Lightning In My Wake (The Lightning Series)

by Lila Felix

  The older female generations called it traveling—called themselves travelers. But it sounded like a convoy of gypsies to me and my generation had more readily adopted the term flashers. Plus, the word flashers was more fun. And flashing sounded—naughty. The term earned giggles from pre-pubescent Lucents and scolding glares from the older ones. It was a win-win.

  “I’ve heard this lecture, Mom. I just—can’t right now.” My mom knew nothing about why Theo and I weren’t together anymore and it was safer all the way around if she didn’t… That was the whole point of this exercise—to keep all of them safe and at a safe distance from me and my antics. She was hinting, not so subtly at the fact that Theo had spent the summer in Madrid. She probably didn’t know he’d moved on.

  She changed the subject quickly. “I haven’t been to Belize in years. Maybe we should just go there. You love it there.” We tried very hard not to fight. There were a lot of things that could go wrong when you traveled through chasms of space. You could get stuck. You could get misdirected. You could get caught—any of us could get caught.

  I got up from the table and scooted my chair under it. “Let’s leave Friday morning—spend the weekend.”

  “Sounds good. Sleep tight, Colby. I love you more than time and space.”

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  I trekked the hall toward my room and paused midway to let my fingers glide along the last picture of my dad. It was a selfie we’d taken the day before he had gotten on the plane. He was ecstatic to see Portugal for the first time. He and Mom were going to have a second honeymoon. He was happy. I was happy. We were invincible.

  And then he was gone.

  I headed straight for the shower. I didn’t stink per se, but I always smelled like the last place I’d been. It was disconcerting to say the least. It made me forget what country I was in. Peeling off the leather pants, I reveled in my freedom as the hot water deflated my hair and cascaded down my back. Most people, excluding my mother, and from what I’d heard, my grandmother, were exhausted after flashing. But I was exhilarated, alive from the core of my body to the electrical pulses in my brain.

  I washed Japan from my skin and then brushed my teeth to the beats of Moby. My landline rang and I knew it was Ari. She was one of only a few who knew the number.

  I plopped on my bed, still wrapped in my gray towel and answered the phone, “Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail of—Colby Evans—please leave a message after the tone.”

  She laughed before replying. “It’s really scary how good you are at that customer service voice. You’d think you were human.”

  “You’re such a snob. And by the way, no, I’m not going to Spain. Mom and I are going to Belize for the weekend.”

  “That’s fine. I’m thinking about not going myself. Think Sable would mind if I tagged along?”

  “Not at all. We’re leaving Friday morning.”

  “I’ll be there. Later babe.”

  She hung up and I slipped on my pink gauzy pajama pants with a matching spaghetti strap top. It was hotter than Hell itself in Alexandria this time of the summer. For some reason, the Gulf Coast was a hot spot for the Lucent and my parents had chosen Louisiana as our stomping grounds when they were newlyweds. We’d been here ever since. Most kids were entering their freshman or sophomore years at my age but I hadn’t been to school since my one month spell of sporadic travelling. It had totally been worth it.

  Instead, I got my G.E.D. at sixteen and immediately began working in ‘special deliveries.’ It was basically the only legal thing we were good at. Some flashers robbed banks, muled drugs—we’d even come across some rogue flashers who kidnapped babies—but the rest of us chose to stay legit.

  I opened up my brand new laptop and signed into my email—a perk from the software company. There were three from new clients and one from him. There was always one from him.

  The two from clients were more of the same. They’ve heard about my services. They were in desperate need of my special delivery but couldn’t quite meet our price range—typical. If someone from the outside read these emails, they would probably think I was hustling drugs—or worse. The cheap ones frustrated me. They wanted a one second delivery that constantly threatens my life and secrecy but they didn’t want to fork over the necessary cash.

  So what did this hard ass do? Yeah, I emailed them back and told them to name the price so we could help them—I was such a sap sometimes.

