Mystics 3-Book Collection (86 page)

Zoey stretched her head and neck.

“It’s unfortunate we lost power,” said
Doctor Three. “And it pains me that we are left without your
dreams. But it’s just a temporary glitch. We’ll have the Dream
Purge up and functioning again in no time at all.”

“Great,” mumbled Simon.

Doctor One charged towards Simon, and
pointed the remote at his face like a blade. “Did I hear you say
something, old man?”

One of his eyes was on Simon, while the
other twitched and focused on Tristan.

Simon pressed his lips into a thin line and
shook his head.

The mad-eyed doctor made a face. Yellow
liquid trickled down from his nose and onto his lab coat. “I’ll
take these three to the holding cells with the others.”

Others?
Zoey cringed at the thought
of brainless, starved, and mutilated souls, kept alive only to aid
in the mad scientists’ experiments.

“Fine,” muttered Doctor Three. “Give them
some Seeder milk. We need them
relaxed
if we want good
dreams. The last human gave us horrible nightmares. I don’t want to
experience that again. Yes, it’s better that they rest.”

Doctor One grabbed Zoey roughly by the arm,
yanked her off the bed, and then shoved her into Simon and
Tristan.

“Follow me this way,” he said and pointed
towards the door with the remote. “And no talking if you still want
the use of your brains.”

Zoey glanced back. Doctor Two and Doctor
Three stood beside a large cauldron she hadn’t noticed before. They
were examining what looked like a boiled tibia bone.

They followed Doctor One down the corridor
in silence. He stopped before an old oak door with a small opening
at the top. He pulled a key from his front coat pocket, and the
door screeched loudly as he pulled it open.

“In!” ordered the doctor.

Zoey stepped in first.

She was in a small jailhouse with individual
cells separated only by metal bars. The hot stale air smelled of
decay and waste, and other things Zoey didn’t want to think about.
A single light bulb hung from the ceiling on a stringy wire and
cast long shadows. It was nearly impossible to see clearly.

They followed the doctor down the small path
between the two walls of cells. A bundle lay at the back of the
first cell. When Zoey got close enough, she saw that it was a man.
He was lying on his back and staring blankly up at the ceiling.
Even in the dim light she could see nasty lacerations where his
mouth had been sewn shut with thick black thread. His head had been
shaved, and a ring of red, angry blisters from the Dream Purge
helmet peppered his scalp.

Uncontrollable hatred rose in the pit of
Zoey’s stomach. She hated the doctors even more than Mrs.
Dupont.

The cell next to the unconscious man was
empty, but the cell opposite was occupied. A woman whose eyes and
mouth had been sewn shut lay in a fetal position in a wet puddle on
the floor. Her shaved head was bruised and bleeding from puncture
wounds, too.

Zoey’s tears cooled her hot cheeks. Were
these people from her own world? Had they accidently stepped
through a portal? Her knees wobbled, and she struggled to keep from
falling.

Another form lay against the far wall in the
next cell, but Zoey couldn’t see the face or tell if it was alive
or dead. When she looked at her friends’ faces they were grim and
angry.

Doctor One led them to the only cell without
a decaying body in it.

“This is your new home,” he said as he
unlocked the door and pulled it open. “I trust you’ll find it
comfortable enough. Get in.”

Zoey, Tristan, and Simon stepped inside
without uttering a word. The doctor locked the door.

“I’ll be back later with some Seeder milk,”
he said.

His face twisted into a smile. “But don’t
get too comfortable. You won’t be alive long enough to enjoy your
new home.”

His throaty wet laughter made Zoey want to
throw up. He turned on his heels, clicked the lock closed, and left
the chamber.

“Is it safe to talk now?” whispered
Simon.

Zoey sighed and did her best to ignore the
smell. “I think so—”

“Good,” said Simon, and he let out a string
of curse words.

“Feel better?” Tristan inspected the small
cell closely.

“Yes,” answered Simon. “But I’d feel a lot
better with a Big Mac in my belly. If that dream machine doesn’t
kill me, I’m seriously going to starve to death.”

