by A. S. Oren
Pete is one of the Orchard hands. “Oh, hey, Pete. Nice to hear from you. Can you put Ed on the phone?”
He goes silent for too long.
“Pete? You there?”
“I’ve got some bad news.”
My heart sinks. “What is it?”
More silence. “Edgar’s, Ed’s, Edgar’s.”
“Yi-yeah, what about him?” My mouth has lost all spit.
“Avalon, he passed away this morning.”
Shock
“I’m sorry? I don’t think I heard you correctly.” The pins and needle sensation breaks out all over my body. He didn’t just say what I think he said. No, it’s not possible.
“He passed away. I’m sorry. Didn’t your school tell you?”
I’m so cold. I swallow hard. “What?”
“Your school. There are people here that say they are from your boarding school. They’re packing things up. I figured they—”
“Pete?” the line has gone dead. I sit up. People from the school are there, touching our things?
“Avalon, I have lost the connection. Would you like for me to try calling again?”
I shake my head and stand. I need to speak to Perlow. The room spins and I fall back onto my bed.
“Do you need medical attention, Avalon? I can call Dr. Quinn.” Enid takes a step closer to me.
I shake my head. “No, I need to speak with Perlow.” I stand again. This time, I push through the dizziness and stumble toward my open door. Enid follows behind me.
“Avalon, your heart rate and blood pressure are reaching dangerous levels. I really advise you to see Dr. Quinn, immediately.”
All the hair on my body is standing on end. A hot tear trails down my cheek. “I need to see Perlow. Where is he?” I look to her.
“I’m sorry, Avalon. His whereabouts cannot be tracked by me. I do not have the appropriate security clearance. I can send him an email if you would like. To request a meeting time that will work for the both of you? Perhaps, tomorrow, before dinner?”
I shake my head again. The heat of bile moving up my throat propels me forward, to the kitchen trashcan. The little food that was in my stomach from tea time with Paden comes up.
He can’t be dead. It’s not possible. He’s Ed. He was supposed to be one of those people who live into their hundreds. The tight pain in my chest makes it difficult to breathe. A sob erupts from me. I fall to my knees, taking the trashcan with me, it topples to the floor.
“Avalon, I’m going to call Doctor Quinn now. You are in need of medical attention.”
I shake my head, but my crying doesn’t cease and I can’t form the word ‘no’ to make her stop. She’s already calling him.
“I’ll be right over,” Quinn says, his voice resonating throughout the room.
A voice eases into my mind. ‘He’s not dead. This is all just a bad dream. Like the ones you had when you were little.’
My sobbing eases, and I wipe the tears away. Yes, this is all a dream. Edgar wouldn’t leave me without saying goodbye. He’s not the type to be taken down by a common cold. An unreal calm overtakes me. I’m floating. Looking down, my body is still firmly on the ground.
I crawl over to one of the white loveseats and get on it. I’ll close my eyes. When I open them, I’ll find out this is all just a horribly messed up dream.
As soon as my eyes close, a knock sounds at my door. My eyes fly open, I’m still lying on the couch in the living room.
“I will get the door for you, Avalon.”
I sit up. Why am I still in my living room? It was supposed to be a dream. Enid opens the door and in walks not only Dr. Quinn, but Perlow and Roseman as well. Perlow and Dr. Quinn look at me like they are approaching a scared and wounded animal; Roseman keeps his eyes to the ground.
“Is it true?” My voice comes out scratchy, as if I have swallowed sandpaper.
Perlow takes the first real steps toward me and starts to raise his hands, as if I’m going to lash out him. His eyes tell me the answer before his mouth does. “I’m sorry, Miss Clementine.”
The tightness in my chest has come back, my heart hurts. I swallow hard. I don’t want to cry in front of them, but my body doesn’t seem to care. The tears flow regardless of me trying to hold them back. “I want to see him. I want to see the Orchard.”
Perlow frowns. “I’m sorry, we can’t do that.”
