A warm glow of power pulsed from the sphere in Lucy's backpack. Though no one else appeared to notice, the students around her lost the weariness and fear that had plagued them since their earlier attempt to break free. They stood taller and stronger, their energies renewed.
Gary stood next to Luke, who dropped his shield for a split second, and sent the bullets flying back toward the guns that fired them. The group of guards fell, killed by their own bullets.
A guard that had managed to slip inside Luke's field charged Lucy. Gary used his power to fling the soldier's gun to the side, but his aim was off and it crashed into a propane tank and exploded in a shower of fiery light. The guard flew back from the impact and landed, unconscious, to the ground.
Lucy shook uncontrollably even as she tried to press the gun to Mr. Black's head. Everywhere around her the world erupted in chaos and death. Righteous revolutions were supposed to be victorious and moral, not bloody and horrifying.
The kid with ice power, Larry, ran to the flames from the explosion. He held his hands to the fire, but nothing happened.
What little confidence the rebel students had diminished with their powers. No one had any, and so went their tactical advantage.
A cold emptiness filled Lucy where once the sphere had warmed her. It no longer pulsed. Like all the powers around her, the sphere was blocked.
Mr. Lancaster and a few other teachers intervened to defend the students as the guards rushed in to beat them. Like true cowards, they only bullied and abused the defenseless and weak, preying on those who couldn't fight back.
Some students panicked and ran away from the gates. Others wrestled with the guards, or threw rocks in misguided attempts to defend themselves. Before Lucy could react or respond, a young girl, no more than thirteen, fell to the ground in a lifeless heap. Carey. She had the power to make things grow, and now she lay dead with blood pooling around her.
And more followed. For every student who stood fighting, another lay dead at their feet.
Lucy screamed as bullets that had been held by Luke's force field now shot through the air and hit their targets. "Luke! Get out of the way!"
She pulled her gun away from Mr. Black long enough to take aim at a guard firing at them. Her bullet found its target, eliminating one threat but leaving so many others. She pressed the gun back into Mr. Black before he tried to get away, and repressed the fact that she had just killed a man. She didn't have time to let the horror of it all hit her.
Mr. Black sneered. "Still think you're going to escape, bitch?"
Lucy may have underestimated the Seeker's powers, but she refused to give up.
She forced Mr. Black to walk the last few feet to the gate. Guards lay beaten on the ground or had already fled their post.
"The party's not over yet, you bastard. We're still getting out of here, and I still have a loaded gun to your head."
Chapter 55 – Sam
The distance between us had never been so vast. Oceans and countries could settle in the space and we'd still have room to move.
And to cry.
What felt like hours had passed, and the tears kept coming. Blame the hormones or the whole being captured thing, but none of that mattered anymore. Every few minutes, with the tenacity of an OCD victim, I tested my mental link with Drake.
Nothing.
He breathed with a steady rhythm on the floor. I couldn't move him, and he wouldn't move himself. He didn't sleep, he didn't talk, he didn't do anything except lie there. No amount of coercion could get him to so much as look at me.
But I couldn't give up. "Drake, it might not be permanent. I mean, everyone's powers are spurting on and off. It could be temporary. Please, just say something."
Finally, he moved into a sitting position. "Don't you think I can tell the difference? It's like you tore a limb from my body or removed a vital organ. It's not inactive. It's gone. Completely gone, Sam. It's not coming back."
His once loving eyes had hardened over with anger. His features no longer resembled the man I loved.
I kicked the wall in frustration. I was so done with this. The Seeker will tell me what I want to know—no more nice Sam.
The Seeker's mental signature blared forth like a beacon of light to ships lost at sea. I used my most commanding internal voice. "We need to talk."
His mental voice sounded amused. 'We are talking, little sister.'
"In person."
The silence lingered beyond what was comfortable, but I waited.
'I shall send someone to escort you.'
On the last syllable of his thought, the door to our room opened and revealed a guard. 'Please do not harm him. You will not be able to reach his mind, but trying would only do to him what was done to poor Mary.'
Guilt sloshed inside my gut like sickness, but I ignored it, or tried to, until I saw her.
Mary lay crumpled by the door, blood oozing from her nose and ears.
What had we done? I had destroyed Drake to save her, and still I had failed.