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

lost what little shine they had. She was thinking about the crappy Christmas present she’d gotten me.

Her glass was empty except for some ice. I told her to make another while I finished up. Her thoughts were giving me a headache. Michelle got off the couch, was extra careful not to wake Lily.

I went back to my laptop, started closing out sites. Homeland Security. National Safety Council. Half a dozen others. Each called us domestic terrorists, all because one man said so. Our President was scared shitless when he found out what we could do. The possibility that one of us could sneak up beside him, learn his every word was a lie. The corporations, the corruption, all the money and the media. We never had a chance.

An executive order was issued to trample our rights. And the biggest irony of all, only two years before, Carl Pepper, a Thought Thief from Kansas, had single-handedly foiled the President’s assassination. He’d been at a rally, heard the gunman’s thoughts. There were celebrations, photos of Carl everywhere. But then someone realized there was no way Carl could’ve known the stuff that he knew. Thought Thieves were branded enemies. Carl showed up on the cover of Time. In big red letters: “Thought Thieves Among Us.”

It didn’t take long for laws to pop up all over the country. First, we were arrested, thrown in jail, but the regular prisoners petitioned to have us removed. That’s when Brightside was created, an old mining town in California, more than a mile in the sky, high enough to make the normals feel safe.

I’d been surfing in private, but I still cleared the history before setting the laptop on the table. I didn’t think Michelle would ever snoop, but there was no need to take the chance. There was no shortage of people who’d sell out friends and family for fifty thousand dollars.

Dad had taught me to trust no one.

Michelle knew I was a stickler when it came to my two-drink limit and put the bottle of Jack up in the cupboard. She came back so tall and graceful, my tipsy swan gliding across the floor, hardly a thought in her beautiful head.

I dimmed the lights and took her hand, brought her beside me on the couch. Getting so close wasn’t always wise, but Michelle was different, especially on her meds.

I squeezed in behind her, the thinnest layer of clothes between us, her hair sweet vanilla, a home I never had. My right hand rested on the curve of her hip, my left arm under her neck, holding her closer, my hand on her chest, the thump of her heart. “This is perfect.”

Michelle thought it was too, but bad thoughts started flying, ones about how I would eventually leave her, move on like every other guy.

I took her hand and got it scratching Lily behind the ear, knew there was no way to keep thinking bad things with that tongue licking the air, those two brown eyes so full of love.

Michelle recovered, kissed Lily’s nose as a thank you. I massaged Michelle’s shoulders and she sank back against me, let her mind go all dreamy. Then she thought something that tore open my heart.

She loved me.

And for the first time, I wondered if I could tell her the truth.

The next day I heard my boss, Saul, thinking I was making too many sales. Before BMW, I’d never stay at a job too long. Couple of months, tops. Just make some cash and quit. But I was so close to buying the house, I’d stayed there almost a year.

To ease Saul’s suspicious mind, I tanked the next three customers.

“Boy Wonder having an off-day?” Saul laughed.

“I’m only human, Saul.”

“Yeah...”

I knew my time there was up. I asked Saul if I could get my commission early, said I wanted to get something nice for Michelle. Saul said he’d think about it.

When I got home, Michelle thought I was acting strange. I’d been thinking about telling her the truth about me, but I didn’t want to screw things up before I got my commission. Once the check cleared, we could take off, move anywhere, and I’d tell her everything. In public, Michelle spoke just like everyone else, saying Thought Thieves should be locked away, but I figured she’d change her mind if she knew I was one of them.

Still, I was too stressed. I just needed to clear my head and hers. I poured her a drink and took her to the bedroom.

Later, we were back in the living room, the lights off, a soft glow from Letterman because I was too comfortable to grab the remote off the coffee table next to our half-eaten dinner. Michelle and I curled up, our clothes back on. I felt calm, relaxed. And it wasn’t just because Michelle took me to the place where all I can hear is myself saying Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, holy shit that feels good.

It was the closeness. The closeness to someone still awake, even if barely. Being able to lie with someone who wasn’t constantly judging or whining or worrying. I wanted to live like this forever.

Lily was down below us, back from her banishment to the kitchen while Michelle and I had been busy. I was proud of her for not eating the leftover steak.

Then Lily’s ears perked. She raised her head above the coffee table, looked toward the door.

I got up on my elbow and reached for the remote.

Lily got to her feet and I muted the TV, thought I heard a whisper by the window.

Michelle mumbled and I shushed her, said everything was okay. I concentrated hard, focused on the sides of my head, an inch above my ears.

