The Awakening (15 page)

“I’m not sure yet.” He punches enter. Name after name loads onto the screen. “It’s a list of all the patients currently at the Detroit Rehabilitation Center. A pretty innocuous name for what it really is, if you ask me.”

“What is it really?”

“Psych ward. Insane asylum. Living morgue. Take your pick. They definitely aren’t doing any rehabilitating, that’s for sure.”

His words drum up a memory that’s never too far from the surface of my consciousness. Every time I shut my eyes, I can see them—lifeless bodies hooked to machines with atrophied muscles like Cap’s. “Luka and I broke into a place like that in Oregon.”

Link swivels around, fascination twinkling in the honey-brown of his irises.

I tell him the story about our break-in to Shady Wood, about finding my grandmother, our quick escape, and everything else in between. When I finish, his eyes no longer twinkle—they dance.

“I can’t believe you got into
Shady Wood
.”

“Yeah, well, they weren’t rehabilitating anyone either. Not by the looks of it.”

“It’s the same thing that’s happening here in Detroit.”

The very idea of another Shady Wood called by a different name has heat swirling inside my chest. It’s inhumane. It’s not right. I don’t care how crazy those people may be, they don’t deserve to have their lives drained away while they lie comatose on a bed. “Why don’t more people know about this?”

“It’s not hard to hide what people don’t want to see.”

“But if the public knew, if they saw, they’d do something about it.”

A doubtful noise sounds from the back of Link’s throat.

“You don’t think so?”

“You’ve heard Cormack’s speeches, haven’t you?
Our country is only as strong as our weakest members
. The public eats it up. Everyone’s been brainwashed to shun abnormality, to stomp it out at the first hint.”

“And we’re okay with that?” Seeing Link’s amused expression at my question riles me up. “I’m serious. The public deserves to know. And if you can really hack into anything, like Rosie says, then why can’t we hack into media channels and start raising awareness?”

Link is grinning at me.

“What?” I bark.

“You’re going all Captain Janeway on me.”

“Captain who?”

He sets his palm against his chest, like I shot him in the heart. “Captain Janeway? From Star Trek Voyager?”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. I shake away the confusion, refusing to let myself be sidetracked. “A major injustice has been brought to our attention. You don’t think we have an obligation to do something about it?”

“Oh, I do. I’m more on board than you know. I just think we should teach you to fly before you captain that Starfleet.” His smile widens, revealing a deep (and charming) set of dimples. “Ready for your first lesson?”

I pull up a chair and park myself beside him.

He threads his fingers together and cracks his knuckles, looking borderline giddy, as if this were some giant video game to conquer and he can’t wait to get to the next level. “I’ve been working on identifying The Gifting. A lot of them are in mental hospitals. Hence, the database.”

“How do you find them?”

“Key words, mostly. Everybody’s gifting is different. Even Shields have unique abilities. But there are commonalities, too. Hallucinations, for example. Every person with the gifting sees the supernatural, or the spiritual. Whatever you want to call it. So I set up the system to pull every patient file that lists hallucinations as a symptom.” He punches some buttons and types in a few codes. The database re-configures itself, shrinking by a good fifty percent. “Still a lot of names, though. So I do another key word search. Let’s go with dreams.”

He punches more buttons, and the list shrinks again.

“The dreams are very telling when it comes to figuring out what someone is. Fighters, for example, almost always describe their dreams as prophetic.”

“Sounds familiar.”

Link tosses me a mischievous wink. “Shields usually have incredibly frustrating dreams where they need to protect someone they love, but they can’t remember how. Personally, I find Cloaks to be the most interesting.”

“Why?”

“Anna’s dreams were crawling with chameleons.”

I quirk one of my eyebrows.

“She could turn people into a chameleon. She could make them change color, even shape, all to blend in with their surroundings.”

“Do all Cloaks dream about chameleons?”

“No, that was just Anna. In Fray’s dreams, anything he touches turns invisible.”

My clammy fingers twist the small stones inside Luka’s bracelet. I want to ask about Keepers. What kind of dreams do they have? But I can’t figure out how to do it without sounding overly interested. “What happens after you identify someone?”

