Jaden Baker (22 page)

Someone watched from behind the mirror; he felt their presence. Someone was always there. He knew when they watched him, when they slept on duty, when they filled the crossword or picked food from their teeth. Jaden had never been in that room, but he knew it contained a television, four computers, several switches and buttons, and one swivel chair.

A man sat in the swivel chair, feet on the desk, hands behind his head, relaxing. He watched Jaden, and though he couldn’t see him, Jaden watched back.

The mirror frosted as Jaden got closer. The moisture evaporated then reappeared.

No one gave him a watch, but his changed reflection was as reliable as the ticking hands of a clock. His once shiny black hair was dull, barely reflecting light. He hadn’t seen the sun since waking in this room. No sun, moon, wind, rain, or dry heat. No weather at all. The lack of light gave his skin a vampiric complexion. High cheekbones seemed to poke out of his pale skin, and his cheeks hollowed in a way only age could explain.

Though he ate frequently and in great amounts, he was thin. His jaw bone was so square it appeared sharp. Thanks to his sporadic training sessions with Alan, at least his muscles were defined.

Smiling was a thing of the past, laughing out of the question. Even if something was funny, and Jaden couldn’t imagine what would be, laughing was too loud and sneaky. The corners of his mouth were drawn down and his lips long. Brushing his teeth was the only time his cheeks were allowed exercise. Courtesy of Dr. Claire, his teeth, at least, were perfect. Straight, white, glowing.

And his eyes. His once bright, warm gray eyes now shone with anguished luminescence. Together with his dark hair and ashen skin, they were inhuman. It’s said the eyes are windows to the soul. But in this house, the lights were out and ghosts haunted.

Though the years had hardened his spirit and appearance, they had also sharpened his skills. Hyperawareness came to him the first time he’d done anything worthy of praise. It had lasted only a second. After years of practice and experience, that sensation was with him always. He was tuned in to everything and everyone in his vicinity: aware of a person’s location, the rhythm of his breathing, the rate of his heart.

Jaden fogged the mirror with his breath. He traced with his finger two dots for eyes, a downward curve for a frown, and two straight, angled slashes above the eyes for angry brows. As the fog from his breath evaporated, Jaden glared into the mirror where he knew the observer’s eyes were locked. Jaden pointed at him, then turned away and walked to his bed.

The door clanked opened and Martin walked in. Jaden didn’t need to face him to know who it was. Martin always paused before entering. Before he made another step, the tray of food was lifted from his hands and floated away from him, landing with precision control on the edge of Jaden’s bed.

They’d prepared him fried eggs, hash browns, fruit, and a stack of toast. Jaden started on the toast and was irritated Martin remained. Jaden scowled at him over his shoulder. “Is there anything else?” he asked in a deep, calm voice.

Martin took a small step back and shook his head. He backed out, the door clanked shut.

Jaden proceeded with breakfast, eating as he read a book. Dalton kept his word just as Jaden had. He provided Jaden with new books as soon as he’d read all he had. A new box was brought almost weekly. Most were boring. Dalton had taken an interest in Jaden’s reading material, trading fantasy and science fiction for tamer, mediocre stories that left nothing to be inspired. Or ideas to be had. Occasionally a worthy read would escape Dalton’s purge.

He assumed Dalton feared Jaden might get ideas from books, escape plans perhaps. At first Jaden wondered why Dalton always provided him with books, whether Dalton was around or not. He gleaned, through something Dalton had said, that reading helped Jaden’s PK skills and speed of learning. As long as Jaden performed at high levels, Dalton didn’t care what he did. It was why he didn’t object to Jaden exercising in his cell, jumping jacks, push-ups, crunches. Everything helped.

It was then that Dalton supplied materials with no entertainment value at all, a move indicative of changes to come. Dalton provided books on physics, chemistry, and human anatomy. Jaden read these with such voracity it alarmed the staff, but Dalton promised their safety. Jaden smiled at their gullibility, at Dalton’s sense of trust.

At last Jaden knew why he was here. Dr. Dalton wanted Jaden to become a medical instrument. Once he had devoured the anatomy and science books, he knew how the body worked, a spectacular weapon for him, and curing device for Dalton. His captivity had always been for the
Greater Good.
It was how Dalton went home to his family: knowing he helped humanity, instead of holding a boy captive for his own selfish reasons. Jaden’s incarceration benefited
the world
.

After Jaden finished breakfast, he brushed his teeth and washed. Dalton would soon retrieve him for another day of tedious and needless exercises. Jaden was no longer a novice or intermediate. He had surpassed expert and was something of psychokinetic virtuoso. But Dalton had no idea just how good Jaden was. He never would.

The instant he mastered multiple levitation, there had been no need to continue recording brain activity. Dalton allowed Jaden to grow his hair, perhaps hoping it would make him feel less alien, or like a subject under the microscope. Baldness left him feeling exposed and violated. Having his hair was better—he was still a prisoner.

Dalton entered the room as Jaden finished washing his hands. Jaden glanced at him from the corner of his eye, his way of a morning greeting. If it was morning.

He figured he was on an alternate shift from the rest of the world. His morning was everyone’s night. He came to this conclusion because Dalton only conducted exercises for a few hours, probably after Dalton was done doctoring wherever he practiced. He also frequently caught staff members yawning toward in the middle of their shifts, and looking extremely exhausted by the end.

Jaden walked to Dalton, looking at his necktie, not in his eyes.

