Shine: Season One (Shine Season Book 1)

by William Bernhardt

  “Aura, I’d like you to meet Dr. David Patrick. He’s the county medical examiner.”

  The man in the white lab coat extended his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Aura. The lieutenant tells me you have some interesting theories about this case.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Or at the very least, that you’re observant, which certainly distinguishes you from most teenage girls I know, Shines or otherwise.”

  She didn’t know what to say. And Beverly always told her, if you can’t say something nice…

  “Thank you.”

  Dr. Patrick turned back toward the gurney. A white sheet covered…something. Could that really be a corpse? It wasn’t shaped like a corpse.

  A horrible thought struck her. If those were Perfume’s remains—they probably wouldn’t resemble a human corpse. It had a more irregular outline, like a tiny mountain chain.

  “Think you can look at something disgusting without getting sick?”

  “I’m…not sure.”

  “She did all right at the crime scene,” Sharma said. “And it was a lot messier there.”

  Patrick nodded. “It should be somewhat easier to view now that I’ve cleaned her up a little.” Patrick whipped off the cover like he was tearing the sheets off a bed. “Voila.”

  She barely glimpsed it before she instinctively averted her gaze. But a nanosecond was long enough.

  That was Perfume. What was left of her.

  “We’re not trying to torture you. Promise.” Patrick pulled a laser pointer out of his pocket and aimed it toward what remained of Perfume’s head. “You see that star-shaped pattern on the side of her face?”

  She looked as briefly as possible. “Looks more like…someone ripped her head apart. Like you might rip open an envelope.”

  Patrick gave Sharma a raised eyebrow. “Very good. You refused to take the bait. I like that.” He turned off the pointer. “You don’t see a star-shaped pattern—because there isn’t one. But there should be. If she was killed in an implosion. Especially if the source of the implosion was her. The pathology doesn’t bear out that hypothesis.”

  “I never believed she caused it. Her Shine didn’t have any potential for causing explosions.”

  “Yes, Lieutenant Sharma told me about your wild theory.”

  “It isn’t—”

  “And I believe you’re right.”

  That stopped her in her tracks.

  “She’s a smart girl, Sharma. I like smart girls. I’ve married three of them.” He paused. “But I wondered, Aura, if you might’ve had…some additional cause for certainty.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like doing a Shine, obviously.”

  “What, like I have super-detecting powers?”

  “Or…something.”

  “I’ve never had anything like that.” What she did not say was: But when I entered the room and first saw Perfume’s remains, without even thinking about it, my healing abilities went into overdrive. It was almost as if I were trying to regenerate her tissue, even though it was obvious she was dead.

  Of course it didn’t work. But somehow afterward she knew that Perfume had not killed herself, not with Shine energy or anything else. This had been an act of violence. Brutal violence.

  “You know,” Patrick said, “I like healers, being one myself. But I prefer the ones who go to medical school to the completely untrained ones who use their minds to mess with people’s bodies. I agree that Perfume does not appear to have instigated her own death. That does not necessarily lead to the conclusion that it had nothing to do with Shine power. Let me show you something else.”

  He walked to an enormous piece of equipment, large and white and covered with LED readouts.

  “I’ve extracted DNA from a single cell, deep within Merena’s brain, to assure minimum degradation. After subjecting the sample to Multiplex-PCR analysis, I was able to compare key aspects of her genome to those of other Shines. How much do you know about genetics, Aura?”

  “Oh, enough.” Translation: Not much.

  “It’s easy to take genetic samples, you know. A prick of the finger is sufficient. I could’ve taken one from you when we shook hands.”

  “Did you?”

  “No need. We’ve already got your genome on file.” He patted the tablet in his lab coat pocket. “You know what chromosomes are?”

  “I know we’ve all got them.”

  “Twenty-three pairs, to be exact. Twenty-two regular, and one gender-determinative.”

  “Cool.”

  “Those chromosomes are comprised of about twenty thousand genes. Those genes code for proteins—molecules that perform much of the essential work in our body cells. Our DNA recipes, if you will, are written in four chemicals, usually abbreviated as ATCG. But throughout the DNA strand, those four chemicals combine in about three billion different ways.”

  “Sounds complicated.”

  “Here’s what I’m getting at,” Patrick said, nudging her away from the microscope. “The DNA of all human beings is 99.9 percent identical. And yes, that includes Shines. But look around you. It would seem there are no two people alike. What’s the explanation?”

  “A tiny difference in DNA can make a huge difference in the person.”

  “Go to the head of the class, Aura. You’re absolutely right. So it would follow that, if DNA is damaged or copied incorrectly, it can result in profound differences. Like birth defects. Genetic diseases like cystic fibrosis.”

  “And Shines?”

  “Perhaps. What we’ve found is that Shines do have genetic variations—but no more so than anyone else. In other words, they don’t have more variations, but the ones they have make a profound impact.”

  “So Shines are still human?”

  “I’ll leave that question for the lawyers.”

  “Can you analyze the DNA and detect a Shine before she manifests?”

  “We’re not sure. There’s some evidence that Shine ability may be acquired after birth. Like somehow the DNA rewrites itself.”

