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“Terminate her before she kills us all,” Doctor Mustard commands. The headache I have had since first meeting Lucy recedes as she focuses all her attention on the box. The sparks stop and the box begins to cool down.

“She’s dead,” Lucy speaks, sounding exhausted, sweat pouring from her forehead.

I test my remote viewing and it’s now working again. I am able to see into the cockpit. Most of the instruments are burnt out and the co-pilot is dead, covered in burns. The pilot is madly trying to issue a mayday, but the radio is fried, as are his hands. The right engine appears to be on fire and we are in a steep dive. The pilot pulls back on the controls to raise the nose, and he banks the plane sharply to fly through a gap in the mountains. Activating the extinguishers in the right engine, he is able to put out the fire. We are now flying on one engine, and it doesn’t sound very healthy.

I don’t know if Brian has realised that Lucy is too tired to use her talent, or if she is concentrating on him rather than me. I decide to take advantage and take her out while she is distracted.

Up until now, I have always maintained that I won’t inflict a fatal blow with my power. However, Lucy is one very sick and twisted individual. If the images that she projected into me earlier are in any way accurate memories, then the Syndicate makes the antics of the cult seem tame. I have read about some of the atrocious experiments carried out by the Nazi party, and these people seem just as bad.

This is a life or death situation, and I’m likely to have only one opportunity. I am therefore going to strike hard and fast. If I try to incapacitate Lucy and fail, then she will torture, and possibly kill me. I can’t guarantee knocking her unconscious with a single blow. I can however deliver a lethal attack. I therefore reason it is my only course of action.

I take a deep breath and project behind her with a knife. I try to stab her in the throat, inflicting the same injury as Alison did on my projection of David. Instead of impaling her, the knife simply passes through harmlessly. Lucy has somehow turned my solid projection ghostlike.

“Nice try, Alice, but you have to do better than that,” I hear Lucy’s voice echo in my skull.

Every pain receptor in my body fires simultaneously and I’m instantly in excruciating pain. I can hear Lucy’s manic laughter in my head as she once again invades my thoughts. I try to project a physical presence, but it’s like wading through treacle.

I try imagining a wall around me to block out the attack.

“Oh, that’s so clichéd,” Lucy sniggers at my attempt as the wall starts to crack and disintegrate. “You can’t keep me out of your head. My psychic link is too strong.”

I feel myself being sucked through the hole in my imaginary wall and I once again find myself in Lucy’s twisted mind, back on the wooden bench in the lava-filled cave. The heat is intense, but I stagger to my feet, the rock floor burning my soles as I stand. Lucy is stood in front of me with a whip, and starts to flog my bare skin.

I fight through the pain, catching the whip in my hand and pulling it from her grasp. It instantly turns into a snake, which bites my wrist. I can feel the poison flow up my arm, burning through my veins.

“I have just killed Sarah in here, do you want to join her?” Lucy asks angrily.

An axe appears in Lucy’s hand and she swings it at me. I dodge the blade and it embeds itself into the wooden bench. Lucy looks exhausted, something that I may be able to use to my advantage. She has been keeping Brian and Sarah suppressed for hours, and now me as well since we boarded the plane. Lucy had to use all her effort to kill Sarah. Now she is struggling to do the same to me.

I ignore the pain being inflicted on me. Lucy comes at me again with the axe. As she swings it at me, I don’t flinch. Instead, I focus my thoughts on imagining a sword. Just as the axe is about to hit my ribs a broadsword appears in my hands, blocking the axe’s path. The clang of steel on steel catches Lucy by surprise. I launch forward, kicking her in the stomach. The force throws her backwards into one of the lava pools. She screams and the cave starts to collapse. I notice a small crack in the cave wall. A dim light is coming through from the other side. I focus all my concentration on projecting myself through the hole.

The pain suddenly stops and I find myself standing in a strange room. More precisely, it seems to be two rooms merged into one. I survey the scene around me. Neither of the two rooms are complete, the ceilings and most of the walls are missing. Instead, I can peer out into blackness.

