The Seven

by Sean Patrick Little

  Her stereo suddenly blared. The Ramones CD she had been listening to the night before blasted out of the speakers at maximum volume. Indigo jerked her head up, ready to punch a new hole through whoever dared invade her sanctuary, but the room was empty. Joey Ramone wanted to be sedated, and Dee Dee supplied raucous riffs, but no one had been in her room to turn on the stereo. The stereo remote was across the room on top of a stack of books on her desk. She hadn't nudged it by accident in the midst of her tantrum.

  Indigo slowly stood up and turned the volume down on her stereo. She sat back on the bed and looked at the stereo receiver.

  Had she done that?

  Indigo walked back across the room and closed her eyes. She visualized every inch of her room, mapping it in her head. She focused on the stereo on the wire shelf across the room. Concentrating, she imagined the invisible arm again; she extended a finger from the hand at the end of the arm and pressed the power button on the stereo. The music didn't stop, but she began to get a headache, a dull throb in her temples.

  Indigo slouched back against the wall and slid to the floor, dejected. Maybe one of the others had turned on their stereo and the signal from their remote turned on her stereo. Maybe she hadn't depressed the power button all the way and vibrations of her heavy boots on the old, wooden floor made it slip back to the on position.

  Indigo put her fingers on her temples and rubbed in slow circles until the headache receded. She stared at her stereo. Why hadn't it ever powered on by itself before?

  "Do you remember your last name, Holly?" Posey asked.

  Holly's freckled nose wrinkled in thought. She picked a daisy from the flower garden and absently plucked petals, letting them flutter from her fingers. Her mousy brown hair blew into her eyes and made her scratch her forehead. "I think it was Braun. Holly Marie Braun. I haven't thought about that in years, though."

  "Posey White. That was my last name." Posey stretched, arching her back. She was Holly's physical opposite: tall and slender, with sharp, dark features and an aquiline nose.

  "So?"

  "Don't you think it's weird that none of us even use our last names anymore?"

  "Not really. I mean, our families pretty much gave us up. Who would want to retain the name of someone who didn't want to fight for you? I think Sarah's parents kept up correspondence the longest and even that dwindled out after our third year here. I haven't heard from my parents in eight years. So what? I don't even like my name. Holly Marie. It's so plain."

  Posey nodded. "Do you remember the last names of the others?"

  "No."

  "I do."

  "Why?"

  "Because it struck me as funny when I first came here."

  "Why?"

  "Didn't you notice we were all named after colors?"

  "No. I didn't pay attention, though."

  "Posey White, Holly Braun, Andy Greenberg, Indigo Maru, Kenny Schwartz, Sarah Blusendorf, and John Redmond. White, brown, green, indigo, black, blue, and red. Like a rainbow. You never noticed that?"

  "Never saw a rainbow with black and brown stripes. Are you sure Schwartz means 'black?'"

  "Yeah. The actor Michael Ian Black's real name was Michael Schwartz. He changed it when he started acting. It means black in Yiddish. I looked it up a while back."

  Holly threw the daisy stem over her shoulder and looked at Posey. "Are you thinking there's some big coincidence in the fact that we all have a color in our name?"

  "Maybe. I don't know. I was just saying. How many of the others do you think remember their last names?"

  "None, if they're lucky," said Holly

  They walked in silence for another fifty yards. They crested the small rise of the hill in front of the Home. John was coming toward them in a slow, graceful lope. He was holding his shirt in one hand and every well-defined muscle on his bare torso shone with sweat.

  "Oh. My. God. Catch me. I think I'm going to faint," said Posey.

  "Grow up," said Holly. "He's like our brother."

  "Our brother from another mother," said Posey. "Doesn't change the fact that he's gorgeous and we never get to leave this place to go find real guys to date."

  "Are you really that boy-crazy?" Holly sighed. "I swear you want life to be like those stupid romance novels you read all the time."

  "A little romance never hurt anyone," said Posey. "To be swept away by love, to be loved like that, it's the greatest thing in the world, Holly."

  "Maybe to you," said Holly.

