Legacy (20 page)

Inescapable.

“Okay, Claire-voyant,” Dave grinned at Claire as he pulled the van out through the gate, “lemme know when we get near the speed traps.”

The van swerved a bit as Dave ransacked the dashboard. “This thing doesn’t have an iPod dock?”
Four hundred miles without music? What are we, barbarians?

Claire tried to get a radio station to stick, but the mountains cut off each signal after only a few minutes.

I leaned against Trevor’s shoulder. Mustard-yellow anxiety trickled through him.
What will Isaiah do when he sees where we are? Will he come after Maddie again? Can we really protect each other?

Behind us, Ann’s minder-loud thoughts pinged like sonar against mine.
I hope I don’t overload. Could one of these sparks accidentally blow up the van’s gas tank? Is Zack seeing anyone? Would he ever be interested in a minder like me?

I popped up a mental shield before she got an unintended answer to that last one from my memories. Actually, Ann and Zack might make a good couple. He wasn’t intimidated by minder-girls—I knew that first-hand. She was a little older than he was—nineteen to his seventeen. That wasn’t too much of an age gap, was it? Zack had come back to Ganzfield more serious—more mature—than when I’d first met him. I flicked out a mental feeler, but still didn’t sense anything from him, even though he sat only a few feet behind me. Actually, he had
chosen the seat right next to Ann. Was he interested in her?

You’re not matchmaking, are you?
Trevor asked.

Nah.
I rubbed my chin, and then caught his eye and grinned.
Ooh, maybe I should. Think of the huge untapped market for a telepathic matchmaking service!

Maddie?
Ann’s tentative thought made me gasp. Had she overheard my exchange with Trevor just now?
You just shielded, right?

I cleared my thoughts before answering, imagining a blank wall.
Yeah.

Mind if we practice a bit now?

Sure!

Working with Ann, I found that her thoughts had a soft-yet-strong texture, although her self-esteem seemed deflated.
I couldn’t handle all this last time. Am I really capable of being a minder?
Nearly an hour of shield practice helped her gain a fragile confidence. Her thoughts glowed a satisfied green.

After stopping for lunch at a Friendly’s in Connecticut, we swapped out drivers again and Ellen had a turn behind the wheel. Ann’s eyes grew wider as we drew into the outskirts of the Bronx. Route 287 would’ve taken us around the City.

I scowled.
Why are we driving directly through the Bronx in heavy traffic?
The population shot up around us, pressing the thoughts of thousands of minds against us. Humming, buzzing, bubbling up through Ann’s larger range—I felt it hit her like a riptide, knocking her feet out from under her and making it hard to breathe.

Then the same wave hit me. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my fists against my clammy temples. I may’ve whimpered, although the sound didn’t register with me. Gah! My skull felt like it was trapped in a vise and someone was turning the crank. This was
so
much worse than the last time I’d been in New York!

I felt Trevor shift next to me, vaguely sensing his hands on my shoulders. He was saying something, but I couldn’t make out the words. Unseen hands pulled mine down from my face, trying to get me to look at him. Concern and pain flashed in his eyes.

Finally, his words registered. “Maddie? Can you shield?”

I scowled. Trevor knew—he
knew
that shielding wouldn’t keep out other people’s thoughts! Why was he asking stupid questions right now?
Dammit—my head’s about to explode here!
Shielding just kept me from being read by other minders and there was only one other—

Oh.

I concentrated on blocking my thoughts. My shielding felt weak and crude—like wet clay slapped up around the inside of my skull—but the intensity dropped like someone had turned down the knob in my brain. An entire stadium of cheering fans still stomped and did the wave between my ears, but they no longer blew thousands of those evil air-horns directly into my soul. Good thing I hadn’t been driving—although I would’ve taken the
right
road. I guess no one had told Ellen about not driving minders through big cities. Looking back at Ann, I saw a bleary double image of a tear-streaked face that probably matched my own. After all, we’d had thousands of minds’ worth of thoughts bouncing back-and-forth between us.

