by Nikita Spoke
“I was watching you earlier.” The speaker was different, the sound coming from Josh’s keypad rather than Dr. Harris’s clipboard. “This morning, I mean. You found out a lot while you were gone, didn’t you?” She opened her eyes and looked between the two men, not sure how to respond. The glee in Josh’s eyes as he looked at the monitor seemed to indicate she didn’t really need to. “You already know that we caused the Event, and I suspect you even have an idea as to how.” He nodded at the monitor, then turned to Dr. Harris, grinning when the man nodded in what looked like permission. “While we were working on getting a functional cure, we had a few mishaps, a few that didn’t quite work out the way we wanted them to. What you were just injected with was one of those.” Jemma felt her head starting to crawl, to seemingly expand. “It actually had the opposite effect. Instead of reversing what we did, it made it stronger. Once it kicks in all the way, your abilities should be enhanced even further than they have been. Then we get to see what you can do with that.”
“Hopefully, nothing from the morning session interferes.” Dr. Harris looked at Josh.
“Come on, Dr. Harris. I asked permission first.”
“Yes, but I happen to know you didn’t wait for an answer or approval.”
“It’s not like she said anything to stop me.” Josh looked over at Jemma and winked.
“That’s enough, Joshua. If you cannot conduct yourself appropriately, you can leave. Now.”
Josh’s jaw dropped. “But Dr. Harris—”
“No. You may have found more freedom, but I’m still officially your superior. You may observe from outside, but you will leave for the duration of this test.”
Josh stared, as if trying to will Dr. Harris to change his mind, then abruptly closed his mouth and left. Jemma felt a rush of gratitude that was quickly overwhelmed by what felt like another expansion in her mind, this one accompanied by a wave of pain. She rested her head in the hand of her good arm, trying to focus on her breathing. With each breath, though, it felt as if her mind grew larger. She grew dizzy with it, with how big it seemed, even though she knew it hadn’t actually changed.
“Okay, Jemma,” she heard Dr. Harris type, but something else had just snapped into focus.
She could feel Jack’s connection.
“Jack?” Jemma pushed past the stabbing pain, letting it fade into a throb, focusing on the fact that she was in contact with Jack, that his name had echoed.
“Are you here?” She released a breath as his voice went through her mind. He was okay, or at least okay enough to be Talking to her.
“I’m here in the lab near home.”
“Ah. I’m still here in Virginia. They gave me something. Jemma, they’re monitoring…”
The monitors. How had she forgotten? She lifted her head, finding Dr. Harris watching the monitor, scribbling on his clipboard. At the window, Josh stared intently, arms crossed. Jemma shook her head, trying to clear it. Her mind felt so much bigger, wider, but at the same time, the dizziness, the throbbing, occasional shooting pain, all made it difficult to pay attention, to remember whether she should be Talking to Jack while monitored. She looked toward Dr. Harris, hoping he would repeat whatever instruction she’d missed, refusing to let go of her connection with Jack in the meantime.
She shouldn’t have let go of him in the first place.
After several minutes, Dr. Harris looked back at Jemma. “You’re showing the same patterns you did when telepathically communicating with Mr. Himmel. Were you able to make contact with somebody else in the building?” Somebody else in the building. They hadn’t even thought she might be able to get past the barrier entirely, to reach outside of the building altogether. They had no clue she was Talking to Jack. If they did, would they keep her from Talking to him further?
That would feel like being separated from Jack all over again.
They knew she was Talking to somebody, though, and Dr. Harris was waiting for an answer. She nodded; if they thought she was Talking to somebody in the building, they could still study her connection, but they were unlikely to try to stop it. Dr. Harris was quiet for a moment, studying his clipboard. He would have to either give her a way to communicate with him or continue narrowing it down to yes or no questions.
“Are you communicating with somebody you’ve communicated with before?” Dr. Harris typed. She nodded again, being as truthful and cooperative as she felt she could.
Tap tap tap. They both looked toward Josh’s rapping on the window. He smirked as he pointed them back toward the monitor.
