Your memories, yes. Things you know. Physical skills might take a little longer, if I haven't developed the right muscles.

What about the psychic skills? Because I'm pretty sure that's what this test is really about.

Of course it is. I feel like whacking myself upside the head for missing it. Why would Cregg go to these lengths to set up a test and require me to pick up not just one, but two dead people? Why, as Aaron wondered, would Cregg be interested in me when he already had someone who could read minds? When he himself could change them?

He wants a combo. Someone who can read minds, see the future, pull a Jedi mind trick, and who knows what else. The abilities you need, when you need them, all in one package.

I've never carried a hitcher who was psychic, so I have no idea if those skills transfer. But if they don't, I'm pretty sure Cregg will decide that I'm superfluous. Deo and I will be dead weight he should ditch. Like Molly. Like the three bodies in this room.

Why did you want me to pick you up first?

So I could tell you that you've gotta stop whatever's been going on in this room. Twelve people have disappeared. None of the little ones . . . They seem to give them a lot of latitude, even the ones who are all kinds of trouble. But for the past few months, anyone over eighteen who's . . . difficult to manage? They're gone. Mostly the immigrant girls, but a few of the military brats, too.

Military brats?

Maybe three-quarters of the people in The Warren have parents who were in the military at some point. Almost all Army, too. Some were actually in the military themselves, but I think Will's the last of that bunch. Anyway, Will and the others who can pick up thoughts from the guards say they keep thinkin' about movin' day. And lately, they've been thinkin' about it a lot. Only . . . we're split on what it actually means. Some think it really does mean movin' to a different facility. But others think somethin' else is going on. That movin' is a . . . what do you call it?

A euphemism?

Yeah. That they're plannin' to kill everybody and be done with it. Maybe not the ones who make them money, but most of us. And the three of us here in this room? I doubt they'd consider us worth transporting.

But . . . you said Will could read minds?

Bits and pieces. Mostly out of context. And Will . . . he had a temper. He's been in solitary more than once for hitting a Fudd.

What about the girl?

Oksana? I think she burned out. She's one of the immigrant girls who came in right after I arrived. The Peepers-sorry, that's what they call the ones who can get inside your head. They can't read Oksana at all. It's like she shut down part of her brain. Or maybe she could block them like you do. The only time Oksana showed any sign of life was once when she attacked that Lucas guy in the cafeteria.

What happened?

I wasn't there. Some say she threw a chair at him, but . . . others say she yelled at him. Something in Russian. And then the chair flew at him all by itself.

My you-go-girl thought must be pretty clear, because Jaden laughs, then sobers a bit when he picks up on exactly why I like the image of a chair connecting with Lucas's head.

Hey, you ain't the only one. He's not around too often, but I've known girls to stay holed up in their room when they get news he's prowlin' about the halls. None of 'em want to catch that gaesaeki's eye. Bad enough that he might touch you, but that black-haired girl- Dacia?

Don't know her name. Blue eyes. Pretty. Got a Michael Jackson thing going on with . . .

The glove. Yeah, that's her.

Well, she's a nutjob with a jealous streak. All the girls know that if you catch Lucas's eye, you end up on her list. She'll start picking your brain, and then odds are you get quote-unquote relocated. Although I don't think any of them have been relocated any further than this room, or maybe the one across the hall.

Dacia and Lucas? I wouldn't have connected them as a couple. And while I didn't think the ick factor could go any higher for either of them, this definitely ratchets it up a notch.

I glance up at Deo. "How long have I been . . . resting?"

"Two minutes. Maybe three."

"Okay." I finish the water. "Guess we should get back to it."

I can tell that Deo really, really wants to ask what's going on, what I've found out, but he just nods.

Faking it feels weird. I don't know what I look like when I pick up a hitcher. That part hasn't happened often enough for me to ask Deo to capture it on video, so I'm flying blind here. While I doubt my observers have seen it enough times to call me on the fake, I lean forward so my hair shields my face from prying eyes.

After about a minute, I stand up. "Got something. His name is Jaden Park. Can you hit the call button by the door?"

I'm guessing the call button is totally unnecessary. But I might as well follow all the steps in their stupid protocol.

Lucas comes in first. "Why'd you uncover the bodies? It was a pain in the ass gettin' them into those bags."

"They're not garbage. And they're very angry at you for treating their remains with such disrespect."

I haven't gotten a sense that they care one way or the other about the bags, and I suspect they're much more pissed off about things he did when they were still alive. Killing them is probably pretty high up on that list. But it gives me a sense of satisfaction to see Lucas glance nervously at the bodies.

