Wild-born (30 page)

Later that evening, we met Mr. Malcolm Koontz in one of the lounges. He looked like he was still in his mid-forties, but was pale, frail and slightly balding. I tried to get Alia to greet him, but she refused. Even so, we sat with Mr. Koontz for nearly two hours. Quite aside from seeing him as a possible solution to Alia’s bedwetting, I just wanted to talk with a fellow psionic and see what kind of life he lived here.

Mr. Koontz was P-31. He had been a Guardian once, but when their master controller, Diana Granados, was killed, Mr. Koontz was caught by the Wolves during the instability that followed. He had been here for nearly fifteen years! Speaking with him, I learned that the other three psionics were...

“A light-foot finder named Janice, a powerful pyroid called William who, by the way, is completely insane, and of course Nightmare, who lives below,” said Mr. Koontz.

“Nightmare?” I asked.

“Well, that’s what we call him, because we don’t know his name. For that matter, we don’t exactly know what his power is either. He has to be constantly drained, and even so, when he has nightmares, things happen...” Mr. Koontz’s voice trailed off.

“What things?”

“It’s hard to describe. It feels like reality starts to twist. It’s my job to keep Nightmare peaceful at night so that it doesn’t happen. See?” said Mr. Koontz as he showed me his wrists. There were no control bands on them.

“I’ve been here long enough to be trusted, though I see you have made quite some progress yourself,” he said, smiling. “Janice was our newcomer until you two arrived, and she’s been here only ten months. She’s having a hard time adjusting, but compared to Nightmare and William, well, at least she can talk.”

“What’s wrong with William?” I asked.

“William was an Angel. He had just been converted when he was caught, and being separated from the Angels so suddenly destroyed his mind. They keep him locked up somewhere on this floor.”

Dr. Kellogg was still sitting with us, but seemed entirely unconcerned that Mr. Koontz was sharing this information. In fact, Dr. Kellogg turned to Mr. Koontz and said, “Tell Adrian more about Nightmare.”

“Ah, well, let’s see...” said Mr. Koontz, resting his chin on his hand. “Nightmare lives in his own little holding block. We call it Level 12, though that’s not really accurate. You see, there’s a separate elevator that goes down deep under Level 10 to Level 11. That’s where the generators and heating systems are, and stairs from Level 11 lead down to Nightmare’s cell. I’ve only been there once. There’s a thick sphere of shielding around him. Even so, when he dreams, this whole place can be affected by his power.”

I remembered Cindy telling me that using psionic powers during sleep was a kid thing, but perhaps Nightmare was an exception to the rule. After all, Cindy had also said that everyone’s power is slightly different and that there were some powers so unique that they didn’t even have names.

Mr. Koontz shuddered slightly and continued, “Nightmare was brought here thirteen years ago. I’ve no idea how they caught him alive, but when they pulled out his control rods in Level 10, he nearly tore this whole place apart. One doctor and several soldiers were killed. They knocked Nightmare out with gas, but then things got really out of hand, because he had a nightmare.”

Mr. Koontz paused, and Dr. Kellogg said to me, “This was all before my time. Dr. Otis would know more about it, but Mr. Koontz here saved the facility.”

“Well, I subdued Nightmare’s nightmare,” said Mr. Koontz. “That’s why they trust me now. I’m only a dreamweaver, which really isn’t much of a controller power, so I can’t hurt anyone. True enough, I can cause nightmares as easily as I can remove them, but there’d be no way for me to escape.” Mr. Koontz winked at us and added loudly, “Not that I’ve never considered it!”

Dr. Kellogg laughed good-naturedly.

I asked, “And you can control Nightmare’s dreams through all that shielding?”

“Oh yes,” replied Mr. Koontz. “Dr. Kellogg has told me that young Alia here is a telepath, but I guarantee that dreamweaving is by far the better for long-distance communication, as long as it’s done at night. I can even project my power out of this facility and onto the surface.”

“Really?” I said, amazed.

Mr. Koontz nodded. “If it weren’t for all the shielding, I’d be able to throw my dreams more than a hundred miles. A few years back, we tried an experiment with some doctors, having them camp out top-side. I had no trouble controlling their dreams from down here, though I couldn’t go much farther than that.” Mr. Koontz sighed quietly once, and then, with a knowing glance toward Dr. Kellogg, added, “Still, better than poor Jason Witherland.”

“Who’s he?” I immediately asked.

