Burning Hearts

by Eva Chase

  He was running at an impressive clip. A sheen of sweat shone on his well-muscled arms, which that thin, fitted T-shirt showed off to great effect. As I watched, he raked a hand back through his sandy blond hair and picked up his pace even more.

  His arms weren’t the only part of him with excellent musculature on display. That sculpted ass, flexing as he hit his stride—

  Okay, Lisa, whoa there. There was appreciating from afar and then there was gawking. The last thing I wanted was him catching me at it and taking it as encouragement. He might have seemed nice enough yesterday, but that didn’t mean much. I couldn’t trust anyone here. I was safest if I kept my distance from all of them.

  The guard tapped my back with his baton. I’d learned my lesson about the batons a couple days ago. Ducking my head, I made for the mats next to the weight benches, on the opposite side of the room from the treadmills. Staying in shape while I was here definitely couldn’t hurt. I’d like to be ready for any opportunities that presented themselves.

  Not that trying to fight my way out had gotten me very far the first three times.

  I got down on the mats and positioned myself for several rounds of push-ups. In between each set, I leaned back on my heels and stretched out my arms. When my biceps were throbbing with an endless burn, I flipped over onto my back to move on to sit-ups.

  My attempt at avoiding Jason hadn’t worked. I’d just made it to my first set of ten when he ambled by me to the nearest weight bench. He didn’t look at me, but he passed so close his calf grazed mine.

  “So you can read minds, huh?”

  What the fuck was he talking about? I glared at my knees as he hunkered down on the bench, planning on ignoring him, but then it occurred to me that he might take my silence as agreement.

  “You’re crazy,” I muttered, exhaling out of another sit-up. My abs were already starting to ache. Not a good sign for Plan: Break The Hell Out Of This Place Through Strength Alone.

  Jason chuckled, low and warm. I had to admit his voice was almost as appealing as that body. “Am I? Look at me.”

  How was looking at him going to make him any less crazy? I ignored him, launching myself into another set of sit-ups without bothering with the stretch. About five in, my stomach painfully informed me that I’d made a very bad decision. I gritted my teeth and kept going.

  “It’s okay,” Jason said. “I won’t tell anyone. You don’t have to talk to me. It’s just kind of amazing to be able to ‘talk’ to someone here without having to worry about the staff overhearing. Especially someone who—Shit. How much exactly can you hear? This might take some getting used to.”

  Just how crazy was he? I threw myself forward into one last crunch and swiveled around to look at him.

  Jason was lying flat on his back, pressing a substantial-looking barbell up over his chest. The muscles in his arms stood out, big and taut. He was staring straight up at the ceiling, his mouth pressed into a tight line as he hefted the bar.

  A tight, closed line. But somehow he was still talking.

  “Good,” he said. “I get why you’d have the impulse to pretend, but I am really hoping I can help you here.”

  My arms dropped to my sides, feeling suddenly weak. My pulse stuttered. A chill washed over me, much deeper than the burn I’d worked into my muscles.

  Jason lowered the barbell and raised his head slightly. His deep brown eyes locked with mine. His brow knit. “Why are you—”

  Then his lips did move, with the same voice but a more ragged quality. Because he was catching his breath from the lifts. Because I was hearing that voice from his mouth now and not just from his mind.

  “You really didn’t know, did you?”

  I jerked my eyes away. My arms had started to tremble. I let myself sink back down on the mats as if I wanted to be down there anyway. My thoughts were whirling too fast for any of them to make sense.

  Jason heaved the bar upward again. His voice came again—the steady version that seemed to resonate from just behind my eardrums, now that I was comparing. I should have realized you might not. Not everyone does when they get here. The scouts pick up anyone who shows signs of a talent. That’s what the Facility is for, you know? They want to unlock the secrets of our mental powers, those of us “lucky” enough to have them. So basically, we’re lab rats.

  Mental powers. My mind leapt back to my interrogation that morning. The comments and questions: Strange things can happen in the world. Did you see something no one else seemed to? Or hear something?

  The lab people had already guessed I might be capable of something like this. Could it really be true?

  I couldn’t ask that right now. I was obviously hearing things Jason wasn’t saying out loud. But what about all the other times? All the things people had said in my hearing that I’d had trouble believing they’d be comfortable speaking...

  Was it possible they hadn’t been speaking that stuff? That they hadn’t been speaking at all, and I’d just picked those comments out of their heads?

  I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. My abs protested, and I let myself lie still for a moment to rest them. Jason chucked the barbell back into the holder and sat up. I didn’t look directly at him, but I could see his mouth was still closed. He picked up a small towel and wiped the sweat from his forehead, still thinking at me.

  I don’t know how much the researchers have already gotten from you, but the first thing you need to know is you’re better off staying as quiet as possible about what you can do. Don’t give away anything you don’t have to. They want to use us however they can, and the more talent they see in you...

  He didn’t need to finish that sentence. The dread in his tone conveyed the weight of his concern. I swallowed hard. God. Was this really happening? How could this be happening? I sat up with my legs crossed this time and pressed the heel of my hand to my temple.