  “What would cause that?”

  “We have no idea. But after a Shine has clearly manifested, we can definitely detect variations in the genetic material.”

  Sharma cut in. “Get to the point, okay?”

  “Of course. The point is this, Aura. I’ve analyzed Perfume’s DNA. She wasn’t a Shine.”

  She almost tipped forward. “What?”

  “You heard me. Either this girl wasn’t Perfume, or Perfume had everyone fooled into believing she was a Shine when she wasn’t.”

  “That’s not possible. I saw her Shine in action.”

  “Or she made you believe you did.”

  Perfume knew what kind of shampoo she used. But she supposed it was possible that Perfume got close and got a good whiff. It was probably possible to have a strong sense of smell without being a Shine. “How could she do that? Why would she do that?”

  “I don’t know. I was hoping you could help me figure that out.”

  “Me?”

  “That’s why I asked you here, Aura,” Lieutenant Sharma said. “I thought you might have some answers.”

  “I barely knew her.”

  “But you did know her.” He paused. “And you appear to have gotten pretty chummy with her mother, too.”

  She felt her face go slack. “I—I have no idea why anyone might fake being a Shine. All it got her was locked up at TYL.”

  “Yes,” Sharma said. “Exactly.”

  “I’m really not a super-detective. All I can do is heal. A little.”

  “Maybe now.” Dr. Patrick patted his tablet again. “But let me tell you another little secret. As I said, we think that at some point after birth DNA modification may cause Shine manifestations.” He paused. “And we have no reason to believe those variations stop happening. That Shines stop evolving. Ever.”

  33

  Aura returned from the police station with her brain buzzing at the speed of light. If Dr. Patrick was right, Shines were even mor
e potentially powerful than people imagined. She had to shift their escape plan into high gear. But how? She needed 4B, and at the moment, so far as she knew, 4B didn’t even like her. Getting them to risk their lives for her seemed unlikely in the extreme.

  She walked the grounds after dinner, as the sun set behind the Pacific. For days she had been scouting out the security cameras, trying to find a blind spot where they might be able to conduct a conversation unobserved. She thought she’d spotted most of the cameras. But it was always possible she missed a few.

  She decided it was time to find out.

  She slapped her face a few times, just to flush her cheeks, then rubbed her eyes until they were red enough to make her look as if she’d been crying for hours.

  She raced into their floor supervisor’s office.

  “Judy? Judy? What am I going to do? What am I going to doooo?” Girlie panic did not come easily to her. She ought to get an Oscar for this one.

  Judy jumped out of her chair. “Aura! My BFF! What’s wrong, sweetie? Tell me how I can help.”

  She clenched her eyes shut and acted as if she were about to die. “I’ve got blood on my uniform.”

  “Oh no. Where?”

  She averted her eyes. “Skirt.”

  “Like—?”

  “And I don’t have another one that’s even wearable.”

  “Oh. My. Gandhi. Fashion tragedy. You poor thing.” She stepped away from her desk—and the video monitoring station. “Just let me see what I can make happen. I have a full battery of cleaning products.”

  “I knew I could count on you.”

  “You knew right. Okay, girl. Strip.”

  She closed the door, then slipped out of her skirt and handed it over. It did in fact bear visible blood spots.

  She’d had to cut the back of her scalp to get the blood.

  Judy gave it the onceover. “Eww. Okay, sweetie. This is pretty jank, but not impossible. I have something that will take this right out. You can count on me.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Just stay put. I’m going to run to the laundry and get my emergency girlpower toolbelt. I should have this out in five minutes.”

  “I hate to be a bother.”

  “Girlfriend, this is why I’m here.” Judy beam3e. “I’m glad you came to me. I was starting to think you didn’t like me.”

  “How could anyone not like you?”

  “I know, right? Back in five.”

  That should be about long enough, she thought, as Judy dashed out of the office.

  She squared herself in front of the video monitor station and ran through every view of the grounds. Most of them she recognized immediately. She knew the location of the camera providing the feed. There were a few surprises, though.

  Good. That meant she hadn’t gone through this charade for nothing.

  Five minutes later she had every location memorized.

  And best of all, she knew exactly where they could meet and stay out of camera range.

  Judy returned with the skirt, a bit damp but bloodless. “Here you go, girl.”

  “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “Well, I do what I can. Wanna get together during break tomorrow? We can talk about boys. Maybe play I Never.”

  “Sounds razor.” She gave Judy an air kiss.

  The kiss was fake. But the smile was real.

  ***

  Aura knew that each girl’s schedule permitted an hour before bedtime for what was called private meditation—but usually amounted to get-away-from-all-the-group-grope-before-you-kill-someone. She thought this might be the right moment to approach 4B. Even though they didn’t like her. Even though they thought she was smug.

  Maybe she could use that to her advantage.

  She found Mnemo and Gearhead sitting in the arbor between the pool and the rear fence. They sat extremely close together and she couldn’t overhear a word they said. Maybe they had secrets, too. Maybe they thought even if they couldn’t avoid the cameras, they could avoid the bugging devices.