Jemma’s heart sank. Dr. Harris studied it for just a few seconds before turning back to Jemma. “You’re communicating with somebody outside of the building.”
If they were going to find out anyway, and it was something she’d let herself be recaptured for them to study, she may as well Talk to Jack while she was able. “They caught it. They haven’t stopped it, yet, or reversed whatever they gave me. Us. If they can reverse it.”
“They gave me the shot a couple hours ago. It feels like it might be fading.” She felt the connection intensify, as if he were pushing more of his attention into it. She did the same, and she could almost see him smile. “Are you okay?”
She hurt. She was frustrated. She’d solidly concluded that she’d made a horrible choice in letting the two of them be separated. Jack wouldn’t be able to change any of that, though, any more than she could. “I’m okay. What about you?”
“Yeah, I’m okay, too. This is definitely wearing off, though. It’s taking more effort to Talk. And if these are the types of headaches you’ve been dealing with, Jemma, I’m even more impressed you’ve been able to function.” He sent a caress, and she swallowed.
“They won’t go easy on you, knowing you can do this, too.”
“No,” he sent, “but this was part of coming back, right? Letting them study us and our telepathy?” Jemma felt the connection fade, then strengthen. “I don’t think I can hold it for much longer.”
“They might do this more than once.” Jemma wasn’t sure whether she was hopeful or apprehensive.
“They might,” Jack agreed. “I’m fading. I think I might pass out if I hold on any longer. Jemma—”
The connection cut out.
The pain spiked, and Jemma fought a silent moan and a wave of nausea. Dr. Harris looked at her, then at the monitor, and back again.
“We’ll continue this tomorrow, when you’ve not already undergone trauma.” He looked toward the observation window at Josh, who rolled his eyes again. After a moment, he looked back down at his clipboard. “You’ll return to your room for the remainder of the day.”
***
Jemma could still feel the effects of the drug as she lay on the cot in her cell. She stared up at her ceiling. She’d only been able to Talk with Jack while he was also under the effects of the drug, but what about the others, the ones who were still here? They were so much closer. Maybe she’d be able to Talk to them.
Ignoring the pain in her head was getting easier already. She’d badly sprained her wrist once, years ago, and even though the pain was severe, it hadn’t taken her long to figure out that she could almost ignore it if she focused hard enough on something else. It surged as she reached for Kendall—of anyone else in the facility, she’d Talked to Kendall the most—and she pushed back, focusing on Ken, on what she knew of her. She couldn’t quite feel a tangible connection, but she tried sending her name anyway.
It didn’t echo, but it did vibrate, as some of her earlier attempts at sending more complicated images and thoughts had. She tried once more, only to be met with a stabbing pain too severe to ignore. She swallowed, reminding herself that if she pushed herself to the point of vomiting, she didn’t have so much as a trash can in the room and would probably have to live with it. She took a deep breath and turned to study the patterns in the cement blocks of the wall, tracing them with her fingertips.
Jemma outlined one of the squares, wondering whether Jack had a similar view, wis
hing he weren’t being subjected to the same sort of pain she was. She sighed as her vision almost blurred, and she closed her eyes. She was tired and in pain, and at least if there was a silver lining about being held captive and in a cell by herself, it was that if she wanted to go to sleep right now, nobody was going to stop her.
CHAPTER THREE:
Reaching
Both Dr. Harris and Josh were waiting in the lab when she was escorted in the next morning. Two days weren’t, apparently, enough for them to let down their guard, not that she’d expected it to be. Her armed escort stood inside the door of the lab, blocking the exit when he saw both scientists present, leaving the additional guard they’d passed outside.
There had been no sign yet of Heidi, and Jemma hoped that the woman hadn’t been caught helping, that she was just occupied with her normal charge, Naomi, or that she was maybe helping the others whom Jemma had left behind. Shaking off the guilt, avoiding the urge to rub at her spectacularly colored arm, Jemma took a breath and then took her seat.
“If you try lying to us again,” typed Dr. Harris from his chair, “we may have to find some alternate methods of dissuasion, and none of us want to do that, do we?” Jemma shook her head, ignoring Josh’s smile as he walked around Dr. Harris’s chair to attach the monitor to her skin. “We’ve asked them to wait to give your partner his injection today until after we’ve run a few additional tests. Then, we would like the two of you to communicate for us.”
