Possession (28 page)

Yeah, it didn’t. Fan-freaking-tastic.

I leaned against the wall. Definitely real. Keeping my fingers pressed against the plaster, I slowly approached the corner. Around the room I went—until my fingertips ran over a tiny bump in the third wall. I dropped my hand to where the doorknob would be. I twisted it, and the door swung outward.

I stood on the threshold of a towering building. The pale sand glittered far below, and my stomach clenched. I gripped the doorframe as the landscape started to spin. White lines crowded into my vision. I couldn’t breathe.

But across the very windy channel lay the city of Seaside.

Fly, babe.

Damn you, Jag Barque! Damn you straight to hell.

I don’t do heights. And floating with the wind? That isn’t my thing either. Once upon a time I’d wished I could fly up to touch the stars. Now I just wanted to curl up in a bed on the ground floor and forget about everyone and everything.

“How the hell do I fly?” The wind didn’t answer. No one
did, which only reminded me of how alone I was. The cruel breeze sounded like laughter as it whipped through my hair.

Suddenly my light backpack seemed very heavy. I pressed my body against the far wall. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tried to find the wind. I didn’t feel anything.

A scream erupted from my throat. I ran as fast as I could and pushed hard with my right foot at the edge of the room.

I plummeted, face-first, toward the churning ocean waves. They didn’t seem calm anymore. Now they threatened my entire existence.

The backpack pressed me down, urging me to go faster. I spread my arms and legs, trying to catch a current.

A strong gust pushed into me and I begged it to keep me aloft.

It ignored me. Time slowed down.

The water slapped me with enough force to render black sparks in my vision. The backpack dragged me further underwater. I twisted and tumbled in liquid darkness, trying to find the surface.

I couldn’t.

Everything looked the same. Navy blue. Airless.

Refusing to give up, I kicked harder. The backpack grew heavier. I managed to free myself from it.

The bag drifted down—the same way I’d been swimming.

Salty water filled my lungs.

I twisted away from the sinking pack and kicked up.

Slower. And slower.

Until I couldn’t kick anymore.

“End simulation?” a voice asked.

“No. Maintain possibility ten,” Jake replied.

Fly, babe.
The words echoed around me. Taunting.

“Scramble the doors. Heighten security on the directional tech.” The spoken words cut through the ones looping in my nightmare.

“The subject is under great duress, sir,” the computer said.

“Vi?” Jake put his hand on my back. His touch sparked something inside. I coughed. My lungs felt like someone had scrubbed them out with peroxibeads.

I tried opening my eyes, but they stung too much. My limbs felt heavy, weighed down with frustration. And water.

“She’s reviving, sir.”

“Resume stealth,” Jake said.

Everything came rushing back. I pushed myself up and opened my eyes. The unyielding floor pressed into my tailbone. I could see the steady green light and the pulsing blue light from under the two doors.

I hated Jag then, more than anything.

Flying? I don’t think so.

“Jake?”

No answer.

“Jake! I know you’re here. I’m going to kill you when I see you again!”

“You promised.” His voice came from everywhere.

“Screw that,” I said, standing up. “I jumped off a freaking building. Someone has to die.”

“Take it up with Jag. He forced me to set the simulation.”

“I could have drowned.”

“You’re a water girl. You wouldn’t have.” Jake’s voice carried a smile. I imagined it on his face.

My anger deflated. “Whatever. What now?”

Jake didn’t answer.

I looked around the room, hoping for a big arrow to point me in the right direction. The hallway had sealed itself.

“There’s no way out.” Panic rose in waves. I suppressed it by taking a deep breath.

“Fly,” I whispered to myself. “That makes no sense.”

The green light now burned under the middle door. Darkness existed on the left. Blue pulsed on the right.

The equipment in my pack seemed to be in working order, so I slung it over my back. I placed my hand on the left door.

The force of the tech almost threw me backward.

My head spun. I tried to remove my hand, but it seemed welded to the metal. My stomach clenched. My chest burned.

I slid to my knees, finally able to break contact. I needed another one of those purple pills. I’d take ignorance over internal combustion any day.

