He stared at me for a beat. “Mind control tech.”
“Mind control—“ I couldn’t process the words. “That’s not possible.”
“It is.” He checked around the corner again. “NeuroLink-II. Military-grade neural interface technology. Someone bought it at a black market auction using your real name.”
“My… real name?”
“Someone’s targeting you specifically.”
My blood ran cold. “Langston?”
“I don’t know yet.” His eyes met mine and softened for an instant, showing a quick glimpse of the man, not the soldier. “Whoever it is, they’re using NeuroLink on the town.”
“How?”
“It’s a two-part system—compounds in the water, then activated by an electromagnetic signal. Takes days to fully manifest.”
The town’s water main broke last week, and we were without water for almost twenty-four hours. Dutch had complained about the county taking so long to fix it, and then how cloudy the water was for days afterward.
But it hadn’t been a broken pipe at all.
“They tampered with the town’s water supply,” I gasped. “So everyone who drank it...”
“Is compromised or getting there.” Trent’s jaw tightened. “Different people, different rates of absorption. Kids metabolize faster, might be affected more quickly.”
Sophia. My heart hammered against my ribs.
“She only drinks bottled water,” I said, desperate for it to be true, hoping beyond hope that she hadn’t drunk from any fountains at school. “I never let her have tap water. Not after Hope’s Embrace.”
Something like relief flickered across Trent’s face. “Smart. What about you?”
“Same.” After the cult’s drugged communal meals, I’d become paranoid about what we consumed. “I even use bottled water for my coffee and tea.”
He exhaled, long and slow, like he’d been holding his breath. “Good. Then you should both be okay.”
But then another horrific thought struck: Sophia in the tub just last night, piling bubbles onto her head to see how high she could get them. “What about showers, baths, washing clothes, and dishes? We use water for a lot more than drinking.”
“As far as we know, skin contact isn’t as effective, but prolonged exposure could still cause problems.” He tugged me forward, and we moved deeper into the alley. “Do you have a cell phone?”
I blinked at him, thrown by the sudden topic change. “Uh, no. When you left us here, you told me they were too easy to track.”
“Not even a burner?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t want to take the chance. We just have a landline, and it’s registered in my landlord’s name. Why?”
“Compound in the water builds up in neural tissue over five to seven days. Makes people susceptible to electromagnetic signals broadcast from the cell tower. Once both components are active, someone can send commands and override natural behaviors.”
“Like make everyone wear blue shirts and khaki pants?”
“Exactly like that. It was probably a test run.” He pulled me back against the wall as we reached the end of the alley. A small group of people stood on the corner of Chester Street, all dressed in blue and khaki.
Riss Hollenbeck.
Gus Wagner.
Florence Pickering.
All people I recognized.
