They went inside to the canteen. Avery dropped a token into the snack machine slot, and when he bent over to fish the package from the tray, Luke bent over with him and whispered in his ear. “You want to help me get out of here?”
Avery held up the package of Nabs. “Want one?” And in Luke’s mind, the word lit up and faded: How?
“I’ll just take one, you have the rest,” Luke said, and sent back three words: Tell you tonight.
Two conversations going on, one aloud, one between their minds. And that was how it would work with Maureen.
He hoped.
11
After breakfast the next day, Gladys and Hadad took Luke down to the immersion tank. There they left him with Zeke and Dave.
Zeke Ionidis said, “We do tests here, but it’s also where we dunk bad boys and girls who don’t tell the truth. Do you tell the truth, Luke?”
“Yes,” Luke said.
“Have you got the telep?”
“The what?” Knowing perfectly well what Zeke the Freak meant.
“The telep. The TP. You got it?”
“No. I’m TK, remember? Move spoons and stuff?” He tried a smile. “Can’t bend them, though. I’ve tried.”
Zeke shook his head. “If you’re TK and see the dots, you get the telep. You’re TP and see the dots, you move the spoons. That’s how it works.”
You don’t know how it works, Luke thought. None of you do. He remembered someone—maybe Kalisha, maybe George—telling him they’d know if he lied about seeing the dots. He guessed that was true, maybe the EEG readings showed them, but did they know this? They did not. Zeke was bluffing.
“I have seen the dots a couple of times, but I can’t read minds.”
“Hendricks and Evans think you can,” Dave said.
“I really can’t.” He looked at them with his very best honest-to-God eyes.
“We’re going to find out if that’s the truth,” Dave said. “Strip down, sport.”
With no choice, Luke took off his clothes and stepped into the tank. It was about four feet deep and eight feet across. The water was cool and pleasant; so far, so good.
“I’m thinking of an animal,” Zeke said. “What is it?”
It was a cat. Luke got no image, just the word, as big and bright as a Budweiser sign in a bar window.
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, sport, if that’s how you want to play it. Take a deep breath, go under, and count to fifteen. Put a howdy-do between each number. One howdy-do, two howdy-do, three howdy-do, like that.”
Luke did it. When he emerged, Dave (last name unknown, at least so far) asked him what animal he was thinking of. The word in his mind was KANGAROO.
“I don’t know. I told you, I’m TK, not TP. And not even TK-pos.”
“Down you go,” Zeke said. “Thirty seconds, with a howdy-do between each number. I’ll be timing you, sport.”
The third dip was forty-five seconds, the fourth a full minute. He was questioned after each one. They switched from animals to the names of various caretakers: Gladys, Norma, Pete, Priscilla.
“I can’t!” Luke shouted, wiping water from his eyes. “Don’t you get that?”
“What I get is we’re going to try for a minute and a quarter,” Zeke said. “And while you’re counting, think about how long you want to keep this up. It’s in your hands, sport.”
Luke tried to surface after he’d counted to sixty-seven. Zeke grabbed his head and pushed him back down. He came up at a minute-fifteen gasping for air, his heart pounding.
“What sports team am I thinking about?” Dave asked, and in his mind Luke saw a bright bar sign reading VIKINGS.
“I don’t know!”
“Bullshit,” Zeke said. “Let’s go for a minute-thirty.”
“No,” Luke said, splashing back toward the center of the tank. He was trying not to panic. “I can’t.”
Zeke rolled his eyes. “Stop being a pussy. Abalone fishermen can go under for nine minutes. All I want is ninety seconds. Unless you tell your Uncle Dave here what his favorite sports team is.”
“He’s not my uncle and I can’t do that. Now let me out.” And because he couldn’t help it: “Please.”
Zeke unholstered his zap-stick and made a production of turning the dial up to max. “You want me to touch this to the water? I do that and you’ll dance like Michael Jackson. Now get over here.”
With no choice, Luke waded toward the edge of the immersion tank. It’s fun, Richardson had said.
“One more chance,” Zeke said. “What’s he thinking of?”
Vikings, Minnesota Vikings, my hometown team.
“I don’t know.”
“Okay,” Zeke said, sounding regretful. “USN Luke now submerging.”