Possession

45.


The blue light lingered at the end of a long corridor. The door clicked shut behind me but didn’t disappear. This room was real. I walked toward the light (again). The corridor ended in a bulbous window. The color came from the sunlight shining through the ocean. Waves lapped against the glass, creating the rhythmic pulsing.

I retraced my steps, half-expecting the door to be locked or something. But it opened easily. The hallway loomed in front of me. Because the other two doors were gone, I concluded that the simulation had ended.

My heart hammered. I could simply go back up those ridiculous stairs. Hop on a boat. Sail to Seaside.

Why would I traipse around down here? In dark tunnels, no less.

Yeah, I wouldn’t.

So I turned and headed back into the tech warehouse. I strode past the shelves full of gadgets and started up the steps.

My breath had barely started coming in gasps when a boom! sounded overhead.

I froze.

Somewhere far above me, people shouted. Ty. Jake.

And Dad.

“I know she’s here. Your petition does not protect her.” His voice sounded like it was inches from my ear.

Fly, babe.

I turned and fled back the way I’d come.

“You can’t!” Ty screamed. “This is an insulated dwelling.”

“Not for her,” Dad replied. “Let’s go, Zenn.”

I flew down the hall, through the only door and toward the window. I felt along the glass, a sob threatening to break free. My fingers found nothing to latch on to, nothing to pry apart.

Frantic, I spun around. The corridor lay empty. The door remained closed.

I put one hand on the wall and sprinted back the way I’d come. I had to get out of here. Halfway down the hall, my hand fell away from the wall.

No, that wasn’t right. The wall ceased to exist.

I paused and looked into, well, the wall.

I reached out. My hand passed through the supposedly solid structure. My arm disappeared up to my elbow.

This wall was a projection.

The doorknob rattled. I leapt through the projection and pressed my back against something solid. I couldn’t see the corridor from the secret room where I hid.

That did little to ease the panic rising in my stomach. Especially when the door opened and footsteps sounded close by.

They quieted the farther down the corridor the person moved. All too soon, they returned.

“Zenn, order a search of the tunnel system in Seaside.”

I bit down hard to silence my cry. Dad was so close, I could practically hear his thoughts.

I submerged my control. My feelings. My breath.

Zenn repeated Dad’s orders in a monotone voice.

“Every last tunnel,” Dad repeated. “I want her. If she makes it to the center, I can’t follow. Then it will be up to you, son.”

“I’m not your son,” Zenn said. His voice sounded hoarse, like he hadn’t used it in weeks. At least he’d spoken the words screaming through my bloodstream.

“You’re going to find Violet and bring her to me,” Dad said. “Tell me, can you feel her down here?”

His words caused a surge of anger. Dad didn’t need to follow me using tags and stickers—he had Zenn. He owned Zenn.

And Zenn loved me.

“N-no,” Zenn choked out.

“Strange.” Dad’s voice dripped with disbelief. “Her readings are still in this area.”

“Must be the simulators,” Zenn said.

“Perhaps. But you will find her, won’t you, Specialist Bower?”

“Yes, sir. Yes, I will.”

“Station an agent outside this door. Just in case.”

The door clicked shut as Zenn repeated the order, his voice foreign again.

I let out the breath I’d been holding. I found relief hard to come by as I scanned the hidden room. It sat empty except for a hovercopter resting in the corner.

Fly, babe.

I almost laughed out loud.

Like I know how to pilot a hovercopter. I scampered over to it anyway. With an agent right outside the door, I could hardly go that way.

I crawled inside, inhaling more dust than air. I wheezed, trying not to cough out loud. That didn’t work. I sank into the pilot’s chair while sneezing into the crook of my arm.

I froze, waiting for the spark of a taser. For an angry voice to yell, “Don’t move!”

The door opened. Someone took a few tentative steps. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would make me invisible.

After a minute that felt like forty, the door closed.

When I opened my eyes, a large panel of knobs stared back at me. I wished I’d paid more attention to that pilot. I didn’t even know where to put my hands.

Or how to start the stupid thing.

So I did the only other thing I could think of. I willed the machine to turn on.

And it did.

My right hand naturally reached out and gripped the joystick in front of me while the left one fiddled with a few knobs on the ceiling.

