Overtaken

  Hands off the grid, Jackson was able to create an electric field that encircled his body. It was a perfect sphere, like Glinda the Good Witch’s bubble, but with a lot more X Games and blue-raspberry Gatorade thrown in. Using his supercharged body as a battery, the sphere grew larger and more tempestuous, twisters of electricity swirling on the surface like a Jupiter storm. He pushed the field toward a variety of test objects—wood, paper, plastic—most of which burned in immediate combustion upon contact with the shimmering blue.

  Jackson’s eyes were so dark with focus and raw power that a stormy gray had completely polluted their clear waters. Logically, I knew it was Jackson, but I didn’t recognize him. I knew then I had to drag myself away. Watching this pod version of one of my closest friends was too disturbing for me to continue. With only adrenaline and an overwhelming rush of emotions to propel me, I finally found a stairwell that led up to the second floor.

  The upstairs of the building was more of an observation deck than a second floor. There were windows in all directions, a 360 view of the entire floor below. Just rotating around on my heels, I could see the group training together. Jackson and others who were practicing more unpredictable powers were in more private areas. I was lucky to find that Cochran and Oliver were still here, now with a third man joining the conversation. It was my mild-mannered biology teacher, Mr. Bluni.

  The men were midconversation, but I did my best to play catch-up. He might be on Bar Tech’s payroll, but Bluni commanded authority. At the moment he was updating Cochran on the progress of his genetic research. He was confident that once they isolated the specific gene the patent could be expedited by Bar Tech’s contacts in Washington.

  Cochran didn’t seem impressed. “We’re still missing the runaway, right? Maya Bartoli?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Security is confident they’ll be able to bring her in. She’d been staying with family in Illinois, and then disappeared. There are only so many places she can hide,” replied Bluni. “We’ll find her.” That didn’t seem to warm Cochran over.

  Cochran turned to Oliver. “Why don’t you head downstairs and join the others? Mr. Bluni and I have a few more technical details to cover.”

  Oliver looked disappointed to be excluded from the grown-ups table, but he quickly agreed and did as he was told. It was weird watching him walk by, completely oblivious to my presence. I heard his voice echo back in my mind, asking how I could spy on my own friends. I didn’t have a good answer, but it was becoming easier and easier.

  With Oliver gone, Cochran and Bluni got back to business. Cochran heaved a big sigh of skepticism. “My biggest concern here remains instability. Yes, their powers have been developing at an impressive rate. And with proper training those abilities are able to be honed, but—”

  “Not just honed. Improved. Expanded,” Bluni said, jumping in, but this just irritated Cochran further. He wasn’t buying what the biology teacher was selling.

  “It doesn’t change the fact that they’re adolescents. I know scientific interest is high in our research—”

  Bluni jumped in again. “High would be a massive understatement. The minute we successfully implant genes in embryos, we’ll have a five-year waiting list at 200 percent of our initially proposed rates.”

  “That’s a long way off to see results,” Cochran groused, none too pleased.

  “Scientific progress demands patience,” said Mr. Bluni.

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m still in a position to decide how my own money is going to be spent. Bar Tech needs to start monetizing its significant investment now.”

  It was a command, not a request. I scurried out of the way as Cochran’s fervor whisked him out of the room and then followed him out.

  • • •

  I stood around shivering in the snow for nearly an hour, waiting for someone—anyone—to drive back down the mountain so I could get the hell out of there. As my luck would have it, Cochran was the first to leave. An eager young Bar Tech Security officer, hoping to make a good impression on his boss, brought Cochran’s Range Rover around. He cranked the heat up at full blast, making it nice and toasty inside for Cochran’s drive back to Barrington. While Cochran was busy conferring with one of the other scientists, I darted along the opposite side of the car and slipped in undetected. I hunkered down on the floor of the backseat, praying that Cochran wouldn’t hear me breathing. Fortunately, he listened to the Denver classical radio station. They were playing Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony, drowning out any and all other random sounds, inside and outside the vehicle.

  During the ride, I considered taking Cochran hostage and demanding to know what he’d done to my father. But as I had no weapon to threaten him with, it seemed unlikely that abducting him would work. I knew I had to enlist Maya if I had any hope of combating Cochran and Bar Tech and getting my father back safely.

  Cochran made it home quickly and without any violence on my part. I waited until he was well inside his house and all the lights were out before I slipped out of the car and scaled over his property wall to freedom.

  By the time I hoofed it home, I was ready for a long, hot bath. But I was so exhausted and spent that I couldn’t do much more than shed my clothes and crawl into bed.

  • • •

  The next morning, Maya and I watched the video clips I’d taken at Whiteface on my laptop. It might’ve looked like cheap, found movie footage, but it was just as disturbing playing on a small screen as it had been in person. Maya dug her fingers into her hair when Cochran mentioned her name, and I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw a few items on the table twitch. She brought her finger down on the computer’s space bar, freezing the video.

  “I can’t take another minute of it,” she confessed.

