the alley, stiff from sleeping on collapsed boxes, wishing he could brush his teeth. He smoothed back his hair and looked around, not quite sure where he was.
Drop
dead …
“Oh yeah,” he said as yesterday’s highlight reel played through his head.
He wandered a couple blocks, and then saw a green sign with an arrow pointing to the left, SAYERTON 8 MILES .
Martin stared at the sign as if it were a magical relic.
Sayerton.
That was where Trash lived. He wouldn’t be there, but his parents would. Martin figured they might even let him stay overnight. Or feed him. Either way, it would break up his trip to Cheater’s house.
Maybe he could catch another ride. Even if he had to walk, it wouldn’t take that long.
Four miles an hour,
Martin thought. That was how fast people walked.
Or I can go back home.
No way. Not yet. If he came back so soon, looking like a scruffy stray cat after less than a full day on his own, he’d never hear the end of it from his dad. There was no choice. Right now, he was on a one-way road.
A CONVERSATION BETWEEN
MR. CALABRIZI AND DR. KELNER
DR. KELNER : I really think it might help us get through to him.
MR. CALABRIZI : But why Philadelphia?
DR. KELNER : We don’t know. It must have some special meaning for him. That doesn’t matter right now. I just think if we move him, we may see some progress.
MR. CALABRIZI : Sure, if you think it will help. We have to try it. I don’t see how it can make things any worse.
PART THREE
which covers a
thursday that makes
Wednesday seem like a day of rest
there and back again
BOWDLER WAS INJECTING something into my arm. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. He put a tube down my throat that pumped air into my lungs and then sucked it back out. The tube kept me alive, but made me wish I was dead.
“Move the marble, Eddie.”
I woke up screaming, amazed that my paralyzed body could fling itself out of bed. As my cries echoed against the bedroom walls, I realized where I was and crawled to the window to make sure the sound of my terror hadn’t reached outside. A strange car was still parked at the curb across the street. I held my breath and waited, but the door of the black sedan remained shut.
The dream had been awful. But the worst part was that my mind hadn’t invented anything. This wasn’t a random dream. This was a memory. For one of his tests, Bowdler had injected me with something that paralyzed my muscles. My heart could still beat, but my limbs froze and my lungs didn’t work.
“Move the marble, Eddie.” His dead-dog eyes showed no emotion as he hovered over me, one hand on the tube thatwas keeping me alive. Unable to blink, unable to twitch a single finger, I floated the marble for him.
I’d escaped the dream by waking up. I had no idea how I could escape the memory. Except by thinking about other, worse memories. I backed away from the curtain, sat on the floor beneath the window, and tried to figure out what to do.
Who are they?
Bowdler had a photo from the bank video. That’s the sort of thing the FBI would have. But the FBI doesn’t kidnap citizens and fake their deaths. I think I’d heard someone call him “Major,” once. The lab didn’t look like it belonged to the army. But Bowdler’s haircut, and the way he moved, made me think of a soldier. Whatever organization he belonged to, I’d probably never heard of it. Maybe nobody had heard of it.
There was only one place I’d find any answers. It was the last place I wanted to go, but I had no choice. I didn’t know where my parents were. I didn’t know who I could trust. And I was afraid it wasn’t safe to get in touch with any of my friends. I had to go back to the lab. But I’d be far from paralyzed this time. And if Bowdler crossed my path, I wouldn’t be the one who’d be helpless.
The thought of all he had done to me collided in my mind with all the things I could do to him. The fury of the images made my heart race. Nobody messes with my