Track 64

“The Emperor’s New Clothes”

Present Day

“You shouldn’t have done that! I was going to get you out of here!” Jane exclaims. She locks the God Room door.

“Sorry to screw up your plan. But can you blame me? You were doing a really convincing job of playing the role of compliant employee. I had to do something.” I glance around the corridor. The place looks like a nuclear fall-out shelter from the fifties. All gray metal and cheerless cinderblock walls. “How do we get down to that white room? Show me. Before he wakes up.”

If he wakes up.

Jane nods and grabs my arm.

We rush down a hallway to a single set of steel elevator doors. Jane punches the call button several times. Apologetically, she says, “It’s very old and slow. Resources are getting to be in short supply here.”

It seems incongruous to me that a rundown place like this is capable of researching and testing alien technology.

And Blake thinks he can mess around with people’s minds and bodies. That makes him even more dangerous.

I cast a look down the hallway. “Fire escape?”

She nods to the other end of the hallway. “Yes, this way.”

Jane rushes down flight after flight of industrial metal stairs. Even in sneakers, my feet make thunderous noises as I follow her.

After a couple more flights, Jane opens a thick door. We enter a long, wide corridor. The atmosphere down here is cool and the walls are painted stark white. No windows, and barely any features other than ducts and utilitarian lighting. Even though I’m with Jane, I feel isolated from humanity.

“I’ll try 911.” I reach for my back pocket. “Wait. Where’s my phone?”

“In my coat.” Handing the phone to me, she says, “But it won’t work here. We’re deep underground.”

Might as well be in a bunker on Pluto.

As we race down the corridor toward a pair of white doors, Jane speaks breathlessly. “I was ordered to tranquilize the others. I gave them very small doses. But they won’t be able to move by themselves. We can wheel them on their gurneys to the elevator here and unload them into the car when it comes.”

“What about Jake and Angie?”

She throws me a puzzled frown.

Furtively, I check the area for cameras and find none. Voice low, I say, “They were keeping a lookout by the fence line.”

Jane shakes her head. “They weren’t captured.”

Relieved, I sigh. “Good.”

“Not to my knowledge, anyway,” she adds.

My pulse rate shoots for the stars. Please, God, let them be okay!

When we reach the white doors, Jane punches a green button and steps back.

Nothing happens.

Jane punches it again. And again. She tries one of her keys. The door stays obstinately shut. “He must have used the override lock.”

I look around for something I can ram the door with. But there’s not so much as even a janitor’s mop lying around. Pushing her aside, I say, “Then I’ll kick it down.”

With all my strength, I smash my right foot beside the doorknob. Jane joins in. Together we break the door open with a couple more swift kicks. A vast white room lit by blinding lights greets us. Cold air blasts my face.

In the middle of the room, Hayden groggily tries to sit up on his gurney. But wrist and ankle restraints keep him down. Trays of surgical instruments and syringes lie on carts at the head of each gurney.

Hayden squints. “Cassidy? Is this another abduction?”

“Technically, yes. We’re underneath Eden Estate.” Rushing to his side, I kiss him all over his face, then get to work on unbuckling his restraints. No doubt the drugs he was given have diluted his telekinetic powers. I just hope he wasn’t bragging about his metabolism and that he recovers fast. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll explain later. First, we’ve got to get everyone out of here. Can you stand up? Walk?”

“I think so.” Gingerly, he gets up. He wobbles a little on his knees and clutches the gurney. His gaze lands on Jane. “Who are you?”

“This is Jane Flanagan,” I say. Hayden gapes. “She’s going to help us. Now, come on.” I hurry first to Mom, then the others, checking their pulses, looking for signs of consciousness.

Kicking a lever on the wheel of Mom’s gurney, Jane says, “We’ll have to wheel everyone out.”

Loud clanging and sliding noises make us all freeze on the spot.

“What was that?” I whisper. “The elevator?”

Jane puts a finger to her lips. She gestures for Hayden to lie down again, then forces me to sit on the floor at the head of Mom’s gurney.

