Oleander: One of Us Series

  Oleander

  One of Us Series

  Kim Faulks

  Cover Art by

  Jacqueline Sweet

  Edited by

  J.C. Hart

  Copyright © 2018 by Kim Faulks

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  For Nicole, fly my cousin…fly.

  Contents

  Newsletter

  Oleander - One of Us Series

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Spark

  Newsletter

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  Oleander - One of Us Series

  Book Two

  I'm not like you. Not good.

  Not human.

  They call me Oleander. Toxic and deadly. I killed my first human at nine years old…and I'll kill many more.

  Because humans just won't leave me alone.

  I'm scared.

  Scared of their hate…scared of their ignorance.

  But most of all I'm scared when they come with their guns and their armies…and they will come.

  I never wanted this dark power inside me. Never wanted to be anything more than good.

  I'm hiding now.

  Hiding with three just like me. Shadow, Tex and Sixth.

  We're on the run because of what I've done—and what I am.

  They'll keep me safe.

  That's what they tell me.

  But Oleander isn't just deadly, it's noxious…growing, spreading poisoned roots through this world.

  I want to believe I'm the good guy.

  But what if I'm not?

  What if humans are right?

  What if I'm the monster?

  Prologue

  Orphic City

  2001, five years after Class X-2 solar flare hit the Earth.

  “Who’s that girl, daddy?”

  I lifted my gaze from the screen, glanced at the open door of my study, and then found the invader.

  Bright blue eyes peeked over the end of my desk, tiny fingers followed, clawing the edge of an image that’d spilled free.

  The folder was just out of my reach, red splashed across the front, glaring neon bright with the words, Highly Confidential. I rose from the seat, slid the eight by five from her chubby little fingers and shook my head. “Told you before Emily-Sue, you’re not to come in here when daddy’s working.”

  “Is she a friend? Can she come and play?”

  I stared at the number on the image. “No, Emily-Sue, she can’t.”

  Other images peeked out from the file. Five in total. One taken the moment we found she existed, at six months old, and then one every year since.

  She was special…and yet they were all special.

  Every single one of them.

  But this one…this one with her sad, dark eyes and the purple tinge in her hair. This one gripped my heart like a vise…and didn’t let go.

  There was a tremble in my fingers as I shoved the images back inside. Five years I’d known her. Five years I’d watched her, talked to her…five years I’d been the closest thing she’d had to a friend.

  But not anymore. Today was the last time I’d see her.

  Today she’d either survive, or she’d die—along with all the others like her.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t let my emotions decide. I glanced to the computer screen. I couldn’t do anything to help her.

  “She’s pretty.”

  My hand stilled, stomach clenched tight. Pretty? A shudder raced as I nodded and tried to close down…compartmentalize, the doctor in me urged.

  Not my child.

  Not my responsibility.

  Even if I could help them…what could I do?

  My fingers slipped on the image. I yanked open my eyes to stare at hers. She was just a number…just a file. Just…someone else’s daughter. “Yes, I guess she is.”

  “What’s her name?”

  Five seven six three.

  The numbers roared inside my head. I tried to search my memory for a name. Her real name and came up empty.

  I didn’t know it.

  I didn’t know anything, only what wasn’t blacked out in the file. Birth date, parents…I winced at that detail.

  The mother was shaky—real damn shaky. After five years of talking and confiding, I knew more than a damn file could ever tell me…so much more.

  I was the one who talked to five seven six three. I was the one she confided in.

  I knew about the child’s nightmares. I knew about the drugs they fed her. I knew about the ticking she heard inside her head…

  A shared trait. They all possessed it, all the girls…only the girls.

  I lifted my gaze to the chubby little fingers of my own child.

  They were the same age…

  What if she were mine? What if it were my daughter, what if what we did to them we did to her? “Enough now,” the words were thick and throaty. I swallowed hard. “Your mother will be looking for you.”

  Perfect curls bounced with the shake of her head. “She’s not. She told me to go and play.”

  I forced a small smile. She was headstrong this one. Just like her mother. I dropped my hand to her shoulder and then steered her toward the door. “We’ll this isn’t playing, so off you go. Dad has work to do.”

  The sullen look on her face was a breath of life. My forced smile became real, curling the corners of my mouth as I yanked the handle and ushered her through.

  Until the smile died.

  My pulse picked up pace, the tiny seed of desperation took flight. Fingers dug into the tiny bones of her shoulders. I wanted to leave, leave everything…

  Run.

