Cracked Open

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  Tessa was there. She was the light that waited for me. She didn’t know it, of course, but she was the reason I could forget for a while that I was a monster and just pretend to be a boy… an ordinary boy in love from afar with an extraordinary girl.

  Juliette’s mind sputters. A stray thought sparks through. She shakes her head as if it’s a snowglobe she can stir up, so her thoughts will fall nice and orderly again. How do you… She turns to look at me with tear-swollen eyes. How do I live with this?

  It’s not your fault.

  It’s all my fault! A flare of anger surges against her tears, but the tears win out. I’m a spoiled, stupid rich girl who wanted something exciting and fun and… and… I thought being bored was the worst thing that could ever happen. But it wasn’t even close. It wasn’t in the same universe. Sammi. You. Your mom. Oh my God, even your mom… so many people, all hurt, all because of me. Her distress is reaching epic proportions.

  I need to diffuse it, or she will short herself out again. And I need her help to figure this out. I used to think everything was my fault. That’s why I ran away.

  She turns back to me, eyes wide. You think I should run away? Would that stop all this? She’s breathing heavily with the effort to hold in all the pain.

  No. It won’t change anything. Trust me, I know this from experience.

  She deflates, her shoulders drawing down along with her face.

  But it was all I knew how to do. Run or hide or somehow try to keep the bad guys from finding the people I loved. That’s how it is for jackers—most of us, at one point or another. Always afraid. Always worried about being found out. Never knowing when someone will take away all the good things in your life.

  She shakes her head, not wanting to believe, but believing all the same. I knew it was bad for jackers. Sammi told me how it was. I mean, I saw it happen to her. The Stomp. The assassination. I know it’s bad, but this? This horrible feeling? This constant fear? How do you live with it? How do you not buckle under it?

  You don’t buckle because you can’t afford to. I turn to face her. The people I work for in the government—they’re just like your father. Heck, they work together. And all of them want jackers to be afraid. All the time. They terrorize us with these attacks. They talk about how we’re aliens. They experiment on us, torture us, take everything that’s important away from us… because that’s how they keep us under control. And afraid. But we can’t let it work. I tried to run, but you can’t run from this. You have to keep believing that the world can somehow be better. You have to dare to kiss a pretty girl and think, “yeah, this is how it’s supposed to be.” And then you do what you have to in order to make that happen.

  She’s staring at me like she can’t believe the words I’m pumping into her mind, but at the same time, her tears are drying. She’s coming back from that dark place I know all too well. Sammi’s alive. Somewhere in the estate.

  Yes.

  And if she’s alive… Juliette blinks, but she’s holding back the fear and the grief and the guilt and the pain. I can feel it wash through her mind and then pass by, leaving only resolve. If she’s alive, she’ll fight to get free.

  That’s exactly right.

  So we have to help her.

  Yes, we do.

  But how do we do that?

  I have no idea.

  Juliette scowls, but it’s a thinking scowl. The kind with power and energy behind it. As her mind buzzes with possibilities, I lean back against the bed. Suddenly, my whole body feels drained. It has to be late, and an uncountable number of bad things have happened today. But this is also the day I finally kissed Tessa, and somehow, that has bullet-proofed me against all the other horrors.

  I stare up at a shooting star that zips across the ceiling. I blow out a long breath. Your father expects me to seduce you. I can’t help the crazed smile that tugs at my lips.

  Oh, for God’s sake! Juliette kicks at one of the fuzzy pink pillows laying on the floor. It rolls away.

  He’s locked me in here with you. The crazy smile tugs harder. I’m sure he expects us to, you know—

  Shut up! She reaches over and punches me.

  I recoil, and the minuscule laugh that escapes feels good. I think we should fake a pregnancy test—

  She punches me again.

  I cringe and keep going. We’ll show him in the morning. Mock up a gene test to show it’s a boy.

  Juliette’s trying to suppress her smile with a scowl. Okay, that’s just cruel. I like it. He’ll want to marry us right away, though.

