Perfection

by J. L. Spelbring

  She stumbled in the water until twilight consumed the east and the sun fell to the horizon in the west. Against the bluish-black sky, the first stars winked into view.

  Shivering and completely exhausted, Ellyssa stopped her march and stepped onto dry land, where she dropped to her knees on a patch of grass. She took off her shoes and socks and dried her prune-like feet with a strip of cloth. No longer mobile, she felt the coolness of the night sap away the warmth in her body. Huddling into a tight ball, she lay on the ground and, almost immediately, sleep reached up and laid claim to her.

  “Detective Petersen, they picked up the trail of the Renegade,” said the Captain of the Warrensburg Department, Dyllon Jones. She still found his manner of speech strange, as if every vowel had to be drawn out, so unlike the way citizens spoke in the city.

  Angela aimed the flashlight into his face.

  Flinching, the captain brought the hand holding the radio up to shield his eyes. “Hey!” It sounded more like, ha-a-ay.

  “Sorry,” Angela said. She moved the beam down so it pooled on his chest. “Where?”

  “About one hundred sixty-one meters away. She left footprints in the soil,” he replied.

  Angela gazed at the sky; stars glittered brightly against the black velvet. “Have them mark the area and call everyone in, but I want them back at five in the morning.”

  She studied the man again. Like the rest of the unit, he wore a dark green uniform, signifying area police. His face was beaded with perspiration, and his hair, which she knew was cream in color, clung to his head in a darkened mess. He wasn’t a bad-looking man. Tall, lean muscles, defined cheekbones, strong jaw, perfect mouth; and when his lips broke into a smile, which happened a lot, his whole face lit up.

  Regardless, Captain Jones fell short by the detective’s standards. His hair leaned more toward a yellow than white, and his skin was darker than the alabaster of perfection. She did like his eyes, though. They weren’t the clear azure color of the perfect being, but they were interesting, the warm bluish-green of the deep ocean.

  As she scrutinized him, he pulled out the radio and relayed her orders. Static sounded, followed by someone answering, yes, sir.

  The captain whipped out a bandana and sopped his forehead. “It sure is hot,” he remarked, looking at her.

  Hot was an understatement. Angela found Missouri not only to be hot, but very humid. She’d spent the better half of a day swatting at the persistent gnats circling her head. She flipped her head up in acknowledgement, which apparently gave him the go-ahead for more small talk.

  “You’re staying in Warrensburg, right?”

  “Yes,” she answered curtly and returned her attention to the map. From the corner of her eye, Angela watched Captain Jones’ shadow as his weight shifted from one foot to the other as if waiting for a more elaborate explanation. Irritated, she rolled up the map and shoved it under her arm. “I need the dogs returned to the kennel.”

  “I’ll take care of it for you.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, as she walked toward her car parked on the side of the access road.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  Angela lifted her hand in a halfhearted wave, then opened the door of the green Volkswagen Beetle and slid inside. She peered at Dyllon, who was standing next to the cardboard table she’d just left. The captain’s arm flapped up and down as he gave orders into the handheld radio.

  She hoped he wasn’t going to pose a problem. The discipline in the smaller communities seemed to be lacking. Something she’d discuss with her superiors when she returned successful. Starting the car, Angela eased onto the blacktop and drove into town.

  7

  Tremors rocked Ellyssa’s body and her teeth clacked together like castanets. Even though the sun hovered in the eastern sky, and she could feel the heat on her skin and hair, zero warmth sank into her flesh. She ran her tongue over her dry lips, rough and swollen and crusted with blood. Thirst clawed at her throat.

  Was she sick?

  In all her life, Ellyssa had never experienced illness. Diseases had been eradicated in the general population, but this was a different type of sickness, caused from the injuries.

  She’d never felt so vulnerable. So weak.

  She grabbed the empty bottle nestled under her arm and turned to face the bubbling stream. Refreshing water lapped over the rocks, splaying droplets glittering seductively under the sun. Her tongue flicked out, like a snake’s, as if she could pull the moisture from the air.

  Ellyssa shifted onto her elbows. Her muscles seized. Pain licked through her body, and a cramp bunched her calf muscle. Pressing her face into the grass, she stretched her toes outward. The cramp lessened to an irritating pull.

  The water babbled, mockingly.

  How far was it? Five meters?

  Reaching her arms out in front, Ellyssa dug her fingers into the soil and pulled. Her body scooted along the grass. She wrapped her fingers around some shoots and a rock embedded in the ground before heaving herself closer to the edge of the stony shore. Exhausted, she lowered her head and rested on a flat river stone.

  Displeased, Angela stood at the bank of the stream where the dogs had lost the scent of the escapee. She couldn’t believe it. The trail had been so easy to follow from the field to the woods, before disappearing at a tree. It’d taken the dogs the better half of the day to pick up her scent again. Now, another obstacle. She sneered at the running water.

  Every minute that ticked by led Ellyssa farther and farther away.

  Her hands clenched into tight fists, the detective looked back and forth between the German Shepherds as they circled around with their noses to the ground and their tails wagging. Occasionally, one of the dogs broke through the water to the other side where it would continue its search.

