CHAPTER TWO - SADIE
“Do you understand what to do?”
I do. One hundred percent. I have no idea who I’m talking to. I don’t know if the voice asking the question is male or female. I don’t recognize it at all. But I absolutely know what to do.
“Yes,” I say.
“Tell me,” it says.
“Leave here. Travel through the tunnels to uptown. Exit through the D Street station. Travel one mile northeast to the laundry facility. Secure the truck. Proceed to Cathedral City Asylum. Secure target. Bring him back here.”
“Yes,” it says. “Do you foresee any problems with the plan?”
I think really hard about that question. So hard I can feel my eyebrows knitting together on my forehead. “Why would there be problems?”
“Good girl,” it says.
Male, I decide. This voice is male. Then I stop that thought. I don’t need to know.
“When was the last time you were”—it hesitates—“on assignment?”
I have no idea.
“A month ago?” it prods.
I’m still thinking.
“A few months?” it continues.
“It’s been two years,” another voice says. “She’s been… in training.” This one is definitely female. She forgot to activate her scrambler before she spoke.
The other voice rebukes her with a hiss and says, “Then why did we choose this one?”
“She’s special.”
I reluctantly smile. Because I am special.
“She’s the only one who can manipulate her way through the asylum security. Don’t worry, she’s never been a troublemaker. She’s as well-trained as they come.”
The second voice has still not disguised herself. Her failure to follow protocol unsettles me.
“You’re not convinced?” the female asks.
“Not even a little bit. Why are you here? Where’s—” But it stops short of saying a name. I’m not to associate my handlers with anything. Not a name, not a gender, not a face. My eyes are blinded by the mask, my hands and feet secured to the table with tight straps. I have no idea where I am or how long I’ve been here.
But that doesn’t matter. I have the plan programmed into my head. It’s all I need.
“Trust me,” the female says as a needle pricks my arm. “This injection should alleviate your concerns. Set her free and watch.”
I can almost feel an eyebrow rise in response.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be tracking her. We can switch her off any time we want. Right, Sadie?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately. “I am yours to command.”
“See?” the female says. “You don’t need to worry about this one. She is the best of the best.”
Best of the best. I smile.
“Fine,” voice one says. “Let her loose.”
A motor whirrs to life and the table begins to slowly right itself. Blood rushes to my head as I become vertical. My body slides down the table with the force of gravity until the soles of my boots touch the floor and I am standing.
It takes a moment for my legs to remember what to do. But only a moment. The program in my head tells my muscles everything I need to know.
A door opens with a creak. “After you,” the female says. Footsteps as they leave. A second creaking of the door as it closes behind them.
Then the straps holding me tightly to the table retract.
“Sadie,” a scrambled voice says through a crackling intercom. “Take off your blinder.”
I reach up, pull the mask down my face, and open my eyes.
The room is nearly dark so my eyes can take a few seconds to adjust to light. I feel them focusing, my lenses opening and closing as they find the right aperture.
“Exit when you’re ready,” the scrambled voice commands.
I step away from the table, testing my legs. Giving them a few moments to remember what to do. They are a little achy, like they feel the need to stretch. Or run. Something more than stillness.
I take in the room and the word Exit overlays on my vision screen when I look at a door. There are several other doors in this room but the only one I’ll be able to pass through is the one marked Exit on my overlay.
I bend over and stretch since I’m unable to run. Touch my fingers to my toes, my forehead to my knees. I wrap my arms around my legs and force myself to stay there for a moment of relief. Perhaps even pleasure.
“Sadie,” the voice interrupts. “We’re on a deadline, sweetie. Please become ready now.”
I slowly uncurl from my stretch, take a deep breath, then crack my knuckles.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m ready.”
I proceed to the door, open it up, and step out into the tunnel. A map overlays my vision now. A path lit up in red, for my eyes only, telling me where to go.
