Nothing was going to stop him from getting to Meg.
No matter how much blood he left in the dirt as he worked. No matter how raw his nose was from nuzzling the unforgiving ground. No matter how sore his muscles felt.
Nothing.
Meg needed him and he would die trying to get to her.
Maze didn’t know he was digging to Creed’s cell first.
Maze also didn’t know about the implant that could activate once he was within seven feet of the others.
***
Creed was sitting with his back against the grimy brick wall, breathing hard from his efforts. He had no idea which way was out, but damn if he was going to hold still waiting for that asshole to come along and show him whether he was a trigger or an explosive.
The media player was still paused on Arkdone’s face, just the way Creed left it after watching the video twice. He wanted to memorize that sick asshole’s face so when he beat the pulp out of him, he could appreciate knowing he’d wiped that smug look off his face.
He looked down at his bloody fingers and knuckles and willed the pain away, just as Meg told him he could do. Apparently, he had known of this gift before his amnesia. Afterward, he used it without knowing it was a gift or exactly how to wield it. That is, until Meg walked him through it. He thought everyone could control their pain to some degree, but he learned differently. Most people couldn’t do what he did.
He concentrated on his hands for a moment and told himself, “Ah, that’s not real and it sure as hell doesn’t hurt.” Instantly, the pain switched off and he ignored the torn flesh and nails thanks to his efforts at leaping up to the crevice-like ledge and trying to pry the one-way door open with his bare hands. He tried pounding on it, but got nowhere from the awkward angle of hanging by one hand gripping slimy filth. He had given up on that and decided the best guess he could make was to attack the same brick wall in which the door hung. He tried prying the bricks away from the wall, to make a hole. He was able to pull one brick out only to see another layer of brick behind it. His efforts with the brick only earned him four ripped off nails.
He was breathing hard after pounding the heck out of the wall out of sheer frustration. He was just thinking how possible it was that he’d managed a boxer’s break in his left hand.
That’s when he heard sound.
There was a faint scraping, rhythmic.
It was coming from the wall to his left.
He crawled quietly to where the scraping was the loudest and put his ear to the wall.
“Hey!” he yelled to whoever was there.
The scraping paused for a moment then continued.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
In response he heard a sharp series of barks and knew it must be Maze. His heart leaped for the first time since he awakened hours before.
Knowing he wouldn’t be able to help the coyote with his torn up hands, Creed looked frantically around the room. The only thing to use was the laptop. He jumped up and grabbed it. With what strength his hands had left in them, he broke off the thick plastic monitor from the base and ran back to the spot he knew Maze to be digging. With the only tool he could find, Creed began pounding the corner of the monitor into the packed dirt, trying to break through to the softer ground that must be below.
Just as he broke through the top layer of packed dirt, and Creed felt a glimmer of hope, he heard the most gut-wrenching series of canine screams. In them Creed read pleading, surprise and the most horrible pain he’d ever heard from a creature. Creed held very still listening.
Dear God, no!
Chapter 51 A Different Kind of Predator
“What happened when you got to Germany?” Alik’s voice was gentle, but he wasn’t letting up on Farrow.
She gave him a tired, annoyed look. “Don’t you feel well enough to track again?”
“No, not yet,” Alik stalled, acting as though they had all the time under the sun to hold this conversation.
“It’s not easy to talk about, Alik.”
“I know.”
“I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Begin at the beginning.”
Farrow bit her lip, but to her credit she cleared the emotion from her throat and started.
“Bjorn dosed me…sick son of a bitch snickered with joy when I screamed because it burned. Alik did it burn you when you were dosed?”
He was already nodding, even before she asked. “It felt like thousands of razors digging in my thigh where the white coat jabbed me and slipping through my veins just as painfully. I even remember when the pain hit my eyes. I thought I would go blind with the pain.”
Now it was Farrow’s turn to nod completely agreeing with his description of the pain. “How old were you?” She asked, feeling a moment’s reprieve from her storytelling now that Alik backed up her memory with his own.
“I was two years, nine months, according to the records Mom stole from The Institute.”
“You were Danny’s age?”
“Looks like it.”
“But you remember how it felt to be dosed?”