“You keep enjoying your drive, Jemma.” The wave of emotion he sent with her name turned it into a caress as much as his tone did, and she smiled as he faded into their latent connection. The classical music swelled through the car, keeping her company on the quality speakers, time passing quickly until she pulled in at her destination.
“I’m parking in the back lot at the mall, when you need to pick up your car,” she sent Myles, letting Jack hear, too. “I can walk where I need to from here, and the car shouldn’t be towed, at least not any time soon.”
“I can figure out how to get it back if it is.” Jack was right; the senator sounded guilty. It made sense, she supposed, that a man who had dedicated his life and career to helping would feel guilty about asking others to risk themselves instead. He’d given her his car, though, and was getting Jack to his destination, too, and they knew a good deal more than they had a few days earlier. The slight pressure at the front of her mind, not quite pain but the threat of pain, from just the brief exchange was enough to keep Jemma from trying to reassure him.
That, and the fact she’d still rather he go public now instead of delaying. She wasn’t quite ready to absolve him of guilt entirely when he might’ve been able to prevent their return to captivity.
She ran a hand across her eyes, took the key from the ignition, and paused. “Should I leave the key in the car, or what?”
“That is an excellent point,” sent the senator.
“Is it just one key?” asked Jack.
“A key and a fob,” answered Jemma, fiddling with them as she stood from the car to stretch, looking around the mostly empty back parking lot. The mall was just opening, closed on Sunday mornings.
“Leave the fob in the car,” suggested Jack, “and drop the key in the fountain out front, near the edge. If nobody looks closely, it’ll look like another coin.”
“Sure, that sounds fine,” Myles agreed.
“I’ll do that, then, and figure out where I’m going from here.”
***
Jemma situated herself at one of the center tables in the mall’s cafeteria, fighting the urge to hide or flee. It wasn’t just the current situation she was fighting against, but years of having picked the corner seat, of having avoided crowded rooms when possible.
And the cafeteria was quickly filling up.
Many of the people pouring in were wearing church clothes. A handful wore beach attire, flip flops and cover-ups tossed on to comply with the mall’s shirt-and-shoes policy. She looked up at the security camera above her head, the black dome hanging ominously, then retrieved her stolen laptop, setting it up on the table, spreading out as much as she could. She found a plug in the floor next to the table, small gold cover easy to flip off the opening so she could keep the laptop plugged in.
After letting Jack know she’d gotten situated, she bought herself some lunch, and she checked on news articles for a couple of hours before fishing around in her backpack and bringing out a pair of headphones. She navigated to a site for television shows, keeping one ear uncovered, listening to the background hum of feet shuffling, chairs moving, of telephones and tablets and computers.
Jack kept her updated, letting her know when they finally got close to their destination. He let her know, again, when they got stuck in traffic just inside city limits. She’d started another episode of her show when he finally contacted her to tell her he was at the library.
“That was the longest road trip ever, I’m pretty sure.” She could almost see his wink. “I’m here, though, and I’m setting up. Anything on your end, yet?”
“Nothing.” Jemma looked around. “Nobody has so much as looked at me. It’s like I’m invisible.”
“Maybe we didn’t have to be quite so careful,” sent Jack. “If they don’t try to get us, maybe we meet back up and take a cruise to the Bahamas or something?”
“That’s your first choice of activity?”
“Well, no, but there was a pop-up ad for it, so it was the first thing I thought of. A cruise doesn’t sound half as fun as train hopping, anyway, does it?”
Jemma tried to hide a smile before remembering that she needed to be found, not to hide her ability. She could continue to Talk to Jack without trying to hide their conversation. She glanced up at the camera again before looking back at her paused show. “No. They probably don’t have any oil barrels we can hide behind.”
“Where would the fun in that be?” Their connection dimmed as Jack’s focus returned to whatever he was working on.
Several minutes passed, the mall nearly ready to close for the evening, when Jemma felt a surge of triumphant panic from Jack, followed by a crashing wave of affection.
Followed by silence.
Her mind was empty for the first time in days, though it felt like it had been longer. Jemma covered her mouth, pointless though it was, keeping in silent cries of frustration and anger and worry.
“Jack?” she tried, knowing it was pointless, closing her eyes at the lack of echo, wiping at a damp cheek.
This had been her idea, and he’d been taken first. What if something went wrong? Something could happen to him. Something could happen to either of them, but like she’d pointed out, she thought they needed her, and they thought Jack was a trouble maker. If they hurt him, or worse, it would be her fault. He hadn’t wanted to do this, hadn’t wanted to split up or be recaptured, but he’d agreed to it because it had been her idea.
It had better work.
“Senator Pratt?” she sent, holding her breath at the resulting pain in her head. It couldn’t be this much more severe just because Jack wasn’t around. If their connection had really been giving her that much of a buffer, been protecting her and reducing the impact that significantly, they might have made a serious mistake in splitting up. Maybe without the extra bond she and Jack seemed to have, distance was more of a factor. “He’s gone.”
