
I'm fine,” Kit shouted back. “Get out of here. Go find your parents.” She paused, then added, “Ask for someone named Deakins. Tell her she needs to get here, and tell her to come alone.”

“
O-okay,” John said uncertainly, his voice ringing through the dust. “If you're sure.”

“
I am,” Kit said. “Remember,
just
Deakins.”

“
All right,” John replied. The sound of crunching footfalls swelled then faded as he ran off.

During the exchange, something remarkable happened to Archer. His wounds stopped bleeding, and though he wasn't breathing and Kit could see no pulse thrumming in his neck, she knew Ray was right. He was alive. The evidence was right in front of her eyes.

The gaping hole in Archer's chest had begun to knit closed.

Broken bones visible through the hole creaked suddenly, then popped with dry cracks as they slid back into place. Ragged breaks bent flat again, sharp edges touching and reforming. Crouched over him, Kit felt a sudden wash of heat rise up from Archer's body. The process accelerated even as she watched. Less than a minute from when it began, it was over.

“What the hell?” Kit muttered.

“
I'd have told you,” Ray said. “It was part of our deal. I'd keep his secret if he let me help.”

“
He's Next and you knew?” Kit asked, then shook her head. “Of course you did. You knew the first time you looked at him with your powers.”

She didn't have time to reflect on the growing sense of betrayal. Just then, Archer took a gasping breath and sat up. Wild-eyed, he stared uncomprehending at Kit.

“I need a sandwich!” Archer shouted crazily.

Which made sense, in a way. Coming back from the dead probably left you hungry.

Deakins arrived a few minutes later. Kit gave her a fast rundown of what she needed done and minimal explanation why, promising to tell the whole story later. That was a promise not easily given, but in the short time between Archer's resurrection and Deakins' arrival, the big man had come around enough to beg Kit to keep his secret. Any sort of cover-up would require Deakins, who essentially ran the day-to-day operation of the facility.

Which was how, half an hour after the death of Thomas Maggard, Kit found herself in the White Room. Part of her itched to go back, to help Deakins manage the cleanup. That same nagging voice demanded she go explain now, but Kit held the urge in check. Before that was even possible, she needed to know more.

Archer sat on the other side of the table, gorging himself on a plate piled high with roast beef taken from one of the cafeterias. Ray, seated on Kit's left, watched with revolted fascination as Archer did his best impression of a hungry, hungry hippo.

Irritated and impatient as she was, Kit waited. The food wasn't a kindness; on the way down to the White Room, Archer had begged for it. His ability to heal required massive amounts of calories, he had explained. Which was why he always kept extra weight on. Archer wasn't husky by nature, but because being overweight would allow him to heal faster by drawing on those reserves.

Seeing him now, it was easy to believe. The double chin was gone, the chest beneath the fuzzy robe someone had helpfully provided was taut with muscle. There was still healing going on, pumping up his metabolism and raising his body temperature. Without food, his ability would begin cannibalizing muscle as well.

Above all else, Kit was angry. From the first second, Archer had lied to her.

“
I didn't ask for this job,” she said angrily. Archer paused before swabbing a roll of beef into a small vat of honey mustard. “I didn't want to leave Helix. I didn't want the responsibility. I just had to kill a child, Archer. The whole time I've been here, something has been off. It's not just this,” she said, gesturing toward the rapidly diminishing pile of food. “You've been keeping something else from me. Robinson, for example. You know something about him you haven't told me, maybe haven't told anyone. That's why you wanted me to see how he looked at the Black Bands. So I would start questioning my loyalty.”

With an obvious effort, Archer put down the half-eaten piece of roast beef in his hand. “You're right.”

Kit, expecting some kind of argument, came up short. “I know I am.”

Archer ran the tops of his fingers under his chin. “I'm sorry. I really am. I've been playing close to my chest for so long, not trusting people is second nature. I should have told you. Not just about having powers. All of it.”

Kit raised an eyebrow. “You mean now that I know your secret, you're going to have to tell me.”

Archer grinned. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Then why am I here?” Ray asked. “Not that I mind, but I already knew what you were.”

Leaning back in his chair, Archer grew serious. “The fact is, we're going to need people in the know. Deakins, for sure. Maybe Nunez, a few others we can trust. This goes way beyond me. It's going to take resources to find out the truth.”

Kit put up her hands. “You lost me. What are you talking about, exactly?”

