Voice (23 page)

He loved her.

She closed her eyes for a moment as she processed everything, then opened her eyes as the stream of emotion faded. He’d turned his head toward her, and his brown eyes watched her. She tilted her head and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his and letting him feel everything in return.

He froze for a second before deepening the kiss, and by the time they pulled apart, Jemma was glad the lights on the bus had been dimmed and that almost everyone on board appeared to be sleeping. Jack smiled at her, kissed her on each flushed cheek, then sat back, and she followed suit.

“So,” Jack asked silently, sending a trickle of contentment, “did you have any ideas for a backstory? We should probably have one ready in case anyone asks. I doubt we’re allowed to tell the real story of how we met and why we moved to Texas.”

“Is your Texan accent as bad as your British one?” Jemma was rewarded with a grin, and she turned her attention to figuring out who they were pretending to be.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE:

Unmistakable

Jessica, they decided, had worked in a bookstore, and Jordan was an IT technician. It would give each of them a reason to be familiar with their respective areas of expertise, should they come up in conversation, without just using their old jobs. They’d met when Jordan was sent in to fix one of the bookstore’s computers, and they’d moved when he was offered a better job.

They finished discussing their temporary identities, then fell asleep, hands still linked, waking when they reached Houston. Getting a taxi was painless, though at 40 minutes long, the ride took more time than Jemma had expected.

Outside the taxi, Jemma looked around while Jack paid. The neighborhood seemed very firmly middle class. The houses were all built from similar templates, the outsides not quite matching but clearly designed by the same company. They seemed to have been built within the last 20 years, still modern but not brand new. The house they stood in front of, like most of the homes in the neighborhood, was a nondescript tan.

“Ready?” Jack stood next to her, key in hand, and Jemma watched the taxi pull away before nodding.

The door opened into a comfortably furnished living room, a breakfast bar at the back, looking into a basic kitchen. Seeing a small stack of papers on the bar, Jemma went to investigate while Jack looked through the rest of the house. The papers were a rental agreement, drawn up between their alter egos and a property management company, signed and dated the day before. She traced her fingers across the signatures accepting the terms of the lease.

Did a signature count as forged if it didn’t really belong to you?

“Two bedrooms,” Jack reported, joining her. “One’s set up as an office, with a futon and two computers, and the internet seems decent. There’s a little garage, but no car or bike or anything, so hopefully we’re in walking distance of the places we’ll need, or else we’re gonna be really familiar with the taxi companies. The laundry room’s got detergent, bathrooms have soap and shampoo. We’ve got linens here. Seems pretty well set up.” He brushed her arm on the way to the refrigerator, the light caress of his fingertips accompanied by affection and reassurance. “Looks like they’ve stocked up the food, too. We shouldn’t have to leave for a while, if we don’t want to.”

Jack stopped on the opposite side of the breakfast bar, and Jemma looked up from the paperwork into a pair of concerned brown eyes.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Yes. Sorry.” Jemma shook her head, trying to clear it. “I’m still frustrated by the fact that they took away our choice, again, even if it was in the name of protection.” She rubbed her arm, wincing when she remembered her injury, which seemed to have had a setback thanks to her anger in the back of the agents’ car.

“How are you feeling?” He gestured at her arm. “I didn’t check to see whether there are any pain killers here.”

“Not great,” she admitted. “Not bad enough to go back to the hospital.” She blinked, scanning the room. “My eyes are all but normal again.”

Jack grinned. “That’s good, anyway.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “What’s first? See what’s in the area for when we run out of food, or see whether the media has any updates for us?”

“Why not both?” He nodded toward the couch behind her. “We can turn on the TV and browse on our phones.”

“All right.”

Jack spoke again before she could continue. “You sit down. I’ll go see what we’ve got for your arm.”

He headed back out of the room, and Jemma sat. The couch was functional but not uncomfortable, firm enough that she didn’t sink into it, and that made it easier to keep her arm from pressing against it. She reached for the remote, quickly flipping through the stations.

“Anything yet?” Jack asked, walking out of the back rooms and into the kitchen. She heard the water running.

“Not yet. No news this time of day, and it looks like we’ve only got network stations. We should have some options at noon, though.”

Jack joined her on the couch, handing her a glass of water and two pills. “It’s the same prescription they gave you at the hospital,” he said. “The label has your alias on it.”

Jemma looked down at the pills in her hand, wondering how they’d gotten everything set up so quickly. Agent O’Hannigan had said they’d complicated things by going on the news; maybe this really had been started before the news broadcast, not thrown together as a result of it.

“Thanks,” she told Jack, accepting the glass and downing the pills, grateful they usually worked quickly. He pulled out his phone while she set her glass down on the coffee table. Jemma took out her own phone and checked the TV guide. There would be a news broadcast in less than half an hour. She changed to the right station and set down the remote, leaning against Jack before turning her attention back to her phone.

Jemma went to her favorite news site first.

Making Headlines

Occasionally, our small city makes the national news for something good. Don’t get me wrong; I love it here and have no intentions to leave. However, a quick search on CNN shows that we’re known for oil spills, bigotry, and poor water quality, at least to the outside world.

Yesterday, that changed. Jemma Tyler, 23, and Jack Himmel, 25, both local residents, went on live television with their story. While the tale was horrific at times as a result of the nature of their treatment, something else showed through, outshining the horror. Something else was the takeaway.

