The Seven (21 page)

"A reject. Figures that's what they'd bring in for us. I mean, if we don't rate enough to be allowed to live after we turn eighteen, might as well not waste money on our doctors," Indigo said.

"Ease up, Indigo," said John. There was a tone to his voice that hadn't been there before, a sharp edge to his baritone.

Indigo glared at him and huffed a stray strand of hair away from her nose. "Well, that's what she is. That's what we are! Rejects! Castaways. We were the beta test models, never meant to be released to the public."

"Indigo! I mean it! Be quiet."

Indigo started to speak again, but stopped. She flounced back to her corner and flopped down again, scowling.

John looked around the room. He spoke with a clipped, military efficiency, not his usual voice. "For now, we really can't do anything and we're wasting our energy worrying about what's already been done. We have to move forward. The first order of business is sleep. Then, we get food---real food. Then, we get Posey healthy and go after Andy and Sarah."

"Then what,
Herr Kapitän?
" Kenny said.

John shot Kenny a harsh look and Kenny looked down at his feet. "You might be smarter than I am, Ken, but unless you've got some ideas about what to do, for right now, stow it."

Kenny gave a half-hearted salute and kept staring at his feet.

"What time is it?" asked John.

Holly glanced at the digital clock on the bottom of the computer screen. "It's a little after seven."

"What sort of supplies do we have for sleeping, Doc?"

Sebbins shook herself out of her daze. "Uh, two cots. A few blankets. This wasn't meant to be a long-term facility."

"Doctor, you and Holly take the cots. Ken, Indigo, and I will make our beds on the floor."

"Hey!" shouted Indigo. "Why does Holly get a cot?"

"Because you're supposed to be tough."

"You can have my cot, Indigo. I'll be up watching over Posey," said Sebbins.

"It's kind of early to sleep, isn't it?" asked Holly.

John said, "We barely slept last night, and we were up before dawn, and we did all that running around! Aren't you tired?"

"I suppose I am," said Holly.

John clapped his hands like a football player breaking huddle. "That settles it; let's hit the racks. Dawn will be here too soon."

T
he morning was already warm, an unusual heat for early in the day. The sun wasn't quite separated from the horizon, and the sky was promising a beautiful day, blue with only wispy clouds in the upper atmosphere.

Kenny slumped back against the wooden wall of the shack. He watched John as the athletic young man did a series of complicated yoga stretches and then broke down to a punishing regiment of calisthenics. Kenny had never been much of an athlete. He was slight and thin, with spindly arms that seemed more bones than skin. He had been through the hand-to-hand combat training just like the other six, but he never really took to it. It was a struggle for him. He didn't want to hit Andy or John, even though they had often reassured him that he couldn't hurt them. He didn't like the feeling of grappling with another person. Maybe that was why he liked his computer so much. It was clean, sterile. There was no sweat coming out of it. It was complex, yet he found it simple and beautiful. Holly could keep her butterflies, to Kenny the true beauty of the world was found in the innards of a PC tower.

Kenny watched John fire off push-ups with machine precision and endurance. John didn't fatigue, he barely broke a sweat. After a solid fifteen minutes of push-ups, John jumped to his feet and pulled a knee to his chest. "I need to run," he said. He looked at Kenny. "You want in?"

Normally, Kenny wouldn't have even responded. He hated running. It was mindless. Kenny could spend seven hours straight at a keyboard and it would feel like five minutes. Five minutes of jogging felt like seven hours. However, the only computers at the remote lab were simple machines, meant to keep the lab equipment functioning and recording data. There was no internet. There wasn't even a stray Wi-Fi signal in the area. The computer components of his brain had effectively been silenced and for the first time in years, Kenny was actually bored and confined. A run was pretty much his only option for entertainment. Holly and Dr. Sebbins had gotten a ride into town from an Amish man, and Indigo was watching over Posey in the lab. He had no other choice for entertainment, so he nodded sheepishly and fell into step behind John.

