“Not another one,” Shelly says.
The woman’s voice sounds cold and serious. “We’ve received word of yet another mysterious death in the area. The victim is alleged to be Susan Chriswolf. The cause of death is unknown at this time, but once again, investigators found no markings or signs of trauma on the body. A disturbing message left on the wall of her bedroom provides a possible link to the murder of Roger Wesson last Thursday.”
The camera moves to focus on the wall, with a glowing blue letters that spell, “Catalysts will destroy you all.”
Shelly covers her mouth in horror and Zach stares at the image, forehead wrinkled in thought.
The report cuts back to the blonde newscaster at her desk. “We want to clarify, there is no physical evidence that the two deaths are related, and we cannot rule out the chance this is a copycat crime.”
As the news continues, my mind begins to wander. It had to be the same person. Who else could murder somebody without leaving any evidence? Unless, of course, there’s a legion of Catalysts out there. The messages imply a group.
No. The messages imply an army.
A shiver goes through my body.
“Don’t you think it’s odd,” Zach says, “the way those messages are worded? All in third person?”
Shelly grunts. “I don’t think a psychopath worries about their writing style.”
“I can’t be sure,” Zach says, “but it seems that the messages are about someone else. If I were a psychopath writing about myself, I would try to make people fear me."
“I’ll remember that next time you start murdering people,” Shelly says.
“It has to be a Catalyst though,” I say. “How else can you explain the deaths?”
Zach pauses. “Or it could be two people. A Catalyst and someone who writes the messages.”
“Why wouldn’t the Catalyst just write the messages himself?” Shelly asks.
“You’re assuming it’s a man,” Zach says.
“Serial killers tend to be male by a 1 to 6 ratio,” Shelly says.
We both turn back at her.
“What?” she says. “I paid attention in Psychology class.”
“Well, look who showed up,” Zach says, pointing the stocky teenager in the doorway.
Aaron looks terrified as he walks over to me, which is good, because he should be.
I manage to control my anger and keep a civil tone. “Nice to see you here.”
“Sorry,” Aaron says. “I didn’t mean to be so distant.”
“Not sure how you can ignore someone by accident,” I say.
Behind him, a man in a white suit marches into the waiting room. He waves to the receptionist, who unlocks the door to the emergency ward.
“Great,” Aaron says. “Hoped he wasn’t coming in here.”
“Who?” Zach asks
“Check his badge,” Aaron says.
I cringe as I catch a glimpse of a patch above his right pocket. It’s the logo for the GEMO Control and Regulation Department.
“Fantastic,” I mutter under my breath.
“What’s wrong?” Shelly asks.
“He’s one of your Dad’s minions,” I say. “Probably here to investigate Mrs. Ford.”
“He’d better not find anything,” Shelly says. “I’m not going to spend my life in jail.”
“You should be worried about Elliott,” I say. “He doesn’t have a Dad that can just smooth over a criminal record.”
Shelly glares back at me.
“This is why we need the Basic Brigade,” Aaron says.
“Why?” I ask. “So you can eliminate Elevateds? Sure would make life easier for you.”
“We aren’t trying to do that,” Aaron says.
“Only your leader was,” I say.
“He’s not our leader anymore.”
“Who is?”
A text from Elliott interrupts our conversation:
Snuck off to the bathroom. GEMO is in here asking a lot of questions.
My fingers shake as I respond:
You know nothing. This was her decision.
I take a deep breath as I send the message. He’d better not tell them anything. It wouldn’t do any of us any good.
“GEMO?” Zach asks
I nod. “Asking a lot of questions.”
“We’re screwed,” Shelly says.
“Thanks for the confidence,” I say.
“If you guys end up in trouble with the law,” Aaron says, “just want to let you know you have my support.”
“Won’t that hurt your standing with your friends?” I ask. “Can’t imagine they like the idea of a man walking around able to zap them into mutant freaks.”
“I can take the hint,” Aaron says. “It’s been fun, but I’ve had enough for a while.”
He turns to leave and a piece of paper drops from his backpack. I grab it to return it, but he runs out before I have a chance to stop him. On it are notes, which I recognize as Aaron’s cluttered handwriting.
Basic Brigade Rally
Is an Elevated World Really the Best?
I clutch the paper, arms shaking. What is he doing? Taking Jex’s place? What could Aaron possibly hope to gain by—
“I’ll take that back,” Aaron says, snatching the paper out of my hand.
“Is this what you’ve been doing? Taking over for Jex?”
Shelly takes the paper. “I can’t believe you.”
Aaron grunts. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re right,” I say. “I don’t.”
“Somebody has to tell the truth,” Aaron says.
“You’re just as bad as Jason.”
“I’m not advocating any violence. Would you rather one of the nutjobs take over Basic Brigade? I’m trying to keep them sound.”
“By stirring them up at a rally? Dad said that—”
“Right, you believe everything he tells you. Your Dad is part of the system too. Has he told you everything?”
I take a deep breath. “Aaron, there’s no big conspiracy, ok? Just a couple of loose cannons. You’re starting to scare me.”
