Dormant

by LeeAnn McLennan

  When I got home, Dad was still up watching a movie. “Hi, Ollie. Did you have fun?”

  “Sure.” I joined him on the couch when I saw he was watching Pitch Black, one of my favorite movies. Riddick’s augmented vision would be a pretty useful significant ability.

  We watched the movie in companionable silence. When it was over, I reminded Dad that I was going to an algebra study group tomorrow night, my current cover for getting home late, said goodnight and headed for bed.

  Chapter 13

  I woke to the cloudy, misty Saturday morning with anticipation. An entire day off from training and from the Brighthall family sounded awesome. I lay in bed, pondering how to spend the day, for the moment happy to be curled up in my cozy bed in my cozy room with my cat cozied up to my side. Two years ago, Dad let me pick out the colors for the walls, and I’d gone with dark purple. It would be the perfect dark hiding place for an emo teenager to write sad, terrible poetry except for the skylight over my bed and the balcony door flanked by two windows letting in light even on cloudy Portland days. White trim set off the eggplant walls, and cheerful, vibrant Mexican folk art paintings scattered around the walls. Mom and Dad had brought me most of the artwork from their tenth anniversary trip to Mexico. As a six-year-old kid, I’d liked the strong colors and the busy scenes; now at fourteen, I considered taking them down to hang pictures of my favorite band, the Thrones, but I couldn’t quite make myself remove this reminder of Mom. Bookshelves lined one wall, framing my desk. My unmade bed, with its patchwork quilt, was positioned so I could see the bedroom door and still look outside. A large, bright, multicolored rug covered about half of the hardwood floor.

  The sound of Dad rustling about downstairs and the smell of eggs and bacon cooking inspired me to get out of bed. I pulled on a sweatshirt over my pjs and headed downstairs with Boo bounding ahead of me.

  After breakfast, while Dad did the dishes, I called Anna about getting together, but to my surprise, she was a bit evasive about her plans at first. Finally she admitted she was going for a walk with a guy. When I pressed her for details, she just said she wasn’t ready to tell anyone since it was so new.

  She suggested we meet up after her walk. “How about Pioneer Courthouse Square later? Monica is working at the jewelry booth at the Saturday Market today.” Anna’s sister, Monica, made really cool jewelry out of found objects, like pop tops, plastic rings, and bird feathers. “We can walk down to the market at the waterfront.”

  “Sure, and you can tell me all about this new guy.”

  Her muttered ‘maybe’ wasn’t encouraging.

  After talking to Anna, I felt at loose ends. There were other friends I could try to get together with, but they’d all been treating me like they had a case of hero worship and it was annoying. I didn’t feel like retelling the bank robbery story anymore, especially since I couldn’t include the rest of the story where I ended up in supernormal training.

  I wandered around the house as my mood changed from cheerful to restless and fretful. Up in my room, I opened up my email for the first time in a few days and sorted through the junk mail, mail from Dad’s family asking about the robbery, and mail from school. An email from school about tryouts for the boys’ soccer team made me realize I was trying to avoid thinking about Jack. I’d run into him a few more times at school and it had been everything from awkward to horrible. He was pretty much ignoring me in a coldly polite way. Damn him and his integrity. There was no way I was telling him about my family, and I couldn’t seem to come up with a plausible cover story. And he was still being a jerk about Mindy.

  I stopped dealing with my email and went downstairs.

  “Ollie, what are you doing?” Dad spoke from the doorway of the den where I was trying to settle down by watching YouTube videos of cats in boxes.

  “Nothing.” I winced, knowing that was the stupidest answer ever to give a parent.

  Predictably, he said, “Well, then, I’ve got something for you to do.”

  “I have to go meet Anna soon,” I said in protest. Dad’s idea of something for me to do usually involved dirt or chickens or both.

  “Ollie.” Dad shook his head. “I heard you say you’re meeting her later.” He held the door to the yard open. “Come on.”

  “You were listening in to my private conversations?” I said without any real heat. I’d been talking in the kitchen, after all.

