In answer, she drops her bike, climbs the four steps to the porch, sits down and pats the deck next to her. I take a seat and we look over the meadow without a word. Silence has never bothered me, but Sky likes to talk.
“I didn’t mean that so literally, you know,” I say. “We can sit and talk, or do something else if you want.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she says. “You feel calm right now. When I first rode up, you looked like you were scared out of your wits! How are your hands?”
Oh, so she did see my clumsy act. “About that,” I start, but she stops me.
“No worries. I startled you, but it’s a bit hard to understand how a little thing like me can be so frightening.” Sky smiles and her eyes twinkle. Really. I see that they’re deep blue with silver flecks, like a Carolina sky peppered with tiny sentinels. I glance up. They’re both there.
“Sky, why do you think we have the same unusual shape of eyes?” The question pops out of a place where too many questions have been bottled up lately. I feel a blush rush up my neck and turn my face almost as red as her hair. Is it okay to ask something so personal? I have no idea how friends are supposed to act. That’s what years of near complete isolation, outside of my parents, has done to me.
When I look at her, the smile is gone and she’s staring at the trees.
“Jewel, is there any way that you’re different from most other people? Other than being my friend, I mean. Why do you wear those glasses all day at school, and why aren’t you wearing them now?”
I guess it’s okay to ask personal questions, then. What does she mean by that “friend” comment? I’ve never seen anyone with as many friends as Sky seems to have.
“I’m a pentachromat,” I tell her. “I don’t tell anyone. My parents know, of course, and Mom ran the genetic tests to see if we could figure out why I see millions of colors most people can’t.”
She looks puzzled, “A penta-what?”
“It has to do with the number of color cone cells in the eyes. Most people have three types of cone cells. There are a few who have four and see many more colors than usual. I have five. I see a lot more than just colors. In fact, you didn’t startle me, Sky, your aura did. It still does. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen surrounding a human before.”
I wait for the skepticism. Will she take her bike and leave?
Instead she asks, “What do you mean by aura?”
“It’s an energy field that people naturally emit. I see it as colors. Yours is fascinating, full of brightness and movement.”
“I’m an empath,” she tells me. “I feel people more clearly than I see them. A lot of people are empathetic and can be influenced by the moods of those around them. I’m that way, too, but I also have the ability to change their moods. I had to learn to control how affected I am by others, and to change the general mood of those around me.”
“The kids at school like you. They sort of flock around you,” I say. “Is it because you make them feel good when they’re near you?”
“Partially,” she answers. “I can’t make anyone feel anything, but I can affect their mood by changing my own. When I’m calm and happy, others pick up on it and begin to feel that way, too. It doesn’t always work, you know. Have you ever wanted to just hang on to fury when something makes you really angry? I can’t calm someone who won’t let go.”
“So how do you keep from getting angry when you’re close to someone who is?”
“Pax helps me. He isn’t an empath, but he and I have this twin connection. Or maybe it’s another of his abilities. He keeps me calm no matter what’s going on. Before we moved here, we had some bad earthquakes in California. I was scared out of my wits when the earth heaved and things were flying off the walls, but Pax calmed me right down and I didn’t panic.”
“What else can Pax do that no one else can? You said ‘another of his abilities.’”
“I like to tease him and say he smells like a dog,” she continues. “He does, but not in a stinky way. He can pick up scent molecules we can’t possibly detect. He sees better with his nose than with his eyes. I imagine he experiences scents similarly to the way you experience colors.”
I’m suddenly thankful that I shower every day. A gift like Pax’s would be brutal in a crowd. I can’t imagine how awful a boy’s locker room would smell to him. It’s bad enough for normal people.
Sky must sense my thoughts because she adds, “No worries. He can turn it on and off and focus it when he needs to. If you ever need a bloodhound to find something, Pax is your guy!”
My head is beginning to ache. I had no idea there were other gifted kids around. How many are there?
