Brightside, Mark Tullius [philippa perry book .TXT] 📗

It’s okay, she thought.

Then she silently began the tale, never once turning back, knowing if she looked me in the eyes, she’d never finish.

According to her account, Sharon met my father twenty years ago at a small underground rally for people like us. Hardly anyone knew telepaths existed, but there were rumors, speculation. Some of us had been locked in loony bins. People like my grandmother. It’s why Dad showed up in the first place. He was angry and alone. He sat in the back and listened to unspeakable stories of violence and fear. And everyone knew it was only going to get worse.

After the meeting, Sharon went up to Dad and they shared their experiences. She asked if he wanted to be more involved. Dad said he couldn’t, told her he had a family, a son with the same gift. He didn’t want to draw attention, see anything happen to me. So he left, but every so often, like once or twice a year, he’d seek her out, wanted to know how things were going, if there was anything he should know, prepare for, in order to protect his family.

Sharon said he would’ve done anything to protect us.

Then the government created Brightside. They started rounding up Thought Thieves. Soon we’d all be on the mountain or dead. Sharon and a few others arranged for friends to turn them in. To infiltrate. Only a few were selected, the ones with the strongest ability, able to quiet their thoughts, block everyone out, so their secret would be safe. The selected offered themselves up, settled in, got chummy with the Boots as hundreds of people from all over the country arrived by helicopter. These secret agents never let on, never aroused any suspicion, just quietly put themselves into positions of power.

I’d moved out years before and Mom hardly came home, so Dad volunteered to help the cause. They turned him down though, because when they tested him, he couldn’t keep it in, the secrets. He would have broken, slipped up, and all this would be for nothing.

Months went by and Dad kept trying to join the fight. There was talk that Brightside wasn’t sustainable. Too expensive. Soon they’d have to start cutting rations, supplies. Eventually there’d be only one alternative: execution. Quietly, of course. America would never hear a word, although they probably wouldn’t care if they did.

That’s when Dad decided to offer me up. Since I didn’t know anything, I wouldn’t be a liability.

My entire head felt like it was about to implode. I couldn’t feel my hands or legs. Just this throbbing in my brain. Why would he...

Michelle, Sharon thought.

And slowly, it all fit together, just like Grandpa’s shotgun.

A week before I got to Brightside, Michelle said Dad had come over looking for me. She said he seemed panicked, asked for a drink. She said he sat there for an hour waiting for me, but I was working late, trying to boost my bonus. She turned on the TV, a newscast about Brightside. Michelle said she was just trying to make conversation, talked a bit about how dangerous these people were. Dad said he agreed, but kept asking these strange questions. She thought he was just afraid like the rest of the country. But here in Sharon’s office, I knew Dad had been testing her.

Michelle would’ve turned me in without hesitation, even called up her brothers to take care of me first.

Michelle’s mind made up Dad’s.

I couldn’t breathe. Everything closing in, the walls. Sharon’s stupid waterfall was all I could hear, sounded like someone was pissing in my ears.

I went for her desk, ready to tell Sharon to inject me, to make everything calm, like Rachel was in the Cabin.

“Joe, you need to calm down.”

My words to Rachel coming out of Sharon’s mouth.

I’m sorry, she thought.

I saw my father’s face, that big, dumb grin. I yelled at her and pressed my thumbs into my closed eyes, shoving them back into my skull.

The door flung open. Demarius ran in, tackled me into the chair. Pinned my arms. I kept fighting. Demarius pulled tighter.

Enough! Sharon thought.

I told you he was going to crack.

Sharon bent down, touched my face like I was a child. No, he’s not. Isn’t that right, Joe?

I thought about Mom, rubbing butter on my face.

“Joe, what’s it going to be?” Sharon asked.

“Let’s just send this motherfucker to the Cabin.”

“Quiet.” Sharon forced my eyes to hers.

What’s your decision?

My father’s voice flowing through my brain. Whatever you need.

I found myself ten minutes later in the lobby. I don’t even remember taking the elevator. People were gathered outside the double-doors. There were whispers about a death. I entered the fray wondering if they were talking about me.

Robert was four feet in front of me, his big black microphone held to his throat, the wire traveling down to the brown box at his waist. He said, “Hey. Joe. You. Know. What’s. Going. On.” The lack of inflection made it so you couldn’t figure if Robert was asking or telling.

“No idea.”

“Wayne. King. Escaped.”

The reason for the accelerated news, why Sharon and Demarius said we had to do this tomorrow night, the end of Day 100. Their plan, my gun.

“I’m. Going. To. Catch. Him,” Robert said. “Want. To. Join. My. Team?”

Robert kept talking, but I couldn’t hear with the helicopter directly overhead. The woods were only a few blocks away. Part of me wanted to say fuck it. Take off out the cave. Sharon, Demarius, and Dad could eat a big bag of shit.

I hadn’t meant to think it so close to Robert, but his eyes widened, knew what was rattling around my head.

I started walking. The helicopter kept circling, scouring the town for Wayne. I kept thinking about taking off now, but knew I wouldn’t make it fifty feet before they caught me. I also couldn’t leave Rachel behind. Not like this. She deserved better. All she did was believe in me. Love me. Wanted to take care of me. And I repaid her by ripping out her broken heart.

I turned left, the Cabin up on the hill, its windows open, all warm and inviting.

Come on in, have a seat. Let your problems disintegrate.

Rachel’s building was up ahead. Sharon said to let her be, said I needed to get some rest. Sharon loved to talk. Just like Dad. The two of them plotting and scheming to stick me up on this goddamn mountain.

I knocked on Rachel’s door, kept knocking until her neighbor, Frances, came out and told me to shut the hell up or she’d call the Boots. Frances looked like a man with her