by S. A. Beck
As Dr. Jones went to one of the tanks and studied the monitor, Meade wondered what these people’s ancestors had been doing for the past few centuries. They’d been hiding in plain sight, their powers unnoticed. How could that have happened?
Suddenly the answer hit him—their skin color! For most of America’s history, the Atlanteans would have been dismissed as second-class citizens, or worse, slaves. No one would have paid much attention to them except to order them around. Being the victims of prejudice, they would have quickly learned to hide their powers and stay nondescript.
But perhaps not in all cases. At West Point, his professors had taught them about military history so the warriors of the future could learn from the great warriors of the past. One of the periods that had impressed him the most was the Seminole Wars in nineteenth-century Florida. According to the history books, the Seminole rebels were a mix of escaped slaves who married into the Seminole tribe. They were described as a blend of white, black, and Native American. Hiding in the depths of the Florida swamps, they fought off every army the United States sent at them for the better part of a century. Entire regiments had disappeared without a trace.
What if the Seminoles had been Atlanteans? Hidden as they were in the almost impassable swamps, they could have used their powers without fear of discovery. It would also explain why they hadn’t died from the alligators, poisonous snakes, and diseases that plagued the region. And when regiments of US soldiers waded in to defeat the tribe, the Atlanteans would have leapt out in ambush, their unnatural strength and speed tearing through the soldiers’ ranks.
Meade tried to imagine what that had been like, seeing superhumans bursting out of the thick underbrush and smashing through lines of surprised soldiers. As more men fell, the soldiers would have panicked, their officers barking orders to try to keep them in formation before they too got cut down. It would have all been over in a few minutes. The Atlanteans would have been ruthless because they would have needed to kill them all so that none could get back to tell the tale. In so many of those battles, none did. Even if a few did make it back, their wide-eyed stories of Seminole warriors leaping ten feet in the air or cutting a man’s body in half would have been dismissed as panicked imagination.
But what of other battles in other times? Had that been the only time the Atlanteans had banded together? What about Hannibal, the ancient North African general who had marched across Western Europe, defeating Roman legions along the way, to cross the Alps with an army of soldiers riding elephants to threaten Rome itself? The Carthaginians, as they had been called, had almost defeated the greatest empire the world had ever seen, yet history knew so little about them. The Roman revenge had been terrible. After decades of warfare, Rome got the upper hand and leveled the capital at Carthage, leaving not one stone atop another, and defaced every Carthaginian inscription they came across.
The defeat of the Seminoles had been just as brutal. The tribe had been slaughtered by an overwhelming force of troops, the adults killed and the children sold into slavery.
If only American generals had known how valuable the Atlanteans could have been, perhaps they could have struck a deal. There were so many enemies back then—other hostile tribes, the Mexicans, the British. And in the next century, there had been the Germans and Japanese and Koreans and Vietnamese and Iraqis. America had fought long and hard to become the world’s biggest superpower and had lost countless brave men and women to do it. With the Atlanteans’ help, perhaps the sacrifice wouldn’t have been so great. Perhaps the path to world dominance would have been easier. Instead, the Atlanteans had been defeated without being recognized and appreciated for what they were.
How many times had that happened? History wasn’t Meade’s specialty since the concerns of the present were far more important to him. The past held the key to Atlantis though. He needed to learn more.
Dr. Jones’s whiney voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Zion Wilson is ready to be taken out of hibernation, sir.”
The scientist stood next to one of the suspended animation tanks. General Meade walked over and looked through the little window. The face he saw inside was a young man’s, his features placid.
“Congratulations, Mr. Wilson,” General Meade said. “You’re going to be the next in a long line of warriors. But this time, you won’t be fighting an empire. You’ll be fighting to preserve one.”
Chapter 14
JUNE 8, 2016, LOS ANGELES
7:00 AM
The next morning, Isadore woke Jaxon at the usual horribly early hour.
