From the Blue

by Mark Stephens

  Alex fought to keep the smile from breaking her serious frown, failing as soon as she looked at Dylan’s expression. Both girls burst out laughing, creating stitches in both of their sides. When the giggles had finally died down, they saw the sign for the diner rising three stories into the sky. They walked the remaining distance in silence with only an occasional sniffle or snort, until they saw Jaime sitting on the curb near the diner’s entrance.

  Jaime stood up and waved at them excitedly as they approached over the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. Jaime Reynolds was a year younger than both of them and half-Puerto Rican. Her father was an American serviceman who was currently overseas in Afghanistan, while her mother had immigrated here with her grandparents from San Juan. She had two older and two younger siblings, one in college at the University of Central Florida and another entering the University of Florida in the fall. Her mother worked at one of the big restaurant chains that had sprung up near the hotels at the beach.

  Her jet-black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail that swept down the back of the Justin Bieber t-shirt she had tied at her waist. Her long brown legs ended at the too-short khakis that she had chosen to wear today. Her clothes didn’t do much to hide her ample Hispanic curves, an outfit that Dylan knew Jaime had snuck past her mother.

  Although she didn’t dress like it, Dylan knew Jaime was overly shy and tended to forget how to talk around boys. She even clammed up around Jordan and Johnny, who she had a major crush on. She may have eyes for Johnny, but every other boy at school seemed to be attracted to her and her tanned-to-perfection body, a fact that she was oblivious to.

  All three girls met in the middle of the near-empty parking lot, already past the breakfast rush and before the lunch crowd, and exchanged hugs and compliments. Jaime led them back to her folded beach towel and satchel on the section of pavement that she had staked out. They all settled down to wait for their ride to arrive and eased into the comfortable conversation and lurid, speculative gossip that only girlfriends could have.

  “Ah, mis chicas favoritas. This is going to be a glorious day.” Jaime leaned back to soak in the sun’s rays, although she really didn’t need help with her tan, much to the chagrin of Dylan and Alex. Already the sun was beating down on them, causing all of them to perspire slightly. The temperature was expected to climb up to 93 degrees today with nary a cloud in the baby blue sky. But, despite the heat, neither of them could disagree with the statement, though. It was going to be a glorious day.

  It wasn’t a long wait before they heard the thumping bass line of some unintelligible song that none of them could identify. It could be none other than Derrick and his horrible taste in music that preceded him everywhere he drove. They saw they were correct when the bright blue 2014 Toyota pickup flew into the lot with Jordan and Johnny bouncing up and down in the back. Dylan supposed there were definite advantages when your father was a big deal land developer and could afford to buy you a car when you lettered in football and baseball. Luckily, Derrick was the kind of guy to share the wealth, instead of lording it over his friends.

  Carrie was clearly visible in the front seat, although when they stopped, it was only Derrick that stuck his head out the window and burst into a big friendly grin.

  “Get in, ladies. Your chariot awaits.” He shouted over the din of the thumping speakers. Dylan smiled back at Derrick and waved through the window at Carrie, who faked a smile back. She turned her attention towards Jaime and Alex, who were both talking loudly and incoherently at the brothers already perched in the bed of the truck.

  Flashing their own huge grins, Jordan and Johnny jumped out of the bed, lowered the tailgate and helped the girls get into the back. With the beach supplies, two oversized pilfered umbrellas and two large coolers, there was precious little room for five people to wedge themselves in back there. But none of them really wanted to sit up front with Carrie, so they squeezed in with the space that they had.

  With a jerk and a jolt, Derrick threw the truck into first gear as they settled into their spots, swaying erratically in motion with the truck. The five of them couldn’t talk without yelling since the music drowned out everything else, so they rode in silence for the seven miles that it took to get to Paradise Beach.

  When they arrived, the parking lot had almost filled up with car-pooling juniors and seniors. Even this early in the morning, the kids were ready to party and swim and socialize with their friends. This was the social event of the year for the incoming seniors and most of them had been looking forward to it from the beginning of their junior year.

