Riptide: Book Three of the Atlas Link Series Read online

  I headed down the empty hall, walls devoid of the photos that used to be there. The eerie quiet deafened me. The apartment complex itself was on military property, but if they’d cleared TruGates out completely, they’d probably kicked all the tenants out too. I couldn’t believe it.

  Erin must have moved with the remaining TruGates team instead, wherever they had gone. Which meant I couldn’t save her.

  Erin and Weyland’s room was similarly dreary. Not a single personal item had been left behind, only furniture without coverings and sheets. A bed frame without a mattress. But if Weyland had suspected something, he’d have known to leave behind a sign, right?

  I scoured Erin and Weyland’s room for anything that I might be able to use to find Erin. That was when I froze. “Duh.”

  I teleported to my quarters on SeaSat5 and searched my room. It had to be somewhere, and using this method would be quicker than waiting for Weyland to wake up from unconsciousness. Months ago, Erin had gone with Josh and me to buy my newest guitar. When I had refused to let Josh help pay for any of it, he’d bought me the guitar pick I kept in my pocket. Erin had also gotten me something—a guitar strap. Only, I’d never gotten a chance to attach it. When we’d come back to TAO to rescue SeaSat5, I’d brought a box of stuff with me in case things went south. The guitar strap had been inside of that box.

  I tore through my closet. My fingers found the cardboard box in the dark, wrapping around its edges.

  “Finally.”

  I pulled it out and threw it on my bed, tearing the tape keeping it shut. Right on top lay the guitar strap. I tugged it out and wound it around my hands like a rosary.

  “Come on, Erin,” I whispered. “Tell me where you are.”

  I wasn’t sure if this would work. Unless I’d been somewhere before, I needed a Link Piece to teleport successfully—or to time-travel, as it were. When I’d tried this three months ago to find the rest of the TruGates crowd, it hadn’t worked.

  But with Weyland as an Atlantean super soldier, with my friendship with Erin, with the connection between them, would this guitar strap and my memory of Erin be enough?

  It had to be. If she had any clue about what was going on, she was in danger. And that might be true even if she didn’t know. Erin was an innocent in trouble, someone caught in the crossfire. Someone I needed to save.

  I felt the pull first, the quiet tug of my teleportation. My feet seemed to move forward of their own volition, stepping into the unknown void only to emerge on the other end. Blue lights circled around them before swallowing me up in a torrent of pouring water droplets. The waterfall ended in a new place, another apartment. This one was furnished, and occupied.

  Erin stood in front of me, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Holy crap.”

  I lifted my hands in a calming gesture. “I’m not going to hurt you, Erin.”

  She nodded quickly and then darted around her apartment, gathering items and shoving them into a duffle bag near the door. “Weyland told me something might happen to him, and that if it did, you might come looking for me.”

  My eyebrows furrowed together. I’d suspected as much, given his response. Seeing Erin react like this, with so much composure despite everything going on, stunned me into silence.

  Erin threw a few last items into the duffle bag and held it up. “I know about his Atlantean heritage, and yours, and about the war. He told me what General Allen said to him and about what he did to you.” She grabbed my arm, eyes pleading. “I’m so sorry, Chelsea. If I’d known…”

  “Weyland didn’t know, either,” I cut in. “It’s the others we can’t trust. I’m going to teleport us somewhere safe, okay?”

  Erin, not more than ten years older than me, gripped my arm tight like a scared child. My eyes found the engagement ring on her finger, the promise Weyland had made to her, to love her forever. She knew about his Atlantean side, his powers, and still loved him enough to marry him. Why couldn’t I find my own version of that?

  “Is he okay?” she asked. “It’s been so long since he went to see the General.” She fisted her hand in front of her chest as though she was squeezing her own heart. “I swear I could feel the moment everything went wrong.”

  Was she an Atlantean super soldier too? Is that how she felt his distress?

  No, it wasn’t anything supernatural that’d tipped Erin off. It was love.

