“How are you finding it here?”
“It’s… different,” I answer, and realise that’s rapidly becoming my go-to cop out. Alistair smiles into his mug.
“Very different, I imagine, after AbGen’s tight security.”
I nod carefully. I don’t want to offend our hosts before we’ve even gotten to know them.
“You don’t have to watch your words around me,” he tells us. “Feel free to speak as you find. We don’t have access to AbGen’s funding or technologies, but we make do. I’ve been trying to improve security protocols around here for years, but most of these people have no military experience.”
“But you do,” Scott says, running an eye over him. I hadn’t paid much attention to Alistair when we first met him – there was too much going on – but now that Scott mentions it, everything about the man screams ex-military. His build, posture, easy confidence. In fact, he reminds me a lot of Joe. Only older. And less tortured by AbGen.
Alistair nods in response to Scott’s remark.
“Actually, I’m thinking you might be able to help,” he says, and that comment is directed specifically at Scott, I can’t help but notice. “I could use an extra pair of eyes to go over our new protocols. Callum wants to see Anna, maybe I can borrow you while she’s busy?”
I shoot Scott a panicked glance, but he’s already answering Alistair.
“Sorry, that’s not going to happen,” he says coolly. “Where she goes, I go.”
Alistair looks between us shrewdly, then nods.
“Fair enough. I don’t blame you for not trusting us yet. You’ve proved you can be trusted, but we haven’t, and by all accounts you’ve both been through a helluva lot in the last few months. Come find me when you’re free.” He glances from Scott to me and back again. “Both of you.” He drains the rest of his mug, gets up, and heads out of the dining room, leaving us alone again.
“I suppose we’d best go find this ‘Callum’ then – whoever that is,” I say, reluctantly rising from my seat. I’d hoped we’d have a little time to acclimatise, but Ephraim obviously has other plans for us. We head along the hallways, passing a few Ishmaelians engaged in hushed conversation along the way. I wonder if they’re all absas – or if, as with AbGen, some of them are handlers. I verbalise my question to Scott, and he shakes his head.
“Everyone we’ve passed so far is talented,” he says. Hmm, interesting. I guess Ephraim has no use for… what did Mika call them? Ungifteds.
A little asking around soon reveals that Callum is in charge of talent development – or gift enhancement, as they call it here. Weird, right? In either language, it basically means he’s a trainer, which makes me wary – I don’t like the idea of a stranger taking stock of what I can do. Of course, Ryan’s already done that, but still.
We eventually track him to a smallish, partially constructed room on the first subterranean floor. Great. More windowless rooms. Work is still going on around him – further reminders that they had to move to their new quarters ahead of schedule, and are having to improvise – and there are only three walls. An open door is set into one and I knock on it, feeling like a bit of an idiot since I could just walk right through the missing wall. What’s the office etiquette for when the office isn’t really an office yet? Callum rises from behind a desk and smiles a greeting.
“You must be Anna. And Scott.” If he’s surprised by Scott’s presence he doesn’t let on. “I’m Callum. Please, come in. I’d offer you a seat, but as you can see…” He gestures around the room, and we can see – there’s not much in the way of furniture, aside from the desk, and what there is, is in total disarray. He steps from behind the desk, around a small pile of boxes on the floor, and extends a hand to Scott. They shake and then he turns to me, faced with all of the social awkwardness of a man professionally meeting a woman for the first time – do we shake? Hug? Air kiss? I make it easy for him and reach over with my hand outstretched. He accepts it and we shake.
“Good to meet you both. I gather Anna is still new to her… talent, and I thought you might benefit from a little training.” He’d clearly been about to say gift but modified his choice of wording. For some reason I’m grateful he made the effort. I can’t quite get my head around calling it a gift, not when it so comprehensively tore my life apart. “Of course, we don’t have the facilities you’re used to, but I’d like to help you.”
