JACKIE:

  “Wait. What happens to Grace and Zayne?”

  Their suffering shook me to my core.

  I snapped out of the Bennu Island stream and landed in the void of endless Slipstream portals, as clueless as when I arrived.

  “What happens next for me?”

  Fire portals swirled around me in a dizzying haze, their flames curling inward, shedding falling embers as they closed. The outer edges burned away first, flickering with crimson and gold before vanishing into smoke.

  Sparks of light vanished one by one, darkness returning to the Slipstream.

  “Get a grip, Jackie,” I whispered to myself, refocusing on the spark I had just exited.

  It was closed, unwilling to let me back in, as if the Slipstream had rejected me.

  Firestorm answered zero questions about how this place worked, how to defeat Life Rite, and, most importantly, how to save Baxter and find my mom.

  I affected the stream when I punched that scary bird away.

  Can I change other streams? How do changes affect things if they had already happened in the past?

  The field of sparks extinguished until all that remained was crushing blackness once more.

  “Firestorm?” I needed his guidance more than I wanted to admit.

  I didn’t see him, but luckily I heard his response.

  “You’re leaving the Slipstream,” he explained, “but you can return. Death and near-death experiences are the most powerful ways to enter. But because you’re a gene carrier, you can also use fire as a way in.”

  “Gene carrier?”

  “I wish we had more time. There’s a lot to explain. Return as soon as you can. I’ll be waiting.”

  His voice became distant as the void pushed me out, shadows twisting at the edge of my vision.

  “How do I get back?” I asked, desperate to stay and uncover the secrets of the Slipstream.

  “Stare into a large fire, and then…” Firestorm’s voice trailed off.

  A white light pierced the darkness, blinding me.

  “Where will I end up?” The idea of returning to my humdrum life as a Climber made me sick to my stomach.

  I floated in and out of consciousness, awareness returning in waves. My head pounded, and a loud ringing screamed in my right ear.

  The white light surrounding me faded, a beeping noise replaced the ringing, and an awful pain in my abdomen joined my headache.

  I opened my eyes and found myself in a hospital bed. The air was thick with disinfectant.

  The room was small, a bed and chair filling the entire space. Everything was pure white; the walls, ceiling, floor, and linens. It was spotless.

  Sunlight refracted off the Grid and poured in through the window, tinging my bedsheet with a streak of red.

  I spied the Life Rite logo on the white curtains.

  “Oh great… I can’t shake them.”

  A bandage covered my gunshot wound.

  Did that actually happen?

  I ran my hand through the streak in my hair and questioned what reality even meant anymore.

  Had I dreamt of the Slipstream and Firestorm as a coping mechanism? Was Pops getting shot part of the nightmare? Most importantly, was Pops still alive?

  A click came from the corner where Alpha perched, spying on me. Blinking. Watching. Recording.

  Every muscle in my body clenched.

  I have to get out of here.

  I swung my legs out of bed and hobbled to my feet.

  My stomach pulled and pained me. Yup, the gunshot wound was real.

  The door opened, and I braced myself for who it might be.

  Beatrice Claudi entered dressed in a royal blue ensemble with matching velvet heels.

  “Please don’t get up,” she said. “You’re hurt and need to rest.”

  “I’m fine.” My voice cracked.

  Beatrice’s confidence made me shrink like a peasant who didn’t deserve to speak.

  Does she remember me?

  Alpha made sure she did. “Jackie Cooper is the janitor involved in Incident R64.”

  My shoulders slumped. I looked to the floor to be reprimanded for not reporting on time as promised.

  “Yes, Jackie. I remember you. How could I forget that distinctive red streak in your hair?” Beatrice smiled. “What an eventful week for you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I cinched the back of my open hospital gown.

  “Well, Jackie. I have good news and bad news. Besides being shot for non-compliance,” Beatrice said, “you tested positive for the PX virus.”

  My heart sank.

  “The good news is we can treat you. We’ll even compensate you for assisting our research on the virus.”

  “Another payout?” My leg jittered restlessly, no matter how hard I tried to keep it still.

  “A stipend for being a part of our clinical trials,” Beatrice clarified. “We hope to launch our game-changing vaccine soon.”

