Child of Recklessness (Trials of Strength Book 2) Page 16

  ‘Perhaps, one of the key factors in overcoming your father’s drug is to be a force for good, to find balance in all things, not just strength and weakness. There’s already enough evil in the world, it could be the person being affected by the drug has to have strong moral integrity. Something that comes from experience, like you had through your trials in Greystone, when everyone else affected by the drug had self-preservation on their minds.’

  ‘But Hazel did kill me,’ I grumbled, ‘and I helped her.’

  ‘Yes,’ Rebecca replied with downcast eyes.

  ‘I just don’t understand. After what Dad did in Greystone, after his lack of involvement after,’ I said, ‘why have me killed?’

  ‘You’re assuming he did,’ Mum said. ‘But remember, your father was with us for the past twenty years, and your sister wasn’t.’

  ‘So what, someone else raised her to kill me?’ I asked.

  ‘I think it’s worth entertaining the idea that your father isn’t the big fish he makes out,’ Rebecca replied and faced me. ‘He may be twisted and insane, but he’s made it clear what he is fighting for.’

  ‘His work,’ I nodded.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But his work is now you. You are everything his life has been pledged to. You’re his success. Why would he destroy that?’

  He wouldn’t. So if my father wasn’t the one who told Hazel to kill me, then there had to be someone else. I flashed back to the last moments of my life. Richard Bishop had given me everything I’d wished for. A DVD disk that contained what we needed to get the government off of our backs. He had promised not to have me killed, and had been working to make my sister like I was, to give me an ally.

  But against whom?

  ‘What comes next will be hard,’ my mother’s voice brought me back. ‘But I truly believe you’re better equipped than ever to deal with it. It’s not about getting up when you’re knocked down, or even how much you can take. It’s about being able to fight, whether standing tall, or lying broken; just always fight for what you believe is right.’

  Rebecca Bishop turned and smiled. I felt like time was up, that it was time to go, and as if in response, the sun started to set. The ground rumbled and headstones shot out from the ground around us as the moon took to the sky. Stars also took their places, and they twinkled down on the fading image of my mother.

  ‘When I tell you I love you honey, it isn’t to cause you pain,’ Rebecca’s distorted voice stated. ‘It’s to remind you how much you were loved, how much you yourself are capable of giving to the world.

  ‘No matter what honey, I love you.’

  I blinked hard to stop my eyes from watering.

  ‘I love you too Mum,’ I whispered. ‘Always.’

  Rebecca finally faded from my mind, and in her absence indistinct voices drifted up from the empty grave. I slouched over to it and looked down. There was a pale wooden box open at the bottom. A stone slunk from the top of the grave, and my eyes caught the name, temporarily confusing me.

  Lucas Bishop was inscribed on the stone.

  ‘Looks like things are gonna get freaky again,’ I mumbled.

  `The rustle of grass behind made me turn, and I was faced with the woman who murdered me. My sister’s features twisted into a grin.

  ‘I’ll be seeing you soon,’ I promised.

  I gasped startled as my sister blinked into existence in front of me. Her arms shot out and pushed hard, and I tumbled into the grave. I screamed as I hit the wooden box, my sister staring down from above. I tried to move, but my body wouldn’t work. With a nightmarish laugh and a wave of her hand, a lid slid over the coffin and locked me in.

  *

  I woke in a blanket of darkness. The feeling of claustrophobia prickled my skin and I knew I was back in reality. My chest was on fire, the pain drowned out all thoughts until I tried to groan. I opened my mouth to pull in air, but there was none. I went to gasp, but couldn’t.

  What the…

  I passed straight into panic, my arms flailed and smacked wood on all sides. I was boxed in, riddled with pain and robbed of oxygen. I flashed back to my mental journey and came to the dreaded conclusion, my sister, pushing me into my grave and shutting me in. It had been my mind’s feeble attempt at explaining where I was in the real world.

  Buried alive.

  Oh my God!

