Mute (Muted Trilogy Book 1) (17 page)

“I’m fine with people knowing we’re Talking. I mean, at least strangers and family. I’m not so sure at work, since there might be people who know we’ve not spent a significant amount of time together.”

“Are you planning to tell your family?” he sent.

She felt her cheeks heat. “I already did, actually. Yesterday. They asked directly if I was Talking to somebody who wasn’t family, and I’ve never been comfortable lying. I didn’t tell them about any of the unique aspects, though.”

“Does that mean I can tell my dad? I haven’t lied to him, either, but I’ve avoided it.”

“I don’t mind.” She watched him, again noting how tired he looked. “How is your dad doing?”

“He’s been better.” She heard sadness in his tone, and some of the normal sparkle left his eyes. “He isn’t sleeping without medication, but the sleep aids interfere with some of the other stuff he has to take, so it’s a balancing act.”

“I’m sorry.” She placed her hand atop his, and he reached his thumb around to squeeze her hand lightly without turning his palm up. “Is he going to be all right?”

Jack lifted one shoulder. “The doctors are getting less optimistic the less time he spends healthy. He’s only had a couple good days since The Event.”

“Do you have any help?” she sent.

“There’s a nurse who stays with him when I’m not home. No other family, though. His friends seemed to stop trying after a few years.”

“I’m sorry,” she sent again.

His lips pulled up to one side. “I can hear you mean it, too. I get a lot more emotion Talking to you than I do from my dad.”

“Same, with me and my family, I mean.” Jemma retrieved her hand, pulling it back to her side of the table. “I can hear normal tone and such, but I haven’t felt emotion or images associated with it.”

“What other differences have you noticed so far?” He pulled out his phone and a small pen made for it and started scribbling notes.

“That feeling when we’ve been Talking or are about to Talk, like we’re connected. I don’t get that with my family.” She scrunched her nose. “It would make it easier to avoid the feedback, so I wish I could tell when someone was about to Talk or not yet done Talking.”

“I haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing that, but I’ve heard it’s pretty bad, so I was relieved it didn’t happen for us.” He held the pen still over the screen. “Can you describe how the connection feels? You’re better at turning things into words than I am.”

She thought for a moment, feeling her brow furrow. “It feels like I put a cool magnet on my head.” She looked at him. “Cool temperature, not content of the magnet.”

Jack grinned. “I figured. That does sound about right. Anything else?”

“Yeah. It reminds me of being on a phone when nobody’s talking,” she sent. “You can still tell the other person is there.”

“Do we have any idea of range?”

She shook her head. “I live about five minutes from the library. Ten if traffic’s bad.”

“Same. Different direction, though, I think.”

She tucked a hair behind her ear and watched him write. “I’m not used to somebody else taking notes.”

“Ah, yes. You enjoy research. You want to take over?” He held his phone out to her, but she shook her head again.

“I’ve got my own methods and got a file started this morning. I’ll email you what I’ve got,” she sent.

“Okay. It’s the same as my messenger screen name, at Gmail.”

“Sounds good,” she sent. Quiet fell, their connection almost tangible.

“What’s next, then?” he asked.

“For right now? Or after we do what research we can without telling anyone?”

“Both?” he sent.

“Well,” she sent, “I think after we figure out what we already know, we should test limits. Distance, what we can communicate, that sort of thing. Figure out what we can do.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” he sent, glancing at the nearest clock. “For now, why don’t we grab something to eat and talk as if everything had gone back to normal?”

Her stomach growled as if on cue, and she grinned even though she knew he’d been unable to hear it. “Food sounds perfect. What’s good here?”

“There are plenty of samples.” He waggled his eyebrows and stood. “Let’s find out.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

Why Us

Jemma glanced around her living room one more time, then went to answer the door. Seeing Jack, laptop case slung over one shoulder, she waved for him to come in.

“How are you this afternoon?” he asked.

“Same as I was when you asked twenty minutes ago.” Jemma smiled and gestured to the couch, which was the closest piece of furniture to her computer desk.

“Sorry,” he sent. “I’m not used to making social research visits at the houses of women I can speak to telepathically. I’m sure there’s some sort of protocol.”

“Probably.” She smiled again. Jack sat on the couch, and Jemma sat at her desk, opening up the Google Docs file she’d shared with him the night before. Next to her, Jack opened his laptop, resting it on his legs. “Okay,” Jemma continued. “Did you have any questions about what I’ve put together so far?”

“Nope,” he sent, joining her in the shared document. “Pretty much matches up with what I wrote down yesterday.”

“I started a list of things we should try,” she sent.

“Great! I always wanted to start a bucket list.”

Jemma laughed, letting him hear it. “A bucket list was on your bucket list?”

“Does that make some sort of inescapable paradox?”

“It’s possible.”

She looked at the list in front of her.

•
Distance limit?

•
Can we block?

•
Conversion to physical - telekinesis?

•
Subliminal messaging - send messages without other aware?

•
Try Talking to another person.

•
Some emotion can be sent - how much?

•
Try sending images again - does relaxation make a difference (as when asleep)?

•
Physical contact - does it amplify or make anything easier?

Jack added another item.

•
Try Talking to someone the other can Talk to.

Jemma nodded and spun her chair so she was facing toward Jack.

“Anything else?” she sent.

He shook his head. “It’s a good list.”

“We can’t do all of these here, but we can start going through them,” Jemma sent.