“Sky, what does all this have to do with our eyes?”
“You really should ask your parents about that, Jewel. I have to get back home. I’ll see you at school on Monday!”
With that, Sky grabs her bike and pedals hard down the path. That doesn’t seem very fair! I answered her questions. Why won’t she answer mine? It’s obvious that she knows.
I look up at the Sentinels, but now there’s only mine. Did Sky have something to do with the other? Do they connect us, somehow?
I head up the steps and reach for the door when a blast of sound shatters the quiet. I feel it in my gut first as it builds in a crescendo until I have to slap my hands over my ears and double over with the pain of it. Deep and mournful, the wailing goes on and on and I scream. Vibrations shake every cell in my body and I go down hard on my knees and pray that my eardrums don’t shatter.
When it finally dies down, I can’t hear a thing. I’m shaken and afraid to even try to get up. Are my ligaments even still attached to my bones?
The door flies open and Mom rushes out to grab me in her arms.
“Jewel, baby, are you alright? Are you hurt?” At least that’s what I think she’s saying. I can catch a word or two, her lips are moving but the sounds are fuzzy, distant. She pulls me off the porch and into the house.
“I thought we had more time.” Her words buzz.
“More time for what?” I ask. Her arm around my shoulder tightens. She sits me down on the couch and turns away, but before she does, I see tears in her eyes.
“I’m calling your dad. We need to talk.”
THREE
While I wait for Dad to come home from the observatory, I go to my room, sit on the bed and open my laptop to run a search on the impossibly loud noise. Who else heard it? News travels fast online and I’m confident someone is talking about it. Sure enough, reports are coming in like popcorn; from Charlotte to Knoxville; from Columbia, South Carolina all the way up to towns along the Kentucky-Tennessee border. People at the farther locations are saying the sky moaned. Closer in, they say it sounded like a giant shofar or trumpet.
I google “mysterious sounds” and can’t believe how much material there is. I watch clip after clip of video recordings of these noises from all over the world during the past few years. Most reports say they can’t find a point of origin, but it seems like I’m sitting on one. The epicenter for at least one mysterious sound is right here. Why?
My hearing has returned to normal and I rush to the front door when I hear my father pull into the driveway. Mom must have alerted him because his first words are, “It’s time to call everyone together.”
“Dad, can’t you and Mom just tell me now? Who else needs to meet with us?” I catch myself hopping up and down with impatience like a little girl, and stop. It’s time they see me as an adult. After all, I’ll be eighteen in a few short months.
“Let me get settled, and we’ll talk, Jewel. You need to know some things before the others get here.”
Dad heads into the kitchen where Mom is chopping vegetables from her garden. I usually help her with the cooking, but not today. I go back to the open laptop on the bed. A buzzing sound draws my attention to my cell phone in its cradle on the charger. I had forgotten it even existed. My parents gave it to me so I could communicate with my new friends. I thought they we
re optimistic, since I didn’t plan to have any friends. Sky was, and remains, a surprise.
I answer and quickly move the phone away from my ear.
“Did you hear that?” Sky screams.
“Yeah,” I say more quietly, hoping she’ll stop screaming. “It was loud enough to wake the dead. What do you think it was?”
She matches my tone and says, “I don’t know, but it seems our parents know all about it. They’re not talking until we meet at your house later. There’s something mysterious afoot and I’m dying of curiosity.”
“I found out that sounds like this have been heard for years all over the world. I wonder if our parents know what’s causing them.” I describe my internet searches and she’s eager to look for herself. We hang up and I go back to my laptop. More reports are coming in, but there’s no explanation and I’m getting hungry. Finally, Mom calls me for supper.
Mom, Dad, and I sit down to a delicious meal of roasted vegetables, black beans, and rice. No one speaks until we’ve finished eating. I help Mom clear the table and get the dishes into the dishwasher. It’s finally time to get some answers.
