Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Dam

ZACH

I see nothing. The bag over my head rubs against my face. It’s tied so tightly that it constricts my airflow. My hands are bound behind my back with a plastic zip tie. It’s digging into the skin around my wrists.

Hands from behind shove me forward. I nearly trip but get my feet under me enough to keep me from smashing my face on the floor. My captors lead me from room to room, going down flights of stairs along the way. Earlier, I heard loud flowing water. I must be at the dam.

I don’t understand what happened. Aiden was gone when I woke up. Did they already capture him? But how could they have done that without me hearing? Aiden must have left on his own. Left me again.

Our footsteps echo in what sounds like a cavernous room. A shove to my chest sends me backward, falling hard into a chair. A cutting pain hits my ankles as my feet are bound, followed by a zipping sound of plastic ties mercilessly tightened. The left tie goes under my pant leg and digs into my skin.

I sit there for what feels like forever, but my sense of time is distorted with the bag over my head. Then, footsteps approach, and out of nowhere, my gut explodes as a fist hits me hard in the stomach.

“That’s for the gas station, punk.”

That voice. I recognize it from when I was fleeing into the forest near Cedar Grove. It’s the idiot who tried to shoot me at the gas station. Wayne was his name. Despite the pain in my gut, I smirk, thinking about how easy it was to trick him. Maybe I can trick him again.

I project so he can hear me through the mask. “Hey, Wayne. You should hear what Tyra and the guys were calling you. No-Brain Wayne.”

There’s laughter from several people. Another voice says, “You gonna let him get away with that, No-Brain?”

“Why, you little fucker!”

Another punch to the gut. Harder this time. Enough to make me lose my breath. I gasp for air. But it was worth it.

“Besides, you’re the stupid one,” Wayne sneers. “Camping out in the open like that. We’re the FLA. We’ve got spies everywhere.”

“Jesus, Wayne! Don’t tell him that,” Tyra shouts.

Another set of footsteps approaches, and a new voice yells out. “Shut up, you idiots. I said don’t talk to him.”

I recognize it—the strange accent I heard way back in Elk Springs.

It’s Connor.

“Take that off,” Connor says.

The drawstring around my neck loosens, and they rip off the hood. A flashlight blinds me. I blink rapidly, my eyes watering. Details emerge as I adjust to the light. A man I don’t recognize with a gray goatee is holding the flashlight. Next to him, and towering above, looms Connor. His platinum-blond hair and handsome, icy features are unmistakable. Wayne and Tyra from the gas station stand at his side.

I’m in an enormous room with giant circular machines running down the middle. These must be the turbines for the dam. None of them appear to be functioning. Dim candlelight illuminates the room.

“Now, what do we have here?” Connor paces back and forth, looking me over. “Are you Aiden’s latest boy toy, then?”

“Better than being his latest rejection,” I hiss back at him.

Connor lets out a little laugh. “Quite the little smart-ass we have here.”

He walks over and whispers into my ear, “No, my dear. Aiden’s latest rejection would be you.” He takes a piece of folded paper from Wayne. It’s the note that was in my pocket.

“I heard he wrote you a sweet love note.” Connor unfolds it. “You’re practically love birds. But he left you like he leaves everyone. He left me, too, you know. Left me for dead, hanging on the edge of a bridge while he ran off with the vials. Sound familiar?”

I grit my teeth but say nothing.

Connor reads the note out loud, dripping with sarcastic passion. Hearing Aiden’s words is hard. Knowing for sure that he left me is worse than anything these people could do.

I try to make sense of it. Aiden left the car with me. He was trying to save me. He was wrong and misguided and should have asked me what I wanted. But he was doing it from a place of love.

But my heart shouts back, hurt and angry and sad. Even with his best intentions, how could he leave? I could never have done that.

When Connor finishes reading, he throws the note on the ground, then paces back and forth, shooting glances my way. “Well, Aiden must have liked you a lot. That’s good. It means he’ll probably do anything to get you back.” Then he turns on his heel and stares directly at me. “But did he trust you enough to tell you what he’s carrying? I imagine not.”

Emotions are simmering up, but I fight to keep them hidden. Aiden hasn’t told me what he’s carrying, and it’s been a particular thing that has bothered me. An ever-constant reminder that complications fill our lives to the point that we can’t be honest with each other.

Connor picks up on my hesitation. “No? Well, I guess he doesn’t trust you that much then.” He lets out a single nasal laugh.

He paces back and forth again. “Aiden is carrying a weaponized version of the Infection. One that could be altered to control people. Or altered to kill everyone. Even immune people.”

“You’re full of shit,” I spit back. He’s clearly trying to get under my skin.

“I wish I was. You know that grand and noble Scientific Collective that Aiden is an errand boy for? They created the Infection. It’s called XT58. It was built to control people. Did a pretty shit job though, since it mostly killed them. But they’re trying to fix their mistake. And Aiden is knowingly helping them.”

