Possession

by Elana Johnson

  “I don’t—”

  “Shut up. Just shut up! Don’t you realize that’s what Thinkers do? Read my thoughts? Get inside my head?” Fury and frustration combined with exhaustion and sparked behind my eyes in a beam of crimson light. “Since you’re so fond of plans, here’s mine: You leave me the hell alone. I’ll get to Seaside on my own.” I stood and marched over the hill, scanning for cover as I went. Stupid, stupid guy. Just because he could didn’t mean he had the right to read my every thought.

  Now that I’d let the anger out, it consumed me, driving all rational thought away. Only fury existed. Every injustice of my life piled up until I was pissed at the world—and determined to do something about it.

  I slipped behind a plant and got a little too close. One of the spikes stabbed me in the back. I stifled a cry as an idea formed in my mind. Using tech this close would alert the Greenies . . .

  I pulled out a bio-cylinder and stabbed it into the flesh of the plant. The explosion puffed out a cloud of dense smoke. The plant shook and white flowers descended from above. Several spines smoldered and fell off.

  The Greenies gathered, looking toward me. Dashing to the next plant, the tech from the Mechs nearly blinded me. I closed my eyes and concentrated. I took out my phone just to be ready. I deactivated all twenty Mechs simply by telling them to power down. I imagined how still they stood, how quiet the night would be without their whirrings.

  And what I thought came true.

  That really got a rise out of the Greenies. Their shouts of concern could be heard from my position at least a half mile away.

  There’s nothing wrong. Violet isn’t coming tonight. Thane arrived in time, and he apprehended her. I thought this, I thought it hard, sending it to each Greenie. As one, they turned away from the open desert and took a seat around the fire.

  I squashed the rising nausea and snuck from plant to plant, careful to avoid being impaled by the spikes. The silhouettes of the Mechs shone silver in the firelight. I shivered. The sight of twenty high-class robots—that I’d made still, silent, dead—gave me some serious creeps.

  The cool air pierced the thin fabric of my shirt and kissed my sunburned skin, making me hot and cold at the same time. My head throbbed with the effort it had taken to deactivate the Mechs and brainwash the Greenies. My own thoughts, what I was capable of, tortured me. The landscape swayed, and I threw up.

  A hand touched my shoulder. I spun and fired the taser. Jag flew backward into the sand, arms and legs sprawled, eyes closed.

  I swear I didn’t know it was him.

  31.

  My mind raced while Jag’s clothes smoked.

  Jag or the Greenies? He wasn’t dead, but we both might be if I helped him first.

  My fine display of tech hadn’t gone unnoticed—the Greenies abandoned the fire and began to fan out. Quickly, I took the phone from Jag’s limp hand. I refused to look at his peaceful face.

  The Greenies were moving steadily out into the open dirt. I scampered west and then darted toward the stand of trees littering the bank of a small stream, sending my Everything is fine transmissions again. These trees had green leaves and familiar bark. I crouched behind the first one I came to.

  There were ten Greenies. One me. I couldn’t just start firing at random. I crawled from tree to tree until I lay hidden a few yards from their camp. Night settled in, silent and comfortable, but I was scared stiff. I controlled the Greenies, telling them there was no danger, and nobody was going to come that night, and hey, just relax and enjoy the company.

  They did. They all resumed their places around the fire. “We need to train Violet,” a man said. “Her natural talent exceeds even the most powerful Director in the Association. No wonder Thane was so persistent in waiting until she divulged her full scope of abilities.”

  “Breaking tech cuffs was pretty impressive.”

  “She almost escaped, simply by mentally telling that hovercopter pilot to let her go.”

  I couldn’t get my heart to settle back in my chest. Listening to them talk about the things I’d done using my control made my stomach coil into a tight ball. My dad had been watching me for years. Waiting.

  The beautiful rage awakened, spiraling through my blood until it coated my mouth.

  “White Cliffs or Bloomington or perhaps Seaside will protect her. And even Thane must honor the treaties with the oceanic region.”