  John jogged up to their side and stretched his arms above his head to help him catch his breath. He got control over his breathing almost immediately. His short dreadlocks hung down into his face. "I feel good," he said. "I just ran almost twenty miles on the track out back. I think those treatments they did to increase our stamina are finally kicking in."

  "Or, maybe it's the fact that you've run almost twenty miles a day for the last five years," said Holly, ever the pragmatist.

  "Spoil-sport," said John. He playfully tugged the ponytail that hung down the middle of Holly's back. "You guys seen Kenny?"

  Posey sighed. "He's probably locked in his room, pouring over some dumb novel about orcs and trolls or something. Either that or he's chatting online again. If they catch him doing that one more time, he's going to get solitary for a month."

  "The only way they'll catch him is if they walk in on him. Kenny's practically reprogrammed the whole computer system of the Home," said John.

  A long, low horn sounded from the front porch of the Home.

  "Supper time," said Posey. "We have to head back."

  "I wonder if Sarah found Andy yet."

  John shook his head. "I have a feeling they're still on the property or else Cormair would go mental and call in a S.W.A.T. team or something."

  "Well, we have about two thousand acres of land to hide on. That's a long way to roam while still being 'on the property,'" said Holly. "Andy doesn't miss meals, though. They'll be back."

  "You guys have any testing tonight?" asked John. Posey cringed a bit. Every time he said 'guys' was a reminder that he didn't see her as a woman.

  "I don't," said Holly. "You figure out what they're testing you for yet?"

  "I think I'm supposed to be some sort of soldier," said John.

  "Soldier? Like G.I. Joe or something?"

  "No---a real soldier...with guns and tanks and stuff. Lately, that's been what all my testing has been about. Shooting and throwing knives and running and such. They've been making me run the obstacle course out back every night."

  "Well, you have the running down," said Posey.

  "You ever figure out what you're supposed to be?" asked John.

  Posey shrugged. "I don't know. My tests are all bizarre. They keep showing me pictures of birds and skyscrapers and asking if I feel anything. They made me climb the old silo out back one day. They look at my brain patterns and stuff. They put me in the virtual reality goggles the other night and it showed aerial pictures of the Home from really high up. I think that maybe I'm supposed to fly."

  "That would be so cool," said Holly. "I'd love to fly."

  "Me too," said John. "First thing I would do: Get out of this place. I'd go fly to some city where I could get lost and they'd never find me again.

  The trio walked up the front steps of the Home. The wooden boards of the stairs creaked under their feet. Sarah and Andy came out of the woods at the far edge of the yard of the Home and jogged down the hill to join the trio on the steps. "Did we miss dinner?" said Andy.

  "No. Just in time."

  "Good," said Andy. "I don't need the demerits."

  "And you have never missed a meal since you got here," said John patting Andy's stomach.

  "Got to keep my girlish figure, don't I?" said Andy.

  Kenny was in the dining hall when the group walked into the Home. Indigo was missing from dinner, but that wasn't unusual. She only ate with everyone else once or twice a week.

  Kenny was a shy boy, always had been. He also was v
ery serious. He had short hair, dark, sullen eyes, fair skin, and he wore thin, circular wire-rimmed glasses that gave him an almost sinister look. John often compared his look to Arnold Toht, the sadistic Nazi from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Kenny was sitting at a table with a plate of grayish gruel in front of him. His nose was buried in a thick book about physics.

  "Aw, man. Mushroom gravy over noodles again!" sighed Andy. "Isn't this like the fourth time in the last ten days we've had to eat this slop? What happened to decent food? Remember when they used to give us steak? Or remember the filet mignon at Christmas?"

  "It's not so bad," said Holly. "We've had worse."

  "I think maybe the grant money is running thin this month," said Posey. "We had good food at the beginning of the month. Towards the end of the month they always try to stretch the budget a little to cover the tests and whatnot."

  Vera Miller came out of the kitchen with a pitcher of milk in one hand and a tray of Rice Krispie treats in the other. Vera was the cook and the housekeeper of the Home. She'd been there the whole time that the Seven had been there. She was matronly and polite, but never really much of a mother-figure. She wore her silver hair in a tight chignon and her countenance was stern and severe. She glared, never looked.