I had no clue what I was doing, but all my movements felt practiced. Precise. I flipped two more switches and the fans whirred to life. I eased the controls back and the hovercraft, get this, hovered.

I wanted to throw up. But something about flying this machine felt . . . easy.

I maneuvered it toward the simulated wall. Or at least where I thought it would be.

A grating of metal on metal caused a string of sparks. I yanked the controls to the left and around the corner just as the door flew open. I tapped three buttons in quick succession and pressed the joystick flat against the control panel.

The hovercopter shot forward, straight toward the glass.

I closed my eyes just before impact. Yeah, I’m that kind of chicken. I expected to bounce off the barrier, get bloodied up and then arrested.

Instead, the glass broke. The hovercopter sailed into the ocean, leaving the agent behind.

The machine didn’t handle as well in the water. I made clumsy turns, following an unknown path. I just felt like I was going the right way.

Up ahead, a wall of coral shone brilliantly. A steel door beckoned.

I flipped a switch, and the door slid to the side. I quickly maneuvered into an elaborate tunnel of seamless tech, tapped the switch and twisted to watch the door slide shut. Ocean water glistened on the floor. Then my hand located another button and pressed it.

Tiny holes opened in the floor, successfully draining the water. I focused on piloting the hovercopter, and before I knew it, I entered a cavern carved in dark brown rock.

I powered down the craft and got out. Four stalls lined one wall. Each one housed a hovercopter. What a great getaway cave.

A single doorway lay across the cavern. The walls were stone, built before the earth had burned and the Association of Directors was founded. The floor sloped downward, and the air grew colder with each step. My eyes adjusted to the darkness with ease, probably because I willed them to.

The light from the cave had faded by the time the hall branched in two directions.

Control or don’t control.

Alone or together.

Zenn or Jag.

Duty or death.

I hate only having two choices. Really, really hate it.

Now, staring at the solid wall in front of me, with an option to the left and one to the right, I wanted a third alternative. I pressed my palm to the stone. It felt rough and smooth at the same time. Hot and cold. I closed my eyes. I leaned into the wall, willing it to move.

The stone sank into the ones surrounding it. Soon the rock had moved six inches and a loud noise shook the air around me. I stepped back as the wall slid to the side as if built on rickety old tech.

I moved through the opening into a cavern without a ceiling. Jag was very close; I felt the thrill of his touch in my mind.

Numerous hallways branched off the chamber where I now stood. More choices.

Rescue Zenn.

Join Dad and the Association.

Run away with Jag and live on the beach.

Save the world.

Before I could decide, Zenn’s controlled voice echoed behind me. “She’s here, sir. I can sense her.”

I could almost feel the caress of his hands on my face. I paused, desperate to help him. He hated being controlled as much as I did. I knew he’d helped me remove the sticker. As much as he was able, he’d always protected me.

“We must find her before she enters the center.” Dad’s tone chilled me. I probed the minds of the people with him and found a dozen SF agents.

Violet, Dad said when he discovered me lurking in his mind. Zenn loves you.

Determined in my decision, I filled my mind with memories of Jag.

Zenn’s voice grew louder. He called my name. I willed the wall to move back into position, blocking him.

Then, choosing a tunnel, I ran.


Jag stood in a circular chamber, his eyes shining like he was on the best adventure of his life. His pants hung too low, his shoes looked too big, his shirt faded into the blackness around it. The gems on his necklace glowed in the dark with a light that softened his jaw.

I ran to him and wrapped my legs around his waist when he caught me. He spun with me, both of us laughing.

Yeah, all right, I was in love with Jag Barque.

“Zenn’s here,” I whispered into his neck. “He’s being controlled by my dad.”

“Where’s Gavin?” He set me down and wiped my cheeks. I hadn’t realized I’d started crying.

“Gavin. We need to talk about Gavin.” I stepped back. I didn’t need to say more. Jag would pick up on my feelings.

He drew me into an embrace, leaning his forehead against mine. “She’s nothing to me. Just my trainer.”

“Jake said you spent hours in her bedroom.” I hated the accusation behind my words.

“Jake talks too much.” His eyes filled with adoration I didn’t deserve. “Vi, you’re my Choker.” He didn’t use his voice.

I nodded slightly, stupid tears spilling down my cheeks. Jag wiped them away before kissing me.

