The Nancy Experiment

by McKenna, Tess

  “I’m out. You’re both crazy,” Marissa says. She tosses her cards on the table.

  “You’re bluffing,” I say to Nate.

  Nate’s eyes and mine lock, daring the other person to make a move. Everything is silent as the every Metanite holds their breath. Then Nate smiles.

  “I’ve gotta pair of Fours,” Nate says as he lays down his hand. Abraham slams his head on the table. Marissa smiles and mutters that she knew it. Now everyone turns to me. I grin and let my cards fall to the table.

  “Royal flush.”

  Bam. The room erupts in cheering and shouting. Zoë hugs me and screams happily in my ear. Marissa’s eyes bulge and her skin turns dead white. Abe stays completely frozen but drops his jaw to the table, literally. Elijah and Xander cheer and point at Nate. Nate stares at my cards, lifts his hand up to his face, and drops his jaw. Lazzer runs up behind him, grabs him around the head, and gives him a knuckle sandwich. Nickel and Kiaria laugh and hug each other; Izzi hits Kono in her excitement; and even Kono smiles.

  I try to hold it back, but my smile cracks open and I laugh. For this short moment, I forget who I am, what I’ve done the past twenty-two months, and what these people might want from me. I am just a normal teenager, and happy.

  “OH! NO SIR, NO SIR!” Lazzer yells as he shakes Nate’s shoulders.

  “Wow! I can’t believe it!”

  “Oh! Nate, you’re out, man!”

  “Way-to-go, Annika!”

  “Reilly, she read you like a book!” Elijah yells.

  Smiling, Nate wrestles Lazzer off and looks at me, shaking his head in disbelief. Everyone pushes their cards and chips to the center of the table. I guess the game is over. Thank god… I’m exhausted and ready for bed.

  “I’m going to call it a night,” I say to Zoë as I stand up. The alcohol kicks in, and I tip sideways before regaining my balance.

  “Whoa, Annika… are you drunk?” Abraham teases.

  “Mostly tired,” I say.

  “Awe,” Zoë says. She’s leaning against Elijah, and his arm is wrapped around her. I don’t think she’s going to be rising to her feet anytime soon.

  “Thank you for having me,” I say to Abraham. I think this is his room.

  “I’ll walk you back,” Nate says.

  He stands up and walks out into the hall with me while everyone else says goodnight. I think most people will crash on the floor tonight. The door closes, and Nate and I start the walk down the hall. I walk slowly; my legs feel like they’re made of bricks. Nate doesn’t say anything, which kind of surprises me.

  “Thank you, again. Tonight was… nice,” I say. “That pizza was delicious.”

  “You’ve never been to Vincenza’s?”

  “No…”

  “God… we should take you there sometime. Actually, we should do a whole tour of Cleveland.”

  “That would be fun. Maybe as fun as tonight.”

  “I’m glad you had fun. We enjoyed having you there. Also, nice hand at the end there. You called my bluff like it was written on my forehead, or something,” he says.

  “Well, it’s not too hard to tell when you’re bluffing,” I say. We stop at my newly fixed bedroom door; I unlock it, open it, but then stand there.

  “Is it that easy to see right through me?” he asks, laughing. “Damn, I was trying to be sneaky.”

  “Well, practice can’t hurt,” I tease.

  What am I waiting for? I am exhausted, am I not? It’s time for bed.

  “Okay, goodnight Nate,” I say. I step into my room and turn the lights on.

  “Goodnight Annika,” he says. I look back once to see him returning to his room. Whatever time it is, I’m glad I stayed up late.

  XV: Wade Oval Wednesday

  Wednesday, March 26, 2065; 8:11 a.m.

  First person

  I wake up sobbing and calling for my sister. Another nightmare that began like every other: in the factory where I’m strapped to a metal table or convoluted machine, to Austria where I see that ghostly girl again, and finally to the day Cassie died. I woke before I could even get to the Cuyahoga Clinic. I rub the delusion out of my eyes and look around the room. My blankets are on the other side of the room, and the lamp next to my bed is on the floor. Another disaster.

