Enders(75)

We followed her down the hall. Briona looked a lot better without her nose tube.

“Where are the others?” I asked.

“Hiding. Some are looking for food.”

“No one’s been caught?” Hyden asked.

“Can’t say. None that I know of. But everyone’s scattered.”

“I don’t like this,” Hyden said.

“I know where your father is,” she said to me. “Woodland, right?”

“Yes,” I said. “Where?”

“I’m taking you to him. One of the Starters found a file. This way.”

“Is he okay?” I asked. “Did you see him?”

“No time,” she said. “I wanted to get you first.”

My heart was racing. The thought that I was finally about to see my father, alive …

We turned a corner. The number on the door read 511.

“He’s supposed to be in here,” she said, pausing. She looked confused.

I was about to shove the door open when she grabbed my arm. “Wait. This room connects to the back of the theater.”

“I don’t care if it’s the bathroom as long as my father’s there,” I said, pushing past her and opening the door.

As I stepped inside, I heard applause. Brockman stood on the opposite side of a round stage in this small theater, about twenty feet away.

“There is our star, ladies and gentlemen,” said Brockman, using a microphone. He stepped onto the stage, turning his back to the audience to face me from across the room.

Hyden was right behind me. We were all still standing in the doorway.

“No, it’s a trap!” Hyden said.

We turned to run, but three guards appeared in the hallway, blocking our path. They forced us to turn around and enter the theater.

One of the guards whispered in my ear, “You don’t think we have monitors everywhere?”

Briona, who looked genuinely upset, was pulled over to the side. She’d been used. Maybe if I’d listened to her doubts at the door, we could have run. But they had probably been watching us all along.

The theater was in the round, with a small stage in the center and a sharp slope to the seats that surrounded it. The lights made it hard for me to see the audience, but I could make out about twenty Enders wearing tuxes or evening gowns or brightly colored traditional robes of their nations. It was like they were dressed for opening night at the opera. Huge jewels glittered on the women, and the sea of illusion fabrics made me almost dizzy.

Hyden was taken by a guard to stand out of the lights of the stage, off to my right. Another guard escorted me to Brockman’s side, in the center of the stage. To my left was a small table and to my right was a larger table with various colorful objects on it.

“She’s a little shy, ladies and gentlemen. This is Callie Woodland, the only transposer who is a true M.A.D., Multiple Access Donor, which means more than one person can inhabit her body at the same time. And they can communicate with each other. Sort of like riding tandem.”

He laughed. I wanted to hit him the way Hyden had. But that wouldn’t get me anywhere. I couldn’t be stupid. I had to stay smart to survive and rescue my father.

“And that’s not all. All of the other transposers have no-kill programming—except for this one. When she is being occupied, she is the only one who can be used as a weapon. And her muscle coordination skill set is phenomenal—she is a perfect marksman, able to use any weapon, to eliminate any opponent or terrorist or competitor. Imagine this. You could have a team inside her body—say, an intelligence expert, a hacker, a bomb specialist all at once. And when they’ve found their way into the hideout of that terrorist or that ex-employee who has stolen your trade secrets, you personally can enjoy the thrill of being behind her eyes when she takes him out. Could there be anything better?”

The glittery international crowd of Enders laughed and applauded. I looked to my right, at Hyden. He was shaking his head, signaling me not to say or do anything.

“But let’s see her in action,” Brockman said.

Brockman turned his head away, and this time I could see he was wearing a small headset that almost blended in with his hair. There was a small disc attached to it that pressed against the base of his head. This must have functioned as a wireless remote so he didn’t have to be hooked up to a computer.

“I’ll need a volunteer for this. Who would like to come up?”

An Ender woman wearing a sleek evening gown with an upswept hairdo was assisted onstage by a guard and positioned behind the small table, which held a stack of large white cards.

“I could make her move like a puppet, but you would never know, if she was just doing as she was told. As proof that I am controlling her body, you are going to pick the objects that Callie will lift. Are you ready?”