  Paradise Beach was a locals-only beach, which basically meant it was privately owned and cordoned off from tourists. The parking lot was actually quite big and was shared with the locally famous seafood restaurant aptly named The Wharf as well as the Pier, which jutted out into the breaking waves of the Atlantic. The owner of both landmarks, Big Daddy Jim, had graduated from Beach Side back in the 70s and always closed down the day of the beach party. But, even without customers vying for parking, the lot had filled up quickly.

  The Wharf itself was a big ramshackle building that stood at the foot of the Pier that arched out high over the ocean from the beachfront. Next to the restaurant, a sloping walkway abutted the restaurant and led to a series of bars and quick service eateries that usually only opened on the weekends. The Pier was just that, a long pier, fully a hundred yards out into the ocean. Vacant now, one could easily see the cabanas that served as bars along its length. Maybe thirty feet wide, no one knew how much weight it could hold, but on a busy Friday night, it was usually packed.

  Derrick glided into one of the remaining spots available, hitting the parking curb hard and jerking his passengers roughly towards the cab. As the engine purred to a stop, the music fell silent all at once and was replaced by the sounds of the waves, the gusting wind and squawking seagulls.

  Jordan hopped over the side of the truck, cursing gently and rubbing his bruised elbow. He may agile and quick on the football field, but it was the general consensus that Derrick sucked at driving. Unfortunately, he was also the only one of them with a car, so his passengers normally kept their grumbling to a minimum.

  As he exited, the high school quarterback grinned sheepishly at the bed of the truck towards the disgruntled riders back there and hurried across to open the door for Carrie. Johnny joined his older brother on solid ground, lowered the tailgate and helped the girls down to the hot pavement. The cracked, faded tarmac was generously covered with drifts of beach sand, discarded cans and bottles and loose paper caught in the wind.

  Dylan stepped down as gracefully as one could from the bed of a truck, grabbing her backpack and one of the smaller coolers. Jaime and Alex helped the boys with the rest of the stuff and slowly the group trundled off in the direction of the surf and sand. All of them were laughing and running along against the stiff ocean breeze that always came in from the Atlantic. Even Carrie joined in with the infectious merriment, a rare occurrence.

  As they neared the beach, the breeze brought with it the faint strains of music, conversation and waves, growing louder as they stepped on to the wooden planks that led to the beach. Up ahead, over the slight rise meant to protect the buildings from squalls and surges, Dylan began to see the bobbing heads of various friends and acquaintances from school.

  Single file, each one loaded down with something, they crossed the wooden bridge and down the steps on to the beach proper. At least a hundred of their classmates had already arrived, spread out along the beach front. Dozens of multicolored umbrellas dotted the landscape and two volleyball nets had already been erected, although no one was playing yet. Several competing stereos blasted out different tunes, creating an uncomfortable mash-up.

  The water beyond was rolling in violently creating white caps at the crests of the blue waves. Off in the horizon, puffs of marshmallow clouds could be seen, but, other than those, the sky was as clear and blue as one could hope for. The smell of salt and ocean and fish permeated th
e air around them while the sun heated up the sand and their half-naked bodies. Above their heads, dozens of gulls glided on the air currents, desperately trying to make headway against the wind while searching for discarded scraps.

  Jaime was right. This was going to be a glorious day. Dylan thought to herself as she stepped on to the blistering sand.

  Chapter 4- The Grassy Knoll

  He was furious!

  With each step he took, his bare feet kicked up a tan cloud of loose sand. His hands were clenched into fists as his sides. The strong angular jaw that he had inherited from his grandfather was set in grim determination, his lips a thin line. His dark brown eyes were squinted against the afternoon sun and bore into the distance with a glint of dangerous rage in them.

  He just couldn’t believe that he had been summoned to this infernal hell of a place. Summoned! He was Julien Seaborn, dammit, rightful heir to the throne, first son and royal born. He was the leader of this nascent movement, not some underling or lackey. He was the one to do the summoning, not be summoned like some…dog!