  “Yes,” I said, taking her fisted hand and unfurling her fingers. “He’s safe and healing, but I don’t want to say much more incase this place is bugged.”

  Erin’s eyes widened. “Bugged? You think Gen—”

  “I don’t know,” I said quickly. “I’m going to teleport us. Are you okay with that?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Those things don’t scare me after knowing you could do them. And now that I know Weyland can too. If you’re like him, all the better.”

  “Okay.” I gripped her hand tight. The last thing I needed was for her to go back on her words, freak out, and be lost to the blue haze that overtook me whenever I teleported. “Here we go.”

  “Take me to him,” she said. Conviction was thick in her voice and shone in her eyes.

  “I will,” I said.

  In the blink of an eye and a rush of blue lights, we were back in the Infirmary.

  “Erin?”

  She let go of me, pushing me away, and rushed to Weyland’s side. He wrapped her in a tight embrace, kissing her forehead and cheeks.

  “I was so worried,” she said. “Thank god you’re okay.”

  “I’m sorry,” Weyland said into her hair. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

  Watching Weyland and Erin reunite, seeing the relief and love flood their faces, was a small victory I thought we all needed. At least some of us had gotten out unscathed. Still, I ducked out as soon as I could, dodging everyone around me to avoid questions and conversation. But I didn’t teleport. Couldn’t teleport, though I sure tried.

  My stomach twisted around itself and drew my heart in along with it. The intensity of the turmoil turned into gasped, shallow breaths that made trying to connect to my abilities utterly impossible.

  I rode the Lift in silence, ignoring worried glances from passersby, and made it to my quarters without incident. My shaky fingers reached into the front pocket of my yellow civilian uniform and slipped out my keycard. I lifted the card to the reader on one side of the metal door, but the card fell through my fingers before it reached the reader. I bent down. One, two, three times it took to pick up the keycard from the floor.

  “God dammit,” I cried as I opened the door to my quarters. “Almost there. Almost there.”

  It took every single ounce of strength within me to enter my dark quarters, shut the door behind me, and lock it before bursting into tears. My legs shook and my chest ached as if someone had reached inside and twisted my lungs and heart. And maybe they had.

  He didn’t make it.

  I wiped tears from my cheeks with one hand. Then both, repeatedly, though it didn’t do any good. As fast as I wiped them away, more tears came.

  Josh hadn’t made it. He’d died.

  “No,” I cried to myself, tears slipping down my cheeks. My knees gave out and I fell to the floor, knocking them against the hard tile. I wrapped one arm around myself and rested the other with my head against my door, rocking back and forth.

  “He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead,” I mumbled on short breaths and an even shorter hold on reality. I gasped in as much air as I could, but it only resulted in me hiccupping past tears and eventually hyperventilating.

  Another person dead because of me. Another death. Another casualty of collateral damage because of me.

  Michael and Truman. Now Josh.

  And their only mistake: knowing me.

  I mean, there was definitely more to the story, especially in Josh’s case, but the common denominator still seemed to be me. Me and General Allen.

  I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Too much probably. But eventually I crawled
from the door and into my bed, my uniform still on. I curled into a tight ball and held myself as best I could, trying not to think of what Josh had gone through on that mission or how he might have died. Instead, the last memories I had of Michael and Truman haunted me.

  The look on Michael’s face as poison corrupted his body and he convulsed to death.

  The horror and pain in Truman’s voice as he burned.

  And Josh. Sweet, caring Josh, who only wanted to stay with TruGates long enough to retire and open a repair shop. To fix things for a living. To make up for what he’d done.

  Strong Josh. Honorable Josh.

  Now he was just dead.

  Because of me.

  12

  Trevor

  “I’m going to keep this meeting short,” said Captain Marks as he paced the distance between the two length-wise walls of the briefing room. For whatever reason, the Captain had decided to call this meeting here instead of in the normal meeting space for talks regarding the panic room, and I had no idea what this briefing was about.

