Amped Read Online Free PDF Page A

says. “At the time, there was no other choice. Nothing off the shelf was powerful enough to compensate for the damage.”
    “This is crazy—”
    “You need to go right now. Through the side office. The police are looking for you about your student’s death. Do not speak to them under any circumstances. Try to close your bank account.”
    He starts scribbling notes on a piece of paper, frantic. “Listen to me, Owen. Get your things and go west, to a place called Eden. It’s a trailer park in Eastern Oklahoma,” he says, handing me the paper.
    I stand up and open the office door. “A
trailer
park
?” I ask.
    “Eden is where all of this began—the original Uplift site. We chose to test Autofocus there because it was isolated and rural. The population was in need. A perfect setting for our experiment. Only now, it’s become an enclave. Full of other people who are like you. Your own kind, Owen.”
    He reacts to the look on my face.
My
own
kind?
    “You’ve got to find a man named Jim Howard, an old colleague of mine. He’ll guide you through this. There’s a lot you need to learn about yourself.”
    “Dad?” I ask. “Dad, come with me. I can’t—”
    “Go!” he barks. The force of his exclamation jolts me into the hallway. “Find Jim Howard. Don’t tell me how you’re getting there. They’re coming for me
right
now
. When they take me in, I will have the opportunity to obfuscate the situation. At the very least, I may cause a delay. It is the best chance you’ve got.”
    My father is suddenly small and old and feeble behind his desk. Like someone I’ve never met. Never would want to meet.
    “I risked everything to give you a life,” he says. “Don’t throw it away.”
    I know the thing I’m about to say isn’t fair and that I can never take it back, but I say it anyway. That’s just how it goes, sometimes. “You didn’t give me a life,” I say. “You stole it.”
    My father is quiet for a long second. When he speaks, his voice is without emotion. “You’ve got to realize, Owen, that without the amp you would have died. It is a part of you, but you have to give it permission. I gave you something
extra
. When the time comes, you have to activate the amp willingly.”
    “When the time comes for what?”
    “To do good, Owen,” he says, standing. He softly pushes the door, eyes never leaving mine. “I’m sorry that I waited until it was too late. Find Jim. The old man is the only one who can help you now.”
    Click.
    The door shuts and the hallway is silent save the far-off roar of demonstrators. I follow my dad’s advice and walk on dull legs out the side door. Through the adjoining offices. Out into the alley that runs alongside the building. Run my fingers over rough brick. Look at the world without seeing it. After a half minute walking through the familiar backstreet, I get a funny feeling. For some reason, I stop and look at the sky.
    A block away, a bomb detonates.
    The guttural roar engulfs me and a shock wave brings my knees to the pavement. Dark smoke pours into the street behind me. The concussion has erased half my father’s building. Pieces of brick and concrete are still spinning away.
    It takes a little while for my legs to listen to me.
    A harsh ringing in my ears already combines with a cacophony of sirens. Fire trucks, ambulances, police. I stagger toward the smoke, an urban zombie. Flames are eating the rind of the building. Its heart is a burned-out mess. The parking lot is wiped empty, the pavement cratered where the white van sat.
    The realization gently nudges into my mind: my father could not have survived.
    A heap of smoking gray rubble smolders where his office was. Nothing recognizable, just twisted rebar and concrete and ash. I don’t stop advancing when the surging heat starts to prick my face or when my throat goes raw and stinging from the smoke.
    I stop when I see the flashing blues and reds.
    Under
no
circumstances,
my father said. Tears well in my