by Lane, Styna
I dangled my feet off the side of the bed, shoulders hunched over as I stared out the window with tired eyes. It was still early. Anyone who wasn’t on watch-duty was asleep, except for myself and the little black spider that was staring at me from the windowsill. ‘We’re in tune with nature,’ Al had told me. ‘With all living things, if we allow ourselves to be.’ With a deep breath, I slowly reached my finger tip to the window. Tiny legs tickled against my skin as the spider crawled up into my palm, settling itself happily into the crease of my life-line. As much as I feared spiders, I actually found myself fighting the urge to pet the tiny evil devil.
“You’re not so terrible, are you,” I whispered, staring into the mass of dark, shining eyes.
“Are you okay?”
I nearly catapulted the spider out of my hand at the unexpected sound of a husky voice. Somehow, I managed to place it back on the windowsill, before kneeling down so that my face was at the same level as the little bugger.
“Can you talk?” I whispered again, eyeing the spider cautiously.
“Angie, are you okay?” Bryant said from behind me, clearing his throat from the hoarseness of sleep.
Clasping my hand over my chest, I exhaled with relief, shaking my head at myself for thinking that I had inadvertently become fluent in the language of creepy-crawlies.
“Yeah,” I said, calming my racing heart as I returned to my seat on the bed.
Bryant crossed the room, sitting next to me in silence for a long while. There was much to feel, and little to say. But we were perfectly content just sitting next to each other in our parents’ house. We would never get the lost years of siblinghood back, but we could at least dwell in it for a few moments, on what might have been our last morning in the home we’d never known.
“Who’s this little guy?” he asked, gesturing toward the spider.
“Tiny evil devil,” I answered without any real thought.
“Well, hello, Ted,” he said, tapping his finger on the windowsill.
A breath of laughter escaped me as the spider stared at Bryant incredulously—at least, it seemed incredulous. I wasn’t well-studied in the emotions of arachnids.
“Ted,” I snorted, as the critter crawled onto his hand. “Our first family pet.”
Bryant smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes.
“Do you remember them at all?” I asked, glancing back at the photo of our mother in the hallway. I could just see her face through the door.
“Sometimes, I have glimpses of memories… but I don’t know if they’re even real.”
“I know what you mean,” I said softly.
“We’re never going to find them, are we?” It wasn’t so much a question, as it was a statement of utter hopelessness.
I struggled to think of an adequate answer, but my mind failed me. I wanted to say that we would find our parents, but I had no way of knowing if that was the truth. It seemed improbable that we would be able to find them, when those who were far more experienced than us in every way hadn’t even come close. So, I said nothing. I wrapped a comforting arm around my brother’s shoulder, and we found the answer together, within the tear-filled embrace of family; Bryant, myself, and Ted.
“Angie, open up!” Lyla shouted, sounding as if she were on the verge of breaking down the front door with hurried knocks.
‘It’s happening,’ I thought. ‘This is it. This is the end. William is coming.’ I rushed to the kitchen, Bryant close behind me, and swung open the door so quickly that I almost caught myself in the face.
“What?!”
“So…” Lyla began, almost reluctant to say what she’d been so impatient to say just moments before. “A thing happened.”
“What kind of thing?” I asked nervously.
Joseph stepped up on the porch behind her, and held out his hand. Sitting in his palm were two identical stones, blue-and-orange facets shimmering in the morning-light.
“You bonded?” I breathed. “But, your cuffs…”
Before I could finish my thought, he flipped his hand over. Neither the green, nor the red lights were glowing from the shackles on his wrists.
“I woke up, and the lights were off,” he explained, gazing upon Lyla’s face without restraint.
At a loss for words, I glanced around the Eden; a few stragglers had begun walking around the path. I wondered what Al would have done.
“Follow me,” I said, stepping between Lyla and Joseph as I headed off the porch.
“What’s that?” Joseph from somewhere behind me.
