CHAPTER FORTY

A BLAST OF hot wind swept over the bridge, piling sand against the railing and fragments of shattered cement. The twitchers didn’t flinch as the Austin skyline behind them disappeared. The voice came. This time I refused to turn, to look into his red eyes. “Little Buck have more in common with Oleg than first suspect. Is still one key difference. Youth and vigor versus age and wisdom. Is time to unite both. No more games.”

“Jump!” A familiar voice breached the desert mirage with a command so natural I acted upon it without thought. Only after swimming sideways, stretching through liquefied air, did I recognize the voice as Marisol’s.

A projectile the size of a walnut rippled past my ear, missing me by less than a foot. As my feet left the ground, the object froze, suspended harmlessly in front of the hybrids. In the pulse of a hummingbird’s heart the shiny projectile flashed red and detonated.

Silence so palpable it had a taste, like sterile cotton balls, pressed in from every side. My body became a sponge, absorbing sound and movement and light, until nothing except the silence remained. I blinked.

Slammed with air transformed from gas to liquid to solid, the shockwave ejected me from the bridge. Tattered clothing flapping in the wind, I struck the surface of the river like a skipping stone. Finally the surface grabbed my boots, tugging me under.

The currents lolled me, whispering my conscious to sleep. Sleep, lest you feel the pain. Lest you remember.

The rest was laughter and dancing—Evie and I performing an impromptu Broadway performance of Paint Your Wagon under our dim living room lights. I’d spilled the popcorn bowl while trying to kick my heels in the air. Gold, precious gold. We collected it on all fours, hoarding it, plucking it from between couch cushions.

The music faded. I struggled helplessly to get it back until Evie was gone. A chill swept over me. Then pain. Evie? My arms were heavy. With effort I lifted one, flopping it into mud. Shuddering, I heaved out a slurry of river water and filth followed by a racking cough. On all fours, I crawled from the water’s edge, propping myself against a rock.

The bridge shone against the dark night sky like a slash across the fabric of space. Everything had gone dark. Clouds buried the moon and street lamps had blinked out in every direction. I squeezed my head in effort to put things in place. I’d been there, on the bridge when an explosion…Marisol.

The van. Evie. My background mind assisted in picking up the pieces of the puzzle while I tested the function of my limbs. Blood dripped from my nose. More ran from my ears, along with a thin yellow mucous indicating concussion. My brain tissues were expanding. Maybe the cold river water had helped limit the damage. Maybe not. I’d either live or drop dead in a few minutes. So I had to hurry.

Tromping along the riverbank, I reached the bridge and plunged back into the water. Clumsily, I swam the weak current out to the van. With the roof crumpled and underwater, it took me a minute of exploring before I managed to wriggle my way inside through the back doors. But it was too dark and murky to see further than my hands could reach.

After several times to the surface for breath, I determined only one person had been in the van, a male. I left the body in the driver seat and returned to the bank. Evie hadn’t even been inside. Either Adel had never intended to return her to me, or she’d been too smart to risk bringing her into the open.

Evie was still alive. I let the thought strengthen me before slogging up to bridge level on the south side of the river. Sirens sounded in the distance—Austin’s finest late on the scene as usual. A cursory glance revealed everything I needed to know. The twitchers were gone. Not on the bridge, not in the water. The damn things seemed immortal without the lost gene. Except we’d killed one during the attack on the lab, I just couldn’t remember how.

I limped toward Marisol’s car. Along the way I found Marisol, crumpled against the curb. Her fancy weapon had smashed against the cement. It looked like her head remained intact. I rolled her over, the sirens growing closer. Even in the dark, I could see the outlines and curves of her face from memory. A part of me wanted to believe she hadn’t been trying to kill me, that she couldn’t be so cold.

Yet, I hated her for risking Evie’s life. “Sorry, Sol, but I’ve gotta go.” She groaned as I lay her head back on the sidewalk and hobbled toward her Camaro. Thankfully, I’d parked outside the shockwave radius. The neon Corona sign in the bar window several feet away flickered and buzzed, the first sign of life beyond ground zero.

I tried the ignition. The starter turned over, sparking the engine to life. Without any fancy electronics, nothing else on the old classic stood to be damaged by whatever sort of EM burst Marisol had detonated. Slowly I pointed it east down a side road and disappeared as the flashing red and blue arrived in my rearview.

My stolen ARGs had been knocked off my head by the shockwave and most certainly fried. Without communication and without allies, two questions burned brightest in my brain. Was Adel still alive? Either way, how could I find Evie? With each encounter it became increasingly evident I’d have to go through Oleg’s twitchers rather than around.