Crystal Force Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  ALSO BY JOE DUCIE

  Dedication

  Two weeks after the events in The Rig …

  Chapter One: Droning On and On

  Chapter Two: Savings Account

  Chapter Three: Shelter from the Storm

  Chapter Four: Pizza Delivery, No Pineapple

  Chapter Five: Derailed

  Chapter Six: Veiled Light

  Chapter Seven: The Path of Yūgen

  Chapter Eight: Lift-Off

  Chapter Nine: The Fine Balance

  Chapter Ten: Skeleton Man Has a Plan

  Chapter Eleven: On the Road Again

  Chapter Twelve: Scar Tissue

  Chapter Thirteen: Overlooking the Park

  Chapter Fourteen: Magic Training

  Chapter Fifteen: Falling With Style

  Chapter Sixteen: Dinner with the President

  Chapter Seventeen: Scarred Kisses

  Chapter Eighteen: Mini Cheeseburgers and Sniper Rifles

  Chapter Nineteen: The Shadow War

  Chapter Twenty: Cretaceous Park

  Chapter Twenty-One: Make Feel Nice

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Times Square

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Crystal Force

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Blackberry Jam

  End of Book Two

  Acknowledgements

  Joe Ducie

  Copyright

  ALSO BY JOE DUCIE

  The Rig

  For Lil Beth

  Stop growing up so fast, kid.

  Two weeks after the events in The Rig …

  Chapter One

  Droning On and On

  Irene Finlay eased herself down onto the cold ground and held her hands to the orb of fire. A biting wind rustled the leaves in the canopy overhead and shook penny-sized drops of rain loose from the trees. The water sizzled as it struck the crystal-blue glow of the flames.

  ‘I haven’t slept in three days,’ Will Drake said, sitting on her left, his breath a warm mist against the cold. ‘I don’t even feel tired – just wired, you know? Like I could tear these trees out of the ground or … or fly, or something.’ He rubbed at his eyelids, and his body shook. Irene thought for a moment he was crying, but no, it was laughter. ‘It’s messing with my head, Irene. What if this is how it starts? Did Grey not sleep? Did Anderson?’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Is this what drove them mad?’

  Irene shuffled her cold feet, encased in a pair of sodden, muddy Rig-issue sneakers, closer to the warm blue blaze emanating from the sphere of fire Drake had hung in the air with his crystal power. In the two weeks since their escape from the Rig, it had only stopped raining for all of five minutes, and then only for a brief snowfall. Even now, rain drizzled through the canopy of the mighty white pine trees. Moisture clung to the air in a cool mist.

  Irene looked back on her time on the Rig in varying degrees of disbelief, terror, and wonder. Wonder for the powers and abilities she and Drake had gained there, terror at what the Alliance had been doing, and disbelief that they had managed to escape at all. When Will Drake had first come to the Rig, his exploits were already legend. He had broken out of three other Alliance prisons. Irene had met him for the first time in the Rig’s infirmary, after he had been injured. They had discovered the dark experiments using the Crystal-X mineral beneath the Rig together, looking for a way to escape.

  Facing off against Warden Storm and his mad guard, Marcus Brand, Irene had nearly died half a dozen times. Drake and Michael Tristan had saved her life, as she had saved them. In the end, Drake had absorbed more Crystal-X than anyone, and he had used that power to help them escape.

  ‘I think the fact that you’re worrying about going mad means you’re OK,’ Irene said. For now. She smiled and rubbed Drake’s right hand between her own. His left was stuffed deep into his pocket for warmth. The afternoon was cold, perhaps even cold enough to snow again. What are we going to do tonight? Last night had been freezing, but they had spent most of it huddled in the small, dilapidated hunter’s shack. ‘Yeah?’

  Drake shrugged and glared at the blue-glowing orb, radiating faint but consistent warmth into their small glen. His glare seemed to enrage the flames, which spun within the orb from soft blue to hot white. The forests along the coast and south of St. John’s – the capital city of Newfoundland and Labrador, the easternmost province of Canada – had provided meagre shelter but had kept them hidden from prying eyes. Irene felt at home, back on Canadian soil and off the twisted steel of the Rig.

