Anomaly Page 11

  Reid cocked an eyebrow and nodded. A smirk curved his lips upward. “Challenge accepted.”

  Reid

  O

  kay, so the girl had skills.

  Pretty mad skills, if I was being fair.

  Like most trainees, she sought approval, positive reinforcement for her accomplishments. But if I’d learned anything from the dynamics in the Hub and in the Harper household, it was to keep the niceties to a minimum. The Hub treated trainees like army recruits. Mrs. Harper treated her daughter with equal measures of discipline and objectivity. Not really the style of parenting a kid should have to put up with, but, considering the responsibilities Josie would have to shoulder, it would be better for her in the long haul if she could handle setbacks and disappointment now. I’d also sensed that Josie dealt better with information and explanations rather than emotion. Part of that came from her analytical mind, but I also think that harkened back to her upbringing.

  Contrary to popular belief, life as an Oculi wasn’t all Pushing posies.

  “Again,” I commanded when she retreated to the opposite side of the mat. “But this time, you’re attacking me.”

  I watched Santos flip his thumbs up before heading toward his room. He Pushed a pizza and a liter of soda.

  A foot came at my face, but I caught it before it hit. I could’ve twisted, throwing Josie off balance or even breaking her ankle if I wanted, but, again, I didn’t want to hurt her. Quick little thing, though. That was certainly a strength.

  I smiled as I held her foot in the air, and she flashed a fake grin back to me. I released her foot and waved her on, silently saying, Come on. She circled me slowly, one foot creeping in front of the other, constantly moving, so that front foot was always able to plant if need be, or to shift her weight backward if she needed to retreat. Smart.

  I matched her turn, her eyes focused on mine and not my body. She approached slowly, and when she was close enough, she threw a left punch. Blocked. Right punch. Blocked. Her foot slammed into my gut, shoving me back several feet. She advanced again, but I Pushed a long dining room table between us.

  “Hey!” she yelled. “Cheater!”

  “Just checkin’ out your skills.” And that wasn’t all I was checking out.

  Instead of Retracting the piece of furniture, she hopped onto the table and ran at me. She was thinking outside the box. We had to use what was there or not there. I had to press her harder, though. At the last second, I Retracted the table, but another showed up in front of her mid-stride. Just as she launched at me, feet first, I jumped out of the way, and she landed with a grunt. I paused, watching her closely for any indication of pain or strain.

  “Remember,” I said. “This is training. We can’t afford any injuries.”

  With that in mind, I didn’t Push any other obstacles. Better to be safe than sorry on this first day.

  She lunged forward. Punches, blocks, kicks, and more blocks. She could take care of herself. She had both my hands. I pulled back my head to throw a head butt—nothing hard—but a catcher’s mask appeared over her face before my forehead could make contact.

  Not gonna lie. That hurt a little.

  But her quick thinking and innovation were worth it. A little fazed by my head hitting her metal mask, she took the opportunity to plant a foot, and then pulled her knee up to my groin. She halted the impact—and I jumped back. Yeah, I was going easy on her, allowing her to land some moves. The confidence would suit her in a real-world fight.

  She balanced on one leg and kicked with the other. I caught her knee. Oh, this girl.

  “Quit holding back,” she said.

  “You first,” I taunted.

  She grumbled like I’d insulted her. Again, that angry-Tinker-Bell analogy popped into my head. Shifting my weight forward, I pushed off the ball of my foot, charging Josie head-on. She widened her stance and bent her knees. As soon as I was within reach, she jumped laterally, so instead of safely tackling her to the mat around her middle, I caught the bottom of her tank top. I yanked and pulled her into me, my body already moving in a forward motion. We fell to the mat, me twisting to take the impact and then rolling, until I stopped on top of her, pinned. I straddled one of her legs; my torso lay on half of her chest and one of her arms.

  I turned my head to evaluate her reaction and condition, my mouth by her ear. It was a fine line. I had to test her, challenge her, but I didn’t want to inflict pain. “You okay?”