  Dad just led me outside and told me to help him clean up the garden for the winter. “Put in an hour and then you can get out of here.”

  Working in the garden wasn’t too bad, though I wasn’t about to let Dad know. For the next hour, I tilled and pulled out weeds while Dad cleaned out the chicken coop. The goats watched us placidly, but the chickens were fairly dismayed at the activities. They huddled in the temporary coop, making nervous bak-bak noises at us. Chickens weren’t big fans of change.

  It was nice spending time with Dad but everytime he spoke I was afraid he’d ask me why I came home late so often. At some point, I was going to run out of cover stories. I considered asking Aunt Kate for ideas.

  True to his word, Dad released me from servitude after an hour. I had to admit the garden looked a lot better than it had when we started. I showered and pulled on jeans, boots and a hoodie over my T-shirt. I considered a rain jacket, but it was only misting so I didn’t bother.

  I caught the #20 bus to downtown. As we made our way through traffic, I looked out the window at the gloomy Portland day, thinking it pretty much sucked being in a sort of purgatory between my old normal life and new supernormal life. I couldn’t shake the feeling I should be doing some extra training today, but I just wanted to touch base with my old life.

  The bus let me off near Pioneer Courthouse Square. I meandered over to one of the brick walls that served as a bench around the outskirts of the amphitheater dominating the square. I sat down, scanning the crowds for Anna.

  Several women walked by me speaking in German. They pointed at the small crowd around a man in a suit ranting about adding fluoride to Portland’s water. A family wearing matching bright orange shirts with the name Holland emblazoned on the back clustered near the Weather Machine sculpture. I glanced at the clock on the other side of the square and saw that it was noon, so I settled back to watch as the Weather Machine did its usual noontime show of trumpets, lights, and a spray of mist to announce tomorrow’s weather. The tourists laughed and chattered when the orb at the top of sculpture opened to reveal a great blue heron in silver. Big shock: a fall day in Portland would be overcast and drizzly. At least it wasn’t the copper dragon predicting storms, though the tourists would probably prefer the golden sun for a clear day. After the family left, I scanned the square again for Anna, but I still didn’t see her.

  I did see Emma walking past a street musician who was playing the violin; she wore her Goth clothing and carried a black satchel over one shoulder. She was aimed straight for me, but her head was down, so she hadn’t seen me yet.

  I was seriously considering hiding until she left when her head came up and she stared directly at me with a blank expression. Emma blinked and frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hey it’s a public place. I can be here. What are you doing here?”

  “Yeah, well, you should be training since you’re so behind,” Emma snapped, ignoring my question. She ran a hand over the strap of her satchel. “You’re pretty pathetic to watch.” Her gaze darted around the square and then settled back on me. “I still can’t believe you were the great hope of the next generation.”

  “What are you talking about?” I felt strangely lightheaded at her words, almost like I’d heard them before – ‘hope of the next generation.’

  She shrugged casually, but her shoulders were hunched and she tapped her fingers on her thigh. I still knew her tells when she was tense. “You know, your mom thought you were going to be this all-powerful,” she glanced around and lowered her voice, “supernormal.”

  “I never heard that,” I spok
e uncertainly. In my dim memory, I remembered I’d caught the edges of a conversation once between Mom and Uncle Dan. They were assessing the blooming skills of my cousins and me; even though we weren’t old enough for formal training, all of our game-playing was monitored and assessed for potential strengths and weaknesses. The part that stood out was Uncle Dan agreeing with Mom that my abilities were stronger than those of my cousins. My younger (and now my older) self had thought it was kind of mean for a father to say another kid was better than his kid.

  I shook my head to focus on Emma. “Well, that was a long time ago. They were just guessing anyway.”

  She bared her teeth at me. “Whatever. Even after you left, Aunt Kate kept a file on you. Probably hoping. Either way, you are so behind.” Her voice took on a note of triumph and she tossed her head, her pixie cut fluttering around her face. “I’m the one everyone is watching now.”