“Hope you had a good time last night. Thank you for coming home on time. That shows responsibility, and that’s essential for developing a healthy adult attitude.”
“Ermph,” Jaxon mumbled, her face buried in her pillow. She’d only caught a few words of what her foster mother had said. Something about healthy. She hoped that meant a smoothie. She probably had to do a bunch of yoga stretches to get it though.
“Get on up,” Isadore went on in a fake cheerful voice that sounded like she’d stolen it from some old lady on a cooking show. “Let’s start the day right with some yoga stretches.”
Jaxon groaned, flipping over.
“I’ll see you downstairs, sleepyhead!”
“Sleepyhead?” Jaxon mumbled into her pillow. “She’s finally gone nuts.”
Sleep threatened to pull Jaxon back into unconsciousness, and she had to force herself to stumble over to her dresser to get her yoga clothes.
Ten minutes later, they were in the exercise room as the morning light streamed through the window. Isadore led her in something called a sun salutation, which mainly involved a lot of squishing herself flat on the yoga mat then standing and stretching with her arms over her head. Her foster mother explained that it helped the circulation early in the morning and gave you energy for the rest of the day. For the Hindus in India, who invented yoga, it was also a way of showing respect to the sun as the giver of life.
Jaxon decided she would have a lot more respect for the sun if it rose about three hours later.
“You’re sluggish today, Jaxon,” Isadore observed. “What did you eat last night?”
“Salad,” Jaxon lied.
“Is pizza the new salad? If you had eaten properly, you wouldn’t be groaning every time you did a forward fold.”
“I didn’t eat pizza,” Jaxon grumbled.
Her foster mother was right though. She could feel every bite of that burger. It was strange how she hadn’t really noticed just how different she felt on her new healthy diet until she went back to her old eating habits. Maybe Stephen and Isadore were onto something. Later at breakfast, Jaxon felt grateful for the bowl of muesli and her usual smoothie.
As she scarfed them down, her foster mother said, “I went to bed early and didn’t see you come back. Stephen said you came back on time though.”
“Of course,” Jaxon said, trying to look dutiful.
Isadore held out her hand. “I’ll need your phone back. It’s best not to get too distracted by the Internet and games.”
Jaxon tensed. It was none of Isadore’s business what she did with her phone. “Um, I wanted to make a couple of calls about the birthday party next week. Can I keep it until lunchtime? It’s not like I can call my friends right now. They’re probably still asleep.”
Jaxon hoped Isadore would take the hint about the early mornings she was forcing on Jaxon. To her disappointment, Isadore didn’t get it.
“Well, okay, I suppose you can keep it until noon. I’ll just go turn the Wi-Fi off so you won’t be tempted by all the nonsense online.”
Isadore rose and left the room. Jaxon resisted the urge to flip her off.
“Yeah, wouldn’t want to be tempted by something fun,” she muttered.
Even though the Internet was off, Jaxon managed to sneak in a few games from among the ones saved on her phone. She wondered if Isadore knew about them or even realized that you could play games on your phone without the Internet. She and Ste
phen were really strange. Like, they were really knowledgeable about some stuff and completely clueless about others. What kind of lives did they lead where they could be so rich yet so disconnected?
Late in the morning, Jaxon decided to make a few calls. She knew she needed to contact Brett. People always called each other the day after a date, but she didn’t know what to say. Should she call? She decided to text. That way she wouldn’t be drawn into a conversation. But what should she say? Was she supposed to text first, or was he supposed to do it? She wasn’t even sure she wanted him to text at all.
She decided to be the one to make contact. The next decision was what to say. “Thanks for a good time”? That might be too encouraging. “You’re shallow and boring”? No, people didn’t like honesty. Hmmm.
Aha! “See you on Monday.”. No, a bit cold.
Or maybe, “See you on Monday. ”
Maybe, “See you on Monday. ;-)”? No, a wink was too suggestive. A smiley face was friendly but not intimate. She didn’t exactly dislike Brett—she just didn’t like him. Jaxon found him boring while at the same time enjoyed the attention.
