Beyond Reach, page 13
part #3 of True Calling Series
I drop onto my bed and sob into my pillow. Embracing my tears, I dive headfirst into the hurt, confusion, and anger whirling inside me, until I feel no more, and I drift into a disturbed sleep.
The room is bathed in darkness when I wake. I’m not alone. Zane’s arm pins me to the bed at my waist, and I feel the length of his body at my back. I turn around and face him. Propping up on one elbow, he peers down at me. “Are you okay?” Tears automatically well up in my eyes. God, I have to get a grip, all this crying is so not cool.
“I can’t believe you wrote to me every single day.” Tears spill down my face, and he lifts a finger to wipe them away.
“It helped me feel close to you, though I know that’s silly.”
“It’s not. I don’t think I fully understood before, but I do now.” Snuggling into his chest, I sink into his embrace. “I hate them, Zane. I really do. They’ve destroyed lives without a second thought. God only knows what they’re planning next. I hate feeling so scared of the future, but I am.”
“Mostly I’m scared that my future doesn’t include you. That’s the most terrifying thing for me,” he admits, his fingers tangling in my hair.
“Zane, I’m so confused.” Looking up at him, I hold his gaze. “As I read your blog, I felt your pain, and I want to be able to take that away, but I can’t. They stole our future, replacing it with one of their own creation, and now, I feel powerless to halt their chosen destiny for me. If I could go back and never leave Earth, I’d do it, in a heartbeat. But I can’t, and we are where we are.”
Gently pulling out of his arms, I throw my head back on the pillow and close my eyes. I can’t bear witness to the hurt and pain in his eyes again. I swear I’ll crack apart if I do. “I know this is equally hard for you. Deep down, I know you still love me. Memories are only recollections, Ari, it doesn’t ultimately alter feelings.” His hand cups my face, and my eyes flash open. “That’s why your body remembers me, even if your mind can’t. And don’t try to deny that statement, because I’ve seen how you respond to my touch. But I won’t bring this up again. I know it’s hurting you, and I won’t add to your misery. I just need you to understand that you’re my whole life and I’ll never want anyone but you.”
“I so don’t deserve that.”
“Never say that,” he says, leaning down. His breath hovers over my lips, and I shudder. “We belong together, Ari. We’ve shared things—a history, special moments, secrets, and a bond so strong it survived forced separation. No one can take that from us. And I’m going nowhere; I’ll always be here for you.”
“Thank you.” I gulp nervously.
“Stop. Thanking. Me. I love you. I do all this because I love you,” he says, resting his forehead against mine.
“I know.” Pathetic and all as my response is, it’s all I have to give.
“I’ll give you privacy to get changed.” He rolls out of the bed. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walks out with a fleeting backward glance.
Throwing on a form-fitting knee-length black jersey dress, I pad out to the living area. Mel and Deacon are sitting side by side on the couch while Zane is busy in the kitchen. We’re still not allowed to visit Cal, and Mel is dangerously close to breaking point. “Do you know where they’re keeping him?” I ask Zane, as he hands me a sandwich and latte.
“I’ll talk, you eat.” Nodding, I grab a bite out of the sandwich.
“I don’t know where they’re keeping him, but I can find out. I assume you’re planning to break in?”
“You know me well.” I grin, hastily taking another bite of my sandwich when I see the frosty look he shoots my way.
“I don’t like it, but give me an hour.”
“Zane?” I ask, as he heads toward the door. “Why do you do it? Most guys would say no.”
“Can’t you tell by now? I can’t refuse you anything.”
“You really shouldn’t have admitted that,” I tease.
“Well, don’t make me regret it.”
An hour later, Zane, Mel, and I are creeping along the corridor toward the hospital. I had to practically beg Soldier Boyd to stay behind and watch Deacon. He’s taking his protection detail very seriously, and he was loathe to let me out of his sight. Not that I’m going to criticize him for that, it definitely feels safer with him around. He only relented when I agreed to wear my ID watch, which means he knows that we’re about to enter a restricted zone, and it will only give us minutes with Cal. But I don’t care; seeing the anticipation on Mel’s face, and the way my heart is making tiny somersaults, makes it all worthwhile. I don’t know what we’ll face behind the door, only that my desire to see him overrides any concern I have for my own well-being. How ironic, to think that while I was lying in my hospital bed, Cal was only meters away from me.
