“Why didn’t his adoptive parents want him?”
“No one knows for sure.”
My eyes shifted to Dusty. What could he possibly have done to make his family not want him? Moreover, how was his family killed?
“His foster parents said he was a demon or something evil.”
“That’s nonsense. A demon? Come on.” I let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m not saying I believe it. I was just saying.” I turned my attention back to Dusty. He reminded me of Lucien. Like a memory drifting through the leaves, I thought of his secret demons.
“Who was the dude in the suit?”
“Nobody,” I said.
“What went down in O’Neil’s office?” Victoria said. “He’s the weirdest dude; you do know that, right?”
“You’re cruel,” I snapped back.
“So what else is new?” she snickered. “Well, what gives? Why were you in her office? What did you do?”
“Nothing.” I looked sideways at Dusty. Maybe everything he told me was a fabrication of his imagination. That wouldn’t explain how he knew about Lucien. Maybe everything’s connected. It all seemed lucid, but what if his dreams were correct? Is Harmon wrong about O’Neil? Was I putting my trust in the wrong person? It was ten o’clock when the first alarm bell sounded for lights out. The fire was beginning to wane, and so was my confidence that everything was going to be fine. The patients were starting to head back inside. Dusty followed close behind me.
“D-Don’t believe anything V-Victoria said.” He touched my hand, almost holding it.
Startled by his sudden knowledge of what Victoria said, I felt unsure of his need to touch me. Was it a small signal or a cry for help? Should I take it as an invitation that Dusty was going to reveal some kind of secret?
“How did you hear our conversation? We were whispering.”
“I just did. That’s all,” Dusty said, letting go of my hand. He stepped back, his body still.
“You read my mind, didn’t you?”
“I can’t read minds, Sam. I dream of the future. I just had a feeling.”
“Why would anyone make that up?”
“B-Because I’m different, a-and people are a-a-afraid of what’s different.”
“Dusty, you need to calm down and go to bed. Everything is not always what it seems.”
“O’Neil?”
“Don’t you think if O’Neil were going to hurt me, she would’ve done it already?”
We were standing outside my room when a voice over the loudspeaker repeated that it was lights out.
“There’s more coming, Sam. I can feel it.”
“More what? What do you mean?” I asked.
Dusty shook his head, not knowing.
“Just go to bed,” I said, pausing to watch him walk down the hallway until he was out of my sight. With heavy steps, Dusty held his shoulders hunched over while his head tilted down. I wondered if that’s how it’s always been for him: the weight of the world on his shoulders. I didn’t mean to sound harsh. I wanted to believe O’Neil wouldn’t hurt any of us and that she was working with Harmon. I didn’t trust Dusty’s instincts, and I wasn’t sure about his wild suspicions, or what Victoria had to say.
29 Psycho
I scanned the hallway and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was past lights out, but I really needed to get the charred smell out of my hair. I gathered my toiletries, made silent steps out my room, and scurried toward the girls’ showers, looking over my shoulder the whole way. I waited until the showers were empty before I proceeded. I went over to the dressing room, and set my duffel bag on the bench outside the third shower stall. I pulled out my terry-cloth robe, and hung it on the gold hook outside the shower. As I pulled my sweat-pants down, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, remembering what Agent Harmon had said. I looked down at my thighs. My DNA, a commodity? What a joke.
I pulled the curtain back and went over to where I had laid my duffel and stuffed my clothes in it. I looked around fast, unhooked my bra, slid out of my panties, and scooted be-hind the shower curtain. I’d never get used to taking a shower here.
Once the water heated up, I reminisced about taking a bath at the Fosters’ ranch: all the beautiful flowers that surrounded me and the warm water coming out of the jets, caressing my skin. Most of all, I remember the look on Lucien’s face when he stood, watching me. All the fear of that frightful night vanished when I saw him. I closed my eyes, and for a quick moment, I felt his loving arms embrace me. I know it was just a make-believe fantasy; but it felt real to me, not like when I used to feel him in my room at night.
