DEAD AT SIXTEEN (THE KNOWERS Book 1)

by D. A. E. Jackson

  “Stop!” Dad said, noting the increasingly overwhelmed look on my face. He held up his hand and I could hear the concern in his voice. “Please let the boy come to this in his own time. I think he needs a little time to process it all. Why don’t we all step into the kitchen for a moment, and let you look at some of the picture books?” he said as much to the others as to me, gesturing for me to go over to the table.

  As the three of them stood, Mom rushed over to Mike and grabbed his hand. She was suddenly all over him, her arm around his shoulder, leading him to the kitchen, giggling now as they walked. It was so weird. And then, “Whoosh!” the déjà vu struck again, stronger than before:

  I am watching the not-Mike and the not-Lydia walking away from me into a hot setting sun. He’s wearing a uniform with a cap this time and she’s in a long, full dress with puffy sleeves. Their heads are together as they walk away...

  Just as they were as they left the living room. Then, with a rush the vision was gone. I was back again and feeling a little nauseous.

  In that past, they were brother and sister. I somehow knew that. I didn’t learn it, I just knew, as if I had always known: Mike and my mom were once brother and sister. Now, they had re-connected and they were acting like family already—or maybe still? I felt so unsettled that the table seemed to be spinning slowly as I picked up one of the photo albums and began flipping through it. There were lots of black and white snapshots from what looked like the 1930s, ’40s and ‘50s. They seemed to be stuck into the album randomly. I didn’t seem to recognize anyone in the pictures. I was looking mostly at the cool, old cars in some of the photos when I flipped past one of someone I knew. I almost missed seeing a familiar face as I was flipping through the pages pretty quickly. Turning back the page to the familiar face in the photo, there they were! I was looking at a black-and-white snapshot of the brother and sister who were not Mike and Lydia. They had their arms around each other's waists, facing the camera, filling the photo from the waist up. He was pale with black hair that stood up stiffly like a brush. She was petite and less slender than him but the two were obviously related. They looked like teenagers dressed up in their best party clothes—maybe for prom?

  At that moment, the table seemed to start spinning again, even faster as I stared down at the photo. Completely off-balance, I quickly grabbed the photo book just before crashing down on the spot, sitting crossed-legged on the floor. The open book ended up in my lap with their smiling faces staring up at me. I slammed the album shut, shaken.

  I was supposed to accept that I was part of a special group of—what? superhumans—and my parents had kept this knowledge hidden from me for my entire life? They had lied to me. Every time My father had urged me to “forget about the past,” had tried to convince me the past was “dead and buried,” he’d been lying to me. I didn’t know what to think now. Were they telling me that I didn’t have a choice, that I had to be one of these Knowers? Had they kept the choice from me and deprived me of making my own decision? Or, were they actually telling me that I came from a family of completely insane people who couldn’t tell fantasy from reality? All I knew was that I was furious with both of them, especially my father. And what about Mike? The weird visions I’d been having seemed to be showing me that I’d known him in previous lives. Could that be why I felt such a strong connection to him in the present?

  I think my brain pretty much shut down at that point. The next thing I was really aware of was lifting one shaking hand to wipe the sweat out of my eyes. I looked around and realized I was more than a mile from home. I was panting and my legs burned like they did when I ran at a fast sprint. I figured out where I was and then changed my direction so that I was headed toward school. We had a show to do and I needed life to get back to normal.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Knowers are often reborn among those with whom they have spent previous lives. Relationships in the succeeding generations are often changed: Grandfathers may become sons. Sons may become wives or husbands. Husbands may become brothers. An ability to be flexible in one's relationships is a valuable trait for Knowers.

  Southampton Free Press 1975 (Excerpt)

  When I got to school, two police cars were parked in front of the main doors. I ignored the people in the hall, rushing straight to the dressing room to get ready, even though I was at least 30 minutes early. Waiting in front of the dressing room door was Jamie.

  “Oh, Philip! Isn’t Mike with you?”

  “I left him at my home with my folks,” I replied. “Why?”

  “Have you seen or heard from Milton?” I noticed she’d been crying.

  “No, not since this afternoon,” I said with growing concern. Now, I was getting excited. “What’s going on?” I wanted to know.

  “The police are looking for him. I heard his parents called the police when they found blood at his house and Milton was nowhere to be found. Then, the police came looking for him here.” Pacing back and forth in front of the dressing room door, Jamie exclaimed, “Oh, Philip! This is bad. Why isn’t Mike here? Mike should be here. This is really bad!”

  “Okay, okay, calm down. Mike will be here soon. We should just stay calm until he does. I’m sure it’s nothing,” I took her hand. “Milton will be fine.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She snatched her hand away and resumed her pacing. “Like you know anything! Did they tell you? Have you even had your Awakening yet? Did they tell you someone is hunting us? Someone is picking us off one by one! I told Milton to be careful,” she said in a panicked near-shout, “But, of course he wouldn’t listen to little me. Now, someone has gotten to him and they’re gonna find out about the rest of us, so any one of us could be next! Oh, where’s Mike?!”

