by Suze Reese
“We can’t,” Mom said. “Those are harmless toy guns. I added a piece of metal that neutralizes their electro-magnetic field when sent with enough force.”
“Toys?”
“Yes,” she smiled. “Just plastic toys made on Earth. But surprisingly full of potential. Much like you.”
I turned my head so she wouldn’t see me grin. “I need to stream Dad,” I said.
“Already did. They’re both fine.”
I finally felt a wave of relief. Jesse was fine. We’d succeeded. Then I remembered that this was the easy part. “I don’t suppose I could convince you and Dad to just let Jesse walk away?”
Mom looked at me sympathetically. “I’m certain the interrogation of these three is going to uncover the secret you’re hiding for this boy.”
I sighed. No argument came to mind. Our fate was in the hands of the governing council. I leaned back on the grass and studied the group that had caused me so much trouble. They looked so casual: this little nafarian family hanging out on the lawn. “Now what?”
“Now we wait again.”
“For what?”
“For help.”
“You told the agency?”
“Don’t worry. It’s safe now.”
“But what if somebody called the police? There’s a whole school full of potential witnesses over there.”
“All phone lines within a five mile radius are currently jammed.”
“You can do that?”
“I couldn’t until the Stones went down. We just have to hope no one placed a call when they saw Everett drop.”
“You hope. You always hope.”
“Yes, I do a lot of that.” Mom grinned at me. “And it paid off today. You did great.”
Dr. Alison’s head flopped to the side. I tipped it back into position, trying to look casual. I too could only hope that Jesse was safe. That they wouldn’t hurt him. While I was relieved that we were able to stop the Stones, and whoever that mole was, I was also worried that Dr. Alison would be taken into custody and unable to protect him. Maybe if Jesse hadn’t been so insistent on being the hero…
“I’m very proud of you,” Mom said. “You did some remarkable things out here.”
I shrugged, my gaze on the road that led to home, where Jesse also waited.
“The agency has been studying you,” Mom continued.
“Me?”
“You and Geery, actually. And your over-world communication.”
I turned to Mom, processing the statement. “Why?”
“Well, it’s remarkable. The way you can just stream with Geery as if she were still living next door. When you streamed with Dad…and then Geery streamed with me…” She shook her head incredulously.
“You mean…you can’t do that?”
“Oh, no. Communication to Nreim has to go through a special electromagnetic channel at headquarters. It requires the combined energy of multiple agents just to be operational.”
“I had no idea. So is that how you knew I could do that trick with Everett’s voice?”
Mom nodded. “And throw a tunnel from your hands without training, to propel the charge from the gun.”
“But why?”
“The most plausible theory is a renewed ability in the quasar-force.”
“But quasar-force are the weakest—”
“Many generations ago,” Mom interrupted me, “quasars were the most powerful of forces. But just like the actual quasars, their energy fields can fluctuate with time. The theory is that there’s been a surge of energy with your generation. Since real quasars send out bursts of electromagnetic energy that can travel long distances, it makes perfect sense for you to develop this ability.”
“Have you known about this all along?” I asked. “That I’d be able to do this. Did Keddil know?”
Mom looked at me the way only a mom can—with sympathy and love and pity all wrapped into one. “It’s just been a theory. Keddil didn’t exactly believe in it. But your aptitude tests showed that you might be especially adept at manipulating magnetic streams. There are many people involved in this project who have been hoping the tests were accurate.” She leaned back on her elbows and put her face to the sun. “I’m guessing this Everett is a quasar-force as well. The ability to easily communicate overworld would be huge for the Stones.”
Everett’s body convulsed, then started to rise, as if the sound of his name had awakened him. I scooted back. Mom lifted him enough to view the circular metal charge adhering to his chest. She focused on it until it began to spark. Everett quivered, then slumped back onto the grass.
I resumed my vigil of looking up the road, somehow hoping to see Dad and Jesse walking our way. The idea that I might actually be powerful—more powerful than most, even—was a lot to absorb. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. But right now I wasn’t prepared to give it much thought. There would be time for questions after I knew Jesse was safe.
Moments later an ambulance siren called. I sat tall, watching as it pulled into the parking lot and stopped at the curb nearest us. It had a decal on the door that read City of Los Robles Emergency Response Team. I glanced anxiously at Mom, who was casually running her fingers through Dr. Tom’s hair. Two uniformed men approached on foot—possibly the result of a 9-1-1 call. I wondered how Mom was going to talk her way out of this one. Mind control again? Shielding my eyes from the sun, I realized that both men were handsome: with perfectly symmetrical features, brown hair, and brown eyes.
“Bob! John!” Mom called with a smile. “So good to see you!”
I was relieved. But only momentarily. Neither Bob nor John responded. They stepped close to the circle—one stood by Everett’s shoulders, the other by his feet. They hefted him and walked to the ambulance. Mom’s eyes changed focus, streaming with someone. Bob and John returned and picked up Dr. Tom in the same manner. Moving quickly, they tossed Dr. Tom into the ambulance on top of Everett.