  With our chests joined, I felt both our hearts going crazy. I could’ve stayed like that for longer, but I probably would have received a knee to the crotch sooner rather than later. Shoving off, I helped her to her feet.

  Josie’s physical contact skills soared. Sure, she was naturally athletic, but I wasn’t convinced her black belt had taught her instincts she didn’t realize she even had. No doubt it was the inoculations. She moved like her body already knew how to defend itself. She moved like Nick. Josie was actually better than Nick.

  And the thought terrified me.

  11.

  Reid

  O

  nce we situated Josie at home with her mom on guard, Santos and I took off, heading north toward the Panhandle. I had to contact the Hub, but we needed to ride far enough away that we wouldn’t reveal Josie’s location and put her in danger. We stopped in a small town about four hours from Oceanside.

  Nothing was open beside the usual late-night digs: gas station, bars, fast food. We weren’t about to make this call inside, where anyone could hear, but it was usually best to be in a populated area. The fast-food parking lot seemed the least shady option.

  We stayed on our bikes. Santos parked closer to the street, where he pretended to play on his phone, but really he kept lookout on the road and gave me privacy for my login. I punched the number, then the security code. I was prompted for my voice verification through my password. Passwords weren’t something we shared, not even with other Resistance members, as a safety measure. My contact, one of the Council members, picked up right away.

  He answered, “Secure.”

  “Leak possible.”

  “Bring her in.”

  “Not possible. Orders from Mrs. H. to educate her here and make delivery.”

  “We—”

  Shouts pulled me out of my conversation. My heart jump-started, and a second later, a thwamp sound echoed off the houses down the block.

  “Hold.” I Pushed my gun and held my phone with my shoulder.

  Waiting for the sound again, I watched Santos. He was on it. His hand went to the back of his waistband where he kept his weapon. Nice thing about this state: concealed-weapon permits were easy to come by. Not that we’d bother with paperwork when we could Push the weapon into hiding or Retract it altogether. But at least being seen with guns on our persons wasn’t going to raise any immediate alarms.

  A group of kids came around the corner, jabbering in hushes. I Retracted my gun before they saw me, to be safe. One of the kids bounced a basketball, and the sound reverberated down the street.

  Am I losing it? I could’ve hurt one of them.

  “Sir. I’m here,” I said into the phone.

  The kids disappeared into a house. A rustling sound came from behind a truck parked in front of the kids’ home. Something reflected light, moving into the shadows. It wasn’t a kid this time. Someone had been watching us.

  Santos’s bike started—he’d seen it, too. Text from Santos. Trailed. Out.

  I Pushed my shield, and the bike rumbled to life under me. I took off in the direction of the movement, my heart speeding in unison with the engine. Staying on the street, I followed the shadows darting among houses and through bushes. The grumble of another street bike told me whoever trailed us was no longer on foot. Tires squealed, and I cut my bike in the direction of the sound. One person, it seemed. But there could be more.

  Santos completed his lap of the neighboring block and rode beside me. He motioned that he was going around to the other side of the street. Divide and co
nquer. Good plan.

  I trailed the guy for several blocks into what appeared to be a business district. From the dark, overgrown lots and lack of signs, I didn’t think any companies flourished in this area. If there was business taking place amid these abandoned buildings and rundown homes, it was of the illegal variety.

  Turning left, I found myself at a fenced dead end, a small space between two buildings. This Consortium person must’ve Pushed the fence. There was no gate, but I saw him drop his bike on the other side and take off on foot. I Retracted my bike out from beneath me, then Retracted the fence.

  I ran. About halfway down the alley, I stepped on a slippery trash bag, and my body pitched backward. Although I Pushed padding behind me, I didn’t judge the trashcan jutting out, and it clipped the back of my head as I fell.

  The cut stung, and I could feel blood dripping down the back of my neck. I shoved off the ground.