  This time, I knew better than to accept her hush money blindly. I lifted my chin and made eye contact, emboldened by the power of the Slipstream.

  “No, thank you. I’d like to go home now.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  The drone spoke with disdain in its mechanical voice. “The PX virus is highly contagious. You cannot leave at the risk of infecting others.”

  Beatrice threw me an insincere look of sympathy. “Follow me to your temporary living quarters. I’m sure you’ll find them more than satisfactory.”

  “Temporary living quarters?”

  Beatrice turned on her heel and left the hospital room.

  Alpha zipped behind her.

  Not knowing what else to do, I followed Beatrice into the sterile hallway, barefoot.

  I’d cleaned the complex enough to know we were in the hospital wing. No way they’d put someone like me in one of those luxury suites.

  A chilly breeze blew the back of my hospital gown open, so I snatched it shut with my hands to avoid exposing myself.

  My empty stomach fluttered as I followed Beatrice down the hall, her heels clicking with every powerful step. She turned the corner and used her DNA Identifier to open an apartment.

  I looked around, searching for an escape.

  “Enter,” Alpha demanded.

  Not knowing if my DNA Identifier would open the elevator anymore, I lowered my eyes to the cold floor and followed them inside.

  “Welcome to your new home here at Life Rite.” Beatrice clasped her hands behind her back.

  My eyes widened as I walked into the modern apartment that was created for an important Flyer. Everything about it screamed wealth.

  A marble island greeted me in the open floor plan that started with a kitchen with stainless steel appliances. It led to a pristine living room with a fireplace and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a sweeping view of Twin Flames.

  Not the penthouse, but better than I’ve ever experienced. At least thirty stories high, being above the city made this place feel as if it existed above consequences.

  “Wow. This is where I’m staying?”

  Alpha said, “The CDC mandates that you quarantine for two weeks so you do not infect others. Everything you need is here. I’m sure it is well above your standards.”

  Beatrice opened the fridge to show it fully stocked with fresh fruits, vegetables, sweet treats, and bottles of pure, clean water.

  I salivated at the sight.

  “Help yourself.” Beatrice smiled.

  I forgot my manners and rushed over to the fridge like a pig at a trough. I pulled out a container of fresh strawberries and stuffed one in my mouth.

  Its sweetness exploded like a firework in my mouth. The sensation of the rare fruit almost brought tears to my eyes.

  Remembering my present company, I looked at Beatrice, who hid her smirk.

  She knew the power she wielded with something as simple as a strawberry.

  I was such an easy target.

  Trying to grab onto any thread of leverage, I said, “My Pops, Baxter. He also got shot. Where is he? I need to see him.”

  Beatrice said, “He’s alive and well, thanks to Life Rite. He’s getting the best care here, top of the line.”

  Alpha added, “Life Rite is not legally obligated to continue free care, but if you cooperate without a fight, we will accommodate.”

  Check mate.

  Beatrice’s eyes sparkled. She knew there was nothing I could do but comply with whatever she said.

  “I have to stay here for two weeks to recover from the PX virus? That’s it?”

  I tried to hide the distrust in my voice, but we both knew this setup was false. Anyone who tested positive for PX was never seen again. I doubt Life Rite swept them off the streets to treat ‘em like royalty.

  “We’ll need daily blood samples from you,” Beatrice replied.

  Off my deadpan look, she added, “To test the levels of virus in your body.”

  A needle snapped out of Alpha’s faceplate. As it flew near, its glowing green insides zipped past my face.

  It pricked the back of my neck, and my blood filtered into the bottom of its eye, into its belly.

  “Ow,” I protested.

  “No need to be dramatic,” the creepy drone chided. “My medical programming runs with one-hundred percent accuracy.”

  “You promise to let me out in two weeks?” I asked.

  Beatrice turned and left without another word.

  Alpha followed, and the door shut behind them.

  “Wait, when can I see my Pops?” I tried to open the door, but it was locked.

  My knees buckled. I was Life Rite’s prisoner.

  I slid onto the ground, still holding the strawberry container. The cold tile floor against my bare skin gave me chills.

  I touched my neck and looked at the pinprick of blood on my clammy hand.

  How did I get the PX virus? If I’m contagious, why would Beatrice stand in the same room instead of sending her drone?