I am in need of some practice. I’ve barely shifted at all since escaping AbGen, up until this week, thanks to Scott’s concerns that AbGen might be monitoring for unexplained blackouts, and at the moment I can still only reliably control where I’m going to end up if the shift is less than about fifty metres. I’m hardly reaching my potential. Not that I blame Scott for that – our freedom matters a whole lot more to me than a bit of training – but it would be nice to get some practice in, now that it’s safe to do so. Assuming it is safe.
“Do you have an EM-shielded room?” I ask him, glancing around. Because if they do, it’s clearly not the one we’re in, given the fact it doesn’t even have four walls yet. Callum shakes his head.
“Not yet. But we have something almost as good – a whole lot of empty space with no grid for you to knock off-line.”
Well that makes sense. If there’s no population, there’s no-one to report a black out and draw unwanted attention our way. Why didn’t we think of that? I glance at Scott, but he doesn’t raise any objections. If Mr Logic can’t see any holes, then the plan’s sound. Cool.
“Sounds good to me. When do we start?”
“No time like the present. Here, take this.” He hands me a small device about the size of a watch battery. I squint at it as it lies in my palm. “It’s a little something downstairs put together. An EM-shielded tracker so we can trace your final location without leaving you vulnerable while it reboots. A welcome present from the boys and girls in the lab.”
I’ll say it again. Cool. I shove the tracker in my pocket and am practically bouncing as we head out of the room. We get precisely four steps further before the smile drops from my face.
“I’m out of sugar pills.”
“Sugar pills?”
Everyone here seems to know so much about me that I keep forgetting there’s stuff they don’t know. Like my sugar dependency.
“The EM pulse eats up my glucose reserves. Used to make me black out and leave me with a wicked headache until the lab techs at AbGen cooked up some sort of amped-up sugar pill.” I miss Toby’s genius – although I don’t miss seeing his face whenever I attempt to explain one of his highly complex theories in forty words or less. “I’ve been dosing up on the over-the-counter stuff but I’m out of that too.”
Call me a wimp, but I absolutely hate blacking out and coming to with a tiny midget taking a hammer to the inside of my head – especially if I haven’t even been out drinking. Seems deeply unfair, somehow.
“I saw some coke in the kitchen,” Scott says. “I’ll grab a few cans and meet you outside.”
So much for ‘wherever she goes, I go’, but I suppose I’ll let him off, since he’s doing it for me. He disappears off while me and Callum keep walking.
“I’ll have a chat with our lab guys and see if they can come up with something for you,” Callum says. I’m a little surprised, because it’s hard to imagine a barn in the middle of nowhere having a lab that’s complex enough to synthetise a super-powered glucose pill – or anything more complicated than a cup of coffee, come to that – though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. The tracker in my pocket tells me that AbGen doesn’t have the monopoly on fancy gadgets and hi-tech kit. And if you want the best, you have to make it yourself. Or at least, have your own scientists make it for you.
We emerge into the sun, though it’s much cooler than it was earlier – we have probably a couple of hours of light left. Plenty of time.
The work crew we saw earlier is still busy upgrading the barn’s exterior. I hope they don’t make it too fancy, or it’s going to stand out like
a sore thumb. My eyes flick between the workers and I note Rohan isn’t among them: I wonder if Mika’s acting on my advice and talking to him. Normally nothing good comes from acting on my advice, but in this case it’s so patently obvious they like each other that a blind man could see it.
Callum and I make awkward small talk as we traipse slowly out into the field. It’s beautiful out here – no people, no buildings, just grass and trees and cows. I love my hometown, but there’s something so peaceful about the countryside around us.
I’m still taking in the scenery when Scott catches up to us. He hands me a can of coke, and I crack it open and down the lot, then a second. He offers me a third, but I shake my head. I figure two cans’ worth is probably enough for a short hop, and I’m starting to get concerned about cavities. A couple of minutes pass, and then Callum says:
“Let’s see what you can do then. See that fence over there?” He points to an ancient post and rail fence I can just about make out across the field. I nod. “Aim for that. There’s a tech parked up half a mile away with a monitor for your tracker, so if you wind up somewhere else we’ll be able to find you in no time.”
