A fatal crash. A violent clash of metal and flesh, and yet, it is the hammer that breaks, not the nail.
And within seconds, the dense fusion loses steam, lurching to a rocky stop.
Neve staggers back and looks at the dent her body inflicted on the SUV. It’s almost like the front of the car is wrapped around an invisible column.
Dazed, and struggling with her balance, she peers through the windshield at the trail of destruction she carved into the road.
And like light at the end of a tunnel, she discovers Romer lying on his side in the middle of a shallow crater—where she had stood mere moments ago.
He’s moving. He’s alive.
With a throbbing head, burning skin, and a body much too heavy to support, her knees buckle and the ground soars up to catch her fall.
Chapter 26
Aftermath
Romer rolls onto his back in the middle of the crater. His left side is writhing with bone-splitting pain. He was so adamant not to land on his head that his shoulder wound up burdening the worst of the brunt.
But he's alive.
Thank you, he squeezes his eyes shut, thank you, thank you, thank you, reliving the horrible sensation of freefall. For the life of him, he can’t believe they’re not scraping him off the ground.
As his lungs settle into a normal rhythm, he rolls back onto his side and struggles onto all fours.
Like he feared, his left shoulder is in pretty awful shape. He can barely put any weight on his left arm.
With a gust of wind from further up the road, he catches a whiff of burnt plastic. People rush past him in a flurry of noise and color, far more fascinated by the crash to concern themselves with his wellbeing.
Probably a blessing in disguise.
His eyes follow the ravaged road to the wrecked SUV, and he catches a glimpse of Neve’s body before the aggregating crowd blocks her off.
She’s fine, Romer exhales a big sigh of relief right before confusion consumes him.
How could she have possibly survived a crash like this? Anyone else would have been killed on impact. And she completely decimated the car and the road!
The cemetery…
He remembers how incredibly dense Neve’s flesh felt in his grasp, and how impossible it seemed for him to pull her out of that grave.
But how did she suspend him in the air?
Romer glances up at Galen’s building and locates the broken window he emerged from. Seems like the men who shot at him are steering clear of it.
Probably on their way down.
As he struggles to his feet, he catches a glimpse of Dylan’s bloodied switchblade by his foot. And right next to it, there’s a slick and unusual gun not unlike the weapons the men upstairs were aiming at him.
He quickly snatches both weapons before anyone notices, and makes his way into the alley across from Galen’s.
The shock of his impact with the ground is slowly wearing off. He’s starting to feel the bone-splitting pain pulsating through his flesh and bones.
And then he can’t stand it anymore, and stumbles back against the alley wall, struggling to breathe.
His mind keeps reliving what it felt like for the ground to race up to him—the rush of his plunge like the sudden dip of a rollercoaster.
But gravity abandoned its resolve. The turbulent wind in Romer’s ears allayed to a soft whisper. And when he looked down, he saw Neve’s glossy hair rise up like black ink in clear water, her eyes aglow with the most ravishing shade of red he’s even seen.
Until what he had intended as his own salvation swiped her from beneath. Until the air became thin again, and the ground, hard.
He winces as a sharp stab of pain shoots through his left shoulder. And it’s familiar. He knows exactly what he needs to do. So he slides all the way down against the wall, sitting on the cold ground.
“C’mon,” he mutters under his breath as he grabs his left wrist. “C’mon,” he repeats over and over, but the courage he seeks keeps evading him.
Do it fast.
Do it hard.
He swallows the tension in his throat and YANKS his arm as hard as he dares, popping his shoulder back into its socket.
He inhales his scream, body trembling from the painful jolt. “F—fuck—” he shudders, the scars Isaac adorned his body with pulsating like fresh wounds.
Today is just not his day.
He takes a few deep breathes, and then sneaks a glance at Galen’s building entrance.
No signs of the men in black. Yet.
From the inside of his jacket, he takes out the gun he found in the crater, and pulls out the magazine to check the ammo.
The hell?
He cranes his neck down for a closer look. Instead of bullets, the magazine is stacked with glass darts containing a faint blue serum. Are these what they were shooting at him upstairs?
He jerks his head towards Galen’s building just as two men in black emerge from the lobby.
Romer slides the magazine back into its chamber and hides the weapon behind him. He then slumps forward and pretends to be passed out.
He can only hope they’ll spot him before they spot Neve, or there’s no telling what will happen to her.
Come on... Over here, Romer peers through the veil of his draping hair. And the instant he is discovered, he shuts his eyes, relying on his ears to keep track of the men’s whereabouts.
His heart’s pounding against his chin. And despite trying to keep calm, he can feel himself trembling.
With the crash drawing everyone’s attention, they can kill him on the spot and get away with it.
He hears a click from a few feet away as one of the men cocks his gun. And then another.
This is it, Romer thinks. I’m done.
He feels a kick against the side of his foot, but he’s so paralyzed with fear, his body doesn’t react.
A firmer kick lands higher up on his calf.
