Out of Touch (20 page)

“Okay. I’ll come with you,” Delgado said. Then down the hall he shouted, “Evacuate! Everyone out!”

They all ran down the stairs. Sarah kept urging her group to hurry. Reggie kept beside her on the steps, preventing Delgado from passing them, in case he wanted to. But he was huffing along behind, in worse shape than even Mrs. Chen and fumbling with his phone besides. Reggie chuckled at the idea of telepaths still being dependent on their phones. But Sarah had implied telepathy wasn’t much stronger than the human voice, just better directed sometimes.

Reggie wondered what Sarah had done to set off the fire alarms, and how well she could target objects beyond her sight. He wanted to know more, soon, about what all these people could do. But for now, he might as well enjoy the ride.

Back in the moment, Reggie felt his legs pounding on the stairs. He realized he was smiling. Many other people had joined them from lower floors, fleeing downward. The new people entered looking worried, then caught momentum when they saw other people hurrying down. The
ones coming in were all talking about the alarm and whether there was really a fire. It occurred to Reggie how silent the stairs had been for the first few floors. Were the telepaths talking amongst themselves? Presumably they knew enough to bluff Delgado.

By the time they reached ground, several people had come between Delgado and the rest of their group, but there was no telling who might be watching for them below. The bureaucrat had managed to call someone on his phone.

People evacuating lower floors had reached ground level before them. So there was quite a bit of confusion, but not enough panic and chaos to hide them.

A security guard began to approach, and Sarah said, “Outside!”

They made their way through the front doors as the security guard tripped over nothing. “Keep walking fast, but don’t run. Cross wherever the light is green.”

Outside it was refreshingly cold. Fog hung over the buildings, keeping the day gray, like a rainy day without the rain. As soon as they were across the street Sarah led them around the block, out of sight of the office building. Before they turned the corner, Reggie looked back and saw what must be smoke coming from the top floor. Down below, Delgado landed in front of the main glass doors. His head searched back and forth, jowls swinging. He looked every bit the faithful guard dog agitated by his failure. Reggie fled with the pride of the fox.

Sarah was opening the door to a minivan parked at a meter. “Any of you know San Francisco well?”

Robert nodded.

“Are you calm enough to drive?”

“Yeah.” Reggie thought Robert looked resigned more than calm, still the faithful chick, through a squat, muscular chick, bulky and strong beside his mother.

“Great. Everyone in.”

As the others took seats and Robert adjusted the driver’s side mirrors, Sarah pulled a map from the glove compartment. It was a San Francisco map, but she dropped it to the floor and pulled out one of California.

“Can you get to fifth and Market?” she asked Robert.

“Yes.”

“Okay. First, don’t panic, but I need to remove the GPS from your arm. It might hurt, but I can do it cleanly. All right? Hold out your arm.”

Robert held his arm, still as a raccoon before headlights. Sarah held his elbow in her left hand, his wrist in her right. What had been a mostly healed cut reopened and a tiny square, smaller than a sequin, floated out along with a tiny speck of blood.

Reggie wondered if she found it by sight or memory of the implant process. Akum’s razor kept him from speculating too long on x-ray visions, though the thought almost provoked a pun. He’d begun analogizing about the sense of touch in ghost limb syndrome as the GPS chip landed on the California map in Sarah’s lap. The cut pressed itself closed. Sarah used her right hand to pull off her bandage. In the air it ripped in half. The half with a bit of her own blood on it continued to float. The other half Sarah placed, by hand, over Robert’s cut.

“Okay, drive to Market.”

As the van began to move, Sarah glanced at her own uncovered cut and had the transmitter out and onto the map in a moment. She reapplied the remaining half of her bandage.

“Reggie, can you check in back for a first aid kit? Clean band-aids would be nice.”

As Reggie swung over the back seat to look, Sarah crouched down between Mei Mei and Lisa who were in captain’s chairs in the middle of the van. She set down the map and its contents then turned to Mei Mei.

“Your turn. You do want to go through with this, right?”

