Mindsiege

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  A Note From the Author

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  MINDSIEGE

  Heather Sunseri

  http://heathersunseri.com

  eBook Edition

  This work is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 Heather Sunseri

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review or article.

  To Mike

  “A dream you dream alone is only a dream.

  A dream you dream together is reality.” ~John Lennon

  The day my biggest dream entered my reality—

  Kentucky Derby 1995.

  Chapter One

  I wrapped my fingers around the sleek handle of the knife, not in the way I’d cut a steak or chop vegetables, but white-knuckled—as if my life depended on it.

  Only I wasn’t about to defend my life. I was following orders.

  That’s right, Lexi. Take the knife. And walk. A figure hovered in my peripheral vision. His voice was deep, stern. The orange glow from the end of a cigarette brightened and quickly faded a little too close to my face. A ribbon of smoke swirled above my head and left a familiar, disgusting scent in the air.

  Barefoot, I padded across the sticky kitchen linoleum and inched slowly into the hallway. I passed a living area. A mismatched sofa, a love seat, and a couple of chairs faced a flat-screen TV hanging above a gas fireplace. A lamp lit the corner of the room, casting early morning shadows on the wall.

  Keep moving, Lexi. Find Jack, the voice in my head ordered.

  The bathroom in the hallway was dark. With my empty hand, I pushed open the bedroom door to my left and eased into the darkness. An outside street lamp peeked through the sheer curtains on the windows, providing minimal light.

  When my eyes adjusted, I stared at the bed. Jack lay right where I had left him. The familiar sound of a flicking lighter had woken me from a deep slumber, very much like it had on the night I jumped into a freezing swimming pool. And just like I’d felt that night, I wasn’t sure if I was truly awake or if I was sleepwalking, or if I could touch the person behind me—Smoking Man.

  Jack was stretched out on his side. His legs reached almost to the end of the bed. His face pointed toward me. His expression was peaceful, and his lips curved slightly.

  Tears burned my eyes. I was drawn to Jack in a way I didn’t completely understand—the way a flower always faces toward the sun. But too much had happened, preventing us from living a normal life: finishing high school, applying to colleges, hanging out with friends. I hoped someday our feelings for each other would overcome the resentment I felt at being thrown into an out-of-control situation.

  Walk closer to him, the voice in my head ordered.

  My grip tightened. I still wasn’t sure why I had a knife, or why this mystery person was with me, leading me to Jack. The muscles around my heart constricted. Something was wrong. I knew it. But I couldn’t seem to stop my forward motion.

  Jack, wake up, I whispered with my mind. A tear escaped the corner of my eye.

  Go on, Lexi. Kneel beside him.

  I climbed up on the bed, edged closer on my knees, and leaned over Jack. The panic began to build in my chest. I could hear my own labored breaths. Jack, something’s wrong. Please wake up, I thought to him. Someone’s inside my head. He was usually so in tune with my mindspeak.

  Lexi, do you love Jack?

  “Yes.” My voice was a hoarse whisper. The presence inside my head somehow prevented me from speaking louder. This stranger had a hold on me, controlling my movements and my words—everything but my thoughts. He stood close to me, as if we were inside a dream. And I couldn’t bring Jack into it like I so desperately wanted to do.

  The lump in my throat made it difficult to breathe. I searched my mind for this person who had invaded my head and seized control. I could feel him, but for some reason, I couldn’t push him out. His ability was too strong.

  But you know what he did was wrong, right?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  If it weren’t for Jack, Sandra never would have found you. He led her right to you.

  “What? Sandra is lying in a coma.” I had never met Sandra. I’d only seen her briefly, two nights ago, when Jack, Kyle, and I escaped Wellington. I’d chosen to leave her—the woman I was cloned from—lying unconscious on a gurney at Wellington Boarding School.

  I could have saved her, brought her out of the coma. But I was scared. We knew too little about this woman who cloned humans for some purpose that remained a secret to me even now.

  He led Sandra, and therefore the IIA, to you. Jack is the reason your father was killed, Lexi. And he’s the reason you’ll have no choice but to learn to use your ability to benefit them. Or you’ll be terminated, like your father. The word “them” rolled off his tongue like venom. Like he felt the same way I did about agents of the International Intelligence Agency.

  Was he saying that the IIA killed my father? Why? For his research? For Jack’s and my abilities? “No. You’re wrong. Jack only wants to keep me safe.” He loves me. And I love him.

  I’m only doing this to protect you, Lexi. To protect all of us. You need to know exactly what I’m capable of… what you’re capable of… and eventually, what the rest of us are capable of. That’s the only way we’ll be able to fight back.

  Us? This person… the presence inside my head… was one of us. He was controlling my mind. And why? He wanted me to fight back? Why couldn’t I see who he was? He was only a greyed-out figure to me. A shadow. “What are you going to make me do?” Jack! I pleaded.