Mom was suddenly angry…then nervous. And not bothering to hide it from me.
I shifted anxiously under Dr. Alison’s weight.
“Mira…” she said, but then clamped her mouth closed.
The emergency workers were back for Dr. Alison.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
One of the agents snatched me by the arm and hurried with me to the ambulance. The other had climbed into the back with the pile of unconscious bodies.
Mom watched anxiously from the curb as the ambulance pulled away with its lights and siren blaring. Seconds later, I saw Mom’s Saab reflected in the rear-view mirror.
I tried to open another stream but couldn’t even form a tunnel. Hoping it was just my nerves, I tried again. And again. The cars in front of us pulled to the side of the road, clearing a path for the speeding ambulance. It veered onto a freeway onramp—in the opposite direction of home…and Jesse.
Mom’s car stayed close behind.
Mom! I called out silently. But without a tunnel, the words went nowhere.
I stole my gaze away from the mirror to my captor. “Where are we going?” I demanded. He didn’t appear to hear. Panic bubbled upward from my stomach, threatening to rob me of all self-control. But I reminded myself that I wasn’t the same frightened girl who had arrived on the planet a month ago, ready to fall apart when someone so much as looked at me the wrong way. I steadied my breathing and swallowed, ignoring the blur of vehicles, billboard signs, and palm trees outside the window of the speeding vehicle. “So are you Bob or John?” I asked.
His face remained as blank as his emotional scent.
I continued, my voice quivering slightly. “Not too talkative, huh? That’s okay. I understand. It hap
pens.” A bead of sweat traveled down my forehead. “I’m guessing Bob. The name suits you.”
I didn’t expect a response. And wasn’t disappointed.
But I did feel my confidence mounting. “Am I right? Yeah? I’m pretty good at that kind of thing.” I wiped my sweaty hands on my thighs. “Bob’s a great name you know. There’s a long line of them. You have Bob Denver, Bob Newhart, Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, Sideshow Bob, Bob the Builder, Bob the Tomato.” I thought maybe I’d get a smirk out of him, but there was still nothing. “Oh, and there’s always Bill Murray in ‘What about Bob?’ Did you ever see that? You should you know. It’s a classic. But I don’t suppose you have much time for Earth media. What with all the running around chasing bad guys. And those dangerous teenage girls.”
The ambulance swerved into the lane to enter highway I-5, and I knew exactly where they were going. I continued the mindless jabber, ignoring the blare of the siren, the cars parting in front of us. Eventually the ambulance parked in the same spot our moving van had occupied on the day of our arrival: behind a hangar at the Van Nuys Airport that served as agency headquarters.
A team of agents rushed towards us, all dressed in conservative business suits. Most ran to the back of the ambulance, but two came to my door.
Mom’s stream arrived the moment the door opened.
A female agent grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the vehicle.
The fear in her voice did nothing to calm my nerves. The second agent grabbed my other arm. Both hurried with me towards the building. I tried to turn around to find Mom but their grip was too tight. There wasn’t any point in trying to resist them, since apparently even Mom couldn’t stop this.
The central part of the building was a large open space that housed what looked like a small Earth airplane. The plane was actually a cloaked transport. The one scheduled to take me home tomorrow. Doors lined the back wall of the massive room. The two agents rushed me towards the nearest one. Just before being shoved inside I caught sight of a group of four agents moving just as quickly towards a door at the far end. In the center of the group was a boy with black hair. I couldn’t see his face, but there was only one person it could be.
I pounded on it, screaming Jesse’s name. The tears I’d been holding back spilled onto my cheeks. A door nearby opened, then slammed shut. Two more followed. I suspected the Stone family had been given the same luxury accommodations as these. I pounded and bellowed until my fists ached from the repetitive force. I rubbed them and turned to face the room, my throat parched and sore.
There were only two items in the windowless room—a cot with an item of folded clothing on top. There was a small hole in the floor of one corner, which I suspected was supposed to be used as a toilet. With the room shielded, I wouldn’t even be able to stop them from watching me when I used it. I unfolded the clothing—a gray one-piece jumpsuit—and tossed it under the cot.
I sat on the cot, pulled my knees to my chest, hugging them, and let tears fall. Mom had promised to get me out, which meant that my release wasn’t a sure thing—my fate still open to committee. Jesse’s was even less clear.
At some point a plate of food was slid under the door—a colorful selection of vegetables and seeds—along with a bag of water. I hadn’t even noticed the sliding partition—only about three inches tall—at the bottom of the heavy door. The sound of four more partitions opening and closing followed.
I slid to the cold concrete floor and splayed myself to get as low to the ground as possible. I lifted the partition and tried to lob a stream through the small hole. Nothing. I stayed in that position while picking at the seed meal, until I began to shiver and had to return to the hard cot.
