by Lin Lustig
John better be okay. Emerson never should have let him go alone. Even if things between them were... what they were. But shouldn't they have heard from him by now? They gave him an hour head start before they arrived for the audit. Had that been too long? Were they too late? It was almost seven, now, but his phone had been silent. John might have called Licia, but she’d said she’d message Glen or Emerson right away if that happened. Emerson stopped paying attention to Glen and their guide, and instead felt the shifting energies around him. He was always vaguely aware of others’ vital energy, mostly in the form of an ache against the hollow, or a scratch he begged to itch, but he'd never felt it so clearly before. Now it was more like someone was baking the most decadent pizza and the smell was making him salivate, except none of it had to do with his mouth.
They stopped outside a plain door. Pat swiped her ID at the panel and Emerson heard the electronic lock release.
Maybe he should have stopped John, or at least accompanied him against his wishes. But was that because he needed protecting, or because Emerson wanted to be close to him? He couldn't ask for such a selfish thing. He had no rights to John's preferential treatment anymore. The ache in his heart would have to learn to deal with the situation between them. John had Prisha and was in love with Licia. Emerson knew he and John didn’t fit together easily, but even if they could have another go, love might not be enough to bridge the gap between their past and a potential future.
His phone buzzed and he jumped, tearing it out of his pocket. Pat raised her eyebrow at him.
“Sorry, my wife is pretty far along. Could be anytime now.” That sounded straight, right? It was hard enough being gay and overweight. Downplaying one side of discrimination to help sell a lie seemed reasonable. Pat put her hand over her heart and made a soft coo of understanding.
Licia's number flashed on his screen and he answered, not even caring that it was her and not John. “Hey, everything okay? I'm about to go into a meeting.” He used his official voice, blatantly lying to preserve his cover.
“No. Let Glen keep going. You need to get to John.” Licia's voice was hard and fast.
He knew it. He fucking knew this was a shit-baked plan. The hollow—which was full—gave him a boost of energy flooding down to his legs, urging him to run. He bounced a little.
“I'm on my way.” He grinned at Pat and hoped it was convincing. Glen's mouth was a tight line, but he nodded.
Emerson should have just embraced being selfish and never let John out of his sight.
CHAPTER 59
Licia
Licia twirled in an office chair behind a stranger's desk. She and Azami had followed Glen inside to a point, then she’d used a spread of disinterest to guide her and Azami straight ahead and into a series of small side offices. She'd picked an empty one at random and set them up to wait.
Azami shouldn't have come. She'd chewed her nails off and couldn’t stop fidgeting, but Licia wanted to let her face this on her own. She needed to know she could, and not because someone else was her emotional puppeteer.
It was seven. How long did it take to sign some stupid papers?
It had been stupid to agree to this role. Sitting here on her ass while John faced Aubrey and the others tracked down information. She should be out there, stripping people to their emotional cores and freeing Tarrah with her own hands. But no, she was backup. Fucking backup.
They feared her, as they should, but they needed her.
“I'm bored. Do you want anything to drink?” she asked Azami. They'd passed a vending machine on their way in and the office owner's desk had a handful of loose change just begging to be used.
“No, thank you.” Azami licked her lips and bounced her knee.
“I'm not going to let Aubrey touch you. You know that, right?” Licia leaned forward on the desk as if she were a doctor delivering a prognosis.
Azami massaged the back of her neck. “I know. It's not just that. What if we can't free Tarrah? What if this all goes wrong?”
“All right, then what's the worst that happens?”
“We're all captured and experimented on.”
“Wrong.” Licia allowed her one of her softest smiles. “The worst that happens is we can't use our abilities and we resort to other methods of mayhem. I'm not against setting things on fire, breaking equipment, general chaos. There are thousands of variables. Your mind is brilliant, but shitty at predicting the future. So don't.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and smoothed her oversized knit sweater over her tights. “Okay. You're right. Deal with things as they are. I feel like we should have heard something by now. Can you feel anything?”
Licia bit her cheek and bunched her lips to the side. “No. It's a hospital. The less I can feel the better.”
“Could you feel John right now if you tried? Just to check?”
Licia sighed. “There's bound to be too much interference.”
“I wish there was another way to check in on him.” Azami went back to picking at a hangnail.
Licia tipped her head back and spun again, staring at the ceiling, watching the panels blur. Her wards were at maximum, as were her walls to hold in her own emotions from infecting others, but there might be an easier way to get a hint of John's movements. She'd never admit it openly, but she followed one of his fan sites—had ever since they’d parted ways. Glen wasn't the only one who kept tabs long distance, but it was a hell of a lot easier to follow John than Licia made it for Glen to follow her. She picked up her phone and found the site, then did a quick scroll for any recent sightings, hoping a fan of his was currently being treated here.
“What the fuck?” It slipped out before she could think and then Azami rounded the desk to see the screen. A live video was playing with over a million views—but it was only audio. She played it from the start.
“This is John Beechum, investigating UHP's claims of goodwill towards Abnormals, which I call Ferly. Wish me luck.” And then she heard Aubrey's voice.
