Ignite Me (34 page)

Three of them come flying at me, trying to tackle me to the ground, and I shove them all back. One runs forward
again and I punch him directly in the face, feeling his nose break against my metal knuckles. Another tries to grab my arm from behind and I catch his hand, breaking his fingers in my grip only to catch his forearm, pull him close, and shove him through a wall. I spin around to face the rest of them and they’re all staring at me, panic and terror mixing in their eyes.

“Fight me,” I say to them, blood and urgency and a crazy kind of adrenaline rushing through me. “I dare you.”

Five of them lift their guns in my direction, point them at my face.

Shoot.

Over and over and over again, unloading round after round. My instinct is to protect myself from the bullets, but I focus instead on the men, on their bodies and their angry, twisted faces. I have to close my eyes for a second, because I can’t see through the barrage of metal being crushed against my body. And when I’m ready, I bring my fist close to my chest, feeling the power rise up inside of me, and I throw it forward, all at once, knocking seventy-five soldiers down like they’re made of matchsticks.

I take a moment to breathe.

My chest is heaving, my heart racing, and I look around, feeling the stillness within the madness, blinking hard against the flashing red lights of the alarm, and find that the soldiers do not stir. They’re still alive, I can tell, but they’re unconscious. And I allow myself one instant to look down.

I’m surrounded.

Bullets. Hundreds of bullets. A puddle of bullets. All around my feet. Dropping off my suit.

My face.

I taste something cold and hard in my mouth and spit it into my hand. It looks like a broken, mangled piece of metal. Like it was too flimsy to stand against me.

Smart little bullet
, I think.

And then I run.

SEVENTY

The halls are still now. The footsteps, fewer.

I’ve already tossed two hundred soldiers into the ocean.

Knocked down about a hundred more.

I have no idea how many more soldiers Anderson has left guarding this ship. But I’m going to find out.

I’m breathing hard as I make my way through this maze. It’s a sad truth that while I’ve learned to fight and I’ve learned to project, I still have no idea how to run.

For someone with so much power, I’m terribly out of shape.

I kick down the first door I see.

Another.

Then another.

I’m going to rip apart every inch of this ship until I find Anderson. I will tear it down with my own two hands if I need to. Because he has Sonya and Sara. And he might have Kenji.

And first, I need to make them safe.

And second, I need him dead.

Another door splinters open.

I kick the next one down with my foot.

They’re all empty.

I see a set of swinging double doors at the end of the hall and I shove through them, hoping for something, anything, any sign of life.

It’s a kitchen.

Knives and stoves and food and tables. Rows and rows and rows of canned goods. I make a mental note to come back for this. It seems a shame to let all this food go to waste.

I bolt back out the doors.

And jump. Hard. Stomping through the deck and hoping there’s another floor to this ship.

Hoping.

I land badly on the toes of my feet, slightly off-balance and toppling backward. I catch myself just in time.

Look around.

This, I think. This is right. This is totally different.

The halls are huge down here; windows to the outside cut into the walls. The floor is made of wood again, long, thin panels that are brightly glossed and polished. It looks nice down here. Fancy. Clean. The sirens feel muted on this level, like a distant threat that means little anymore, and I realize I must be close.

Footsteps, rushing toward me.

I spin around.

There’s a soldier charging in my direction, and this time, I don’t hide. I run toward him, tucking my head in as I do, and my right shoulder slams into his chest so hard he goes flying across the hall.

Someone tries to shoot me from behind.

I spin around and walk right up to him, swatting the bullets from my face like they might be flies. And then I grab his shoulders, pull him close, and knee him in the groin. He doubles over, gasping and groaning and curling into himself on the floor. I bend down, rip the gun out of his hand, and clutch a fistful of his shirt. Pick him up with one hand. Slam him into the wall. Press the gun to his forehead.

I’m tired of waiting.

“Where is he?” I demand.

He won’t answer me.

“
Where?
” I shout.

