“He really did think of everything, didn’t he?” I am in awe of my father.
“So far. Let’s hope our luck holds.” John carefully maneuvers us out of the trees and back on the highway. I give him some peace while he goes through the motions of looking for a tail and settling in to drive. Fifteen hours, alone in a car, with the only boy who has ever made my stomach turn circles. Great, I can do this.
Chapter 12
The rage that fills Dr. Andrew Cox is evident only in the set of his mouth and the cold, dead look in his eyes. Tiring of looking at the objects of his anger, he turns to study the fake diplomas on the wall. Trevor Madison did a good job hiding himself and his family in this horrid little town. Not that it would be hard to fool the locals, nothing but farmers and tradesmen. There is not one aspect of Painted Rock, Nebraska that would draw a doctor of his considerable talents.
Which of course is the genius behind the location. “Well done, Trevor,” Cox says, refusing to look at the other people in the room. “Or do you prefer Jackson these days? Seventeen years...quite a feat when you consider who was looking for you.” The calculated way he refuses to look at anyone else establishes his dominance while simultaneously showing his disdain for his inferiors. “Seventeen years, and you were only minutes too late to get away.”
“Where are they?” he asks, finally turning and looking down at the two people on their knees in the center of the room.
Silence.
“You know I will get my answer one way or another, Trevor. Why not make it easier on yourself and your lovely wife?”
Silence.
Cox raises his head to the man issuing a silent command. Colonel Mays moves forward. Cox enjoys the discomfort of the Colonel. Serves him right; how dare he question Cox on any matter concerning the Pandora Project. Since he was so interested in finding the Sullivan boy, Cox decided to let him play an intimate role.
Colonel Mays strikes the woman once; a hard blow across the cheekbone that leaves a long ragged gash, blood running down and dripping off her chin. Cox admires her strength when she recovers enough to kneel proudly before him. The strong ones are more fun to break. “Heal her,” Cox demands.
Jackson Mills reaches over and places his hand on his wife’s face. While the blood remains, when he removes his hand, her face is unmarred, perfect. Jackson’s brow furrows when he makes eye contact with Cox. He knows what is in store and the knowledge is already eating away at his soul.
Without being prompted, Colonel Mays delivers another brutal blow, the power behind it enough to throw Anne against the couch.
Cox’s eyes light as he relishes the moment. This might even be worth the wait.
Chapter 13
When the world comes crashing down around all of us, I am sure I will look back on this morning and feel nothing but supreme guilt for enjoying myself so completely. The blame lies squarely on John’s shoulders. He makes me feel normal. He knows what I am; just that is different from anyone I’ve known before. But John knows what I am and he still wants to be with me. After the seriousness of last night, we have spent all morning getting to know each other.
We’ve discussed our favorites (favorite food, color, song, movie, TV show, memory, you name it.) Stopped for gas at a questionable gas station and it would have been nicer to be back in the woods for the restroom, but John felt it was a pretty safe bet. Ate a snack (my favorite trail mix, thanks again Dad!) and just acted like two normal teenagers. But every time I see my gloves I’m reminded: I’m not normal, and neither is he.
“Tell me about this ‘slightly above average’ business,” I say with a sigh and look out the window, knowing I am letting go of our carefree morning.
He takes a while to answer so I look at him expectantly, he gets better looking every time I do. “Don’t be modest, now is not the time. I really want to know.” Still he doesn’t say anything. “The truth.”
“Truthfully? I’m pretty incredible,” he says it so straight faced I have to laugh. When I do he also breaks out a smile and my heart melts a little more. It’s not fair to fall in love, I don’t deserve it, but he is making it really hard not to.
“What makes you incredible?” Other than how you make me feel?
“High IQ, not genius level, but pretty high. I’m stronger than I look, can run at a full sprint for miles and all sports come to me very easily. I rarely get sick or hurt and even when I do, I recover faster than most people.”