What? “Wa-why?”
Roseman looks up now and gives me a smile. “Because you won’t remember any of this, or your adoptive father.”
“I don’t understand.” It’s the only thing that falls out of my mouth. My mind is too blurry to fully comprehend the meaning of his words.
I blink, and Dr. Quinn disappears before my eyes. A hand touches my shoulder. I look behind me in time to see Dr. Quinn standing there, holding a syringe. He frowns, as he tilts my head to the side. The needle goes into my neck with a slight pinch. I try to move away, but he has a firm hold on my head. He leans his face close to my ear, his breath cold against my skin as he says, “I’m sorry, sweetie. I don’t want to do this, but my hands are tied.”
The liquid into my veins, like sludge, it takes over my body. My eyes are open, and can blink, but I can’t move. The sludge moves down into my fingers and toes. I’m thinking about the words I want to say, but my mouth doesn’t move in order to form them.
“Avalon, stand,” says Roseman. Like a marionette, I stand. What is going on? How is he controlling me? “Follow us.”
“Do you wish for me to go with you, Avalon?” asks Enid, stopping Roseman from walking out of the room.
He turns to look at her and glances at me. “Tell her that she will not be needed right now.”
My body is as stiff as a board. I turn to look at Enid. I want to say something else, I want to tell her to find the boys and tell them what is going on, but instead, I say, “I do not need your services right now, Enid. Thank you.” Fear grips me as I watch her fold up into her card form and fall to the ground.
R.I.P Avalon Clementine
Roseman and the other two have me follow them to a section Spearwood that I’ve never seen. We went through several long halls and down an elevator to get where we are now. Metal walls surround us; the floor made from metal grates. We clang as we move down the hallway. I want to move my head and look around, but it stays facing straight ahead and there is little I can see with just moving my eyes. I feel like I have just walked into a government testing facility, like the ones they show on TV.
After what could have only been an hour’s walk, we come to a dead end. A large metal door stands in front of us. On the wall, off to the side of it, a small panel blinks with a green light. “Open door,” says Roseman.
“Request denied. Retinal scan required,” says a woman’s voice.
Roseman sighs and looks back at Perlow. “I thought I told you to have someone come and fix the voice recognition system.”
“I did have someone come fix the voice recognition system. I guess you are not saying it correctly. It’s not an A.I.” Bitterness comes off of Perlow like a tidal wave. It is odd to see the dynamics of their roles in reverse. I guess Roseman isn’t the lapdog. Why did they want to make me think Perlow was the one running the show?
“Useless, utterly useless. Why do I keep you around?”
Perlow lets out a scoff. “Because our Shared father tells you to.”
All color drains from Roseman’s face. He turns back around and leans over, his eye level with the panel. A laser comes out and scans his eye. “Welcome, Oliver Roseman.” The metal door slides open. Cool air rushes over me. Ahead of me stands a stark white room, a long backed and padded white chair sits at the center. Roseman has me follow him into the room and points to the chair. “Sit there.”
The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end. Every fiber of my being tells me to fight and not get in the chair. Something bad is about to happen. I try to override whatever is controlling me and listening to his commands, but my sheer
willpower alone does nothing to stop my body from sitting down in the chair.
“Perlow, bring down the helmets.”
Perlow stands by the wall in front of me. He sighs and touches the wall with his hand. A screen appears on the wall, like one that appeared when Enid called Dr. Quinn from my room. How is he able to do that?
On the screen is a picture of me and below it is one of Roseman. I don’t remember it being taken. Next to the pictures are heart monitors. Mine is beating slower than Roseman’s, much slower.
Two helmets with full visors float down from the ceiling. They hover above mine and Roseman’s head. “That will be all, Perlow.”
Perlow glances in my direction, frowns and nods. He flies into the air and shifts into one of the black cards, landing in Roseman’s hand. Did that really just happen?
“Quinn, put the helmet on her head and monitor our vitals. It’s up to you to make sure neither one of us dies in this process.”