“I d-don’t know,” he finally says, his voice shaking, his body twitching, trembling in my grip.

And for some reason, I believe him. I try to read his eyes for something, and get nothing but terror. I drop him to the floor. Crush his gun in my hand. Toss it into his lap.

I kick open another door.

I’m getting so frustrated, so angry now, and so blindly terrified for Kenji’s well-being that I’m shaking with rage. I don’t even know who to look for first.

Sonya.

Sara.

Kenji.

Anderson.

I stand in front of another door, defeated. The soldiers have stopped coming. The sirens are still blaring, but from a distance now. And suddenly I’m wondering if this was all
just a waste of time. If maybe Anderson isn’t even on this ship. If maybe we’re not even on the
right
ship.

And for some reason, I don’t kick down the door this time.

For some reason, I decide to try the handle first.

It’s unlocked.

SEVENTY-ONE

There’s a huge bed in here with a large window and a beautiful view of the ocean. It’s lovely, actually, how wide and expansive everything is. Lovelier still are its occupants.

Sonya and Sara are staring at me.

They’re perfect. Alive.

Just as beautiful as they’ve ever been.

I rush over to them, so relieved I nearly burst into tears.

“Are you okay?” I ask, gasping, unable to control myself. “Are you all right?”

They throw themselves into my arms, looking like they’ve been through hell and back, tortured from the inside, and all I want to do is carry them out of this ship and take them home.

But as soon as the initial hyperventilations are out of the way, Sonya says something that stops my heart.

“Kenji was looking for you,” she says. “He was just here, not too long ago, and he asked us if we’d seen you—”

“He said you got split up,” Sara says.

“And that he didn’t know what happened to you,” Sonya says.

“We were so worried you were dead,” they say together.

“No,” I tell them, feeling crazy now. “No, no, I’m not
dead. But I have to go. Stay here,” I’m saying to them. “Don’t move. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back, I promise,” I say. “I just have to go find Kenji—I have to find Anderson—”

“He’s two doors over,” Sara says, eyes wide.

“The one all the way at the end of the hall,” Sonya says.

“It’s the one with the blue door,” they tell me.

“Wait!” Sonya stops me as I turn to go.

“Be careful,” Sara says. “We’ve heard some things—”

“About a weapon he’s brought with him,” Sonya says.

“What kind of weapon?” I ask, heart slowing.

“We don’t know,” they say together.

“But it made him very happy,” Sara whispers.

“Yes, very happy,” Sonya adds.

I clench my fists.

“Thank you,” I say to them. “Thank you—I’ll see you soon,” I’m saying. “Very soon—” And I’m backing out, backing away, rushing down the hall and I hear them shouting for me to be safe, and good luck, just behind me.

But I don’t need luck anymore. I need these two fists and this spine of steel. I waste no time at all getting to the blue room. I’m not afraid anymore.

I don’t hesitate. I won’t hesitate. Never again.

I kick it down.

“JULIETTE—NO—”

SEVENTY-TWO

Kenji’s voice hits me like a fist to the throat.

I don’t even have time to blink before I’m thrown against the wall.

My back, I think. Something is wrong with my back. The pain is so excruciating that I can’t help but wonder if it’s broken. I’m dizzy and I feel slow; my head is spinning and there’s a strange ringing in my ears.

I clamber to my feet.

I’m hit, again, so hard. And I don’t even know where the pain is coming from. I can’t blink fast enough, can’t steady my head long enough to shake the confusion.

Everything is tilting sideways.

I’m trying so hard to shake it off.

I’m stronger than this. Better than this. I’m supposed to be indestructible.

Up, again.

Slowly.

Something hits me so hard I fly across the room, slamming into the wall. I slide down to the floor. I’m bent over now, holding my hands to my head, trying to blink, trying to understand what’s happening.

I don’t understand what could possibly be hitting me.

This hard
.

Nothing should be able to hit me this hard. Not over and over again.

