by Jim Mohr
The soldiers point their guns at me as I look back at the car, wondering if I could hide within the wreckage.
Sebrev clears his throat and I turn to face him again. “Do you know what I am, mind reader?” he says again in English.
I enter Sebrev’s mind as I did with Dena. He immediately grabs his head as if he is dizzy. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. Sebrev screams in anger as his eyes roll. “Get out of my head Psychokinetic!” he says. Then, in Russian, he says something else followed by a word I have never heard before: “Timere.”
A pain tears through my head. It drives me to my knees. “So, my little mind reader. You like to read people’s thoughts!” Sebrev yells in broken English. “How do you like my power?” He says in Russian. His rage is causing the change in languages.
The pain in my head feels like a drill behind my eyes. I’ve heard my dad complain about his migraines and what they feel like. I’ve never had one before, but this must be what they feel like. I gasp for air as my knees sink into the earth blasted up by some great explosion.
Behind Sebrev I hear a shout. My mind can’t grasp the language. Sebrev’s painful power is stopping my language learning, halting my understanding.
Suddenly, I feel the defense of God’s hand around me, the protection from harm. Whatever Sebrev is doing to my head seems blunted. Not entirely gone, but easily cut in half. My mind searches for an escape from the pain. I sense beyond the crater that I am in, a twisted metal pole. I feel the metal in my mind, it is warm. The pole seems to move at my will. It responds to my need.
My mind grabs the pole and pulls it toward Sebrev at a high speed. It strikes its target, Sebrev’s back, with incredible force. The dull thud of the pole striking flesh instantly stops the pain in my mind. Sebrev collapses to the ground and the pole drops free of my control. I gasp for air and inhale smoke and the smell of death. The ground seems to move, to twist as I stumble to stand.
Another man, the sixth in this group of strangers, says in Russian, “Pick Sebrev up and bring him.” The soldiers grab me and force me to stand straight. They grab me in ways that my dad does, or how he used to. I try to reach for my dad’s body, to hold him, to apologize to him. The soldiers push me away as they guide me out of the small crater and onto solid ground. Behind me, I hear Sebrev moaning. Jets scream overhead and, in the distance, I can still hear the civilian sirens. If only I would have left the baseball field when they started wailing. Had I only done what we were taught to do.
Chapter 4
Cougar—Wisconsin Illinois Base
I am taken at gunpoint to a small area outside the destroyed perimeter of the base. A small troop copter picks the seven of us up: me, the four soldiers, Sebrev, and the leader who had stopped him from killing me. In no time at all we are in a troop transport with other soldiers who all look like mercenaries. They are rough, evil-looking men and women. The women look nothing like any women or girls I know. These women are fighters, soldiers.
They handcuff me to the cargo hooks inside the jet as the leader of the group, the one who had ordered my capture, sits across from me. The man is gruff looking and has a weather-worn face with small scars on it like he had been hit with shrapnel years ago.
I think that he is Russian. He isn’t like me, or Sebrev, he seems “normal.” “You are a Psychokinetic?” he asks in broken English.
I look at the man and am confused, not knowing what a Psychokinetic is, or if he is even speaking English. “I’m afraid,” I say.
“You have nothing to fear from us.”
“My dad is dead, your men killed him.” Hatred burns in me as I look at him. He pauses and glances at Sebrev, who is lying on a cot and is being attended to by a medic.
The man speaks Russian, “Do you understand me?”
The translation in my mind is slow and clumsy; my mind seems to pull the language from him. The grammar, verb tenses, and dialect are rough as I grasp for the words. I nod to the man.
“We are taking you to Prague. You will be raised there and trained. We need Psychokinetics.”
I answer the man in English. “What is a Psycho… thing?”
“A Psychokinetic, it is a being like yourself.” He answers in English. “They read minds, they can move things. When did you get your powers? When were your dreams?”
The jet reaches its cruising altitude and my ears pop. This is the first time I have been away from home without my parents being with me.