“Good, they should be scared of me.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“What I mean is, there is more to this than you or your Dad knows, and I will figure out what that is. Even if I have to do it on my own. The public deserves to know the truth.”
And with that, he leaves. I stand there in shock. The discovery of Jex’s true identity must have bothered him even more than I expected. But the Basic Brigade is dangerous. And he seems in way over his head.
Shelly’s eyes fill with tears. “He’s going to tell everyone, isn’t he? Tell them about my power.”
Zach holds her steady. “No, he wouldn’t do that.”
“He is!” she yells. “I can see it on his face.”
“Shelly, I—”
“I need to get out of here,” Shelly says.
Zach looks at me, helpless. “We’d better go.”
Selfishly, I wish they could stay, but I know Zach is right. If the GEMO agent found something suspicious about Elliott’s grandmother, who knows who he’ll investigate next? All I can do now is wait. I watch them step out of the room, Zach nuzzling Shelly’s shoulder as they leave. Turning my head, I notice the television has switched back to Elevated Love and Shelia is making out with Thomas. I grip the arm of the chair next to me before pulling out my phone to text Elliott.
Don’t leave me.
There is no response. Have they already arrested him? Time slows to a crawl as I wait. My head jerks each time the doors open to the emergency ward in hopes he has returned. After what seems like hours, the man in the white suit walks back into the waiting room. He nods in my direction before exiting the building. Does he know about me? Did Elliott tell him? Before I have a chance to think, the doors open again and Elliott runs out to meet me.
He wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Sorry, I didn’t want to text while that guy was breathing d
own my neck.”
“I understand.”
He sits down and takes a deep breath. I have so many questions to ask him, but he looks exhausted.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “They don’t know anything. They kept asking me questions about her being a pilot group member, and I couldn’t answer them. But that would have been before I was born, so I had a bit of an excuse.”
I nod. It’s clear from his face it was hard for Elliott to lie to the officer.
I rest my hand on his leg. “You did the right thing. It was her decision.”
Elliott covers his face with his hands, and I rub his shoulders. When he emerges, a few tears stream down his cheeks. “I just don’t see how they won’t figure it out.”
“She knew the risk,” I say. “And hey, at least she found out her full potential. It’s what she wanted.”
Elliott wipes his face. “I’ll never use my powers again.”
“Hopefully,” I say, “you won’t ever have to.”
***
By the end of the day in the hospital, I’m quite sick of Elevated Love. It’s a huge relief when the final episode comes on, ending the marathon. Unfortunately, another marathon of an even worse show, My Ability Stinks, comes on instead. The hospital really could afford to change the station. I’m brain numb from the stupid programming when Elliott arrives to give an update.
“Grandma gets released tomorrow night,” he says.
I’m a bit comforted that the hospital is treating her like any other patient. Elliott’s story must have worked on the GEMO investigator, or maybe they didn’t keep as good of records as he thought.
“Are you ok?” he asks.
“Aaron is riling up the Basic Brigade again. I’m worried about him.”
“He has years of lies from Jason to get over. It’s not going to happen in a snap.”
“Not even when he knows what he was like?”
“That’s the thing about belief. Once you grab hold of something, it can be hard to shake, no matter what the evidence.”
I always thought of Aaron as someone who based his life around evidence, but the truth is, he had let himself be manipulated by the Basic Brigade newsletter. A lot of those articles could easily be challenged. But he believed them despite it all.
“What can I do now?” I ask.
“Hope he figures out what’s right. You can’t change his mind.”
An image flashes of Aaron storming the GEMO Control center with the Basic Brigade behind him. Aaron isn’t that violent though. He would never advocate a full-blown war. It would be madness anyway; his group is outnumbered by millions. Not many people choose to be Basic anymore.
“I have more good news,” Elliott says. “The doctor says Grandma is well enough for visitors now.”
I’m not sure what makes me happier: not being apart from Elliott, or not being forced to watch My Ability Stinks. Elliott escorts me back through the hallways and to his grandmother’s room.
The hospital room is quainter than I expected. The photographs of flowers on the walls would soothe me, even against the rather icky green shade of the walls. Mrs. Ford is chirpy and if I didn’t know she’d had surgery the night before, I would be suspicious that her whole illness had been an act.
“Good evening, Rose,” she says, her wings gently flapping against her bed sheets.
A nurse enters the room to take her vitals. She confirms that everything is ordinary and within range. A doctor steps in shortly after and lets us know that we will be free to go in a couple of hours. I keep waiting for her to finish with how we’ve been caught, but that never comes. We spend the remainder of the hospital stay listening to Mrs. Ford whine over her more recent meal and watching television. There’s something odd about sitting back to watch “Guess My Ability” when you aren’t sure what the next few hours will bring. Contestants winning money for guessing which power an Elevated has doesn’t seem to matter. More hours go by and we still haven’t heard anything. Elliott keeps glancing over at me, as if to share my amazement. I won’t complain, but our luck is hard to believe.
When our time has come, we assist Elliot’s grandmother into a wheelchair and head down to the ground floor. The doors open, revealing a pair of imposing police officers standing on the other side.
