Accused (Ganzfield) Read Online Free PDF

here.
    I focused into her thoughts, trying use a lighter touch this time than I had with Hunter. I should ask my supervisor to look into this.
    The full force of the pain returned when she left the room and I sank back into searing agony. The light coming through the window grate had shifted by the time the nurse returned with an older woman. I met her gaze with bleary eyes and tried to look help-worthy.
    She frowned as she took in the situation.
    Pitiful.
    I let my head fall back.
    Close enough.
    Less than an hour after, guards handcuffed me into the wheelchair. Back on the loading dock, Hunter’s anxiety and anger flared like a grey lion’s mane around him. I have to move her immediately, before those damned nurses cause any more trouble and someone figures out I’m keeping her here.
    I felt myself lifted into the short bus. My face relaxed from its grimace, which made my cheeks feel like they were sagging off my skull. The bars on the windows sliced through the daylight. As we began to move away from the hospital, the last of the pain lifted and, even with hundreds of minds pressing in on mine, I fell into the dreamless sleep of the dead.

CHAPTER 3

    Where the heck am I now?
    There were no windows in the small, cube-shaped room, other than a thick little piece of glass in the door at face height. I took in the grey cinderblock walls and the concrete floor. A metal sink and toilet squatted in the corner. Fluorescent lights glared from panels in the ceiling. Two video cameras mocked me with their blinking little red lights in the upper corners of the room, protected behind thick triangles of clear plastic.
    Big Brother’s watching.
    I couldn’t hear any thoughts. How long had I been out? Hours? Days? Long enough for my last shot of dodecamine to’ve worn off? I’d had a booster the day before Trevor and I had gone to the airport. That felt like another lifetime ago. I sank back onto the narrow shelf bed with a groan.
    Trevor. Where was he? Was he okay? I wanted a connection to him, but “wish you were here” didn’t exactly cover it.
    Where was here, anyway?
    I sat up. My aching muscles felt like I’d been running marathons—or been hit by a train. At least they were no longer clenched against the pain of the ward. I rubbed the back of my neck, noting that I was still in the papery hospital gown. I felt weak—like I hadn’t eaten anything in days.
    As if on cue, I felt someone coming toward me.
    Just take her the food now that she’s awake. No contact with the prisoner.
    The single mind came through clearly—which meant I still had my ability. The guard was young, maybe in her early twenties. Through her vision, I surveyed the hall outside this cell. The only access point was a set of stairs behind her, leading up. Were we underground? Five doors lined each side of the hall ahead of her. I was behind the last one on the right—the only inmate of the facility. What was this place used for when they weren’t detaining teenage telepaths?
    I floated little thoughts into the guard’s mind. I picked up that I’d been here—in this secret, underground facility near Bangor, Maine—for almost an entire day. The guard had seen me wake on her monitor. A tray slid through a little slot at the base of the door and I cringed as I remembered shoving food through a similar slot in the Blake House basement.
    Being on this side of the locked door sucked.
    The food was low-grade cafeteria fare—congealing globs of semi-identifiable goo—but I sat on the metal shelf of a bed and inhaled it. It’s better if I don’t stop to taste it. By the time I pulled my head out of the trough, I was alone again in the facility. Wherever the guard had gone, she was out of my range.
    The food hit, filling me with a warmth and clarity that’d been lacking. I lay back and started doing some mental calculations. My last dose of dodecamine had been on Friday. The airport thing had been Saturday. I might’ve been three days in that