Power

by Theresa Jones

  We drove through grassy planes and almost roller coaster like terrain on our way to the helicopter pad After entering a password and scanning a badge at a gated gravel road, I thought at first we were going to drive straight into the wall of a huge Mountain. Camouflaged into the rest of the cliff was an opening into a small cave. Passing through the short cave, we came out into a small opening between mountain cliffs. The helicopter pad, which I naively imagined would be a black square with a big H in the center, was a beige and green square completely hidden from onlookers above. The helicopter was also camouflaged accurately and was much longer than I thought it would be. We climbed in before it was even started and were given basic instructions on where the parachutes were and how to stay sitting and strapped in. There were two rows in the back facing the pilots, and a third row facing the back side, each row containing three seats. We took to the air and the experience, despite the depressing circumstances, was one that would be ingrained in my memory forever.

  Though Nevada was just as hot as Texas, the scenery was breathtaking. A desert is not just brown or tan. It has reds and yellows, and cacti everywhere. Huge mountains cut designs into the magenta sky.

  After flying over several peaks, we stopped between two and began the decent. It felt like we were falling. Terrifying as the sensation was, the landing was smooth, with no bumping or jerking. I had a feeling this helicopter was much more expensive than a regular helicopter. It was very luxurious on the inside and the outside was spotless. It even had weapons. It was like a combat helicopter combined with the leisure vehicle of a very wealthy Sheik.

  We landed on a nearly identical helicopter pad to the one we left from. But instead of a cave with a waiting car, there was only a door embedded into the wall of the mountain. The almost bronze colored double doors were huge, at least twenty feet tall and ten or fifteen feet across, with intricate detailing and designs sculpted into it. I stood there in awe, as everyone else filed out of the chopper.

  “This is it.” David’s voice brought me out of the trance the doors had put me under. “Welcome to the Compound, Allison and Samantha.” Sam started jumping around excitedly, begging to see what was inside. I could only smile back. I was not just excited about what was behind those doors, but was also very scared. Scared of what I would learn here, what I would expose my daughter to, and, most of all, the reason I had to be standing here in front of these doors in the first place.

  As we followed Rick up to the doors, David took Sam’s hand with his left and placed his right hand in the small of my back, guiding me forward. Whether he could sense my fear or was just being friendly, I didn’t know and did not care. His hand was comforting and the electricity it sent through me made me feel safe.

  As we walked closer, I noticed that there were no doorknobs on these doors. Huge angels, with wings nearly as big as their bodies and beautiful flowing gowns, were etched into the massive structures. The lowest angel on the doors was bigger than I was, and there were nine or ten more depicted throughout the scene. I turned to look at David, who was still walking beside me with his hand resting on my back. “How long did it take to build these?”

  He looked down, smiling at me, “Not nearly as long as you would think.” And with that, kept right on walking, looking straight ahead, as if that would be answer enough.

  What could that mean? Obviously he didn’t know that I love to paint. How could he? I even tried sculpting but could never find the patience for it. I needed to know how long it had taken the artist to create this masterpiece. But more importantly, I had to know, “Who made them?”

  Before he could answer, I noticed that we had stopped walking right in front of the doors. Looking up I decided I had to change my previous estimate from twenty feet high to maybe thirty or so. The doors were huge. I felt miniscule standing at the base of them.

  I looked from Rick to David, and to Rick again, wondering how we would open them. Rick was standing very still, almost like a statue. The tips of his hair started turning royal blue, and the air around him turned blue as well. As Rick stepped forward, the blue haze left the space around him, flowed straight to those beautiful doors, and opened them. “That was AWESOME!” I heard Sam shout as I felt my jaw drop in surprise. No wonder they did not have doorknobs, these doors open only for those who have power.

  Rick walked through them and out of sight. David leaned down to whisper, “Please don’t be afraid, Allison. You will feel the power pulling on you when you walk through this doorway. I was serious when I said that only those with power can enter. But you also have to do this on your own. Neither Rick nor I can do it with you. It’s just you and Sam now.”

  As he was talking, I looked up at him and noticed that his eyes were no longer the hazel color I had become accustomed to. Instead they were the breathtaking color of a pure emerald, glowing beneath his dark lashes. Then he left my side, the tips of his windswept hair turning bright green just like Rick’s had. And as he walked toward the entrance, green wisps of wind encircled his footsteps.

  It was just me and Sam now. She looked up at me, seemingly confused. Both David and Rick had basically disappeared after crossing the threshold. “C’mon, Sweetie, it’s our turn now,” I said, trying to sound confident in myself. I grabbed her hand, and started walking forward. After only two steps I felt it, just as David had said. The weight of power I felt at that moment was almost overwhelming. Despite that uneasy feeling, I continued pushing forward. Looking down at Sam, I saw the purple wind circle my own footsteps and swirl out to cover her.

