by Heidi Lang
“I’m sure. He dropped out of school a couple of weeks ago to study mushrooms in the woods or something.” Vivienne shrugged. “He must have decided he was done with that. Honestly, I’m a little surprised Patrick picked him for the internship, but I guess he has his reasons.”
“He just dropped out of school to live in the woods? Is that even legal?”
“It’s not encouraged. But we’ve learned it’s best to just let people go when they feel the call of the Watchful Woods. They always come back eventually.” Vivienne hesitated. “Well, usually,” she amended. “There was a girl a few years ago who decided she wanted to be a bird. She built a giant nest and refused to touch the ground for months. Then one day she just vanished. Most people think she joined a flock and went south for the winter, then stayed out there.”
Rae couldn’t tell if Vivienne was joking and decided not to ask. She’d learned that Whispering Pines usually lost a student or two every year, and that the people of this town accepted that as perfectly normal. Even Vivienne didn’t seem to think there was a problem with it.
Rae glanced outside at the Watchful Woods. There was a clear patch of grass a good ten feet thick around Green On! before the line of trees began, their branches extending hungrily into it as if they longed to cross that space. It was too easy to imagine a girl lost among those tangled limbs, swallowed forever.
Rae turned her back on the woods and studied the remaining three kids. They were all eighth graders. One of them sat alone at the small sun table, his elbows resting on two of the pointed rays as he scrolled through his phone, ignoring everyone else. He had curly brown hair and glasses, and wore a T-shirt that was just a little too big for him. Rae had seen him in the halls occasionally and knew his name was Nathaniel Cliff, that he’d skipped a grade, and that he’d won some sort of chemistry competition.
The other two eighth graders, a boy and a girl, sat together at the water droplet table talking quietly. Rae thought the boy’s name was Matt. Or Mike? He was one of the largest kids in the school, with broad shoulders and very little neck. He looked kind of intimidating until he glanced up at Rae and smiled, a goofy, full-faced expression that made him look less like a linebacker and more like an overgrown eight-year-old. She couldn’t help smiling back.
The girl looked up too. Her eyes were a deep brown several shades darker than her skin and framed by thick lashes, and she wore crimson lipstick that made her look older than eighth grade. She didn’t smile at Rae. Instead she leaned closer to Matt, dropped her voice, and said something else. Rae thought she heard her name and felt her face going pink.
“What is it?” Vivienne asked, turning and following Rae’s gaze.
“I think they’re talking about me.” As soon as the words were out of Rae’s mouth, she regretted it. They made her sound insecure.
“Probably wondering if the rumors are true,” Vivienne said.
“Rumors?” Rae tried to keep her face neutral, but she couldn’t stop herself from thinking of her last school and the way rumors had plagued her like rats in a dumpster, constantly nipping at her heels, shredding all of her friendships.
“About you fighting that eye-snatching creature?” Vivienne said.
“Oh. That.”
“Yes, that.” Vivienne grinned. “No one is supposed to know about it, so naturally the whole school has heard.” She waved at the girl, who ignored her. “Rude.” Vivienne frowned. Raising her voice, she added, “That’s Becka Wilson. She thinks she’s a famous actress just because she starred in a hemorrhoid commercial six years ago.”
“It was not a hemorrhoid commercial!” Becka snapped.
Rae giggled.
“It’s not funny,” Becka said.
Vivienne adjusted her large backpack. “I don’t actually remember what she was advertising,” she admitted to Rae in a low voice. “So I just make up the most embarrassing things I can think of. It’s a pretty fun game.”
“How do you know her?”
“We were in chorus together last year.”
“Chorus?” Rae raised her eyebrows. “You?”
Vivienne grinned. “I was lead alto. Ahead of Becka, I might add.”
“Why aren’t you doing it this year?”
Vivienne’s grin fell away. “Not enough time. You know, with this internship, and, um, everything.”