We come to a halt when we reach the restricted part of the hospital. Mel and I keep a lookout while Zane punches in the authorized code he stole from the server. As the double doors slide open, I step carefully inside, peering anxiously around the corner. The corridor is eerily empty. “Which way?”
“Follow me.”
Zane leads the charge, and we follow close behind. We experience an anxious moment when a doctor emerges suddenly from one of the rooms on our right, but Zane reacts quickly. Falling back into the nearest room, he pulls us both in with him. Labored breathing behind me causes my heart rate to accelerate furiously. Mel looks at me, equally panic-stricken. Turning around slowly, I stare in horror at the scene behind us.
All five beds in the room are occupied. Three men are hooked up to large operational machines, while the other two beds house bodies that are fully encased in a white sheet. Edging close to the nearest bed, I extend my hand out. Zane places a restraining arm on mine. I raise my eyebrows, and my look is challenging. Rolling his eyes, he releases me. My heart beats frantically as I retract the sheet and stare into the cold, dead eyes of the man on the bed.
My mouth opens to scream, but Zane’s hand whips across my lips. Mel is hyperventilating beside me, so I steady my own breathing and grip her hand. Zane starts to tug me back toward the door, but I shake him free and move over to inspect one of the men hooked up to the machine. I can just about make out the Ranger uniform he’s wearing under the sheet. Zane silently curses.
Placing my index and middle fingers on his wrist, I press down and feel the rhythmic swelling and shrinking as his blood flows through his veins. So this one is still alive. Noticing a spot of congealed, dried blood just under his neckline, I gently move his head to the side. “Ari!” I rock back on my heels in shock, tripping over the side of the bed. Tumbling to the ground, I land flat on my butt. The large, gaping, bloody hole in the man’s neck is clearly infected, and the pus oozing out of the wound is foul smelling. Gagging, I feel the vomit rise in my throat.
Mel offers her hand, and I rise on shaky legs. “Let’s get out of here,” Zane whispers. This time, I make no attempt to flout his authority. Edging the door open slowly, Zane peeks carefully out through the tiny gap. The corridor is empty, so we move out. Zane points to the very room the doctor had recently emerged from. “He’s in there.”
Pushing aside my nerves, I grab Mel’s hand and open the door.
CHAPTER 11
Cal is lying inert and unconscious on the only bed in the room. An off-white sheet is draped loosely over the lower half of his body, but his upper torso is bare and uncovered. Several tubes flow in his arms and chest, hooked up to a small machine at the back of the bed. A strip of digital screens line the side wall, displaying graphs and other medical data. Noticing sturdy steel restraints on his wrists and ankles, I frown.
The increase in his body size is blatantly obvious; his upper torso is totally ripped, even more muscular than I remember. Cal has always had a well-defined physique, but this is different. He looks like he’s been training to go head-to-head with The Rock. I move closer to him and inspect the open wounds and scabs dotted all over his chest and arms, making his skin look mottled and blotchy, like a badly designed patchwork quilt. Clasping my hand over my mouth, I halt the scream that’s ready to erupt. Mel is choking back tears. Keeping a firm grip on her hand, I move to the corner of the bed.
I place my hand lightly on his chest, and his skin feels hot to the touch. Spotting the sheen of sweat on his forehead, I think he’s running some type of low-grade fever. I bend over him, and his gentle breath warms my face, his scent attacking my self-control. Conscious of Zane’s proximity, I fight the tears. Mel releases my hand and threads her fingers in his. As I look down at him, my heart tumbles over itself. The outside world simply ceases to exist. His beautiful blond hair has been shorn into a tight buzz cut, but it only serves to highlight his chiseled jawline, high cheekbones, and full lips. I can’t tear my gaze from him.
Suddenly, his eyes flash open, and I jump, startled.
