Users (13 page)

"As long as it's a long, slow killing from you, baby, I'm game. I like pain."

I rolled my eyes. "Cody. That's not cool, man." If only he understood that she could kill him in a second. I said to Wesley, "He's going to find out sooner or later. And if he knows, we can talk about it freely."

"You really want me to tell him?" Iggy asked me excitedly, meeting my eyes in the mirror.

"Yes," I said, surprised that she cared what I thought.

"No," Wesley countered.

Iggy turned to Cody, "You know how those three guys with on the news with their guns aimed at me and Cael suddenly dropped to the ground?"

"Yeah.”

Wesley's jaw clenched, and he shot
me
a look of anger.

"I caused it," she confessed.

"Caused what?" Cody looked dumbfounded.

"I did something to them to make them go down.” Her tone was neutral, but she bit her bottom lip as she waited for a response.

Cody guffawed. Then, when no one denied it, he poked me in the shoulder. "She's kidding, right?"

"No.”

He gazed at Iggy as one would a child telling a make believe story. She sat back and declared on a sigh, "God, I feel free now that everyone knows." Wesley must have glared at her when he turned around, because she shrugged and said, "It's true. I hate hiding parts of myself. It makes me feel like I'm an evil person that everyone would hate. Even after all these years, it feels like being trapped."

I smiled at her. “I’m really glad you trusted me enough to tell me.”

Cody said, "This seems kind of far fetched. I think you guys are bullshitting me.” He grinned. “Of course, it wouldn’t be a problem if I was high. Which, unfortunately, I'm not." He chuckled and said to Iggy, “Prove it to me.”

I looked at Iggy in the rear view mirror again. She tensed, just like she had in the car with me when I'd said the same thing. I answered on her behalf, "You can either believe it or not, Cody. It doesn't matter if you think she's telling the truth. Iggy doesn’t need to prove anything." The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, and she mouthed the word 'thanks'. I smiled back.

“Damn, Cael. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. Forget I asked.”

I asked Wes, "Why is there a renewed interest in you and Iggy all of the sudden? Why now? Why is Jensen willing to pay and resort to kidnapping after two years of leaving you guys alone?"

He shrugged. "Jensen never left us alone. He’s always shown up or called on occasion. But I don't know the answer to that question, either."

"Well, what was the original intent when you all were given this vaccine?" With vague awareness, I realized we were passing into Tennessee. "Why spend the money? Host a free camp? Run all those tests on kids who were pre-teen champion athletes?"

"We never found that out," Iggy told me.

I took a deep breath and dared, "How come you two are alive when so many others died?"

Wesley whipped around to face Iggy. "Did you fucking spill everything to this guy?"

I snapped at him, "Lay off her."

"Yeah," Cody chimed in. "Lay off her."

I said, "At least she's being honest with us. It's better than being a grumpy-ass ice man.”

Surprisingly, he ignored me and turned around in his seat again. "Iggy. We agreed not to tell people. Not to use our gifts in front of others." Now his voice was softer.

Some kind of understanding passed between them. Iggy lowered her head like she was acquiescing. It was a response that seemed out of character. I wondered, yet again, what kind of strange bond the two of them had. I didn't like Wesley making her feel bad. She hadn't done anything wrong, and I couldn't help speaking up. "Iggy saved my ass. And her own. I don't think she should feel guilty about what she did. And I think it's perfectly okay for her to talk about it and be proud of who she is. Whatever agreement you two had doesn't seem healthy or realistic. If I had a gift like hers, or even yours, I would never promise not to use it." I ran a hand through my hair and said, "It's like owning a gun but being too afraid to shoot."

"Exactly," Wesley argued. "A gun in the hands of an inexperienced shooter is dangerous. Iggy's not good at controlling what she does."

"Then it seems to me like the more she practices, the better she'll get at it. It's not as if the gun is the most dangerous part of the equation. What happens with that gun is completely under the control of the person holding it. Guns aren't good or bad. People are. Iggy's a good person. If she learns how to use her ability, then good things will come of it."