  I go to the bathroom and wash my face. I scrub the blood away from my fingers and knuckles—must have tried to fight the furniture. I brush my teeth and hair and return to the room. I pick up the lamp; the shade is cracked, but the thing still works. I pull on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved grey shirt. The shirt is cotton, unbelievably comfortable, and warm.

  I look at the clock: 8:13 a.m. So I slept in, a little. I wait in my room for ten minutes more, expecting Zoë or Marissa to knock on my door, but no one comes. Odd.

  What if something is wrong? What if I am still in a nightmare? Only one way to find out. I stand up to leave, and then I see her.

  The small, blonde girl stands between me and the door. Is she telling me to stay? If I leave, will something bad happen? What is she trying to tell me?

  “What do you want from me?” I shout at her. “Cassie?”

  She bites her lip and runs away—through my bedroom door and into the hall.

  “Cassie, no! I’m sorry,” I say, running after her.

  I open the door and charge into the hallway. I jump and shriek when I see a real blonde-haired person leaning against the wall.

  “Cliff?!” I say. My heart pushes against my chest, and I try to control my breathing.

  “Sorry, did I scare you?” he asks.

  “No, no—I… I just wasn’t expecting you to be there. Where is everybody?”

  “They’re on a mission. Moton asked me to stay here and take you down to the Base after you woke up,” Cliff says.

  “A mission?”

  “Yeah. Kiaria is downstairs waiting for you. Ready?” he asks. He holds his hand out to me.

  “Um, sure,” I say. I take his hand, and the hallways spins from blue to grey, and I’m standing with Cliff in the Metanites’ Base.

  The place feels empty, emptier than ever before. I’m relieved when I see Kiaria sitting at the chair in front of the screens and Bleu-counter. She’s wearing an earpiece and microphone, and she flips through different views from the video cameras in some… is that… where is that? I approach the screens, mesmerized by the mysterious place.

  “Approaching subjects from the south entrance,” a voice says from the far left screen. It’s Elijah’s voice. “We have a visual.”

  The screen shows four men dressed in black and steel-toed shoes sitting around a table in an old, abandoned warehouse. The video shakes slightly. I’m guessing Elijah is wearing the camera on his shirt.

  “Lay low and await my signal,” Kiaria says. “Nickel and Abraham are still at the East post—they were delayed by the cops. Abe, how’s it going?”

  A shaky, strange image flickers on the screen on the right; it’s an image of a tunnel, a very small tunnel.

  “Ahh, it’s a little tight up in here, Kia,” Abraham’s voice says from the video camera.

  “That’s what he said,” Xander’s voice says from the far left screen.

  “That is what I said,” Abraham says.

  Another image, smaller than the others, starts to shake and chuckle.

  “Xander, Abraham—focus. Lazz, stop laughing. We’re working,” Kiaria says.

  The smaller video stops shaking, and Lazzer says, “Sorry Kia—I’m focused.”

  “Good, because—” Kiaria starts to say, but then she stops when she sees me stepping closer, my eyes glued to the screens.

  “Hey,” she says, her voice sweet and shy. “Good morning!”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Who’s there?” Elijah’s voice asks. “Is that Annika?”

  “Yeah, she’s here,” Kiaria says. She covers the microphone by her mouth. “From reading Jericho’s mind, I discovered that those men are hiding out in the old warehouse in the Flats.”


  Kiaria turns back to the screens from a moment.

  “Nate, take over as the eyes for a second,” she says.

  “Alright, catch-up to you soon,” Nate’s voice says from the earpiece.

  Kiaria grabs a bowl of cereal from the counter and hands it to me.

  “Breakfast?”

  “Thanks,” I say, taking the bowl of cereal. I look behind me, but Cliff is gone. I turn back toward the screens. They went after the hunting crew without me. They didn’t trust me, of course, but they didn’t even tell me.

  “You okay?” Kiaria asks me.

  I look toward her and open my mouth, but no words come out. I clear my throat and try again. “You found them?”