“He’s out,” says one of them.
“The ambulance is en route,” says the other. “Do we want it here, or—”
“We shouldn’t be transfering them together,” says the first. “Not after what happened. It’s too risky.”
“What about the girl?”
“They’ll take care of her. Let’s clear this one out.”
Romer feels their hands on him. And that means even if they plan on killing him, they don’t intend on doing it here.
And if their hands are full with carrying him—
Romer grabs the gun he’s been hiding and puts a dart in each of their necks.
Completely stunned, the men stumble back. They reach for their guns, but are already starting to fade.
Before either can pull the trigger, their weapons slip from their grasps and fall to the ground.
And moments later, they both crumble in place.
Still in awe of his luck, Romer struggles to his feet and stares down at their listless bodies.
What now? Should he snag their weapons? Check their IDs in case he’d ever need to report them?
He immediately decides against both. There’s no way for him to know when and how poking the bear might wind up biting him in the ass. He’s already in enough trouble as is.
He looks down at the weapon in his hand, and with his wine-dampened shirt, starts to wipe off all fingerprints. His and Neve’s. He drops it down by the unconscious men’s feet, and then inches towards the main street.
From around the corner, he sneaks a peek in the direction of the crash.
Two police vehicles are already on scene.
That was fast.
Romer canvases the area: three officers seem to have their hands full with keeping the crowd at bay, and the fourth is questioning potential witnesses.
With a giant leap of faith, Romer throws on his hood and ventures back onto the street.
He weaves into the boisterous crowd, looking as inconspicuous as he can manage. Every step brings him closer to Neve, and yet it feels like she’s miles and miles
away.
And as though the cops, the crowd, and his aching body weren’t challenging enough already, the sirens of an approaching ambulance start to drown out the city’s cacophony.
You’ve got to be kidding me, Romer frowns, then glances at the cops managing the horde of onlookers. They don’t strike him as particularly dangerous. But the ambulance—which is now turning the corner—is a whole other story.
The crash just happened.
The only way for the ambulance to have made it here so quickly, is if someone called for it prior to the accident.
Smart, Romer thinks to himself as the ambulance infiltrates the scene. There is probably no better way to transport someone you plan on killing without anybody questioning it. This must’ve been their plan even before things got out of hand at Galen’s.
And it suddenly dawns on Romer why it was so easy for he and Neve to escape Dylan’s building and break into Galen’s: they were walking into a trap.
With the numerous obstructions blocking Neve from his vision, Romer can’t tell whether or not she’s conscious. And if she’s not, that leaves him with next to no options. He can’t exactly wrestle her away from the paramedics, especially now that he knows they can’t be trusted.
And he doesn’t trust the cops either.
So what does that leave him with? Should he get a head-start towards the hospital and try to intercept them there? But what if the ambulance isn’t even headed to the hospital?
He’s starting to panic. Everything’s happening too fast. They’re already bringing out the stretcher.
But on the bright side, it looks like Neve is awake and talking to the paramedic.
If Romer can only get close enough, he just might be able to warn her about them.
He glances back at Galen’s, and then towards the alley. When he doesn’t detect any signs of immediate threat, he starts towards the back of the ambulance, where it’s significantly less crowded.
But a few steps into the endeavor, he notices one of the cops approaching in full stride. And judging by his unblinking stare, he is singling Romer out.
Are the cops in on it? Should he run?
He can’t anyways. Not in his condition.
In the precious few moments he has left, Romer sizes up the ensuing threat, desperately hoping his luck hasn’t already run out.
Tucking his blonde locks behind his ears, Romer winces as a sharp stab of pain shoots through his left shoulder. And with his chin lowered, he takes a whiff of his damp, wine-soaked shirt.
Even if the cop isn’t with the men who attacked him, reeking of alcohol is still not something Romer would want to have to explain.
“Don’t I know you..?” the officer bridges the gap and stands fortified between the young man and his objective.
“You’re asking me if you know me?” Romer quips with his mind on Neve.
They’re sliding the stretcher into the ambulance.
And without warning, the cop’s inquisitive squint broadens, brightening his expression.
“You’re that kid,” he says with a self-satisfied grin, “Romer Anthony. I was the one who processed you a few years back, remember?”
What—you wanna chat? Romer sneaks a glance in Neve’s direction.
The ambulance is taking off.
“Is there something I can help you with? Or are you just brushing up on your solo good cop/bad cop routine?”
With that remark, the cop’s face darkens slightly, but he masks it as though it’s second nature. “Fancy running into you here,” he grins from ear to ear, his tone loaded with subtext. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would’ja?”
“Nope,” Romer crosses his arms. “Just a regular, impartial bystander.”
“That right?” the officer takes a half-step forward, standing far too close for comfort. Close enough to smell the wine vaporizing off Romer’s clothes. “Then why the hell are you so nervous?”
With a burst of static from his radio, the officer lowers his chin to his collar. He listens as someone relays information about a pair of unconscious men in the alley up the street.