  Captain Marks had called together a conglomerate of the senior staff and those assigned to the panic room. The one exception to all of this was Weyland, who’d taken a seat against the back wall, his sprained ankle propped up on another chair.

  Chelsea sat close to me and she looked like hell, with deep bags under her red, puffy eyes. An urge to wrap my arms around her swept through me, but I crossed my arms at my chest to keep from doing so. She wouldn’t want it, not from me. She’d clearly not slept after last night’s insane events regarding Weyland, though, and it made me want to steal her away from SeaSat5 for good. To get her out of the war’s reach forever.

  And then I remembered why she hadn’t slept: Weyland said Josh had died.

  Captain Marks cleared his throat. “We need to talk about the number of people on board who have powers. And let me get something straight: I don’t care what your heritage is as long as you’re allied with SeaSatellite5. Lemurian, Atlantean—to me, it doesn’t matter. Everyone understand that?”

  A choir of “yes, sir” echoed throughout the room. Even Weyland joined in.

  “Good,” said Captain Marks. “The next thing I want to do is reinstate Lieutenant Weyland as a member of this crew, minus the Head of Security title.”

  Weyland glanced up at the Captain. His eyes said he neither believed nor deserved that honor, and maybe he was right.

  Captain Marks continued, saying, “I assembled everyone because we all need to be on the same page. Having this many people on board who have powers is something we’re not used to—especially given that some of those individuals don’t have control of their abilities.”

  I couldn’t stop the frown or the flash of heat lapping at my neck. “We’re trying, Captain.”

  “I wasn’t talking about Abby,” he said, acknowledging that she was actually the main source of the problem—one that had only gotten worse with the addition of a third super soldier to the station. “It’s clear she needs help. Sophia is able to give her that where Dr. Gordon and Chelsea can’t.”

  Chelsea shifted in her seat under the scrutiny. I don’t mean to make her uncomfortable, for what it’s worth.

  I know, I replied. There’s nothing we can do.

  “To that end,” Captain Marks continued, none the wiser to mine and Chelsea’s conversation, “I’m suggesting we move Abby to TAO so Sophia can return while also keeping an eye on her.”

  Sophia, also present at the meeting, nodded. “I think that’s a wise move. We can work more easily there, away from others with powers.”

  Anxiety crept up my spine and into my mouth. “I don’t know about that.”

  Captain Marks looked to me for an explanation.

  “I… she’s my cousin, Captain, my responsibility. I know I can’t help her, really—I don’t have powers. If we’d found Valerie, maybe I’d feel differently.” I shot a look at Sophia. “Not that you’re not doing a good job.”

  Sophia smiled softly. “You want to be there. I understand.”

  “I don’t want her getting hurt. If the Atlanteans get a hold of her again, they might not let her go.”

  “I won’t let that happen,” said Sophia. “I give you my word. As long as she’s at my side, she will be safe and I’ll mentor her.”

  I swallowed hard. I trusted Sophia with my life. But with Abby’s fragile one? “Okay.”

  “This will leave Chelsea and Dr. Gordon on board to help Lieutenant Weyland get acquainted with his abilities,” Captain Marks continued.

  “Except that’s still two Atlantean super soldiers aboard the station,” Chelsea said. “Both of which have made several different types of enemies in the White City, not to mention rogue groups of Lemurians. This station is nothing but a pawn.”

  Captain Marks nodded and sat down at the head of the table. “I agree, but that’s why we upped security, was it not? We can protect the station and we have the tools to do so, so we will. The best way for Lieutenant Weyland to learn is from someone who’s been through it, and we need Sophia helping Abby.”

  Everyone else voiced their agreement—everyone except Weyland. He was still recovering and the last thing he probably wanted was to continue waiting for the next attack.

  Captain Marks stood once more and addressed Sophia. “You may take Abby to TAO tomorrow morning. I’ve already cleared it with General Holt.” He looked to Weyland. “I want you to spend today getting settled. Chelsea, get Lieutenant Weyland and his fiancé set up in Guest Quarters A, then get them up to speed. But please speak to me after we’re done here.”

