Payback (13 page)

Yana grinned as she spotted Sam crossing a lawn toward a white house with light green shutters. “She shoots, she scores,” Ya na muttered. There’d be no awkward fol owing-on-foot action today. She continued down the street, turned the corner, and found a parking space in front of another big house.

Time to see if Sam was just blowing smoke or if he actual y had some useful info about the center. Yana climbed out of the Bug and walked back to Sam’s house, taking her time. A girl out for a strol , folks, nothing to worry about-that’s the look she was sho oting for.
Now, la-di-da, I’m just going to keep on strolling over to the back gate,
Yana thought as she walked over the soft grass. It had been cut recently, and the green smel of it fil ed her nose. She loved that smel .

Okay, now open the gate,
she instructed herself. La-di-da again. She reached for the latch, and her whole body suddenly felt ju iced. God, her hands were glowing again. Every rung of her spine was sizzling. Her hair was fil ed with static electricity.
Guess
he knows I’m here,
she thought. Her legs and arms spasmed, and then she was climbing over the gate. She strained to get back control of her muscles, but she’d become a remote-control ed robot girl.

Is this what it feels like for them?
she couldn’t help wondering. The people she thought-implanted, did they have this same hor rible sense of being yanked by someone else’s wil ? Like when she was control ing Rae, making her hurt herself, or when she’d almost had Anthony give Rae the-Yana reached the top of the gate, then tumbled over, the fal pul ing her out of her obsessive thoughts. When she landed, she fo und herself staring up at Sam. His loose, pale skin didn’t look any better from this angle.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam told her. “You should be hundreds of miles away from here by now.”

“Why? Because of your note?” Yana asked, relieved to be able to control her lips and jaw and tongue. She shoved herself to her feet. “It takes more than that to scare me.”

“I repeat. You’re an idiot,” Sam said. He shoved his black hair off his face, and she saw that his forehead was dotted with swe at.

“I have reasons for being there,” Yana replied.

“Your mother was in the group formed to boost psi powers. The agency kil ed her. Your genes got scrambled. You ended up with powers, too,” Sam said matter-of-factly. “Now I’m guessing you’re out for revenge. And you think that Cascone believes you’re there just to refine your abilities. Which, by the way, she doesn’t.”

“How would Cascone-how did you-” Yana didn’t know which question to ask first.

Sam raised an eyebrow at her. “You didn’t think you were special, did you?
Mi problema es su problema.
Literal y. And if you keep showing up at the center, you’re going to end up exactly like me.” He lowered himself to the grass and sat cross-legged.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Yana asked.

“I’m not talking to you if you’re going to tower over me,” Sam answered. He plucked a blade of grass and stuck it into his mouth.

“I thought only dogs ate grass,” Yana commented as she sat down across from him.

Sam shrugged. “I like it. But maybe you have a sophisticated palate.”

“So, okay, your mother was in the group with my mother-” Yana began.

“Try to keep up,” Sam interrupted. “I think I already made that clear. And it’s not like I have time to waste. I’m dying. You wil be,

too, unless you bolt. Even then they’l probably find you. But at least you’d have a two percent chance of survival.”

“Dying.” Yana picked up a piece of grass and stuck it in her own mouth. She needed something to do. Something besides look at him. Was he serious? He was around her age. And he was dying?

“Yeah, dying. As in decomposition bound. Getting ready for the dirt nap. Taking the-”

“I get it,” Yana told him.

“Just wanted to make sure you did,” he answered. “With you being slow and al . It’s from al the experiments they did-radiation, electric impulses, a cornucopia of drugs. I thought at first it might be from using my power too much. I get spasms if I play Puppet Master a bunch of times in a row. But no. The side effects are basical y harmless. I got that from stealing a look at the good doc tor Kessler’s notes. I’m dying because of al the games Cascone’s been playing with my body.”

“So why didn’t you take off?” Yana demanded. “If you’re so bril iant and al .”

“I wanted to bring the bastards to their knees,” Sam told her. “I kept waiting for my chance, waiting to find a way in. And they kept doing crap to me. I knew it was a race against time.” He shrugged again. “I lost. So you can be like me. Or you can get out of town, get out of the country if you can.”

“So you’ve given up?” Yana asked. If she were dying because of the agency, she’d want to bring it down even more.

“Of course, you might be the one they’re looking for,” Sam continued, ignoring her question. “If you are, they’l probably go al out keeping you alive.

But the odds of that happening are worse than the odds of running and not getting caught.”

What was he talking about? Was his brain being eaten from the inside? “The one what?” Yana asked. She remembered the grass in her mouth and swal owed it. It tasted the way it smel ed-green.

“I don’t know, real y. The one of us-the G-2s who ended up with powers from our moms-who can do
something.
I’m not sure exactly what.” Sam plucked another blade of grass, put it between his lips, and blew, producing a high, thin whistle. “Tastes great and plays music.”

Yana ate another piece of grass while she waited for her spinning mind to slow down again. She didn’t know what she wanted to ask Sam first. “I don’t get why you’ve given up. With what they’ve done to you, why don’t you want to annihilate them?”

“Knowing you’re dying, it changes the way you think.” He started chewing his piece of grass. “Maybe the reason I like this stuff so much is because soon I’l be lying under it.”

The green taste in Yana’s mouth started to taste like rot. She turned her head and spit. The taste didn’t go away.

e’re about ten minutes outside of Ranburne,” Anthony announced. “You ready to try getting a picture of Emma?” He glanced over his shoulder at Mandy. She had both hands knotted around the door handle, like she wanted to be ready to jump out at any second and run to her sister.

