Enders (13 page)

I’d told him about my dad accessing me. How he knew about the birthday present. Hyden told me that it was just wishful thinking—that it was his father, not mine, in my head. I leaned my forehead against my hands, searching myself for some way to make him see. Feeling empty was worse when no one understood.

“I can’t help it.” I pulled my hands away. “If you were me and you loved your father and heard his voice in your
head, alive, you’d want to investigate, wouldn’t you?”

“You lost me at the ‘loved your father’ part.”

A sigh escaped my lips. “He asked about Tyler.”

“It’s easy to find that information, even for a normal person. This is my father you’re dealing with.” He said “father” as if the man were a demon.

“But it sounded so much like him … the way he spoke …” I stretched my mind for any bit of hope. “And he was cut off.” I was grasping at straws, but I kept going. “If it had been your father, he would have gone on longer. Messed with my head more.”

Hyden looked at me the way you’d look at a child trying to revive a dead goldfish. “I wish I could convince you how dangerous it is for you to be out there”—he pointed out the window—“with your chip signal just blowing in the wind for my father to access.”

He pulled up to a block of government buildings decorated with once-noble statues, now chipped and crumbling. Bored marshals ensured that the line of protestors stayed behind ropes. Hyden paid to park in an underground lot. We climbed the stairs to ground level and looked up at the building with the large engraved letters reading
Hall of Records
.

“You sure you want to do this?” Hyden asked.

I gave him my best “don’t ask” look and climbed the stairs.

Inside the lobby, we passed through a body scanner. It went off as I stepped through. Did my chip set it off? I started to perspire. What would I say?

A guard motioned for me to step aside. She waved a wand over me and stopped on my pocket. I pulled out some dollar coins.

We continued walking and passed a Starter leaning against
a wall, at the end of a long line. She had the typical Starter gear: layers, tatters, handlite, and a water bottle slung across her shoulder. But she also had a perfect shape, a model’s face, and no visible flaws.

Metal? Maybe if examined under a magnifying glass, she’d display signs of a normal Starter—a few acne scars, some freckles.

Hyden glanced in her direction, then quickly looked away. I smiled at him.

“Bet you’d like to scan her,” I said.

His lips barely hinted at a smile. “I think we need to go to the second floor,” he said as he pointed to the stairs.

The building was ancient, and neither of us would have trusted the z-lift. Some of the newer buildings were zaprophyte-powered, a complex system of energy created by plants feeding on fungi. The spore dust was a temporary resource for that, and some enterprising people were turning lemons into lemonade that way. But it was controversial, as some felt it released dangerous spore contamination into the air. And it wouldn’t last.

On the second floor, after waiting in line, we finally spoke to an Ender at a counter. She had an old airscreen in between us. The images it produced were faded, scratchy, and broken, a lot like the Ender herself.

“Ray Woodland, did you say?” she asked in a croaky voice.

“Yes, he’s my father.”

“But he’s a Middle, right?” she said.

I nodded.

“Then, honey, he’s gone,” she said in a tired voice, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d had to tell a teenager that a parent was dead. “They’re all gone.”

“Not all of them,” I said. “I personally know one. And what about the holo-stars and politicians?”

“They’re in a special category,” she said, as if I were a child. “But everyone else …” She shook her head.

“Can you just look him up, please?” Hyden said.

Her lips pressed together and she started moving her fingers across the airscreen. It was slow to respond and she had to retry several times.

Finally, she came up with a result. She pushed an icon that then reversed the text so I could read it.

It had his address and occupation, “inventor.”

“I don’t … Couldn’t there be some mistake?” I said. “There were so many Middles at the same time, there were bound to be some errors.”

Hyden looked at me. His expression—on Jeremy’s face—was so sad.

The Ender tilted her head. “I feel for you, honey. I really do. You Starters need closure. I’m going to show you something I really shouldn’t. But—”

She made a motion like she was zipping her lips shut.

“Okay?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said.

I looked at Hyden. We were both confused.

“Just wait over by that door,” she said.

She motioned to a door a few feet away. We did as we were told, and a moment later, she opened the door and let us in.

She put her finger to her lips. We nodded and followed her
silently to a back room that was filled with Enders sitting at desks. It was an eerie sight, with no light other than what was emitted from their airscreens. All the screens showed corpses.

“This is where they do all the data entry for the deceased, mostly from treatment facilities,” the clerk said.

She leaned over the shoulder of one of the workers and whispered to her.

The worker typed in the air my father’s name, birthdate, and address, and an image came up. A man, lying on a cot. A tented sign balanced on his chest showed his name and a long number. His face was white and frozen.

“Ray Woodland,” the clerk read from the screen.

My father. Dead. The hope I’d felt spring inside me vanished. It was as if he’d died all over again.

I put my hand to my mouth. Tears flowed down my cheeks. Hyden put his arm around my shoulders. The Ender clerk looked at me and nodded.

“It’s better to have closure, dear,” she said. “Now you know.”

The words stung like acid.

“Let’s go,” Hyden said quietly.

As we made our way to the stairs, Hyden kept his arm around me.

Inside the stairwell, he stopped and faced me. “You okay?”