And there it was, the shadow of a secret across her face. Rae hesitated, not sure if she should ask. But before she could decide, the glass doors at the far end of the room opened with a soft gasp, and a short woman in a long white lab coat stepped through. She waved a hand and gave them all a quick, harried smile. “So sorry I’m late. I’m Doctor Nguyen. If you’ll follow me?” And she turned and went right back through the doors without waiting for a response.
“Guess this is it, huh?” Alyssa said, joining Rae and Vivienne. She managed a weak smile. “Maybe they’ll let us visit Jeremy and the others while we’re here.”
“I… don’t think they will,” Vivienne said carefully. “I’m sorry, Alyssa. I asked my mom about it the other day, and she told me they weren’t allowing any visitors yet.”
“Why not?” Rae asked.
“She didn’t say.”
“Are you coming?” Becka asked them from the doorway.
“It’s not fair,” Alyssa said. “Patrick promised—” She stopped abruptly, her lips pressing together.
“Promised what?” Rae asked, thinking of her own promise from him.
“Nothing. Let’s just catch up.” Alyssa strode away after Becka, leaving Rae and Vivienne to hurry after her.
They caught up with everyone else partway down a long, tiled hallway that led past a series of ordinary-looking offices. Patrick had made it sound like the whole company was behind this internship program—a chance for the kids of the future to help save that future. But so far no one here seemed enthusiastic about the idea. So why was he doing it? He’d said in his school presentation that the kids he picked would need to help save the world, but if that were really true, then Rae was pretty sure the world was in big trouble.
“Why isn’t there anyone else here?” Nate asked.
Rae blinked, realizing he was right; all of the offices they had passed had been empty.
“Because it’s Sunday?” Alyssa suggested. The seven of them had been dropped off at school, where they’d caught a bus out to the lab as a special “interns only” weekend field trip.
“Green On! is productive seven days a week,” Doctor Nguyen said with a hint of pride. “Science doesn’t stop for the weekends. This is where our admin team works, but they were given the afternoon off today.”
“All of them?” Vivienne asked.
“It appears so.”
“That’s strange.” Vivienne glanced at Rae. “They aren’t very generous with their time off around here. Especially lately. My mom has been working twelve to sixteen hours a day for the past week.”
“Wow, brutal,” Rae said. “Doing what?”
Vivienne shrugged. “She doesn’t like to talk about her work much. It’s all very ‘need to know’ stuff, apparently.”
“And you don’t need to know,” Rae said. “I get it.” Her dad’s work had been the same. Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from telling her about some of it anyhow.
“It was your mom who actually gave the team here time off,” Doctor Nguyen told Vivienne.
Vivienne’s eyes widened. “That’s even stranger.”
They kept going, the hallway eventually turning right, then right again. The offices they passed grew less impressive, and soon they were just small rooms full of boxes, as if the kids were moving into the less-used storage area. There were still almost no other people around. Moments later and the hall dead-ended at an elevator.
“Where are we going?” Rae asked, her voice shaking.
“Yeah, this doesn’t exactly look like a highly trafficked area,” Blake said. He seemed extra twitchy, even more nervous than Rae.
“We had a new lab bui
lt recently that Patrick wants you to use.” Doctor Nguyen pressed the elevator button. “It’s a little deeper underground than most of our other labs, and this elevator is the only easily accessible entrance.”
“That doesn’t sound ominous at all,” Rae muttered.
Ding!
The elevator door slid open. There was barely enough space for all of them inside, and Rae found herself crammed in the back. As the door closed, a strange panicky feeling gripped her stomach. She remembered the stench of mold, the feeling of bugs crawling through her hair and down her shirt, the splintery wood of the bed frame scraping against her back. And the feeling that she couldn’t move an inch. That only a rotting mattress and a few lumpy pillows stood between her and a monster. Rae, I know you’re in here…
Rae clenched her hands, resisting the sudden urge to flail her arms and leap over everyone’s heads. She reminded herself for the hundredth time that the Unseeing was gone, banished forever. She wasn’t trapped. She was safe.
