He frowned as he studied her. She was almost certain he was probing around in her mind…as if that was even possible.
“I should have asked you how your psychometry worked,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“How is it you sense the world? Is it through the air of a place? Through the feel of the ground? Do you actually need to touch it with your hands or your skin?”
“I never gave it much thought. Until recently, until you, I never believed it was real. In fact, it had all but faded until I came to Valle de Lágrimas. I thought I was always making up stories.”
“Think about it now. Close your eyes. Tell me what you sense.”
She hesitated. Her abilities, though she’d had them her whole life, were something she was still sensitive about. She feared that acknowledging them now, with him, was somehow moving her into his game world. There was no humor in his eyes. He was dead serious. And waiting patiently. She closed her eyes. Merc was silent, but the jungle wasn’t.
The place had a feel about it, a mood, a lingering energy that was toxic to the jungle, creating an herbicide—natural or unnatural—that kept vegetation from creeping closer to the remains of the pens.
Pens. Merc had never mentioned that. She went over to one that still had remnants of bars. She didn’t look at Merc, and he didn’t stop her from touching them. She felt a blast of emotion as a vision formed around her. The people in the cages were scared, angry, confused. Some were resigned to their fate. Others raged against it. Most were very sick. She looked around and realized the inhabitants were all male.
When she let go of the rusty bars of one pad and moved to the next, she realized the vision was staying with her. The half bars she’d seen before were now full height, enclosing each cube on all sides and over the top. The heat was oppressive. Occupants with fever weren’t being tended. The men were all young—mid-twenties to mid-forties. They spoke several different languages.
Small groups of men and women in white coats stood outside the cells. They held clipboards and made notations here and there. They were observing the caged men as if they were test subjects.
The stink of the place was horrendous, human waste and fear blending into a noxious odor. Ash sent a panicked look around for Merc, breaking the spell of the vision. Back in her current reality, she drew several shaky breaths.
“What is this place?” she asked. “Why were people in cells?”
“This is where we were brought after we were genetically modified. The watchers you saw were not allowed to interfere with us in any way. We were allowed out of our cells to eat and train, but that was only a few hours each day.”
Ash stared in horror at him. “How did you survive?”
“Bastion and I had succumbed to our belief in our new situation. We couldn’t find a way out. No help was coming. We were all dying. And then Liege was put with us. He was the first to resist and the first to figure out that there were no bars on the top half of our cells.”
“But there were. I saw them.”
“You saw what we saw. But Liege realized they were formed in our minds and weren’t real.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. He told us later that he heard a phrase coming over a loudspeaker: ‘You can leave anytime you wish. Just release your chains and open the gate.’ It was driving him crazy—he was the only one hearing it.”
“You guys were chained too?”
“We thought we were.” They walked down the line of cubes. “This was our cell.”
Ash looked at him, then reached down to touch the closest metal bar. Instantly, she was taken to that time and place, seeing Sam, Bastion, and Merc in the cell—with Flynn. She gasped and pulled back. “Flynn was with you?”
“Yeah. He made a bad experience really delightful.”
“He was sick. But Sam cared for him.”
“Liege cared for all of us. It’s why we chose him to lead us when we formed the Legion.”
“What happened next?”
“Bastion carried Flynn to the mess hall. Guerre was dishing out slop. Liege asked if there was a medic who could treat Flynn. The Omnis didn’t care who lived or died. They felt only the ones who survived the change were worthy of being mutants, so the staggering numbers of deaths were of no interest to them. Guerre, who is a natural healer, wasn’t allowed to help in any significant way. I think Santo was protecting him. He did suggest that we get the ones with fevers out to the creek nearby to let the water cool them.
“It helped. But soon after that, Liege met Santo. He was very involved with our training. We didn’t know if he was friend or foe because he appeared to be with the Omnis. Really, we’re still not sure. But he was who clued Liege in to what was happening. He trained Liege, who trained us. We had to form teams. Seems all of the men in the camp at that time naturally split along a line that roughly equated to ethics. Flynn, who’d recovered by then, led the team in favor of pursuing power—at all costs. Liege led the team in favor of pursuing knowledge—not at all costs. The two sides were given the same training, then set against each other.”
“Why?”
“Because we were formed to fight. Trained to infiltrate and destroy. Only the strongest were worthy of joining the Omni forces. The prize of the conflict was Guerre.”
“But why?”
“Because both teams desperately needed his healing abilities. Our side won him. Liege let him pick his side, then fought and nearly died protecting him. By then, we’d broken out of the camp and were loose in the jungle, where we spent the next few years. None of us remembered who we were for a long while, but over time, our memories slowly returned to us. We made deals with various devils—cartels, guerrillas, gangs, whatever—to survive. We were lethal. Ruthless. We might as well have joined the Omnis, because we were as bad. The only defense I can offer was that we were in survival mode. We had nothing. No homeland, no families, no income, no past, no future. Nothing. That in itself was disorienting.
“Liege kept us together as a unit. Eventually, we came to the attention of a tycoon who’d recently purchased an illegal gold mine and wanted to turn it legit. He had contacts all the way to the top of the government. He hired us to protect the business, which we did. When he died, he left us the mine. We parlayed that wealth into the formation of the Legion. Five years in, our memories restored, the larger group split up, taking our mission of fighting the Omnis back to our own countries. The first four of us stayed together, however, and followed Liege to the U.S.”
“Wow. So are you guys legit or not?”
Merc grinned. “See, that’s a very regular concern. We can manipulate minds, so there’s no real defense there. We are what we are.”
“You can’t read minds.”
“I was with you many times when you thought you were alone in Valle de Lágrimas. I wrecked the village with my revenge and anger, but could anyone describe me the same way? No. Flynn hid his real face from you. Seriously, we can convince anyone of anything with our ability to bend minds. We’re no longer beholden to any law. We can manipulate locks, so physical restraints can’t contain us. We can move about in astral form, uncovering all the secrets we want. We are a danger to humanity. And that’s coming from someone who will give his life to protect regulars. So no, we’re not legit. We’re fucked as hell. And we’re the only thing standing between regulars and the Omnis coming for them. For you.”