I bent my head back under the shower head and continued my daydream. I could almost feel Lucien’s presence in my mind; if I tried hard enough, I could wash away the present. The hot water rinsed the smoke smell out of my hair, and soon the tension of the day was leaving my tired body.
Who was I to judge Dusty about his dreams of outlandish stories? Was Agent Harmon telling a convincing lie? I should call the ranch and check to see if his claims are true, but my cell phone hasn’t been able to pick up a signal since O’Neil had confiscated it.
For a moment, I forgot where I was and leaned out of the shower and felt around for my shampoo and soap. I grabbed them both; the soap slipped out of my hand and fell. When I reached down to pick it up, the water shut off. What the—
I leaned back, shaking from the chill. Shit, shit, shit. I set the shampoo down and turned the knob for the hot water, and then the cold water. Nothing happened. I wrapped my soaking arms around my chest. Great, now what? Could the water be connected to a motion detector? I tried stepping back out of the shower stall, seeing if the water came back on. The lights went out. An image of Norman Bates holding a knife in Psycho flashed through my mind.
Why is this happening to me now?
I stood still as my heart thumped loudly in my chest. I held onto a metal railing in the stall, bracing myself with anticipation, waiting for the lights to turn back on, but they didn’t. I tried to find my robe in the dark, but no such luck. A rush of cool air surrounded my naked, wet body at the same moment heavy footsteps registered. I held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut. I grabbed the shower curtain from its brackets; each hook snapped. One by one the brackets broke until I was on the cold, wet, tile floor, wrapped in the curtain.
All of a sudden, the bright lights turned back on, along with the water. While my eyes ad-justed to the bright light, I pulled myself off the ground. A figure came into focus. It was Tom. He was leering at me with surprise, his bald head gleaming under the bright lights.
“Son of a bitch!” Tom yelped.
“Ahhhhh!”
Before I could curb my scream, I felt Tom’s massive hand on my mouth. I stumbled and fell into his scruffy arms. He squeezed one hand on my mouth and the other around my tor-so, crushing any air from my lungs. He brought his lips close to my ear, so close I could smell the bitter, stale coffee on his breath and the scent of the campfire.
“Hunter,” Tom said in a low voice. “I’ll take my hand from your mouth if you promise to keep quiet. Didn’t you hear the bell? It’s lights out, and I have strict orders to make sure you are safe.” He started to loosen his hold on my mouth. “Do you promise?”
I nodded my head and he slowly removed his hand. I pushed myself from his body, tightened my grip on the shower curtain with one hand, and wiped my mouth.
“T-Tom, what are y-you d-doing in here?” I said, catching my breath.
“You shouldn’t be in here now. Finish your shower and make it quick. I’ll wait for you outside.”
“Wait––how did you know I was in here?”
“Like I said, I have strict orders to keep an eye on you.”
“From whom?” I hissed.
“Dr. O’Neil and Agent Harmon.” He bent over and picked up my shampoo and handed it to me. I was still shakin
g when he turned away and walked out into the hallway.
There had to be more to Agent Harmon’s story. Why didn’t he tell me that he asked Tom to babysit me? As incredible as it was that the Fosters want to protect me, it just didn’t feel right. I realized Agent Harmon was worried, but my gut was telling me something wasn’t right. I needed to get to a computer, and I needed to get to one now.
I finished taking my shower and got dressed as quickly as possible. I needed Dusty’s help. I had to think of a way to get past Tom and get to Dusty.
30 Hacked
I pushed the shower room door open a smidgen and peeked my head out into the hall-way. I could see Tom sitting right in front of me on a chair outside the door. It was going to be a little tricky getting past this big lug. I waited until I saw his eyes droop, and then they were shut. I tiptoed through the door, and as quietly as a sigh, I snuck by him.