  “We think so, at least, we found some of them. I managed to decipher some of the jumble from Jericho’s mind and discover that they have a location at this warehouse. There’s another place, too, but I haven’t figured that one out yet,” she says.

  I keep staring at the videos.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, it’s just… you were asleep, and we figured you could use some rest, and the police are on the scene… We didn’t want to put you in danger, and—” Kiaria says.

  “I get it,” I say.

  Kiaria pauses.

  “You did the right thing not to tell me,” I say, at last. “I wouldn’t have been of much help, anyway.”

  “No! We just didn’t want to endanger you with the police.”

  “No, I’m not… stable,” I say. I put the bowl of cereal down and rub my hands. Kiaria notices the cuts on my hand immediately.

  “Rough night?”

  I nod.

  “Me too,” she says, pointing to a large mug of coffee on the counter. “Triple caffeine, third cup this morning.”

  “I could use one of those,” I say.

  “Cups are over in the cabinet. Pull up a chair, and I’ll split this with you,” she offers.

  “Thank you. Do you have cinnamon somewhere?”

  “Yeah! Top shelf to your right.”

  I find a tall cup in the cabinets by the microwave, grab the shaker of cinnamon, and pull a chair over next to Kiaria. She pours half of her coffee into my cup. The nearly-black liquid smells as intoxicating as a fresh brew. I mix in some cinnamon and take a sip. The coffee teases and bites the inside of my mouth, leaving a trail of kisses as it makes its way down to my stomach.

  “Thanks, again,” I say.

  “You’re welcome. Want to help me oversee the extraction?”

  “Extraction?” I was thinking we could just exterminate them.

  “That’s why the police are there; we told them that it was the Chicago Mafia since there was a possible tie from Chicago to the attack on Kenyon last week. We’re going to smoke them out and have the police waiting for them at the north exit of the warehouse.”

  “Smart.”

  “Actually, it was Lazzer who suggested it.”

  “Lazzer?”

  “He stayed up with Nate and me to develop our action plan. He’s with Elijah and Xander on the inside,” Kiaria says.

  “Is Nate with them, too?”

  “He’s got a video set like this one in a van about a block away from the warehouse. He still can’t do too much with his leg.”

  “I see.”

  “Hey, how’s Annika doing?” Nate’s voice calls from the video camera.

  Kiaria turns the microphone back to her mouth. “Ask her when you guys get here; just make sure everyone makes it back safe and sound.”

  “Will do,” he responds.

  Kiaria bends the microphone away from her face again and turns back to me, smiling.

  “What?” I ask, taking a sip of the coffee.

  “Nate… He’s concerned about you,” she teases.

  I burn my tongue on the hot liquid. “I get the feeling you’re all concerned about me.”

  “Shouldn’t we be? You’ve been having nightmares since Jericho came here, and you’ve been quiet.”

  “I had nightmares before Jericho came here.”

  “Were you always bleeding afterwards?”

  I look down at my knuckles.

  “I know I seem a bit… rattled… and I am. But not for the reason you’re suggesting. I’m not used to working with others, let alone working with people who are trying to protect me. And despite what Nate and Marissa may think, I am dangerous—not only because of who I am but because of the people coming after me.”

  “We know, and we’re not afraid of those reasons, except for the tiny factor of the FBI and CIA… but as long as we keep you a secret them there’s no problem.”

  “You should be,” I mumble. “I just want you to know that having a specific person here—having Jericho here—doesn’t affect me any more than it would if we had another member of the hunting crew locked in Kenyon,” I tell her.

  Kiaria reaches out and takes my hand in hers. She knows I’m lying.

  “I know you know something,” I whisper, “something you learned when you read Jericho’s mind… something you didn’t confide in anybody.”

  Kiaria stares at me like she’s trying to read my mind. Maybe she is trying, but she and I both know that she can’t.

  “Yes,” she says.

  “Hey, Kia! We need you for a second,” Nate calls from the video cameras. Kiaria swirls her chair back to the Bleu-counter and adjusts the microphone back in front of her mouth.

  “I’m here; what’s the problem?” she asks.

