Crosstalk (55 page)

And stand guard over me,
she thought, gazing at him as he sat slumped against the wall, looking defeated and bone-weary. He was right. There was no way he had the strength or endurance to block Trent and Lyzandra for long enough to do any good.

“We can't just leave them to the mercy of the voices,” C.B. said. “Even though I'd like to. You'll notice they didn't send a nurse in here to make sure
you
were okay. You could be in here having seizures, for all they know. Or care.”

And if Lyzandra hadn't volunteered to take the relaxant, they wouldn't have hesitated to give it to me. But—

“Exactly,” C.B. said. “We can't just stand by and watch them have a psychotic break when we're the ones who caused it.”

You mean I am,
Briddey thought sickly.
This was my bright idea.
And it had totally backfired. Not only had she nearly killed Trent and Lyzandra, but instead of protecting C.B., she'd delivered him right into their hands. “I am so sorry I got you into this,” she said.

“You couldn't have known opening the door would—”

“No, I mean all of this. If I'd listened to you when you tried to warn me about having the EED, none of this would ever have happened. Your secret would be safe—”

“Yeah, well, and if I'd told you what Trent was up to in the first place, it wouldn't have happened either. But it did, and we need to go try to get those voices under control. Come on, get up,” he said, even though he was the one sitting on the ground.

“But couldn't
I
go in there instead? I know how to erect a perimeter and a safe room. I could teach them—”

He was shaking his head. “A perimeter and a safe room won't be enough to protect Lyzandra. She needs—”

“You could give me directions. You could stay in here and tell me what to say, and I could—”

“It would take too long. And they already know you were talking to somebody. They'll be determined to find out who, and I'm not sending you in there alone to face an inquisition.”

“But—”

“Besides, this is going to take both of us. Come on,” he said, extending his hands to her so she could help him up.

She reached for him, and the two of them were instantly back in the testing room, and she was the one sitting on the floor, and he was standing over her with
his
hands extended. There wasn't a mark on them—no soot, no burns.

Thank God,
she thought, clasping them tightly.

He pulled her up.

But if they find out he's a telepath, they won't think twice about sending him back into the fire,
she thought.
They'll interrogate him, they'll give him drugs to enhance his receptivity, and he won't be able to hold back the voices. He'll be burned alive—

“Ready?” C.B. was saying.

“No. There has to be something else we can do. In the library, you said you'd been working on a jammer. Could you—?”

“Invent something in the next five minutes to block the voices? Afraid not.” He smiled at her gently. “Maybe it won't be as bad as we think. Maybe after what's happened, they'll decide they don't want to have anything more to do with telepathy. From what I'm getting from Trent, his voices take the form of bugs crawling all over him, and the psychic's reaction has to have scared the hell out of Verrick. They may already have figured out telepathy's a terrible idea—”

You're crazy!
Maeve's voice said out of nowhere.
They won't ever think that. Aunt Briddey, tell him he can't let them find out who he is!

“What are you doing here?” C.B. demanded. “I thought I told you to stay in your safe room.”

I was listening,
Maeve said defiantly,
and it's a good thing. Helping them's an awful idea!

“So is them finding out about you. Get inside,” C.B. ordered her, and they were all abruptly back in the courtyard, Maeve standing there on the blackened flagstones in her Rapunzel dress and tiara, arms akimbo.

“You
can't
tell them about the telepathy,” she said. “Once they know about it, they'll never leave you alone. They'll keep pestering you till you tell them everything.”

“She's right,” Briddey said. “Once they smell blood in the water—”

“—they'll
make
you tell them,” Maeve said. “And Trent'll put it in his phone, and all the moms will buy it, and they'll know all the things their kids do that they aren't supposed to, and nobody'll be able to do anything or go anywhere! Danika's mom is really strict. If she finds out about Danika watching zombie movies, she'll ground her
forever
, and some of the kids have parents who are really
mean
! It'll be worse than hearing the voices even! You
can't
let them find out!”

“I know,” C.B. said. “And that's why you've got to go home. They don't know about you, and we've got to keep it that way. You need to go—”

“Not till you promise me you won't tell them! Remember when Mom went to that Helicopter Mom rehab seminar?” she said, appealing to Briddey. “And she promised she was going to stop reading my Facebook page and my texts and hovering over me every second, but she
didn't
! You can't
trust
them.”