  The third email was from a client who was willing to pay double for our services, but as I scrolled down I saw that the writer of the email constantly used words like special interest and highly confidential, and that meant only one thing. They wanted us to transport drugs or worse. I deleted it.

  I hovered my finger over the email from him. I resisted in vain—I knew I was going to open it. He wrote in prose, like poetry pointed journal entries. He was now in New Zealand with his family. He had taken the Lord of the Rings tour three times. He missed me. He didn’t understand why we couldn’t be together. He couldn’t remember the exact color of my eyes.

  Theo Ramsey was so full of shit.

  I yelled at the computer, “You do remember, liar!”

  I moved the heartfelt letter into the folder marked Theo and pushed the lighted button, turning off the monitor.

  There was just so much I could take. Yes, I’d broken it off with him. Yes, it had been my decision. But I’d done it to keep him out of the spotlight and, selfishly, to keep my heart safe from the likes of the one guy who could ruin me with a single word.

  He knew why we’d split up. He was a Lucent, like me. That didn’t have anything to do with it. Anyway, I wasn’t that big of a snob. We were allowed to date and marry outside of our race, the powerful mutation still powered through the female of the coupling.

  There were flukes in the system—one or two per century—males who could flash, but only short distances, and their wakes were so bright, it brought them immediate attention.

  Theo was one of these—a male Lucent, who could flash.

  And my fetish for frequent travel plus his genetic mutation was just a government experiment waiting to happen—not to mention, the Synod’s Book of Lei would crumble to ashes if they ever found out. And the government experiments, they happened every day. Lucents were grabbed up in set-up meetings or facades of money-making opportunities. Then they were tortured, tested and re-tested, trying to see what made us tick. The government just didn’t get it—our blood on a microscopic slide would never reveal the power of the Almighty to them.

  Duh.

  The ones experimented on—they became the Resin—their wakes of light dirtied, muddied, clouded by the sadistic acts performed on them. It was devastating to us all and we mourned such sisters as if they’d died a slow and painful death. Such was the case of my other friend Sway. She was now one of the Resin. She could no longer flash—and it made her less than hospitable, to say the least. Lately, she was a real peach. But it wasn’t her fault.

  And some of them chose to live a life that portrayed their name—they became lawless—denied respect or acknowledgement in our world.

  I’d rather be tortured thirteen times over than for Theo to ever come to even a flicker of harm.

  So I kept my distance, in theory. Being with me would just bring attention to him. The Synod kept track of me like their checking accounts because of what they suspected I could do.

  There was one more glitch in my Lucent DNA as if I wasn’t freak enough. I could travel between places but my chromosomes took it one step further. I was a seeker—a specialized flasher who could also travel to a certain person, anywhere, anytime—which is why he could send emails all he wanted, thinking he was doing me some service in updating me.

  In truth, my body always knew where he was—always.

  Chapter Three

  Theo

  Lucent females shall not take labor intensive jobs.

  Good thing I put a return receipt on all of my emails to her.

  T
hen again, I always knew where she was, so it wasn’t really a surprise that less than two hours after she’d arrived home, she’d opened my email.

  I’d skipped the fall semester of college for one specific reason—Colby. I knew why she’d broken up with me after years of dating. And really I couldn’t remember a time, other than right now, when I wasn’t with her—whether in my mind or body. I had to do what I could to fix myself so she wouldn’t continue trying to protect herself from me.

  We’d met at Westminster Elementary. She’d given me her peanut butter and jelly sandwich after I realized, at the stark white cafeteria table, that I’d forgotten my lunch at home. I’d offered her half but she’d been content to gnaw on celery sticks. In second grade, while we lined up on bleachers, prepping to sing ‘Greatest Love of All’ to our parents at the end of year assembly, I’d reached for her hand behind the row of students in front of us and she squeezed mine back and smiled a front tooth-less smile.

