The Forbidden Trilogy (13 page)

"Likely flu. You be okay, just rest and fluids. Keep
you here until you a little better."

I noticed the IV in my arm for the first time. "Can I
go back to my room now?"

"Not yet. If you stay better and keep food down, you go
to room and rest there."

"I am pretty hungry. Can I get something to eat?"

She nodded and left to get me lunch. Or dinner. I wasn't
sure of the time.

After I downed a cold, limp turkey sandwich and green
Jell-O, Dr. Sato declared me fit for bed rest in my own room. She unhooked me
from the IV and went to sign me out.

My knees wobbled a bit as I began to dress, checking my body
for anything abnormal. Nothing.

The walls kept me steady as I made my way through the
Clinic. Just as the starch had returned to my legs....

'Sam! Sam! Where are you?'

"I'm here, at the clinic. I got sick. You feel so
close. I want to be near you, in person, not just as a thought."

'Me too. Someday soon, I promise.'

I started following the sound of his thoughts, wandering
through the halls, but the secure-password/scan-protected door stopped me
short. Only certain staff members had clearance into that section of the
Clinic.

But he was in there.

If anyone found out about this, I would be in trouble. But
how would they know? They couldn't read my mind. Or could they? I put my hand
on the forbidden door, trying to get closer to him. I needed to see him, to
touch him and feel him.

'You shouldn't put yourself at risk. Don't get caught.'

"I just need to find you. Maybe I can get the drugs
out of your system, and you can escape."

'Not without you. I'd never leave you here.'

My body melted against the door. I would have given anything
in that moment to have Luke's powers. I could just walk through everything that
stood between me and Drake.

"Sam, what are you doing here?" Dr. Sato stood
behind me, fists on slight hips, glaring at me.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I started feeling dizzy and
got disoriented. I was just looking for a place to sit down." A simple lie
made possible by a lifetime of acting.

Her composure softened. "You should have waited for the
guard to escort you back to your room. Maybe you stay here is better."

She helped me up and guided me to her office. I sat down on
her love seat, fighting waves of nausea but trying to hide it.

"Here. Drink."

I took the juice and drank greedily. My energy surged as the
sugar hit my system.

I sighed and set the empty cup on the coffee table in front
of me. "I'm feeling better. You said it's just the flu, right? My fever
broke. There's no reason I can't recover in the comfort of my room."

"Yes, okay, but come back if you feel dizzy or
nauseous, or if any other odd symptoms persist."

"I will."

She picked up her phone, and a moment later, a guard—
It's
Gar!
—came in with a wheelchair. I groaned, just wanting to get home, but I
felt better knowing Gar would be my escort.

***

Once we made it past prying ears I twisted to look at him.
"Did you get demoted? This hardly seems a fitting job for one of your
skill."

He didn't make eye contact with me. He didn't so much as
twitch his face, but his voice hit my mind with force.

'I'm just here to keep you safe. That's my job.'

I pried deeper into his mind and saw that he had developed a
soft spot for me after our assignment. It looked like I had my own guardian
angel.

He dropped me at my dorm, walked me to my room, and then
left without saying another word.

I dressed in my flannel pajamas and crawled into bed before
I tried contacting Drake again.

On the one hand, a constant telepathic connection with him
created a deep emotional intimacy. On the other hand, I needed him to be real
and tangible, not just a voice.

"Drake, can you hear me?"

'Yes, what happened?'

I told him about my new friend and the trip back to my room.
"Want to see something?"

'Sure.'

I'd been able to project the image of my painting to him;
maybe I could do the same now. My tidy room, my closet with the door hanging
open, the oak dresser and matching desk, a MacBook sitting on top of it—I imagined
my mind as a computer, sending every captured image via email.

"Can you see what I'm showing you?"
I
didn't expect it to work. Vomiting and fevers didn't put me at my strongest.

'Is that your bedroom?'

"Yes!"

