Hunted (21 page)

CHAPTER 30

Before I even reach the school, I sense them—minds trying to probe me, dig into my thoughts, and home in on my location. Not just one mind—three, maybe four, all reaching for me. Daniel, Ilene—I recognize her coldness now—and a Para-slave. And troopers stalking me like hunters after prey.

I glance at the store windows as I pass, trying to ignore the black-and-red decorations, the jarring fear.

There. A ParaTrooper—I’d recognize him anywhere, even when he’s trying to be in disguise by wearing a regular suit and tie. His civilian clothes don’t hide his training, his I-own-the-world stance, legs parted, hand at his waist where his gun is probably hidden, his gaze raking every passerby.

I keep my pace steady. The dirty gray sidewalk shifts like bones beneath my feet.

I could run. But I feel troopers gathering around the school, and in the streets behind me, the streets ahead.

They’re caging me in. I won’t desert Alex and Rachel, 276

HUNTED

won’t let them fend for themselves against Daniel. And I won’t leave without my mom.

I can almost see her sitting in her cubicle, her head in her hands, waiting for the phone to ring.

“I’m sorry I got us into this,”
I tell her. I try to swallow down the fear lodged in my throat. I’m afraid I’ll never see her again.

No. I clench my fists. I
will
. We’ll get out of this together, like we always have.

I march toward the school even though I know Daniel and the troopers are waiting for me there. Even though I know it’s a trap.

e

I sense the reporters before I see them, feel their fren-zied energy.

. . . unregistered Para . . . the day before the Para
Cleansing . . . need this for my ratings . . .

I stand outside the fence. Reporters are scattered around the school yard and clustered around the front steps with their recorders and microphones, leaning in to capture every word. Students pose, excited to have their opinions heard.

ParaTroopers pace the grounds. I can see them staked out along the edges, watching, waiting. I feel them in the school windows above. And outside the school grounds, two separate groups of picketers march—a large group of anti-Para picketers, and a smaller group of pro-Para picketers. It’s the second group that surprises me.

277

Cheryl Rainfield

Paras with any sense won’t be here today. But some will try to blend in. Like me.

I don’t see any way out of this except to use what Daniel taught me.

As I enter the yard, attention shifts to me. I reach out, slowly, directing the troopers’ and reporters’ attention back to the mass of students.
“I’m nothing. Just a dull student, a
shadow, wasn’t even at school yesterday. I’m not worth
noticing.”

And one by one, I feel their minds drop from me.

My body vibrates deep inside. I’m using parts of myself that I’ve rarely used. I clench my teeth, jaw aching. I’ve got to hold my focus a little longer. Past the troopers, two reporters, the cameras picking me up as I walk by, the lineup, the door, then in past the resident ParaTrooper.

As the trooper waves me through, I let their minds go.

The trembling inside me stops.

The hall is full of chaotic energy—girls clumped together, talking loudly, boys throwing dirty sneakers and books to each other, a teacher marching past, the secretary glaring out into the hall.

“That was very impressive, Caitlyn.”
The screech of Daniel’s thoughts is like metal on metal.

How did he get into my mind, when I built my defenses so carefully against him? When I’m wearing so much copper?

I look around, but I don’t see him anywhere.

I want to chuck him out of my head, but some instinct stops me.

278

HUNTED

“I only just taught you, and already you can use mass
suggestion. What did you tell them? That they couldn’t see
you? That you don’t exist? You’re powerful, Cait. Just think
what you could do with the right people to back you up. You
could make any law or break it. You’d be unstoppable.”
There is such longing in his voice, but it’s not for me.

It’s for the power I’d give him. I touch Mom’s copper necklace, Dad’s ring, Alex’s bracelet.

“I can offer you the world. You hear me, Caitlyn?”
He’s not in my mind; he can’t be. He must be sending his thoughts out like a net throughout the school, trying to catch me and reel me in. He can’t hear me, not completely.

If he could, he wouldn’t have needed to ask what I’d done.

The copper works!

I walk down the hall, then peer around the corner.

A big ParaTrooper keeps flicking his gaze between the photo he’s holding and the students passing by. Girl students.

I pull back. These guys will be easy to avoid—at least until they come storming into the classrooms.

. . . dirty Para-lover . . . standing against the wall like
it’ll protect her . . . send her flying . . .

I look up. Becca’s charging toward me, a fierce look on her reddened face, hands ready to shove me.

I dodge to the side, and Becca slams into the wall where I’d been.

“Are you all right?” I say, my voice dripping with fake concern.

Becca clutches her wrist to her chest, her teeth gritted together. “You—you!”

279

Cheryl Rainfield

I shouldn’t have done that. She looks like she wants to claw my face. But I don’t have time to deal with people like her.
“Walk away,”
I suggest, focusing only on her.

Becca glares at me, then whirls around and stalks away. I peek around the corner. The trooper’s still there, eyeing Becca like he likes what he sees.

Down the other hallway, I feel another trooper watching students. And two floors above me, there’s a new Para—a Government Para urgently trying to sense me so she’ll avoid the torture that comes with failure, especially for a quarry this big.

