The soldier who'd been talking to the doctor walked toward them. "Excuse me, where are you going with that boy?"
Drake tapped into his compulsion. 'Take your gun and point it to your head.'
The soldier's eyes blanked out, and he raised his gun to his head.
Drake stared at his eyes. This man didn't want to be here. Like the girl downstairs, circumstances beyond his control had brought him to this impasse, had screwed up his life. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Drake tried to derive some level of comfort from this. He had to do this to get out and get back to Sam and their baby. He was responsible for them, just as he was responsible for the boy in his arms.
Remove them for me.
It'd be easy. First, the man before him would shoot himself, and Drake would collect his weapon. Then, like the Reaper himself, Drake would haunt the halls, bringing swift death to all he encountered. He'd have to take another dose or two of the purple drug—no way around that—but Steele would replenish them if he did a good job. And Drake would do a good job. He'd leave no one standing.
Remove them for me.
Steele might even give Drake his powers back if he handed over all of these children. He'd said he would, eventually. Already, the drugs slipped from Drake's body, stealing away his powers. How good it would feel to be his old self again, to be the man Sam loved. It'd be easy to be that man again.
Remove them for me.
Drake mirrored the man before him, forming a gun with his fingers, bringing it to his head.
Another scene superimposed itself over this one. He and Sam fumbled with the locked door in the Seeker's room, Mary outside. He'd been willing to kill her to save them. He'd been willing to kill an innocent person—and he was willing again. And look where that had gotten him.
Sam hadn't allowed it, and for good reason.
They both had great power. Drake had always thought she was being foolish, too scared to defend herself and do what was necessary. But now.... I'm so sorry Sam. I should have listened.
He finally understood. She hadn't been scared to do the hard thing. She'd been scared of what this power could do when misused.
'Lower your weapon.'
The guard followed Drake's instruction.
Steele would never trust him, but Drake would not kill these people. He could use his para-powers to do good. He'd helped Sam develop mind control so they could escape the clinic that would have destroyed them. But Drake saw that they could also be abused—by the Seeker, by Steele... by him.
Father Patrick had once said these powers were gifts, and that they didn't define him. They didn't make him good or bad. Rather, it was how he used these gifts that defined him.
What Drake had been about to do, regardless of the reason, was evil. He could no longer walk that path, not caring about the consequences, out to get what he wanted—even if what he wanted was good.
He had an idea.
Drake shifted Toby to one arm and pulled out two more purple vials. If he took these, he'd only have two left—around an hour of powers. Not enough to fight Steele.
He downed one vial, then the other. Power surged through him—stronger, bigger, more amplified than ever. His mind expanded and muscles stretched his skin almost painfully. He reached out, connecting with the soldiers and doctors, the girl downstairs, all of them.
'Leave, now. Leave and don't look back.'
Steele wouldn't kill the kids with powers, but he would kill the others. This should keep them alive, at least.
Personnel shuffled out, and Drake followed, carrying his charge.
His phone rang.
"Is it done?"
"Yes."
"Are they dead?"
"No. You didn't say to kill them. You said to remove them, and I did. They've all left the building and won't be coming back."
Silence.
Steele inhaled sharply. "That must have cost you quite a bit of drug. You won't be getting anymore. You know that, right? You've let me down, Drake. I'm disappointed in you. I'll be in touch."
The phone went dead, and Drake walked into the crowd as black trucks pulled up and men in black rushed into the hospital. Some already wheeled the kids out on stretchers.
Drake wondered how the trucks had gotten there so quickly.
Perhaps they'd already taken up positions in the zone. Mr. Steele could have had other people on the inside, even people in the Army. It seemed likely. Maybe he just didn't have anyone with enough authority, or capability, to clear the whole hospital.
Until Drake joined his team.
He slumped against the railing, Toby's body heavier than before. The drugs were fading, pulling his powers with them. Only a small amount remained, and he had no idea of how to get more. He couldn't have saved Toby without his powers, and he wouldn't be able to help Sam without them either.
He hoped that he hadn't made a bad situation worse by helping Steele. At least he'd saved Toby from whatever fate Steele had planned, but what about the rest of the kids? What would happen to them now?