Embers & Ice (Rouge) Page 30

  Dr. Wolfe’s manic smile widened and seconds later, he began to chuckle.

  “Your God tell you that, did he Albert?” he asked. “I wonder where he is now.”

  “You knew this day would come.”

  “I didn’t want to believe it,” he said sadly.

  Dr. Rosenthal gave the man a pitying glare but replied with nothing.

  The officers cleared their throats, suggesting Dr. Wolfe get on with it, and so he clasped his hands behind his back and walked around the desk. His oyster eyes sparkled venomously.

  “Let us address one final issue, old friend.”

  “What might that be?”

  Dr. Wolfe’s grin widened. “How would you like to die?”

  The officers broke their tough façade for the first time since they entered the room. They frowned quickly at each other before resuming their positions. Mikayla made a small squeak beside him, but Jet had been expecting this. In fact, he was prepared for it.

  Jet stepped away from the wall and met eyes with Dr. Wolfe.

  “I’d like to do it, Sir,” he said.

  “Oh, Jet. Of course, be my guest.” Dr. Wolfe stretched a hand out and then sat himself down at his desk casually, as though Jet were about to perform a presentation on the current stock market.

  Blood pumping in anticipation, Jet stepped around Dr. Rosenthal and looked down at the hunched, sick man who was once a great mentor to him. In fact, Dr. Rosenthal was kind to everyone. But if there was one thing Jet had learnt from living in a place like ICE Incorporated, it was that rule breakers and betrayers were to be punished. And what Dr. Rosenthal did was punishable by nothing less than an execution.

  And so, it was an execution he received.

  Jet raised his right hand and pointed a finger at Dr. Rosenthal’s neck. The old man met his eyes, and even though he knew he was about to die, he appeared almost relieved. He took a deep breath, let it out slow, and gave Jet a small nod.

  “There is still forgiveness for you Jet,” he wheezed. “Don’t let evil steal your soul.”

  “Too late old man,” Jet replied.

  And he drew his finger across the air, envisioning a clean blade slicing right through the neck. There was a terrible squelch and a splash of blood fell upon the desk. Red liquid spilled down the doctor’s chest as his head slid sideways, toppled into his lap, bounced off his knees and landed face-up at Jet’s feet.

  There, his wise, compassionate eyes gazed up at Jet, at peace with death.

  EPILOGUE

  In the room was a bed. The bed had real blankets and real pillows. The room itself was sterile and bright, unnatural for the Death Caves. Someone had placed a single sunflower in a vase on the bedside table.

  Lying on the bed was a man. He could have been asleep, but it was difficult to tell because his face was so mutated by burns that no expression he made could ever be clear. Hunter looked at the man and felt the fire squirm.

  “What is this?” she muttered to Dr. Wolfe who stood beside her. They looked in at the man through what she presumed was one-way glass from a dark room with a desk and control panel. Behind her was a table covered in a black cloth and two chairs.

  It was only a day after the last time she saw Dr. Rosenthal. Will returned while she slept. They were fed a few hours later and taken to a room at the end of the corridor that served as a bathroom. Guards hosed them down to get rid of the blood and dirt and gave them fresh jumpsuits – they smelled clean, but they were splashed with dark stains.

  She and Will talked on and off about things that kept them sane, like whether the others made it to Dr. Rosenthal’s house in Seattle or if they decided to split up and go home to see their families. She fell asleep with Will’s voice filling her mind.

  Sometime later, Dr. Wolfe came for her. Expecting to be taken to a surgery room, Hunter was surprised when he led her to a separate part of the Death Caves. It did not look like a cave at all. It was cleaner and Hunter felt dirty just being in it.

  For a moment, she wondered if the sight before her eyes was the result of her powers. Was she was responsible for this man’s injuries? Was the doctor trying to shove more guilt down her throat?

  It was too much to handle. She stepped away from the window. “Why are you showing me this?”

  “I’ve had some spare time on my hands in preparation for the beginning of our experiments. I assume you’ve been wondering why I haven’t taken you from your cell since I put you there. Please, have a seat.”

  He indicated to the chair. Hesitantly, she sat down opposite him and couldn’t stop herself from glancing to her right at the man through the window.

  “Will says you changed your mind about experimenting on me.”

  “More or less,” he shrugged. “I may still need you as an extra body, but now I have something much bigger in mind.”

  She turned her head and gazed at the doctor, fear filling her faster than water in a dam.

  “Does it have anything to do with Dr. Rosenthal?”

  In the dim light, Hunter could still see the hurt appear on the doctor’s face, and at once she knew that he was gone.

  “You killed him, didn’t you?”

  “I did not,” he said and cleared his throat. “But Albert is no longer with us, yes.”

  “Why did you-”

  “That’s enough.”

  Her throat closed up instantly at the harsh snap of his tone. She clenched her fists in her lap and avoided his eye, and all thoughts of the kind doctor as well.

  He sighed. “I couldn’t allow Dr. Rosenthal to live after he betrayed me for the second time – this time costing me just as much as shooting Jack Holloway in the back. He was my life-long friend, yes, but… I had no more chances to give him.”

  Even though he was clearly heart broken, she still felt no pity for him. I should not be the only one in this hellhole feeling guilty.

  Dr. Wolfe pulled from his coat pocket a tiny silver bell. The sound of the chime rang painfully in her ears. A moment later, two Men in White entered carrying trays of food. It was not the regular gray goo Hunter was used to – this was real food: Mashed potatoes, roast beef with gravy, steamed vegetables, bread rolls and cubes of butter, even a bottle of red wine from the south of France. It was dark in the room, so one of the guards lit a long candle and placed it in the center of the table.

  Though the food smelled overwhelming, Hunter couldn’t look at it. She wanted to vomit.

  “Please, eat.” He held out his hand and indicated to the meal.

  Hunter didn’t move.

  “Wine?” He poured them both a glass.

  “Dr. Wolfe, what is this?”

  “I pride myself upon my ability to remember my patients, Hunter.” He put the glimmering glass in front of her plate. “But that patient beside us I never cared too much about. We found him before even Joshua arrived. He doesn’t have any special abilities that we were able to uncover, and he used to look much worse. Thanks to Will’s ability, we were able to heal the worst of the burns. I’m afraid he won’t ever be rid of the scars, but he is alive at least.”

  The doctor sliced through his tender beef in smooth motions. Hunter thought for a split second about stabbing him with her own knife, but she was too distracted by the patient lying in the bed.

  “I did this, didn’t I?” she breathed in disgust. “I burnt him.”

  “Oh, you definitely had something to do with this. But that’s not the reason he is here.”

  “Why then?” she asked.

  “I once thought that he might develop abilities after the accident he was involved in. There was an existing element that you are already very familiar with – you remember Feucotetanus, don’t you?”

  She stared in shock, the pieces starting to click together.

  “Yes. Feucotetanus protected this man from dying that night. I didn’t realize how much it truly influenced his survival until you returned to ICE. One of my scientists recently found traces of something very interesting in his blood flo
w.”

  “What?”

  “You,” he said.

  Hunter looked from the doctor to the man and back to the doctor. What he was saying didn’t make sense.

  “I don’t understand. How is that possible?”

  Dr. Wolfe smiled at her through the luminescent glow of the candle. “Because,” he said. “That man is your father.”

  Isabella was born in Adelaide, South Australia. She finished school, travelled Europe and went to work in Canada. Her first book, Rouge, was published in August, 2013 and began as a conversation on the school bus.

  www.isabellamodra.com