She’s a midlevel Para, with enough power to sense me.

I chew on my lip. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to come to school today after all.

280

CHAPTER 31

I walk away from the closest trooper, merging back into the surge of students, the shouting and pushing and laughter, the cell phones trilling, the boys punching each other on their shoulders.

I need somewhere to hide while I try to take down Daniel, Ilene, and the Government Para. I don’t want to face all three in their lair where they outnumber me, physically and mentally.

I head for the safest place I can think of. The library.

I sense them before I see them. The darkness with a bite.

I fumble in my backpack, jerk my compact out. I check my nonexistent makeup while I try to spot them.

There, in the stairwell. One trooper, hands held behind his back, legs splayed in a stiff stance. Another, staring at the display case, using my trick. And a Para-slave beside them, searching, reaching for me. Not the powerful one I sensed a few floors above; this one is more like an annoy-ing gnat. But even a gnat can zone in on something to devour.

281

Cheryl Rainfield

I snap my mirror shut, touch my copper necklace, then walk toward them. The trooper at the case stiffens, turns.

I focus on him and the Para-slave.
“I’m just a boring
Normal, not the one you’re looking for.”
The trooper is facing me now, his gaze fastened on mine, his hand coming up to his ear piece. The Para-slave turns his head sharply, like he’s sensed me.

I push harder, feeling the strain. Have to be careful not to let the Para-slave sense me. Not to use too much power, but still use enough.
“I am the most normal Normal you’ve
ever seen. Yawningly normal. Nothing like the target.”
The trooper rubs his forehead and blinks. His gaze slides from mine.

The Para-slave looks at me, his gaze lingering, then narrowing. He might be a low-level Para, but he senses something familiar in me and his eyes gleam. He takes a step toward me, a satisfied smile on his face, knowing he’s caught a big fish. He’ll get rewarded well for this.

“I am a Normal,”
I send like an arrow at his skull.

He reaches for the trooper beside him.

My heart beats hard. Maybe the suggestion shouldn’t be about me; maybe it should be about him.
“Go home. You
don’t want to be here, betraying your own kind,”
I send, with all my power behind it.

The Para-slave stops, shaking his head and blinking.

Then he turns and walks down the hall, away from his handler.

“Hey! Where you going?” the trooper shouts.

“Home,” the Para-slave says over his shoulder. “I don’t belong here.”

282

HUNTED

“The hell you don’t!” the trooper yells, yanking his ParaController out of his pocket. Students turn to watch, wide-eyed, frozen like statues. “Get your ass back here!” The Para-slave shakes his head and keeps walking. The trooper taps his screen twice. The Para-slave jolts, his body tightening, then vibrating as the shock passes through him.

His eyes widen, his mouth opening in a noiseless scream.

I edge back through the crowd, feeling sick. I had to keep myself safe, didn’t I? So much is depending on me.

And I’m not the one who shocked him. But guilt fills my chest.

“Had enough yet? Get back here!” the trooper yells.

The Para-slave shakes his head and the trooper shocks him again. White foam bubbles from the Para-slave’s mouth. The trooper must have upped the volts.

I close my eyes. Even though the Para-slave was going to turn me in, I can’t let him be tortured like this.
“Stay and
do your job,”
I send him. But I am too late. His mind is fading. The shock was too much. The Para-slave collapses, body hitting the floor with a thud, still vibrating.

I’m shaking, sick to my stomach as I walk down the stairwell. How could all those Normals stand by and watch?

Why doesn’t anyone do anything?

But I know why. The government is too big, too powerful, and they use fear to control people. Fear, punishment, and reward.

I push open the library door.

Mrs. Vespa looks up, her face lined with tension. The silk scarf knotted around her neck looks like it’s choking her. “Caitlyn, it’s good to see you.”
“There are troopers in
283

Cheryl Rainfield

the building, and at least one Government Para. We have to
get you out of here.”

“It’s good to see you, too.”
“But I’m not leaving. Alex
and Rachel are in danger. And so are you!”
Mrs. Vespa takes off her glasses, lets them hang from the chain around her neck. They gently bump against her large chest. She picks a book up off the counter. “See if this interests you.” She hands me the book.
“How so? You’re
the one they’re after.”

I pretend to read the back cover.
“That Para who wants
to kill Normals—I think he’s planning to act today, just as
soon as he can get me out of the way. I’m going to stop
him.”
At least, I’m going to try.

“How can I help?”

I turn the book over in my hands. “Looks good.” I feel too exposed, just standing there.
“I need somewhere
quiet where I can focus. Somewhere no one will see me. I
thought I could hide out here—if you don’t mind the risk,”
I send.

“My office would be the best place,”
she thinks at me.

“I’ve got another book to show you, if you like that one,” Mrs. Vespa says. “One that just came in.” I nod and follow her, breathing easier once the shelves hide me from the windows.

The library door swings open. Dark energy fills the room.

I jerk around, peeking past the shelves. A trooper with a gun.

