by Clara Ward
“Do you know anything about your maternal grandfather?” Delgado was asking Sarah.
“I know my relatives have suspicions, but my Mother never said anything.”
“And she was cremated?”
“Yes.” Sarah slouched back in her seat. Mr. Delgado glanced at a paper on his desk.
“What about your father?”
“I suspect he’s not the person named on my birth certificate, but that’s all.”
“Was he a sperm donor?”
“What?” Sarah sat up like a student surprised by an interesting lesson.
“Did your mother ever use the name Molly Bernard?”
Sarah began to laugh. Reggie had the unpleasant feeling he’d missed a joke. The bureaucrat looked unamused as well.
“Sarah Bernard. That’s Sarah Bernhardt’s real name. My mom always said I was named after her. But what if I’d been a boy?”
Delgado stood and unlocked a battered file cabinet in the corner. He pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Sarah with one thick, meaty hand.
“That’s her handwriting,” Sarah said, “Even her real birthdate, June 8, 1964. So do you know who my father was?”
“Either Chris Morton or his son, James. They ran Family Fertility Services until Chris died in ’08, and we took it over. They personally provided the sperm for over two thousand of their clients, a sort of private effort to bias the gene pool. Not a bad idea, although we’re much more efficient.”
“They were telepaths?”
Delgado nodded. “So you’ve got that on one side and at least half from your mother, but no telepathy?”
“Nope.”
“Well, we’re still trying to figure out telekinesis. We’ll get some blood samples and go from there. One other thing,” the bulldog looked at Reggie, “How did you close your mind?”
“Excuse me?” Reggie played Toto to a bulldog wizard.
“Don’t give me that innocent look. Before you left the states, your mind was as open as any. Now it’s not.”
“A little knowledge and a strong will?”
The big man scowled at Reggie as if he was an uppity lab rat. But he led them down the hall to a laboratory room without challenging the explanation.
The lab was bright and smelled strongly of ammonia. The money not spent on Delgado’s office had clearly been spent here. The walls were sectioned off with workstations and large, pristine machines, all currently unused. A computer near the center connected to a 3D-rendering device Reggie had seen demoed just last month. The floor shone.
“Watkins, I need full blood work-up and GPS on both of these.”
“Wait,” Sarah interrupted in the doorway. “Why Reggie? And when do I get to meet with the Chens?”
“Look, dear. You and your boyfriend both know highly classified information, which means you need security clearances. DNA check and GPS implant are standard. If we choose to count you as munitions, regs get even stricter. So don’t push your luck. You can meet with your friends as soon as you’re done here.”
Sarah looked panicked, but Reggie knew she planned to cooperate. The GPS part she’d been expecting. Then she looked at the med tech and cringed so hard her eyes shut.
“Oh, hi. Sorry ‘bout the car,” she stammered.
Watkins laughed. “It’s okay. I got some trouble for that. But then you eluded the whole government for two weeks. So I feel vindicated. Livens things up a bit.”
Turning to Reggie, he extended a hand. “Hi, I’m Matt Watkins.”
“Reggie Malone.”
“You hear how she trapped me in a car?”
“No.”
“Good. Then my reputation is safe. Hold out your arm.”
Watkins applied local anesthetic to Reggie’s and then Sarah’s left forearms. Next he took sample vials of blood from each.
“Okay. Anesthetic should be ready now. Who wants to be first in the machine?”
“What’s it do?” Sarah asked.
“You put your arm here.” He gestured at a smooth, white apparatus about the size of a bread maker with a cylindrical hole through the center. “I fasten it down. The top part lowers, a little laser cuts, GPS goes in, and I slap on a bandage. In a couple weeks, it looks like this.” Watkins showed them a scar on his arm less than a quarter centimeter long.
Sarah nodded. “I’ll go first.”
Reggie felt a brief stab of masculine pride, especially as Watkins waved Sarah to the machine with some exaggerated pomp, but he figured this was her game to play. She received her implant and let the teep take a blood sample without incident.