'It's nice. Cozy. Are those pictures of your friends on
the wall?'

"Lucy and Luke, yes. And some other kids from class
field trips."

'You're very pretty.'

"Thank you."

'Have you had a happy life here?'

Given his childhood memories, I could understand his
curiosity. As bad as things had become, my life had been pretty good by
comparison.

"That's tricky to answer. It's hard to miss what you
never had, but when I read books, see TV shows or visit other families, I
wonder what my life would have been like raised in a family. I guess I've
always done my job knowing that when I turn eighteen, I'll be free to do what I
want. I now have enough control not to put myself or others at risk. When I
feel your visions, I know that my life has been pretty good compared to what
you've endured."

'Your birthday's coming up, Sam. We need to talk about
what happens next.'

I didn't know. So much had happened that I hadn't really
given thought to my birthday and my release. College waited for me on the other
side of this life, didn't it? Sarah Lawrence and freedom. But I knew—in the
stillness of my heart I knew—it was all a dream of mist and vapors. It had
never been real.

Mr. K's letter proved that. Other kids, they'd had going
away parties. They'd been happy. We'd even gotten postcards from some of them.

I opened the bottom drawer of my nightstand and shuffled
through some papers until I found what I needed. The Eifel Tower stood proud
and glowing on the postcard, thousands of lights in the night. On the back, a
postage stamp from Paris.
Hey, Sam, wish you were here. You'd love the
Sorbonne. Stay good and enjoy your time in New York. Love, Rebekah.

She'd been one of us. Now she was free. Or was she? Could it
all have been faked? Would they really go through so much trouble to dupe us?
If they had, then where were these kids? Where was Rebekah?

I projected my thoughts and the image of the postcard to
Drake. I told him the story we'd been fed our whole lives—that Rent-A-Kid kept
us safe, trained us and prepared us for the real world. Our parents had given
us up to protect us.

'Sam, you know too much. Did all your parents give you up
willingly? Why weren't they involved in your lives at all? Have any ever come
to visit or interact with their kids? You don't think those postcards can be
forged?'

"Our parents gave us up because they couldn't handle
kids like us. They did what was best for us."
It was true. It had to
be true. I needed it to be true.

'Then why couldn't they at least stay in touch? Visit?
Call?'

"I don't know. Probably for safety. We get to meet
our families when we leave. Once we are safe."

'You keep talking about being safe, but they have rented
you out since you were thirteen. You've been safe enough for clients for a long
time, so why not let your family back into your life? Come on, Sam, you're a
smart girl, but they've got you brainwashed to believe they are the good guys.
They are not the good guys. They tracked me down, attacked me, and brought me
here against my will. You and I both know they weren't saving me from anyone.
Does that sound like something a good organization would do?'

My head pounded, the pain coming back full force, and I
didn't want to deal with these questions.

I would figure it out later.
"Drake, I admit that
something isn't right here. At the very least, Dr. Pana is a problem, and
someone's stealing powers, but that doesn't mean everything has been a lie.
Look, I've been sick, and I'm crashing. Can we talk later?"

'Okay. Hey Sam....'

"Hmm?"

'Be careful.'

That night, stolen kids and heartbroken parents filled my
dreams. I woke up more exhausted than when I'd fallen asleep, drenched in
sweat, my heart racing.

Two days of forced bed rest left little room for fun.

After reading the first three chapters of every book in my
possession, and countless hours studying Dr. Sato's dialect, I needed
reinforcements.

Poor Drake had already put up with so much.
"You
must be so sick of my whining and moping and all my Japanese thinking. I'm
sorry. I'm just so bored!"

'I'm not sick of you, and I can relate. I'm strapped down
to a bed and powerless, after all. By the way, you're a freaking genius with
language. I can't believe how much you've learned in just three days. How do
you do it? I barely know Spanish and I grew up surrounded by it.'