When Jaden first arrived, Dalton’s many colored ties fascinated him, the only color present. They had always been businesslike and conservative, matching the suit he wore underneath his white coat. Recently the patterns had changed. His ties were chaotic, riskier than before, like Dalton was nervous. When he’d worn his mundane ties of pale blue checkers, he had been confident, sure of himself. These new ties, red spirals on gray, or blue zig zags on black, signified a shaken demeanor.

Today was bright yellow circles on blue.

Something was changing. The ties by themselves could have been coincidence. Combined with his new exercises, the advanced books, and the briskness of Dalton’s manner, Jaden was sure something was different. Something was coming.

Test room two, the place of his first controlled PK miracle, was where Jaden did most of his exercises. Today was no different. Inside were hundreds of soft orange footballs, some stacked one on top of the other. The floor was littered with them. Jaden kicked them as he walked.

He didn’t need anyone telling him what to do. He felt each and every ball, as if his fingertips brushed them all at once. Dalton had been gradually increasing the quantity of objects for months now, so Jaden could adjust to the feeling—that’s exactly what it was: a feeling, a constant, pressing sensation of being connected to everything. It made perfect sense. You could only move what you could touch. Since he moved everything, he touched everything, too. Tactility, in his mind.

The balls instantly filled the air, spacing equally apart as if in a three dimensional grid.

Jaden felt Dalton’s heart rate increase.

He reminded himself that now was not the time. He didn’t know how to get clear of here, so killing Dalton would be premature and foolish. The doors worked on a cog system; they were long and penetrated deep into the concrete floor. The mechanics lay far beneath him, out of Jaden’s mental reach. If he knew how to operate the doors, he could open them. The doors were the only things he couldn’t control.

He wondered if the facility had a lock down emergency system. There were at least four people on staff at any given time, yet these days he only saw two at a time.

To give Dalton a greater thrill, Jaden manipulated the footballs to circle the room and pop up and down to the rhythm of Dalton’s heart beat. Jaden watched as the visual orchestra beat in time with Dalton’s pulse, increasing the pace with the aortic metronome.

When Jaden bored of that, he called the footballs to spiral and coil around him, creating a funnel, with him at the center. He conducted the balls to spill at the ceiling like a water fountain, and made them bounce as if splashing once they reached the floor.

Jaden observed greedy delight in Dalton’s eyes. Dalton picked up a fallen football and tossed it at Jaden, who suspended it in mid air then drew it toward him, hovering it inches above his right hand. The football spun there, first slowly, then gained speed and eventually moved so fast it was nothing but an orange blur.

“Exceptional,” Dalton said, covering his mouth so he could hide his grin.

Jaden stopped the ball and dropped it into his hand.

“I want to move you into the next room for something more challenging,” Dalton said.

They moved to test room one. On the table were three items: a glass punch bowl filled with water, a candle stick, and a chemistry book. Dalton sat and had Jaden do the same. Dalton flipped the page to the molecular structure of water, showing Jaden—he already knew about H2O. But he let Dalton teach, assuming that’s what Dalton wanted.

“The principle is simple,” Dalton said. “To make water hot, one adds energy and the molecules get excited. The faster they move, the hotter the water, until they become so excited they vaporize.”

So Dalton wanted him to work with water. Water was a cohesive molecule, meaning it liked sticking together. It also had adhesive tendencies with certain surfaces, like glass. To change from a liquid to a vapor, he needed to excite the molecules. Heat was traditionally applied. Now Jaden was the Bunsen burner.

The concept was simple: accelerate the molecules. Theoretically it was possible. If he could move things on the macro level, he should be able to manipulate on the micro level.

Dalton was still yammering. Jaden ignored him. If he could sense a beating heart and a stomach contracted with hunger, he thought he could heat a bowl of water. He stuck his finger inside and concentrated on the molecules within.

Water molecules always moved, even as a solid. As ice they moved slowly, bumping against one another, locked in. These molecules were moving at the pace of...well, he had no other analogy than that of a car. If ice was a parked car, then the molecules in this bowl were going 15 miles per hour—the water was freezing cold. If he wanted it boiling, he needed 100 miles per hour.

With his finger still in the water, Jaden stared in the bowl, feeling the absolute wetness of the water inside it. Since he couldn’t see the molecules, like he saw the footballs, Jaden would have to imagine them instead, willing the water to heat.

He saw them in his mind’s eye, bouncing off each other and gradually drifting away. Then he saw them hitting one another with urgency, spiraling and colliding with other molecules in turn.

His finger warmed and Jaden withdrew it as steam rose from the bowl. The surface rippled, coming to a soft, then rolling boil.

Dalton gaped.

Jaden allowed the water to boil a few seconds, giving Dalton the effect, then he slowed the molecules to a stop, freezing the water, first the surface then deeper until the bowl filled with solid ice.

“Impressive,” Dalton said, looking at Jaden. “Turn it back to water.”

Of course. The ice bowl was heavy and could be hurled through space and kill someone. Jaden liquefied the ice.

The candle was a trickier matter. Jaden correctly assumed Dalton wanted him to create fire. Unlike boiling water, fire needed a reaction.

“The water was already in the bowl,” Jaden droned. “I can’t create fire.”

Dalton lit the candle with a lighter from his pocket. With his other hand on the chemistry book, and one lighting the candle, nothing held the remote control in Dalton’s left jacket pocket, the remote that powered the shock collar. The shock collar’s purpose was to break Jaden’s concentration should he use PK to harm someone.

But he didn’t know how to get through the doors, so Jaden tried ignoring Dalton’s slip. Maybe it was better this way. Dalton made a mistake, and still had not realized it. He trusted Jaden would not harm him.

“Can you increase the size of the flame?” Dalton asked.