  I popped more strawberries into my mouth and looked around, trying to find the silver lining. This apartment was next level. The air smelled of eucalyptus and leather. Soft ambient music played from hidden speakers. Clean lines, deliberate minimalism, not a fingerprint in sight.

  It didn’t feel lived in. It felt monitored. Controlled. Even the art on the walls–a series of aggressive red slashes across canvas–felt more like a warning than decoration.

  I stumbled to my feet, dropped the strawberries on the counter, and walked into the living room.

  My fingertips brushed across the fleece sofa. The Life Rite logo adorned the fluffy throw pillows, and a perfectly folded blanket draped over the arm of an accent chair that probably cost more than a car.

  Walking to the window, I watched the hustle and bustle of the city below. The streets pulsed with flickers of broken neon and the occasional flare from a barrel fire. Traffic lights blinked uselessly over intersections clogged with abandoned vehicles and scavenger carts. Drones buzzed between skyscrapers like flies on shit.

  From this height, my daily soundtrack of sirens and distant gunfire was muted. Being this close to the Grid gave me vertigo.

  I pressed my forehead against the window. “At least I’m stuck in a gilded cage.”

  My mind snapped to Zayne, who didn’t have such luxuries.

  “Fire is a way in.” I walked to the fireplace, its wood mantle decorated with geometric gold sculptures.

  I wasn’t trapped… if I could figure out how to use fire as a portal into the Slipstream.

  “Get ready for me, Firestorm. I’m coming.”

  The gas fireplace had a fancy remote control, so it was easy to ignite.

  I sat on the sofa and watched the flames flicker and dance.

  Fire always served as a powerful force of concentration for me, bringing me a sense of peace, but I’d never entered the Slipstream that way.

  Is the Slipstream even real?

  I shook off my doubts. I had to believe in Firestorm. Although I didn’t know who he was, he was my only hope.

  I took a deep breath and focused on the fire, but struggled to relax.

  My gunshot wound screamed for attention, and so did my pounding headache. This wouldn’t be easy.

  At least my belly was full of strawberries.

  After shifting restlessly on the plush sofa for a few minutes, I let out a slow breath, and the tension seeped out of my shoulders like water draining from a clogged sink. My muscles unclenched one by one; the tight grip in my jaw softened, my hands uncurled, and the weight in my chest lightened just a fraction.

  I sank deeper into the sofa, each exhale loosening the knots that had wound themselves tight.

  The fireplace released a warm, smoky scent as streaks of amber, red, and burnt orange twisted in a hypnotic waltz, rising and falling in rhythm.

  I let the fire consume my mind. All thoughts melted away as the flames swept me away from the here and now.

  In a moment of breathlessness, I relinquished control. The power of the Slipstream rushed over me.

  My eyes crossed. My breathing slowed, and I lost consciousness.

  When I came to, the dark void hugged me on all sides.

  I did it! I used fire to enter the Slipstream.

  “Firestorm?” I called out, searching for him.

  No answer. Nothing but blackness.

  My pulse skyrocketed, but I pushed the panic away with another exhale. Mounting tension melted.

  Sparks of probability drizzled down, illuminating the Slipstream. Electrical pulses connected to form twisting energy tunnels, filling the expanse with a cosmic tide of wormholes.

  I floated through the Slipstream in my hospital gown, searching for the right vortex to enter. There were fewer portals to choose from this time, and I had no clue how to find Bennu Island.

  Is a map too much to ask?

  I needed my trusty guide, so I called out for him again.

  “Firestorm, where are you?”

  My voice echoed through the tunnel as portals opened, showcasing their contents on their ethereal screens, tempting me to enter.

  “I’m over here, Jackie.” Firestorm emerged from behind a nearby portal, bathed in the warmth of its glow.

  I gasped. For the first time, I saw who had been leading me.

  “Firestorm? Is that really you?” I clamped my trembling hand across my mouth. His shocking appearance made me shudder and cringe.

  I gawked at his scaly skin covered in ash, his drooping, deformed face contrasted by the fierce determination in his eyes. Sharp talons jutted from his massive body as he spread his majestic wings, killing all surrounding light and stirring the air with a suffocating heat that threatened to burn me alive.