Josh walked back to the tray, retrieving the same type of needle from the afternoon prior and injecting it with identical lack of fuss.
It seemed to take effect even more quickly this time. The scientists were silent while waiting. Josh seemed to be making a token effort to appear subdued, waiting quietly where he stood beside Dr. Harris, but his eyes glittered as he looked between Jemma and the monitor, and a smile seemed ready at his lips. Jemma decided to watch the guard while the drug—serum? failed cure?—went into effect. He was younger than most of them she’d seen, but he seemed sure of himself, of his surroundings. He didn’t use more force than he needed, but he hadn’t acted like he was afraid of hurting Jemma, either. He’d noticed the bruising on her arm and had used her other arm, instead, when he needed to guide her, but she hadn’t seen any sympathy on his face.
Maybe sympathy was why she hadn’t seen Heidi. Heidi seemed to have more autonomy than the other guards since she was privately hired, and it was possible that they were afraid of how she’d react to Jemma’s visible mistreatment. Some of the tension in her shoulders lessened at the possibility, and Jemma moved her attention to Dr. Harris as the open feeling in her mind continued to grow.
He was watching his clipboard, of course, reading whatever notes he had for the day rather than watching her while he waited. She’d internally labeled him “Doctor Clipboard” before learning his name, and she still thought it fit, though now she suspected it might be a coping mechanism rather than a lack of interest in his surroundings. Almost as if hearing her thoughts, he detached something from the clipboard, handing the paper to Jemma.
It was a photo of a woman. There were details underneath, including name, age, location, and some basic likes and dislikes. Jemma looked back up at Dr. Harris as he typed.
“That subject has also been injected with the same drug as you have. I want you to try to make contact with her. Go ahead and try, as soon as you’re ready.” Dr. Harris looked at his watch, noted something on his clipboard, then shifted his attention to the monitor. Josh’s attention, meanwhile, was already on the monitor. He watched, his shoe tapping the tiled floor.
She looked back down at the photo. She’d never been able to Talk to somebody this way, without having ever met before. It had been easier, even, to have physical contact. Talking to somebody from just a photo and some basic description? She took a breath.
The woman had red hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had bright eyes, but Jemma couldn’t quite tell whether they were blue, green, or gray. If the woman was captured, as the injection implied, the photo had been taken before that, in an open field, and judging by the way she looked at the camera, her eyes soft, her smile inviting, the person who’d taken the picture had been someone she cared about.
Her name was April. She was 21. She lived in Tacoma, Washington, and she liked to play basketball.
Jemma focused on all of these facts while staring at the photo before finally she tried to make contact.
“Hello?” She held her breath at the echo. It had actually gone through.
“Who’s there?” April sounded annoyed. Her voice was rougher, lower than Jemma had expected.
“I’m Jemma. I’m at another one of the labs. They’ve injected me, too. They asked me to try to make contact.”
“Are you a prisoner or a volunteer?” April’s voice on the last word virtually dripped with condescension.
“Prisoner.” Jemma suspected her monitor might reveal that to be less than the whole truth, but when she glanced at Dr. Harris and Josh, she saw them watching excitedly, not seeming to care that she had fudged the truth some. She really was closer to a prisoner than a volunteer, anyway, even if she had returned on purpose. “You?”
“What do you think?”
“You’ve successfully made contact, Jemma?” interrupted Dr. Harris, and she nodded. “I’d like you to ask her to confirm some things. Ask her the name of the scientist overseeing her session right now.”
“They want to prove we’re really Talking,” she sent. “They told me to ask the name of the scientist overseeing your session.”
“And you want to go along with them? Do what they say?” April sent disbelief.
Jemma felt a sudden stab of sympathy for Katherine. This must have been how Jemma had come across when she hadn’t wanted to cooperate. “To an extent, yes. I refuse to be a puppet, but they’re the ones who caused the Event. They need to clean it up, and to do that, they need information. Information they can get by studying us. I’m helping where I can without feeling like a complete pushover.”