  I silently agreed. It was terrifying and nauseating, and I was sitting with one of the only people in the world who would understand exactly what I was going through. I hoped it was horrible enough to make her stay, not horrible enough to convince her that she was crazy to ever have come back to Barrington. I guess those two weren’t mutually exclusive.

  “I wish I’d come back sooner,” Maya declared. “What are we going to do?”

  Before I knew what was happening, I was crushing both of our rib cages with a hug of monstrous proportions. Maya let out a cough, a mix of surprise and from the sheer force of the blow. I released her from the hug, suddenly a little sheepish. Maya didn’t miss a beat.

  A look of intensity came over her face. “We need a plan,” she announced.

  I nodded in agreement, but all I had been trying to do was build a plan. It would’ve been much easier if every step I’d taken was a failure or a trick or swept out from beneath my feet. Not to mention, I didn’t trust anyone. What would my mystery texter say about Maya?

  “It’s just hard to wrap my brain around,” she admitted.

  “We have a new enemy now,” I quickly reminded her. “Dana.”

  Maya shook her head. “I think it just feels that way. She might have a more personal grudge against you, but Dana’s just another cog in the system. We need to think outside of that.”

  I felt like I was watching Maya become an adult in real time, and I wondered if she saw the same thing in me. She got up off the kitchen stool and started to pace. After a few darts back and forth, something seemed to shake lose.

  “You’ve been trying to piece it together, figure out what’s going on . . . ,” she continued, “but now we know.”

  “At least we know some of the details,” I countered.

  “That means it’s time for a shake-up in our strategy,” Maya replied. “We need to go on the offensive.”

  She said it with a force that made me immediately want to rally behind her, but what did it mean? There were only two of us. Even if we had enthusiasm and positive thinking on our side, they weren’t an army of superpowered teenagers. I pushed her to continue. “What
are you thinking?”

  “I’m not sure,” she muttered. The pacing continued to turn the wheels in Maya’s head.

  “We need to get outside the Barrington bubble,” I said. “Break the story. Even if it’s just a part of it.”

  I saw the flash of the lightbulb in her eyes. “We’ll be whistleblowers.”

  My mind roared ahead, catching up to Maya’s as we both landed on the same idea.

  “My mom.” I voiced it aloud. “She’s a journalist. She can help us tell the outside world what’s really going on in Barrington. And she’ll be an effective bargaining chip to help get my dad back.”

  Maya smiled.

  I knew my dad would be opposed, as well as maybe even the entire government, but it wasn’t like I could call up the Department of Defense or the NSA and ask them for an alternate plan. Who would I call anyway? My dad never told me who else he might be working with in Barrington—if anyone. My dad would also probably be in huge trouble for revealing his true purpose to his sixteen-year-old daughter, but one problem at a time. Why, yes, Ms. Receptionist, my dad is an undercover agent for the DoD who recently had his memory wiped by a teenager who can control minds. I was hoping I could speak to his superiors, to find a way of handling this without exposing their top-secret mission. There was no way I’d make it past the front desk.

  Maya was already handing me her burner cell. “Call her.”

  I pulled her number (they were extra long to call the South Pole) off the fridge and started to dial.

  “Even if she leaves today, it’ll be a couple days before she can actually get here,” I said.

  There was a delay until the line started to ring. One ring, two . . . I crossed my fingers that I wouldn’t be on the receiving end of the same automated message from my last attempt, but as soon as the recording clicked on, I knew exactly what it was going to say.

  “Shit.” I shook my head, discouraged, and angrily hung up the phone. Of course Lydia had to be at the farthest outpost on Earth when I actually truly needed her. It was unfair to blame my mother, but I knew this was one I really couldn’t pin on Dana Fox.

  Maya heaved a weighty sigh. “We’ll keep trying.”

  “I’ll e-mail her, too. It could be a while, though.”

  “In the meantime, we need a backup plan.” Maya was working another nugget of an idea.

  “Lay it on me.” I poured myself a second cup of coffee. Dad wasn’t here to stop me, so I might as well find the slightest of silver linings. It was going to be a double cream and sugar, too. “Are you sure we’re the only ones?” Maya asked. “The only kids affected by the pulse who haven’t been enlisted in Dana’s Ski Club?”

  I imagined the folders upstairs in my dad’s office. I’d seen them together in the halls, together on the slopes, and together in Bar Tech’s very special version of 24 Hour Fitness. I could think of one other outlier, but he’d already said no right to my face.

  “There is one other person,” I proclaimed. “I saw him vanish off the school roof.”

  “Who is it?”

  I sighed. “I already tried to get him to help, but he just stonewalled me. There’s a difference between not joining Ski Club and signing up for the rebellion.”

  “Let me try,” insisted Maya.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Nica, I can be very convincing. I talked you into being my friend, didn’t I?” She was right about that. If not for Maya’s determination, we never would have said two words to each other.

  “Topher Hansen. He works at—”

  “Ebinger’s. I remember him. Uh, Nica . . .” She hesitated. “I really hate to say this, but . . . you’re going to be late to school.”