“I had a dream last night. It was about healing,” I reply.
The man nods slowly. He understands English well; it is as if he were taught it at a young age. “How many dreams have you had? Was there an animal in it? A cat, dog, or bird?” He asks.
“Yes, a mountain lion. I’ve had five dreams.”
The man leans back, a smile on his face. “Good. That’s good. You dreamt of cougars. You are powerful for a little boy. We can make you stronger.” He pauses as Sebrev rolls over to face me. He has heard our conversation.
“Lieutenant Colonel Mikhailov, the boy...” Sebrev says in Russian. I don’t understand the last words.
The man, Mikhailov, turns to Sebrev and says something. I catch the words: “command” and “you will stop.”
Sebrev glares at me. I feel hatred for the man and I can see he hates me.
Mikhailov speaks later into the flight. “What happened to you before your dreams?” he asks in English. “How did you get the hormone?”
“What’s a hormone?” I reply.
“It’s something your body makes. It causes changes in you, like testosterone or estrogen. When did your dreams start?”
I think about the question. When did my dream start and what brought them alive in me?
“Two weeks ago, I went in for a shot. It burned and I told my mom,” I answer.
“Hmm…,” Mikhailov rubs his chin. “Nine days later you had your first dream then?”
“Yes. I told my mom and she helped me with the dreams. She told me what telepathy and telekinesis are.”
“Do you think your mother is like you, a Psychokinetic?”
I think about Mikhailov’s question. In the five days that my dreams happened, I sensed a change in my mom. She seemed sad as if dreading some fast-approaching event. How she spoke was different, it was as if she knew we would be separated. “Sir, I think my mom is like me.”
Mikhailov smiles as the jet begins its descent. Sebrev looks at me from his cot and says one word in Russian: “Animal.” I look at the wounded man and I feel the hatred again, I should have killed him. I did worse to Todd Vance for a smaller crime.
“Sir,” I ask Mikhailov. “What is Captain Sebrev? I can tell that he isn’t like you, or me. What is he?”
“My boy, Sebrev is what is called a Timere. They are different than Psychokinetics. They have different powers. Where you have telepathy, telekinesis, healing, and defensive powers, they have harm, psychosis-inducing abilities, disease-causing powers, and can cause fear. Stay away from them, at least for now.” I look back at Sebrev, who is still glaring at me.
“Animal” he called me. My dad used to call me “worthless.” Does an animal have any more worth than me? What did I do to deserve this? Where is my mom? How do I get back to her?
Chapter 5
Cougar—Resistance Installation: Prague, Czech Republic
My world goes black as they pull a hood over my head. I smell the laundry detergent in it, the sweat from someone else. They guide me off the jet and across what must be the runway. Soft rain pelts my shoulders. It moistens Todd’s dried blood which still stains my shirt.
I hear jets taking off and landing. I know their sound from the few years that the base near my home has existed. We even had a class last school year about the base and the war. The teacher had explained how the war has changed with the invention of the nuclear engine; the Devante engine. These jets must
have the Devante engine in them; they sound so similar to the ones by my house.
I am guided through doors and down hallways. The snap of boots clicking fills my ears. Every now and then an intercom blares out in a language I do not understand. Without a person there with a mind to read, the lifeless speakers are blaring gibberish.
A final door closes and I am pushed onto a cot and the hood is pulled from my head. The room I am in is entirely white, white floor, walls, and ceiling. Bright fluorescent lights give the room an odd, sterile feeling. I sit on the cot, it squeaks from my movement. The thin mattress offers no barrier between my rear and the unforgiving springs. In the corner, there is a small table and two chairs.
The men who had removed the hood leave the room. The door locks as it closes, I am alone. My stomach growls as it reminds me I am hungry. I have no idea if it is day or night, no idea how long the flight had taken. I am tired, I am miserable.
I think about my day. My mom must be worried about me. My dad is dead. Besides that, I keep seeing Todd’s corpse lying in the dirt. I keep hearing April’s scream. The memories weigh on my heart and I start to cry. I am hollow and vulnerable. I need to be held, to have my mother hug me, to tell me to be strong, to love me. I have nothing.
