Tunnel Vision by Susan Adrian Read Free Book Online Page B

tunneling weren’t enough, now I have my own personal side effect to watch out for.
    “Have you ever had anything like that headache happen before? Did you know that could happen?”
    I shake my head. “I’ve never tunneled more than a couple times in a row before.”
    “Tunneled? That’s what you call it?” She’s intense again.
    “Yeah.” I pause, not really wanting to talk to her about it, but I’m in deep enough already. “That’s what it’s like. Like the object makes a tunnel to the person, and I just move through it to wherever they are.”
    She purses her lips. “Tunneling. I like it. I think that’s what we’ll call this project: The Tunnel. Now. If you’re up to it, it’s time we discuss the details of our arrangement.”
    God, she has the ability to just whip me in and out of emotions. I dive straight back into tense . “Okay.”
    “I was right—you are extremely valuable. And accurate. You got every single one right, down to the room. That’s incredible.” She waits, like I’m going to say thank you or something. I’m silent. “Thanks to your work today, the project has been approved to be fully funded, under DARPA control. The difficult part, as I said, was getting permission to work from the field. But I got it.” Her smile this time is so wide I can see her back teeth. “You can continue to live at home, finish high school. We will post a security team for you, and we will work with you through them. For the most part, you won’t even have to come to our facilities. We don’t want anyone noticing anything out of the ordinary, so we’ll keep to your normal schedule as much as possible.”
    It’s scary as hell. Work with them on what? I’ve already agreed to full, willing cooperation, so it could be anything. Anytime. But after the past two days, the pseudonormality she’s dangling is a relief, something I can live with. “And the people who were following me?” I ask. “The ‘private’ people?”
    “We’ll deal with them, I promise. You’ll be protected. Oh, and I do think you should be rewarded for your time, Jacob. I believe in our first talk, you mentioned colleges you applied to? We can assist with that. If you help us fully, I can guarantee you’ll be accepted to whatever college you want. Full ride.”
    “Stanford,” I say, without a second thought. “History major. Public History / Public Service.”
    She nods, pleased. “Stanford it is. Look for your early acceptance in the mail.”
    God. Stanford. Just like that. I’ve wanted Stanford since … ever.
    I’m not naïve. I see it for what it is: a deal with the devil. She has the stick, the carrot, the vague description of what I’ll have to do for them with “full cooperation.” But the carrot—my life, family, friends, future—I can’t pass up. Maybe I should want to get into Stanford only on my own, but this is like having a connection. It opens the door so I can prove I’m worthy to be there.
    And the stick I can’t even think about.
    “Fine,” I say, “You have a deal.” I thrust my hand out. She shakes it, her grip dry, firm.
    “Excellent.” She stands, brushes off her skirt. “Now let’s get you home.”

 
    7
    “Home” by Marc Broussard
    Liesel’s true to her word: I’m home in time for dinner. A car follows me from Starbucks, but it’s a silver minivan—not Liesel and not the Durango. I figure it’s my new “security,” courtesy of DARPA. This is going to take some getting used to.
    It’s such a relief to have the familiar weight of my phone in my pocket, Dad’s watch on my wrist. It makes me feel almost normal again. But the best, the moment that makes it worth it, is when I open the door to the smell of Mom’s spaghetti sauce, and see Myk at the table, head bent, working on her usual mound of homework.
    I stand in the doorway and blink hard for a second. “Hey! I’m back.”
    “Hey,” Myk says, without looking up from Principles of Chemistry . As it should be.
    In