Cracked Open

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  I have to fight past the lump in my throat. “He told me you can’t discover what you can do unless you’re willing to face what you’re capable of. He was definitely right about that.” It took the horror of stopping my sister to find out I could reshape minds… or something.

  She’s nodding, and the tears seem to recede. “He was so sure about you. That you were key to everything.”

  “Yeah… I don’t know about that.” I frown.

  But she steps closer to take me by the shoulders and peer up into my face, all fierce seriousness now. “I do. He said you needed to dive deep into your ability—that you were key to bridging the gap between readers and jackers.”

  “Bridging the gap? What does that even mean?” Her fingers are digging into my arms.

  “I… I’m not sure. He…” Her face is scrunching up again. She lets me go and steps back, finally wiping her face, angrily, like she’s mad that the tears keep coming. Then she curls up her fists at her side. “We talked about you right before the speech. He said he would tell me more afterward. And that he wanted me to help you bring out your ability.” She’s working hard to hold back the tears. “It was the last thing he said to me, Zeph.”

  Holy crap. “Kira, I’m… I’m sorry.” It feels inadequate, but I don’t know what else to say.

  “I need you to do this,” she says. “If he thought it was important, then it is still important. It’s key to the kind of world Julian was trying to build. And, no matter what, I’m going to make sure that world happens. We’ve sacrificed too much…” She stops again, lips pressed tight against the emotion that’s warring across her face.

  “Okay,” I rush out. “Sure. Whatever you want. I need to know what I can do, anyway.” My words seem to calm her a little, which brings my heart rate down.

  “Good,” she says, wiping her face again. “Let’s start tomorrow. Back at the clinic. We’ll begin with something easy and go from there. Can you be there in the morning?”

  “I can probably make that work.” Between guard duty with Juliette and making sure my sister doesn’t run off. And assuming Wright doesn’t offer me a chance to see my mom. “Does this get me off the hook for running for Congress?” I try a small smile to lighten things up.

  Her wry grin is a relief. “Yeah. Although I can’t speak for Tessa.”

  I look to the door Tessa left through. I shouldn’t hope that she’s still out there as much as I do. “She should know I’m not senator material.”

  “She worries about you.”

  That snaps my attention back to Kira’s tear-streaked face. “She does?”

  Kira smiles, and it seems less pained. “Tessa worries about a lot of people. But she talks about you way more than is necessary.”

  I try to hide my disappointment. “Yeah, well, I’ve given people a lot to talk about lately.”

  She shakes her head a little and steps closer. “She sees more than most people. And the Free Thinkers are allies.” She peers into my eyes, closer now. Her tears are gone, at least for the moment. “She’s a good person, Zeph.”

  “Yeah. Better than me, for sure.”

  She frowns, pulling back with a confused look. But then she lifts her chin toward the door. “Go find her. I’ll see you at the clinic tomorrow morning.”

  I nod but hesitate to go. “I really am sorry about Julian.”

  She just nods, and I beat a hasty retreat. When I emerge back onto the stage, a lot of the Mediation Center has already emptied out. The people that remain are milling around and talking. Tessa stands at the edge of the stage, near the stairs, in that killer dress. Her arms are crossed, and she’s biting her lip. I cross the stage toward her.

  “Is she okay?” Tessa asks as soon as I’m close enough to be heard over the loud murmuring of the remnant crowd.

  “Yeah. As well as she can be.” I gesture back at the closed door. “I don’t think she’s coming out, though. Probably waiting for the crowd to go home.”

  The scowl on Tessa’s face deepens. “Did she talk to you about it?”

  “Running for Senate? Uh, no.”

  “What then?”

  I take a breath, but maybe this will put the Senate thing to rest. “About my jack ability. Julian wanted me to explore it. He told her that before he died.”

  “Oh.” A shudder goes through her, and she rubs her hands up and down her arms like she’s trying to warm them.