I follow it down the dark, wet tunnel for a long time. Miles, at least. I want to run so bad, but there’s a command on my vision screen telling me to be cautious. Which means I shouldn’t. So I don’t.
After thirty-three minutes of wishing for something to change, the lighted path points to a metal ladder leading up to the surface. I climb up one level, but the path continues upward, so I ignore the people on that level as I pass through. The next level has no people, but I’m not supposed to stop, so I don’t. When I get to the tenth level the path leads me to a door.
The trains are loud here. Down below they were just a faint rumble. Now they shake the floor, the walls, me.
I’m in a small room with a single door with an actual lighted exit sign. There’s a keypad mounted on the wall. I don’t need to touch it or punch in a code. Everything is controlled by my handlers.
I pull on the handle and it opens. I step through into the D Street station. People see me, but I’m wearing a uniform that makes them think I work for the Cathedral City Transportation Department, so they look away, quickly losing interest.
I’m almost sorry I don’t attract more attention. My superpower has been dormant for so long, I’d like to let it loose. Take it out and see what it can do.
But the vision screen is still blinking be cautious at me.
So I don’t.
I walk past everyone, hit the stairs, and take them two at a time. The adrenaline is pumping through my body now, my muscles primed from the long climb back to the surface.
The world assaults me. The noise, the traffic, the people. But that assault doesn’t bother me. Nothing bothers me.
The compass on my vision screen points the way to the laundry facility so I walk that direction. I take in the smell of coffee shops, restaurants, exhaust fumes. I don’t know how people can live up here. I prefer the dark, wet underworld.
I keep going, leaving the tight city blocks behind until I’m in a more industrial area. I’m still wearing my quasi-uniform, which not-so-coincidentally looks a little bit like the uniforms the people at the laundry facility are wearing.
There is no guard at the front gate. Just a chain-linked fence—open to allow workers to enter—and dozens of people who look a little bit like me. A man looks at me, his eyes squinting as he tries to figure out who I am and what I’m doing there. But the caution sign on my vision screen is no longer blinking so I take the superpower out and give it a whirl.
“Jennifer?” he asks, walking towards me. The timer on my vision screen is counting up, letting me know how long I have for this interaction. I glance across the parking lot, find a woman’s face, and change the illusion. “Oh.” He laughs. “Sorry, Lisa.”
I turn away as he deals with his confusion, letting my face become someone else. It changes every five to seven seconds. If people look at me and see the change, they stop what they’re doing. Wondering how they could see something so… impossible. But then they just shake their head and shrug it off as… what? What do they think when they see my illusions? They are crazy? Not at this level of trickery. They need more coffee? Probably that. It’s Monday morning, after all. People chalk a lot of things up to Mondays.
My truck is number 219187 and it’s parked just to the left of the main loading dock. The driver assigned to this truck is not here. She’s sick today. I’m not sure why she’s sick—or if she’s even still alive—but Prodigy doesn’t need me to know those details. All I need to know is what she looks like so I can steal the truck and not have anyone know.
People nod to me as I become who I need to be. Each time I trip the illusion the timer on screen resets. All my interactions need to be precise or the trip wears off.
But it’s Monday. People are tired and busy. There are dozens of trucks and hundreds of people. So I slip inside, start the engine, and back out before anyone has a chance to realize what I’m doing.
I wave to a few people on my way out, tripping into the woman who should be behind this wheel instead of me.
And then I’m free to do my job.
I head north, up towards Cathedral City Asylum where they are keeping a man called Thomas Brooks. He’s a crazy motherfucker. Really. My vision screen actually says “crazy motherfucker” in the notes section.
I will have him soon. I will take him back to Prodigy and he will be one of us again. He thinks he got away, but no one actually gets away from Prodigy.
And once I have him, I’ll get his friends too. I won’t fail. I never fail. That’s why they only take me out for special occasions.
When you use me, the job gets done.
Thomas Brooks, Lincoln Wade, and Case Reider will all be mine by end of day.