by Jordan Dane
“Normally, yeah, but not this time.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
She didn’t know him well enough to tell if she’d gotten the whole truth about what he saw.
“Does that mean he’s...” She couldn’t say it.
“I don’t know.”
When he answered too fast, she got a bad feeling. All she could think about was Zack.
“Look, don’t jump to conclusions,” he said. “This freak show thing I do, it doesn’t work like GPS. Tomorrow, I’ll try it again.”
When a fresh tear trickled down her cheek, Oliver reached over and squeezed her hand.
“You’re tired. I can fix you a bunk for tonight. We’ll figure out something tomorrow. Okay?”
His invitation surprised her, but it was late and since she had nowhere else to go, she nodded.
“You hungry?” he asked.
If cheese from a can didn’t count, Caila hadn’t eaten much since yesterday, but before she could say anything, a familiar sensation hit her hard. From the look on his face, Oliver felt it too.
“I got shoved, big-time,” he told her.
“Yeah, me too.”
Oliver didn’t have to explain what he meant. Caila knew. She felt the mind push. Her gift gave her instincts she couldn’t ignore. A psychic ripple could come for any reason, but she’d learned to expect the worst.
“Follow me and stick close,” he said.
He grabbed her hand and ran toward the rear of the warehouse, dodging broken glass and piles of garbage. The mind shoves swept over her in waves. The surges hit her so fast she couldn’t tell where they came from. When they got to the back wall, it looked solid with no way out and the floor had a gaping hole. Caila had no idea why he’d taken her here.
“Do as I do. No questions. You won’t get a do-over.”
With eyes wide, she watched him drop feet first through a dark hole. The sound of rumbling metal echoed in the cavernous space.
“Come on. Do it. Trust me.” His voice came from below, but she couldn’t see him.
Without hesitating, she closed her eyes and jumped feet-first. When her butt hit metal, she couldn’t stop. She slid down and spiraled out of control through the shadows until she felt his strong hands catch her.
“Good girl.”
She caught a glimpse of his smile before he grabbed her hand and pulled her with him. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw the makeshift metal slide he’d made to get him to the ground floor, but when a flash of red hit her, she slowed down.
“I saw something. Over there.” She pointed, but Oliver didn’t stop.
“No talking. We gotta book.”
The bellow of pounding metal echoed through the warehouse as if it came from everywhere at once. She remembered the doors had been locked on this level, but whoever was out there sounded determined to get in. Caila ran wherever he took her, until her lungs and throat burned and sweat drenched her body.
Beams of red laser lights strafed the walls around them and she heard voices outside. They were close, but Oliver didn’t hesitate. He headed for another corner of the first floor and stopped over a manhole in the floor.
“This is our only way out now,” he told her. “They probably have the roof covered, but no matter what you see down here, no screaming.”
No screaming? Oh God. She cringed. Lion King. Weird flashes came to her and the music started.
“Hakuna matata,” she mumbled under her breath.
“What?”
“No worries.” She stared down the hole and shook her hands. “I can do this.”
Like last time, Oliver went first and crawled into the manhole. She heard his hands and boots on the rungs of a metal ladder, her only hint of what she’d have to do. Caila didn’t wait for him to get to the bottom. She followed him, pulling the cover back over the hole and praying she wouldn’t find out why he’d warned her about not screaming.
Belowground everything turned pitch-black and she felt her feet sink into water.
“I got you,” he whispered.
She heard his voice and felt his hand in hers, but the moldy stench of something dead made it impossible to breathe. Oliver moved as fast as he could with her slowing him down. They slogged and splashed through the water, but when she felt her leg hit something that slid through the puddle and shrieked in a high pitch, she finally understood what Oliver had meant about not crying out. Rats. She winced and kept her mouth shut and her feet moving.
When they emerged from the tunnel to street level, she finally breathed fresh air as he lifted her through the maintenance shaft. They were free. Oliver had gotten them out, but when she dared to smile, he shook his head.
“We’re not clear yet. Only one way out of this alley,” he panted.
Oliver grabbed her hand and never slowed down, but after he rounded a corner, his boots slid and he skidded to a stop.
“Holy crap!” he gasped.
They came face-to-face with a wall of muscle in uniform—a SWAT team of cops or an army of storm troopers in black. Like in the warehouse, bloodred beams blinded her and painted over their heads and hearts. Oliver didn’t wait to see what these men would do. He lunged and turned the other way, pulling her with him.
“I thought you said...th-this was the only—” Caila never finished.
When she saw movement to her right, she heard the menacing sound of boots on the ground and shadows eclipsed street lights. More of them were coming. They were surrounded.
“Shit!” he cursed. “I’m...sorry. I can’t believe they knew about that tunnel.”
“Why are they doing this? We’re just kids.”
“Damned freaks,” he whispered, only loud enough for her to hear.
They had nowhere else to run. They were outnumbered and faced an army of men with weapons. Caila raised a hand to shield her eyes from the lights. She gripped Oliver’s hand with her body shaking.
Did I do this? Did I bring them down on Oliver?
