Elimination (The Mind Breaker Book 1) Page 7

  I glance at him, guessing at what game he may be playing. His cool politeness and soft voice can’t fool me. I’m fairly convinced he’s got the same boss as Wheeler or Chase. Anybody working for Elimination is my worst enemy.

  “Buzz off, egghead,” I answer curtly.

  My insult doesn’t appear to have any effect. Perhaps Holtzmann expected me to say something offhand.

  “If you don’t fully cooperate, Mr. Wheeler will be more than happy to shoot you,” he says without emotion. “You have to let me help you.”

  I sense him trying to manipulate the situation. Maybe Wheeler and Holtzmann are playing good cop, bad cop? Anything is possible. I keep silent, watching his left eye twitch several times.

  “I saw the video recording,” Holtzmann says slowly. “That is the uncut, original version of what happened at the bank.”

  I feel adrenaline shooting through my body.

  “What?” I exclaim. “You know I’m innocent?”

  “You are not innocent,” he answers. “You’re guilty of being a breaker. Which happens to be a very serious crime in our society. But I do realize this is likely the only crime you’re connected to.”

  I look at him attentively, trying to calculate his true motives. Is he really willing and able to help? Everybody in Elimination must have seen actual footage from the bank cameras. They don’t care if I’m innocent or not. I’m a rogue breaker, a threat to society. More than enough justification to kill me.

  “I can conceivably take you out of here,” Holtzmann says. “Just perform the tests to the best of your abilities.”

  As usual, looks like I have no choice in the matter. At least I can buy some time.

  “All right,” I agree.

  Holtzmann seems very pleased. He turns to Wheeler and Carrel, flashing a toothy grin and stating proudly, “That’s how you deal with a breaker, gentlemen.”

  Carrel snorts in anger, glaring at him with outright hatred.

  “Have those idiots bring in the equipment,” Wheeler orders Chase.

  “And something to eat,” Carrel adds. “We’re gonna miss lunch for sure now.”

  Chase nods and walks out. I don’t know what to expect. I heard rumors about Elimination torturing and beating breakers to death. I’ve never heard they perform some kind of tests on us. What are they going to do to me?

  I study Holtzmann’s face, trying to read the man. There’s something off with this guy. He resembles one of those mentally ill, homeless people I occasionally meet in streets. His lips move, although he’s not speaking. His sparkling eyes are fixated on something only he can see, long pale fingers moving constantly.

  “Yes,” he says quietly. “I’m certain.”

  Perfect. Now he’s talking to himself. Looks like Wheeler was spot on calling him a psycho. And now this nutcase is about to perform some mysterious tests on me. Is he going to open my head and study my brain? Suddenly, an image of the little girl with oriental eyes and shaved head pops up in my memory. I remember the electrodes implanted into her skull. This time the vision doesn’t seem so much like a dream.

  Chase, along with several ordinary policemen, reenter the room, carrying laptops and metal boxes with protruding cables. The police officers glimpse at me with suspicion. One covers his eyes.

  “Nothing to worry about here, gentlemen,” Holtzmann soothes. “He’s wearing a blocking collar and can’t hypnotize anyone.”

  I’ve never heard of blocking collars before. Instinctively I concentrate, projecting my thoughts onto the cops. My head hurts intensely, but nothing happens to them. I can’t break their wills. All my life I’ve resisted being a breaker, but now not being able to use my abilities puts me in a hopeless situation. So that’s what the heavy collar on my neck must be for.

  Holtzmann instructs the officers to place the metal boxes on the floor and connect cables.

  “Bring in one of the inmates,” Wheeler commands.

  The officers walk away, returning several minutes later with a middle aged woman in handcuffs and prison issue clothing.

  “Please, officers,” she begs, dripping tears. “Don’t make me do this.”

  An officer shoves her toward Wheeler and goes quickly away. Wheeler roughly grabs the woman and forces her onto the chair in front of me. She obeys, crying.

  Holtzmann places electrodes on my forehead and temples.

  “Mr. Wheeler, how many times have I asked you not to split their heads before testing?” Holtzmann asks.

  Wheeler laughs and continues eating his lunch.

