“A little over two months,” Miguel replied. “I stayed away from major cities, anywhere I felt another psion could detect me.”
“So, how’d you end up captured by the feds?” Alek pressed. “Did Sister Mary Francis give you a bogus address, or what?”
Miguel shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. I entered the US through Texas on an American tour bus. When I reached the safehouse, I was warmly greeted and made very comfortable. I lived there for two weeks before the feds raided the house and led me away in chains. It was just my bad luck to end up here.”
Alek snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, sure it was.”
“What’s your problem?” Bai Lee asked Alek, narrowing her eyes. “You don’t trust Holy Boy’s word?”
“It’s got nothing to do with trust,” he replied, returning Bai Lee’s critical gaze. “I just think that Miguel’s perspective is a little naïve.”
“Naïve?” echoed Miguel. “What do you—”
“You were set up!” Alek said explosively. “There! I said it! We were probably all set up!”
“What the heck are you talking about?” Devon asked, surprised by Alek’s accusation.
“I’m talking about this whole Psionic Underground Network thing. What if it’s not real? What if the government is just messing with us—you know, baiting us with ideas of freedom only to squash us one by one the moment we come scurrying out of our cells to find it?” Alek looked over at Devon. “Do you get what I’m saying? What if the Network is fake? What if it’s all been one big flipping lie? And we’re the patsies who fell for it.”
The thought of the underground movement being a government front to round up fugitive psions sent Devon reeling like a kick to the groin. The Psionic Underground Network had to be real! Colton Weaver had staked his life on it—and so had Devon! How could it all be a government fabrication? That was impossible…wasn’t it?
Too many good people had died during Devon’s escape. And he wasn’t about to believe something Alek proposed without a fight.
“You’re lying,” Devon said, and he was surprised by how menacing he sounded.
“Am I?” Alek crossed his arms, looking defiant. “Then by all means, prove me a liar. What is it you know that none of us here have seen for ourselves?”
“Too many of my classmates died breaking out of the North Central Psi Facility,” Devon snarled.
“So?”
“So?” Devon echoed. “Colton Weaver was our leader, and my friend. He was receiving coded messages via snail mail from somewhere. He was too clever—too careful to have been killed over a government sting operation.”
“Are you stupid?” Alek barked. “That doesn’t prove anything!”
“Sure it does,” Devon said, with a shrug. He desperately wanted to punch Alek in the face for calling him stupid. “A bunch of guards died that night, too. If the government had evidence against us—if they had indeed set us up—why not just arrest us while we slept in our rooms? Why risk the lives of so many baseline guards? Why risk anyone’s life unnecessarily?”
Alek’s gaze hardened as a sinister smile unfolded across his face. “Because they don’t give a crap about any of us, that’s why. It’s all about power for them, and we psions have upset the natural balance of things.”
“Aleksei,” said Alya in a soft, chastising tone. “Please… don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what, dear sister? What am I doing that is so very upsetting to you? I am merely pointing out to our friends a very likely reality.”
“More like an improbable reality,” said Devon, siding with Alya. “I saw a lot of the correspondences myself—I even helped decode a message once. The system was way too sophisticated to have all been a lie.”
Alek scoffed. “Says you.”
“Yeah, says me.” The veins in Devon’s temples throbbed as his blood pressure skyrocketed in rage. What the hell did Alek know about Colton Weaver or any of the psions who’d died back at North Central?
Alek’s grin grew wider, softening his glare. “Well, then, my friend, why don’t you just show us?” He paused then, tilting his head in interest. “Perhaps seeing things through your eyes will help me better understand a psi-cannon like yourself.”
Devon froze. Alek had just called him out. Oh, crap! “Well…er, I—”
“Come on, Devon,” Nevada said with an encouraging smile. “It’s not that bad.”
Oh, yes, it was! At least, for Devon McWilliams the liar, it was. But aloud he heard himself say, “Yeah, well…you see—”
“Nevada’s right,” Bai Lee chimed in from her perch at the foot of the wooden lounge. “Let’s just get this over with, Devon. I have an escape to coordinate.”