But she didn’t feel safe. She felt like she were seconds from something horrible.
“Breathe in through your nose,” Vivienne whispered next to her, “and out through your mouth. Count four in, four out. It helps. Trust me.”
The elevator lurched downward, and Rae slowly breathed in while a little screen in the corner tallied the floor level. She watched it for a few seconds and realized the numbers were negative. It was bizarre, but then, so many things in Whispering Pines were. So Rae tried not to notice and just concentrated on her breathing as they crept downward.
Each level they passed seemed hotter, like they were traveling to the center of the earth. Rae could feel the sweat sliding down her back and beading along her hairline. And was the elevator getting smaller? The light overhead flickered, plunging them into darkness for an eyeblink before coming back on. A soft, ominous grinding noise echoed down the chute, and Rae forgot about counting her breaths as the elevator wobbled and slowed. What if they were trapped here?
Vivienne took her hand and gently squeezed it. “We’re almost there,” she whispered.
Rae smiled at her gratefully.
The elevator finally creaked to a halt at floor minus-twelve. As soon as the doors opened, Rae almost knocked Blake over in her rush to get out. She sucked in a long, deep breath, enjoying the feeling of space all around her. It helped, until she realized they were deep underground, and suddenly she could feel the weight of all that earth pressing down on her.
“Your lockers are right here,” Doctor Nguyen was saying, pointing at a small alcove just down the hall. Rae did her best to ignore her growing panic and joined the others, even as the pressure inside her built up like a shaken soda bottle. There were eight floor-to-ceiling lockers, each one wider than Rae was. Seven of them had labels with each of their names.
“Are we expecting anyone else?” Nate asked, standing in front of the blank locker.
“Only Patrick knows,” Doctor Nguyen said. “Well, have a look inside. They’re not locked yet.”
Rae opened her locker. On one side hung a white lab coat, the other a bulky green hazmat suit. What would they be doing that would require a hazmat suit? Had her mom read the fine print before agreeing to send her here?
“What are you thinking about?” Vivienne asked.
Wordlessly, Rae pointed at the suit.
“Oh. Yeah. That.” Vivienne grinned. “Patrick has some sort of secret mission for us. He hasn’t told me any of the details yet, so don’t ask. But I’m guessing that’s what the suits are for.”
“Strangely not reassuring.” Rae closed her locker. But for the first time since she’d arrived at Green On!, she was starting to feel something other than that awful, crushing dread. The first whisper of excitement had caught hold of her. Hazmat suits and secret missions? Even if part of her was afraid of ending up the same way as her dad, the rest of her was eager to experience whatever Patrick had planned for them.
“Okay.” Doctor Nguyen rubbed her hands together. “That’s done. So next on the agenda is—”
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The bright overhead light faded to an angry pulsing red, turning the small locker room into a sea of bloody shadows.
“Report immediately to your designated safe room,” a robotic voice said. “We are experiencing a nuclear meltdown. This is not a drill.”
Rae’s mouth fell open. She stared at Vivienne, and then at Doctor Nguyen. “A what?”
Doctor Nguyen didn’t answer, her own eyes wide and terrified, while behind her Nate had his arms wrapped over his head like he was afraid of the ceiling falling down on him.
Vivienne made a soft little whimpering noise. “Mom,” she choked.
“Is she working today?” Alyssa asked.
“She works every day.” Vivienne clutched at Doctor Nguyen’s sleeve. “What does this mean? Is everyone in the nuclear division safe?”
Doctor Nguyen shook her off. “Of course not. But it’s not worth worrying about.”
“How can you say that?” Becka demanded. “It’s her mother!”
“Because we won’t be able to reach the safe room in time, not from all the way down here,” Doctor Nguyen said grimly. She looked around the room, the red lights gleaming in her dark eyes. “So none of us will be safe either.”