“That fucking idiot! See? There's no predicting the future, especially with fucking John involved.” Licia wanted to reach in and shut him down. She pried open just a corner of her mental ward, which was like prying back blackout curtains to let in a stream of light. A bit of emotion leaked, tasting like sandy boredom mixed with trickles of bitter anxiety. She felt for John's brand of confidence and sassy pride that came with his overly sweet and fatty arousal, but like she’d thought, her range wasn’t strong enough. There were so many things here she didn’t want to feel, and a lot of them reminded her of the dark, hopeless moments of her life she’d rather numb away.
But there was a thread pulling at her awareness that momentarily distracted her. It didn't have a flavor. She could feel it, but she couldn't decipher it. Just tension, kind of like what she’d felt that day she’d toured Columbia. It was tugging at her from low in the building, probably near the bottom floor. She shook herself. More important issues at hand.
Azami took her phone and did something to make the video play at over twice the regular speed. Licia could barely make out the words, but Azami closed her eyes and tilted closer to the phone. Even at this speed Licia heard the panicked cry. Azami’s hand flew to her mouth.
“They're several floors down. She dosed him with Jammers.”
Fuck! No wonder she couldn't feel him. She paused the recording and called Emerson, told him to get to John, then handed the phone back to Azami.
“Find out where they are.”
Azami put the speaker close to her ear, the sound still a garble of too-fast voices and unexpected squeaks. Azami's eyes flew open and she backed up the video and played it at regular speed. Aubrey was introducing a Patriarch from GANF. If there was a GANF representative here, then they wouldn't go far in a hospital without a sanctioned space.
“Does the hospital have a chapel?” Azami asked.
Licia didn't answer and darted out of the office towards the elevators, Azami jogging to keep up. Licia layered on a thick nothing
-to-see-here apathy to the onlookers. Next to the elevator was a directory listing two chapels. One all-faith chapel on the third floor, and another with a newer sign for a General Assembly of Natural Faith chapel on the first level.
Licia hit the button to go down.
CHAPTER 60
John
Now that the woozy effects of the injection had worn off, John was able to think clearly. There was no turning back. Aubrey had maneuvered him perfectly, but she didn't know his phone was still recording. Without his vibe he felt oddly exposed, like any one of the hospital staff would see beyond his mask and realize the John underneath was still weak, desperate Jayden.
The only choice he had was to demand his freedom or follow Aubrey and find Tarrah... which really meant there was no choice.
“Come on.” Aubrey tipped her head for him to follow like an owner calling a dog. He was so turned around in the maze of hospital halls and rooms that he wasn't sure he could get out if he tried.
“Would you let me leave if I asked?”
“Why would you ask? You need to know what it's like to be needed without your ability. I'm giving you that opportunity. Just follow me. It will be worth your while.”
“Tell me now or I walk.”
Aubrey chewed on her cheek, pausing in a deserted hall with mass produced art on the walls, then said. “I want you for more than a liaison. How would you like to be in charge of a program like mine?”
“Excuse me? What does that even mean?” John rubbed the injection site to distract his mind from the possibilities of caring for Ferly directly.
“It means you need to sign the NDA, but I need you to meet my benefactor first.” She turned away, her sharp shoulders pulled back and her head high. She was unshakable, which had steadied him all those years ago, but now it was unnerving.
John kept his steps slow, like he was still working off the Jammer's side effects. “Then what can you tell me?” He enunciated for the sake of the audio.
They passed a desk with three attendants and a wall of records behind them. He was surprised there were still so many hardcopy files here. Aubrey slowed, like she couldn't walk at that pace and think at the same time. “I suppose it doesn't hurt to tell you I replicated my findings from before with even better results. There's a hormone connection, and the theory of The Shift's influence still stands, though were not sure why or how.” Aubrey stopped walking, so he did, too. “But we don't know why it's not affecting all children born since then, or why there are people like you. The expressions are too unpredictable, and our study too small.” She gritted her teeth and looked away. She never liked not having all the answers, which was what started her fascination with him years ago. “My theory is you were more in line with whatever else changed the day of The Shift, and it heightened something in your genes.”
He didn’t really care why they came to be. The problem was that they were here now, and they needed help. “Then what does your power scale measure?”
Aubrey walked ahead without answering. “We'd like to make you an offer.”
“We?”
Aubrey pushed open an unadorned door, the white paint scuffed around the edges. “John, please meet Patriarch Michael. He's here representing GANF's interest in our Abnormals programs.”
Her benefactor, she'd said. Was this the man who had gotten her out of prison? A fit man stood as Aubrey said his name. He was like a human root ball, all brown gnarled joints and deep creases, but strong and thick. If it weren't for his surprisingly robust hair John would have said he was twice his age, but there was a youthfulness to the man's pale brown eyes that betrayed his appearance.
“John Beechum. How blessed we are to finally meet.” The Patriarch said a short prayer with the greeting.
“What's this all about?” John glanced between Aubrey and Michael.