  The urge was overwhelming. I tried to draw breath and shuddered.

  They won’t know…not until we’re long gone. By then it’ll be too late.

  Run away from all this…these people…these children.

  Run and never look back.

  I could already see it, car packed to the top, tires screeching. We could head west, hit Tilly’s place by sundown, maybe Mexico in three days.

  Jess cut around the dining table, wiped her hands on a dish towel and shook her head. “Emily-Sue, what have I told you about disturbing your father?”

  “There’s a girl, momma. A girl, just like me.”

  Panic passed between us. Our life here was built on secrets and lies. But not between us…never between us. My wife knew more than I was allowed to say, and that made us vulnerable.

  There was a flinch as Jess answered. “No hone
y, she’s not like you. She’s not like you at all. Come, I made fresh cookies. If we blow one to cool, you can have it.”

  And just like that the tide turned. Jess held out her hand, and my wife and daughter left…left me standing there…fighting the urge to take them and run. Until reality slowly bled my fantasy dry.

  A thousand unseen ants crawled along my spine. The hard inhale sent my pulse racing. I glanced to the front door of my home, and then to the windows.

  I couldn’t leave. Not today…not any day.

  They’d find me before I got out of the city and hunt me down. It’s what they do. What they’re good at.

  And there’d be no jail. Not for someone like me.

  Someone who works for a corporation that doesn’t exist.

  Someone who works with people who don’t exist.

  People like me just disappeared—a tiny squeal of delight came from the kitchen—along with those they loved.

  An ache flared in the pit of my stomach as I turned and headed back to my study. This time I locked the door, just like I locked my family out.

  Compartmentalize, right?

  I was becoming good at it.

  I rounded the desk and dropped into the chair. One click and the images splashed across the screen, black and white punctured with red, flashes in a specific sequence, designed to be played with neuro-linguistic programming I’d created.

  Project Eve, they called it. I glanced at the desk, and the highly encrypted USB with one name on the side…Adam.

  They were the first of their kind. Corrupted DNA, the geneticists tried to explain it. But everything lead back to that moment…and that day.

  The day the world was leveled to the ground.

  The thunder in my head picked up pace. The mouse slipped under my palm. I lifted a shaking hand and swiped my fingers against my trousers.

  It was a day I’d never forget. A day where the sun unleashed an X-Class flare onto the earth and changed the future.

  And they were using that future to our advantage. They weren’t children…not to Harper, or the sick sonsofbitches he worked for. I stared at the images and clicked the mouse, again…and then again.

  Start.

  Stop.

  These children were weapons.

  The image froze on a woman. The whites of her eyes captured my gaze. Wide open mouth with lips stretched taught. She was screaming and crying, begging for her life in a loop played over and over.

  In my dreams I saw the silent words she refused to scream.

  Somebody help me!

  But this was no actress, no trick photography. The tiny flecks of blood on her cheeks were real. I was told to not ask questions.

  And they would tell me no lies.

  And yet, that’s all they fed me.

  I clicked save, and the computer whirled, racing though the encryption. It was done. Five years later and it was done. It was all here, every cruel fucking blow to their little minds, right here in my hands.

  I glanced to the wall where the certificate hung above my desk, taking center stage. Receiving the Troland Award had been the best day of my life. I thought, that’s it. I was on the path to something honorable…something great…something worthwhile.

  And when that knock on my door came, I welcomed it with open arms.

  How fucking naive I was.

  We were still rebuilding after the flare, and yet, there I was with a slip of paper in my hands, and stars in my eyes.

  When Johnathan Harper came to my front door he showed me the recording and told me about a future I could only ever dream of. Children with abilities so powerful they’d blow my mind—literally.

  I listened to the lies Johnathan Harper spun, and was hooked. I was so fucking hooked, in that moment I believed everything. He told me what I wanted to hear…the cutting edge of evolution, and I was hand picked to be in the thick of it all.

  Eve’s, he called the girls. The first of their kind. We’d guide them, were the words he used. We’d teach them how to live in our world. We have to protect them, we have to keep them safe…

  And I was in…I was so fucking in. Awards meant nothing. I packed my research papers away, and we left everything behind.

  For this…

  I gripped the USB and my thumb traced the three letters E…V…E.

  All for this.

  I’d done everything they asked of me…break them down…shatter their tiny little minds, and rebuild them with new programming.