On his turn, Reggie tried to think stoic thoughts as the machine clamped on to immobilize his arm. There was a view screen so he could watch the laser incision, see the chip inserted. He felt a sharp pinch, then wondered if it was psychosomatic. When his arm was finally freed, it only hurt where the clamps had held him still. The incision site was numb, and merited just a standard size band-aid.
Then Watkins took them back to Delgado who in turn took them past the lab to a conference room at the other end of the hall. He waved them in and shut the door.
Sarah’s face split with a nervous smile as she scanned the room. “Hi everyone, I hope I haven’t caused you too much trouble. This is Reggie. Reggie, this is Mei Mei Chen, her children, Lisa and Robert, and her nephew, Howard.”
Reggie said, “Hello,” as Mei Mei stood and glided over to clasp Sarah’s hands. She was like a mother bird, scooting across the nest, checking the plumage of a returning, wayward chick. Lisa and Robert tracked her with their eyes, the dutiful chicks left behind, but Howard leaned away. He was seated across the table from the others and his eyes were on Reggie as Mei Mei spoke to Sarah.
“No, let me apologize. It was my idea to visit your relatives, my responsibility. I can’t believe you turned yourself in.”
Reggie wanted to dislike the Chen’s. Sarah’s ties to this family had been built behind his back and had dragged him into danger just when safety in Thailand beckoned. But Mei Mei with Sarah seemed maternal, maybe Sarah needed that, and Reggie couldn’t begrudge it.
He focused himself as her vigilant sentinel as they sat around a long, rectangular table. Sarah chose a seat to the right of Howard, facing toward the only obvious video camera in the room. Reggie sat next to her, facing the Chens, but keeping a special eye on Howard, who leaned in toward the group now that Sarah was near.
“There’s no way I could live in this country, other than to turn myself in. There are probably few places in the world I could go. That’s a lot to give up.”
Sarah leaned forward with her right arm on the table, and Reggie could barely see the words picked out in red, on the underside, away from the camera. Want to escape?
Howard’s mouth fell open when he saw, not subtle, but at least he didn’t say anything.
“Why did you want to meet with us?” Lisa asked.
Howard’s gaze was now fixed on Mei Mei. By the time Sarah said, “I wanted to know if you were safe,” none of the Chen’s seemed to be listening.
Finally Mei Mei said, “Yes. Yes, it’s good of you to check on us.”
Sarah’s arm now sported different words. Leave country? Now?
“I’m glad to have a chance to meet you all,” Reggie said to cover the silence. “I’ve heard a lot about you, and I’m glad Sarah wasn’t pulled into this alone.”
“Yes, it’s better to work together,” Mei Mei said with a nod, and a glance at Sarah’s arm, which was now blank and which Mei Mei could never have read from her side of the table.
Sarah took a deep breath and seemed to visibly shiver.
Howard, who had been rubbing his hands together on the table, said, “We’re with you now. Whatever happens. Is there more you wanted to ask us?”
Suddenly there were loud sirens in the hall. Sarah burst from her seat, and everyone followed her lead. “Stay together. That’s a fire alarm. We’ll need to take the stairs, quickly.”
Sarah pushed open the do
or of the conference room. Delgado was standing outside yelling orders down the hall. Sarah yelled above the sirens, “Is it a fire?”
At the same time she covered the few steps to the exit at the end of the hall and pulled open the door marked “stairs.”
“Yes, but don’t worry –“
“Are you crazy? We’re sixteen floors up! We’ve got to get out of here.” Sarah all but pushed her friends through the door as she spoke. Reggie hesitated, not willing to go without her. She moved to follow him out.
“Okay. I’ll come with you,” Delgado said. Then down the hall he shouted, “Evacuate! Everyone out!”
They all ran down the stairs. Sarah kept urging her group to hurry. Reggie kept beside her on the steps, preventing Delgado from passing them, in case he wanted to. But he was huffing along behind, in worse shape than even Mrs. Chen and fumbling with his phone besides. Reggie chuckled at the idea of telepaths still being dependent on their phones. But Sarah had implied telepathy wasn’t much stronger than the human voice, just better directed sometimes.