  “And Jag Barque has formidable talents as well. Remember how he talked the council to sleep last January? Don’t underestimate him just because his talent is in his mouth.” That voice belonged to Baldie.

  “We never should have let these cities lapse so far.”

  “Reports have been sent to the Association every month, as required.” Baldie sounded a little too defensive.

  “I know. But the recruiting department hasn’t found anyone new for a year.”

  “Except the Bower boy.”

  I inhaled sharply at the mention of Zenn’s last name. What was this recruiting department and how had they found him? What exactly could he do?

  “Don’t forget about Surge Pennington, either. He watches the camera like it’s a projection. His ability to sense tech is amazing.”

  “Nowhere near Violet’s, though.”

  “Definitely not. But he was transported to Freedom for training this morning,” a woman said. I stiffened at the casual way she spoke about the child. Like he wasn’t a person with choices, but a pawn in their sick mind-control game. And now he’d been captured, and according to Pace, would be imprisoned in Freedom (how ironic) while They trained the humanity out of him, taught him how to brainwash others. I swallowed back the anger so I could continue eavesdropping.

  The Greenies talked in turn, more gibberish I didn’t understand about how it was time to tame the west. How the Goodgrounds had enjoyed twenty-five years of freedom, but now They needed to re-establish control. If they called life in the Goodgrounds free, I didn’t want to experience control.

  “Freedom can be easily taken.”

  Baldie was right. Freedom can be easily taken. Men are easier to control than women, so I targeted them. Each man moved his hand to his pocket, extracted the tech-phone, and pressed send when I commanded. A moment later I stepped from behind the tree, firing both of my phones at the closest men.

  The women fell at the hands of their fellow Greenies, and I had three men tased before the other two realized that anything had happened. I pressed the send button, and another man fell. The remaining Greenie—Baldie—stood gaping at me.

  “I’ll do it,” I said, moving forward. My voice sounded stronger than I felt. “Put your phone down and empty your pockets.”

  Baldie lowered two phones, several bio-canisters, a golden key, and a teleporter ring to the ground.

  “Now back up,” I commanded, moving one step forward for each one he took back. I gathered the tech and put it in my pockets, trying not to look at the fallen Greenies.

  “I can help you. I’m not working for Thane. Please, listen to me Violet.”

  “Whatever,” I said.

  “I’ve been protecting you for years. You have to believe me.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Who do you think covered up all your rule-breaking in the Goodgrounds? Viol—”

  I willed him to be silent. His expression glazed; his mouth hung open in defeat. I played with his teleporter ring, twirling it in my fingers to buy time. I can silence without a silencer. The thought brought hot tears of anger to my eyes. And what if he was telling the truth?

  “Sit,” I said.

  He sat.

  “Stay.” I had no doubt that he would stay. I controlled him completely. Easily. My legs shook as I hurried out into the flat expanse to find Jag.

  Kneeling over him, I tried to shake him awake. I said his name. Nothing worked. I took a deep breath and called to him in his mind. After a few moments his eyes opened and he moaned.

  “Jag! Jag, I’m so sorry.”

  He sat up slowl
y, and I brushed the sand off his face and back.

  “I don’t know why I keep comin’ back for more,” he said, his voice thick and slow. “You’re gonna kill me one day.”

  I laughed. It came out shaky and much louder than necessary.

  “That wasn’t a joke.”

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on people in the dark,” I said, my attitude resurfacing.

  “I thought you’d sense me.”

  “I did, but I didn’t know it was you, I swear.”

  “I thought we had, well . . .” He trailed off and stood up.

  “We had what?”

  He wouldn’t look at me, not that I could have seen his expression in the dark. “Nothing.” He threw the word over his shoulder as he stalked away.

  I expected him to be mad. I didn’t know it wouldn’t be about getting tased.

  As I followed him back to the fire, I came to the conclusion that boys are impossible to figure out. It seemed like everything I said or did was wrong.

