The Taking: The Countdown Part 20

So I'd agreed, not realizing they were going to turn it into an event. That I'd be on display, like a circus sideshow-Step right up, ladies and gents, see the freak who counts down to the alien apocalypse! For an extra ticket, you might even be able to touch her.

I was surrounded by scientists and technicians, then hooked up to conductors and wires and probes.

That was what sent me right over the edge, straight into Panicville. The probes. It was too much like the asylum . . . of everything Natty and Eddie Ray had done while they'd kept me strapped to that rusted metal gurney, monitoring me.

Somehow, though, I'd kept that panic in check, swallowing it down like hunks of sharp cement. It was p.r.i.c.kly and it tore up my esophagus, but I reminded myself I was here for mankind's sake . . . for my friends and family. I took one for the team.

At the onset of the pangs, I pretended not to notice them, those first p.r.i.c.ks and pinches. But within minutes, tears had been streaming down my face.

Eight . . . eight . . . eight . . .

Eight . . .

The number repeated over and over in my head while I'd broken out in a sweat, holding my breath, struggling against the shooting, stabbing, slicing pains. All these people watching . . . all these intruders. I didn't want to embarra.s.s myself. I didn't want them to see me at my worst.

In the end, though, I was weak. I couldn't help but give in to it, and I let out a low moan. What difference did it make? Why should I care anyway? I didn't owe these strangers anything, let alone a show of dignity.

When it was finished, when it was beyond-the-shadow-of-a-doubt over, I opened my eyes at last. The room was empty of everyone except Dr. Clarke, who thanked me for coming. For "partic.i.p.ating," she'd said as if I'd just competed in Field Day and earned a blue ribbon in the sack races or the water balloon toss.

The whole thing happened again this morning, the tests. But at least this time I'd known what to expect. The only difference was the number repeating in my head: Seven, seven, seven, seven . . .

Simon materialized out of nowhere just as I was ducking out of the track, where I'd taken a quick run before Willow and Griffin decided it was time for another of their marathon sessions. I made a point of acting as if he hadn't caught me off guard, but the truth was he had. I'd been avoiding Simon the same way Tyler had been avoiding me-pretending I didn't notice him while I was acutely aware of his presence at all times.

"So," he said, falling into step beside me. I picked up my pace even though I had nowhere in particular to be. "You and lover boy, back together again . . ." Even from the corner of my eye I could see the way he raised an eyebrow. "I guess congratulations are in order."

I shrugged and kept walking. "You know that's not how it is."

"Isn't it? You got exactly what you wanted. I'm happy for you. Really, I am." He was lying, of course. I could hear the letdown in his voice.

I slowed, looking down at my feet. "I don't think he can forgive me about Natty. About having to kill them. And I don't blame him. Not really." I inhaled, trying to wipe my own memory of what I'd done. Maybe loving me wasn't enough. "Even if he does remember about us, it might not even matter now."

When I realized Simon had stopped walking, I did too. I turned back to him, and he was giving me a look that said what he thought: I was being stupid. "What'd you expect, Kyra? You really think you'd drop a bomb like that, and it'd be all happily ever after?" His tone was harsh. "This isn't some fairy tale. Things don't work like that. And even if they did, you two don't have that kind of history."

I clenched my jaw. "For once I wish you'd just say what you mean."

"What I mean is, how well do the two of you really know each other? You were together, what . . . a week, ten days before he got sick? That's less than two weeks during which you fell madly in love? Are you kidding me?"

"Shut up," I insisted. "You're wrong." Tyler and I might only have had two weeks together after I'd been returned, but that had been two weeks added to the rest of a lifetime that we'd known each other.

Okay sure, a lifetime where we'd been virtual strangers, where I'd barely given him the time of day because he was younger than me back then . . . but that didn't change the fact we had a history, whether Simon understood or not. We'd gone to the same schools, our families had been close . . . and we'd spent our entire lives across the street from each other.

Those experiences counted for something.

I started to walk away, but Simon reached for me. "Seriously, Kyra, hear me out. Are you just hanging on to Tyler because he's part of your history? Because he reminds you of your past? Is that enough to make a relationship? Is it really about memories-the things you think you shared? Or is it about having a connection?" His fingers curled around my wrist, insistent, and I stopped trying to get away from him.

Hadn't I wondered those same things, when I'd first come back . . . and in the weeks since? Not just about the people around me, but about myself. What made me who I was-was it my memories and past experiences? Or the person I was now and my actions going forward?

It was kind of like my old bedroom at my mom's house. After I'd come back it was no longer my room anymore. Sure, it was the exact same s.p.a.ce-the same room in the same house-but it wasn't the same. Not really. My mom had packed up all the things that had made it mine-all my pictures and posters and trophies, my stuffed animals and clothes, ticket stubs from the movies I'd seen, and my journals and CDs. Everything personal to me. Everything that had given it character.