“Yes. We all wanted to leave. We just, we doubted you could arrange it.”

“Well, we’re not out of the country yet. By the way, if we make it onto a plane, I’ll need you to listen in on the pilot and others and warn me if they’ll betray us. I don’t know how far the government will go.”

Mei Mei let out a gasp of pain as the transmitter floated from her arm.

“It’s okay. I’m done. Any band-aids, Reggie?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“I’ll hold a tissue on it. It will be fine,” Mei Mei said, taking a tissue from her purse.

“If you want part of Reggie’s bandage, let me know. But I don’t think I can make it useful for more than two.”

“Ready, Lisa?”

“Are you going to tell us your plan? Where we’re going? Or don’t you trust us?”

“It’s not about trust. There just isn’t time. I’ll tell you when I’ve got these out, okay?”

Lisa extended her arm and looked away. Sarah continued until the remaining three transmitters were out.

“Pull into the next covered garage you see, Robert. It’s time to switch cars.”

As Robert found a garage and took a parking ticket, Sarah opened a covered metal commuter mug that was sitting in the front cup holder. Reggie could smell the old coffee at the bottom, and watched curiously from the back of the van as Sarah poured the bit of liquid into the cup holder then tore off the top of the California map and pushed it and its bloody contents into the cup.

“Howard,” She called out. “Can you do what I did to this car?”

“I can unlock anything with a switch for the locks, but I don’t know what you did to the ignition.”

“Okay. Get everyone loaded into the nearest car big enough, and I’ll show you how to jam the ignition.”

Reggie watched Howard nod acceptingly at the order as Robert parked next to another van. It rankled Reggie a little not to be Sarah’s lieutenant, even as he admired her ability to command. He paused beside her while the others switched vans. She was damp with sweat, despite the chill weather.

“Are you okay? Is what you’ve done physically hard or are you just nervous?”

“Nervous mostly. You?”

“It’s been surreal, but we can talk about that later.”

“Okay.” With that, the paper in the mug burst briefly into flame, charring the inside of the cup and its contents.

“That might not stop them from transmitting.”

“I’m just ruining the blood.”

“But they took samples from us already.”

Sarah gave him a pained look, and Reggie guessed where the fire at CDC had started. With the briefest of hugs, they moved to the other van.

In under ten seconds, Sarah showed Howard how to teek out the shaft where the key went in and jam the ignition on. He assured her he could do it himself next time. Then they drove out of the parking garage, paying for the time their new van had been there. It was just over an hour, so it probably wouldn’t be missed too soon. Reggie watched out of the back window, trying to see if they were being followed. He couldn’t tell in San Francisco traffic. When they reached Market with its dirty concrete buildings, sleazy stores, and sidewalk peddlers, Reggie could hear Sarah giving directions.

Soon they were in another underground garage. Sarah had run off somewhere, and Howard was selecting another van.

Once Howard opened the doors and rigged the ignition, there was nothing to do but wait until Sarah returned. At first Reggie appreciated the need for silence. Then he remembered the Chens could communicate with each other silently, and it was all he could do not to strain to hear or at least watch for clues.

Sarah took about ten minutes, and they were a long ten minutes. As soon as she was back, she told Robert to head for the San Francisco airport, which was actually a few miles south of San Francisco. She gave him a baseball hat out of the bag she now carried and told everyone else to sit on the floor.

There wasn’t much room on the floor, but at least the suspension was smooth. The sounds of their own acceleration and noisier cars outside combined to paint a virtual window view in Reggie’s mind.

“Okay, we’re trying to get to Thailand. Once there we declare ourselves political refugees escaping persecution based on mental differences. They evidently have a law set up to cover people like us, and they know we might be coming. I’ve been assured we don’t have to work for the government; they’ll settle for us just not helping the Americans or anyone else.”

“Are you sure?” Lisa asked.

“I’m not sure of anything except that the U.S. wasn’t offering even a pretence of freedom.”

“How are we supposed to get to Thailand?” Howard asked.