Reggie wondered what Sarah had done to set off the fire alarms, and how well she could target objects beyond her sight. He wanted to know more, soon, about what all these people could do. But for now, he might as well enjoy the ride.
Back in the moment, Reggie felt his legs pounding on the stairs. He realized he was smiling. Many other people had joined them from lower floors, fleeing downward. The new people entered looking worried, then caught momentum when they saw other people hurrying down. The ones coming in were all talking about the alarm and whether there was really a fire. It occurred to Reggie how silent the stairs had been for the first few floors. Were the telepaths talking amongst themselves? Presumably they knew enough to bluff Delgado.
By the time they reached ground, several people had come between Delgado and the rest of their group, but there was no telling who might be watching for them below. The bureaucrat had managed to call someone on his phone.
People evacuating lower floors had reached ground level before them. So there was quite a bit of confusion, but not enough panic and chaos to hide them.
A security guard began to approach, and Sarah said, “Outside!”
They made their way through the front doors as the security guard tripped over nothing. “Keep walking fast, but don’t run. Cross wherever the light is green.”
Outside it was refreshingly cold. Fog hung over the buildings, keeping the day gray, like a rainy day without the rain. As soon as they were across the street Sarah led them around the block, out of sight of the office building. Before they turned the corner, Reggie looked back and saw what must be smoke coming from the top floor. Down below, Delgado landed in front of the main glass doors. His head searched back and forth, jowls swinging. He looked every bit the faithful guard dog agitated by his failure. Reggie fled with the pride of the fox.
Sarah was opening the door to a minivan parked at a meter. “Any of you know San Francisco well?”
Robert nodded.
“Are you calm enough to drive?”
“Yeah.” Reggie thought Robert looked resigned more than calm, still the faithful chick, through a squat, muscular chick, bulky and strong beside his mother.
“Great. Everyone in.”
As the others took seats and Robert adjusted the driver’s side mirrors, Sarah pulled a map from the glove compartment. It was a San Francisco map, but she dropped it to the floor and pulled out one of California.
“Can you get to fifth and Market?” she asked Robert.
“Yes.”
“Okay. First, don’t panic, but I need to remove the GPS from your arm. It might hurt, but I can do it cleanly. All right? Hold out your arm.”
Robert held his arm, still as a raccoon before headlights. Sarah held his elbow in her left hand, his wrist in her right. What had been a mostly healed cut reopened and a tiny square, smaller than a sequin, floated out along with a tiny speck of blood.
Reggie wondered if she found it by sight or memory of the implant process. Akum’s razor kept him from speculating too long on x-ray visions, though the thought almost provoked a pun. He’d begun analogizing about the sense of touch in ghost limb syndrome as the GPS chip landed on the California map in Sarah’s lap. The cut pressed itself closed. Sarah used her right hand to pull off her bandage. In the air it ripped in half. The half with a bit of her own blood on it continued to float. The other half Sarah placed, by hand, over Robert’s cut.
“Okay, drive to Market.”
As the van began to move, Sarah glanced at her own uncovered cut and had the transmitter out and onto the map in a moment. She reapplied the remaining half of her bandage.
“Reggie, can you check in back for a first aid kit? Clean band-aids would be nice.”
As Reggie swung over the back seat to look, Sarah crouched down between Mei Mei and Lisa who were in captain’s chairs in the middle of the van. She set down the map and its contents then turned to Mei Mei.
“Your turn. You do want to go through with this, right?”
“Yes. We all wanted to leave. We just, we doubted you could arrange it.”
“Well, we’re not out of the country yet. By the way, if we make it onto a plane, I’ll need you to listen in on the pilot and others and warn me if they’ll betray us. I don’t know how far the government will go.”
Mei Mei let out a gasp of pain as the transmitter floated from her arm.
“It’s okay. I’m done. Any band-aids, Reggie?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“I’ll hold a tissue on it. It will be fine,” Mei Mei said, taking a tissue from her purse.
“If you want part of Reggie’s bandage, let me know. But I don’t think I can make it useful for more than two.”
“Ready, Lisa?”