  ‘Oh, I’m worried.’ Drake glanced up at the sky through the trees, but Irene kept her eyes on his, watching for more strange light. ‘Going to snow, isn’t it? Late in the year for that.’

  ‘Not really.’ The heat of the orb pierced the sheet of ice that had settled on Irene’s bones. She sighed. ‘Canada can get snow as late as May, some years.’

  ‘We need to be inside tonight, somewhere warm. Warmer than that leaky hut,’ Drake said, seemingly putting aside his worry for now. Irene was worried enough for both of them, but she was trying to maintain a brave face for his sake. After all, he had saved her life more than once on the Rig. And she owed him her freedom. ‘I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to make another of these fire things. I’m just guessing, when it comes to the crystal power. We need some new clothes, get out of these Rig jumpsuits, and we need some proper food.’

  ‘I’ve got that covered,’ Michael Tristan said as he stepped into the glen, carrying a backpack and a paper bag full of burgers, fries and hopefully apple pies, from a solo mission into the outer suburbs of St. John’s. He’d been gone for an hour, a worrisome hour, and was drenched.

  The scent of greasy food wafted over to Irene, and her mouth watered. Without another word, the three of them divided up the mess and ate in silence. The meal was soon devoured.

  ‘And that’s the last of the cash,’ Tristan said, licking the salt from his fingers. ‘We’re going to have to find some more.’

  Drake grunted, and Irene knew he was bothered by what they’d done to acquire even the pitiful funds that had kept them fed for the past two weeks. Halfway down the rocky beach from the docks and helipad where Warden Storm had landed their escape chopper, they had come across a small beachfront tourist shop – locked and dark, given the early hour of the morning. Drake had simply melted the lock on the door with a blazing palm. The cash register proved even less of a safeguard, and he’d stolen about fifty dollars in coins and loaded the backpack Tristan now carried with snacks and drinks.

  Irene’s stomach tied itself in knots at the thought of what else was hidden in the bottom of the pack – a sleek silver revolver, fully loaded with six shots in the cylinder. Drake had stolen the gun from Warden Storm during their escape. She hated that he had kept it.

  ‘Did anyone recognise you?’ Drake asked Tristan.

  Tristan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shrugged. The lens over his right eye was cracked, and dirty tape held the rims together. ‘Can’t know for sure, but I was in and out quickly. The shirt helps, I guess.’

  Another item stolen from the beachfront store during their hasty getaway – a white shirt that read St. John’s Bay. Worn over his green jumpsuit, the shirt still looked a bit odd, but it was better than just prison overalls.

  ‘There was one thing.’ Tristan said carefully, not quite meeting Drake’s eyes. ‘A news report on the TV while I was waiting for the order.’

  Drake didn’t say anything, so Irene asked, ‘About us?’

  ‘Not us,’ Tristan said. ‘Just Will … and they were calling you a terrorist, mate. The terrorist William Drake, wanted for murder and sabotage of the Rig.’

  Irene gasped.

  Drake merely chuckled. ‘Alliance News Network? Bet I’v
e been the top story since the escape.’

  ‘Well, yeah.’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Figures. Who did I murder?’

  Tristan grimaced. ‘Look, Will, I don’t think you –’

  Drake’s stony gaze made Irene shiver. He’s not going mad. He’s fine. His eyes haven’t even flashed red or blue today.

  ‘You’re wanted for the murder of Brand,’ Tristan said. ‘As well as Alan Grey and … and Carl Anderson. They flashed a list of names on the screen, and I was trying not to look too interested, you know.’ Tristan kicked at the dirt around the orb with the heel of his sneaker. ‘Elias was on there, and so was … Will, I’m sorry. So was Doctor Lambros.’

  Irene had studied in the Infirmary under Elias, before she had been subjected to the dark experiments with Crystal-X going on under the Rig. Elias had exposed her fellow inmates to the mineral, used them as lab rats, and was responsible for more than one death – or, worse in Irene’s opinion, driven them mad. Drake had knocked him out and left him for dead, as the underwater facility was torn apart by one of his test subjects. Irene didn’t feel too bad about that. Doctor Lambros, however, had been almost a friend to Drake. And he blamed himself for her death, for sharing his concerns about the Rig. Marcus Brand, the scariest man Irene had ever known, had killed her.

