Marrow (16 page)

“She’s lost it,” Flex whispered.

Now that the broadcast was over, all of the mind-controlled television crews were standing in random places around the house, staring into space. Sapphire, Whisp, and Havoc were interspersed among the crowd. Meanwhile, Oracle was sitting in an armchair on the other end of the living room, sipping honey chamomile tea.

“Tell me about it,” I muttered under my breath. The ice was finally melting off me, but Havoc had used up the entire length of rope tying me to the chair. I wasn’t going anywhere.

At least if I died peeing my pants, I’d be too wet from the melted ice for anyone to ever know.

“No, I mean she has literally gone insane,” said Flex. “I know Oracle. I lived with her, for crying out loud. There is no way she would ever rationalize something this extreme. I think all that telepathic power has backfired on her—like it’s just too much for her brain. When you think about all the minds that she goes inside…I mean, it’s the only explanation!”

“Okay…” I said. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that when we break free and fight our way out of here, we can’t kill her.”

“You have a plan to escape?” I said with raised eyebrows.

“No,” said Flex. “But when we figure one out, we can’t kill her.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well I don’t think that’ll be a problem if we don’t have an escape plan.”

“We’ll get out,” said Flex a little too casually.

“Right,” I said, snorting. “And supposing we
do
somehow manage to break out, how exactly is any mental hospital supposed to treat a Telepath with this much power?”

“We’re
not
killing her,” Flex growled.

“Fine, whatever, we’re not killing her,” I said. “You just wake me up as soon as you figure out your escape plan, ‘kay, Houdini?”

I rolled my head back at an uncomfortable angle and closed my eyes, ending the conversation.

This was bad. This was really bad. Dying was obviously the worst thing that could happen, but, for some reason, being saved by Spine didn’t seem like a much better option. What exactly was he going to do with me and Flex if he did bother to “rescue” us? Spine: the most horrific Supervillain of our day, as Oracle so eloquently put it.

My stomach squirmed at the thought.

But who was I kidding? If Oracle was as delusional as Flex seemed to think she was, then Spine probably had no intention of even spitting in our direction. If Spine really had used Nightmare to make me immune to telepathy, it was probably to keep Oracle from digging up information on him.

He wasn’t going to save us. We were both dead. But I guess I had him and Nightmare to thank for psychologically preparing me to die in a million different ways.

Thanks, Dad. You’re a real pal.

Heck, I was even tied down to a stupid chair. This wouldn’t be any different from those hours I had spent with Nightmare. Well…except for the part where I actually die.

I slumped my head in defeat. My downward gaze followed the rope securing my thighs to the seat of the chair. As my gaze drifted off the rope and onto the floor, I noticed the leg of the chair.

The flimsy leg of a cheap metal folding chair.

“I’ve got an idea!” Flex and I said simultaneously.

We exchanged disbelieving glances.

“Well, you tell me your idea first,” said Flex. “Mine isn’t that good.”

“Uh…okay,” I said. “I can increase my bone density to the point that I can break the legs of my chair. I should be able to squirm out of my ropes from there.”

“Okay, never mind,” said Flex. “My idea was better than that.”

“Hey!” I protested. “What’s wrong with my idea?”

“Do you see all these people? You may be able to wiggle out of your ropes in a minute or two, but if you break your chair, Oracle will have these guys swarm you faster than Republicans to a gun rally.”

“Wow, you’re not a biased liberal, are you?” I asked.

“Wha—okay…faster than Democrats to…I dunno…a tree-hugging convention or something. That’s not the point. The point is that we need a way to break out of here fast.”

“Okay, so what’s your big idea?”

“It’s simple,” said Flex. “Your dad has the ability to grow his bone structure outside of his body. We just need you to grow a sharp bone that can cut through your ropes. Then you can cut me free too and we can fight our way out of here.

I responded with a humorless stare. “Is there a name for what’s wrong with your brain?”

“What? I’ve seen your dad do it like a billion times. It’s easy.”

“Yeah. That’s because it’s my
dad’s
power, not mine, fartbrain.”

“Have you ever tried it?”

“Back when I was being tested to enter FIST,” I said. “And I couldn’t do it. Because it's my dad's—!”

“Because it’s your dad’s power, I got it,” said Flex, rolling his head from side to side. “But apparently being telepathy-proof was your dad’s power just a couple days ago. Now you can do it. But hey, what do I know? I’m just a fartbrain.”

I didn’t have an argument for that.

“Your old man tried to explain it to me once,” said Flex. “He said it’s like creating an imbalance in the bone density—lighter on the inside, heavier on the outside. Somehow, distributing the density like that pushes out new bone growth.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell Flex just how stupid his plan was. But I didn’t for one reason.

I knew that he was right about my plan.

Even if I broke the chair, I wouldn’t be able to get out of my ropes in time. It was either this or die or…yeah, dying was really the only other option. There was no way Spine would come.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll try it.”

I forced my focus into the bone in my wrist. That seemed like the most practical point to cut myself free. Tapping into the bones in my wrist, I could feel the density wavering slightly under my concentration. Separating the density was easier said than done. My power only went two ways—heavy and light. I couldn’t just flip that mental switch sideways. I bit my lip and could feel my face growing red.

With a sigh, I released my connection.

“I can’t do it,” I said, breathless. “It’s impossible.”

“Where are you putting your focus?” asked Flex.

“Into my wrist.”

“Hmm… Try your fingertip.”

“Huh?”

“Your fingertip,” he repeated. “It’s a more defined point. It should be much easier to concentrate on it.”

