Listen (Muted Trilogy Book 2) (26 page)

In addition to the pain, she had to fight with her imagination, with images of what Jack might be going through.

Everything would be okay. They would be all right. They had to be.

She watched a man in a suit walk by, crossing the street toward the college, and slumped down in front of her computer.

She should have asked Jack what he’d done, how exactly he’d gotten attention. It had certainly worked. She opened up a search engine and started typing in the most obvious terms she could think of, searching for what caused increased telepathy, what to do about it, who had it, how to find other people who had it, all the things she’d been afraid to search earlier. Her searches came up conspicuously empty, and still, Jemma sat, unnoticed, alone at her table. Outside, it was growing darker. Soon, she’d need to figure out where she was staying for the night, if she wasn’t going to be staying in the local mad scientists’ laboratory.

She still didn’t like the idea of the park, since there were too many things that could go wrong, not just capture. She could try a hotel, but without ID or a credit card, she really wasn’t sure whether anyone would be willing to let her stay. Maybe she could ask Myles to call and vouch for her, use his credit card. It would be a risk, but then, he’d been willing to take at least a few minor ones.

“Myles?” she tried. It echoed, but didn’t go through, giving her the impression of a barrier. The sensation was familiar, but it took Jemma a minute to place it; it reminded her of when she and Jack had been testing their limits and had taken turns trying to block each other out. The senator was intentionally keeping her from contacting him.

So much for being willing to continue keeping an eye out for them. He wasn’t even going to continue listening to them? He was supposed to be their well-placed contact, their backup, their fail-safe. Maybe he wasn’t willing to risk exposure yet, but to shut down entirely,
now
, right after Jack was taken, just seemed too much.

Jemma closed the laptop and shoved it back in her backpack along with everything else she’d spread out across the table.

It was time to do something other than sit here and wait to be taken.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Risk

After paying her bill, Jemma stormed out of the restaurant, only to stop just outside.

Where was she going?

She was going to get something accomplished, yes. But what?

She couldn’t go to her family. That would only endanger more of the people she loved.

She could go straight to the lab, since she knew where it was, but she’d rather leave that as a last resort; as they’d already discussed, it looked even more suspicious than letting herself be found. Plus, even though she knew the logic didn’t hold up, Jemma felt better about making
them
come to
her
, even if they only had to drive a few minutes to do it.

Going to one of the libraries to get attention might work, if they were watching them for her, but that would have to wait until tomorrow. They were all closed at this time on a Sunday night. She’d have to either fish the key out of the fountain or get public transport, too, and that still left her without a place to stay for the night. If she did retrieve the keys, she could at least sleep in the car.

Exposure. What she really needed was exposure.

She could try going to the police. Her experiences with them before being captured the first time, though, had been less than encouraging. Jemma suspected that either she’d be told they’d look into it when they could afford the manpower or she’d be put in a cell for the night. If she were locked up, she still might not be noticed by the local facility, which didn’t seem to be looking in the right places for her.

Maybe they didn’t care anymore because they’d already recaptured Jack.

She shook her head. What else, then? The media. That’s what they’d wanted the senator to do, anyway, was to go to the media. Jemma might not be a public figure, but she had enough information to cause at least a brief stir. She didn’t have any proof, but then, neither had some of the people who’d gone missing before Jack and Jemma.

They’d still been taken, and their news reports had been removed.

It was possible they wouldn’t let her get as far as telling her story. If they did, though, and if she was able to stir up enough doubt, maybe she could get people looking into it. Maybe she could get the company overthrown herself, get some legitimate scientists to take over finishing and administering the cure, get Jack released.

It was a stretch, sure. A long one, even.

That didn’t mean it was impossible.

She needed to find a news station, then. It wasn’t like she had an online presence. If she was going to do this, if she really wanted a chance for people to see what she had to say, a live news broadcast was the way she’d need to go. The teasers leading up to it would be enough that if Tricorp BioD’s guards were going to grab her before she could tell the world—or at least the local broadcast area—what was happening, they would.

She pulled out her phone, using the restaurant’s internet to pull up the city’s news stations. Her favorite station was downtown, but just a few long blocks away, there were actually two local stations. She looked up from the phone, in the direction they were located, and nodded to herself.

She would either be captured or heard. Either way, she’d have accomplished something.

***

After passing the local public broadcasting station, which was closed for the night, Jemma reached one of the major network stations. A sign when she entered directed her to either use the website to report stories or to continue down the hall to communicate with an associate. The associate would then screen potential stories for inclusion in the news report or on the website. Jemma noticed that the sign seemed to be covering an older one; whoever had hung it must have been optimistic that they would be able to return to pre-Event procedures.

Maybe, with any luck, they’d be able to soon enough.

She opened the door at the end of the hall, watching a man hastily try to hide his iced coffee, decide he had nowhere on his desk to put it, and turn his attention to Jemma.

The room was small enough to feel cozy, not cramped, with the desk and the chair that sat across from it, which Jemma took when the man gestured. A tablet seemed permanently affixed to the edge of the desk, whoever was in charge of that decision less optimistic than the person who’d hung the sign in the hall.

“I’m Ralph,” he typed, the synthesized voice coming from his computer speakers at a reasonable level. “Do you have a story to report?” Jemma nodded. “Were you hoping for it to air on television or to be listed on the website?”

“It’s more of the live television sort of story,” typed Jemma. “Only, my proof is a bit on the limited side. Also, it might take a little while to explain.”

