by Rob Horner
"C'mon, come outside." She turned and headed for the front door. Her mother followed, with Crystal and I bringing up the rear, wondering what was going on, knowing it had something to do with her brilliant aura, but unsure what.
"Wait until you see what I can do!"
Chapter 16
Look, Mom. No hands.
"Wait until you see what I can do!" Tanya called again, as Crystal and I hurried out to the front lawn behind Mrs. Fields. The Fields' house stood on a corner lot, with the structure itself set back from the street by about thirty feet on two sides, giving them a lot of land to work with. There were only three trees on the property. The two large apple trees, which dominated the front yard, and off to the side, near the farthest corner of the lot, was a young willow, its branches not yet long enough to begin bending to the ground. Just outside the front door was a covered porch area, large enough for a couple of wooden patio chairs and a small beverage table.
Crystal, Mrs. Fields, and I stood in this small area, while Tanya jogged a few paces onto the lawn, then turned to face us.
"Well, what is it, child?" Mrs. Fields asked, squinting into the sunlit yard.
"Just watch," Tanya replied. She pointed at the small beverage table, drawing our attention to it. Her eyes narrowed in what I took to be intense concentration--what we'd later call the X-Men glare of constipation when the movies started coming out--and then, to my great surprise, the table lifted. It moved in small jerks, first one corner, then another, like a drunk puppeteer unable to keep anything level.
But it did move.
"Lord have mercy!"
The table rose to a height of about three feet, wobbly while in motion. Then it stopped rising and stabilized, hanging motionless, while we gaped. Finally, just as slowly and with a little more control than it had shown on rising, it began to descend. The table settled to the ground in a slightly different position than it had been, but it didn't bump into either of the chairs, never swung in such a way that it posed a danger to us, and it didn't drop.
Once the table was back on the ground, Tanya relaxed and looked up at us, her smile ecstatic. Sweat beaded her face and her chest heaved, but her smile outshone everything.
"Oh, my baby!" Mrs. Fields exclaimed, rushing out to her daughter. She hovered near for a moment, looking as though she wanted to hug her, but was almost afraid to touch her. "My darling! You've been touched by the Lord!"
"Now, Momma," Tanya began.
But Mrs. Fields wouldn't be dissuaded. "You've been touched! Only a true saint could perform a miracle like that."
"But Mom, supposedly there are a lot of people who can move stuff with their minds."
"But not my little girl." She stopped for a moment, appearing to have made a sudden realization. "I have to go tell the reverend!" She turned to head back into the house, pausing beside us. "You two will excuse me, won't you? Yes. Yes. Sorry, hon'..." this back over her shoulder to her daughter, "...you're going to have to entertain our guests until I get back."
She disappeared into the house for a moment. The hallway closet door banged into the front door as she hurriedly snatched it open and started rummaging within. She returned a few minutes later, shrugging into a light jacket, her purse clutched in her hands, almost running to her Pontiac.
"You three behave," she called as she opened her car door. Then, singling me out, she added, "And don't forget your promise, John." Then she started the engine, pulled out of the drive, and was gone.
We stood in astonished silence for several long moments after the last of her exhaust trail faded to nothing. She had that kind of effect on you. She could be the perfect ear to listen and the softest shoulder to lean on. But she also had this vitality that could sweep both her and whomever was near her up in her excitement, carrying you along with her like a boat on a strong sea. Had she decided we needed to go with her, I have no doubt we'd have been bundled into the car with her, belted into our seats, and barely able to raise a protest before the car was in motion.
I found my eyes drawn to Tanya, noticing the little things about her that had changed, remembering the familiar things that hadn't. Her facial symmetry remained, but she'd adopted a crooked smile, tilting up on the left side when she cocked her head, almost like a gorgeous caricature of Elvis' signature lip curl. Her full lips had the same tendency to smile as her mother, and they shared the same eye and hair color. She'd cut her hair since the last time we'd seen each other, and the length made her look more mature.
Feeling Crystal's gaze on me, that sixth sense all guys develop which eventually makes us a part of the great Summertime Sunglass Sales Surge, I realized that, perhaps, my eyes were lingering too long on the leggy brunette. Hoping she would think it more astonishment than anything else, I shifted my focus to the beverage table.
Telekinesis.
Mind over matter.
I knew the word and the concept from comic books, of course, as well as from some mainstream writers. Carrie by Stephen King, came to mind, as did Matilda, by Roald Dahl. Outside of literature, there were supposedly documented cases of the phenomenon, which Tanya had alluded to. Many investigators into the supernatural believed poltergeists weren't unquiet spirits but were instead a manifestation of this type of power, usually from a child too young to understand that he or she was the cause of the destruction.
But at the moment, all I could think of were the comic books, the fantastical applications of such a power, and how it might be helpful in our fight. Maybe there was a way to test her ability, to find out if it was anything more than just bending spoons and lifting tables.
It was becoming clear there was some form of direction to the chaos. This couldn't be just random coincidence, the three of us all being gifted with an ability. I wasn't quite ready to subscribe to the idea of God behind it all, though I couldn't have said why there was such a resistance to it. I may be stubborn, but that doesn't mean a complete unwillingness to accept new data and make changes, even if they go against my inclinations. Maybe a part of it was that, yes, this no longer appeared random. But it also seemed too unrandom, if that makes any sense. If God works in mysterious ways, where was the mystery in this?