She had a bad feeling that her connection to Zack had earned her a target on her back. Now her bad luck had put Oliver in danger. They backed up and headed deeper into the alley until they had nowhere else to go. With her back to the wall, Caila couldn’t think.
Flashes of terrible images bombarded her from the many waking nightmares since she’d lost Zack. She pictured him dead. Caila didn’t want to end up like that, abducted by the same heartless people who must have taken Zack. They’d stolen him off the streets as if they had a right to take his life. They’d kidnap her and now Oliver too. She’d never see him again and she’d be alone.
The dark core of her gift burned inside her. She knew what that meant. It started deep in her belly and welled up in her chest until her skin flushed with heat. Her heart never slowed down. Her psychic gift had its own will to protect her. At times it forced her to do things she fought against and she had to struggle to control her body, but what came next shocked her.
She turned toward Oliver, looking for an excuse to touch him the way her gift demanded. She needed time to do what must be done. Without thinking any more, she pulled him into her embrace and kissed him. In front of all those armed men—the ones who were whistling and laughing now—Caila wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips to his. If she had a last wish, kissing Oliver was as good as any, but she needed the intimacy and precious time.
The move stunned him.
At first Oliver resisted her and started to pull away, but it didn’t take long for him to give in. Caila made sure of that. She felt her gift surge from her body into his. Tears came now, as they usually did, when she fought the regret of doing what she had to do. She cried for Zack and now for Oliver. When he lifted her off the ground into his strong arms—to school her on kissing—the sensation intensified and raged hot. She stopped thinking a
bout the danger, the fear and the never-ending nightmares over Zack and her past.
She flooded Oliver with a life she’d always wished for and now might never have, things she’d given to Zack too. Sweet forever dreams she wanted to give Oliver because she couldn’t count on taking them with her. She’d never known what it felt like to be loved by anyone, not even her own family. How could she let her life and Oliver’s end in an alley, trapped like stray dogs?
Her gift took over and she didn’t fight it. She couldn’t. It invented a life they could both see and feel—a normal life where they were free. As she’d done with Zack, she gave Oliver a reason not to be afraid when fear was what had brought them together. None of it would be real, but she didn’t care.
Whatever her gift made her mind see would soon become hard-wired into her brain as if it were true. The life she’d infused in both of them would feel as real as their first kiss. That had to be enough, but when she pulled away and gazed up at him, she realized what she’d done. He stared down with his incredible eyes brimming in awe of her and a deep-rooted connection between them that he didn’t have a minute ago.
“Don’t...forget me,” she whispered as she touched his cheek.
She felt as close to Oliver as she’d been with Zack, but one thought tainted everything. Caila had taken his life as surely as the Believers had hijacked Zack’s.
Somewhere in L.A.
Oliver Blue fought the men off, even with guns pointed at his head. He had to protect Caila and because she felt the same way about him, she screamed for him to give up and not get hurt. They were outnumbered, but he had to do something.
When one of the men slugged him and hit him with a Taser, Oliver’s world went black. He awoke to the sound of an engine and the jostling of a moving vehicle. His head lay in Caila’s lap and she stroked his hair. His hands were cuffed behind his back. They’d left her free to move. That had to mean something. They’d come for him, not her.
“Are you okay?” Her whisper came to him through a fog. It almost didn’t register, but before he could answer, a stern voice broke through.
“No talking.”
After his head cleared, he saw they were being held in a windowless van. He tried to ask her questions, but a guy kicked his boot and grunted the universal sign of “Shut up, freak!” For her sake he kept his mouth shut. He’d gotten her in enough trouble, but if they were after him, maybe he could convince them she was normal.
The vehicle stopped and he was hauled from the van. Caila got the same rough treatment. She looked scared, and that killed him. They bound her hands behind her back with zip ties, and black hoods were put over their heads. Before everything went dark, Oliver saw a glimpse of his surroundings and smelled grease and gasoline. They were in a garage loading bay. An automatic door opened with a hiss. When cool air hit him, it filtered up the hood to bring a medicinal odor with it. It smelled like a hospital or a clinic. He counted his steps and tried to sense where they were being taken.
But when the girl cried out, he knew they’d be separated.
“Caila. Tell them you’re not like me,” he yelled. “They made a mistake taking you. Tell them.”
Oliver shoved the men who held him, but when her voice faded, he knew they’d taken her behind a door and down a hall in another direction. After the shoving match, he’d lost track of his count. If he didn’t know where Caila was, he wouldn’t be going anywhere, not without her.
They took him down an elevator. When the doors opened, he felt a chill and smelled dank humidity. Water ran through pipes over his head. A basement. They hauled him down a long corridor before they made a right and two lefts. After he heard a card key swipe, a beep and double doors open, Oliver got hauled into a room and pushed into a chair where they strapped down his legs and hips. Before they secured his arms and chest, they took off his cuffs. By the time they were done, he couldn’t move.
“You bastards. That girl has nothing to do with this. I swear she’s not like me.” He felt the thick fabric puff away from his face when he yelled, but no one removed the hood.
When they finally yanked it off, the bright lights blinded him. He squinted and felt his eyes water. Before he got oriented, two men dressed in white uniforms tightened a strap across his throat.