John led the way to the west, continuing along the old farm road through the trees. John's stride was strong and rhythmic; Kenny bumbled behind him stumbling occasionally and catching himself before he fell, and shuffling his feet more often than not. There was no grace in Kenny's movements. A thin sheen of sweat broke out on John's forehead; Kenny's shirt was soaked with sweat and he kept swiping beads of sweat away from his eyes with the back of his hand.

The farm path led out into some open fields and down into a low valley. A creek ran across the bottom of the valley and it was the sight of the water that allowed Kenny to realize that he'd had enough. He plunged into the creek headfirst and let the water soak his clothes and run over him. He popped his head out spluttering and cupped his hands to bring some water to his mouth.

"I wouldn't," said John shaking his head.

"Why?"

"We're in farm country, unless you hadn't noticed. I'd be willing to bet that we'd find cattle upstream. Where there's cattle, there's probably manure in the water. You could get some sort of nasty disease."

"But I'm thirsty!"

"We've hardly run anywhere," said John. "It's only been about six miles."

"Six miles!" Kenny fell back to a sitting position in the creek. The water swirled around him, covering him to his neck. "That's more than I've run since I convinced Cormair that the physical training was a waste of my time."

John chuckled and reached a hand to Kenny. He pulled Kenny onto the grassy bank of the creek and sat next to him as Kenny stretched out, still gasping for air.

"It's nice to be able to talk to you like a normal guy," said John. "We always tried in the Home, but you were always so closed off, so anti-social."

Kenny shrugged. "Before, I guess I didn't feel like I was important. Sarah was the pretty one, Indigo was the mean one, Andy was the funny one, you were the jock, Holly was the compassionate one, and Posey was the one everyone liked. I guess I felt like there was a need for a shy one. I guess I didn't feel like I was important. The rest of you were always getting tested in all these neat and interesting ways. My testing sessions were done in front of computers. Or I'd play chess with Cormair. It was very low-key. I guess I thought that whatever they were trying to me wasn't important. Now I know why they did what they did and for the first time in my life, I actually feel useful. I guess I have something to say now."

"Well, I should hope so. You really absorbed all that data?"

"Yeah. It was hard, but I was able to do it."

"What's it like?" John asked him.

"What's what like?"

"Talking to computers. How does it work?"

Kenny looked at the sky and tried to formulate an answer. "I don't know if I can explain it. It's like trying to ask you what it is like when your power works."

"I don't really know. It usually works before I'm aware it's working. Yours is different, though. You actually have to think about it, don't you?"

Kenny shrugged. "A little. When I first started realizing that I could do it, it was a little a scary."

"How'd you figure it out?"

"About three years ago, I was fixing my computer while thinking about Holly," said Kenny. "She had told me earlier that day that she'd been keeping a diary on her computer for a few months. I got curious and wanted to know if she'd written anything about me. Suddenly, it was like my brain was in her computer and my eyes were looking at all her files. If I looked at one and wanted it to open, it opened. It was pretty scary. I didn't come out of my room for about two days."

"I think I remember that," said John.

"I realized pretty quickly how to use my powers to hack computers. Pretty soon, it was like tying a shoe. But..."

"But?"

"But the physical strain is hard. Each time I do it, it feels like it breaks down my body a little bit."

"Each time you talk to computers?"

Kenny shrugged. "Just talking to them isn't the hard part. That might kill a few cells, maybe a brain cell or three, I don't even notice. It gives me a little headache afterward. According to Cormair's files, it's less harmful than a shot of liquor. But, getting through a security system, or re-routing a computer's data flow or something like that---something that requires a lot of mental manipulation, that's like taking punches straight to my brain. It uses energy from my body in order to accomplish its tasks. It's like any sort of project, really. You take a board, right? You want to nail it to another board? You drive a nail into it. You've created something new, but you've damaged both boards in order to accomplish your goal. And you can never repair them."

John gave Kenny an incredulous look. "Have you thought about what this means long-term?"