“We don't,” C.B. said. “It'll be okay.”

“No, it
won't
!” Maeve was practically crying. “They're like
zombies.
It's not good enough to just shoot them. You have to blow them up, or they'll just keep coming. And why do you have to save them anyway? They're creeps!”

“Because we're not,” C.B. said.

“But that doesn't mean you have to let them find out about you! I know you said you couldn't block the voices for them, but if we do it together, we could. I could help, and we—”

“No,” C.B. said.

“We can't risk them finding out about you,” Briddey explained.

“They won't,” Maeve said confidently. “I've got
tons
of barricades, and C.B. taught me frequency hopping. They'll never find me. And I know lots of tricks for getting inside people's defenses—”

Obviously,
Briddey thought.

“—and ways to block them. We could take turns, and—”

C.B. was shaking his head. “We couldn't keep it up forever. Teaching them to build defenses is the only thing that'll work. Come on, Briddey.” He extended his hand to her.

“But it
can't
be the only thing!” Maeve wailed. “There has to be something else. Maybe we could trick them like in
Zombiegeddon
. They made the zombies think they were hiding in this mall and the zombies all went there and they locked them in and gave them this drug that made them forget all about them—”

“There's no drug that will make them forget about us,” C.B. said.

“No!”
Maeve said in frustration. “I meant we could
trick
them. You said people don't believe telepathy's real and that there are all these people out there just pretending to read minds. So you guys could go help them build their defenses, and I could tell Mom I'm sick and get her to bring me to the hospital and—”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Just
listen
. I could bring the nanny cam with me and hide it in here, and after you're done, you could say to Aunt Briddey, ‘Do you think we fooled them?' and Aunt Briddey could say, ‘Yeah, they really think it's telepathy. I hope they don't look in the testing room,' and then they will and they'll find the nanny cam and think the telepathy was all a big trick and you guys were bugging them like Aunt Briddey thought you were bugging her hospital room.”

“No,” C.B. said. “In the first place, they're not going to be fooled by a nanny cam—”

“But I could—”

“And in the
second
place, you're not coming anywhere near the hospital. You're going to go home and into your castle and pull up the drawbridge and stay there till I tell you you can come out.”

And I know exactly how well forbidding her to do something will work,
Briddey thought. The minute they took their eyes off her, she'd be over the wall and undertaking some even more dangerous scheme she'd gotten from
Zombiegeddon
or
Beauty and the Beast
. The only way to stop her was to make her understand how disastrous it would be for them to discover her ability.

“Come here, Maeve,” she said, going over to the cottonwood tree and righting the overturned bench. She sat down on one end and patted the space beside her. “Sit down.”

“No.” Maeve folded her arms and jutted out her chin.

“C.B. isn't doing this to protect you—he knows you're really smart and that you're not afraid. He's doing it because it's
crucial
they not find out what causes the telepathy.”

“I wouldn't tell them—”

“I know you wouldn't. But just letting Dr. Verrick and Lyzandra find out you exist would give it away.”

“But C.B.'s letting them find out about
him.
That's the same thing.”

“No, it's not. Right now they think the EED caused my telepathy, not my being Irish. And they don't know C.B.'s Irish, they think he's Jewish. But if they find out about you, that will give them the clue they need—”

“Like when the witch sees the horse,” Maeve said.

“The witch?” Briddey said, lost. “In
Zombiegeddon
?”

“
No
. In
Tangled
. She sees the horse and figures out it must have had a rider and then she thinks, ‘Maybe he found the tower,' and she goes back and finds out Rapunzel's gone—”

“Exactly. Each clue will lead them to the next one, and we won't be able to stop it. It'll be like a—” She started to say “a snowball” and then changed her mind. They didn't have time to listen to the entire plot of
Frozen
, too. “Like a feedback loop,” she said instead. “You know what that is, don't you?”

“Of course I know what a feedback loop is,” Maeve said.

“A feedback loop,” C.B. murmured.

“What?” Briddey said.

“Nothing,” he said, and waved her to continue.

“So, Maeve, you know that once a feedback loop is in motion, it keeps getting stronger and stronger, till there's no way to stop it. Right, C.B.?” she asked, but he didn't answer.

“Like dominoes,” Maeve said. “Where you knock one over, and it knocks the next one over, and the next.”

