16

I ran up the porch steps. The security light blinked on as I unlocked and opened the door. I crossed to the alarm and deactivated it, glancing up at the sky outside, wondering if Key was up there – was that how it worked? If he was, could he come inside now without triggering it? I kicked off my shoes. I needed to focus. It would only be a matter of time before someone came looking for me and I needed to be out of here long before then.

I stood at the bottom of the stairs, frozen. I would never see Alex again. The consequences of leaving suddenly seemed more impossible to bear than the consequences of staying. I shut my eyes and felt the walls closing in on me.

My eyes snapped open. I’d find whatever information I could and then I’d decide if I was staying or going. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, though a sheaf of papers explaining why there were government-sanctioned units dedicated to eradicating us like a nasty flu virus would be handy. Or information on what they did with such people when they caught them.

‘With us,’ I said out loud, ‘when they catch us.’

I ran into the living room. Jack’s laptop was on the table and I switched it on. It asked for a password. I hesitated a few seconds then tried ‘Sara’ but it beeped angrily at me and demanded I try again. I tapped in the code for the alarm. Another angry beep and a warning that I only had one more try before permanent lockout. I swore loudly. Then my eye caught the photo of my mum on the bookcase. I looked back at the keyboard and typed in my mum’s name: Melissa.

I stared at the screen in shock for a moment then quickly scrolled across the desktop to Jack’s most recent documents and clicked on the first one.

It was titled Demos.

It took me a moment to figure out the connection. Then I remembered Key’s words and my heart stalled. Demos was the man Key said had taken his son. Apparently the same man the Unit had tracked to Mexico.

I clicked the file open, my hands shaking. A face expanded across the screen. The image was grainy and unfocused and it was hard to make out the details clearly. What I could see was a man with a widow’s peak of black hair, a square jaw, flat blue eyes and dark stubble. My eyes flicked down to the paragraphs of text beneath the picture.

What the hell was a psychokenosist? I had no idea, but surely anything that required the word ‘psycho’ at the front could not be good. I read on –

I felt dizzy. The words jumped around in front of my eyes. I scrolled back up so I could see the photograph again. My mother’s killer. I was staring right at him. The man who had broken into my house and stabbed her to death. The same man who had Key’s son. The same man who may or may not have been coming after me to use me as a pawn in his game of girlfriend barter. Alex had lied to me. The people the Unit were hunting were the same people who had killed my mother. And the people who had killed her were like me.

I closed my eyes whilst the room spun and kept them closed whilst I hit the scroll down button. I didn’t want to open them and see Demos’s face again. I read down.

He had already been convicted? And sentenced to death? I fell back into the chair. My eyes tracked to the text below:

Psygens? Was I one of those? Underneath were the profiles of eight or so people. Small boxes of text with photographs sitting next to them. I scanned down the list, burning the names and faces into my memory.

The picture was of a striking black woman, her eyes flashing at the camera in defiance. The background was bright, white light. There was a cut across her eyebrow and her lip looked swollen but she was still managing to tilt her chin at the camera and smile.

This was the woman that Demos wanted back. That they’d thought he might want me to exchange for. I studied her picture. ‘Contained’ was stamped underneath it. Contained. I said it out loud. It sounded like the word exterminators used when they were done catching vermin.

I moved down the list.

The picture underneath was taken with a zoom lens but was better quality than the one of Demos. It was a side profile shot of a regular-looking guy walking down the street, late twenties, longish hair, slight roguish quality due to the way his lip curled, like he knew he was something special. A sifter? What was that? Why couldn’t they use plain English for goodness sake – it wasn’t like I could take down the dictionary and find the definitions.

The list went on for another paragraph. I got the picture loud and clear, though, so I skipped down, wondering if he was one of the people who’d come after my mum. He had to be. Another surge of anger overtook me.

He was like me, then. Another person who could make things move with his mind. I should have been excited at the knowledge, but I was horrified. The man looked like a fighting dog, his neck as broad as his head, which was shaved and battered like a boiled egg that had been dropped on the floor. I scanned through his list of crimes, It was as long as Ryder’s. Murder thrown in amongst the lesser crimes like an afterthought.

