When I roll onto my back, I feel the outline of my phone in my pocket. We’re clearly on Delphi Standard Time here, and testing will resume whenever Graham Cregg decides. But I remember seeing a clock on the computer—12:41?—so I check to see what time it is now.
A little before noon. I turn the phone off again and stash it back in my pocket, then lie back and stare at the ceiling. My brain is still too groggy to sort through the implications of being host not only to Jaden but also to his visions.
“You sleep okay?”
I hadn’t realized Deo was awake so the question startles me.
“Well, I slept. Some Molly dreams. Some just plain weird.”
“What kind of weird?”
“Neon-colored zebras and green dachshunds weird.” I decide not to mention Jaden’s suspicion that it’s more than a dream.
“Yep, that’s weird even for you,” he says as he digs around in the paper bag on the counter. He pulls out the rest of my sandwich from last night. “You gonna eat this?”
I tell him to go ahead, and as he’s popping the last bite into his mouth, the door opens. It’s Timmons again, which makes me wonder when the Fudds sleep.
Twelve hours on, twelve off. Four-day weeks. Three months of that, then a one-month furlough. Pay is good, especially for asshats like Timmons who are in the loop about what happens on this side of The Warren. And see, what did I tell you?
Timmons is holding a laptop computer that looks exactly like the one I saw in the dream. Or vision, I guess. He ignores us, and goes over to a table in the front left corner of the room, averting his eyes from the three bodies in the center. He may know what goes on in here, but apparently it still makes him a little squeamish. Might be a human being in there after all.
Nah. He’s just got a weak stomach. Maria said he tossed his cookies when they brought the last bunch through here.
Maria?
Yeah. She’s a real . . .
He can’t seem to find the right word, and I get an image of a teenager, about Deo’s age, maybe younger. I think she’s one of the girls from the cafeteria.
A practical joker, I guess? Maria don’t mean no harm. She’s just got this neat toy in her head and nobody ever taught her right from wrong, I guess. Will and a few of the others tried to tell her to use some restraint, but she and that other girl she hangs out with, Pavla, they like to play games.
Yeah. I think I met her in the bathroom. A little message scribbled on the mirror when I got out of the shower yesterday.
Sounds like Maria. The writing is the other girl. But Maria is a world-class peeping Tomasina.
Deo nudges my arm. When I open my eyes, Timmons is in front of me. I can tell from his expression that I’ve been zoned out, and I can also tell that frightens him. More than a little disgust in the mix, as well.
“Get up. You’ve got work to do at the computer.”
Is it the sneer on his face or his tone of voice? Maybe both. For whatever reason, I can’t resist needling him. “Oh? Are we going to look at brightly colored animals with numbers on their sides?”
Timmons visibly startles at my words. I manage to hold back my laugh, but Deo doesn’t. And that’s all it takes for Timmons to whip out his taser.
The wires shoot out of the weapon before I can react, and Deo goes completely rigid. I yell at Timmons to stop. Either he does or the weapon has a set time, because Deo slumps forward. I catch him, but he’s heavier than me. We both go down, but at least I manage to break his fall so that he doesn’t crack his head on the cement tiles.
Timmons is already reloading and has the gun aimed at me this time. That’s a good call on his part, because right now, I would gladly hand control over to Jaden and let him demonstrate his tae kwon do skills.
Whoa. Hold up. I said I didn’t suck. I didn’t say I was Jackie Chan. I’m a blue belt. That’s only halfway through the rainbow.
I have no idea what that means, but Timmons is in my face so I can’t ask.
“Don’t try anything, freak.” He motions with the taser, but his hand is shaking. “I’ll use it on you, too. Just leave him where he is and do as you’re told.”
I ignore Timmons and look down at Deo, whose breathing is starting to return to normal. “Are you okay, D?”
He nods but doesn’t speak.
Timmons motions with the gun once more. “Move it.”
“Go,” Deo says, his voice small and weak. “I’m okay.”
I must hesitate a moment too long, because Timmons yells in my ear, “You want me to hit him again?”
He’s smarter than I gave him credit for. Threatening Deo gets me to my feet a lot faster than threatening to use the damn thing on me. It also buys my silence, although if any of the resident psychics are snooping right now, they’ve gotten a very graphic picture of what I’ll do to Timmons if I ever get my hands on his taser.
Pretty sure they can’t read anything in here. Will thinks they’ve shielded the rooms somehow. Did you notice that hum when you walked in the door?
No. But Cregg was talking. And I was kind of preoccupied once I saw Deo and . . . the three of you.