The Pandora Project (19 page)

We’ve been running so much I just want to hide, but I want to be with my parents again so badly I don’t want to stop now.
“We run.”

Chapter
23

After ditching the car and finding a new one that Asher doesn’t know about, we start on the road again. It is amazing at how proficient we are getting at acquiring cars. I guess practice really does make perfect.

While the adrenaline from the Asher incident carries us for a while, i
t doesn’t take long to become extremely evident that we are both too tired to go on much longer. John must read my mind because when my eyelids go so heavy I feel like I can rest them on the dashboard, he pulls off. I don’t pay any attention to where we are going…he hasn’t disappointed me so far. Instead of looking out the window, I stare at him as he concentrates on getting us wherever we are going.

Between the peace I feel looking at him and the lull of the car, I find myself jerking awake when the smooth motion comes to a halt.
John laughs soundlessly as I try to get my bearings. “Where are we?” I ask groggily.

He slides his fingers down my cheek and says, “Let your eyes adjust, we’re camping!”

A groan escapes me at the thought of another night in the car. “No toilet again?” I whine as I search my surroundings. At first all I can see is a forest of thick pine trees and wonder how he got me in the middle of the woods without me noticing. As my grow used to the darkness, a rickety log cabin comes into view. “What is this place?” I ask.

John looks entirely too pleased with himself, but if there is a bathroom, I will let him have it.
“A state park that offers cabins. Normally the gates are closed at night, but thanks to you, I am plenty strong enough to open the gate, let us in and close it again without anyone being the wiser. I’ve driven around and we seem to be the only ones in the park. I imagine this place is scarcely used in the best of times, but a weeknight in the fall…” he trails off to let me finish the thought on my own.

I still can’t believe he did all that without me waking up.
Add stealth to his ever growing list of super powers. By the time I get out of the car and close the door noisily into the darkness, my eyes have grown accustomed to the darkness and the stars. What started as tiny pinpricks of light now seem like spotlights, lighting my way to the cabin. The sounds and smells of the woods immediately put me at ease and I am more than pleased with his choice for a hideout.

The age of the cabin is evident in a multitude of cracks that crisscross the logs in as many intricate patterns as the spider webs covering the porch.
It smells of pine and sap, but also of mold and mildew. John easily opens the door with brute strength. With every deadbolt he shatters my conscience grows heavier, but with an impending apocalypse always looming over your head, a couple hundred dollars of damage is easily rationalized away. We don’t turn on any lights, just in case there is anyone around that would wonder about a light in the woods.

The inside of the cabin is minimalist at best.
There is one double bed with a mattress that sags so badly in the middle I know we won’t be able to sleep on it without rolling toward each other. The mattress is wrapped in a mattress cover and an old wool blanket is folded on the foot of the bed. There is a door off to one side, which I desperately hope leads at least to a toilet and sink and a three legged wood table placed in a corner with two rickety wood chairs enclosing it.

I drop the bag John has allowed me to carry and head immediately to the door, a smile lighting my face to see a half bath.
I clap my hands, amazed at the joy an old smelly toilet can bring me. Fetching my toothbrush, toilet paper and a bar of soap, I take first turn in the bathroom.

We eat from the dry rations my father packed
, the leftover mint flavor from my toothpaste making it even more unpalatable than usual. I guess I should have waited to brush. I collapse on the bed as John heads to the bathroom and am rewarded with a cloud of dust surrounding me. Underused is an understatement.

I curl up on my side with my hands under my head as a makeshift pillow.
I scoot as far to one side as possible given the state of the mattress and wait for John to emerge. He doesn’t hesitate as I might have when he comes out of the bathroom. He makes straight for the bed and lies on the opposite side, facing me, curling up in an almost identical pose.

“Another day closer to your parents,” he says in hushed tones.
I wonder if he feels the need to whisper or if it is just the isolation and silence of the cabin he is hesitant to disturb.

“Why do I feel farther away?” I whisper in return.

“Funny how that works.” Only he doesn’t laugh or even smile. Nothing about this entire day has been funny.

“Was it only this morning we squatted in that empty house?” I ask as I stifle a yawn.

Looking at his watch he replies, “Given that it is two A.M., it was technically yesterday.”

“That makes me feel better.”

I let the conversation die, knowing he must be exhausted.
I don’t know how long I was asleep in the car, but it has taken the edge off my sleepiness just enough to make sure sleep eludes me. I close my eyes and try for several minutes, but when John’s even breathing indicates he is asleep, I take up one of my new favorite hobbies, studying his face. Every moment I am with him he gets better looking. His physical transformation has made him appear older, but with his features softened with sleep, he easily passes as a teenager without a care in the world.

What right does a monster like me have to his affection?
As the question, intrudes on my otherwise happy thoughts, I wonder if he sees me that way at all. Should I warn him? Doesn’t he have a right to know what I have done to my own grandmother?

I know it is a cowards way out, with him being asleep and all, but I whisper in the softest voice I can manage, “I am a monster.”

The corners of his mouth turn down and his forehead wrinkles before he frightens me by opening his eyes and demanding, “What are you talking about?”

“I thought you were asleep,” I lamely admit.

“Well, I’m not. Why would you say that?” His hostility surprises me more than it frightens me.

“Can’t you figure it out?
You have enhanced mental acuity. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that not only am I not normal, I have the ability to create things that will make little children run away screaming for their mothers.” As tears well in my eyes, I blame their presence on stress and fatigue.