Underneath his entry was one for a woman: Amber Stark. She had flaming red hair, lips the colour of crushed beetles and skin so pale it was translucent. The picture was a headshot. She looked to be in her late twenties but it was hard to tell. I peered closer. Glancing down I saw that this girl’s ability was listed as Reader. Clearly nothing to do with books.

Beneath Amber was a man called Thomas Taylor. They were calling him a Projector. Thomas had been contained too. Key’s statement that when people got caught they didn’t come back was looking fairly accurate.

Beneath Thomas was Harvey James. The photo showed a man in his early thirties. He had a cigarette in his mouth and was wearing Ray-Bans. He could have passed for one of the Unit. He was telekinetic. The record said he had done time for bank robbery, aggravated assault, breaking and entering and that he was suspected of murder. Who wasn’t? I thought. Stamped at the bottom of the page were the words: Escaped San Quentin Prison.

The last photo was of a girl: Japanese, beautiful, and grinning like a Cheshire cat posing for Mario Testino. I looked at the name under the photo feeling like my world was crumbling around me; it was already half in ruins, but this was the final tremor to bring everything tumbling down.

She was a mind-reader, then.

A hand suddenly slapped over my mouth and my feet were lifted off the floor. My nose was half covered by rough fingers. I gasped in a lungful of air, my brain one step ahead of my thoughts and gearing up for a scream before I had even processed what was happening. But no air could get through and all I could do was choke.

A man’s voice whispered in my ear, ‘Shut up, be quiet!’

I struggled to obey, panic causing tears to spring up in my eyes. I tried to scan the room to find an object that I could smash into him but I couldn’t calm myself enough to focus on my surroundings. What an idiot, I thought. One of the only people on the planet with a special ability to see off attackers and I can’t even make it work.

‘Shhhh, it’s me, it’s me. Is Jack here?’ The tone was frantic.

The hand loosened its grip and I sucked in some air, gulping it down. I twisted my head, my eyes lighting on the phone. The words he’d spoken sank in about the same time I saw his face and in the second I took to compute that it was Key who was holding me, the phone came flying through the air towards his head. It fell to the floor with a crash, hitting his foot and making him swear.

I fought my way out of his arms and faced him. ‘What the hell are you doing in my house?’

‘Is Jack here? Is he back?’ Key was jigging up and down, wired and wide-eyed.

‘No.’ I shook myself and wiped my face, trying to remove the taste of his hand. ‘What the hell are you doing? I told you I’d help you, you don’t need to break into my house and—’

He lunged towards me. ‘You’ve got to get out now.’

‘What?’

‘You have to leave, right now.’ He started pulling me out of the living room, tugging me by the top of my arm. I let myself be pulled.

‘What? Why?’ I knew the answer before he said it, dread already tunnelling through me.

‘They’re coming. They’re on their way. They used one of them to set the alarm off on the base. It’s a decoy. I can’t believe your brother fell for it. And why the hell did you leave the bar? Alone! Are you insane?’

We were in the kitchen; Key was fumbling with the lock on the back door.

‘But . . . how? They were in Mexico. Jack said.’ Key had to be wrong.

‘Well, they’re not now. They’re back here. As soon as I left you, I saw one of Demos’s people outside the bar. Bold as brass. Like he didn’t care if the Unit spotted him.’

‘What was he doing there?’ I asked hesitatingly.

‘There was only one thing in that bar of any interest to Demos.’ He gave me a look that made my blood run cold. ‘Then you came swanning out on your own and jumped in a cab. And that’s all it took. Demos’s man jumped in a car and I followed you straight here to warn you. Sure as my mama goes to church twice on a Sunday they’re coming here.’

I stared at him.

‘Damn! How do you get this door open?’ He was yanking it so hard, the frame was in danger of cracking.

I knelt down and slid the bolt at the bottom and the door opened.

‘Come on!’ He pulled me out onto the back veranda.

I flew forward onto the wooden planks, whacking my elbow on the door frame and letting out a cry. Key went tumbling over me, head first down the steps onto the lawn. And then a man was on top of him, smacking his fist into his face.

I jerked onto my knees and hauled myself up, spinning around to see whether anyone else was coming up behind him. My legs were bent as though I was on a starting block but I didn’t know which way to run or what to do. Key was curled up in a ball, yelling out with each blow. I unfroze and directed my gaze at a watering can, the first thing I saw. It lifted up and I hurled it with all the force I could muster at the man on top of Key. Then I looked for something else. A wooden table at the far end of the veranda was the only other object that I thought I could lift. I stared at it hard and it flew up straight away, hovered for a split second and then rocketed towards the men on the grass.

