“Just in the state of South Carolina,” Kalea said, “and it did require a radical redesign of this entire quadrant of the school. The hope is that it will give better quality recordings by capturing a number of angles that haven’t been available at the high school level before. The first official use will be the Christmas program, but the big thing will be the school’s production of Annie Get Your Gun in April. Today’s interview will be the first live test on all the equipment, and how well it airs on public access stations.
Anna raised an eyebrow. “We’ll have a television audience too?”
“No, it’s being recorded for playback on the local access webcast,” Mr. Henson said. “Obviously, we’ll do some editing and production work to clean it up before releasing for wider distribution. We want to show the public the best work we can do.”
“Of course,” Anna said, straightening her skirt as she settled in the chair. “Let’s go over my plan for today’s interview. I’d like to start with the camera system and how Kalea took arena camera systems to a theatrical venue. Then I’d like to move on to the wireless control of lighting and stage effects systems. After that, I’ll move on to Mr. Henson’s vision for how this applies to theater productions, and an open conversation on how this has the potential to revolutionize theater design in the future.”
“I’m not sure about revolutionizing design,” Kalea said. “More work needs to be done before it goes large-scale.”
Anna laughed. “You’re so modest! Kalea, I’m here to show how you’ve revolutionized design for live action productions.”
Kalea flushed and reached down to scratch her foot. Suddenly, it was itching.
“We’re ready to go in two minutes!” the head of the stage crew, a blonde teen with glasses, said.
Mr. Henson nodded. “Time to rock and roll.”
Kalea rolled her eyes. Was he going to ruin the interview with these stupid Earth clichés?
What? She thought. She shook off the unbidden thought and adjusted the microphone headset while Anna gathered her notes and the cameraman flashed his fingers showing the final countdown to recording.
Anna smiled brightly and stared into the center camera. “Good morning South Carolina, and welcome to Modern Design Magazine Chat Hour. I’m your host, Anna Eddings. Today, we’re talking to Kalea Kerner and Darren Henson regarding the revolutionary upgrades they made to the Forestbrook High School auditorium in Columbia, South Carolina.” Anna turned to Kalea. “Miss Kerner, I’d like to open with talking about the camera system you designed for this space. It implements stadium style cameras on revolving wires similar to the camera systems that are used in sporting arenas. How difficult was it to take a design for outdoor use into a limited space like this?”
Kalea took a sip of water and leaned forward. “The design wasn’t difficult with the system they already had in place.” She gestured to Mr. Hensen. “We always start with asking Principal Hensen and the leaders on the drama team what their vision is for the auditorium. They’re the ones that use it regularly, so it has to be a system that they can operate and can run off the power available to the school without taking from other areas. Principal Hensen told me the primary goal was to be able to get better recordings of productions for broadcast on local access websites, streaming video reproductions, and acting samples for students that need it for a portfolio to colleges where they plan to study theater in the future. Our goal is to design a system that --“
“Is all the better to see you with,” a voice said from the audience. Everybody turned to stare at the voice coming from a stocky, red-headed man in the center of the auditorium. He stood and pushed his way to the aisle. “That’s what we really wanted, isn’t it? We wanted people to see us better; to get more public recognition for the school; to show everybody how wonderful we are.”
“Who is that kid?” Kalea squinted in the lights to focus on the person approaching the stage. She noticed that his right hand was in his pocket and he was fiddling with something.
“That’s not a kid,” Mr. Hensen said, “that’s Dale Zeigler. He’s the drama coach.”
“He’s kind of young for a drama coach, isn’t he?” Anna asked.
Mr. Hensen shrugged. “He’s been here for three years.” He pointed to Dale. “Mr. Zeigler, did you have a question for me or Miss Kerner?”
Dale laughed, his body shuddering. “I certainly do. The question is, was all of this worth selling your soul?”
Mr. Hensen’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
“All this technology! All of this money you spent to show everybody that we’re the best school in the state. All of these reasons why you couldn’t afford to give hardworking teachers and staff members a decent raise this year.”
Mr. Hensen stood and pointed at Darren. “Mr. Zeigler, that’s enough. I’m sorry you don’t agree with these changes, but we have to take a long-term approach to improving the school. You know salaries come from a different budget. This year, the school board decided to upgrade facilities. I assure you that it will lead to better compensation for employees and staff in the future. You have to be patient.”
“Be patient!” Dale laughed. “I have to be patient. I have to be patient while my bank account is empty. I have to be patient while I struggle to put food on the table for my kids. I have to be patient while the bank threatens to foreclose on my house. I have to be patient while my wife has an affair with an architect that flatters her with a lifestyle I can only dream of.”
Kalea’s eyes narrowed. “I work with many architects in the area. This isn’t an appropriate time or place for this discussion.”
Dale stared at Kalea with hard, green eyes. “Of course, it isn’t. It never it, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing does anymore.”
Kalea leaned back in her chair. So much for not making a fool of herself again.
