Jaden Baker (40 page)

He cranked the wheel to the left and the moment there was a small break in traffic, he gunned it then immediately slammed the brake to avoid hitting the car in front of him. The Ford lurched forward and he followed traffic, remembering to be sensitive with the gas and brake pedals.

It was a surreal feeling, driving a car. This time yesterday he was the subject of torment, and today he drove the streets of San Francisco, passing people who had no idea what had happened to him or who he was. Intellectually, he had known the world was always out there, continuing on, technology evolving, people aging. But to be a part of it again, rejoining it in its midst of change, was like falling up an escalator.

The green street signs pointed him toward the Bay Bridge which would lead him out of the city. Keeping his eyes on the road instead of gawking at the tall buildings towering around him was challenging. There were so many different styles. Cars, sleeker in appearance than he remembered, drove around him. He passed sports cars, a black Hum-V, and a number of motorcycles. Jaden followed the traffic, going under overpasses, to the bridge. Large banners and billboards advertised plays and movies. A slew of coffee shops dotted the route. There were so many trees.

The onramp to merge onto Interstate 80 for the Bay Bridge, heading to Oakland, was just ahead.

As the street curved under the westbound traffic, a new challenge emerged. Jaden was about to drive onto a freeway, and as his lane merged with the others, he saw it was a five lane freeway with nowhere to pull off. He braced both hands on the wheel and sat forward, his eyes wide as he drove, accelerating with the other cars, afraid to take his eyes off the road to check the gas tank or the speed.

Soon he was over the water, San Francisco on either side of him, lit by the rising sun and set against the now bright blue sky. The water of the bay was a brilliant blue, with sail boats and skimmers leaving tracks of white in their wake. Jaden was thankful traffic was light. He supposed that made sense if everyone commuted into the city instead of out of it.

Jaden rolled down the windows and stuck out his hand, keeping it flat. The wind lifted his hand when as he angled it up, rolling it on the streaming air.

He grabbed an éclair from his backpack, and ate it as he drove with one hand, like he’d been driving his whole life. When the bridge passed through an island, Jaden watched the eucalyptus trees swaying in the ocean breeze, and he wondered why he never appreciated trees in the first part of his life.

Seth was in the passenger’s seat when Jaden reached to turn on the radio.

“No,” he said, pushing Jaden’s hand. “No radio.”

“Why not?” Jaden asked. “I want to hear some music.”

“Not the radio,” Seth said, shaking his head, no trace of a smile. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” Jaden said, eating another éclair. “How far should I drive?” he asked.

“As far as you can,” Seth said. “As far as you can.”

The freeway split into several once they reached the mainland. Jaden didn’t know which to choose.

“Go East,” Seth said.

“Any reason?” Jaden asked.

“Distance,” he said, looking in the side mirror.

“It’s past eight o’clock now,” Jaden said, and he shivered. “It’s been eight hours since I got out.”

“I know,” Seth said, nodding thoughtfully. “Long enough for them to know you weren’t in that truck. They’ll be getting frantic about finding you now. You have to be extra careful.”

“I have been careful,” Jaden said.

“The more you’re out in the open like this the easier it will be to find you.”

Jaden glared at him for a second then focused on the road. He kept straight as the freeway broke off in north and south directions.

“You’re the one who said we had to get out of the city, now you’re saying I should be hiding?” Jaden asked.

“The further we can get from that place the better, but yes, you need to hide. They’re expecting you to run, they know you’ll try to leave the city.”

“But he can’t control me now,” Jaden said, yet even as the words fell from his mouth, he knew they were not true. “I mean, the collar doesn’t work.”

Seth chuffed and shook his head. “There are other ways.”

“How?” Jaden asked, his voice raspier than usual. “How can he control me?”

“I don’t know,” Seth answered. “But he can. You gave it to him, that’s why he did all those things to you.”

