As we headed down the Institute’s drive, the kid dumped a truckload of info on us. Most of it I already knew, and I’ll tell you about it in a minute. Of course, the professor, in his usual charming manner, made it clear he didn’t buy any of it.
“So why are you coming with us?” I said. “If you think the place is a crock, you should have stayed in the car.”
“I have no inclination to sit alone in some godforsaken desert waiting to be mugged or run over again.”
Of course it was a lie. He was as curious as the rest of us.
The Institute had always been a mystery. Our private Area 51. It started back when some geologists tried digging a well into the earth’s mantle. They got nine miles down when the drill started to wobble, then flew out of control. They said they’d hit a giant cavern and couldn’t go on. Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. Whatever the reason, there was plenty of talk about smelling sulfur and hearing voices. Some claimed they heard animals howling. Others said people.
The point is, they shut down the place until another organization came along and bought it. They built the fancy boarding school. Once in a while we see a teacher or student from it, but for the most part they stick to themselves. They don’t bother us and we don’t bother them. No one gives them a thought, except for the rumors—everything from a vacation spot for extraterrestrials to an assembly plant of spare body parts for superheroes.
Truth is, like the sign says, it’s a place where they study psychic stuff. They fly kids in from all over the world who are supposed to be gifted. I don’t care how you cut it, for me that makes the place interesting. That’s why when some kid appears in the middle of the night begging us to follow him and check something out . . . well, here I am.
We were twenty yards from the main gate and guardhouse when I said, “You guys had to take lots of tests to get in?”
“Yes, we have had many examinations. Physical, psychological, intellectual. They even studied our DNA.”
I nodded. “To make sure you were worth the investment.”
“That is correct. But you must not feel bad. You came extremely close.”
“Say what?”
“You think I would not know? I did my homework, Brenda Barnick.”
I gave him a look. The Institute was the reason I dropped out of school and moved here in the first place. With the pictures and stuff I see, I figured I might get in. No such luck. But that was a long time ago.
“And you.” The kid turned to Cowboy.
“Me?”
“Did you ever wonder why a small community college would offer a football scholarship to a student three states away?”
Cowboy shrugged. “Some folks think I’m kinda good.”
“They wanted him nearby?” I asked. “They paid the college to bring him here?”
“So they could monitor him, correct.”
“We got a pretty good season so far,” Cowboy said.
Andi spoke up. “When you use the term they, who, exactly, do you mean?”
“Dr. Trenton, our director, calls them the Gate. Though I believe even he is not entirely sure who they are. We are merely their training camp. One of several. They are very secretive and”—he lowered his voice—“that is one of my many concerns.”
“Right,” she said. “You mentioned concerns.”
“Which is why you have come.”
We traded looks with each other.
“Please,” he said. “I am not complaining. It is a great privilege to attend here. My parents could not be more proud. And the placement they offer after graduation, you cannot imagine. Nevertheless . . . well, you shall see. My dreams said you would come to help me decide, and I trust my dreams.”
“Of course,” the professor said dryly, “that explains everything.”
“When did you first come here?” Cowboy asked.
“Our gifts surface during adolescence. Precognitive skills, psychokinesis, astral projection, telepathy—”
“And, in your case, dreaming,” Andi said.
“Yes. Originally it was lucid dreaming. But with my concentrated training it has grown much greater. And after the induction service tomorrow, it will become so great I shall be able to serve the nations.”
“Nations?” Andi said.
“One of last year’s students graduated in my same area of expertise. She now lives in Brussels and assists the European Banking Federation.”
“The Illuminati all filled up?” the professor asked.
Andi ignored him. “And you? Where will you go after graduation?”
He looked down. “That is why you are here. The ceremony will be tomorrow and—”
“—and I am not entirely sure of its safety. The Institute can be quite strict and demanding.”
“Which is why they allow you to wander off campus anytime you wish,” the professor said.
“Not exactly.” The kid lowered his head and pushed back the hair on the back of his neck. There, at the base of his skull, was a piece of metal the size of a dime. It glowed and pulsed a faint blue.
“Is that some sort of tracking device?” the professor said.
The kid nodded.
“They know you’re here?” Andi asked.
He smiled. “Yes and no. Come.” He motioned us to the guard shack. Once we got there, Sridhar opened the door and we stepped inside. The place looked like something out of a sci-fi film—rows of flashing lights, TV monitors, and other high-tech junk. Some Arnold Schwarzenegger-wannabe was asleep in front of the control board. The TV screen directly in front of him was playing a cheap porn flick. But he was sound asleep—head tilted back on the chair, headphones over his ears, snoring away.
“Security at its finest,” the professor said.
“Actually, I provided a little help.” The kid reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of some over-the-counter sleeping aid.
“You slipped him a sleeping pill?” I said.
“Actually, three. At his request.”
“Guys,” Cowboy said. “I really don’t think we should be here.”
I glanced over and saw him staring at the floor. “Why not?”
Without looking, he gestured to the porn flick.
“Does that embarrass you?” Andi asked.
“No, ma’am. But if it’s all the same with you”—he started toward the door—“I’ll just step outside ’til you’re all done here.” Before we could answer, he headed back out into the night.
Andi turned to the kid. “I’m still confused. Why would the guard ask you to put him to sleep?”
Sridhar pointed to a set of eight monitors to the right. Each had six photos of kids with a few statistics printed under them. I stepped closer to look. The photo of Sridhar was flashing red.
“That indicates I have stepped off the grounds,” he said.
“And?”
“Not only can I manipulate my own dreams, but I’ve learned to manipulate others’. Mr. Hanson—the guard—has agreed to let me leave the grounds if I provide him with enough . . . incentive.”
“Sleeping pills and a porn flick?” I said.
“I have directed his dreams to experience everything he hears in the movie.”
“As if he’s living it?”
“Precisely. In his dream, he is immersed in the movie as if he is there, as if it is really happening to him.”
“That’s sick,” Andi said.
I shrugged. “Sounds like a win-win to me. You get what you want and so does the Incredible Hulk here.”
“Except—” the kid hesitated. “He is never satisfied. Each time he insists upon more explicit material. It is becoming increasingly difficult to meet such demands.”
“Everyone has his weakness,” the professor said, moving to study the switches on the board.
The kid sighed. “Which we are carefully taught to exploit.” He hit a button on the panel. The iron gate in front began to open. “Come, we haven’t much time.”
“Before?”
“Dr. Trenton discovers you are here.”
“How will he know?” I nodded to the sleeping guard.
“The Travelers will awaken him.”
“Travelers?”
He didn’t answer, just motioned for us to follow. We stepped outside and joined Cowboy, who was humming, hands in his pockets, and gazing up at the stars. We headed toward the opening gate.
“That’s it for your security?” the professor said.
“Pardon me?”
“A fence, some security cameras, and a sleeping pervert? Out here in the middle of the desert I would have expected more.”
“As I said, we are merely a training facility. However, we do have one further line of defense.”
The gate finished opening and we stepped through.