I crawled toward the next door. I didn’t even have to touch this one. The tech buzz filled my ears, my eyes, my mouth. I puckered as if I’d eaten something sour.

I moaned and pushed myself past the middle door. Once free of the debilitating tech, I stood up. This third door only held a whisper of buzz.

“Tech simulations,” I said, the realization hitting me in the gut. “Jake, you’re so dead! You tricked me with that purple pill!”

“But now you know you can’t control the elements,” he said.

Like that made me feel better. “I hope you have a will!”

“Blame Jag,” he responded.

“Oh, I do,” I snapped. “Trust me, he’s going to die too.” I imagined the way he’d smile when he saw me. He wouldn’t even see my fist coming.

The only door without bucket loads of tech had the pulsing blue light. The doorknob tingled with techtricity, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Certainly not an entire simulation’s worth.

So I took a deep breath and opened the door.

The blue light lingered at the end of a long corridor. The door clicked shut behind me but didn’t disappear. This room was real. I walked toward the light (again). The corridor ended in a bulbous window. The color came from the sunlight shining through the ocean. Waves lapped against the glass, creating the rhythmic pulsing.

I retraced my steps, half-expecting the door to be locked or something. But it opened easily. The hallway loomed in front of me. Because the other two doors were gone, I concluded that the simulation had ended.

My heart hammered. I could simply go back up those ridiculous stairs. Hop on a boat. Sail to Seaside.

Why would I traipse around down here? In dark tunnels, no less.

Yeah, I wouldn’t.

So I turned and headed back into the tech warehouse. I strode past the shelves full of gadgets and started up the steps.

My breath had barely started coming in gasps when a
boom!
sounded overhead.

I froze.

Somewhere far above me, people shouted. Ty. Jake.

And Dad.

“I know she’s here. Your petition does not protect her.” His voice sounded like it was inches from my ear.

Fly, babe.

I turned and fled back the way I’d come.

“You can’t!” Ty screamed. “This is an insulated dwelling.”

“Not for her,” Dad replied. “Let’s go, Zenn.”

I flew down the hall, through the only door and toward the window. I felt along the glass, a sob threatening to break free. My fingers found nothing to latch on to, nothing to pry apart.

Frantic, I spun around. The corridor lay empty. The door remained closed.

I put one hand on the wall and sprinted back the way I’d
come. I had to get out of here. Halfway down the hall, my hand fell away from the wall.

No, that wasn’t right. The wall ceased to exist.

I paused and looked into, well, the wall.

I reached out. My hand passed through the supposedly solid structure. My arm disappeared up to my elbow.

This wall was a projection.

The doorknob rattled. I leapt through the projection and pressed my back against something solid. I couldn’t see the corridor from the secret room where I hid.

That did little to ease the panic rising in my stomach. Especially when the door opened and footsteps sounded close by.

They quieted the farther down the corridor the person moved. All too soon, they returned.

“Zenn, order a search of the tunnel system in Seaside.”

I bit down hard to silence my cry. Dad was so close, I could practically hear his thoughts.

I submerged my control. My feelings. My breath.

Zenn repeated Dad’s orders in a monotone voice.

“Every last tunnel,” Dad repeated. “I want her. If she makes it to the center, I can’t follow. Then it will be up to you, son.”

“I’m not your son,” Zenn said. His voice sounded hoarse, like he hadn’t used it in weeks. At least he’d spoken the words screaming through my bloodstream.

“You’re going to find Violet and bring her to me,” Dad said. “Tell me, can you feel her down here?”

His words caused a surge of anger. Dad didn’t need to follow me using tags and stickers—he had Zenn. He owned Zenn.

And Zenn loved me.

“N-no,” Zenn choked out.

“Strange.” Dad’s voice dripped with disbelief. “Her readings are still in this area.”

“Must be the simulators,” Zenn said.

“Perhaps. But you will find her, won’t you, Specialist Bower?”

“Yes, sir. Yes, I will.”

“Station an agent outside this door. Just in case.”