  I smacked the box I had been laid in frantically, my lungs burned and screamed as they tried to fill with air that wasn’t there. I needed out. I tried to pull on my heightened strength, to punch a hole in my prison, but it flared up only to vanish. My body passed between feeling strong to being empty of all energy. I kept it up though. I punched and pushed above me.

  White pricks of light dotted my vision and I felt certain my dream had been in vain. I’d awoken only to be trapped, to be left to die all over again, and to remain that way.

  What comes next will be hard. But I truly believe you’re better equipped than ever to deal with it.

  As if my abilities had been a stuttering engine, they turned and sparked back to the life. The agony in my chest subsided, and with renewed determination at my mother’s remembered words and returned strength, I hammered at my coffin. I gritted my teeth as the white spots in my vision grew, sweat rolled down my face, and finally, my ears caught the crack of wood.

  My fist travelled through the box and buried itself in hard packed dirt. Filled with hope, both my hands shot up to the crack and pulled. Splinters pierced my skin but I didn’t stop. Dirt cascaded into the box, the sound like a waterfall of rocks. I closed my mouth and tried to keep my head out of the way. Planks snapped and broke free as my arms worked and the force of the dirt weighed it down. Eventually, the hole I’d made gave way, and more mud and rock surged into the box.

  GO NOW!

  I pitched forward and dug into the falling dirt. I clawed and climbed and crawled what I only hoped was upwards to air. I felt the tears swim in my eyes as I was met with more darkness. My mouth filled with stone and I choked. My eyes stung and blood oozed from the cuts on my face and hands.

  I had just given up hope when my hand pierced the earth, and I followed through into the night.

  The Return

  As my head breached the earth, I gasped with agonising delight. Oxygen burned as it travelled to my lungs, and the spots in my vision intensified until I passed out. I wasn’t sure how much time had gone by when I regained consciousness, but the moon was still in the air. I remained half buried in the ground, and I struggled to free myself. Once I had, I crawled over to a nearby tree and sat heavily against it.

  I looked around. I was in a graveyard filled with headstones and tombs, but the hole I’d crawled through held no indication that anyone had been buried there. But I had. I flexed my bloodied hands, and touched my tender face. When I’d erupted from the ground and passed out, it was as if my abilities had fizzled away to nothing. I was no longer strong, my senses were weak and the pain coursing over my body had me grinding my teeth.

  I was powerless.

  I felt my eyes flicker shut, and when they opened again, the sun was setting over the horizon. I gave my head a shake and winced. I had to get up and move, otherwise I had a feeling I’d stay there for the rest of my days. It took me almost twenty minutes to find my feet, and even then I teetered with every step. Every so often I stopped and rested on a nearby headstone.

  I was still wearing what I had on when Hazel had stuck her fist through me, and as I clutched my stomach, I felt a circular object in my pocket. I fished around and brought out the DVD disk my father had given me, and sighed through my dry and cracked lips when I found it was undamaged. If it held what I hoped it did, what my father said it did – not that I took his word as reliable – then it was a major plus for us.

  I reached the gated entrance to the graveyard and luckily, the gate was open. I stumbled onto the sparse street and watched as the lamps that littered the pavement sparked on. The skyline was a dark orange, and stars were already visible through the c
loudless sky. The streets however were still wet from whatever rain had plagued the day, and I realised that I too was soaked. Never before had I felt that dirty, even the month of terror and lack of showering under Greystone.

  When I started on my way again I had to fight the urge to stop someone and ask for directions. The authorities were still after me no doubt, and I drew enough attention in the state I was. I kept to the backstreets as the moon took to the sky again. I turned corners at random, hoping with the energy I had left that I would luck onto the street I searched for. As if by thinking it, I turned onto an empty street, and down the far end was a set of buildings covered in graffiti and boarded up to the heavens.

  I almost burst with emotion and I picked up speed. I turned the corner and found myself faced with the towering edifice of our home. Homeless men and women stamped around the alleys on either side, stopping every so often at metal bins that lit the night with flames. No one took any notice of me as I trudged up the front steps; they just readily accepted me as one of their own. Once inside, I stabbed the elevator button and threw myself against the wall inside.