  Eventually, you will discover that I did this for your own good. For the safety of us all. The figure lifted his cigarette to his mouth and inhaled. After, he blew rings of smoke that dissipated as they drifted toward the ceiling. I knew that if I could wake from this strange unconscious state, his physical presence would fade like a bad dream. But I wasn’t so sure about the voice, or the hold he had on my mind.

  I want you to grab hold of the knife with both
hands.

  My free hand joined the other, both trembling.

  Raise the knife, Lexi.

  I raised it, slowly, until I held the knife firmly over my head, shaking uncontrollably. I stared down at my target. Jack! This time, I screamed with my mind.

  He sucked in a deep breath and rolled over onto his back, but still slept. The scent of his shower gel reached my nose, and I craved his closeness.

  Do it, Lexi. Plant that knife deep in his chest.

  I shook my head from side to side. My arms strained against my own mental resistance. Jack, I’m so sorry.

  A sob leaked from my throat. Every muscle from my stomach to my chest and through both arms tightened as I prepared to do exactly what the voice in my head ordered: drive the knife into the one I loved.

  Chapter Two

  As if moved by a sixth sense, Jack shifted his hand just slightly to rest it at the base of my knee. The presence inside my head suddenly disappeared; I dropped the knife off the side of the bed, and Jack’s eyes fluttered open.

  Jack peered up at me through thick lashes. His just-woke-up, lazy grin faded. “Lexi? What are you doing?”

  I shifted off my knees and sat back. My heart raced. Jack’s sandy hair lay haphazardly across his forehead, messy in a good-looking sort of way, from a night of sleep. The realization that only moments earlier I had held a knife above my head pointed at his chest caused a shudder to move through my entire body.

  “Hey.” He sat up and cupped my cheek. “You okay? What's wrong?”

  “I just…” I glanced around the room for the person who had guided me to Jack with a knife—not expecting to find him of course—then back at Jack and his dark blue eyes. “Nothing. Nothing happened. I just couldn’t sleep.”

  Jack lay back, breaking the physical contact I craved with him.

  Very good, Lexi. The voice was back inside my head, or maybe it had never left. I didn’t know anymore. I could feel the unwanted presence just hanging out in my periphery. You cannot tell him I’m in your head. I can force you to hurt him. I will if I have to. Let’s keep this our little secret.

  I massaged the pressure point in the webbing between my thumb and index finger. It was a method I used to relieve headaches, and this presence was definitely a headache. I would find a way to tell Jack, but first I’d figure out who the voice was.

  Jack smiled. “Come here.” He slid his arm around me, and pulled me down to lie beside him, my back to his chest. His hand rested across my stomach. “You’ve been through so much.” He smoothed my hair back out of my face.

  “We’ve been through so much.” I grabbed onto his arm and squeezed it. How could I possibly hurt the one person who had saved me time and time again?

  I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

  Lying there, I glanced down at the floor. The knife lay there, taunting me and my weak mind. I wanted to put a face with the voice that drifted into my mind like smoke. But the image wouldn’t form.

  Minutes passed. My mind spun while concentrating on the voice that had entered my head and forced me to do something I would never choose to do consciously. Jack and I had been through so much, and he had stuck by me when he could have run. But how could he continue to stick by someone who practically murdered him in his sleep?

  He wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let him.

  Jack pressed on my stomach, tightening his hold on me. “What are you thinking so hard about?” he whispered into my hair, his voice groggy. “I can’t hear your thoughts, but I know you’re tossing something around. You still afraid someone is getting inside your head?”

  I sat up, turned toward him, and nodded.

  He pushed himself up. His face inches from mine. I won’t let anyone hurt you.

  Reaching my hand to trace an imaginary line from his temple to his jawbone, I said, “I’m more afraid I’ll hurt you.”

  Chapter Three

  The smell of coffee greeted me when I walked into the kitchen after showering. Not my drink of choice, but desperate times called for whatever caffeine option was available.

  Sitting at the kitchen table, Jack held Kyle’s arm out, twisting and turning it, examining it. Kyle winced from Jack’s not-so-gentle touch. I looked closer, and saw that Kyle’s hand and forearm were red and blistered.

  “What happened?” I doctored a cup of coffee with creamer and two yellow packets.

  Both boys looked up. The lines between Jack’s brows deepened.

  Kyle shrugged. “Clumsy, I guess. I… I fell last night while putting a log on the fire.” He chuckled uncomfortably and gave his head a jerk to flip his brown, unkempt hair off his eyebrows.

  “You fell,” I repeated, leaning into the counter. Kyle wasn’t known for his clumsiness. My eyes met Jack’s.

  He fell and his arm landed in the flames, Jack thought to me. I could hear his sarcasm.

  I walked closer and examined the blisters. You don’t think that’s what happened?

