Aberrate

by Wendi Wilson

  “Always,” Silas says.

  “Forever,” Slade adds.

  I hear footsteps as the others tromp down the stairs with their stuff, and I know it’s time to go. We don’t have time to run to Greenwich and borrow Mrs. Madsen’s van, so Savanna and the Pattons climb into their truck and me and the Madsen boys hop into my car.

  Silas insists on driving, saying my day has been way too stressful and I should relax in the back with Slade. I don’t argue. I’d much rather snuggle in the back with one of my guys than drive, any day. Silas follows Jett and, as we head out on the highway, I wonder what’s waiting for us in D.C.

  When we get to Washington, we follow Jett to a parking garage a few blocks from the White House. We find two spots together near the exit and park, then pile out of the vehicles. We circle up by the tailgate of the truck.

  “Did anyone hear from the Davilas on the drive?” Savanna asks, looking at me.

  “No,” I say. “I tried calling both their phones, but I got sent straight to voicemail every time. I didn’t leave any messages, in case they’re in trouble and someone else has their phones.”

  The thought of them being in trouble makes me feel nervous. And guilty. I’m the one that convinced the others to tell them the details about the president, which gave them the idea of going in as undercover spies. If this goes south and they get hurt, it’ll be all my fault.

  “What do we do now?” Silas asks.

  “I say we leave the cars here and take the bus to a hotel to get some sleep,” Jett says. “We’ll never get parking spots this good in the morning, and they’re perfect if we need to make a quick getaway.”

  I look at my phone to check the time. It’s after midnight, and I’m exhausted. I’m sure everyone else is, too. Without a word, we all walk toward the street, then down to the corner to the closest bus stop.

  As we wait, my phone rings and I look at it incredulously. “It’s Rafe,” I say before answering the phone.

  “Are you guys in D.C. yet?” he whispers, his voice filled with urgency.

  “Yeah, we just got here,” I say. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

  “Our phones have been off. I’ll explain everything when you get here. Where are you?”

  “We parked in a parking garage a few blocks away. We can be there in about five or ten minutes,” I reply.

  “Good. Go to the side gate where the tourists are let in. Gabe and I will meet you there.”

  “Okay, see you soon,” I say.

  I end the call and motion for the others to follow as I set off at a brisk pace. I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m ready to find out. Gabe and Rafe are being too shifty and secretive.

  Whatever it is, it can’t be anything good.

  28

  As soon as we approach the gate, it swings open and the Davila twins are there, waving us through and admonishing us to hurry and be quiet. I want to stop, plant my hands on my hips, and demand they tell us what the hell is going on, but we are sort of breaking into the White House. Maybe we should let them get us out of sight, first.

  We slip inside through a service entrance and follow Rafe and Gabe as they lead down first one hallway, then another. Being that it’s the middle of the night, there are not a lot of people around, and the ones we do see, ignore us.

  “Worth is accepting more and more kids into his outreach program,” Gabe whispers into my ear. “It’s not uncommon to see groups roaming the halls at night, looking for something to do or eat. They’ve been persuading the staff to ignore them, that’s why no one is stopping us.”

  Rafe turns into an alcove, pressing a button to call the elevator. Turning to face the rest of us, he leans forward and motions for us to close in around him.

  Whispering, he says, “There are cameras everywhere, even in the elevators. Remain silent until we get to the room.”

  A bell dings and the doors swish open. We crowd into the small space, the nine of us squished together for the ride up to the second floor. When the door reopens, Rafe leans out, looking left and right before stepping off the elevator and motioning the rest of us to follow him.

  He leads us down the hall to closed door. Looking up and down the corridor again, he twists the knob and ushers us in before closing and locking the door behind him.

  “What is…going…on?” I ask, my words stuttering out as I get a good look around.

  The room is decorated in shades of gold and white, definitely feminine but not frilly. It looks like something you might see in a palace, with a gold chandelier, dripping with crystals, lighting the interior. The curtains are pulled over the windows, but I’m sure there’s a spectacular view.