Yes, I knew there was a little latent hypocrisy here. Too random? Can't be God. Coincidence that looks like a structured design? Can't be God. I knew it was wrong to think that way. But recognizing a fault and being able to rise above it are two different things. Go ahead and call me hypocritical; I wasn't buying it.
"You coming, Johnny?" someone asked. "Or are you just going to stare at my table all day?" It was Tanya calling. Crystal giggled. They were already inside the house, holding the door for me.
"It was amazing," Tanya said. "I was in English, and tired of analyzing Thoreau, you know, so I had this 'what if' thought. I thought, what if Thoreau found himself stuck on Jim's raft?"
"Jim from Huckleberry Finn?" Crystal asked.
"Yeah, so when Mrs. Debrose gave us free-writing time, that's what I started doing, writing a conversation between Jim and Thoreau. I dropped my pen, and it rolled a little way under my desk, just far enough so I couldn't reach it. Such a little thing, a thought that I needed to get my pen and get back to my story. Then it just...rolled across the floor to me.
"I played around with it a little, thought about telling people, showing...someone...but something made me keep it to myself. That's why I was almost ready to bust when I got home."
It fell to me to explain what brought Crystal and I to Tanya's house. I couldn't lie, not to her. She meant too much to me, and she needed to know what kind of danger we were facing.
At least the girls had already introduced themselves, saving me the awkwardness.
Backtracking to Sunday, I told Tanya about the carnival, about meeting Crystal there. Then came the ceremony, the chanting, the lights, both red and white, which brought such changes to me and my world.
"I saw the light!" Tanya said. "Last night, while I was sitting in the tub. Well, I didn't really see it. I had my ey
es closed, you know, listening to some Enigma by candlelight, when suddenly the backs of my eyes lit up, like when you turn your face up to the sun."
We nodded, getting the description.
"Anyway, I opened my eyes to see what happened, and there was nothing, just my bubbles and the music and the candles. But I had those purple spots in my vision, just for a minute, like there really had been something bright shining on me.
"Everyone in school was talking about it, and we spent the whole period in Oceanography trying to figure out where it might have come from."
Then came the part about demons, and Tanya's face turned skeptical. She wasn't a full-on agnostic like me, but she did suffer from the over-exposure syndrome common to many children of hyper-religious parents. There comes a time when, no matter how you're raised, you need to work things out for yourself. It's not a matter of rebellion, a flat-out refusal to accept something just because your parents say it's so, but more a matter of learning to believe on your own terms, rather than someone else's. During these times, even the most devout seeming of children might start rolling their eyes at every "praise the Lord," or "if it's God's will." Considering that Tanya's starting point would be considered a far extreme to many others, it was more surprising she hadn't gone to the complete opposite end of the spectrum in her skepticism.
When I showed her the long claw marks running the length of my back, her expression changed to one of, if not complete belief, then at least to an acceptance of a possibility. Seeing this injury reminded Crystal of my hurt ankle, sending her off on an immediate hunt for a bucket and some ice. My story paused during this period of medical attention, as my left shoe and sock were removed, revealing an ankle that was swollen, but not too badly, considering I hadn't had a chance to rest it yet. I'd probably rolled it worse in the past, landing badly after a jumping kick, or that one winter when Tanya and I tried to ice skate...
Gritting my teeth against the numbing coldness biting into my foot, I continued, describing the scene in the boys' bathroom, then in the classrooms.
"Nothing like that happened at my school," she said. "Aside from the light last night, the most exciting thing that happened today was finding out Danielle Rogers might be pregnant." Even though it was just the three of us in the house, her voice still dropped to a whisper as she divulged this piece of gossip.
Crystal took over the story at the point where we discovered her power in the park, continuing through the trip to my house, and the confrontation with my aunt. I needed the break; my teeth were starting to chatter.
"You can see them?" Tanya asked.
"Not really see them, no," Crystal answered. "It's more like a...um...potential for them." She shook her head. "No, that's not right. It's like a streetlight on a foggy night. You can see the light shining, but there's also this aura around it. With my power, I can see the people, like you and Johnny, but there's also a glowing white aura around you."
"Wait, so, not just demons, you can see people like us?"
Crystal nodded. "It was building all morning, but I didn't know what it was and didn't have any reason to think it meant anything other than maybe I had a migraine coming on. But in the park, when those three guys came out of the building, it hit me like a light switch. I'm not sure how, but something clicked, and I knew what they were. Just like that. Then I looked at Johnny and he was glowing white."
"She knew you had a power before you said anything," I said.
Tanya looked at Crystal, then back to me. "One thing," she said. "Can you show me your power, Johnny? I'm not sure, but I think it might help me believe."
"Sure," I answered, looking around for something suitable to demonstrate on. My eyes settled on a throw pillow, a brown thing with a red fringe featuring a picture of Dan Peek, one of the original members of America, singing in front of a gospel choir. "Hand me that pillow, please."
