They took turns filling him in, answering his questions and bringing him up to date. Somehow, Jemma ended up leaning against Jack on the sofa, and she could feel his tension, even with their connection still narrowed, when she described Josh’s treatment of her. Jemma’s stomach churned at how much rougher Jack’s guards had been, especially at first, when he’d been less cooperative.
Myles asked more questions as they went:
“You actually broke into one of the blood banks?”
“Were you able to make connections with any of the guards?”
“And you believe Heidi when she says this will be lethal on a mass scale if Tricorp BioD doesn’t get some help very soon?”
To the last, Jemma was able to answer a firm, “Yes. Especially if they’re right that my connection with Jack helps shield me. I was Talking to him a lot more than they knew. I can’t imagine how much worse off I’d have been if I hadn’t been Talking to him.” She paused. “Even now, even though it isn’t as bad Talking to someone else like us as it is trying to force it with someone who isn’t, I’ve got a headache that’s getting past what I can ignore, so I’m not sure how much longer I can go tonight.”
“You should’ve said something,” sent Jack on a tight band that Jemma was pretty sure was for her alone.
“I’m saying something now,” she returned. Addressing them both again, she continued. “I feel the pain where all those initial reports said the telepathy takes place. Bear in mind this is a guess, but I think since that part of the brain isn’t meant to be used that way, it’s getting damaged. The people who they were studying through the blood banks, I think maybe we had the potential to go about telepathy in a way that works better for our brains. Because they’ve been forcing us to use the other method, things are messed up in there, wires crossed. I don’t have it all sorted out, but that’s what makes the most sense to me.”
“Talking to the person you’re most familiar with, assuming that person’s also like us, I can see that helping your mind use pathways that don’t cause further damage.” Myles stood again, running a hand through his hair. “You need to rest, or at least stop Talking, right? And I need to think this through. If there’s this much at stake… You came to me because I can either find out more or pull enough strings to get something done, or, failing that, make a big enough fuss to be heard, didn’t you?” On the couch, Jack and Jemma nodded. “Right. Let me show you the kitchen and where you can sleep. Help yourself to anything as far as food. I’ll let you know in the morning what I’ve decided.”
Myles showed them as few rooms as were necessary, promising a more thorough tour when Jemma was feeling better, retreating to his room with a chocolate protein bar in hand.
Jack opened the stainless steel fridge in a kitchen that had clearly been updated from its original condition. “It looks like our options are gourmet meals from scratch or boxed or frozen food. Or, if you can wait about fifteen minutes,” he continued, opening a nearly-hidden pantry and holding up a box of pasta, “I can whip up some spaghetti con aglio e olio.” At Jemma’s nod, he reached back in the fridge for garlic, then tracked down olive oil and a handful of spices. Jemma found a pan and handed it to him before sitting at one of the barstools at the marbled island in the center of the kitchen, where he set his supplies. “This was something my mom liked to cook when we were short on time and out of tomatoes and sauce. She did love her pasta dishes.”
The room quickly filled with the smell of cooking garlic and warm oil, and Jack kept up a steady stream of conversation about his mother. Jemma watched him move, comfortable in the unfamiliar kitchen, if not quite as quick with a knife as with his computer keys. She rested her chin in her palm, letting his words wash over her, dulling the edge of her pain. “Dinner is served,” he sent finally, setting a full plate in front of her and taking the stool beside her, and they fell into a comfortable silence.
***
The rest of the night passed quickly, Jack and Jemma both tired enough to fall asleep early. When they awoke, Myles was waiting for them in the kitchen, several boxes of cereal on the center island.
“How are you feeling?” he sent, gesturing for them to join him with a wave at the boxes and the two empty bowls.
Jemma grabbed a box of chocolate cereal. “Much better. Thank you.”
“Yes,” agreed Jack, picking up the box of marshmallow cereal, “it was a nice feeling, sleeping without guards around, and without looking over our shoulders.”
“I can believe it.” Myles took a large bite of his granola, chewing slowly. “Here’s the deal,” he sent before he swallowed. “I’m not ready to be out in the open with either my Talking abilities or the fact that I’m looking into this. I recognize, however, that something has to be done, and I’m in a good place to do it. So.” His shoulders slumped, and he lost some of his political persona. “I’m going to look harder today. I’m going to pull more strings, risk burning more bridges. I know it’s a Saturday, but I go in on the weekends sometimes, and that just means it’ll probably be a couple of days before anybody catches it if I take a misstep.”
“I might be able to help, if your search is digital,” offered Jack.
Myles shook his head. “Too much of a risk. I want you two to stay here. I’ll show you the best hiding spot before I leave, just in case, but I texted my staff. Nobody should be coming. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way back. If you hear anybody coming in and you aren’t sure it’s me, I want you to hide.”
“All right,” Jack agreed after looking to Jemma for confirmation.
Myles looked at the clock on the stove. “I need to finish getting ready in a few minutes if I’m showing up at my normal Saturday time. There’s nothing really off-limits in the house, but it’s probably a good idea to stay inside. I don’t want to tell you that you have to, not after you’ve been locked up for so long, but…”
“It’s okay,” sent Jemma. “I think a day of being somewhere safe doesn’t sound horrible.”