  And there’s a gagged teenaged girl tied to a chair at the foot of the bed.

  “Is that…Christine Worth?” Savanna asks in a shocked voice. “Why is she tied up?”

  Jett looks over his shoulder at the door, like he’s scared someone might bust in at any moment.

  “Don’t worry,” Gabe says. “The room is totally soundproofed. No one can hear us.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Silas demands, voicing the question all of us want answered.

  “Well, if you haven’t figured it out by now, she’s not going to help us,” Rafe says, pointing to the president’s daughter. He looks at his brother. “You want to tell them?”

  “It’s her,” Gabe says, nodding toward Christine. “It’s been her the whole time. The youth outreach program, the use of Alts to get ahead politically, the Alt army. All of it. She’s the driving force. She has been persuading her dad all along, sending him down this path. And he has no idea.”

  “But…why?” I ask, looking at her.

  Rafe walks behind her and unties her gag. I arch one brow at him. I thought the room was soundproofed.

  “Just a precaution,” he says, waving the strip of cloth at me like he read my mind.

  “What is wrong with you people?” Christine demands, drawing all eyes to her. “Untie me, right now, so I can have these two traitors arrested.”

  Her haughty tone grates on my nerves, but I resist the urge respond like I want to. Maybe we can still reason with her, get to see our side and help us out.

  “Christine, we just want to work together,” I say.

  “Do not speak to me, Norm,” she says, staring straight into my eyes.

  I can tell she’s trying to persuade me, so the boys obviously didn’t tell her who I am or that I’m unpersuadable. And definitely not normal, as the nickname implies. I snap my mouth shut and decide not to speak to her again. Maybe I can use her lack of knowledge to my benefit.

  “Why are you persuading your dad to set up an Alt army?” Savanna asks, getting in her face.

  “None of your business, whore,” she spits out.

  Wow. I guess Christine Worth isn’t quite the introvert Rafe and Gabe thought she was. She’s a class A royal bitch, and she just insulted the wrong person.

  “You will answer all of our questions honestly,” Savanna says through gritted teeth. “Why are you creating an Alt army?”

  Christine’s eyes widen, as her mouth opens and the words come pouring out.

  “Homo Altiorem means higher human. We deserve to be treated like kings and queens. I’m taking my dad from president to king of this stupid country, and when he dies, I’ll be queen. I’ll make the laws. I’ll rule over everything and make sure Norms know their place.”

  “Jesus, did you get picked on for being an Alt, or something?” Jett asks.

  The question is rhetorical, but because of Savanna’s persuasion, Christine answers truthfully.

  “Yes.”

  “Who picked on you? I thought you were homeschooled and didn’t have any contact with anyone,” Wyatt says.

  “My father,” she spits out, anger and disgust coloring the words.

  Holy crap. This whole mess was created by a teenaged girl pissed at her dad? Unbelievable. I guess the saying is true—hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

  “Why
didn’t you persuade Carl Evers to forget you persuaded him to shoot James Ford?” Silas asks.

  She laughs. “That was my little insurance policy. If something happened and I somehow lost control of my father, I could admit Evers was telling the truth and dear old Dad would go to prison.”

  “But you’d be in trouble, too,” Savanna says. “You’re the one who persuaded him.”

  “I was a fifteen-year-old girl. A minor whose tyrannical father forced her to do the unthinkable,” she says with a smirk.

  “Did he make you do it?” Savanna asks.

  She laughs, again. “No. He didn’t even know what I’d done until after that article came out in the National Inquisitor. When he confronted me, I just persuaded him to think he’d made me do it.”

  As I watch this girl brag about the horrible things she’s done, I can’t help but remember some of Brother Earl’s sermons. He raged about the Alts, calling them abominations with the ability to control us all. I can’t help but think this is what he was afraid of.

