by Sean Platt
I get out of Stephanie’s car and head inside, steeling myself for what I have to do.
I feel nauseous as I clock in, duck into a supply closet, then head down the hall, past the officer stationed outside, and into Joe’s room.
In the photos, taken many years ago, Joe Norwood was a muscular, clean-shaven black man in his early forties. Now, lying unconscious in the hospital bed, he looks considerably older. His face is puffy and bruised, what I can see between the bandages and his scruffy salt and pepper beard.
Wires and monitors track his vitals. An IV bag is connected to a tube in his arm. At least he’s breathing on his own.
As I stand here, it’s hard to see a killer, a man who is behind the deaths of so many Deviants. All I see is a frail, aging man, edging death.
Anders speaks in my head. “Don’t think about how he looks now. Everybody looks harmless in a hospital bed. You have to do it before someone comes.”
My host’s hands shaking, I grab the syringe I’d shoved down the front of Stephanie’s pants, pop off the cap, then pull the stopper back to draw air into the shaft.
Injecting it into his tube will cause an embolism. Then I can duck out, sparing Stephanie from being caught.
I freeze, staring down at him, unsure if I can go through with this.
I’ve gone on several missions where I’ve had to fight bad people to keep them from harming someone that psychics at the Karma Project said needed protecting. I’ve broken bones, ruptured lungs, blinded, and burned bad people, never once feeling bad. I was protecting the innocent, after all.
But to take a life, particularly when it’s passed out in a hospital bed?
Much more difficult.
“Come on,” Anders says. “Before he—”
“Wakes,” says another voice in my head.
A deep voice I’ve never heard.
“You’ve come to kill me? Did Arnold send you?”
Oh shit.
I call out to Anders, Pull me out. Now!
But I can’t sense Anders. I think we’ve been disconnected.
Anders?
“He’s gone,” Joe says, laughing.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’ve never been on a Jump without a co-pilot.
I’m exposed, alone, afraid.
I don’t usually feel fear because I know that no matter what happens to my host, I’ll be okay. I’ll wake up in my own body.
But I don’t think that’s true with a psychic in my head.
I have no clue what he can do to me.
Why the hell didn’t I ask Grandfather just how dangerous this might be?
I stare at his body, looking for any sign of consciousness, but he still looks the same.
“Who sent ya?”
I don’t respond.
“Talk!”
I drop the needle as a sharp pain rips through my head and sends me to my knees.
I cry out, hoping that the officer outside didn’t hear.
It’s not like he can help me. And if he does come in, he’s going to see the needle and wonder what the hell I’m doing.
I try to focus through the pain, my eyes a blur of brightness, searching for the syringe.
My fingers seize on it.
I raise it up, intending to deliver its payload.
Then a sharper pain hurls me to my back.
My head smacks the floor with a THUD!
Pain floods me, makes me want to cry.
I swallow my vomit.
“I asked who sent ya? You’re with Fairchild, ain’t ya?”
Yes. Please, stop hurting me.
He laughs, “I ease up, you best not try that shit again. You do, and I will kill your ass. Understand?”
Yes.
After a long moment, the pain goes from blinding to restraining.
“Your voice … you’re just a kid, ain’t you?”
Yes. I’m only twelve.
I pray he can’t sense a lie.
“What’s your name?” His voice is loud, like he’s standing right behind me, shouting.
Ella.
“Ella What? You one of those kids from the school?”
Ella Shepherd. And yes.
“Shepherd? Like Ben?”
Shit! He knows my father? I hope he doesn’t hate him.
Yes. He’s my father.
“Did Ben send you after me?”
He suddenly appears in my host’s mind, circles me, looking me up and down. I’m not sure if he can see a representation of me, in which case he probably knows I’m older than I said. Or if he sees something else, maybe an aura like I see when Anders is sharing a mind.
In this space, Joe looks strong and intimidating, like he did in his more youthful photos. Like the kind of guy who wouldn’t think twice about snapping me in half.
No, it was Arnold Fairchild. My father works with the school. He has nothing to do with this program.
“Damn, I thought Arnold Fairchild had sunk pretty low, but recruiting kids like you for murder? I gotta be honest, Ella. I’m surprised your father green-lit this shit.”
He doesn’t know anything about it. I’m working with my grandfather behind his back.
Shit. I didn’t mean to admit that.
More laughter. “Arnold Fairchild is your grandfather?”
Yes. Please don’t hold it against me.
I’m crying inside, wondering how long before the cop comes to stop me, arrests Stephanie before she can finish the job.
More laughter. “This is just so rich.”
What?
I feel like I’m part of some joke between people I don’t understand. The way he’s laughing, this guy must be crazy.
“Well, it’s just interesting that you’re working for the grandpa that ordered the death of your other grandpa.”
What are you talking about?
“Did Ben ever tell you about his Pops?”
Yes. He said that he went crazy and got himself killed.
