Collide by Christine Fonseca Read Free Book Online Page B

Architect tore the picture in two and used the cigarette lighter to set the pieces on fire before launching the lit remnants out of the window.
    The visor held three more pictures. Three more contracts. Part of her hoped she would be less successful in the future.
    The Architect leaned back against the seat and allowed her eyes to roll back. It’s done , she thought as a slight chill rolled across her skin.
    Good.

 
     
    Project Stargate 2.0
    The Solomon Experiments
     
    Dr. LeMercier’s Personal Journal –
    Aug. 31, 2002
    Day 63:
     
    The experiments are going better than expected. The new recruits have bonded with each other and with their mission. They grow stronger every day, both in terms of their psychic abilities and their overall strength. Seven of the ten objectives are already mastered. The next three will be the most difficult.
     
    The siblings show the most promise. The boy is able to bend matter, camouflage himself and the others, and manipulate those around him. The girl – she is the one I find most special. Faster than the others, and more ruthless. Remote viewing, clairvoyance, telekinesis—the girl mastered them all in ways I dared not imagine. I anticipate her mastery of telepathy within the next few months.
     
    It isn’t only her abilities that impress me; it’s her willingness to do anything to win. She isn’t bothered by conventional ethics. Not yet. She makes difficult choices in times of crisis. She’s the one I’ve been waiting for, the one we need if we are to be successful this time.
     
    There is something special about this girl, something almost familiar. I’ve asked Christyn to tell me more about her. But Christyn remains quiet. She tells me it’s not the right time. She says the increased knowledge may taint the experiments. I have my own suspicions and I will discover what Christyn hides from me.
    Dr. Tate designed a special training circuit for the recruit, one that will satisfy her need, her hunger to win. She begins the training tomorrow, away from the others. They can’t know what she is learning; difficult as their skills grow almost as quickly as hers.
     
    Dr. Jennings won’t approve of my new objectives. Christyn won’t either. They will spend the next few days arguing their point.
     
    I don’t care.
     
    All progress takes sacrifices. The recruit’s sacrifices will guarantee the experiments’ success. A necessary objective.

 
     
     
     
     

     
     
    MY BREATH COMES TOO FAST . The images accelerate and repeat. Nothing I do stops them and I lose all focus. I tighten my grasp on Josh, digging my nails into his arm.
    “What’s wrong?” Josh’s voice doesn’t reassure me now.
    The vision continues to envelop me. Each frame, every scene, becomes me . My skin burns hot from imaginary flames. My eyes water from invisible smoke. My lungs scream for non-existent air. It’s all too real; a sure sign that I’m about to lose it again.
    I grab his arm tighter. My fingers cramp.
    “Dakota? What’s happening?”
    I have no words to answer Josh. Just breathe , I say to myself. Everything is okay . Part of me believes the lie. Another, bigger part of me doubts anything will ever be okay now.
    I refocus my thoughts and count each heartbeat, forcing a calm to come.
    One-two-three
    The pulses come one on top of each other as the visions refuse to abate.
    Four-five
    Finally a break. The flames lose their heat. My eyes no longer sting.
    Six-seven
    The vision stops abruptly, my mind blank.
    Eight-nine
    My heart-rate slows and my breathing returns to normal
    Ten
    “Dakota?” Josh shakes me back to reality.
    “Mari, a girl from the hospital. I think she . . . died.”
    Josh’s face blanches for the briefest of moments. “You saw her die?”
    “Yes. I think I did.”
    Something else, fear maybe, passes through his expression. “Relax. Clear your mind.” We speed up the hills, drenched in a relentless panic I don’t understand. It feels as though I’ve lived a