Possession

by Elana Johnson

  “Jag?” I knelt and began untying his hands. “Holy tech overload.” My fingers fumbled on the tight filament knots. The air-conditioning billowed over my neck, mingling with the tech-burn inside my chest. I felt like I was trying to undo knots of thread with winter gloves on.

  “You were right,” he said.

  I didn’t answer. Of course I was right.

  “How did you know?” he asked.

  “I’m a Goodie, remember?” It doesn’t take a Thinker to figure it out. Oh, and all the tech buzz was a dead giveaway. The sound of the machines grinded in my head. The smell of Jag’s spicy gel was so strong, I thought I might vomit.

  I finally released the knots on his hands and he started working on his feet. I tiptoed over to the door. Footsteps approached.

  “Hurry!” I hissed, passing him as he stood. He opened the window all the way and pushed me through headfirst. That didn’t hurt nearly as bad as having Jag land on my stomach, forcing all the air out of my lungs. Or his boot on my thigh as he pushed himself up.

  “Ouch!” I complained. The door rattled and the Hawk’s angry shout filtered through the window.

  “Come on!” He didn’t have to tell me twice. We ran as the door splintered open.

  I gripped Jag’s hand as we wove through backyards and deserted streets. After a few minutes he grunted as he ripped the electronic patches off his chest. I expected a siren to wail or red lights to flash, but nothing happened.

  Pretty soon we left behind the houses and streetlights and ran under nothing but trees. If it could be any darker in the forest, it was. Jag half-dragged me beside him as he somehow maneuvered over the uneven ground. Branches and limbs scratched my face and clawed at the mostly empty backpack, but I pushed them away.

  I’d spent days in the woods while crossing through the City of Water, but the forest here felt scarier. Darker. Dangerous.

  My lungs burned, and my legs felt detached from my body. “Jag,” I gasped, leaning against a tree trunk. “I gotta stop.”

  “Just a little further,” he whispered.

  I shivered as the chilly air brushed my face, turning the sweat into liquid ice.

  Jag pulled me against his bare chest; his heart thumped against my arm. I tried to calm myself. The woods frightened me, but what I felt was not fear. More like pure anticipation for the next time Jag would kiss me, hold me like he’d held Sloan, put his feet in between mine so our knees touched and we connected along every point of our bodies.

  Yeah, I was falling for Jag Barque.

  He led me to the largest pine tree on the planet. By way of instruction, he gestured up. As if that were adequate.

  “We’re climbing a tree?” I asked.

  “Only about halfway.”

  Heights are not my thing. Privileged to have a teleporter on our block, I never needed to learn how to ride a hoverboard. The only time I’d been in the air was in the hovercopter, and that wasn’t a memory I wanted as I climbed this very tall tree.

  Jag moved faster than me but waited as I struggled to find footholds.

  “No, try that one,” he whispered, tapping on my left elbow and pointing to a branch I couldn’t see.

  We progressed up the tree little by little until I felt like the air was too thin to breathe. On the next reach, my hand hit solid wood. A tree house.

  “Did you make this?” I was whispering. Because someone is always listening.

  “My brother did, a long time ago.” He sounded tired as he stepped onto the platform.

  I wondered which brother—Blaze or Pace—but of course I didn’t ask. The tree house had four walls and a roof, but no windows and only a small opening in the floor for the entrance. Jag could stand upright in it, though. He pulled a blanket from the corner, shook it, and lay down.

  He opened his arm for me to join him, but I remained standing near the entrance.

  “It’s gonna get cold and there’s only one blanket,” he said. I translated that to, “I’m a nice guy, but not that nice.”

  I wanted to sleep next to him. Too much. But good girls don’t throw themselves at boys. Especially bad ones. How did Jag feel about me? He’d kissed me, but only so the recognizer couldn’t scan our eyes. Right?

  And what did a kiss mean in the Badlands? Because in the Goodgrounds it meant something. It meant you’d committed yourself to someone. The way I’d pledged myself to Zenn.

  I pulled my backpack off, found the blue prison shirt, and tossed it to him.

  “Hey, you kept this?”