Myles nodded, took the last bite of his cereal, and cleaned up before leaving the room.
“Remind me to ask him for the WiFi password when he gets back,” sent Jack. “I know I could ask him now, but I’m pretty sure he’s either changing or in the bathroom, and that’s a little bit weird.”
“Maybe a little,” Jemma agreed, grinning at him. “We don’t have our computers in here with us, anyway.”
“Right.” Jack returned her smile, reached over and squeezed her hand, and continued eating, leaving the marshmallows for last. “We can do more research today, but if he’s going to be gone all day, is there anything else you’d like to do?”
Jemma’s mind quickly filtered the options. They were no longer trapped. They had access to the internet, which meant they had access to things like books, movies, and television shows. “I think it’d be nice to catch up on television shows, if we have a chance. Oh, and I need to at least look through the new releases. There were a few books coming out from my favorite authors.” Jemma refocused on Jack, who was smiling at her, his brown eyes sparkling. She reached out to touch his jaw, and he leaned into her hand. “You might want to ask whether he has a spare razor, too.”
“I figured between the hair on my head and the hair on my face, if I just kept letting it grow, eventually nobody would recognize me, and we’d be safe,” he joked. “You weren’t planning to join me in the facial hair movement?”
Myles trotted into the room. “Okay, I need to show you— Sorry. Am I…”
“You’re fine,” sent Jemma, getting up and moving her bowl to the sink. She felt Jack come to stand behind her, adding his bowl to the sink as well.
“This way,” sent Myles. He led them to a bedroom and to the other side of the bed, where he lifted a rug. There was a door in the hardwood floor, and he lifted it to show them a room about six feet long, four feet wide, and four feet tall. “It isn’t exactly spacious, but it’s better than being caught again, I’d think. This area of the state isn’t actually on
most of the maps for the Underground Railroad, but Dad insists it’s what the room was used for, and people don’t usually argue with him. He liked keeping it a continued secret, only telling family, so it works for us, anyway.” He closed the door again and let the rug back down. “Any other questions before I leave?”
“We were able to, uh, acquire some discarded laptops,” sent Jack. “Do you have WiFi we can use while we’re here?”
“I do. I’ll show you the entertainment room on the way out. There’s a TV with whatever you might want to watch, a desktop if you’d like a bigger computer, and I keep the internet password written down next to that.”
Ten minutes later, after seeing the front door bolted behind Myles, Jack and Jemma had made themselves comfortable in the entertainment room. They’d stretched out on the couch with their laptops ready for productivity and the television turned to the first show they’d agreed on that they could enjoy without too much distraction.
TWENTY-FIVE
Conspiracy
Research that day proved to be relatively unproductive; there wasn’t that much left to search for that they hadn’t already tried. Just a few hours passed before Jemma found herself drifting off to sleep on the couch, Jack next to her watching a movie recently produced with voiceless actors and actresses.
She woke to banging on the front door. After a glance at Jack, who blinked sleepily back at her, and a look at the TV, which had returned to the selection menu, Jemma sent a message to Myles. “Someone’s at the door.”
“I’m still at the office,” he sent back. “Not expecting anybody. Package delivery, maybe?”
The banging continued, more persistent, and Jemma heard the doorknob turn before the knocking resumed. “I’m guessing it’s not a package,” sent Jack. “Whoever it is just tried to open the door.”
“I’m checking with the few people who would make sense,” sent Myles, “but you two might want to hide, just in case.”
Jemma realized she was already standing, and she and Jack made their way to the spare bedroom, pausing at the rug when the knocking stopped.
“False alarm,” sent Myles, and Jack let the rug fall. “It was a woman I started seeing a little while ago. She thought she’d surprise me. She gets a little enthusiastic. I’m sorry about that. I’m almost finished here. I’ve just got a few more directories to go through.” The connection faded again, and Jemma looked at Jack, her heart still pounding against her chest.
“That wasn’t exactly how I wanted to wake up,” she sent.
“No,” he agreed, opening his arms to offer the safety of his hug.
***
Another two hours passed before Myles tersely informed them that he was headed back, mental confirmation letting them know it was him when he entered the house. He joined them in the entertainment room, a small stack of papers in hand. He tossed the papers on the table, where they skidded into the remote, before running a hand through his hair.
“It looks worse than I thought,” he sent. Jemma straightened, and Jack turned off the TV. “That’s a breakdown of information they have on telepathy, some of it from before the Event, some from after. This was in military files, specifically, not in Tricorp BioD files.”
“So either the military was also studying it or they were working with the company,” sent Jack.
“Likely,” replied Myles.
“How much of it is information that would’ve had to come from Tricorp or studies like they were doing?” asked Jemma. “I mean, hasn’t the government at least idly studied psychic aptitude for years? There’s that documentary that goes around, with people guessing at what cards someone else is looking at.”