Mrs. Vespa’s nostrils flare, her head rising.
“I’ll get rid
of him. Don’t you worry.”

284

HUNTED

She marches toward the man, looking formidable. I stealthily slip the knapsack off my shoulder, then press myself up against the shelf. I stand there, ready to nudge the trooper’s thoughts if he gets suspicious. Book spines poke my back, the cold metal of the shelf biting into my neck as I strain to listen.

“Can I help you?” Mrs. Vespa asks, as if she doesn’t really want to.

“You seen this girl?” a deep male voice rumbles.

“Why no, no, I haven’t.”

I reach out toward the other exit. A dark presence stands there, waiting. I bite my lower lip.

“This is a respectable school,” Mrs. Vespa says haugh-tily, as if she’s offended. “We’ve cleaned out all the Paras.”

“Newspaper says differently. And you had a few Paras hiding among you even last week. They’re tricky buggers to spot—look just like the rest of us. But don’t worry; we’ll find them.”

Heavy footsteps clump toward me.

I clench my fists.
“There is no one here. No one but
the librarian.”

I pour all my energy into it, repeating it over and over as the footsteps pause, then start down my aisle. Let this work; please let this work.
“Just another empty aisle.”
I don’t dare move, don’t dare turn my head to look at him, just keep pouring it on.

I smell cigarettes, feel the floor trembling under the trooper’s weight, the books shaking—

I look out of the corner of my eye.

I see the gun first—a long, narrow muzzle, smelling of 285

Cheryl Rainfield

oil. Then a thick, meaty hand on the grip, the fingers roughened, the nails blunt. Black uniform with a red stripe down its sides, red-and-black ParaTrooper badge on his chest, wide shoulders, a square chin, flinty eyes. The trooper turns his head back and forth as he scans the shelves.

He’s almost upon me. I press myself harder against the shelf, books like bony fingers digging into me. The illusion will fall apart if he brushes up against me, or feels my breath on his skin.

“All you can see are rows of dusty old books,”
I send with force. I hold my breath, wishing I was thinner, flatter.

Don’t let him notice me.

He walks past me, his sleeve almost grazing my chest.

My lungs burn. The pressure in my head sparks bright cold pain behind my eyes.

The man trips, stumbles over my backpack, joggling it hard, shaking my arm as I hang onto it.

God, no!

He turns back, squinting at the floor just past my feet.

I let my bag go.

The man’s forehead furrows.
. . .what the—?. . .
He snatches up my backpack, his bristly crew cut almost scraping my face.

“Someone left the bag behind. All the students are
gone,”
I send fervently. My lungs are going to burst.

“Whose backpack is this?” the man barks.

“Walk toward the end of the shelves,”
I send desperately.

The man does, without seeming to notice what he’s doing.

286

HUNTED

Bright spots dance in front of my eyes. I crack open my lips, let a tiny breath escape, and suck in an even smaller amount.

Mrs. Vespa appears at the end of the stack, her gaze flitting to me, then to the trooper. She covers her mouth with her hand.

The trooper spins around.

“The aisle behind you is empty!”
I send.

His gaze passes right through me. He frowns and turns back to Mrs. Vespa.

Mrs. Vespa rests her hands on her hips, looking stern again. “Put that gun away, young man. I do not allow guns in my library.”

You go, Mrs. Vespa.

“I
said
—whose backpack is this?” The trooper holds my bag up in the air, his frustration slamming into me.

My lungs shake. I let out a tiny bit more air, draw in another sip.

“It must be one of the students with a free period.”

“I want to see them all in front of me,” the trooper snaps. “Now.” He turns and walks down the aisle toward me.

I press back harder against the shelf.

A book shifts beneath my shoulder blades.

The trooper’s eyes narrow. He stalks toward me—

“Scream!”
I think at Mrs. Vespa.
“Please scream.”
And she does. Long and loud and high.

The trooper drops my backpack and whips around to face Mrs. Vespa, aiming his gun at her head.

287

Cheryl Rainfield

Mrs. Vespa shrieks louder, raising her hands.

I let my breath out.

“What is it?” the trooper shouts. He looks over his shoulder at me.

“Books. You only see books,”
I send, tears streaming from my eyes; I can hardly see through the blur of pain.

Liquid drips onto my shoe. Blood.

Oh shit.

Mrs. Vespa keeps screaming.

The man takes a step toward her. “What are you screeching about?”

“I’m sorry. I thought I saw something,” Mrs. Vespa says, sounding flustered.

I slowly raise my hand to my nose and hold it closed, willing the bleeding to stop. But it keeps running out, spattering onto the dark carpet.
“There is nothing here for you
to see. Nothing at all. You were mistaken.”

“Where?” the trooper barks.

“Outside.”

The trooper sighs. “That’s one of my men. Nothing to be afraid of, ma’am.”

He marches down the length of the library, looking between each shelving unit, peering at the remaining students.

Finally he signals to his partner, and they leave.

I let go of my concentration.

My legs flutter like grass in the wind. I sink to my knees, blood gushing from my nose.

288