  I gave a shrug he didn’t see because he was pulling the shirt over his head. I couldn’t get my voice to speak coherent words anyway.

  He yawned and lay down again. “Vi? Come on, please? I know I’m gross, but—”

  “You’re not gross,” I said, sitting down next to him. My skin itched to touch his, and his plea indicated that our kiss meant something to him. Still, my mind screamed to maintain a respectable distance.

  “Well, I’ve been sweating up a storm for an hour.”

  “I want to, I’m just . . .”

  “Nervous?”

  More like scared as hell. “I guess.”

  He pulled me down next to him. “That’s rubbish,” he said, his lips in my hair. “You stood in a cold shower for two hours. You elbowed that woman last week. You crossed into the Badlands by yourself without getting caught. You don’t get nervous about anything. You can lie next to a sweaty guy.”

  I tried to tell him that wasn’t it. That I really wanted to lie next to him, sweaty or not, but the words wouldn’t come.

  “Ah,” he said, throwing his other arm over me and adjusting the blanket so it covered us both. “You’re warm.” He spoke in a drowsy tone, comfortable, happy.

  His lips were so close—right at my ear. A shudder that had nothing to do with the cold ran through my body. Jag pulled me closer, nestling his arm under my elbow.

  “Jag?”

  “Mmm?”

  “What’s gonna happen now?”

  “We’re going to sleep.” He sounded like he was already halfway there.

  “Yeah, but what about tomorrow?” What I really wanted to say was, What about finding my dad? What does Thane Myers want with us? When are we leaving for Seaside? We can’t stay here.

  “It’s not important.”

  I twisted to look at him but found only blackness. “How can you say—?” His mouth met mine, cutting me off.

  “Only you’re important,” he murmured, his breathing deep and even on my cheek, his thumb tracing circles on my arm.

  The bad boy is right, the voice mocked. You’re very important. What will you choose to do?

  I silenced it, determined not to answer Thane, the stupid Thinker who still believed he could control me.

  Yeah, he can’t.

  16.

  I pace as I wait. The room is all polished wood and red velvet. Where is he, already?

  My brother, only a few years older than me but with long silver hair, laughs. “Relax, Jag.”

  “I am relaxed, Pace,” comes out of my mouth in a growl.

  A door opens and there he is. Blaze. Older. Wiser.

  Shock coats my brain. “Blaze.” My feet force me to move forward, and then suddenly I’m running.

  “Little bro!” Blaze crushes me into a hug. My breath leaves my body, taking with it all my fear and pain. “Wow, you’re huge.”

  I chuckle. “And you’re not as tall as I remember.”

  “Well, you’ve grown over the past eight years. I haven’t.”

  “Sure, whatever.” I take in his dyed black hair, his square jaw, his blue robes. “What’s with the costume?”

  “I’m Assistant Counselor. Didn’t Pace tell you?”

  I glance at Pace, who swipes his hand across his face real quick. “No, he didn’t mention it.”

  Blaze places his arm around my shoulder, just like he used to when I was a kid. “Don’t worry. We’re still active in the Resistance. In fact, that’s why Pace brought you here.”
He slides me a quick look. “How about you move here?”

  The thought of living in Seaside—with Blaze—has me giddy. I try to straighten my smile and find I can’t. Pace has accepted his position in the tech rangers and feeds me regular reports. Blaze is safe in Seaside, almost a full-blown Thinker. His information will be invaluable. And my friends in the Badlands . . .

  I sigh. “I can’t. With Pace gone, I’m leading the Resistance now.”

  Blaze drops his hand and pivots to face Pace. “What? He’s twelve years old.”

  “Thirteen,” I say.

  “He can’t lead the Resistance.” Blaze folds his arms, his voice firm and parental.

  I open my mouth to tell him to go to hell, that I can do whatever I want, when Pace says, “He’s been doing fine for the past eight months.”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  Blaze faces me and squints, like he’s trying to see through me. “You’ll die if you don’t get out of that place.”

  “He’s already established a spy in the Goodgrounds,” Pace says. “The other members aren’t much older than him, Blaze. Let this go.”