I glance at a cart of instruments. Hesitating for only a second, I jump up and grab the sharpest, most lethal-looking thing I can find.

A big, long needle.

Jane stares at me. Realization crosses her features. She nods and grabs a glass vial of clear fluid from the tray. Silently, she crouches, fills my syringe, then hands it back to me. I sit back down and hide the needle under my thigh. Jane fills another syringe with fluid and puts it in her coat pocket.

“Pretend I’ve immobilized you,” she whispers. “I’ll give you a signal when it’s time to act.”

“Got it,” I say, and lean back. The polar-cold steel of the gurney’s leg prods my spine.

Slow, steady footsteps make their way down the corridor. Straight for us. Finally the footsteps stop.

“Jane.” A voice ricochets off the hard concrete walls. Blake.

Her back to the door, Jane freezes. Slowly she turns. Somehow she makes her voice flat, zombie-like. “Yes, Director?”

“I see you’ve brought Cassidy under control after that moment of unruliness,” he says. “Good job.”

“Yes, sir. Dr. Davis’s tranquilizer works very well, very fast. It’s what we used on the Subjects earlier today with great success,” Jane replies. “I trust you were not hurt?”

“Not at all, not at all.” His voice sounds kind of strained. A long pause follows. Through my lashes, I watch Blake’s polished black loafers walk away from me. Foam clings to the hems of his beige trousers. He stops two gurneys away, where Hayden’s playing dead. “Jane?”

“Yes, Director?”

A buckle rattles. “This Subject is not restrained.”

“Of course, Director. He is fully tranquilized,” she explains after a heartbeat passes.

Another pause. “I see.”

Blake’s toes point toward Hayden’s gurney. I peer at Jane. She pats her pocket and looks down at me.

“Wait,” she mouths. Affecting that stiff, zombie-like walk again, she steps to Hayden’s gurney. “But if it pleases you, I will fit the restraints again, Director.”

“I would prefer that, thank you. Davis’s work on this new tranquilizer formula was rather sloppy, in my opinion.”

“Yes, Director.”

The buckles jingle. When is Jane going to signal me, dammit? Slightly more importantly, how is she going to signal me?

Inch by inch, I rise to my knees and peer over my mother’s body. Her breathing is slow and even. Good. Blake’s leaning forward over Hayden. Even from six feet away, I can see Jane’s hands shaking as she fumbles with the buckles on Hayden’s ankle restraints.

“And you, Jane, you disappoint me, too,” Blake says.

Jane pauses. “Excuse me?”

“I know it’s not your fault. Not entirely. But I’m still very disappointed.”

“D-Director, I don’t understand,” she stammers, losing the zombie act fast.

Blake takes one step in Jane’s direction. She takes one step away from him. “I know Dr. Davis was trying to deprogram you. He didn’t give you a choice about that, did he? And he was most certainly going against my orders.”

On the gurney, Hayden’s head moves a fraction. I cringe. But Blake’s not looking at him. He’s looking at Jane, who’s quivering like a newborn foal.

“He…he wanted to help me.”

“Help you escape, Jane? Escape your home?”

She whispers, “I have a family. Out there.”

Keeping low, I move around the gurney, being careful not to brush the instrument cart. My sweaty fingers grip the syringe. I beg my rubber-soled sneakers to remain silent.

“There’s nothing and no one out there for you, Jane,” Blake shakes his head. “They’re long dead.”

I turn to stone.

What an asshole.

Jane lets out an almighty wail that could shatter crystal. Syringe poised, she charges at Blake. He grabs her by the wrist so hard the veins in his hand pop up under his thin skin. The syringe drips to the floor, where Blake stomps on it.

I lunge forward and stab his butt with the needle. His glasses fly off as he jerks in pain. Meanwhile, Hayden thrashes on his gurney and wraps an arm around Blake’s throat. But he loses his balance—and his grip on Blake. Hayden topples backward. His head makes a sickening thud on the floor.

“Hayden!” I shout.

“I’m…okay…” he says, despite a trickle of red sliding down the side of his face.

“You are not okay.” I start to move toward him as he tries to use the gurney to pull himself up.

