The Reader Page 11

  “It was considered a suicide mission. I was ordered to stay at the compound.”

  “You risked your life and broke a rule, for me?” My heart skipped a beat or two.

  “Yeah, a few of them.” His half-smile was back.

  “Sorry.”

  “The only way I’ll bring you back to Samara will be if you assure me you want to go.”

  “I do. I love it there. But I can’t live with the secrets anymore. I want to know everything.”

  “All right.”

  “Before I go back into Samara.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now.”

  “We’ll go to a safe place, and I’ll tell all. I’ve already broken almost every rule. I might as well go for the gold.”

  Thank goodness. Some answers.

  We drove the next half hour in silence. A crease ran between his brows and he appeared deep in thought. His driving was erratic.

  “Do you have a system for losing Jacks?” I asked.

  Another smirk. “Yeah. My maniac driving does the trick. We’ve outsmarted them so far without much problem. They try to choose the most intelligent bodies to hijack, but sometimes they aren’t available.” He took a sharp right onto a side street. “Don’t get me wrong, Jacks can be quite devious and smart, but when they invade another human, it can decrease their mental functions by fifty percent. We think when they remove the human soul, it drains them.” He shook his head. “I’m surprised they only had three or four waiting for you.” He seemed to think about it for a moment. “But I’m sure they didn’t expect Rambo.”

  I vaguely remembered watching the movie with Archer last month. “Wasn’t Rambo a man?” That was insulting.

  “Yes, but you fight better than any man I’ve seen. You had those two Jacks down in about five seconds. Impressive.” This time he met my eyes and smiled. The adrenaline from the fight had disappeared, and I looked at him. Really looked. Handsome, strong . . . and he risked everything to save me. Gratitude and something else, maybe affection, swirled inside my chest.

  Shut it down.

  With a deep breath and a change of subject, I asked, “Will everyone be angry with me? Can you tell them I’m sorry, and I wouldn’t have gone if I’d known the risk to them?”

  “They know. The first year is the hardest for the new Readers. The last couple hundred years have turned up only five. We think you’re the last one. That’s why everyone is after you. The Readers want to keep you safe. Whereas the Jacks just want to use you as their pawn to protect them when the big war begins.”

  “How would I protect them?”

  “Just being in their custody. They know we wouldn’t attack another Reader. Too risky. Especially since you might be the Lost One.”

  “Do you think I am? You know, the Lost One? It seems I’d instinctively know something that big.”

  “You wouldn’t, especially if the Jacks gave you a memory wipe. In time, all your normal functions should return.”

  That was good news. At least there would be a chance my memories—my family, my life—would someday come back.

  He pulled the car onto a dirt road. “Okay, we’re close to the river. We’ll be exposed to possible drones for these last few miles. You’ll need to get in back and stay hidden. The toolbox should do the trick.”

  “Ha. Yeah, right.” There was no way; I would barely fit in that toolbox.

  “The Jacks will be everywhere. They’ll be desperate now they believe we might have the Lost One. I tried to convince them you weren’t, but I’m sure they saw through it.” He started to get out of the car. “Once we get to the river, the trees will shield us. In the meantime . . .”

  I remained in my seat and leaned forward, taking big gulps of air. Tingles spread throughout my body, but, this time, it wasn’t from Devon’s touch—it was from a lack of oxygen.

  “What’s going on?” His voice had an edge.

  “Claus . . . claustro . . . phobia.”

  “I thought you were over that. You escaped out a tube, for God’s sake. How did you manage that?”

  “With . . . with a big, fat rat, too.” I laughed through my labored breathing. “I wanted to find out what happened . . .” I tried to get my breathing to even out. “To my parents. I also . . . also wanted to see if I could get my memories back.” I fisted my hands. “I hate it . . . not knowing anything about myself. It feels like I’m isolated from the world, oblivious to the difference between reality and lies.”

  Devon squatted next to the open car door. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for this. I promise to tell you everything when we get to the river. No more waiting.”

  The promise of information motivated me. He was right, if I could squeeze through a tube, knowing I could get stuck, I could handle a large box. I got out of the car and walked to the back. He opened the lid, and I examined the space. A little bigger than the tube, that was good.

  “How long will I be in there?” I asked.

  “Ten minutes at the most. I’ll leave the top ajar.” He removed a few items to make room for me.

  “Make it fast.” I jumped in and curled up into the small space, closing my eyes. Why couldn’t the Jacks have wiped out this part of my memory?

  After bumping and bouncing over uneven dirt roads, the Jeep came to a stop.

  “You still alive back there?” Devon shouted.

  I contemplated hitting him with my flashlight again.

  “Haha. Now get me out, right now!”

  He opened the lid, and I hopped out. I bent over and took in large lungfuls of fresh air. After a few minutes, I was ready to go. The rushing sound of the river nearby beckoned me.

  “Come on. We’ll go down the river and you can grill me.” He walked past and headed toward a large storage shed. After tugging open the door, he pulled out a fully inflated raft, dragging it toward the shore.