At my end of the room is a stone fireplace with a painting of a sailing ship hanging above the fire. The mantelpiece is covered with greetings cards. Over in the corner is a large Christmas tree, easily seven feet tall. Under the tree are a number of presents waiting to be unwrapped. There are two leather chairs in front of the blazing open fire. I can feel the warmth on my arms, and can smell the scent of mulled wine. I recognise this as being my Grandmother’s, specifically from the Christmas when I was eight. She died five months later and her home was sold.

The other end of the room appears to be the bedroom of a young boy. A pine bed is directly opposite me. A chest of drawers is beside it with a lamp on top. A large toy chest with ‘Luke’ stencilled onto the front is against one wall, its lid open. Scattered around the floor are toy cars and comic books.

A floor length mirror is stood next to the drawer unit. It is angled so that I can see my reflection. I’m projecting as Jennifer, but a younger version. My freckles and red hair are now on a young girl of about six or seven. I am dressed in a red and green Christmas party dress.

Stting opposite me is a little boy of about the same age. He is wearing a pair of Spiderman pyjamas. I assume this must be how Lucy used to look before her change.

“How did you get into here? This is my private place, my most cherished memory,” the boy shouts at me, “You should be dead by now!”

“I guess I must have projected myself here,” I reply, “The question is, ‘What happens now?’”

We stare at each other for a few moments. The young boy starts to cry. I walk over to him and give him a hug.

“I don’t want to leave this place. Here I am free from Lucy, from the evil bitch she has become,” Luke states through his tears. “The Syndicate filled me full of hate. I can’t go back to that.”

“You don’t have to, it’s not too late to make amends,” I say. He pushes me away and climbs onto the bed.

“You don’t understand. I’ve been brainwashed. I have a chip in my skull that will kill me if I try to fight,” he replies, “I have made my decision. You are going to have to kill me, please put me out of my misery, and make the torture stop. You have temporarily knocked Lucy out. She will come back and kill us both if you don’t.”

He hands me the pillow and lies on his back on the bed. Crying, I take the pillow and press it into his face. I hold it in place as he starts to suffocate. The room around me starts to fade into darkness. I feel myself floating away from the scene. The last thing I see is an image of me standing over the bed, holding the pillow on the boy. The bed and two figures drift backwards into the distance and disappear.

I wake up back in the plane. I turn round to see Lucy collapse onto the floor. Her lips have turned blue and she is no longer breathing.

Dr Mustard gets back to her feet and shouts, “What have you done? Lucy!”

I turn to face her as she pulls an automatic pistol and aims it at my head. I am frozen in fear as the trigger is pulled. I see the bullets travel towards me and stop in mid air, a few inches from my nose. They then reverse direction and embed themselves into Dr Mustard’s chest. She slumps to the floor, dying. Her last act is to fling her arm sideways and fire the gun at the window in the door.

Brian isn’t ready for this and the bullets shatter the window. The sudden explosive decompression rips the door from the plane. It collides with the left wing, tearing a lump out of the structure. The plane tilts violently to the left. Dr Mustard and the big bloke sitting up front are sucked out of the plane as it goes into a nosedive.

I grab onto the seat in front as the air rushes past us. The air pressure quickly equalises, but there is still severe buffeting from the speed we are travelling.

I remote view into the cockpit, the pilot is now either unconscious or dead. I make sure I am well strapped in, and project myself into the cockpit in ghost form. This way I am not sucked out of the plane. I check for a pulse on the pilot but can’t find one. I hit the release on the belts of the obviously dead co-pilot. He floats up out of his seat and out of the way. I look back towards Brian, who winks at me.