Hayden’s eyes widen. “Cassidy, look out!”

The old man staggers. Ignoring broken glass piercing my skin, I try to grab hold of his legs.

I catch sight of Jane racing across the room. Mouth flat with determination, she picks up a scalpel from a cabinet and runs back.

“Get out of the way!” she yells at me, her voice reverberating around the theater.

I scramble, crashing into a cart. Instruments tumble to the floor around me, the harsh sound of falling steel hurting my eardrums. I look up just in time to see Jane standing over Blake. Her body practically vibrates with rage. She raises the scalpel and jams it into Blake’s neck.

“Liar!” she screams, throwing down the scalpel. Blood pulses in time with Blake’s heartbeat. “They’re coming for me. And even better, they’re gonna let you rot!”

Blake’s face contorts and turns a volcanic red. He starts to go limp. Hayden finally gets to his feet and staggers to my side.

The three of us stare down at Blake, panting. I glance at Hayden, unsure of what to do next. I hated Blake for everything he did to my mother, to Jane, and all of Parallax’s victims. I wanted to see him live long enough to be tried, convicted, and thrown in solitary confinement.

“Don’t touch him,” Jane says in a bleak voice, as if sensing the conflict spiraling inside my head. “He’s not gonna make it. Trust me.”

Blake’s breath comes in rasps and wheezes and gurgles. Slowly, those noises subside.

Until there’s total silence.

Jane crouches. She puts a finger to his bloody neck and stays there for a long, long time. Finally, she rises.

“He’s gone. And I’m free. I’m free,” she croaks. A sudden flood of tears runs down her cheeks. At her feet, Blake lies sprawled. Motionless. Eyes open. Wrinkled face drooping. Blood seeping. “We’re all free.”

“Not yet. Not till we’re out of this place,” Hayden says, looking around. During the commotion—and the demise of Blake—no one so much as twitched. “When will everyone else wake up?”

“I can give them an antidote. The vials are in a supply room. I’ll go get them.” She stares at Blake’s body. Her mouth twists. I almost think she’s going to spit on his dead, crusty face. But she turns abruptly and enters a side room I hadn’t noticed before.

Hayden steers me away from Blake and the widening pool of blood ebbing from his body. He lifts my chin. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine…ish,” I reply. “What about you?”

He focuses on an unbroken syringe resting on a cart. It wiggles almost imperceptibly. “Getting there. Once I fully metabolize the drugs they gave me, I should be back to my normal self.”

“Your normal, out-of-this-world self.”

“I’m part of this world, too,” he says, drawing me to his chest. With a shaky sigh, I look over at my mom, Alondra, and Charlie. All of them peaceful, oblivious.

Gingerly, I step over a pile of polished instruments strewn on the floor. One of them stands out to me like a beacon. Something that resembles a lemon zester, only it’s sharper, longer. Was this an instrument of torture used on us by Blake?

I glance around at the brutal starkness of the theater and shudder. No doubt in my mind.

“I’m…I’m fine. I will be fine,” I finally answer. I pick up the instrument and hurl it into the God Room’s windows. Never has the sound of glass breaking sounded so satisfying.

The elevator grinds and groans in the corridor nearby.

I freeze. “Someone’s coming.”

“Guards?”

“Maybe,” I whisper.

Hayden stands in front of me protectively. “We might have to get more of those tranquilizers to fend them off. My telekinetic powers are still sluggish.”

Two men dressed in black suits and ties, like they’re going to a dinner party, soon fill the broken doorway. Only instead of holding cocktail glasses, they’re holding guns. Small but dangerous-looking guns. With any wrong move, their suits’ seams could rip apart thanks to their broad shoulders and pecs.

“Cassidy Roekiem?” one of them barks.

My legs wobble. “Um…”

“Yes, that’s her!” A black-clad blur crashes between the two men and streaks toward me. In seconds, the blur engulfs me in a bone-crunching hug.

“Angie!” I gasp.

Over her shoulder, I spot Jake grinning alongside the stoic men. They holster their guns. “It’s okay. They work for the Flanagans.”

