Reckless Road (Torpedo Ink 5)

It was Czar’s turn to get up and pace across the room. “You’re right. Sorbacov had a big meeting to go to that night. We targeted Matrix because he had already hurt so many of the girls in the school and he was looking at Alena and Lana. We knew it was only a matter of time before he went after them.” Czar turned to look at him. “Why is it I didn’t remember that, Player, when I never forget details?”

“It was very real, Czar. Sorbacov really did come down to confront us. Code really did fix the cameras to cover us. I made certain of it. I orchestrated it in my reality.”

“That’s why you kept Sorbacov’s attention on you.”

Player nodded slowly. “It was my fuckup and my mistake to fix. I could have gotten all of you killed.”

“Instead, he took you to his rooms and returned you in the worst shape I’d ever seen you in,” Czar said and slumped down in the chair, scrubbing both hands over his face.

There was a small silence. “I build bombs in my head when things get too crazy for me. It’s a harmless pastime, like counting for other people,” Player said. “At least, it started out that way. I’ve always done it. When Sorbacov would give me to his friends, I’d lose myself in my head by building the bombs. I’d just go there, and sometimes by the time I’d built several, it would be over. I wouldn’t even remember how many he’d given me to or how many times someone beat me with a whip. I just built the bombs.”

Czar waited, his piercing gaze once more jumping to Player’s face.

“When this happened to me”—Player indicated the bandana covering the wound on his head—“my brain was really fractured. I started having nightmares. Then I have an illusion. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. You know how much I despise that illusion and why. That’s when the alternate reality creeps in. I am always sitting on that little bench Sorbacov would make me sit on when he’d lay the materials out on the table and press his pocket watch. At first it would be the White Rabbit there. Then Sorbacov. I’d be putting together the bomb. Only it wasn’t a bomb I’d ever put together before. I didn’t recognize the materials or the way it was supposed to be put together.”

“Steele healed your injury.”

“But the migraines have persisted. They’ve gotten worse, and so have the nightmares. With the nightmares come the illusions.” He rubbed his forehead and met Czar’s eyes, showing him it wasn’t a joke. This was very real and dangerous. “The thing is, I see in patterns, Czar. I can look at things, at the materials, and I just know how they work. I began to build a bomb even though I’d never seen that type before. Sorbacov was always shadowy. At first, I was slow and didn’t finish. Zyah would come in and stop the entire process. She has a tremendous talent, and she puts my mind back together, so to speak. She stays with me the rest of the night and the nightmare doesn’t come back.”

Czar frowned. “This happens every night?”

Player nodded. “Every damn night. In the beginning, it would happen sometimes during the day, but not anymore. But I’m faster at putting the bomb together. And it’s too real. Others in the house can hear it ticking. I know it’s real. Sometimes, lately, I can feel someone watching me. Zyah can feel them as well.”

Czar sat back in the chair and regarded him over his steepled fingers. “How close are you to finishing the bomb?”

“Too damn close. I worry for everyone. And that’s not all.” He had to finish it. He glanced toward the door, hating the feeling he was betraying Zyah. “I would be dead if it wasn’t for Zyah. She’s been with me every night. She knows the threat, and she refused to let me leave. She says she has this gut feeling—and has had it all along—that she needs to be with me. Steele has the same feeling. But we’re connected in this very strong way.”

“Anyone can see that, Player.” There was a trace of amusement in Czar’s voice.

Player shook his head. “I wish it was just that. It’s much more. Much more intimate. She’s in my head. She has to be in order to chase out the bomb making.”

Immediately, Czar’s all-too-intelligent eyes narrowed, and Player’s heart sank. He knew Czar would comprehend what he was saying. He went doggedly on.

“She sees my memories. My childhood. She knows the things I’ve done. I was straight with her, Czar, about what that could buy her, but even knowing, she came here with me.”

There was silence. Outside, the wind blew, a soft moaning sound that echoed through his heart. A branch slid across the side of the house.