Children of Evolution (The Gateway Series Book 2) by Toby Minton Page A
Authors: Toby Minton
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them back, with thanks at the least, sounded an awful lot like falling into emotional debt. Nikki liked the idea of debt about as much as she liked briefings and classrooms. Owing somebody was its own kind of attachment—the worst kind.
Maybe Michael was right. Maybe it was time she settled her account.
As they started up the short rise to the highest overlook south of the church, Nikki struggled to come up with the right words to say. She wanted to sound sincere yet hang on to her keep-your-damn-distance nonchalance. No mean feat.
She waved a hand in front of her face to shoo a buzzing something and glanced over at Coop, having settled on words that felt workable. He caught her looking and met her gaze. He chomped into his apple and gave her a creepy eyebrow bob that poisoned her gratitude before it left her tongue. The wink that followed shot it dead.
Maybe she'd start with somebody else.
They stopped near the edge of the bluff where the trail they'd been following ended in a narrow clearing with grass worn almost completely away like it had been trampled by a thousand drunken ravers.
Coop waited like this was where they'd been heading, continuing to work on his apple and eyeing the tree line on their left instead of the impressive view of the Sound on the right.
Nikki chose the view.
When Coop hooted and elbowed her, she turned just in time to see Impact race into the clearing. When she realized what he was doing, her heart nearly stopped.
Impact
Impact took a long, slow breath, closed his eyes, and tried to block out the distractions trying to undermine his concentration. He focused on the steady beat of his heart, the soft rustle of the wind through the trees around him. Anything but the voices.
There was no one else around. Gideon's base was the only inhabited structure left on the island, his team the only people who used the trails twisting through the sparse woods. And Impact was the only member of that team who'd be out here at this time of day with the last rays of the setting sun filtering through the canopy. The others preferred their PT early in the morning. Soldier's habit. He had the woods to himself. But he wasn't alone. Lately, he was never alone.
As always, he was at the mercy of the little voice inside his head, the one constantly pushing him to train harder, driving him to develop his abilities beyond Savior's intended design. The voice was relentless, fueled by an inexhaustible stockpile of resentment, frustration, and repeatedly wounded pride.
He'd never been able to ignore the voice when it was on its own. Now it wasn't. Since his last confrontation with Savior, he had a second voice to deal with, one that showed up less often, usually when he was training at peak intensity. One that did more to confuse than motivate him, with a shout here, some undecipherable babble there. One that managed to unsettle his already bleak thoughts.
This new player in his head didn't sound like him. It sounded and felt like a different person entirely, enough so to make him wonder if he was joining the growing ranks of those losing their grip on reality in this team.
Despite this worry, the new voice actually gave him hope. It showed up only when his thoughts were at their darkest. Wherever this new voice came from in his tortured mind, it seemed to despise his bouts of frustration and self-doubt as much as he tended to indulge them. So as alien as the voice was, he'd convinced himself it was a positive influence.
This new layer of psychosis came as no surprise to Impact, considering its timing. Savior brought out the worst in him. Fighting with Savior supercharged that worst and then sent it back inside to torture him for months, even years, afterward. If a new splinter of his personality was all he had to contend with after their latest encounter, he'd take it, especially when weighed against that day's other revelation.
"Have you truly not discovered your own limitations?" His father's cold
Maybe Michael was right. Maybe it was time she settled her account.
As they started up the short rise to the highest overlook south of the church, Nikki struggled to come up with the right words to say. She wanted to sound sincere yet hang on to her keep-your-damn-distance nonchalance. No mean feat.
She waved a hand in front of her face to shoo a buzzing something and glanced over at Coop, having settled on words that felt workable. He caught her looking and met her gaze. He chomped into his apple and gave her a creepy eyebrow bob that poisoned her gratitude before it left her tongue. The wink that followed shot it dead.
Maybe she'd start with somebody else.
They stopped near the edge of the bluff where the trail they'd been following ended in a narrow clearing with grass worn almost completely away like it had been trampled by a thousand drunken ravers.
Coop waited like this was where they'd been heading, continuing to work on his apple and eyeing the tree line on their left instead of the impressive view of the Sound on the right.
Nikki chose the view.
When Coop hooted and elbowed her, she turned just in time to see Impact race into the clearing. When she realized what he was doing, her heart nearly stopped.
Impact
Impact took a long, slow breath, closed his eyes, and tried to block out the distractions trying to undermine his concentration. He focused on the steady beat of his heart, the soft rustle of the wind through the trees around him. Anything but the voices.
There was no one else around. Gideon's base was the only inhabited structure left on the island, his team the only people who used the trails twisting through the sparse woods. And Impact was the only member of that team who'd be out here at this time of day with the last rays of the setting sun filtering through the canopy. The others preferred their PT early in the morning. Soldier's habit. He had the woods to himself. But he wasn't alone. Lately, he was never alone.
As always, he was at the mercy of the little voice inside his head, the one constantly pushing him to train harder, driving him to develop his abilities beyond Savior's intended design. The voice was relentless, fueled by an inexhaustible stockpile of resentment, frustration, and repeatedly wounded pride.
He'd never been able to ignore the voice when it was on its own. Now it wasn't. Since his last confrontation with Savior, he had a second voice to deal with, one that showed up less often, usually when he was training at peak intensity. One that did more to confuse than motivate him, with a shout here, some undecipherable babble there. One that managed to unsettle his already bleak thoughts.
This new player in his head didn't sound like him. It sounded and felt like a different person entirely, enough so to make him wonder if he was joining the growing ranks of those losing their grip on reality in this team.
Despite this worry, the new voice actually gave him hope. It showed up only when his thoughts were at their darkest. Wherever this new voice came from in his tortured mind, it seemed to despise his bouts of frustration and self-doubt as much as he tended to indulge them. So as alien as the voice was, he'd convinced himself it was a positive influence.
This new layer of psychosis came as no surprise to Impact, considering its timing. Savior brought out the worst in him. Fighting with Savior supercharged that worst and then sent it back inside to torture him for months, even years, afterward. If a new splinter of his personality was all he had to contend with after their latest encounter, he'd take it, especially when weighed against that day's other revelation.
"Have you truly not discovered your own limitations?" His father's cold
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