Sync by K. P. Kyle

Author:K. P. Kyle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thrillers/Technological;
ISBN: 9780999698242
Publisher: Allium Press of Chicago
Published: 2019-04-12T00:00:00+00:00

FIVE

That familiar explosion of pain and light, pressure. Everything washed out and slowly came back into focus.

Jason was lying naked in the orange room. His heart skipped a beat. The lights were off, it was dark, but he could still make out the cartoon animals on the walls and toys scattered on the floor, could smell the baby powder, see the shapes of familiar furniture. A nightlight was plugged into the wall, next to a pile of laundry discarded on the floor. He pawed through it, put on a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, which was stretched out and had a crusted stain on one shoulder. He scraped absently at the stain, looking around, giddy and triumphant, dizzy with glee.

The door opened and the light came on. Jason turned toward the door and his heart exploded in his chest.

Molly was standing in the doorway. Molly, robust and healthy and glowing, thick curly black hair held back by a headband, wearing jeans and a fitted cotton shirt that hugged her belly and proudly displayed the curves of her chest and abdomen and arms, those familiar curves, that ideal shape. She’d opened the door and flicked on the light without looking, was talking to someone outside the room, smiling, and for one eternal moment she was perfect.

For every eternal moment she was perfect.

Jason’s legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed to his knees, clutched the bureau drawer for support, gaping, gasping for breath.

Molly laughed at whoever she was talking to, turned and walked into the room, yelped and jumped forward, her hands up in a defensive pose. “What the…what…who the…oh my god…Jason? Jason? Jason, my god, Jason, Jason—”

She bounded across the room, dropped to her knees, to his level, wrapped her arms around him. Clutched the back of his shirt in her fists, pulled him into her as if she wanted to absorb him. She was shaking, she was sobbing.

He didn’t think, couldn’t think, just pulled her into him as well, buried his head in her shoulder and held her tightly, maybe too tightly, maybe too much, but he couldn’t relax, couldn’t let up. Molly. Molly. Molly was here, was real, was in his arms again. Finally. Everything he’d wished for, everything he’d dreamed of. He was crying, too, the two of them shuddering in synchronicity.

§

Brigid’s chest seized up so fast and hard she thought she was literally choking. She dove behind Ana’s car, all instinct, and crouched by the trunk, shaking. Shit. Not-Smith…he’s found me…he wasn’t arrested, isn’t in prison, he’s here, and he’s found me and now he’s going to kill me, kill us all.

“Ana…get down…everyone get down. Hide, hide!”

Ana did not get down. Neither did either of the Reyeses. Danilo peered around the end of the car at her, perplexed. “What—”

“That man—that man, he’s here to kill us—you have to get down. Get down!” No one’s listening to me, goddammit, what’s wrong with these people? “Run! Run, call the police, or…fuck…” She peeked past the tires. Not-Smith was walking toward them in a leisurely manner.

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