Head spinning, palms clammy with anxiety, Devon sat stupefied on the ground. He was having an out-of-body experience. His brain had shifted into high gear without any traction. Thoughts whirled inside his head as his chest swelled with apprehension. It was becoming harder to breathe, and Devon thought he just might pass out.
“Devon,” Alya said urgently, her starburst eyes gazing up at him. “Look at me.”
Her words took a moment to register, but Devon was able to pull himself out of his stupor just enough to focus on her face.
“That’s right,” she continued with a smile. “Now, Devon, I need you to take a deep breath for me.”
Devon did as Alya instructed and drew in a cleansing breath through his nose.
“Now hold it—”
Devon held it.
“And…out again,” she said, her eyes brimming with fears that her smile could not quite mask. “Feel any better?”
Devon nodded, anxiety shredding his insides. He didn’t trust himself to speak right now.
“Can you stand?” Alya asked, pulling away from him.
Unwrapping his arms from around Alya’s thin frame, Devon barely nodded while he joylessly rose to his feet. He hardly felt alive as he put one foot in front of the other, but he paused when he heard Alya call his name.
She flashed him a reassuring smile. “It’s going to be all right.”
He tried to return her smile, but it was impossible. Instead, he concentrated on moving his feet while he made his way over to the wooden lounge—that dreaded, brain-sucking wooden lounge.
Vahn walked over to him as Devon approached the position vacated by Miguel. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.
Bobbing his head like a spastic rooster, Devon worked hard to keep it together, but he knew he was failing miserably. When he tripped over his own feet, Vahn managed to grab him before Devon crashed headlong into the wooden lounge.
“Th-thanks,” he muttered.
“Don’t worry about it,” the big guy said. “It’ll be over before you know it.”
“Yeah—yeah,” Devon replied vaguely. Over being the operative word. Soon, it would all be over for Devon McWilliams.
Glancing to his right, Devon saw that Bai Lee was studying him with an amused expression on her face. Was she—was she actually laughing at him? The look alone pissed him off enough to snap him out of his stupor.
“What’s your problem?” he growled at her. And he was immensely satisfied when he saw the smile melt right off her face.
“I don’t have a problem,” she shot back with a scowl. “You’re the one acting all jittery and freaked out.” Her scowl deepened. “Not very psi-cannon-esque behavior, if you ask me.”
“Yeah, well—no one asked you,” Devon replied heatedly, his frustration overriding his common sense. Ninja Girl was the last person he should be picking a fight with. “And besides, I really don’t care what you think.”
“Is that so?” Bai Lee crossed her arms. “Then maybe I should just leave you here to rot in federal custody. I definitely don’t need another psi-cannon to bust—”
“I’m not a psi-cannon!” Devon blurted, and he was surprised by the sudden lightness he felt within his chest. It was as if someone had punctured a hole in his ribcage and all of that horrible stress had instantly dr
ained away.
“I knew it!” Nevada cried, jumping to her feet. “I just knew it! You’re an elemental psion, aren’t you?”
Devon leaned against the wooden lounge, not quite ready to actually sit on it yet, and dropped his gaze to the ground. “Well…kinda,” he said softly. He didn’t want to tell them the truth, because he was terrified of the laughter that was sure to follow.
“Are you a waterwielder?” Nevada guessed, looking perplexed. “No, that’s not right… maybe a flamemaster?”
“I talk to plants…” Devon muttered.
“What?” Nevada said. “I’m deaf in that ear, remember?”
“I TALK TO PLANTS,” Devon shouted, his head snapping up to look Nevada in the eyes. “I’m a total loser, okay? I get it! The useless Plant Boy. That’s what everyone calls me.”
Nevada stood patiently before him, studying him with wide, sympathetic eyes. “But Devon…you’re not useless.”
