"Luke, Lucy, open up!" I rapped on their door again and tried the knob, as if it would magically unlock for me.
They'd never locked me out before.
Fear pricked my chest. I scanned for their mental signatures and reeled back in shock. Their minds had a weight and sluggishness to them that I'd never felt before.
My voice hitched with unshed tears. "Open up, please!"
Luke finally came to the door, and I hugged him hard. "What's wrong with you?"
"Don't know. Feel weird. Tired. Maybe we caught that flu."
I pushed my way in and felt his forehead. "You don't have a fever. Where's Lucy?"
"In bed sleeping."
I peeked in on her and then curled up on their couch. "Can I stay the night?"
Luke shrugged. "Whatever you want. I'm going to bed."
I wrapped myself in the throw blanket and reached out to Drake.
'I'm here.'
"I can't sleep."
'Neither can I. I'll stay up with you.'
And he did. When the sun came up, I finally fell asleep to the sound of his voice as he described Venice Beach.
The next morning, Luke and Lucy seemed less affected, but I woke up with a fever.
When I fell over while trying to stand, Luke picked me up and carried me back to the clinic. My weak protests did nothing to stop him.
"You're sick, Sam. Really sick. Like, 103-degree fever sick. You're going to the doctor."
I wanted to say, "The doctor that made me sick." Instead, I said something like, "Gumma mum ack," then threw up on Luke's chest and passed out.
***
I woke up groggy and in the Clinic. My head screamed at me to chop it off and put it out of its misery. My body clearly had been weighted down with lead.
"Good morning, sunshine." Dr. Sato, all five feet and ninety pounds of her, leaned in close.
Relief poured through me. Better her than Dr. Pana. "How long was I out? What happened to me?" My voice cracked, making me sound like a shipwreck survivor. I tried to lift my head. Bad idea. Sorry head.
"You get sick on boyfriend. He bring you here. You been unconscious. High fever."
"He's not my boyfriend." Mistrust tickled the back of my brain, and I instinctively reached for her mind to fill in the missing pieces of the story.
I'd been studying her dialect for weeks, but still hadn't learned enough to make sense of her thoughts.
A spasm in my abdomen wrenched me from her mind. I rested a hand on my stomach and tried to breathe.
"Are you all right? You hurting?"
"Just cramping. What am I sick with?"
"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.