"That's a naive statement coming from a guy who barely knows her or what she's been through."

"I need a fucking joint," Cody griped, scratching at the scruff on his jaw.

"Will you both stop talking about me," Iggy said. "If I wanted a father figure around to decide what's best for me, I would have asked my dad to come with us." She leaned close to Wesley. "I wanted to come along because I thought I would be better protection that a gun. I thought I was the best person to help Cael find his parents. They're my aunt and uncle, after all. I want to do good for people, Wes. I don't wanna spend my whole life hiding."

"We'll talk about this later, Iggy.”

Cody chimed in, "I vote you get it all out in the open right now. At the very least, it's entertaining. Sure beats the hell out of listening to myself sing 'Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall' in my head."

I perked up and strained to see into the distance. Because it was a clear, sunny day, I spotted the smoke well out from Chattanooga. White plumes became black the closer we got to the city. “Looks like the interstate might be blocked.”

Wesley dug into the back pack at his feet, produced a pair of small binoculars, and studied the scene. “Looks like we’re stuck in it.” He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times. “Yeah. There’s no way around it.”

I pressed my lips together and shook my head. “Damn it! At this rate, we won’t get to Sweetwater before nightfall.” I pressed the brake pedal, joining the line of cars trying to get around the interstate pile-up.

Cody chuckled, and I glanced back at him. He said, “When the world goes to hell, you can count on half the people going bat-shit crazy and fucking it up for the remaining sane people.”

“Maybe I should drive on the shoulder like that guy.” I pointed in the rear view mirror at a black SUV flying by everyone.

That same SUV screeched to halt just past my car and six guys jumped out, pointing weapons at us. “Exit the car and put your hands on top of your heads!”

Cody said, “Holy shit! Is that the FBI?”

“Crap,” I breathed, holding up my arms and squinting to see the badge one of them held up.

Iggy said, “Wesley? What do we do?”

But the blonde statue didn’t respond. Then I flinched at the sound of gunshots, and the front windshield shattered, pelting me and Wes with glass as we bent over our own laps. Someone shouted and order to get out.

We sat back up and I yelled, “Okay! We’re coming out! Stop shooting!”

“No,” Iggy hissed. “Wesley. We can handle this. Let’s do something!”

But I could see what she couldn’t: Wesley was busy grabbing at a dart sticking out of his left shoulder.

“I don’t care if they’re the FBI,” she told him. “This isn’t right!”

“Out of the car! Now!” Someone yelled.

I plucked the yellow-tipped dart out of Wesley’s body and held it up for Iggy to see.

“Shit!” She grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

I said, “He looks like he’s going to sleep.”

“Wesley!” Iggy sounded more panicked than when I’d pulled her out of the toolbox in Granger’s truck. She shook him again. His eyelids fluttered and then he slumped into his door.

Gunfire sounded again. People in other cars screamed. Bullets struck metal. We ducked. “Iggy.” I twisted around and met her eyes, our heads low. “We should give ourselves up. It’s the F.B.I., not Jensen or Granger.”

Iggy lips tightened into a thin line as she glared at me. “No.” The she lifted her head, peering around Wesley’s headrest. She stared into the distance and men started screaming. Bullets shattered the remaining windows in our car. Iggy shut her eyes and covered her head as glass rained down. Two men appeared on the passenger’s side and yanked open Wesley’s door. One of them reached in to grab Wesley, and then Iggy turned her attention to him. He didn’t even get to utter a syllable before his whole body seized, and he crashed to the pavement. The agent behind him pointed a gun at Iggy, and I shouted at him. But he fired a dart instead of a bullet, hitting Iggy in the arm. She yanked the dart out and tossed it onto the floor. Then she dropped the man to the ground.

Darts pelted the car’s interior. I didn’t think they were even aiming anymore. Needles wedged into the headrests and the back seat. Cody started firing back at them. I shouted, “You can’t shoot at the F.B.I.” Then Wesley tipped over, head out the door, and started moving as if a ghost had hold of him. It took my brain a moment to register the fact that someone on the ground was pulling Wesley out of the car. I couldn’t see the person.