“Of course,” says Dr. Quinn. He comes to stand in front of me. His ring fingers painted a metallic orange this time. He frowns, as he grasps the helmet and lowers it onto my head. The world around me turns a solid black. Instantly, a claustrophobic feeling overtakes me. If I had control of my body right now, I would be hyperventilating.
A white dot appears in front of me. It moves back and forth, all the while picking up speed, it looks like nothing more than a white line. It grows vertically until only white is in front of me. My eyes are on fire. I shut them and reach up with my hand to rub them. Wait, I can move again?
I open my eyes. I’m standing in a room with television monitors surrounding me. Right in front of me, at the center of it all, is the largest monitor. What is going on?
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” I look to my left. Roseman has appeared, hands folded behind his back.
“What have you done to me?”
“We’re inside your head. I can control your memories from here. Erase some, create others. You are mine to mold.”
“Go to hell. You aren’t doing any of that to me.”
He gives a laugh and moves to stand in front of me. He looks down into my eyes. “I’ve been in hell for years. You have no control. You can’t stop this.” His finger tilts my chin up. I try to bat his hand away, but once again, my body won’t listen to me. The pad of his thumb runs over my lower lip. “It’s a shame you’re still a child. You’d make a nice mate. Guess I will just have to wait three more years.”
My skin crawls. “You’re sick.” Disgust would be an understatement when it comes to this man.
He sighs. “I suppose I am.” Turning away from me, he moves to my right side and looks at the screens. It’s only now that I realize they are playing memories from my childhood.
My fifth birthday, when Edgar gave me the sketch pad and color pencil set I had been asking for him to get me for a month.
The day I punched Maverick in the face and finally stood up to him.
The first time I ever tried an apple from the Orchard and the look of happiness on Edgar’s face when he saw how much I loved it.
Edgar, is he really gone? The pain in my chest has come back. Several hot tears escape and fall down my cheeks.
He grins at me. “Savor the moment.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s dead now. You won’t see him again, ever. Savor this moment. It’s the last time you will ever see his face as well. I will be your father now.”
“You’re insane if you think that will ever happen. I will never call you my father.”
“We will see about that.”
Childhood Anew
Roseman waves his hand in front of the monitors, I turn to look at them. An old man stands on the screen. He’s scratching his balding head, a text book in his hands. An odd sensation, like I should know him over takes me. My cheeks are wet, reaching up I touch them. Have I been crying? Why was I crying?
“Who’s that on the screen?” I ask.
Roseman smirks. “No one important.” The old man disappears from the screen. A sadness at seeing him go away seeps into my heart. How strange. “Who is your father?”
My father? I frown. Who is my father? I should know this, it’s a simple question. I try to bring the answer up in my mind, but I’m drawing a blank. How do I not know who my father is? “I don’t know.”
He waves his hand again. A warmness washes over me. I blink. “Who is your father?”
I laugh. “What kind of question is that? You.” I frown. Is that right? It doesn’t feel right, but I know it’s true. So weird.
“Right. I want you to watch some things.” Dad motions to a place behind me. I turn my head. A chair sits there now.
I take a seat. “Why are we here?”
He takes a seat next to me, in his own chair. “Going down memory lane. Indulge your dad.”
I lift an eyebrow and laugh. “You can be so weird sometimes.” I turn back the screens. On the one in center plays out a memory I barely remember. It almost looks foreign to me, but it can’t be, we’re in my head, after all.
In the memory I’m about eight years old.
I’m playing in my room, combing the hair of one of the many porcelain dolls I own. I’m pretending that she’s getting ready for her wedding to Prince Charming.
“Avalon! Come down stairs. There’s people here I want you to meet,” calls the voice of my mother.
My mother? “I didn’t have a mother growing up,” I say, looking over to dad.
“Shhh, keep watching.”
I shake my head and look at the screen.
I’ve just started to go down the stairs.
