Tainted Energy (The Energy Series Book 1)

by Lynn Vroman

  Odd, fur-covered fish scampered out of my way. Orange snake-like creatures walking on four legs kept pace before getting bored and leaving. None of them tried to bite or anything. So after they scared the piss out of me, I kept going, ignoring them.

  The forest didn’t change at all, a kind of unnatural symmetry dominating. Once I figured out the pattern, I had no trouble evading scratching limbs and prickly bushes. I yelled every so often, at first to relieve the panic then because I had nothing better to do.

  The more I walked, the more I liked the peace, the vivid colors, even the strange creatures brave enough to confront me. This place was kind of awesome, actually. Bright, oversized flowers bloomed in the pockets between the symmetric trees and bushes. The scent…I wished I could bottle it. It was so clean, like flowers mingling with the gritty soil. The heat began to feel nice, too. Maybe I wouldn’t have to leave.

  After that thought, things changed.

  The sky grew darker, dimming all the crazy colors. It didn’t set off any alarms at first. Everything grew darker at night, right? I kept walking, paying no attention to the sudden quiet. I even decided to set up some sort of camp, the place way better than the dank trailer park.

  Gushing water changed my mind.

  After an hour of calm, the noise had my danger sensors finally working. The tranquil river transformed into an entity not even safe for extreme whitewater rafting. It roared in my ears like a pride of lions in an echo chamber. I did a one-eighty and picked up my speed, heading back to my sweatshirt.

  Where else did I have to go?

  I kept an eye on the river and hoped the water wouldn’t overtake its banks. The heat grew unbearable, my mouth drying up so much my tongue swelled. That scent I wanted to take home with me switched to the smell of a beach when dead fish washed ashore.

  I raced through options, everything sounding stupid, as a sharp squeal came from the tops of the trees. Against my better judgment, I looked up. My speed walk turned into a full-out run.

  Bright pink giant squid occupied every tree, their tentacles as thick as the trunks they latched onto and about ten feet long with suction cups the size of baseballs. They climbed lower on the trees, a few already halfway down the hundred-foot trunks. I kept running, trying to block out the squeals that sounded way too human.

  The slight breeze that came from the river was now a gust strong enough to whip my damp hair across my cheeks and snarl it in bushes and low-hanging limbs, slowing me down. It yanked out of my skull as I pushed ahead, pain searing my scalp.

  As I ran closer to where my shirt hung, the master plan ended. The waterfall now rushed into the river with so much power the rocks at the bottom were splitting and cracking.

  The squid continued to descend, two or three sitting as low as my height. I wrenched my shirt from the tree and double knotted the sleeves around my waist, my attention on the squid about twenty feet from my head.

  I didn’t have to think too hard about my next move.

  Jumping over the bank, I landed with a blip as the river carried me away, twice the depth than when I first got here.

  Swimming was out. Keeping my head above water was hard enough. The water pulled me under, the roaring sounds crushing my eardrums, as those little elephants slammed into me.

  I kicked to the surface, finally reaching the top for a gulp of air. Squid lined each bank, squealing, and a shadow that looked like a man stumbled through the trees, following me down the river.

  My eyes locked on that figure. “Help!”

  The river pulled me back in, not allowing any more than a few hits of oxygen. Muscles in my legs burned as I commanded them to keep kicking, but the river wasn’t letting go. My lungs hurt, and a vise grip squeezed my head.

  I fought until my legs refused to listen.

  A keen sense of conceding to the water relaxed me. No more energy remained to fight, and the river knew it. As soon as I stopped kicking, the water stopped raging. Peace washed over me as the warmth caressed my cheeks, soothing my nerves while the fluorescent blue killed me.

  Before I closed my eyes, a vaguely familiar, raspy voice brushed against my ear. “Hold on…”

  Everything after that went black.

  Lena

  A scream lodged in my throat as hair held me hostage, suffocating me.

  My eyes snapped open.

  Twisted in blankets and hair, I lay in bed, the sun shooting through the open window and smacking me in the face.