“No!” Iggy grabbed hold of his shirt.

I reached over to grab Wes while Cody fired another round of bullets at the government agents. Iggy threw herself halfway into the front after Wesley, and more darts struck the seats. Cody lunged forward and grabbed for Wesley, too. Then bullets pinged into metal and shredded seats, and we ducked for cover again. Wesley’s unconscious body disappeared beneath the door as if an unseen monster was slowly devouring him. Cody had lost his hold on Wesley, and Iggy’s body had gone lax, draped halfway across the front seat where Wesley had been sitting. I knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop anyone else now. And maybe they were government agents, but I couldn’t just sit there and let them take Iggy and Wesley.

I said, “Cody! Shoot at them!” Then I raised my arm and fired until my magazine was empty. When Cody popped up and fired his weapon, I took that moment to load a new magazine. They weren’t shooting back, so I sat up to see what was happening. The driver was using his car door as cover while Wesley was being hauled into the back of the SUV by an agent.

“Put down your weapon!” the man ordered.

I ducked low again, expecting him to fire. When he didn’t, I peered over the dash to see the guy’s partner begin pulling their injured into the vehicle. It was the perfect time to shoot, but I didn’t want to actually hurt anyone. Self-defense was one thing; deliberately targeting an FBI agent was another. But they’d taken Wesley.

“Let Wesley go, or we’ll shoot!” I threatened. In the seat beside me, Iggy struggled to right herself. Then, without warning, the driver fired. The bullet hit the dashboard in front of me and I ducked. He’d deliberately missed. He could’ve put a hole in my head, but he had chosen not to.

When I heard tires squealing, I looked up to see the SUV going backwards. Then it spun around on the grassy shoulder and darted forward. I turned the key in the ignition, but nothing happened. Steam hissed out around the hood of our car as the government vehicle disappeared alongside the interstate traffic ahead of us. I flung open my door and stumbled out to find every tire was flat and the hood resembled Swiss cheese.

People in the cars around us began piling out, looking around and eyeing us as if we might shoot them. I could hear people discussing the horrors of 911 not answering as phones pressed to their ears. I looked in the car to find Iggy slumped over, Cody talking to her. I froze. “She wasn’t hit by a bullet, was she?”

Cody shook his head, giving me a wide-eyed look. I ordered, “Pull her out and let’s find another car.” He scrambled out of the vehicle and yanked Iggy after him. After she was in his arms, I motioned us forward. Beside one of the vehicles in front of us was a man shouting into his phone while staring nervously at me. I pointed my gun at him and said, “We’re taking your minivan.” He screamed, begged me not to kill him, and threw himself to the ground. I ignored my guilt as I stepped over him and peered into his car. It was empty. “Get in!” I shouted at Cody. “Cover me. I’m going to get our supplies.”

I listened for sirens and worked fast while Cody scanned the area, gun in one hand and Iggy pinned to his side with his other arm. Three trips later, all our stuff was in the minivan and the cops were nowhere to be found. I expected them to be after us so I floored it, flying past people and driving along the shoulder of the road as the black SUV had. At the first exit, I veered off the interstate, constantly glancing behind in expectation. I ran lights and exceeded the speed limit until we were down some road in the middle of nowhere.

When I was sure no one was following us, I pulled onto the shoulder of the narrow country road and put the minivan into park. I looked over at Iggy, trying to get my adrenaline under control. I asked Cody, “Is she hurt?”

He shook his head, cradling her against him like a child. “I think it’s the dart. There’s no blood.”

I slumped forward over the steering wheel in relief, but then I imagined myself in a prison cell and stressed out all over again. I straightened up and yelled to the car’s roof, “Fuck! What the fuck was that!” Cody just stared at me. That made me feel even worse. I slammed my palm against the steering wheel several times. “We shot at FBI agents!” I punched the roof. “Son-of-a-bitch!”