Surrender (28 page)

The simulation tech waited, as if it knew I had to think about what he’d said.

I still didn’t know what to do. Zenn needed me. If he wasn’t being brainwashed, he’d choose freedom, he’d choose me. I could help him live that uncontrolled life.

I needed Jag like I needed oxygen. But he’d ditched me so many times.

The ache for my dad was also strong. The image of our family—complete with Ty and both my parents—flashed behind my eyes. Maybe that dream could still come true.

No matter what, my talent would not be ignored. I had a duty to use it, to help others—not just when it was convenient for me. But Ty had said there were degrees of control. I could use my power for the Association or file a petition and stay in Seaside.

Minutes passed. The projection of Jake waited, his eyes fixed on me.

My conversation with Jag finally reminded me of my choice.
I’ll never control anyone, not even you.

I couldn’t use my control to Direct. I would use it to help others, but I would not brainwash them into living according to my will.

“I’m ready,” I said.

The projection of Jake smiled. “Your training continues, then. Remember the things Jag’s told you, no matter how small, and you’ll find what you need. Good luck.”

He pointed down the hallway, as if that were adequate instructions for my next task.

At the end of the hall, a light grew brighter.

It’s never good to walk toward the light, but that’s what I did.

The hall dead-ended in a tiny room with three doors leading out of it. A lamp in the corner cast shadows over the floor.

I closed my eyes, thinking this was just a bad dream and I’d wake up any second.

But it wasn’t.

I sighed and opened my eyes. As much as I didn’t want to, I had to read Jag’s note. I pulled it out of my back pocket. His handwriting still made my breath catch, but when I opened it, I wanted to cry.

The paper contained two words:
Fly, babe.

I shredded it into little pieces. Fly? The stupid boy wanted me to
fly
? I’d fly off the handle when I caught up to him. Then he’d see me
fly
.

A slight glow under the middle door caught my eye. I flattened myself on the floor and peered under the crack.

Blue light pulsed gently.

Under the door on the left, green light blared in a steady stream.

Only darkness existed under the door on the right.

I stood up, trying to think what the colored lights could mean.

I ruled the right door out. I was sick of living in the dark.

So, blue or green?

I tried to explore with my mind, but came up blank.
That stupid purple pill.
I knew I shouldn’t have taken it. I couldn’t feel anything.

Randomly, I stepped to the left door and twisted the knob.

Inside the room, an ascender ring stared up at me.

Right. Like I wanted to go up when I’d just spent who knows how long spiraling down those stairs. I turned to leave the room.

One problem: no door.

“I hate you, Jake,” I muttered.

The upward thrust of an ascender always causes me to duck my head for fear of smashing into the ceiling. But I dissolved away without injury.

I landed in a featureless room with no windows. Gray cement stretched from wall to wall. Turning slowly in a circle, I looked for any sign that this room had an exit.

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.