Jaden didn’t ask anymore, he didn’t want to know or remember. His fingers found the collar around his neck: a reminder. It would have to come off soon if he was going to blend in. The cuffs on his wrists would also need removing. He probably looked a freak: pale skin, dark hair, scars covering most of his body, a strange tattoo on one arm. He was glad he was mostly covered, hiding the signs of his differences from the rest.

Trouble finally found him. He had already passed through Oakland, going through Castro Valley, staying well within the speed limit and the lines of the road, when a traffic cop on a motorcycle lit his lights and blared a siren.

“Pull over,” Seth said instantly.

“But—”

“Pull over,” Seth said again, smiling.

Jaden decelerated and pulled off to the shoulder. He worried that his chest would explode, he was so nervous. “The car is stolen,” Jaden breathed.

“Yes,” said Seth. “Wait for him to come to your window.”

Jaden watched him through the Ford’s rearview mirror. The cop spoke into a radio, then approached the car.

“What will I do?” Jaden asked.

Seth barked a laugh. “Joseph isn’t here to order you around, so you’re looking to me? Aren’t you psychokinetic? Pull the keys out of the motorcycle and toss them in the field. As soon as the cop gets close, drive away and he won’t be able to follow you.”

The plan sounded simple enough, but a better plan was tossing the motorcycle off the road, thus damaging the radio. Then the cop couldn’t report the driver’s description.

When the cop reached the back hatch of the car, one hand on his gun, Jaden knew it was time. Using the rearview mirror to see what he was doing, Jaden lift the motorcycle and flung it into a field. It smashed into the trunk of a tree, its chrome and metal body crumpling with a satisfying sound.

Before reaching the Ford’s passenger window, the cop searched for the source of the destructive noise. His body stiffened when he saw his crushed bike under the damaged tree.

Jaden didn’t waste time. He punched the gas pedal and merged onto the freeway, ignoring the sounds of braking and honking.

He’d bought a little more time, but he would have to change cars soon. A quarter tank of gasoline was all he had left, and as soon as it spluttered and died, Jaden would abandon it and search for another.

He quickly ate the rest of his breakfast. But consuming the rich food, when his stomach was used to milder meals, made him feel sick. The éclairs and cinnamon buns, now sitting heavily in his stomach, would give him enough energy for an emergency. Though Jaden had not noticed anyone following him, he was sure they were looking for him. It was only a matter of time before Joseph’s people spotted him.

Westbound traffic was heavy, and though Jaden headed east, cars on his side of the freeway slowed to watch the other side struggle. He weaved around them, picking up as much distance and speed as he could. Then the eastbound traffic clogged.

A sign on an overpass indicated he approached Livermore, though at this crawl he thought he would never get there. Jaden was stuck in the fast lane, blocked on all sides. If he was going to reach the exit, he had to move the cars around him. That was a risky idea. The phenomenon might look like an earthquake, but it wouldn’t feel like one. Drivers would surely report the strange incident to authorities. Then Joseph’s people would be alerted that Jaden had been in Livermore. Jaden could not allow that to happen. So he sat in his car, drumming his fingers, waiting. Traffic crawled to a painful thirty miles per hour.

Through the dull motors of the cars surrounding him, Jaden heard a distinctive
whop-whop-whop
of a helicopter. Maybe there was an accident up ahead, and a Medi Flight helicopter was responding. He adjusted the side mirrors to see it, but couldn’t get it in his view. There was no need. The helicopter flew past his driver’s side window. Medi Flight helicopters were large and typically red and white. The helicopter above him had nothing to do with emergency medical response.

This helicopter was dark blue, almost black, and it was not speeding down the freeway to check an accident. It circled above him, the
whop-whop
of the main rotor mingled with the whine of its engine. The sound was so powerful it vibrated inside the car.

If he had been anyone else, like the woman gabbing on her phone in the Toyota next to him, or the wannabe cowboy singing in an old truck, the helicopter would be a curious sight. But he wasn’t someone else. Jaden knew as sure as he knew anything that the people in the helicopter were looking for him.