Sarah pulled a business-sized envelope out of the bag. “I mailed these to myself from Mexico. That’s why we had to stop by the homeless shelter. They accept all sorts of mail for people who don’t have addresses. These are passports and papers for all the girls on the gymnastics team I coach. Coached. I don’t think the government knows I have them. So hopefully they won’t notice when I buy them six tickets to Bangkok. Mei Mei, you’re going to travel as Mrs. Melissa de Carr. She was our parent chaperone. Lisa can be your daughter Carrie. The guys can travel as Torie, Erika, and Erin. They’re the closest I’ve got to male names. I’ll be Laura. Try not to do anything that would make airport staff check your tickets. These are all girls between twelve and sixteen years of age, so we can’t afford any scrutiny.”

“But you’ll need a retina or palm scan to buy the tickets and pass airport security,” Howard whispered, seeming to anticipate the solution.

“We’ll choose palm scan. There’s a scan print on each of these papers. The technology isn’t very good, and I’ve fooled locks before. I’ll do it myself when I buy all the tickets. But at the machine by security you’ll each need to hold your hand just above the glass. I’ll stand right beside you and make the right palm print touch. I think I need to be looking at the print to do it; so the rest of you will have to try to block other people from seeing and make sure no one interrupts me.”

“No way.” Howard was staring at her with jealous wet eyes.

“No way, what?” Sarah asked.

“The way you removed the GPS things and now this. I can’t do anything like that.”

“Yeah, well, you can move a car and speak telepathically. Everyone’s got their strengths.”

Reggie realized Howard either hadn’t caught the fire tricks or wasn’t questioning them. Then he noticed how Howard was looking at Sarah, a little too sincerely impressed. Was this guy after his girlfriend?  Reggie’s mind was flooded with images of Howard and Sarah as lovers using their telekinesis in place of another hand, or whatever. He imagined how they could flirt with each other from across a room. Had they tried it? Or was Sarah really put off by the idea? Reggie didn’t think Sarah would have cheated on him, even when she’d kept the whole teek thing secret. But he could understand the temptation, and the idea nagged at him. He realized Sarah was talking again.

“. . . I don’t know how useful they are. They collect these clothes for homeless people to wear to job interviews. I don’t really imagine they’ll have people looking for us by clothing, and we don’t want to stand out as strangely dressed. But look through.” Sarah pushed the bag of clothes to Howard.

“I have some clips and pins here. I can arrange my hair and Lisa’s up off our necks. That’s a little different,” Mei Mei said, “No time to cut it like yours.” Her tone was not entirely flattering to Sarah’s hair, but Reggie imagined Sarah’s long hair sticking straight out then being cut, invisibly and simultaneously all around, with the extra pieces depositing themselves in the trash. Reggie thought the results were impressive.

“Most of this stuff looks weird. But we can walk in separate groups at least. Me and Robert, Mom and Lisa, you and Reggie.” Howard seemed to have himself under control again.

“They may still be watching for Reggie and me from last week. Anyone have make up or hair gel?”

As the rest shook their heads, Reggie shimmied under the rear seat. Sure enough, this van had a first aid kit. Reggie looked through until he found antibiotic ointment. “This might work as hair gel.”

Sarah smiled, put a little squirt on her fingers, and tried to make the top of her hair prick up a bit. Reggie reached over to improve the styling, rather liking the look of her short hair gelled up. Then he used the remainder of the tube to give his hair a slicked back and wet look. He didn’t much care for it, but he’d been told on numerous occasions how different he looked with the curls back off his forehead. Sarah smiled when he was done, so he figured it couldn’t look too awful.

At the airport Reggie concentrated on looking busy and distracted, like most other passengers. He spent as much time as he could facing the walls to read posters or advertisements. He read about a model train display on concourse C that he might have gone to visit on a normal boring trip. Reggie had gone way overboard on his model building stage as a kid, and his parents had been more than happy to indulge him. It was only once, when he crashed a radio-controlled panzer through his bedroom window, that his mother seemed at all concerned. What if he’d been a teek?