Mr. Koontz looked like he was about to reply, but Dr. Kellogg interrupted, saying, “Malcolm, I’m not sure we want to tell these two about Jason.”

“Oh, come on,” laughed Mr. Koontz, “don’t you want to show them the futility of trying to escape?”

“That’s Dr. Denman’s game, not mine,” Dr. Kellogg said unsmilingly, but then he shrugged and let Mr. Koontz tell his story.

“Jason Witherland was a teleporter,” explained Mr. Koontz. “Now those are exceptionally rare. He was brought in about seven years ago, and I saw him with my own eyes in Lab-C, jumping from one side of the Testing Room to the other, straight through a wall of concrete, and later even through a two-inch sheet of steel shielding. He got better and better at it. So one day, he decided he was going to jump right out of this place.”

“What happened?” I asked.

Suddenly I heard the unmistakably harsh voice of Dr. Denman from behind us say, “Are you telling these test subjects the story of P-39?”

Both Alia and I jumped, but Mr. Koontz smiled serenely and answered, “Why, yes I am, Doctor. Would you like to tell these children about Jason yourself?”

“Alright,” growled Dr. Denman, glaring at us. “P-39 foolishly thought he could escape by teleporting through our protective shielding.”

“He got through, though,” Mr. Koontz gently interjected.

Dr. Denman shot him a nasty look. “Oh yes, he got through alright. Not exactly in the same way as he went out, though. There were bits of him all over the ground, and probably some of his bones are still buried in the shields or in the earth between here and the surface.”

Then Dr. Denman rounded on me and said callously, “As P-31 has no doubt already told you, the only things that ever escape this place are his dreams.”

Mr. Koontz stood up from his chair and said to me, “I’m getting a little tired of this company and I have a long night ahead, so I will retire to my room now. Perhaps we can talk about Alia’s dreams tomorrow evening. Goodnight, Adrian, Alia, Dr. Kellogg.”

He nodded to each of us in turn, ignoring Dr. Denman as he left the lounge. Dr. Denman continued to glower at us as Dr. Kellogg led us out too.

In the corridor, Dr. Kellogg looked down at Alia, sighing as he said, “No, I don’t like him either.”

Alia smiled up at him, and I realized that she must have said something unflattering about Dr. Denman. It was the first time Alia had freely chosen to speak to anyone aside from me at the research center.

After spending another day watching Alia’s tests, I met Mr. Koontz again in the evening. Alia was still afraid of him, but didn’t cower too much. I explained a little about her past, and spoke vaguely about what kind of nightmares she might be having. From what little Alia had told me about her dreams over the past few weeks, my best guess was that many of Alia’s nights were spent repeatedly reliving our encounter with Ralph. (It struck me as somewhat odd that, given what the Wolves had done to her, Alia’s primary fear was still the crossbow-wielding Guardian, but I wasn’t the psychologist here.) Alia knew that she was the topic of the conversation and was listening to us intently, so I didn’t want to go into too many details for fear of making her nightmares worse.

Sensing my discomfort, Mr. Koontz said, “Don’t worry, Adrian. Once I get a feel for a person, I can control their dreams fairly easily. We’ll start tonight. Meanwhile, please tell me more about the world above.”

To my surprise, Mr. Koontz was at least as fascinated with me as I was with him. He asked me to tell him of my life and how the world had changed since his capture. He had access to newspapers and could talk with Dr. Kellogg, but he wanted to hear it from me as well. I hadn’t yet been born when he was captured so I didn’t know what to say about how the world had changed, but in the days that followed, we met regularly just to talk and enjoy the evenings together.

Mr. Koontz lived on a different schedule, sleeping during the mornings and early afternoons, and staying up all night pacifying Nightmare’s dreams to prevent whatever it was that they were all afraid of. If necessary, Central Control could shock Nightmare awake at any time, but they preferred to have Mr. Koontz take care of him and prevent anything from happening in the first place. Though Alia never spoke to him, she soon got used to Mr. Koontz enough for me to even invite him into our room sometimes. “It’s just so nice to have someone similar to talk with,” he once said, and I understood his feelings. Alia could be difficult and demanding, but I don’t know how I would have survived my imprisonment had I been alone.

Mr. Koontz worked his powers as promised and, to my great relief, Alia stopped wetting our bed. Freed from her nightmares, Alia’s daytime behavior improved, too. Although she was still nervous in the corridors and around most of the researchers, she no longer hid under the bed while I was taking my baths, and she spent much less time staring off into space.

