by Rose Garcia
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
In two weeks not only my fate, but the fate of the world would be determined. My eighteenth birthday could be my last.
I hadn’t told my parents or Farrell about what Jan had said about dying before my eighteenth birthday or about the Trackers, because I didn’t know for sure if it was true. Besides, Mom and Dad spent most of their time searching for a way to remove my mark. Why worry them more than they already were? Besides, my own Walker should be able to protect me. At least that was what I kept telling myself.
My stomach stayed in a permanent knot. Farrell kept encouraging me to eat, but I rarely did. Just a granola bar here and there was all I could take. But the worst thing for me was the night. At night, thoughts of death haunted me. And the silence, it smothered me tight. Some nights I thought of asking Farrell to sleep in my room. He could camp out on the floor or the oversized chair and ottoman in the corner of my room. But every time I came close to asking him, I thought of Trent.
I hated that Trent thought Farrell and I were dating, hated that he probably thought he was second best because he wasn’t. Unfortunately, he would never know, because what was the point? I was going to die soon anyway. But not without a fight.
The last day of school came and went, but I had a hard time believing Christmas was just a week away. Snow blanketed the north, but here in Houston the days shifted from freezing to sunny and warm, in the high sixties during the day and forties at night. Just like the changing weather, I needed to change. Time was running out for me, and so I made my move.
One night, when my parents were gone and Farrell was asleep, I crept into my dad’s study. Jan’s words echoed in my mind with each step…you must discover the truth in what your parents seek. Maps and documents stacked high on his desk. I wasn’t sure where to start when again I thought of Jan’s words…touch the one that’s calling you. I closed my eyes and calmed my nerves. When I opened my eyes, I saw Abigail. Her white-laced dress hung down to her feet. Her long white hair combed behind her ears. She held a small brown book. I shut my eyes, hoping she’d go away, when a hand touched my arm.
A scream shot out of me.
"Dominique!" It was Farrell, standing in front of me, his hand on my arm. "Are you okay?"
"Did…did…you see her?" I spun around, looking for Abigail.
He followed my gaze around the room. "Who?"
And then I saw the book on the floor. I knelt down to pick it up. The worn leather cover crinkled under my fingertips, the musty odor filled the room. The pages were thick and yellowed, and a gold embossed feather pattern lined the edges. Feathers, another sign.
Farrell zeroed in on the book. "What’s that?"
My fingers touched the crinkled pages. They were water-damaged, and the small black cursive writing bled out on almost every page. "I don’t know. It was, uh, on the floor when I walked in." I kept the part about Abigail to myself. I didn't want Farrell knowing I had started seeing ghosts. I wasn't sure he'd believe me.
I examined the first page, trying to make out the words. "Look, there’s a name and a date," I said. "Julian Huxley. Transhumanism. 1930."
Farrell took the book. "Julian Huxley? 1930?" He flipped through the pages. "We need to tell your parents, right away."
My heartbeat sped up. "Why? Who’s Julian Huxley?"
Farrell took a seat and set the book down. "Julian Huxley is a famous scientist. He was the first to teach biology at the Rice Institute, now known as Rice University. He coined the term transhumanism in a paper he wrote in 1956. He’s the reason your parents moved here. They think his studies can help find a way to remove your mark." He glanced down at the book. "And this book, written twenty-seven years before his paper, could be the answer."
"Transhumanism?" I sat at my dad’s desk and googled it. The screen filled with resources. I read two aloud. "Reader’s Digest Great Encyclopedia, 1966. Transhumanism is defined as surpassing, transcending, beyond. Webster’s New Universal Dictionary, 1983. Transhuman is defined as superhuman, and transhumanize is defined as to elevate or transform to something beyond what is human."
Stunned, I thought of the things Farrell could do. Thought of how my parents explained what it meant to be a Transhuman, an energy being just like humans but with more brain neurons.
"This Julian Huxley is talking about you guys, isn’t he?" I asked.
Farrell studied me before answering. "Yes, he is."
I took the book from Farrell and studied the first page more carefully. My eyes began to make out the water stained ink, and I read the first few sentences out loud. "Cosmic self-awareness is man understanding his past history and possible future. This type of awareness has been realized elsewhere too, I imagine, on the planets of other stars. But here, on our planet, it has never happened before until now."
My mind raced. Other planets? Were Farrell and my parents aliens? "Farrell, he mentions other planets."
"Yes, he does, and in that one detail Mr. Huxley is wrong. Transhumans are not from other planets. We’re from Earth, and we existed long before humans. Some refer to us as the first people, others as angels. Somewhere in the middle lies the truth."
Humans with superpowers, the stuff movies are made of. How could it be? And then I thought of Julian Huxley. How did he even come up with his ideas? "Farrell, how did this guy even know about Transhumans?"
"He found one of us. He studied her in an effort to understand us. We know she later died, but we don't know how. She was a young girl named Abigail"
My mouth dropped. My skin crawled. "A girl with pale skin and long white hair."