  I peer at her and step closer. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I just… haven’t slept much. Nightmares. You know. I’m sure everyone’s having them.” She shrugs one shoulder, but my concern is hiking up by the second. She had to deal with Julian’s dead body and the panic at The Stomp all on her own while I ran off after the assassin. Then at the clinic, with all those people dropping like flies, she was crazy brave—a reader in the middle of Jackertown, assuring me she would make sure Olivia was safe while I took off again.

  I take her by the shoulders. She’s definitely shaking. “I know all about nightmares.”

  She’s staring up at me now, her eyes big and luminous. The shaking seems to have calmed. “Is it your ability? Does it have that effect on you?”

  I half-smile. “In a way.” She’s leaning into my hold, and I want to pull her closer. The crazy idea of kissing her looms up, but that’s just because she’s beautiful and close and we’re touching… it’s in no way appropriate for the moment.

  I’m considering it anyway. Maybe just a hug.

  Then she pulls back, and I have to let her go. “Do you still want to get rid of it?” she asks.

  I blink, scrambling back from the ridiculous idea of making out and trying to track what she’s saying. My ability. Right. “I guess not. Not anymore. When I saved those people in the clinic, it felt like… well, for the first time, maybe there was something good to come out of it.”

  “Even more good would come if you ran for Senate.”

  I scowl. “Tessa. You know I can’t.”

  Her expression darkens. “You’re still working for those people, aren’t you? Whoever they are. The ones who hurt your sister.”

  “Yeah. They still have my parents.”

  She nods, slowly, like she’s thinking this through. “I don’t know what I would do if my family was threatened. I think I might do anything.”

  I don’t like the way she’s saying it. Like she thinks I would sell out anyone or anything to save my parents. Not that she’s necessarily wrong about that, but still. “Guess you don’t think much of me.”

  Her eyes go wide. “No. That’s not what I—”

  “It’s okay.” I wave it off, even though it feels like an arrow lodged in my chest. “It’s understandable. With everything that’s happened.” And everything she’s seen. Of me, specifically.

  “No.” She’s fierce about it now. One step forward puts her right up next to me again, and with those heels, her face is close. I feel the heat of her words across my face. “I’m on your side, Zeph. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Because you’re a Free Thinker? Yeah, I know.” I try not to roll my eyes. “It’s a really nice thought, peace and love between jackers and readers—”

  “Is that what you think? That it’s just a stupid ideal?” She’s pissed now. Because I’m an idiot and provoking her. “That jackers and readers can’t be… friends.”

  And by friends, she definitely means more than friends. And it catches me so off guard, I’m left with my mouth hanging open and no words coming out.

  “Because if that’s what you think,” she says, still steaming, “then I get it. You’re just here for your family. Because they’re jackers. And when you get them free, you’ll do what you did before.”

  “What did I do before?” My brain is blanking out. This argument is getting away from me fast.

  “You ran away.”

  She leaves me slack-jawed again. Because she’s right. That’s exactly what I’ll do, only… I’m surprised she cares. And she cares a lot, judging by the fire in her
eyes and the flush in her pale cheeks. I get that crazy urge to kiss her again, but that’s just straight-up demens. She’s pissed at me. Because I might leave. Which means no running for Congress. Or maybe she cares in a way that’s a lot more personal. She worries about you. My heart’s doing some kind of spasming dance I don’t understand.

  “Or…” Tessa peers up at me with that determined look. “You could stay and fight. Use your ability to make things better.”

  I manage to close my gaping mouth and press my lips together. Because that’s what a hero would do. Someone like Tessa, who doesn’t even have a jack-ability, and yet she’s here, giving it her all. “I’m not like Julian. Or Kira. I’m no hero, Tessa. You should know that about me.” It pains me to say it, but it’s the truth.

  “Okay, fine.” She’s blinking—too much. “If you won’t stay, then at least convince Kira to run for the Senate before you leave. She’ll listen to you. You’re a jacker, after all.”

  And that cuts the most. “Tessa.”

  She drops her gaze to the floor and steps back. “I have to go.”

  I scramble to keep her. “I’ll do it.”

  She looks up.

