Two

by LeighAnn Kopans

  Plus, I feel like I got run over by a truck.

  I tug what’s left of my sweatshirt sleeves — thick on the inside, where they were pressed against Merrin, thin almost to the point of translucence on the outside — back over my arms, swipe the water away from my face with my forearm, readjust my frames, and head back out to the hallway.

  Both Ana and Merrin wait for me outside. The halls in this place are wide and minimalist-empty, designed with light colors that reflect the sun from the skylights above and make the whole place look bigger.

  But good lighting isn’t enough to make me trust any Hub. As Merrin trots behind Ana, I stride beside her and instinctively fold her hand into mine.

  Ana leads us into a small room that contains a table and four chairs. She motions for us to take a seat and pulls two thin computer tablets out of the binder, along with two styluses. She places them in front.

  “We don’t have very many visitors, and those we do have are expected. Someone from the Biotech Hub announcing they’re seeking asylum…well… It’s unusual. That’s why we want you to write down the whole story. Exactly what brought you here. Just so we have a record of your arrival, okay?”

  Before either Merrin or I can say anything, she’s left and shut the door. The strong, telltale click a split-second later is the giveaway, but I want to test it anyway, so I get up and push down on the handle. It doesn’t budge.

  “Locked in. Why?” Merrin’s eyes go wide for a brief second, mirroring the panic I’m starting to feel, but she quickly focuses on the tablet.

  For now, the only thing I can do is the same. I settle into another chair, resigned for the moment. The blank tablet stares up at me, as if mocking my cluelessness. Where do I start? A few days ago, when my parents walked me into the Hub for “some routine tests,” and I woke up strapped to a table, being pumped full of serums and formulas that felt like fire and ice ripping through my body?

  When we discovered Merrin’s parents had known about her transference, the rare factor that allows our Ones to combine, since she was born? Before that, when I met Merrin and discovered that, even though I’d only been able to lamely push air away from my body my whole life, when I was with her I felt like I could do anything — even fly? Or a couple weeks later, when I finally touched her and we did fly?

  When I was thirteen and realized I would never be more than a One?

  When I was a little kid, spending weekends at the Hub that I mercifully don’t remember?

  When I was born?

  I glance over at Merrin’s tablet, and her screen is already half-full. Apparently, she’s starting at birth.

  Those are the cold, hard facts. Inescapable and sometimes barbaric. So how can Merrin stand to write them without a second thought? With enthusiasm even?

  Maybe it’ll help if I face the facts, too. Maybe reliving the past will help me let go of it so that we can have a future, somewhere away from pristine Hub offices and intake forms.

  “Are you telling them everything?”

  She shrugs. “Why not? They’ll figure it out anyway. And maybe they can help us. I know it’s not Biotech, but…”

  I can hear it in the way her voice softens, in the way she’s a little breathless between sentences: the hopefulness she always got when she talked about the Hub internship back home. My stomach sinks, but I turn to my tablet and do a quick summary of everything that happened. Just because Merrin’s writing a novel doesn’t mean that I have to.

  I set my stylus down in just a couple minutes, but Merrin’s still scribbling. The room is stark-white and cold, and memories start hammering at me. I take a shaky breath just as she finally drops her stylus and leans forward.

  She looks into my eyes, and hers are wide and watchful. “You okay? You don’t look so good.”

  I shrug, trying to shake off the panic crawling around my shoulders. My thoughts swish around in my head like river rapids, foaming with worry. Are my sisters okay? What happened to the Hub, and what happened to Fisk after he tried to kill us? Do the people at this Hub really know what’s best, and can they even help us at all? What’s going to happen next? What decisions will Merrin and I make from here? Will we make them together?

  I want to scoop Merrin up in my arms — just hold her, be wrapped up in her so that the two of us can make up our own universe and not worry about anything on the outside.

  We had that for a little while when we spent the afternoons barreling through the Nebraska skies. We were carefree kids then. I want that feeling back.