  We laughed together at the absurdity. “I’m really glad you’re back,” I told her, genuinely happy that she’d decided to stick around.

  “Me too.” Maya returned the smile.

  • • •

  Four hours later, I’d made it to lunch without a hiccup. Dangerous as it was to show my face, I was staying quiet, polite, and below the radar. I’d successfully avoided Dana and Jackson and the other kids. Lunch, however, was a place a little trickier to not stand out these days. My first instinct was just the table farthest from Ski Club, but unfortunately, that one was already overpopulated with the Drama Club. So I settled on easy targets that still were a considerable distance from Dana’s cronies: freshmen.

  The table was only about half full when I sat down at the leaner end. They all looked up, surprised, but didn’t say a word. A few shuffled their chairs in the opposite direction, putting a little extra distance between them and myself. I tried not to smile. At least I knew they’d leave me alone.

  “Where have you been hiding?”

  I looked up. Oliver sat down in the seat across from me with his lunch.

  “I haven’t been hiding anywhere,” I replied coolly, keeping up my guard. “Why aren’t you eating with your brother and Dana?”

  “Because I miss you, Nica,” he answered with a smile as he took a bite of his vegetarian pizza. “I just wish we could be friends again.”

  “I didn’t know we weren’t,” I said. I sensed Oliver had a reason for seeking me out beyond friendship. “What do you really want, Oliver?”

  “You’re wrong about Dana,” he insisted. “She’s got our best interests at heart. If you’d only listen to her . . . give her a chance to explain about things, you’d understand.”

  I looked around the quad, suddenly feeling vulnerable. Was this some sort of an ambush? Oliver would try to break down my resolve and then Dana would come in for the kill. She wanted to turn me, and now she was using Oliver as an emotional weapon to lure me. I put my fork down on my half-eaten Cobb salad and got up.

  “The only thing I understand is that she’s using you to get to me. Tell Dana to do her own dirty work.” I turned and walked away, fighting back the sob that nearly overtook me. I needed backup. And soon.

  I ditched the remains of my lunch and dug out my phone. I scrolled through my texts for any communications from Maya, or better yet, my mom. Nothing. I tried calling my father’s cell phone. I hoped that his being away from Dana had freed him from her influence. But I was stunned to hear that his number was disconnected—no longer in service. I then tried to text him. The message that bounced back said it was undeliverable. I tried again. There must be a mistake. But it really looked like my father’s account had been closed. There was one person left who I hoped would help me.

  In fact, besides Chase, the most recent text exchange of record was still between the mystery texter and me. I was pretty sure I had unraveled the identity of Blackthorne. I quickly typed out a text. “I’ve got something for you.” Vague enough. My thumb hesitated over the send button for just a few seconds before I committed to it. Hopefully, it was enticing enough that he’d respond.

  When I stepped out of class the following period, Dana was waiting for me. “You think you’re so clever, that no one knows your secret or what you’ve been up to.”

  “What did I do? Take your seat at lunch?” My voice was so thick with sarcasm, a pool was forming at our feet.

  “I see right through you, Nica. The little girl who wasn’t there. Except I know you were. Sneaking around Whiteface. Spying.”

  How could Dana possibly know I was there? Was she just playing a hunch? I decided not to give anything away.

  “That’s quite an imagination you have.” It wasn’t the most creative of brush-offs, but it would do. I started to walk away from her, heading down the hallway, but Dana’s long legs kept pace easily.

  “You’re the one imagining things,” she said with a cold, threatening tone as she stalked toward me. “Inventing conspiracies. Psychiatrists call that paranoid delusion. I hear electroshock therapy can be very successful over time. Then again, some patients never recover. And with your father missing, who knows wha
t will happen to you?”

  “You have no proof of any of this,” I responded, looking her right in the eye. Dana knew I had a power—otherwise she wouldn’t have tried to recruit me to Ski Club so intensely—but there’s no way she could guess that I had the ability to become invisible. There’s nothing that could’ve given away my presence.

  “Luckily, infrared cameras pick up all sorts of things,” she declared. “We have about thirty of them installed at the lodge.”

  Except those. I knew damn well that my heat signature would show up on one, even if I was invisible to the naked eye. Dana whirled in front of me and caught my eyes with hers. I tried to tear them away, but I couldn’t. She had me. Just for a second. Just long enough.

  “You may think you’re immune to me,” she said, practically whispering. “You’ll break. Everyone does.”

  I felt my mind begin to spin, truth and lies combining into a colorful swirl that I couldn’t make heads or tails of. What had happened last night? Had I wandered out into the woods alone, confused, and upset? Had I hallucinated that building and all those kids? Was it all a response to fact that my dad had left me?

  No. It was her. She was fucking with my head. I tried to shake her claws loose from my brain.

  “I know what you can do, and it’s not going to work on me,” I vowed, taking a strong step forward and backing her toward a row of lockers. “I know you took my dad from me. I know you think you can break me. You can’t.”

  Dana looked around for a lifeline, one of her friendly minions to step in and whisk her away, but we were alone. I think I even saw a brief flash of fear.