Mindsiege (Mindspeak #2)(14)

He looked away from me. Swallowed hard. When his eyes met mine again, he said, “She’s awake.”

He could have punched me in the stomach and not have sucked the air from me as much as he did with those words—and my subsequent feelings of excitement and dread. I had succeeded, but what did that mean? “And?” I prompted. Could she talk? Could she walk? What does she remember?

“And Cathy knows that you cured her brain injuries.”

I pulled back from him.

“Cathy doesn’t understand why we ran from Wellington. Or why we wouldn’t want to learn everything we could about where we came from and what we were created to do.”

Neither did Jonas, apparently. It seemed I was the only one who was constantly aware of the live embryos that were murdered in the process of creating the clones who survived. Three hundred fifty-one, to be exact, according to the anonymous email I’d received before Dad was murdered. Why would I want to learn from the monstrous doctors capable of such unethical experimentation? “Who else knows that I healed her?” I whispered. I suddenly felt claustrophobic. The walls were closing in, and I had nowhere to hide. My hands shook at my side. I tucked them in my armpits and backed further away from Jack.

“Roger Wellington, Seth, and of course Kyle and myself. And now you guys.”

“So, how is Addison, Jack?” Jonas asked from the chair beside Georgia. “Is she all right?”

“Well, she lost nearly two years of her life, so she’s confused, and Seth ordered an MRI and some other tests, but… yeah. She seemed… for lack of a better word… normal.” Jack smiled, relieved.

I wasn’t sure what I felt. As much as I hated that someone close to Jack had suffered, relief was not what I was feeling.

“How did Cathy react?” I asked Jack. “What’s her plan?” What I really wanted to know was what was his plan. Would he let his mother control him and his special abilities?

And where did that leave us—Jack and me? We were right back to where we were the moment we bulldozed our way from Wellington: me on the run and Jack taking care of Addison. I was sad to be gone from Wellington, distraught to consider leaving Jack, but nowhere near ready to sacrifice both of our lives for either. There had to be another way.

“I’m not sure. She claims that her intention was always to help us.”

Right. “Any word from your father?”

“Nope. None.”





Chapter Seven


“You didn’t tell him that I was inside your head,” Jonas said after Jack left to find Seth. “Why?”

“How are you so sure I didn’t?” I paced around the room inside The Program. Not giving him time to respond to my first question, I asked, “So, this is where Seth has been teaching you, Georgia, Jack, and Fred about how your DNA was altered?” Convenient for Seth, but not for Kyle or me. Jack had told me he Skyped early in the morning with Seth while I swam. And, as we were informed Friday night, The Program had now been moved to Wellington. Dad had expected me to apply to The Program, but something told me the application process was simply a formality.

Jonas nodded. His arms were crossed. He leaned a hip against the bed where Georgia lay.

“How long have you known you were cloned?” I asked.

“A while.”

Unsatisfied with his vague answer, I faced him. His dark brown eyes pinned me where I stood. “How long?” I demanded.

“Since birth.” He tilted his head side to side. “Well, since I could form and keep memories.”

I gasped, stared at Jonas. “Do you know who you were cloned from?”

He shrugged. “Never met him.”

“But you know who he is?” I thought of the newspaper article—the person of interest wanted in connection with Marci’s murder. The person from the College of Agriculture. My heart constricted a little.

“I know he’s a brilliant doctor somewhere. I don’t believe he knows about me.” Jonas pushed away from the bed where Georgia lay sleeping. “My turn. Jack tells us that you had no idea that you had been cloned from Sandra Whitmeyer.”

“Did he?” Jack hadn’t known until recently that I’d been cloned. Altered like him, yes, but not cloned.

“Don’t be obtuse, Sarah.” He stepped closer. The sound of my real first name coming from his lips sent an ice-cold chill down my spine. It was the name I’d said goodbye to when my father hid me away at boarding school several years ago. “Peter Roslin never told you what you were created to do? That Sandra Whitmeyer orchestrated your entire life?” He stood so close I could smell a hint of vanilla from his soap, masking the cigarette smoke on his clothes.

Backing away, I shook my head. Sometimes the anger at my father for not telling me ate me up inside like a cancer I couldn’t stop. Surely he knew how much danger I would be in if the wrong people found me. But what really kept me up at night and made my blood run cold was the thought that people like Sandra Whitmeyer and Cathy DeWeese had some sort of power to direct my life. That Cathy could put a fence around my school and treat me like a prisoner. That Sandra had some sort of god complex and altered my DNA in such a way as to serve her own master plan.

Or did any of them really have the ability to do these things—to imprison, to control? Could anyone truly control the life of another without permission? I could still walk out right now and not look back. I could choose my path. However, I’d always be looking over my shoulder for IIA agents; I still didn’t know how to get Jonas out of my head; and I’d miss Jack.