Root

by LeeAnn McLennan

  When I came into the house, Dad was down in the basement. I set down the takeout on the counter and got out plates. I scooped out chicken shawarma, rice and hummus while listening to Dad rummaging around. He came up a few minutes later and handed me a suitcase. “Here, you can use this one.”

  Mouth full, I nodded and swallowed quickly, but before I could say anything, he’d grabbed the plate I’d served for him and gone to the old den that served as his home office. He was probably calling the school to make up an explanation for my absence. I rotated my mostly healed wrist. One more reason to be glad of the trip to Colorado – I wouldn’t have to hide my formerly broken wrist under a splint until I went back to school.

  Thinking about my wrist reminded me to look at my phone. Sure enough, there was a text from Anna. R U OK?

  I considered my reply for a moment, finally texting back, I’m okay, won’t be in school tom. Promise to tell you why soon.

  A few minutes later, she replied, Okay, will hold you to your promise.

  I didn’t doubt it. I grabbed the suitcase and headed upstairs to pack, pondering what one wears to a coma awakening.

  Chapter 17

  Six was waiting for us when we arrived at the private landing field on Friday morning. She directed us to the plane that was ready for takeoff. I claimed a window seat on the flight, enjoying the view of the ground below on the mostly clear flight from Portland to the Complex in Colorado. Though I liked my significant ability of fire and ice, I sometimes wondered what it would be like to fly – feeling the air blowing over my body while the ground rushed by below me. Flying was a common supernormal significant ability – enough that each country had several flying forces of supernormals trained for combat and protection.

  Uncle Alex sat a row ahead of me and Six had her own row close to the front of the plane.

  Aunt Kate and Uncle Dan promised to let us know if any more monsters emerged while we were in Colorado, but hunting felt far away at the moment. In typical Zoe fashion, Zoe had channeled her annoyance over not getting to go to Colorado by challenging Kevin to climb Mount Saint Helens after school. Kevin had just shrugged his acceptance while giving me a long look.

  I snuck a peek across the aisle where Jeremy and Kimberly Hallowfield sat. I hadn’t seen them since before Ben’s sentencing. Both bore the marks of months of tension in the lines of their faces; Mrs. Hallowfield in particular had changed from a strong and confident woman to delicate and fragile. She stared out the window, folding and unfolding her hands, the hollows in her cheeks stark on her face, gray streaks in her black hair glinting in the light.

  Mr. Hallowfield occupied the aisle seat where he scanned the cabin of the plane, his restless gaze frequently returning to Six. When the Hallowfields arrived at the airport that morning, Uncle Alex introduced them to Six and gave them the full story about Ben, Emma, and their connection with me. Six stared at them, eyes fully dilated, recording their reactions to finding out why their son was being brought back. Mr. Hallowfield asked many questions: were they certain it was Ben sending the visions, how had Emma escaped, and would Ben be allowed to remain conscious or would he have to go back into a coma? When Six said she didn’t have the authority to decide Ben’s post-coma fate, I expected Mr. Hallowfield to yell at her, but he only glared at her.

  Mrs. Hallowfield’s reaction to the news about Ben and Emma was to murmur, “He’s always trying to show that his ability can help us.”

  What had the past months been like for them? Their only child, who they’d tried so hard to protect from his forbidden ability, imprisoned. When I was at Ben’s trial, vainly testifying in his defense, I’d heard people whisper that it served the Hallowfields right – naming their son after Benjamin Hallowfield, the mind reader who killed most of the world’s supernormals over 200 years ago, dropping our population from the hundreds of thousands to just under a couple of thousands world-wide in one day. Survivors reported a brain-melting noise reverberating through their skulls – collapsing from the sound while normals who rushed to help them were oblivious to the cause of their distress. Even now, there were fewer than ten thousand supernormals in the world. The first Benjamin Hallowfield was the reason supernormals banned mind readers from using their powers.

  The landscape changed to the craggy Rocky Mountains and I felt a frisson of excitement running through me. Ben was down there, locked deep in the heart of Ley Prison, but soon he would be free of his coma. I caught my grinning reflection in the tiny window – we could talk to each other about more than Emma’s latest transgression. My grin faded as I realized Ben almost certainly didn’t have a lot to tell me, since he hadn’t exactly been socializing much.