“Yeah. Okay, here goes,” Mandy said. She reached out her hand, and Jesse handed her Emma’s sweater.

“I wish I’d been able to get an exact location from one of Emma’s fingerprints,” Rae said softly. “I don’t know how many more ti mes Mandy’s going to be able to use her power today.”

“She’s got something,” Jesse cal ed out.

Anthony checked the rearview mirror. Mandy was running her hands lightly down her face, her fingers barely touching her skin. It creeped him out to see her like that. Al … empty. Mandy’s face was blank. Her eyes like marbles, shiny and dead. He forced his attention back to the freeway. It wasn’t going to help anyone if he slammed them al into the van up ahead.

Mandy let out a gurgling sigh. It sounded like a clogged drain emptying. Anthony risked another glance in the rearview mirror just as the life-the
Mandy
-came back into her face. “I was Emma. I was in a bathroom. I was pul ing a wedding veil over my fa ce,” she told them. “I didn’t see anything we can use. Nothing!”

“No, that’s good-it means she’s not married yet,” Rae pointed out. “We’re coming up to the first Ranburne exit. We’l get off the re, go straight to a gas station and grab the yel ow pages, and then we’l split up and each start-”

“It’s going to be too late,” Mandy interrupted. She started making a tiny braid in her long, light brown hair, the way she always did when she was freaking out about something.

“You don’t know that,” Anthony argued. Although the veil thing, that didn’t sound good. He pul ed into the exit lane, resisting the urge to floor the gas pedal. What was the point of speed when you had no idea where you were going?

“You should try seeing her again,” Jesse said. “She’s probably out of the bathroom by now, right? If she was fixing her veil.”

“Right. You’re right,” Mandy answered.

Jesse’s a lifesaver,
Anthony thought. Whenever he talked, Mandy calmed down a little. Focused more than she did when Ant hony or Rae yammered at her.

“Any thoughts on direction here?” Anthony asked Rae as he came to a stop at the red light at the base of the exit ramp.

Rae took a look at Mandy. “Maybe you should pul over until she-”

“She’s about to walk down the aisle,” Mandy burst out. “I was looking at Zeke. He was standing next to a guy-a minister, I guess.

Even though he didn’t have on a robe or anything, just a suit. I was holding flowers in my hands. My heart, God, it was slamming against my ribs.”

“Flowers,” Jesse said. “Maybe that’s something we can use. How many florists do you think are in this town?”

“Don’t you get it? The wedding is happening now!” Mandy cried. “Right now! There’s no time. Where’s the sweater?”

“It’s right in your lap,” Jesse told her. “Is your vision going?”

Mandy didn’t answer. She was gone again. The car behind Anthony gave a loud honk, and he realized he was sitting in front of a green light like a jerk. He turned right just to get out of the way.

“White Dove!” Mandy yel ed. “There was a thing, a flyer, on the organ. It said White Dove.”

Rae jerked out her cel phone and jammed in a few numbers. “In Ranburne. The White Dove chapel or church or anything close to that. I need an address.”

“She was already in front of the minister. He was doing the dearly beloved part,” Mandy exclaimed, her voice coming out high and breathy.

“Jesse, she’s starting to hyperventilate. Make her put her head between her knees,” Anthony ordered.

“1413 Trona Way,” Rae repeated.

Anthony rol ed down his window and slowed down a little so he was even with the car in the next lane. “Do you know where Tro na Way is?” he shouted. No one in the other car even glanced at him.
Because their windows are up, moron,
Anthony thought.

He gave three quick blasts on the horn, and the woman in the passenger seat turned her head toward him. He made a rol -down-your-window gesture, and a second later her window was sliding down. “Do you know where Trona Way is?” he shouted again.

“Trona Way?” she shouted back.

“Yes!” Rae, Jesse, and Anthony yel ed.

The woman turned toward the driver. “Does she live in this place or not?” Jesse muttered. “Just keep breathing, Mandy. But not so fast,” he added.

The woman turned back around. “Make a left, then a right,” she cal ed.

“Thank you!” Rae yel ed. “Thanks so much.”

Anthony pul ed into the left lane just in time to hit another red light. “Crap!”

“What’s wrong?” Mandy asked, her voice coming out muffled because her face was stil pressed between her knees.

“Nothing,” Anthony told her. “A red light. Nothing.”
Change,
he mental y ordered the light.
Change now.
It didn’t. Why would it? It wasn’t like he had any freakin’ psychic powers. He locked his eyes on the light. A few seconds later it went green. Anthony made the turn and immediately pul ed into the right lane.
At least I don’t have to wait for the light this time,
he thought as he made the turn.

“There it is! Trona.” Rae slid closer to him and wrapped her fist in the side of his T-shirt. He loved the way she always did that-li ke he could make her feel safe. If only he could actual y
keep
her safe.

“Get ready to look at the numbers,” he instructed, pushing away the nagging thought about what Yana was up to. “I’m going right, but I don’t know if it’s the right way.” He made the turn.

“That one’s thirteen twenty-seven,” Jesse said.

“We’re going the wrong way,” Rae announced. “I see thirteen twenty-five.”

Anthony did a traffic check, then a cop check. Nothing. He made a screeching U-turn. “It should be on my side of the street,”

Rae told him. He nodded and pul ed into the right lane.

“We’re almost there, Mandy,” Jesse said. “I can see it from here. See it, Anthony? See the signs with the birds?”