“Are you going to tell us your plan? Where we’re going? Or don’t you trust us?”
“It’s not about trust. There just isn’t time. I’ll tell you when I’ve got these out, okay?”
Lisa extended her arm and looked away. Sarah continued until the remaining three transmitters were out.
“Pull into the next covered garage you see, Robert. It’s time to switch cars.”
As Robert found a garage and took a parking ticket, Sarah opened a covered metal commuter mug that was sitting in the front cup holder. Reggie could smell the old coffee at the bottom, and watched curiously from the back of the van as Sarah poured the bit of liquid into the cup holder then tore off the top of the California map and pushed it and its bloody contents into the cup.
“Howard,” She called out. “Can you do what I did to this car?”
“I can unlock anything with a switch for the locks, but I don’t know what you did to the ignition.”
“Okay. Get everyone loaded into the nearest car big enough, and I’ll show you how to jam the ignition.”
Reggie watched Howard nod acceptingly at the order as Robert parked next to another van. It rankled Reggie a little not to be Sarah’s lieutenant, even as he admired her ability to command. He paused beside her while the others switched vans. She was damp with sweat, despite the chill weather.
“Are you okay? Is what you’ve done physically hard or are you just nervous?”
“Nervous mostly. You?”
“It’s been surreal, but we can talk about that later.”
“Okay.” With that, the paper in the mug burst briefly into flame, charring the inside of the cup and its contents.
“That might not stop them from transmitting.”
“I’m just ruining the blood.”
“But they took samples from us already.”
Sarah gave him a pained look, and Reggie guessed where the fire at CDC had started. With the briefest of hugs, they moved to the other van.
In under ten seconds, Sarah showed Howard how to teek out the shaft where the key went in and jam the ignition on. He assured her he could do it himself next time. Then they drove out of the parking garage, paying for the time their ne
w van had been there. It was just over an hour, so it probably wouldn’t be missed too soon. Reggie watched out of the back window, trying to see if they were being followed. He couldn’t tell in San Francisco traffic. When they reached Market with its dirty concrete buildings, sleazy stores, and sidewalk peddlers, Reggie could hear Sarah giving directions.
Soon they were in another underground garage. Sarah had run off somewhere, and Howard was selecting another van.
Once Howard opened the doors and rigged the ignition, there was nothing to do but wait until Sarah returned. At first Reggie appreciated the need for silence. Then he remembered the Chens could communicate with each other silently, and it was all he could do not to strain to hear or at least watch for clues.
Sarah took about ten minutes, and they were a long ten minutes. As soon as she was back, she told Robert to head for the San Francisco airport, which was actually a few miles south of San Francisco. She gave him a baseball hat out of the bag she now carried and told everyone else to sit on the floor.
There wasn’t much room on the floor, but at least the suspension was smooth. The sounds of their own acceleration and noisier cars outside combined to paint a virtual window view in Reggie’s mind.
“Okay, we’re trying to get to Thailand. Once there we declare ourselves political refugees escaping persecution based on mental differences. They evidently have a law set up to cover people like us, and they know we might be coming. I’ve been assured we don’t have to work for the government; they’ll settle for us just not helping the Americans or anyone else.”
“Are you sure?” Lisa asked.
“I’m not sure of anything except that the U.S. wasn’t offering even a pretence of freedom.”
“How are we supposed to get to Thailand?” Howard asked.
Sarah pulled a business-sized envelope out of the bag. “I mailed these to myself from Mexico. That’s why we had to stop by the homeless shelter. They accept all sorts of mail for people who don’t have addresses. These are passports and papers for all the girls on the gymnastics team I coach. Coached. I don’t think the government knows I have them. So hopefully they won’t notice when I buy them six tickets to Bangkok. Mei Mei, you’re going to travel as Mrs. Melissa de Carr. She was our parent chaperone. Lisa can be your daughter Carrie. The guys can travel as Torie, Erika, and Erin. They’re the closest I’ve got to male names. I’ll be Laura. Try not to do anything that would make airport staff check your tickets. These are all girls between twelve and sixteen years of age, so we can’t afford any scrutiny.”