  Speaking of dogs, the crown prince glanced out from the corner of his eye as he crested the last dune and stopped at the border of a sea of tall grasses. Behind him, his royal guard followed in his wake. The taller man stopped a respectful distance from him, yet remained close enough to interact if a threat presented itself. He kept his silence, not complaining of any discomfort, although Julien knew he had to be suffering under the heavy leather jerkin and armored guards he wore.

  Julien made a mental note to keep an eye on this guard. He was disciplined and well-trained, definitely ripe for promotion if he kept on impressing the young prince as he was. He tried to remember the details of the man’s history. He couldn’t recall the guard’s name, but he remembered that his sister had perished after the Marianas spill, poisoned by the pollution that had taken so many of the colony’s residents and turned so many of his countrymen against his father’s reign. This man hated his father for his inaction almost as much as he did and that hatred made him loyal to this insurgency.

  Loyalty is one thing. Can I trust this man to fall on his sword for me?

  That was something he would need to discover.

  Julien put the idea on the back burner of his thoughts and turned his full attention back to the landscape. He scanned the landscape intently while a gust of wind blew in from the ocean and tousled his too-long, thick black hair into his eyes, another legacy from his grandfather. He brushed it aside absently. He’d grown it out mostly to disguise his appearance, but a part of him reveled in the knowledge that his father would have disapproved of its length.

  There it is.

  “Come.” The prince said loud enough to be heard over the roar of the sea breeze and motioned with his hand. The guard approached and stood patiently next to him, saying and doing nothing until called upon as the Royal Guard were trained. “What is your name?”

  “It’s Darius, my liege. Of the Second Watch.”

  “Ah, yes, Darius. So tell me, Darius, do you see it?”

  Julien extended his hand forward and pointed in the direction of the structure that stood on the horizon maybe a hundred yards away.

  “Yes, my liege. I see it.”

  “Good. We’ll make out way towards that final ridge. When we get there, I want you to sweep the perimeter. The authorities have been sniffing closer to our little secrets. I want to make sure this place is secure before we allow our presence to be known. Understood?”

  He watched Darius nod his assent and Julien began to thread his way through the valleys in the terrain. Keeping to the low ground, slow, but steady, the pair closed the distance, finally crouching at the edge of the final dune. With a wave of his hand, Julien sent his guard off, who disappeared quietly and quickly into the thick underbrush.

  The crown heir watched the abandoned cabin as he waited for his guard to return. The building wasn’t much to look at. The walls were faded and weathered, but appeared to be sound. The roof was missing a few tiles and sloped a bit ungainly at one end of the long porch. An unmarked moving van sat silently in the round gravel drive, the only external sign that anyone was even here. It was an ideal site for this phase of the experiments, much better than the urban houses they had been using.

  The windows were dark, but the bright sunlight and his superior vision showed him the moving shadows within the cabin. The wind changed direction suddenly and brought him the muffled noises of moving equipment and the murmur of voices.

  No guards that he could see, no attempt to conceal their occupancy, not even any sense that their operation was being observed. Any unlucky person who happened to stumble upon it could tell that something was going on here. And if they were curious enough and smart enough, or maybe even dumb enough, they could blow the whistle on this entire escapade and jeopardize the Ascendant Movement in its infancy.

  Not exactly keeping with security protocols, are we, doctor? He thought to himself.

  The good doctor would need to be educated on proper procedures.

  Julien was still studying the abandoned cabin when Darius returned, appearing like a ghost from the turbulent, wind-whipped thrush. He gasped in surprise, thankful that the roar of the wind hid his momentary weakness. He quickly composed himself and shot a questioning glance at the guard, who shook his head vehemently in response.

  Figures, that fool wouldn’t post guards. Why is this a surprise? If Frederickson wasn’t such a genius…

  He didn’t finish the thought. Without the doctor’s innovations and research, this entire movement would have been stillborn almost before it had been conceived. It chafed at the future monarch that he had to coddle the good doctor’s perversions because he had to rely on his genius to reach his own ambitions. As soon as he achieved the throne, the doctor would have to be dealt with permanently. Until then, genius or not, the doctor was a wild card and needed to be reined in. He would have to be satisfied with re-educating him on who was in charge.