  The plane curved to the right, circling the mountains. Mrs. Hallowfield shifted in her seat. She glanced at me and I smiled, embarrassed at being caught staring. She didn’t return my smile, merely gazing at me before returning to her contemplation out the window. Mr. Hallowfield also looked my way, giving me a tight-lipped frown before his probing glare swept past me.

  I winced, jerking around to stare out my window, a sneaking suspicion forming in my mind. Did Ben’s parents blame me for his predicament? I squirmed inside as the idea took hold. Was I to blame for Ben’s decision to stop Emma by getting inside her head and controlling her actions? If it weren’t for our fledgling relationship, Ben wouldn’t have been at the warehouse that day. He wouldn’t have been with us when we went after Emma. He wouldn’t have felt compelled to stop Emma by using mind control.

  I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear and leaned my head against the cool window. One more worry to add to the worry ball cranking my shoulders tighter and tighter. Ben, Emma, Dad, Black Gaea, and Mountain of Ash – the list was getting longer.

  The plane circled, bumping a little in choppy air. The pilot came over the speaker. “Folks, we’re about to come in for a landing. Buckle up.”

  I sat forward, my stomach tight with excitement and anxiety.

  The pilot aimed the plane at a landing strip nestled in a valley between two large mountains.

  Uncle Alex slipped into the seat beside me, probably sensing my twisting emotions. “The left mountain houses the Council and research facility.” He pointed at the smaller of the two peaks.

  Most of the Complex extended far underneath the mountains, hidden from view. To provide a reason for all the activity around these mountains, a large resort was nestled into the side of the mountain. The building resembled an enormous Swiss chalet, from the gabled roofs with wide eaves to the large balconies and flower boxes lining the windows. Uncle Alex told me a supernormal with the ability to carve out anything from wood to steel had created the decorative carvings adorning the outside of the building. Even from the plane, I could tell the work was beautiful. Delicate flowers intertwined with vines wound around the windows and fanciful birds appeared to soar across the exterior walls.

  Tinted windows prevented normals from seeing inside – not that any normals ever came to the valley. Inconspicuous patrol guards kept strangers from trespassing on the private land around the Complex.

  The supernormals who worked at various jobs in and around the Complex lived in the little village at the end of the valley. In keeping with the Swiss chalet theme, little cottages and inns lined the tidy streets. Some supernormal with traveling powers – transporters and fliers – lived elsewhere and used their powers for a style of commuting a normal would envy.

  It still boggled my mind that my nerdy aunt had once been the youngest member of the supernormal Council. Composed of five elected members who served for three-year terms, the Council governed the supernormals in North America, including the United States, Mexico and Canada. Other countries had their own ways of managing things, each as individual as the normals’ way of governing. Most of Europe was governed by a monarchy – the current king was a teleporter named St. James Eastwood.

  The plane swooped over the landing strip, making a sharp turn to come about for a landing in the valley.

  I
didn’t need Uncle Alex to tell me the huge mountain on the right housed Ley Prison, the entrance disguised by a large, metal, utilitarian building. The only time I’d been to the Complex was the time I went to Ley Prison last fall to demand answers from Emma. Answers that she wouldn’t give me. I hadn’t forgotten the oppressive feel of the field damping my abilities or the imposing guards selected for their strength and speed. No supernormal was strong enough to use their abilities inside the damping field – well, until now. One of the many questions Ben would have to answer when he woke up.

  The plane taxied down the runway to pull in at the tiny airport. Several men wheeled steps over to the doorway and we filed off. Six led us to the small building at the end of the runway.

  I caught Mrs. Hallowfield fighting back tears as she regarded the building hiding the entrance to the prison. The silver exterior glinted in the sunshine, looking too shiny and cheerful to be the entrance to one of scariest places I’d ever been. Mr. Hallowfield put an arm around his wife, a muscle in his jaw tightening. I was sure I could hear his teeth grinding.

  Had they visited Ben since his sentencing? Was this the first time they’d been here? I’d gotten to visit him, so surely they had, too. I wasn’t certain why I felt so, but it seemed like today was their first time at the Complex. I shook my head. Now wasn’t the time to ask.