Again, it wasn’t the full truth since Jemma felt like she was helping beyond that point, but it was the spirit of the truth. Her head felt full, open, the throbbing lacing with the opposing feelings to make her a little dizzy. She focused again as April responded, a little more subdued this time.
“Jasmine is my scientist’s name.” When Jemma relayed the information, spelling the name in large letters in the air, Josh jumped, almost a dance in place. Dr. Harris’s eyes widened briefly before he composed himself, nodding at his clipboard, taking notes, and returning his attention to the monitor. “What do they want us to do next?” Some of April’s spirit had returned, and Jemma felt a smile tugging at her lips.
“They haven’t said. They can’t tell exactly what we say, and they can’t control everything we do. I think they’re just trying to study different connections right now. How long have you been there?”
“Pretty much since the telepathy started. I’ve lost track of time.”
Months. They’d held her captive for months. Jemma clenched her fist before relaxing the one on her injured arm, breathing until the pain faded. “Are they treating you all right?”
“I mean, sort of. It depends on the day and the definition of ‘all right.’ They don’t beat me or anything. Um, hold on, Jasmine says she wants you to ask Dr. Harris where they last met. Is this some weird dating service? Seems like a lot of effort for a hookup.”
Jemma sent a laugh before looking to Dr. Harris, miming writing. He frowned, then handed her a crayon and paper. Jemma held the crayon lightly, knowing from her meals that if she held something too tightly, it would hurt where Josh had insert the tracker. Jasmine wants you to verify where you last met.
“My brother’s house,” typed Dr. Harris. Beside him, Josh waggled his eyebrows. Jemma looked back down at her paper while she responded to April.
“Oh my God, she actually blushed,” sent April. “I didn’t think she could do that. She’s totally old,
not like, I mean, no offense if you’re old, too, but I wasn’t expecting that.”
They must not have given April the same information they’d given Jemma. “None taken, I think,” she sent. “I’m a lot closer to your age than to Dr. Harris’s, anyway.”
“It’s time to stop communicating with her for right now,” typed Dr. Harris, and Jemma nodded, feeling the connection break on the other end, too. As when she Talked with the others, the connection hadn’t been obvious like it was when she Talked with Jack, and it cut out more quickly, too. “Now, I’d like you to try contacting this man.” He handed her another sheet of paper.
Once more, Jemma studied it before trying to make contact. His name was Ben. He was from Illinois. He liked painting. He was 43. His photo looked like it had been taken from some sort of professional website or a business card. He wore a collared shirt, blue like his eyes. His hair was dark.
“Hello.” Instead of the echo Jemma expected after her earlier success, she was met with stabbing pain. She clutched her forehead until she felt a careful hand on her arm. She looked up, brow still furrowed, to see Dr. Harris.
“We won’t try contacting him again today. He’s telepathic, but he’s not been given the injection.” Jemma nodded, swallowing away the pain. Dr. Harris typed for several minutes, and Jemma’s pain faded as Jack’s connection grew into the place it belonged.
“Jack,” she sent, smiling at the echo, ignoring the fact that though his connection still seemed to help, even with the drugs, contacting him at this distance through whatever barrier the labs had still hurt. She saw Dr. Harris shaking his head, but it seemed to be directed at the monitor, not at her.
“Jemma.” Her name held a caress.
“Jemma,” Dr. Harris typed, the repetition from the electronic speaker jarring, “the difference in your connection with Jack and your connection with April is astounding. Look.” He turned the monitor so she could see it, and Jemma shifted, grateful he seemed willing to share today. “You can clearly see the rise and fall of your conversation with April here, how when you aren’t actively sending or receiving, the background connection is nearly undetectable. It’s there, but barely.” He pointed at the activity line, just above the bottom of the relevant portion of the monitor. “When you’re communicating with Jack, though, it’s amazing.” Without his needing to move his finger to the newer sections of activity, Jemma could see the difference. She could see the two blips of activity from their brief exchange, and she could see their connection between, still ongoing, nearly as high as some of the actual exchanges between herself and April.