“The General Assembly of Natural Faith would like to offer you a position. We'd like you to be our head of public relations for the Abnormals, a spokesperson to help your people find God's way back to nature.”
What a load of shit—back to nature? Abnormals didn't alter themselves in any way. He’d been fucking born like this. Licia was right, the Ferly were savants, not monsters. “And what are you hoping to gain with my image?” It would take a miraculous offer to get him to consider the role.
“You're a well-loved actor and perhaps the only individual who openly admits to their abnormality. Working together with UHP, we can guide Abnormals to the church where we're preparing a program to help get them on Jammers and cure their unnatural abilities.”
Cure? There wasn’t anything to cure. He couldn't hide his scoff and crossed his arms. “You're against tattoos, sugar, coffee, paper, even regular doctors for fucks sake, and you expect me to believe you want an Abnormal,” John couldn't help saying the word without distaste, “to work for you?”
“I can understand your hesitation.” Michael bowed his head as if in shame, his creased body no less strong in the position. “If we can show that GANF is bridging relations between our groups while working to heal your ailments, then Abnormals will be more likely to trust our help in the future.”
John almost rolled his eyes. Us versus Them. Emerson had seen it back when Kostas had announced Abnormals existed, but John hadn’t caught on fast enough. GANF and UHP saw Ferly as a sub-class of human: people to be pitied, used, and taken advantage of. He couldn’t let that happen. If his kind were Othered it could get them all killed. It was already happening in Belarus and North Korea. It was only going to spread, and he couldn’t let it.
Maybe he was finally understanding how to lead. “How about no. There's nothing about our abilities that needs to be healed. We are natural.”
Michael shook his lined face and clasped his hands behind his back, giving Aubrey an expectant look.
“We thought you might feel that way, so we have a joint offer,” Aubrey said.
“You drugged me against my will and still expect me to consider either of your offers?”
“If you accept GANF's public relations position, I'll give you full control over patients in my program. Treatment, care, anonymity, whatever you want. You can even release them all if you so choose.”
John felt cold rush through his body. His mind went blank. “What?” She couldn’t be serious. Could she? This was absurd. This was... he'd have to leave his acting behind, his persona, his friends, Emerson, all of it. But he could free Tarrah, and not just her, but the others. Any of them. He could provide a safe medical environment for Emerson to heal his body, for Azami to study her own genetics. He could keep an eye on Aubrey while keeping them all anonymous.
But it would mean he'd bring his fans, his clout, and his status as the only public Ferly into UHP and GANF's fold—an open endorsement to both. Even if he controlled the programs directly related to Ferly, he wouldn't have any say in the rest of their aims.
Still, he leaned into the offer, feeling the temptation of power and clout like a drug addict would his next hit. He could do it. He could free them, prove to Emerson and the others that he could make up for his past, that starting this whole mess didn't have to end in flames. This could be the answer...
But if he was going to be a true leader, he needed to think beyond the people he could reach and prepare for the ones he couldn't. There was a world of people like him that needed a guide. He hadn’t asked for this, and he sure as hell wasn’t prepared for this, but if he could do anything, it was act like he had his shit together. They needed someone confident and fearless. The skipping record of his heartbeat said he was anything but, but this was more important. They—his people—were more important.
“No.” John barely got the word out. Aubrey raised a skeptical brow at him. “I can't support what you're doing here.” John yanked open the office door and marched out. If he hesitated, if he over thought it, he knew he'd accept. It felt like an inevitable raincloud that he tried to outrun.
“Wait. You could do a lot of good here.” Aubrey darted after him.
He came to a T in the hall and had no idea which way to go. He chose the opposite of the signs pointing him towards labs.
“At least let me take a sample of your blood.” Aubrey jogged to keep up with his long legs.
“Like I'm going to let you anywhere near me with a needle ever again.”
“Slow down. You're not getting out of here until we come to an agreement.”
John spun on her. “And what happens when I make a very public complaint about my treatment at UHP and the violation of my rights?”
“Depends. What happens when those same people find out you founded all of this?”
John grit his teeth. He glanced at the square of his phone outlined in her lab coat. “They already know.” He spun away and upped his pace, jogging from door to door, looking for an exit, but this place had no windows and the exits signs were down every hall and through every door.
“Wait!” Aubrey called, but he ignored her. “Jayden, you don't understand. We’re helping people.”
He spun back on her then, “You're torturing people, forcing them to take medications to erase a part of themselves. I can't be a part of that.”
For once, Aubrey looked lost and uncertain. Her eyes darted around, like something might stabilize her, but her body stayed still. “I just need to understand what's wrong with them.”
An uncomfortable possibility brushed at his mind, that maybe she was trying to understand herself in all this, too, but he rejected the idea. She wasn’t one of them. If she was, she wouldn't be doing this.
“I'd like my phone back.”
She sighed and pulled it from her pocket, offering it over. He gripped it, his fingerprint hitting the right spot to unlock the screen. The live stream app flashed up and her eyes widened.