“I awaken them to their gifting.”

“
Awaken
?”

Link plucks the Rubik’s Cube off the desk. “Most people like us think they’re crazy. I visit them in their dreams and explain what’s going on. Once they’re ‘awake’, things get very real, and a lot more dangerous.”

I lean closer, like a plant hungry for the sun. “How so?”

“So far the only person we’ve rescued is Anna. Everyone else here came through Dr. Carlyle.”

“You broke her out?”

“Of this very facility.” Link nods at the computer screen, twisting the cube around with deft fingers. “It’s not easy. In fact, without the skill of a very powerful fighter, it would be impossible. If we didn’t have Cap, we wouldn’t be able to break anyone out.”

“Wait …
Cap
is a fighter?” But he’s in a wheelchair. His legs have no muscle mass.

“When it comes to The Gifting, what you see is rarely ever what you get. Cap is the only one with the skill to manipulate the physical while in spiritual form. Sticks can do it occasionally, but not consistently and when it comes to rescue missions, consistence is mandatory.”

My mind hums louder than the supercomputer in front of us. “What do you mean—manipulate the physical while in spiritual form?”

“It’s like this. Think of our world in terms of realms, right? There’s the physical realm, which is everything we can see and touch. It’s what we can prove because of our senses. We are physical beings.” As if to prove his point, he sets the Rubik’s Cube down and gives my hair a playful tug. “But we’re also spiritual beings. Every single one of us has a soul.”

“You realize that ninety-nine percent of the population would call you crazy for that statement.” My dad would be the first to balk him out of the room.

“I’m well aware. But it’s the truth. A person can choose not to believe it, but that doesn’t make their soul go away. It’s there, whether they want to acknowledge it or not. The supernatural realm is just as real as the physical one, only you can’t see it. It’s the realm of good and evil, light and dark. From everything we can gather, these two forces are at war, and in order to join the battle, passageways are required.”

“Dreams.”

Link nods enthusiastically. “Dreams have doorways. But only Fighters—and Linkers, like myself—are able to pass through them into the supernatural realm.”

“What about Guardians?”

“They can’t pass through unless I bring them over. It’s one of my more valuable assets as a Linker.” His mouth draws up on one side. “Once a Fighter enters the supernatural realm, they can fight supernatural beings, but manipulating physical things is nearly impossible. Only the most highly-skilled Fighters can do it. And even then, it’s crazy dangerous.”

“How so?”

“It’s what landed Cap in four wheels.”

“What happened?”

“He doesn’t like to talk about the details. All I know is that several years ago, he crossed over and things went bad.”

I clear away the dryness in my throat. Best not to dwell on that one for too long. “Okay, so how does it all work—this rescue plan you managed with Anna?”

“After I awaken a person to their gifting and explain what’s going on, Cap steps through a doorway and switches out their medicine. It’s important that they still act like they’re medicated, so as not to tip anyone off. Once they have their strength back, we guide them out of the facility without ever being there. At least not in the physical sense.”

I sit back in the chair and let out a puff of breath. “That is brilliant.”

Link smiles. “Makes us almost impossible to catch.”

Screaming in the Night

A
n hour into research, Cap rolls into the room requiring Link’s assistance, which means I’m left alone with thoughts that twist and tug in a thousand different directions. In an attempt to distract myself, I peruse the makeshift library, hoping to settle into a book. But it’s no use. Outspoken Jo March, moody Heathcliff, not even Alice and her confusing tumble down the rabbit hole can distract me from the restlessness in my legs. I want to run outside, hike through the woods, roam the beach. Since I’m stuck down here, I settle for the closest thing to it.

I change into sweats and pour out my energy on one of the treadmills. I push and push and push until my lungs are heaving and my muscles are burning and sweat soaks through my clothes. Maybe if I perspire enough, the medicine will leave my system and I’ll be able to join Claire and Jose tomorrow afternoon. I don’t stop until my legs have become overstretched rubber bands; then I move to the weights. After a frenzy of various sets and repetitions, I lay back against the bench with my putty-like arms dangling toward the floor. I take back my breath, clean up my sweat with a clump of paper towels, and hit the shower.