“Secret Service, Miss Roekiem.” One man steps into the room, his eyes darting left, right, up, down. I realize he’s kind of old. Like, over sixty. He holds his ID out long enough for me to read it. Agent Jeremy Hicks. He pockets his ID. His face twitches, then becomes as stony as Mount Rushmore.

“Who sent you?” I ask, incredulous. His partner checks Blake’s body and gives a grim nod.

“President Flanagan got a message from an old friend of his, a Ms. Anna Kingston.”

“Oh, thank God.” Relief surges through me. “Trying to contact her has been like trying to contact aliens…” The words die in my throat. Hayden looks away.

“Ms. Kingston received credible threats after agreeing to speak with you and had to bunker down.”

“Oh… I put her in danger.” I swallow, looking at the floor. At the body of the person who mostly likely wanted to harm her.

“We have reason to believe she was in the perpetrator’s sights for a long time,” Hicks says.

Rubbing my temples, I ask, “How did you get here so quickly?”

“We’ve been stationed in this sector for several months now, ever since we got a tip-off about Daisy from a source in the area.”

I glance at my still unconscious mother. The tip-off had to come from Mom before she got locked up. Who else would have known?

“Jerry?”

We all turn as Jane barrels back into the room. I glance at Hicks. His craggy face softens. Without a word, she runs to him. And as Jane squeezes him hard, the big guy starts sobbing. The rest of us look at each other tearfully. Even Agent No-Name.

“I’m so sorry, Daisy Jane,” Hicks chokes out. His macho image fades with every tear that slides down his cheeks. “It was my fault you were kidnapped. I should have taken better care of you.”

“No, you were the best, Jerry,” Jane whimpers. “When I started to remember my old life, it was you I saw in my head. I never really forgot you.”

Jerry tries hard to compose himself. Angie tries to give him a tissue, but he waves her away. “I never forgave myself for losing you.”

“I was taken. You didn’t lose me,” Jane says soothingly. She casts a dull look at Blake. His blood oozes across the floor. Who knows how many others he tormented in this very room? “It’s going to be okay.”

Grimly, Agent No-Name takes a sheet from a nearby cart and covers Blake’s body. And the deep crimson puddle around it.

I edge toward my mother while the others fuss over Jane. Her chest rises and falls steadily. My hands shake as I undo her restraints. Hayden’s standing beside Blake’s body. Silent. Face taut. “Hayden, can you check on Alondra?”

“Sure.” Without moving from his spot, he turns his head toward Alondra. Her chrome buckles clink and fall open.

Gaping, I stare at him. I can’t believe he did that with everyone milling around. Fortunately, no one seems to notice “magic” just happened. He puts a finger to his lips. “I’ve still got it.”

“Show-off,” I say with a good-natured grin, then focus on my mother. When I sweep tendrils of blond hair off her forehead, her eyelids flutter. I squeeze her hand, but her fingers stay limp. “Mom, can you hear me? It’s Cassidy.”

Jane steps beside me, syringe in hand. Softly, she says, “Let me help.”

I stand back as she administers the antidote to Mom, then to Alondra. Minutes go by like hours as we wait for them to wake up. I can’t take my eyes off Mom. I grip her hand tighter and tighter, till my knuckles turn white.

Meanwhile, Hayden, Jake, and Angie stay with Alondra. She comes to first. Hayden signs, “We’re here for you. You’re going to be all right.”

All she can do is nod. Her smile is faint, but relieved.

I’m not sure if it’s my death grip or the antidote that did it, but finally Mom opens her eyes.

“Cassidy?” she croaks, her lips dry. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“I am, too.” I hug her as tight as I can. She yelps in response, then laughs as I ease off. A little.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long….” Fatigue makes her eyes fall shut again. But her smile remains.

“Tell me what, Mom?”

“I did it. I found Jane…Flanagan,” she whispers.

“Yes, you did. Know what that means? You can go home now.” I beam at Jane. Her face is a blend of sadness and joy and uncertainty, like she can’t believe her life is about to completely change. For the better. “We all can.”