“I know.” That Myles’s mental voice was almost a whisper seemed to help a little with the pain. “I stayed where I would be able to watch without being seen. I’m sorry.”
“How did they take him? What happened, exactly?” Jemma tried to keep her voice low, as well, her head throbbing with every word.
“He did exactly what he said he was going to. He set up in a public place and did something on the computer. Maybe fifteen minutes later, a couple of men came in wearing suits. They lifted him up, and they must have given him a shot or something. I wasn’t close enough to see. He went limp, and they escorted him out. He was still breathing, I could see that much.”
“Thank you.”
“I have to go. I’m sorry, again.”
Jemma rested her throbbing head on the table until she heard the pre-recorded announcement that the mall would be closing in fifteen minutes. It was time to find another public place, somewhere else she might get caught. She packed up her things, moving slowly to work through the pain, and left, following a trickle of others to the nearest place open.
***
Jemma set up again in the Steak ‘n Shake, once more spreading out as noticeably as she could, getting a table where she’d be visible from the large window or from the entrance. An hour passed before the pain in her skull had faded enough for her to manage the first bite of food she’d ordered, and even then, she had trouble keeping it down at first.
In addition to the pain, she had to fight with her imagination, with images of what Jack might be going through.
Everything would be okay. They would be all right. They had to be.
She watched a man in a suit walk by, crossing the street toward the college, and slumped down in front of her computer.
She should have asked Jack what he’d done, how exactly he’d gotten attention. It had certainly worked. She opened up a search engine and started typing in the most obvious terms she could think of, searching for what caused increased telepathy, what to do about it, who had it, how to find other people who had it, all the things she’d been afraid to search earlier. Her searches
came up conspicuously empty, and still, Jemma sat, unnoticed, alone at her table. Outside, it was growing darker. Soon, she’d need to figure out where she was staying for the night, if she wasn’t going to be staying in the local mad scientists’ laboratory.
She still didn’t like the idea of the park, since there were too many things that could go wrong, not just capture. She could try a hotel, but without ID or a credit card, she really wasn’t sure whether anyone would be willing to let her stay. Maybe she could ask Myles to call and vouch for her, use his credit card. It would be a risk, but then, he’d been willing to take at least a few minor ones.
“Myles?” she tried. It echoed, but didn’t go through, giving her the impression of a barrier. The sensation was familiar, but it took Jemma a minute to place it; it reminded her of when she and Jack had been testing their limits and had taken turns trying to block each other out. The senator was intentionally keeping her from contacting him.
So much for being willing to continue keeping an eye out for them. He wasn’t even going to continue listening to them? He was supposed to be their well-placed contact, their backup, their fail-safe. Maybe he wasn’t willing to risk exposure yet, but to shut down entirely, now, right after Jack was taken, just seemed too much.
Jemma closed the laptop and shoved it back in her backpack along with everything else she’d spread out across the table.
It was time to do something other than sit here and wait to be taken.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Risk
After paying her bill, Jemma stormed out of the restaurant, only to stop just outside.
Where was she going?
She was going to get something accomplished, yes. But what?
She couldn’t go to her family. That would only endanger more of the people she loved.
She could go straight to the lab, since she knew where it was, but she’d rather leave that as a last resort; as they’d already discussed, it looked even more suspicious than letting herself be found. Plus, even though she knew the logic didn’t hold up, Jemma felt better about making them come to her, even if they only had to drive a few minutes to do it.
Going to one of the libraries to get attention might work, if they were watching them for her, but that would have to wait until tomorrow. They were all closed at this time on a Sunday night. She’d have to either fish the key out of the fountain or get public transport, too, and that still left her without a place to stay for the night. If she did retrieve the keys, she could at least sleep in the car.
Exposure. What she really needed was exposure.
She could try going to the police. Her experiences with them before being captured the first time, though, had been less than encouraging. Jemma suspected that either she’d be told they’d look into it when they could afford the manpower or she’d be put in a cell for the night. If she were locked up, she still might not be noticed by the local facility, which didn’t seem to be looking in the right places for her.
Maybe they didn’t care anymore because they’d already recaptured Jack.
She shook her head. What else, then? The media. That’s what they’d wanted the senator to do, anyway, was to go to the media. Jemma might not be a public figure, but she had enough information to cause at least a brief stir. She didn’t have any proof, but then, neither had some of the people who’d gone missing before Jack and Jemma.
They’d still been taken, and their news reports had been removed.
It was possible they wouldn’t let her get as far as telling her story. If they did, though, and if she was able to stir up enough doubt, maybe she could get people looking into it. Maybe she could get the company overthrown herself, get some legitimate scientists to take over finishing and administering the cure, get Jack released.
It was a stretch, sure. A long one, even.
That didn’t mean it was impossible.
She needed to find a news station, then. It wasn’t like she had an online presence. If she was going to do this, if she really wanted a chance for people to see what she had to say, a live news broadcast was the way she’d need to go. The teasers leading up to it would be enough that if Tricorp BioD’s guards were going to grab her before she could tell the world—or at least the local broadcast area—what was happening, they would.