  As the box slid upwards I couldn’t help but crave for Anna and my son. Being dead had punched a hole in me that without them I couldn’t fill. The elevator came to a stop, and my surroundings rocked with the sudden halt. I had made it. With that realization every piece of energy I had been clinging to vanished. I stumbled and braced myself at the side of the door as it opened.

  ‘Well I’ll be damned to hell,’ Jessica gasped. She held a gun aimed at my head, but as soon as she saw me, it faltered. ‘Slap me silly and throw me to some wolves…’

  ‘Alex…’ I whispered and tried to slouch forward, but before I knew it, I was falling.

  *

  I was back in the War Room when I opened my eyes. Jessica sat next to my sprawled self and watched over me. She spoke to Brian when she saw I was awake, and he spun in his chair by the computer bay and walked over.

  ‘Hey,’ I croaked. My throat was raw.

  Jessica fetched a bottle of water and handed it to me as I sat up.

  ‘We took the liberty of cleaning you up and patching your wounds,’ Jessica said.

  I did feel cleaner, and looking down at myself I saw my clothes had been changed. My hands were bandaged, and I felt constricted around my chest, as if there was one there too.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ Jess replied.

  I mistook her retort for sarcasm and went to thank her again, but she held up her hand.

  ‘No, seriously, thank me again and I’ll kill you. It was not pleasant,’ she grimaced.

  I avoided apologising.

  ‘You look like you’ve crawled up from hell,’ she continued. ‘Plus you’ve got a wicked scar on your chest.’

  I lifted my shirt and peeled back the bandage against Jessica’s half-hearted protests. There in the centre, was a star-shaped lump of flesh. It itched and stung like a mother, but I replaced the bandage and focused back on my two friends.

  ‘What the hell happened?’ Brian spat, and I looked up startled.

  Brian’s face was contorted in a snarl, much like his dead father’s. I flashed back to Paul Butcher, his attempt on my son’s life, and on my own. Brian had killed him, and it was apparent he blamed me for that.

  ‘I died,’ I retorted, ‘that’s what happened. Then I crawled out of my own grave.’

  The boy faltered.

  ‘Jesus,’ he whispered. ‘Where are Anna and Chris?’

  ‘Where are Anna and Chris?’ I replied.

  ‘They went after you,’ Jessica said. ‘Chris woke up not long after you left and saw on the computer what you’d been looking at. It wasn’t too hard to figure out where you’d go. Anna and Chris grabbed weapons and rushed after you, we stayed to protect Alex.’

  ‘That was over a week ago,’ Brian concluded.

  Shit.

  I groaned and stood shakily. Jessica rose beside me, and I proceeded to fill them in. I started with me taking off, rushing into Digilock, and everything my father said. I asked them if they retrieved my father’s gift from my jumper, and Brian headed back to the computers to slip it in. I continued with how with my Dad’s help we revived my sister, and how she had plunged her fist through me. I finished with my burial breakout.

  ‘Richard Bishop isn’t the only big guy in FOG,’ I said. ‘Something and someone bigger is at work.’

  ‘Bingo,’ Brian whispered.

  Jess and I joined him and watched as a video played out on the screen. It was dated a few years before my father moved to Greystone. A man was tied to a chair in a dark and clutter free room. Beside him were a simple table and a man holding a syringe: It was my father, Richard Bishop. His hair was a faded blond, and his face appeared more youthful. The man who was restrained started to struggle, but undeterred, my Dad plunged the syringe into his neck.

  We all watched open-mouthed and wide-eyed, completely mesmerised. My father left the room, and took up position behind a glass partition. He watched expressionless as the man convulsed and screamed. The leather restraints snapped as the poor guy changed into a monster and threw himself about the room. His guttural screams pained our ears and he flew at my father. He punched and flailed, but the glass must have been sturdy. The image died, and a similar video took its place.

  ‘This is it,’ I sighed. ‘Along with Richard’s notes, this is it. We can fight back against our own bloody government.’

