One thing Connor was never, ever going to admit to another human being was that he hated how fast Rod drove and that it scared him actually quite a bit when Rod’s car hurtled around corners. He was proud that he’d hidden that fear so well that Rod had never picked up on it.
Rod was driving even faster than usual now, his car Soldier shuddering as it flew along the dark, narrow road leading to the Blues’ cabin. The trees blinked by to either side. A particularly sharp turn slammed the guys in the back seat together, and they shoved each other away, laughing.
Red taillights appeared in the darkness—a silver car, the first sign of life they’d seen since they’d left Stephanie’s, headed in the same direction they were.
“That was Danny’s,” said Connor after they’d rushed past.
“Oh,” said Rod. “Was it?” And he slammed on the breaks. As the car squealed to a halt, Rod angled it so that it blocked both lanes.
Danny’s silver car came around the corner. Its horn roared as it jerked to a screaming stop. Danny climbed out and shouted something.
Rod rolled down his window. “Could you repeat that?” he shouted. “Didn’t hear you!”
“Move your car, Rod.”
“Because you tell me to?”
“Because someone’s going to run into it in the dark and kill themselves.”
“We wouldn’t want that to happen. You better make me move.”
Rod got out of the car, and so did Connor and the others. The Blues were stepping out of Danny’s car too—Samuel and Bradley Lecker and a guy Connor didn’t know very well, possibly a sophomore, possibly named Greg. The Blues moved towards the front of the car, falling into formation like fighter jets.
“Nah,” said Rod. “That’s not how we’re going to do this.”
He bent his legs and launched himself over the Blues’ heads onto the hood of Danny’s car. Then, while they were still confused, he hopped off to the side, grabbed Samuel, and flung the smaller guy over his shoulder like a sack of something. He charged off into the dark woods at full Red speed.
Samuel’s cousin Bradley ran after them, cursing. Danny ran beside him, not cursing. Possibly-Greg started to follow them, but Jason and Miguel each grabbed one of his arms and carried him off into the trees on the other side of the road. Harry, on the other side of the car from Connor, let out a hoarse wordless shout and headed after Rod and the other Blues.
No. Connor could not be the last one left standing by the cars.
He jumped and slid over the hood, came down on the other side, and with a burst of desperate energy caught up and passed Harry so that he left the road slightly ahead of the other guy.
They’d left the cars with the headlights on. The yellow light sliced through the forest, though the farther Connor got the more it was blocked by black branches and the more often he stumbled on unseen roots and rocks. Where were the others? He wasn’t going to find them. He was going to miss it. Blue-white lightning light flashed somewhere off to the left, and Connor changed course towards it.
He was reminded, suddenly, of the pretty-much identical woods behind Stephanie’s house, in fact they were the same woods, weren’t they, it was unbroken trees from here to there, which meant this was the same place, sort of, where Priya had pushed him up against a tree.
He still didn’t see or hear anyone, not even Harry who had come in to the trees with him. Had he shifted direction again without realizing it? If Connor didn’t find them, Rod and Harry would be outnumbered.
But then he heard something, coming from behind him, actually, back towards the road. He spun on his feet and ran and burst into a space where the car lights came through relatively clear.
Danny stood there in the light. His back was to Connor, and he leaned one-armed on a tree for support. His shoulders rose and fell visibly—he was panting, catching his breath. The Reds had gotten improved lung capacity along with their suite of superpowers, but apparently the Blues hadn’t. For a moment, Connor had the wonderful thought that maybe Danny had run away like a coward and left Samuel to Rod’s mercy. But Connor had been Danny’s friend for a lot longer than he’d been his enemy, and he knew that wasn’t true. Danny was like Connor, lost in the dark woods and trying to find the fight.
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Connor couldn’t do anything, obviously, not when Danny’s back was turned. Danny really should have heard Connor come up behind him, but maybe he was breathing too hard.
Should Connor say something? To be, like, sporting?
But before he could, Danny straightened up and looked around. There was a black tree-shadow stripe across his face, so it was hard to make out his expression when he saw Connor. Connor twitched, bringing up his arm in a move which he was maybe-sort-of planning to turn into a punch.
Danny grabbed Connor’s arm with one hand and pressed the other hand into his chest.
The familiar, shuddering pain flowed through Connor’s chest and shoulder. But this time it was even worse than before. This time his chest burned, and his vision swam and turned dark at the edges. Danny let go of him and he fell hard onto his knees. His head was light. He gasped.
