B003J5UJ4U EBOK (12 page)

Disrupter?
I wondered what that was. I skimmed some of the earlier pages, but none of the other entries mentioned it. There was also nothing about my family, or about any plans for me after the experiments were done. Maybe he was just going to lock me away forever, or burn me up for real. I
fought down the urge to destroy the place. It was better if I left no trace of my visit. I didn’t want him to know I was still in town.

I’d learned all I could here. I put the file back where I’d found it and checked around to make sure I hadn’t disturbed anything. But there was one more thing I could do before I left. I figured a lot of stuff never got printed out, and wouldn’t be in the file cabinets. The important stuff could all be on the computer. My MP3 player also worked as a flash drive. I went to one of the computers, plugged into the USB port, and copied the documents folder.

That’s when I heard a key in the door. I yanked out the MP3 player and looked around for a place to hide.

“You’re good with locks, my young friend,” someone called from the hallway. “But you know nothing about alarms. That’s why you need me. I can teach you.”

Bowdler’s voice was like a shot of sulfuric acid pumped directly into my veins. I hadn’t even thought there’d be an alarm. My desire to hurt him went to war with my desire not to look into those eyes again. The last time I’d lashed out in panic, I’d killed someone. If I did that now, I’d never get answers to my questions. I needed a minute to calm myself and figure out how to do this right.

I ducked behind the desk. There was a window in the wall facing the street. Staying hidden, I raised the window as quickly and as noisily as I could.

From where I crouched, I heard Bowdler run down the hall. I could see him through a gap beneath the top of the desk. He strolled into the room and headed for the window.
He had a gun in one hand and a small, unpainted metal box in the other.

I couldn’t tell whether the gun was the kind that fired darts or real bullets. Either way, I didn’t want to get shot. If he knocked me out now, I’d never see the streets of Philadelphia again.

As he leaned out the window, I reached out with my mind to yank the gun from his hand. Once he was disarmed, I could make him tell me everything I needed to know.

Nothing happened.

I tried again. Nothing.

I felt like someone had just cut off my arms. I tried harder. I tried with all the strength my mind could generate, but it was useless. The gun might as well have been made of air. My power didn’t touch it. Why? Was it that thing he carried? Was that what a disrupter did? I remember when I’d failed to move the marble in the lab. He must have been testing the disrupter. I stayed still and waited for him to climb through the window.

“Nice try, Eddie,” he said. “You’re pretty clever for an amateur.” He stepped away from the window and scanned the room. “But you’re no match for professionals.”

Think!

I was so used to depending on my talent, it was hard to imagine any other solution.

“Eddie, I’m not in the mood for hide and seek. We have a lot of work to do. There’s nothing to worry about. No more nasty medicine, I promise. We don’t need that anymore.”

I held my breath as Bowdler’s eyes locked on the desk,
then nearly jumped as a harsh squawk burst through the air. He put the box on the window ledge and pulled a walkie-talkie from a clip on his belt.

“Any sign of him outside?” He paused a moment, then said, “I didn’t think so. He’s still in here.” He shook his head. “No. Maintain your position. I want you out front if he makes a break for the door. Don’t worry about the back. He can’t clear the wall.”

So there was at least one other person outside, and Bowdler was about to start searching for me. I had a feeling he was very good at hide and seek. Or search and destroy. I couldn’t just wait here and hope he didn’t find me.

But there was no way I was going to jump him. He had a gun, he was way bigger than I was, and he probably knew all sorts of deadly fighting techniques. The only thing I had going for me was surprise.

I waited until he looked down to clip the walkie-talkie back onto his belt. There was a heavy tape dispenser on the desk. I grabbed it, stood up, and threw it as hard as I could. But not at him. Hoping I was right, I aimed for the box on the window sill. If that’s what was blocking my power, I had a chance to get out of here. Even as the dispenser left my hand, I found myself trying to guide it with my mind. But that wasn’t necessary. I hit the box with a solid shot, sending it flying out the window. I heard it clatter to the street. Broken, I hoped. If not, I was definitely in deep trouble.

Bowdler spun toward me. I reached out with my mind and ripped the gun from his hand. It flew up with so much force,
it smashed through the plasterboard of the ceiling. He was lucky it didn’t take his trigger finger with it.

I had my power back. I could do anything I wanted to him. I could snap his ribs or rip his heart out through his mouth. I could pluck his eyesballs from their sockets and force him to juggle them.

The gun must have cut him when I yanked it away. Blood spilled from a gash in his palm. I hesitated for an instant, fighting the memories brought on by the sight. I had to stop him, but I didn’t want to live with the burden of another death.

Unlike me, Bowdler didn’t hesitate. He dived backward and rolled out the window. “Give me your disrupter,” he shouted.

I raced into the hallway. I knew I couldn’t go out the front. I ran to the rear of the house. By the time I reached the door, I’d unlocked it and flung it open with my mind. I leaped out the back, my feet barely even touching the porch steps, and ran as fast as I could. There was a brick wall behind the house at least ten feet high. Maybe more. It was higher than I could jump. I couldn’t lift myself more than a couple inches. The times I’d tried anything like that, I’d ended up sprawled on my butt.

I heard footsteps racing down the hallway. I searched the yard for something I could use as a ladder. No tables. No chairs. Not even a large flower pot. But there were some leftover bricks scattered on the ground.

