He yelps.
It’s a helpless yelp. The kind a dog makes when you kick it.
My eyes pop open.
He’s not screaming. He’s not moving. He’s sprawled out on the chair, arms and legs hanging off, eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Oh God. My heart spasms, and I lurch forward. Scott’s hand clamps around my arm and jerks me back.
Holy crap, I’ve killed him.
My mouth runs dry, and I stand there, stunned, no idea what to do, until… he blinks. Just one blink, but it gushes relief through me.
Okay, he’s not dead. I reach out and… his mindmap is relatively smooth, like a reader. I can push through now with no resistance, jacking inside the normal way. I’m flooded with images and information and a strange absence of thoughts. Memories, yes, if I dig even a little, but current thoughts? No. Like his brain is coming back from a hard reboot. Or an EMP wipe like a thought grenade.
But those memories… strange fantasy images float around in Ethan’s head. They have to be sims. Otherwise, he truly has a horde of reader slaves chained up in his apartment, which is some kind of sprawling estate on the North Shore. Then an image floats by of Wright dressed in a French maid outfit serving him tea. I shove that aside because, for the love of all that’s holy, that’s not a picture I want in my head. Somehow all these fantasy sims circle around a central idea. Wright has promised Ethan power in exchange for his jacking services. And he’s such an idiot, he both believes her and has these recurring fantasies burned away in his cranium. Even worse, there’s a core, tight belief that’s even more disgusting—the idea that a jacker vs. reader species war is coming, and Ethan wants to be on the winning side. Only he’s not fighting for jackers. He’s convinced jackers will lose, and he’s collaborating early and hard to make sure he’s one of the few who survives. And reap the spoils.
The whole thing twists my stomach—and it reminds me of the mass insanity inside Jackson Harper’s head. He was the jacker who assassinated Julian, and he was deep inside all of this, too. Connected to the Fronters. And Tiller. And Wright.
Ethan’s wisps of memories and sims and fantasies are floating below the surface, but his conscious thoughts are still blank. Empty. Even though his mind is open just like a reader… he’s not broadcasting anything out.
I’m working up to a small panic again—maybe I did a lobotomy-jack?—but then he blinks once more. Then twice. Slowly, slowly, his hand rises to his face. He fumbles at it, like his hand doesn’t quite work, but then he gets the hang of it and scrubs his hand over his forehead.
With a jolt, his conscious mind wakes up. What the hell? His thoughts spin up. Normal thoughts. Confusion. Anger. Fear that he’s done something wrong when he catches sight of Wright staring at him. The barrage of their thoughts is freaking him out.
But he’s back. And he’s a reader now.
Wright nods enthusiastically in some silent mental conversation she’s having with the SecDef and his creepy sidekick. I pull out of Ethan’s head and let loose a sigh of relief.
“Good work,” Scott whispers behind me.
I shake loose the tension in my hands—I didn’t even realize they were balled into fists—and swallow down the uneasiness of the whole thing.
Wright looks to me. “Now change him back. Without the screaming.”
“Without the—” I glance at Ethan. He’s clutching the arms of the chair, his face even more pale than normal. “That’s not how this works,” I say to Wright. “Pain’s part of the process.”
Wright’s eyes flash. “Then figure out a better way.” She tips her head back to the SecDef. The creep with the slicked-back hair is eyeing me.
“C’mon, Zeph,” Scott says quietly. He gives me another pointed look, and apparently, this is critical, but I have no idea how I’m going to accomplish it. I have Ethan’s original map configuration—with all the sharp peaks and valleys of a jacker—solid in my head. I just don’t know how to get him from this wide-open reader configuration back to that without spinning his mindmap in between. Which definitely involves screaming.
Ethan’s staring at me, blinking too much. He’s still gripping the sidearms.
I link into his head. Okay, I’ve got to do this. Think you can manage to not scream your head off?
