Mute (Muted Trilogy Book 1)

by Nikita Spoke

  And then there was Jack. She’d finally made a friend, a good one, and they were about to commit a crime together, but their chances of getting arrested seemed slim compared to their chances of disappearing without a trace.

  She felt around for Kendall’s connection again, but she was still unable to connect, and there’d been no lights on when they’d driven by her house on the way to Jack’s. Again, it was something she had trouble wrapping her mind around; yesterday, she’d Talked to two people who were no longer around to Talk to. The connection’s continued presence, if inaccessible, did at least mean they were probably alive.

  But for what purpose?

  She jumped as Jack came back into the room.

  “Sorry,” he sent, arranging several parts on the coffee table. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “You’re fine,” sent Jemma. “I was just thinking.”

  “Plenty to think about. Anything in particular?” Jack sat next to her on the couch and started arranging the electronics in the order he wanted them.

  “Tonight. What’s next. What was yesterday.” Jemma aimed for an airy tone and was rewarded by Jack’s grin, a sparkle in his eye as he looked away from the electronics and toward her. She grinned back at him, the moment carrying more than just the attempt at a joke. He searched her eyes before responding.

  “So you were thinking about everything in particular.” He smiled again and then turned his attention back to the pieces, putting them together as if they were Legos.

  “Exactly.” Jemma watched him, his quickly-moving fingers proof of his familiarity with the various boards and wires and metal.

  “This won’t take me too long,” he sent, “and then we can go ahead and head to Subway. Are you hungry yet? We can kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Getting there maybe. I know I should eat, but everything feels a little fake. I’m not really hungry, not any more than I would be in a dream. Unless I’m dreaming about being hungry, but that’s a bit different.”

  Jack sent a wave of agreement. “It would be an easier puzzle to solve, for sure.”

  He set down the hodgepodge of electronics and plugged a USB cable from that into his laptop, then opened a program. His connection dimmed slightly, as he fiddled a little more with the hardware and with his computer. Finally, he nodded and let a wave of satisfaction through.

  “Okay. That should do it.” He looked over at Jemma. “Ready to go?”

  “Let’s do this,” she answered, standing and waiting for him to finish packing up his laptop before they left.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:

  Consequence

  They sat at a table from which they’d be able to see the blood bank across the street. Jack set up his laptop, and Jemma unwrapped her sandwich, using the extra wrapper to obscure the device that would mess with the alarm.

  “Subway is open until 11, so we’ve got a few hours before we need to set up somewhere else,” sent Jack. “Let’s see how many times we can set off this alarm in the meantime.” He looked at her over his laptop screen. “Ready?”

  She nodded, and he pushed a few buttons. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a small, bright light flashing near the blood bank’s door.

  “I’m watching one side of the parking lot and you’re watching the other, right?” she sent.

  “Right,” he agreed.

  Jemma took a bite of her sandwich, chewing slowly, not entirely sure she’d be able to swallow with the tension that coiled as she waited.

  And waited.

  She was eventually able to swallow the bite without any ill effects, and the light was still blinking, no sign of anybody in the parking lot or in the building.

  “How long do you think it’ll be?” she asked.

  Jack shrugged. “Depends. The police could be here any minute or in twenty minutes or not at all. If the building manager comes, it shouldn’t take too long, but obviously it depends on where they live.”

  She sent a wave of acknowledgment and took another bite, setting her sandwich down while she chewed. The restaurant was uncrowded, with just one other table occupied and one person working his way through the line.

  Even eating as slowly as she could, her sandwich was halfway gone before she finally saw movement, a bright red car entering the parking lot across the street.

  “Jack,” she sent, glad for the private and immediate method of communication.

  “I see it. Twenty-two minutes.”

  Jemma kept her face pointed toward the table but her eyes fixed on the blood bank. A man in jeans and a t-shirt went inside and turned on a few lights. They could see him move through the building, checking everything, and then he went back to the door, got the alarm to stop blinking, and went back to his car.

  “Do we set it back off immediately or give him a chance to get home first?” sent Jack.

  “Let him get home first a time or two, then set it off before he can even leave, once he’s already annoyed,” sent Jemma, trying to decide how many times she might be willing to check on an empty building.

  “Good plan.”

  The car pulled back out of the lot and onto the main street, disappearing quickly.

  “Anything constructive we can do while waiting?” sent Jemma.

  “I’m monitoring the radio waves, making sure the alarm isn’t doing anything unusual. It looks like it’s got all the normal triggers, windows and doors opening or breaking. I don’t see any triggers that seem to come from inner rooms, so we should be okay once we get in.”

  It was still seeming too simple, too easy. Not real. Breaking the law had to be more complicated than this. They were forgetting something, missing…

  “Gloves,” sent Jemma, and Jack blinked, sending a wave of confusion. “We should go next door and get some gloves, just in case the police do end up investigating and we’re not already, you know, missing.”

  “Smart. The convenience store should still be open when Subway closes, and we’ll head across the street after that. Maybe stay parked at the convenience store since that’s open and a car won’t stand out?”

