Read Online Collide by Christine Fonseca - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christine Fonseca
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I expect. The clouds have thinned and the sunlight reflects on endless fields of corn, occasionally dotted with cows and farmhouses. The landscape is so different from the mountains and ocean vistas of Cambria. I can’t imagine myself living here. I can’t image anyone living here.
“I don’t remember any of this. Do you?” I stare out of the window as more cornfields stream past. “We should remember something, right? We weren’t that young.”
“I don’t recognize anything either.”
“Are you sure we lived here before? What if they lied to us again?” My voice cracks on the last words as Mari’s incessant warning reawakens in my head.
“Mom and Dad said we were here.” Josh’s voice betrays his confidence. “But . . .”
“But that doesn’t mean they told us the truth.”
Silence engulfs the fears we’re both too afraid to discuss.
“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?” Josh asks.
“That’s an understatement.” A huge one.
“Hey,” Josh says in his best older-brother voice. “Things will work out. No one will find us here. We’ll figure out what these visions are, why we’re in hiding, what else they’ve lied about. It’ll be fine. You’re stronger than you realize.”
“You always tell me I’m strong.”
“Only because you are.”
I smile as the sun continues its ascent above the tall barns in the distance. Few cars join us on the roads. Several deer line the highway, looking up from their grazing long enough to make sure we’re only driving past.
“How much farther?” I ask.
“Not much, I think. Check.”
I retrieve the map from Josh’s bag, along with a picture of five children and four adults smiling. “What’s this?” I ask as I scrutinize the picture. “Josh?”
“It was in the go-bag.” His eyes never leave the road, his voice distant.
I recognize the children from my dreams and my life. I’m at one end of the picture, my face more innocent than I remember. “I’m so young,” I say, mostly to myself.
The other children carry a hint of familiarity. Josh sits in the middle of the pack, his expression one of both leader and agitator. I glance from face to face, trying to force memories that refuse to come. “Should I know them?”
“You do,” Josh says. “Look again.”
I expel a tight breath and allow my eyes to drift more slowly from face to face. The boy sitting next to Josh smiles up from the page and my heart almost stops. Familiar green eyes meet mine and I can practically feel his hand in mine and his breath hot on my neck.
David .
I glare at Josh. “Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s all I can say without losing it completely.
“I couldn’t.” Josh’s voice cracks. “Look at the others.”
My eyes return to the picture, settling on the ginger-haired girl next to David. Her haunting smile and familiar face pull at my dreams. “I know her, too.” I say more to myself than my brother. “Mari.” Tears fill my eyes as I relive her last moments. In a heartbeat, I scan the rest of the picture. Mom and Dad are part of the group of adults behind us. It’s too much to handle. I shove the picture away as my mind spins, my hands shake.
And my world implodes.
Again
THE ARCHITECT LEANED AGAINST THE RAILING OF THE SMALL PORCH OF HER FAMILY’S HOME . She hadn’t been back in the Adirondacks in a long time, more than ten years. Her mother died in this home and she and her father left shortly after. The house held too many memories, her Papa used to tell her. Too much pain.
The Solomon Experiment offered an escape from the pain according to Papa. He worked for the Creator and the Architect joined the chosen. She assumed Papa made a deal with the researchers to have her placed in the group. She didn’t posses the power the others held, or the talent. Not at the beginning.
“You have your own gifts,” the Creator told the Architect whenever she withdrew from the group. “They will prove valuable in the
“I don’t remember any of this. Do you?” I stare out of the window as more cornfields stream past. “We should remember something, right? We weren’t that young.”
“I don’t recognize anything either.”
“Are you sure we lived here before? What if they lied to us again?” My voice cracks on the last words as Mari’s incessant warning reawakens in my head.
“Mom and Dad said we were here.” Josh’s voice betrays his confidence. “But . . .”
“But that doesn’t mean they told us the truth.”
Silence engulfs the fears we’re both too afraid to discuss.
“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?” Josh asks.
“That’s an understatement.” A huge one.
“Hey,” Josh says in his best older-brother voice. “Things will work out. No one will find us here. We’ll figure out what these visions are, why we’re in hiding, what else they’ve lied about. It’ll be fine. You’re stronger than you realize.”
“You always tell me I’m strong.”
“Only because you are.”
I smile as the sun continues its ascent above the tall barns in the distance. Few cars join us on the roads. Several deer line the highway, looking up from their grazing long enough to make sure we’re only driving past.
“How much farther?” I ask.
“Not much, I think. Check.”
I retrieve the map from Josh’s bag, along with a picture of five children and four adults smiling. “What’s this?” I ask as I scrutinize the picture. “Josh?”
“It was in the go-bag.” His eyes never leave the road, his voice distant.
I recognize the children from my dreams and my life. I’m at one end of the picture, my face more innocent than I remember. “I’m so young,” I say, mostly to myself.
The other children carry a hint of familiarity. Josh sits in the middle of the pack, his expression one of both leader and agitator. I glance from face to face, trying to force memories that refuse to come. “Should I know them?”
“You do,” Josh says. “Look again.”
I expel a tight breath and allow my eyes to drift more slowly from face to face. The boy sitting next to Josh smiles up from the page and my heart almost stops. Familiar green eyes meet mine and I can practically feel his hand in mine and his breath hot on my neck.
David .
I glare at Josh. “Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s all I can say without losing it completely.
“I couldn’t.” Josh’s voice cracks. “Look at the others.”
My eyes return to the picture, settling on the ginger-haired girl next to David. Her haunting smile and familiar face pull at my dreams. “I know her, too.” I say more to myself than my brother. “Mari.” Tears fill my eyes as I relive her last moments. In a heartbeat, I scan the rest of the picture. Mom and Dad are part of the group of adults behind us. It’s too much to handle. I shove the picture away as my mind spins, my hands shake.
And my world implodes.
Again
THE ARCHITECT LEANED AGAINST THE RAILING OF THE SMALL PORCH OF HER FAMILY’S HOME . She hadn’t been back in the Adirondacks in a long time, more than ten years. Her mother died in this home and she and her father left shortly after. The house held too many memories, her Papa used to tell her. Too much pain.
The Solomon Experiment offered an escape from the pain according to Papa. He worked for the Creator and the Architect joined the chosen. She assumed Papa made a deal with the researchers to have her placed in the group. She didn’t posses the power the others held, or the talent. Not at the beginning.
“You have your own gifts,” the Creator told the Architect whenever she withdrew from the group. “They will prove valuable in the
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