My mind seems to sense something beyond the locked door and I can tell that a human, a woman is approaching. I can tell she is coming to see me. I look at myself, the moist blood, the dirty clothing. On my shoe, I see a dried drop of blood. Did it belong to Todd, or to my dad? I heave and feel ill at the thought. I can smell the blood, I can sense the kill. I inhale deeply toward the blood droplet. I smell my own scent, it is mine. I touch my lip gently, there is no wound, I am healed.
A beautiful blonde-haired woman wearing black pants, a solid black shirt, and a black hat with red trim opens the door and enters my white room. The brim on her hat is shorter than a baseball cap and a blonde ponytail hangs out the back. Her face is smooth and clean, she has a chiseled jawbone and gorgeous blue eyes. She is a very pretty woman.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, young man. My name is Gabrielle Detches and I am your personal assistant. It is my job to help you become acclimated to your new home,” she says. Her English is very smooth, though flavored with what I think is a German accent. She gracefully walks across the room, pulls out one chair from the table, and sits. She points politely at the other chair, inviting me to sit with her.
“Where am I, where is my mom?” I ask as tears run down my cheeks. My bloody smell is filling my nostrils, invading my mind. I cannot concentrate on anything other than my smell.
“You are in Prague. It is a city in the Czech Republic, in Europe. This base is the Resistance installation defending the Czech Republic and parts of Eastern Europe. I am sorry, I do not know where your mother is. We mean you no harm. We want to know what you were doing at the Alliance base, the place that we captured you.”
I know of the Resistance and the Alliance from my class. Are these people Resistance soldiers? The Czech Republic is a Resistance country. I try to read this lovely woman’s mind. I enter her mind but I don’t understand her thoughts, they are not in English.
“Miss Detches, I don’t know anything about the Wisconsin Illinois base. My dad was trying to take me to the hospital. Those men shot him. Sebrev ordered them to.”
Gabrielle’s face shows her sympathy and sorrow for my plight. “Lieutenant Colonel Mikhailov says that you are a mind reader. Is that true?” I nod. “Please do not read my mind. I am here to help you and I am trusting you, yes?” I nod again. “What is your name, and how old are you?”
“I can’t understand your mind anyway, it’s in another language,” I say. “My name is Cougar Reed, ma’am, I am eight.”
“You do not need to call me ma’am or Miss Detches. Call me Gabrielle.” She pauses as she contemplates something, probably the language barrier. “Cougar is not a common American name.”
“No,” I reply as I shake my head. “My mom named me when I was born. My dreams were about cougars.” I smile as I reflect on the ending of my last dream. After the blood, after the fight, how the cougar in it had loved me.
“Cougars, yes, mountain lions. I have seen one here at the zoo in Prague. I hope that you behave and maybe I can take you to see it.”
I smile at this lovely, polite woman. She reminds me so much of my mother. My mom is a brunette but she is not as lovely as Gabrielle is. “Gabrielle, I would like that. I want to go home though.”
Her eyes lower as a frown spreads across her face. “I’m afraid not, Cougar. You are in our care now. We cannot release you.” She looks at me and I can tell she is remorseful. “Your father is dead and we cannot trust your release to the Americans or to the Alliance.” She touches my hand softly and continues, “Because our soldiers killed your father, you have now been made a ward of this base.”
My heart breaks as I look about the room for an escape. “I want to go home!” I yell as I lose control of whatever restraint I had on my tears. “I don’t want to go to your zoo! I want to go home!”
“Cougar, there is no place to go. This is your home now. I will care for you and we will train you.”
I glare at the woman. “Let me FUCKING GO!” I sob as I look at the cheap, metal legs of the table. I concentrate on the leg closest to me. I can feel the cool, white, painted metal. I sense its imperfections, its composition. I focus on it. I try to fill my mind with its image, its existence. As if a hand grabbed the leg and twisted it, the leg bends at a 45° angle. The table wobbles slightly as Gabrielle leans back. She looks at the leg and a disapproving frown spreads across her face.
