Elements (The Biodome Chronicles series Book 2)

by Sundin, Jesikah

  If he were truly honest, he knew he could offer Oaklee protection without giving her his name. They were not dependent truths, although he had longed for them to be so.

  Lynden moved her body away from his. “Think of dark and depressing things so the black hole can suck it out of you when your feet land in its existence.”

  Coal nodded his head as Lynden’s fingers entwined with his, slowly guiding him to the door. He heard a creaking door hinge. She gently lifted his other hand and maneuvered his fingers to rest upon the wood of the door frame.

  “On a count of three we’ll jump,” she said, her grip on his hand tightening. “1 ... 2 ... 3 ... jump!”

  Lynden squealed as they both sprang into the air and he could not help the smile that stretched across his face. They landed with staccato beats upon what felt like a wooden floor, and Coal shuffled a foot on the smooth surface to further investigate his first sensation inside the Black Hole. Soft hands brushed against his face as Lynden wrapped herself around him to untie the fabric shielding his eyes.

  “Keep your eyes closed, OK?”

  Lynden walked away and the silence spanned until he thought he could manage no longer.

  “Open your eyes,” she summoned from across the room.

  His eyes fluttered open and darkness engulfed him completely. Black Hole, indeed. The ceiling, floor, furniture, curtains and even the rug were all black, to the point of disorientation, and Coal struggled as his eyes wished to perceive depth and focus on items that instead faded in and out of the shadows. In the corner lay a bright blue instrument, similar to a lute, a blissful interruption.

  “My brother lacks imagination,” Lynden said from a large black chair, offering a bored shrug as she rolled her eyes. She appeared to float as his eyes adjusted to the contours of the chair, an ensorcelling image. The young woman glowed, her pale skin and brilliant hair a vibrant contrast to their surroundings, and Coal felt mystified as he knelt in her ethereal presence.

  “Quite the opposite, I assure you,” he said in reverent tones, unable to remove his eyes from the vision floating in the chair. “Beauty overwhelms and beguiles the soul in the ashes of this room. The colors seduce and awaken the senses to feel alive.” Lynden’s face stilled and their eyes locked. Coal cleared his throat. “I appreciate the poetry and ingenuity of it.”

  “That’s beautiful,” she whispered. The ache in her voice gripped his heart. She quickly lowered her eyes, relentlessly twisting the band on her thumb as her features hardened once more. “Why would my brother call it ‘the coffin’ then?”

  Coal whispered back, “In order to live, something must die.”

  “Well, it appears you’ll live another day, Coal Hansen. The black hole has willed it. I cringe at who or what was sacrificed so that you may live, though.”

  Rather than give a lecture on the motto of New Eden, he decided to continue their witty dialogue. “I extend my heartfelt gratitude to the Black Hole for granting me life and not becoming my coffin. The coffin clearly appreciates what it sees,” Coal said.

  Lynden rolled her eyes. “Oh god, don’t let the Mr. Awesome thing go to your head.”

  “Drat. I suppose I shall settle for mere charm instead.” He humorously flashed a smile from his position on the floor, tucking the mussed strands of hair behind his ears. Lynden blinked as she drew in a slow breath and then chewed on her bottom lip ring before looking away. Her response confused him. The confidence of one who kisses mere strangers melted into the folds of the black chair, and uncertainty surfaced instead. Before his thoughts could fully process her ambivalence, he whispered, “Lynden.”

  She met his concern with diffidence before she looked toward the window. “Finally,” Lynden said while nibbling on a fingernail. “No more ‘My Lady’ business.” Her hands dropped into her lap.

  “I owe you a debt.” Coal stood with a bow. “Twice now you have saved my life.”

  The corners of her mouth slightly lifted as she shoved out of the chair and walked toward the door. “You seriously need saving.”

  A flash of rainbow enchanted his vision before the door slammed shut, and his shoulders slumped. She would keep him on his toes.

  Rain pelted the window, redirecting his thoughts, and he peeked through the black screen to the enormous body of water. He pulled on the shade and jumped back when it scrolled up. Smoky light spilled into the room and Coal’s muscles relaxed in response. He blinked as his vision adjusted. “Boo!”