“It’s my fault.”

He handed me a tissue. “No, it’s not.”

“I wanted to find out.” I wiped my eyes and struggled to get the words out. “I just didn’t think this would be the answer.”

“I know.” He wrapped me in a gentle hug.

I rested my head on his shoulder and let the tears fall. He held me tighter, as if he could squeeze away the pain.

He couldn’t.

And he couldn’t squeeze away the creepy feeling I had when the voice came into my head.

Hello, Callie. Sorry to interrupt
.

I pulled away from Hyden.

“Who is this?” I said.

A friend
.

It was a male voice; sounded like a Middle. I had a guess who it was. Hyden looked at me questioningly.

I put my finger to my lips. Hyden was disguised in Jeremy’s body. My jacker could see out of my eyes, but all he would see was Jeremy, a stranger.

And I see you have a friend with you. I’m guessing that’s my son in there
.

I sighed. It was too late and he was too smart. Jeremy stood back, watching, his expression suggesting he knew what was going on.

“Why aren’t you using your electronic voice this time?” I asked Brockman.

It’s so pretentious. I decided to just be me
.

“So was that also you doing my father’s voice?”

He was silent a moment.
What do you mean?

The stairwell began to feel hot. Stuffy. I tugged at my top, airing it out. Maybe it wasn’t him pretending to be my father.

Hot in there? Why don’t you leave?

“Why?” I asked. “Do you want me to leave?”

Hyden was fuming. I shaded my eyes so they wouldn’t provide a view for his father.

Tell my son to stop fooling around in other bodies, will you?

“Tell him yourself,” I said.

I have another idea
.

I looked at Hyden and pantomimed something was up. We heard footsteps at the bottom of the stairs. They continued, echoing in the hollow space. Whoever it was, they were coming up to where we were.

Ready?

The hair on the back of my neck rose. It was a girl on the stairs. We’d seen her before. It was the stunning Starter we had seen standing in line. But her eyes had a glazed, dead look. Something was wrong.

“She’s jacked!” I shouted to Hyden.

Smart girl
.

“Look out!”

The girl—probably an Ender inside—rushed toward Hyden, her arms bent at the elbows in some martial arts stance.

Black belt expert
.

“She’s a black belt,” I said to Hyden.

Hyden—in Jeremy’s body—stepped aside quickly, expertly. The girl ran up against the wall.

“So’s Jeremy,” he said.

The Starter turned and went after Hyden again. They locked arms and struggled, a battle of strength and wills.

She slammed Hyden against the wall, banging his head.

As they continued to fight, I felt something strange. I looked down at my hand. My right pinky moved up and down. Which would not have been so scary except …

I wasn’t doing it.

Did you see? That’s me, making you move. Like a puppet
.

My heartbeat raced. At least that was my doing. I threw my hand down to my side. I focused my concentration as hard as I could to make my fingers like steel.

The Metal had a hold on Hyden’s neck. She was choking him. I ran over and came from behind, grabbing her around the waist with both arms. I pulled her off Hyden.

“Grab her feet!” I shouted.

She thrashed and kicked, but Hyden managed to get her ankles. She didn’t weigh a lot, so we carried her down the stairs.

“What should we do with her?” I asked.

“Take her underground.”

As we passed the first floor, we continued down the stairs that led to the underground parking structure. She stopped kicking and screaming.

“Is this low enough?” I asked.

“Go one more,” he said.

We climbed down to the lower level. We’d cut off the signal and she became limp. She felt much heavier.

“He’s gone,” Hyden said, nodding to the girl’s body.

“Who?” I asked.

“Whoever was jacking her. One of my father’s men.”

We pushed the door open with our feet and came out into the underground parking area. Not seeing any guard on this level, we put her down on the ground.

“I’ll go get the SUV,” he said.

I looked down at her. She was suddenly so harmless, so peaceful, her brown hair flowing around her shoulders. I held out my hand and stared at my pinky.

It was still. Motionless. The way it should be.

Before long, Hyden drove up in the SUV. He leaned out the window.

“How should we do this?” I asked.

He looked past me. “Hey there,” he said.

I turned around and saw that she was awake and sitting up.

I walked toward her. “Hi. I’m Callie.”

She put her hands on the ground as if she was going to bolt like a feral cat. I came a little closer.

“It’s okay, I’m like you.” I turned and lifted my hair to expose the scar. “See?”

“You’re a Metal,” she said with a Southern accent.

“Yes. And I can help you.”

She relaxed. “Do you get strange dreams? Not just at night?” Her lip trembled. “They’re so weird.”

“Yeah, I get them,” I said. “Come with me. We’ve got food, and you’ll be safe.”

“Y’all have food?”

“Supertruffles in the car,” I said.

She gestured at the SUV. “Are there Enders in there?”

“No,” I said. “Just us Starters.”

She approached cautiously. Hyden stayed in the driver’s seat and unlocked the passenger’s-side back door. She hesitated, looking at me with a question in her eye.

“He’s okay. He’s with me,” I said.

Hyden’s eyes connected with mine, and the Starter climbed inside.

CHAPTER ELEVEN