The Reverians Series Boxed Set

by Sarah Noffke

  He scratches his head, looking muddled and then recovers with a laugh. “That’s cute, Emmy, you almost sound convincing. Not quite though. Work on it.” He pauses at a door. “Your first patient is here. You have two minutes. I’ll be in with the doc in Prep. You know the drill.”

  “Two minutes? Really? Can’t you give me a few minutes more to allow this kid to make a major life decision?”

  “Hmmmm…” he says, seeming to think on it. “No, I can’t.”

  “Thanks, Unc,” I say, opening the OR door.

  ***

  When I left Parker’s house, after Rogue’s death, I went straight to Ren’s apartment. It was then that I convinced him we were going to have to work together. It took most of the night.

  “I don’t like working with others,” Ren said when I barged into his apartment that night and demanded we team together to stop Vider. He tied his arms across his chest, like a bratty little kid would. “Other people have opinions and preferences and their own wrong ways of doing things. It’s dreadfully irritating. I’m more of a lone pilot. If something happens to me I’m fine with the plane going down.”

  I was emotionally exhausted after my last few moments with Rogue, but adrenaline was pulsing in my blood then. “Well, I’m on that plane and I’m not okay with it,” I told him.

  “Well then go fly commercial,” Ren said with a sniveling grin. I wanted to slap him, but my restraint was still in place.

  “Look, I need your help. Tonight we destroyed most of the cerevitium and…” I gulped on the tears plaguing my throat. Pushed them down to the bottom of my being. “And also Rogue is dead.”

  Ren stared at me, his eyes narrowed a bit and his mouth twitched. “You must be exhausted,” he said. “There’s a hell of a lot of cerevitium in the warehouse.”

  “I am,” I told him with a raw sigh.

  “Well, you can’t sleep here if that’s what you’re hinting at,” he said, his British accented words always lacking any sensitivity. “But I think I might entertain this working together idea you have.”

  I flipped my head up in surprise.

  There was something new playing across Ren’s face. It almost looked like empathy but then he covered it up with a loud yawn. “Well, get on with it, would you?”

  And so a plan was born, and good thing because we had no idea that Vider would start conversions the next day. We weren’t completely ready and I’m sorry to say the first half batch of Defects were converted before we had everything in place, but we quickly made up for our losses. The converting department can handle ten Defect-to-Middling operations a day. That day five Defects were converted before we implemented the plan. However, since then none have been converted blindly. Only fifty Defects have elected to be converted after learning the truth. Unfortunately, there will always be a segment of the population who blindly follow, even after overwhelming evidence is presented to them. Fortunately, they aren’t the majority. In ninety days we’ve saved eight hundred and forty-five kids from having their gods-given dream travel ability severed. Now there’s one hundred left, although there will always be more since Vider continues to put more Defects on the list.

  To my astonishment Ren listened without interrupting as I explained the many different projects I had in my head. Rogue had only died an hour before but all my focus was spinning around what I had to accomplish to defeat Vider.

  “Here’s where I can help,” Ren had said when I was done. He stood from his armchair and started to pace. “The Conversion department.” He stopped and regarded me with a triumphant look like I should already be applauding. When I didn’t he gave me an offended look and continued pacing. “There’s two doctors in that department who do the surgeries. The President has assigned me to that department to conduct an evaluation of Defects after conversion. This is to ensure the surgery worked and they have no ability to dream travel or any gift of any sort.”

  “Of course he would do that,” I said with a sigh.

  “Since there’s only two doctors I should be able to capture their attention before each conversion,” Ren said.

  “How can you do that?”

  “I’m hypnotic with my ability to distract,” he said with a wink.

  I had heard via Nona that she witnessed Ren put an annoying Defect into an almost comatose state by swinging a necklace with a trinket back and forth and saying suggestive phrases. Nona had escaped the hypnosis only because I’d warned her of our uncle’s skill.

  “So I distract while you give the Defect a choice. If they take it then we fake the surgery, wrapping up their head with bandages and making the OR look used. And,” he said, drawing out the word because my face had arranged into a skeptical glare, “I will use this.” He then brandished a small silver box from the drawer of his new coffee table. It appeared Ren was finally starting to get furniture. Maybe that meant he planned on sticking around. “I’ll use it on the doctors to implant the memory of them performing the surgery on the patient.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, studying the box that sat in the palm of his hand.

  He sighed, looking a bit deflated. “It’s a modifier. God, you really know nothing.”

  “That’s the modifier?” I’d heard my father talk about it. Vider used it in special cases to apparently help his people. It can implant or erase memories. Who knows how and why Vider actually used this incredible technology. “Did you steal that from Vider?”

  “Hell no,” Ren said, giving me another look of offense. “This one is on loan to me and I can guarantee that it works one hundred times better than the crappy one the President has.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “Because I’m a genius. Will that answer suffice?”

  I regarded him with a skeptical stare.

  “Oh, all right,” Ren said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I did steal the President’s modifier but only to have it compared to this one. His version only works on people who consent to having it used on them and it’s not as effective as this one. Otherwise if the Pres had this,” Ren said, holding up the brushed stainless steel box, “don’t you think he’d have even you under his control?”