  With his anger welling back up inside him, Julien stood and began walking down the ridge. At the bottom, the land flattened out and the grass became loose sand and shale. Although both of them were now in clear view of the windows, not one of the doctor’s contingent came out to challenge them. No alarm was given, which only served to feed the growing fire of Julien’s rage.

  Past the dented wreck of the moving van, they walked, stepping up on to the rickety stairs and porch. The wood creaked precariously under their tread, loud enough to be heard over the wind, and still no sign that they had been noticed.

  The door to the cabin was slightly ajar and Julien quickly saw why. The lock had been forced, causing the wood around the jamb to splinter. Anyone could just walk in on them. Another dangerous breach in security. What was that crazy fool thinking?

  Guess it’s time to find out.

  He nodded at Darius beside him, who moved his hand to rest on the hilt of his short sword at his waist. Julien pressed his hand against the hot surface and gave it a hearty shove, hard enough to make the wood groan in its hinges. The door slammed against the back wall and rebounded slightly, vibrating from the impact.

  “Frederickson!” Julien commanded in his best regal tone and stepped over the threshold.

  Inside, the cabin was much as he expected. Crates and equipment were scattered haphazardly, being assembled and fussed over by the doctor’s three attendants. Dressed in knee length white smocks, they froze in their tracks at the sudden intrusion and stared at him blankly. He took in the rest of the interior, seeing that the two assigned guards had been put to work with moving boxes, setting up machines and mundane tasks that weren’t within their purview. At the sight of their prince, they dropped what they were doing and stood at calm attention, waiting to be reprimanded or given a command.

  “Where is Frederickson?” Julien bellowed once more and heard the doctor’s shuffling footsteps before the man appeared from the maze of crates.

  He looked much as he always did, like a mad scien
tist. His face was creased with deep lines. His long steel gray hair pulled back into a pony tail, tufts of it sticking out in wild bunches. The white lab coat he wore was wrinkled and mussed, but then the doctor always looked disheveled as if he’d just woken from a nap. His hands were folded together, rubbing each slightly like he was nervous.

  “Ah, milord, you’ve arrived. I’ve been waiting patiently for you.” The doctor stopped a few feet in front of the prince and bowed slightly from the waist.

  When he straightened up, Julien struck out, backhanding the doctor with his open hand. The doctor’s head snapped back sharply. One of the attendants uttered a surprised whimper at the action.

  When the doctor brought his head back around, a thin trickle of blood colored his chin. For an instant, Frederickson’s iron gray eyes met Julien’s and the prince saw a flash of raw hatred and anger before the doctor lowered his gaze to the ground.

  “Milord, I don’t understand.” He sniveled and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.

  “I am not summoned, Doctor. You overstepped your bounds in commanding me here.” Julien kept his voice even, even though his rage was threatening to boil over and consume him. “Not to mention the shoddy security you’ve allowed here. I assigned guards to keep you and your work safe and secure, not be your personal maids.”

  This one needed to be watched a lot more closely from now on.

  “My sincerest apologies, milord. I only use them to hasten the work.” He stuttered with a hint of apprehension and trepidation in his voice while he studied the ground at his feet. “And I meant no disrespect to you in my request. I only wished to protect our secrets from any outside observers. I thought that keeping the message vague and anonymous would be the most prudent.”

  Julien studied the mad creature who bowed before him. He was a pathetic, lowly thing that would never have made it beyond the gutters of the capital city, had he not been a genius. He may be the smartest man on the planet, but the good doctor also had the propensity for crossing boundaries. Like a pet, sometimes Julien had to yank on the chain to get him to heel. But, in this instance, he stayed his hand from a second reminder because the doctor was correct. He wouldn’t admit it and feed the doctor’s ego, but he also wouldn’t admonish him further for his lack of protocol.