He visibly swallows and holds my gaze. No. The pain is fresh in his mind, buried as a haunted memory he can barely access. Most of the transition wiped out his short-term memory when his brain did the hard reboot into reader mode. Just put me back the way I was. I think having his mind open to Wright is freaking him out more than anything.
I scowl, but then I realize—Ethan’s a reader. I can jack him. Easily. He can’t resist, and at this point, I don’t think he’d want to.
I jack in hard and knock him out.
His sudden slumping in the chair causes a scuffle of alarm to trip through the room, but it’s a simple thing to spin his mindmap, reset it to jacker mode, and let it fall into place. The problem is waking him up again. But since he’s unconscious, his mind doesn’t push back too hard when I jack in and drag him back up to consciousness. I pull out before he’s fully awake, but he jerks up to sitting in the chair and nearly falls out.
The whole thing took less than five seconds.
I’m rather proud of myself until I see the firestorm gathering on Wright’s face. She’s in a furious mental conversation with the SecDef—all animated faces and hand gestures—but it’s the stone-cold look on Slick Hair’s face that sends a chill straight to my core.
Ethan looks dazed and vaguely horrified, a hand clutching at his head, which has to be hosting a killer headache.
Wright whips around to face me. “Can you do it without the theatrics?”
“You mean knocking him out?” What does she want from me? “I don’t know. Maybe if you give Ethan and me more than two seconds of practice.” I shoot a look to him, and his face ramps up to panic again. I smirk. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Good,” Wright says. Then she goes back to her vigorous mindlinked conversation with the SecDef. The two of them turn abruptly and head toward the door. The creepy guy lingers a little longer, looking over Ethan and me like he’s deciding what kind of cage to put us in. Then he follows Wright and the SecDef out, taking the armed military guard with him.
As soon as they’re gone, Ethan bursts out, “What the hell, MacCay!” He’s still holding his head. “You could have warned me.”
“Must have slipped my mind.” But honestly, I’m horrified by the whole thing. Wright’s running a dirty game, and just playing it slimes everyone. Especially me. The one with the skills she wants. But I’m definitely on the inside now, like I told Kira. “You want to avoid the pain next time?” I say to Ethan. “Work with me.”
He just scowls.
“That means letting me into your head,” I say sharply. “I don’t care what stupidity you have rattling around in there. Let me in, and maybe I can do something about the pain.” I vaguely remember Kira saying how she could manage the pain if we ever had human volunteers. Ethan’s not exactly a volunteer, but he’s sort of a human, although not a decent one. It’s the same idea, anyway. I’ll get her to show me.
Ethan gives me a wary look.
I glare right back. “And I don’t know what your angle is, working for Wright and Tiller both, but if you tell Tiller I’m a jacker, you had better hope you don’t ever see me again. I might forget to put your mind back together the next time I take it apart. Am I clear?”
I can see him shudder, but he doesn’t say no.
This whole game… it’s not up to either of us, really.
“I think we’re done here,” Scott says gruffly. He gestures to the door, and he’s my ride, so I guess I’m leaving with him. We walk out together.
“All right,” he says quietly, once we’re alone in the hall, “I don’t know what exactly Wright’s planning for you, Zeph, but what you did back there… that’s got military applications. Do you u
nderstand what I’m saying?”
Yeah. Unfortunately, I do.
I just put a dangerous weapon in Wright’s hands.
When I get home, Sammi’s still hacking the orb.
