Drake opened his mind and strengthened his connection to the driver. 'You will forget you ever saw me.' With that done, he slipped into the crowd. No one seemed to notice or care about his presence. The drivers interested them more.
Protesters rallied to "Free the Children" at a large hospital a few blocks down. Though, to call them protestors created a much cleaner, more organized mental image than what Drake witnessed. A ragtag group of humanity, staggering under the weight of their own fear, had made one last ditch effort to retrieve their loved ones in the hospital, carrying signs that could have said "Will Work for Food" instead of "Free the Children."
That must be where they're keeping Toby.
Drake jogged over and pushed through the desperate mass of people camped near the equally desperate mass of protestors. He couldn't figure out who all these people were or why they had come. Had more drugs been released into the area somehow? Drake had assumed Blue Power was only a street drug, which would have limited the demographic exposed, but the scene in front of him led him to believe that more than just drug users had been infected.
Someone screamed in the distance—guys in white hazmat suits pulled an old man into a truck.
Drake fought an impulse to save the guy. He didn't have much time before his own powers waned, and Steele had only given him a handful of vials and a large stack of cash. The purple drug lasted longer than the blue, but they still faded after time. He had to conserve. He needed the vials to help get Ana back, and each one he spent here put his own child at risk.
Besides, maybe the old guy's in danger, or a danger to others. Maybe he needs to be handled that way. He didn't know and didn't have time to find out.
Seven armed guards stood sentry at the entrance of the hospital—whether to keep people out, or keep patients in, Drake couldn't tell. Probably both. Controlling all of them at the same time would be difficult—maybe too difficult.
Shit. Maybe if—
"You there, don't move." One guard raised his gun and aimed at Drake.
Drake put his hands in the air as the crowd backed away from him.
The young guard stared vacantly at him through black wire-rimmed glasses. "Come with me," he said, and led him down an alley and out of sight.
Good. The compulsion Drake planted had worked. 'Now take off your uniform.'
The guard stripped down to his boxers and handed over his clothes.
Drake changed into the guard's uniform, grabbed his ID—he and the guard looked close enough alike that Drake thought he could pass at a glance—took his weapon, and released him.
'Somebody robbed you. You didn't see who did it. You will forget me completely.'
A twinge of guilt interrupted Drake's flow. The solider would probably catch hell for this, but what else could he do? Sick of the "ends justify the means" argument he'd fed himself so much lately, he purged it from his mind and walked toward the building, flashing his ID on the way. It only took a small nudge from his power for them to glance past his face and let him through. The guise saved him from burning his drug on full mind control.
Stepping into the hospital was like entering a different world. Clean, polished floors and brightly lit corridors greeted him. In contrast to the dirt and chaos outside, uniformed military nurses and doctors went about their business with the calm ease of routine. Just another day at work.
Drake approached the front desk. "I've been sent to check on a boy. His name is Toby, and he was brought in last night."
A petite redhead shuffled her papers and clicked her mouse to open something on the computer. Her green eyes flicked up to Drake and back to the screen. "He's on the third floor, room 312, but he's quarantined. They're moving him in fifteen minutes."
Drake had to hurry. "I've been sent to guard his door. Don't let anyone without authorization come up before he's moved."
"I haven't heard anything about that. I don't know if I can...."
Damn it. He did not want to control this girl. She couldn't have been older than eighteen, and probably didn't even know what was going on. But he couldn't afford to mess this mission up. He prepared to nudge her mind.
She spoke first. "Let me see your ID."
Drake held it up, covering most of the photo with his fingers, his powers ready in case she demanded to see more.
"Okay. Thank you." Her shoulders relaxed. "Go ahead."
"Thank you." Drake sighed in relief.
He wished he could set the girl at ease, and even thought of using his powers to soothe her or to get her to look for another job, but something stopped him. She reminded him of Sam, a young girl pulled into something she didn't understand or want to be a part of, her innocence stolen from her. He didn't want to steal her choices. Maybe after this, her life could go back to normal. He hoped so.