He lists everything so casually I am not sure he is serious. “Are you kidding me?” I ask, my eyes bulging.
“Nope.”
“I would say that is pretty super human already, why do you need me? Why does Dr. Cox need me? It seems he can have his little super army without me!” And no one needs to suffer the same fate as my grandmother…or my bathroom sink.
“No one would argue that what he has done isn’t incredible, at least they wouldn’t if he shared his little experiments with the world. The problem is that we aren’t exceptional enough. Not yet. Everything I am and can do, people who have not been genetically altered can also do. Maybe not all of it, and maybe not as naturally, but they can. That is not enough for Dr. Cox
“It isn’t enough…” his voice trails off and he hits the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.
“It isn’t enough for you?” I ask, knowing that is what was left unsaid.
“Not like you think,” he hesitates, not having the right words to let me know what he feels. “It is enough for me, more than enough, but I don’t feel…right.” He shakes his head, not liking the word, “Not right, I don’t feel complete. That’s not it either.” He shakes his head in frustration again and my heart goes out to him.
“I feel anxious, all the time. Anxious that I am not living up to my potential, but it isn’t in my head, it is throughout my entire body. I’m not explaining it right.” Again, he hits the steering wheel. I don’t know what to say or do, but I am starting to get anxious as well, I do know what he is talking about, I feel it too.
“Have you ever been really riled up for something, a race or a big game or a fight?” he is talking faster, trying to express how he feels. I just nod my head, I don’t want to interrupt his momentum. “Then you know that feeling when the adrenaline is rushing through your veins and you can’t wait to get started, you know that the rush of the action will exhilarate you, will propel you and will exhaust you.”
Again, I just nod my head. “That is how I feel all the time. I am waiting for the start of something big, but it never comes.” He takes a deep breath trying to relax.
“I don’t believe you,” I say, “you always look so poised, so calm. It’s almost unnatural for a teenager. There is no way you can feel that way all the time.”
“It’s true. My parents had me on so many drugs as a kid, trying to help me get it under control, but nothing worked. As I got older I used some of my superior intellect,” he winks at me, “and superior physical attributes to get it under control. I am constantly working to not let it show.”
“And you think if I ‘activate’ you, it will all go away?”
“I don’t know what I think. I know Dr. Cox thinks you are the key…you are his Pandora and I am your box. But what will you release?”
And that is the question. What will I release? Will I release visions that drive you to suicide? Will I release psychotic tendencies that lead to the deaths of those around me? Will I create another healer, another telepath, another Pandora?
I stare at John and he lets me. He keeps his eyes on the road and lets me think. I want to help him, I want to be the one who releases all his potential because I believe it will be great. I want to do it for him, but I also want to do it for me. I’m tired of not knowing what I am capable of either. I’m tired of being afraid of what I am, I don’t want to be a monster, and if I make people better, if I release the very best they have to offer…I couldn’t possibly be a monster, could I?
Before I think myself out of it I rip off my glove and r
each toward John. He jerks away from me, a look of horror on his face, “What are you thinking?!” he screams at me.
Rejection, humiliation, hurt; I don’t know which I feel the strongest, or which one fills my eyes with tears as I quickly put my glove back on. “I thought it was what you wanted,” I whisper, biting my lower lip to keep the tears from dripping down my cheeks.
“Oh, Paige,” he reaches out but I lean as far as I can against the door. Maybe it will open and end this humiliation. “Please don’t cry.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and I can’t pull away, there isn’t enough room in the small car.
“I didn’t mean it, you just surprised me. I only meant: you can’t do this while I’m driving. We don’t know what is going to happen. I don’t want to take out any innocent motorists. Do you?”
He’s right, I wasn’t thinking, I just wanted to get it over with. Digging the heel of my palm into my eyes to push away any tears, I croak, “I’m sorry.” My voice cracks and that just adds to my distress. Squeezing my shoulder, he puts both hands on the wheel.