“Cal?” Mel asks, dipping down. Confused eyes flit quickly between the two of us, back and forth, so speedily that I’m concerned he’ll give himself whiplash. The look in his eyes is terrifying; it’s manic and so far removed from the Cal I know and love that I can’t contain my emotions any more. A huge, gut wrenching sob escapes my mouth as the door to the room slams open.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” Agent Dale demands, rushing into the room. Cal starts thrashing about violently on the bed, tugging on his restraints and yelling obscenities. Mel and I trade stunned expressions.
“Everyone out now,” the doctor instructs, entering the room flanked by two nurses. One of them wastes no time plunging a syringe into the tube hooked up to Cal’s arm, and in seconds, he’s immobile again. Mel and I start crying at the same time, almost as if it was timed. “Bring them to the office next door,” the doctor commands Zane. Nodding, he tucks me under his arm and leads me out of the room. Agent Dale has to forcefully remove Mel; she’s in full-blown hysterics now. Instantly going to her aid, I shove Agent Dale aside.
I’ve stopped crying by the time the doctor joins us, though Mel is still quietly sobbing beside me. “Please tell us what’s going on?”
He clears his throat. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Hann. I’ve been treating Cadet Remus. We’re still conducting tests, and we don’t have all the facts yet. Cal has been receiving high volumes of hormone altering drugs, and he’s been subjected to some form of brain conditioning in tandem. The resulting effect is significant alteration of normal brain chemistry and cognitive functionality. I believe the War Council has discovered knowledge of a program being piloted on Novo, to turn Cadets into some type of ‘Super Soldier.’ It appears Cal was part of this project.” Zane wasn’t far off the mark it seems, and I don’t think it was a lucky guess. I wonder what else he’s been keeping from me.
“Will he recover?”
“I don’t know, and that’s the honest answer. We’ve no way of telling how long he’s been subjected to this treatment.”
I think I do. “Is it possible to tell by the person?” I readily recall Cal’s uncharacteristic mood swings and aggressive outbursts those last few weeks on Novo.
“I can’t be prescriptive until we discover more, but I’d expect side effects like unusual or bizarre behavior, hallucinations, enhanced violence or aggression, possible delusions. Anything sound familiar?”
I nod. I should’ve known something was wrong, made him query it. “How did they get this stuff into him?” I ask as a disturbing thought lodges in my mind. Did he sign up for this? Is that what the meeting with the President was all about?
“They were probably initially secretly delivering medication at his weekly check-ups, and using the Vita to monitor his stats.” The thought is shocking, but easier to accept than his volunteering for it.
“Could he die?” Mel asks, finding her voice for the first time.
“Prolonged treatment of this type could put some pressure on the organs of the body, though I think it’s unlikely to be fatal. As I understand it, the aim of the program is to create the next generation of soldiers, so I assume there was rigorous testing before pilot launch.” I snort loudly. Given my experience, the authorities’ respect for human life seems to be at the bottom of the priority list, lost amidst their hunger for power. “Until we run more tests, we can’t assess the extent of the damage. I’m sorry that I can’t be more specific.”
“What happened to his skin?”
“The robotic suit he was wearing was powered by a strong electrical charge; it’s what enabled him to move with such speed and agility. It also maintained the memory control chip embedded at the base of the helmet. As soon as we touched him, the charge fused out, and the armor welded onto his skin in parts.”
I don’t need, or want, him to elaborate further. Contemplating the full extent of the horrors that Cal has endured since our separation, I shiver. “What should we expect? What can we do to help him?” I remember how helpless, and ill-equipped to deal with it, I felt when Mom was in recovery. I feel equally powerless now, but determined that I’ll do everything I can to bring him back to me.
“The withdrawal symptoms will be severe for at least the first couple of weeks. Be patient with him, talk to him as you would normally, and don’t rile him up. If he gets aggressive or angry, remove yourself from the room.” A nurse pops her head around the door and mouths something to Dr. Hann. “I have to go,” he says, standing up. “There’s one last thing. Cal is suffering amnesia. We think it’s from the impact of the fall after the Recedo was delivered. He’s extremely confused, so don’t expect too much from him.”