  “I’ll talk to Kira. I’m seeing her tomorrow. I’ll do my best to convince her. She’s the right person to be the next jacker senator, anyway.”

  Her eyes narrow, but she nods. Then, lips pressed, she turns away. The click of her heels down the wooden steps of the stage carries above the noise of the milling crowd and stabs little daggers into my chest. I watch her all the way to the front door before I notice Juliette and Sammi below the stage, staring up at me with wide eyes.

  Great. “You guys ready to go?” I ask, my voice rough.

  I patter down the stairs and don’t wait for an answer.

  The autocab ride back to Aaliyah’s Home is quiet.

  Juliette and Sammi have called a cease-fire in the dating wars, or maybe they kissed and made up while I was off with Kira and Tessa. I’m just glad they’re not fighting or kissing right now because I’m in no state to deal with either. My nerves are scraped raw from Tessa’s words.

  You ran away. Tessa is among the few who know anything about my past. We had classes together in that before time when we were just kids—me, a jacker in hiding, and her, a wide-open-minded dreamer. And she’s right. When things got rough, I ran away from home… and that’s how my sister and my parents ended up in Wright’s clutches.

  Because I wasn’t there to stop it.

  Once I get my parents free, we should leave Chicago New Metro. There’s no question about that. We’ll go to ground someplace where Wright can’t find us and start over. The whole family would be in hiding, but at least we’d be together. It makes complete, logical sense. But the idea of running away again itches at me like a something crawling under my skin. I’m just figuring out what I can do. Kira’s going to help me with that. I have a few friends—real friends, people who know I’m a jacker and don’t fear me for it. And then there’s Tessa… if I stayed, could there be something between us? Is it crazy to even consider that?

  I’m so lost in my thoughts, I barely notice we’ve arrived.

  It’s only when Olivia stomps up to the autocab that I jolt to full awareness. She’s not supposed to leave the house—someone might see her. As I scramble to open the door, she peers inside, sees me, scowls with the righteous fury only a fourteen-year-old girl can muster, then throws up her small hands and stalks off. Away from Aaliyah’s four-story brick-and-mortar Home for the Temporarily Dizzy.

  Olivia’s clothes are loose—Aaliyah had little in her size—as she rapid-walks down the sidewalk, her long braid of brown hair flopping behind her. Jiaying, the girl I rescued from Rutkowski’s mind-assaulting sons, trails after my sister, begging her to return. Olivia is a world-class-mutant jacker—her sizzling power-overload ability wiped out the minds of a dozen people in Jackertown. Jiaying is a reader whose assault is still so raw in her mind she hasn’t been able to go home.

  This is a disaster waiting to happen.

  I climb over Juliette and Sammi, who are just watching all this unfold from inside the autocab, in my haste to get out.

  “Olivia!” I call out. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re not the boss of me!” she calls back, hardly even looking, just marching ahead. She’s got a phone in her hand, so heaven only knows what she’s got planned. Maybe hailing an autocab. Not that she has any unos to pay for it. Or a phone. Did she steal Aaliyah’s?

  Jiaying is saying something to her, but I can’t hear it over the pounding of my shoes on the pavement to catch up. I can hear Olivia’s voice just fine. “You’re just a babysitter! Stay out of my way.”

  Oh, crap. “Olivia!” I’m close enough now that she has to look back at me. When she does, there’s a mental surge that blasts against my impenetrable mindbarrier. It knocks me back—mentally and physically—stopping me in my tracks but not hurting me. Except for the crackling electrical discharge that feels like it’s skittering along my scalp.

  My sister keeps walking.

  “He’s just trying to help,” Jiaying pleads with her thin-fingered hands out. “Just come back to the house—”

  “No!” But Olivia stops and turns back to face me. We’re about a dozen feet apart on the sidewalk, which is broken and raised up in spots. “I’m not going to stay locked up like a prisoner!” She’s shouting at me now. “You keep saying Bee is the bad guy, but she never locked me up. She never told me I had to hide from the world like I was dead!”

  Bee. My sister’s pet name for Beatrix Wright, the woman who turned her into a killing machine.