“Till they all fall down. Yes,” Briddey said. “If they find out you're telepathic, they'll realize it's inherited, and they'll find the R1b gene cluster, and it'll tell them how the telepathy works—”

“And
that
will show them how to replicate it electronically,” C.B. said, coming out of his reverie. “And once they know that, there won't be any way we can stop them.”

“So it's
really
important they don't find out about you,” Briddey said.

Maeve nodded. “Like in
Silence of the Zombies.
They're hiding from the zombies, and they have to be totally quiet—”

“Exactly,” C.B. said. “Your Aunt Briddey and I will take care of this part. I need
you
to go inside your castle and pull up the drawbridge and then go into the safest part of the castle—”

“My tower,” Maeve said. “It's really safe. Nobody can get in.”

“Good,” C.B. said. “I want you to lock yourself in and stay there till I tell you it's safe to come out. And not talk to anybody
or
listen to anybody, not even Briddey and me.”

“How can I hear you telling me it's safe to come out if I'm not supposed to listen to you?” Maeve asked practically.

“I'll text you,” C.B. said.

“How can you? You don't have a smartphone.”

“I'll borrow your Aunt Briddey's. And don't worry. Everything's going to be fine. I have a plan.”

“What is it?” Maeve asked eagerly. “Tell me.”

“I can't. They might be listening. But I can tell you this much. It won't work unless you do your part.”

“Okay,” Maeve said grudgingly. “But it better be a good plan.” And she disappeared.

“Is it?” Briddey asked after she was gone. “A good plan?”

He ignored her question. “When Dr. Verrick talked to you about connecting, he told you the neural pathway operated as a feedback loop, right? And that each signal between you intensified it exponentially?”

“Yes, and you told me it didn't work like that.”

“It doesn't.”

“So how does that help your plan?” she asked, and when he didn't answer: “You don't have a plan, do you?”

“No, not yet. But don't worry. I'll come up with something. And if all else fails, we'll throw miscellaneous arms and legs and hands at them while we escape, like they do in
Zombienado.
” He grinned at her. “Seriously, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. And hope it isn't the Tallahatchie. In the meantime, we need to go help your boyfriend and Lyzandra get their defenses up.”

“He's
not
my boyfriend,” Briddey said.

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, too.”

C.B. held out his hand again and led her out of the courtyard into the testing room. “Right now we need to get in there before they come looking for us. If they aren't already.” And when she hesitated he said, “I got you out of the theater, didn't I? And out of the library? I'll get us out of this.”

I hope so,
she thought fervently.

“Come on,” he said, and smiled at her. “Let's go save France.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Completely.”

“Good. Follow me. I'm getting us out of here.”

—S
YFY
'
S
Alice

C.B. had been worried that they might be looking for them, but they were all in the other testing room, along with a nurse, who knelt next to Lyzandra as she sat huddled on a chair with a blanket around her shoulders, breathing raggedly into an oxygen mask. The nurse was taking her blood pressure, and at every touch Lyzandra flinched. Trent sat across from them, brushing compulsively at his arms and pant legs.

Dr. Verrick looked up, saw C.B. and Briddey, and said brusquely, “Why aren't you in the testing room?”

At the same time, Trent said, “What are you doing here, Schwartz? Did Commspan send you down?” And Lyzandra backed against the wall, pointed an accusing finger at Briddey, and shrieked, “Don't let her near me! She'll do it again!”

Nobody's going to do anything to you
, Briddey heard C.B. say to her.
I'm here to help
, and it was obvious Lyzandra had heard him because she turned, her finger still pointed at Briddey, to look at him in surprise. It was equally obvious that Trent hadn't heard, because he said anxiously, “I'd rather you didn't say anything about this at Commspan, Schwartz.”

Dr. Verrick strode toward C.B. “You can't be in here. Ms. Flannigan, who is this?” he demanded. “And what's he doing here?”

“He's C. B. Schwartz,” Trent answered for her. “He works at Commspan. I'm assuming he's here on business.” He turned to C.B. “Aren't you?”

“No,” C.B. said.

“He's—” Lyzandra began.

C.B. cut her off.
Tell Dr. Verrick the nurse has to leave,
he ordered her.
You want to avoid publicity about this, right?

Lyzandra nodded and ordered the nurse out.