Devon scoffed. “Yes, I am. Even the scientists at North Central laughed at me. The guards laughed at me. Heck, everyone laughed at me!” Devon stopped himself then. He knew that what he said was a lie. And right now, he was sick of lying. “Actually, that’s not entirely true. My family doesn’t laugh at me… Colton Weaver never once laughed at me.”
Devon’s eyes teared up, and his voice caught in his throat at the thought of his friend. But he wasn’t about to cry, not here, not now. He furiously wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve as he sat heavily on the wooden lounge. He couldn’t look at any of them right now; he was ashamed of his lies as much as he was of his truths. And that only served to make him even more angry and disgusted with himself.
“Devon,” Nevada said sweetly as she placed her hand lightly on his shoulder. “No one here is going to laugh at you.”
Devon miserably shook his head. “Well, they should.”
“That is not going to happen.” The clipped response had come from Bai Lee. “I knew you were hiding something from me, Devon McWilliams, but I never would have guessed in a million years that it all boiled down to a supreme lack of faith in yourself.” She frowned then and shook her head. “You of all people.”
“What the heck is that supposed to mean?” Devon asked indignantly.
“She means,” said Alya, “that you have been the one to guide us here.” Devon turned to Alya and saw that she was being supported between Vahn and Miguel as they guided her toward the wooden lounge. Even Alek had risen to his feet and joined them.
Devon went from face to face, searching for an answer as to what in the heck the girls were talking about. “I still don’t—”
“You’re a natural leader, Devon,” explained Vahn. “You challenged every one of us to get over ourselves at the appropriate time.”
Nevada nodded in agreement. “You encouraged us to work together, even when we didn’t want to.”
“You made sure to include everyone,” said Miguel with a smile. “Even though not everyone here speaks English.” His grin broadened then, and he laughed. “And by that, I mean only myself.”
Devon felt his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. Clearly, none of them had seen him for what he truly was. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t like I did any of it on purpose or anything.”
“That’s what I figured,” said Alek. “You’ve been nothing but a whiny pain in the ass from the moment the feds locked you down on our transport—but I have to say, you’ve got balls, kid. I’ll give you that. I, for one, never once took you for a plant geek.”
It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but it wasn’t a punch in the face, either. So, Devon gave him a slight nod and a shrug. He’d never been called a plant geek before, and for some reason it didn’t feel like an insult.
“I think he’s called a tree shepherd,” said Nevada. “Or plant enchanter, depending on how powerful a psion he is.”
Devon did a double take. “You mean—you mean, there are more out there like me?”
Nevada laughed. “Are you kidding? You seriously haven’t heard about that kid out in the Amazon rainforest somewhere—”
“Brazil,” Bai Lee said dryly.
Nevada nodded at Bai Lee. “Yeah, right. Well, anyway, this kid caused an entire jungle full of ancient trees to rise up and literally shred this tree-cutting crew’s encampment. People died. All of the machines were dragged into the ground by massive tree roots.” Nevada flashed Devon a grin. “There’s not much logging going on in the Amazon rainforest right now, I can tell you that much.”
“You mean, that kid was like me?” asked Devon. He could hardly believe it.
“Why do you think you’re the only one?” Bai Lee asked, looking him over critically.
Devon ran his fingers through his hair, unsure of how he should answer. “Actually, I guess—well, I guess I just couldn’t imagine that anybody else out there would be stuck with the same lame powers as me.”
“But Devon,” said Alya, stepping closer to him, “don’t you see? Your powers aren’t lame.”
“Perhaps not…but I am.” Devon could hardly believe he had uttered those words, but they were the truth. So, he wasn’t too surprised when he saw the sympathy in Alya’s gaze.
“That’s not how I see you,” she said softly.
Anger swelled within Devon’s chest, and he averted his eyes. He couldn’t look at her any longer. He’d always known that he wasn’t good enough for her, especially now that his plant-talking ability was out of the bag. He’d never wanted Alya’s pity, and he simply couldn’t stand himself for having to disappoint her. “Yeah, well, once you see what happened—how inept I was—you’ll think differently about me,” he said miserably.