  In the fourth grade I had trouble with division. Mrs. Peabody would line us up along the chalkboard and make us call out the answers to her drills. And when it got to my turn, I always answered wrong. Clayton Brown called me stupid at recess and before I knew what was happening, Colby had clocked his chubby chin until he was out cold underneath the metal monkey bars.

  And when we were twelve, under the boardwalk at Surfside Beach, where our families vacationed together every summer, I pressed my awkward lips to hers. She’d tasted like sunblock and salt.

  I knew everything about her. During the summer, beads of moisture broke out on the bridge of her nose before her forehead even thought about sweating. She clipped her fingernails down to the quick out of some asinine fear that she would scratch herself while flashing. Her hair was the color of dry sand sprinkled with wet sand. And when I ran my palms the length of the backs of her thighs, she moaned my name.

  On my eighteenth birthday I’d pulled her aside after the family birthday dinner and revealed my secret—I could flash just like her. Not the distance and certainly without the flair. But I could do it.

  And the next day she’d broken up with me—that was two years ago.

  After some time in Spain I’d decided to go to New Zealand but not for vacation—for practice. I’d been practicing in all kinds of obscure places—the pyramids of Egypt, the catacombs of Paris, the drug tunnel between Mexico and the United States, and in all that practice, I realized a few things.

  Number one: not only could I travel in the underground tunnels, but I could also travel between them and everywhere else. I’d gone from Chile to Vancouver last month in one straight shot—no sweat. Number Two: the more I traveled, the more my flash depleted, until it was nothing more than a shot of lightning. Number Three: I had another talent, other than the seeking and the flashing. That’s what I was here to research.

  This was a talent that even the all-knowing Colby was ignorant of.

  The records of our species were kept in a cave at the peak of Mount Cook on New Zealand’s South Island. At least, that’s the only one I knew of. Rumor was, there were plenty more in various parts of the world, not to mention countless digital copies, but again, this is the one I thought I could gain access to.

  And there was that little issue of The Resin. I’d discovered a pack of them in Spain, plotting and planning on catching Lucents and handing them over to the Escuro for cash—the answer to the Lucent Synod. There’d been two on my tail since I left Madrid. Of course they had to fly by plane since they could no longer flash, so I was always one step ahead of them—or three.

  My new gift was coming in handy.

  Why they wanted to catch us, I didn’t know.

  Maybe it was all just an over bloated case of jealousy or revenge.

  My phone rang, my mother, one of the few people who knew why I was here.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “I’ve just heard from Sable. She and Colby will be in Belize for the weekend and we’ve decided to join them. Do you want to come? You’ll have to travel by plane.”

  “She doesn’t want me there, Mom. There’s no reason to go.”

  “God forbid you come to see your mother.”

  She laughed after her statement but it was laced with a twinge of truth.

  “Ok Mom, I’ll be there. It will give me a chance to conduct an experiment of sorts.” We spoke in rhymes and riddles sometimes, since most of our phone calls, we suspected, were monitored.

  “Excellent, I’ll let Sable know and we won’t tell Colby.”

  “Friday?”

  “Yes, we are arriving in the afternoon. Dinner at seven at the regular spot.”

  She referred to the Red Ginger on the Ambergris Caye beach, our favorite in Belize but such was one of the things we didn’t discuss over the phone.