  “I’m out of the tunnel,” Abraham says. “Now I’m looking at this box, and I’m like…”

  Sure enough, the video that used to show a narrow tube now shows a metal box fastened against a white wall and with tubes and wires spreading from it.

  “Open the generator and cut the cords to the air traffic and water responder tangent to the streamline for the electricity,” Kiaria says.

  “Uhh…”

  “Open the box and cut the blue and yellow wires next to the big red one.”

  “Oh, why didn’t you just say so?” Abraham says. He does as Kiaria instructed, thanks her, and Kiaria takes the headset with the microphone and earpiece off her head and sets it down on the table. She turns back to me.

  “Reading someone’s mind is much more involved and dangerous than you might expect, especially when you can read so much more than a person’s primary thoughts,” Kiaria says. “When I read someone’s mind, I invade their brain. Their memories, images from their past, the emotions they felt, their every thought—I can access all of it. Having that much access into a person’s mind would be dangerous if I didn’t know how to control what I perceive based on what I’m looking for. Yet, sometimes, thoughts are so dominant in a person’s mind that I can’t help but see them.”

  “And Jericho?”

  “For him, I knew his mind was trained to block me out, but once I was in… even for a short time…”

  I nod, and Kiaria inches her chair closer to me.

  “There were these images and emotions… these memories… that I couldn’t avoid. I saw the two of you playing together on the beach with a little blonde girl and a beautiful woman. Then I saw him pounding on the glass of a window that looked into a room where you were strapped to this metal table with these men in long lab coats, and you were screaming, and he was screaming; someone pulled him away from the window and he fought. Then I saw the two of you kickboxing, for fun, and you pinned him on his back—you were laughing and smiling. I saw images of the hunting crew chasing you, and talking about killing you and—I’m sorry that I’m being too blunt about this.”

  “No, I’m glad you’re telling me,” I say. The memories fabricate as she describes them, and I try to push them away.

  “I learned that the two of you were friends, close friends, and that you cared about each other,” she says.

  “I don’t care about him anymore.”

  “I think he still cares about you, though,” she says. “I felt his guilt in those memories.”

  “Why didn’t you
tell this to the others?” I ask.

  “Those are personal memories… not something everyone needs to know,” she says.

  I’m lost for words. Kiaria knows a part of me that I was deathly afraid to disclose to anyone, and she accepts that part of me. And she respects the privacy and intimacy of my secret.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “I think there’s a traitor here, too. That’s another reason why I have not been keen to tell anything to anyone,” Kiaria admits. “Dr. Nancy’s appearance the day after you woke up, the attack on Kenyon… I don’t believe those were coincidences.”

  “Neither do I,” I say. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I know you’re not the snitch.”

  “Because they’ve tried to kill me?”

  “They’ve come pretty close, too,” she says.

  She turns back to the Bleu-counter and billboard screens. The warehouse is filled with smoke, and police herd and handcuff the hunting crew as they flee from the fire. Marissa and Nickel are there wearing the same grey outfits they wore when I first saw them at the bridge by the Cuyahoga River.

  “We’ve caught them,” Kiaria says.

  A flood of relief rushes through me, but there’s something incomplete about the victory. They didn’t catch all of them, only some, enough to convince people that this war is over. Bruce is among the captured, but Jericho’s sister, Evan, is not. And she’s more dangerous than Bruce.

  “We’re all done here, Kia,” Nate says.

  Kiaria replaces the headset back on her head. “Great. Nice work, team.”

  “We’ll be on our way back shortly.”

  “See you then,” Kiaria replies. She takes the headset off again and starts toying with the control table. I look down at Kiaria’s hands furiously typing something into the Bleu-counter. That’s when I see it again—the tattoo on her wrist.

  “You’re tattoo… what is it?” I ask.

  “Oh, this?” Kiaria says. She looks down at her wrist then holds it up for me to see. “It’s a phoenix.”

  On her wrist is a colorful image of a celestial bird; the red, orange, yellow, and black blend together to create an illusion of fire within the bird. But there’s something beautiful about it, even with the fire. Freedom, rebirth.