  Programming that’d make them into something more powerful than the world has ever known. And the thing was, they’d never know we did it. After today they wouldn’t remember who they were…the slate would be wiped clean.

  A squeal of delight was followed by a giggle. The perfect sounds of a happy child slipped through the crack in the doorframe, and pierced my heart.

  But they were just little girls…perfect little girls.

  And I was about to destroy them all.

  There was nothing I could do…nothing I could give them. I clenched my fist, and tried to still the shake as I reached for my briefcase and slid the USB inside.

  Adam was next. One last check…one last tweak of the programming, and I was done…my involvement was over. I gripped the device and slipped it into the USB slot.

  The Adam’s weren’t as powerful as the Eve’s. No one could explain it, not the geneticists, not even me.

  And yet in my mind, a tiny seed flared to life.

  There had to be a reason for them, one I hadn’t thought of.

  I clicked the mouse and watched the images splash across the screen. This programming was different, designed to control a different part of the brain.

  They might have flashes of memory, they might even one day remember where they’d been. But the Eve’s…the dangerous ones never would.

  Not unless I gave them a way out of the maze.

  Not unless I gave them protectors.

  Not unless I gave them a fighting chance.

  And that tiny seed gave birth to a blossom, one filled with desperation and hope. My pulse thundered, panic rose, filling my chest with the flapping of a bird desperate to fly.

  I could help them…I could try.

  Another tiny squeal wrenched my gaze toward the doorway.

  What if five seven six three was mine?

  There was no shake in my hand now as I clicked the mouse. Not even a fucking tremor. It’d taken me years to create and perfect the sequence. I reached for my cuff, popped the buttons and rolled up my sleeves.

  Years…years to create.

  I glanced to the clock on the mantle. And I had barely an hour left to change it all.

  Just one fissure. Just one crack. That was all I needed. One tiny way to get inside their mind and implant something that would bring them together, something that would give the Eve’s a fighting chance.

  My fingers danced across the keyboard, creating images, splicing others, changes so careful no one would suspect a thing.

  I’d make them gravitate to the girls, not just one…three, or four.

  There were more Adan’s than there were Eve’s. This way they’d find each other. This way, they’d protect and defend.

  This way they’d have freedom.

  They would survive.

  Sweat broke out across my brow. Salt stung my eyes, still I didn’t stop. The keyboard shuddered under the pounding of my fingers. I changed, cut, copied and melted it all back together again.

  Until…finally it was done.

  My fingers twitched as I leaned back against the chair.

  My breaths were savage, tearing from my chest. My damn knees trembled as I gripped the edge of the desk and stood.

  One click and the encryption ran its formatting. No matter what happened from this moment on, I could tell myself I tried.

  In the end I tried.

  The computer gave a beep and fell silent. I gripped the USB and jerked it free. I could still hear my family in the kitchen as I slipped the device into my briefc
ase, along with the files and the images, and made for the door.

  And it was that laughter that haunted me as I unlocked the door and slipped from my study. It was that laughter that steeled my spine as I left my home behind and climbed into my car. I could give them a chance at not just survival, but of a life…a real life—and maybe even happiness.

  Bright morning sun glared into my eyes as I started the car and backed down the driveway. But I couldn’t feel a thing. I glanced to my briefcase as I punched the accelerator and the car shot forward.

  I lived my life within the rules. It was the reason they picked me. Even I could see that. I aced their psychological evaluation.

  I had a wife, a child. I was quiet, living my life without so much as a bleep on the radar. And I was alone, no mother, or father—not even siblings to cause a problem if this all went to Hell.

  Emily-Sue’s perfect little face filled my mind.

  I could leave. No. I’d make them leave.

  I dug into my pocket and dragged the phone free. I had one chance—one chance to get this right. I pressed the button, and listened to the dial tone. I could almost hear the phone ringing, almost see Jess glancing to the caller ID before she picked up the handle. “Hey there, you forget something?”

  The words slipped free. There was no panic, no fear. There was nothing but utter stillness. “Aunt Martha called. She’s not well. The doctor thinks it’s her kidneys.”

  There was a sudden draw of breath, and then utter silence.

  “I don’t think,” husky words wedged in my throat. Cars blurred, tearing past me in a haze. “I don’t think she’ll make today.”

  And through the silence on the other end a whisper tore free. One riddled with fear. “I love you.”