  Emma’s words completed my spiral from cheerfulness to glumness. The memory of Mom and Uncle Dan discussing our abilities rattled around in my head, dislodging another memory. It was one of the ones I tried hard to forget – seven-year old me calling out to Mom as she ran towards the place where the bombs were planted,, Mom pausing just long enough to tell me to run before she turned back to stop the terrorists. But, because I delayed her for that brief moment, she was too late – for herself and for the others who were killed. And it was my fault.

  Once again, a part of me wanted to walk away from the Brighthalls, but I knew I couldn’t. I had to learn to control my abilities enough to keep from getting into dangerous situations.

  I muttered, “Some great hope.”

  Emma gave me a sharp look. “What?”

  “Let it go. I’m back and I’m not going anywhere until I’ve learned to control my abilities.” My strong words belied my weak knees.

  Emma glared at me, and then Anna finally showed up. “Hey Ollie, who’s this?” Anna’s voice was bright and lilting, so her date must have gone well.

  “Another cousin,” I said tightly, as Emma turned and stomped off without saying anything else. We watched her walk towards the MAX train stop.

  Anna huffed and ran a hand over her hair to smooth it down. “I guess not one of your favorites.” She wore pegged jeans with a striped, scooped neck top and a light green hoodie. Her Converse high tops were a mud splattered, so I guessed the date walk was in a park.

  “Yeah, not really.” The conversation with Emma had left me feeling heavy with anxiety. Even Anna’s cheerfulness couldn’t shake me out of my gloom. Anna chattered about her new guy while we walked over to a coffee stand for hot chocolate. I barely heard her conversation – the new guy, as yet unnamed, was so smart and could talk in depth about one of Anna’s favorite topics, Doctor Who. Her only worry was that he’d had to cut the date short for a personal errand, so she fretted over the chance of a next date.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about the old overhead conversation between Mom and Uncle Dan. Great hope of my generation. Yeah, right. My stomach roiled and my chest felt tight. I dimly heard Anna ask if I was okay.

  And then we were both knocked over by a blast of hot air. I fell on my hands and knees, instinctively shielding Anna from the main force of the explosion; she had been knocked down on her side.

  “Oh my God! What was that?” Anna sat up, staring around. Her to-go cup of hot chocolate had spilled on the ground. The scent of cinnamon drifted by.

  I sat back on my heels. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so. But what happened?” She rubbed her shoulder.

  I surveyed the square and gasped. The scene was so familiar, so like the explosion of Vera. It wasn’t hard to find the source of the destruction; I simply looked for the stillest bodies. I swallowed against nausea at the bloody limbs lying separated from bodies. People were yelling and crying all around us. Pages from books and newspapers floated through the air and fluttered on the ground. Purses and backpacks lay scattered near bodies. One of the columns along the edge of the square had broken in half; the top half had fallen to the ground and I saw a pair of twitching legs sticking out from under it.

  I shivered in the cool air; we were surrounded by steaming bronze body parts. I tried very hard not to see the fleshy body parts near us.

  Car alarms were going off and people were screaming as they ran away from the blast area. I saw a man crawl over to his wife and cradle her in his arms. She didn’t move as he sobbed over her bloody, broken body. I swallowed down the lump in my throat threatening to choke me.

  The source of the blast appeared to be the popular statue named “Allow Me,” the one most people just called the Umbrella Man – a logical moniker for a bronzed, tall businessman holding an umbrella while waving at passersby on the walkway near the MAX stop. Now the poor bronze man was spread in pieces around the square. The steaming stumps of his feet were still attached to the brick where a body slumped on the sidewalk nearby. His once jaunty, waving hand had been flung onto the MAX train tracks as if trying to flag down a train. I saw part of his legs on the lower level of the amphitheater. I was surprised to see his umbrella was still whole. It was resting on top of one of the pillars dotting the square.

  I hesitated, still sitting on the ground. Did I need to do something in my supernormal role? My hand went to my pocket. I should probably call someone – probably Aunt Kate.

  “Can you stand up?” I asked Anna. She nodded and got to her feet without trying to stop the tears running down her face. She brushed off her clothes with trembling hands.

