Brain Storm - Cat Gilbert (top 10 inspirational books .txt) 📗

option. Turning myself over to Hughes and hoping he’d take me to Brown had so many risks involved, I tried not to think about it.

I flopped over onto the back seat, such as it was, and closed my eyes, not wanting our surroundings to influence me. Mac had told me to try to keep my mind clear and see if I felt anything.

As I laid there listening to the sound of the road passing under the tires, I did feel something. Stupid. A lot like when I was sitting at my dining room table trying to move Grandma’s spoons. What a debacle that had been. Almost as bad as when Trinity had shown up with her test kit that night. When she’d opened that bag and pulled out tha...

“Stop!” I yelled, jerking up. Pain radiated through my head, blinding me, and I felt my stomach begin to pitch and roll. “Let me out! Let me out!”

Mac slid to a stop, and Jonas barely got the door open before I was past him, running to the shoulder, violently ill. Mac was there in an instant, supporting me and dragging me back to the car when I regained some control.

He was talking, but I couldn’t hear him, the noise and pain in my head drowning out everything else. I grabbed my head and slid down the side of the car into the dirt, trying desperately to escape the pain.

“Taylor!” Mac grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. “Talk to him. Talk to him! Tell him to stop it. Tell him to back off!”

I understood finally what he wanted me to do, but I couldn’t do it. Thoughts wouldn’t form. My head was about to explode, my vision growing dark at the edges, when suddenly it stopped.

I collapsed against Mac, who was there, holding me tight. Jonas next to us, blocking us from the view of passing traffic.

“We need to get her back in the car,” he said to Mac, keeping an eye on the passing traffic. “Taylor, can you stand up?”

I didn’t even bother to answer, concentrating instead on trying to gain my feet. Mac helped lift me up enough for me to collapse partway into the back of the car. Then he ran around to the driver’s side, flipping the seat up, to reach in and pull me the rest of the way over, as Jonas folded my legs in and then flung himself into the front seat, slamming the door.

“Oh man,” he rasped out when Mac got back in behind the wheel. “I thought she was going to die. Was that him? Was that Brown?”

Mac shrugged, visibly shaken and leaned over to look back at me. “You okay?”

“No,” I said, relieved to find I could still form words. I laid there, crammed into the small back seat, trying to gather my wits and get my shakes under control. Jonas passed me a bottle of water. It was still cool, and I held it to my face, hoping to get the nausea under control. After a few minutes, the dizziness and nausea passed, leaving me feeling weak and exhausted, but steady enough to sit up.

Jonas rolled down the window, and cool fresh air filled the interior, helping considerably to clear my head.

“Was this what is was like the other night?” Jonas asked, looking at Mac.

“Different.” Mac met my eyes in the rear view mirror as he answered. “This was pain. The other night was terror. Fear. But it was as strong.”

“He’s dialed it back. Low buzz like a fly?” I asked Mac, who quietly nodded confirmation. “Okay then. Let’s take the next exit. And let’s go slow. I don’t want a repeat of that.”

Mac did take the next exit and immediately pulled into a McDonald’s. He got in line while I washed up. I beat him back to the car and Jonas got out to help me back in. I was still a little shaky, but feeling better by the minute and able to think again.

Before long, I was settled in the back, armed with a huge Diet Coke and a large bag of fries. Mac had gotten some for himself and Jonas as well, and we sat there in the car, silently munching away. I reminded myself that the incident had been nearly as traumatic for them, as it had been for me. We all needed to recoup a little.

“You still getting him?” Mac asked finally, picking up that I was feeling well enough to be getting antsy.

I nodded at him, making a funny face while I was at it. The sound of Brown in my head was weird, to say the least, like having a fly trapped in your brain. I seriously didn’t know how Mac stood it all the time.

He pulled out and drove around to an isolated spot, where he parked the car and turned off the key.

“Try talking to him like you did to me in the bank. If he can’t talk back, maybe he can signal you somehow, but tell him to take it easy, not like last time.”