I shake my head. Now I’m sure Connor is lying. Aiden would never do that.

“You know, he could be responsible for the death of the rest of humanity. He’s been using you this whole time.” Connor shoots me an icy smile. “Why do you think he left you? You’re a decoy. He used you so he could sneak past us. But it won’t work.”

He puts his face up to mine. “Tell me where he is, and I’ll let you go. I’m on your side.”

Connor makes me sick. He’s responsible for all our misery. I spit into his face. He lurches back, then calmly wipes the spit away. His eyes seethe with rage.

He balls his hand into a fist and cracks the knuckles. “You’re going to regret that.”

*

AIDEN

Of course, they locked the door behind them. That would have been too easy. No other doors lead into the building, and fencing with razor wire blocks all access to the dam. No going through that way.

Downriver, a small boathouse sits near the base of the dam, a wooden structure built into a dock that runs along the riverbank. If I can find a boat, maybe there’s a way to get into the dam from the water. I scamper down an embankment to check it out. A quick test of the door to the boathouse confirms it’s locked. No surprise there. But the front of the structure is open to the water. With a little gymnastics, I climb around the edge of the building and slip in.

A small power boat bobs in the water, tied up on the dock. It has Police printed on its side and a flasher and siren mounted on top. No keys, of course. A small rowboat sits next to the police boat. It looks perfect for heading out on the water undetected. I hop in and push it out into the river.

It’s dark on the water, with dawn still at least an hour off. The dam looms large on my left as I paddle along it, looking for some way to get in. But I’m met only with fifty feet of concrete heading nearly straight up.

As I continue, the rushing sound of water gets louder. In the middle of the dam is a large ramp with water racing down it. This must be where excess water spills over from the upriver side of the dam. Concrete shoulders run along each side of the ramp, guiding the water. They appear wide enough to walk up; this might be my ticket to getting in. I navigate the boat to the edge of the dam and tie it up.

I stow my backpack under a seat in the rowboat, then grab the handgun from the front flap and tuck it into the back of my pants. The grenades I took from Ezra’s bunker are also in the front flap. I take a few and clip them to my belt. You never know.

The ramp starts nearly flat, so it’s easy to climb, though a torrent of water rushes next to me. The farther I go, the steeper it gets. Before long, I’m crawling on my hands and knees along the ramp’s shoulder. From below, it didn’t seem quite this steep. But as I get higher, it’s more like I’m scaling the face of a cliff.

Near the top, the slope of the ramp is practically vertical. Clinging to the concrete edges takes all my strength. Hand over hand, leg over leg, I inch closer. The swiftly cascading water beside me punctuates just how steep the ramp is. A peek downward sends my head reeling. I must be fifty feet high. A drop from this height would not end well. My pulse, already fast from the exertion, jumps up another notch.

Finally, I reach the top edge and heave myself up and over. Wow, that’s a long way down. Here, the ramp flows through the structure of the dam, and I continue on to see if there’s a way inside. And not a moment too soon. An armed guard above me, patrolling the top of the dam, shines a flashlight in various directions. I scamper under cover of the dam mere seconds before the beam scans the area where I just stood.

Inside, a metal catwalk spans above the spillway ramp. It’s slick from the splashing water below it, so I carefully climb onto it. On either side of the catwalk, steel doors lead inside. I head to the door to my right.

If this is locked, I’m screwed.

To my relief, the doorknob turns, and I slip through. Inside, a metal staircase descends into darkness.

“Hello?” A gruff male voice far below me calls out. “Who’s up there?”

A flashlight turns on, its erratic glow creating dancing shadows. I catch glimpses of a man running up, each footfall making a booming echo.

Shit.

There’s nowhere to hide.

I crouch at the landing, waiting to pounce. As the man rounds the corner of the stairs below me, I leap over the railing and drop fifteen feet, landing hard on him and knocking his gun away. The element of surprise is enough to give me the upper hand. In seconds, I have him in an air-constricting headlock. He grasps at my arm and flails his legs, trying to get free. But I’ve practiced this move far too many times, and soon, he succumbs to the lack of oxygen.

I grab his gun and hurry down the remaining flights and come to a door. The muffled sounds of voices come from beyond. Cupping my hand, I listen. Several people are talking, but one voice booms above the rest. Connor.

I open the door and close it gently behind me. I’m in a massively long room, illuminated by candlelight. This must be the turbine room.

Inside, the voices are more distinct. Among Connor’s voice are others I don’t recognize. And then, Zach’s voice lifts above the rest. A wave of relief flows through me. I found him, and he’s alive.

I get low to the ground and slink closer, using the massive turbines as cover. Peering around one, I see what I’m up against. And it’s not good. Zach is strapped to a chair. Connor, two men, and one woman hover around him, all armed. One I could handle. Two is pushing it. Taking on four people would be suicide.

What I need is a distraction.