Just before it made contact, the man rolled aside, off Key. The shock made me lose my grip and the table skidded dangerously in mid-air, coming to a rest millimetres from Alex’s face. It hung there like a feather while we both watched. Time seemed to have frozen alongside the table. I looked at Alex, feeling adrenaline pump into my limbs. He was staring at the table in disbelief, then his eyes slowly tracked over to me and I saw the cog turn and the realisation sink in.

The table smashed to the ground at his side. He didn’t flinch, he was already on his feet, and the look on his face was one I’d never seen before. I almost toppled backwards from the force of it. The anger was barely contained. Alex took a step towards me and I cowered back against the door frame. I’d never before felt fear like it. I’d take Demos over this.

I closed my eyes, waiting for him to reach me. I heard Alex swear and my eyes snapped open. Key had grabbed him by the leg and was hanging off him, being dragged along behind.

‘Run, Lila!’ Key was yelling, through a mouthful of blood.

Alex was trying to shake him off; I could see him about to take aim with the other leg and before I knew what I was doing I had launched myself off the top step. I collided with Alex hard, bringing him to the ground, landing with a crunch on top of him. I hadn’t a hope of holding him down but I clung to him tightly, holding his arms and leaning all my weight onto his chest.

‘Stop, stop, please stop,’ I was begging him. ‘Please don’t hurt him. Please stop. He’s trying to help me.’

Alex stopped pushing against me. I released my grip and sat up. I was straddling him. Key had rolled onto his hands and knees and was trying to stand.

Alex sat up and I scrambled off him, backing away fast. He drew himself up to standing, his body taut. I moved to Key’s side, helping him to stand. He spat a bloody wodge of saliva into the grass and leaned heavily on me, panting. I could see Alex’s hands clenching into fists but he stayed pacing the grass a few metres away from us, shooting glances between me and Key.

‘Alex,’ I tried to speak but it came out in a hoarse whisper, ‘Alex, this is Key. He came to tell me that they’re coming to the house.’

‘Who’s coming?’ Alex stopped pacing, his eyes flashing onto me like two lightning strikes.

‘Demos.’ Key lifted his head to spit the word.

Alex stepped towards him and Key leaned back, making me stumble.

‘What? How do you know this?’ His tone was fierce, quick.

‘They’re on their way. You need to get her out of here. They want her.’ Key coughed. ‘To exchange.’ He hacked more bloody spit out of his lungs.

For one second Alex stood staring at Key, then he shifted his head and I felt his eyes burning into me again. I looked back defiantly, my heart rate rising. Then I felt his hand grab me by the elbow and he was dragging me across the lawn.

Key tumbled to his knees as I lost my grip on him. I dug my bare feet into the ground and yanked my arm free from Alex’s grip.

Alex turned around, his face blazing.

‘Where are you taking me?’ I was shouting.

He reached his hand to take hold of me again but I dodged it.

‘Come on,’ he said. It was an order.

I stood firm. ‘I’m not leaving him. He came to help me. They have his son.’

I saw Alex waver. He glanced over at the back door and then at Key. I could see the tension in his jaw, the tendons standing up in his neck.

‘Come on then, quick, into the garage, the car.’ He moved towards Key and put an arm around his shoulders, hauling him to standing.

‘Come on, move!’ Alex shouted and I ran.

I flicked on the garage light and held the door open as Alex half carried Key through. He leaned him against the car. ‘Stay here.’

I ran to Key’s side to prop him up while Alex ducked through into the hallway. He was back in a second with the car keys, beeping open the doors. He took Key from me and half pushed him onto the back seat.

‘Get in!’ he yelled.

From outside we heard the sudden noise of screaming engines, of cars, or trucks. It was loud, tearing apart the still night. All three of us lifted our heads. They screeched to a stop out the front of the house.

Alex dived into the driver’s seat and threw open the passenger door. He leaned over and grabbed my wrist, pulling me into the car. I slammed the door shut as the garage opened up.

The thrust of the acceleration as Alex hit his foot to the floor and reversed out threw me against the dash. I heard Key roll off the back seat and a heavy thump as he crashed onto the floor.