  Hey. Jason’s inner voice turned gentle. I’ll have your back. You can do this. You’re not alone. We all have our talents. Look at me.

  This time I did without hesitating. Jason dropped his towel on the floor. He lowered his hand to pick it up. A second before he did, he snapped his fingers lightly.

  A flame flared between his thumb and forefinger. Small but unmistakably bright. The tiny fire danced over his hand. But he wasn’t holding anything, not a lighter or a match.

  He’d done that with his mind?

  His fingers closed around the flame, snuffing it out. Then he picked up his towel and stood up.

  I feel a little strange doing all the talking here. It’s probably safer if they don’t see us really talking much—like, out loud. Can you send thoughts back or only hear?

  I didn’t know. I hadn’t known I could do any of this until a few minutes ago. My chest was still clenched with shock. I opened my mouth and caught myself.

  “81s,” a guard shouted from the doorway. “Time’s up. Let’s go.”

  We can sort that out later, Jason said. To be continued.

  He shot me the briefest flicker of a smile before walking past me toward the door. I couldn’t stop myself from watching him go. But not to admire the flex of his ass this time. A weird tearing feeling tugged at my gut. It took me a moment to recognize the feeling.

  For the first time in a long time, I was wishing someone didn’t have to leave me alone.

  3

  Jason

  For a relatively small building, the Facility had a hell of a lot of locks. Layers upon layers of security. I guessed the theory was that with a wide enough variety of barriers, no single subject should be able to penetrate them all.

  But for the most part, the people who ran the place relied on electricity. None of us had demonstrated any talent in that area apparently, or at least not enough of a talent to concern them. And I didn’t want to provoke any worries now. Which was why I’d been building up my escape plan over the better part of three years.

  Lights were out in the dorm. I lay on my bed with one arm behind my head and my eyes closed, st
retching my awareness through the building. One thing the researchers didn’t know was that my abilities with fire weren’t restricted to just creating it. I could feel it too. Control it, at least in small doses. And electricity was close enough to a flame to count. The building hummed with that crackling heat. I couldn’t really tell one device apart from another by feel, but I’d learned what sort of pattern indicated a lock.

  I’d first discovered the electric dimension to my talent those three years ago, totally by accident. One of the male subjects who had a small amount of telekinetic ability had been about to watch a movie with a woman I’d never spoken to. That had turned into an argument about which movie to watch. He’d gotten so worked up he’d tried to throw the TV at her with his mind.

  He’d only budged it an inch with his mental powers, but then he’d taken matters into his hands—literally. Picked it up and slammed it over her head. Still plugged in.

  Remembering that moment made me feel sick even now. But one good thing had come from it. As the TV case had smashed and sizzled, a tingling awareness had shot through my nerves. I’d snuffed out a few sparks automatically before I’d realized that I didn’t want the staff noticing what I was doing.

  I’d been flexing that mental muscle ever since, with increasing range.

  Tonight I’d decided to loosen a lock a couple of halls over from the dorms. I settled on one door and focused on it with an imagined flare of heat. My skin flushed with warmth—and some fifty feet away from me, the lock clicked open.

  I picked my test objects at random. Not always locks, but sometimes shorting out the cameras instead. No pattern, never too close to me, sometimes even when I was in the middle of a conversation in clear view of the cameras. As long as the researchers couldn’t tie the malfunctions to me, I was good. Let them keep puzzling over the strange electrical quirks of their underground system until I was ready to orchestrate a big enough meltdown to get me out of here.

  I dragged in a breath, letting my body relax into the mattress as much as it ever did. My thoughts drifted back to the new girl. To the intensity of those brilliant blue eyes on me as she’d realized what I was doing in the gym.

  What she was doing was more like it. She’d been pulling the thoughts right out of my head.

  Her image swam in my head: that crimson hair, her trim body in her exercise clothes. Her soft voice, slightly hoarse as if she hadn’t used it enough.

  Jason. Jason?

  It took me a second to realize I wasn’t just imagining that voice. My heart skipped a beat. My mouth fell open as if to talk to her that way. No, that wasn’t going to work out well. I snapped my jaw shut and focused my mind on the thoughts I wanted her to hear.

  I’m here. Can you hear me?

  Relief tinged her answer. I can. Oh, God, this is so crazy. I wasn’t sure I could talk to you at all. But I just tried, and I thought I could tell where you were... Of course, maybe I’m just making this conversation up in my head.

  I smiled. Nope. It’s really me. If you want proof... I’ll tap my chin the next time I see you.

  Oh, so I have to wait until then to get confirmation? That sucks.

  I guess I could start spilling all the secrets you couldn’t know on your own, but how would you know you weren’t just making those up too?

  I don’t know, she said, her tone turning faintly sly. You could just try.

  My smile stretched into a grin. You’ll have to earn those secrets. I don’t even know your name yet.

  Oh, shit. I didn’t even think. Lisa. It’s Lisa. I’m the worst conversationalist ever.

  It was strange, knowing I was hearing her thoughts only partly censored. Raw and immediate, so unlike the wary woman I’d tried to talk to in person. You’re just not used to it yet. You’ve never done this before, have you?

  She hesitated. I never knew it might be possible until you “talked” to me today. I always just thought I was hearing things people were saying out loud.