Did wanting attention from a guy you didn’t like count as leading him on? Why did this stuff have to be so complicated?
She settled for, “See you on Monday. ” Friendly but neutral. If Brett wanted to read something into it, that was his fault. She gritted her teeth when spellcheck showed her she had misspelled “you” and “Monday.” Dyslexia was so annoying! She used autocorrect and reread it a couple of times to make sure autocorrect hadn’t made her say something embarrassing. She didn’t want this conversation to end up as a meme.
Less than a minute after she pressed Send, Brett texted her back.
“What are you doing today?”
Uh oh. Had the smiley face been too smiley? Maybe she shouldn’t have put that in. She got busy texting, using autocorrect again to keep from looking dumb. It was bad enough having the smart kids in class think she was stupid, but Brett? That would be mortifying.
“Busy with my parents today.”
As she hit Send, she felt a tug of sadness. Parents. What a pathetic lie. She’d never had any parents, just adults who took care of her for their own reasons. She still hadn’t figured out what the Grants wanted with a foster kid, but whatever their motivations, it didn’t make them her parents. All her life, she’d yearned to have a real mother and father, yet she didn’t really know what that would be like. From listening to other kids talk, real parents were almost as annoying as foster parents. Jaxon couldn’t believe it was that bad. Parents loved you, right? They’d always be there for you.
Except hers hadn’t.
Jaxon felt an old familiar sadness in the depths of her chest. If parents loved you, why had hers ditched her at the front door of some clinic? Had they realized she was a freak even as a baby? No, that couldn’t be it. She didn’t even know about her own powers until she was nine, and hadn’t discovered that thing with the plants until last month. So why had they abandoned her?
She had had endless conversations with her therapists about this. They always said lame things like maybe her mother was poor or on drugs and couldn’t take care of her. Yeah, that sure made her feel better. Lots of poor parents keep their kids. And if her parents had been drug addicts, they should have loved her enough to quit instead of getting rid of her like last week’s garbage. Even if they couldn’t have gotten off the drugs, couldn’t they have straightened themselves out later and come looking for her?
The other thing her therapists always said was that she had to accept the situation and use it to make herself grow stronger. Whatever that meant. How was being different and alone supposed to make her stronger?
Her phone blipped, telling her she had another text message. Brett again.
“Too bad ur busy, babe. See you on Monday. Miss you.”
Jaxon rolled her eyes. Her parents didn’t even know whether she was alive or dead, and the only person showing any interest in her was a rich idiot like Brett.
She tossed the phone back on her mattress then looked at it for a moment. The reason she was getting to keep it was supposedly to invite people to her “birthday” party next weekend. Another lie. Who the hell was she supposed to invite? Brett? Too embarrassing. There was no one else at school to ask though.
Then she had an idea. Why not ask Ginger Edwards? She was stuck at the Forever Welcome Group Home, but if she could get her caseworker to arrange for the Grants to take Jaxon, who knew what else she could do? Maybe she could come down for the weekend. The group home gave out weekend passes to some of the kids if they were properly chaperoned and doing well with their therapy. It was worth a shot, and it would be nice to talk to her in any case.
She almost dialed Ginger’s number before remembering that residents were only allowed to use their cell phones in the evenings. Jaxon wanted to call her now though. She wanted to talk to someone sympathetic, not just some guy who wanted to get into her pants or some foster parents trying to mold her into their image of a perfect teen.
Jaxon still had the number to the group home. Maybe if she called, they’d let her talk to Ginger. She hit the number, and Joyce, one of the nurses, answered.
“Hi, Joyce, this is Jaxon. Remember me?”
“Hello, Jaxon! Of course I remember you. How are you settling into your new home?”
“It’s okay, I guess. Would it be all right if I spoke with Ginger?”
“Oh, Ginger got released the day after you did. Her parents came and picked her up.”