  Chase has a rifle trained at my head, while Holtzmann removes the collar from my neck.

  “It’s not necessary to point that rifle at the subject,” Holtzmann says.

  “You can never be too safe with a breaker around,” Chase answers.

  Holtzmann rolls his eyes.

  “Let’s begin,” he says to me. “I want you to hypnotize this lady. You may make her do anything you want within reason. Only do your best, please.”

  Holtzmann walks back over to the desk and sits down beside Dr. Carrel, looking at the laptops placed in front of him. Carrel seems bored, eating and hardly checking the monitors.

  I don’t want to hypnotize the lady, but what choice do I really have? A thought crosses my mind. What if I make her attack my captors? No, that’s a stupid idea. She’s not physically strong and can do little harm. It wouldn’t work, especially with Chase holding the rifle on me. I’m sure he’d pull the trigger without hesitation if anything goes wrong. He may even want me to give him a reason.

  Just wait for a better opportunity, I tell myself. Right now it’d be useless to do anything too provocative.

  Concentrating, I make the lady get up from the chair and then roll on the floor. She does everything with a vacant expression, no longer sobbing. It’s easy. My aching head becomes slightly heavier, but the hypnosis doesn’t cause so much pain this time. Interesting. Perhaps I’m getting used to doing this just like Kitty.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hunter,” Holtzmann says. “Very well done. That will be sufficient.”

  I stop hypnotizing the poor lady. She lies on the floor motionless, recovering. Sometimes after hypnosis people have trouble in accurately perceiving reality for days.

  “Let’s try again with a resistant now,” Holtzmann offers. “Chase, could you assist with this please?”

  “What?” Chase exclaims in surprise. “No, you can’t make me do this! Professor, I don’t want a freaking breaker digging into my thoughts.”

  “Stop whining, Chase,” Wheeler commands. “Just do as you’re directed.”

  Reluctantly, Chase plops down on the chair before me. His face reveals unhidden resentment. I understand how he feels. Being hypnotized and manipulated must be a thoroughly unpleasant experience. However, if Chase is resistant as are the other officers in Elimination, why should he be worried?

  “Mr. Hunter, could you hypnotize this subject, please?” Holtzmann says.

  Chase winces, taking deep breath.

  “Of course not,” I answer. “He’s resistant.”

  “Level two breakers can do it,” Holtzmann says. “Please, try very hard. Your life may depend on the result we get.”

  I don’t understand what he wants from me. Breakers can’t twist the minds of resistant people, period. I’ve never heard of anybody capable of doing it.

  “Mr. Hunter, we’re waiting,” Holtzmann says impatiently. He stares at the monitor with an anxious expression.

  Expecting to fail, I still concentrate as hard as I possibly can. My head hurts from the formidable effort required. Listen to me, I project my thoughts into Chase’s mind, listen to me. Useless. I can’t breach the barriers to get inside his mind and twist his will. Being slightly tensed, Chase remains unfazed, his eyes clear and focused.

  Dr. Carrel bursts out laughing.

  “That’s all we need to know,” he says. “He’s worthless.”

  Holtzmann shakes his head negatively.

  “No, he’s not,
” he exclaims. “We should check him for more advanced levels. Mr. Chase, please unchain Mr. Hunter.”

  Chase glances at his commander quizzically, waiting for his approval. After Wheeler nods, he approaches and frees my arms and legs. I stretch, feeling a tingling sensation in my numb muscles. I was stuck in the same position for too long. Now able to move, I have to fight a growing desire to attempt an escape. I watch Chase. If I can strike him quickly enough, I might get a chance to take his weapon. No, bad idea. Wheeler would shoot me in a blink of an eye. I have to wait for a better opportunity.

  Chase notices my gaze fixated on his weapon.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he says. “I’ll break your neck if you try anything.”

  He backs slowly away, pointing the rifle at my head.

  “Mr. Hunter, could you please read the memories of this lady?” Holtzmann says, gesturing to the unconscious woman on the floor.

  I remember what Jessie told me about different breaker abilities. It must be true after all. But even if reading minds is possible, I have no idea how to do it. Being unsure how to proceed, I do nothing but stare at the woman.

