At 2:27 (red-and-blue giraffe, pink scarf, number 584) Timmons enters. Now that we’re closer to the doorway, I hear the hum that Jaden mentioned. It’s faint but definitely electrical. It reminds me of the buzzing noise from the faulty ballast in the light fixture at the police station.
“Move back to the cots.” He tosses Deo another paper bag. I get a whiff of tuna when he catches it. I think Deo does too, because his nose wrinkles. He’s not a fan.
We do as we’re told and Timmons goes over to the computer, keeping an eye on us and a hand on his taser. He stops the animal show and brings up the intranet.
“Boss says you can watch something ’til he gets back. Could be a while. But if you get any other sneak previews, you’re to speak up, you hear?”
So . . . we watch Marvel movies. Deo has seen them all. He’d forgo clothes and possibly even food in order to be in the theater on the day of release. The last one I saw was the second Ant-Man, which means I’m three or four movies behind, but Deo is more than happy to see them a second—or in several cases, third—time.
Unfortunately, I’ll need to watch them again at some point, because my mind keeps straying back to reality. I envy Deo’s ability to lose himself in fantasy for a while. That type of break seems almost as useful as sleep for keeping stress at bay, and I’ve never really mastered it.
We’re on movie number four when Lucas comes in. He snaps the computer shut, cutting off this villain named Thanos who’s going on and on about some stone he wants.
“So . . . no more visions?” Lucas’s tone is sarcastic. I’m not sure why. He’s clearly had solid proof that all of this is real. But I guess it’s part of his nature to act like a jerk.
“No. Just the one.”
Lucas tucks the computer under his arm. “Move on to the second body then. Let me know when . . . if . . . you’re done.”
No explanation as to why we’ve been just sitting here for nearly eight hours. He simply heads for the door.
I wait until he’s gone, then turn toward the bodies. I’ve avoided looking at that side of the room since last night, although they’ve definitely loomed large in the lab, like the proverbial eight-hundred-pound gorilla.
As I get closer, I see that the blood has now dried or congealed. Somehow, that makes it worse. The coppery tang hits my nose more strongly and I fight back a gag.
Which one, Jaden? You knew them both. Which one should I go for?
He hesitates a long time. That makes me pretty sure that what he really wants to say is neither. But he finally answers.
It depends. Oksana won’t stick around, but . . . I’m not really sure the full extent of her talent or even what it is. She might have picked up that chair the normal way when she hurled it at Lucas’s head . . . I heard two different versions of that event. The only thing I know for certain is that she’s not the most stable isotope in the lab . . . and here in The Warren, that’s sayin’ a lot. Something definitely rattled a few of Oksana’s screws loose.
That’s considerably less than comforting, and I step toward Will. But Jaden isn’t finished.
Thing is . . . Will was a little flaky, too. But the biggest downside there is he’s got a huge chip on his shoulder about this whole Delphi thing. He might not be so eager to leave. Personally, I’d pick Will, because crazy kind of scares me, but . . . your head, your call.
Crazy kind of scares me, too.
“So, which one?” Deo asks.
“Jaden thinks he’s our best bet.” I can’t bring myself to look at him directly, but I nod toward Will.
Crouching down, I place one hand on his knee. Yesterday, when I did this with Jaden, the body was still warm. Will’s leg is cold and hard beneath my palm.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s do this.”
I visualize pulling one of the mental bricks from my wall very slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time.
Picking up Will is no more difficult than picking up Jaden was. But this time, the others are ready.
My walls come crashing down.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When I open my eyes, I’m on one of the cots, with Deo standing over me. Worried. I think he’s saying my name, asking me something, but I can’t quite hear him. I start to ask him what happened, where we are, when it all comes rushing back.
Unfortunately, the memory of what happened isn’t all that comes rushing in. My return to consciousness stirs the pot and the inside of my head goes from silence to the busy roar of Glenmont station at rush hour. A swarm of voices in different languages.
My name is Legion, for we are many.
One section of the curtains has been pulled back, exposing the hallway and the rows of chairs where Lucas now sits, talking on his cell phone. It’s in one of those weird cases with the tiny antenna like Ashley had.