Shift:A Virals Adventure(11)

What would Tempe do?

“We find it ourselves.”

Shelton’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “But how? There are a dozen buildings.”

I pulled the glove from my pocket and held it aloft. “We’ve got a few tricks up our sleeves, don’t we?”

“Oh.” All three at once.

They understood.

I reached for my sunglasses.

Squeezed my eyes shut.

SNAP.





I hate it, every time.

The shift is terrible, like being shoved into a washing machine filled with molten lava. Then electrocuted. Then beaten by a sock filled with doorknobs.

Quit whining, Shelton. Light the torch.

Slipping off my glasses, I closed my eyes and mumbled a prayer.

I focused on darkness. Tight spaces. Drowning. Hairy, crawling spiders.

Anything that gives me the creeps.

I still have to scare myself. Fear is my only trigger. I don’t know why, but if I’m not spooked, the power just won’t come. But I’m getting pretty good at it, and that day had no problem. Guess I was nervous already.

Contact.

SNAP.

The power jolted through me.

As the flare unfolded, fire exploded in my chest. Icy needles danced on my skin. Bolts of electricity shot through my veins.

Gasping, I gripped my knees. Sweat coated my body.

I tried to catch my breath as every sense blasted into hyperdrive.

The world sharpened to laser clarity.

My eyes cut like diamonds, could make out the tiniest crack in the sidewalk.

A hidden symphony flooded my ears, abruptly divisible into hundreds of individual components. Burrowing insects. Flapping wings. Leaves, sighing far overhead. I heard them all.

Subtle aromas crammed my nose—honeysuckle, from a garden fifty yards away. A dozen varieties of grass. Tory’s mango shampoo. Even Hi’s armpit sweat. Blech. I tried to keep my stomach from emptying.

I could detect the slightest vibration against my arm hairs.

Could taste different sands and salts on the breeze.

I flared. Tapped my canine DNA.

I never enjoy how the wolf came out to play. But the pain is worth it.

The results are ridonkulous.

“Everybody ready?” Tory slipped on sunglasses to hide her glowing, golden eyes.

We all had them, now that we’d switched on—wolf irises shining with inner fire. The only outward sign that our powers were active. The reason Virals carried shades 24/7.

Tory’s whisper was plenty loud for me. Flaring, I could hear her heartbeat.

Here’s the thing—somehow, the supervirus affected each of us differently. We can’t explain it. Maybe the little bugger enhanced strengths we already had. Maybe it exploited individual weaknesses.

Who knows? We don’t have the answers.

But we do have the skills.

For me, I could hear like an owl. Better, probably. More acutely than the other Virals, though they had crazy sharp ears, too. But mine left theirs in the auditory dust.

Hi backhanded his nose, then wiped his shorts.

“Good to go,” he wheezed, cheeks crimson, dark lenses in place.

He spun a quick circle, scanning to make sure we hadn’t been seen. Hiram had the best eyes, hands down. Flaring, he could count a bird’s feathers at a hundred yards.

Ben flexed his fingers, then rolled his shoulders. When it came to pure physical power, he got more pop than the rest of us. He became superstrong, and lightning quick, like a ninja grizzly bear.

“Take the lead, Tor.” I slapped on my shades—no need for a prescription with the wolf unleashed. My eyes were telescopic.

I’d grasped her plan right away.

When flaring, Tory had the best nose, by far. Her sniffer was so sensitive, she could smell people’s emotions. Crazy. Seriously. Crazy.

Her talent had to do with sweat and identifying hormones and pheromones, or something like that. But damn! It even freaked me out.

Whatever the explanation, the ability was real. I’d seen her operate.

“Stick close to the fence.” Tory pointed to the chain-link barrier enclosing the compound. Then she ripped the plastic glove and removed the splinter. “We’ll start at the front gate and move clockwise, toward Building One. We’ll circle behind each building and I’ll try to catch the scent.”

Hi nodded. “Circle their behinds.”

Ben cuffed the back of Hi’s head.

“Let’s do it.” Tory clapped her hands, which sounded like thunder in my brain.

Hi fired two hand-shooters, unfazed by Ben’s cranial assault. “This loser’s going down, Charlie Brown.”

One by one, we arrowed toward the fence.

As we moved, it happened.

That strange, familiar feeling blossomed inside my mind.

The sense of connection. Oneness. A hidden link between me and my pack.

Don’t ask me how, but I could almost feel where the others were. How fast they moved. What they intended to do next. Sometimes, if I concentrated hard enough, I could even catch a whiff of their thoughts.

The sensation made me nervous as hell.

Leave that stuff to Tory.

At that moment, Tory glanced over her shoulder. At me. She flashed a wry smile.

Shivers ran my spine.

Tory believed we had a spiritual connection. Some kind of shared consciousness, springing from our canine DNA. I get the willies just thinking about it.