Crosstalk (24 page)

“I was in my thirteenth year when I heard a voice from God…and the first time I was very much afraid.”

—J
OAN
OF
A
RC

“Thirteen?” Briddey repeated, trying to take it in.

C.B. nodded. “Three weeks after my birthday. And a couple months after I'd hit puberty, so you can probably figure out what I assumed was causing it—though we were also reading
I Never Promised You a Rose Garden
in school, which is about a schizophrenic teenager, so I figured it might also be that. I didn't know about Joan of Arc then, or all the other saints who'd started hearing voices at the same age.”

“You've been hearing voices since you were a teenager,” she said. And of course he had. It explained everything: his being such a loner, and Charla's saying she'd heard him talking to himself, and his earbuds not being attached to anything. And it explained why he hadn't been surprised that first night in the hospital, why he'd instantly accepted the idea that they were communicating telepathically. Because he'd been doing it since he was thirteen.

“Wrong. I've been hearing voices since I was thirteen,” he corrected her. “Not talking to them. That's a more recent development.”

“How recent?”

“Really recent.”

“You mean
I
was the first person you were able to talk to? And what do you mean ‘voices'? How many voices? Can you hear everybody at Commspan?” Of course he could. He'd probably been eavesdropping on the Hermes Project's meetings and laughing at the security precautions they'd taken to keep Apple from finding out about the new—

“It doesn't work like that,” C.B. interrupted. “You don't have any control over who or what you hear. It just happens, like a minute ago when you heard the guy say, ‘Why is it taking so long?' The voices just come. And they'll keep coming, which is why I've got to teach you how to block—”

“I
knew
it,” she said. “You
were
blocking Trent!”

“Oh, for cripes' sake,” C.B. said, dragging his hand through his hair. “For the last time, I am
not
blocking your stupid boyfriend! I'm trying to help
you
block the voices. You've got to erect a bulwark against them, and you've got to do it now, before you start to hear any more of them. You just heard the first one today, so we should have a day or two before it gets bad, but it takes time to get defenses up, and I'm going to need to teach you to—”

“Even if I believed you weren't keeping Trent and me from connecting, which I don't,” she said coolly, “you could obviously hear him, which means you knew how much he loves me and how hard he was trying to connect, but you didn't say a word. And you didn't say a word about why I could hear you, even though you knew that, too. You told me it was because we were emotionally bonded—”

“I did not. I said that was what
Trent
would think. And it wasn't like that. I didn't tell you that first night because I was afraid you'd freak out completely. You'd already yanked out your IV and gone running off just from the shock of hearing me. I was afraid if I told you everything, you might throw yourself down an elevator shaft or something.”

“And what about since then?”

“I tried to tell you when I took you home from the hospital—”

“That was two days ago.”

“I know. I probably should have told you sooner—”

“Probably?”

“Okay, then, I definitely should have, but I was hoping I wouldn't have to. You weren't hearing anyone but me, and I thought maybe the EED had only made you partially telepathic and you wouldn't hear anybody else—”

“And you might be able to convince me we
were
emotionally bonded, and I'd fall into your arms.”

“No, of course not—”

“Or at the very least you could use the emotional-bonding thing to keep me from telling Trent. Of course. That's why you told me all those stories about dying loved ones and torpedoed sailors and McCook, Nebraska. And you told me about Bridey Murphy and the ‘hearing voices' study to convince me Dr. Verrick would think I was crazy. You did everything you could to keep me from telling them.”

“You're right, I did. Because—”

“Because you didn't want them to find out
you
were telepathic,” she said. “That's what all this—the warm blanket and the ride home and taking me to get my car—was about, making sure I kept my mouth shut. You didn't care what it would do to me or my relationship with Trent, whether he thought my not connecting to him meant I didn't love him, and he broke up with me. That didn't matter. All you cared about was keeping your precious secret.”

“Precious,” he muttered. “That's hardly the word I'd use. Briddey, listen—” He took a step toward her.

She put up her hand to stop him. “No, I
won't
listen.” She'd almost
bought
his lies. She'd actually been starting to
like
him. “I can't believe you did that to me. I could
kill
you!” she cried, and flung herself at the door.

“Briddey—” he said, reaching out his hand to stop her.

“Don't you
dare
touch me, you liar, you jerk…y-you…,” she stammered, unable to think of a bad enough name to call him. “You
hunchback
!” She flung the door open. “And
don't
follow me!”

She stormed out of the conference room and down the corridor, fumbling in her pocket for her phone. She had to find Trent, had to tell him—

C.B. said,
Briddey, you can't—
and she whirled around furiously to face him.

