by Elle Casey
The moving truck was still in front of her house, the men milling about with their dollies.
The sheriff pulled over and squeezed the steering wheel. “Is there anything I can do to make you stay, Dr. Bent? I can talk to the hospital director, explain the situation—”
She shook her head and smiled. “You’ve helped me more than you can imagine.”
You just gave me my sanity back. My life.
He nodded, his eyes—Ethan’s eyes—clouded by what they now knew. “You do understand that if you choose to undertake that psychiatric evaluation, your testimony in court would be much stronger.”
Ethan materialized in the back seat, flipping the red bouncy ball between his fingers. “Do it, Celine,” he said, his eyes sparkling.
She gave the sheriff a polite smile. “I’ll think about it.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She stood on the front lawn and watched him pull away, the smile still clinging to her lips and not letting go. Her eyes fell on the “For Sale” sign, gently swinging from its pole.
I can always rent for a while. Or find a new home. One with new appliances this time. “And a sunroom,” she said out loud. “I want a sunroom this time. What do you think, Ethan?”
“What about a swing?” Ethan asked.
“Of course,” Celine laughed. “A swing, too.”
She felt the stares of the movers and didn’t care.
“You didn’t tell him about me,” Ethan said.
“What do you want me to tell him?”
Ethan dropped his chin. “That I love him. That it wasn’t his fault.”
A red ball bounced off the sidewalk and into the street. It thudded along the curb and settled at Celine’s feet. She picked it up.
“Your ball, Ethan,” she said, with a smile.
But Ethan was nowhere to be seen.
A Word from E.E. Giorgi
A while ago, after reading The Surgeon, by Tess Gerritsen, I became fascinated with emergency medicine. I went to the library and borrowed half a dozen collections of true ER stories, written by emergency doctors and nurses. Some were hilarious. Most were heartbreaking.
What appalled me was the selflessness of physicians who had pledged to treat all and everyone: the nearly dead, the hypochondriac, the rich, the poor, the desperate, the lonely. One story in particular remained with me long after I’d returned the books to the library. In a last, desperate attempt to save his patient’s life, an ER doctor performed a thoracotomy and opened the patient’s chest to manually “restart” the heart. What happened next left him completely baffled: every time the doctor compressed the heart and made it beat, the patient’s eye sprang open and stared at the ceiling. As soon as the doctor stopped, the patient closed his eyes. Imagine what this doctor must have felt, holding a dying heart in his hands, knowing that the minute he let go, the life of his patient would be lost forever.
“The Elm Tree” sprouted from the thoughts and emotions spurred by those stories. I’m honored that it is now part of this collection, next to the work of authors whose writing I greatly admire. I am greatly indebted to Ann Dominguez and Juneta Key for their invaluable feedback, and to Samuel Peralta and David Gatewood for making this anthology possible.
I am a scientist by day, a writer by night, and a photographer in whatever spare time I have left. My debut novel, CHIMERAS, is a 2014 Readers’ Favorite International Book Award Winner in the category “murder mystery” and a New Mexico-Arizona Book Award Finalist. A complete list of my published works—mostly thrillers and science fiction mysteries—can be found on my blog. My short story “Lady Lilith” is available for free to anyone who subscribes to my newsletter.
Stability
by Theresa Kay
The light flashes green and the door slides back, allowing me into the walled courtyard behind my room. Twenty steps take me to the far side, and another ten take me from one corner to the other. The metal wall towers over my head and then curves inward, but it’s open at the top, just a hint of sky visible from below.
I tilt my head back, letting the sun caress my cheeks for a moment before taking slow, methodical steps around the perimeter. From corner to corner, one side to the other, I walk with one hand outstretched, my fingers flirting with the metal wall but never so much as grazing it. I’m not allowed to touch it. If I do, the alarms will go off. They say it’s for my protection, but they say a lot of things and they’ve been known to lie.
It isn’t long before a soft tone alerts me to the fact that my morning recreation time is almost over. I make my way back to the recessed doorway and wait for the light again. When it changes from red to green, I step into one of two rooms I’ve spent most of my life in. This room contains a couch, a small table, a single shelf, and a viewing screen mounted on the wall. The other holds the raised platform that serves as my bed, as well as a shower stall and a toilet behind a screened-off section. Plain walls. Plain fabrics. Plain everything. As if they think I’m not capable of processing any sort of outside stimulation.
I’ll admit, when I first arrived here I welcomed the cold sterility of my quarters. At that point, my telepathy had nearly driven me out of my mind. I was only six and I’d spent the previous two years on my own, desperately trying to shut out the voices in my head. They never explained how they found me, how they knew what I was or anything beyond that they had a safe place for me. A quiet place. It didn’t take much to convince me to come willingly.
Eleven years I’ve been here—over a decade. Would I have made a different choice had I known that their “quiet” meant I’d be kept isolated from nearly everyone—that is, when they weren’t poking me with needles or attaching sensors to my head to study me? Maybe, but I probably would have been dead before I turned ten.
