C A Hartman [Hartman - Mind Thief

Mind Thief

Copyright 2019 by C.A. Hartman

All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

Quinn ran as hard as she could.

Her lungs ached, her heart pounded, and her legs buckled a little as the deep sand slowed her pace. She trudged up the dune, sweat pouring from her as the midday desert sun scorched her scalp and blistered her skin.

Nobody should brave the open desert in midday. In todays world, it was suicide.

She let out a frustrated grunt at her slowed pace. For every two steps forward, she lost one to the shifting terrain, and her boots grew heavier and heavier as they filled with sand. The endlessly tall dune got so steep that it was easier to get on all fours and scramble up the thing like an animal.

Finally, she crested the hill and flopped down on the other side, along the slope. She lay there catching her breath while she peeked her head over the top of the dune. Nothing but a sea of dunes just like the one shed climbed, golden and glistening in the heat as far as the eye could see. Then, she saw them.

Four of themin all black, bodies as fit as athletesheading her way. Gaining on her.

Fuck.

Quinn got up, her throat dry as she began running again. She kept to the ridge so she could get some distance from them, looking for a place to hide. But there was nowhere to hide in the desert. No trees, no shrubs, no rocks or houses or sheds. And no winds that day to erase her obvious footprints. Only the burning inferno of a sun, and her enemies.

There had to be a way out.

But there wasnt, and within minutes the four Black Jays caught up to her and grabbed her, taking her down to the sand that burned her backside.

Fuck you, she seethed at them. Youre not getting shit from me.

Well see about that, said the one with the leering smile. Another placed nodes on her head while the two others held her down, making her struggle pointless. Then the desert faded to nothing.

Now she was somewhere Downtown. In an alley, between brick buildings, the stench of stale beer and rotting garbage permeating her nostrils. When she turned around, she found she wasnt alone. A guybig, muscular, tattooedstood there, staring at her, hatred in his pale eyes.

He came after her, getting closer and closer. She deployed the usual defenses and tools, including her brass knuckles, but he saw them all coming and blocked them until he was millimeters from her.

He yanked her by the hair. Do as I say, bitch, or Ill kill you.

Quinn ignored the threat. No way would she give in without a fight.

Die with your boots on, as Wyatt used to say.

She elbowed him in the gut, getting ready to go for the nuts next. But he was too quick for her and blocked her attack, then punched her. Then again. Pain radiated through her head as he knocked her around and swore at her until he began yanking at her clothing. Panic struck along with revulsion, and Quinn began screaming and thrashing like a wild animal, scratching at him and trying to gouge, bite, or kick anything she could.

No!

But he would not stop.

He warned her again, and she refused to quit fighting. Then she felt it, the pain that took her breath away, from the knife hed gutted her with. And everything went black.

When Quinn opened her eyes, her heart was pounding like crazy. But she wasnt in the alleyway, or the sand dunes. She was inside a white room. Maybe a hospital.

Then she remembered the stabbing. She reached down to feel her gut, wondering just how torn up it was. But she felt only smooth skin.

Youre fine, Hartley. Nobody stabbed you.

She blinked a couple of times and looked over to find a pair of intelligent, piercing blue eyes watching her. A mixture of sympathy and amusement danced in them.

Remi.

She looked around at the now-familiar room with no windows and nothing but an open cabinet filled with technical equipment. She was at the Protectorates headquarters, and the nightmare shed just lived was nothing more than a simulation.

Damn, she muttered. That was the mindfuck of mindfucks. What the hell, man?

Thats what you need to be prepared for. Remi removed the nodes from the base of her skull.

She sat up on the cot, the air conditioning cooling her sweat and reassuring her she was safe. But going down two layers like that? Getting assaulted and stabbed? It wasnt like the others, Remi. It was so real I forgot I was in training.

Thats the point. With the Black Jay threat, you need to be prepared. For clients with top-notch training to prevent mind invasion even for being jacked yourself. You started to drown and I had to pull you out.

But how do I even fight something that powerful, something that hijacks my own fear centers?

Same as always. You find a way to combat the fear.

Go to my happy place?

Remi took a swig of water before gathering the equipment. That, among other forms of mental control. All of which youre capable of.

I never even got that far.

You will next week.

Next week. Ugh. You sure about that?

Remi gave her a look. The mind is nothing but neurons conducting electrical impulses. Its your slave, not your master.

But

Its no different, Quinn. Its just the next step.

Quinn said nothing, skeptical. Almost drowning in a flood of thoughts and images was one thing, as were the other tricks targets used to prevent being mindjacked by people like her. But to target her limbic system? Her amygdala? Come on, Remi. Weve never seen anything of this nature in all these years. Our data from Borelli and Gary Linden showed no signs of this kind of thing.

You need to be prepared for the worst.

Then she had an even darker thought. But what if it doesnt work? What if no matter how much we train, theres always a level that will crush us? What if the control they get is so good so real so right in your amygdala centers that you cant fight it? What if no happy place is happy enough?

Remi eyed her. Then stop fighting it.

Quinn gaped at him. You cant be serious! There isnt a protocol for that situation?

No. No ones ever been in that situation. No one with our training, anyway. He paused, a crease in his forehead, one that didnt make Quinn feel any better. Were still figuring out how to deal with this new threat. But, my view is stop fighting what you cant fight. At this level, its about control over your own mind. When you were being attacked in that simulation

By you.

by me, it was nothing but your mind playing tricks on you. No one stabbed you. I never touched you. You have control. You can choose to stop fighting, if you want to.

Quinn squelched a scoff. Stop fighting? Right. Like she would ever do that. Like she would ever give in and let some assailant control her, even if only in her mind. It went against everything shed ever been taught. Because she knew. If you gave in once, if you stopped fighting, then they had you.

Remi motioned toward the door. Times up. Ive got another agent to torture at eight. He gave her an inscrutable smile.