Mindsurge (Mindspeak Book 3) (31 page)

“That’s true. You only need a small incision.”

I nodded. I’d just have to figure out a way to make that initial cut.

“And Lexi, don’t forget. You
have
to get this tracker on the satellite communication system and off the island’s cell tower as
soon
as you can. You cannot allow Sandra to gain control of your mind.”

I scooped up the small device from her hand, and she took hold of mine. “Lexi, I know I haven’t been a good mom, but… I want you to know how proud I am of you. And that I never stopped loving you. And your father… he’d be so proud of you, too.”

Lexi, they’re leaving,
Addison mindspoke.

I swallowed hard. “I have to go. Take care of Anita for Addison.” Leaning in, I gave my mom a quick hug.

I hurried over to the side of the boat and climbed up to sit on the edge of the railing. The men on the Coast Guard boat were laughing and yelling. Before I could change my mind, I pushed off from the yacht and hurled myself toward the smaller boat below. I nearly missed and plummeted into the water, but thankfully I just made the distance. And thankfully, they were making too much noise to hear me land with a heavy thud. I turned and urged Addison over.

She climbed up onto the railing and did a graceful, ballerina-like leap onto the back of the boat.

A guy yelled, “Let’s get out of here.”
 

The boat pulled away slowly. I turned and looked up at Jack.
I love you.

And I you.

I’ll see you soon, okay? Promise me.

See you soon.

“Never goodbye,” I whispered to myself. I blew him a kiss. As I lifted my hand away from my lips, gunfire rang out, and sparks flew from the top of
La Luna y el Sol.
I covered my mouth to stifle a scream.

What was that?
Addison asked.

Everyone on
La Luna y el Sol
stared above them, except for Jack, whose face continued to point in my direction. I stared from him to the spot where sparks still flew in small bursts of light.

Lexi,
Jack yelled inside my head.
They just took out our satellite. We’ve lost all communication.

The sun was rising on the port side of the boat. I crawled to a cushioned bench.

I’m going to puke,
I mindspoke to Addison. I slapped a hand over my mouth, as if that would stop it, willing my body to suppress the overwhelming waves of nausea.

I can make those guys think they’re not seeing you spew into the ocean, but I can’t stop the sound or the smell.

Two men sat on tall chairs just a few feet away from us. One of them sliced a green apple with a pocketknife. The other finished off a granola bar and tossed his trash toward a metal tub, but missed.

Sitting up straight and looking to the front of the boat, I concentrated on the horizon in front of us, trying to settle my equilibrium.

My world tilted slightly. A waft of rotten fish smell made me gag, and my mouth continued to water. Without notice, the boat hit a large swell, sending us up and back down again. My stomach did the same thing. I grabbed hold of the rail and leaned over the side of the boat. I couldn’t hold it back. A ridiculous amount of liquid flew up my throat and out of my mouth, splashing into the water below. The wind sent some of the liquid splattering down the side of the boat.

“What the hell was that?” The man with the apple put his pocketknife away and peered down at the water.

I moved quickly to the other side of the boat, hoping I wouldn’t throw up again.
 

Addison, help,
I said when I thought I was done for a moment. I couldn’t easily mindspeak when I was spending all of my energy concentrating on not being sick.

Exactly what am I supposed to do? Hold your hair?
She stayed out of the way, curled into a tiny ball on the edge of a bench in the back of the boat.
Find the horizon. Concentrate on that. That’s what everybody says when you’re carsick, anyway. I don’t get motion sick, so I wouldn’t know.

Of course you don’t
.

When at last I thought I was done vomiting, I lifted my head slowly and watched the horizon again. The boat went over another large swell. This time I handled it okay. The two men continued to look over the other side of the boat, confused.

After another wave, I thought I saw something up ahead. I stood up. It was land. And not all that far away.

“Hey, Dave, I think this is puke,” Mr. Granola Bar yelled.

“What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t Dr. Whitmeyer say one of the clones could make themselves invisible?”

