by Jeremy Flagg
The doors hissed as hydraulics forced them open.
“Mark!”
She jumped into his arms before he registered she was in front of him. Flowing brown hair wrapped around his face, sticking to his stubble as she nuzzled his neck. Her arms locked behind his head, causing him to bend until her feet touched the ground.
“You need to stop growing,” he said with a laugh.
As he pulled away, he admired just how green her eyes were. He couldn’t tell if it was their real color or if her fondness of wearing dark green flannel over her jean overalls brought out the rich hue. Every day, the innocence of her youth was shed, replaced with the determination and rebelliousness of a tween. For the past year she had lived at the center, hidden away from the rest of the world.
“Ariel,” came a gruff voice.
Mark recognized Ivan’s tone. While the girl was a permanent resident against her will, Mark wanted her to have some sort of normalcy. On either side of this floor’s lobby waited conference rooms, a small lab, and a fitness area tailored to Ariel. Across the lobby, double doors constructed of dense metal led to her personal quarters, similar to his and only accessible by Mark and her. They formed a private place for her to call her own, a small bit of normalcy in her life.
“I don’t like him,” she whispered.
“Ivan,” Mark said sternly, “is there anything I can help you with?”
“Ariel and I were in the middle of running some preliminary tests to establish a baseline.”
She squeezed Mark’s hand tighter. The girl by definition was brave. She had often been poked with needles, her blood drawn weekly. He assumed that being a young girl she’d be frightened by the people who treated her like a science experiment. Instead, Mark hoped his child viewed the world like her, as a challenge she had yet to overcome.
“I think that should be enough for today,” Mark said.
“No,” Ivan replied. “These need to be finished today.”
Mark took several steps forward, nearing the scientist. He tried to whisper but found his voice louder as he flexed his authority. “She’s a young girl. We don’t treat her like a lab rat. Give her a break today.” Mark began to turn back to the girl.
“Perhaps that is why your research has gone nowhere, Mr. Davis? We finish the tests today.”
Mark squared off against Ivan, straightening his back to appear even larger than normal. Ivan was taller but Mark didn’t find his size intimidating in the least. “You work for me.”
“Technically…”
“For me,” Mark said again, loud enough that it bordered on a shout.
“You may not like my methods, Mr. Davis, but I do not answer to you. I am here to get results and whether you like it or not, I will have them.”
“Not like this.”
Ivan’s clenched fists and furrowed brow gave away his anger. Over the last month Mark found the man’s methods to be questionable at best. The scientist had no problem treating the girl like an object and often forgot she was a kid. Mark had frequent conversations with him about intellectual endeavors and the more he learned, the more he found Ivan to be cold, almost completely removed of emotion. He might be a damned good scientist, but he was far from being a good man.
“I do not care what you think of me, Mr. Davis. My cold demeanor is what gets my job done.”
“We’re leaving now.”
“No…”
Mark registered the slight twitch from the man ready to raise his balled fist. Before Ivan could lift his hand, he was tossed across the room by an unseen force. He slid along the floor until he came to a stop near the wall. He lifted himself up from his stomach, obviously confused at what happened.
Both men turned to Ariel, who was holding both hands in front of her, palms out. Mark knelt in front of the girl, using the corner of his sleeve to wipe the trickle of blood from her nose. “We had an agreement.”
“You watch out for me, I watch out for you. You said that, Mark.”
He gave her a slight hug. They walked to the elevator and as the doors closed he watched Ivan sit upright. The scientist needed to worry less about who was in charge and more about pissing off the girl. She stood close to him, almost close enough they could touch, but just far enough away they had separate space. Mark reached out and put his hand on her shoulder.
“He’s not a good man.”
“I find the smartest men are rarely good.”
“Why don’t you fire him?”
“I wish I could, trust me. But he’s really smart and we need his help. I know you don’t like him, but we need you to cooperate. The more you help him, hopefully the sooner we can figure out a way to convince the president to stop killing mentalists.”
She continued to stare at him, her head tilted backward as she tried to gauge his expression. As the elevator stopped moving, he waited a moment before turning and making eye contact. “What?”
“Why do you care so much?”
“I don’t want my kid to grow up in a world where people are hunted for being different.”
Her shoulders slumped. She grabbed him by the hand. “Tell me the real reason.”
“So you can read my mind now?”
“You’re easy to figure out.”
He often forgot her age. She had gone through so much in her short years that he begun assuming she was a young lady. He liked her. She had a way of seeing the world that reminded him of Elizabeth. He thought they would be close.
“You’re not the first person I’ve met with abilities.”
“Really?” she asked with a gasp. The doors opened and he walked down the long corridor leading to the lobby. He rested his head on the pad and for once got the scanner to work on the first try. As the door opened, they were covered in the soft light from the sun-filled lobby.
“When I was younger I met a very polite old lady. She had a gift too. She was the first mentalist I ever met. I’ll never forget her.”