  I gave a slow, mortified nod. Vider had threatened to use the modifier on me before, but I realized now that was an empty threat.

  “This little life destroyer,” Ren said, tossing the box in the air and catching it, “with the exception of people who have gifts of mind control, such as the President, it can work on most anyone, no matter whether they consent or not.”

  A shiver ran down my spine. “It sounds awful. Too powerful.”

  “It is,” he agreed with a sneer. “But sometimes it’s necessary to employ weapons, even ones I loathe, and now is one of those times, luv.”

  “So with the modifier you’ll implant the memory into the doctor’s head of doing the surgery?”

  “Exactly,” Ren said, growing tired. “Now, if you are convincing enough to the Defects, then I’ll have to modify these doctors’ memories hundreds of times.”

  “So?”

  “So that much modifying will probably turn their brains to mush with time.”

  A defeated sigh fell out of my mouth. “Well then, we can’t do it.”

  “Em, I want to appreciate that you have this ‘no man left behind and no innocent people hurt’ mindset, but be realistic. There’s casualties in every war.”

  “But—”

  “These doctors have consented to cut away Dream Travelers’ abilities,” Ren said, interrupting me. “Dr. Parker didn’t know what he was doing. The doctors in the withdrawal labs think they are taking spinal fluid from Middling infants for testing purposes to help the babies. They don’t know it’s synthesized into cerevitium. But these two doctors in the conversion labs know exactly what they’re doing. And even if they are somewhat brainwashed, they have to be pretty soulless to do that to their own race, don’t you think?”

  I chewed on my lip, knowing what I needed to say but unable to voice it.
Finally the word broke out of my mouth. “Fine.”

  ***

  After two minutes I exit the room, leaving the Defect to bandage his overwhelmed head. He’s jaded, just like all the rest after learning the truth. But he’ll remain a Dream Traveler as the gods intended him to be and soon he will receive his gift, once his last injection of cerevitium wears off. I stroll by the door, where Ren sits with the doctor “keeping his attention.” I knock twice and then keep walking. One knock means I had failed. Two knocks means I’ve succeeded. I turn around at the corner in time to see the flash of bright light spray out around the edges of the door. This is a result of the modifier in use. Another memory has been implanted in the heartless doctor’s head. One down for the day, nine to go.

  Chapter Six

  All ten of the Defects I confronted consented to keeping the secret and therefore their dream travel abilities. They are all considered Middlings now and must act as robots, displaying no outward emotion, which is what the conversion surgery does to the ones who actually have it done. But all of these kids have been transferred to an apartment building, where they will live together and hence have a secret community amongst themselves. They will know each other’s secrets and can confide in one another as they perform their Middling day-to-day jobs.

  “You look like the gods have all but zapped you of the will to live,” Nona says to me when I throw myself down on Zack’s couch. I jogged straight here after the long day at the conversion labs, knowing I was late for my meeting with Nona.

  “I do fear that the gods are trying to kill me,” I say, allowing my eyes to close for a half beat.

  “But you’re Morta, so find a way to retaliate on them,” Nona says with a giggle, scooting over on the couch so she’s right next to me. “Didn’t you say that in that old book it proclaims that even the gods were afraid of the sisterhood we were named after?”

  I nod. “The Parcae.”

  “Well, then threaten them until they give you a break.”

  “I don’t think they’re the ones causing me so much stress,” I say, leaning my heavy head on my little sister’s shoulder. “I think it’s a middle-aged-tyrant who has the senses of a werewolf and the heart of a Nazi.”

  “There were a lot of words in that sentence that they don’t teach us at school,” Nona says with another giggle.

  “There’s a lot they don’t teach Reverians in school. One day when you can dream travel freely I’ll show you things that will challenge the framework of your mind,” I say, thinking of when Rogue took me to the Library of Congress one night while dream traveling and urged me to just “browse.” It was after that long night of reading passages out of hundreds of books that I understood why Vider restricted our library collections so much. Books are full of words and they are the most influential tools in the world. These seemingly innocent things strung together by letters have the power to ignite ideas, to spark a dying motivation, to fuel a passion. Words in essence can breathe life and they can take it. They’re the instruments by which humanity survives, evolves, or destroys itself. Take away our words and humans are disempowered. We are shells when we don’t know what the words of others can teach us. We are exactly who Vider intended all along, moldable.

  “Can we talk about the subliminal destruction project, or is that going to throw your brain into overdrive?” Nona asks.

  I pull myself upright and take a long inhale, which turns into a yawn. “I’m good and I’m curious to know where you are with the project.” Vider’s arsenal of controls involves implanting certain messages in the minds of Reverians, both Middling and Dream Travelers, using subliminal messages. Finding all the places he’s placed them is Nona’s job. Destroying them is mine.

  She digs into the backpack at her feet and pulls out a notebook. With a proud smile she tosses it at me. Due to my poor reflexes it lands with its pages splayed out on the floor.

  “Whoa,” Nona says, kneeling to retrieve the papers. “You’re not doing so hot.”