  I almost get it when Merrin reaches up, cups my jaw in her hand, strokes her thumb across my cheek, and stretches her face up to mine. Just one kiss from her puts my whole body on edge, and I touch the back of her elbow to ground myself. Suddenly, I’m insanely, inappropriately focused on the fact that we’re alone in this room together.

  Another click from the door. Merrin jerks away, and I’m jolted back to reality. We were alone, but apparently, someone was watching. I don’t know why I didn’t expect that. I should have learned by now that someone’s always watching at a Hub.

  A woman — just a bit taller than Merrin, with dark hair pulled back off her face and round, smiling cheeks — walks in. I’m not fooled. These days, I’m not really trusting anyone who smiles.

  “Some very interesting information you two provided us. Especially you, Miss Grey.” Her words sound slightly combative, but her smile and the way she holds herself, shoulders relaxed and open, is inviting.

  “You’ve already read it.” Merrin’s voice is resigned.

  The woman chuckles. “Yes, it’s all connected to the mainframe. Real-time data entry.” She steps forward, extending her hand to Merrin, who shakes it. Instinct pulls me to stand to shake hands with her next, and Merrin stands beside me.

  “I’m President Eisenhardt,” the woman says with another smile.

  “President Eisenhardt? Our statements must have been really interesting.” I can’t keep the suspicion out of my voice, and it pulls plenty of tension into the room with it. President Eisenhardt’s smile falters, and her lips gap, as though nothing she’s ever said has been taken less than kindly.

  “Well, obviously, we’re looking for some help,” Merrin says, breaking the silence.

  “Yes. It’s quite unusual for minors to enter this Hub unattended.” She peers over her glasses, looking up at me, then down at Merrin.

  “It should be obvious from our statements why we did that,” Merrin says. “Besides, I’ll be seventeen this summer, and he’ll be eighteen a few months later. With all we’ve been through, we’re close enough to adulthood to make our own decisions, I think.” She squares her shoulders, puffing up like a cobra, daring Eisenhardt to argue with her.

  The president’s eyebrow flicks up. “It’s obvious you’re in need of help, and of course, we can offer it.” Eisenhardt waves her hand toward the table, splaying her fingers out, and the metal styluses fly up to her hand like it’s a magnet. Merrin sucks in a breath, her pleasure at seeing another’s Super evident on her face. Hell, even I’m impressed.

  “Walk with me?” The president pulls the door open and motions us both out to the hall. Merrin reaches her hand down to grab mine, and I follow. Eisenhardt moves at a fast clip, chattering the whole way. “The Social Welfare Hub was the second Hub founded in the wake of the Uranium Wars, as I’m sure you learned in school.” Merrin’s brow furrows and she shakes her head slightly, and I try to keep a straight face. We didn’t learn much about the other Hubs, only that they existed, that they were something we didn’t need to worry about. They did their job, and we did ours.

  “Uh, no, ma’am,” I say. “But I came from a school for Normals — uh…the general population.”

  “Ah,” she says, glancing back. “I didn’t gather that from your reports. Very interesting. At any rate, after the Biotech Hub was established to conduct continuing discovery into the particular intricacies of Gifted abilities and to address any issues that may arise from living with those abilities,
other Supers decided to use their powers for the good of society. All society. That’s when the Social Welfare Hub was established.” She looks back with a tight smile. “We gathered from your statement that you’re looking for someplace to rest for a while.”

  I don’t get a good vibe from this lady, but I won’t deny that a safe place to stay and some new clothes would be great.

  “We run a small year-round residential student program here for families who wish for their children learn at this Hub but are at too great of a distance to commute daily. Several students around your age are currently in attendance.”

  “So, wait,” Merrin says. “There’s a school inside this Hub? Like a boarding school?”