Our kitchen is open to a great room with cathedral ceilings and too much space for our small family. A long breakfast counter separates it from a dining area dominated by a king-sized table surrounded by twelve chairs. More chairs can easily be added with no danger of anyone bumping elbows. A buffet marks the line where the family room begins. The massive room ends in floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the Great Smoky Mountains. Since the back of our house sits on a sheer cliff, the view is spectacular.
We gather in the family room and I take a moment to try to enjoy the touches of autumn color among the trees. I love the way the sun brings out multiple shades and sparkles in the forest, and how it prisms in rainbows through the glass. Mom and Dad sit close together on the couch, and I take my favorite chair next to a pile of books I’ve been meaning to read. Dad clears his throat, begins to speak, and everything changes.
FOUR
“Jewel,” he says, “this will sound like fiction to you, but it’s the truth.” Dad’s eyes become unfocused, as if he’s re-living the story. Mom reaches for his hand and grasps it tightly, a soft smile lighting her face as she closes her eyes and leans back to listen.
“You know that your mother and I met at a UFO conference in Arizona. We shared a fascination with the possibility that extraterrestrials might be visiting our planet. Still do, especially now that we know the truth. We were married six months later.”
He and Mom share a look and smile at each other. I’m used to their frequent displays of affection.
“Analiese and I spent our honeymoon on a tiny island. We wanted to be away from the cruise ship tourists on the larger, better-known islands.
“The sunset on the first evening was remarkable. Fiery columns of clouds towered over the eastern hills, reflecting the sun as it dropped into the ocean. A dark storm edged the western horizon and broke the sun’s rays into a fan of gold that seemed to reach into space. Smaller clouds, painted in the brilliant reds, oranges and violets of a tropical sunset, floated above the surf and drifted toward us.”
Mom breaks in. “I remember the scent of honeysuckle and jasmine that permeated the air that night. I was surprised that more people didn’t know about that beautiful place. Amaryllis flowers bloomed in pots that lined our balcony. Their magnificent blossoms inspired your middle name, Jewel.”
I picture the little paradise island they describe. I can almost smell the flowers and imagine how the ocean waves must have sounded kissing the shore.
Dad smiles at her again, and resumes talking, “It was peaceful, and we needed the rest. I normally spent long hours working at the observatory in Boone, or buried in astronomical charts in my laboratory, like I do now, working up at Clingman's Dome. Your mom worked in a genetics lab in Raleigh, and was especially interested in genetic anomalies and the origins of humans.
“We were asleep when barking dogs woke Analiese.”
“I got up to investigate the noise.” Mom interjects. “A scattering of tiki torches lit the small courtyard below our balcony and the light glinted off of a looming metallic shape that hovered above the palm trees across the courtyard. All the noise came from the dogs. The object didn’t make a sound. I still shudder when I remember the chill that raced down my back and how the hair on my arms stood on end. I called Charles in as loud a whisper as I could, afraid that whatever was outside might hear me. I was afraid to turn my back to it, so I backed into the room and shook Charles awake.”
Dad continues, “A bright beam of light, apparently a tractor beam of some sort, shot out and hit Analiese. She was lifted up, and floated toward the object. I tried to get out of bed and grab her, but my muscles were paralyzed and I could only watch the thing take her away. Then I blacked out.
“The next morning, the locals were buzzing with tales of bright lights, saucer-shaped objects and an alien invasion. Some of the dogs had disappeared, and patches of burned foliage dotted the small island.
“Boats brought in news teams, and military helicopters landed and spilled out men carrying automatic weapons. Our little paradise was overrun with aliens of the human kind.
“The oddest thing is that we woke up together, wrapped in each other’s arms with no memory of what had happened that night. Then eight months later, you were born in Boone at 12:54 a.m. on May third. When the other families arrive, you’ll understand why your birth date is important in all of this.”
“So, how is it that you remember all those details now?” I ask.