  So…when the hell did I open the window?

  Untangling my body from the polyester, I reached over to turn off the screeching alarm–6:30. The thing had been buzzing for fifteen minutes.

  I sat in the middle of my bed, brushing all the matted, snarled hair away from my face. When the river, squid, and colors hurled into my brain, I scrambled to find the floor.

  The mattress wasn’t leaking or anything. Nothing seemed out of place. Probably a screwed-up nightmare…yeah, had to be.

  I glanced down.

  Tiny, raw scrapes littered my feet, and when I pulled up my damp sweats, the cuts continued up my legs. I combed through my hair, my fingers getting stuck in knots twisted with twigs. Next to the blankets I had pulled to the floor was my sweatshirt, creating a fluorescent puddle.

  No way.

  I slid against the wall until I felt the doorknob. After a few attempts to open the door, I ran into the bathroom and flicked on the light. The image in the mirror wasn’t the usual. A thin scratch traced the line of my jaw, but that was minimal compared to the color of my eyes, skin, lips…my hair.

  Seriously…no…way.

  My eyes were the same rich color as the leaves, and my lips were bright pink, like the squid. The dull brown of my hair was now as deep a chocolate as the tree trunks. The ultra-white of my skin magnified all the color, my complexion as smooth and creamy as those elephants that stung my legs.

  I touched my lips and smoothed my hair, examining a beautiful version of myself…a cartoon character…an exaggerated Jessica Rabbit.

  Oh, no.

  I wasn’t crazy. A pill and a stint on the third floor at Pocono Medical wouldn’t cure this.

  Nope, and so much worse, I’d have to handle whatever was happening alone.

  There was nothing I could do if my bed or a theater seat–a toilet seat for that matter–decided to suck me back to that place.

  The kitchen was quiet, both parents thankfully still in bed. I pulled the shears out of the chopping block on the counter and went back into the bathroom.

  After ten minutes of brushing out bits of trees, I braided my hair. One deep breath and I held the shears at the base of the braid and cut through it.

  Tangled hair wouldn’t slow me down again during any other future episodes.

  God, I hoped there would be no future episodes.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  I made it to the bus stop as it pulled up to the entrance of the park. I shaped my hair the best I could. No doubt when it dried it’d be standing up all over the place. Unfortunately, my new look accomplished sneers from most of the girls and unwanted interest of some guys.

  “Take a picture, assholes.” I sat in the back and closed my eyes as the bus grumbled to school.

  Last night, I almost died, and the biggest question I had was, what the hell?

  Answers were an imminent necessity, and the best I could come up with was Internet research. I didn’t know what to Google, maybe start with something like people getting sucked into their beds, colorful places, or another stupid Boolean phrase.

  Whatever.

  I’d try them all and hope something would pop up.

  After handing off a bag to Jake, who kept commenting on how different I looked, I went to homeroom and found Zander waiting with breakfast. The familiar fog he usually created crept into my brain and seeped into my muscles.

  “Hi,” I said, strapping my bag on the back of my seat.

  His wrinkled clothes and stress-lined dark face surprised me, and before I could sit, he
got up to kiss my brains out.

  Definitely surprised–actually, sliding more toward shocked.

  “Hi.” His chest heaved. “You’re beautiful.”

  Shy, I looked down at my shoes. “I missed you,” I said, forgetting that I hadn’t given him a real thought since after my run the day before.

  “And I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you right now.” His fingers shook as they pressed against my cheeks.

  “It’s only been a day, Zander.”

  “Well, it feels like years. I…I hoped you’d be here.”

  I laced his fingers with mine, tugging them from my face. “Where else would I go?”

  On our way to Gym, I told him about my dad’s sudden change–not willing to bring up the nightmare from last night. That incident definitely fell into the theater seat department.

  The stress tightening his face worsened. “That’s great, Lena. Maybe you guys can work things out, save the hassle of movin’.”

  So New Zander was a comedian? Or just an asshole?

  “Work things out?” I pulled my hand away from his. “Are you serious?”