  Let’s just say I’m skeptical.

  Noticing how quiet the house was, I asked, “Where’s everyone else?”

  Jack tilted his head toward the back door. I followed the motion to the back patio, where the rest of the group, the owners of this house—Georgia, Jonas, and Fred—were standing in a circle. I walked over to the door. Bringing the warm coffee to my lips, I peered through the blinds. Georgia crossed both arms. Fred waved his hands in front of him in an apparent debate with the others. Neither wore the thick makeup like they had the night I’d first met them. Jonas hugged his body with one arm, and with the opposite hand, brought a cigarette to his mouth. I zeroed in on the tip that brightened when he inhaled. Something about the vision of him smoking caused me to lose my train of thought for a few seconds. There was something familiar about the movement and the cigarette, but my mind was a little fuzzy.

  I gave my head a little shake and turned back to Kyle and Jack. “What are they talking about?”

  Jack glanced uneasily at me before meeting Kyle’s stare.

  “What? Has something happened?” I demanded. We had found refuge in this house after escaping Wellington Boarding School on Friday night. Of course, I had slept through nearly two days. Now, the owners—cloned humans like Jack, Kyle and me—appeared uneasy. But they’d been the only people we could turn to.

  When Jack didn’t respond, Kyle brought the focus back to himself. “Can you heal it or not?”

  I squinted my eyes, glaring at the two of them.

  Jack ran a hand through his hair before nodding.

  “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but is that the smartest choice? Won’t it make you sick to heal that?”

  Before I could protest any further, Jack pressed his hands around the red, blistery wound and closed his eyes.

  Kyle winced again. His eyes rolled back into his head from the pain.

  Jack, we can bandage the wound. He’ll be fine. He doesn’t need to be healed completely. When Jack didn’t stop, I did what I could to get deeper inside his head. I’m right here with you. Simply heal the wound, but try to suppress the nausea. Our minds are strong, Jack. I continued to send him positive energy while he did what he could for Kyle’s injury.

  Several minutes passed. I remained inside his head, attempting to be a soothing force.

  Jack’s eyes opened. Kyle slouched in his chair while we studied his arm. His skin was no longer red and blistered: it was new again. Healed completely.

  “How do you feel?” I asked Jack, hesitation in my voice. Setting my coffee down, I pulled some napkins from a wrought-iron dispenser on the kitchen table and blotted the blood dripping from my nose.

  Jack pressed his lips together in a thin line. “How’d you do that?" he asked. “You were inside my head. More than just the mindspeaking.” He pushed back from the table and stood. “I’m not dizzy or light-headed. And I’m not nauseous.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t stand the thought of you getting sick right now. I need you well while we decide what’s next.”

&
nbsp; “Your nosebleed. It seems worse than when you simply control someone’s actions.”

  “It’s nothing.” I waved him off, then tilted my head back slightly while pinching the bridge of my nose. Blood slid down the back of my throat. The metallic taste mixed with the taste of sweet coffee.

  Jack leaned into me. “I’m sorry. I should have thought about what that might do to you.”

  Kyle held his arm up. “I don’t know what you did or how you did it, but thanks, man. It feels one hundred percent normal.”

  The door squeaked behind me. Georgia, Fred, and Jonas filed in.

  “Oh, good. Look who’s up,” Georgia said, a little bit of irritation in her voice. Even without dramatic eye makeup, Georgia’s exotic facial features stood out. She wore a deep shade of red gloss on her lips, which enhanced her dark skin.

  Jonas passed by me. I crinkled my nose at the smell of cigarette smoke on his clothes. His hand brushed the small of my back as he whispered close to my head. “Don’t mind her, sweetheart.” My entire body tensed. “She’s just cranky from lack of sleep.” He continued past me.

  Georgia shot icicles from her eyes at Jonas. The temperature of the room seemed to drop dramatically. “I’m not the one who suffered a colossal panic attack before dawn this morning.”

  “What is she talking about?” Jack asked. “What brought that on?”

  Jonas shrugged. He got a mug out of the cabinet and poured a cup of coffee—black, very close to the color of his dark brown eyes. “I don’t know. It just happened.”

  Jack took three steps closer to Jonas. “Yeah, Jonas? Is that your story?”

  Jonas took a sip, crossing one leg in front of the other, and leaned against the counter. “Yeah. What’s with you?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s with me, Jonas. Your panic attacks don’t ‘just happen.’ So, what brought this one on?”

  Jack’s voice boomed, and a shiver moved down my spine. I had a lot to learn about Fred, Jonas, and Georgia. Jack had known them before he found me at Wellington. The three of them lived in this house and, according to Jack, were enrolled in courses at the University of Kentucky. After watching them interact only a few times, I surmised that they trusted each other well enough. They had already been a part of The Program together, so they understood that each of them was cloned from another human.