I’m pleased that he’s thought all this out. There’s no point having a tracker if the monitor gets taken out by my pulse.
“Is there anything else you need?”
I shake my head.
“Let’s do this.” I squeeze Scott’s hand and then let it go and close my eyes. I search inside myself for that deep black pit where fear lives – it doesn’t take long to find. I take a deep breath and then fling the gates open and let the terror escape until I can’t stand to be here anymore, I’ve got to get away, I have to reach the fence, I’ve got to-
I open my eyes and the view has changed. I spin – well, slowly rotate: I’m a little dizzy from the shift – round, and relief floods me as I see Scott and Callum across the field. And a fence between us. I start walking towards it. I’ve overshot by about a hundred metres. Not bad, considering the distance I shifted. But not great, either, I acknowledge: if I’d been shifting to the nearest town I’d have been miles out, and if I’d been going a real long way I could have ended up in another country. Wouldn’t be the first time. Still, I could’ve done worse, and anyway, that’s what training’s for.
Callum and Scott both seem pretty happy as they make their way across the field to me. I meet them half-way.
“Impressive,” Callum says, and genuinely seems to mean it. Scott tosses me a can of coke which I completely miss. I pick it up and crack the pull ring open – spraying the fizzy liquid all over myself. Scott laughs, and I stare daggers at him.
“Hilarious.”
“Hey, don’t blame me because you can’t catch.”
I roll my eyes, close the gap between us and smile sweetly as I reach up to plant a kiss on his cheek – then splash some of the black liquid on him. He laughs again and crushes me against his chest, soaking me even more thoroughly.
“Uh, do you guys need some alone time?”
Oops. I prise myself away from Scott and his very sticky t-shirt, and try to remind myself we have company. Scott smiles unabashedly.
“To be continued,” he tells me.
“Uh-huh.” I challenge him with my eyes as I drain the half mouthful of coke left in the can.
“What’s your recovery time like?” Callum wants to know. “How soon could you shift again?”
“Right away, as long as there’s enough sugar in my system.”
“Do you feel up to another attempt?”
I snatch Scott’s backpack and relieve it of another can before he can get any more ideas about throwing them. I’m halfway through it when I realise the obvious drawback of this particular plan: if we don’t take a break soon, I’m going to be shifting to the nearest loo. Oh yeah, I really need those sugar pills.
Chapter Thirteen
Evening comes, and it finds us curled up in bed together. No, not like that – get your mind out of the gutter! There are plenty of clothes involved, I’ll have you know. For now.
Anyway, I’m exhausted. I did six shifts in all this afternoon. Callum is way more relentless than any of the instructors I worked with at AbGen. And he’d seemed so nice, too. Scott’s arm is wrapped around me, and I’m about five seconds away from being unconscious, when a knock sounds at the door.
“Go ‘way,” I mumble into Scott’s shoulder with a groan, but he merely chuckles and calls out:
“It’s open.”
The door swings inwards and Alistair steps over the threshold, then pauses.
“Oh, sorry. Uh… I can come back-”
“No, it’s fine,” Scott says, disentangling his arm from me and shuffling into an upright position. I roll onto my side and prop myself up on my elbow.
“I know you’re still settling in,” he says to Scott, “but we’ve got a bit of a situation we could use some help with, if you don’t mind?”
“What situation?”
“One of the kids has gone missing. He probably just went exploring and got lost, but we could use some help to get him back before he gets into any trouble.”
I sit up.
“Who’s missing?”
“Kid called Rohan. Ephraim’s been trying to keep him on the straight and narrow, but the kid loves a scrap. It’s not going to be good for any of us if he ends up in a cell.”
He’s not wrong. Rohan doesn’t strike me as the sort who’d go peacefully, and with his talent he’d easily make the nine o’clock news.