  The drone lifted from its black box, nearly invisible in the corner of the black room. Ignis materialized nearby, his ghostly colors shimmering against the atramentous backdrop.

  “How may I assist you?” the hologram asked.

  Coal pushed a button next to what he surmised was a closet. The door slid open and he smiled humorously at the black contents. “Good afternoon, Ignis. I trust you fare well after our travels?”

  “Yes. And you?”

  “I am still processing.” Coal trailed a finger over the black clothing. “I have a question I hope you can assist me with. What is a press conference?”

  The hologram began reciting the particulars and Coal’s anxiety levels elevated once more. The entire world would meet him shortly, and Lynden’s message hammered away in his head.

  “So I should wear something more presentable?”

  “Jeans are OK. You should wear a black or white shirt, preferably with long sleeves. Buttons will make you look more polished.”

  “Thank you,” Coal muttered as he reached for his luggage.

  “Perhaps you should sit down. Your blood pressure is elevated.”

  “My apologies, but you may shut off now. My time is limited today. Rest well.”

  He watched as Ignis disappeared and floated back to his base. Coal dressed, groomed, then slumped onto the edge of the bed.

  What would the world think of him?

  His body fell back with a thump, and he threw his arms out in surrender. “I am awesome,” Coal chanted under his breath. He stared at the black ceiling, and the endless darkness claimed his thoughts as he released a long, heartfelt sigh.

  ***

  Your love

  Should never be offered to the mouth of a

  Stranger,

  Only to someone

  Who has the valor and daring

  To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife

  Then weave them into a blanket

  To protect you.

  — Hafiz, The Gift, 14th century *

  Run from what’s comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious.

  — Rumi, 13th century A.D. *

  ***

  The marble steps felt cool on Coal’s bare feet as he slowly descended the grand stairway. His fingers brushed against the dark, heart-shaped ivy that clothed the beautiful stone wall. It was reminiscent of the castle-like wall that bordered the base of the biodomes. Water dribbled down the large window that crowned the entry door, and Coal tarried to watch the various shades of gray move across the sky.

  His heel pressed onto the stone floor of the foyer just as an anguished sound rent the silence from a nearby room. He knew that sound. A heart keened. Grief’s song whimpered and writhed in a familiar pattern.

  Lynden and Mack ran into the foyer, then stopped before the room. Coal took a step, and then another, afraid of what he may discover, wary of the death wails and cries. He stood beside Mack and watched as Dr. Nichols began to wildly attack Hanley, eliciting another round of anguished cries.

  These sounds always haunted Coal. Women who had lost their husbands. Young mothers, some not much older than him, who had lost their newborn babes. Memories of Oaklee’s cries, when her father died in Leaf’s arms, still made the hair raise on his arms and neck.

  “I’m seriously freaking out,” Lynden whispered.

  The young woman paled to an almost sickly shade of green, her eyes widening in horror as she watched her mother manifest the misery of severance. Mack dra
ped an arm around Lynden’s shoulders and pulled her close against him. He balanced the ice in his hand and touched a Cranium upon his ear, keeping his head level.

  He was recording this?

  Disgusted, Coal returned his attention to Lynden. “I believe she has just learned the truth about Joel Watson,” Coal offered. “I have feared this moment. I did not know, however, the strength of her bond to him.” Dr. Nichols continued to unravel, and Coal creased his brows as he considered her possible relationship with Joel.

  “What are you talking about?” Lynden asked, but her eyes remained fastened upon her parents. “You mean the Joel Watson? The one who lost all his kids like five, six years ago?”

  Fear slithered through Coal’s veins and coiled around his heart. “Yes,” was all he could manage in response.

  “My brother had psychotic episodes during that time. Mostly about the girl, the daughter. Willow.” Coal’s entire system stilled with her statement. “It was so weird. PTSD.”

  “He’s harmless, Farm Boy.” Mack readjusted the ice on his nose with a quick side-glance.

  Dr. Nichols started to moan again as she staggered back a few steps. Hanley attempted to support her, but she pushed him away. “You kept this from me! You narcissistic, self-absorbed monster!”