“This is Ted,” Bryant responded.
“Ted?”
“Ted.”
I rolled my eyes with a grin as I led them to a house not far from our own. Knocking on the door I had only been to once, I hoped that we wouldn’t be met by some sort of elderly-rage.
“What?” Curtis bellowed from inside, the sounds of sleep still heavy in his voice.
“Curtis? It’s Angie… Dawson,” I called, even though I knew there were no other Angie’s in the Eden.
“What do you want?” he questioned grouchily, poking his head through the door.
“We… we have some stones for you?”
Curtis scrutinized our little group with irritation, but eventually backed away to let us into the house. I was taken aback by the sight of the old man, wrapped up in a blanket as he shuffled across the floor like a fluffy, upright caterpillar. He jutted his hand out of the blanket-cocoon, demanding the stones as his eyelids sagged from sleep. Joseph reluctantly handed the gems over, eyeing me with uncertainty.
“Well, Alvin owes me a week of farming,” Curtis said, smirking as he rolled the stones over in his palm.
“What?” I asked.
“I bet him that the rest of your gen would make the Spera Lapis when they bonded,” he said contently, stiffly lowering himself to a chair at the kitchen table. His blanket-cocoon fell around him as he reached for his loupe.
I should have been overwhelmed by the sudden realization that my generation was truly different; we would be expected to make great changes in the world. We would be looked at as saviors. But, mostly, I was just angry that Al had bet against the notion.
“Calm down,” Curtis said, taking notice of my rigid demeanor, “it’s not that he didn’t think it was true. He just didn’t want you to have that burden on your shoulders.”
“How sweet of him,” I mumbled.
“What does this mean?” Lyla asked quietly, which was an uncommon volume for her voice.
“It means—” he said, glancing up at the others in the room for the first time. “Good god, girl, what’s wrong with your hair?”
Bryant, Joseph, and I nervously glanced at each other, then at Lyla, fully expecting her to burst out into a rant of how altering one’s appearance was a totally healthy form of self-expression, and shame on him for judging her choice of hair color. Instead, she glared, chewing the inside of her lip as she held back her words.
“There was an incident involving nuclear waste,” she said, tilting her head a bit in her sarcasm. “Will you just answer my question?”
“You’re just like my granddaughter,” Curtis chuckled, to my surprise. “It means you have the potential to do much greater things than any of the generations we have known. Whether you choose to act on that, of course, is completely up to you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Shmangela
“Stop that… Stop!” Cora shouted, finally resolving to put out the fire that had begun to spread across the grass at a concerning rate.
“Sorry,” Lakin said, looking down at his feet.
“No,” Reagan said calmingly. “Don’t be sorry. You’re… you’re getting better.”
“No he isn’t. He’s terrible,” Gabe said truthfully, resulting in a slap on the shoulder from his bond.
“Maybe we should take a break,” Bryant said wearily.
“There isn’t time for a—” Cora began with frustration, but her eyes gazed past us.
Tu
rning to follow her line of vision, I saw Lily staring from across the Eden. She nodded, before disappearing into her house.
“Fine,” Cora grumbled. “Fifteen-minute break.”
“Sandwiches and salads back at our place, if anyone’s hungry,” Reagan said, forcing a sweet smile even through Cora’s glares.
It was perfect timing for a break. Reagan’s support wasn’t enough to counteract the extreme pressure Cora had been putting on us, and while we all understood that everyone was concerned about how much time we had, the stress only made it more difficult to focus. Creating a steady stream of fire from your palm in a populated area was stressful enough, without having to worry about whether or not you’d need to burn a bad-guy’s face off by the end of the day.