  "I 'eard you complainin' Andy! You'll eat what you're given and you'll like it or there won't be anything!" she said with her thick British accent. "I don't cook to get insulted by the likes of you. If you want to eat better, then you join me in the kitchen and you give me a bit of 'elp, you ingrate!"

  "Sorry, Vera," said Andy, blushing. He sat down next to Kenny and ladled a heap of noodles onto his plate.

  "Where's the skinny girl?" barked Vera. Even after ten years, Vera still pretended she only had a passing, casual knowledge of them. "She'll not be raidin' me kitchen after I'm done wit' the evening meal. She'll eat wit' the rest of us."

  "I only want coffee," Indigo announced from the top of the stairs.

  "There'll be no coffee, either," Vera said. "You know the doctors don't want you all screwing up your systems wit' caffeine and sugar."

  "Too late for that," said Indigo. "Hell, look at Andy. He wolfs down the gross national product worth of chocolate each week."

  "Oh, shut up," said Andy.

  "And don't you be cursing in front o' me," growled Vera, smacking her wooden spoon against the side of the pot on the table. "I can't keep you from sayin' it, but I can keep you from sayin' it in front of me. I hear language like that, you'll be tastin' the business end of me bottle of dish soap!"

  "No coffee or sugar, but the heap of chemicals in detergent is okay? This place is stupid," said Indigo. She flopped into a chair next to Posey and idly played with her napkin.

  "Posey, darling, spoon some noodles onto Indigo's plate," said Vera. "And Indigo---you will eat. You're getting far too thin. I've 'alf a mind to have the doctors strap you down while I shove a few platefuls of fish and chips down your gullet."

  "I'll volunteer for that," smiled John. "I can never seem to eat enough."

  "That's because you're a growing boy," said Vera.

  "It is because your body consumes fuel at three times the rate of a normal boy your age." The kids turned their heads and saw the thin form of Doctor Cormair entering the hall. His measured steps were deliberate and slow and his shoulders were slightly hunched from years of pouring over data sheets and computer keyboards. His hair, now a silvery-gray, was slicked back without a strand out of place. His eyes surveyed the table through thick, round glasses. "It is perfectly normal. You need the food to be better to compensate for your advanced energy consumption rates. I apologize for not having the resources to properly feed you every night. I hope to atone for that some day." Cormair's voice was thin and wheezy, as if he was constantly struggling for breath.

  "No worries, Doc," said John with a good-natured smile. John, more so than any of the others, had always tried to be friendly with the doctors.

  "Indigo," said Cormair, "you will eat what you are given. And you must eat. Not having the proper resources in your body can corrupt test results."

  Scowling, Indigo picked up a fork and took a small bite of pasta. "Can't have your precious tests corrupted now, can we?"

  Cormair tactfully ignored Indigo's jab. "I trust the rest of you are well. Andrew, I am glad to see you back. I assume you got your tantrum out of your system?"

  "Yes, Doctor," said Andy. He blushed brightly, his face filling with a fiery red that almost matched his hair.

  "Sarah, I thank you for going to find young Andrew," said Cormair. He sat at the far end of the table, opposite of Vera Miller, and accepted the bowls of pasta and gravy as Holly brought them to him.

  Dr. Sebbins walked into the dining hall and sat next to Cormair, as was her custom. "Any plans for tonight?" she asked brightly. "I was thinking maybe of watching a movie in the TV lounge. Say, nine o'clock?"

  "I could be up for a movie," said Posey, smiling, "as long as the boys don't choose it. I don't think I could handle another violent bloodbath movie."

  "Hey, Full Metal Jacket is not a violent bloodbath," said Andy, heaping his plate with noodles for the second time.

  "That means you'll want to watch some sort of girly flick," said John.

  "Romances aren't just for girls," said Posey, sticking out her tongue at him.

  "Sure. They're for girls...and guys who want to be girls."

  "Enough, you two," said Sebbins. "Kenny? What about you? You up for a movie tonight?"

  Kenny raised his head from his book and blinked twice. He swiveled his head slowly, looked at Sebbins, gave a brief shake of his head, and returned to his physics book.

  Sebbins stared hard at Kenny with concern for a long moment before giving her plate her attentions.