Farrell tilted his head to the side a little. "Yes, how did you know that?"
"Jan told me about her, and I saw her, right here in this room." I held the book tight. "I should've told you, but I thought that maybe I was seeing things. Anyway, she wanted me to have this."
Farrell paced the room while my mind raced. Abigail was a Transhuman, and now she was trying to help me. So maybe the answers were in this book. Since Mom and Dad weren’t answering their phones, there was only one thing to do. "We need to take this to them," I said. "Do you know where they are?"
"Yes, I do. They're at Rice University studying the writings of Huxley that are kept in the library."
After a quick change of clothes, and just after midnight, we were off.
Farrell drove Mom’s white Sequoia while I used my phone to look up the directions to Rice, which was quite a distance away—down three major highways and almost to downtown Houston. We turned from Highway 290 onto the 610 Loop. When we merged, the downtown buildings seemed to erupt out of nowhere and looked like its own little sparkling city of skyscrapers. Some buildings even twinkled with Christmas lights.
"It’s nice, isn’t it?" Farrell said.
"Yeah, it’s actually pretty amazing."
We exited and turned down a street that went right through a neighborhood. After a few more turns, we drove onto the campus and parked.
Shrubs and trees nestled the school, and a large perfectly mowed lawn led up to a modern yet lavishly decorated building. The long sand and pink-colored stone structure had a flat roof, save for a tall rectangular middle with a huge archway that led to another grassy area. Extending on either side of the main arch were smaller arches that formed a walkway. As we got closer, I noticed multiple white columns lining the front. Instead of looking like a college, it looked more like a mansion or castle.
I held the book tight while we hurried through the archway. There we found ourselves in a grassy quadrangle. In the middle was a bronze statue of a man on a chair wearing a robe and holding a book. Farrell pointed to the building just beyond. "There, that’s the library."
The cool crisp air carried a hint of dew, but suddenly dry air and heat assaulted me. I stopped and grabbed Farrell’s arm, waiting for the red desert to appear, but nothing happened.
"What’s wrong?" he asked.
"Something’s not right," I said.
Farrell brought me close. We search
ed the area, but saw nothing, and that was when I remembered what Jan had said about Trackers. Panic struck me. They had found me, I knew it. I was about to tell Farrell when a crashing thunder shook the sky, and a bolt of lightning struck the ground right in front of us. I covered my eyes. When I opened them, I saw a guy maybe ten feet away. He was tall and lean, like Farrell, but had short dark hair.
"A Tracker," Farrell whispered, confirming what I had feared. "When I attack, you hold that book and run to the library. I have to stop him."
Without giving me any time to respond, Farrell took off. A white light with shades of gold emanated from Farrell's body, surrounding him like a shield. As I ran to the library, I looked back to make sure he was okay. And that was when I saw Farrell’s light source gather up in his hands and blast out at the Tracker. Before it could hit, the Tracker disappeared. Where did he go?
Farrell came up swiftly and took my hand. "Come on, we need to get your parents and get out of here."
"What happened?" I panted as we approached the library. "Where did he go?"
"Trackers are not sent to kill," he said. "Just to find."
Holy crap, so the Tracker had found me here at Rice University. Now he was reporting back to Tavion, the Tainted who had killed me in each of my past lives. Terror exploded inside me. In a panic, I ran up to the library. The glass doors revealed a small light in a back room. That had to be where my parents were. I was just about to bang on the glass when Farrell stopped me. "You’ll set the alarm off. Here, step back."
He closed his eyes, and again the golden light glowed all around him. He put his hand on the glass, and it disappeared. He walked through and motioned for me to follow. As soon as I was on the other side, the glass returned.
I looked back, and my mouth dropped. "How…did you…do that?"
From the doorway, Mom and Dad rushed over to us. "Dominique? Farrell?" Dad asked.
"Dominique's shield has been compromised. A Tracker has found us," Farrell said quickly. "We must go. Now."
Mom and Dad returned to the back room, grabbed some papers, and turned out the lights. They rejoined Farrell and me by the front door. My heart raced while my eyes focused on the grassy area we had just come from.
Dad looked at Farrell. "You need to take her out of here," Dad said.
"Are you sure?" Farrell asked.
"Yes, it’s the only way," Dad said.
My hand still clutched the book, my pulse raced. "Wait, what? Take me out of here? What about you guys?"
Dad placed his hands on my shoulders. "We’ll be right behind you. Now go." He took the book and looked at Farrell. "Now."
Farrell stood in front of me and held my hands. Memories flashed through my mind. Farrell had stood in front of me before, just like this, holding my hands while fear raced through my veins.
"Trust me," Farrell whispered.
I studied his perfectly pointed nose, his green eyes, his messy blonde hair as I watched the white radiance seep out of him and wrap around us like a warm blanket. The glow made me dizzy and lightheaded, and completely at peace. And then I blacked out.