“You shouldn't have come, Kerry.” Jason's voice was hoarse, his face pale and strained. “I told you not to do it.”
“She was right to come, Jason,” Ron Murphy said. “This is her responsibility.” He looked at Trask. “You've got her, you've got me, why not let Jason go?”
“Jesus.” Jason gazed at him in horror. “Do you think I'd walk out of here without the two of you? If there's a chance for you to get out of here, do it, Kerry.”
“Save your breath. Trask has no intention of letting anyone out of here alive.” Kerry's gaze shifted to Trask. “Isn't that right?”
“Regretfully.” Trask smiled. “Even though I feel you're a true soul mate and I'm hoping for a breakthrough, it would require time I don't have to test you enough to be sure of you. Unfortunately, Ki Yong isn't giving me any leeway.” He glanced at his watch. “I'm allowing myself your company while Firestorm takes your father and brother, but you'll have to join them before I leave here tonight.”
That telltale glance Trask had given his watch scared her. Time might be running out.
Stall. Give Silver and George time to get here.
“Then may I spend a few minutes alone with them?”
He hesitated and then shrugged. “Why not? It might make the experience more poignant.” He headed for the door. “I'll give you fifteen minutes.”
Immediately after the door closed behind him, she ran to the nightstand and opened the drawer. No scissors, dammit. Nothing sharp enough to cut the ropes.
“What are you doing?” her father asked.
“Looking for something to get you free.”
If she broke the window, Trask would hear it before she could get the shards . . . She went to the bureau and started going through the top drawer.
Nothing.
“Try to make a deal with Trask,” Ron Murphy said. “You didn't even try to persuade the son of a bitch. He's your brother. Save him.”
“Shut up, Dad.” Jason said to Kerry, “If you can find a way to get out of this, do it. Don't think about me.”
“Don't be stupid. I love you. I'm going to get you out of this.”
“I don't deserve you giving up your life to save mine.”
“The hell you don't.” She added unevenly as she started quickly going through another drawer, “Besides, Laura would kill me if I let anything happen to you. I'm not about to—”
“I thought you wouldn't waste time on sentiment when you had an opportunity to take action.” Trask had opened the door. “See how well I know you? Move away from that chest and come downstairs with me.” He pulled a small remote device out of his pocket. “I really don't want to set Firestorm loose just yet unless you force me. I cherish my time with you.”
She stiffened, her gaze on the remote. Then she moved slowly toward him. “And where is Firestorm?”
“Set up outside in the van.”
“Then why would you press the button? You'd be incinerated like the rest of us.”
“I know which areas it's going to strike first. I'd be able to get out in time.” He gestured to the door. “After you, Kerry. We're going to sit down in the living room and talk, and I'm going to look at you and anticipate.” He looked down at the remote. “I imagine you'll be doing a little anticipating as well.”
17
Softly.
Quietly.
Don't spook him.
Silver moved closer to the guard behind the shed. He was a tall, lanky man and he was definitely jumpy. He was pacing restlessly back and forth, his watchful gaze on the house.
Could he get in his mind?
He probed.
He'd probably be able to do it, but the guard wouldn't be easy and it might take too long. He didn't know how much time he had left.
He didn't know how much time Kerry had left.
Screw it. Forget about getting in. Go for it.
Be quick and silent. Get behind him and break the bastard's neck before he could raise that rifle.
Sit down.” Trask gestured to the couch. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Is that supposed to be a joke?”
“A little one,” Trask said. “But I would like you to be as much at ease as possible.”
She coughed. “Then why don't you close those windows? How can you stand that smoke?”
“I like it.” He sat down in the chair opposite her. “You'll get used to it. The fire's too far away for it to be dangerous.”
“How comforting.”
“I've no desire for you to be afraid. I've won and I hope I'm a generous victor.”
“If you were generous, you'd let Jason and my father go.” She couldn't wait any longer. No matter how much she dreaded what she had to do. Concentrate. Dive into that horror he called a brain and meld with him. She drew a deep breath and made the effort.
Ugliness. Darkness. Fire. Scorched flesh.
She scurried away from that slime. Oh, God, she couldn't do it.
“My generosity doesn't extend that far,” Trask said. “I've been looking forward to this for too long. I hate being bested. Almost as much as I hate being humiliated.”
“Stupid nerd.” Tim Krazky straddled him, sneering, “Crybaby.” He got off him and glanced around the crowd of kids watching them before he turned back to Trask. “Go home to Mama, asshole.”
Get even. Get even. Get even.
Flesh melting into bone. Screams. Heat.
Joy.
“You're not answering,” Trask said. “Don't you believe me?”
Talk. If she didn't reply he might get impatient and she'd lose the time she needed.
Smell of roasting flesh.
Talk? She was so lost in his visions she could barely function. Death and hate and burning flesh were so much a part of his memory and motivations that she couldn't get near his mind without being overwhelmed by them. She wanted to run away.
Stay there until you become accustomed to his mind. Then look for a path. That's what Silver had told her to do. Stop being a coward. Force yourself to do it. Find that damn path.
But she had to keep Trask talking while she was concentrating. She wildly searched for a subject. Of course: the element that dominated his life. “I don't imagine many people have had the courage to humiliate you. But you were only a child when you set the Krazky home on fire. I'd think you'd choose a simpler way to punish him.”
“There's nothing simpler than fire.” He leaned back in his chair. “Nothing cleaner. Nothing more beautiful.”
A little girl pounding on the window, trying to get out.
Block out his memory. Move behind the ugliness. Try to find the right path. If there is one . . .
“Why do you think that most people name a fireplace as one of the most desirable features in the home?” Trask asked. “Everyone is fascinated by the flames and by the idea that they can control them. Foolish. The flames only lie in wait for a careless moment and then they get their own back.” He looked down at the remote in his hand. “I'm the only one who can control it.”
That path went nowhere. Try another. Keep him talking. “Firestorm. But do you control Firestorm or does it control you?”
“It's my creation.” He frowned. “Of course I control it.”
“I don't think so.”
She'd found a new path! Deeper, more convoluted. Move fast. Jesus, let this be the one.
“Think what you like.” His frown faded. “And I can see why you'd think Firestorm was all-powerful. That's how I intended it to be. From that first moment when I decided that to control fire was to be close to Godlike. It's not often a man has a chance to be God.”
She'd gone deeper in his mind than ever before. This might be the right one. Move faster. Pray that she didn't run into a barrier. “How?”
“Power. Doesn't the Bible say the world is going to be destroyed by fire?” He snapped his fingers. “I can do that.”