  I might not agree with his methods or his belief that all Alts should be eliminated, but I can see, now, that his fear might’ve been valid. If Christine Worth sees this plan of hers to fruition, the American people are screwed.

  A few hundred brainwashed Alts could take over the country. Possibly even the world.

  I have a question, but since she supposedly persuaded me to not speak to her, I turn to Slade and whisper it in his ear.

  “How are you getting all these Alts to go along with the plan?” he asks, repeating my question directly to her.

  “Most of them are loyal to my father because he saved them from their ruined lives. Lives he secretly ruined, himself.”

  I nudge Slade, and he asks, “And the rest?”

  “Most of them are like me, sick of being treated like a second-class citizen because of the mistakes of our mothers or fathers. My mom wanted the fountain of youth and, because of that, I’ve been treated like a monster, locked away in a tower and deprived of basic human contact. A lot of these kids can relate, and they want payback just as much as I do.”

  “And the ones who don’t fall in line?” Savanna asks.

  “Eliminated,” Christine says. “Accidents happen.”

  Her smile is vicious and I’m suddenly very glad she’s tied up.

  “How are we going to stop this?” I ask, glancing around the room at my friends.

  “You can’t stop it,” Christine says, her face growing even more maniacal. “For some reason, my stupid dad thinks he’s immune to persuasion. It’s made my job so much easier. He would never let himself be in a room alone with me before. Now that he thinks he’s immune, he’s let his guard down. I’ve already moved the plan to phase two.”

  “What’s phase two?” Jett growls.

  “Under my careful persuasion-filled instructions, he’s sending the members of his youth outreach program to observe the joint session of Congress tomorrow. They will systematically persuade every senator and representative there to resign their post and go home.”

  “Resign?” Beckett asks. “But, why?”

  “If every member of Congress quits at once, my father would make and execute all new laws and he would—”

  “Essentially make himself a dictator,” Jett finishes.

  “Yes,” she says, “but since I control him, I’d be the one in charge of the country.”

  “You’re insane,” Savanna says. “How can you even imagine this ending well?”

  “Everything has gone according to plan so far,” Christine says.

  Savanna arches a brow and pointedly looks at the bonds tying Christine’s arms and torso to the chair.

  “Well, up until now,” she grudgingly admits. “You’ll have to let me go eventually. The Alts here are loyal to my father and will do whatever he says. He’s already got most of them foaming at the mouth at the prospect of being at the top of the food chain.”

  She giggles and, I swear to God, it sounds like one of those evil, possessed dolls in a horror flick.

  “He’s even hinted that he’ll open livestock clinics,” she continues.

  “What the hell is a livestock clinic?” Savanna asks.

  “You know, a place to feed straight from the source,” Christine says, her eyes darting to me.

  Oh, God. She’s looking at me like I’d make a good snack. This girl has gone right around the bend if she thinks she’s going to take a bite out of me.

  As if reading my mind, she calls out to me, “Come one, girlie, I’m so hungry. How about a little sip? I promise it won’t hurt. Too much.”

  Slade stomps over to Rafe and snatches the cloth still dangling from his fingers. He roughly pulls it back over here mouth, tying it behind her head.

  “I could have just persuaded her to shut up,” Savanna says.

  “More satisfaction that way,” Slade replies, then walks over to me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. What are we going to do?”

  “We have to stop them,” he says.

  “Yeah, then what?” Jett asks. “We stop this attempt at a takeover, sure, but what if she just comes at it from another angle?”

  “What if one of you persuades him to leave office?” I ask.

  “Then Christine or one of the other Alts will just persuade him to recant his resignation,” Silas says. “We need to come up with something to put a permanent end to this. Or, at least until our deal with Emily pans out.”

  His eyes cut to Christine and I know he’s being intentionally vague for her benefit. By calling Dr. Sang “Emily,” he’s not giving away any details about her identity or what our deal is with her.