I found Dusty’s room, even in the obscure corridor. Thankfully, it wasn’t locked. Almost as if he were expecting me. I softly tiptoed up to his bed. He was sleeping like an angel. I hated waking him, but I had no choice. I had to get to a computer and find out if there was some significance to Greenbrier and Dusty. Most of all, I had to get a message to Cassiel.
I wished there was some way on Earth I could contact Lucien. Lucien, I need you. Where are you? With a gentle touch, I nudged Dusty, not wanting to scare him. He woke with a start, his lids popping wide open. Seeing it was me, his body relaxed.
“Dusty, you have to get me to a computer,” I whispered. “How come you don’t have a roommate?” I glanced at the vacant bed.
“I did. He went home before you got here. Why? What’s wrong?” He sat up in his bed, scratching his head.
“Tom scared the hell out of me in the shower. He caught me sneaking one after lights out. He said he had strict instructions to guard me,” I whispered.
“He’s guarding you? That d-doesn’t sound good.”
“I agree. It worries me. I didn’t think I actually needed a bodyguard here, but I got the impression from Harmon that I may be in danger, and that’s why I’m here. Why would I need to be followed to such a degree that Tom would be following me into the showers? I think Agent Harmon’s story isn’t right; there’s more to it. I know it. He’s hiding something from me,” I said, standing up.
Dusty pushed his covers back. He was already dressed in his jeans and a rock band T-shirt.
“What? I had a feeling I should be prepared.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
I wonder more about what kind of life he’d led up to that point that made him think he should wear street clothes to bed. There was an urgency to be ready for the unexpected, whatever that may be.
We went into the hallway, cautiously optimistic that we would find what we were looking for. We made our way past Tom. He was still slouched over in the chair outside the showers where I had left him. We whisked around the corner, then knelt down and scanned the hallway, making sure it was clear.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I muttered.
“O’Neil’s office,” he said without reservation.
“Are you sure about that?”
He peeked around the corner of the wall. “It’s the only place I know for sure that has a computer.” He turned to me with confidence. I was amazed. He hadn’t stuttered once.
We ducked and walked to O’Neil’s office. Dusty turned the knob, but it was locked, just as I had thought. He knelt down in front of the keyhole, jiggled the lock, and closed his eyes a moment. I watched him patiently, waiting for his next move. He looked down at my silver promise bracelet.
“Your b-bracelet—take it off.”
I looked down at the bracelet Mom had given me for my thirteenth birthday before taking it off.
“Is this valuable?” he asked.
“No, just sentimental.”
“You sure? I can find something else.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “No, go ahead; we might not get another chance.”
Dusty pulled the metal apart and straightened it out like he was straightening out a paper clip. He pushed the metal through the keyhole, jimmied it, and the door opened at once. Dusty turned and flashed me a smile. He made his way to O’Neil’s desk and hit the power button as I stood by the door, making sure Tom didn’t wake up.
Dusty was hitting all types of letters and numbers, trying to hack her computer password.
“In,” Dusty said, surprised.
I ran over to his side and asked him to Google Greenbrier.
He did a fast search; there were so many hits with the same result: that Greenbrier was a hotel, nothing more.
“Are you sure you got the word spelled right from your dream? Are you positive it was Greenbrier and not something different? Why would you dream about a hotel?”
“Uh huh, I’m positive.”
I couldn’t think under pressure, and right then it felt as if my head were in a pressure cooker. I looked at the clock—a little after midnight. The night guard would be starting his shift soon. I was getting nervous about getting caught. Dusty looked at me, waiting for my next query.
“We need to email the Fosters. For some reason, I can’t get a hold of Cassiel when I call his number.”
“What’s next?”
“Okay, open up Outlook and type in Cassiel’s email address: [email protected].” What the—? “It’s already in the address book?”
If O’Neil has Cassiel’s email address, then maybe Harmon was on the level. I emailed Cassiel an S.O.S.