“Hey, they kidnapped me. Call the cops!” Oliver yelled to no one in particular. He only made noise. “Fire! Please help me.”
The two men only laughed and one of them said, “Give it a rest, kid. No one is gonna help you. Not here.”
When the door opened, Oliver let himself hope that someone had come to save him, but that didn’t happen. A nurse came into the room carrying a tray with a syringe and other stuff on it. Without a word or even a look in his eyes, she forced an IV into him by sticking a needle into a vein on the back of his hand and taping over it. She injected the IV with whatever she had in the syringe. It didn’t take long for him to feel the drugs take hold.
The lights became brighter and hurt his eyes. Everything he did felt as if he were doing it in slow motion. The nurse moved across him and his eyes didn’t track her. He’d lost his edge and barely noticed when she stuck patches to his chest and head that had wires running to a machine.
Caila. He should have worried about what they were doing to him, but all he could picture was the girl’s terrified face. He didn’t even notice another woman enter the room until she spoke.
“My name is Dr. Fiona. I’m in charge here.” She stepped close enough for him to feel her breath on his cheek. She stared at him as if he were a rash. “When I am done with you, dear boy, I will know you better than your own mother.”
“That’s not saying much.” He smirked. “You look like someone who’d aim higher.”
“That attitude won’t serve you here.”
“Attitude is all I...got.”
His words slurred as the drugs flooded his body and his world dulled to a somber gray.
“That’s not true. You have no idea of your full potential. I have plans for you, Oliver Blue.”
“You know my n-name.”
His lips felt as if they weighed a ton. Every word, every thought became a challenge.
“Your arrest record made it easy. It seems you have a temper and resort to your fists, but you’d be surprised what I know.” She backed off and looked down at a chart she held in her hands. “This girl, Caila Ferrie, what’s she to you?”
“Nothing. We just met.” He didn’t flinch at his lie. He couldn’t. “She’s not a...circus act l-like me. You sh-should let her go.”
“Just like that, on your word?” When the woman smiled, that chilling look demanded all his strength not to react to it. “She’s the reason you’re here. Not the other way around.”
He struggled to make sense of what she said, but a growing numbness inched up from his toes toward his chest and arms and carried a chill.
“It would appear that Caila has a way of endearing herself to everyone she meets. We have an interesting dossier on her. Quite a gift she has. Think about it, Oliver. Doesn’t it seem odd that you’re willing to sacrifice so much for someone you just met?”
The woman cut open his T-shirt with scissors, but after she peeled back the fabric to expose his chest, she got quiet. Her eyes shifted down his body until they settled on his face and she leaned closer.
“You should’ve been more careful who you associated with. I’m sure whatever she told you, it wasn’t the truth. She’s a pathological liar. Personally I’m grateful she brought you to me. I think you’re destined to be one of my shining stars, Oliver.”
“I don’t sparkle, lady.” He jerked at his restraints. “Where’s Zack? That’s how you got Caila’s name. You have him. I know it.”
“I suppose that would be a correct statement, but how is it that you’re so certain? I’m curious.”
“Caila gave me a
can Zack touched. I saw him in a Cheez Whiz vision. He grabbed a couple of In-N-Out burgers and you nabbed him.”
“Ah, impressive. You have an amazing gift to connect with others, Oliver. Psychometry, is it? I can work with that. You’re perfect, in fact.” She smiled before she upped the dose of drugs into his body. “Strip off his clothes and scrub him down. My work isn’t done. I have special plans for this one.”
Dr. Fiona was done talking to him. She gave orders to the two men in uniforms. They heaved something heavy onto his head that covered his eyes, and his world went black. He gasped for air when the gear clamped over his nose.
“Can’t...breathe.”
He fought the restraints but couldn’t move. When hands invaded his body, no one talked to him. They scrubbed his bare skin with cold soapy water that made him shiver, but he couldn’t see what they did to him. He couldn’t see anything.
The last thing he remembered hearing was the pounding of his heart until it faded to nothing.
Weeks later
When people die, do they know it? In his present predicament, Oliver Blue had nothing but time to ponder the question. He breathed through his mouth—at least he thought he still did. He couldn’t hear his breaths and he’d lost the ability to feel them.
For all he knew, he had died.
The mask that covered his head cut off air to his nose to block his sense of smell. Goggles and earmuffs made his prison absolute, isolating him in darkness and a never-ending white noise. The only sleep he ever got came when inky black snaked through his hallucinations to smother him in silence. Between his countless nightmares, he’d lost track of how long he’d been lost, strapped down until his body had grown numb.
He gave up screaming. No one ever came. No one ever touched him. He could still remember what his hands and arms looked like, but the rest of him had been harder to imagine—or feel. Isolation and lack of stimulation left him a prisoner, trapped in his own body.
Dr. Fiona knew what would happen to him. She must have known. After he gave her attitude, she knew he’d refuse to cooperate, so the doctor had found a way to force him. At first he hated her experiment. Hated her. Eventually—from the hours of solitude—he learned to appreciate what she’d done. Dr. Fiona had shown him the truth. His brain had to adapt. It was the only part of him that he felt now, except for—