“Where’s the resource officer?” Mr. Hensen‘s eyes darted around the auditorium. “This man needs to be escorted off the property. He’s threatening the safety of the children.”
“The resource officer is indisposed, just like all of you will be soon,” Dale pulled a gun out of his pocket and fired a shot into the ceiling. Screams filled the room as students ducked on the floor. Dale jumped on the stage, directly in front of Kalea.
“Don’t believe the lies they tell you!” he fired a bullet directly into one of the revolving cameras, causing it to shatter on the floor in the front row. “They say it’s for the greater good? No, it’s to build the right reputations and feed the right egos.” He waved the gun toward Kalea and Mr. Hensen. “These two will get rich while we rot at their bidding! There’s nothing in any of this for us. They don’t care about us. All they care about is keeping us under their feet so they can step on us on their way to the top. Well, no more!” He turned, pointing the gun, a chrome .380, in Kalea’s face. “Say good-bye to all your fame and fortune.”
Kalea’s hand shot up and grabbed the muzzle of the gun, which sparked at her touch. Dale screamed as an electric current ran up his arm, driving him to his knees. Kalea stood up slowly, her eyes boring into Dale. “This vessel is broken. It must be purged.” Her eyes glowed silver as she bent to touch a red scar on Dale’s hand.
“No!” he screamed, grabbing Kalea’s ankle. A blue spark shot through him, knocking him off the stage and onto the front row floor. Kalea collapsed into her chair, breathing heavily. She gulped and pulled herself up straight in the chair, looking at the audience staring at her in terror.
“What happened?” she asked, and passed out.
Chapter 7
“You don’t remember anything?” the doctor shined a light in Kalea’s right eye.
“No,” Kalea said. “I’m fine. Can I go home?”
“Absolutely not. You sent enough electricity through Mr. Zeigler to kill a horse. That both of you are still living, breathing, walking, and talking means something isn’t right. We need to find out what happened.”
“Maybe it was the microphone.”
Kalea whistled. “I hadn’t noticed.”
The doctor raised an eyebrow. “You hadn’t noticed that your allergies aren’t bothering you at the peak of weed pollen season, or that a scar disappeared?”
Kalea shrugged. “I guess I’ve been busy. But how would I know the scar is gone? It’s on my back and I live alone.”
The doctor laid down his computer. “I’d swear you’d had nanotech, but the scans confirm that you don’t. Have you had any other incidents conducting electricity?”
Kalea thought about the fuse box at her Aunt and Uncle’s house two weeks ago. “No, not like that.”
“Have you been exposed to radiation lately?”
“No, why do you ask?”
“That scars on your foot have a faint radiation signature emitting from them.”
Kalea’s eyes widened. “How is that possible?”
The doctor shrugged. “Heck if I know. That’s why I asked you. Is that where you uncle grabbed you last month, and you got the scar a week later?”
Kalea nodded.
“Has the scar faded since it showed up?”
Kalea looked at her ankle. “No, but I saw my regular doctor right after it showed up, and she said it’s cosmetic. She didn’t say anything about radiation.”
“She probably didn’t do a detailed enough scan to pick it up,” the doctor picked up his computer and pecked at it. “Its low level and not a threat to your overall well-being, so I’m not acting on it now. I’m sending this to your primary care physician and want you to follow-up on it in a week. If it doesn’t go away on its own, you may need medication to treat you for possible poisoning.”
“Poisoning?”
The doctor peered at her. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal now, but it needs to be monitored. Think about where you might have come in contact with radiation.”
“Could it have happened here when my uncle almost died?”
“It shouldn’t have, but I’ll find out what equipment they had on him.” The doctor paused. “How is he? I saw him a couple of times while he was here in July and August.”
“I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks,” Kalea said as her smartwatch buzzed. She glanced at it. “That’s my cousin from D.C. Am I free to take the call?”
The doctor waved her off. “I’ve done all I can. I’ll get your discharge orders.” He walked out of the room as Kalea hit the answer button. Annaliese didn’t wait for a proper greeting.
“Kalea, I’ve had the strangest day. I think something weird is going on.”
Kalea sighed, sinking into her chair. “Tell me about it.”
Chapter 8
Kalea breathed in the cool, fall air as she held up her bow, lining up a shot against the oak tree with the remains of the old tree house. It had recently rained, leaving behind a fresh, earthy smell in the foliage surrounding her. The sky glistened a deep, sapphire blue that you only see during the best days of fall. She loosed the arrow, the arrow slicing through the humid air and hitting dead center of the target. An excellent shot! Granddaddy would be proud to see her continuing with something they both loved. She was glad she didn’t get too rusty while she was down with the broken foot. The archery team has a good chance at the state championship this year.
She held her face up, letting the sunlight streaming through the trees warm her face. Raindrops clinging to the leaves above glistened in the light, producing a shimmer in the woods like she had never seen before. Amazing, it was so bright out here, so alive. Even in the silence of the woods, it seemed like the Earth hummed with life.