  “That’s me!” Mike said in his usual carefree way as he rounded the corner. “What’s going on around here? Jamie, what are you doing here?” When he saw how upset she was, he said, “Let’s go into the dressing room and get out of the hallway.”

  Jamie explained to him about the blood and Milton disappearing. Mike told her about the effort at the house to bring me to Awakening.

  “Did you know he was using the school computer to go into CompuServe chat rooms?” she asked, calming down a bit. “He was looking for this mystery man, ‘the Hunter.’ He was trying to draw him out. He told me about it, but I didn’t really know what he was talking about till he showed me one day on the computer what he was doing. I tried to get him to stop. He said he would stop, but it looks like instead the Hunter may have found him. So, now we’re all going to die.” No one else had anything to add and the room grew quiet. That’s when she began to cry.

  ◆◆◆

  My performance in the play that night wasn’t very good, mostly due to the fact that I didn’t remember any of my five lines. I don’t know what I said, just that I at least said something each time I had a line. All I could think about was my friend Milton, kidnapped or dead somewhere, and all the questions I had for Mike and my parents about what was happening. After the show, Mike offered to drive me home. Once we were in the car, my questions didn’t stop.

  “Who is this ‘Hunter’ that Jamie was talking about?” I asked him. “What does he want? Is everyone I know in danger of being killed right now? What does this maniac want?” my voice rose along with my frustration and fear. I was tired of not understanding what was going on.

  “You already asked that one,” he was able to reply while I paused to breathe. “We think he started hunting us about twenty years ago. We’re not too sure because, even though we remember most everything about our previous lives, each death is mercifully forgotten. The memories just fade out at the end.”

  “Twenty years. But why and what does he want?” I asked, I guess for the third time.

  “Personally, I think he is trying to use us for some sick, selfish reason,” Mike explained. “Our knowledge might make someone rich and powerful if they used it in the wrong way. Or, it could just be that he hates us and wants us dead for some reason. After the Knowers he’
s gotten to have disappeared, though, some have been found weeks or even months later. Dead.” He shook his head and then added, “I think he kept them alive to get them to talk.”

  My life was turning into a horror movie. I began shaking my head, no. “I don’t want this!” I cried. “I did not sign up for this! I don’t want to have anything to do with this! It’s clear: I am not one of you! I’m not part of your weird little reborn group. Someone has made a terrible mistake. Or, or, you’re all crazy!”

  I was shaking so hard I had to breathe a little just to calm down. Then, more evenly I said to Mike, “Whatever it is, whatever his reasons, this killer who’s out there stalking people doesn’t want me.” Something else occurred to me and I added, “My family doesn’t know Milton, so they’re in the clear.” I felt relieved having realized this.

  “There’s been no mistake, Philip,” Mike replied, bursting my bubble. “Didn’t you say you’ve been seeing things lately? I thought you said you were. I think that means Awakening is near.” He stopped and thought about it for a moment and then asked, “Have you also been having strong déjà vu lately? I bet you have.”

  Just then, he pulled the car over to the side of the road, although we were still several blocks away from my house. Turning toward me, he said, “Here. Take my hands. Touching makes the connection clearer for me sometimes.”

  I didn’t want to hold hands with him. I really, really didn’t want to, but I found it hard to say no to Mike. I turned toward him and he was just sitting there facing me, gesturing with both hands toward me, palms up. I placed my hands on top of his, palm-to-palm. Then, he instructed, “Now, look at me.” The streetlight was coming in at an angle and half his face was in light, half in dark. Feeling fairly uncomfortable, I stared into his eyes. I was conscious of his breathing, his chest rising and falling. I became aware that my breathing soon matched his. Slowly in, faster out. Slowly in, faster out. I kept coming back to his eyes. All I could see were Mike’s eyes. He was starting to get shiny-eyed like he was going to cry and I knew that would be even more uncomfortable for me than sitting in a car holding hands with him.

  I slowly realized something was changing or shifting. I wasn’t quite sure, but I thought he looked older somehow—like twenty years older. Very slowly, he transformed from a high schooler with a little acne into a forty-year-old man, losing a significant amount of his hair in the process. He still had that same black, brush-like hair I’d seen in the snapshot, but it was receding at the temples. Also, he was smiling at me with a look that could only mean love. There was so much love in his eyes and I didn’t know what to feel. Part of me felt that this was the strangest thing that had ever happened, and another part of me felt this was the most natural and normal thing. As if I’d been waiting for exactly this to happen.

  Then a car drove by and the vision vanished. There was the old Mike, I mean, the high school version of Mike but he still had the same look in his eyes: shiny and definitely filled with love. His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, “We’ve been together for lifetimes, you and me. I recognized you the first week of school, but you didn’t know me. The last time you knew me, I was leaving on a business trip. We said goodbye in my car as I dropped you off. Remember? Please say you remember,” he pleaded, still turned toward me, holding my hands.

