The Taking

“Hello?” I yelled again, my eyes never leaving the display as anxiety made my voice crack. “Is anyone here?”

And that’s when it happened.

The display of pain relievers . . .

. . . it moved.

Moved, as in wiggled. Enough that all the packets swayed side to side. A miniature earthquake.

Except it was only the pain reliever rack that was affected. Nothing else. Not the ground beneath my feet or the counters inside the booth or the condoms or the cough drops.

Just the pain relievers I’d been staring at longingly.

Shut. Up.

My eyes widened, and my fists fell to my sides. My throat tightened as I tried to make sense of what I’d seen. I looked behind me to see if anyone else had noticed it, but I was still alone.

All alone.

I turned back.

Nuh-uh . . . not me . . .

It wasn’t . . .

I glanced down at my hands—ordinary, normal hands. No way!

I curled my fingers back into fists and lifted them to the glass, mimicking my previous actions.

Nothing happened. There was nothing but me and the empty booth and all those pain relievers I couldn’t reach.

I stared. I stared hard.

I concentrated.

And then . . .

. . . still nothing.

I banged my fist on the glass, releasing a gust of frustration as I swore under my breath. “Dammit. Dammit!”

All at once the entire pain reliever display shot across the booth and crashed against the glass, scaring the crap out of me.

I jerked away from the explosion, my heart crammed in my throat and my eyes so wide I felt like they’d pop out of my head. “Holy . . .” I gasped. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god . . .”

But there was no one there to see. I checked.

I almost wished there had been. Someone to say, “I saw it too.” Or “Holy crap.” Or “Dude, you did it.”

Somehow, someway, by some freaking miracle I had just managed to move—like levitate or something—that whole entire rack across the attendant booth.

With my new superpowers.

When I finally recovered from what I’d done, when I’d accepted it was real and come to terms with it, and when I realized I’d better get the hell out of there before someone else showed up and figured out I was the one responsible for all that damage, I jumped into action.

It was all there, all the medicine I needed; I just had to shove—fine, break—the BACK IN FIVE sign to get it out of my way. It was a small feat after what I’d accomplished with the display stand, and it took me only a second. Hard to believe the cashier had left this place unattended in the first place.

After I’d filled my pockets with as many packets as I could carry, I laid three twenty-dollar bills on the counter inside, more than enough to pay for what I’d taken and to make up for the mess I’d made. Because, I might be desperate, but I certainly wasn’t a thief.

I ran the entire way back, anxious to get out of there before someone spotted me, and even more anxious to get back to Tyler. I stopped running, though, almost tripping over my own feet, the moment the Asplund Motor Inn came into view.

Not because I was winded or because I was no longer in a hurry to get back, but because of the car in the parking lot. The one that hadn’t been there before.

Black. Nice and shiny, polished black.

I felt sick. Not like Tyler, all fevered and nosebleedy, but straight-up, gut-puking sick.

If it hadn’t been for Tyler—Tyler who was still in there, still burning up, probably all because of me—I would’ve turned tail and run. Right back to the gas station, past it, and into the woods.

I would have disappeared forever this time.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my fists into the hollows of my sockets, and did my best to come up with some sort of plan. But there was no good plan for how to get Tyler out of there. Not now.

As I passed the office on my way back, the old lady inside met me at the door. “Oh good, you’re back. Nice man’s been waitin’ on you.”

I ignored the woman, my stomach roiling as I kept walking. I glanced toward the black car parked right in front of room 110.

It was empty, I noted. Whoever was here was probably already inside the room. Waiting for me.

My heart climbed into my throat as I stood outside. My key felt heavy and my fingers too clumsy to work it. It took me forever to screw up the courage to slip it into the lock. Closing my eyes, I knew this was probably my last chance to change my mind.

I could still run.

I could still disappear and be Bridget Hollingsworth.

Instead, I turned the key.

The room was dark, but I could see everything clearly.

Tyler was out on the bed, curled in a ball, delirious and shivering. I wanted to shout at him to run, but it was no use. All our things were exactly where I’d left them, untouched and spread out to dry. The light from the bathroom was on, and the door was ajar.

The agent was in there.

The silence was palpable; each second I stood there waiting for him to make his appearance was physically painful.

When I couldn’t take it any longer, I finally let the door close behind me. “I know you’re here.”

When the bathroom door opened, I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin.

And when I saw who was standing there, framed by the light spilling out of the bathroom, my heart nearly stopped.

“Simon?” I breathed. “What the—? How did you know . . . ?” I looked to the electronic components that had once been a cell phone. “The phone you gave me was ruined when we jumped in the river.”