His gaze darts back up and meets Romer’s. “Roger that,” he says into his mic, and then slowly raises his head without breaking eye-contact.
Romer fights the impulse to swallow, determined to keep his cool. But if someone has ratted him out about what he did in that alley, it’s already over.
The cop takes a deep breath through his nose and shakes his head disapprovingly as he exhales.
“You need to get your shit together, kid,” he eyes Romer’s clothes, and then bumps shoulders with him on his way to the alley.
OW.
σ
The howls of the ambulance are becoming more and more distant.
In spite of the pain, Romer runs as fast as he can towards St. Paul’s Hospital, having no idea what to do once he gets there.
Should he try to sneak in through one of the back entries? No. There will be cameras for sure. But it’s not like he can just waltz into the emergency ward and demand to see Neve, either.
He’d have to say he’s a relative. But considering he and Neve look as much alike as wheat and coal, it will likely be a pretty unconvincing argument.
Unless he tells them that they’re married?
But then again, what if they’re not even taking her to the hospital?
From further up the street, he hears the sudden squeal of skidding tires, followed by a THUMP, and then a blaring screech akin to nails on a chalkboard.
And then he’s running even faster.
It’s got to be her.
σ
Roughly ten blocks up from where Romer was first alerted to the turbulence, he’s faced with yet another crowd of onlookers.
This time, he weaves through them with far more vigor, ignoring people’s protests.
And then he finds himself gawking at a sunken ambulance blocking traffic across multiple lanes.
Its axels are badly deformed. One of its tires has rolled to further up the street, and the other three are nowhere to be seen. And from where he stands, there is a long trail of scratches dug deep into the asphalt.
Romer closes in on the vehicle and starts to circle it for a better vantage point.
The rear doors are wide open. Two of the three paramedics are sitting on the edge of the landing, hunched over. And the third is flying off the handle about what incompetent morons they are.
Romer can’t help but snicker. It sounds like Neve gave them quite a scare.
Relieved, he quietly slips away, distancing himself from the scene.
He finds a quiet corner and pulls out his phone with hopes of getting back in touch with Neve. And just then, he realizes he forgot to take out his battery after popping it in to call Dylan’s dad.
Is that how those men tracked he and Neve over to Galen’s? Is this entire thing his fault?
He shakes off the guilt and mulls over his options.
Neve might have turned her phone back on, but in light of his epiphany, Romer can’t bring himself to risk calling her.
He pulls out his phone’s battery and tries to think of how else to reach her.
What would she do next? With her phone off, she won’t be able to reach out to anyone. And she isn’t too likely to go home either, knowing about the men who broke into his workshop.
So what other options are there?
Come on, think! She’s a smart girl. Smart enough to hide in a dryer…
And with that, Romer remembers the rendezvous plans he and Neve made when she called him earlier today, desperate for help.
He may very well have foiled those plans when he decided to step up and go to her. But in light of their new circumstances, what if Neve does follow through and go to the gallery with hopes of reuniting with him? What if instead of waiting for midnight, she’s already made her way over?
Chapter 27
Enigma
Dylan opens his eyes, or so he thinks. It’s much too dark fo
r him to be able to tell. The air around him is cool, but stale. The ground he’s lying on feels chilled against his bare skin. His mind is foggy, and there is a heavy murkiness to his blood.
This whole thing feels like an encore of his brief captivity in that damned trunk. But unless his senses are betraying him, he’s in a much larger box.
His gag is gone. And it seems like his wrists and ankles are no longer bound.
That man…
Dylan recalls the masked man who stuck a needle in his neck. The stranger with eyes Dylan was certain he recognized.
But who was he?
Tears break in his eyes as his fear rips him from within. Because if his hunch is right—if the man who claimed him from that trunk is the same murderous monster who’s been plaguing his dreams—then this right here, is where Dylan will die.
This dark and lonely abyss is the last place he will ever be. And he will most likely leave it in pieces.
Unless he can escape before it’s too late. And that means he can’t wait to regain his full strength.
He rises to his feet, but still reeling from the drug in his system, staggers to his side and hits the wall.
There is a soft rustling sound.
He glides his arm along the wall, listening to the swish and crackle of the papers pasted onto it.
And his wrist bumps against a small, bulky object, which a quick feel reveals to be a battery-powered light-switch. Its cord seems to be stapled to the wall, running up towards the ceiling.
It’s looking like his cage is much more civilized that he’d initially thought.
He tightens his grip around the switch and stares into the void, imagining all the horrors that could be awaiting him. Horrors the likes of which he has not only seen, but endured time and time again through his Proxies. Except, in this realm—his realm—there’s no waking up from death.
He swallows the painful pill in his throat, raises his chin, and flicks the switch on.
A blinding rectangle of light frames the ceiling.
Dylan squints, his eyes stung by the bleach-white glare of LED lights. And his very first instinct is that he’s inside an industrial storage unit.