Having strapped myself into the co-pilot’s seat I try to gain control of the plane. Pulling back on the controls, I bring the nose up while at the same time applying right stick and rudder to bring us back to straight and level flight. The plane judders and shakes, but slowly responds. I pull us into a slight climb and our air speed drops considerably. The amount of air blowing into the cabin is now greatly reduced, enough for Brian to be able to get out of his seat and carefully make his way to the cockpit.

He takes the pilot’s seat as we attempt to assess the situation. Smoke is now pouring from the remaining engine.

“We have no instruments, no engines, and nowhere to land,” I shout to him above the noise of the open door, “The radio’s fried, as are all the electrics. I doubt we have landing gear either, flaps are not responding.”

Being a modern aircraft nearly everything is fly-by-wire. Luckily, the main controls seem to be traditional physical connections. I am an avid gamer and have spent many hours playing flight-sims on my home computer, so I know the basics, even though I have never done it for real.

There is a loud creaking noise as another lump of metal tears itself from the left wing. I have to apply near maximum stick and rudder to maintain straight and level flight and stop us going back into a spiral. The plane is starting to shudder again and the left wing is flexing alarmingly.

“I don’t think that wing is going to hold long, we will have to attempt a crash landing, we don’t have any choice,” Brian shouts at me.

“Can you help us land with your telekinesis?” I ask.

“No, the maximum I have ever shifted is 30 stone, this plane must be a hundred times that mass,” he replies.

“I have an idea, can you hold the plane while I test something?” I enquire. He nods his head.

I end my projection then project myself out of the plane. I imagine a parachute into existence on my back and pull the ripcord. I suddenly decelerate and start to float down to the ground. After a few seconds, I am forced to end my projection as I get out of range of the fast-moving plane.

I project myself back into the co-pilot’s seat and take back control of the plane from Brian.

“We’re going to bail out, I can project us a parachute,” I state as I put the plane into a climb to gain as much altitude as possible while also losing excess airspeed. “I can’t be in two places at once. While I am projecting here, my body is unconscious. I need to keep this plane straight and level so that we can safely jump. You are going to have to get back there and drag my unconscious form out the door with you. As soon as we’re clear, I can sort us out a parachute. Try not to knock me too hard or I will lose concentration and my projection. Whatever you do, don’t let go of me.”

“OK, I trust you Alice,” Brian calls back as he makes his way to the rear.

Brian spots and grabs the first aid kit that is tied securely to the cockpit wall. Once released, he carries it in his teeth as he carefully makes his way past the door, and back to where I’m sitting. He removes a bandage from the kit and unrolls it, then binds my right arm to his left, from the wrist down to the elbow. We are now firmly tied together. Brian undoes the seatbelt holding my body, and it gently floats up out of the seat.

Using telekinesis, Brian floats me down to the door. Using all his strength, he positions me so that I will cleanly exit the plane. He lets go of the seat and jumps through the door. As soon as Brian and my body are safely away from the plane, I leave the cockpit and return to my body. The plane immediately loses control and veers into a nosedive. As the speed increases, the left wing breaks off and the plane plummets towards the ground.

With the ground rapidly approaching, I pull myself round and grab Brian’s other hand. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him close to my body. I then project myself clinging onto his back, bear hugging both of us. A parachute appears on my back and straps materialize tying all three bodies together.

The chute deploys and we begin to slow down. I keep growing the parachute in size until we are drifting down at a sensible speed. Surveying the area, I can see a town in the distance. I steer us towards it as we slowly drift down. The plane has crashed in open fields to our left. We can see the smoke.

“It’s going to take a while to reach the ground. What else can you tell me about this Center and our kind?” I ask.

Brian explains how a terrorist attack at a genetics lab sixteen years ago caused pollution to enter bottled water, and the effect it had on pregnant women who drank the liquid. He then explains the purpose of the Center, a safe refuge for people like us to live and work, to protect us from those who would exploit us, while also safeguarding the public from the misuse of our talents.

“So, what’s the age range of those at the Center?” I query.