  “Only because you were traveling. I knew it would break your heart. I didn’t want you to bear this alone.”

  “So you hacked my devices?” She shoved him again with another guttural scream. “You took my son from me!”

  “Fillion broke the law. You knew he was on trial, and you decided to go to Hawaii anyway. Don’t blame me for your decisions.”

  “He’s dead. Oh god, he’s dead.”

  Lynden gasped, and Mack whispered without turning his head, “Not Fillion. Relax.”

  Dr. Nichols canted toward her husband and then slumped to the ground as sobs wrenched from her body.

  Hanley knelt on the ground before his wife and took her hands. “I wanted to share the news with you sooner, but I knew what it would do to you.”

  “I love him so much. I never stopped loving him.”

  “I know.”

  Those two words were confessed with such an ache that Coal looked away, embarrassed for witnessing their private moment. He pivoted on his feet to walk away.

  “Did you do it for the money? Or jealousy?”

  Dr. Nichols’ questions, her voice seething, deadened Coal’s steps. He turned back, and waited.

  Hanley’s features sharpened as if he analyzed his wife. “Don’t make me a villain for your grief. Joel chose to break the engagement. He chose to move to Africa. He chose to enclose himself in New Eden, which is really your project. And he chose to marry Claire.”

  “You did do it!” she shouted.

  Unhinged, Dr. Nichols wildly clawed at her husband. Hanley’s face burned red. Grabbing her hands, he yanked her forward, and she yelped.

  “Careful what you say,” he said, each word slow, punctuated, and threatening. “The walls are listening.” Dr. Nichols blanched and her eyes shifted toward a nearby window and then back to Hanley. He let go of her hands as his face became emotionless, but his eyes grew cold. “We have a press conference in twenty minutes. Go fix your make-up, tidy your hair, and take a shot or two of vodka. Now.”

  She rose on unsteady feet, smoothed the front of her dress in jerky motions, and then stormed away. Coal bowed his head respectfully as she passed, his eyes remaining downcast as the angry click of her shoes echoed through the large house, followed by the loud slam of a door.

  A few heartbeats later, Hanley moved from the room. “Come to my office in ten minutes,” he said, with such dispassion that Coal looked up.

  How could a man dismiss distressing emotions so easily?

  Coal desperately wished for his hammer and a forge to work out the slew of information swirling violently in his head. He stared at his feet again. “Yes, sir.”

  Satisfied, Hanley brushed past Lynden and Mack and disappeared through the kitchen. Only when a door in the distance shut did they move, and searched each other’s frightened expressions. Coal opened his mouth, but Mack cut him off.

  “Don’t talk about it.” Coal was spooked by the sharpness in Mack’s tone. With a tilt of his head, Mack gestured toward the stairs. Tapping his Cranium, Mack repositioned the ice pack on his nose. “To the black hole.”

  Lynden nodded in a daze, but moved quickly to follow Mack up the stairs. Once sealed within the blackened room, Lynden trudged toward the chair by the window and crumpled into the seat.

  The pressure from all of the events this day was dangerously building inside of Coal. The angst swelled and undulated in nauseating waves, and he turned around and punched the wall. Lynden jumped with a sharp gasp. The knuckles on his right hand stung from the impact, but his muscles released a brief sigh of relief, desperate for another punch. Coal refused the urge.

  “Shit. Are you going to turn green and rip off your shirt, too?” Mack raised an eyebrow humorously, but Coal failed to comprehend the reference. His thoughts were raging over Dr. Nichols’ accusations, hoping they proved untrue.

  What money did she reference?

  Coal missed Joel, and the grief was overwhelming at times. Watching Dr. Nichols keen made the moment of watching Joel die fresh in his heart and mind. Flushed, Coal used the hem of his shirt to wipe his face. He let out a heavy breath as he lowered the black garment. Lynden quickly moved her gaze back to the window, her face pale.

  Mack smirked. “Damn. I officially hate you.” A small smile touched Coal’s lips and he rolled his eyes, more to resist the warmth that wished to creep up his neck and face once more. “Are all Martian males made like you?”

  “No. I am a rare breed,” Coal said with a lopsided grin.