  Blaze’s fists clench. He’s about to go all older brother on me. “Like Pace said, I’ve got contacts in the Goodgrounds no one else would’ve been able to get. Because of my age.”

  The fight leaves Blaze’s eyes. He puts one hand on my shoulder. “You’re thirteen.” He means more than that. He means he misses me and wants to protect me. He means he’s sorry for abandoning me after Mom and Dad died. He means he wishes it didn’t have to be this way.

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “I know.”

  Blaze studies the floor and then focuses on me. “Who’s the spy?”

  I grin. “Cool cat by the name of Zenn Bower.”

  “No!”

  Blaze’s shout didn’t wake me. Mine did.

  Meager light filtered into the tree house. My heart pounded in my chest, my ears, my mouth.

  I couldn’t get Zenn’s name out of my head. Or Jag’s voice saying it.

  Or the words “the Resistance.” Zenn never mentioned anything about any Resistance. And I didn’t think we kept secrets from each other.

  But I couldn’t e-comm Zenn—and asking Jag? No way. I was determined to keep my jaunts into his private memories filed away in the corner of my mind labeled Classified.

  A shiver shook my shoulders, as much from the cold as from the lingering weirdness of entering Jag’s mind. I rubbed my hands over my arms, trying to warm up.

  I jumped when Jag rolled in his sleep, muttering. Grateful I wasn’t living his nightmare anymore, I tucked the blanket around his shoulders.

  After he settled back to sleep, I couldn’t get a breath that wasn’t full of his scent, of Zenn’s name coming out of his mouth. I had to get out of there, so I climbed down from the tree house. I stretched, yawned—and felt the tech buzz. My mouth watered, like I’d eaten something sour. This was a new tech side effect. And the cause came from more than just a cell phone.

  I rubbed my hands over my arms, trying to decide what to do. Going toward the tech-buzz seemed suicidal. But retreating to the tree house where I’d be susceptible to Jag’s innermost thoughts wasn’t an option either. Choices, choices, I thought. I was so sick of making choices.

  I crept toward the tech, keeping close to the trunks of the trees. Daylight filtered through the forest, and I could smell the pitch from the trees, hear the scuttling of insects in the leaves, and see the dust hanging in the sunlight. My skin crawled with anticipation.

  When I finally peered around the last tree, my breath caught in my throat. The sun was just rising over the mountains. It would hit the valley last. Where the facility stood.

  The tech facility.

  My mind raced. What if my dad was down there? He surely knew of this place if he’d come here for a piece of tech. The structure looked at least seven years old.

  Only one road led to the building. One way in = one way out = easier to guard. A tall fence surrounded the property, with towers in each corner. Badlands or not, a facility like this would have guards equipped with the latest weapon-tech and dressed in various shades of beige. Heat-sensing optical-alterations would be mandatory, as would the willingness to tase before asking questions.

  Without realizing it, I’d stepped out into the open, staring, shocked. Until I heard a voice, coming from further down the tree line.

  “. . . still here, Elli. Where else would they go?”

  “Cam, look. We searched all night. We can scan for them inside.”

  I scooted behind the tree real fast when I recognized them as Baldie and the Hawk.

  “We won’t be able to,” Baldie snapped. “Jag didn’t get tagged, and Vi’s isn’t activated yet.”

  I rubbed my inactive tag, wondering what that meant. The alarm at the border had gone off, I assumed because of the tag. But if it wasn’t activated, what would’ve triggered the alarm?

  “Whose job was that?” the Hawk asked, adding her question to mine.

  “Thane wanted to do it. We didn’t know she could get out.”

  The Hawk tossed her silver hair over her shoulder and stopped walking. “Everyone should’ve known about her. She broke the tech in the bathroom. Advanced tech. And she broke it with water. Her file from the Association is very specific. How could Thane, of all people, underestimate her?”

  I leaned into the tree further, ignoring the bite of the bark against my palms. I’d always known Thane was the one in charge. Why did he want to personally do everything? Surely he had minions for that. Yeah, he had a specific purpose for me, and I wondered what juicy tidbits I’d find in my file. I didn’t even know I had one at the Association, which surely wasn’t a good thing.