“What part of ‘it’s impossible’ do you not understand?” I asked.

“The part where I’m supposed to believe whatever comes out of your underdeveloped twelve-year-old brain.”

“I’m fourteen,” I grumbled.

“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England,” said Flex. “Now shut up and focus on your finger.”

I exhaled through flaring nostrils, but I didn’t argue. I redirected my attention to my right index finger. As I did, I realized Flex was right. Concentrating at the end of a bone was much easier. All I had to do was push the density into the very tip, and the rest seemed to take care of itself. I could feel the density imbalance growing in my finger.

“Just be careful though,” said Flex. “Spine said when he first learned to control his spikes, it hurt like—”

“OW!” I yelped.

Something sharp pricked my fingertip. My sudden outburst caused Oracle to lift her head. Her milky eyes stared past me from across the living room.

“Is there something I can help you with, Marrow?” she asked.

A simple “no” seemed like it might draw more suspicion. So instead I said, “Er…yeah, a burger and fries would be great. No pickles though. I hate pickles.”

Oracle shook her head and returned to her tea.

My heart was hammering. Meanwhile, Flex leaned his head back, observing the back of my chair. His eyes widened as he jerked back upright.

“There’s an
ike-spay
sticking out of your
inger-fay
,” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

“Huh?” I said, shooting him a look of the utmost confusion.

“There’s a spike sticking out of your finger!” he hissed. “Don’t you know Pig-Latin?”

“Um…no, I don’t speak Latin or pig,” I said.

“Okay, whatever, that’s not important,” said Flex, shaking his head. “Can you do that with all of your fingers? You should be able to cut out of there in no time.”

“Wha—? You want me to poke holes in all of my fingers?”

“The holes will close up when you retract the spikes,” said Flex. “If you’re anything like your father—which we’ve proven multiple times now that you
are
—your cells naturally heal at an accelerated rate to counterbalance your unstable skeletal structure.”

“Yeah, but…do you have any idea how much it hurts?”

“I’m sorry, princess. Would you like me to fetch you a goblet to cry all your tears into? Oh wait. I can’t because we’re both tied up, and we’re going to die!”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

Pushing a bone spike out of each finger one by one sounded like an excruciating process. If I was going to do this, I’d do it all at once. Doing it to the one finger was easy enough. Doing nine fingers simultaneously should be manageable.

I swallowed hard. This was going to hurt a lot.

Leaning my chin into my chest, I bit into the rope binding me.

“What are you doing?” asked Flex.

I tapped into the bones in my hands and exploded the density into my fingertips. My fingers reacted with stabbing fire. A subtle
sheeenk
sounded from behind me. It was a good thing I had the rope in my mouth. My jaw clenched so hard I thought I might bite right through it. When I spit it out, I could still see my teeth indentations.

Oracle’s head snapped up again. This time she stood up and there wasn’t an ounce of humor in her expression.

“What are you doing, Marrow?”

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head and blinking the tears out of my eyes.

Wow, that wasn’t suspicious at all.

“Why were you biting the rope?”

Crap. I thought this woman was supposed to be blind.

“You didn’t bring me my burger and fries,” I said, struggling to blink away the moisture in my eyes. “I’m hungry.”

“Are you crying?”

I quickly decided the psychic blind people were my least favorite type of blind people. Why even bother mentioning that they can’t see?

“I just…I really love burgers and fries,” I said, sniffling.

Oracle shifted her empty eyes to Flex.

“The kid loves burgers and fries,” said Flex with a shrug.

Oracle’s face contorted into a shriveled mass of wrinkles. “You two are up to something.”

Great. Time was up. Showtime or no time.

I sank my new claws into the rope behind me.

I expected to have to scratch and dig frantically to slice my way through. Much to my surprise, my claws sank clean through. The ropes sank low around my chest.

There was a moment of awkward silence as Oracle and I glanced down to my loose ropes. And then our gazes met again.

Seriously, why she bothered looking down or up was beyond me. Blind Telepaths, geez.

I snapped out of my stupid daze and sliced through the ropes binding my legs. Too easy. I jumped to my feet and rope fragments fell to the floor. In two swipes, Flex was free too.

It wasn’t until now that I noticed my claws—twelve-inch ivory blades protruding from each finger. They were about three times the size I expected.

“Nice delay there,” said Flex.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “Did you prefer being tied up?”

When Flex didn’t follow up with a sarcastic response, I knew there was something wrong.

Oracle hadn’t budged. I had assumed she’d simply frozen. Then I noticed that every white-eyed news reporter, cameraman, technician, and computer hacker in her house had formed a tight circle around us. There had to be nearly a hundred of them, and several more were funneling in from outside.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Oracle.

“Disneyland?” Flex suggested with a shrug.

Oracle shook her wiry gray head. “Get them.”

The crowd closed in around us like zombies with gaping mouths and reaching hands.

“Marrow,” said Flex. “Do you remember me telling you about the Whip?”

My brain was in such a panic at this point, I had to remember to breathe just to register what he was saying.

“Uh…yeah?” I said uncertainly.

“Let’s go Indian Jones on these stiffs.”

“Indiana Jones?” I repeated. The name alone seemed to empower me. Renewed confidence flooded my veins. “I can do Indiana Jones.”

Reversing the density in my fingertips, I retracted my claws into my fingers. And yes, it hurt just as much as it did pushing them out. I shoved the pain aside as Flex and I clasped hands. Increasing my bone density and fortifying my arm, I became an anchor.