I enter the parlor room. A bunch of grownups are standing around, with some kids, boy kids. My mother’s features match mine. Goldilocks hair, brown eyes and tan skin. She turns to me and smiles. A warmth of happiness fills me. Her hand reaches out toward me. Dad comes to stand next to her, he puts a hand on her lower back.
“Avalon, come here.” I go to her and she tugs on me to stand in front of her. Her hands hold onto my shoulders. I look at the boys, most of them look to be about my age. They stare back at me, we are each trying to figure out the other. “Avalon, these men are your father’s old school friends, their wives, and their children. Why don’t you go make friends with them and show them the back yard?”
I knew she wasn’t asking me to. She was telling me, it was my job to play host to the people my own age. “Okay, come on.” I beckon them to follow me.
I start to walk away, in the direction of our back yard, when I’m stopped. “Avalon,” calls my dad. “You are forgetting someone.” He points to one of his old friends wives. Hiding behind her is one of the boys. I walk over to him.
“Are you coming? The grownups have grown up things to do. I promise I’ll be fun. I just got a trampoline for my birthday. We can pretend to fly like our daddies do.” I hold out my hand. His curly gold hair falls into his brown eyes. I feel like I’m looking into a mirror.
He edges out from behind his mom and starts to take my hand; he looks up at his mom, as if asking if it’s okay. She smiles at him and nudges him toward me. “Go on, Amr. Go have fun with your new friends.”
Taking my hand, he and I lead the group again. Just before we turn the corner, I hear one of the other men say, “Does she know she’s been born with the gift to shift. The first girl in a thousand years.” My mother shushes him.
I want to stay back and spy on them now, but I won’t get anywhere with it, not with all these boys around.
We head outside. I turn to them. “So, what’s your names?”
A boy with long black hair and the strangest eyes I have ever seen—yellow, like a cat’s eyes—takes a step forward. “I’m Dante. Nice to meet cha!” He holds his hand out to me. I take it and he shakes mine with enthusiasm.
Next, a boy with short brown hair, green eyes and glasses steps forward. He gives a half bow to me before saying, “Nice to meet you, Miss Roseman. I’m Horace, Horace King.”
Is he for real? This isn’t one of dad’s banquets. “Call me Avalon, or Avvi.”
My eyes drift over to the older boy standing next to Horace. He has to be at least a year or two older than me. His sandy blond hair reaches just the middle of his ears and is swept back. His eyes are a deep blue. He seems to be waiting for me to ask him who he is. I swear he’s annoyed that I didn’t ask him who he was before the others started to introduce themselves. “And you are?” I ask.
He smiles and puts a hand to his chest. “I’m glad you asked.”
The boy directly behind him—he has dark, long black hair with an odd white streak within his bangs. His eyes remind me of ice—He rolls his eyes and makes a ‘blah’ ‘blah’ motion with his hand. This causes me to snicker. The boy’s eyes narrow and he looks behind him, the other boy has gone back to normal. “Excuse my brother, he can be immature at times. As I was saying,” The other boy goes back to making fun of his apparent brother. I try to hold in the laugh, the other boy is smiling at me now. I look at the ground, trying to regain my composure. My mother would have a fit if she saw me acting this way while being introduced to people. “I’m Paden Hansen and the moron behind me is Maverick. Except for those three,” He points to Horace, Amr and one brooding boy—who is standing with another blond boy—“We’re all Royals.”
My eyes go wide. I instantly go into a curtsy. “I’m so sorry for any disrespect I may have shown you.” My mother’s going to kill me when she found out I laughed at a Royal. ‘Dear, Sun god, please show kindness on this day.’
The kid named Dante comes forward and throws a lazy arm around my shoulder. “Relax, except for him, the rest of us don’t care about the title. He leads me over to the other two I have yet to meet. “These losers, but my best buds, are Triton,” he motions to the blond haired boy. His hair reaches just above his shoulders and his eyes remind me of the time I saw the sea for the first time. A small mole sits on his right cheek. I give him a smile.