Tanya rose and brought the pillow to me. "Don't bust it, or anything," she said. "That's one of Mom's favorites. She says it shows how Jesus can help you overcome anything, even the lure of the rock world."
Standing the pillow on one side, balancing it between my left hand and my thigh, I made the 'okay' symbol with my right hand, index finger tucked tight against the thumb. Making sure nothing was in my line of fire, I flicked the finger out, striking the pillow. The flash of light came, illuminating the house, though it wasn't as bright as some of the other flashes we'd seen. Perhaps that had to do with the intent behind it, or the amount of effort put into it; I'd need to investigate to figure it out.
The pillow flew away, arcing into the dining room where it slid across the hardwood floor.
Tanya went to retrieve the pillow, turning it over and over in her hands to make sure it wasn't damaged.
"Okay, I'm convinced," she said. "Now, how do I fit into all of this?"
I smiled at her perception, but the truth was, all I had at the moment were a few ideas, certainly nothing that could be called a plan. "The first thing we should do is find someplace to practice, see if there's a limit to what we can do."
"Hey, I'm all for that," she said. "This crazy ability is just about the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me. Not that what you two can do isn't also cool."
Crystal shrugged, withdrawing a little. It occurred to me she might be a little envious of our abilities. It might have been a form of projection; I know how I'd feel if all I could do was see some lights, while everyone else got the cool powers.
"We probably shouldn't do it during the daytime," Crystal suggested. "The less people who see us using our powers, the less chance the demons will learn about us."
"I thought they were already pretty aware of you," Tanya stated.
"Yes," I answered, "but I'm betting they think we're still in Virginia Beach. And the last place we'd run and hide would be near the carnival's next stop."
"That's right!" Tanya exclaimed. "The carnival's opening on Thursday at the Coliseum."
"Don't worry," I commented wryly. "We'll probably be there."
Tanya was silent for a moment, then she remembered her original question. "So, when can we go out and practice?" She was so obviously pleased with herself, so curious about her new abilities, like a kid with a new toy. I couldn't blame her one bit, and I'd probably be acting the same way if I hadn't already had to fight those creatures.
"Let's say tomorrow night," I said, rationalizing. "My foot hurts too much to do anything tonight. And since we can't do anything during the day..."
"Plus, you still need to go to school," Crystal interjected.
"All right, then, tomorrow night," Tanya agreed. "Where?"
"I don't know, yet," I replied. "Let's think about that tonight and tomorrow and see if we can come up with something."
Chapter 17
News flash
The rest of the night crept by, all of us keyed up, anxious to do something, try something, but understanding that we shouldn't. If you can remember being young, then you know that feeling of personal kinetic energy, a potential waiting to explode.
Naturally, we didn't just sit there and talk.
Tanya continued practicing her powers, levitating some of the less-fragile statuettes off the mantel and rearranging couch cushions. By six o'clock, she'd smoothed out the motions, much as a young driver learns that a constant pressure on the accelerator is better than a nervous pulse. Pens, pencils, textbooks, even our glasses half-full of lemon-flavored melted ice---nothing was safe from her talent.
Crystal complained at first about the constant flashes of light from Tanya's ability. Though neither the brunette nor I saw anything, it apparently made her aura brighter in Crystal's sight whenever she used her power. Around the time when Tanya's pen started moving through the air like a fighter jet flown by a world-class pilot, Crystal announced that she'd figured out a way to tamp down the flashes, while still being able to see the glow around both Tanya and me.
"It's like putting a lampshade on a wonky light bulb," she said. "There's still the glow,
but none of the bright flashes."
"I thought you figured out a way to turn off your power," I said.
"I can, but then she's like you," she replied.
"What do you mean?"
"You know how your power always comes with this flash? Well, if I turn off the auras, I can still see the flash."
"We all can," Tanya said.
Crystal nodded. "But your power starts doing the same thing. Even if I turn off the auras, you still flash when you do something."
Tanya looked around at the two items she currently held airborne, a marble bust of Davy Jones from The Monkees, and the ink pen which had sparked her power in the classroom. The items stopped their whirling dervish dance around each other, seeming to droop for a moment.
"You don't need to stop," Crystal added. "I was just trying to explain that it's easier to keep the auras on and filter down the flashes, rather than turn it off but still have your flashes breaking through."
Being forced to sit with your foot and ankle turning blue while all the nerve-endings scream at the cold leaves you desperate for something to focus on, anything but your leg. Seriously, either the ice should have melted, or my foot should be completely numb by now.
My accomplishments included figuring how to hit a pillow without blowing the stuffing out of the back, and on the flip side, how to emit a measure of force from my hands by thinking about it, not by swinging. With limited targets in the house, and not wanting to destroy anything, I didn't try to turn up the juice. And no matter what I tried, no matter how I focused or tried to organize my thoughts, I could not emit the power without the flash of light. It might be a minor accomplishment, but it was a relief to know I could turn my power off if needed.
The next morning, Tanya went off to school while Crystal and I pretended to. We got dressed, rushed through breakfast, said our good-byes to Mrs. Fields and headed out in my aunt's Nissan.