No Peace for the Damned

Gun gripped in both hands. The barrel pointed right at me.
    I leaped to the side, but she didn’t shoot. And her aim didn’t follow me. She held her position, her hands steady. Her clear, brown eyes searched the open doorway. Her hair was pulled back tight like Shane’s, hiding the blonde among her brunette roots. She’d just watched an invisible force blow away a solid oak front door, not six feet in front of her, and she hadn’t even flinched. My respect for her doubled on the spot.
    The beeping raced, louder now that I was inside. We were out of time. I pulled back my power and revealed myself. My hands shot up as she turned her gun on me.
    “Cordele,” I said quickly. “Cordele, it’s me. It’s Magnolia. We have to get out of here. Now.”
    Her thoughts moved fast. Was this a Kelch trick? Had Thirteen sent me in? She hadn’t been told of any change in the plan. So why was I here?
    “Cordele!” I said again. Then I moved. In a blur, I twisted the gun from her grip and grabbed her from behind. Her gun arm wrenched awkwardly at her back, pinned in place against my chest. I picked her up in a bear-hug heave and lifted her feet off the ground. She struggled, but it was pointless. Then I ran.
    I raced down the front steps and into the yard. Charles and Shane appeared from the tree line, guns up when they saw me carrying Cordele.
    “Run!” I shouted. “There’s a bomb!”
    They paused, confused. I continued across the yard and yelled back over my shoulder, “Run, damn it, the place is going to blow!”
    Shane kept his gun on me, but Charles put a finger to his earpiece and sprinted after us. A moment later, Shane followed.
    I saw the main road up ahead when the deafening blast shattered the air around us. My feet flew out from under me. Cordele slipped from my grip and I let her go just as I slammed face-first into a gardenia bush.
Fucking flowers!
My legs collided with something hard and I hoped it wasn’t Cordele’s face. The wind whooshed out of my lungs on impact, but a second after landing, I was back on my feet.
    Debris fell in chunks from the sky—pieces of brick, wood, plaster—all coated in a dense cloud of smoke. Cordele moaned from a few feet away. I walked over to her as she rolled onto her back, coughing.
    “Are you OK? Cordele?”
    Footsteps came from behind. I wheeled around, blocking Cordele. It was Charles. Gray ash covered him from head to toe. Shane appeared a few feet behind. I held my position.
    “What the hell did you do?” Charles shouted at me.
    “I just saved your ass,” I shouted back. “You’re welcome.”
    Shane checked Cordele for injuries.
    “Fuck that,” Charles said with a snarl, “you just about blew us all up!”
    “There was a bomb, you idiot!”
    “Bullshit! Our scanners didn’t pick up anything. The only thing out of place in there was you.” He raised his gun and aimed for my head. Instantly it turned hot in his hands. So hot the metal melted in his grip.
Holy shit!
I’d never done that before.
    He cried out and dropped the weapon. His face turned red with rage. “Will you stop fucking up my hands!”
    “Stop attacking me and I’ll think about it!”
    Tires squealed on the road ahead of us. A car stopped at the top of the driveway. Neighbors.
    “Let’s get out of here,” Shane said, echoing my thoughts. “The others pulled back. We need to reconvene with Thirteen and Banks.”
    Charles didn’t move. He had another gun at his waist. One with a rubber grip. Could he get to it in time? Before I tried something else?
    “Now!” Shane ordered, then followed Cordele into the trees.
    I waved for Charles to go first. He scowled. The neighbors’ voices drew close. Finally he growled in frustration, then stepped back. I followed his lead.
    I kept Charles in view as we made our way through the thinning smoke. A knot formed in my gut as we walked. So much for sneaking in on the mission unnoticed. Even worse, Cordele hadn’tgotten the evidence she needed. The Network’s most promising lead had just had his house blown to bits. I knew none of this was really my fault, but still.
    Thirteen was going to kill me.

I should have known today would be a total clusterfuck. Even before Thirteen told me training was canceled, even before I’d snuck out to join the team’s mission—I’d woken up with a throbbing headache. Almost as bad as the ones I used to get while healing from Father’s punishments.
    It was the dreams. Abstract, swirling masses of