Free Possession by Elana Johnson Page B

couldn’t tear my eyes off him.
    He shrugged.
    Damn him. Damn him to hell. I turned away and pulled out the first aid kit. I spread some cream over my cut, feeling the cooling powers of excellent meds. Wordlessly, I offered the tube to Jag and zipped the backpack closed. Lying down, I used it for a pillow and thought about how screwed up my life had become.
    A lost future with Zenn.
    A possibility of finding my dad in the Badlands.
    And the excitement of a different future. With Jag.
    *   *   *
    Someone grips my shoulders. “Don’t let them control you, son. You have no duty to them.”
    I blink, and the brown-haired man in front of me is whisked away by three men wearing black suits.
    Someone else touches my arm. “Let’s go, Jag.”
    I follow my oldest brother. “Blaze! What happened back there? Wait!”
    But he’s so much taller than me and can move faster.
It’s not fair,
I think, sprinting to catch him before he rounds the corner.
    I skid to a stop next to Blaze. He puts his arm around me, and I know something is very wrong. “Run home, Jag,” he hisses out of the corner of his mouth.
    Another man approaches. He has pale, pale skin. Like the men who just killed my father.
    “Blaze, you must come with me.” The man has no hair. His voice doesn’t sound menacing, but filled with urgency.
    I grip Blaze’s hand. “No,” I whisper. What if he dies too?
    “Jag, go tell Pace,” Blaze says. He takes a step forward, trying to shake my hand out of his.
    Fear and panic combine with the hurt inside. “No!” I shout. “You can’t leave!”
    He turns and crouches in front of me. His eyes are glazed over. He sighs and draws me into a hug. “I must. You’ll be okay. Just tell anyone who bothers you to go to hell. You’ll be fine.”
    “Blaze,” the bald man says again. “Please, you must hurry.”
    Blaze wipes my tears. Smiles. “Tell Pace good-bye. I’m sure I’ll see you both soon enough.”
    “When?” My voice sounds so high. So childish. My chin quivers. Tears leak out of my eyes.
    “Soon.”
    I watch him walk away with the Goodie. And something breaks apart inside. Something that can never be put back together.
    *   *   *
    *   *   *
    I rolled over, gasping, feeling the pieces of Jag’s shattered life as if I still lingered in his nightmare. His arm jerked and he muttered something. Something that sounded very much like, “Blaze, don’t.”
    I sat up, drawing my knees to my chest. My hands trembled as I laid my head in them. How did I get inside Jag’s head?
    My stomach clenched. My head throbbed. I stumbled to the door and leaned against it.
    I hated having people inside my mind, and that’s when I was awake and could control what they heard and saw.
    What I’d done (unwillingly, but still) was so much worse.
    Jag could never know.
    I took a deep breath, shaking as it shuddered through my chest. I held it for a moment, before letting it out slowly and turning back toward him.
    An unmarked book, bound in plain brown leather, lay on his chest. Only Jag could find time to read while on the run. I wondered how long he’d stayed up—and how he’d managed to find a book out here. I picked it up and started reading where he’d marked his place.
    Technology isn’t that hard to invent. All it takes is a little imagination and a lot of money. True, money can be aproblem, but not in the Goodgrounds. They want the tech, and they’ll pay for it.
    Badlanders can invent tech too, and they should try. Maybe then the good and the bad can be reunited.
    Reunited? Had the Baddies and the Goodies lived together before? Why were we separated now? Who did it? I closed the book and found the author’s picture on the back cover. If his name hadn’t been printed under the photo, I never would have known it was him. A strangled cry escaped my mouth and I dropped the book on Jag’s chest. He jumped and grabbed my arm, his fingers closing over the tag.
    I jerked away from him, covering my wrist