  She hung up and my stomach performed its typical acrobatics at the thought of seeing Colby again.

  ~~~

  The next morning, I flashed to the front door of the Lucent Guardian of the area. I’d been told that he guarded the clandestine records, but I hadn’t gotten the information from the most reliable source—I’d gotten it from an on the fence Resin. For all I knew, I could be walking right into the pit.

  His home was more castle than cottage with vines and flower laden plants climbing the fence and peeking out from cracks in the gray stone walls. When knocking at the huge iron and oak front door didn’t produce any results, I pulled the long rope-like cord next to the threshold. A gong rang through the place and then, within seconds, a man lurched the door open—clearly I’d disturbed—something. I hoped to God the white button down with gray slacks I’d worn was formal enough.

  I used a cough to camouflage the gasp that erupted when the owner appeared.

  The man was huge—monstrous, really. I could’ve taken a picture of him, Photoshopped some fur on his body and passed him off for Sasquatch. His long ponytail and beard reminded me of a Viking warrior. I supposed that was why he had been chosen—for the scare factor.

  “Excuse me, sir, my name is Theodore Ramsey. I was told to ask you about accessing the Lucent texts.” Take that, you six foot four, could have me in a coma with his pinkie finger, Yeti.

  “Why?”

  Why—I hadn’t expected why. Why was he asking me why? I’d always thought the Lucent texts to be the equivalent of the state library. Fill out a form and walk right in.

  I should’ve known better. The Synod had rules for everything under the sun. They also had rules for things not done under the sun.

  Micro-management didn’t even begin to thoroughly describe them, and since the Lucent Guardians were part of the Synod or directly under them, I supposed they’d make this process just as difficult.

  “Because I have questions and I need to research some things about myself.”

  “There are copies of the archives available for anyone to view,” he respectfully swore and then proceeded to close the door in my face. This was the point at which a smart man would’ve moved on, turned right around and just dealt with it. But I’d never professed to be a smart man—only cunning. I was gonna die at the ripe old age of twenty at the hands of a crypto zoologist’s wet dream.

  “I can just flash inside if I want to, but I thought the respectful thing would be to ask,” I yelled into the splice of the open door, which grew smaller and smaller as he shut me out. And then it halted and began to swing it open again.

  “You can travel?” He stuck his large face into the opening. When he began to talk, his jaw worked against the frame and the door at once. It reminded me of Jack Nicholson as he’d stuck his head into the hole he’d just axed open.

  “Yes, I am also a seeker and—maybe more.”

  “Come in,” the door swung wide for my entrance and then closed firmly behind me.

  The Yeti stuck out his hand, “I am Collin. Let’s begin the journey.” He was no nonsense.

  “Now?”

  “I’m sorry, I thought your reason for coming here was to study the texts.”

&nbs
p; “It is—I just didn’t expect—let’s go.”

  With heavy footsteps, we made a straight shot through his castle. He took me to the back of the house, then through an invisible panel in the wall which led to a library that would make the United States Library of Congress shit its pants.

  The shelves were made of cedar. I could smell it way before the door was opened. There were book shelves nine feet tall spanning the room. Just when I thought my eyes had trailed to its northern limit, I saw a set of stairs that led to the second floor—with more books.

  “This is it?” I asked, staring, quite unimpressed.

  “Did you need more?” he asked, unbelieving.

  “I just assumed…”

  He chuckled, a low grumbling laugh, “You assumed, it was a cave-like cavern, buried deep in the mountain, never to be discovered, taking days and weeks of hiking and starvation to reach?”

  “Yeah, something like that. So tell me, where in the Hell do I start?”

  “Tell me, Theodore Ramsey, male Traveler, what you’re looking for. I’ve been the Guardian for forty years. If it’s here, I know where to find it.”

  “I’m looking for the papers on Eivan.”

  He screwed his face up in disbelief. “And why would you be looking for those?” His attitude had suddenly morphed from helpful to suspicious.

  “Because I think I’m a…,” I couldn’t even say it out loud. If I couldn’t say it out loud, there was no way I was who I suspected I was. The person I suspected I was embodied strength and confidence. We were told stories about him as children. He was to our people as Robin Hood was to humans.

  I gathered my courage and tugged nervously at my top button, preparing to tell the first person ever of what I’d discovered about myself. “I am Eidolon.”

  Chapter Four

  Colby

  Lucent females shall not attempt to travel with their mates.

  Ari showed up at two a.m. on Friday morning with two bags and a grin, “S’up ladies! Let’s go!”