  “Mr. Hunter, you must try really hard,” Holtzmann says. “Your life hangs in the balance.”

  “I don’t know how,” I answer sincerely.

  “Just read her memory,” Holtzmann says. “Don’t think how. Don’t doubt yourself. Just do it.”

  “I can’t,” I repeat.

  Holtzmann sighs with exhaustion, thinking.

  “Mr. Hunter, try reading her thoughts then,” he requests.

  I raise my eyebrows. It’s getting ridiculous. What will he ask me to do next? To spread my wings and fly in circles above their heads?

  “I can’t read her thoughts,” I say, losing my temper. “Shoot me if you wish, but let’s just stop these stupid tests. I’m really tired.”

  “The first sane thing that I’ve heard from a breaker,” Wheeler says. “I’m beginning to like this freak.”

  He draws his gun, ready to follow up on my suggestion.

  “Read her mind!” Holtzmann commands. “If you don’t I won’t be able to help you.”

  “Come on, psycho, learn to lose,” Wheeler says to him. “Let’s finish it.”

  “Excuse me!” Holtzmann yells. “I am the lead scientist here!” He presses his hand to his chest. “We do what I say. And I say we remain in this room and test the subject until I get a conclusive result.”

  His eye twitches annoyingly.

  “We’ll finish the tests my way then,” Wheeler says, approaching the woman and grabbing her shirt. “Wake up!” he shouts, slapping her face. She moans and opens her eyes, being still drowsy.

  “Stop torturing the subjects, Wheeler!” Holtzmann orders. “That is unacceptable behavior!”

  “Shut up, psycho,” Wheeler growls.

  He drags the woman closer to me and throws her at my feet. I hear the sound of her head hitting the hard floor. Something churns inside my stomach. I want to rush Wheeler, punching and smashing his face to a bloody pulp. That’s what he expects, probably, smiling and holding the gun. I remind myself to be calm.

  “Come on, breaker,” Wheeler yells. “Let’s see what you got.”

  He kicks the girl cruelly in the stomach. She cries out, rolling into a ball. Wheeler strikes her again, his heavy military boot slamming into her face.

  I feel nauseated. Adrenaline fills my veins, burning like acid. I should do something but I don’t know what.

  “Cease and desist, Wheeler!” Holtzmann shouts.

  “Just watch your monitor,” Wheeler commands and kicks the poor woman in the head. Blood flows freely from her nose and mouth. She moans louder, gripping my leg.

  “Help me, please,” the woman begs.

  Being so frightened of Wheeler, she doesn’t seem to care that I’m a breaker any longer.

  I feel disoriented, having the sensation of going down in an elevator.

  Wheeler kicks the woman into the ribs. The same moment I gasp from a jolt of pain in my side.

  “Do you feel it?” Wheeler asks.

  I glance at him in confusion, not able to say anything. The woman coughs on the floor, having trouble breathing. I feel suffocated as well.

  “I see some response,” Holtzmann says, staring at the monitor.

  “He’s faking it,” Carrel disagrees.

  “Let’s check,” Wheeler says, grabbing the woman under her arms as he forces her up. She obeys, being completely submissive. I watch Wheeler lead her away from the room. The door shuts, but I’m still consumed by her despair and horror. The walls and the floor begin to swirl. I grasp the chair tightly with both hands not to fall. I have a strange sensation in my arm, as if somebody pulling me.

  “Please, officer, please let me go,” I hear her voice in my head.

  My eyes are wide open, but the room fades for a moment. I see Wheeler standing in front of me. The next instant he puts the gun to my head and shoots. The bullet slams into my skull. I cry out and collapse onto the floor, wreathing in pain. I know he shot the poor woman. I can feel it.

  “He’s level four confirmed,” Holtzmann says. “That’s it. I claim this subject.”

  “He’s just faking it,” Carrel repeats.

  Their voices sound distant. I can’t understand where I am, or for the moment even who I am. Was I shot? Shakily, I tear the electrodes from my head. I can still feel the bullet, splitting my head and piercing my brain. It seemed so realistic.

  Smiling, Wheeler reenters the room. An officer follows him, yelling, “Are you crazy?! You can’t kill our inmates!”