The two men began looking around the boat. Mr. Granola Bar called out to the guys on the open bridge above.

I stared at Addison. She shrugged.
What are we supposed to do?

I looked around and found a couple of life jackets. They were bright orange—not exactly inconspicuous. But they would help us float.

A couple more men climbed down from the bridge. “What is it?”

“I think one of those clones is on board,” Mr. Granola Bar whispered, as if being invisible made us hard of hearing, too.

It was starting to get crowded on the deck. One wrong move, and someone would bump right into us. I glanced at the life jackets again, then noticed an emergency life raft beside them. It was packed into a sunshine yellow rectangle.

“Have you two been into the shine? There’s no one down here.” One of the men waved Granola Bar off.

Another man pointed to Mr. Granola Bar’s wrapper. “And clean up your trash. We’ll be on land in ten.”

I whipped my head around to face Addison. We both leaned over the side of the boat and peered ahead. Sure enough, we were drawing nearer and nearer to land.

What do you think? Palmyra?
Addison asked.

Has to be.
But I hadn’t implanted the tracker yet. What with the hiding and the nausea…

What do we do? Jump in the water? Wait ’til they’ve parked this stupid boat?

I closed my eyes as another wave of nausea hit me.
Let me think.
I drilled fingers into my temples.

The boat turned and seemed to be heading toward the western side of the island. Before we did anything else, I had to get that tracker implanted. If we arrived at the island without the tracker at the base of my skull, Sandra would know immediately that it was me and not Maya.
Addison, you have to help me implant this tracker into my neck.

What? Are you crazy?

Probably.
If I have any hope of moving around Sandra’s facility, I have to make her think I’m Maya.
I just hoped Alyson had gotten the satellite back up and running. I wouldn’t be able to fool Sandra for long. And I had no way of knowing if Jonas was being controlled by Sandra.

Several hundred yards from shore, the boat’s engine was cut. My back stiffened. The men moved about the boat, covering and securing loose items.
 

I swallowed against another wave of nausea.
Hurry, find something sharp to make an incision.
The tracker itself was designed to do most of the work.

Lexi, I’m not going to cut your neck open with anything from this boat. No telling what types of bacteria you’d be putting into your blood. Oh—wait.
Addison stood and started walking toward the front of the boat.
There,
she pointed.
A first-aid kit. There’s got to be something in it.
 

Mr. Granola Bar turned and stumbled in Addison’s direction. She sidestepped him just in time, but her arm grazed his ever so slightly. He lifted a hand and scratched where the contact was made.

“Hey, Dirk,” a man yelled from someplace outside the boat.

I darted to the railing. A bald man in a tank top rowed a dinghy up to the Coast Guard boat.
Hurry, Addi.

I’ve got it.
She opened the kit, searching through it.
There’s nothing sharp in here.

Bring the entire kit.
We moved to a quiet corner in the back of the boat, where hopefully we would be safe from running into anyone.

The first aid kit had alcohol and antiseptic wipes, as I expected. After dousing both my hands and Addison’s with alcohol, I pulled a hairpin from my hair.
We can use this.
I grabbed her hand and urged her to look me directly in my eyes.
Don’t touch the ruby, okay?
If the paralyzing agent were to leak out into my skin… disaster.

She raised both eyebrows.
Got it.

I removed the plastic that covered the tip of the hairpin, then scrubbed the entire needle with antiseptic. After handing the needle over to Addison, I brushed my long braid to the side and used a separate wipe to clean a spot on the back of my neck. Next, I cleaned the tracker that Alyson and I had carried around for so long. I’d never imagined the day would come when I would actually allow it to work its way through my neck and latch onto the base of my skull. Would it even work?

Okay, cut.
 

I reached for a couple of packages of gauze as Addison made the incision.

Here goes nothing,
she said.

I reached out and covered her shaky hand with mine.
You can do this. I trust you.
Addison grabbed the gauze from my hand to mop up the blood from the wound. I closed my eyes tight as she touched my neck with her small fingers. When the needle first sliced my skin, I flinched.