My brain recoils at this latest horror. Thanks to the government’s unscrupulous mind erase, I’ve no recollection of my relationship with Zane. Now, it appears that Cal has lost access to his memories too, and he won’t remember the closeness we shared. The irony strikes me cold, and I have to push down the hysterical laugh that threatens to bubble up my throat.
Soldier Boyd is furious and gives us a stern lecture on professionalism. Acting suitably mollified, we take it on the chin. When he resumes position outside our apartment door, Zane whispers, “I was beginning to think he was a robot; that’s the most animated I’ve ever seen him.”
I’m thrilled when I receive Agent Leena’s message confirming that I’ve passed the exam. I’m to report to the training unit the next morning to commence pilot training.
I’m there bright and early, eager for the distraction. I barely slept a wink all night. It was hard to switch off knowing Cal is so close yet still beyond reach. I need to confide in him so badly, but this is the first time that he’s incapable of being there for me. The door swings open, and quick footsteps approach from behind.
“Ari? I just want to say that I’m sorry and so grateful that you didn’t turn me in,” Isla says. Well, that’s a pretty startling opening line. I didn’t know she had it in her to be so … gracious, though I’m not buying it. Staring at her coldly, I’m surprised at the sincerity on her face. Maybe she is genuinely apologetic, but it’s a little too late for me. Twisting my head to the front, I ignore her. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me. I just wanted to tell you that, and you won’t get any more trouble from me.” Now I know she isn’t being truthful, because someone like her just can’t help being a pain in the butt.
We wait in utter silence until the rest of the group arrives. Agent Leena explains the nature of the training, and excited chatter peppers the air when she announces that we’re heading out for a practical demonstration. Marching in single file, we follow her steps to the hangar.
Stepping on board the newly remodeled training stealth-craft, I quickly locate a seat as far away from Isla as possible. As the electronic harness secures around my upper torso, I take a moment to adjust to my surroundings. Clementia has fully customized the interior, and every seat has an overhead screen that’s connected to the cockpit so we can see and hear everything going on. A holographic trainer will explain the bits in between.
“Listen up,” Agent Leena says, holding court in the strip of space between the main cabin and the cockpit. Leaning down, she hands a small, black box to the Cadet sitting nearest her. “You need to attach one of these neuro-transmitter chips to your temple before we lift off. And before you all bombard me with a zillion questions,” she says, palms raised in front of her, “I’m going to explain if you give me a chance. These babies practically fly themselves, but it’s important you also know how to manually fly the craft. The main reason we asked you all to undergo the exam was to identify if you could absorb a plethora of information within a confined timeframe. We knew if you could do that, then you’d adapt easily to this new technology. Once you apply the transmitter to your skin, you’ll be immediately connected with the pilot, and you’ll assimilate his knowledge and thought processes. It’s a far quicker way to train—certainly shorter than the years it’d take if we trained you using traditional methods.”
“Are you saying that we’ll be able to pilot these craft after applying one of these chips? How exactly?” I ask.
“The knowledge you glean from the pilot’s head will be indelibly imprinted on your brain, and your cognitive functionality will absorb the information and retain it as if it’s your own learning. Naturally, you’ll still need to train in the simulator, and we’ll take you out individually to put the learning into practice. But you’ll effectively be able to fly these on your own. Pretty awesome, huh?”
“Or pretty damned freaky. How’s this any different than what the government did to us with the nostalgia elixir?” My skin prickles with barely contained rage.
“It is different, Ariana. We’re imparting knowledge, not taking it away.”
“You’re still messing with our minds.” My jaw clenches tightly.
“Anyone that’s uncomfortable with this can bow out right now. Your choice,” she says, looking around the cabin. Her eyes settle on mine. I twist uneasily in my seat. No matter what way it’s been presented, it’s another form of mind manipulation, and I’m so not cool with that. But I need to learn how to fly these things. If Chancellor Corr reneges on his deal, we may have no choice but to try and rescue my family ourselves. Forcing down my distaste, I remain seated. Everyone else steadfastly holds their ground, passing the box from one to the other, and that’s the end of that little debate.