  Jemma nodded and continued working on her sandwich, finishing it just before it was time to trigger the alarm again. Jack was watching his screen intently and jumped slightly when she crumpled up her wrapper.

  “Sorry,” she sent, smiling wryly when she realized they’d had this exchange, only reversed, earlier in the night.

  “You’re fine.” Jack looked away from his computer long enough to wink at her, then shifted back to a serious look. “Ready to set it off again?”

  “Ready when you are.”

  Jack nodded and did something on his laptop, and the light started blinking again. Traffic had thinned some, and Jemma thought she might be able to hear the beep of the alarm, very faintly.

  “So, what do you think, longer or shorter wait this time?” Jack arched an eyebrow at Jemma and grinned.

  “Longer. He had probably already changed into whatever he sleeps in.” She studied Jack for a long moment until he sent a questioning wave. “You seem like you’re in a pretty good mood.”

  “Well,” he sent, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ll admit that I like the strategy on some level, and I love that I threw some parts together and now have a nifty remote that I’ll never use again. Also, I figure being nervous and serious, which is my other option, that’s not really gonna help us. If that weren’t enough reasons”—his grin grew—“we probably look less conspicuous if we seem like we’re on a normal outing together, just eating and then relaxing at Subway, and why wouldn’t I be in a good mood when I’m out on a date with you?”

  Jemma felt her cheeks flush slightly, and Jack’s smile softened before he looked away, though the smile lingered while he studied his computer screen. She turned to look out the window, watching the cars drive by as she kept the parking lot in her line of sight, as she worked to stop blushing from his mild flirting. As he’d said, it was a good cover. It didn’t mean that he meant it or that she had
to reciprocate, and even if he did mean it, this wasn’t exactly the ideal time to start anything. She rested her chin on her hand, trying to avoid tapping the table with her free hand while the light continued to blink in her direction.

  “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” sent Jack, his tone apologetic without directly sending any emotion. Jemma dropped her hand back to her lap and looked at Jack, whose face was neutral. “I mean, I was being honest and don’t take back what I said, but I’m sorry it made you uncomfortable.”

  “It didn’t really,” sent Jemma. “I mean, sort of, but only because I hadn’t…” She rubbed her arm and looked back out the window. “You know I’m not really used to relationships of any kind. I’m even less used to flirtation than I am to friendship. It isn’t that I object.” She looked at Jack, who was watching her closely, then away again. “I just wasn’t sure how to respond.”

  “Just be yourself,” he sent with a wave of affection. “We’re good around each other, right?”

  Jemma nodded. “We are.”

  “We don’t need to be anyone else, don’t need to respond in a way that isn’t us. When I’m with someone I like, I tend to flirt, the same as I tend to be a bit hands-on. The same as with that, though, if it makes you uncomfortable, I can rein it in."

  "That doesn't sound like being yourself, though," sent Jemma.

  "I'd be less myself if I knowingly hurt someone I care about.”

  Jemma sent a wave of understanding and a silent request for a moment to process. After making the wordless request, she realized she had no doubts he would respect it. He never ignored her discomfort, never expected her to force her way through it as her family did, however well-intentioned they were. The flirtation really had surprised her more than made her uncomfortable, and she’d gotten used to his casual touches.

  She turned to face him, reaching her hand across the table and loosely taking his, earning a hesitant smile and a return of the sparkling in his eyes. Before she could verbalize her thoughts, she caught a hint of movement in her peripheral vision and turned to see the red vehicle coming to a stop in front of the blood bank’s door rather than parking in an official parking space.

  The man wore the same clothes as far as Jemma could see, but he moved more quickly, held himself more stiffly than before.

  “He’s already pretty upset,” sent Jack. “How about we set it off again before he has a chance to get home?”

  “Let’s do that,” she sent. They watched while the man went through the building again, less thoroughly this time, then left.

  “Response time was 25 minutes,” sent Jack. “I’m feeling pretty good about our chances even if the false alarms don’t work.”

  “We do seem to have a good bit of leeway.” Jemma looked at Jack, finally realizing she still held his hand.

  Jack smiled, giving her a chance to pull away. After squeezing his hand once, she did.

  Jemma wished for a moment that she could still audibly clear her throat. “I don’t want you to stop being yourself,” she sent, reinforcing it with a wave of certainty. “That doesn’t mean… I’m not…”

  “Just tell me if it’s too much.”

  “Everything else is too much,” sent Jemma. “Being watched, being different in a way that’s dangerous, everything changing with no explanation.” She took a breath. “You’re not too much.”

  He sent a wave of appreciation and agreement. “I’m glad we had that talk.” He grinned. “Even if the timing was a bit odd. Speaking of…” He looked down at his computer’s clock. “It’s time to call back Mister Red Car.”

  She nodded and took a sip of her drink while he was occupied, and they waited in comfortable silence for the man to return. When he did, he was visibly frustrated, barely flipping on the light before turning it off and leaving again. As soon as he got in his car, Jack triggered the alarm again, and the man stormed out, stopping just inside the door and leaving again without doing anything fully inside the building.

  “Yes!” sent Jack, excited. “He disabled it entirely. It worked!”