“Only part of the story. Yeah, he did that, but it wasn’t him in control.”
Who was it?
“Yours truly. Fairchild got scared when Ben’s daddy took off with him. Because Fairchild needed your father to save your mother. He ordered me to kill him, make it look like he went nuts.”
And you just did it? You killed his dad?
He laughs, “And you’re here why again?”
I say nothing.
I’m still trying to decide if he’s telling the truth.
I’ve always known my grandfather to be a stern, but kind man. Not even close to something so cruel.
But still, he asked me to kill a man in his hospital bed.
Would a good person do that?
“How many others have you killed?”
None.
“Don’t lie to me.”
I swear. He only sent me because you know the other Jumpers, you’d sense them.
“And he thought I wouldn’t sense you?”
Right.
“He was wrong.” He laughs. “Again. Tell me, did he give you a reason why I deserved to die?”
I’m not sure what to say, so I settle for the truth.
He said you’re behind The First Front. That you ordered a bunch of people killed, including women and children.
Another laugh. “He says I ordered people killed? Fuck, the balls on Arnie.”
So, you don’t kill people?
“We do what Project Karma used to do, protecting innocents. Not trying to shape fate by choosing who lives and dies. We protect people from all of you.”
They said that we’re protecting the good guys from you.
“Honey, your grandfather and Advanced Dynamic are the Bad Guys. They’re working to manage the Deviant population by enslaving those they can work with then killing anyone they see as a threat. Men, women, and children. So, Ella, did they tell you about the bodies under the school?”
Bodies?
“No, of course not. How about how many babies died in Project Yolo?”<
br />
What are you talking about?
“Child, there’s plenty you don’t even know. And I’m guessing your dad’s still blindly obedient to the old man, too. Doesn’t even see the shit they’re doing.”
My father is a good man. And I’m a good person.
“Except when you’re killing defenseless men in their beds.”
I swear, I didn’t know any of this!
He stops, glares at me, then sighs. “Hell, I don’t know what to do with you. I should kill your ass just to send a message, but I’m guessin’ Arnie doesn’t care too much about you, not if he sent you after me.”
Please, don’t kill me. I swear, I didn’t know any of this.
“Do you believe me?”
I consider saying yes, but I know that if it seems like I believe him too easily, he might think I’m lying.
Then he’ll kill me right here in this body.
And then what?
Will my soul die? Or will I be stuck in The Void like Eden?
“Well, do you believe me, Ella?”
I don’t know what to believe. Nothing makes sense.
He nods, “Child, I’m not gonna kill you, out of respect for your father. But you need to tell him what’s going on. Tell your father that he needs to ditch Arnie. And maybe if he does, you can both work with me.”
Thank you.
“Don’t thank me yet. You’ve still gotta keep Arnie from finding out what you know. Otherwise, he might kill you to keep this shit secret.”
I want to argue that my grandfather would never hurt me.
But do I know him, or the people I’ve been working with? Has my entire life been a lie?
“And if you do decide to stay with the bad guys, tell Arnie that he should send a fucking man to do the job next time — not a kid.”
A sharp blast of pain, even worse than the first, rips through my skull.
I cry out.
I’m awake, back in the Jump Chambers.
My cylinder slides up from the ground, but the glass doesn’t hiss open to release me like it usually does following a Jump.
I look around the empty room.
Anders’ cylinder is also closed.
Is there a malfunction?
“Eden?”
Usually, she’s here, waiting to greet us after a Jump.
But the Chambers are empty. And the room is only dimly lit with a soft red glow from the lights above.
“Eden?” I call out louder. “Anders?”
No response.
I send a psychic ping to see if he’ll pick up. I can feel him nearby, in the way you might sense someone in a darkened room.
Anders?
“What’s going on?” he asks in my head. “Where’s Eden?”
I don’t know. Did you hear what Joe was saying about Mr. Fairchild?
“Yes. It can’t be true, can it?”
I’m not sure what to say. I don’t know what to think. I need to talk to my father. But we have to keep this between us. Okay? Nobody can know. Got that?
A long silence.
Okay, Anders?
“Okay,” he says, though I’m not sure he’s committed. I have to remember that to Anders my grandfather is an intimidating man. Someone you don’t want to lie to or disobey. Not someone to conspire against. Maybe I should be more intimidated than I am. And yes, I’m scared. But I also know that my father will know what to do. He’ll take care of this.
Don’t worry, Anders. Nothing is going to happen to you. My father will figure out what to do. Okay?
“Okay.”
I look around the Chamber, getting frustrated. Where is Eden?
I call out again, hoping someone is listening to the radios installed in our cylinders.
Suddenly, movement.
Someone walking in the darkness, but I can’t see who.
“Hello?” I call out, banging on the inside of the cylinder, not sure how much sound travels outside. It’s heavily insulated with cushion and electronics beyond that. I’m guessing sound doesn’t travel too far.
“Hello?”