Kalea inhaled deeply and looked around. The silence was unusual. Normally, the chatter of birds and the scampering of ground critters accompanied her late afternoon and early evening target practice sessions. Her stomach tightened at the absence of sound. This kind of quiet was one that she usually only heard in the winter, when things were in hibernation, but not even a breeze stirred the trees around her. And come to think if it, it was unseasonably cool for mid-September. She was lining up another shot when a tremor ran through her, causing her to drop her bow. She leaned against a tree and checked her vital signs on her watch. Her eyes widened at the readings. Her pulse rate spiked and her blood pressure was 160/100. That was extremely high for her. She usually had low blood pressure. She took several deep breaths, trying to lower her heart rate. This wasn’t right. She was calmly lining up her shots. What caused the tremor, and the racing heartbeat?
A few deep breaths settled her pounding heart, but the tightness in her stomach had moved up to her chest, and her head throbbed along with the blood pumping through her veins. No, not another migraine! She hadn’t had one since --
Kalea suddenly felt uncomfortable and exposed, despite the familiar tree canopy above her. She picked up her bow, retrieved her quarrels, and started hiking back toward the house. She slowed even more as she approached a clearing and the sunlight rose to an unnatural high for so late in the day. The glare of the raindrops glistening on the trees blinded her. She stopped, shading her eyes and wondering if she should go off path to escape this assault of light.
She didn’t have time. The light rose, surrounding her. She yelled unable to move, but it was pointless as the sound was swallowed by an invisible presence surrounding her. She couldn’t even raise a normal speaking voice, and nobody could hear her because the light swallowed up everything around her.
“Gather the selected ones,” a voice whispered in her left ear.
“What?” she muttered.
“Some were chosen that aren’t worthy. A relapse will purge them. You are to lead the ones that are strong enough to survive.”
“Survive what?” Kalea asked.
“What comes next,” the voice whispered as the light receded and released her from its grip.
Kalea screamed, bolting upright in bed. She looked around, wiping her eyes. It was full dark and her clock read midnight. Was it a dream? How did she get here? Kalea clearly remembered changing into her shorts and T-shirt, setting up her targets, several good shots, the light -- and now she was here. She didn’t remember coming home, showering, doing her evening reading, or going to bed. She jumped again as she realized that her cell phone ringing was what woke her up. She jerked it off her bedside table, knocking over her compound bow leaning against it.
Why is by bow there? I usually hang it in the garage.
The phone rang again, causing her to jolt one more time.
“Hello?”
“Kalea, it’s Aunt Tabitha. I’m sorry, did I wake you? I don’t know what time you go to bed on Fridays.”
“No, I’m okay,” she said, swiping her nose. She was surprised to find a small streak of blood on her hand. “What’s up?”
“It’s your uncle. He fell again. He’s on the way to the hospital.”
Kalea swung her legs over the bed. She gripped the bedside table with her free hand as her head spun from the sudden movement. “What happened?”
Aunt Tabitha choked back a sob. “He hasn’t been himself the past couple of weeks. I think he’s relapsed.”
The tightness returned to Kalea’s stomach.
“I didn’t want to say anything because I wasn’t sure, but his symptoms have been returning, just like the cancer patients they talked about on the news. You know most of those people died in the past week?”
Kalea sat a moment, trying to process her aunt’s sudden change of subject. Then again, that was like Aunt Tabitha. She struggled to keep a train of thought when she was stressed, and would often babble about unre
lated nonsense. She’d seen plenty of that in the past few weeks, and wasn’t pleased to see it again. Kalea swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I thought Uncle Carson was better.”
“So did I, sweetheart,” Aunt Tabitha said.
“Are you at the hospital?”
“Yes. We’re in the same room as before.”
“I’ll be right there. Have you called Annaliese and Avery?”
“Annaliese is coming in the morning, and Avery is trying to get things arranged. Something happened at his work. They got something, picked up something, I don’t know. Something to do with satellite transmissions he needs to research. He’s trying to see if he can come here and do his work remotely.” Aunt Tabitha paused. “I hate for you to come after all you went through earlier this week with that crazy man ruining your interview, and you’ve been too uncomfortable to leave home and work with the footage being played everywhere. Why don’t you stay home? I can call you and let you know what happens.”
“I need to be there. I need to figure out what’s going on.”
“We all do, sweetheart.”
Chapter 9
“He’s relapsed to Stage Five dementia,” the nurse said. Kalea remembered the nurse. She was the one with the phoenix tattoo on her arm that witnessed the miracle of his recovery, and now she was telling them that it was coming undone.
“How is that possible?” Aunt Tabitha dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
The nurse shrugged. “The doctor will be in later to talk to you about that. We won’t be able to give you many answers because Mr. Carson refused to come in for his weekly check-ins after his recovery. It would have been better to track this if we could have monitored his brain activity through those scans.””
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