The doctors take precautions against my abilities. Besides drugging me to dull my powers and assure my compliance, they’ve been trained to police their thoughts, and they’ve all been fitted with the special chip behind their ears that allows them to block me out. At least that’s what they believe.
It started about three months ago: little snippets of thought slipping through the cracks in their locked-down minds. The first time it happened, one of the techs delivering my breakfast had dropped a fork. Out loud he merely sighed, but mentally, he cursed. Loudly. I jerked, and the doctor who’d been in my room to draw blood gave me a strange look, accompanied by what could only be described as a mental sneer, all while he smiled jovially on the outside. They’d always been pleasant to me, but that was my first hint that maybe these doctors weren’t quite as kind and giving as they appeared.
I’m not the only resident here, though I am the only telepath. I’ve caught glimpses of others being led through the hallways by doctors I don’t recognize, but I’ve never been allowed any contact with them. Any time I’ve asked about them, Doctor Price has waved it off, told me it was nothing for me to worry about. At first, I listened. But now that I’m able to catch little snippets of his thoughts, the presence of the others concerns me, or at least their purpose here does. And the more I’ve learned, the more I’ve come to realize I need to get out of here—and soon.
Yesterday, as one of the lab assistants was leading me back to my room, someone brushed against me in the hall. Not a common occurrence, but it happened. What was different this time? The girl whispered five words into my head: Tomorrow. Don’t take the pill. I spun around to question her, but she and her handler had disappeared around the corner.
I spent most of the night debating whether or not to listen to the strange instructions. This morning, I hid the pill under my tongue and spit it into the toilet once they were gone. I don’t know what effect it will have, but what’s the worst that could happen? There hasn’t been much of a difference so far, but my mind is clearer, and for the first time in a while, the reality of my situation is beginning to seep through the fog.
“Good morning, Cora.” The soft voice breaks me out of my thoughts. “Did you enj
oy your recreation time?”
I plaster a smile on my face and turn toward the man standing in the doorway of my quarters. “I did, Doctor Price. Thank you for asking. How are you today?”
He gives a good-natured chuckle. “I’m quite well. Are you ready for some new tests?”
New tests? No one said anything about a change in routine. No matter; I push the alarm to the back of my mind and give him an inquisitive look. “What kind of tests?”
“Nothing too uncomfortable.” Silly child.
It’s a fight to keep my face and voice steady, but I manage. “Okay then.” I flash him a close-lipped smile. “I suppose I am.”
He pats my shoulder and gestures to the doorway. “After you.”
The narrow hallway stretches before me, seeming much longer today than it has at any other time I’ve walked it. Perhaps because, although I can’t make out exactly what Doctor Price is thinking, the tone of what I’m getting from him is worrying. His thoughts are filled with terms like “gestation period” and “disposal,” and underlying them is a greedy curiosity that’s centered around whatever tests they have planned for me today. It isn’t anything new. I’m already fairly certain what they have planned for me eventually, but today there’s an urgency to his thoughts that hasn’t been there before.
The lab room he leads me to is different from the one in which the tests are normally performed, and a guy in a lab coat whom I don’t recognize rushes out the door, barreling into Doctor Price.
Doctor Price narrows his eyes and purses his lips. Idiot.
The younger man babbles an apology and glances up at me from beneath tousled blond hair, then darts his gaze back to the floor and sidesteps around us to hurry down the hall. Even if I weren’t telepathic, I’d be able to pick up Doctor Price’s agitation as he watches the man go and then, his head tilted to the side, types on the keypad beside the door with short, jerky movements. I stare after the man too. There’s something…
The door opens with a hiss and Doctor Price yanks me into the room. “I thought I said—” His grip tightens on my arm, finally pulling my attention away from the now-empty corridor.
A tall, slim man in a business suit is standing on the opposite side of the room. He cocks one eyebrow and lowers his chin in a slight nod. “Price.”
“Slate.” What the hell is he doing here? Doctor Price’s fingers tighten further and I inhale sharply.
The man’s pale, blue eyes swing to me in cold assessment. “Is this her?”
“Yes.”
He straightens off the wall and strides across the room, then takes my chin in one hand and lifts it so I’m looking directly at him. “Rather young, isn’t she? Are you sure she’s a good candidate?”
Doctor Price stiffens. “She’s the only one we know of with this particular mutation who has survived to maturity. There are no other candidates.”
Releasing my chin, Slate turns his attention to Doctor Price. “What do you plan to cross her with?”
“We have two specimens. I thought to fertilize an egg with each one and see which combination led to the most viable… product.” He clears his throat.
“Viable meaning stable, correct?”
“There are so many variables. I cannot say for certain.”
The man’s lip curls. “Then how do I know this isn’t a complete waste of resources? I’m taking over, Price. Starting today. In fact—”
“You can’t do that!” Doctor Price finally drops my arm and I take two steps backward. “I’ve put my entire life into this project.”
I continue moving away until the wall brushes against my back. This had always been an eventuality. From the moment I started picking up their thoughts, I’ve known it was coming. But now that they’re openly discussing it, now that they’re planning on moving forward with it today without even pretending to give me a choice in the matter… Could this be what the girl yesterday was warning me about? How could she have known?