It feels like someone is calling my name, but I can’t seem to hear it. Everything is so muffled, so slippery and off-balance, like it’s there, just out of reach, and I can’t seem to find it. Feel it.

I need a new plan.

I don’t stand up again. I stay on my knees, crawling forward, and this time, when the hit comes, I try to beat it back. I’m trying so hard to push my energy forward, but all the hits to my head have made me unsteady. I’m clinging to my energy with a manic desperation, and though I don’t manage to move forward, I’m also not thrown back.

I try to lift my head.

Slowly.

There’s nothing in front of me. No machine. No strange element that might be able to create these powerful impacts. I blink hard against the ringing in my ears, trying frantically to clear my vision.

Something hits me again.

The intensity threatens to beat me back but I dig my fingers into the ground until they go through the wood and I’m clinging to the floor.

I would scream, if I could. If I had any energy left.

I lift my head again. Try again to see.

And this time, two figures come into focus.

One is Anderson.

The other is someone I don’t recognize.

He’s a stocky blond with closely cropped hair and flinty eyes. He looks vaguely familiar to me. And he’s standing beside Anderson with a cocky smile on his face, his hands held out in front of him.

He claps.

Just once.

I’m ripped from the floor and thrown back against the wall.

Sound waves
.

These are
pressure waves
, I realize.

Anderson has found himself a toy.

I shake my head and try to clear it again, but the hits are coming faster now. Harder. More intense. I have to close my eyes against the pressure of the hits and try to crawl, desperately, breaking through the floorboards to get a grip on something.

Another hit.

Hard to the head.

It’s like he’s causing an explosion every time his hands clap together, and what’s killing me isn’t the explosion. It isn’t direct impact. It’s the pressure released from a bomb.

Over and over and over again.

I know the only reason I’m able to survive this is because I’m too strong.

But
Kenji
, I think.

Kenji must be somewhere in this room. He was the one who called my name, who tried to warn me. He must be
here, somewhere, and if I can hardly survive this right now, I don’t know how he could be doing any better.

He must be doing worse.

Much worse.

That fear is enough for me. I’m fortified with a new kind of strength, a desperate, animal intensity that overpowers me and forces me upright. I manage to stand in the face of each impact, each blow as it rattles my head and rings in my ears.

And I walk.

One step at a time, I walk.

I hear a gunshot. Three. Five more. And realize they’re all aimed in my direction. Bullets breaking off my body.

The blond is moving. Backing up. Trying to get away from me. He’s increasing the frequency of his hits, hoping to throw me off course, but I’ve come too far to lose this fight. I’m not even thinking now, barely even lucid, focused solely on reaching him and silencing him forever. I have no idea if he’s managed to kill Kenji yet. I have no idea if I’m about to die. I have no idea how much longer I can withstand this.

But I have to try.

One more step, I tell myself.

Move your leg. Now your foot. Bend at the knee.

You’re almost there, I tell myself.

Think of Kenji. Think of James. Think of the promises you made to that ten-year-old boy, I tell myself. Bring Kenji home. Bring yourself home.

There he is. Right in front of you.

I reach forward as if through a cloud, and clench my fist around his neck.

Squeeze.

Squeeze until the sound waves stop.

I hear something crack.

The blond falls to the floor.

And I collapse.

SEVENTY-THREE

Anderson is standing over me now, pointing a gun at my face.

He shoots.

Again.

Once more.

I close my eyes and pull deep, deep within myself for my last dregs of strength, because somehow, some instinct inside of my body is still screaming at me to stay alive. I remember Sonya and Sara telling me once that our energies could be depleted. That we could overexert ourselves. That they were trying to make medicines to help with that sort of thing.

I wish I had that kind of medicine right now.

I blink up at Anderson, his form blurring at the edges. He’s standing just behind my head, the toes of his shiny boots touching the top of my skull. I can’t hear much but the echoes in my bones, can’t see anything other than the bullets raining down around me. He’s still shooting. Still unloading his gun into my body, waiting for the moment when he knows I won’t be able to hold on any longer.