  “Your friend Bee was using me today to torture more jackers!” I throw back. It’s a stretch—Renell was there somewhat voluntarily—but still. The idea holds. And we’ve had this argument a dozen times.

  “So you say.” Her pale face is splotched red with anger. “But where are Mom and Dad, huh? You said you would find them, but you haven’t. Bee knew the jackers were holding them—that’s why she sent me to Jackertown. To get them. But the tru-casts twisted it all around! I’m not the bad guy!”

  Crap. She’s been watching tru-casts, probably on that phone she lifted from Aaliyah. I have my hands out, trying to keep her calm. “No one ever said you were the bad guy.” But my kid sister is way too smart to be fooled by that.

  She glares at me. “Everyone is saying it.” She swipes at one eye with the back of her hand, and I see it come away wet. “But I don’t care. I’m going back to Bee, and you can’t stop me.” She focuses on the phone in her hand. I reach out mentally to push away whatever jack she’s doing to the mindware, but she knocks me back hard. It’s just a fraction of the electrical surge overload she’s capable of. I’m playing with fire here—the kind of fire that could burn out my brain.

  “Livvy, don’t,” I beg. “Just listen to me—”

  “I’m done listening to you.” She looks up from the phone to give me a stony look. “You’re just bossing me around because you think being my big brother means you can. Well, you’re not Dad. And you’re not Mom.” Then she sends a withering look over my shoulder. “And your jacker friends can’t stop me, either, so don’t even try.”

  I glance back. Sammi and Juliette have crept up behind me. Sammi’s ability is also an electrical surge type, the kind that can be used as a club to overload minds or used with the finesse of a surgeon to interface with mindware and alter the AI inside. I don’t know if she can do the same with human minds, but I don’t want her experimenting on my sister. She’s giving me a guarded but alert look like she’s waiting for a signal from me.

  I shake my head no.

  “Olivia, just come inside and talk—” It’s Jiaying, edging closer to my sister, who’s hunched over the phone again.

  “I’m hailing an autocab,” my sister grumbles. Then she looks up from the phone. “You can come, too. You don’t have to let these guys hold you prisoner anymore.”

  “No one’s holding me prisoner.�
� Jiaying’s expression is pained. “Just give me the phone, and we’ll talk this out.” She grabs for it.

  My heart seizes. I surge my mindfield out to protect Jiaying, but I’m too late. She jerks her hand back and lurches away from Olivia, moving stiffly, mechanically, with a slack face and glazed eyes, the way someone does when they’re under the control of a jacker who has no idea what they’re doing. Jiaying’s natural cheerleader grace is completely wiped out—she trips off the curb and falls hard into the street.

  Olivia’s eyes go wide.

  I scramble to dive into Jiaying’s mind and try to shove out the hard marble presence that is Olivia controlling her. “Livvy!” I shout as I stumble forward physically toward Jiaying. “Let her go!” Jiaying makes more flailing motions like she’s trying to get up but can’t find the coordination to do so. I shove harder against the marble presence in her head, and Olivia finally pulls back. The autocab she called comes sailing around the corner. Jiaying is splayed out halfway in the street, but now that she’s not being jacked, she’s completely freaked. She sees me coming and scrambles away across the broken pavement… and directly into the path of the autocab.

  “Jiaying!” I yell.

  She sees the vehicle and screams but freezes up right in its path.

  The tires screech and grind the gritty pavement, sliding to a stop just a foot away.

  For the love of… I lunge across the last few feet until I’m by her side. She’s standing frozen, looking at the autocab in horror.

  “It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s okay now.” I’m rambling and half-incoherent myself. I want to put my arm around her and shepherd her out of the street, but touching her isn’t a good idea. Readers don’t touch, but more importantly, the last time I put a hand on her arm, she spiraled down into major freak out mode. Mental abuse trauma is awful that way. To make everything worse, I just revealed to her that I’m a jacker, just like the boys who assaulted her. Until now, I was keeping up the ruse, just so she wouldn’t be traumatized more, and then this…