  Doesn’t plug into the transmissions. Cuts and dyes her hair. Can feel tech. But her match—

  With the thought of Zenn, I wished he was here so I could ask him about the Resistance, about Thane, about everything. He always had the right answers.

  Maybe Thane needed me to get to Zenn. Maybe Thane needed me to get to Jag, to the Resistance.

  Maybe his purpose for me isn’t bad. I couldn’t believe I’d thought that all by myself, but there was no voice, no Thinker, in my head. Maybe my tag hadn’t been activated on purpose so that I could escape easier.

  With all my inner musings, I didn’t realize how close the Hawk and Baldie had moved, until I heard, “We must take our time, get them to trust us—” Baldie cut off and looked over his shoulder.

  I slinked further around the tree so they wouldn’t see me. Baldie pushed the Hawk into the trees as another voice registered in my ears.

  Jag. Calling my name.

  Stupid boy. Moving through the forest was not a silent business. I couldn’t run for it, meet Jag, and tell him to shut up already. The Hawk and Baldie hid only one tree over. I wished on a star, even though there weren’t any out. I wish they would leave. Please let them leave.

  “Come on,” Baldie said. “Now’s not the time.” He and the Hawk ran toward the edge of the hill and disappeared over the ridge.

  I thrashed through the undergrowth toward the sound of Jag’s voice. “Hey!” I hissed, coming up behind him.

  “There you are.” His eyes harbored panic. “Don’t leave like that.” He pulled me close, rubbing my back. “Well, I mean, just let me know where you’re going.”

  I pushed away from him to study his face. The fear melted away. He slid his hands under my long sleeves and rested his forehead against mine.

  “Come on, we gotta go. I’ve got some things to tell you.” I clamped my hand on his and we walked back to the tree house. I spotted a small sack of nuts lying on the floor and my stomach rumbled. “Man, I’m hungry.”

  He handed me the nuts and I tried not to inhale them. Yeah, that didn’t work. But Jag had seen me hungry before and never said anything about my disgusting eating habits.

  I told him about Baldie and the Hawk and the facility. For once in his life, he didn’t shrug. Instead he look
ed like I’d hit him with the latest stunning-tech.

  “Pace might be there,” he said, getting up and wiping his hands on his low-riding jeans. “He’s a tech ranger. Show me.”

  “Wait, there’s more.” I held out my wrist and took a deep breath. “I got tagged.”

  Jag stared at my wrist, and he didn’t breathe for a full minute. Fear shone in his eyes, then anger, then something else. Maybe regret? I hoped it was for me and not because of me.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He ran his fingers over my wrist until he felt the tiny bump. He massaged it, as if that would somehow take it out.

  I had to admit it. “I was scared.”

  He smiled sadly. “You’re wrong,” he whispered, still looking at my wrist. “I wouldn’t have left. Not because of this.”

  “I would have. Anyway, I overheard Baldie talking, and he said it hasn’t been activated yet. They’ll have to scan it with a special coding device before it’ll work. So it’s like it’s not even there.”

  “Nice.” His fingers circled my wrist in slow motion. “What else did they say?”

  “They said everyone should have known I could break those cuffs. They mentioned Thane.” I let the name hang there, an open invitation for Jag to finally tell me the truth.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he asked, “How do you know so much about tech?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like, you know they’ll need a special device to activate your tag. How?”

  I swallowed hard. “My dad invented pretty much everything They use in the Goodgrounds.” Basically, I was saying that my dad was responsible for killing Jag’s parents, raiding the Badlands, and everything else I hated about advanced technology.

  “My brother Pace does the same thing,” Jag said, and it sounded very much like a confession. He strung his fingers through mine. “Funny that you can break tech, right? I mean, your dad makes it, you break it.”

  I didn’t know what to say, and Jag’s voice had taken on that haunted quality again, the same one I’d heard back in the Fire Region when he told me about how his parents died. I felt like he was teetering on the verge of telling me about his Resistance, and I leaned forward.