The door clicked shut as Zenn repeated the order, his voice foreign again.

I let out the breath I’d been holding. I found relief hard to come by as I scanned the hidden room. It sat empty except for a hovercopter resting in the corner.

Fly, babe.

I almost laughed out loud.

Like I know how to pilot a hovercopter. I scampered over to it anyway. With an agent right outside the door, I could hardly go that way.

I crawled inside, inhaling more dust than air. I wheezed, trying not to cough out loud. That didn’t work. I sank into the pilot’s chair while sneezing into the crook of my arm.

I froze, waiting for the spark of a taser. For an angry voice to yell, “Don’t move!”

The door opened. Someone took a few tentative steps. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would make me invisible.

After a minute that felt like forty, the door closed.

When I opened my eyes, a large panel of knobs stared back at me. I wished I’d paid more attention to that pilot. I didn’t even know where to put my hands.

Or how to start the stupid thing.

So I did the only other thing I could think of. I willed the machine to turn on.

And it did.

My right hand naturally reached out and gripped the joystick in front of me while the left one fiddled with a few knobs on the ceiling.

I had no clue what I was doing, but all my movements felt practiced. Precise. I flipped two more switches and the fans whirred to life. I eased the controls back and the hovercraft, get this, hovered.

I wanted to throw up. But something about flying this machine felt . . . easy.

I maneuvered it toward the simulated wall. Or at least where I thought it would be.

A grating of metal on metal caused a string of sparks. I yanked the controls to the left and around the corner just as the door flew open. I tapped three buttons in quick succession and pressed the joystick flat against the control panel.

The hovercopter shot forward, straight toward the glass.

I closed my eyes just before impact. Yeah, I’m that kind of chicken. I expected to bounce off the barrier, get bloodied up and then arrested.

Instead, the glass broke. The hovercopter sailed into the ocean, leaving the agent behind.

The machine didn’t handle as well in the water. I made clumsy turns, following an unknown path. I just felt like I was going the right way.

Up ahead, a wall of coral shone brilliantly. A steel door beckoned.

I flipped a switch, and the door slid to the side. I quickly maneuvered into an elaborate tunnel of seamless tech, tapped the switch and twisted to watch the door slide shut. Ocean water glistened on the floor. Then my hand located another button and pressed it.

Tiny holes opened in the floor, successfully draining the
water. I focused on piloting the hovercopter, and before I knew it, I entered a cavern carved in dark brown rock.

I powered down the craft and got out. Four stalls lined one wall. Each one housed a hovercopter. What a great getaway cave.

A single doorway lay across the cavern. The walls were stone, built before the earth had burned and the Association of Directors was founded. The floor sloped downward, and the air grew colder with each step. My eyes adjusted to the darkness with ease, probably because I willed them to.

The light from the cave had faded by the time the hall branched in two directions.

Control or don’t control.

Alone or together.

Zenn or Jag.

Duty or death.

I hate only having two choices. Really, really hate it.

Now, staring at the solid wall in front of me, with an option to the left and one to the right, I wanted a third alternative. I pressed my palm to the stone. It felt rough and smooth at the same time. Hot and cold. I closed my eyes. I leaned into the wall, willing it to move.

The stone sank into the ones surrounding it. Soon the rock had moved six inches and a loud noise shook the air around
me. I stepped back as the wall slid to the side as if built on rickety old tech.

I moved through the opening into a cavern without a ceiling. Jag was very close; I felt the thrill of his touch in my mind.

Numerous hallways branched off the chamber where I now stood. More choices.

Rescue Zenn.

Join Dad and the Association.

Run away with Jag and live on the beach.

Save the world.

Before I could decide, Zenn’s controlled voice echoed behind me. “She’s here, sir. I can sense her.”

I could almost feel the caress of his hands on my face. I paused, desperate to help him. He hated being controlled as much as I did. I knew he’d helped me remove the sticker. As much as he was able, he’d always protected me.

“We must find her before she enters the center.” Dad’s tone chilled me. I probed the minds of the people with him and found a dozen SF agents.