  “Excellent.” Jemma watched as the red car sped away. “Let’s head out.”

  ***

  “We haven’t done enough planning. We haven’t thought this through.” Jemma closed her eyes as the dream she’d been working through finally gave way to reality. They were in the space behind the building, ready to break the window of the office as planned.

  “It’s now or maybe never,” sent Jack, placing his hands on her shoulders. “The alarm is disabled. We’ve got our new gloves, the lug wrench to break the window. If there’s some backup silent alarm, we know we have at least twenty minutes before anyone gets here.”

  “You’re right,” she said, opening her eyes. “We’ve made this choice already. It’s just finally… I feel like I might get sick.”

  “Just focus on the goal,” he said calmly, without distancing himself in case her nausea won out. “We’re just going to go inside and sort through paperwork, and we’re going to find some of the information we’ve been looking for. That’s all.”

  She nodded curtly, getting her emotions back in check. “When is it your turn to freak out?” she sent. “I’ve done it enough.”

  “You haven’t really freaked out,” he sent, dropping one hand to his side and maintaining contact with the other. “You’ve had reasonable doubts and concerns. We’ve got a plan. Are you ready?”

  She took another breath, expelling it forcefully. “Yes. Let’s do this.”

  “I’ll get all the glass out of the way before we go in.” He let go of Jemma, looking at her one last time before smashing the window.

  It was louder than Jemma had expected, and she looked around nervously, but the area, largely commercial, was deserted at this time of night. There was no flashing, no sound to indicate the alarm had been triggered. Jack turned sideways to fit safely through the tall, relatively-narrow window, and Jemma followed suit, pulling out her phone to use as a flashlight.

  There were no papers strewn about as she’d worried briefly. Instead, there were just three filing cabinets. She went to the first and tried it.

  Locked.

  “Check the desk for a key,” she sent, feeling calm and focused now that the task was in front of her. “Too many employees come in here to not have a shared key.” Jack quickly responded with a wave of success and unlocked the filing cabinet for her before unlocking the next two and picking one to open. She saw files alphabetized by last name, not unexpected, and knelt to access the lower files where she should find Jack’s.

  Relatively quickly, she sorted through the folders and found it, pulling the file labeled “Jack Himmel” out so she could read it. Nothing stood out at first; there was a log of relevant history, dates of donations. She turned the page again and found a bright green sheet.

  Contact Brewer for special instructions regarding processing.

  Jemma showed Jack, then confirmed nothing else was in the folder before putting it back in the cabinet. “There should be a master file,” she sent.

  “Hopefully,” sent Jack, who was grabbing her file from the last cabinet, “but if not, that would explain why the texts to Marcia were coming through one at a time, if he was searching through the files individually. Maybe he’d have sent them all at once if they were in one place.”

  Jemma’s folder was nearly identical to Jack’s, with the standard information and the bright green page sporting the single sentence. She ran a hand through her hair. “Okay. I’ll keep going through the cabinets, reading names for anything that stands out. You check the desk for any other paperwork or, I don’t know, clues.” Jack sent a wave of acknowledgment, and Jemma continued looking through the cabinets.

  She checked the start and end of the alphabet, then under M for Miscellaneous, U for Unclassified.

  “We have about ten minutes left,” sent Jack.

  “Okay.” Running out of plausible ideas, Jemma checked T for Telepathy. There was nothing there, but before she could clo
se that drawer, a nearby folder caught her eye.

  “‘Test.’ Jack, I think I found something.”

  Jemma grabbed the folder and opened it as Jack joined her.

  There was a list of subjects, including their names, Marcia’s and Kendall’s, and three others. The next page was a consolidated log of dates of donation. The next few pages looked like medical gibberish, and she handed one to Jack while she tried to make sense of another.

  Subjects show markers for increased chances of successful use of telepathy, she found near the middle of the page. Subtle administration of Compound 252L has resulted in increased activity in and number of supporting cells. Forwarding data for further research.

  Jemma got Jack’s attention and pointed to the paragraph. He nodded. “This page is basically saying the same thing. What about—”

  There was a loud bang as the door to the office was flung open, and Jemma sent a yelp of surprise. Jack grabbed her hand and started running for the window, but armed men stood outside, blocking it, as more came in through the open office door.

  Jemma clutched the folder in one hand and clung to Jack’s support with the other as a man in a dark suit stepped around the armed guards.

  “You’re a resourceful duo,” came a high-end mechanical voice. “I look forward to seeing what we can learn from you.”

  At some cue Jemma wasn’t privy to, two of the guards stepped forward, grabbing her and pulling her away from Jack.

  “No!” she heard. “Jemma!”

  She kicked and clawed, but the men moved her quickly through the building and tossed her into the back of a car, giving Jemma only a brief glimpse of another car that stood open and empty. She reached for her connection to Jack...

  ...and then fell unconscious against the leather seat, unaware by the time the car started moving only seconds later.

  Turn the page for a scene from the next book in the Muted Trilogy, Listen.

  Jemma paced the windowless cell, footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. The only other sound was the hum of the fluorescent lighting, a sound that seemed louder every time she sat on the sterile cot that served as her only piece of furniture.