“You also have the ability to bring out the absolute best in people.
To give people access to their biggest strengths. If those strengths are abused or used for evil, they are the monsters, not you. Dr. Cox is the monster, not you!”

I try to subtely wipe a tear that threatens to drip off my nose, but he doesn’t miss it, “Are you crying?
Why? How can you not see how incredible you are?”

“You don’t even know me,” I choke out.

“Not as well as I would like to, but well enough!” He reaches out and with one swift movement pulls me closer and flips me over so my back is pressed into his front. His top arm is draped protectively over my body and he pulls me in for a fierce hug.

“I know that you would rather give up everything you know and love than risk anyone getting hurt.
I know that you put the lives of men sent to capture you ahead of your own wellbeing. I know that you inspire love and devotion in those closest to you, you should have heard Lexi threatening me not to hurt you that first day we met.

“I know that you blame yourself for something you had no control over.
I know it haunts you constantly, even when you sleep…that is why you are always jerking yourself awake, afraid you might have hurt someone.”

He kisses me lightly on the crown of my head which sends a warm tingling sensation from the spot his lips touch me through my stomach and out my toes.
Should such a simple gesture churn my insides and sweep fire through my body.

Unaware of the feelings he has unleashed he continues, “I know that after today, you are all I have left, and I wouldn’t pin all my hopes on a monster.
I don’t
ever
want you to say that again…I don’t even want you to
think
it.”

If anything could change a lifetime of believing myself a monster, his speech would do it.
I roll toward him and lift my face, hoping he will take it from there. He smiles down at me and brushes his lips across my brow. It is not the passionate kiss I was hoping for, but it quiets the tempest he unleashed and I feel content.

“Your mom is still out there,” I mumble into his chest.

“I hope not,” he slowly and quietly whispers.

I pull back in shock, “How can you say that?”

“If she is, she is in pain, she is scared and she
will
be used against me. I hope for both of our sakes she has moved on and is with my dad.” I can’t argue with his logic, but my heart breaks for him. Instead of feeling like a monster and berating myself for it, I want to be someone who can heal him, who can be worth it, and who won’t leave him alone.

The silence envelops us and I can almost feel him thinking.
I wait, hoping he will offer it of his own free will, hoping it is something I want to hear. “It’s what he does, you know.”

I’m not sure if it is a statement or a question.
“Who?”

He sighs, disappointed I am making him spell it out.
“Dr. Cox. He uses those we love against us. He used me and my mom against my dad; my mom against me. He will use your parents against you if he has gotten his hands on them.”

The thought of my parents being held captive by that madman is enough to make bile rise in the back of my throat and kills any lingering feelings of content or pleasure.
He continues, “If he ever finds out about us, he will use me against you.”

I let his statement hang in the air.
What am I supposed to say? He is right on all accounts. The most powerful weapon against me is those I love. Growing up believing the worst about myself makes it easy to think I’m disposable. I have always known that the world would be a better place without me in it, at least its chances for survival would be better. But a world without my parents or without John? It is inconceivable.

“Don’t let him do it, Paige.
Not ever.” His whisper is low but his passion slams his words into me. “I know how it feels, I know the power it gives others, promise me you will
never
allow him to use me against you.”

“I can’t do that, John.
I would rather die than watch those I love suffer because of me.” Did I really just say I love him? Is that how he will hear it?

“You’re the key, Paige.
You’re Pandora…please don’t open the box.”

Chapter
24

The light streaming through the glazed glass windows wakes me much sooner than I want. My nose is cold from the frosty air and I realize that sometime in the night John must have covered us with the blanket. While I am thankful for the warmth, the smell of damp wool is not a welcome scent. I bury my face in John’s chest and inhale his scent instead. The fact that my dad’s scent still lingers in the clothes John is wearing quickly brings me back to the task at hand…and quickly dampens any desire I might have had to make out.

As if sensing my sudden panic, John pulls away and starts to get out of bed, “Good Morning, Sleepyhead.”

“Good Morning,” is my brilliant and witty reply.

“If we ever want to make it to New York, we need to get going.
I’m feeling jittery,” he says as he shakes his shoulders and jumps lightly on his toes.

I hope the jittery feeling is just in his head and not some new ability rearing its ugly head, but given my luck it is probably the latter.

We change clothes and clean up quickly and silently. Beef jerky again for breakfast and rusty, sulfurous smelling water to wash it down. Before we walk out the door I grab John’s hand and pull him toward me, “For the ride today, can we pretend we are normal?”

“We are normal
. If Dr. Cox has his way everyone will be super. Everyone will have something that makes them like us.”

I let his pessimism go and try again, “I’m serious
. Let’s pretend we are on a road trip to take you home to my parents to see if they approve. Let’s get to know each other better and be happy,” he looks unconvinced so I reach up and run my finger down his face. “I want this very much.”

His hands in my hair and his lips on
mine surprise me into complete inaction until my body responds to some primitive need and gives back in kind. After two of the best minutes of my life, he pulls away. “I want
this
very much as well.”

Well, so do I, but I don’t think we can get very far doing things his way!
The heady fog of his kiss surrounds me as I practically float out the door. I think my reflexes were slowed by the intoxication of his desire because I didn’t even have time to register John’s body slamming into the side of the cabin before an explosion of light and pain dropped me into the deepest darkness I have ever known.