The Sunshine in My Veins (Peterick) ➳ Book 1

Twenty Four

"I know you're not sleeping," William said as he stepped through the door. Gabe was, as usual, curled up in his chair by the window, eyes closed and breathing evenly. Since their initial meeting. Gabe had always had a spurt of tiredness whenever William was around. Usually, William didn't care, he'd sometimes join Gabe by sleeping the hour away or he'd work on catching up on his paperwork. Today was different. Today, they had to get somewhere. The monarch was getting aggravated at William's failed attempts to get information.

"Gabe you need to wake up."

"No," Gabe groaned, his voice thick with sleep.

"We need to talk."

"I don't remember anything," Gabe muttered.

"We both know that's not true," William replied.

Gabe's eyes snapped open. "It is. I don't remember anything except my name, but even that took some prompting."

And while neither of them would ever know, it was Gabe who had so carefully thought through his plan of action if he were ever to be captured again. Since his first raid in an Arkkarredian base he had been walking around with a syringe full of anti-memory serum. Before he pushed the alarm with Pete and Patrick in the next room he was sure to inject himself with the serum, effectively erasing his memories. Patrick had taken a syringe too, Gabe had saw him; he just couldn't remember.

"You're telling me you've lost your memories. There were clear instructions to bring all humans here with their memories intact."

"Maybe it's because I hit my head," Gabe suggested, rubbing the once tender spot on the back of his head where it had collided with the floor.

"It's a possibility," William said thoughtfully. If that was the case he'd easily be able to sell that story to the monarch and have more time to help Gabe. Or the monarch would send Gabe back off to the prison where he came from. William would have to carefully explain the situation and plea Gabe's case accordingly.

"Bilvy, what's gonna happen to me?"

Suddenly, Gabe looked like a small child, wide eyed and worried.

"Nothing's gonna happen to you. Nothing you need to worry about."

*

Pete, Ryan, Tyler, and two of the four Killjoys had been wandering around the vast expansion of wasteland for three days, making very good time when it came to tracking Patrick.

So far they had located at least five of the buildings Patrick had been staying in. Clear evidence had been left all over the rooms: cans of eaten food, misplaced pillows, half-burnt candles.

They were now approaching what could be the end of their journey.

"He's here," Tyler said nodding toward the tall building looming before them.

"How do you know?" Ryan asked tentatively as to not offend Tyler.

"Third window from the left on the fifth floor," Tyler replied. "The curtains are shut. The others aren't."

"But anyone could be in there."

"When I encountered your target he was going on about heading south."

It didn't answer Ryan's question, but he decide it best to pretend he understood Tyler's cryptic way of speaking at get Patrick as soon as possible.

"Even if it's not him we can still ask about him, Ry," Pete reasoned.

"And if it is him?"

"Then you get to fuck Brendon tonight."

*

Patrick woke up with a start at one thirty in the morning. The cause of this was the rather erotic dream of Pete that may or may not consisted of a strip tease and some whip cream. Patrick would take that dream to his grave.

He sat up and peered around the room, half expecting it to have been real with Pete just in the other room. But Pete wasn't there; Patrick would probably never see Pete again.

Patrick sighed heavily and ran a hand through his damp hair. "Just forget him. It'll be better if you do."

Standing up, he was halfway to the kitchen when a knock on the door made him freeze. His mind registered who it was before anyone made a sound. Pete.

He quickly gathered up the few supplies he still had in his possession. Everything was slowly running out. Food, water, hope. While the idea of ending his life hadn't crossed his mind since he'd almost done it, the idea of simply surrendering came to him often. He was obviously of some worth to the Arkkarredians. They'd keep him alive until there were done, and by that time Patrick could easily be stronger and more able to fight. Then he'd shake the idea away; however, it always got him thinking.

Why did they want him?

Patrick figured it had something to do with his brain. That's why he had taken the syringe of anti-memory serum. He could easily render himself useless to them.

"Lunchbox," Pete called through the door. "I know you're there."

Patrick ducked into the coat closet near the door as it slammed open. Five pairs of footsteps echoed through the house, vanishing moments later.

"Lunchbox."

Another door slammed open.

He exited the closet and left the apartment, crouching down and pressing his back to the door that he eased closed while trying to calm his rapid heart beat.

"He's outside," someone said.

"Shit."

Jumping up from his crouched position, Patrick took off down the darkened hallway just as the door he'd been propped against flew open. His breathing became erratic in seconds as he pushed his body to its physical limits. There was no way those assholes were getting him. He'd worked too damn hard to preserve his own life.

The hallway was ending; so were Patrick's options. In his peripherals, he could see doors zooming behind him and blasts of yellow light whizzing in front of him. Didn't they want him alive? Wasn't that the point? Now wasn't the time for questions; Patrick shook the though from his mind and looked forward.

The glass window shattered into a million little pieces as Patrick's body shot through. If he died he'd be lucky. If he survived . . . Patrick didn't want to think about that in what could be his final moments.

His mind conjured up a pair of dark brown eyes; a pair he'd grown attached to and loved dearly. Patrick could feel the smile on his lips, and everything crashed.

The End