Page 2 of Flawed Fate
I am, apparently. I shake it off, shrugging, looking one more time in the direction the car went in. “Nothing. Just… something on the air.”
Cole sniffs, then shrugs like I did. “I don’t smell anything strange.”
“Wait.” Kyran lowers his binoculars, then hands them to me. “That truck. That’s his truck, isn’t it? The plates are the same.”
Raising the binoculars to my eyes, I locate the vehicle, slowing down now as the driver waits for the guards to slide the gate open. Because, sure, all medical research facilities need armed guards at the gate, right? Does anyone think there is anything remotely normal about this?
What am I saying? They don’t care. I’m sure any passing driver would dismiss it, if they noticed it at all. There’s a reason the people who built this place chose this location. It’s peaceful, surrounded by thick forest.
“You’re right,” I confirm.
“I told you. Every night. The information was solid.” Kyran sounds pretty damn full of himself, but I’m willing to let it go because his contacts were correct in their reporting. Dr. Elton Moore is predictable. And for some reason, instead of workingduring the day, he comes in at night. Whatever he’s doing, something compels him to wait until dark.
Spotting him marks the next phase of our plan coming into motion. We’ll wait for him to do whatever it is he does there, then we’ll follow him home.
The next step comes after that.
A grim smile begins to spread while I watch the truck roll through the open gate. I hope he has a good night at work. If all goes the way we’ve planned, it will be his last shift.
2
IRIS
What’s that smell?
When I glance Dad’s way, he’s looking straight ahead, humming to himself the way he sometimes does when he drives. Especially on our way into work. He seems like he’s in a good mood tonight. Thank God. Things always go better when he’s in a good mood.
I wrinkle my nose, sniffing the air again. I know I’m not imagining things. There’s something different in the air tonight. Not just the scent of pine—I’m used to that. And it’s not roadkill; it’s not a skunk. Something nice. Sort of like a cologne, or fresh-baked bread. Whatever it is, it makes me breathe deep. I want to hold it in my lungs. I want to smell it on my clothes.
I turn my head toward the passenger window, pressing closer to the glass. The tree line is thick and dark on this stretch of road, swallowing everything. I find myself scanning it anyway, searching for something I can’t name. A shape or movement. A pair of eyes catching the light and gleaming in the blackness.
I don’t know what I expect to see. I don’t know why my pulse is picking up or why my fingers are curling into fists against my thighs. There’s just this pull in my gut, tugging my attention toward the trees.
Nothing. There’s nothing out there. Only the dark, the pines and the road we travel over with every turn of the wheels.
I guess I’m all messed up over what happened with the explosion. I mean, who wouldn’t feel nervous if they knew what happened at another one of our locations? Dad keeps telling me everything’s going to be fine here, that they’ve stepped up security and there’s no reason for anybody to target us, but how does he know? I mean, it’s not like he was aware somebody was planning to blow up the other location.
“If I had the slightest concern for your safety, I wouldn’t let you within fifty miles of the compound.”He looked and sounded like he meant it when he told me.
I believe him, I really do. He’d never do anything to hurt me.
I turn my head away from the window, but the feeling lingers. That scent. That strange, warm feeling. I press my palm flat against my stomach trying to push it back down.
Usually, my nerves don’t jangle like they are right now when I look out into the woods. There’s nothing scary in the darkness. The woods are the same at night as they are during the day—I’ve been here plenty of times during the day, and it’s beautiful.
But tonight… I don’t know. My heart’s beating too fast. I’m anxious, wanting to crawl out of my skin.
You could’ve stayed home.I know that’s what Dad would say if I told him how I’m feeling. He wouldn’t listen, not really. He’s always got things on his mind, now more than ever because of the explosion and everything else around it. I can’t imagine how he must feel. He’s given his whole life to his work, and somebody is trying to destroy that. Someone who doesn’t understand how important it is.
He’s been different since the news came in. More distracted, more absorbed. I’ll walk into a room and find him standing in front of his whiteboard, staring at equations and charts like they hold the answer to something only he can see. He forgets to eat.He doesn’t even notice I’m there sometimes, which is fine. I’m used to it. That’s just how he gets when something consumes him.
But lately it’s worse. He’ll start a sentence and trail off mid-thought, his eyes going distant, fingers tapping against whatever surface is closest. I’ve caught him on the phone at weird hours, speaking in a low voice that goes quiet the second I come around the corner.
It’s got to be stress. The explosion. The pressure of keeping everything running while people are actively trying to tear it down. That would get to anyone.
I pull the sleeves of my hoodie over my fists and fold my arms over my chest when a chill runs through me. I’m nervous, but I don’t have any reason to be. I’ve done this so many times already. Everything’s going to be okay in the end… even if it doesn’t feel like it right away.
“Worried?” Dad’s sudden question makes me sit up straighter. “You know you have no reason to be. We have patrols throughout the area, and the woods are laid with sensors, so anyone who tries to get close to the fencing is in for a big surprise.”