Olivia’s setting up her new space in the Done Room with Aaliyah’s help. Jiaying is making muffins, which fill the place with mouthwatering smells. I’d wolf them down, but they’re not done. Just slowing down long enough to check them out makes fatigue wash over me. I plop onto the couch in the reception room where Sammi is tinkering. The second I’m face down in the slightly fuzzy fabric, exhaustion immediately tugs my eyelids down. Between seeing my mom and dealing with Scott and Wright and the SecDef and his evil minion, plus jacking Ethan’s head open and almost-maybe killing him, every part of me is drained. I close my eyes and hope someone will wake me when the muffins are done…
I’m walking down a street. It’s an ordinary suburban street, with ordinary skinny houses and manicured lawns and daylilies clumped in precise little gardens, but the people are anything but ordinary. They’re haunting the houses, like ghouls in a game where everyone’s brain has been eaten by an alien squid. They gawk at me from behind their windows, their gray-green faces pressed to the glass. They’re monsters clamoring to get out. I reach out mentally and spin their mindmaps. Their dying screams are muffled by the glass as they drop from view. House after house, I keep walking, keep reaching, keep spinning. The screams are long and then short, ending in yelps that sound like little squeaks. Like balloons bursting. The ghouls get smarter and climb out of windows and throw open doors, running for me, but I fling my hands out to them, and one after another, I cut them down. Their yelps land on the neatly trimmed grass. Once they’re dead, they shift and change… back to human. Tall men in jeans. Short women in sandals. A little girl lurches out of the house, her ghoulish face screaming my name. Zeph! Zeph! Her red curls bounce and frame her alien face. I reach out and cut her down. Her yelp is soft and sweet, like a puppy’s bark. Her blue eyes stare at nothing, her pale skin mashed against the startling green of the grass. Someone’s screaming, and it’s me, it’s me, it’s me—
“Zeph!” The voice booms through my head.
I jolt and lash out, jacking before I open my eyes. It doubles back on me, slamming an electrical storm back into my head. “Ah!” I cry out, but that yanks me fully awake.
My eyes pop open, and air gasps into my chest.
Sammi is standing over me, mouth open, eyes crazed. “Zeph, what the—are you okay?” she demands.
I nod, but it’s more of a shaky, jerking head motion. My body’s curled up on the couch, fists clenched under my chin. Somehow, I turned over on my back in my sleep. Behind Sammi, Olivia is gaping at me, with Jiaying by her side, furious concern pressing her lips tight. A shuffle of feet on the floor and then carpet, and suddenly Aaliyah is there, too.
“What in heaven’s name—” She stops short when she sees me. “What happened?” But that’s directed at Sammi.
“Just a dream,” she says, rescuing my dignity. Somewhat. She gives me a hand, which I grasp and pull myself up to sitting. “You’re okay, right?”
“Yeah.” I lick my lips and wave a hand at everyone. “I’m fine.” I stop waving because my hand is still shaking. I rub my temple with it instead, and thankfully, Aaliyah and Jiaying drift away. “I’m okay,” I say to Olivia, who’s now scowling at me.
“Sure you are.” Sammi turns back to the orb sitting in the middle of the room in pieces.
The reception room screen has been turned on, and it plays silently while the transcribed mindwaves scroll along the bottom. A shot of Kira flashes up. She’s dressed in a white suit, and she’s making a speech. Her hair is pinned up, and she looks about ten years older with that serious hairstyle and suit. I glimpse Tessa in the background, but then the camera zooms closer on Kira.
“She’s decided to run after all,” Sammi informs me. Which I knew, of course. Tessa must have pulled together an announcement speech in just a few hours. Being her usual super-competent self, I suppose. But it reminds me I need to get back there—I’m way on the inside now, and there are things Kira needs to know. Plus I need her help.
Olivia’s still staring at me. “What were you dreaming?”
“It’s not important.” I swing my legs off the couch and scrub my face to wake up fully. This dream differed from the others, but Olivia doesn’t need to know about any of it.
“You called out her name.” Olivia’s standing in front of me, her small fists on her hips.
I peer up at her. “Whose name?”
“Mom’s.” She’s unrelenting with that blue-eyed stare.
I frown because my mom wasn’t in the dream. “I was just scared, I guess. Zombies.”
She settles in next to me on the couch. “Sometimes, in my dreams, the jackers get her. Sometimes, I fight them off.” She swallows and balls her hands up on her knees. “Do you think she’s still alive, Zeph?”