Heroism.

Tyler and Himmel were both completely normal, and they helped change the world, Tyler in particular. People from our hometown were dealt horrible cards, and they overcame them, took down the very people who put them in that situation.

They asked us to help keep the offenders there, to keep down those who were directly involved in the Event and the testing that followed.

They were too late. Yesterday morning, after their first attempt to speak with the proper authorities but before the news broadcast, all Tricorp BioD employees classified as non-leadership were released en masse. At this time, there’s been no official statement to the press.

We owe it to our local heroes to help fix this, in any way we can. Call your representatives. Call local law enforcement. Use your voices and let it be known that this was a mistake, that guilt or lack thereof should be decided based on individual actions, not place in the company’s hierarchy.

Do I want innocent people in jail? No, of course not. But right now, we’re all at risk because the government didn’t listen to the few witnesses it had.

—Katie Brink, Staff Writer

Jemma felt herself blush near the start of the article, then felt the blood drain from her face as she continued reading. She must not have had their connection open, because Jack’s tone was light when he spoke.

“Okay, it looks like we’ll be able to get where we need on foot without any trouble. I’m hoping that… Jemma?”

“Read Katie Brink’s latest article,” she sent distractedly, falling back on telepathy as she navigated to the county jail’s site and searched Josh’s name. She felt a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the pain medication kicking in.

He’d been released.

She closed her eyes. They’d been too late. They’d finally taken matters into their own hands, as best they could, and they’d been too late.

“That’s why they sent us here,” she whispered, feeling Jack tense beside her as he read.

Jack muttered a curse. “Is he—”

“They let him out. I don’t know how many others they released are dangerous, but they let Josh out, and they did it
after
we told them he was planning to try again.”

“They know they messed up.” Jack’s voice was hard. “They aren’t talking to the press, and they sent us here, like you said. They’ll take him back into custody.”

“What can we do?” She let determination show through. She wasn’t going to fall apart again. “We’re not just sitting here and waiting.”

“Let’s see whether there’s any more information. Somebody will need to do damage control with the press pretty soon, if our story went beyond local news.”

It had. A quick web search showed dozens of variations on Katie Brink’s article.

“Do we have a way to contact any of the agents who put us here?” she asked. She thumbed through her contacts list, but other than the phone service’s numbers, it was empty.

He shook his head. “We don’t even know for sure what agency they’re from.”

“We know there’s someone nearby, but if that agent is only supposed to come out if there’s trouble… I doubt calling attention to ourselves again is the smartest starting point.” Jemma rubbed her shoulder.

“Right.” He looked at her. “Speaking of calling attention to things, you’re switching to and from the phone pretty well. How are your eyes after reading for a bit?”

She blinked. She focused on the television, and she could still see Jack in her peripheral vision, only the slightest bit blurry. “Much better than last time I tried. That’ll help with whatever we decide to do.”

Jack nodded. “I’m glad. Now we find a way to make sure it stays that way. We keep ourselves safe.”

“Let’s move to the computers,” she said. “We’ll be able to get more done there, and I doubt the news in Texas will tell us more than we can find online.”

***

They didn’t find much online, either, not at first.

Jemma started by confirming that Josh and others at low levels of seniority had been released, clinging to a thread of hope that the article had been incorrect, that she’d typed something wrong into the prison’s website. However, both concerns seemed to be valid. Next, she tried different variations on search terms for more information on the release in general.

“There are rumors that there will be a statement by the end of the day,” she relayed to Jack. “I can’t tell yet whether it’s speculation or solid information, but there are new articles reporting it even just in the past few minutes.”

“Got it. I’ll keep a tab open with a search for that.”

Back and forth they went with each piece of information or lack of information, as small as it was, piecing together that the employees had only been released; the potential charges hadn’t been dropped, and they’d been asked to stay in their various cities pending further investigation. There didn’t seem to be a particularly good system in place for enforcing this. There was no mention of additional personnel, regular check-ins, or any sort of tracking device. These were the people who’d been deemed likely harmless, and they were being treated as such.

When a statement was finally released, it didn’t shed much more light on the situation.

We are aware of the potential consequences of the mass release. We have taken steps to ensure the safety of everyone involved. If you suspect a problem, please contact your local law enforcement; do not attempt to engage.

They ate a late lunch at their computers, boxed meals they’d found in the freezer.

It was Jack who remembered Darren Payton, Jemma who found his number. “Does not using names when we call include our real ones?” Jack asked as he dialed.

She could see the argument either way. She knew they shouldn’t give out their temporary identities to anyone back home, that they shouldn’t use their real ones with anyone here. But surely if they were allowed to call family, they didn’t have to avoid their names? She shrugged one shoulder.

“Payton.” His voice came from the speakerphone as he answered in a clipped manner.

“Hi, Mr. Payton,” Jack responded. “We spoke yesterday before the interview.”

“Jack? You’re not supposed to be calling. It isn’t safe.”

“We need to know what’s going on, and yours is the only number we’ve got,” Jack replied.

“Look, I can’t tell you anything more than what I’m sure you’ve already found out. Stay low. Do as you’ve been told. Hopefully, we can get the dangerous ones locked back up before long.”

The call disconnected. “Well,” said Jack, looking down at the screen, “that was a bust.”