Everything that made it feel like home.

Maybe my body was just a new bedroom where all my old stuff-all the things I'd collected and cherished-had been moved. A new home filled with Old Kyra's memories and feelings. A place where I could start all over again.

"Think about it, isn't it better to really know someone . . . to see the other person for who they are, flaws and all, and still want to be with them?" Simon's grip loosened but I stayed still, trapped by my swirling emotions, and by eyes that were so vibrantly copper I got lost in them. "You and I," he went on, "we've spent more time together than the two of you ever did." His voice swept over my skin like liquid silk. He inched closer, a playful smile tugging his full lips. "We've survived so much. We can survive this too." He reached underneath my chin and nudged it up. My breath hitched and I wanted to look away, but the only place I could look was there . . . at those molten eyes of his. "You and I might not have history, not yet anyway. But I know you. I see you, and that means something. You just have to give me a chance, Kyra." He leaned closer, coming right at me. My brain sent the signal to shake my head, to tell him, No . . . no way! But my heart was thumping out of control, and all I could think was, This isn't happening . . . this isn't happening . . . this isn't happening.

But it so totally was. Simon was positively-for sure-without a doubt going to kiss me. "I can't promise you won't regret it, but I can guarantee we'll have fun along the way." He exhaled then and his breath was there, fusing with mine. His lips, those lips of his that I'd been watching just a moment earlier were right there, and I was helpless . . . hopeless to stop them.

It was the light above us that made me pause. It flickered. Just like that, out of the blue it went on and off, then back on again.

Without realizing what I was doing, my hands flew to Simon's forearms, which were sinewy. I felt stupid when I saw he was grinning down at me. "See? Together, we're electric . . ."

I was about to tell him what an idiot he was for being so cheesy, but then the bulb above us exploded. Tiny shards of gla.s.s shattered down on us, landing in my hair and hitting my exposed skin.

Simon's arm clamped around my shoulder as he dragged me out of the way. "What d'you think that was?" I asked as I reached up to brush fragments of gla.s.s out of my hair.

Forgetting his whole seduction act, Simon surveyed the hallway. The rest of the overhead lights flickered but stayed on. He shook his head.

As I followed his gaze I realized something was terribly wrong. We needed to get to the others.

But before I could warn him or take a single step, I was gripped by the sudden knock-me-to-my-knees kind of pain.

I knew what this was.

Simon was at my side, the concern thick in his voice. "Kyra. What is it? What's wrong?"

I wanted to explain, but I couldn't breathe. Each spasm was worse than the one before. It was the same pain that came at dawn, only stronger . . . more intense. And at entirely the wrong time. My body was trying to collapse in on itself, like a can being crushed from the inside out.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't talk. I couldn't do anything except curl into a ball and wait for it to pa.s.s.

Just another two seconds, I told myself, and then two stretched into five . . . and then ten . . .

Sweat broke out over my forehead. It soaked my chest and my back. My skin itched, suddenly not fitting right, like it was being stretched too tight over my bones.

An unwelcome image of Adam flashed through my mind, and suddenly I wondered if his species ever shed their skin. Maybe that's what was happening to me. I was shedding this Kyra-looking skin, and when I did, the real me-the M'alue me-would materialize at last.

If that were the case, what would this next version of Kyra look like? Would I be reptilian and scaly? Or maybe doughy and soft . . . a milky, marshmallowy version of myself?

Just when I thought I'd been stretched too thin . . . when I was wondering if maybe I was going to explode into a million grisly pieces, the whole thing just . . .

Ended.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over.

I waited several beats, several breaths, wondering if it would start again. But there was nothing. Not a single pinch or cramp, or tightening of my skin.

"You okay?" Simon hovered in front of me, anxiously rubbing his hands on his thighs. All traces of c.o.c.kiness had vanished.

I sighed. It was nowhere near dawn. This . . . whatever I'd just gone through . . . it should never have happened. But it had, and it definitely meant something.

Getting to my feet, I took the hand Simon offered. "I . . . I guess so."

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, causing both Simon and me to look up.

That was how Tyler caught us.

His green eyes dropped to my hand and to Simon's and he frowned uncertainly. Then his lip curled. And, after a heartbeat or two, his face just went . . . blank.

He cleared his throat. "I . . . ," he started. "I thought you needed me. I thought you needed help."

He'd sensed me, I realized. He not only knew where to find me, but somehow he'd known what I was going through and he'd come looking for me.

Before I could tell him he was right-that I did need him . . . or explain that this . . . what he'd seen between Simon and me wasn't what he thought . . . or just to say I was glad he'd come, he was already walking away.