  Several dogs barked in the distance, maybe a block away. It had to be the Consortium dude. I ran to the street, pausing to hear the barks, then followed the sound to a group of houses with a shared green space. Much like the stores and shops had looked vacant, these houses appeared abandoned. Weeds rose knee-high, and half the windows had been boarded up. Slowing my pace as I approached, I heard the barks cease. I wandered around the open area, but there was nothing but a bench and landscaping—no dogs. Either their owner had silenced the animals, or they were smart enough to know that something slightly more than human was coming their way. Chirping crickets filled the night air between distant rumbles of traffic.

  My phone appeared in my hand. I didn’t bother pressing the buttons; my text to Santos blinked into existence on the screen.

  Need backup—GPS on

  I shoved the phone into my back pocket, and then I heard it. Running feet—more than one set—coming straight for me from the bushes and trees between the houses. Taking a wide stance, I faced their incoming direction and Pushed my gun in one hand, a knife in the other. My heartbeat pulsed in my head wound, throbbing.

  A flash of color dashed out of the bushes, and I let the knife fly. A big man came at me, my knife sticking out of his shoulder. My shield Pushed and ready, he wouldn’t be able to really hurt me. We collided in the center of the green, and I used the force of my momentum to knock him to the ground. The knife in his arm must’ve cut an artery, because he didn’t put up much of a fight. I locked him in an arm bar around his neck and held until his struggles ceased.

  I caught movement in my peripheral vision as a second goon appeared. I Retracted the weapon in his hands before he could fire off a shot. Another gun—a rifle by the look of it—appeared in its place. I Retracted that, too. Then Pushed a steel net on top of him. Let’s see if he could do anything about that.

  The net pinned him to the ground. Ahh, not an Anomaly, then. Good. I’d keep him alive. We could use one of these scumbags for questioning.

  I approached the assassin with my gun drawn. “No sudden moves,” I warned.

  “You should take your own advice.” I spun toward the sound of the new attacker. He stood not ten feet behind me. I didn’t have time for a standoff. And if he was Pushing a shield like me, this would be no easy brawl. Already, I could hear the other goon scrambling to break free. Another figure pounded out of the darkness and tackled the man in front of me. The two figures rolled. Santos.

  I pulled up my gun, but with them grappling, I didn’t have a clear shot. The guy Retracted Santos’s weapon—he could have an advantage over my friend. I started toward them to help Santos, but he rolled on top of the man, Pushed another gun, and pressed the barrel to the man’s head. I sucked in a breath as the all-too-familiar pop pop sound from a suppressor cut through the quiet night.

  Santos spun in my direction and fired again.

  I pivoted to see the first attacker crumble.

  Santos dropped his gun and slowly turned to me, still on top of the attacker. “You okay, man?”

  I clasped his hand and hauled him off the dead body. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Three dead men. What a mess.

  Adrenaline rushed through my veins with no outlet. I braced my hands on my knees, hunched over, letting the feeling pass. I was pretty sure that hit to the head wasn’t helping matters. Once I knew for sure I wasn’t going to puke, I limped over to a bench with a mega post-adrenaline-high headache. I dropped my head into my hands.

  “I got this,” Santos said. “You take a minute.”

  “We need to dispose of them.”

  Santos Pushed gloves on his hands and searched the pockets of the deceased. Then he Pushed a black tarp to cover the bodies, while I Retracted all weapons.

  He claimed my phone and his and stomped on them. Then he Pushed two new phones and handed them to me. “Can’t be too cautious.”

  No shit. My first instinct was to program Josie’s number and shoot her a text, but seeing as how our phones might be compromised, her number would’ve been in my call log, so her phone could be compromised, too—ugh, just thinking about it made my head throb harder. Despite his arguments to “stop and sit,” I helped Santos.

  We moved the bodies together. Santos Pushed a hole and rolled the bodies in. Hub protocol. This part of the job…I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it. The smells of wet earth and death, the thump a body made when it dropped into a six-foot hole. I’d pretend like I was immune, but killing would never come easily for me. Santos Pushed dirt and patches of dead grass so the grave blended in seamlessly.

  “Thanks, bro.”