“The oldest will be turning seventeen in a month’s time. The majority of us are sixteen, although we do have a fifteen year old who will turn sixteen in a couple of months,” Brian tells me, “We do have one twelve year old, although we don’t know how she is so young.”

I start laughing. Brian asks me what’s so funny. I stop laughing and ask, “What will happen to me? Is it compulsory to join the Center, or do I get the choice? It’s been nearly two months since I changed sex. Only a few close relatives and friends know that I have changed, my talent has allowed me to continue to appear as my old self. I’m quite happy where I am.”

My chuckle was down to realising why the Center hasn’t found me. They are looking for sixteen-year-olds. I only turned fourteen a couple of months ago. My mother didn’t die in childbirth. She was killed in an accident at a fairground. I was born by emergency caesarean section after she died. Although I always suspected I might be intersex, no medical tests ever proved it. David never disappeared, and he’s now dead. I have just made Brian think I am still using my original male appearance when in fact I am attending school as Jenny.

I suspect the forms Robert Turner found are connected to the Center. I wonder if they will twig that they have already given me a new identity. It seems they haven’t so far. The Center sounds attractive, but I am happy where I am. I would rather stay with my friends and family. Besides, I’m nearly two years younger than all the other residents are. It may not sound a lot, but it will mean I would always be playing catch-up academically.

“You’ve seen the Syndicate operate,” Brian replies, “They are only one faction out to collect emergents, you could be placing yourself and your family in danger.”

“I don’t think so,” I reply, “you’re the only person outside my circle who has seen my face. The man they shot at the shack before coming to the airfield was a corrupt police officer. I have been helping the police with my talents, but none of them knows my identity, I kept myself hidden under a burka. He grabbed me and abducted me before trying to sell me to the Syndicate. They killed him instead of paying up.”

While Brian may have seen my face, he hasn’t seen what I normally look like. The make-up is still hiding my freckles. I know he was looking into my eyes on the way down. The tinted contact lenses are still making them appear green. My hair is almost black from the temporary dye. By Monday, all these changes will have disappeared and I will be back to being a blue-eyed, freckle-faced redhead.

The Syndicate’s only connection with me was Scudder, who they killed. The Center’s intelligence officer has already visited my school once. If she comes back, she will be looking for a sixteen-year-old boy, not a fourteen-year-old girl.

“I don’t know,” Brian ponders, “We’ve never let someone refuse to join us. Normally there isn’t a choice. The change is too great to allow you to continue your old life. Your case is different due to your talent.”

About two feet from the ground I end the projection and let go of Brian. We both fall to the ground and roll over in a field of corn. I cut the bandages binding our arms together on the way down, so that we could land easier. We get up and dust ourselves off before starting to walk in the direction of the nearby town. We reach a road and flag down a farmer driving an open top truck. He lets us climb in the back and we drive towards the town centre.

“As wonderful as the Center sounds, it’s not for me. I refuse to abandon my friends and family,” I state.

I scribble my Alice email address on a scrap of paper and hand it to him, “I can be contacted here. If you can prove I am at risk by emailing my name, date of birth, and current address, I will reconsider, until then it’s time to part company.”

I fade from view, leaving Brian alone in the back of the speeding truck. I sit up from my hiding place in amongst the cornfield. Brian never noticed me switch to a projection. I take my small wallet out of my pocket and curl up in a tight ball. I project myself next to my body with the appearance of a six foot six bodybuilding blond surfer boy in his early twenties. I project a large rucksack around my physical body and lift it onto my back. Picking up the wallet, I start to hike across country in the direction of the train station. I have $50 and a debit card. I suspect the magnetic strip on the card is a write off, but the cash will at least get me part of the way home. I can phone home from the station and arrange for somebody to meet me halfway.

I don’t know what the future holds. I may well end up at the Center, but for the time being, I think I will head home and lie low. Besides, ‘Alice the Avenger’ already has a prior engagement. I have a little girl to impersonate to prevent her being kidnapped and executed.