My palm finds the release switch and the door opens. I quietly slide out while the two men continue arguing inside.
Once I’m back outside, I spin around and head down the hallway. I’ve never been anywhere other than my quarters alone before, and that’s where my footsteps lead me. I know the code to open the door, I have for a while, and I’m raising my hand to type it in when a realization washes over me: This might be my only chance. If I just go back into my quarters, like the obedient little girl they expect, there will be no stopping them.
A glance to both sides confirms that the hallway is empty. Away from the lab room I just left is probably a good start, so I head that way. I reach the intersection where the guy in the lab coat disappeared, and I pause. What now?
I peer around the corner. Long hallways stretch out in both directions without a single indication of an exit. Indecision holds me in place while my heart pounds in my chest. Which way will take me out? And what if I choose the wrong one?
There’s no time for this! Already, the muffled rumble of the two men arguing in the lab has decreased in volume. It won’t be long before they notice my absence. I go right just as I hear a door sliding open somewhere behind me.
At first I walk. Then the sound of voices sends my pulse rocketing up, and I can’t hold back from running. My bare feet pound against the tile as I go down one hallway, then another. I take random turns, no longer caring which direction is the right one, just that I’m moving. There are no more hesitations at intersections, no more indecision, only this primitive urge to get away.
Unused to physical exertion, my lungs can’t keep up with me. A stabbing pain forms under my ribs, shooting through me with each breath, and the edges of my vision go blurry. I round yet another corner and screech to a stop with my palm pushing against the wall. Sweat drips down my back and my inhalations are choking gasps.
Just when I’ve gotten myself back under control, the hallway goes dark for a moment before the emergency lights flicker on. It’s quiet, though. No sounds of pursuit. No alarm. What is going on?
There’s barely time for me to puzzle over it before the voices begin to filter in. It starts with only one, as a whisper, but soon others join in and the volume rises. Louder and louder, until it seems like twenty people are screaming directly into my mind. I cup my hands over my ears and squeeze my eyes shut. Something’s happened. The blockers have stopped working. The thoughts of every person in the building are flooding into me and there is no shutoff switch, no safety valve… and no relief.
They’re in the animal lab… GODDAMMIT!
I slide to the ground.
… the hell is security?… It’s a left up here…
I curl into a ball.
Shut the fucking door already!… This way… lockdown?… get those doors open NOW!
I dig my fingers into my scalp.
… gun… the hell is this?
And then there’s blissful silence and I’m alone in my head.
I open my eyes and find myself looking up into a pair of unfamiliar brown ones. Wait… not so unfamiliar after all. He’s the guy who bumped into Doctor Price earlier. He’s one of them. I push myself up and scramble back, yanking my hand away from his. The instant our hands separate, the voices slam back into me.
His mouth moves and he reaches for me again, wrapping his hand around my bare upper arm when I won’t allow him access to my hands. At his touch, the quiet returns and my eyes widen. He gently squeezes my arm and waits until I look up at him. “Please, let me help you.” He shakes his head. “I tried to catch up with you before the others cut the power, but you were too fast. We weren’t expecting a Reader. It’s a damn good thing I’m here.”
“I don’t understand. Who are you?” I tilt my head and study his face.
“We’re here to get you out. Well, not you specifically, since we didn’t know about you, but anyway, my name’s Liam.”
“I’m Cora. The voices… how did you…” I glance down at his hand on my arm.
“I’m a Null.” At my blan
k look, he continues, “You know, I can negate other Psi abilities…” His eyes widen as he trails off. “You have no idea what I’m talking about.”
I shrug and bite my lip. “I wasn’t aware there were others with abilities like mine.”
“There aren’t,” says Liam. “Readers are very rare—you’re the only living one I know of. Hell, you’re the only one I’ve ever met. But there are other abilities. Kinetics. Empaths. Techs. Pyros… we’re all Psionics.”
“Psionics?”
His brow furrows and he shakes his head. “There’s a mutation that enhances our genetic makeup and allows us to do a little something extra with our brains. As of ten years ago we were awarded the same rights as normal citizens, but…”— he sweeps his free hand outward— “…that just means they experiment on us in secret in places like this. I don’t get it. You should know these things. How long have you been here?”
I ignore the question and my mind spins with these new revelations. If what Liam says is true, their deception was deeper than I’d thought. They’d always pretended I was special and unique. That there was no one else like me in the world. Twisted lies tightly wound around partial truths. And they might not be the only ones.
If there were no other telepaths, if this mysterious “we” wasn’t expecting one, and if he’d never even met one…
“How did you know you needed to catch up to me?”
“I felt you.” Redness creeps into his cheeks. “Er, I mean, I felt your power signature. Back there outside the lab room.”
“Is that why I thought something was strange about you? Was that your power signature?”
“Probably.” He shuffles his feet and shifts his gaze up and down the hallway. “We need to get out of here. That is… Are you coming with me?”