A man outside the window. This is gonna be a blast. Fuck yeah. Rock n’ roll.

Three.

Two.

One.

Then bam. The window shattered and the door boomed, flecks of wood flying through the air. Michelle’s head jerked back, smacked my mouth. Lily barking.

I went for the steak knife, but Lily tipped over the table. The front door cracked open, a wall of yellow lights. I covered Michelle and looked at what just clanked off the floor, a metal canister rolling toward the couch.

The blast of light snuffed out my sight, an unbelievable pop and I couldn’t hear. Everything was black, my shouts just whispers.

Michelle was flailing, not knowing anything, falling off the couch. Then came another pop and more whispers. A loud angry voice rushed toward me. He thought, Take that.

The blow to my back felt like a baseball bat at full speed, the pain immediate. I screamed but couldn’t hear it, just the shrill ringing, piercing my brain.

I lost Michelle’s thoughts, but felt her below me. Then fingers sunk into my arm, lifted me up, let me go. I bounced off the floor and weight came down on my neck, paralyzed my body.

The ringing continued. One hand then the other wrenched behind my back, metal pinching skin.

My vision came in, white and fuzzy, couldn’t make out shit except someone had turned on the lights. It took me a second to see the puffy clouds were the carpet up close. Then Lily came into focus less than a foot away. Her eyes open, looking at me, the rug turning red around her. “My dog!” I shouted, “What the fuck did you do?”

The knee dug down on my neck and I pushed back because it felt like I was dying. The guy on top of me just put more pressure, made his forearm a lever between my arms and back, hoped I’d try something so he could fucking break me.

I closed my eyes and grit my teeth, said okay, okay, and gave up the fight. It got hard to breathe, even harder to think, my skull ready to crack.

His knee let off enough for me to open my eyes, the ringing beginning to fade. I watched Lily whine like never before, her back legs kicking slower and slower. From behind me, Michelle screamed, “Let me go! Lily!”

The ringing was gone, but I could only hear out my left ear. No more Michelle, just Lily and the sound of heavy footsteps shaking the floor.

Someone yelled, “Gomez, get him over here.”

All the pressure left my neck as Gomez told Hendricks, “Yes, Sir.” I got yanked up by my forearms, dragged three steps, screaming because that’s all I could do. Gomez used his knee to knock my head the other way then dropped me down on the carpet, right next to the knife that would’ve got us killed if I’d been a little faster.

Gomez’s knee came down on my neck, made it so I couldn’t look away no matter how much I wanted.

Hendricks had Michelle bent over the edge of the couch, her head smashed on the cushion, eye shut and mouth open, somehow holding back a scream. Hendricks stood behind Michelle, wedged in tight between her trembling legs, his hand on her cranked back wrist. He wore all black, no letters anywhere, hid behind the helmet and face shield, ski mask beneath.

His eyes were the warning. Two black hollow points aiming at me.

Thanks to the mask, I couldn’t see Hendrick’s lips moving, but he asked if I could hear him.

Even then, all jacked up, I had the wits not to say shit.

There was no question Hendricks was talking out loud when he said, “Tear this place apart. He’s got something somewhere. Everyone does. Grab his computer.”

Michelle screamed, “Why are you doing this?”

He told me to go ahead and tell her. Tell her what I could do.

My vision was too clear, the biggest crack tearing through Michelle.

“Joe, what’d you do?”

Hendricks shut her up with a twist of her wrist. I didn’t see the mask move when he thought, Nine plus two.

Say it, and it’ll all stop.

I kept quiet, felt the puff of breath on my arm, Lily’s nose on my elbow.

Gomez must’ve seen it because he thought it was some sad shit, didn’t get why Hendricks lit her up in the first place. “Someone do something about this,” he said.

Boots stomped across the floor, each one rattling my chest. All casual, like the guy was ordering a coffee, he said, “Friendly fire.” Then two blasts, each a jolt through my body.

The whining was over, Michelle’s face buried in the cushion, sobbing like Lily was her child.

Hendricks let go of Michelle’s wrist, put his hand on her waist.

Nine plus two, fuckhead.

I said nothing and he said, “Fine. Get this piece of shit out of here.”

The ski mask covered his smile, but I knew it was there. He thought about what kind of questioning he’d put Michelle through. How she’d do and say whatever he asked once she found out the prison term for harboring a terrorist.

Gomez jerked me to my feet and Hendricks asked, “What’s it going to be?” All I had to do was say it. Nine plus two.

Michelle didn’t deserve any of this. I told her I was sorry.

Then I said it.

“Eleven.”