The Pandora Project (20 page)

*****

              The speed at which I recover from the blinding pain racking my body can only mean one thing; my father is here. Instead of the joy I was anticipating at our reunion, a sob chokes me and forces the air out of my lungs.

             
“Paige?” the alarm in my father’s voice almost sends me over the edge. “Where does it hurt?”

             
“Nowhere, Dad, I’m fine,” I mumble through my tears.

             
“I thought…” He doesn’t finish and I look at him for the first time. His eyes are dark hallows in his face and he looks like he has aged fifteen years in the past week.
What has he done to you?
I think and am surprised to feel my mother in my head.

             
Paige
, her thoughts in my head feel forced and clouded with pain. And there is something dark clouding her thoughts: hatred, revenge, and maybe a touch of madness.

             
Mom
, I cry out while searching the room for her simultaneously. She is huddled in the corner, her arms and legs tied with rope. She doesn’t look injured but her eyes are haunted. Whatever they have done to her, its effects run deeper than anything my dad can heal. I am so shocked by her appearance it takes me a few seconds to realize the heap beside her, leaving a crimson puddle on the floor, is John.

             
It is all too much, my hands catch fire and all I can see is blinding whiteness as a ball of pure energy escapes my hands, disintegrating both my bonds and the chair I am sitting on. Barely catching myself before falling over, I search the room, looking for a target upon which I can unleash my fury.

             
A man I have never seen before grabs my father and shoves a gun against his temple. Dad doesn’t even fight back, just hangs there limply, utterly defeated. Again I wonder what has happened to my parents and my mom unleashes the images she has been fighting so hard to hold back.

             
Hundreds of images flood my brain, too many to comprehend, to many to absorb. Images of broken bones, cuts, bruises and suffocation. Horrible pain, only to be healed by my father in order for the agonizing torture to begin again. Images of my father made to watch, of my father being beaten and slowly healing before her eyes. Pictures so horrifying and evil I sink to my knees and close my eyes, ramming the heel of my hands into my eyes, trying to make it stop. No, Mom, no no no no no…

             
Maybe it is the agony she sees she is causing or she answers my silent pleas. Whatever it is, she finds the energy to reign in her thoughts and release me from the torture she was unwittingly putting me through. Panting for breath, I look to my father again, understanding his appearance and his apathy.

             
I concentrate on our captor for the first time. Recognition is twofold when I finally look at his face. He is clearly Asher’s father; the resemblance is too strong to be a coincidence and he was present in every memory my mother poured into my head. The hate I feel for him is so strong it robs my lungs of air and my body is filled with a fiery heat that radiates from every inch of my body, not just my hands.

             
For the first time in my life, I feel capable of being the monster I have always thought myself. I am filled with a full understanding of what I am capable of…and I love it. I love that I can destroy this man and walk away unscathed. I want to hurt him, just as he hurt my parents, as he hurt John.             

             
The thought of John breaks through the heat of my madness and I glance toward him once more, soaking in my mother’s fear because it makes me stronger. Why isn’t he moving? He should be healing by now…surely accelerated healing is a power of his, isn’t it?

             
“Is he dead?” I ask through gritted teeth.

             
“Now Paige,” the object of my hatred begins, “I think we all need to calm down,” he says as he digs the tip of his gun further into my father’s head, causing him to flinch.

             
“IS HE?!” I shriek, barely able to contain the fire begging to be released.

             
Our captor takes an involuntary step back dragging my father with him and I love to see the fear that flickers across his face. My pleasure is compounded at the malicious glee I feel coming from my mother…she wants me to hurt him, she wants him dead. They have destroyed my sweet, wonderful mother and the knowledge rips my heart from my chest.

             
In response to my outburst, three more armed men storm through the door and I find myself surrounded. The knowledge doesn’t bother me, the power I feel coursing through my blood can take out armies of men. I just don’t know how to get my parents and John away safely. And I have to find Dr. Cox. He is the one who needs to suffer.

             
I inhale a large, cleansing breath and try again, “Is John dead?”

             
“No, not yet,” he glances to the corner and for a split second concern crosses his face before he puts back on his macho act.

             
“I don’t believe I know what to call you,” I say, trying to buy myself some time to figure out how to get those I love to safety while blowing the rest of them to ash.

             
“Colonel will do for now,” he replies still holding my father.

             
“Well,
Colonel
, how ‘bout releasing my dad so he can see to John before it is too late.”

             
“Listen,
Missy
,” he responds in kind, “I don’t think you are in a position to be giving orders.”

             
“Oh, I think it is you who seriously underestimates the gravity of this situation.” Whipping around, I point my hand right between two of the thugs and releasing a pulse of energy destroy the wall behind them, blowing them back out the hole I create.

             
A rush of cool air ruffles my hair at the same time a fiery dart pierces my thigh, ripping through muscle and bone. The pain is enhanced when my body slams into the hardwood floor and the air is knocked out of my lungs. Through the excruciating pain and terror at not breathing, I feel my mother’s concerned yell in my head and hear my father moan and call my name. I have to stay conscious.

             
“That was just a little reminder that you don’t hold all the cards,” The Colonel remarks with a self-satisfied gleam in his eye.

