Echoes by Jason Brant Page A

here. The more I thought the situation through, the more concerned I became for Sammy. I had a few tricks of my own I could use to defend myself, but she was still struggling with the reality of my telepathy. I didn't like the thought of her being in Smith's custody without having me around. She was now my top priority.
    First I needed to get free of the bed. Working my left hand around in the cuffs, I could just get my fingers around the I.V. tube sticking out of my arm. The needle began sliding out of my skin as I gently pulled down on the tube. The tape holding it in place proved stronger than expected, but I managed to work it out centimeters at a time. When the end popped free I used my fingers to manipulate the tubing even further until I held the needle in my hand.
    When you're stationed at a small outpost in Iraq, being on guard duty gets boring really fast. I passed a lot of the time learning to pick handcuffs. By the time the I.E.D. ended my tour, I could get my hands free, while they were behind my back, in less than thirty seconds. At the time it was just to burn some daylight and to be able to say I could do it. The irony of using a skill I'd learned while defending my country to escape police custody wasn't lost on me.
    The weight of the tube hanging from the end of the needle complicated the process, but I had my hand free in a minute or so. My right arm took even less time. A quick hop from the bed made me notice the tightness in my chest from the shovel. Although I would have appreciated some pain medication, I was fortunate the doctors hadn't given me any. I needed all of my faculties if I wanted to escape.
    The floor felt chilly on my bare feet as I inspected the rest of the room, and I didn't appreciate the breeze I got from the open back of my gown. My clothes were nowhere to be found. I couldn't walk out of the hospital with my ass hanging out, so I needed to pilfer someone else's. Climbing over the railing on the bed, I laid my aching body back in its original position. I put the handcuffs over my wrists, but didn't click them into place.
    "Officer Robertson, reading about which celebrities are sucking face can wait. I need to talk to you." I began eavesdropping on his thoughts again.
    Though he wondered how I knew what he was reading, he didn't bother replying. I started delving into his memories. He wasn't very moral considering his occupation.
    "I know about you and Barbara. Your wife would be so pissed off if she knew you were bumping uglies with her sister."
    Jesus on a cracker! How does he know that?
    That got him moving. Looking around to make sure no one else heard, he unlocked the door and closed it behind him.
    "Who have you been talking to? Is that damn Susan running her mouth again?"
    He stopped about ten feet away. I needed him closer, so I grabbed at more memories.
    "She told me about you nailing her in the bathroom at your wedding reception. That's just wrong, man."
    His face turned white. "Is she going to tell my wife?"
    "There was one more thing she mentioned, but she made me promise not to tell you."
    "Oh God, don't tell me she's pregnant!"
    "I can't tell you; I gave my word."
    Stalking toward me, he pointed at my chest. "Tell me, you little bastard!"
    I grabbed his outstretched arm with both of my hands and yanked him across the bed.
    Before he could yell, I brought my elbow down on the back of his head. His body fell limp over my chest.
    Five minutes later I was in the bathroom, trying to button the front of Robertson's uniform. He was much smaller than me so I looked ridiculous wearing his clothes. The pants were high waters on me, the bottom of the cuff a full four inches above my ankles. The waist was too narrow so I pulled the zipper as far up as possible, and used the belt to try and conceal the rest. I had to take the laces out of his shoes to cram my size twelve feet into his black, size ten sneakers. The shirt was the most noticeable though: the fastened buttons would blow off