“Let’s find an exit, shall we?” But now I’m not so sure. You can’t shake a girl’s confidence like that and expect her to turn you into a superhero. That’s just not how it works. He reaches to take my hand again, and I let him.
Two exits up the road there is a sign for a county park. John takes the exit and easily follows the markers leading to the park. It is a beautiful drive on a winding road through gorgeous trees. I can almost see the excitement and expectation radiating off of him. It is almost enough to wipe away the hurt.
The road ends at a picnic ground on a river. This is exactly the kind of place my parents would take me on a weekend: secluded but beautiful. The kind of place you don’t even have to get out of the car to know what it smells like, what it will feel like when the wind ruffles your hair and nips at your nose. There is no one here, but John doesn’t park. Instead he takes us down a maintenance road and away from the picnic area. He finally stops the car when the road shifts to a trail. He jumps out of the car and runs around the car to open my door.
Not moving, I just sit there, apprehensive now. This is exactly what I didn’t want time to think about. What if he turns on me? What if this is all part of what he is supposed to be doing for Dr. Cox? What if I go all Iron Man again and blow a hole through those perfectly shaped abs?
He pulls me out of the car and we stand facing each other. His beautiful smile lights up his face and warms my heart, but I can’t bring myself to return it. If I close my eyes, maybe this will all disappear. I just want to go home and see my parents. I want them to tell me what to do, who to trust. John reaches out with both of his hands to enfold my own. Does he realize he is actually bouncing with excitement? I still don’t move, or open my eyes.
Minutes, or maybe just seconds later, he gently shakes my hands. “I won’t jerk away, this time. I promise.” Knowing he is teasing me doesn’t help.
Opening my eyes, I look deep into his and don’t break eye contact as I release his hands and pull the glove off my right hand. Reaching up slowly, tentatively, I place my palm gently against his cheek. He closes his eyes and holds his breath and…nothing happens.
Chapter 14
Ripping off the other glove, I cup his face firmly in both hands; again nothing. He opens one eye and I pat his cheeks, gently at first but in my panic wind up slapping a lot harder than I realize. Forcing myself to stop, my hands drop limply to my sides.
“Well that was a little anticlimactic,” John says, trying to relieve the tension, but it the straw that breaks this camel’s back.
“You have got to be freaking kidding me!” I scream. “Seventeen years I have been wearing these gloves! Seventeen years! For nothing! I am being chased by a psychopath, my parents are who knows where and all for what? Nothing!”
As I pace wildly back and forth, leaves crunching loudly beneath my feet, my hands start trembling. Remembering the sink, I try to control my emotions, but it is all too much. Looking down at my shaking hands, they start to glow. Before I realize what is happening, John reaches out and grabs both hands, as soon as we make contact I release all the pent up energy and frustration through my hands and into his.
The force of the energy leaving my body picks him up and throws him away from me and against a tree. Too stunned to move, I stare numbly at the heap of his body. From this distance it is impossible to see if he is still breathing. After several endless moments, John’s whole body jerks and he gasps for breath. The sudden movement breaks my trance and I am able to move.
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” I repeat over and over, running to him as quickly as my numb legs will allow. His eyes are closed and his hands have smoke curling away from them, but I don’t see any damage. There is no blood, no burns, nothing. “John, John,” shaking him lightly, I beg him to wake up. Please, please wake up.
“Now that is more like it,” he smiles and opens his eyes. They are so green and so alive. He reaches over, holding my face in a death grip and kisses me. It is not a gentle, sweet kiss. It is passionate, strong and exciting. It takes my breath away and makes me forget where I am, if this is his new super power, I’ll take it!
He jumps up, leaving me sitting on the forest floor in shock and wonder. He takes off at a full sprint. It is a beautiful thing, graceful and long and fast. Not Superman fast, but faster than I have ever seen anyone run. He runs until I can’t see him, but then he is back almost before I know it. He runs up a nearby tree and does a backflip from about six steps up.