  That’s okay. I grin, glad she’s playing along. It’s all just a plot get his friends together in one place. Then right when we’re about to make our vows, I’ll announce that I’m a jacker, that the baby is Sammi’s, and that the three of us are running off to Tahiti.

  Stop. She’s bubbling with laughter. Just stop it.

  And we’ll name the baby after him, but only if he sends untraceable unos to our Caribbean account.

  She punches me again. Okay, knock it off. Don’t make me think about weddings. I’ll just get all sappy again.

  It would never work with the three of us anyway.

  She shoves me this time, thank heavens because my shoulder is getting sore. It would never work because you’re in love with a gorgeous reader, but you’ll never tell her, so you’ll die a lonely old man on an island somewhere, jacking the monkeys to bring you coconuts.

  This time, my laugh works up to a full snort. Actually, that will never happen because I kissed Tessa today, so all your predictions are now null and void.

  She sits up straighter. Get out! You did?

  Yeah. My smile is the real thing now. Just talking about it makes the possibilities with Tessa and me seem more solid.

  Her eyebrows lift. Didn’t think you had it in you.

  Hey! I mock-scowl at her, but I’m half serious. I had good reason not to get entangled with Tessa McIntyre. In case you’ve forgotten, being around me isn’t the safest of propositions.

  I didn’t mean to kill the humor, but it dies a quick death anyway.

  Juliette presses her lips together. We need to find a way to rescue Sammi.

  I nod. It might be possible if I could jack Richards. He’s got palm-print-entry into the north wing.

  Tessa’s eyes go wide. You can do that? Just jack him to let us in?

  Not while I’m locked in your room with the shield up. And while he’s wearing a helmet.

  The hope falls off her face.

  Besides, your dad is expecting me to, well, spend the night with you.

  She makes a face, and I’d be offended by her disgust, except that it is disgusting. I can’t believe… God, he is such a… She makes an inarticulate sound of frustration then grabs a pillow, puts it over her face, and there’s a muffled scream.

  Hey, keep it down. I scowl. I don’t want Richards barreling in here before dawn.

  She throws the pillow across the room. Let him come. I’ll bite his leg while you get his helmet, then you can jack him to take us to Sammi.

  It’s not an entirely terrible plan. It would be better to try in the morning. When he’s not expecting you to bite his leg. Or anything else suspicious.

  Speaking of suspicious… She turns to face me. How can my dad think that I’d even be interested in you? No offense.

  Well, he was convinced we were dating, I point out. Basically, he thinks you cheated on me, and now that he’s removed Sammi from the situation, that you’ll just go back to me. It’s messed up, but I don’t have to explain that to Juliette. But here’s the thing. As long as your dad thinks I’m a reader, we’ve got all the surprise on our side. He thinks there’s a mole in the estate, but he doesn’t suspect me. Otherwise, there’s no way he would have brought me to his office.

  She frowns. I can’t believe he did. He won’t even let me go there.

  It’s not hard to figure out why. You’re not missing anything. But our best bet is to play along. I spend the night. You work up a good lie about
how we kissed and made up. Then, when he comes to let me out of this lockup in the morning, I look for my opening. Some way to get into the north wing, either by jacking Richards or finding another way in.

  Juliette’s eyes tear up again. She’ll think I’ve abandoned her. That I’m not trying to get her out. And… and what if my dad…

  Hey, it’s late. He’s got to sleep, too. He’s not going to do anything until the morning anyway. I have no idea if this is true. I’m up against the clock with my mom, too. He’s going to use his jacker-conversion tech on her, and I can’t let that happen. She’s already suffered enough.

  Wait… you’ve seen her? Her tears seem to be held at bay now.

  Yeah. And my sister’s run off to God knows where. Everything’s an unbelievable mess. Let’s try to get some sleep. In the morning, we’ll figure this out. All of it. I promise. It’s a promise I really can’t make—other than I’ll try.

  All right. Come on. She climbs up on her bed and crawls toward the main collection of pink and purple fuzzy pillows at the head. The bed is truly enormous. We could both stretch out our arms and legs as far as they would go and still not touch. She pulls back the velveteen neon-pink cover and climbs in.