“I’m sorry, miss,” one of them says in a low voice. “We’re going to have to take you with us.”
“What do you mean?” Elliott asks.
“Sorry, son, but it’s the law,” he says. “Unauthorized GEMO treatments are illegal. And dangerous.”
“She didn’t really—”
The officer started reading her rights. Although in cases like this, there isn’t much of a defense that would work. All it would take is a simple reveal of her ability and the lack of paperwork saying she should have one. Case closed. Five years in prison.
“Officer. I’m sorry,” Mrs. Ford says. “I just had to find out, you can understand. I couldn’t live on, not knowing. Just don’t charge Mr. Grayson, please.”
“Mr. Grayson?” Elliott asks.
“He’s a good man,” she continues. “I made him do it.”
“We already have Mr. Grayson in our custody,” the policeman says, puffing up his chest. “He was arrested last week.”
“He’s just providing a service, if you would just allow us to—”
The police officer holds out his hand to silence her. “Ma’am, you don’t have to say anything. I would suggest you hold your comments for your lawyer.”
They grab her wheelchair and wheel her out, leaving Elliott and me alone in the elevator. The doors slam shut and Elliott pounds on them hard before falling to the floor.
“Why couldn’t I—why couldn’t I say anything?” His face turns red.
Leaning down, I wipe a tear from his cheek. “She didn’t give you a choice, Elliott. This has been her choice. She wanted this.”
“Wanted to be locked behind bars?”
“Remember the look on her face when she discovered her wings? That’s what you’ll have to remember.”
Elliott freezes. Then shakes his head. “But what about me, Rose? She’s all I have.”
I reach out and take him into my arms. I want to tell him I’ve felt what he’s going through. That pit in my stomach I endured for ten years, looking up at my bedroom ceiling, wishing my Dad were beside me. That wrenching feeling like your insides are being ripped out of you until nothing’s left but your cold body. When the best thing to do is to lay curled up in bed, where there’s nothing that can hurt you ever again.
But I don’t have that feeling anymore. When I arrive back home, there’s someone there who cares about me. We sit there in the elevator, arms around each other. When I break away, Elliott just sits there, eyes dead.
His eyes meet mine. “Rose, I need to go somewhere important.”
“Ok, where are we going?” I ask.
“To see my parents.”
“Your parents? Where are they?”
“Fothsville.” He pauses, then his face becomes serious. “Or at least their bodies are.”
CHAPTER FIVE
It’s a two-hour ride to Fothsville and the trip down into the valley provides a soothing distraction. Once we leave the outskirts of the city, there’s not much to distract from the scenery, which shifts from a shady forest to a blistering desert. The mountains shield this area, trapping the warm air below. Despite the harsh climate, there’s a beauty here. I admire desert plants and their amazing capacity to cope with limited resources. To survive out here takes a special combination of determination and resilience. The thorns on the cactus show it also takes a large amount of defensiveness. I sit in the front seat next to Elliott, Zach and Aaron behind me. I’m glad they came with us. It will show Elliott he has people who care about him. As soon as Shelly found out Aaron was coming, she refused to join us. Aaron’s decision to travel with us is a bit of a mystery to me too, since I figured for sure he would say no when I invited him.
“Has anyone ever
been to Fothsville?” I ask.
Elliott says he has, but Aaron and Zach both respond no.
“We were supposed to go, remember?” Aaron says. “Field trip a few years ago, but some parents complained that it was unsafe.”
“I wouldn’t venture too close to the ruins,” Zach says. “There are reports of mutations in people who go inside.”
“You can’t get close anyway,” Elliott says. “They have big fences up.”
As we pass the sandy dunes, populated sparsely with desert plants, it’s clear why the government chose this area as one of the first GEMO Treatment Centers. With public opinion mixed at best, this area gave them a certain security and distance from everyday life. How far we’ve come in the past fifteen years.
A sign reading “Fothsville Historical Site and Memorial” unnecessarily points to the only buildings within miles. The car moves off the road and into the parking lot. Elliott sighs deeply.
“Let’s go in,” he says.
He leads us directly to the front gate and doesn’t stop to pick up a visitor map. Clearly, he knows this area well. In front of us stands a large cube-shaped building, which would be ordinary if not for the gigantic hole in its center. The scorched walls have peeled away like burned skin, and flecks of ash and soot cover the once gleaming structure. It’s been years since the accident, but I feel I can still smell the smoke.
Aaron steps towards the building, stopping at the chained fence standing between us and the charred remains. Elliott turns down a path leading to a small garden. It’s quiet, the only sound tranquil white noise coming from the rushing fountains pointing towards the sky. A bed of brilliant white flowers nearly blinds me under the hot sun. In front of them sits a sign. “100 flowers, for 100 lost.”
Zach reads a plaque in the corner, while Elliott walks along a wall of marble, etched with names. Tracing his finger against the stone, he finds his parents’ names and stops. Leaning his head against it, he starts crying. I lean next to him and the stone feels icy against my sun soaked skin. My hand finds his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a deep hug. My body tenses up.
Catalyst: (Elevated Saga Book #2) Page 5