  I stood up as well and stepped a few discreet feet away from Anna. Pulling out my phone, I dialed Aunt Kate’s number. When she answered, I said, “There’s been another one.”

  “Yes, I heard.” Aunt Kate spoke in clipped tones. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” A shock went through me. Where was Emma? Was she okay? The last I’d seen of her, she was heading for the MAX train stop, in the direction of the Umbrella Man. I stood on my toes to see as much as I could and scanned the crowd for any sign of a Goth girl. “But Emma was nearby. I don’t know where she is.”

  “Okay, we’ll try to locate her,” Aunt Kate answered, her voice wavering. “Zoe and the boys are already on their way to the square. They should be there any minute now. Stay there.”

  I ended the call. My heart was beating quickly as I went to Anna’s side. “Do you see my cousin?”

  If possible, she turned paler and looked around. “No, I don’t.” She put a consoling hand on my shoulder. “I heard the train leave the stop just before the blast. I bet she was on it.” She swallowed visibly. “Do you want to get closer and look?”

  I started to answer but then I saw Zoe coming from the other side of the square. Zoe saw me and redirected her course to me. Before she reached me, a shouted, “Ollie,” alerted me to Kevin, who was jogging in from the direction Emma had gone pre-blast.

  I didn’t wait for them to arrive before calling out, “Have you talked to Emma?” I waved a shaking hand in the direction of the blast origin. “I saw her over there before the explosion.”

  “She’s okay. She texted us about the explosion,” Kevin said, and I felt my body slump with relief. Emma wasn’t my favorite person, but that didn’t mean I wanted to find her body among the dead.

  “We came once Aunt Kate called us.” Zoe kept an eye on Anna as she spoke and I knew she was guarding her words. “Emma should be around here somewhere.”

  “Hey.” Hugh spoke from behind me. He’d come up so quietly I hadn’t heard him. He gave me one of his looks that seemed to say ‘why are you here.’

  Kevin was talking to Anna in a quiet voice and she answered in an equally quiet voice. I tried to hear what they were saying, but they both stopped talking when they saw me watching them.

  I was torn between wanting to get Anna away from the scene of the explosion and wanting to stay to find out what happened. Kevin and I shared a look that expressed my concerns. To my surprise he said, “Anna wants to go home. I can take her and make sure
she’s okay. You can stay and help them…find Emma.”

  Hugh and Zoe looked just as surprised as I was, but Hugh nodded. “Okay, we’ll let you know if we go anywhere else.”

  Anna hugged me. “You’ll be okay?”

  “Sure. I’ll call you later.” I watched them go with a sneaking suspicion about whom Anna had been with on her date. I tucked away my thoughts about that situation to think about later.

  While I’d been focused on Anna and my cousins, the emergency teams had arrived on the scene. The police were taping off the area while the EMTs got to work triaging the wounded and covering the dead. I counted three sad, blanket-covered mounds already.

  Standing beside Zoe and Hugh, I surveyed the carnage. I asked, “What do we do?”

  Hugh answered, “The ‘rents are on their way. Until then we are supposed to observe.”

  “That’s it? We just stand here?” I was surprised. “I’d assumed we would do something. I don’t know, help the police or something.”

  Zoe said tartly, “And get caught using our abilities?” She shook her head. “No, our job is really to prevent these things from happening.” She sounded as angry as Hugh looked; I realized they were both furious.

  The police waved us, along with the rest of the gathering crowd, back until we were off the square and standing in the street. I was relieved we couldn’t see any of the carnage wrought by the bomb. Two policemen strung police tape around the entranceway to the square.

  I felt someone watching me and turned around to see Ben Hallowfield standing near Nordstrom’s department store. He stood, hands in his pockets, watching the scene before him with narrowed eyes. I followed his gaze and realized he was staring at Emma, who was coming towards my group from the square. I was relieved to see her. As she drew closer, I could see her eyes were jittery and she looked wired. Zoe greeted her with a hug.