  Inside, a woman wearing gray coveralls gave us a short nod and directed us to a van that would drive us over to the facility a few miles away. After the long flight, I wanted to run over there to stretch my legs and work off the nervous energy bubbling through my body, but Six looked scandalized when I mentioned it. Uncle Alex gave me an understanding grin as we got into the van. Six sat up beside the driver, telling him to take us to the research facility entrance. The Hallowfields sat in the middle row while Uncle Alex and I sat at the back. I hugged my carry on bag to my chest, watching the very lovely but slightly ridiculous Swiss chalet loom larger as we got closer. We passed other cars and vans taking people to the airport strip or elsewhere.

  The driver pulled the van into the circular driveway and stopped, giving us a disinterested look as we got out. I wondered what he would think if he knew why we had come to the Complex. He had to know about the escape; even the normals knew about the prison break, though they thought it was from a prison near Denver and only knew Emma and her fellow escapees were armed and dangerous. I was willing to bet that very few people knew Ben was contacting me with snapshots of Emma on the run.

  We followed Six like little ducklings into the large foyer of the chalet. I looked around, surprised. I hadn’t been certain what to expect, but it wasn’t a normal hotel lobby. The inside looked like the lobby of an upscale resort hotel, with people milling about, some sitting and chatting in little groups or walking purposely to the stairs or the large bank of elevators on the right. A row of desks occupied the left side of the lobby, each with someone sitting behind it like a receptionist.

  The jarring note was the guards were standing near every entrance. Guards weren’t common in most hotels, but especially not guards carrying swords and whips instead of guns.

  I felt their eyes on us as we walked to one of the receptionist desks where a stern-faced woman regarded us silently.

  Six handed her an ID card. “Octad Six here for Benjamin Hallowfield’s questioning.”

  Questioning was such a mild description for bringing someone out of coma.

  For several minutes the woman looked closely at the ID card, unblinking.. Finally, she passed the card back to Six with a nod. Then she shifted her stare to include the rest of us. Six seemed to be expecting this. She pointed at each of us in turn, stating our names very clearly. The woman regarded each of us steadily before pressing a button on the desk in front of her. Four guards marched over and she waved at us to follow them.

  As we walked away, I glanced back, confused by the woman’s silent treatment. Six saw my look and said, “She’s a recorder. She has perfect recall of everything she sees, hears, and does.”

  “Like a photographic memory?”

  “More than that. She can remember nuances and recall them later to help understand relationships. How people interact.”

  “Huh.” I didn’t think a memory that good sounded like much fun. I could think of many events I didn’t want to remember perfectly. But it would be nice to know more about how people get along. Might help me at school.

  The guards bracketed us, each one with a hand on their sword, making it clear if anyone left the path we’d get more than a stern warning. For the first time since our trip began in Portland, I felt like a criminal, and I tried to make myself small and unthreatening.

  Uncle Alex stared around, his forehead creased. “Six, is this necessary?”

  Six’s jaw tightened and she very obviously didn’t look at the guards. “We are here to see a dangerous person. This is a precaution.”

  “Hey,” I straightened up, furious, “Ben is not a dangerous criminal. He saved us. Why can’t you get that clear?”

  Mrs. Hallowfield spoke quietly, but fiercely. “He shouldn’t have been there at all.” Her hands worked into firsts at her sides and she glared at me. “He should have been safe with us, but he wanted to see you.” Tears tracked down her angry face and her husband pulled her into his arms. His chest muffled her next words, but I heard her say, “We all failed him.”

  I reached out a hand, then dropped it. I didn’t know how to respond. Mr. Hallowfield scowled at me over his wife’s head and I stared at the floor, guilt flushing my cheeks.

  After an uncomfortable moment, Uncle Alex nudged me gently. “Ollie, let’s go talk to Ben.” He included the Hallowfields in his statement. “We’ll all feel better when we see him and can ask him what he knows.”

  One-by-one we all nodded. The guards led us upstairs to a large room with couches and tables scattered around. The sunlight brightened the space cheerfully. Too restless to sit, I wandered around until the door opened and a woman strode in holding a phone in one hand. She appeared small and meek until I saw her eyes – full of sharp inquiry and possibly anger.