  No pajamas? I ask, picking out a spot for myself closer to the edge.

  None in your size. She’s already curled over, hugging one of her pillows and hiding half her face in it.

  I snort a small laugh. I meant for you.

  I don’t want any. I want to be ready. In case, my dad comes for us.

  I frown and think about that. If he comes early, and we’re sleeping on opposite sides of the bed, that’s not going to work for our cover story.

  She picks her head up and peers at me. Okay. Come over.

  I crawl across the bed and settle in next to her. There’s an awkward moment when I’m not sure if we should touch or something. Do readers cuddle? Wouldn’t touching mean they would share dreams? I’ve honestly never thought about it before. Not that it applies for Juliette and I, in any sense. Then she snuggles closer and rests her head against my shoulder. Which is covered with my t-shirt. No skin-to-skin contact.

  You’re a good friend, Zeph MacCay.

  I smile up at her starry field ceiling. Friends. Another thing that feels like bullet-proofing. It’s going to be all right. Promise.

  She nods into my shoulder, but she’s already drifting. Her thoughts wander to Sammi and the thoughts they shared before her father’s goons showed up. She thinks about how those might be her last words—last thoughts—with Sammi. But they were good ones. Words and thoughts and kisses a lot like what Tessa and I shared.

  I pull out of Juliette’s mind, feeling like a voyeur. Readers are used to sharing everything, but I’m not. I hold still while her breathing slows and settles into a steady rhythm.

  I plan to figure out a plan, but my eyelids drag down.

  I’m tumbling into my own sleep before I can worry about when we wake.

  I sleep hard but wake up early.

  Even so, there’s already a spread of food in covered silver platters sitting on a cart by the door. As if little breakfast elves snuck in while we were sleeping. Fruit, pastries, some kind of porridge, hollandaise eggs, pancakes… there’s enough food for five people, and I eat most of it. Juliette’s already showered and dressed before I’m done, which for her means a fresh set of shorts and blouse. I’ll have to make do with just a shower and a shave with one of Juliette’s razors. Her bathroom is tucked inside the same shield as her expansive bedroom suite, a nice little jail cell.

  But I feel a lot more human when I emerge. I still can’t believe they brought breakfast to the room.

  Juliette’s perched on her bed, bent over her phone. She shrugs one shoulder. They always do that when dad locks me in.

  I just stare at her for a long moment. Finally, I link to her, He does this often?

  Yeah. She’s focused on her phone.

  You know that’s messed up, right?

  I hate my father. She thinks it casually, like this should be obvious by now. I suppose it is.

  I just shake my head and pull out my own phone to scrit Aaliyah about Olivia. BABY BIRD COME BACK TO THE NEST? I’ve got to be circumspect because I’m not sure how easily Tiller can hack my phone while I’m deep inside his estate. The man is a tech billionaire, so I think the answer is easily. Aaliyah scrits back quickly. NOT YET. She knows where I am, so she’s smart enough to keep it vague and not ask questions I can’t answer. Meanwhile, I’m dying to scrit Tessa and tell her how amazing she is or how I seriously want to schedule more time together. The last thing I want is a bunch of radio silence… but I don’t dare. I can’t pull off this charade with Juliette if Tiller thinks I’m the one who’s cheating. Instead, I try to figure the odds on successfully jacking my way into and out of DARPA to bust out my mom, whether she wants to go or not. Probably zero. I could demand to see her again—that might bump it to 10% if I start out on the inside—but I need to tread carefully.

  Something doesn’t add up about the whole Wright, Tiller, and my mom situation. I keep trying to sort it, but something’s off. Fact:Wright had my mom as of yesterday. Fact:Tiller knows my mom’s a jacker. Also Fact:Tiller doesn’t know I’m a jacker. He said he’ll use his evil tech to “convert” my mom, but if he has her, Wright must know—so why wouldn’t she tell him I’m a jacker? And if Wright hasn’t handed my mom over, how did Tiller get hold of her?