Cregg is dabbing at his mouth with a napkin when he walks in, so I must have interrupted a midnight snack. There's a clipboard in his other hand, with a pen through the clip.

"That was quick, Anna! I'm impressed. But now we need to find out what you know. I'm going to ask you a series of questions and I'd like for Mr. Park to answer them."

"Sure."

"In what room do you live?"

"He's in Room 17," I answer, as soon as Jaden relays the information.

Cregg looks displeased. "No. I'd like Jaden to answer these questions."

I exchange a look with Deo, whose expression pretty much mirrors what I'm feeling.

"Okay," I tell Cregg. "But I need to sit down. And someone might want to find a garbage can and bring it over. I already feel a little like I might hurl and . . . letting him take control will make that worse."

It's an exaggeration, but only a slight one. When neither Cregg nor Lucas responds, Deo says, "I think there's one at the back. I'll get it."

Cregg tosses his napkin inside the can Deo brings back. The napkin is smeared with something red-spaghetti or pizza sauce, probably-but all I can think of is the blood still flowing into the drain behind us, and I nearly lose it.

Jaden's clearly picking up on my trepidation about letting him take over. He seems nice enough, but we just met. It's not like with Molly, where I had a chance to get to know her before handing over the steering wheel. I'm suddenly getting Myron flashbacks. I shove those thoughts back behind the damned wall, but not before Jaden gets a glimpse.

Hey, no! Not gonna claim this is the end I'd have picked, and I wasn't lookin' to make an early exit like Oksana was. But I ain't got no agenda, aside from hopin' you find a way to bust the lid off what they're doin' here. I'll back off when you say, soon as I've answered his questions.

I think he's telling the truth.

Hopefully I can do that.

There's also an unspoken wish in the mix. He'd like for his parents to know he didn't run away if I make it out.

I can do that, too.

I start moving toward the backseat, but he has a question.

So . . . when I leave? Do I just . . . disappear? Or is there someplace . . . after?

No clue. All I know is that most of my hitchers seem relieved. Happy, almost.

Except . . . that one guy, right? The one you just shoved into a safe or somethin'.

Except him, yeah. But he was crazy. And mean. Also . . . that area is a secret. Don't tell Cregg, even if he- Won't tell him anything more than I have to.

Good. Then let's get this over with.

I slide back. The tummy-tossing sensation seems to hit a little harder than usual. My nails bite into my palms as Jaden imagines punching Cregg in the face. Then he glances at Lucas, who's leaning against the plexiglass wall, and thinks how much fun it would be to sink a side kick into his gut.

Bad idea, Jaden. You want to die twice in one night?

Chill. I'm not really gonna do it. Just thinkin' it would feel damn good.

I can't argue with that point.

He stares straight into Cregg's blue eyes. "You got questions for me, dude? Go ahead and ask, then. Ain't got all day."

Cregg's eyebrows go up slightly. "Am I speaking with Jaden Park, then?"

"You got him. Who the hell are you? I've seen you around, not as much as your attack dog over there, but no one ever seems to mention your name."

"I'm the person asking the questions. What psychiatric center were you in prior to being transferred to Delphi?"

It's the first time I've heard anyone here use the word Delphi. There haven't been any signs or logos on the paperwork. Nothing to identify the place in any way. It's nice to have it confirmed, but also seems ominous. Would he be tossing out information like that in front of Deo if he planned to actually honor our agreement? I don't think so.

"I was at Greenbriar Psychiatric in Waltham. But I don't think I was transferred. I was a minor, and my parents never signed any papers."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Insurance covers so little these days. Most parents are more than happy to sign away rights to their crazy offspring simply to be rid of the responsibility."

"I notice you didn't say my parents. Just most. And I'm guessin' what that really means is a few. The rest of the time, you don't even bother with the formalities."

Cregg doesn't respond, simply moves on to the next question. "When was your last clairvoyant episode?"

"Little over a day ago. Usually running a day or so apart, unless somethin' has me really on edge, then they come more often. I logged it with Marnie as usual, but didn't mention the details. She stopped askin' for specifics about a month back, so I'm thinkin' you been plannin' this little tea party for a while now."

"What was the last thing you foresaw?"

"Same thing as the last few times. The Rock over there playin' executioner. Did he drug Oksana before bringin' her in? Sure looked like it."

"What happened after that?"

Jaden snorts. "My head exploded."

Cregg is silent for a moment. "After that, please."