  It should have only taken a few seconds, but it felt like we had been walking for minutes when Sam let go of my hand and twirled around in a circle, awed by the enormity of the room we had entered. There was a beautiful mahogany staircase, with a gold trim and deep red carpeting directly in front of me. The stairs went up and then forked out, both to the right and to the left onto levels that I could not yet see. The walls surrounding us were just as high as the doors outside and just as beautiful. The deep mahogany of the staircase was present throughout the room and the size and grandeur of everything made me feel like an ant. There were two large paintings of angels on the walls on either side of the staircase. And just like everything else about this place, they were huge.

  I stood there in awe, as Sam ran back and grabbed both of my hands yelling, “Isn’t it beautiful, Mom? I love it here!”

  Yes, it was beautiful, and yes, I liked it here too, but what had happened when we walked through the doorway? Why did it take so long to actually get in? Why could Sam get in if she did not have any power yet? What’s with all the angels? Who painted those paintings? And who made this place? But, despite all of these questions, I managed a, “Yes, dear, it is pretty.”

  David noticed my stupor and walked up beside me to ask, “How did it feel?” I didn’t answer him, so he kept talking, “I know the sight of this place is pretty astounding, but you are probably also a little dizzy or lightheaded from your journey.” He placed his hand in the small of my back and guided me to the side of the room. There was a doorway there that I hadn’t even noticed at first. The sight of the stairway had captured my attention so entirely, I hadn’t noticed anything else.

  After walking through the doorway, we entered a normal size room. It was still very nice, and gave me the impression of what a room in a castle or palace would look like, but was far less intimidating than the entry hall had been. Everything was very clean, very pretty, and looked expensive. Under normal circumstances, I would have been afraid to touch anything.

  David led me to a large couch placed in front of the back wall. I sat, instinctively, while my mind attempted to comprehend all the things happening around me, and he followed suit, sitting right beside me. Sam and Rick had both followed us into the smaller room, but neither of them sat. Rick was busy entertaining Sam, by pointing out and describing the importance of everything in the room. David turned and looked at me to say, “How are you feeling? Do you feel sick or nauseous?”


  I looked at him, confused. “Why would I feel nauseous?” I did not feel sick at all. Confused, yes. But I was getting used to that. Over the last couple of days I had been confused quite often. I was feeling pretty exhausted though. My mind felt like it was running at 100 miles per hour.

  “Usually the first time you enter the Compound, you get a little dizzy.” The concern on his face was clear. It was almost unnerving; it seemed like so long since a man showed such genuine concern for me that I didn’t know how to respond.

  “I don’t feel dizzy at all. I’m just a little confused. This place is huge, and beautiful, and I have never seen anything like it before. And I’m tired. I feel like I’ve been walking for hours. And I have a head ache.” I stopped to finally take a breath after my sudden outburst. “Sorry.” I realized that I had been talking so fast, he probably hadn’t understood anything that I had said.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. It is very normal to feel like that. I’m sure you have a million questions, but before we get into all of them, let me go ahead and take you upstairs to your room.” He led all four of us back to the foot of the grand staircase, and before I even took my first step, I stopped, turned around, and just marveled at the beauty of it all.

  We turned up the right side at the fork and climbed up to a small area with several elevators. I was amazed at the sheer size of everything. Even the elevators were huge – like they were made for people who were 10 feet tall or something. I laughed out loud and mumbled, “It almost looks like this was a castle made for giants.” But no one said anything in response.

  I kind of dazed out after that, only vaguely taking notice of where we were going and how we were getting there. When I became conscious of the fact that Sam was not around anymore, David assured me that she was with Rick, just seeing the sights. I relaxed, knowing Sam would be fine. Rick would take good care of her. And I realized how grateful I was that David was still there by my side, guiding me along.

  Finally we came to a stop. We had just walked down a long hallway with doors on both sides 100 feet apart, and in between every door there was a large beautiful painting. Each painting differed in size, shape, and design, but was just as stunning as the next.

  The door we were standing in front of now was the same as every door we had passed in this hallway, but this time David pulled out a key and unlocked it. He led me inside, to a room that resembled a very big living room. There was a large soft couch on the right, and 3 matching chairs on the left. Straight ahead was another hallway that led to more doors.

  “This is where you and Sam will stay. Consider it yours. Hopefully the accommodations here will be satisfactory.”

  I had not known David for very long yet, but I had grown accustomed to his fancy verbiage. “Yes, David, the ‘accommodations here will be satisfactory,’” I said with a smile catching the corner of my mouth.

  He smiled back, raising and eyebrow at my tone, but continued on with what he was saying. “There are two bedrooms, a kitchen, two bathrooms, this living room,” as he moved his arm in a sweeping movement to emphasis the room we were currently in, “and, as in every living quarter here at The Compound, a study room.”

  Like I was supposed to just know what that was. I looked up at him, trying to show my confusion, when I saw a glint of uncertainty in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, this is the first time I have had to bring someone to their quarters. I suppose I have not been doing a very good job at it.” He looked down at me with an apology in his eyes.

  I returned the gesture with a huge grin, “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, David. You have helped me so much, I don’t think I could tell you ‘Thank you’ enough. But I would like to know what a study room is for. Are we going to school here?” I asked, slightly amused by the prospect, and finished with another smile.