The robot voice boomed again, “We are experiencing a nuclear meltdown. I repeat, we are experiencing a nuclear meltdown. You must be in your designated safe room now. Green On! will be sealed in five… four… three…”
2. CADEN
Caden sat cross-legged on the floor in his mom’s study, a blindfold over his eyes. “This feels very Star Wars,” he muttered.
“Shh,” his mom said. “Concentrate.”
He sighed. This was ridiculous. But he went through the motions anyhow, imagining roots bursting from his body, digging deep into the soil below, grounding him firmly. Next he pictured a large bubble full of soft white light surrounding him in a protective embrace. And then, finally, he lowered his mental shields and let his awareness drift outward.
Caden had been an empath for as long as he could remember. When he was little, he’d been able to pick up the emotions of others as easily as a bird picking up seeds from a full feeder. But he’d learned—painfully—that other kids didn’t appreciate that. Now he mostly kept that ability to himself. As far as he knew, it was his only strange skill. Well, that and the occasional prophetic dream. But his mom believed he might have other abilities, things he’d never discovered he could do. Things he’d kept buried.
“Can you sense it yet?” she asked.
Caden frowned, trying to feel the energies of the room around him. He could sense his mom sitting across from him. Sadness clung to her like a wet sweater, but beneath it he could feel another emotion, as solid and unbendable as an iron rod. Determination. A single-minded focus fueled by a desperation he didn’t understand but that reminded him of someone…
Don’t think about Rae.
He pulled back into himself so quickly it hurt and yanked the blindfold off. “I can’t,” he said.
“Can’t?” his mom asked. “Or won’t?” She sat cross-legged, mirroring him, none of the sadness he had felt in her visible on her face. In her hands she held a small rounded rose quartz. She’d been trying to get Caden to move that stone with his mind all morning, and he was tired of it.
“Aiden was the one with that ability, not me,” he said. “I can’t become him, no matter what you might wish.”
She flinched and closed her hand around the stone.
Guilt enveloped Caden, thick and choking as car exhaust. Nine months ago, his older brother, Aiden, had torn open a hole into the Other Place, an alternate dimension full of monsters. He hadn’t been able to control it, and as the evils of that place threatened to overwhelm him and escape, Caden had made the difficult choice to sacrifice his brother in order to close the rift and protect everyone else.
Then a few weeks ago, Caden had discovered that Aiden was still alive, trapped
in the Other Place, and had tried to save him. But something happened after Caden reopened the rift. His brother abruptly disappeared, his energy vanishing so completely even their mom couldn’t sense him at all. And she believed that this time Aiden was well and truly gone.
She had been in mourning ever since. And here Caden was, throwing his brother’s loss back in her face.
He knew he should be grieving with her. But mostly all he felt was relief. He’d never noticed before how much his brother’s presence weighed on him, like a too-full backpack he couldn’t take off. Without Aiden around, Caden had been free to be himself. He’d even made friends. For a little while, anyhow.
He thought of Rae again, picturing her wide, gentle eyes, the contradictory set of her jaw. The way she threw herself into danger like a diver falling into a deep pool, headfirst, never questioning, never looking back, the echo of her own past failures snapping constantly at her heels.
He let that memory go and made himself look instead at his mom. She had her black hair wound in a low braid, a pair of amethyst chips glinting in her ears, matching the uncut purple stones in her thick necklace and on one of her large silver rings. Amethyst stones helped to ground and protect, to clear the mind, and to soothe the grief over the loss of a loved one.
“You’re right, you are not your brother,” she said quietly. “And regardless of what you think, I’m not trying to turn you into him. That would be impossible.”
Just like that, the guilt surrounding Caden soured, curdling like milk left out for days and turning into bitter resentment. His older brother hadn’t always been the nicest person. He’d used his abilities to hurt people, had terrified Caden and stolen magic from their mom, but still he’d been her favorite. His mom denied it, of course. She said she loved both her sons equally, that she’d spent more time with Aiden only because she knew he was experimenting with things beyond his control. She didn’t have to worry about that with Caden. Careful, cautious Caden, who didn’t need her protection.