Cassiel,
I’m emailing you from Oakridge Estates in Santa Fe. Agent Harmon and Dr. O’Neil said Jordan arranged for me to be sent here. I think something’s going on. Please get word to your uncle.
Sam
“Is that it?” Dusty said.
I nodded, and he hit the power button and shut the computer off. I didn’t have a clue what to do next. I thought the best thing to do was to get some sleep. If Dusty were going to dream something of value, now would be a good time.
“Now what?” Dusty ran his fingers through his blond locks; at that moment, he reminded me of Lucien.
“We go to bed,” I said with a surge of energy.
We left the same way we had come to O’Neil’s office. I made sure Dusty was back in his bed, and I tiptoed back to my room. Victoria was snoring away. I crawled under my covers and thought to myself, Why was Dusty dreaming of a hotel? If it is a sign or warning of something to come, what could it possibly be?
31 Night Terror
I’m ninety-nine percent sure I was having one of those horrifying nightmares where you’re paralyzed, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t move a muscle. Standing above me were hovering figures.
What are they?
I tried to scream...but no sound escaped my lips. It was as though my vocal cords had been slashed. I’d felt a presence in my room before, but this presence was by no means comforting. This was something evil and sinister.
All I could move were my eyes. Oh, my God, what was happening? I tried to lift my arms and legs in a vain attempt to escape, but they were lead weights. Fear ripped through me as I ferociously moved my eyes back and forth among the images standing at the foot of my bed. I tried again to move my body: nothing.
Dark shadows underneath the closed door moved back and forth. At a snail’s pace, it creaked opened, revealing the source of my nightmarish state. The images I saw, I knew. I tried to move my head, but it was pointless; I let my eyes wander. Victoria was still sleeping soundly.
A chill enfolded my body. I shivered as the covers lifted off of me, exposing my bare arms and legs. Even though my vision was impaired, I saw O’Neil. What was happening to me? O’Neil and Tom, the orderly who I thought was here to protect me, were there.
Tom leaned over me; his heavy hands held my legs
down. What was the point? I was paralyzed; it had to be his ruthless desire to torment me. I tried to open my mouth and couldn’t speak.
My heart pounded hard against my ribs as I lay helpless. O’Neil held a black leather case in her palm; her eyes met mine while she slowly unzipped it. Her ivory skin was transparent against her ebony hair. She wore it pulled back in a taut bun away from her face, but her eyes brought terror with each flutter of her lashes. I’ve seen eyes like that before, in the woods at the state fair—the same dark eyes as the men in black. The same night I learned about MJ 12, the code for the secret military group who investigated the 1947 Roswell crash.
O’Neil’s eyes transformed into the same kind of black liquid tar, and they were looking down at me with hate. Tom was different, too. This Tom was sinister and malevolent, with those same disturbing black tar eyes. Oh God, Dusty was right. He tried to warn me. Why didn’t I believe him?
I looked down at his hands. He was carrying a black cloth sack. I knew what he intended to do. His massive body lingered while O’Neil smiled and stepped right up to me, holding a metal syringe she’d taken out of the black zippered case. I felt searing tears release from the corners of my eyes and slide down my cheeks. I wanted to scream, but no matter how hard I tried, not a sound escaped my lips.
O’Neil glided her hand over my collarbone as if she were inspecting a piece of expensive furniture. Her ice cold touch pierced through my body as her nails dug into my flesh. She held my forearm tightly. I flinched as a needle punctured my skin and watched as the vial filled with my blood. She smiled as she took out the needle. I cringed, holding my breath and squeezing my eyes shut.
“Now, now, Samantha,” O’Neil said in a low, gruff tone. “Open your eyes.”
I wanted to ignore her, but I didn’t. I opened them and looked right at the evil bitch.
“It will hurt only a second more; after that, you won’t feel a thing.”
Equinox (Beyond Moondust Trilogy Book 2) Page 9