“Okay. Blocking first?”

Jemma nodded. “I’ll focus on keeping you out, and you try to Talk to me. I’ll hold up a finger when I’m ready.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a salute.

She closed her eyes and focused on silence, on walls and solid concrete surrounding the quiet, and then held up a finger.

Silence. She could feel pressure against her “wall,” slight but noticeable. The pressure grew more insistent, then lessened again. She felt a hand taking hers, gentle, hesitant.

“Jemma?” His mental voice echoed within the created walls, and she opened her eyes, dropping her focus, seeing Jack standing directly in front of her, his brown eyes watching her carefully.

“I heard nothing until you touched me,” she sent.

He dropped her hand. “Your turn,” he sent, closing his eyes as she had.

“Jack,” she sent, and he opened his eyes, frowning.

“I still heard you,” he sent. “What did you do to keep me out?”

“I focused on the silence, and I pictured a wall around my mind.”

He nodded and closed his eyes again. She gave him a few seconds before trying.

“Jack?” This time, the feel of their connection was almost nonexistent, the echo of her words in her own mind lessened significantly. She tried again, louder, and he furrowed his brow but didn’t open his eyes. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. “Jack?”

He opened his eyes. “It’s like when there’s physical contact, the wall isn’t even there.”

“Yes. It seems like the connection reestablishes as soon as we touch.”

He closed his eyes again, closing his hand around hers, and nodded. “I think you can feel that more clearly than I can, but you’re right. The connection’s there, but then…” He let go of her hand, and she felt the connection dim. When he opened his eyes again, they were sparkling. “Good to know. What’s next?”

Jemma turned and looked at her computer. “Telekinesis? It’s a long shot, but we can’t not try, right? With it using the visual center, I thought trying to get the television to respond might be the best chance.”

She focused on the display, and Jack did the same, both of them staring for a few minutes.

Nothing happened.

“Well, that’s a bust,” sent Jack. Jemma selected that item on the list and changed it to strikeout font.

“Subliminal messaging?” Her body still facing the computer, Jemma turned her face toward Jack.

“Sure. What should we try?”

Jemma thought. It would need to be something they could test quickly for best effect. “I think just trying to get the other to move a body part or something would be easiest.”

“Right. Go ahead.” He held his hands wide, showing he was ready.

Jemma focused on their connection while watching him, careful to keep her eyes away from his right arm as she focused on his raising it, picturing the action rather than sending the actual image or words.

“Nothing?” she asked.

“Guess not. Should we try with contact? If it changed one thing, it can’t hurt, right?” he sent.

She nodded. “There are some other things we can try that contact will come into, too. I wanted to see whether relaxation makes things easier, also. Let’s sit on the couch. Probably safer than standing, anyway, in case any of this has adverse effect.”

He moved his laptop to the far side of the couch, and they both sat, Jemma with one leg tucked under her so it was easier to face Jack.

“Okay,” he sent when they were both comfortable. “Try again?”

She nodded and covered his hand with hers, focusing once more.

Nothing happened.

“Your turn to try,” she sent. He watched her carefully for a few minutes, but again, nothing happened.

“Okay, so, don’t have to worry about mind control,” he sent. “That’s good, anyway.”

“Agreed,” she sent. “Emotion next? We know we can send some.”

“Intentional emotion, then. Okay.” He paused. “Do you want to try Talking or listening first?”

“I’ll listen.” She closed her eyes to focus, opening them again when he Talked.

“Are we starting with contact?”

“We may as well. It seems that does make things easier, and we’re looking for the limits,” she sent. When he nodded, she closed her eyes again.

Almost immediately, their connection started emitting worry. Jemma could tell it wasn’t her own, that it was coming from elsewhere, but she could feel it as strongly if it were her own.

“Are you really that worried?” she sent.

The emotion faded, and Jemma opened her eyes. Jack pulled his hand away to run it through his hair, setting it down again close enough that their fingertips brushed.

“Sometimes. I wasn’t when I focused on it, but, you know. My dad, and whether the rest of the rumors about people like us are true: it wasn’t a hard emotion to conjure.” He smiled crookedly.

“Understandable. As you saw, I’ve been having nightmares, and that only happens when I’m stressed. I’m sure worrying about your dad makes it worse, on top of everything else.” Biting her lip, Jemma continued, feeling sympathy but trying not to send it through their connection. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’ll let you know if there is.”

She wasn’t receiving emotion from him, but she could still see he was feeling lingering worry. “I think we have to be thinking about the emotion to send it.”

“What about your dream? You sent it then,” he sent.

“I think,” she sent, hesitating as she thought back, “it’s because I was more aware of my fear than anything else.”

“I’ll buy that. What’s next?”

“Images. I wanted to try again with barriers lowered some, and maybe with us touching, too. See how much difference that makes.”

“Your turn to go first, then.” He shut his eyes, and Jemma followed suit, sliding her hand forward so they were more fully in contact.

She searched briefly for an image to send, deciding on the library logo. She focused on their connection and on the logo, trying to push the image along the connection.

“The library?” sent Jack, and Jemma felt herself grin. Rather than answering in words, she pushed through her feeling of success. When she opened her eyes, Jack was watching her, his eyes bright. “I’m guessing I got it right?”

“Yeah, you did.” She was still smiling. “Did you want to try? Maybe something a little more complicated than a logo?”