“She needs to be admitted,” the nurse protested, looking at Dr. Verrick. “She's obviously distraught, and her heart rate—”

“I want her to leave
now,
” Lyzandra said, but Briddey was scarcely listening. She was wondering why she could hear C.B.'s thoughts but not Lyzandra's or Dr. Verrick's.

The radio,
Briddey thought.
It got turned off in the flood.
And while the nurse was objecting to being sent out, she went back into the courtyard to find it. It was lying on its side in a puddle of water, and the tuning dial was half melted, but she managed to get it switched on. She couldn't find Dr. Verrick's station or Lyzandra's. She had to settle for Trent's.

Mistake. His thoughts were a nearly incoherent tangle of fear, loathing, and insects crawling all over him, mixed with concern about what C.B. was doing there and what he was going to tell Commspan. She tapped on the knob, and Lyzandra's thoughts poured out, more hysterically incoherent than Trent's.

The nurse was still arguing with Dr. Verrick. “Either she leaves or I leave,” Lyzandra said, and, still wrapped in the blanket, tried to get up out of the chair.

“No, don't,” Dr. Verrick said hastily. “Nurse, that will be all.” He motioned her out.

“But—”

“Your presence is upsetting my patient. I'll call you if I need you.”

The nurse went out, and the moment the door shut behind her, Dr. Verrick said to Briddey, “Now suppose you tell me exactly what's going on and what this man is doing here?”

“He's the mind reader she was talking to,” Lyzandra said, “the person she was trying to keep secret.”

C.B.?
Briddey heard Trent think disbelievingly.

“Is that true, Ms. Flannigan?” Dr. Verrick asked Briddey.

It's okay, Briddey,
C.B. said.
Tell him
.

“Yes,” she said reluctantly.

“Why wouldn't you tell us you were talking to him?” Dr. Verrick asked.

Because I knew what would happen,
Briddey thought bitterly.
Exactly what's happening right now. An interrogation.
“You said two people had to be emotionally bonded to connect,” she said. “And I was afraid Trent would—”

“Think that you were emotionally bonded to C.B. Schwartz?” Trent said. “You're joking, right?” and Briddey winced.

Dr. Verrick turned to C.B. “How long have you two been able to communicate?”

“Since right after Ms. Flannigan's surgery.”

“Right after—?” Trent said.

Dr. Verrick silenced him with a look. “That was why you left your hospital room that night,” he said to Briddey as if it confirmed what he'd suspected all along. “Because you heard his voice, and it frightened you.”

“Yes,” C.B. answered for her.

“Are you the one who did this to my patients?”

“No,” Briddey said. “I did.”

“
You
did?” Trent burst out.

“It doesn't matter who did it,” C.B. said. “What matters is making sure it can't happen again.” He started toward Lyzandra. “I need to talk to them. I need to—”

Dr. Verrick moved to stop him. “You're not going anywhere near my patients, not until you've told me how you came to be connected to Ms. Flannigan. Who did your EED?”

“We don't have time for this,” C.B. said. “You heard the nurse. Lyzandra's heart rate is dangerously high. Let me—”

“Not till you answer my questions. Who did your EED?”

“Nobody.”

Oh, don't tell him that,
Briddey thought.

“I tripped over some cables in my lab a few days ago and cracked my head,” C.B. said, pointing at a place on the back of his neck in the same location as Briddey's stitches. “Knocked myself out, and when I came to, I could hear voices. Including Ms. Flannigan's. And that mob of strangers these two just heard.” He gestured at Trent and Lyzandra. “And that they'll hear again if I don't show them how to defend themselves.”

“Defend themselves?” Dr. Verrick said. “What does that mean? And how do I know you won't do them further harm? Or that you're even telepathic? You haven't given me any proof.”

“I was the one who called the hospital that night,” C.B. said, “to report that Ms. Flannigan had left her room and was in the stairwell. You can check the hospital call log and Commspan's. I made the call from there.”

“That's hardly proof.”

“Look, I'll give you any proof you want after I've—”

“I'm not letting you do anything until—”

“Fine,”
C.B. said, and snatched up the Zener cards from the table. “Briddey, go to Dr. Verrick's office and write down what I send you.” He handed the cards to Dr. Verrick. “Shuffle them.”

Are you sure you want to do this?
Briddey asked.

Yes,
he said.
Go
.