  She hoped so. Because that would indicate that she and they were somewhat headed in the same direction. Even if they didn’t know it yet.

  “Hey, girls.” She said it loud enough and soon enough that they wouldn’t be startled. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

  The two girls immediately straightened and scooted apart, as if she were the homeroom teacher and might scold them for whispering.

  “Hey, look,” Gearhead said. “It’s Little Miss I Don’t Have a Problem. Shouldn’t you be out fighting for world peace or something?”

  “I fight for world peace on Wednesdays,” she replied. “Tuesdays I do my laundry.”

  Gearhead grunted. “Go chainmail someone else, okay?”

  “I’d like to talk to both of you about something.”

  “We don’t want to hear it.”

  “I think you do.”

  “That’s because smug, self-righteous people always think everyone wants to hear what they have to say.”

  She drew in her breath and slowly released it. You can do this. But not if you lose your cool. “Look, I have problems. Just like everyone else.”

  “I agree. I just don’t think you know it.”

  “Well, she might,” Mnemo said, finally joining the conversation. “I saw her mother. She does have problems.”

  Just the mention of Beverly made her stomach churn. But she had to push that aside. She had to move forward.

  “Look,” Gearhead said, “go put toothpicks between your toes and tan. We don’t care about your problems.”

  “What about Perfume?” she shot back. “Did you care about her problems?”

  “That’s a cheap—”

  “No, it’s my way of getting you to drop the ‘tude for a minute and listen to me. I know something you don’t. About Perfume’s death.”

  “Like what?”

  She came closer and knelt in front of them. “Like she did not cause her own death. Or anyone else’s.”

  “I never believed that story,” Mnemo replied. “It didn’t make any sense. I’ve read all about criminal forensics and I’ve read about that crime scene. That was not an implosion. Or anything to do with Shine power.”

  “Agreed. And there’s a very good reason for that.” She drew in her breath. “Perfume wasn’t a Shine.”

  “What?” The voice behind them came so loud and sudden that she jumped a foot into the air.

  Tank loomed over them, towering overhead. At this angle, Tank looked like she could hold Aura in the palm of her hand. “Are you talking trash about Perfume? You better not, for your own sake. She’s the only girl from 4A who was ever nice to me.”

  “I liked Perfume, too. But it’s the truth. She wasn’t a Shine.”

  “You’re a lying dog biscuit.”

  “Ask yourself this. Did you ever see her do anything that couldn’t be explained naturally? I know you’re all secretly doing Shines every chance you get. As well as you can—because they’re drugging our food to suppress our Shine abilities.” Well, that was what she suspected, anyway.

  “Who told you that?”

  “Doesn’t matter. My point is: Perfume may have had a good sense of smell, but she was not a Shine.”

  “So what are you saying?” Mnemo asked. The other two still looked hostile. But she could see wheels whirring around in this well-read Asian girl’s head. “Like, Perfume was spying on us? Working for the government?”

  “I don’t think so. She was a good person. She tried to rescue her mother. I think she was trying to help us, too. And they killed her for it.”

  All three girls stared at her wordlessly. The dark made it hard to read their expressions. But no one argued.

  Mnemo cleared her throat. “Are you suggesting…Ohm?”

  “I’m suggesting we don’t let these bastards go on killing us and torturing us and framing us and getting away with it.”

  “But what can we do?” Tank asked.

  S
he stood on her tiptoes and placed a hand on Tank’s powerful shoulder. “We can’t talk about it here. But I know a safe place we can go. We can’t talk forever there, either—people will become suspicious if we go off the grid too long. But I’ve got a codebook. Learn it, and then in the future we can talk more extensively. And then we can plan.”

  “Plan?” Gearhead barely more than mouthed the words. “Plan to do what?”

  “To get the flick out of here, for starters. Then find out who was really behind Santa Monica.”

  Mnemo titled her head. “Are you sure this isn’t just something you want to believe, Aura? Because you don’t want to take responsibility for…you know. Seattle.”

  “I know what I know, Mnemo. And I’d like to share it with you. Then you can decide for yourself. Fair enough?”

  Gearhead and Mnemo exchanged a long look. Then: “Okay. We’re in. At least for now.”

  “Tank?”

  “I stand with my roomies.”

  “Good. I don’t know about you girls, but I’m sick of being pushed around.” She gathered all three of them into a huddle. “I think it’s time we pushed back.”

  34

  Agent Coal ran her fingers in rapid succession across the virtual keyboard. Not that she wanted to. But the meeting could no longer be avoided.

  She pressed the button on her glasses stem. Voice link established.

  She made a twisting motion over her tablet.

  The Chief appeared. Not five feet away from her. Virtually. But for the slight pixilation and flicker, the Chief might have been sitting in the same room, not on the other side of the country.

  “Good to see you, Agent Coal. Enjoying your work any more since the last time we chatted?”

  “Not in the least. I’m wasted in data collection.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a decision I should make?”

  She didn’t, but she knew the Chief would not be receptive to her opinion. Whatever. The Chief would see her differently in time. Very differently. “It’s not as if this is the only data collection site. You’ve got them all across the country.”

  “TYL is the most important.”