  “You’re not serious,” I said.

  He stopped and cocked his head. “You don’t have a fear of water, do you?”

  “Well, uh, no. But why can’t we, you know, just drive through the gatehouse like before?”

  “We use this back way whenever we feel there might be a threat of exposure. The Jacks know we’re in the area and will have every single one of them on the lookout on any of the main roads.” He handed me a paddle. “Let’s go.”

  Devon stowed the Jeep in the large storage shed, and we walked back to the shore. “Here, get in so you don’t get your feet wet, and I’ll drag the raft in.” He’d taken off his shoes and rolled up his pants.

  “It won’t rip the bottom? I don’t want to put any holes in it before we get started.” I leaned forward to get a good look down the river. I wouldn’t consider it raging, but it was deep and swift.

  “It’s reinforced. These rafts have a self-bailing system.” He waved his hand toward the boat. “Get in.”

  “How long will this take?” I stepped into the raft and sat on the bench.

  “About a half-hour. So, have those questions ready. Once we get to the compound, I’ll be back to my usual.”

  “Mute?”

  He hopped in the boat, smiled, and grabbed the oars.

  “Let’s start with my parents.”

  “Sure. That’s a good place to start.” He maneuvered the raft into the center of the river. “We found out about your family six months ago. Your parents worked as professors at North Seattle University.”

  The wind hit my face, making my hair fly in every direction. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” I twirled my finger in the air, giving him the hurry up signal.

  The river slowed to a crawl. Devon pushed the oars forward and leaned back.

  “How did you first hear about us?” I asked.

  “We believe your parents reached out to us through an article they wrote about mind-reading. We thought it was a call for help, but didn’t know for sure.”

  We went around a slight bend, and the river started to pick up. Devon grabbed tight to the oars and said, “Hang onto the rope handles on
each side.”

  I closed my eyes and held on. After we passed through a section with white water rapids and large rocks, I let my death grip relax. Once the river smoothed out again, I started back with my questions.

  “Back to my parents. I read articles on them at the library. I know about their lives, but can you tell me what they were like?” I held my breath and waited.

  He grinned. “They were funny. A little like you.”

  I probably looked funny with my wet hair sticking out in every direction.

  “Did they seem nice? Were they happy?”

  “Yes and yes.” He navigated around a large boulder.

  Those were the two most important questions about my parents. Now that I knew, I could settle back and enjoy the view.

  “What was their favorite dinner?”

  He shook his head. “Spaghetti and meatballs. Your mom made it three times a week.”

  “Sports?”

  “Seahawks.”

  “Movies?”

  “Pride and Prejudice. I think you and your mom watched it once a week.” He smiled.

  A mental note to self: reserve the movie at the Hub when we returned. “Okay, moving on. How about hobbies?

  “Reading.”

  Warmth swirled through my chest, giving me a glowing, happy feeling. It was nice to know I remembered something basic to tie me to my parents.

  “Why don’t Readers have children?”

  His face froze, and he stopped rowing. “That was a jump of subject I wasn’t expecting.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have so many questions, and I can’t seem to organize them. Is that okay?”

  He laughed and looked to the sky. “This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Very long. Back to the children. What’s up with that?”

  “We’re not sure. All we know is, the Readers will be able to have children again once things are resolved after the war. As you know, the Seers couldn’t predict the winner. But they did say the winning side would be able to bring more children into the world.”

  “So, no children on either side until after the war?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want the war?”

  “Yes and no.” His eyes swept down the river. “To be honest, after all these years, I have doubts it will ever happen.”

  “Yeah. I can see why. It’s been a long time.” I paused. “Why can I hear you? I mean, some of your thoughts.”

  “That’s a tough one. The Elders think it might have something to do with your amnesia, that your reading ability is heightened because your brain is clear.”

  “That makes sense. But why just you? I haven’t heard anyone else.”

  “They believe you’re picking up on my emotions. I tend to get a little wound up sometimes.” He shrugged.

  I laughed. “If that’s the case, I should be hearing Lucy loud and clear.”

  “You’re right. You’ll probably pick up on her thoughts next.”

  Lucy and I spent almost every waking moment together. Wouldn’t a thought or two have slipped by already?

  “Do you need any help with the rowing? I could take over so you can rest.”

  “I’ve got it. If we see any drones, we’ll need to pull out to the side.”

  “How about money? How do you finance all this?”

  A smile and a mischievous gleam in his eyes told me their source of funding might be unorthodox.

  “Las Vegas.” Another smile and shrug. “We take shifts.”

  No need to explain more.

  I tilted my head skyward. The trees on each side of the river stretched out, almost touching. “I can see why you’d take this path to the compound. With the trees shielding us, it would be hard for even a drone to pick us up.”

  “That’s the idea,” he said with a nod.

  “Do you like the river?” I wasted a little time asking this question, but I didn’t care.

  “Love it.”

  Back to business. “Do you know how many Jacks there are?”