She pulled out her phone, using the restaurant’s internet to pull up the city’s news stations. Her favorite station was downtown, but just a few long blocks away, there were actually two local stations. She looked up from the phone, in the direction they were located, and nodded to herself.
She would either be captured or heard. Either way, she’d have accomplished something.
***
After passing the local public broadcasting station, which was closed for the night, Jemma reached one of the major network stations. A sign when she entered directed her to either use the website to report stories or to continue down the hall to communicate with an associate. The associate would then screen potential stories for inclusion in the news report or on the website. Jemma noticed that the sign seemed to be covering an older one; whoever had hung it must have been optimistic that they would be able to return to pre-Event procedures.
Maybe, with any luck, they’d be able to soon enough.
She opened the door at the end of the hall, watching a man hastily try to hide his iced coffee, decide he had nowhere on his desk to put it, and turn his attention to Jemma.
The room was small enough to feel cozy, not cramped, with the desk and the chair that sat across from it, which Jemma took when the man gestured. A tablet seemed permanently affixed to the edge of the desk, whoever was in charge of that decision less optimistic than the person who’d hung the sign in the hall.
“I’m Ralph,” he typed, the synthesized voice coming from his computer speakers at a reasonable level. “Do you have a story to report?” Jemma nodded. “Were you hoping for it to air on television or to be listed on the website?”
“It’s more of the live television sort of story,” typed Jemma. “Only, my proof is a bit on the limited side. Also, it might take a little while to explain.”
“We don’t usually get people in this time of night,” typed Ralph. “I’m not technically allowed to have drinks out while I’m working the desk, but, right. We don’t usually get people this late, especially on a Sunday, so I’ve got plenty of time to listen.” He frowned at the drink as if it were its fault, then looked back at Jemma with a smile. “So, what’ve you got for me?”
“Have you heard of the people who can Talk farther than most or to people they aren’t really close to?”
Ralph’s shoulders dropped slightly, watching her while he responded. “Yeah, of course, but those rumors never go anywhere. They’re never anything more than bragging, either. We’re not even allowed to accept them without some major exceptions going on.”
“I’ve got a bit more than bragging about how far I can Talk.” Jemma pulled out the small stack of papers she’d held on to from Myles’s house and handed them to Ralph. “A U.S. senator gave me these directly. They show that not only are at least some of the people with this claim telling the truth, but that the Event was engineered by somebody who wanted to flush them out for study.”
Ralph’s dark skin ran through several shades of color as he skimmed the papers. “I thought you didn’t have any proof,” he paused long enough to type.
“The senator won’t confirm he got me the papers,” answered Jemma. “There’s nothing in there that proves I wasn’t the one who wrote them. You can check on me, though, as long as you don’t tell any of my family I’m here. I don’t have any sort of a science background. I’ve read through those papers several times, and I’m still only guessing at what a lot of the words mean.”
“Okay. You have my attention.” Ralph set the papers to the side, tapping them nervously before returning his hands to the keys. “Why can’t I tell your family you’re here?”
“The same people doing those studies, they’ve been wa
tching my family, or at least my little sister. I’m afraid if there’s any more contact with my family, they’ll take her, too, or maybe even all of them.”
“So you were taken?” Ralph’s eyes flicked to the stack of papers. “For one of these studies?”
“That’s right. Me and my friend Jack. There were others, too, presumably still there.”
“Are you sure this isn’t a police matter?” Ralph continued typing after the computer finished speaking, and Jemma wasn’t sure whether he was taking notes or using a messenger.
“The police won’t be able to do anything. At least, definitely not the local police. It’s too big. And these papers, I guess they were in a military archive, so even at a federal level, I’m not sure what sort of help we would get. The best bet is getting the word out to as many people as possible, too many people for this to be swept under a rug.”
She and Jack should’ve stayed together. They should’ve taken the papers and done exactly this. Together.
“These papers mentioned death, widespread.” Ralph hesitated. “Is it something that we should risk reporting? There may be riots.”
“Did you read enough of it to see what happens if we ignore it? You mentioned death, so you must have.”
“Right.” He swallowed. “Okay. Let’s have you start from the beginning, then. Sorry.” He reached for his coffee, hand shaking, steadier when he set it back down again after a sip. “I haven’t even gotten your name yet.”
“I’m Jemma,” she typed. “Before all this started, I was a librarian. People thought I was boring, but I was content. Then, not long after people started Talking, I figured out I could Talk farther than most, with someone I didn’t really know.”
“With everyone, or with just this one person?”
“Just the one, at first. A few more, later. But not with everyone. This conversation would be a little easier if it were with everyone.” The ache still present at the front of Jemma’s mind told her that was a little bit of a falsehood, but she didn’t take the time to correct herself after realizing it.
Listen (Muted Trilogy Book 2) Page 19