Feedback loop—minder-style.

Urgh. Dizzy and drained, I buried my face against Trevor’s chest and hoped I wouldn’t yak all over his t-shirt. He was shaking and breathing fast. I simply focused on keeping up my shield as the thoughts of thousands of strangers gushed like a fire-hose through my head. The population density dropped off as we crossed the G.W. Bridge into New Jersey. The individual thoughts of the people around me lifted out of the torrent and became understandable once again. After a few more minutes, the van shut off.

I looked up and had a mediocre déjà vu moment—we’d pulled over at the Vince Lombardi rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike. Except for the resters and stoppers, the meadowlands—the sprawling, tall-grassed swamp of North Jersey—had almost no other minds.

A smooth hand pressed against the side of my face as Hannah did a quick assessment. Trevor ran nervous fingers through my hair. I reached out and caught them.

“You’ve never had such a bad reaction to a city before.” He tipped my head up and searched my eyes. “Did you and Ann do something to each other?”

I nodded, still shielding. Dropping it seemed premature—potentially dangerous. Right now, I felt small and vulnerable and I wanted to keep my blankie wrapped tight around my head.

A groan came from behind me and I twisted to look back at Ann. Zack had a hand on her back and he hovered protectively close. His eyes never left her face.

“Maybe my coming wasn’t such a good idea,” she whispered.

I didn’t say a word.

The side door squealed open and some coffee appeared in my hand. After a few more minutes, the last of the overload dissipated. I lowered my shield tentatively, feeling like the stupid person in the horror movie who opens the door of the creepy house and calls out, “Hello?”

Trevor’s relieved smile warmed me.
There you are.

I sighed.
Next time, let’s go AROUND the city.

You okay?

No permanent damage, thanks. It hit you, too, didn’t it?

Just secondhand. Not as badly as it hit you.

I looked back.
Ann? Are you okay?

“Oh!” She startled and blushed as she peeled her eyes away from Zack. Little fireworks of
I think he likes me!
shot through her head.

I snorted. Yeah, she’d made a full recovery. Giddy tendrils of her euphoria seemed to reach out for me. I felt my batteries recharge slightly, but that may’ve been from the coffee.

So that’s “overload.”

Ann nodded, and then frowned. “You’ve never overloaded before?”

Not like that! I’ve been overwhelmed with too many thoughts, but—gah! That was like getting a concussion from the inside. Who knew there was a critical mass for multiple minders?

“It’s happened to me with Seth—twice.” Ann’s brows knit together. “He has this problem with almost every minder, though. I’m glad you were able to shield when you did.”

Me, too.
I leaned back against Trevor’s shoulder and absorbed the relative quiet while it lasted.

The rest of the group filtered back to the van a few minutes later, flashing thoughts of concern that turned to relief. We got back on the road and Claire RVed us toward Allexor’s facility in New Brunswick.

Ooh, neat.

When Claire used her ability, rippling silver tubes shot out from her mind horizontally, gently curving with the surface of the earth. Once she located her target, her focus seemed to slip through the connecting tube as though through a wormhole. This gave her a fish-eye vision of the other side, like the distorted view through a security peephole.

Cool.
Ann watched it, too.

I flashed her a conspiratorial smile, which she returned.

We pulled up to the front gate of Allexor Pharmaceuticals just after 5 p.m. Metal fences topped with wicked-looking razor wire ran the perimeter, and a line of cars streamed out of the employee parking area. The acres of nearly-flat, manicured lawns still showed light and dark stripes from the gardening crew’s mower. Several low buildings clustered well away from the perimeter fence. Something about the place felt ominous and forlorn—like a nursing home filled with unmoving people, gazing into the distance.
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Trevor snorted.
Wasn’t that the motto on the “Welcome to New Jersey” sign we passed?

Ann and I both cracked up, drawing confused looks from the other people in the van.

Geez. Minders.

Are they laughing at something in MY head?