  Chelsea nodded. “Yes sir.”

  Hey—come see me later, too. I want to add something else to security, I thought in Chelsea’s direction.

  Her eyes found mine. Oh?

  Extra measure only we know about.

  You don’t trust Weyland.

  I wiped my upper lip. It’d become suddenly itchy. Neither do you. That was an awfully coincidental, sudden change of events.

  Agreed, she thought. I’ll come by right before dinner.

  “Dismissed,” the Captain said. Great, we’d missed the rest of his spiel. “Chelsea, please walk with me so we can chat.”

  She nodded, but thought, Later, to me.

  It was almost dinnertime before Chelsea knocked on the door to my quarters, notebook in hand. I stood and let her in, hoping she wouldn’t mind the mess. It’d been a long day of planning and pacing the floor while my brain reeled. Her presence alone calmed the turmoil in my chest and for the first time all day, I breathed easy. Her bright eyes, her warm aura, were the only things that gave me hope this war might turn out okay. Because if we got along, surely our mythical counterparts must be capable of it also.

  I knew, on both accounts, that it was wishful thinking.

  Chelsea made herself at home at my desk, stealing the chair. “What’s up?”

  I dug my own notepad out of a somewhat hidden compartment in the wall by my bed, ever thankful Abby’s fire hadn’t reached this far. I kept my important property there, like my social security card and some videogame loot that’d fetch a pretty penny or a thousand.

  “Ooh,” Chelsea said, eyeing the notepad. “Trevor Boncore going old-school? This really is top secret, huh?”

  “Can’t hack paper,” I agreed. “That’s how important this is.”

  “Shoot.”

  I opened the notepad and handed it to her. She took it in both of her hands and stared, reading. “It’s called Babel.”

  Her eyes widened as she read. “Trevor.”

  I nodded. “I know.”

  “This is good.”

  “Yeah, and also complicated as hell, especially if we’re going to keep it between us. It’s going to be nearly impossible to create.”

  She flipped the page. “But if we do, we may not even need the panic room if something bad happens.”

  “Yeah, that’s kind of my goal,” I said. “This station will not be taken ever again. Not on my watch.” />
  Chelsea finally looked up from the notepad, awe and confidence and pride in her voice. “And not with this. This is amazing, Trevor.”

  The corners of my mouth folded downward with a frown. “Let’s just hope it works.”

  Five hours of quiet and two screens weren’t enough to hold all the information I was trying to find. My tablet displayed a military database I’d hacked into, hoping to find any information about General Allen. Or, ex-General Allen. Why he still held that title and touted it around made about as much sense as why he referred to his teams full of “soldiers” by ranks they no longer held. Maybe it was a nostalgia thing, where he wanted to keep the illusion of power via a chain of command they were all used to. Maybe in some White City realm he was their equivalent of a General. I didn’t know.

  The database didn’t offer much information. I’d never seen him in any military uniform, so I had no badges and patches to reference with what these files told me was true. He’d been a decorated member of the Army at one point, rising through the ranks to do overseas service. He had impeccable morale and behavior. Plenty of skills, too, like combat, mechanical, explosives, and infantry. It was all much too neat, like someone had created the file just to hide the fact he’d never actually done any of these things.

  That might very well be true. Just because he employed ex-military didn’t have to mean he classified as such, himself. Though, it looked a whole lot nicer on the resume.

  I turned from my tablet to my work computer, where I’d spent the last two hours reading everything I could on the history of La Ciudad Blanca. Most of what I’d found were inconsistent accounts of everything from El Dorado to falsehoods spread to drive confusion or economy. Next to the White City, Atlantis looked like unquestionable fact.

  The truth of the matter was I’d wasted my night participating in activities light-years out of my wheelhouse. Ancient history was Chelsea’s and Dr. Hill’s realm. And hacking anything above a personal computer was something much better left to Valerie, who’d dove into hacking in college and hadn’t stopped.