  “Good. I was starting to worry for Fillion’s skinny ass.” Mack pulled open a drawer from a nightstand positioned against the bed and removed a large, thin book. “Read and write?” Mack asked. Coal grit his teeth against the insult.

  “Bien sûr, idiot, et en trois langues différentes! ”

  “Um, I’ll take that as a yes.” Mack sat on the bed and began writing on a blank page. When finished, he handed the book and pen to Coal. “Writing only. In English.”

  Mack reached behind the nightstand and pulled out a bottle of amber liquid as Coal studied the page. The stick-like handwriting was sloppy, but legible.

  Watson kids alive?

  Alarm shot through Coal, and he struggled with how to respond. At the lab, he had given Hanley his word he would never speak of Leaf, Oaklee, and Laurel as living. But Hanley unnerved Coal, especially by how the information he presented always seemed vaguely askew.

  Reluctantly, Coal decided to answer with honesty and gave the book back to Mack, who let out a relieved sigh and cast a nervous look Lynden’s direction. The young woman with rainbow hair remained fixated at the window, however, with nary a movement. Mack bent over the book once more, and Coal decided to sit next to him on the bed for lack of another chair.

  The young man paused from writing and handed Coal the bottle. “Drink up. You’ll need it.” Then he returned to the book.

  Coal untwisted the cap, took a whiff, and smiled—whiskey. The community always reserved some of the corn from each harvest to make a small batch, used mainly for medicinal purposes. His father charred a few barrels for the cooper each Harvest season to age the clear liquid, which was then stored in the root cellar beneath the Great Hall.

  The cool rim of the glass bottle touched his lips and he tilted his head back and enjoyed a small drink. Mack watched Coal closely, grinning when Coal swallowed and handed the bottle back without a fuss. The liquid warmed Coal’s gut almost immediately and his muscles unwound a notch.

  “Nice.” Mack enjoyed a long drink. The young man pulled out a small box, flipped the lid, and pulled out what resembled the joints smoked in New Eden, offering one to Coal. “Do you smoke?”

  Coal accepted one. “Of course. I am the Son of Fire,
” he said with wry smile and Mack laughed.

  “Smart-ass.”

  Mack lit up his joint and then tossed the mechanical torch Coal’s way. He flicked the flame, as he had seen Mack do, and inhaled, coughing with the difference in herbs and potency. This type was not remotely reminiscent of the joints he enjoyed with his father on occasion. But he recovered, and inhaled again, ignoring the mild nausea, or the urge to cough again. This gained Lynden’s attention, and she twisted to study him, nibbling on her lip ring as she did so. Coal glanced away from Lynden just as Mack shoved the book into his hands.

  F launching full investigation of H, Elements, & N.E.T. & requested ur help. Will require full makeover & misbehaving like a boss.

  Coal read the note several times as his mind filled in the blanks. He was excited by the request. Finally, a way to put his emotions to work. The only cause for hesitation was the makeover and misbehaving comment. Coal was unsure what was implied. Nevertheless, joint dangling in his mouth, he replied: I shall assist you in your quest, for I have one of a similar nature.

  “God, Rainbow, take a look at this epic handwriting. It’s like a monk scribed it.” Mack hid the question regarding Willow under his fingers and pointed to Coal’s recent response.

  Lynden grabbed the joint from Mack’s mouth, inhaled, and then slipped it back between Mack’s lips as he winked at her.

  “Great,” she said, dispirited. “Tonight?”

  “Shit. Sooner the better.” Mack wagged his eyebrows at Coal with a mischievous grin. He ripped the page from the book and lit it on fire with the mechanical torch.

  “I’ll text Coral and Devon to meet us in the garage at eleven,” Lynden said. “Whatcha thinking?”

  “Whatever,” Mack drawled. “He’s your project. Dress him up and play with him as much as you want.” He paused and gave Coal a sly look and then bit down on his tongue suggestively, before addressing Lynden again. “Need to let Daddy know you’re tampering with the experiment?”

  “Please regard me as the man I am and do not refer to me as an experiment,” Coal stated firmly, coming to a stand. They considered him for a moment and then Mack grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back down onto the bed.