  Four members of the search team, two assigned to each dog, stayed close to the canines. Another group of three trailed behind. All of them had Electroshock weapons hanging from the sides of their utility belts. The vision of perfection was to be brought back alive. Although, sometimes, unfortunate accidents do happen. Angela wiggled her foot and felt the pressure of the holster against her leg. The doctor might refuse to see the danger, but she wasn’t going to be caught by surprise again.

  “There is no telling which way she went,” Dyllon said, breaking her out of her reverie.

  Slack-jawed, Angela glared at him. As if she needed him to inform her of the obvious. “I’m well aware of the situation,” she muttered.

  “I was just saying.” Captain Jones waved his arm in an arc in front of him, like he was showing her the scenery. The remaining part of the sentence died on his lips when her expression twisted into a scowl. Shoving his hands into his pockets, the captain turned away and looked off into the forest. “How would you like to proceed, Detective?”

  “Search around the trees closest to the water within a fifty-meter radius. If your men have to leave the stream, make sure they understand to go back to the exact point where they left.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her mouth curved down. “She’s not your average Renegade. She is smarter, faster, trained, and can be quite deadly.”

  Dyllon turned back toward her with a quizzical expression.

  “Make sure your men understand the situation.”

  “Maybe, if I was better informed, you would find the whole unit more useful.”

  Raising her brows, she responded, “I have told you everything that will be useful in the investigation. You make sure your team understands.”

  She left Dyllon in charge and went back to the base camp, which was pitched close to the point where Ellyssa had first entered the wooded area. A few other people milled around the site. Two men were checking supplies, while a man and a woman were gridding a map into two-and-a-half centimeter squares.

  She went to the table where her map lay already gridded. It was an older map from the 1940s, but it showed all the small townships that’d existed during the time; the modern cha
rts lacked the details of towns that had been abandoned.

  A few years after The War, people had been instructed to move to the bigger cities where they could work or in the outskirts to farm. Having all citizens in close proximity led to better control. All the smaller communities were now rotting away.

  She used a compass to measure the equivalency of fifteen kilometers on the apex and drew a circle around the area where Ellyssa’s scent had disappeared into the stream. While studying the chart, she listed all the small towns on a piece of paper.

  When she was done, she reluctantly pulled out her cell phone to call the doctor. He wouldn’t be pleased with the lack of progress.

  Flipping the phone shut, Dr. Hirch opened the door to the lab. He controlled his outward appearance, but deep down, he was worried about the whole situation. Ellyssa had gotten farther than he’d expected.

  “Report your progress,” he said to the assistant. He managed to keep his voice smooth and steady.

  “Almost done,” Leland answered while he finished applying the adhesive to Aalexis’ temple, where he would connect the next electrode.

  Dr. Hirch’s youngest daughter sat unmoving, waiting. Her blond hair was slicked back and pulled into a ponytail. Rows of platinum curls cascaded down her back where the hair escaped the confines of the elastic band. Except for the ringlets, thinner lips, and the defined chin, she looked almost identical to Ellyssa when she was thirteen.

  When the doctor entered, Aalexis regarded the doctor for a brief second, expressing no real interest in him and appearing docile. He knew better, though. The young girl was extremely intelligent…and dangerous if the situation called for it. She soaked in her surroundings, mentally preparing for all scenarios. Plus, his daughter’s growing ability to control her power was moving remarkably ahead of schedule.

  Holding onto the thin black cables of the electrodes, Leland turned toward the doctor. “Any news?”

  “Yes. They picked up her trail, but lost it,” George replied, while checking the green spikes moving across the monitor’s screen in rhythmic patterns. No rise, no sputter, just sixty BPM, as always. The only time there was ever a slight increase was during periods of extreme physical exertion.

  Leland cocked an eyebrow. “Oh.”

  Dr. Hirch penciled the number down on the chart marked Subject 74. “Ellyssa made it to water. Angela has the dogs working on it now.”

  “Your detective will fail,” said Aalexis, her tone matching her expressionless face.

  George turned toward his daughter, but the young girl said nothing else. She stared at the doctor with cold eyes.

  He ignored her statement. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Fine. Thank you,” she answered, without inflection.

  “Good,” he said, checking the connections before returning his attention to Leland. The younger man was situated at his desk, positioning his computer monitor. “Are you ready?”

  “Almost. I’ve finished the new programming. We should have a better read on the electrical output.”

  “Good.” He smiled at Aalexis. “And, are you ready?”

  “Of course.”

  He walked over to the set of square steel weights and pointed at the five kilogram. “Move it,” he instructed.

  Aalexis’ smooth forehead bunched, then relaxed as the monitor beeped at the slight increase in her pulse before returning to normal. The weight lifted off the ground and danced in the air.

  “Place it on top of the other one,” George said, pointing across the room.

  Following the weight with her eyes as if guiding it with her sight, Aalexis moved the weight without effort and stacked it on top of the other, aligning the sides perfectly.