He is whooping and hollering, but it is such a beautiful sound of joy that I can’t bring myself to stop him, even though it worries me someone might hear us. I look around constantly, waiting for someone to step out and grab us, but my eyes always find his again and I can’t help but feel a part of his celebration.
After he has run, jumped, flipped, kicked, punched, shouted and made an utter fool of himself, he runs back to me, pulls me up from the ground and suspends me in the air in a hug that threatens to suffocate me. He rapid fire kisses me all over my face and neck, I squirm a little when he hits sensitive spots below my ear. This movement brings him back a little bit and the kisses slow. His lips start tracing a slower, deeper pattern along my jaw line back to my waiting lips.
If I ever get the chance to look back on these days and moments, I am going to pretend that this is my first kiss. It is everything I always knew I don’t deserve, but have wanted anyway. As I wrap my arms around the back of his neck, I see the one thing that can ruin this perfect moment; my hands are a brilliant white that actually light up his face when they are near. Thanks for the reminder universe!
I don’t know if John feels the heat, is blinded by the glow or just notices my hesitation but he pulls my arms down and wraps his large hands around mine. “You, young lady, have a control issue.” He says it like a reprimand, but he can’t keep the smile from his lips or his eyes.
“You might be right,” I joke back. The heat doesn’t seem to bother him and I don’t pull my hands away. The feel of his hands around my bare ones is almost as intimate as his kisses. Closing my eyes, I take deep breaths, trying to get a hold of my spinning emotions. John patiently waits, rubbing circles on the back of my hands with his thumbs. Shouldn’t it be obvious that the intimacy doesn’t help me control my heart rate.
After a few moments, I open my eyes to reveal my completely normal hands nestled in his. He is staring at me, that same smile on his face, “I think this answers a lot of questions, don’t you?” he asks.
It takes a couple more seconds for me to be sure I am under control before I answer, “But begs quite a few more.”
“Maybe, but nothing we can’t figure out, especially now, with my supercharged brain,” he wiggles his eyebrows and I am amazed he can make me feel so normal after the last few minutes.
He pulls me back toward the car but I stop him, which is kind of like reigning in a horse. “Wait, take your shirt off,” I demand.
“W
hy, Paige, I thought you wanted to take things a little slower,” he teases but doesn’t hesitate to throw his shirt off and move to embrace me again.
Stepping back, I put my hand against his chest, impressed by how rock hard his pects are, “That is not what I mean and you know it. I just want to see…” I pull back to look at his chest and shoulders. I turn him around looking at his back, which I am much more familiar with, having studied it at length a couple of times over the last couple of days. There is no denying it, the physical changes are astounding. Where he was well defined but lean just minutes ago, everything has expanded and he is now, Wow. I think back to our Captain America conversation and can’t help but notice the similarities.
“Do you see this?” I ask, pointing at all of him as he turns back around.
“I knew almost immediately,” he replies almost shy.
“Did it hurt?”
“It felt like getting hit by lightning, but I think I passed out.” He is smiling as he says it, but I know it must have been agony, I mean come on, getting hit by lightning? “When I woke up, there was no pain, I felt amazing. I still do. I feel alive, and happy and strong. Invincible almost.” He radiates happiness and I am happy just being near him.
“How did you know your appearance changed?”
“I’ve been wearing your dad’s clothes for the past day, and they were OK, but a little baggy. When I woke up, everything was tighter, almost uncomfortable. It’s pretty obvious, right? I guess that is not far from what the Hulk goes through, huh?” he must remember our conversation as well.
“Yeah, but that is all science fiction! This is our lives.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the car again. “What is that old saying?” he asks. “With a little time and ingenuity science fiction becomes science fact.”
“Yeah, but I want my life to be a fairy tale, not a comic book,” I mumble.
He stops abruptly and I smack right into him, he is kissing me before I know it, “Why can’t it be both?” he asks between kisses. He pulls me into his arms and cradles me like a baby all the way to the car.
The Pandora Project Page 9