We got ourselves back under control as Drew rolled down his window at the security booth.

Zack leaned closer to the window. “We’re here to see Martin Martinson.”

We are?
I was out of the loop on some things, apparently. I stared at the sign that warned of “Severe Tire Damage” if we tried to back up. Signs like that always made me feel a nervous itch to defy them. Good thing I wasn’t driving.

The guard at the gate looked at the van full of tired teenagers and his mind filled with skepticism. “Can I see your ID?” he asked Drew.

“You don’t need to see his identification,” Zack deadpanned.

Stop quoting Star Wars!
I tried not to laugh.

Ann couldn’t contain her giggle.

The guard waved us through.

Personally, I thought Trevor had a better claim on Jedi-powers than Zack did. I mean, could Zack suspend a droid and a box of tools in mid-air while standing on his head? Doubtful.

True,
thought Ann,
but that’s not actually the “Jedi mind trick,” now is it?

I’m just saying, if Zack and Trevor were ever trapped by the snow monster on the ice planet Hoth, only one of them would be able to get hold of that out-of-reach lightsaber.

Ann grinned.
Wow, Maddie. You seem to know an awful lot about Star Wars.

Doesn’t everyone? Isn’t it a basic component of cultural literacy? Like Shakespeare, or, um…the Bible?
After all, it wasn’t as though I’d called that snow monster a
wampa.

Oh, my God!
Ann laughed
. You actually know the SPECIES NAME of the snow monster?

I pinked up. Okay, I wasn’t used to having another telepath around all the time. I’d need to watch my thoughts a bit more.

You think I’m like a Jedi?
Trevor grinned, amused that I’d betrayed my nerdly credentials.

I popped a shield around our minds and met his eyes.
I TOLD you you’d get a huge ego from my views of you
.

Trevor flashed a wave of adoration at me in return.

And you’re definitely more of a Jedi than Zack.

He beamed at that—not that he felt particularly competitive with Zack or anything.

We continued up the curving road to the manor house that served as the administrative center of the corporate campus. Martin Martinson walked out to meet us as we rolled to a stop at the front door. He seemed a little too short and slender for a man—almost elf-like. His close-cut, mud-brown hair probably would be curly if it got longer, and he wore an expensive-looking grey suit with a yellow print tie. His thoughts were strangely…
smooth
. Unruffled. It didn’t strike him as odd that a dozen high school kids were about to camp out on the property? We looked like a group who should be on their way down the shore, not guarding a pharmaceutical company.

“Dr. Williamson told me to expect you. Welcome to Allexor Pharmaceuticals. We have the site prepared according to Dr. Williamson’s specifications. If you’ll follow me, I’ll drive you to it now.”

I wondered at this strange unflappability. Had someone charmed Martinson into believing that anything Williamson asked was reasonable? Was this his natural state? Was he simply well-paid enough not to care if strange things happened here?

Think he’s charmed?
I asked Ann.

She shrugged.
Or something. His mind feels…weird.

Maybe he really IS an elf.

Ann swallowed her laugh.

Martinson gestured, and a younger man zipped a white golf cart to his side. Drew drove the van behind the little vehicle as it followed a road around the building. He didn’t even need to touch the gas pedal to keep up and his impatience built in sunset colors around him.

We passed several institutional, one-story buildings. The orange and brown panels under the metal window frames looked faded and out of style. We made another turn and saw a large area—nearly a football field—surrounded by an eight-foot-high, chain link fence. Blue construction tarps spread across each panel, blocking the interior from view, and large yellow signs proclaimed, “Danger: Construction Zone.” For some reason, it reminded me of building blanket forts in the living room as a kid.

Martinson stood to open the padlock on the gate. “The crew drilled and placed the sills on the slab this morning. They set up the fencing this afternoon. With the tarps up, you should have privacy here.” He gestured to the closest building. It looked like all of the others. “That’s Building Sixteen. Dr. Williamson said that was the one where you needed access.”