And then he was… okay? The burning in his chest lingered, but his vision steadied. His breath came in hot and ragged, but he was breathing. He pressed a trembling hand against his forehead.
“You stopped my heart.” His voice was hoarse. He didn’t know whether it was his cyborg powers that had started his heart again or whether that just happened sometimes. “You… You stopped my heart.”
“I’m sorry for that,” said Danny, standing above him. He didn’t sound sorry. Really sorry people sounded desperate. “The things we can do are dangerous. That’s why we should stop playing with them.”
Connor surged up onto his feet, grabbed Danny by the neck with one hand, and carried him forward, slamming him against a tree trunk.
“You don’t want to do this,” said Danny, his throat moving against Connor’s hand. “You want to let me go.”
“You’re not above this,” said Connor. “Do you know how much it hurts every single time you people shock us? And also, you stopped my heart.”
“I didn’t mean to do that, Connor, but I did mean to shock you. You know why. And you know why you’re doing this.”
“Oh? Why I am I doing this?”
“I didn’t say I know. I said you know. And you know it’s not a good reason.”
“Stop doing that. Stop trying to be wise. You are my age.”
Connor lifted Danny up so that his feet weren’t quite flat on the ground. The metal nubs on Connor’s palms pressed into the skin of Danny’s neck, and blood seeped up around Connor’s fingers, a thin trickle from tiny broken blood vessels.
Danny grabbed Connor’s arm above the elbow, and furious bright agony ran up Connor’s arm and down one side of his body to his foot. His muscles locked in painful place, but that just meant his hand froze around Danny’s neck. Danny dropped his hand, and Connor tightened his grip.
“Come on, Connor,” said Danny, choking out the words. “You’re better than—”
Something cracked. It sounded just like when Connor had fallen off the roof while chasing Priya and broken his arm, just like when he had kicked Rod and broken his rib. But this crack was different. This crack divided his life into two pieces—from the day he was born until the moment he heard that sound, and every second after until he died.
Danny’s eyes unfocused. At the same time, his body went limp so that his legs weren’t holding him up anymore, nothing was holding him except Connor’s hand at his throat. All of his weight tugged down at Connor’s wrist. Connor let go.
Danny collapsed and lay on his side. His neck was bloody red where Connor’s hand had scraped the skin away. His eyes were open.
Connor’s palm was coated with a thin layer of blood. In the uneven light it looked black. He held his hand away from himself. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there staring at his own hand before he heard something and looked up.
Rod stood between the trees. His eyes flickered down to Danny’s… body and up to Connor and down and up again.
Connor finally managed to say something. “I didn’t do it. I mean… I didn’t mean to.”
“I know,” said Rod. He moved to stand by Connor. “You didn’t do it. I did.”
Connor was numb and stupid. He hadn’t heard Rod correctly. “What am I going to tell them?”
“Listen to me, Connor.” Rod put his hands on Connor’s shoulders. “Look at me, man. Look me in the eyes. I killed Danny. I did it. It’s obvious.”
“No. No, Rod, I just have to... to call... the cops?” No, not that. “I have to call Priya.”
“Let me take it,” said Rod. “Just let me take it.”
Connor didn’t say anything else. Rod grabbed Connor’s hand at the wrist and, when Connor didn’t resist, rubbed the bloody palm across the front of his own pale gray t-shirt. Connor thought about Priya and how she had grabbed his shirt. He should have stayed with her. He should have never left.
Rod looked down at the reddish brown streak on his shirt and then shook his head. Next, he kneeled down beside Danny’s… body. Danny’s body. And he pressed his hand against Danny’s neck. When he raised it again it was smeared with blood. He wiped the blood on his shirt again, and then wiped another handprint’s worth on the side of this face. Standing up, he held out his arms and looked down at his bloody chest.
“That looks about right.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket with his red hand.
“No cops,” said Connor. He knew that they should call the police, that that would be the right and proper thing to do. But the more primitive part of his mind was screaming that they couldn’t trust anyone who wasn’t a Red. And the less primitive part of his mind, now that it had caught up, realized that if they called the cops they’d all get arrested and he’d go to jail for a long time and the government would discover their powers and cyborg parts and he didn’t even know what would happen then.
“You’re right,” said Rod. “No cops. I’m calling the other guys. The first thing we do is bury the body.”