One day, as I looked at the calendar tacked over our desk, I realized that there was only a week left until May. Two months now. It would be springtime outside. I thought about the light-foot, Janice, who had not yet been here a year, and about Mr. Koontz, who had been here fifteen years. Perhaps Jason Witherland had gotten out of this place the only way a psionic could.

I decided it was high time I faced my greatest fear and asked a long-overdue question. That night, after I was sure Alia was fast asleep at my side, I quietly called for Dr. Kellogg through the ceiling-mounted microphone in our room.

“What can I do for you at such a late lour, Adrian?” whispered Dr. Kellogg as he stepped through the airlock several minutes later.

The room lights remained dimmed, and Dr. Kellogg carefully leaned his back against the bookshelf. I wanted to get up out of the bed and greet him properly, but Alia had an arm around my chest and I didn’t want to risk waking her. I lay perfectly still and looked up at Dr. Kellogg, saying quietly, “I have a question to ask you.”

Alia stirred a bit, but fortunately, her eyes remained closed. I didn’t want her to hear Dr. Kellogg’s answer to my question, just in case I was right.

“Ask away,” Dr. Kellogg said with a curious look.

“I have a question,” I repeated, “but before I ask it, I have another.”

“As many as you like, Adrian,” said Dr. Kellogg, smiling.

I didn’t smile back. “My question, Dr. Kellogg, is if I ask you a question that you can’t answer, or aren’t allowed to answer, will you tell me the truth and say you can’t answer it, or will you lie and tell me what I want to hear, or what you think I should hear?”

“That’s a difficult question to answer,” said Dr. Kellogg, “because even if I promise to be truthful with you, there’s no way for me to prove to you that my promise isn’t a lie, too.”

I thought about that for a moment. “True...”

Dr. Kellogg looked into my eyes and said, “Listen, Adrian. For what it’s worth, I believe in truth. If you ask a question that I can’t answer, I’ll tell you so. I just hope you’ll believe me.”

I nodded slowly. Alia wasn’t a particularly light sleeper but there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t wake at any moment.
It is better to know,
I thought to myself.
Just get it over with.

“So what’s your question?” asked Dr. Kellogg.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Kellogg,” I said, staring up at the ceiling. “Now that you’ve promised to tell me the truth, honestly, I’m afraid to ask the question.”

I looked at him again and whispered, “I’m afraid of the answer.”

“Then I can pretty much guess your question, Adrian.” Dr. Kellogg looked down at me with kind pity. “But why don’t you ask it anyway? An answer won’t change just because you don’t ask the question.”

I lay there opening and shutting my mouth a few times.
It is better to know,
I told myself furiously.
It is better to know!
Finally, the words formed in my mouth: “Am I going to die here?”

“I certainly hope not,” replied Dr. Kellogg.

“But they’re never going to let us go, are they?”

Dr. Kellogg paused for a few heartbeats before answering slowly, “No, they won’t.”

Deep down, I had probably known his answer from the start, but Dr. Kellogg’s words nevertheless tore a gaping hole in my heart. I stared up at him, unable to respond.

“I’m sorry, Adrian,” said Dr. Kellogg. “I wish it were otherwise.”

Dr. Kellogg stood silently, giving me time to find my voice. When I finally did, I asked him, “What happened to the other psionics?”

“As you know, some died trying to escape. Others, after several years of tests, have been transferred out. Honestly, I don’t know where to.”

“Will Alia or I ever be transferred out?”

“Possibly, but not for many years, I think.”

“Years...” I breathed to myself.

Correctly reading my thoughts, Dr. Kellogg said, “They can’t stop you from trying to escape, Adrian. But they can stop you from escaping. I hope you’ll think carefully about everything you stand to lose before considering that as an option.”

I knew Dr. Kellogg meant well with his warning, but it still felt like something Dr. Denman might have said in a nastier way. It took a lot for me to keep from glaring.

“This isn’t right, Dr. Kellogg,” I whispered, trying hard to keep my voice steady. “You know this isn’t right.”

Dr. Kellogg sighed. “I know this isn’t right.”

“But you’re a part of it too.”

“Yes, Adrian, I am a part of this too. It’s times like this that I wish to God that I wasn’t,” Dr. Kellogg said sadly. “I know you hate this place, and I know you hate the people who keep you here. I won’t make any excuse for my part in your confinement. If you want to blame me for what has happened to your life, I would deserve your anger as much as anyone here.”