  The president smiles. “Yes, for the best and brightest, those Gifted individuals we hope will be integral to the core Social Welfare Hub structure when they are adults.” She stops before a door and presses her hand to a black scanner like the ones on my house. The most basic of security systems. Damn, these people are trusting.

  “Welcome, President Eisenhardt,” the halting security voice croaks, and we pass into what looks like a completely different building. Shining hardwood floors with islands of thick area rugs stretch in every direction, and to the right, there’s a living room with huge tan couches, a holoscreen with an old movie softly playing, and a bowl of snacks in the middle of a huge coffee table. Across the hall is a kitchen with an industrial stovetop and long marble counters. They’ve basically dropped a suburban house into this wing of the Hub.

  I should relax at seeing this, but something still feels so off about a Hub being this kind to two unknown kids.

  “So we can just…stay here? You don’t know anything about us.” I know it’s rude to ask a question so bluntly, but I can’t help myself. My instinct to protect myself — and Merrin and our secret — is still in hyperdrive.

  President Eisenhardt smiles. “I can see that nothing gets past you two. I guess I shouldn’t expect it to. As you said, you’re not children, and considering your situation…”

  Both Merrin and I raise our eyebrows at her.

  She continues. “As soon as you two left the Biotech Hub, a universal mobilecomm went out. Every single cuff and holoscreen in the country knows what you look like and knows that the Biotech Hub wants you.” She sighs. “They’ve announced a reward for returning you to them. Everyone’s looking for you.”

  THREE

  I take a deep breath, crush down the panic that starts to rise again. As freaked out as it makes me to think of my face and Merrin’s splashed across every holo and cuff in the country, I do know that losing my cool won’t help anyone.

  “So why aren’t you turning us in?” I ask.

  “It’s not an arrest warrant,” she says, chuckling. When Merrin and I just stare at her, she clears her throat. “But coming from the Biotech Hub, it is…more serious, in a way. You two have been in Nebraska your whole life? Never been away from that Hub?”

  “That’s right,” Merrin says.

  President Eisenhardt motions to the couches, and we sit. The warm fabric and soft surface are heaven. I can almost feel my bones creaking as they settle into it. Merrin sits close enough for her side to press against mine, and even though I want to hear what Eisenhardt has to say, I could close my eyes and forget about everything else right now. Merrin leans forward, putting her elbows on her knees, and watches the president expectantly.

  The President sits in a straight-backed chair facing the couch, staring at us like you would look at a cat who brought a dead mouse home. A little annoyed, a little flattered, but mostly just wanting to get the dead mouse out of your sight.

  “I’ll give you a short history lesson on the Social Welfare Hub, since you don’t seem to know very much about us aside from our existence and basic location.”

  “We knew enough to get here,” Merrin says, her eyes flicking to me. I can tell she doesn’t like her lack of knowledge about the other Hub, is beating herself up for not ever thinking to learn more.

  “Exactly.” President Eisenhardt smiles that same tight smile again. “After the post-Uranium War camps were closed, the Gifted population in the United States decided it needed to organize itself. If they couldn’t count on protection and help from the United States government, they were going to have to put structures in place themselves. They needed a Biotech Hub immediately, of course — an organization dedicated to helping the Gifted live more normal lives — and they needed a central lab so they could pool their skills and begin work. They built a facility where land would be cheapest and security would be easiest: Nebraska. Social Welfare was the next Hub to be built, and for decades, that’s all there was. We took care of our own — Gifteds struggling with everything from a lack of acceptable housing to job discrimination — and slowly, we began to take care of others as well.”

  Merrin’s lips twitch up.

  “In those days,” Eisenhardt continues, “all four Hubs met in a biannual conference to make plans and share our knowledge. As the government slowly began to trust Gifted individuals more, they also began to do business with us. The Social Welfare Hub was reluctant to begin contracting official U.S. government services, but the Biotech Hub had no such reservations. It was fair; they needed to support their research somehow and were far less attractive to independent donors than we were.