  “We believe there are over five thousand. They’re a sneaky bunch, so it’s hard to pinpoint an exact number.”

  “Wow. You’re really outnumbered.”

  “You mean we’re outnumbered.” He smirked.

  “Yeah.” I laughed. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “Anytime.” He reclined back and let the boat coast.

  “Lucy told me that a Jack can’t take control of a Reader. Is that true?”

  “Yes. They’ve tried, believe me. We have natural powers making it impossible for them to gain control.”

  My shoulders relaxed a little. “That’s good.” I pondered my next question for a moment. “Lucy mentioned the Jacks had a campaign against humanity. What’s that all about?”

  “It’s complicated, but I’ll try to explain. Every Jack’s survival depends on them taking over another adult human body. It has to be done without family or friends noticing. The key is for them to remain undiscovered. In the beginning, their main focus was to create situations that would convince tribe or world leaders to start wars. It would separate families and give them the opportunity to take control. At the end of a war, the Jack would move in and live the life of their human. The change in personality could be attributed to the trauma of war.”

  “So the Jacks would create wars just to separate family and friends?”

  “Yes. As the world became larger, and with the creation of nuclear weapons, it’s been more difficult for them to convince world leaders to wage war.”

  “What did they do instead?”

  “For one, they helped with the creation of the Internet.”

  “Why would the Internet be helpful to the Jacks? It brings people together, not apart.”

  “From outside appearances, yes, more people connect and interact. In truth, the ability to stay at home to interact, isolates people. Think about it. How many Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram friends get together in person on a regular basis? Or better yet, come hold your hand when a friend or family member dies? I’ll answer that—not many. In times of crisis, a person might get a thumbs up or receive a few words of support, but they don’t know each other on a deeper level. People, a lot of times, don’t know their friends’ quirks or preferences. Or, in some cases, not even their personality traits. The social networks have created what we call social isolation. It’s disconnection at its worst.”

  “So the Jacks have an easier time taking over their bodies without detection with so many people lulled into the façade of connection.” Diabolical, that’s what they were.

  “Yes.” He guided the raft around another slight bend in the river.

  “Why cause so much death and chaos if there are only five thousand of them?”

  “For them, it’s a game. They thrive on the power and control. Also, they’re quite picky. After a war or conflict, they have a huge pool to choose from.”

  “What else are they doing?”

  “Drugs, alcohol—you name it. Everything negative associated with the human race has come from the Jacks. None of us were meant for hatred, greed, murder—”

  “They have to be stopped.” I clenched my hands. A resolve to help filled me with determination.

  He ran his fingers through his messy, black hair. “I know.”

  “You seem hesitant.”

  “I love my life. I love—”

  “Yes?”

  “Everything. When we go to war, we’ll risk it all.” He glanced toward the shoreline.

  “Tell me about the other compound in Colorado.” With hands on knees, I bent closer.

  He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out. “It’s not a good place.”

  Not what I expected to hear. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a prison. We have seventeen Readers who’ve committed the worst possible crime.”

  “Murder?”

  “Yes. All of them. They’ll never be released.” He shook his head and frowned. A crease formed be
tween his brows.

  “For eternity?” I shivered. “I can’t even imagine.”

  “We can’t risk it. Even if they were rehabilitated, the potential is there for them to take another life.” He took a deep inhale.

  “What’s it like? Have you ever been there?”

  The boat bounced off a large rock, and I grabbed hold of the handles again.

  “About fifty years ago. It’s bad. The cells are small and dark. Their freedom is gone in every sense of the word.” He reached down and picked up the oars. “Most of them have lost their minds. I can’t blame them.”

  “What type of people were they? I mean, what would possess them to risk losing eternity?”

  “We have the benefit of time—learning and knowledge. But for some of the Readers, emotions can still override good judgment. In every single case, it was a crime of passion.”

  “Like a love triangle?”

  “Yes. It’s the common thread with every prisoner.”

  “I have another question, but this one you don’t have to answer.”

  He dipped the oars into the water and began rowing. I smiled to myself, imagining he wanted to get to the compound faster, to get away from all my questions.

  He paused and tilted his head. “I want to know about your parents.” I chewed on my lip and waited.

  “They died protecting the Seers.” He stopped rowing. “My mom, she was brave, like you. You would’ve liked her.”

  “You think I’m brave?” Warmth radiated through my chest. “Not in the category of reckless?”

  “That too.” He smiled and, darn, that dimple on his right cheek appeared and did all sorts of fluttery things to my stomach. He leaned forward. “And kind of infuriating.”

  “Who, me?”

  “Yeah.” He tucked a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “I like your haircut. It’s not too short.”

  With my heart about to beat out of my chest, I asked, “How about the color?”

  “It’s good. Beauti—” He stopped “We’re almost there.”

  “Wait. I have more questions.”

  He eyed me. “One, maybe two.”

  “What’s your favorite color?” Would he answer? I wanted to get at least one piece of information that was personal just to him.

  He continued to stare, his gaze shifting to each of my eyes. “Blue.”