  Which reminded me of my mother. Nothing I did was ever good enough for her either.

  Jag stood in front of Baldie, taking in the scene around the fire. “You did this? By yourself?” He looked at me and cocked one eyebrow.

  I shrugged and rummaged through a backpack. I found a length of orange rope. When I turned, Jag was rifling through their food and supplies. I moved to tie up the fallen Greenies.

  “Leave them,” Jag said. “We’re not staying.”

  “What?” I asked, looking behind him where he’d put Baldie to sleep.

  “Night is the best time to travel,” he said, dumping the contents of a backpack onto the ground. He threw two teleporter rings into the fire before gathering the rest of the tech and protein packets.

  “Hey, those are teleporter rings,” I said. I still had Baldie’s in my pocket.

  He looked up. “We’re walking. Seaside doesn’t allow unauthorized teleportation, and we don’t have time to contact the right people. Hell, I don’t even know who the right people are.” He straightened and shouldered his bag.

  “You said we could sleep,” I complained, annoyed that I sounded like a three-year-old who wanted a sweet.

  “We can,” he said, not bothering to look at me. “Later. It’ll take several days to get to Seaside on foot. We’ll have plenty of time to sleep.”

  I wanted to scream, tell him how unfair he was. I wanted to tell him I hated him, but my voice wouldn’t allow the words to be spoken.

  “You wouldn’t mean it anyway, Vi.” He spoke in his tell-me-everything voice and stepped toward me slowly, his eyes trained on mine.

  Refusing to let him see me cry, I picked up my backpack and left.

  Using the GPS on the phone, I found west and walked along the bank of the stream. I heard him behind me, but I didn’t wait because I didn’t care.

  Jag caught up and fell into step beside me. He walked close enough to hold hands and far enough away that words could never repair the damage we’d done to each other.

  We came to the edge of the ravine, and Jag said, “After you.”

  Yeah, thanks, I thought, eyeing the barely there land bridge with only darkness underneath. We’d have to go one at a time. Across the gorge lay the jagged landscape of the demilitarized zone.

  My legs felt waterlogged as I shuffled along the narrow path, and when I reached the other side, I hurried behind an outcropping of rock. Let’s see how Jag likes it when he’s left behind.

  Rage simmered in my veins as I chose random paths that seemed like they’d take me farther west. I couldn’t trust anything that came out of his mouth. He’d said he’d help me, but he hadn’t. He blamed me for the sticker and the tag and who knows what else. When he told me he loved me, he’d probably been lying about that too.

  That hurt. A lot. Because, yeah, I’m a liar too, but about that, I hadn’t. I really loved that stupid Jag Barque.

  But what about my dad, with all his aliases—did I still love him? I didn’t know. Blood was thicker than water, right? But was blood thicker than love? Than choice? Than freedom?

  I reran my dad’s speech at the facility through my head. Maybe he was right. Maybe people do need someone to keep them in line.

  The images from primary school repeated in my head. Elderly people living in the streets.

  The bones of children practically popping through their skin because they didn’t have enough to eat.

  The hollow, worn-out faces of those who had no one to take care of them.

  The Association of Directors had fixed all that. Would it be so horrible to use my control to make sure our society didn’t lapse back into poverty, ruin, and starvation?

  It seemed like an easy choice. It wasn’t.

  Just as I forced one foot in front of the other, I forced the disturbing thoughts out of my head, fumbling for one good memory.

  I remembered my tenth birthday, when Ty made me a pink birthday cake with purple frosting. My mother was angry because Ty used her last ration of cherries to tint the cake batter.

  But Ty didn’t get punished. My mother adored her, and Ty showed her how the cake had risen perfectly. My mother smiled and got out the replicator to take the only picture I had of any of my birthdays. And I wasn’t even in it.

  When the sun started to rise, I looked behind me for Jag. Most of me wanted to see him, following me to make sure I was okay—or at least headed in the right direction. But a tiny part didn’t want to find him. That part needed more than a night to reason through the confusing mess of good and bad and free and safe and betrayal and love.