“We don’t usually get people in this time of night,” typed Ralph. “I’m not technically allowed to have drinks out while I’m working the desk, but, right. We don’t usually get people this late, especially on a Sunday, so I’ve got plenty of time to listen.” He frowned at the drink as if it were its fault, then looked back at Jemma with a smile. “So, what’ve you got for me?”

“Have you heard of the people who can Talk farther than most or to people they aren’t really close to?”

Ralph’s shoulders dropped slightly, watching her while he responded. “Yeah, of course, but those rumors never go anywhere. They’re never anything more than bragging, either. We’re not even allowed to accept them without some major exceptions going on.”

“I’ve got a bit more than bragging about how far I can Talk.” Jemma pulled out the small stack of papers she’d held on to from Myles’s house and handed them to Ralph. “A U.S. senator gave me these directly. They show that not only are at least some of the people with this claim telling the truth, but that the Event was engineered by somebody who wanted to flush them out for study.”

Ralph’s dark skin ran through several shades of color as he skimmed the papers. “I thought you didn’t have any proof,” he paused long enough to type.

“The senator won’t confirm he got me the papers,” answered Jemma. “There’s nothing in there that proves I wasn’t the one who wrote them. You can check on me, though, as long as you don’t tell any of my family I’m here. I don’t have any sort of a science background. I’ve read through those papers several times, and I’m still only guessing at what a lot of the words mean.”

“Okay. You have my attention.” Ralph set the papers to the side, tapping them nervously before returning his hands to the keys. “Why can’t I tell your family you’re here?”

“The same people doing those studies, they’ve been watching my family, or at least my little sister. I’m afraid if there’s any more contact with my family, they’ll take her, too, or maybe even all of them.”

“So you were taken?” Ralph’s eyes flicked to the stack of papers. “For one of these studies?”

“That’s right. Me and my friend Jack. There were others, too, presumably still there.”

“Are you sure this isn’t a police matter?” Ralph continued typing after the computer finished speaking, and Jemma wasn’t sure whether he was taking notes or using a messenger.

“The police won’t be able to do anything. At least, definitely not the local police. It’s too big. And these papers, I guess they were in a military archive, so even at a federal level, I’m not sure what sort of help we would get. The best bet is getting the word out to as many people as possible, too many people for this to be swept under a rug.”

She and Jack should’ve stayed together. They should’ve taken the papers and done exactly this. Together.

“These papers mentioned death, widespread.” Ralph hesitated. “Is it something that we should risk reporting? There may be riots.”

“Did you read enough of it to see what happens if we ignore it? You mentioned death, so you must have.”

“Right.” He swallowed. “Okay. Let’s have you start from the beginning, then. Sorry.” He reached for his coffee, hand shaking, steadier when he set it back down again after a sip. “I haven’t even gotten your name yet.”

“I’m Jemma,” she typed. “Before all this started, I was a librarian. People thought I was boring, but I was content. Then, not long after people started Talking, I figured out I could Talk farther than most, with someone I didn’t really know.”

“With everyone, or with just this one person?”

“Just the one, at first. A few more, later. But not with everyone. This conversation would be a little easier if it were with everyone.” The ache still present at the front of Jemma’s mind told her that was a little bit of a falsehood, but she didn’t take the time to correct herself after realizing it.

“Okay. I guess that makes sense. And I’m guessing you didn’t come forward about any of this earlier because of the rumors about people disappearing?”

“We were careful at first because of the rumors, yes, but then we actually saw someone disappear. Marcia.” The woman’s kidnapping flashed in front of her again, the spirited woman shoved into a small car. “She was grabbed in broad daylight, and the police did the best they could, but that was next to nothing. Then her girlfriend disappeared, and we were tired of waiting, so we tried to investigate a little more on our own, me and Jack.” She swallowed. “We were taken to a facility on the campus, the other one, not the one on this side of town.”

“The university was involved?”

Jemma shook her head. “I don’t think so, not directly. That building hasn’t been used for classes in years. We were there for about five weeks, being tested, before we were able to escape. Marcia and her girlfriend were there, too, and a brother and sister. We couldn’t get anyone else out, though.” She swallowed again, the guilt of having failed to get Ken and Marcia out, of having failed to even try to get Sam and Katherine out. “That was Thursday. We managed to find the senator, but the only help he could give us was these papers. We tried splitting up, hoping we could accomplish more. I’m not sure it was a good idea. I don’t have ID on me, I’m almost out of money, it isn’t safe to go home, and coming to you, it was pretty much my last idea.”

Ralph watched her for several seconds, then typed in near silence for a few minutes, stopping only once to take another sip of his coffee. “Okay, Jemma,” he typed finally, “you’ve got enough that I’ll run it by my boss. Without any real proof, though, since, like you said, I’ve got no way of confirming who really wrote what’s on these papers, I dunno if we’re gonna do anything with the story, okay?” He stood, pausing before he walked away from the desk. “I believe you, for what it’s worth.” At Jemma’s nod, he left the room.

When he came back just a few minutes later, a woman was with him, a few years older than Jemma. She walked over to the computer, Ralph waiting by the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m Ashley,” the woman typed, the computer still using the voice Jemma already associated with Ralph. “I had a friend go missing after he tried to help uncover some of this. Are you sure you’re willing to risk that? Going missing, again, after what you’ve already gone through?” Jemma nodded. “Okay. Then as long as you’re willing to vouch for what you saw firsthand, we’ll roll with this. I’ll get you on air tonight, while I’m in charge. Let’s go.”