             
I writhe on the floor, my hand covering my wound and am finally able to breathe. I know soon I will be weak and lightheaded from loss of blood unless my father attends me quickly.

             
“All it takes is one well placed bullet and your father and any chance of healing John will both be extinguished. Do I make myself clear?” He jerks my father up by his neck, emphasizing his point.

             
“Abundantly,” I spit out.

             
“So here is how it is going to work, you will be coming with me. There is someone who is dying to meet you.”

             
Oh how I wish that were true. I do know one thing, if I ever get near Dr. Cox he
will
die when he meets me. “What about them?” I ask, nodding my head toward the corner.

             
“We don’t need them anymore,” is his callous response.

             
“Let me tell you what I know, Colonel. You may not need them, but I do. If you or your little buddies,” I again point with my head to the one remaining thug and the two who are dazedly picking themselves off the ground, “want any chance of getting out of here alive, much less with me in tow, you will release my father right now. You will allow him to heal John and you will leave them here, unharmed.”
Well, at least not any more harmed than they currently are
.

             
The Colonel contemplates his options for a couple seconds before throwing my father in the corner. He trains his gun on my head instead while thug #1 shifts his weapon to the corner. After his uncertainty when he revived me, I have to make sure my father is still in possession of his power if any plan I have going through my head is going to work.

             
The cabin is silent except for the wind rushing through the hole in the wall, fueling the small fires that burn through the debris. Dad huddles over John and turns him over. I gasp when I see the damage the bullet created when it ripped through his shoulder. There is so much blood on the floor it quickly seeps into my father’s pants, staining them from the knee to the cuff. John is ashy white except for another streak of blood across his forehead where it must have hit the cabin when he fell.

             
Dad cradles John with one hand on his head and the other gripping his shoulder. The pain must not be enough to penetrate the blackness because John doesn’t move. The sight of these two men that I love locked in a battle with death causes tears to well in my eyes and I realize John was right. They will be used against me, but I will fight for them with all that I have and all that I am. We will win and we will be together.

             
Sweat beads on my father’s head and John still doesn’t move. It has never seemed so hard for Dad to work on someone. I realize he is broken, his spirit is weak and it is affecting his power. “Please, Dad,” I whisper just loud enough for him to hear, “you can do this.”

             
I feel a slight nudge of thought and I know my mom is encouraging him, wanting to reach out and help him, but her trappings won’t allow her to. As I concentrate on my father, I realize the pain in my leg has subsided. I don’t dare move my hand away to inspect the wound, but I know that I am healing, fast.

             
The warmth of my mother’s thoughts fill my head, issuing instructions I don’t want to follow, I won’t. I shake my head slightly, almost imperceptively, but she continues on. I know she is presenting the only way out, the only shot I have to ever have hope again, but I am still hesitant. She shuts herself off from me, leaving me no options.

             
After what seems hours, with no response from John, Dad raises his head, “I can’t.”

             
“You did this,” I hurl the words at The Colonel.

             
For a brief second he looks wounded, but he recovers quickly and moves in my direction. “I guess you are no longer of any use to us either, Dr. Mills.” With a quick motion to the only thug not afraid of me, they reach under my arms and drag me from the cabin. I don’t move, my injured leg trailing behind.

             
As they drag me to the white van with government plates, I see more soldiers milling around and realize my parents will never get away, will never be safe. “Wait!” I scream and pull my full weight against my captors, trying to stand. “I will not have you use those I love against me, I will not be controlled by scum like you or Dr. Cox.”

             
I throw my hands out in front of me and release all the energy that has been building up inside for a lifetime. I throw all my anger, fears and frustration into the power and watch as the small building goes up in a wall of fire and smoke. I spread my hands and channel the power into the trees surrounding the cabin. The soldiers run for cover in a flurry of fear and confusion. The wall of fire and destruction is the last thing I see before I am once again sent into a world of blackness and silence.

Chapter
25

              One aspect of Dr. Cox’s genius is always knowing when to let others do the dirty work. There are times when a situation is so critical he can only trust himself to bring about satisfactory results. While this may have been one of those times, the volatility of the Pandora forced him to err on the side of caution…which is why there is yet another mess on his hands.

             
The sharp click clack of his shoes on the marble floor of his office lends a certain cadence to his words as he shouts into his phone, berating the Colonel. Knowing his pacing is a physical manifestation of the tension and anger rising inside of him is not enough to control his body.

             
“One simple task, Colonel. Is that too much to ask of a man of your station?” He doesn’t listen to the response, nothing can appease his anger.

             
“Bring me the girl, her parents and deal with the Sullivan boy. Any half-wit could have accomplished such a small task. I warned you, Christian. Asher would be safe only if you were able to put your personal feelings aside and deal with this small task. I feel this constitutes a breach of our agreement.” Again he doesn’t listen to the prattle on the other end of the line, he seldom does as it rarely adds anything to the conversation.

             
“What were you able to recover from the site?” This time he listened, the level of damage a direct indicator of the girl’s power. The Colonel’s answer sparked a small measure of pride and reinforced his decision to stay away.