"I wasn't in my body anymore. I could see my body, sort of. But I wasn't in it. It was cold. Kind of . . ." He's thinking crowded but decides not to share that. "Loud. Maybe the heating system. I don't know. I saw him bundlin' us up like garbage. Next thing I know, somebody pulls off the trash bag and this hand"-he lifts my hand and waggles my fingers at Cregg-"is touchin' my leg. And then I'm seein' my dead body through these eyes."

"Could you continue to control the body if you wanted?"

That gets Deo's attention, as well as mine, but Jaden says, "Don't know. Don't think so. Wouldn't want to test it, either way. Seems like that would be . . . bad karma. In fact, if that's all you want to know, I'm gonna clear out. Let the lady have her body back."

He doesn't wait for Cregg's permission. And the physical sensation of zooming back to the front, combined with the smell of blood that hits my nose as soon as I'm in control again, is the last straw for my stomach.

When I lean back from the trash can, Cregg is looking the other way, his nostrils pinched.

Sorry about that, Anna. Didn't know- Not your fault.

Deo is holding a wet paper towel and another bottle of water. He nods toward the trash can. "Still need that?"

I shake my head. "I'm okay now."

"It's after three a.m.," Cregg says. "I have one other thing I'd like to know concerning Park, but I suspect it may take a while. Perhaps you should rest before attempting to acquire the next one. I'll have someone bring in two cots and some food."

There's a part of me that wants to tell him no. That I want to get this over with. But Daniel's comment that he would try again tomorrow echoes in my head. While I doubt he can do anything with us in here, I'm also pretty sure that Daniel is our only hope for getting Deo out of here alive. Anything that buys us more time is a plus.

"Thank you," I say. "I only got a few hours of sleep last night and this kind of thing is always exhausting."

I really want to ask for my pills. The odds of me getting much sleep without them are basically nil, no matter how tired I am. But I'm worried that Daniel may have left another note in my room, so I stay quiet.

Cregg nods toward the bodies. "I'm afraid you'll have our friends here as company. But you're used to hanging out with the dead, I guess."

"True." I glance at Lucas, then back at Cregg. "Sometimes, they're better company than the living."

The guard named Timmons brings in two roll-away beds and a bag of food about twenty minutes later. He doesn't go near the bodies, but he doesn't seem surprised to see them, either. I'm guessing this isn't the first time he's seen Lucas's handiwork. Or maybe Lucas isn't the only one who's willing to get blood on his hands to please the boss.

We push the beds to the very back of the lab, as far from the bodies as possible. The area around the bodies feels . . . crowded, I guess, and the smell isn't exactly pleasant. Jaden seems more at peace when we move away, too. I don't blame him. Can't exactly be comforting staring at your own dead body.

This side of the room is almost blindingly white . . . the walls, the cots, the floor. The only splash of color is a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall, but that brings to mind the red of the blood on the white tile beneath the chairs.

I hunt for a switch to dim the lights. Once we have everything set up for the night, Deo tosses me a sandwich, a bag of chips, and a familiar-looking brown prescription bottle.

"Oh. Good."

He gives me a questioning look, probably because I sound less than enthusiastic. He knows as well as I do what kind of hell tonight would most likely be without the meds. But I can't explain why it worries me that they were in the bag. And maybe it's a different bottle of pills. Or maybe there were no new messages inside the fridge when Timmons or whichever Fudd they sent retrieved them. Maybe.

We eat in silence for a few minutes. I debate whether to take the pills, since I have no idea how long it will be before Cregg or Lucas pops in again. But I'm already exhausted. If I don't get sleep, I'll be worthless.

I go to the small fridge along the back wall and grab a bottle of water to wash down the pills, taking a moment to snoop. In addition to the water, there's a container of black cherry yogurt with the name Megan written in black marker on the side. It expired six months ago.

Near the back is a small white plastic case with maybe twenty smaller sections. About half contain tiny glass vials, like the ones nurses use for immunizations. Acting on instinct, I snatch one and slip it into my bra. It will be less conspicuous there than in my pocket.

The vial is icy against my skin. What made me grab it? It's probably a flu vaccine, or someone's insulin. I'd blame the theft on remnants of Bruno's kleptomania or Arlene's hypochondria-she was a world-class hoarder of pharmaceuticals and wasn't above "borrowing" a few pills from the medicine cabinets of friends and family without asking permission. But even Arlene would have shied away from something that required a needle. And there's a part of me that's hoping maybe whatever's in this vial is something more.

"That Jaden guy's still in there, right?"

"Yeah. Cregg said he's not done with him."