Mindsurge (Mindspeak Book 3) (35 page)

Sandra smiled. “Apparently, Maya’s a fast dialer.” She nodded toward Dr. Mendez and Dr. DeWeese.

Before I could react, Dr. Mendez stuck me in the arm with a needle and syringe. The room tilted and the people in it went fuzzy.

And I collapsed into the arms of my boyfriend’s father.

I woke to the sights and sounds of various medical machines. The heart monitor to my right beeped at a constant rate. An oxygen tube led from my nose to some unidentified source behind me, but did nothing to block out the smells of sterilization.

I turned my head left and right. Leather straps bound my wrists and ankles. I was dressed in gray hospital scrubs.

After several seconds, Dr. Mendez came into view. “This would have been much easier if you had simply complied with Dr. Whitmeyer’s wishes from the beginning.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I couldn’t form words. I opened my eyes wider, pleaded with Dr. Mendez.

“Oh, honey. Don’t bother trying to talk. Dr. Whitmeyer thought it necessary to simply—how should we say—
turn off
the area of your brain that would allow you to speak. It will wear off shortly. In time for the tests.”

I heard what she said. Understood it even. But I struggled to process what it meant.

Dr. Mendez leaned over me, lifting one perfectly sculpted eyebrow as she spoke. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We need to get a complete picture of what happens inside your brain. We’re going to measure the changes in blood flow to the different areas of your brain, and we’re going to take readings of your neuronal activity.”

As her words sank further and further into my thoughts, they began to make sense. I wanted to ask how she planned to take these pictures, but then the reality of my situation began to rear its ugly head.

I had turned myself over to Sandra. Strapped to a gurney and hooked up to various machines, I was living my worst nightmare. I stretched out my fingers, curling them into fists, while trying to slip them from the straps that held me there.

My pulse sped up. I could feel it against the table where my wrist was bound too tightly. An alarm sounded on one of the machines.

“Sarah, you need to calm down. Your heart rate is too fast.” Dr. Mendez placed her small hands on my shoulders and stared into my eyes. “Breathe, Sarah.”

I bucked, but Dr. Mendez quickly placed a strap across my hips, keeping me immobile. She backed away, then turned and sprinted to an intercom on the wall. “Dr. Whitmeyer, come quickly.”

I willed myself to slow my respiration. Deep breath in, deep breath out. I could do this. If I was the ultimate healer Sandra believed me to be—and what my father had created me to be—then I should possess abilities that would get me out of this predicament.

Sandra raced into the room, followed by Dr. DeWeese, who limped in with the help of a cane. The image of me shooting him in the leg at The Farm flashed through my mind.

I should have aimed higher.

They both stood over me and regarded me like a caged animal. Dr. DeWeese looked so much like Jack…

Jack
. What had happened to him? How long had I been out? I searched Sandra’s eyes for any sign that she had held up her end of the bargain and made him better. My heart constricted. The pain of missing him overwhelmed me.
 

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t.

Sandra smiled. “Oh, look, John. It wants to speak.”

Dr. DeWeese leaned toward me, using his cane as support. A sneer touched the corners of his lips.

“Dr. Mendez, I would like for you to do the fMRI immediately,” Sandra said. “We don’t have a lot of time. It has to be complete before our guests arrive. Then I want her sedated and locked up. This lab needs to be running a completely normal operation before the Nature Conservancy arrives. They need to believe we’re studying the effects of tropical plants on the treatment of chronic illness. Or some such shit.”

If the Nature Conservancy would be here soon, it was already the next morning. I’d been out the entire night.

“Right away, ma’am. But we’ll need her brain fully functional while I run the fMRI.” When Sandra looked at her questioningly, she continued. “A functional MRI can only be done when the brain is in use. In order to measure the cerebral blood flow, I’ll have to—”

Sandra held up a hand, effectively silencing Dr. Mendez. “Just do it.”