“So what’s with that stupid simulator?” I asked. “Jake said you—”

“Like I said, Jake talks too much. You needed that test.” He chuckled. “So, where’s Gavin?”

“I don’t know. And what test?”

Jag strung his fingers through mine. “Jake has this elaborate system for discovering talent.”

“Making people pick doors is his elaborate system?”

“Yeah. Works, too. See, he programs the simulator for three talents: tech, elements, and genetic adaptations. Every ranger falls into one of those categories. When you select the door with your true talent, you’re led here.”

“So it’s not a simulator at all.”

“Sure it is. For the two talents you don’t have. Everyone gets a clue. I wrote yours.” He sounded so proud of himself.

I wanted to inform him that his low-class, two-word clue was anything but helpful. He squeezed my hand hard, so I kept my mouth shut.

“So, did you pilot the hovercopter?” he asked. “Or ride the wind? Or maybe you adapted. Sprouted wings, perhaps?”

“Sprouted wings?” I was so glad I didn’t pick the door with the darkness. “You’re insane. I flew the hovercopter.”

“I know. You have a way with tech.”

“What don’t you know?” I hated how he was always right.

“I’m not always right. I’ve just seen you take out a Mech or two. Or twenty. So, where’s Gavin?”

“I don’t know. My dad—oh, no.” I gripped his hand tighter. “My dad was at Ty’s house. What if he arrested her?”

“Her place is insulated. He can’t touch her.” He moved his hands to my face, and his cool breath brushed my cheek. “You guys have such a powerful bond. And such strong gifts. I guess that’s what you get from someone like Thane.”

I looked around the cavern so I wouldn’t have to think about my dad. It was empty except for the two of us.

“And Zenn?”

Jag’s jaw tightened. He stepped back, scrutinizing me. I knew that look. He was checking out my feelings. I didn’t try to hide them. Maybe he could make sense of the mess I had going on inside.

“Ty said he arranged her escape. He helped me remove my sticker.” I held up my hand so Jag could see.

He traced the thin scar. “Zenn was my best friend for years. We share the same goal, but believe in two very different methods for achieving that goal.”

“You can’t blame him for what he’s done while being controlled. That’s not fair.”

“What if he’s used his control in bad ways too? Then what?”

I searched Jag’s face, finding the little boy inside who simply wanted to be told that everything would work out.

“He helped me remove the sticker,” I repeated.

“Doesn’t mean he’s a good guy now.”

“There are no good guys, Jag. That’s just it. Good and bad mean nothing.”

The fire entered his eyes. “I don’t believe that. And neither do you. There are things we think are right and things we think are wrong.”

Yeah, he was right. But my dad’s words haunted me. It’s all about who you choose to believe.

And I still didn’t know what I believed.

“What now?” I asked. “Jake said I’d find what I needed down here.”

“And you will.” Jag picked up his backpack. “Use your connection to find Gavin.” He stuffed something in his back pocket. “I gotta go.”

I grabbed his arm. “No way. Where are you going?”

“We’re sending our people to White Cliffs. There’s a council meeting set for tomorrow morning.”

“White Cliffs?”

“It’s a couple of hundred miles north. Don’t worry, you’ll be teleporting with Pace. I have to help with the evacuation. If Thane shows up, I can use my voice to make sure everyone still gets out.”

“I’ll go with you.” Everything I wanted to say but couldn’t, everything Jag needed to know about how I felt about him, filled those four words.

He took both my hands in his and studied them as he spoke. “Pace and Gavin are coming here. Then you guys will all teleport to White Cliffs. I’ll meet you there in a couple of hours. Please, wait for Pace.”

“No. You won’t make it to White Cliffs.” I just knew, like I knew he wouldn’t come out of his house in the Badlands, like I knew how to fly the hovercopter.

“Of course I will, babe. I told you I’d never leave you.”

But I heard the lie hiding in that promise. After all, he’d left me before. I shook my head, fighting back angry tears. “No. Don’t go.”

He leaned down and kissed me with a new edge to his mouth I hadn’t felt before. Something desperate and raw. It seemed like he’d never stop. Then he pulled back and whispered, “I’ll find you. I love you.” He turned quickly and disappeared down a tunnel.

I stood in the dark chamber—a place where I was supposed to be able to find what I needed.

But there was nothing there.

Just me.