  “A study room is where you can practice alone. While you are here, you will be taught many things, how to focus your power, how to push it, suppress it, etcetera…. Most of your lessons will be in The Hall, but everyone is expected to practice on their own time. The study room is a place for that. Every study room is sound proof, so no one will be able to hear you and you will not be bothered by anyone. It is also protected against your power. So what you do on the inside doesn’t affect anything on the outside,” he explained. And since it made sense to me, I nodded. “It is the room straight back.” And he pointed to the door at the end of the hall. “Is there anything else you need?”

  Of course, I needed answers, but I knew he already knew that. What do I need? “I need to sit. I feel like I’ve been walking for days.” I walked to the couch, and flopped down as David took a seat beside me.

  “The atmosphere here is very overwhelming for those who are not used to it. It will probably take you a couple of days before your power kicks in enough to give you the energy you are used to having.” My face distorted after that, as, once again, I was confused.

  “Umm…” he said, pausing to gather his thoughts, “I guess the best way I can explain it is this: Every single person here is powerful. The power is confined within the Compound walls, so it is almost like… power overload, I guess. Once you have been here for a while, your power – because our power is instinctive, which is why it is so hard to control when your emotions get awry – your power will become familiarized with the atmosphere and won’t have to work so hard to push against it. Once that happens, the ‘power overload,’ as it were, will no longer affect you.” He paused again, as if taking in my reaction, and finished with, “Does that make any sense to you?”

  I couldn’t help but smile at that. “Yes, it does.”

  “Good,” he said, with another jaw dropping smile, “because that was the best I could offer.” He turned towards me a little more, looked straight into my eyes, and said in a hushed tone, “You really need to rest. Your bed has been made. I can walk you to it, if you would like?” His hand had been resting on my arm, his thumb caressing me. I was struck by how much he cared about me when he didn’t even really know me.

  It’s funny. I hardly knew this man, not to mention, I had just lost my fiancé and the father of my daughter, and yet, I was already taken with him. Maybe it was just this place or ‘the atmosphere,’ as he put it. But the way he leaned closer to me, the way he looked, and smelled, and seemed… his effect on me was surreal.

  I was wandering in these thoughts of him, when I caught his hazel eyes. He looked so confused. That was when I remembered, he had asked me a question. “Umm… sure, I guess.” Was all I could manage.

  So he stood, smiling again – always smiling – and helped me up. We walked to the hall and he opened the first door on the left. Pointing to the door directly across the hall, he informed me, “That room is for Sam. It is just a little smaller than this one. And I already told you that one is the Study room.” He pointed to the door at the end of the hall.

  The inside of my room was beautiful. The canopy bed was one from a dream, with 4 posts that held up long, silky, forest green drapes. The dresser, vanity, and side tables all matched the bed’s deep cherry colored wood. The couch, (yes, there was a couch!) matched the color of the drapes hanging on the bed. Everything was just perfect.

  I stood back, gaping at the room I could now claim as my own. “This really is wonderful, David.”

  I don’t know if it was the heavy atmosphere or just plain exhaustion I felt, but I was overwhelmed to the point that my eyes started to tear. I did not have the energy to feel embarrassed, and nor did I want to. Not in front of David. Not anymore. I didn’t have a care in the world while I stood there in the center of that glorious bedroom. So I let the tears stream. I let myself attempt to take everything in and thought, I am standing in my own bedroom, in my own part of an underground, hidden development, where there is a top secret organization of people with powers who are trying to stop a war and kill the bad guys… I am standing here absorbing the beauty of it all, and I am one hundred percent okay with it.

 
; Chapter 8

  Lessons

  ***David***

  It had been a long time since I had suffered nightmares, but ever since I saw her, I had started having them again. Yes, there was definitely something different about Allison Lee Stevens. She was beautiful, with her long dark hair, now also with a hint of purple, that bunched and gathered around her shoulders and tumbled down her back and had the eyes of an angel. But it was her contradictions that had captured me. She was slender, but still strong. She had a vulnerability about her, and yet confidence beyond her years. I was constantly amazed by her and couldn’t get her out of my head.

  What the hell is wrong with you, David?

  I had healed her body in the park, let my power flow out of my hands and my heart, and flow straight into her. I had healed hundreds of people over the decades, but when my power first felt hers, it was a shock. And there was always this flash of warmth around her that tunneled deep within me. She was different.

  I had held her while she was at her weakest – when she tried with all her might to not let the tears flow on the hospital bed, afraid she would lose her family forever. And I had seen her come through the doors of the Compound for the first time, nearly unfazed by the power, with her plum purple aura glowing around her like a halo. Then, and always, she was in my mind.

  I sat now in her living room and watched over her daughter, Samantha, as she slept. In the short time we had spent alone together, she had already captured my heart.

  “You know, Mom never sleeps late. She just hasn’t been sleeping well at all, because of her bad dreams.” Samantha was telling me, as she had several times already.

  It was apparent she was smarter than the average child. It usually was that way with us. We caught on quicker than others, learned faster, and usually had a higher IQ. Sam was not just smart though, she was kind, and funny, and caring. I was already very fond of this child, and knew I would be from now on. It was a strange feeling, being that close to a child. Not just any child, Allison’s child.