TYLER.

"TYLER, WAIT. CAN YOU PLEASE JUST WAIT A SEC?" Kyra begged.

I didn't want to be that jerk, the one who makes the girl beg. As if she hadn't been through enough already, what with the kidnapping, and being tortured and all.

I'd finally gotten past it, that's what I was on my way to tell her when I felt her . . .

. . . her need . . .

But then I found them together. Apparently I'd waited too long to get over myself. She'd already moved on.

It was just . . .

Whatever. I didn't even know what it was; I just knew there was nothing Kyra could say right now.

She grabbed my arm, and maybe because even though I was p.i.s.sed, I wasn't a total a.s.s, I stopped. I looked over her head when I told her, "Look, you don't owe me any explanations. We were what we were. But that's the past. I don't blame you, it's not like I remember any of it. I thought you were in trouble, end of story."

For a second, I half expected her to maybe beg some more. To try to make me see her side of things. But Kyra wasn't exactly like that.

I shouldn't have been surprised when she called me out instead.

"Stop acting like a d.i.c.k. Obviously you think you saw something you didn't. It might've looked bad, but it didn't mean anything."

From behind her, I heard Simon clear his throat. He never could stand to be ignored. "You know I'm right here, don't you?"

"Shut up, Simon," she shot back at him, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to crack a smile. Then she turned on me. "For your information, I was in pain. I doubled over and Simon was just helping me up." Her glare said it all: no way was she letting me off the hook. She crossed her arms to add: I'd jumped to conclusions. "You might not remember-about us. But so what? I do. I also remember that you kissed me when we were on the run." She tapped her foot impatiently. "So don't act like you don't have some feelings for me, even if you can't remember why."

She wasn't wrong. My feelings might be jumbled, but I couldn't exactly pretend they weren't there. And she was making it d.a.m.n hard to avoid looking at her, standing her ground the way she was.

Simon came up beside her. "She's wrong, by the way. It wasn't nothing," he insisted in a way that made me want to strangle the jerk. "If you hadn't come back she'd've gotten over you eventually." He glanced down at the back of her head, and I recognized the look; it was familiar and possessive. "Maybe she already had and she just can't admit it."

Kyra grumbled, a sound like disbelief.

She would have stormed away from both of us then if Jett hadn't come running up. He was shouting even before he'd reached us. "Something's happening. Dr. Clarke sent me to find you." He jerked his head down the corridor he'd just come from. "We need to go."

Kyra was already running after him, leaving both Simon and me in the dust.

I scowled at Simon, who was watching her with the same confused expression I was. I got the sense if we'd been friends he might've grunted something like, "Girls," all Neanderthal-like.

But the thing was, I couldn't blame him, because . . . Girls . . .

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

EVEN BEFORE THE GLa.s.s DOORS OF THE ELEVATOR slid open to the main level, it was obvious something serious was going down.

This was not the same tranquil operation we'd toured just two days earlier with Dr. Clarke.

Bedlam had erupted.

Jett strolled right into the strictly off-limits, you-need-high-level-clearance, heart of the operation. There were more people now-some wearing ordinary lab gear or uniforms, some dressed in regular street clothes, and a few fully suited in biohazard gear.

But it was the pace that was unsettling. Frenzied. Hectic. It was the only way to describe the nervous energy-everyone scurrying from one place to the next, almost as if no one was quite sure where they should be. Just that they needed to be somewhere. Furtive whispers and agitated shouts filled the air.

The chaos triggered my claustrophobia and, as if I hadn't considered it before, all at once I was keenly aware of our location: beneath about a million or so tons of rock-solid mountain. If this mountain caved in on us, we were dead meat for sure. There'd be no coming back from that.

Dr. Clarke spotted us and waved eagerly from above the turmoil. Whatever she'd been doing before was momentarily forgotten as she sprinted-no kidding, she sprinted!-across the lab to meet us.

The entire way up here, I'd been aggressively ignoring both Simon and Tyler. I was annoyed that they'd made me feel like the rope in their stupid tug-of-war.

Tyler wasn't the only one who could play the "I need time" card, and if neither of them could understand that, then it was their loss.

I'd kept as much distance between us as I could manage, even while we'd been crammed into the tiny gla.s.s elevator. I went out of my way to avoid looking at them, and when they talked to each other, which, apparently, was a thing they did now, I pretended I was deaf to them.

But Simon was Simon, which meant he couldn't help himself. So he kept up a steady, one-way stream of rambling conversation the entire way. He wasn't the leave-well-enough-alone type. Instead, he mentioned how awkward things were, like it was all one big joke, and he told Tyler if he'd only waited a few seconds longer, he might actually have walked in on something interesting.

Then he elbowed him with a wink.

Awesome.