I’m ready for the tracker.

I handed it to her.
This better not kill me,
I said, attempting to keep things light. Then the cold metal touched my skin, and I knew this was it. No turning back. I also knew that once it was inserted, I might be stuck with this foreign object inside my head forever.

The pressure of the tracker’s insertion was almost too great. If my equilibrium wasn’t already off, the burrowing invader had me gripping the railings along the side of the boat until my knuckles were white.

You okay?
When I felt Addison press more gauze to my neck, I knew it was done.

I shook my head. The pain of the tracker moving little by little through my neck brought on another wave of nausea. I fought back tears from the biting pain.

Talk to me. I’m scared.
Addison’s voice came out in a whimper.

While the tracker did its thing, I fought through the pain and homed in on the wound in my neck. I could actually see the separation of skin. With my mind, I closed the gap, stopping any additional bleeding. I did it. I healed my own wound.

Finally the pain subsided. I reached for the last package of clean gauze and soaked it with alcohol. Addison took it from me and cleaned my neck.
You’re good,
she said. We traded a glance—it was a combination of unspoken relief, and a prayer that I hadn’t just inflicted my own fatal wound.

The men continued to move about the boat, occasionally tossing something in the dinghy. I hadn’t even considered the fact that they wouldn’t drive the boat directly up to some kind of dock.

Beyond the beach, a thick forest of palm trees lined the shore. From this distance, I couldn’t see a lot of detail, but it looked wild, untamed. I suddenly imagined the sandy beach being littered with seashells and other debris washed up from the ocean.

I looked down at the dress and flip-flops I had chosen for last night’s romantic dinner, and I wished I had on something more suited for traipsing through razor-sharp seashells and making my way through a jungle of tropical wildlife and foliage.

Addison stepped back from me, sticking her arms out to her side to balance while standing in the back of the rocking boat.
Are we going to have to swim to shore?

Another wave of nausea hit me. I had to get off the boat, and fast, before I threw up again.
Can you swim?

As in, do I know how? Yes, but—

Then let’s go. I have to get off this boat.
I climbed up to sit on the edge of the craft and swung my legs around. Then, as silently as possible, I dropped into the water, minimizing my splash as my entire body slipped under the surface.

Almost immediately, my body’s balance leveled out, and I floated on my back, using my arms to distance myself from the boat.

You can do it, Addi. Come on.

Two men—Granola Bar and another man—stepped toward Addison, their legs wide to keep their balance. I returned to an upright position in the water. They must have heard my splash off the side of the boat.
Watch out
.

Addison dodged to her left and was almost out of their way when one of the men’s arms brushed against her.
 

The man fell backward against Mr. Granola Bar. “Holy shit, what was that?”

“Get off me, dude.” Mr. Granola Bar pushed his friend away, this time sending him right into Addison.

“It’s one of them. They
are
here.” The man waved his hands through the air in front of him. Addison ducked.

Jump! Don’t let him catch you!

Addison turned and grabbed onto the side, then she very awkwardly rolled over the side of the boat and belly-flopped into the water, making a loud and lovely splash.
Graceful
, I said when she surfaced.

The men were yelling obscenities and pointing.

Are we still invisible to them?

Yes.

Addison struggled to keep water out of her mouth as small waves tossed her small body about. I reached out a hand to steady her long enough for her to get a breath.
Let’s get to land.

As we swam—being careful not to splash—I looked back at the boat, where four of the men were now climbing into the rowboat. They seemed to be in no hurry, so I assumed that Mr. Granola Bar and his friend had kept the information about our presence to themselves.
Men and their egos,
I laughed. Hopefully, their pride would keep us safe a bit longer.

We swam another hundred yards and then the waves began to help us along the rest of the way. Once on the beach, we both collapsed in the sand. The sun had now risen higher in the sky, and its harsh rays beat down on us. The area on the back of my neck throbbed, and I couldn’t even think about the flesh-eating bacteria that might have crawled into the wound.