  Maybe Tiller’s lying. Readers stink at lying, but he’s a powerful man. Maybe it’s a key skill in the high-rolling world he swims in. But lying about which part? If Tiller doesn’t have my mom, that might make sense—he wanted a bargaining chip with me, so he made one up. It wasn’t too much of a leap, given my sister went rogue-jacker, and I’ve already proven myself willing to brave a town of jackers to go after her (albeit too late). But I can’t take the chance—if Tiller has my mom, the clock is ticking until he hurts her. Badly. And the thought of that makes me lose my mind. I’m no killer, but I would cut down anyone who tried to hurt my mom with zero regrets.

  I just have to assume Tiller has her until I know better.

  I’m pacing Juliette’s bedroom and giving myself a headache. She’s watching her surveillance map on her phone, busy hatching plans for rescuing Sammi.

  I link into her head. Any new ideas?

  She doesn’t look up. We could go in through the docks. She’s talking about breaking into the north wing where Sammi is being held. The problem is we don’t know when there’s going to be a delivery. She focuses hard on her phone, growls in frustration, then brings up a holo interface that floats above the screen. She’s coding something. I can set up an alert for activity there.

  Sounds good. I let her focus and go back to wishing I could scrit Tessa. Maybe I can make up something innocuous. But contact with the head of the local chapter of the Free Thinkers? That’s got to be suspicious even if we’re not scrit-kissing—

  My phone buzzes with an incoming scrit.

  It’s from Wolf, Major John Scott’s handle. Oh, man. I swipe it open. BOSS WANTS TO SEE YOU. The same old, no notice pickup as usual. Only I’m nowhere I can be picked up.

  BUSY RIGHT NOW, I scrit back quickly.

  GET UN-BUSY.

  I groan and run my hand through my hair. Wright’s tracker is still somewhere in my body. She has to know where I am if she bothered to look. At a minimum, Scott must know—he’s the one coming to get me. If he comes to the estate… I’m screwed. My cover is blown. Tiller will know I’m a jacker, and it’s game over.

  What? Juliette asks, looking up from her phone.

  I’m jacking into the mindware on my phone to scrit, DO NOT COME GET—

  Behind me, a loud click signals Juliette’s bedroom door is unlocking. I whirl around and shove my phone in my pocket all in one motion. I mentally finish the scrit and send it while the door slides open.

  It’s Tiller.

  I spastically remember to beam out some random thoughts from my secondary mi
nd.

  Juliette comes to my rescue. You’re the worst father who ever lived. I hate you! And I do not want to see your face in my room. Ever. She charges over from across the room and stands protectively in front of me. It’s a good play. I’m already linked into Tiller’s mind, and I can feel the reflexive anger her verbal assault conjures up. But her obvious protectiveness of me pleases him. Greatly.

  I’m glad to see you two have worked things out. He means it, but he also means to rub her the wrong way with it.

  Which of course it does. Juliette struggles to keep from railing at him about Sammi.

  I put my arm around her shoulders but direct my thoughts to Tiller to distract him. You can’t keep us in here. Juliette has school and—

  That’s unimportant. Tiller waves it off.

  Juliette gets her seething emotions a little more under control. She slips her arm around my waist. You can’t keep us prisoner! Zeph has done nothing wrong. This was all… all me. All my fault. Some of the real grief from last night slips into her thoughts. It’s convincing enough that I frown and gently probe. She’s channeling her real feelings into a fake protectiveness of me… just like a pro. You’ve punished me enough, okay? Those thoughts are aimed at her father, who’s standing there like he’s king of the world and barely tolerating his subject’s insolence. You’re a hateful, horrible excuse for a human being. But I’m not going to let you hurt anyone else I care about, do you understand? Zeph is off limits!

  I’m majorly impressed. Juliette, honey, I can stand up for myself—

  Shut up! she snaps back.

  Yeah, okay. I work hard to look chastened and not crack even a tiny bit of the smile that’s dying to come out.

  A dark mental laugh is rolling out of Tiller, however, and that’s enough to kill any urge I have to smile. I’m just looking out for you, Juliette. That’s all I ever do.