  Before we left the area, Santos Pushed ball caps and different jackets. In true Santos fashion, he whined about me bleeding all over the fan gear of his favorite team. Served him right for liking the Patriots.

  We walked back to Santos’s bike. I checked the perimeter and quickly examined the windows within this rundown area. No surveillance cameras. No one seemed to be watching. I Pushed my bike, but I paid for it in the form of a whopper of a headache.

  “Aw, what’s the matter, Reid? You didn’t want to ride with me?”

  The jerk. A brief smile tilted my lips, but it didn’t last long. This was just confirmation of how much Josie needed protection. Once you were on the Consortium’s radar, you would always be a target. I tried to imagine how I’d feel if Josie had been here with me, and that sick feeling in my stomach crawled into my throat. I didn’t want to think of her in harm’s way. I didn’t want to think of what the enemy would do if they caught her.

  I straddled my bike and turned to Santos. “Thanks again.”

  His head shook. “I got your back. I think we may have bigger things on our plate, though. Check this out.”

  Leaning over, he extended a rumpled newspaper clipping to me. “I pulled it from that last jackball’s pocket.”

  Del Mar Hotel Oceanside

  I only caught a glimpse of the words. Instantly the details clicked into place. I glanced to Santos.

  “These guys and the rest of the Consortium are willing to kill for whatever is going down at that ceremony,” he said.

  Yeah, and that meant Josie was right in the middle of it.

  12.

  Josie

  I

  slept through the afternoon and night and woke midmorning to a text from Reid saying Santos would follow me to the warehouse to practice. After a shower, I found my mom and brother at the kitchen table.

  Eli brushed hair out of his eyes. “Got you some grub,” he said around a mouthful of quiche I recognized from the nearby coffee shop.

  “Thanks, buddy.” I slid into the seat next to him, where a closed container sat.

  Mom placed a to-go cup in front of me. “Salted caramel mocha, right?” It was my favorite.

  I hadn’t talked to her since I left her lab upset—you know, when she’d told me my life was basically a lie. I really didn’t know what to say to her at this point. Not only had I been thrust into this crazy world and told my dad could be dead behind enemy lines, but now she was intentionally putting me in har
m’s way by making me deliver the inoculation. I didn’t know how to process this, but I knew my favorite coffee drink wasn’t going to make it better.

  And, yes, she’d been so kind to offer me a choice in the matter of the serum, but really, my family’s safety was on the line. Not to mention the whole scope of the Resistance…it wasn’t like I could say no. And, yes, yes, I knew that made me sound awful, like the worst kind of person, but the feelings were there. I was trying to work through them. Truly. But the pain and hurt and all the regrets, those emotions were difficult to suppress.

  Eli played his video game while Mom and I ate in heavy silence. There was so much I needed to ask, to say—but I couldn’t right now.

  I snarfed down my food, guzzled half my drink, cleaned up my area, and grabbed my shoes. “Mom,” I said, passing through the kitchen to the front door and hoisting my purse strap over my head. “I haven’t grocery shopped. You need to figure out something for dinner.”

  She turned in her seat. “You don’t need to worry about those things this week. I’ll take care of it. Be careful.”

  Thank Asgard the drive wasn’t long, because all I could think about was Mom telling me to be careful, and I was ready to blow a gasket. She’d thrust me into this position, to face danger head-on, and she had the gall to tell me to be careful? I promised myself I’d stop this pity party, but my bruised feelings didn’t want to be suppressed. If she’d just exhibited a little bit of remorse, it would’ve gone a long, long way in helping me deal with this situation.

  “You wanna ride with me, Josie?” Santos asked from his position parked in my driveway. “Or should I follow you?”

  I jingled my keys to show him I intended to drive.

  He glanced at me quizzically, no doubt reading my oh-so-foul mood. But he didn’t comment any further, donning his helmet and revving his bike while I slid into my Civic.

  A couple of cleansing breaths—compliments of the Mediterranean Spa air freshener that Hannah had stuffed in my car a few weeks ago—and I almost had my temper in check. I wasn’t normally so volatile.