“Yes, by all means, tell him to keep it under control. I can’t take that again. Nearly gave me a heart attack,” Jonas added, winking at me.

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to add that.” I felt like three kinds of an idiot, sitting there in the car, trying to communicate with Brown. Mac and Jonas were turned around watching me like a pair of hawks, and I closed my eyes, shutting them out.

Can you hear me?

I put it out there and waited, getting nothing but the constant buzz sounding in my head. Frustrated, I opened my eyes, only to find Mac giving me a look.

“Taylor, we’re desperate here. You’re not even trying,” he snapped at me.

Jonas looked at him for a second and then turned on me too.

“He’s right. You’re just playing at this. This is the only chance we’ve got. If you don’t care enough to do this for yourself or us, think about Trinity. You supposedly care about her, so start acting like it.”

I stared at them in absolute disbelief. Did they think this was easy? I’d just been through hell, and now here they were questioning me? Anger rose up lightening fast, radiating through the car.

“Do it now,” Mac ordered.

Can you hear me? I snapped out the words in my mind, thinking of Brown, but glaring at Mac as I did it.

The surge inside my head was immediate, and I looked at Mac in shock as it died back to its former level.

“You were right, Mac,” Jonas said, realizing instantly what had happened. “It’s linked to emotion for her.”

I watched as Mac nodded agreement, watching me in the rearview mirror. He’d told me this thing was linked to emotion, but I’d thought he meant when it went haywire, and I threw things around. My mind instantly skipped back over the past, searching for the common thread. I’d been frantic about the keys, wet and cold when I dropped them. Absolutely desperate for that coffee, I remembered, bringing a smile to my lips. Scared to death when the gun was pointed at Jonas. Terrified when we were attacked. No wonder the experiments hadn’t worked.

I couldn’t just talk to Brown in my mind. I had to put some force, some intensity, behind it and push it out there. Excitement rose inside me, as things began to click inside my head. This was how it worked. If I could get a handle on it, if I could talk to Brown, we could find him and get him away from Hughes. The thought of Hughes instantly sobered me, fear replacing the growing excitement. What if Brown wasn’t the only one who heard me?

I fixed my mind on mind on Mac - Can you hear me?

“Say it again,” he ordered from the front seat, and I all but screamed it in my head.

“Yes. I can,” he assured me, feeling the fear running through me. Jonas looked at him in confusion, not understanding what was happening. “I think maybe you can direct it.”

He had heard me and I’d gotten no response from Brown. In fact, the buzzing had quieted some, more like background noise now.

“Is she talking to you? What do you mean you think she can direct it? Oh, that’s just great.” Jonas moaned, finally catching on. “You think Hughes can hear her?”

“Only if she talks to him,” Mac answered. “And maybe not even then.

“Well, don’t risk it! Don’t talk to him,” Jonas ordered. “In fact, ask Brown if Hughes is there now.”

Yeah, good idea. But I needed to clear up a couple of other things first.

Caleb? Getting nothing in response, I closed my eyes, remembering his photo and what he looked like. Focus on him, I told myself. Reach out and find him.

Caleb! I heard a quick spike in the buzz and knew I had reached him. Caleb Brown? Another fast surge, like the blip on a radar screen.

“It’s him. It’s Brown,” I told them. ”I can’t hear him talk to me, but there’s a surge from him, sort of like a ping when I ask him questions. Mac, did you pick up on any of that?” He shook his head and encouraged I went back to work.

One ping, yes. Two means no. Got it? Ping. I smiled. Finally, we were getting somewhere.

Hughes bad? I got a single ping. Hughes there? Three pings. What was that supposed to mean? Would have been nice if he could talk to me. I just had to assume at this point what he was trying to tell me.

“Okay, he says Hughes is our guy, but I don’t think he knows if Hughes is there or not,” I said, catching the guys up.

“Does he know where they’re holding him?” asked Jonas.

I