Archer considered. “Do you want to ask questions, or would you rather I explain? Either way is fine.”

“How about you start talking, and I'll chime in,” Kit said.

“
Well,” Archer said. “It started at Fairmont. You both know the story by now. I was in Frankfort, lost almost my entire family.” Kit and Ray both nodded. “Yeah, well. That's bullshit. I was there. In fact, I was standing about twenty feet from Ray when he went critical.”

Ray's mouth dropped open. “That's not possible. Everyone that close died.”

Archer nodded. “Yes, they did. So did I. At least, it felt like I had died when I woke up. I was in the bottom of the crater, buried under all that dust. The first responders couldn't monitor more than a fraction of that crater, not that I was worried about being seen at the time. I woke up disoriented, no idea what happened. It took me ten hours to claw my way out of that hole. When I finally made it to the edge, I was bleeding. Hurt.”

He took another bite of meat. “I watched my wounds heal in front of me. I knew something was different, obviously. But here's the thing that came to me later; I've always been healthy. Last time I got sick, I was thirteen. Not so much as a sniffle since then. I was in a car wreck when I was sixteen. Broke my collarbone badly. The doctor said it would never heal flat, but eight weeks later it was straight as an arrow. Weird things that never mattered until Fairmont put them in perspective.”

“Wait,” Kit interrupted. “You're saying you had powers
before
then? Every Next has been discovered since then. Were you the first?”

“
I doubt it,” Archer said. “I think there were Next before Fairmont, just not as powerful. You saw me heal today. Bones came together in seconds. It's faster now than ever. Back when I was a kid, I healed quick, but nothing like this. Whatever Ray did, it accelerated us. Made us more powerful and keeps the process going.”

“
So what does this have to do with Robinson?” Ray asked.

Archer sighed. “Those first days were hectic for everyone. The news blackout, conflicting reports, chaos all over the place. But I was there. Remember how I said it took me ten hours to climb out? I rested for a few hours after, and I got up to leave when the military showed up. They took over the scene, kicked out the firefighters and EMS. These soldiers knew what they were doing.”

“They had disaster training,” Kit said. “Not surprising.”

“
That's what I thought at first, too,” Archer said. “I took off when one of their Jeeps started doing a circuit around the crater. From where I hid up in the trees, I saw the passenger. It was Robinson. At a time when no one in the world knew exactly what happened, way before they found Ray and could have worked out his part, Robinson was there. I only found out who he was later, when the announcement about the existence of Ray's abilities hit the airwaves. Robinson was standing behind the president at the press conference.”

“
That's still pretty thin,” Ray said, though there was doubt on his face.

“
Agreed,” Kit added.

Archer pursed his lips. “I lived around here my whole life. I used overgrown foot trails to come back up here and watch the construction. Do you know how long after Fairmont died before they started building this place? Five days.”

Kit sat back heavily, stunned. “How...?”

“
They had a thousand men here, Kit. Before they even finished pulling out the bodies, they were surveying and bringing in materials. How could they even begin something that logistically challenging, a project so enormous, unless they knew it was going to happen?”

“
Do you have any proof?” Ray asked angrily. “If they knew something like this could happen and didn't do anything about it...” He let the sentence trail off.

“
They didn't just know,” Archer said. “Someone—maybe Robinson, though I admit it's possible he was just the clean-up guy—actively did this to you. The rest of the department thinks this facility relies mostly on paper because our security was hacked by a technopath.” Seeing Ray's confused look, Archer added, “That's someone who controls technology with their mind. The truth is, we hired the guy. He's been using our computer system as a base to snag every piece of information he can find about Robinson. He is the only person in the world aside from the two of you who knows my suspicions.”

Kit worked moisture into her mouth. “What are you saying?”

Archer was grim. “Someone planned this. They knew what Ray was—no idea how—and dosed him with something to push his powers to the limit. They
wanted
Fairmont to happen, or something like it. They needed a disaster to put certain plans into motion.”

“
And you have proof?” Ray asked again.

“
I do,” Archer replied. “Not much. These people were smart about covering their tracks. But our technopath—who I'll introduce you to later—found records deep in an NSA computer system cut off from normal means of outside access. In them were precise notes and methods to synthesize a compound capable of 'maximizing any known extra-normal ability'. Included with the documentation were charts and estimates on how much they would need to dose the target with. The target was unnamed, but matches you, Ray, by several distinct criteria.”