“Oh, wow. That’s cool. I can call her on her own phone then. Say hi to Dr. Hollis for me.”
There was a moment’s silence, then the nurse said, “I’m afraid Dr. Hollis doesn’t work here anymore.”
“What? Why not?”
“We’re not sure why. He was asked to leave the same day you left,” Joyce said, sounding nervous and guarded. “It was a decision by the state, and we weren’t given a reason. I’m afraid I have to go now, Jaxon. Take care.” The nurse hung up.
Jaxon stared at her phone in disbelief. What was going on? Dr. Hollis had been at that place for years. He’d even gotten an award for running it. It was on the wall right next to his desk. Why would they fire him?
She got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew why. They blamed him for the fire at the greenhouse.
Jaxon slumped back on her bed. This was so messed up! No one had believed her about the guys attacking her and burning down the greenhouse. Otto had been sent to jail for it, and now Dr. Hollis was being punished too. While he had been as clueless as the rest of her therapists, he was a nice guy and didn’t deserve this.
Not that she could do anything about it. If Dr. Hollis hadn’t believed her, there was no way some bureaucrat in Child Protective Services would.
She lay on her bed for a long time, feeling miserable and alone. At last she sighed and sat up. It was almost time for her Aikido lesson, and if she wanted to call Ginger, it was now or never.
Jaxon dialed her number, and after a couple of rings, Ginger’s familiar voice came on. “Hey, kid, how are you doing down in Los Angeles?”
Jaxon grinned and rolled her eyes. Why did Ginger always call her “kid” when she was only sixteen? “It’s okay, I guess. Heard you got out.”
“Yeah, my… parents decided I was doing well enough to move back in with them.”
“That was quick! They only just put you in there.”
“I guess I’m good at convincing people to do what I want.”
“Well, you sure did a good job with your caseworker. She got me into a mansion. Stephen and Isadore, those are my foster parents now, they’re, like, millionaires.”
“Cool! Glad you’ve landed a good place.”
“Good but not great. They’re total control freaks. I’m lucky to be able to call you. Hey, I don’t have much time to talk, but I was wondering if you’d like to come to a party next Saturday? It’s my birthday. I totally understand if you can’t bec
ause it’s down here in Los Angeles…” How pathetic was her life that she was asking a former roommate from another city to come to her birthday party?
“Yeah, I can come!” Ginger said. “I’m going to be visiting an aunt in Los Angeles next weekend, so you’re in luck. It’ll be great to see you again. I missed you.”
Jaxon grinned from ear to ear and felt her heart swell. How often did someone say something like that to her? Never? “Awesome! I’ll text you our address. It’s going to be a small party though, like only us and my weirdo foster parents probably. I don’t know anyone here yet, and the kids at school are all rich snobs.”
“Never mind, Jaxon, we’ll have a great time.”
Jaxon smiled again then grew serious. “Hey, what’s the story with Dr. Hollis?”
“What do you mean?”
“He got fired, right?”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“You must have! Joyce said he got fired the same day you left,” Jaxon said.
“Oh, right, um, sorry, I forgot. I don’t know. They didn’t say.”
Jaxon’s brow furrowed. Ginger sounded flustered, as if she had been caught in a lie. After a moment, Jaxon shook off that feeling. Why did she always have to be suspicious of people? Ginger was her friend.
“Never mind,” Jaxon said. “Anyway, it’ll be great to see you. I’ll text you the address.”
Isadore’s voice interrupted her. “Jaxon, Marquis is here!”
Jaxon sighed. “Okay, Ginger, gotta go. Drop me a line later this week.”
“Sure, see you Saturday.”
Ginger hung up, and Jaxon put on her Aikido uniform. She really didn’t feel like sparring with Marquis right now, but she saw no way to get out of it. She’d heard so much weird stuff in the last half hour that she needed time to wrap her head around it. Instead she’d have to deal with the frustration of trying to hit her martial arts instructor as he danced around her like a butterfly.