I narrowed my gaze at Dr. DeWeese. Did he know how sick his son was? Would he care? I lowered my eyes to look at the area of his leg that I had injured with the rubber bullet. I saw through his khaki pants, his skin, and zeroed in on the healing kneecap. The muscles, ligaments, and bone structure surrounding the knee were surrounded by significant inflammation. The doctors in the room continued to speak about the tests and computer mapping of my DNA and neuronal activity while I used my mind to wrap a hand around Dr. DeWeese’s patella. Then with a surge of mind power, I squeezed it with every ounce of strength I possessed.

Dr. DeWeese screamed out in agonizing pain. My eyes popped wider in surprise at what I had just done. He reached for his leg as he crumpled to the floor. I squeezed even harder, making him yell out louder.

Both Dr. Mendez and Sandra knelt beside him. After I let go of his knee and Dr. DeWeese stopped screaming, Sandra’s head popped to attention. “We have to do this quickly. She’s figuring out how to use more of her abilities.”

I suppressed the smile of satisfaction that threatened to lift my lips. Instead, I leaned my head back and mentally brought up an image of my own brain for examination. My neurons fired in many shades of purple. Some neurons fired with a dark indigo hue, some glowed lavender, while others flashed almost a bright white, like a streak of lightning with purple edges.

I immediately saw the darkness in my frontal lobe. That same darkness ran in a straight line from the frontal lobe all the way to the tracker at the base of my skull. I was seeing the effect of the tracker, seeing precisely where it was suppressing my ability to speak. But Jonas had told me that he was able to control every aspect of his tracker—perhaps I could do the same. I found the spot on the tracker where the darkness was the greatest. With my mind, I closed off that part of the tracker’s function, shutting down the message the tracker was sending to my frontal lobe. I knew instantly that I was able to speak again.

Jonas, where are you?

Nothing.

Jonas! Jack!
Even if Jack hadn’t been dying, he wouldn’t have been able to hear me on a boat out in the middle of the ocean—but I had to try.

Dr. Mendez strapped my head down on the table. I wanted to slip inside her head and control her actions, but I decided to let her run her tests for now. At this point they were just taking pictures of my brain. I’d give them what they wanted, pretend to be helpless, and wait for my opportunity.

The fMRI machine was loud, and the vibrations practically caused a migraine. But I didn’t fight them; I remained perfectly still. While the machine did its scan, I concentrated my focus on the straps across my ankles and wrists. I started with my wrists, slowly using my mind to undo the straps. I was surprised at how easily I loosened both straps; I had apparently gotten better and better at using telekinesis to move inanimate objects.

Since my legs stuck out of the machine, and I couldn’t be sure that no one was watching, I left my ankle straps alone. And although I could slip my hands free, I left them loosely inside the straps.
 

Thirty minutes later, my body was brought back out of the cylinder. All three doctors were still in the room and staring at the images of my brain on the monitors.

“It’ll take time to analyze these images,” Sandra said.

“Are we going to keep her sedated forever while we finally get the answers we need?” Dr. DeWeese asked. He sat on the edge of a table, keeping most of his weight on his non-injured leg.

I could answer that question for him: absolutely not.

“If we have to.” Sandra turned to Dr. Mendez. “How many more tests do we need?”

Dr. Mendez had admitted that my brain needed to be fully functioning in order to do the fMRI, yet they looked at me now like they thought I was a vegetable. I wanted to prove them wrong, but it was three against one, and since Sandra had injected herself with the mind-altering DNA matter, she’d been able to reject a clone’s attempt to control her actions. Besides which, she was now protected from me by the Omega Directive. “We may already have all that we need. I got a lot done while she slept. I only needed her fully awake and functioning for the fMRI. I’d love to study her brain activity while she’s in the process of healing another human, but otherwise I think we’re all set.”

It was almost fun to watch them decide what to do next—speaking as if I couldn’t possibly comprehend the lengths they were going to extract information from me.

“Agreed. Sedate her,” Dr. DeWeese said. “I don’t need to constantly worry that she’s getting inside my head while we convince the Nature Conservancy that we’re a legitimate research lab.”

Dr. Mendez pulled a syringe out of her pocket. My heart rate skyrocketed again, as noted by the annoying monitor beside me. I was just preparing to pull my hands free and stop her when there was a knock at the door. They all turned, and I took the opportunity to concentrate on loosening the strap across my hips and the ankle straps.