"No. The research I downloaded didn't have any long-term projects. They were going to kill us, remember. They weren't worried about the long-term."

"Well, I'm not planning on dying. I'm not going down without a fight. And if I'm fighting, you're fighting too. Now just think long-term: If you continue to use your power, won't it break down your body to a point where you can no longer move? Maybe even think? It will break you down like Alzheimer's disease or something, won't it?"

Kenny shrugged. "I guess. I never really thought about it."

"Won't it, though?"

John made sense. He usually did. Maybe it was all that military logic that got programmed into him. Kenny shrugged. "I guess it will."

"You have to limit yourself, then. You need to make sure you don't use your power that much. Only use it in dire emergencies. I can't even imagine how much you injured yourself yesterday. If I had known yesterday, I wouldn't have let you do all that stuff."

"I just feel a little sore today, that's all. I'll probably feel worse tomorrow, what with all this stupid running."

"A little sore today? What about next time you have to talk to computers and security systems and such like you did yesterday? You'll hurt worse the day after that. In time, you'll be useless. A shell, an empty husk. No mind, no body, just a shell."

Kenny swallowed hard. He hadn't thought of that. He hadn't been conscious the day before, when they had fought their way out of the Home, but he had been useful. He'd gotten them through the security. What happens if he can't talk to computers? How useful would he be then?

"John," Kenny said. "They're going to come for us, won't they? The people from the Home?"

"Yes, they are. They're probably coming already. Who knows when they'll show up? I would rather go to them, though. We have to free Sarah and Andy. Sometimes it's best to be on the attack rather than sitting and waiting."

"I'll be useless then. I can't help you guys in any way. I'm not you; I can't fight. I can't call animals or fly or move things with my mind. If you don't let me use my powers, I'm nothing! I go back to being unimportant!"

"You can stay here, then," said John.

"Teach me to shoot," said Kenny.

"What?"

"You heard me. In a fight, I'm useless. I've got no strength and there probably won't be computers that need rerouting in a battle. Teach me to shoot."

"Shoot a gun? As in: To take a life if need be?"

"Exactly."

"Kenny, you don't know what you're asking. To actually shoot someone, there's a lot more than just pointing a gun and pulling a trigger. You have to steel yourself for the long-term effects of killing someone. You have to understand the weight of your action."

"And you do?"

"I do. I think it might be part of my programming. It's like there's a small part of my brain that clicks on when I think about having to shoot someone. It cordons off the rest of my brain or something."
"I have more control over my brain than anyone in the history of man, I think I can handle plugging a guy who will shoot me if I don't shoot him first. John, teach me to shoot."

"I can't do that."

"You have to," Kenny said. "Look at the facts: We're underdogs. We need every advantage. They never taught me to use guns more than the basics, and those were barely useful on the shooting range. I need more training. Teach me to shoot so I'll be worth something if we get into it with these army guys."

John took a deep breath. "I would rather we didn't shoot anybody."

"Isn't sacrifice a part of battle?"

"Yes...but--"

"No buts. I need some way to attack, to be useful. Teach me to shoot and I'll carry a gun."

John sighed. "I don't like this plan."

"Use your tactical brain and look at the facts. It's the only option I've got."

John sighed again and nodded slightly. "I'll start when we get back. We better head back. Holly and Seb will be back with food shortly."

John led the way back and Kenny stumbled along behind him, perhaps not quite as graceless as he was before. He let his mind wander to the topic of guns. He pictured himself with a sidearm strapped to his thigh like a gunfighter in the Old West. He saw himself with that gunfighter's limp, a hand hovering above the pearl handle of a Colt revolver. If he could shoot, it wouldn't matter that he couldn't use his power.

When they jogged back to the shack, Sebbins, Holly, and Indigo were already eating a simple meal of soup cooked over a fire and cold-cut sandwiches. John and Kenny tore into the food with gusto. Between bites, John asked Sebbins, "What's the plan for the afternoon?"