Jackie had spent the majority of the day observing us with silent feline judgment as we caught things on fire, froze things, blew things over, and, in one instance, accidentally caused a massive crater in the middle of the field. I’d mostly just been helping to guide the others, but Lyla was already surprisingly adept at using her abilities. We’d all known that she hadn’t totally refrained from using them in the outside world, but I’d had no idea just how much she’d practiced. Bryant and Joseph had caught on fairly quickly, and they were at least good enough to hit a target with one element or another, if necessary. Lakin, however, seemed to be having a significant amount of trouble adjusting. He lacked the confidence in himself. Once he’d started manipulating an element, he would begin to overthink it, and inevitably lose control. Judging by the glowing gem on his chest, I was sure that it was partially due to our powers being abnormally stronger than they had ever been before. Even I was having some issues—let’s just say that the name of the person who was responsible for the crater rhymed with ‘Shmangela’.
Deciding to take some time away from the others, Lakin and I walked along the far edge of the Eden, where the pond curved over us to meet the ground; a straight line divided the vibrant grass from the muddy, fishiness on the other side. I dragged my fingertips along the water as we walked, still amazed that such a thing could ever be possible in the world. Lakin kept his eyes fixed firmly upon his feet, disheartened by the lack of progress that Reagan had falsely assured he was making.
“Hey,” I said, taking his hand in mine as we walked, “it’s okay.”
“It’s not, though,” he said quietly.
“Sure it is. You’re totally new at this. You can’t expect to be a pro, right off the bat.”
“But…” His forehead wrinkled in frustration as he brushed his hair back out of his eyes.
“But what?”
“I won’t be able to protect you.” The guilt in Lakin’s eyes stabbed at my gut as he stared through into my soul.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” I asked, stopping in my tracks. Part of me felt a deep sadness, but part of me wanted to go all feminist on him, and slap him in the face for thinking I needed to a man to take care of me.
“Of course it is. I’ve never been good at anything. This is the one thing I should be able to do, and I can’t.”
“That’s your adoptive father talking,” I said. “You’re good at a lot of things.”
“Yeah? Like what?” he asked, eyebrows lowered, as if he were challenging me to come up with an answer that was even remotely believable.
I stumbled over my words. The truth was, Lakin was incredibly average. He had spent most of his time working, and planning ways to get out on his own. He hadn’t excelled in school, he didn’t play sports, he wasn’t exceptionally funny, or witty, or smart… but he was kind. He cared about people, other than himself. He wanted everyone to be happy. And he persevered through unfortunate circumstances. He wasn’t one to simply give up.
“Surviving,” I said, “and being one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever known.”
“You haven’t known very many people,” he said, eyes gleaming as his face twisted into a child-like grin.
“That’s true. But you are way cooler than ninety-nine percent of anyone I have known.”
“Who’s the other one percent?”
“Jackie,” I said immediately, trying to keep a straight face, but breaking down into laughter with Lakin.
I had never really thought about him, as a person, before. I mean, really thought about him. I’d never needed to. I knew that we were meant to be together, but would I have cared so strongly for him if we had just happened to have met, one day? If we hadn’t spent every night in each other’s dreams. If we had been neighbors, or if we had gone to the same school? If we’d been normal? But it didn’t matter. We hadn’t been neighbors. We hadn’t gone to the same school. We were not normal, and we never would be. We were us, and that was all I needed. I forced the thoughts out of my mind.
Sensing that Lakin was about to retreat back into his pit of self-loathing, I retrieved a hand-full of clear, liquid blob from the pond-wall at our side. With a trace of blue light extending from my fingertips, the water danced above my palm in shapes that vaguely resembled a boy and girl moving toward each other. Thin streams of water circled around them as I did my best to stage an aquatic rendition of our bonding. Lakin gazed upon the sight with wonder and nostalgia, and, to my dismay, a hint of jealousy. With my free hand, I reached for one of his, and placed it just above the watery-ballet. He shook his head, trying to pull away.
“Don’t worry about failing,” I said. “Don’t worry about having to be anything, other than what you are. Just want for it to happen, simply because you want for it to happen.”