She nodded and went down the inner hall to the office where they'd been before, hoping she wouldn't have to contend with the banished nurse, but the office was empty. She grabbed a pen off the desk and began opening drawers, looking for something to write on. The bottom one held the plastic bag of her belongings that the nurse had taken from her.

Ready?
C.B. asked.

Almost,
she said, taking her phone out of the bag and pocketing it.
Okay. Am I supposed to—?

Just write what I tell you,
he said, and rattled off a series of symbols—star, star, cross, wavy lines, circle—which she transcribed.

Okay, come back in,
he said, and the moment she did, he grabbed the list from her and thrust it into Dr. Verrick's hands. “There's your proof. Now let us help them.”

Dr. Verrick wasn't listening. He was looking from the list to the upturned cards. “This is a perfect score,” he said, sounding astonished.

You gave me all right answers?
Briddey said, horrified. To let Dr. Verrick know the full extent of his telepathy was suicide. He'd—

I didn't have time for anything else,
C.B. said.
It was the only way to convince him
.

Only it hadn't. “This is impossible,” Dr. Verrick was saying. “Is this some kind of trick?”

“No,” Lyzandra said shakily. “It's real. I heard them sending. Please, let them help us.”

Dr. Verrick glared at her. “This is completely against medical—”

“Look,” C.B. said, “I'll agree to whatever tests or scans you want—”

No!
Briddey thought.

“—but you've got to let us help them now.”

“Please!” Lyzandra begged, shivering convulsively. “Let him. Before the voices come back!”

“All right,” Dr. Verrick said. “But then I want answers.”

“It's a deal,” C.B. said, and went immediately to Lyzandra. “You help Trent,” he told Briddey.
And keep Verrick out of my way
. He squatted down in front of Lyzandra and said,
You're okay. I'm right here. I've got you.

“What are you going to do?” Dr. Verrick asked, looking at them.

“Repair the damage you did when you gave her a relaxant,” Briddey said. “If he can. Did you give her anything else?”

“Information regarding a patient's treatment is protected by physician-patient confidentiality,” Dr. Verrick said stiffly. “It can't be shared—”

“It already has been, whether you like it or not. Now, did you give her anything else? Or hypnotize her?”

Dr. Verrick looked over at Lyzandra, who was still shaking, though not quite as violently now that C.B. was talking to her.

“No, just the relaxant,” Dr. Verrick said, “and she assured me she'd taken it before without any adverse effects.” He told Briddey the name and dosage, his eyes fixed on Lyzandra, who was watching C.B. intently as he said over and over,
You're okay. They can't get you.

They were everywhere!
Lyzandra sobbed.
Everywhere!

I know,
C.B. said comfortingly,
but it's okay now. They—

“Where did you go?” Lyzandra cried, grabbing wildly for him. “I can't hear you.”

Briddey looked inquiringly over at C.B., who was still saying,
They can't get you.

“I can't
hear
you,” Lyzandra wailed, and then, as C.B. repeated,
I'm right here,
she suddenly relaxed.

Oh, thank goodness,
she said.
For a moment there—

“What just happened?” Dr. Verrick asked Briddey.

What
did
happen?
Briddey asked C.B.
Why couldn't she hear you?

I don't know,
C.B. said, frowning.
The other voices must have drowned mine out for a few seconds.

No, they didn't,
Lyzandra said.
I couldn't hear anything!

“Why did Lyzandra say she couldn't hear you?” Dr. Verrick was asking.

“Because you distracted her,” Briddey said. “You need to sit down and keep very quiet so you don't break their concentration. If you do, she could go into shock. Or worse.”

“Worse?”

“The relaxant you gave her increased her sensitivity to the telepathic signals, causing a sensory overload that could produce a psychotic break. Which would hardly look good on your record.”

Dr. Verrick nodded, looking suddenly pale, and sat down.

Good job,
C.B. said.
You've got him worried about malpractice suits, which should keep him busy awhile. Now go help your boyfriend before he gets the heebie-jeebies again.

Briddey looked at Trent. He had started swiping nervously at his pant legs.
What do I do first?
she asked C.B.

What I did with you in the library,
C.B. said.
No, scratch that. Just tell him how to build a perimeter
.

Roger, Dawn Patrol, just the perimeter,
she said, and sat down facing Trent.