“It came back to us gradually.” Dad paused for a moment before continuing, “When your mom studied your DNA and found a group of genes that aren’t exactly human, we knew that something had been done to her on that craft.”
“Ewww. You mean I’m part alien?” I feel the blood drain out of my face. My skin feels clammy and I suddenly have the urge to throw up. It passes after I take a few deep breaths.
“Not exactly, Jewel. Your mom was a month pregnant when this happened. There’s been some genetic manipulation, but you’re definitely our daughter. Have you wondered why your eyes are different from most kids; or why you have five types of color cone cells where most of us have only three? We’ve since found out that there’s a purpose for your gifts.”
“What purpose could there be, Dad? I’m messed up!” The fact that they were already expecting me on their honeymoon flew right over my head.
“No, sweetheart,” Mom says, “You’re perfect the way you are. Just wait until the others get here and it’ll make sense to you.”
FIVE
The doorbell rings, and Mom welcomes Pax, Sky and their parents: Dylan and Coral Fletcher. This is the first time I’ve seen Pax outside of school and without my glasses. The eyes I thought were simply a pale blue are actually emerald green with golden flecks that shimmer in the light. His deep tan contrasts with sun-bleached hair, streaked in shades ranging from platinum to brown. I know from Sky that they lived in California before they moved here, and I imagine him on the beach, or out surfing the waves.
A predominantly blue aura surrounds him; multiple hues of blue with orange and yellow waves that remind me of an evening ocean reflecting the sunset. A yellow-orange glow forms a halo around his head. Pax means peace in Latin, and he’s well named. No wonder he calms Sky when she’s upset. Just being near him calms me and fills me with warmth, and I barely even know him.
We sit at the table with our backs to the kitchen so we can see the mountains through the wall of windows. Mom and Mrs. Fletcher prepare coffee and dessert in the kitchen, and Dad and Mr. Fletcher stand by the window and talk quietly.
Sky doesn’t beat around the bush. “Did your parents tell you about our eyes?”
I glance at Pax, who leans back in his chair as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “They told me about mine. Does this mean you’re also part alien? Wait a minute; are we related?”
Pax says someth
ing not even remotely connected to my questions. “We looked up those sounds on the internet, Jewel.”
“Dad suggested we check out a website dedicated to the Cherokee. It’s private, but he has the password. That’s how we found out that this reservation is where three of the sounds originated,” Sky explains. “The first recorded sound came from here, the year before we were born. A second one happened last year, and this is the third. We’re definitely tied to the sounds somehow.”
Before we can discuss it further, the doorbell rings again. Dad opens it to Sheriff Art Green and Wolf O’Connell, two tribal elders.
“Where are Storm and Sequoia?” Dad asks Wolf.
“On their way. We can get started without them for now. Storm already knows.”
The adults settle around the table and we all pour coffee and help ourselves to slices of Mom’s apple pie. I’m expecting to hear a story like my parents told me, about how Sky and Pax came by their abilities. I don’t expect what I hear next.
Sheriff Green swallows his last bite of pie and clears his throat. “Something is wrong with our planet, and you kids will have to fix it.”
Sky and I sit frozen with our mouths hanging open, which is not very attractive. I didn’t want to believe it when I overheard Wolf say something similar to my Dad during their conversation in the basement office. Now I’m in shock.
Pax straightens up in his chair and says in a smooth, calm voice, “Please explain what you mean by that.”
I’m vibrating with nerves, unable to speak, and I’m amazed at the composure Pax is capable of. I’m growing more nervous by the moment. A ball of fear forms in my stomach. When I look at Sky, it becomes obvious why. Her face is paper-white and tears threaten to spill out of her eyes. Pax puts his arm around her shoulders, and I immediately feel the fear and nerves retreat.
Wolf stands up and says, “Art, you might want to lead up to that. These kids don’t know anything yet.”
Terra's Call (TetraSphere Book 1) Page 2