Abandoning his mirrors, Jaden twisted his body to see through the back windshield. Two matching silver Suburbans wound their way through traffic, honking as cars moved out of their way.

“Go!” Seth yelled.

Jaden floored the gas pedal and took to the narrow shoulder, nicking the sides of cars as he urged the little car forward and bumping it into the center divider. He laid on the horn, trying to get people to move, then gave up on them and did it himself.

The rules of psychokinesis were refreshingly simple: anything that could move could be moved, no matter the size or the weight. Like anything, it took energy to move those things, but whether it was a pencil or a bus, Jaden could move it easily.

Cars in front of him shifted and crashed out of his way as he advanced through traffic. Through the rearview mirror, Jaden watched them fall in place behind him, blocking the path of the chasing Suburbans. The helicopter was different—it occupied all levels of space, nothing could get in its way.

The Suburbans slowed but remained close. They were out of his mental reach, and he was not sure what the people inside would do if they came within his range of influence.

At the North Livermore Avenue exit, traffic stopped, and all lanes, including the shoulder he’d been using, were filled with cars. Jaden slammed on the brakes and the car squealed to a stop, hitting the car in front of him with a loud crash. The airbag deployed, his head hit, then whipped back to the seat.

Locked in with nowhere to drive, Jaden snatched the backpack from the passenger’s seat, slung it over his back, and fled.

The driver whose car Jaden had hit was already swearing and shaking his fist. But whatever he was yelling, Jaden didn’t hear. He sprinted between cars, not sure where he was going, only knowing that wherever it was he had to get there fast.

The circling helicopter was losing altitude. There were two people inside it, he couldn’t see if Joseph was one of them. He looked behind him as he pounded the pavement at full speed, avoiding cars and trucks. Both Suburbans roared, taking to the dirt shoulder on the right side of the freeway and approaching fast.

He was coming to the overpass—he would have to jump into the traffic below to escape. If the choice was getting caught, or dying like a bee on a car windshield, he’d take the latter.

A couple of overturned cars had caused all this, Jaden saw that now. The accident was maybe a half a mile ahead of him, an ambulance on scene. The wrecked cars inspired him.

Anything that could move, could be moved. The helicopter circled from above, its rotors cutting the air with its
whop
and engine whine. Two Suburbans came at him from behind, their only purpose to capture and return him to a life of misery and pain. Neither the people in the SUVs nor the people in the helicopter had his best interest at heart. They wanted to exploit him.

At the overpass Jaden stopped running. He waited for the helicopter to circle the barren brown hills, waited for the first SUV to get within range.

They did not have to chase him. They could have left him alone, let him escape. It was their fault. He had to get away and he had to survive. These people did not take him seriously. A lesson, then.

He felt every car within his range, the weight, the texture, the heat of the engines. He saw them in his mind’s eye at every possible angle, from above, from below, from within.

With one breath, Jaden reached his hand to the SUV, mentally grabbing it by its chassis. The SUV pitched forward as it moved, the front bumper screaming as it scraped asphalt. Then, upside down, rear forward, it catapulted into the air like a football going for a field goal, and soared over Jaden’s head.

It did not fly through goal posts.

The SUV smashed into the helicopter with a burst of wrecking sound. The explosion was astonishing. Burning rotors (still spinning), tires, and twisted metal fell to the hill, causing a secondary explosion so powerful it shook the ground.

Jaden exhaled and tore his eyes from the flaming hill to stare at the second SUV, now parked on the shoulder.

Drivers and passengers got out of their cars to gasp and scream. Some dialed their cell phones, others snapped photos, but most panicked, running around like disturbed ants on a sand hill.

And the people in the second SUV made no move.

With a quick flick of Jaden’s fingers, the Suburban tilted on its side and rolled down the hill, crunching and cracking as it tumbled. He didn’t care about the people inside. They were his enemies and this was a war for his life.