Michelle Maddox - Countdown

I frowned at him. "'Crimes that I'd never forgive anyone for."

"Yes, given your history and what happened to your family, I can sec that. But you care for him anyhow. And why is that?"

"Because he's innocent."

"Are you so sure of that?"

"I'm sure."

"Did you use your psi ability on him? Your ability to connect empathically with another?"

I went very cold and still at his words. Nobody knew about my flex. Nobody.

He waved a hand. "Don't be alarmed. It isn't common knowledge. In fact, I am one of the very few connected with The Countdown who know of your hidden talents."

"How did you-"

"How did I know? We know everything. All doctors keep very special records on their patients. A large percentage of female children born after the plague are psychically gifted."

"A large percentage?" I asked. This was the first I'd ever heard of this.

He nodded. "Your abilities are marked down as low-level, which typically would not cause much of an interest from the scientific community." He walked toward the small window overlooking another gray building. "Many of the other girls with high-level psi powers were taken to Offworld as soon as they were discovered so they could grow up in a much more stable environment. Those with the low-level abilities such as yourself were mostly ignored. But it is still in your markup-your DNA profile. I thought your abilities might help you along in the game in some small way. I may have been wrong. He doesn't believe it makes any difference at all."

There was no smile on his face anymore as he turned from the window to look at me again.

I struggled to sit higher up in the bed. "Who are you talking about?"

"Gareth. The producer of The Countdown. He is pleased with your showing so far but doesn't feel that your psi abilities have anything to do with your success. Our subscribers are also very happy. We've had a 20 percent increase in viewing time since your game began. And the more they view, the longer they use their implants, and the more they pay."

I tried to process everything he'd told me. If my doctor had written in my profile that I had psi abilities, did that mean my parents knew? They'd never discussed it with me. It had been a total and complete surprise one day when I was sixteen and I happened to tap into it quite by accident when I touched somebody. It had hurt so badly that I hadn't attempted it again for six months.

There was no reason Jonathan had to share all of this with me. All he had to do was patch me up and let me get back to the game, but I swear I saw concern in his gaze as he looked at me.

I felt an unbidden tear slip down my right cheek. "Jonathan, you have to help me. Help us. I don't want to die."

He nodded grimly. "I know you don't." He took in a deep breath and let it out. "Please, Kira, let me see your leg."

I shook my head.

He rolled up his right sleeve and thrust his forearm at me. 'Touch me. Use your ability if you don't trust me. See that I mean you no harm."

I studied him for a full minute before I decided to do as he said. I touched the skin of his arm just below his elbow, pressing my fingers against his flesh. I could feel his quick but steady pulse.

I closed my eyes and tried to push out all other thoughts from my mind. This took a couple of minutes, since my mind was currently rather full.

And then I flexed.

The images and sensations came to me in flashes. Nothing coherent or totally understandable. It wasn't home movies of the mind. Just flashes. Words. Thoughts.

:::::::::Tired

Angry:::::::::

:::::::::Determined

Sincere:::::::::

:::::::::Sad

Hopeful:::::::::

:::::::::Guilty

A wash of goodness swept over me. Sadness. Angst and despair. A good man forced to do things he didn't agree with. Someone who wanted to help to make things better.

Then a spear of pain lanced through my head and I let go of him, pressing my palms against the sides of my head.

Agony.

Par for the course. One of the reasons I tried to use my flex as little as possible.

After a moment I felt a cold cloth on my forehead and opened my eyes slowly. The fluorescent lights above now seemed too bright, and I squinted. Jonathan held a wet towel against my forehead. He stared at me with wide eyes.

"Did you sense anything?" he asked breathlessly. "I felt you … I felt you in my mind."

"Did it hurt?"

"No, it was a curious feeling, but it wasn't pain. Perhaps you're not as low-level as indicated in your records. Are you well?"

I pushed his hand away. "Well enough, I guess."

I pulled at the sheets that covered me and bared my legs for him.

He undid the bandages and inspected my right thigh.

"Very good. It has healed as well as I'd hoped."

I frowned and looked down. Where I expected to find an oozing bullet wound was only a soft, bright pink mark that had already nearly healed over. It didn't even hurt when he touched it gently.

Rogan had said I'd been out for eighteen hours. But even eighteen hours wasn't long enough to heal a bullet wound.

"How-" I began.

"We have a great deal of technology at our fingertips here, Kira. The company I work for has always had a hand in research-be it computers and artificial intelligence or medical research. That is why I originally came on board ten years ago. Unfortunately, due to recent rules and regulations, I'm unable to share this research with anyone outside of the corporation at this time."

I touched my leg, running a finger along the wound. It was flat. I was healed. From a wound that felt as if it had torn my leg clean off.

"What kind of a company is this, anyhow? And who is this Gareth guy? He has people doing secret medical research? He's the one who's in charge of this game? He sounds horrible."

"He wasn't always." Jonathan's eyes glistened and he turned away, took in a shuddery breath, and then turned back to me. "Now I am to fill you in on the reward level of The Countdown!'

Tears pricked at my own eyes. "But I can't keep playing. You need to help me. Please, Jonathan."

His jaw clenched. "Kira, please. The only way you can escape the game is to win it. You read me. You must know that there is nothing I can do to change what is."

I had read him. The overwhelming feeling I'd gotten from him before my head nearly exploded was hopelessness. He was despondent about his lot in life.

We were silent for a moment.

"Jonathan …" I began. "If I win … if me and Rogan both get through all six levels-"

"It doesn't have to be both of you anymore," he said.

"What?"

"I know the rules were never properly explained to you. The fact is, after Level Three, if you make it to the end together or separately, then you will be considered the winner."

I let this information settle over me. "And if either or both of us do finish successfully … we can ask for whatever we want?"

He nodded. "The champion or champions get to choose his or her own prize."

I licked my dry lips. "I'd be able to ask for a one-way ticket to Offworld?"

The smile reappeared on his face. "A first-class one-way ticket. Definitely."

"First-class," I repeated. "I like the sound of that."

Jonathan smiled. "I think you'd do very well on Offworld, Kira."

I let all the wonderful possibilities, the dream of freedom and a brand-new life, drift through my mind. "Maybe Rogan would like it there, too."

He frowned suddenly. "You said that you believe he's innocent."

I nodded and arranged the sheets back over my legs. "That's right. One hundred percent."

"Did you use your psi ability on him?"

"A little. But not fully. I haven't had time to concentrate long enough to use it. I asked him. He told me. I believe him."