His praise released a flutter of butterflies in my stomach.
Learning languages and reading minds wasn't nearly as exciting as hacking
computers, walking through walls or kicking butts in martial arts. I loved that
he thought my gifts were special.
"I've been studying languages since I
was two years old. It's always come naturally."

'How many can you speak?'

I had to do the math in my head.
"Um, thirty or so,
plus a few dialects."

'Holy crap! That's seriously impressive. When we get out
of this mess, we totally have to travel all over the world. You'll be able to
talk to everyone.'

My heart swelled with images of walking hand-in-hand with
Drake through the streets of Italy, touring the great cathedrals in France,
eating at a café and chatting with the locals.... But the best part—visiting all
the greatest museums of the world. What I wouldn't give to spend hours at the
Louvre and the Rodin Museum in France, the Van Gough Museum in Amsterdam, the
Los Angeles County Museum of Art, the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art....
My mind trailed off into the lands of the greatest artists, and I
"showed" Drake memories of my favorite paintings throughout history.

As soon as class got out, Lucy and Luke came over bearing
gifts—flowers, a get well card, chicken soup, and a new DVD.

"You guys, I'm not dying. It's just a bad flu." I
acted annoyed but appreciated the kindness.

Lucy handed me the soup and a spoon. "I know, Chica,
but we figured you were bored out of your mind, and this might cheer you
up."

I smiled. "It has."

Luke sat in my favorite chair, his long legs spread out
before him. Lucy sat at the edge of my bed. They both seemed happy enough, but
still not quite right. Their eyes looked glazed over, and they had an
artificial calm to them.

"So spill it, what's going on with you and Drake?"
Lucy asked.

"Nothing." I tried to look innocent as I sipped my
soup.

"Nope. Try again."

I put the soup down and switched to our made-up language.
"Don't you guys find it odd that we all got sick after our recent
'vitamin' injections?"

Lucy's eyes fogged over, then cleared. "I feel fine,
Sam. I don't know what you're talking about."

I looked to Luke for support. "You both were like
zombies, and then I came down with this flu. And now you seem... different.
Less suspicious."

Luke smiled, but with a shadow of his normal brightness.
"Lighten up, Sam. Life's too short to worry so much."

I cried out to Drake in frustration.
"What do I
do?"

'Maybe if we work together, we can push them to remember.
Help clear their minds.'

"It's worth a try, I guess. Okay, you stay with me
while I link to them. Instead of pulling their thoughts from them, I'll try to
push my thoughts into them."

Messing with my best friends' minds made me nervous, but so
did their way-too-carefree new personalities.

With Drake in tow, I focused on Luke first. Once again, a
haze of heaviness settled on me and lured me to sleep, but Drake's mental
tether kept me alert. I imagined the haze lifting and clarity returning. I
pushed my will into the thought and felt Drake do the same. Almost immediately,
my link weakened as the amount of power it took to create this level of
connection drained me. After being so sick, I had very little energy left, but
I couldn't give up.

It worked. With one last push, Luke's mind regained some of
its former energy.

We pulled out and did the same with Lucy.

When we were done, I closed my eyes and wiped away the tears
that slid down my cheek. I'd never felt more exhausted in my life.

Luke's voice had more energy than before. "You okay,
Sam? What did you do? I feel like I just woke up from sleepwalking."

Without opening my eyes, I answered him. "Do you
remember the shot the doctor gave you? Being sick?"

Lucy's voice joined the conversation. "Yes, I do now.
Damn, I'm so sorry we doubted you. It's weird. Part of me still thinks
everything is okay and I should just chill out, and another part feels a panic
at what's happening.

My friends were back.

"Thank you, Drake."

'I'm glad it worked.'

Now that they could think for themselves, it was time to
talk about our future.

***

"Do either of you wonder about our parents?"

Luke's face hardened. He and Lucy had been left by their
parents at a hospital as babies. Rent-A-Kid somehow got to them before Social
Services could intervene. "Not really. It's better that way."