  "Has anyone experienced anything out-of-the-ordinary today?" Cormair asked. He asked the same question at every evening meal. He had been asking it every night since they arrived.

  Indigo bit her lip. The stereo was definitely out-of-the-ordinary, but it wasn't something she felt like she wanted to bring up. She knew that mentioning it would bring an all-night battery of tests and experiments. It had happened to John once. He had let it slip that his eyes had felt like they were bulging out of his skull for a while and that bright lights were hurting his head. Sebbins and Cormair had exchanged strange looks and had scuttled John from the table. They had him sequestered in the labs for most of a day and a half while subjecting him to an inhuman amount of testing. When he came back to the other six, he swore he wouldn't mention anything ever again, even if he was shooting fire through the top of his skull at the dinner table.

  "Anyone?" asked Cormair again. Indigo felt like his eyes were staring a hole through her. She forced her gaze to remain down on her plate while she shook her head a few times. Cormair didn't ask again, but Indigo didn't look up from her plate again.

  "I have finished," Kenny said. "Thank you, Ms. Miller." He nodded at Vera and stood. Before the doctors could ask any question, he turned and left, headed up the spiral stairs to his room. He was always the first to leave the table. He also was the only one who remembered to thank Vera each night, no matter how weak the meal.

  "I'm going to go, too," said Andy. He'd wolfed four times as much as anyone else. He dropped his fork on the empty plate and was gone before Cormair could say anything.

  "Me too," said Holly. She gave Cormair a withering smile and left the table, her plate still half-full. The other four quickly found reasons to excuse themselves and disappeared, leaving the three adults alone at the table. None of them wanted to be around Cormair when they didn't have to be.

  The atmosphere in the dining room became heavy and sullen. Cormair was silent, but his face showed frustration and hidden rage. He drummed his long, thin fingers against the table top. "They are lying."

  Sebbins frowned. "Is that hypothesis, Doctor?"

  "That is fact, Doctor Sebbins. Look at the scans, the blood work, the X-rays! Those children have changed dramatically in the las
t few years according to their internal workings, and I refuse to believe that none of them have experienced manifestations of their abilities. According to my data, they should be going through dramatic shifts of power by now."

  "Perhaps they are, and they are unaware of it. It is happening at a genetic level, correct? If you take a child who was meant to be brunette and alter their DNA so they are blonde, will that child even know unless she looks in a mirror? These kids don't have a mirror to look into for what they're becoming."

  "But I haven't altered a hair color. I've altered brain chemistry, physical structure, musculature--"

  "Look at Posey though, Doctor Cormair," interjected Sebbins. "She has nearly unbreakable bones and those bones have less than a tenth of what a normal bone mass should be in a girl her age. Ten years' of change in those bones and all she's complained about is acne and her height. Those bone structure changes aren't changes that she's aware of, Doctor. She's oblivious to her physical alteration because her DNA has been altered and spliced so that she's growing without knowing that she's different. That's a success, Doctor."

  "Doctor Sebbins, I am not one who celebrates the completion of the first mile of a marathon. If I do not finish it, it is not worth celebrating. My research, this program, was meant to create the next evolution of man. I am doing nothing short of playing God and if I am not successful, it is not worth celebrating because I will have committed far too many sins to repent."

  "Then give them some more time. You know as well as I do that the teenage brain is not fully developed. Their higher thought processes are still arranging themselves, their frontal lobes are still adjusting to the treatments. I've been seeing a lot of positive steps lately. Indigo's hypothalamic activity is increasing every day, Kenny's brain patterns are unlike anything we've ever seen before. I'll bet we'll begin to see change any day now."

  "Doctor Sebbins, you are young. You are in that rare age where you are too old to remember teenagers, but too young to be a true adult," Cormair's voice wasn't condescending, only cold and rational. "Teenagers have made a living throughout the centuries by knowing more than they let on and effectively evading the prying of adults. It's a contest to them. They are constantly hiding information from us. It's how they survive. They are lying. They have begun to notice the changes. They may not have fully completed their genetic shifts, but at the very least some of them have noticed. Mark my words, Doctor. Some of them already know."