  “Well, if he’s not hittin’ anybody and wants to work things out, why not?” He shrugged even as sweat beaded on his forehead. “Do you really think ya’ll are gonna make it without him? I mean, your mom’s kinda weak, and you…”

  “What’re you saying right now?” I stopped in the middle of the hall, making people walk around us. Rage stained my voice. “What the hell are you saying?”

  He tried to pull me close, but I squirmed away. He sighed. “I’m just sayin’ maybe give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’s changin’.”

  Betrayal ripped my heart. One of the only people on the planet who I assumed actually knew me thought I was a weakling. Thought I was better off living with a monster. “I… need to be away from you.”

  “Wait. Lena!”

  “No, Zander. Seriously, just…leave me alone.” I left him standing in the hall, not bothering to look back.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Coach Stump understood my predicament–a family trouble line of shit–and agreed to let me skip tryouts. Tryouts were just a formality for me, really. I’d secured a permanent spot on the team when I was in ninth grade and Stump caught me racing all the kids in class for money.

  I wouldn’t let Dad take my future away, no matter how much he wanted to repair our broken family. It didn’t need to be repaired–it needed an amputation. An alcoholic, abusive prick amputation.

  I avoided Zander in Gym and English, even though he made it difficult. I still felt that tug when he was in the same room, but I shook my head when he tried to talk to me.

  He skipped lunch. Good. When I finished eating, I’d cut the rest of the period and Chemistry to go to the library, do some research. Having him around would only piss me off, and it’d make it hard to come up with an excuse to leave without him, too.

  The last time Belva sat in the cafeteria she shoved my lunch on the floor–and shit her pants afterward. Today, she sat by herself. There were plenty of jokes directed her way. Most people didn’t even bother to hide it. She just sat there, in her sweatpants and hoodie, ignoring everyone. Against my better judgment, I felt sorry for her. Maybe I’d sit with her, force her to talk to me.

  I slid my tray closer to Wilma and noticed the dark bags under her eyes. Everyone in front of me handed her their money without her acknowledgment. She kept her hand out and shooed them along when money landed in her palm.

  “Ah, hi, missed ya this morning. Had to ride with the rest of the trash.” I handed her my ticket. My grin faltered as she pinned me with her blue darts, refusing to accept it. “What’s wrong?”

  Her voice was flat as she shook her head. “You have fun last night?”

  Chattering sounds at the round tables began to sound slushy in my ringing ears. “What’re you talking about?”

  “When are you going to learn to control your fear?” She slammed a fist on her register. “Better yet, when will you stop chasing it?”

  I shoved my ticket closer to her, trying to hide the shakes attacking my sweaty hand. “I don’t know–”

  “You know damn well what I’m saying.” She kept her voice low, hissing like a rattler.

  I scanned the cafeteria, no one interested in our conversation. When I faced her again, the expression on her face reminded me of that calm in the atmosphere before a tornado ripped through.

  Like any smart human being, I wanted to get as far away from the storm’s eye as possible. “Just punch my ticket. I’m hungry.”

  She held her hand out to another late straggler as he paid for his lunch, continuing with the crazy as soon as he left. “Do you think you’re safe, Lena?” She gestured toward my face.

  Numbness taking over my lips made it impossible to answer.

  “Tell me, was it the squid or the river you liked most?” Her face was no longer dull, but bright red, combustible.

  “How’d you know?” Oh, shit. Hold on…“You were there.”

  The panic racing through me must’ve transferred to my face because she softened her voice. “There’s a lot I know, and a lot you need to know. Things you should’ve never found out.” She adjusted in her seat, keeping her voice low.

  “Jesus, tell me! I’m going crazy, right?”

  Wilma punched my ticket and collected her things. “Come by the house tonight.” She stomped into the kitchen, not waiting for a reply.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  “Can I come over after work?” Zander pasted that ridiculous half-grin on his face, but it didn’t have the same effect. As usual, he managed to get me talking by the end of the day. His apology was weak, but fighting with him took too much energy. Besides, the brain fuzz…so totally like a drug.