Ariel tugged on his arm as they walked toward the fountain. Atlas knelt in the middle of the water, holding a disc above his head with the Earth resting atop. When Mark first arrived the Earth rotated as water spilled out from the disc into the pool below. At some point, it stopped working. Mark stared at Atlas’s vacant eyes and wonder if that was his destiny. Would there be a day the weight of the world became too much?
“Who was she?”
They sat on the edge of the pool. “Her name was Eleanor Valentine.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“She was a beautiful human. I met her at a time when the world was changing drastically for me. I was scared and unsure of what the future held. My mother was sick and my wife and I were newlyweds trying to have a baby. It only took a single conversation with Eleanor to change everything about me.”
“Really? What could she do?”
“Eleanor could see the future.”
“Wow,” Ariel said. Mark looked forward to when his son grew up and he could tell the same story. He hoped his son grew up to be like Ariel and never lose his sense of wonder.
“Yeah. It was pretty amazing. She told me a little about my future.”
“What did she see?”
“She knew my mom would get better. She also knew my baby would be born healthy. We were scared when Elizabeth’s pregnancy had complications, but we held faith.”
Ariel’s didn’t try to hide the wonderment on her face. Every other person who had heard this story stared at him in disbelief. Ariel’s eyes held a sparkle of interest. She was the only person he had met who understood Eleanor. They may not be similar in any way, but Ariel knew the woman was also different; it was the closest she’d have to a peer.
“Did she see me?”
“She never told me about you.”
Her lip pushed out, pouting at the disappointing news. Mark smiled and put his arm around the girl. “But I’ve been thinking about it. She told me some things that started a series of events. Without her, I might not have taken this job, and if tha
t hadn’t happened I wouldn’t have met you. So I think she did see you.”
“She knew I needed you to rescue me!”
He pulled her in tight and gave her a squeeze. He had found her in the care of foster parents who were less than suitable as guardians, let alone the keepers of a girl with abilities. When they tried to capitalize on her gifts, he had them jailed and took Ariel away. What he didn’t dare vocalize was, she had saved him every day in this temporary jail.
“I think she knew a lot of things but she didn’t always tell people.”
They sat on the edge of the pool, staring out of the windows that made up the front wall of the lobby. The sun was beginning to set and its heat bathed their faces. The light was almost too bright to continue looking at. Mark looked down, checking his badge to see if the radiation indicator had changed colors. When they had first moved into the center, engineers reinforced the windows, adding a layer of protection from the outside world. While he had been assured it was safe, he was convinced he felt the radiation along his skin.
“What happened to the fountain?”
“I think a rock got wedged between the globe and the pan with the water. They turned off the water when the top stopped moving. Eventually we’ll get it fixed.”
“I liked it. Was nice sitting here in the afternoon and putting my feet in the water.”
She wiggled away from him and stood on the edge of the fountain. He reached up for her as her toes lifted off the rim. She steadily raised herself upward, hovering inches from the stone and then a few feet. Without effort she glided, nearing the Earth spanning almost twice her height. She pointed with her fingertips toward the water valve. It gave in to her will and turned slowly until the pipes moaned.
Water started to pour from underneath the Earth, but it didn’t rotate in the disc, spinning in circles like it once had. He had seen her use her abilities hundreds of times. She acted as if they were no different than using her hand to pick up a pencil. He wondered if he would be as open about having powers. Would he train them? Would he even be brave enough to embrace this abnormal aspect of his person?
“Careful, Ariel,” he warned.
“I can do it.”
She raised both of her hands above her head as if she was lifting an invisible object. It took a moment, but the mammoth Earth shifted and started to rise into the air. He watched her arms shaking from the exertion. He had never seen her move so much weight. Only a few months ago she had barely been able to lift herself. Now, he had to remind her to use her legs instead of hovering just above the ground.
He stepped up onto the side of the pool, his arms ready to catch her if she should fall. She flicked her wrist and a trapped rock flew off the disk. She lowered her arms slowly, taking care to return the giant globe back to its resting spot. She waited a moment and the scaled Earth began to spin with the water falling cascading down onto Atlas below.
“Wow,” Mark said in disbelief. “How do you feel?”
She spun around, her face revealing a giant smile. She floated down to his outstretched arms. He gave her a quick hug. “That was amazing.”
Her body suddenly went stiff. “Mark.”
Keeping her nestled against his body, he turned to see six security guards holding their weapons, each pointing directly at the two of them. In front of the guards, Goddard held a gun in his right hand while his left was held up in a fist.
“Put away your weapons,” Mark said with a shout. “Put away your fucking weapons!”
“Not till I’m sure we’re safe.”
Mark slid Ariel behind him, making sure to keep himself between her and the guns. “Stay here,” he said as he stepped down from the water fountain. He walked up to Goddard and met the man’s steely gaze. Eventually Goddard tucked the gun into his holster, never looking away from him.
“She’s a threat, Mark.” Mark balled up his fist and lunged at the head of security.