  “But just a few years later, other Gifteds became entrepreneurial. In the face of discrimination against us, which had only grown, it was harder and harder to make a living. Before we knew it, a Weaponry Hub had sprung up down in the South, and a few years after that, the Clandestine Services Hub had been established right near the Central Intelligence Agency headquarters in Langley.”

  President Eisenhardt goes silent, and after two seconds, Merrin sits up straighter and says, “So?”

  “To make a long story short, the closer the monetary relationships between the Hubs and the United States government became, the less communication the Hubs had with each other. Our annual conferences still occur, but now, there is almost no collaboration involved. It’s mostly carefully guarded fact-sharing.”

  “What does that have to do with us?” I ask, my skin erupting in goosebumps. I tried to place Merrin and myself and a universal mobilecomm all into the giant picture of Hub interactions.

  “The Biotech Hub hasn’t really shared any new advancements with us for the last fifteen years.”

  “Fifteen years?” Merrin stutters.

  “That’s right. Just a few years after you two were born. Zero communications. No announcements of new discoveries, no solicitations for any of our experts to join them, no press releases. Nothing. So the fact that President Fisk’s office announced your…departure — and that they are looking for you — well, we need to be very careful. We have to decide if we need to be cautious of you two or protect you. Or both.”

  Shit. I guess we need to decide which of those things we want, too.

  I can see the alarm in Merrin’s face when she picks up on those words. The comfort at knowing we’re on the same wavelength rushes through my body and down my arm, and I squeeze her hand.

  She yawns, making a show of stretching her back and closing her eyes. “Thank you, President Eisenhardt. Really, we appreciate it so much. Is it possible just to rest for the night? To get our bearings?”

  Merrin is trying to get rid of her.

  “I know you must be exhausted, but we will still need to do a formal debriefing with you two.”

  “Those statements we wrote weren’t enough?” Merrin asks.

  “We’re no Clandestine Services Hub — we’re fairly relaxed as intake goes — but no, I’m afraid it wasn’t. We’ll want to do a bio workup on the two of you and help you with any medical attention you may need, at the very least.”

  I bristle at that. The refrain sounds like a skipping record in my head: No needles. No blood.

  “But in the meantime,” Eisenhardt adds, “we’ll find you a place where you can rest and wash up.”

 
“Thank you,” I say. I should be grateful that she’s going to leave us alone, let us get settled and process that information. I should be happy that we’ll have a safe place to stay. As much as I would hate to be interrogated and securely contained right now, I’m having trouble believing that any Hub feels carefree enough to let two kids who might pose a huge risk into their vast residential facility. The president walks us back to the rear of the wing, where two large rooms full of bunk beds, probably about twenty in each, stretch back from the doorways.

  “On the right, boys; on the left, girls. I promise it’s comfortable. Bathrooms are in the back. Most of the students are at breakfast, and then they’ll have classes. The only time the doors between these rooms close is at night, so…” She glances down at our clasped hands, and instinctively, I drop Merrin’s. Merrin frowns.

  “Get settled in, and I’ll see if I can round someone up to bring you food.” She smiles that half-smile again as she turns to leave, and I immediately reach for Merrin’s hand again. After a few steps, she turns back, and her eyes sweep down over our bodies. “As far as clothing goes, all we have are some Hub regulation suits for the practice arena. Rather plain, I’m afraid, but it will do until we can get you something else. You’ll find everything hanging in the closets.”

  Merrin and I watch her stride down the wood-floored hallway and out the door. Then Merrin looks up at me. “I want to wash my face and put on some new clothes.”

  “Okay,” I say, loosening my fingers on hers and figuring I’ll head to the guys’ quarters and do the same.

  But she doesn’t drop my hand. Instead, she squeezes, her nails biting into the skin at the back of my hand. “But I want you. I mean…I don’t want to leave you. I mean…let’s make it quick, okay? Meet me back here in five.”

  I swallow, hard, when she says those words, but all I can say is, “Okay.”