  “Shut your hole,” Wheeler says. “Elimination has authorization to do whatever is deemed necessary.”

  I close my eyes, shuddering. I feel blood oozing from a nonexistent wound in my forehead.

  “Hold on,” I hear a soft voice. “It’s all over now. You’re all right.”

  As I look up, I see Chase crouching beside me and patting my shoulder. His face shows unexpected sympathy.

  “Have I been shot?” I ask.

  “No, you’re just a telepath,” he answers.

  He locks the collar back in place on my neck as I black out.

  When I awaken, I find myself in a small dark cell. It’s windowless and has only a sink and toilet. I lie on the floor, dressed in bright orange jail issue clothing. My body aches, but the headache is finally gone. I touch my temple tentatively and feel stitches from where Wheeler hit me.

  For a long time nobody comes in. I nap, enjoying the temporary reprieve. Kitty, I think. Where is she? I’ve no idea. Hopefully, she’s gotten far away and is lying low. Never know what to expect from my little rebel always itching to use her skills.

  A policeman brings in a sandwich and water. I eat greedily, biting off huge pieces. A good appetite means I must be recovering.

  Finally the door opens and a tall blond lady walks in, wearing a sparkling green dress and high heeled shoes. I recognize Lola from her show. Her face isn’t so flawless in person. I notice dark circles under her eyes. Wheeler, Chase and her crew team follow her into the now overcrowded cell.

  “There he is!” Lola says loudly.

  I sit up, glancing at her suspiciously. What is she doing here?

  Chase and Wheeler pull me up to my feet and handcuff me.

  “Oh my God,” Lola says in shock. “You boys messed him up! He looks like a victim! Oh, no!”

  A huge drama queen, she grabs her head in deep frustration. That’s exactly how she acts in her show. Over emotional and extremely loud.

  “Honey, you look like a victim for God’s sake!” she says to me. “People will feel sorry for you. What a catastrophe! My show needs a vicious killer, not a victim. Make up won’t help with the stitches.”

  “We can mask him,” Wheeler suggests.

  Lola drops her jaw.

  “Honey! You’re brilliant!” she exclaims. “Do it. And now let’s go interview his lawyer.”

  I wasn’t aware that I even h
ad a lawyer.

  Lola walks away happy and satisfied, accompanied by her crew and Wheeler.

  “What the heck was that about?” I ask Chase.

  “Today is the day of your trial,” he answers. “Let’s go, breaker.”

  He motions me toward the door. I don’t resist, feeling weak. They must have drugged me. My thoughts tangle. A trial already? Everything is happening too quickly.

  Chase leads me into a room with multiple camera monitors on the walls. He chains me to the only chair.

  “Chase, what am I doing here?” I ask.

  “You’ll remain in this room during your trial,” Chase answers. “It’s too risky to allow you access to the actual courtroom, so you’ll be only shown on screens there.”

  “Is this part of Lola’s show?” I ask.

  Chase nods. That is exactly what I was afraid of. They’re gonna broadcast my trial and execution before the whole country.

  Wheeler arrives with a mask and places it on my face. Usually it’s reserved for the most dangerous prisoners to prevent bites. I must look really scary wearing this thing. Hopefully, they won’t accuse me of being a cannibal as well.

  As my captors leave, I stare down at the floor, trying to forget about the cameras. They make me really uncomfortable. Time moves slowly. Minute by minute. One hour after another. It seems endless. This is probably the worst thing they could do to me. Waiting in total ignorance of what’s going on while Lola and the rest of the mob determine my future.

  I look into the cameras. What if I try to explain everything? I know that ordinary people will vote, deciding my fate. If only they knew what really happened, maybe I’d have a chance to survive this mess.

  No, that would be pointless. Lola would say that I’m lying. People would believe her, not an evil freak wearing an ugly mask. I’ll just have to wait it out.

  Holtzmann said he could help me. He was obviously looking for a breaker with special talents. Apparently I’m a telepath. It means they need me alive. I can’t be sure. Many breakers have been sentenced to death over the last months. I hope Kitty isn’t watching this fiasco.