I wince. Because I absolutely, positively, was not going to tell Olivia about seeing my mom. Not until I had a plan to get her out. But I can’t not say something now. “I know she is, Liv.”
Sammi looks up from her tinkering.
“You’ve seen her,” Olivia gasps. “Where? When? Is she okay?”
“She’s okay. I just saw her for a few minutes.” It’s not much of a lie. The hard part is deciding what else to tell her. “Wright’s holding her prisoner.”
“What?” Olivia jerks up to standing, furious with me. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” Heat’s rising to my face. “I’ve told you all along, Livvy—”
“You’re just making this up!” Tears are welling up in her eyes. “Because you hate Bee!”
I launch up from the couch, hands out. “I’m not lying—”
“You are.” She jabs a small finger at me. “I want to see her. I want to see Mom.”
“You can’t.” This much I’m certain of. “Wright won’t allow it. She barely let me see her.”
Her face is twisting up with tears and anger. “Bee is my friend! If she knew where my mom was…” She balls up her fists like she wants to take a swing at me. “You are the one who won’t let me see her. You just want to keep me here! Locked up like a prisoner.”
“Livvy that’s not fair—”
“No, you’re not fair. You and your rules and your secrets. You weren’t even going to tell me about Mom, were you?” But she doesn’t wait for an answer—she just storms out of the room, heading for the Done Room.
“Livvy!” I groan in frustration but don’t go after her. Partly because she’s right. Partly because I’m afraid I’ll just make it worse.
“Let her cool off,” Sammi says quietly, back to working on the scattered pieces of the orb. “She’ll come around.”
I shake my head then notice the time. “Crap. I’ve got to pick up Juliette.”
Sammi looks up. “You bringing her back here?”
“Is that a problem?” I ask, probably a little too sharply. I don’t need to deal with their dating drama right now.
She shrugs one shoulder then fusses with the orb again. “It’s okay by me.”
Okay, then. There’s a lot more interest there than she’s giving up. “I can drop Juliette back here, but then I have to leave again. And I really need you to keep an eye on Olivia for me. Can you manage both of them?”
“Got it locked down, big brother.” She smirks at me. “Don’t worry.”
I sigh. “Thanks.” Then I hustle toward the door because I really am late for picking Juliette up from school. Jiaying intercepts me with a bag of muffins, for which I give profuse thanks. Those disappear into my stomach on the way over to Juliette’s school. When I get there, she’s so excited that we’re going back to Aaliyah’s Home and Sammi that I don’t need to explain anything else. Which is good because I’m just dropping her and high-tailing it out so I can track down Kira. But before I can hail an autocab, Sammi comes jogging out of the house with a piece of the orb in her
hand.
Juliette lights up, and Sammi gives her a quick smile and a, “Hey, baby,” before she turns a way-too-serious face to me.
“What?” I’m itching to go.
“Take this with you.” She holds out the tech—it’s a mass of circuitry nestled inside a clear crystal ball. It fits neatly in the palm of her hand, but I’m not exactly eager to touch it.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s disabled,” she says, urging me to pick it up. “I finally got it disconnected from the core power.”
I wince and gingerly pick it up with two fingers. “So this is the main controller?”
She jabs her finger at it. “This is a piece of monstrous technology, and it’s all I can do to keep from smashing it with my boot.”
My eyes go a little wide. “Okay.” Now I really wish she would take it back.
“It’s a jacker sensor.” She’s a little breathless.
Juliette snuggles up to her side and peers at the tech with wide eyes. “A sensor?”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” I say carefully.
“That depends on how it senses.” Juliette looks to Sammi to explain.
Sammi laces her fingers with Juliette’s, but she elaborates for both of us. “Okay, so at first, I thought it was just some kind of mindware mod. An upgrade or something.”
“Right,” Juliette says. “I saw that with my scanner in the lab. Definitely mindware.”
Cracked Open Page 10
