She heard him approach. "Lucy. Oh Lucy."
Her shirt hung in tatters, and somewhere in her mind that should have bothered her, but she didn't care. And Hunter, for once, didn't notice.
He pulled off his own shirt and draped it over her chest, then lifted her in his arms and carried her back toward camp.
With each step and bump, the pain tore into her, but she refused to make a noise. "Hunter...." She tried to speak, but couldn't finish the sentence. Everything seemed so far away, so....
Hunter looked at her, his eyes normal now. "You'll be okay. I'll make sure of it."
Her eyes closed, and she smiled. She believed him, and despite the burning, never-ending pain, warmth flowed into her—not just from the sphere this time, but from something else. Someone else.
She felt Hunter's presence inside her as she surrendered to the darkness.
Chapter 90 – Drake
The purple liquid coated Drake's throat as it made its way down and through his body, recharging the small spark of power still buried deep inside of him. His strength surged, muscles firing up, and the cobwebs in his mind cleared away to give him greater focus. No high accompanied this dose, unlike the blue drug, but he relished the natural high that came with his powers.
The truck he hid in shook, and he braced himself against the metal walls. They should be near the quarantine area now. He'd easily found a truck heading in with supplies. A small sip of the drug had been enough to give him the power to compel the driver to let him in the back and forget about him.
They'd been on the road for about thirty minutes. Canned goods rattled around him, and Drake took a deep breath and willed his body to relax. He wanted to jump out of the truck and hitch a ride to Washington to be with Sam, but he had to help Toby first. The CDC had announced that, tonight, they'd move everyone from the quarantine zone to a more secure location—a more secret location.
Drake had to get Toby out now. He owed the boy that much.
The truck ground to a halt, and Drake tensed again, listening to the voices outside. He'd known they'd probably inspect the trucks as they came in, but the interruption still unnerved him. He moved to the door and waited, prepared to do what it took to avoid detection. If he had to hurt them... well, he hoped that wouldn't happen.
The door slid open, and light from the sunset filled the space, nearly blinding Drake. Two armed military guards held automatic rifles inches from his chest. Their eyes widened in surprise, but Drake slipped into their minds and took control.
'Close the door and tell your superiors that no one is in here.'
They stepped back, ready to do as instructed, and Drake realized his mistake. They'd have to check the truck before they could clear it.
'Enter the truck.'
Someone at the gate called out. "Is everything okay?"
'Tell him everything is fine.'
A guard obeyed. "Yeah, just checking the truck. Everything's fine."
The guards walked in and stood on either side of Drake, completely ignoring him. They scanned the canned food and walked out. "It looks good," one of them said. "Send it through."
They closed the door, covering Drake in darkness once again.
He sat back down and let out a sigh of relief. The truck revved back up and drove into the quarantine zone. Just a short drive and they'd arrive at the building where most of the kids with powers were being held.
The truck sped up, and Drake's senses pinged. Something about his control over the driver felt off. Tires screeched outside. The truck shuddered and lost control, tilting to one side and crashing Drake into a wall of cans. He held on as the truck skidded down the street.
Shit! He shouldn't have let himself get distracted. People under compulsion weren't as aware, and any attention at that moment could spell disaster. He kicked the door open and slid out the back.
The post-apocalyptic look of the city surprised him. Crowds of dirty, homeless people huddled in groups. Some ran toward the crash, attracted to any form of human pain and suffering. Others hesitated, perhaps scared of the army, or perhaps beyond caring about anything anymore.
Litter lined the streets, as though people had given up taking care of their city. Dark clouds settled in the sky like unwanted houseguests, unusual for this part of California, but certainly fitting the mood of the place.
The truck he'd hitched a ride in had crashed into another truck while going through an intersection. The other truck had a smashed fender, but hadn't toppled as they had. At least few cars travelled the street, and no one appeared seriously injured.