Monster (Gone 7)

She wanted to feel nothing but rage at what had been done to her, at what it had cost in innocent lives.

But beneath the anger, beneath the guilt, beneath the sheer terror, beneath the skin-crawling realization that she could become a monster of cat fur and snakes, beneath the evil imagery of dark forces turning their malevolent and greedy gaze upon her, was a small, not very admirable or moral voice that whispered . . .

Power, Dekka.

You have power.

CHAPTER 13

All Done Being Used

“NOW THAT WE’VE seen that you have acquired extraordinary power—far greater than what you had in the PBA, I think you’ll agree—we need to find out how to refine, hone, and direct that power,” Tom Peaks said to Dekka.

“No,” Dekka said, and there was heat behind that no.

“You seem upset,” Peaks said.

“Upset?” Dekka laughed mirthlessly.

They were in Peaks’s office, a top-floor space that afforded a commanding view of the facility. Dekka had seen the view and was not impressed. The Ranch from any angle still had the dull look of an industrial park, or one of the less whimsical tech company campuses: brick or cinder-block buildings, parked cars, neatly trimmed grass, everything squared away in perfect right angles. Pine forests surrounded the facility, the trees gray, cringing at the approach of winter.

“The scientists want—”

“I don’t care what they want,” Dekka said dully. Then she frowned. “Wait a minute, what are you talking about, honing and refining? I thought you wanted to find a way to erase the powers.”

Peaks made a face, a pursing of lips, accompanied by a shrug. “In time.”

Dekka sat with hands gripping her armrests, her own hands, thankfully, human hands.

My God: the power!

“Seriously,” Dekka said. “Cut the crap, or I walk. I won’t be your tool. I won’t be a puppet. You tell me what’s what, or we’re done.”

“What is it you want to know, Dekka?”

“This is not about learning how to turn off powers.”

Peaks was quite still, watching her. “Oh?”

“You want to use me. You want to use me as a weapon.”

Peaks tried out a smile meant to be self-deprecating, but that ended up looking ghoulish. “W

ell, Dekka, I am a humble employee of DARPA, and that is what—”

Dekka was on her feet. “Like hell,” she snapped. “I fought my war, I did that already. I don’t need a new set of nightmares to wake me up at three a.m.!”

“Dekka, sit. Please.” He let the silence stretch until she reluctantly resumed her seat. “Okay then. Everything I’m about to tell you is secret. Top-secret.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Have you been back to Perdido Beach?”

Dekka frowned, caught off guard by a surprising feeling of guilt. “No. Why would I? It’s not exactly a place full of fond memories.”

“People have moved back to Perdido Beach,” he said. “But most of them leave within a year. The population today is a third of what it was before the anomaly. Houses are cheap, the town is mostly rebuilt, and yet the crime rate is nine times higher than it used to be. Assaults, rapes, murders. Motorcycle gangs and white supremacists and registered sex offenders, that’s who dominates Perdido Beach today.”

Dekka nodded, wondering why she didn’t know this. Had she ever made any effort to find out about Perdido Beach today? No. She had never even Googled it.