  “I haven’t slept in a couple of days,” I say, taking the notebook from her.

  “Have you eaten?”

  “I’m fine,” I say, avoiding the question. “I could use some water.”

  “Coming right up,” she says, popping up from the sofa and dashing off to the kitchen.

  I leaf through the notebook and immediately my heart plummets. Nona bounds back through the kitchen door a few seconds later, carrying a glass of water in her hands. She freezes when she sees my face, her bright smile dropping as well.

  “Nona, there’s hundreds of locations of subliminal messages. How am I supposed to destroy or replace them all?” I ask.

  She sets the glass on the table and waves off my frustration. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out. Maybe we only take out the major sources of brainwashing.”

  “But I just can’t even fathom—”

  Nona holds up her hand. “First things first, before we get to that,” she says, trying and failing to cover up the sneaking grin on her freckled face. “Do you want your water cool, cold, or freezing?”

  A tired smile forms on my face. “I’d like it to be a chilly forty degrees.”

  She nods with enthusiasm. “Coming right up.” Nona’s finger points at the glass of tepid water only an inch away. An instant later a tiny layer of condensation clings to the glass. “Here you go,” Nona says, picking it up and handing me the cold water.

  We probably should have been less surprised that her gift was hydrokenesis, the ability to manipulate water, since Dee’s gift is pyrokinesis. Nevertheless, it was a pretty awesome revelation when she walked into Zack’s house and created a thick cloud of mist from the particles in the air.

  I take three long gulps of the refreshing water and then set my eyes back on the pages detailing the locations of all of the hidden communications. “Some of these are in the most random of places, like the back of textbooks.”

  “That’s why I say we focus on only the important ones,” Nona says, angling her hand at my glass of water. The chilly liquid stretches up out of the glass and straight into the air, where it pauses. “I think if you focus on the billboards, radio, TV, and newspapers then it will have enough of an impact.” She tilts her hand slightly and the water arches, like a wave about to crash.

  “Do you have to keep doing that?” I ask, shaking my attention away from the mesmerizing water display and refocusing on the notebook.

  “Ummmm…yeah, I do. Since I’ve had my gift suppressed for a whole year I’ve got to make up for lost time. Didn’t you after you finally got your gift?”

  “No,” I said sharply. “Since my gift zaps people of energy and their very life force I use it sparingly. Oh, and it also burns me up alive, so no, I don’t use it willy-nilly.”

  “I don’t use it willy-nilly,” she says, mocking me.

  “Don’t make me use your gift on you. I’ll put icicles in your hair.”

  “Man, if I was a leech I’d totally steal everyone’s gift and use it on them,” Nona says dreamily.

  “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s a burden at times,” I say.

  We’re both startled when the front door opens. The wave of water crashes down on the coffee table.

  Chapter Seven

  Zack closes the door behind him and eyes Nona and me with amusement. He doesn’t look the least bit angry that his table and all its belonging have just been flooded.

  “You’re home early,” I say, noting that it’s not even six o’clock. Zack usually doesn’t come home until closer to nine.

  “I wanted to know if you’d made it back yet from the farm,” he says, a look of relief on his face.

  “I made it,” I say with a giant sigh of fatigue.

  Zack tosses his suit jacket on the chair and loosens his tie.

  “You look exhausted,” I say, observing how his movements are sluggish, like the smallest task puts undue strain on his body.

  “I can’t look more exhausted than you do.”

&nbs
p; “Thanks,” I say, suddenly self-conscious of the dark circles I know hang under my eyes.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Zack says.

  “It’s fine. I’ll rest when this war is over,” I say.

  He gives a skeptical glance. “Did you ride back-to-back days?”

  I pat the sofa next to me, not daring to answer that question. “Come sit, we need to discuss plans for getting into the water treatment plant.”

  “Em,” Zack says, not moving from his place in the entry way. “I’m worried about you.” He gives Nona a look and then directs his attention back on me. “You can’t be doing all this all alone.”

  “I’m not,” I say with a croak.

  “You’re leading every one of the projects,” he says with a punishing tone.

  “I’m the only one who can. You all haven’t had your covers blown yet and have to remain discreet.”

  He presses his eyelids together for a few seconds. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

  “Just because I don’t take the immune booster anymore doesn’t mean I’m going to get sick,” I say.

  “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

  That statement coming from Zack stuns me. No one pushes themselves harder than Zack.

  “Can you clean that up?” I say to Nona, pointing at the water puddled on the coffee table that’s seeping to the edges and threatening to spill onto the wool and silk hand-knotted rug. “I’m sure you don’t want to be responsible for ruining Zack’s furniture.”

  She eyes him with a discerning expression. “I don’t know, judging by that stupid kiss he planted on Dee’s cheek the other night when he dropped her off from their date, I think I might. I’m surprised your lips didn’t rot off.”

  “Nona!” I say, slapping her arm. “Were you spying on them?”

  “Of course I was,” she says with zero shame. She stands and pins her hands on her hips. “I thought I’d be protecting Zack if Dee ordered him by fire to make out with her, but he looked all too happy to slap a sloppy one on her powder-caked chiseled cheek.”