  That must have been unsettling.

  Yeah.

  The silence after her inner voice fell away left me tensed. That one casual word had held a lifetime of pain. You didn’t learn to fight like she did unless you’d been pushed to your limits, over and over.

  I didn’t know how to say that to her in any way that wouldn’t seem like I was pushing her for more answers than she might be willing to give. I let my thoughts slip past me, not focusing on any too long, hoping that would mean she didn’t hear them.

  Sorry, she said finally. I don’t know how to do this. Talk to someone, normally, I mean. I’m kind of out of practice.

  That’s okay. I am too.

  How long have you been in this place?

  Seven years, I said, trying not to let the weight of those years color my tone. Since I was sixteen.

  Oh. Wow. That’s crazy. Is that how it works here? They keep us locked up forever?

  As far as I can tell. The staff don’t give us a whole lot of details about their plans. They just watch us and question us and make us do exercises that they hope will draw our abilities out more... In the entire time I’ve been here, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone leave.

  Except the woman who had her head bashed in by a hurled TV. And that one older guy... No one knew exactly what had happened to him, but a rumor had gone around that he’d had a heart attack during one of the researchers’ “trials.”

  That’s awful, Lisa said. I wasn’t sure if she meant the part I’d intended her to hear or if my other thoughts had been loud enough for her to pick up on too.

  They don’t usually hurt us as long as we don’t fight them, I said. Unless you count boredom as torture. Some of the experiments they do involve nerve stimulation, but nothing too intense. So far, I managed not to add except in the back of my mind. Pretend to be playing along, and you should be okay.

  So that’s what you’re doing? That’s all you’re going to do, for the rest of your life? I’m only twenty, Jason. I can’t stay here forever.

  The thought leapt up before I could decide how smart it was. You won’t have to. I don’t plan to. I’m working on it.

  You’re going to burn your way out?

  My skin tightened at the question. But she couldn’t have known how her joke would sting. Something like that. Better if you don’t know the details.

  Yeah.

  There it was again: a single word, so heavy I could feel the ache in it. I swallowed hard. I hadn’t had anyone I could completely count on since I’d arrived here, but I got the feeling she’d gone it alone for a lot longer than that. I wanted to ease that ache.

  I wanted to know who she was apart from this place. I wanted her to know me, and not just Subject 5-81.

  I loved baseball when I was a kid, I said without letting myself second-guess the impulse.

  What? Lisa sounded puzzled.

  I barreled on. Holding the bat balanced in my hands. The crack of it hitting the ball. The rush, running to the base. The way the dust would kick up under my feet. I poured all the impressions I could into the words: the warm sunny days, the chalky smell in the air. Fucking perfect. Nothing like it.

  Lisa was quiet for long enough that I wondered if she’d decided I was crazy after all. Then her voice crept back into my head, halting but charged with feeling. For me it was climbing. Anything you stuck in front of me, I’d be scrambling up it. Fences. Trees. Rooftops. Almost broke my leg once, falling off an awning, but it was totally worth it. Knowing I could get up there in the first place, with just my own strength.

  I could picture her clambering up the side of some building, half the size she was right now but with eyes just as bright and hair just as striking. You must have been a sight, all right.

  I guess. I got yelled at a lot.

  People don’t have a proper appreciation for brilliance. I wish I could have known you then.

  You hardly know me now.

  Something twisted in my chest. I let myself say the first thought that popped into my head. I want to.

/>   Yeah?

  There was a hopeful note in that word now. A smile crossed my face again. Yeah. So tell me more about these childhood adventures of yours.

  Only if you tell me yours too.

  Deal.

  My head felt muggy as a humid summer day as the guard marched me over to the experiment rooms, but I didn’t really mind. I’d been awake more than half the night talking to Lisa. Absorbing the pieces of her life she’d been willing to share. Offering up what I could from myself.

  When I’d finally told her I shouldn’t keep her up any longer, I’d lain in bed with the thrill of our connection buzzing through me for at least another hour before I’d finally fallen asleep.

  How long would it be before I could see her again? I needed to see her, to meet those glinting eyes and know we had a secret the Facility couldn’t touch.

  And that didn’t even get into how much I wanted to touch her. When I’d drifted off, I’d fallen straight into a dream of her arching over me on the bed, her dark hair curtaining our faces, her breath on my skin.

  I couldn’t assume she was thinking about me like that. I was trying to be her lifeline in this awful place—and that was all I’d be unless she wanted more. But, God, just remembering that dream made me half hard. And I’d already taken care of that horniness once this morning in the showers. Those stalls were one of the few spots we didn’t have cameras watching us.

  The guard ushered me into a plain room where three researchers in the standard lab coats were waiting. The woman with the glasses and the salt-and-pepper-haired guy I recognized, although none of the employees here ever told us their names.

  The second guy was new: pale and skinny with a face that was almost gaunt. It was topped with straight black hair cropped as neatly as a doll’s. He was younger than any of the other researchers I’d met here so far—not much older than me, I’d have guessed. His narrow gray eyes scanned me as the woman motioned for me to sit at the white table in the middle of the room.