Mindwalker by AJ Steiger Page B

of my own chair.
    His breath hisses between his teeth as the microneedles penetrate his skin. Then he sighs, the tension flowing out of his muscles. “Oh yeah. That’s the good stuff.”
    â€œHow do you feel?”
    â€œComfortably numb.” He lifts his visor, looks over at me, and smiles. His pupils have all but devoured his irises, leaving two thin, delicate blue rings. “I think I’m ready now. I can lie back and think of England.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou don’t know that phrase?” He chuckles. “It was what they told Victorian women before their wedding night. ‘Lie back and think of England.’ ”
    â€œOh,” I reply uneasily.
    He’s still smiling, but it looks … hazy. Detached. “You’ll be gentle, won’t you?”
    I feel my cheeks flush. Maybe I gave him too much of the drug. I clear my throat. “Let’s try another memory. Something ordinary, everyday. You can just think back on what you had for breakfast if you like.” Then I remember that he hasn’t eaten since yesterday. “Er, whatever your last meal was, before the restaurant.”
    â€œIs this really therapy?” He sounds amused now, as if this were all an elaborate practical joke and he’s only just started to get it.
    â€œSteven.”
    â€œOkay, okay.”
    I close my eyes. In the darkness, I see a bowl of cereal—something brightly colored, more sugar than grain—on a table.
    The image suddenly vanishes, and another flashes in its place. I’m in a parking lot. A tall, powerfully built young man in an orange jacket looms over me. His hair is buzzed short, military-style.
    â€œTell me what you did to her.” My voice—
Steven’s
voice—is shaking. Not with fear. With anger. “Tell me why she was crying.”
    â€œWhat’s it to you?” the man—Nathan, his name is Nathan—asks with a sneer.
    I squeeze the words between clenched teeth: “She’s my friend.”
    â€œOh yeah?” Nathan’s smirk widens into a grin, showing the remains of his lunch lodged between his white, perfect front teeth. I can see the glee in the bastard’s eyes, like he’s enjoying how pissed off I am, and I want to rip that stupid smile off his face. In front of the teachers, he’s always cheerful and polite, but it’s a mask. This is his real self.
    Nathan leans down toward me. “Well, that slutty little Type Two needs someone to keep her in line. She started mouthing off to me. Pretty stupid of her. I mean, does she know who I am? I could have her expelled like
this.
” He snaps his fingers.
    The blood bangs in my head. A dull roar, like a waterfall, fills my skull.
    â€œSee …” Nathan leans closer. His breath hits me in the face, hot and sour. “I know her secret. Once I threatened to report her, she was so well behaved, she got down on her knees and did
everything
I told her to do.” He laughs.
    A bomb goes off behind my eyes. All I can see is red.
    When my vision clears, he’s on the pavement, squealing, one bloody hand pressed to his bloody face. I feel something rubbery in my mouth and spit it out. The piece of flesh lands on the man’s chest, staining his shirt red.
    â€œFucking psycho!” He lurches to his feet and lunges at me.
    My fist smashes into his face, knocking him to the pavement. I jump on top of him and keep hitting him, bashing his head to one side, then the other. More blood spurts out, spattering the pavement. Hands grab me, pulling me away. I struggle as Nathan sobs, curling into a ball. His face is raw and bloody, his lips swollen, and still, I want to keep hitting him. I want to punish him. I want—
    This isn’t me. This is Steven’s memory.
    With an effort, I yank myself back to the present. My eyes snap open, and I jerk the visor up. I’m gasping, drenched with sweat, staring at the ceiling of my