“Go,” I say, shoving Scott out of the bed. I can see he’s dying for some action. It can’t be a whole lot of fun spending the day watching me shift a few hundred metres at a time.
“Wait.” I snag his hand before he gets too far, and turn my attention to Alistair.
“Exactly how strong is Rohan’s telekinesis?”
“Telekinesis? Nice.”
“Yeah, unless he throws you into a wall, or in front of a moving car.”
“You know what I love about you?”
“Unless you’re about to say ‘everything’, I suggest you tread very carefully, Mr Logan.”
“Your eternal sense of optimism. It’ll be fine. This Rohan kid’s probably just lost. We’ll pick him up and bring him back in.” He leans over and pecks me on the cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
I consider objecting about being left behind, but the bed is soft and warm, and I’m so tired…
“Fine,” I mumble. “But don’t blame me if he kicks your butt.”
I take great pleasure in watching said butt walking out of the room, then with a yawn, roll over and burrow into the duvet.
*
The sound of someone pounding on the door shatters my blissful sleep and dumps me rudely back to reality. For a moment I think about pulling the pillow over my head and going back to sleep, but the frantic pounding doesn’t stop and suddenly I’m very awake.
Where’s Scott?
I fly off the bed and yank the door open. It takes me a moment to realise what I’m seeing. It’s Mika. Her hair is in disarray and her face is red and blotchy, and streaked with tears.
“Mika, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Rohan. I- He-” She breaks off with a sob. I grasp her shoulders and steer her to the bed, sitting her on the edge.
“It’s okay. Tell me what happened.”
“He got hurt, and he’s in trouble, Ephraim’s going to make him leave, you’ve got to talk to him, he’ll listen to you, please!”
I sigh, and drop onto the bed next to her.
“He got into a fight when he went offsite tonight?” I guess.
“It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t start it.”
“Honey, they always say that.”
“I can tell, remember?” she says, her eyes blazing fiercely. Oh. Right. I feel like an idiot. I’m not awake enough to be having this conversation.
“Okay, you’re right. What happened?”
“It hasn’t been easy for Rohan, fitting in here.
He never had a family, he slept rough for years. He’s not used to Ephraim’s rules. They make him feel trapped.”
“That’s why he took off earlier?”
She nods.
“He wasn’t looking for trouble – he really wasn’t. But there was a girl, and these two men were following her. She was scared. So he told them to leave her alone. Only… they were both bigger than him.”
“He used his talent on them? Oh, Mika…”
“I know, I know!” she wails. “But he didn’t have a choice. He saved her, why can’t Ephraim see that?”
It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak about Ephraim with anything less than complete idolisation in her voice. Rohan means more to her than I realised. And, of course, she’s right. If Rohan’s half the man Mika deserves, then he couldn’t just walk away and let the girl get hurt or raped. And if Ephraim expects him to, then he doesn’t deserve Mika’s admiration. Or our co-operation. But using his talent was a mistake.
“We’ll make him see,” I promise, hugging her gently. A discreet cough makes me jump, and I look up to see Scott outlined in the doorway. I wonder how long he’s been there for. Mika pulls away from me as he walks into the room.
“How is he?”
“A few scrapes. He’ll be fine.” My eyes run over Scott, checking him for any injuries. The knuckles on his right hand are swollen.
“What happened?” I ask, snatching up his hand and checking it over. It’s barely recovered from Marcus stamping on it, and now he’s getting into brawls? Men!
“Rohan just bit off a little more than he could chew. We stepped in before it got too bad.”
Scott yawns loudly.
“I’m sorry,” Mika says, getting up. “I should go. You promise, though?”
“First thing in the morning,” I tell her. “We’ll both talk to him.” I elbow Scott in the ribs, and then immediately feel guilty as he stifles a groan. It obviously wasn’t just his hand that suffered the consequences of late night fighting.
“Rohan’s a good lad,” he says. “He just needs a little guidance. Ephraim will come around.”
“Thank you.” She smiles shyly and slips out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Exiled (TalentBorn Book 2) Page 9