  “I think I might have an idea,” I say. “We just need to get a meeting with the president.”

  29

  “I hope this works,” I mumble.

  “It’ll work,” Silas responds.

  We’re inside the capitol building, waiting for President Worth’s Alts to do what they were sent here to do. Once that’s done, everything hinges on me.

  “I’m not sure if I can do it,” I say.

  Slade wraps his fingers around mine and leans in close to my ear. “You can do it, Lizzie. We believe in you.”

  Savanna and the Pattons are outside with Christine and Gregory Worth, waiting in the limo while an impromptu press conference is being set up on the steps of the capitol. One called by the president while under Savanna’s persuasion.

  If everything goes according to plan, this will all be over within the hour.

  As we watch, the Alts scattered around the perimeter of the room move in. There are about twenty of them, each approaching a member of Congress, making eye contact and whispering a few words before moving on to the next.

  It’s torture, but Silas, Slade, and I make no move to stop them. We stay where we are, waiting until the Alts have worked their way through most of the room. No one is leaving yet, but I can see them chatting with each other, nodding heads as if they are in agreement…

  “They’re persuading them to walk out together in thirty minutes. One grand mass-exodus will make a better splash than each of them quitting separately,” Silas whispers in my ear after listening in with his super-hearing.

  “That’s perfect,” I say. “Gives me a cushion of time in case I can’t get it work right away. Can you text Savanna and let her know the timeline?”

  “Go,” he says, nodding and applying pressure to my lower back, pushing me toward the front of the room. “You got this. And Lizzie? I love you.”

  I smile at him, then glance at Slade, who nods at me with an encouraging grin. “You’re gonna rock this, Lizzie.”

  Ok. This is it. I inhale deeply and stride forward. I got this. Probably. Maybe.

  By the time I reach the raised dais at the front of the room, my entire body is shaking. Public speaking has never been my thing, and now I have to address Congress? And what I say and how I say it may save the world as we know it?

  Yeah. No pressure.

 
; I take a few breaths as I watch the Alts make their way back to the edges of the room. They’re done. They’ve persuaded all five hundred thirty five members in the span of about twenty minutes. It’s truly terrifying.

  Grabbing a microphone from the large podium behind me, I clear my throat and lift it to my mouth.

  “Excuse me,” I say, but the microphone makes a loud, screeching noise which gets everyone’s attention much better than my amplified mumble.

  The room falls silent. All eyes are on me. This is it. Do or die.

  “You’ve all been persuaded, many times, by a group of Alts that work for President Worth.”

  Grumbles and denials echo through the chamber, but my eyes scan the teenagers around the edges. Spines stiffen and a few of them take a step toward me. I need to hurry.

  “He’s been using persuasion to get his agendas pushed through, to gain popular agreement, to win the hearts of the press. You don’t remember because he has the Alts persuade you to forget. Look around the room. Look at his youth outreach members lining the walls.”

  Of course, they look like normal kids. Every one of them is wearing colored contacts to hide the silver in their eyes. But I don’t stop.

  “Why do you think they’re here? Don’t you think it’s strange? Listen to me,” I say, my voice gaining confidence and volume as the words flow out. “What do you want to do in, say, twenty minutes? Do you want to resign your positions? All five hundred thirty five of you want to walk out at the same exact time? What are the odds of that?”

  I see the confusion on their faces. They understand what I’m saying, but they can’t fight the persuasion. They are still going to quit.

  Movement catches my eye and see more than a few of the Alts edging along the wall, getting closer to me without drawing too much attention to themselves. I need to hurry.

  My eyes land on Silas and Slade, my rocks, the loves of my life. They dip their heads in perfect synchronicity, telling me to go for it.

  I let my eyes drift over the sea of Congress members, men and women who serve this country to best of their ability. Men and women who have been manipulated, used for the gain of one man who’s being used by his own daughter. One little girl, wreaking all this havoc.