The corridor stretched emptily behind her.
Go away,
she said violently.

You can't just walk away from this, Briddey,
C.B. said.
I need to teach you how to protect yourself. Once you really start hearing the voices, it'll be much harder to put up defenses.

I have no intention of letting you teach me anything,
she said, though she was fully aware that she had no way to stop him.
I hate being telepathic,
she thought.

Yeah, and you're going to hate it a hell of a lot more in the next couple of days if you don't let me—

Let you what? Tell me more lies?

They weren't lies—

Then what were they? All that stuff about doing research to try to find out what was causing the telepathy—

I did do research. Just…earlier. And everything I've just told you about the voices is true—

Why should I believe you?
she said furiously.
You've lied to me about everything. I'll bet all this talk about defenses and bulwarks is just crosstalk to jam my line to Trent.

It doesn't—

Work like that?
Briddey said bitterly.
So you keep telling me. And how do I know that's not a lie, too?

Because—

I don't want to hear it. Now go away,
she said, getting out her phone,
or I'll call the police and tell them you're stalking me! I'll get a restraining order!

I doubt if that would do much good under the circumstances.

I mean it
, she said, scrolling through her phone list.
I'm calling the police
.

No, you're not
, he said.
I can read your mind, remember? You're calling Trent. Which is a really bad idea
.

No, the bad idea was not telling him in the first place
. She called Trent's number.

His phone went straight to voicemail. She called his office. His secretary answered. “Oh, Briddey, I'm afraid he's in a secure meeting,” she said.

That's what you think,
Briddey thought.
With telepathy, there's no such thing as secure. I've got to tell Trent that.

“Is there something
I
can help you with?” Ethel was asking.

No.
“Can you have him call me as soon as he gets out of his meeting?”

“Of course. Did you get the message about Trent picking you up for dinner at seven?”

“Yes.”

You're going out to
dinner
?
C.B. said, horrified.
At a restaurant? You can't. You need to stay away from places like that.

Away from Trent, you mean. Because if we're together, we might connect, and that would ruin your little plan to keep us apart.

No, because you have no business going anywhere where there are a bunch of people,
C.B. said.
Restaurants, movie theaters, churches, football games, parties. A crowd could…you need to get your defenses up now, before the voices get any closer together. I need to teach you how to build a barricade
.

I need a barricade, all right—against you!
and then was terrified she'd said that out loud.

But Ethel was saying calmly, “I'll tell Mr. Worth to call you the moment he gets out of his meeting.”

“Thank you,” Briddey said. “You don't know how long the meeting's liable to last, do you?”

“No,” Ethel said, and she must have caught the anxiety in Briddey's voice because she asked, “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, of course,” Briddey said brightly. “I just wondered.”

She hung up and then stood there staring blindly at her phone, debating whether to call Ethel back, ask her where Trent's meeting was, and go bang on the door and demand to speak to him. But all that was likely to accomplish was getting both of them fired.
And I don't have to do that,
she thought.
I have another way of contacting him. And I have no intention of letting C.B. stop me from getting through to him.

Trent,
she called.
Are you there? I need to talk to you.

That's a bad idea, too,
C.B. said.
The last thing you want to be doing right now is opening yourself up to contact of any kind. The voices—

I
want
to hear the voices. It'll be better than hearing yours!

You don't mean that. You've only heard a couple of them so far, but you'll start hearing more and more of them, and they'll come more and more often, and in another day or two you'll hear all their thoughts all the time.

Like you've been hearing mine?
All those times she'd thought he was gone, he'd actually been lurking there in her mind, spying on her like some common Peeping Tom.
You
have
been listening to me in the shower,
she said accusingly.
You pervert!

Fine. Call me whatever names you want. But you
have
to listen to me—

No, I don't. And whatever it is you're trying to warn me against, it couldn't possibly be worse than you!
Go
away, and don't ever come near me again!

You can't go to anyplace crowded, and you can't take any relaxants, no alcohol or sedatives—did Verrick prescribe anything for you, Xanax or Valium or something?

That's none of your business,
she said, and when would she learn he could read her mind?

Good girl,
he said.
Walking out was the smart thing to do. If he faxes you the prescription, don't get it filled.

Not listening,
she said, and began singing,
La la la la—

That won't work against the voices, and neither will sticking your fingers in your ears. The only thing that will is—shit!

What?
she said suspiciously.
Is Trent trying to get through to me again?

No,
he said, but as if he wasn't really listening to her.
Shit. It never rains but it pours
, he muttered.
Listen, promise me you won't do anything till we can talk about this
.
It's important,
and was gone.