  Doctor Lambros’s name brought a scowl to Drake’s face, and Irene patted his shoulder. He shrugged her hand away and hunched against the cold. ‘Brand and Storm killed her, not me.’

  ‘We know,’ Tristan said quickly. ‘It’s just the Alliance, making you out to be some sort of …’

  Monster, Irene thought, hating that the word had popped into her head. She knew Drake – she knew him, had spent weeks with him on the Rig – and trusted him. After all, she had a touch of magic from the Crystal-X, too. Not nearly as powerful, of course, but she could heal, among other talents.

  ‘This may actually be a good thing,’ Drake said, tapping his stubbly chin. ‘If the Alliance are only broadcasting that I escaped, it means you two may be able to move about relatively easily.’

  ‘Yeah, I thought that, too,’ Tristan said. ‘I watched the whole report, and it only talked about you, Will. Why wouldn’t they mention us?’

  Drake shrugged. ‘Perhaps they’re trying to avoid the embarrassment. I’ve escaped before and tarnished their sterling reputation, but now I’ve escaped with one of their secrets: the Crystal-X. I’m proof of the experiments on the Rig, of the kids they tortured and killed. They’ll want me dead far more than they’ll want to keep my latest escape under wraps.’ He clenched his fist and glared at the fiery orb. ‘As far as they know, Irene didn’t take to the crystal, and you were never tested. You’re not as, well, important to them.’

  Irene tilted her head and looked at Drake askance. ‘But we’re important to you, aren’t we?’

  Drake gave an honest laugh. ‘You, Irene – you are sunshine on a rainy day to me. You are chocolate milk over regular. A fresh jar of blackberry jam. Starlight on a moonless night. Oh, Irene Finlay, you are the marshmallows in my cereal, the cherry on top of my ice cream –’

  ‘And the sprinkles,’ Tristan chimed in.

  ‘– and the sprinkles, too. You’re more important than … than …’ Drake snapped his fingers and cursed.

  ‘Than thick socks and warm cider by the fire in winter?’ Irene offered, then snorted. ‘Boys,’ she muttered fondly. ‘My boys.’

  Tristan cocked his head. ‘Can you hear that?’

  ‘Hear what?’ Irene asked.

  ‘That,’ Tristan said, and Irene could hear something, almost below hearing. A subtle whine, like the hum of an idling car engine. ‘It almost sounds like –’

  Something sleek and silver burst through the trees, and the noise intensified in the glen.

  Drake was on his feet in the same moment, and Irene watched, frightened, as his eyes flared crimson and he moved in a blur. A bolt of sizzling energy arced from his outstretched fingers and struck the tree canopy.

  He moved so fast!

  The noise stopped abruptly, and amidst a rain of singed leaves and cracked branches, a silver sphere about the size of a grapefruit fell from the sky and struck the ground hard with a dull mechanical thunk. Tendrils of smoke rose from the grapefruit, and Irene shuffled away as it rolled towards her.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Tristan said. ‘That was cool.’

  Drake quickly buried his clenched fists back in his pockets. His eyes were wild, and he closed them, breathing hard. After a moment, he released a heavy breath and shook his head.

  ‘What is it?’ Irene asked.

  ‘An Alliance search drone,’ Drake said grimly.

  No, what is it with you, Will?

  Tristan blinked at him in surprise. ‘Yeah, that’s right. These are pretty high-tech. How do you know about them?’

  ‘One of these things tripped me up after I escaped Harronway. That’s how the Alliance caught me and sent me to the Rig. The damn thing followed me for hours until the Alliance goons could swoop in.’

  ‘Well, I think you killed it.’ Tristan knelt down and picked up the drone. The white smoke rising from the device caught the wind and was swept away into the forest. ‘If it’s not too damaged …’

  ‘What?’ Irene asked.