I stacked three bricks, end to end, two feet away from the
wall. Keeping those in place, I stacked six more bricks a foot from the wall to the left of the first stack. As I ran toward my emergency stairs, I pressed nine bricks against the wall, in line with the first three, and hoped I could hold everything in place under my weight.

I reached the first stack, stepped on it with my right foot, landed on the second stack with my left, then hit the third with my right. I felt like I’d just been plunged into a real-life video game. As I leaped to the top of the wall, I let the bricks topple back down behind me.

The other side of the wall led to more backyards. I jumped down, then cut around a house and onto the street, sprinting full out, like Death himself was on my tail. I ran until I couldn’t even breathe, and then ran some more. Finally, I stopped and risked a glance over my shoulder. There was no sign of Bowdler. But I knew I couldn’t stay in the city. They’d be searching for me, swarming through the city like wasps from a busted nest. I had no idea how many people Bowdler had at his disposal. I needed to get out of Philadelphia. But first, I had to become someone else.

elsewhere …

AS MARTIN HEADED
down the street, he wondered what Trash’s parents had done to bring this sort of trouble to their doorstep. And he wondered whether he should try to warn them. He had no way to get in touch with them. But there was still something he could do.

When he reached town, he called 911 from a pay phone and told the dispatcher, “There’s a car parked across the street from eight-thirty-four Harbor Road. There’s a guy in it. He has a gun.”

He wasn’t sure that was true, though it was hard to imagine that the guy wasn’t armed. He probably had a gun, a knife or two, and maybe a small atom bomb. At least the police would come and check him out.

Having done all he could, Martin headed for a corner diner to put some food in his grumbling stomach. He sat at the counter and wolfed down a grilled cheese sandwich. He was dying to eat more, but he wanted to save as much of the cash as possible. The waitress told him where he could catch a bus that would take him a good part of the way toward Cheater’s house. She was so nice, he felt bad about leaving
her a crummy tip. But he knew she was proud of her daughter, so he asked her if she had any kids and listened politely while she bragged.

Once he got off the bus, he only had to walk two more miles. This time, someone was home. A kid who looked like an older, bigger, version of Cheater answered the door. He was eating an apple.

“Is Dennis here?” Martin asked.

The guy shook his head, chewed for a moment, then said, “Nope. The stupid jerk got himself beat up.”

“What?”

The guy shrugged and wiped a dribble of juice from his chin. “My dipwad little brother managed to get the snot stomped out of himself in some fleabag motel. Not very smart. Our parents are on a trip, so guess who had to deal with it? I’m always getting stuck.” He started to close the door.

Martin put his hand on the door. “Where is he?”

“Philly. That hospital where they treat kids with thick heads.”

“I’m a friend of his. Martin Anderson. He ever mention me?” Martin hoped Cheater’s brother would at least invite him in. Or maybe offer him a ride to Philly.

The guy shook his head, then wrinkled up his nose. “Man, you really smell. Ever heard of soap?” He shut the door.

“I guess I’m going to Philly,” Martin said.

radical disguise

I FLED TOWARD
the train station, scanning the stores I passed in search of a new identity. I finally found a place that sold extreme hair color in a can. I’d learned something from the pajamas—you can try to avoid stares, or you can force people to look away. I couldn’t think of any easy way to avoid getting recognized, so I figured I’d try to make myself so radical that anyone looking for Eddie Thalmayer wouldn’t give me a second glance.

Red, green, black, or white? My hair was light brown. I went for black. I grabbed three fake nose rings, some hair gel, a spiked wrist band, and a Ramones t-shirt—probably more stuff than I needed, but I didn’t want to waste time thinking it over. I paid, headed for the door, then froze. Carrying the stuff wouldn’t do me any good.

“You have a bathroom?” I asked the girl at the counter.

She shook her head. “It’s not for public use.”

I gave her my best lost-puppy look. I also gave her lungs the tiniest squeeze, so she’d feel her heart flutter and her breath speed up. It was a cheap trick, but I didn’t have much choice.

Her expression softened. “Oh, why not. It’s in the back.”

“Thanks.” I went into the bathroom and transformed myself into every parent’s nightmare. To make the change complete, I hunched over, like the whole world was pulling me down with more force than I could bear. It
was a
posture I was familiar with.

“Thanks again,” I said to the girl when I came back out.

She didn’t blink at the change. In fact, she smiled. “Hey,” she called after me as I went out the door, “you doing anything tonight?”

“Yeah, sorry. I expect to be tied up later.”

As soon as I hit the street, I knew I’d picked the right costume. People would stare for an instant as I walked toward them, then look away, as if the image stung their eyes. They noticed me, but they didn’t really see me. I was radically shielded.

But I’d feel a whole lot better once I got out of Philadelphia and headed for some other city. Preferably a big one. Maybe I’d go to New York. It would be easy enough to disappear once I got there. I’d figure it out when I reached the station.

Every time I saw someone in a dark suit heading toward me, my breath sped up. I knew the whole world
wasn’t
searching for me. That would be a crazy thought. But somebody was trying to find me.

I reached the alley where I’d stashed my backpack, floated it down, then crossed over to the train station. I spotted a guy in a blue suit right by the main entrance. He was just standing there holding a tiny yellow shopping bag. Guys in suits don’t carry shopping bags. Not unless they’re with a lady
who’s shopping. None of the men I’d seen earlier had a bag. Maybe it had taken Bowdler a while to get more of those disrupters made. If this guy had one of them in the bag, I’d be powerless. I tried to move a candy wrapper that was crumpled on the ground near his feet. It didn’t budge.