  Voices and images came crashing down on me, swirling around me like my own personal tornado. The car seemed to spin even though we were parked on the side of the road. I couldn’t speak. I dropped his hands and grabbed the edge of the seat for some stability. When that didn’t work, I threw open the door, laid halfway down on the seat, and puked into the gutter. I realized that Mike was holding the waistband of my pants to keep me from sliding further out of the car. I didn’t mind.

  After I threw up, I didn’t actually feel any better, but I couldn’t stay in that undignified position, so I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and sat up. “I’m going to walk home,” I half mumbled, while getting out of the car.

  “It’s not safe,” he warned. “I’ll go with you,” Mike said, hopping out and quickly locking the car.

  “I don’t want you to,” I replied as I started down the sidewalk.

  “I know,” he said quietly, joining me on the sidewalk. “But I’m coming anyway. It really isn’t safe for you to be out here alone right now, Philip.”

  ◆◆◆

  I let Mike walk me home. He remained quiet most of the way and let me think. At one point, I broke the silence and asked him, “What did you say your name was before?”

  “Ingmar. My name was Ingmar and yours was—”

  “Ansel. It was Ansel, right?” he nodded in the affirmative. “God! Ansel and Ingmar! What a strange couple of names we had,” I said. “With names like that, we must have been destined to be together.” I paused, then added with a smile, “With those names, who else would have had us?”

  “A joke,” Mike replied “Joking is better than puking. And you remembered your name! I think it’s all finally gonna come back. And good timing, too. Maybe you and your folks can help us catch this Hunter before he kills again. I’ve been working with the gang at school for the last year to find a way, but until today, we’d had no luck finding him.” He was lost in thought for a moment and then went on, “I didn’t know what Milton was doing. I should have been more aware. I thought he was just doing research on the computer, trying to find more victims.” Mike shook his head.

  “You can’t help it that Milton lied to you—to all of you,” I reassured him.

  “I suppose not,” he said. Then, struggling to find the right words, he continued, “I think you and I share something else. I’m pretty sure we were both killed by the Hunter—two years apart. I was killed while leaving Washington D.C. in 1960. In our research, we learned that Ingmar’s car was found at a highway rest stop, and his body was found in a field a week later, strangled. You, or rather Ansel, disappeared from our apartment there in 1962. Murdered—as far as we can tell—by the same man who murdered me.

  “And now the Hunter is here,” Mike continued, “He’s taken Milton, and by now, probably knows about the rest of us. If he’s killed these other people and the police haven’t been able to stop him, it’s up to us to find him and get Milton back, if he’s still alive.”

  “We will find him and put an end to this,” I said.

  “And put an end to this,” I say with tears in my eyes. Ingmar is standing across from me in the sparsely furnished New York City hotel room. I am twenty-one and still wearing my uniform. I say to him, “If people found out what we've been to each other, what we’ve done with each other, I just, well I could never face my parents again.”

  “Ansel, they already know,” Ingmar says gently. “Don’t you get it?” he asks. “As soon as they saw us together, they knew we would probably end up together—in some way.” He steps toward me, but I step away.

  He continues, “Since my sister died, and after all the death we’ve seen, I feel like this life we have—this love we share—is even more precious. Don’t go. Please. Stay. The war is over and the world is changing. We can make this work—together.”

  “Okay, this is getting weird,” I declared, coming to a halt in front of my family’s long, low, brick house in 1980. My brain felt like a tennis ball being smacked from the present to the past and back again. I placed my hand across my eyes for a moment in an attempt to reorient to reality. When I felt more grounded, I asked, “What happened to your sister during the war?”

  “Well, Ingmar’s sister died having a baby,” Mike answered sadly. “And then she came back as your mom, which is pretty wonderful. You met her once as Ansel, but it was before we, uh, you know… So, you probably didn’t pay too much attention.”

  I remembered my vision from the night before and said, “She picked you up at some train station, didn’t she? You two seemed really close. That’s where I met her, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. I guess you did pay attention,” he said, smiling softly.

>   CHAPTER SEVEN

  Knowers may have lives either small or large. Some Knowers spend their entire lives in small towns and are mainly concerned with improving the lot of their local community. Each of their small actions as Knowers may have an effect on only one or two individuals. Other Knowers concern themselves with larger matters, such as redirecting national interests or influencing the destiny of entire populations. Whether the Knower uses their gifts for the personal or the populace, they are always attempting to improve lives and decrease suffering.

  Southampton Free Press 1975 (Excerpt)

  Entering my house, we found my parents waiting for us. I said, “Hi” to my mom, but I ignored my dad. I saw the expectant look fall from his face when we walked in and I didn’t acknowledge him. I just couldn’t talk to him yet. I was still so mixed up. The only safe contact with him seemed to be no contact at all. “Since it’s just the four of us,” said Mom, “We’ll gather here at the table.”

  Realizing we had to act quickly, we silently agreed to put the past aside for now and focus on the crisis we were facing at that moment. We began drawing up a list of allies. It was shorter than I thought it would be.

  “We can't count on my folks at all,” Mike said, once we were seated around the table. “My father’s really nice and all, but he’s not one of the Knowers. My mom is a Knower, but she’s not doing well these days. She can’t even help herself anymore, so we can’t count on her either.”