A security guard entered. “Dr. Whitmeyer, a boat is approaching. No one is answering our calls. What would you like us to do?”

“Could it be representatives from the Nature Conservancy or from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife?”

“I don’t know, ma’am. I would think the feds would announce themselves.”

“Well, take a dinghy out to the boat and see who’s on board. Take several officers with you, but keep your weapons hidden unless necessary. Then report back to me immediately.”

When Sandra and Dr. DeWeese turned back to me, I had successfully loosened all of the straps, but they didn’t notice, and I remained perfectly still. I quickly slipped inside Dr. Mendez’s head.
Dr. Mendez, please stick that needle into your own neck and sedate yourself.

She did as I commanded, then collapsed to the floor.

Sandra rolled her eyes and pulled her smartphone out of her pocket. “Sarah, you don’t want to play this game with us.”

Dr. DeWeese backed up. He held his hands out, as if to tell me he wasn’t armed, though I could see a Glock holstered at his hip.

I sat up and pushed off the hospital bed. “Oh, I assure you, this is no game.” I would find a way to watch this woman suffer slowly.

“We still haven’t healed Jack. You need us.”

At this point, I was pretty sure that Sandra had no power to heal Jack. It was up to Jonas and me to do that. “You promised if I turned myself over, you’d reverse whatever it was you did to him.”

She cocked her head and clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “And you believed me. That’s so sweet.”

I slipped inside her head.
Sandra, please get the gun from Dr. DeWeese and point it at your head.

“Your mind tricks don’t work on me, Sarah. Remember?”

It was worth a try.

Dr. DeWeese had retreated and was now sitting at Dr. Mendez’s computer, scrolling through images of my brain. Sandra began pushing buttons on her phone. “John? Do we have what we need?”

“I’m analyzing it now. The images look clear.”

“I’m going to need you to analyze faster.”

“I think I’m done. I’m uploading the information to you now.”

Sandra smiled at me. “You and I both know that you were never going to become a part of my team. Such a shame, but you’ve become a liability to me.” Her shoulders lifted and lowered in a lazy shrug.

She was going to terminate me. “Dr. Mendez said you didn’t have everything.” My panicked voice betrayed me.

“Dr. Mendez has a flair for the dramatics. Between the information we got from you at The Farm, and the information we’ve compiled here overnight, we no longer need you. Or any of the originals, for that matter.”

Dr. DeWeese, I want you to stand and point your gun at Sandra.

He immediately did as I instructed.

Sandra laughed. “You can’t make him hurt me.”

“Oh no? Are you sure about that?”
Dr. DeWeese, I want you to shoot Sandra in the shoulder.
We’d find out if I could harm Sandra. I’d managed to break through other limitations on my abilities. And with each power I worked on, often with the help of Jonas, I became stronger.

Dr. DeWeese’s hand shook. Droplets of sweat formed along his forehead and across his nose. But he did not shoot.
 

Sandra’s smile grew. “As I was saying… Well, this has been fun, but now that I have the information I needed—”

“You think murdering us will solve all your problems?” I had been so naïve to ever think that Sandra wouldn’t do away with all of us. Jack. Georgia. Me. The others would be next.

“Murder? I’m not planning on
killing
you.” She laughed. “Now that I have the map of your brain, I can undo everything your father did to you when you were just a young child. You haven’t wanted these healing abilities anyway, right? For the most part, you refuse to use them. And without your supernatural powers, you’re not a threat. So don’t worry: I’ll probably let you live. You’re still an intelligent person. You’re me, for crying out loud. And with the proper tracker, you’ll be another Maya. She’s proven to be quite useful.”

I reached out a hand to balance myself on the edge of the hospital bed as I took in that possibility. Could I part with my medical abilities? She was right, I hadn’t wanted them. It seemed wrong that we could do things that had been meant for a higher power. But there was no way I would let Sandra control me like she did Maya.

“Now, let’s see how your tracker is working before we wipe your brain clean.” Sandra began typing something on her phone, while I considered the future this woman held in the palm of her hands. I was one stupid phone app away from being the normal teen I had always wished to be, back when I first discovered I was different.