The Focus Effect

Fifteen

Hannah,

By the time you read this I'll have been carrying this note around for quite awhile. I'm writing it now because I want to be prepared to give it to you when I think you're ready. What you do with this information is up to you. For everyone's safety, destroy this letter after you have read it.

I've been contemplating this since you came to us. Do you think it is coincidence that we both have no memory of our past? I was ten when I came to be here with an ability to understand math and science beyond genius levels. By now, you are no doubt aware that we are all prisoners here. I've seen cruelty and brutality carried out by Kingshire that is unspeakable. I've been told, in no certain terms, that if I befriend you, it will be the last thing I do. I am to only help you unlock your abilities. I tell you this because I care about you and want you to remain safe. I realize that this may come as a surprise, given my behavior towards you.

Currently, escape is not an option, Hannah. The implants are real and Kingshire will not hesitate to kill anyone who tries to get away. I wish things were different because I really like you. I'm sorry I've had to act like someone I'm not around you. I've been working closely with someone who thinks there may be a way for one, and only one person to get out of here. Unfortunately it is very dangerous, not only for the escapee but also for those left behind who have helped. Many will die. Maybe most. But we believe that you are the best candidate for escape. When the details are worked out you will be contacted. I've known since your arrival that all our futures depend on you. When Kingshire gets what he wants from you, you'll be expendable just like everyone else, maybe even more so. One last thing, Hannah. There are others like you and me. Trust no one.

Jameson

I didn't sleep much last night after reading the letter. I've read it several times since, always sitting on the edge of the tub in the privacy of the bathroom-except for this last time.

I contemplate what I've done and what I'm going to do.

After Bob escaped, Kingshire told me that I would continue to be tested. Is this letter from Jameson some sort of test? But I know it isn't. The stakes are high and I don't like the odds Jameson outlines in his letter.

There's a knock on the front door. I'm in the Safe Room now. I fold the letter back up and tuck it into my pocket and go to the door.

"Are you ready?" Jameson asks.

I nod and follow him out to our makeshift dojo, an area in the yard that has gone from green grass to a bare spot over the past few months. But for us, there will be no more training on this sacred ground.

"Good morning, Doctor Bryson," Kingshire says from the trees. But his voice isn't coming from the intercom. He steps from the tree line with four guards, machine guns trained on us.

I swallow hard. Jameson looks at them and then to me. There is fear in his eyes, if not confusion. He looks back to Kingshire as he watches them approach. "Good morning, sir," he says. "Is there a problem?" he asks.

"I'm afraid so," Kingshire says. Two guards position themselves behind him, one on each side.

By now I have his letter in hand and unfolded. I pass it over to Kingshire.

Realization-and horror-begin to dawn on Jameson's face. His bottom lip is twitching. "What have you done," he chokes out. "What have you done? You traitorous bitch! What-" his words are cut off when a guard hits him in the face with the butt of a gun. Jameson falls hard to the ground. When the guards behind him yank him to his knees, there's a cut above his right eye. Blood is streaming down his cheek, mixing with his tears. His tears aren't caused by the pain of the hit, they are tears of anger-anger with himself for misjudging me, for trusting me.