  ‘Too little too late,’ Brian growled and shot up. ‘My Dad’s still dead. Maybe he was right.’

  ‘Right about what?’ I snapped. ‘Murdering an innocent child?’

  Brian gaped.

  ‘Look, I did everything for your Dad, everything. For you too,’ I spat. ‘But I didn’t kill him, he chose his own path.’

  ‘But if it wasn’t for you he-’ Brian rushed to defend himself.

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ I shouted, cutting him off. ‘You want to blame someone, fine, blame who’s truly responsible. I didn’t cause any of this. I’m a victim as much as you are. My whole world was shattered! My mother died, my father turned out to be a monster and a week ago MY OWN GODDAMN SISTER KILLED ME! So don’t you dare try to pin the blame on me; I’m sick of it.’

  I couldn’t explain the relief of fighting my corner and no longer burdening myself with my father’s evil. I closed my eyes and sighed as Brian rushed from the room. I wasn’t pleased I’d upset him, but I was done taking the brunt of everyone’s anger. I turned to Jessica, who looked strangely amused.

  ‘Wow, look who died and came back with a can of kick-ass,’ she nodded.

  ‘That wasn’t fun,’ I whispered.

  Jessica shrugged and said, ‘The truth hurts. He’s been a massive pain in the backside the whole time you’ve been gone. It took everything for me not to kill him. I’m still deliberating on whether to just settle for maiming him instead. What do you think?’

  She turned with a questioning expression and I shook my head.

  ‘No one is maiming anyone,’ I said and Jessica pouted.

  I stretched carefully and took a deep breath. Anna and Chris were gone, and I had a sneaking suspicion they’d been kidnapped. I took solace in the fact that they were unlikely to be dead. They were far more useful alive, especially if the big bad were after what I assumed they were. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.

  They were after my remarkable and naturally gifted son. They had to be, he was a miracle in the flesh.

  I had been changed and experimented on to receive my gifts, but Alex hadn’t, and that to crazy people, was priceless. I had fulfilled my part, and had been removed from the playing field. Whoever was behind my father had to have bigger plans ready to go.

  ‘I want to see my son,’ I told Jess.

  Her face lit with a genuine smile, and I followed her out into the corridor. I was hit with an awful smell, the stench of decay. I looked at Jessica who didn’t seem to notice.

  �
�What the hell is that smell?’ I asked and grimaced.

  ‘That would be Paul,’ Jessica sighed. ‘No matter how hard I try Brian just will not get rid of him. He stays with him, day and night in his room.’

  ‘That can’t be healthy,’ I said and glanced at the door opposite the one we’d exited through.

  ‘I’ve seen and smelt worse things,’ Jessica replied.

  We started down the corridor, further into the darkness, and away from the elevator. Before, I hadn’t even noticed the hallway had continued. Our steps were silent on the red rug lining the floor, and the walls were barely distinguishable in the dark. We eventually came to a set of wooden double doors, and Jessica whipped a key from her pocket, and slid it into the lock.

  ‘I’ve been keeping Alex in here, it’s locked whenever I leave,’ she said as she glanced over her shoulder. ‘You heard what Brian said, but so far he hasn’t stepped foot near it.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ I replied, ‘if he had you would’ve killed him?’

  ‘Damn straight,’ Jessica replied.

  I was overwhelmed with gratitude towards her, but before I could voice it, she’d opened the door and stepped through. I followed into the room and surveyed it. The entrance we stepped through was at the back of the space. To our left the room grew in length and ended at a bank of windows looking out onto the streets. It was a little brighter there, thanks to the pale light of the moon. A long table had been pushed up against the wall across from us. It looked like some sort of conference room.

  Jessica walked over to the table and clicked on a small lantern. It emitted a soft blue light, enough to brighten the room, but dim enough to avoid anyone from outside seeing it. As if sensing my reasoning, Jessica spoke up.

  ‘We had a close call a few days ago,’ she said. ‘The police stormed the homeless on the ground floor; must have been a coordinated sweep because they didn’t come up here, just put pressure on the poor bastards downstairs.’