“Trust me,” said Zoey as she tried to pull
open their cell’s door, “dying of starvation would be a heck of a
lot better than what’s waiting for us if we don’t break out of here
soon. I don’t even want to know what that milk is—sounds
disgusting.”

Her eyes moved to the decomposed and
mutilated bodies in the other cells, and she imagined their screams
and cries.

“Did the spell wear off yet?” asked Simon
hopefully, and then his face fell. “My voice still sounds old, so I
guess I’m still a senior citizen. Great.”

Zoey raised her hands awkwardly, careful not
to hit Simon’s face with her chains. She rested them on his
shoulder.

“Sorry, Simon. I wish I had better news. But
look on the bright side, we’re all still alive.”

“Yeah, but for how long?” Tristan walked
over to her and raised his wrists.

“If only we could get these collars and
shackles off, we’d have a chance. I can’t fight with this thing
around my neck. We’re like chained animals.”

“I know. We need to get them off, but how
and with what?”

Zoey wrinkled her nose. “It’s hard to
concentrate with the dead bodies and the smell—”

“Actually that was me,” said Simon with a
sheepish smile. “What? I’m a senior citizen remember? I can’t
control my bodily functions.”

Tristan shoved Simon playfully, and Zoey was
glad he was feeling better.

“Simon, can you reach your phone?”

Simon wiggled his shoulders until he was
able to reach his front pocket and retrieve his phone.

“How much time do we have left?” asked
Tristan.

Simon glanced at the phone. “We’ve got about
two hours left. It’s not much, but if we can get out of this sewage
prison, we still have enough time to find the UECs and blow the
portals.”

“Simon, is there a light on your phone?”
Zoey had an idea.

“Yeah . . . .”

“Is it really,
really
bright? Like
blinding
bright?”

“Of course it’s bright. It’s an LCD light.
It’s
uber
-bright.”

Tristan smiled. “Zoey? What are you
planning?”

Zoey looked at her friends.

“Well, I was thinking—the remote that
controls the collars, the one that Doctor One has with him all the
time, since it powers the collars
on and off
, it would make
sense that there’d be a button on that thing that would
remove
the collars and
these
,” she said and raised
her shackles.

Simon tried to whistle, but it came out
sounding like a cat’s meow.

“Good plan. Just one problem, how do we get
our hands on the remote? I mean, I don’t want to be the bearer of
bad news, but you said it. He has it
on
him all the time.
How can we even reach it if we can’t even move our hands?”

“He’s right,” said Tristan. “The moment we
move
and try something, he’ll activate the collars
again.”

He wiped the sweat from his brow with his
arm. “I thought I was going to die earlier. I’ve never felt pain
like that before.”

“We’re going to blind him with Simon’s
phone,” said Zoey.

“We’ll have to be fast. We have to surprise
him, and in that nanosecond we can grab the remote. We know he’s
coming back soon, so we better get ready. We’ve only got
one
shot at this, so we need to make it count.”

“So . . . I’ll blind him while—”

“I’ll get the remote,” said Tristan.

Zoey had a feeling that the remote was not
the only thing he wanted to
get
.

“Right,” said Zoey. “And
I’ll
distract him.”

Simon jumped on the spot. “Good plan, Zoey
St. John.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Man, it might
actually
work
.”

Zoey knew her plan was farfetched. So many
things could go wrong. And if by a miracle they did escape, how
would they ever find Director Martin? What could they accomplish
without the UEC?

Zoey exhaled deeply and made fists with her
hands. “It’s
going
to work, it has to—”

“Zoey?” A low voice came from behind
her.

Zoey’s blood froze.

She searched her friends’ faces, but
they
hadn’t uttered her name. Very slowly, Zoey turned
towards the sound of the voice.

The bundle that Zoey had thought was dead
was standing and facing them. It was impossible to see it clearly
in the shadows. The figure stood still and did not move.

Zoey inched towards the figure. She couldn’t
explain why, but she wasn’t afraid. Something inside told her that
it wouldn’t harm her. The slight build and soft voice was female.
But who was she?

“Who are you? And how do you know my name?”
demanded Zoey.

