Page 134 of Drift

Poison. They were the poison in his system, not his fucking head. Not his fucking—

The void rushed up, eating Drift whole, only this time he fought to breathe, to stay alive… body and soul not to….

“—Twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty.” Martin rested his head against Drift’s. “Fuck…, you back with me now, kid?”

Drift blinked once, twice, the third time bringing such a bone-deep tiredness as Martin pulled back a touch, a hand still resting on Drift’s neck as he counted down… no, counted in general.

Why the fuck was he counting?

Drift snarled, tried to pull away, mostly because he hated this—being seen. But he was tired, so damn tired, like pulling out of a drug without any of the good beforehand, weighing him down.

“No, no no.” Martin came back in close. “Family medical history,” he said quickly. “You need to—fuck.” He hissed and looked away, more blood escaping in a thin line from his nose. “Jack. Remember. You fucking remember his look.”

Jet black eyes came back his way, and a lot of hurt came in them, like Martin’s head was splitting in two.

“Farland would have used seizures as an explanation for you running away if it had presented whilst you lived with him. Stop the meds, they could stop your seizure and damn well will stop any testing from the virus, because I think those meds are the testing source. And Antibodies…” Martin nodded. “You’ve survived each stage, maybe including any potential airborne test, so the antibodies… the antibodies could still be in your system depending on the… on the last time they… they used you as an ongoing test subject. No wonder they needed us to back the fuck off you—”

Drift snarled, his anger finally breaking, and he fought to get free.

“No,” snarled Martin. “Fucking stay with me, don’t focus on the anger and feed it.” He shivered. “Family history. Ours. You haven’t seen Jack yet because… think… think absences. Think DID, think aggression, think meds to try and con… control and—”

Martin suddenly fell quiet. Frowned. Then he dropped his hold and took a step back and—

“You…?” Confusion laced silver-grey eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here? I mean… you can’t be fucking here of all bastard places.”

Drift took a step back. “What?” The voice… the voice was slightly different, the tones almost grating in his head, buteveryone’s usually did when he was caught halfway between climbing out of the drug and—“Mart—”

“Not. Martin. Ever. Here.”

Drift jolted so badly. “I…” He backed off, not understanding, not wanting to react, really not wanting to react and hit out. Martin hadn’t been about anger, not the shouted kind that grated in his head. “You… Gray….”

“Out.” Martin shoved at his shoulders, then instantly stepped back as though regretting it. “You can’t be here. It’s not safe, the people who live here are far from fucking sane. You can’t be exposed to that. What’s in here will be far worse than anything you face out there. You can’t—”

“Th’fuck?” Drift roughly shoved him back. “What the actual fuck, you—” Giving a cry, he spun away, found the door—more stumbled towards it, then he started to run, needed to run and burn out every goddamn inch of fear and confusion rushing his veins. Just find some… safety from twisted head games despite the shouts that seemed to batter his head from all directions.

Chapter 39

RUN

Shouting assaulted the hall despite the door to the cinema suite being closed, and West’s snap of head towards it seemed as in tune with Jan’s. Only where he thought Jack… Martin, she no doubt thought—

“Drift.” It came out as nothing more than a breath of his name, and Jan moved when she did, only she moved so much quicker.

West’s snarl of his name carried on into the reception hall as Jan made it down to where the staircase split in two. Drift was half out of the door, and West was there, trying to tug his arm to try and stop him, but a snarl off Drift saw him pull away and break into a run to get out, and she pulled back almost as if avoiding a bite from a poisonous viper.

Goddamn it. No. Jan didn’t want her hurt in the backlash. He God damn well knew Drift well enough to not want that either.

West took after him in the next breath, and as Jan made it down the stairs, Martin came on through, rubbing at his head, body language stiff, eyes ruffled.

“What did you do?” he shouted at him. “What the fuck kind of game did you play with him, Mart?”

A look came his way, and all pain seemed to be pushed away.

“Not. Martin. Ever.Fucking. Here, Jan.” Silver eyes were so damn hard. “Jude. One thing. I asked for onebastardthing, and that was him to be kept out of the twisted shit that gets people running from these doors, especially with the war between me and Martin and the fast switching at the moment that leaves us both scrambling around to understand the fucking threats.What the fuck d’you think you’re playing at? How the hell do you expect me to react?”

Jude.

Jan instantly eased off. Only Jack knew Drift as Jude, and Jan shot a look to the door—then hit the panic button Simon had setup to his watch.

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