“That was not polite,” she says. “Your language is very dirty as well.”
Chapter 6
Cougar—Resistance Installation: Prague, Czech Republic
Gabrielle places me in the care of an old man from her department. His presence seems to calm me. He escorts me to the showers and then the meal hall. It feels good to finally wash Todd Vance’s blood off of me and get some food, though the meal isn’t anything that I have ever had before. I am dressed in a uniform similar to Gabrielle’s. She tells me that because I am a ward of the base (and not actually a prisoner) I must wear the uniform and that I will be enrolled in their child soldiering program. She cautions me that refusal to attend will be my death.
***
The first month in Prague passes without incident. They place me in their school; it is nothing like back home. My school schedule consists of five classes: Czech Language Level I, Math Level I, Russian Language Level I, Art and Literature Level I, and Science Level I. It is explained that Level I classes are the entry-level classes, mainly populated by six- and seven-year olds (first and second grade). Level II classes are most often for eight- to twelve-year olds. Level III is junior high level, Level IV is high school level, and Level V has college-level classes. Gabrielle explains that you advance through the levels at your own pace. Stupid or lazy children will graduate at age eighteen in Level III classes. Those kids rarely become anything more than manual labor in the Resistance. Gabrielle tells me sternly that she expects greater advancement from me. Even though I am at a disadvantage with the language barrier she tells me that my mind reading power will aid my advancement.
Language classes are easy for me; my mind pulls the language from the instructors. Initially, math and science classes were very difficult for me. Classes are taught in Czechoslovakian or Russian. It is difficult enough to learn Earth science; it’s worse when it’s taught in a language I barely understand.
After my first month, I am placed in Czech Language Level II, Russian Language Level II, and Art and Literature Level II. I love art and literature. Ever since my dreams, which Gabrielle calls “power dreams,” art and literature mean so much more to me. I remember my time back in America, how I hated English class and detested art. Here though, the colors, the language, the ideas, all speak in a very differen
t way.
One day, after schooling, while walking with Gabrielle, I ask her about the Timere. “Gabrielle, during meal time I can sense Timere. I feel a hatred for them, even though I don’t know them.”
She places her hand on my back as we walk. “Yes, Cougar, you are very different from the Timere. You understand the differences between oil and water?”
“Yes, I understand that,” I reply.
“Dear, you are oil and they are water. You are repelled by them and they by you. It isn’t anything wrong with you. You are just different.”
***
During my captivity I am not allowed outdoors; I never see the sky or feel the sun on my face. My world is artificial lighting and military indoctrination. April Smith, my mom, and even my dad are on my mind constantly. I cannot escape, I cannot resist. Gabrielle escorts me everywhere within the base. I am allowed to go from my small room with a bathroom, to the meal hall, and then to my classes… That is all that I have.
Into my third month in Prague, Gabrielle informs me she has a new supervisor—Colonel Vlad Mikhailov, the man who had stopped Sebrev that morning when I was taken. Mikhailov has been promoted to Colonel and has transferred into her department. I didn’t feel one way or the other about Mikhailov when I met him those months ago. Gabrielle tells me he has taken an interest in my advancement and that I may even be the reason he transferred departments.
Soon after Mikhailov’s promotion, I am advanced in all of my classes. Czech Language Level III, Math Level II, Russian Language Level III, Art and Literature Level III, and Science Level II are my new curriculum. Gabrielle is proud of my advancement in such a short time.
“Cougar, you turn nine soon and you are already in junior high Czech, Russian, and Art and Literature.” She smiles and hugs me softly. I hold the woman as she is the first loving contact I have had since my mom hugged me that fateful day. “Cougar, the normal Psychokinetic mind accepts information willingly. Your mind devours it.” She releases me as she shows me my latest report. I am consistently scoring in the top 10 percent in all of my classes.