The woman took a careful step forward, and a
shard of light spilled onto her face—

It was like staring in a mirror. Zoey was
looking into her
own
face.

Chapter 18

Z
oey gasped and
staggered back. Her knees weakened, and she couldn’t breathe.

Tristan grabbed her and steadied her.

“Zoey? What is it? Do you know this
person?”

The woman stepped closer. Now her face was
fully visible between the metal bars. Her head was completely
shaved except for a few bright red strands that fell below the ring
of bloody, red puncture marks. Her thin, frail, and hollow face
still held traces of beauty, and her large green eyes were alert
and mesmerizing like precious jewels. Her filthy clothes hung
loosely over her thin body like she hadn’t eaten in months. She was
clearly weeping at the sight of Zoey. She didn’t look at anyone
else, just her.

Zoey couldn’t look away from the woman in
the next cell either. It was the face in her dreams, the face on
the photograph.

“Zoey? Who
is
that?” asked Tristan
again.

“I know who she is,” said Simon finally.
“It’s her. It’s Zoey’s mom.”

Elizabeth glanced briefly at Simon and
Tristan, and then her eyes settled on her daughter again.

“My beautiful girl. I never thought I’d ever
see you again. The last time I saw you, you were just a little girl
staying with the Turner foster family. Now look at you. You’ve
grown so tall. You’re a young woman now.”

Simon and Tristan both looked at Zoey,
waiting for her to respond. Her lips moved, but no words would
come. When she had played out this scene in her head—when she had
imagined meeting her mother—she had hugged her mother and kissed
her. She had told her all about her abilities and her friends. She
hadn’t been a scared little kitten like she was now. It was almost
as though she would break the spell or lift the veil from the dream
if she moved.

Sensing the awkwardness, Simon stuck out his
hand through the bars.

“Simon Brown at your service, Zoey’s
mother,” he said proudly.

Elizabeth shook Simon’s hand and smiled.
“Please, call me Elizabeth.”

Her voice was soft and kind, as if she
hadn’t spent months being abused like a lab rat by the mad
doctors.

But still Zoey couldn’t move.

Tristan let go of Zoey gently.

“I’m Tristan Price, Zoey’s—” he hesitated,
“—friend.”

He stared at his feet.

And still Zoey didn’t utter a word or
move.

Her mother watched her daughter lovingly.
Warily, she reached a shaking hand through the bars. “Zoey? Come
here.”

It was like someone had cut down her bonds.
Finally, Zoey could move. With her heart thundering against her
ribcage, she leaped forward and grabbed her mother’s ice-cold
hands.

The effect was instantaneous. Tears spilled
down her cheeks as she took in a shaky breath. She slipped her
hands through her mother’s fingers and squeezed. She desperately
wanted to reach out and hug her, but the shackles around her wrists
prevented her.

Simon and Tristan backed away, giving them
their private moment together.

After a few moments, Elizabeth let go of her
daughter and frowned.

“Zoey, what are you
doing
here?
Didn’t you get my message from my friend Muttab?”

Zoey looked into her mother’s eyes. “Yes I
did.”

Her mother’s face fell. “So the Agency found
you, and you decided to stay, even though you knew your life was in
danger.”

Zoey stared quietly into her mother’s face.
The same dreaded collar was wrapped around her mother’s neck, just
like hers. And when she spoke next she avoided her mother’s
eyes.

“I had to. I wasn’t willing to give it up.”
She looked up and met her mother’s eyes again. “You don’t
understand. You don’t know what it’s like to grow up feeling that
you’re a freak. I didn’t have any friends. I had no one to talk to.
When the Agency found me, it was like . . . it was like I was
finally home.”

Tears trickled down her mother’s face. “I
understand, Zoey. I know it was a lot to ask, and I know how angry
and confused you must feel right now, but please know I did it only
to
protect
you. I had to hide you from the Agency, from the
double agents and those working for Mrs. Dupont. If they had found
out who you were and discovered your abilities, they would have
used you and then killed you. It was the only way to keep you
safe.”

“I know,” said Zoey. “But they still used
me—”

“What?” Elizabeth’s eyes grew fierce. “What
do you mean?”