The person in the darkness steps toward Ander’s cylinder, red light revealing the stranger as none other than my grandfather.
“I’m so sorry,” I hear him saying through the speakers.
“Sorry for what?”
A cold chill runs through me, my heart racing.
“So sorry that Joe told you.”
Oh, God.
He knows.
“He’s crazy, why would he even lie like that?” I say, acting like I’d never believe a word from the man’s lying mouth.
“Nice try, Ella. But I heard your conversation with Anders. And I’m sorry, I can’t allow you to tell your father.”
Anders screams, in both the radio and my head.
“What are you doing?” I cry out, unable to see anything other than Grandfather staring at Anders through the glass.
He must be launching a psychic attack.
I’ve never seen my grandfather harm a fly, let alone another person, but Dad told me that Grandfather is a powerful Deviant, able to pry inside a person’s mind and inflict telepathic pain.
“Stop!”
Anders cries out incoherently.
But Grandfather isn’t stopping!
I bang on the inside of the cylinder. I call out for Eden.
“Help!”
Nothing.
And I listen as Anders’ cries turn to chokes.
And then silence.
Anders?
Nothing.
Anders?
I can’t feel him.
“Did you kill him?”
Grandfather doesn’t respond.
Instead, he’s approaching my cylinder.
My heart is pounding.
My mind is scrambling for escape.
There is no release lever inside the cylinder.
And Eden is nowhere in sight.
And it’s not like I can fall asleep on command, especially not with Grandfather walking toward me, likely intending to silence me forever.
“Please!” I cry out, “I swear, I won’t say anything.”
“I’m sorry, Ella,” he says. “I’m truly sorry.”
And then I feel the pain.
* * * *
CHAPTER 23
Ben Shepherd Age 38
I’m in the car waiting for Walter to exit the gas station bathroom.
Walter is my partner on recruitment trips. His gift belies his appearance. To look at Walter, you’d see a tall, zit-faced overweight redhead in his late teens. The last kid in the world you’d expect to exude confidence. But Walter has a gift of persuasion. Talk to him long enough, and he’ll convince you of anything. I bring him to close the deals I can’t close, with parents who are resistant or afraid of sending their children to a school they never heard of with people who want to “help” them, which they believe is code for “experiment on.”
I try to explain that our program is different. We never harm anyone. We truly want to provide a safe place for kids to explore their abilities in a controlled environment.
But not all parents are receptive.
We’re usually left with two choices. We either leave the kid be, which we’ll do for Deviants with minor abilities or, in the case of a Deviant with powerful potential, we bring Walter out to seal the deal.
Ever since the public became aware of Deviants last year, when a European scientist working for an agency similar to AD wrote a tell-all book about Deviants being among us, and the government using them as psychic spies, it’s made our job both more difficult and easier.
More difficult because no parent wants their kid to be used as a political pawn.
Easier because the public has not responded well to learning about the Deviants among them.
Politicians are stirring up fear of The Other. Parents don’t want their kids going to schools with freaks. And some kids have been bullied to death. The environment has never been more volatile or the situation so di
re.
And that’s where Walter comes in, telling parents what they want to hear — convincing them that we’ll protect their kids. We’re not like those evil European agencies and whatever it is they’re up to. We’re different.
It’s a necessary lie.
We are different.
At least I try to tell myself.
But then I think of Niko and Irina.
After I ratted Irina out, she was brought to Aspen Falls. It was under the auspices of reuniting the girl with her brother, but also because she’d lied about her powers. She’s more powerful than she’d let on, and that makes her a threat.
I haven’t seen her in two years, ever since she stole my powers.
The few times I tried to get something out of Fairchild, to at least see if Irina is okay and not being treated like some lab animal, the old man told me it’s not my concern. He reminded me that I made my choice when I left AD following Willow’s death. “You made it clear to us that you don’t want to work on Projects, so don’t ask.”
Which is just his way of trying to pressure me into working on Projects again.
He’d love nothing more than for me to work with Eden again on Project Karma. But I refuse. He’s lucky that I let Ella work with them in a limited capacity, and that’s only because she insists, and I want her able to control her abilities.
But I don’t want her working on AD’s political agendas.
And I don’t want her spying or doing whatever top secret other things they’re doing.
It’s bad enough that I’m a recruiter.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m implicit in the things that happen to the Deviants who wind up in Aspen Falls.
I’m certainly responsible for Irina.
But then I tell myself it’s better to be here, with some ability to control my daughter’s destiny.
Because if I wasn’t working for AD, then what would keep them from coming for Ella and forcing her to join their program?
I shake my head, reminding myself that despite Aspen Falls, we’re doing good work.
We’re the Good Guys.
We’re working to protect Deviants from abuse. There are rumors out there of others mistreating Deviants. Organized crime, other governments. Forcing Deviants into lives of crime. Forcing them to be soldiers for their cause. Experimenting on them, just as the Nazis had done.