The water’s not even lukewarm, but after such an intense workout, the coolness comes as a relief and the surprisingly high pressure kneads my poor muscles. I have no idea how long I stand there beneath the stream as it washes down my body, flowing like rivulets between my toes, onto the cement floor, and down the drain straddled between my feet. Eventually, a toilet flushes. Hands are washed and footsteps fade into silence.

I shut off the water and rub my eyes. After I’m dried and dressed and combed, I head toward the common room. Lazy chatter filters out into the hallway, which means afternoon training must be finished. I give my wet hair a self-conscious tussle.

First, I notice Rosie, who has returned. She stands in the far corner of the room playing foosball with Luka. Claire stands at the head of the table holding a glass of water, laughing as Luka and Rosie twist and pull, clattering the ball around the Plexiglass field. Luka bites his lower lip in concentration and gives one of the handles a strong spin. Whatever move he tried must have failed, because Rosie whoops in jubilation, then dances about like a pixie.

“Your
not boyfriend
threw out a shield on his second try.”

Jillian’s unexpected voice in my ear makes me jump.

“Nobody’s ever done that before,” she says.

I glance again toward the corner of the room. Claire sets her hands on the foosball table and leans over it, capturing Luka’s attention with words I can’t hear. Nor can I see his expression, since the shift in his weight leaves me with nothing to see but his back.

“I’ve never seen Non so impressed.”

A skittish sort of feeling flits through my stomach. I have no idea why Jillian’s commentary has me feeling jumpy. Non’s not the first person to be impressed by Luka, nor will she be the last. He seems to have that effect on everyone he encounters, myself included. And apparently, Claire too. “Everything seems to come naturally to him.”

“I’ll say.”

Claire tips her head back and laughs. I narrow my eyes. “I thought she was into Link.”

“When it comes to cute boys, Claire doesn’t discriminate. And I’m afraid your
not boyfriend
is a walking billboard for cute boys.” Jillian crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’re a Fighter!”

Maybe that’s because I’m convinced I’ll be lousy at it.

“You have to promise to tell me everything once training starts. Jose and Claire are always so vague about what they’re up to with Sticks. It drives me bonkers, especially since they know what the Shields do.”

“Sure, I’ll tell you whatever you want.” My attention gravitates back to Luka.

He looks over his shoulder and a slow smile splits across his face. The brightness of his eyes reminds me of Jillian, only there’s nothing rodent-like about his nose or any other one of his features. He leaves behind a gloating Rosie and a disappointed Claire and makes his way across the common room, unleashing a flurry of butterflies in my stomach.

“Hey,” he says, nodding toward Jillian.

“Hi,” Jillian says back.

“Mind if I borrow Tess for a second?”

“Be my guest.” She wags her thin eyebrows at me as Luka pulls me out into the hallway.

When we’re away from prying eyes, he takes a couple steps down the hall, then pivots on his heel. There’s this triumphant energy about him that makes the air around us sizzle and pop. “I know how to do it.”

“The shield?”

He turns over his palms and flexes his fingers, as if the power of throwing the shield thrums through his tendons. “I can’t believe I finally know how to do it.”

“That’s amazing.” My voice comes out off-key. A little pitchy. Like Pete’s when he went through puberty in eighth grade. I tuck a strand of wet hair behind my ear, but it quickly falls loose. I have no idea why my heart is thudding so erratically against my sternum. Or why I can’t seem to look up from my shoes. “Did you tell anyone that you’ve done it before?”

“No.” Luka shuffles closer. “Why?”

“No reason.”

“Tess.” He hooks his pointer fingers inside the front pockets of my jeans and gently draws me toward him. The butterflies stir into a frenzy. “I know how to protect you now.”

The huskiness of his voice has me looking up. For the first time since stepping onto the Greyhound bus, I don’t see a trace of shadow beneath his eyes. They are as bright and green as the leaves in spring. His hand moves to my hip, his thumb finding a sliver of bare skin beneath the hem of my shirt. A feverish heat radiates from the spot and gathers in my belly. My breath catches. Because I’m pretty sure Luka is going to kiss me. He’s not springing it on me in the middle of a crowded locker bay or in an alley behind a dumpster.