You mentioned tae kwon do, Jaden. Were you any good?
He seems a little surprised at the question.
I didn’t suck. So . . . when I’m . . . gone, do you keep my skills? My memories?
Your memories, yes. Things you know. Physical skills might take a little longer, if I haven’t developed the right muscles.
What about the psychic skills? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what this test is really about.
Of course it is. I feel like whacking myself upside the head for missing it. Why would Cregg go to these lengths to set up a test and require me to pick up not just one, but two dead people? Why, as Aaron wondered, would Cregg be interested in me when he already had someone who could read minds? When he himself could change them?
He wants a combo. Someone who can read minds, see the future, pull a Jedi mind trick, and who knows what else. The abilities you need, when you need them, all in one package.
I’ve never carried a hitcher who was psychic, so I have no idea if those skills transfer. But if they don’t, I’m pretty sure Cregg will decide that I’m superfluous. Deo and I will be dead weight he should ditch. Like Molly. Like the three bodies in this room.
Why did you want me to pick you up first?
So I could tell you that you’ve gotta stop whatever’s been going on in this room. Twelve people have disappeared. None of the little ones . . . They seem to give them a lot of latitude, even the ones who are all kinds of trouble. But for the past few months, anyone over eighteen who’s . . . difficult to manage? They’re gone. Mostly the immigrant girls, but a few of the military brats, too.
Military brats?
Maybe three-quarters of the people in The Warren have parents who were in the military at some point. Almost all Army, too. Some were actually in the military themselves, but I think Will’s the last of that bunch. Anyway, Will and the others who can pick up thoughts from the guards say they keep thinkin’ about movin’ day. And lately, they’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot. Only . . . we’re split on what it actually means. Some think it really does mean movin’ to a different facility. But others think somethin’ else is going on. That movin’ is a . . . what do you call it?
A euphemism?
Yeah. That they’re plannin’ to kill everybody and be done with it. Maybe not the ones who make them money, but most of us. And the three of us here in this room? I doubt they’d consider us worth transporting.
But . . . you said Will could read minds?
Bits and pieces. Mostly out of context. And Will . . . he had a temper. He’s been in solitary more than once for hitting a Fudd.
What about the girl?
Oksana? I think she burned out. She’s one of the immigrant girls who came in right after I arrived. The Peepers—sorry, that’s what they call the ones who can get inside your head. They can’t read Oksana at all. It’s like she shut down part of her brain. Or maybe she could block them like you do. The only time Oksana showed any sign of life was once when she attacked that Lucas guy in the cafeteria.
What happened?
I wasn’t there. Some say she threw a chair at him, but . . . others say she yelled at him. Something in Russian. And then the chair flew at him all by itself.
My you-go-girl thought must be pretty clear, because Jaden laughs, then sobers a bit when he picks up on exactly why I like the image of a chair connecting with Lucas’s head.
Hey, you ain’t the only one. He’s not around too often, but I’ve known girls to stay holed up in their room when they get news he’s prowlin’ about the halls. None of ’em want to catch that gaesaeki’s eye. Bad enough that he might touch you, but that black-haired girl—
Dacia?
Don’t know her name. Blue eyes. Pretty. Got a Michael Jackson thing going on with . . .
The glove. Yeah, that’s her.
Well, she’s a nutjob with a jealous streak. All the girls know that if you catch Lucas’s eye, you end up on her list. She’ll start picking your brain, and then odds are you get quote-unquote relocated. Although I don’t think any of them have been relocated any further than this room, or maybe the one across the hall.
Dacia and Lucas? I wouldn’t have connected them as a couple. And while I didn’t think the ick factor could go any higher for either of them, this definitely ratchets it up a notch.
I glance up at Deo. “How long have I been . . . resting?”
“Two minutes. Maybe three.”
“Okay.” I finish the water. “Guess we should get back to it.”