The next meal came after a long rest that I assumed was night, though I didn’t sleep through any of it. This time, minutes after I’d finished the meager meal, the door swung open. A team of agents stood outside. I tried to scoot back on my cot but was compelled by a force I couldn’t control to lie flat with my arms and legs spread wide. Only my eyes were able to move as they entered. Six in all. Mom was not among them. I did recognize Bob from the ambulance standing at my feet.
With their combined energy focused on me, I was powerless to stop the group of men and women from stripping off my shorts, then my shirt, and my underwear. They even cut off Geery’s bracelet. Four of them lifted me from the table while two others pulled on the gray jumpsuit. Somehow I was certain that Keddil was watching from somewhere, finally getting that laugh I’d imagined so many times. I could have sworn I caught a glimmer of guilt on Bob’s stoic face.
Next, I was subject to my first—and what I hoped would be my only—complete brain scan. I remained pinned to the cot while the agents pulled out memory after vivid memory.
It felt immoral to have my precious moments with Jesse pried open like that—made part of some vile official report: our perfect day at the beach, our first kiss in the gym, when we streamed under the tree. I grieved at being the one to ultimately betray Jesse. But I didn’t even have the ability to cry. Even Geery’s lies and Mom’s fondness for chocolate became part of the record.
I remained motionless after the group left, even though I was no longer being compelled to stay still. The Stones had to know I could be subject to this type of scan. They must have planned to use their connections to have me eliminated before it ever got that far. Probably with a swift trial and execution, controlled and manipulated by whoever was their government source.
I should be grateful to be alive. But would have welcomed death over this.
The tears did finally come. Lying motionless on my back, I stared at the white ceiling, letting them flow onto the sheets of the hard cot. After a time I pretended to lob my communication tunnel. Willing it to reach Jesse. But the room’s shield was too strong to even get one started.
At some point during the eternal day a loud blast sounded, like an engine starting. I sat up, alert. The roaring intensified and curiosity drove me to the door. Once again I sprawled flat on my belly and pushed my fingers under the shallow partition. I had to put my cheek to the icy concrete floor, but it lifted enough for me to see airplane wheels rolling away. I remained still, watching the pretend plane leave the hangar, and wondered who was inside it. Just for good measure, I tried—and failed—a second time to lob a stream tunnel through the small partition.
A clue to the passenger list on the plane came when my plate of food arrived some time later, followed by the sound of just one more distant partition sliding open. Apparently the Stones were on their way home. The thought gave me a chill. Why would the agency leave me behind? What were they planning to do with me? And most importantly, what did they plan to do with Jesse? That is, assuming he was the one left behind.
I returned to my cot and began to wonder what the students at school thought, with me and Jesse and Everett and the Stones all disappearing at the same time. What about Lacey and the other girls? Or Jesse’s parents? Even Everett’s parents were innocent victims. What did they think of all this? Did they think they’d been kidnapped? Were they frantic with worry? What was the Earth media making of this? Would Lacey believe any of it?
In the next eternal stretch of boredom, through the night and into the next day, my thoughts and imagination flowed from one worry to another. I pictured Jesse in a room like this one and wondered what his fate would be; I wondered why they had chosen to leave me in this room; and I thought up stories about what the agency might have told the human witnesses. A terrorist attack? Mass influenza? Kidnapping? The stories in my head became increasingly wild. But none of them included an explanation that would console the worrie
d parents.
At some point I dozed momentarily and saw Keddil in my tormented dreams. He shook his head with disappointment, his voice repeating over and over…I told you…no males…no males….
I had lost all sense of time when I was awakened by the next disturbance. Some distance away was a shuffling of feet. My lids popped open. A door opened and closed. More shuffling, and a door opened again, this time it didn’t close. I could hardly breathe as I waited for the next meal. Finally, my partition opened. A plate slid in. Followed by silence. I waited. Willing another partition to open at the other end of the building. But it never came.
I told myself that they’d wiped Jesse’s brain clean and sent him home. Which, I also told myself, was wonderful news. His parents would be so relieved. And he could resume a normal life. Assuming they hadn’t caused brain damage. I curled up on my cot and put my face to the wall, trying to sense him. Which would probably be impossible even without the shield. Not if he couldn’t even remember my name.
Most importantly, I tried to stay in denial about the other possibility. The one with the most likelihood. Eliminated. Such a sterile word to describe a murder. All for the good of both races, they’d say.
I pulled up the one undefiled memory I still had of the two of us, since the government had no interest in edited memories: me and Jesse holding tight to one another in our fancy dress clothes with flickers of light tumbling across our faces. I focused on Jesse’s face—and the intense way he looked at me—while I played Jesse’s song in an endless loop. Eventually I changed the memory again to carry us through the gym doors to the open sky, where there was no more hiding and no one cared that we were in love.
I stayed in place, curled up on the hard cot with my face to the wall, holding tight to the memory, and trying not to grieve. To admit that I should. I lost track of the number of times that the partition opened, exchanging one full plate of food with another.
I was in the same position, trying not to mourn, when the door opened once again.