  Tristan shrugged. ‘If it’s not too damaged, I could reprogram it, download my own operating platform from the global cloud – something I made before I landed on the Rig.’

  ‘What can it do?’ Drake asked.

  Tristan stood with the drone in his hands. He fiddled with the panels and tossed it up and down a few times, as if he were trying to shake it awake. ‘Well, that’s the thing. This drone is pretty advanced. It’s worth a few hundred thousand dollars. We could link it to a phone or a tablet screen and access the internet, emails, even social media sites.’

  Drake chuckled. ‘You want to use it to send a tweet?’ He shook his head and grinned. ‘You’re too good with all this tech stuff. First getting the trackers off on the Rig, now you’re saying I can catch up on all the funny cat videos I’ve missed while locked up?’

  Tristan bit his lip and considered for a long moment. ‘If we can get it working for us, we could plan our route a little better, if we figure out where we’re going. Set it to scout the area ahead or float on guard when we’re asleep, even book tickets for a bus or a train over the internet or … make secure, encrypted phone calls.’

  Drake squeezed Tristan’s shoulder. ‘I could call home?’

  Tristan nodded absently and worked his fingers under one of the panels Drake had damaged with his blast. The panel came away easily, and Tristan gazed into the device. ‘There’s the power source …’

  ‘We should probably think about moving,’ Irene said. She felt exposed – if the Alliance had one of those things, there would be more, and close. ‘Won’t the Alliance know that it went down? And is that a camera lens on the bottom there? What if whoever was piloting the drone saw us?’

  ‘I’m just removing its battery,’ Tristan said. ‘So we can bring it with us. But yeah, you’re right. We need to move.’

  Drake unzipped the backpack, which still held three candy bars and a litre of bottled water – all the food they had in the world. Tristan placed the device in the bag as carefully as if it were a newborn baby. Irene thought he looked almost giddy. He picked up a short cylinder, about the size and width of a lipstick case, and slipped it into his pocket.

  ‘So which way are we heading?’ Tristan asked.

  ‘Nothing for it,’ Drake said. ‘We need to head into town.’

  ‘Is that wise?’ Irene kept her hands stretched out near the fire, but the orb had begun to flicker and die.

  ‘We’re on the run from the largest, most powerful corporation on the planet,’ Drake said wryly. ‘A corporation with its own private army, surveillance drones and who knows how many Crystal-X-enhanced soldiers! A corporation we bloodied and pissed off not two weeks ago. Nothing we do is going to be wise for very long.’


  Chapter Two

  Savings Account

  ‘So where do you want to spend the night?’ Drake asked as they skirted the edge of the forest that ran along the outer districts south of St. John’s. The city stood across a small river, grey and windswept against tall cathedrals of storm clouds. ‘An abandoned building would be just wonderful … we’re not going to find many huts this close to town. Maybe a shed or a barn in someone’s back yard, if we can swing it.’

  Irene stared at him, wondering just how serious he was. ‘You want to spend the night in a barn?’

  Drake grinned. Despite the rings around his eyes and the lines creasing his forehead, his eyes were wild and alive – awake. Irene felt a rush of something wonderful – excitement and anticipation. He’s going to get us through this. We might just be OK. She tried not to think about the fact that, even if they did get away that day, there was the one after that, and the next one, and so on … Where does this all end? I’m a fugitive.

  ‘We can’t exactly check into a hotel,’ Tristan said.

  Drake skipped a step and looked contemplative for a moment. ‘No,’ he said. ‘That would be silly.’ He chuckled and pointed at St. John’s across the water. ‘But if we could swing it, that’s exactly what we should do. Go to ground somewhere fancy, somewhere they won’t expect, and then find a train or something out of here. We just need money, and new clothes.’

  ‘No, you’re not understanding,’ Tristan said. ‘The Alliance has cameras everywhere – and analytics software that can pick your face out of a crowd of thousands.’ He wiped rainwater from his forehead and shuddered. ‘I mean, hell, one of their drones already collared us. If we go anywhere populated – anywhere – at the very least we need hats and sunglasses. I’d say even boots with thick heels to change our height, as well.’