  He emerged like a dark shadow from the awakening sky. “You hungry?” he asked, spitting out the words like it was my fault hunger existed.

  My stomach roared. “No,” I lied, barely forming the word in my dry throat.

  “Come on, Vi—”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “I have protein packets.”

  Ignoring him—and the protests of my belly—I found a cave amidst the rocky landscape big enough to lie down in.

  I did not need Jag Barque to survive.

  32.

  I couldn’t sleep with all the growling in my gut. Just when I’d drift off, my insides ached as if they were about to collapse.

  I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I sat up, feeling weak. I had to eat. Across from me, Jag slept. I slipped over the rocky surface, cringing when the grating sounds of my movement echoed off the cave walls.

  Jag’s backpack unzipped easily, quietly. The silver protein packets glinted underneath the orange rope. I reached for them, cursing silently when they slid further into the pack.

  I had just managed to trap a packet between my fingers when Jag muttered in his sleep. I jumped and backpedaled away. The lines on his face smoothed as he settled back into his dream. I wondered which one it was this time. Part of me longed to be asleep so I could experience his memories with him. Another part hated that I could enter his mind at all. And still another part wanted nothing more than to eat. Now.

  Tucking the lone protein packet in my back pocket, I pulled on my backpack and stumbled in the direction of the river. I twisted through the canyon down to the water’s edge. My head felt detached and everything was turning white.

  I drank greedily, not caring that the water needed to be purified. A few brush trees and scraggly bushes grew nearby, but nothing like the bulbs I’d eaten in the Badlands. I dumped out the contents of my first aid kit so I could mix the protein packet. Nothing had ever tasted so good as that putrid drink.

  But I was still starving. One packet wasn’t going to sustain me for very long.

  I dug through the clothes and tech supplies, laying them on the ground to see them better. The three tech-phones were incapable of making food. That seemed like a good feature to have. The stupid phone could do everything else.

  I had a dozen bio-cylinders. Two round platters lay next to them. After picking one up, I felt the tech twitch inside the sliver of metal. My fingers shook at
the same time.

  The now-familiar insignia of the two square knots snaking around each other adorned the back. Maybe this was another weapon. Maybe you could throw it and it would grow nasty edges and cut enemies down. Who knew?

  Jag, probably.

  I pushed the plates away along with the annoying thought of Jag. I turned my attention to the two cubes of pure silver. They didn’t bear the double square knot. I picked one up and the techtricity infiltrated my mind, almost whispering instructions. I pressed with my thumb on one side and my forefinger on the other.

  The cube shook and started to unfold. I dropped it and watched as it flopped into a square big enough to stand on. I didn’t think it was a teleporter pad, though it looked like one.

  The tray looked familiar . . . like the one my hot chocolate had arrived on at the tech facility.

  “Pink birthday cake with purple frosting,” I said. It appeared on the square. I smiled, picked it up, and stuffed it in my mouth.

  “Happy Birthday to me,” I sang softly to myself. “Scalloped potatoes.” A large plate of potatoes and onions with cheese sauce appeared. I ate it in about two minutes even though it burned my mouth.

  “Milk,” I said next, but the square remained empty. “Fine. Whole milk.” With the clarification, a large glass of creamy white milk appeared. Nothing had ever tasted so good as that milk.

  I sighed happily and wiped my mouth. A flicker of light beamed in my mind, a signal that someone with power was drawing near. I started stuffing everything back into the pack.

  I glanced behind me to the path through the canyon—the only way out. Pulling on my pack, I ran parallel to the river, toward the safety of a small cluster of rocks. Just as I crouched behind them, Jag emerged from the canyon and crossed to the water. He bent down and drank from the stream.

  Then he moved toward me slowly, his eyes trained on the ground. He stopped in the exact spot I’d been eating my solitary birthday meal. Today was his birthday too. I wondered if he felt as alone as I did, if he also longed to have a party with his sister—the way it should have been.