I didn’t step back until I was absolutely certain that Lakin was holding his hand over the scene out of his own free will. Light emerged from his own fingertips, mingling with the water, and pushing the figures around in a circle. As I stepped away, the shapes drooped a bit, but quickly corrected themselves. Happiness and pride beamed across his face when he finally realized that he was in total control of the water that was swaying gracefully beneath his hand.
A flicker in the corner of my eye distracted me from Lakin’s triumph. At first, I thought it was just my eyes playing tricks on me; the product of an over-worked mind demanding some lazy-time. Then, I thought I was having a stroke. My vision went blurry as I stared at the wall of water behind us. But no, the water was vibrating. Ripples all along the walls of the Eden distorted the view of the pond-creatures surrounding us.
The aquatic couple in Lakin’s hand fell to their death, reduced to nothing more than a puddle under our feet. Together, we stared at the quaking water with curiosity, before a short, rumbling burst erupted from beneath us. It was weak, barely strong enough to feel, but we had both noticed it.
“We should find Lily and the others,” Lakin said, taking my hand.
I followed with minimal reluctance, glancing back occasionally at the odd sight behind us. I was suddenly very aware of the cold, damp grass beneath my bare feet. Why was I never wearing shoes when weird things happened?
We passed as calmly as possible through the Eden. Most had not noticed that anything was off, until the young, copper-haired Amelia, with a dandelion tucked behind her ear, said, “Momma, what’s wrong with the water?”
We picked up speed, as the vibrations grew stronger and the ripples became more noticeable, but before we could make it to Lily’s house, they stopped with unnerving swiftness. All around us, bodies emerged from their homes, staring upward in curiosity.
Streaks of vivid purple forced their way across the water, creating violet reflections on the faces of onlookers. Slowly, more and more streaks filled our sky, until the water glowed a brilliant purple. It was eerily beautiful… and beautifully terrifying.
“What is this?” I asked in a whisper, barely able to find my voice.
It was too quiet. The only sounds came from the lungs of those near us. It was as if our moment had been paused in time, as we all stood completely still, watching the magnificence above.
“This is it,” Lily said from behind me, breaking the quiet as she realize
d what was happening.
At the far end of the Eden, where our parents’ houses sat like vacant shadows, a startlingly painful sound rushed toward us. I could only relate it to the white noise of a television, but it was different—malicious. A few of us started toward the noise, but quickly stopped in our tracks, squinting at the new sight. There appeared to be a dense fog rushing toward us. As my brain pieced it together, my body went weak with dread.
“Everyone to the tunnel! Now!” many ethereal voices shouted in sync with Lily.
Screams echoed throughout the once peaceful Eden, as Elementums hurried their way to escape. Parents protectively swaddled their children, while others desperately called out for their bonds.
I couldn’t move. My feet felt as though they had become encased in lead. I was only slightly aware of Lakin pulling at my arm, yelling for me to run. All I could do was stare at the water rushing closer, threatening to engulf the houses of my generation's parents; the houses we had slept in just the night before.
Then there was silence. Unbreakable, enveloping silence.
The sounds of screams and collapsing water surely continued all around me, but I couldn’t hear them. A pain pierced my skull, stronger than I would have ever thought my body could tolerate, as beams of white light emitted from my eyes, encircling me in brightness. Suddenly, the pain stopped and my body no longer felt like my own, as though I had become one with time and space and everything; a breathing vessel for the universe.
The circle of light grew rapidly around me, until I was the center of an orb almost as large as the Eden itself. Streams of blue poured from the fingertips of my free hand, intertwining with the white. I could feel myself drawing from Lakin's energy; a sense of unimaginable strength and urgency. The power grew even stronger, as Lyla, Joseph, and Bryant bravely stepped forward and instinctively joined us, locking hands, becoming one. Upon touching the churning, blue-and-white light, the viscous water immediately formed radiant crystals, freezing the entire pond within moments.