Devon didn’t wait for a reply as he scooted back onto the wooden lounge. The sooner he showed them his botched escape, the sooner they would understand what a complete and total loser they were dealing with. And he was confident they’d leave him behind once they experienced how utterly useless he had been when everything hit the fan.
Talking to plants did little when it came to deflecting bullets…or being able to save his only friend’s life.
It was a regret he would harbor until the day he died.
Devon kept his eyes averted from the crowd as he laid his head on the leafy pillow. He stared up into the willow’s massive canopy overhead, clinging to his anger, while the branches closest to him stretched and curled around his body. For an instant, he missed hearing the deep baritone of a real tree, its voice as strong and wise as the earth that nourished it.
And somewhere amidst that longing, he missed something else—his friend.
“I know you don’t think much of psi-cannons, Nevada,” Devon said while keeping his eyes fixed on the leafy canopy above. “But I think Colton Weaver was an exceptional one. He may have been stuck with me as a roommate, but he never complained. Not once.” He paused to lick his lips and took one last deep breath. “I’m ready now, Bai Lee.”
Devon’s Story
Chapter Seventeen
NEVER in my life have I had to deal with such plant drama! And now I’m probably going to be late to the rendezvous. I guess that’s what I get for telling a bunch of self-centered house plants that I was escaping tonight.
The creeping charlies actually withheld the access code from me!
They were too upset, they said.
I was abandoning them, they said.
I glance at my watch and realize that I spent forty-five minutes in Headmistress Reeves’s apartment helping her flora feel good about themselves before I was able to coax the access code out of the charlies.
I still can’t believe I told them I was leaving. I mean, who does that?
Only a sap like me, that’s who.
I pull the straps on my backpack tight as I step out of the headmistress’ apartment. She’s away for the weekend, which is why I’m able to be here so late. Over the last six months, I’ve had quite the all-access hall pass because she loves what I’ve done with her plants. If she had any idea that her creeping charlies had
been giving me the facility’s daily security codes, she’d have me sent to a Washington boot camp in a heartbeat.
Which would definitely not be a good thing.
And if people in general only knew how observant and critical their flora can be, they’d probably refrain from treating them like, well—stupid plants. They’d certainly take them out of their bathrooms and bedrooms, that’s for sure.
I glance in both directions before taking off at a brisk walk down the sterile corridor. It’s always dead silent in the administrators’ hallway at this time of night, so I’m painfully aware of every slap and squeak my sneakers make as I hurry across the polished tiles toward the east wing parking structure’s stairwell. My heart flutters with excitement in the back of my throat like an over-caffeinated hummingbird, so I clench my jaw in an effort to appear outwardly calm.
Okay, so I’m a little nervous. After all, I’ve never escaped from a high-security facility before. I just have to keep my head low and follow Colton’s instructions. It’s really quite simple, actually. Each of the six of us takes a different route to that stairwell without drawing attention to ourselves, and from there we make a break for it.
Lucky me, I get to cross the entire length of the administrators’ floor, the route dotted with the most roving disruptor bots and patrolling hovercams in the entire facility.
Personally, I’d rather wade through a leech-infested swamp than take this route right now, but beggars can’t be choosers—and I am most definitely the beggar of this crew.
After all, Braxton Miller has wanted me out since day one. Only Colton’s insistence that I be included, and the fact that I have access to the daily security code, have kept me a part of this team. I just hope they’re not too pissed off if they have to wait for me more than a couple of minutes in that damp, roach-infested stairwell. Though I’m pretty sure Braxton will make it a priority to slug me just for the hell of it the moment Colton’s back is turned.
Keeping my eyes lowered, I walk as quickly as I can down the corridor. I can feel the textbooks bouncing around in my backpack as I move. Colton’s supposed to bring my survival pack and my winter coat to the rendezvous point. He has to because there’s no way that I would look anything but conspicuous wearing a bright-red down jacket through these corridors.
Freaks of Nature (The Psion Chronicles) Page 18