Goddard blocked the blow with his forearm. Before Mark could react, the muscular guard drew back his fist and landed it square in his gut. Mark buckled over from the blow, the wind knocked from his lungs. He grabbed his torso and tried not to hurl on the man’s shoes.
“Mark!” screamed Ariel.
He motioned with his hand for her not to move. He glanced up as the guards gasped. Mark watched the guns be pulled from their hands by an unseen force. Each weapon spun about, pointing at the guards. The gun on Goddard’s hip lifted from it holster and moved closer until it touched his forehead.
The man’s smile faded as the safeties flipped off on all the guns. Mark waved his hands at her. “Ariel, stop it.”
“They were going to hurt you, Mark.” Her feet hovered a few inches from the pool edge. He knew she was scared. Her body appeared as if it was moving in water, her hair floating about her face and the flannel starting to drift away from her body.
“It’s over, Ariel. Mr. Goddard is an asshole. You’re nothing like him. Be better than him, Ariel.”
Her feet touched down on the pavement. With a flick of her wrist, the magazine in each gun released and she ejected the bullet from the chamber. The guns fell to the floor. Mark reached out and took her hand. He walked away with her in tow, never looking back at the security guards. Tonight, she would stay in his apartment and he’d sleep in his armchair watching the door.
Chapter 6
2033
Twenty-Seven admired the town’s quaint charm, which made it difficult to believe New York City resided only an hour away. Where the city took on a life of its own, a thriving and living organism, Troy revealed a quieter atmosphere. The shops lining the downtown area had once been owned by real people and not large corporations. The barber shop and record store shared a sprawling red awning. Across the street was a small diner where she imagined locals gathered to drink plentiful cups of coffee while they gossiped about a new family moving into town.
It wasn’t what she had grown up with, but it was something she was growing to love, even if the n primary occupants were the ghosts of its former residents.
Twenty-Seven started to laugh.
Once upon a time, she had wanted to vacation in a small town like this with her husband. The man never made time for her unless it was at the empty end of a bottle and he needed somebody to receive his insecurities in the form of a fist. A year ago, when Vanessa saved her from the perils of the Danger Zone, she had feared saying farewell to the ghost of herself. From the ashes of a broken housewife rose a woman whose courage knew no bounds. Not a soul in the town knew her name from before; now they only called her “Twenty-Seven,” or “Twenty” for short.
A year ago she had been worried if she would survive the night. Now she served as the caretaker of a small town filled with Children of Nostradamus, people whose abilities were either too obvious for the casual world, or who wanted to hide away from the dangers of the modern society.
She stopped and stared inside the giant bay window of the barber shop. For some reason she always stopped to stare. She wondered who was getting their hair trimmed when the sirens foretelling the nuclear explosions were sounded. She assumed it was an ex-marine, getting the sides of his hair tightened as the barber and he swapped dirty jokes. Now it stood empty, t dust gathering on the black chair with duct-taped arms. They had talked about opening it up again, but the woman who currently served as their surgeon and barber much preferred to do her business at the former vet’s office.
A breeze caught the back of her neck, sending a cold gust of wind down her shirt. She pulled the military jacket closed, tying the makeshift belt around it tighter. She pulled the rifle off over her head and slung it over her other arm. Gun metal clanked against her metal hand. Despite not having nerve endings in her bionic limb, her brain responded as if the weapon grazed her skin and for a moment she thought about the cold of the gun.
Twenty-Seven froze as a shadow caught the edge of her peripheral vision. Troy had a self-imposed curfew and only the watchmen roamed the streets at night. Their community house
d forty-three individuals, all but four of them Children of Nostradamus. Three of the residents were loved ones and then there was her, somebody who owed her life to the Children. In the last year, she found being an Outlander and then a refugee with no home made her connect more with these hunted people than her own species.
A man at the next intersection stepped out from an alley, moving into the middle of the street. The flickering streetlight made the figure even more ominous. Every once in a while one of the townspeople would come out and join her on patrol, but this wasn’t anybody she recognized. She started to close the distance between them, trying to figure out who it might be. The man wore a vintage bomber jacket and slacks, making him appear as if he stepped out of an old movie.
“Who are you?”
Her voice broke the silence of the night, but there was no reply. The man reached into his jacket and pulled out something shiny in the light. She expected a gun, but couldn’t hide her amusement when she saw him holding a knife. She was holding a rifle with explosive rounds, something capable of winning a knife fight every time.
She stopped moving and lifted the rifle against her shoulder. The man took his first steps toward her. She eased down on the trigger. Before she fired, she found herself rolling along the ground from an impact from behind her.
She rolled along the ground and jumped back to her feet. A knee sped toward her face but she leaned out of the way of the blow. The second attacker, another bomber jacket owner, swung his knife, attempting to drag it across her throat. She grabbed his wrist and punched him across the face with her metallic hand. The blow cut into his cheek and spun his head to the side. She twisted his arm, threatening to pop it out of its socket.
“Who sent you?” He submitted as she used his bent arm to guide him to the ground. She had no problem throwing two goons around the street; it was the most action she’d seen in months.