  “Hello, I’m Mary Russet.” She didn’t extend her hand to anyone to shake. Instead she addressed the room without really acknowledging us, looking at a point over our heads. As she spoke, she fingered a bright yellow stone on a pendant around her neck. Her clothing was boring business-style and the necklace was a jarring, bright contrast to her somber black suit. I found I couldn’t take my gaze off the necklace and had to blink my eyes rapidly after a minute.

  Uncle Alex spoke in a surprised tone. “Mary, why are you here?”

  She deigned to lower her eyes, meeting my uncle’s frown with one of her own. “Hello Alex.” She favored the rest of us with a quick look before turning back to Uncle Alex. “I transferred here a few months ago. My tenure in D.C. was finished and there was an opening here as a liaison.”

  Tenure in D.C.? Before I could ask what Ms. Russet meant, she gestured to the door. “Follow me.” She turned and marched out of the room, her sensible, low heels leading us along with dull thumps on the floor.

  Mrs. Hallowfield moved quickly past the rest of us to Ms. Russet’s side. “Mary, where are we going?” Did everyone but me know this woman?

  Without stopping, Ms. Russet answered in clipped tones, “We are going to the medical center.” We reached an elevator and she waved us in, along with two guards. “It was decided that one of the operating theaters was the only space sufficient to perform this travesty.”

  Okay, so she wasn’t on board with waking up Ben. I shared a look with Uncle Alex before he spoke up. “Besides us, who will be there?”

  The elevator doors closed and we sank downwards. Ms. Russet’s expression softened a tad when she spoke to my uncle. “The technicians who will perform the procedure, as well as other appropriate personnel to make sure the prisoner doesn’t attempt anything.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “They have no choice but to perform the awakening outside the damping field if they
want the prisoner to use his ability, but it’s very risky.”

  “Ben has a name,” her snotty attitude provoked me to declare irritably.

  I regretted it when she gave me a cold, assessing look. With a sniff, she addressed me as if I were a misbehaving child. “Olivia Brighthall, I presume?” She looked me up and down before continuing, “You’ve been busy lately – deciding you want to claim your heritage, developing into a disintegrator, and receiving intel from the prisoner.”

  Wow. Word about my new ability had gotten out quickly.

  Uncle Alex’s hand on my arm kept my tone moderately civil. “His name is Ben. You should call him by his name instead of ‘the prisoner.’” I made air quotes around “the prisoner. Okay, maybe I wasn’t that civil.

  Ms. Russet shook her head. “Just like your mother.” She didn’t elaborate, and instead exited the elevator after the doors soundlessly slid open.

  Her statement preoccupied me, so it took me a moment to realize we were in a hallway full of people walking swiftly to their various destinations. The scene was disorienting – we could have been in any hospital corridor in the States, instead of several floors under a mountain. Then I saw a man blink out of sight and a woman walking with a large metal box floating in front of her. Most hospital corridors didn’t include teleporters or telekinetics.

  Ms. Russet ignored the bustle and led us down the hall towards a set of double doors at the very end. Curious stares and whispered conversations marked our passage down the hallway. In fact, I wondered if the hallway was so crowded because people wanted to see us.

  When we got to the double doors, a gray-haired man dressed in scrubs met us. Ms. Russet introduced him as Dr. Nolan. He scowled at each of us in turn but didn’t speak. He merely held the door open and then followed us into the room.

  I stared around with my mouth open – ‘room’ wasn’t quite the right word. This was more like a mad scientist’s laboratory. With stadium seating.

  Equipment was everywhere – shoved in the corners, dangling from the ceiling, anchored to the walls. Some of it was familiar from medical shows – X-Ray machines, EKG readers – but other machines had no discernable function. What purpose was there for the extra-large cat tree in the corner? And for the weird, twisty drill attached to the EKG machine? Hanging overhead, near the top of the three-story ceiling, was a large, clear container. I squinted at it and realized the bottom was open and if someone lowered the box, it would create a kind of cage the size of a doctor’s examination room in the middle of the work area.