  “Not a good idea right now. Dad’s on a mission.” I did my best to sound bored, but Wilma confirmed there were bigger monsters out there than my born-again dad.

  “Well…how about I sneak in your window.” He pulled me closer. “I could help keep you warm, maybe stay until dawn.”

  All I wanted to do was get away from him, withdrawal from the Zander heroin. “Ah, don’t think so.”

  “Well, when can I see you again…outside of this place?”

  I shook my head, trying to clear the fuzz, and stepped back. “With my dad and everything, I need some time. Alone.”

  “That’s not what I think, Lena.” He squeezed my upper arms, staring over my shoulder. I gave a subtle shrug to indicate how tight his grip was, but his hands didn’t relax.

  “Let go.” I shrugged again, but he kept his bruising hold on my arms.

  “I can’t be away from you that long.”

  I tried to sound mad, but his weird act made it come out as a whimper. “You need to let go.” My voice sounded frail, pissing me off.

  His face lightened and his grip finally loosened. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I need to be around you.”

  I wouldn’t admit he made my skin crawl for the first time ever.

  Stalker, co-dependent boyfriend, anyone?

  “It’s complicated right now. Dad wants me home a lot.”

  “I know, sorry. It’s our fight today…I can’t lose you.”

  Being close to him was no less overwhelming than it was Saturday, when he kissed me. But unlike then, dread sat in my stomach.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  I ran home. By the time I made it there, the bus had come and gone. Some kids still hung out at the park entrance, smoking and practicing their insult skills with a witty jab or a sarcastic uppercut. The laughter sounded soothing, normal.

  What I wouldn’t give for a little slice of normal.

  I forgot all about the heightened coloring of my face and hair until one of the guys came jogging up and tried to hit on me. The kid, someone I’ve lived by my whole life but never bothered to remember his name, stuttered over his tongue until the words, “You look hot,” came skipping out. I smiled, but otherwise ignored him, as my trailer came into view. On the
cement blocks, sat my dad smoking a cigarette.

  I forced a smile. “Hey, Dad.”

  “You’re late.” The shaking in his hands was twice as bad as yesterday. They barely let him lift the cigarette to his cracked lips.

  “Sorry…” I said, swallowing. “A bunch of us hung out at the bus stop, talking for a minute.” I searched behind me for the boy and gave him a wave.

  “You look different.” He took another hit, rocking. “Like a whore.”

  Oh, no… “I–”

  “Get in the house and wipe that crap off your face.” Pissed that he was sober, I’m sure. Once he found the color wouldn’t come off, he’d probably take it out on me.

  “I’m not wearing makeup. I…” Think “…cut my hair this morning. And my lips are chapped.”

  He flicked his cigarette to the ground. “Don’t be late again. We got to get the house in order.”

  Damn.

  Tarek

  Dimension of Exemplar…

  Privilege wasn’t always a curse.

  Lena would say that every time they came to Shalen Cliff. Right before she leapt off the ledge. He’d bitch every time she surfaced in the pool below. Examine her body for broken bones.

  Exposure therapy, she called it. Why fear death when they both knew death wasn’t the end of life?

  He stood at the edge of Shalen, not really watching the water lap against the bank. Darkness never blanketed the place, not with the blinking orbs littering the sky. Some were stars. Others were the energy of Guides patrolling the dimension. The recon branch of the Synod’s authority. Privacy didn’t exist here, no matter how hard he and Lena liked to pretend. They were all under the government’s microscope.

  Tarek backed away from the ledge, never a fan of heights. Like Lena said, there was nothing to fear. The Synod would just recycle him again if he slipped, broke his neck. Let him have another round of hell in Exemplar. Give him back all the memories he wanted to forget–and cling to. But a slip would be bad, seeing as he was this close to Lena again.

  He even managed to scrub the crud off his body, detangle his hair…shave for the first time in weeks. Wouldn’t want to smell like a toilet and make a bad first impression on the woman he loved. Well, it’d be the fourth first impression, but who was counting?