Myles shook his head. “These list the same types of markers that they were searching for in the blood, how frequent they were, how often that coincided with enhanced ability, as far as they’ve been able to tell.” He ran both hands over his face and across his hair. “I wanted to believe the government wasn’t actively involved in this, but this looks bad. There aren’t many ways I can think of that they’d have gotten ahold of this without actively working with the company on this project. I can’t go public on this. I wouldn’t last two minutes. I’d be captured or discredited immediately; either way, I’d be powerless, unable to help.”
Jemma picked up the papers and started scanning through the information while keeping a figurative ear on the conversation.
“What if they find out you know?” asked Jack.
Potential for traits present in approximately 1 in 10,000. However, in testing, abilities manifest in less than half that number.
“I stayed an extra hour just making sure I covered my tracks. I think if I stop here, I’m safe.”
Initial testing included limited administration of “Drug X,” designed to enhance abilities, but the effects were only temporary, the exact reactions unknown since the subjects were unaware of their participation.
That must have been the drug they’d read about before being captured.
After continued stress to adjusted telepathic centers, both enhanced and unenhanced subjects showed significant deterioration to multiple areas of the brain. If left unchecked, rate of deterioration suggests likely outcome is death. If adjustment to telepathic centers is reversed, all but the most damaged brain tissue should be able to repair or compensate.
“Were you searching computers or actual files?”
Initial reversal was delayed when nanocreation proved more robust than planned, invading even the laboratories that should have been shielded entirely. Cure was developed before release but needs to be adjusted to compensate for real-world application. In the meantime, shielding appears to limit telepathy and, therefore, provide some protection against deterioration.
“Computers. This wasn’t as classified as it should have been. I don’t know how much longer it’ll be there.”
Initial infiltration of nanocreations was performed by an overeager employee of Tricorp BioD, their activation triggered remotely in an attempt to demonstrate employee’s dedication. Though their use was only ever supposed to be hypothetical, their effects needed to be studied.
“How’d you learn how to find things like that, do things like cover your tracks, anyway?”
Potential for application includes infiltration of enemy territory, communication of sensitive information over indefinite distances without potential for being overheard. Failing ability to synthesize enhanced telepathy, secondary goal would be to recruit those who are naturally able.
“This doesn’t make sense,” sent Jemma. “Why would somebody write all of this in one place at all?” She leafed through the pages again before handing them to Jack. “Why would it be left somewhere it could be found? You said it wasn’t secured as well as it should have been. I don’t think the government would risk leaving this out in the virtual open, especially if it’s as big of a mistake as this makes it sound.”
“I don’t know.” Myles sounded frustrated, pacing in front of the TV. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. Maybe Tricorp BioD is afraid they’re going to get caught and they’re trying to find a bigger target to pin the mess on. I don’t know. I do know that there’s enough of a chance that the government is really involved that I can’t go public with this.”
“Could we?” sent Jack. “What would happen if we took what you printed out and went to the media with it? The original would be gone before anybody could confirm it, wouldn’t it? We’d look like fakes, and we’d probably get recaptured, too.”
Recaptured. Trapped. Jemma shook her head, fighting the headache that was already forming. She could barely manage a conversation. She was barely even involved in this conversation, and she was already getting a headache. How long could she live on the run, only Talking to Jack? They were almost out of money, and even if Myles were willing to fund them, then what? Wait until her brain decided to fry itself? How long would it be until Jack’s started going, too? If the paperwork was right, if whoever had put all of that information into one
file wasn’t faking it, then there was already a cure, as soon as they finished adjusting it. Only, Jemma knew that if they wanted to continue their study, they might not use the cure right away, not if it meant doing away with telepathy in the process.
She fought a silent groan, trying and failing to stall her train of thought. If she and Jack were to be recaptured, maybe they could find a way to make sure the cure was used as soon as it was ready, either by giving the scientists what they wanted in their study or by finding a way to break out again and figuring out how to activate it themselves.
Jemma’s stomach churned.
Trapped.
If the senator wasn’t willing or able to help, as good a person as he seemed to be, as much as he seemed to live to help people, then what hope did they have of finding other outside help?
“Jemma?” Jack’s hand was on her shoulder. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“One second. I’m trying to talk myself out of a horrible idea.” If they were recaptured, security would be tighter. Escaping a second time would be harder, if not impossible. She shook her head again. This wasn’t a choice she had to make alone. “The papers mentioned a cure, partially finished. We’re not doing any good out here, unless one of you has any further suggestions?” She waited, watching Jack’s mouth pull downward as he seemed to figure out the direction she was heading. “But if we let ourselves get recaptured, then we at least have a shot at figuring out whether the cure is finished, and at getting the cure out there if and when it is ready.”
“I don’t like it,” sent Jack.
“Do you think I do? What’s our alternative, Jack? Live on the run until we die? Until the rest of the world does? I’m open to suggestions, here.”
“I have one,” sent Myles. “I mean, actually, I agree, I think it’s a good plan. Easy enough for me to say when I’m not the one who has to carry it out. That being said, I can continue to keep an eye on things out here, as best I can without getting caught. But if you’re trying to maximize your chances of finding a cure, I think it’s actually better if you try to get into two separate facilities.”
Listen (Muted Trilogy Book 2) Page 17