  George never ceased to be amazed, no matter how many times he’d seen her perform the feat. Concealing his emotions, he glanced at Leland. His assistant stared at Aalexis with his jaw hanging open.

  “Leland.”

  The younger man nodded and checked the monitor. “Same as before. Most of the activity is in the frontal and parietal lobe, and there is activity in the occipital lobe as she moves the object from place to place.”

  George directed his attention back at his subject. “Now try the twenty-five.”

  The heavier weight moved just as effortlessly to the side of the room, as if feather-light. Aalexis stacked it on top of the others.

  “Any changes?”

  “No. Same brain waves. Same activity. Of course, the neurological firing is off the charts for a normal human. Not for her, of course.”

  “Very intriguing.”

  “Why so, der Vater?”

  George broke his gaze off the recently placed weight and onto his daughter. Frowning, he said, “Your skill is growing beyond what was expected.”

  Aalexis held the doctor’s gaze. “You let the physics of your known world cloud your judgment. Once you understand the atoms, how they move, how they hum in sequence, what charges them, you would understand.”

  Without so much as a flinch of her porcelain-smooth face, the twenty-five kilogram weight lifted off the ground, followed by the five kilogram. A stapler from his desk and his notebook joined in the eerie dance. They floated weightlessly in the air, hovering in space. “There is no weight or gravity to hold down the influences of your mind.”

  George stood transfixed; his composure melted, unable to stop gawking until a gasp from Leland grabbed his attention. He glanced at his young assistant, who was standing next to the floating chair he’d recently occupied.

  Shaken and dumbfounded, he turned toward the little girl. Aalexis sat, expressionless, her eyes turned toward him. She had never displayed her abilities like this before. He looked away from her and closed his eyes to reestablish his self-control. “Aalexis, enough.”

  “As you wish, der Vater.” The hovering items sank silently back to their previous positions.

  With a forced calm, he went to the girl and removed the attachments, gathering them in his hands. “Your talent is most awe-inspiring,” he said, his voice holding steady.

  “Are you pleased, der Vater?” Aalexis asked, with a snide undertone.

  Stunned she’d asked such a question, and with such intonation, his gaze flicked to her face. Her eyes still held indifference.

  “I am,” he said, a bit hesitantly. “It seems you have been practicing outside of the lab.”

  Aalexis’ expression didn’t change.

  “We are done for the day. Return to your room.”

  Without a word, Aalexis stood and left, the door closing behind her.

  George faced Leland, who stared at the door, his lips moving.

  “Leland!” the doctor snapped, breaking him from his trance.

  The assistant tore his gaze from the door, amazement filling his features. “Did you see that?”

  “Of course,” the doctor said as he pointed to the desk where paper draped over the side. “What does the printout say?”

  Leland ripped the long sheet from its feed and sat in the previously floating chair. He quickly scanned the readout, marking it at certain segments. After a couple of minutes, he said, “There are no changes in physiological data for the most part. Minor fluxes during the initial movement.” He looked back at the doctor.

  George nodded. “As I suspected.”

  “As you suspected?”

  “Yes, Leland. Don’t you see? No, I suppose you don’t,” he said, with a slight shake of his head. “She has transcended the scope of the physical.”

  With a feeling of sudden danger, Ellyssa’s eyes fluttered open to a world washed with blinding white light. She lifted her head off the rock and looked into the sky. The sun had drifted well past the noon position.

  Despite the afternoon heat, Ellyssa’s body shuddered, as if submerged in ice water. Like before, the warmth grazed her skin, but didn’t penetrate. All she wanted to do was curl into a tight little ball. If not for the sound of the water, she would’ve done so. A fire ignited in her throat, demanding to be quenched.<
br />
  Ellyssa dragged her knees underneath her and pushed herself up onto her hands. Dizziness swam through her head. She paused and waited until her vision cleared, then persuaded her legs and arms to crawl forward. Plagued with vertigo, she swayed unsteadily on all fours as she inched toward the rushing stream.

  The distance seemed to increase before Ellyssa. Must be the fever. She wanted to give up and lie down. Weakness is unacceptable. Ellyssa picked up her hand, and the ground lurched toward her, smacking into her chest, stealing her breath away.

  Coughing weakly, trying to reclaim the air she’d lost, Ellyssa lowered her head and was surprised when her forehead dipped into the cool water. Using her toes, she pushed herself the last few centimeters then lapped like a dog, greedily swallowing the cool liquid until the blaze in her throat extinguished.

  When nausea threatened to expel all she’d taken in, Ellyssa stopped. She moved away from the stream and rolled over onto her back to give her stomach time to settle. The sun beat down, shining on Ellyssa’s face, but the warmth still stayed at bay. She shivered.

  Time to move.

  Ellyssa slowly lifted to her feet, pausing for a moment until the swimming in her head stopped and the waves of nausea settled to a gentle roll. She went back to the patch of grass and slipped on her dry socks and shoes. After doctoring her wound again, she returned to the stream, filled the bottle with the iffy water, and placed it inside her bag.

  Thinking about nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other, Ellyssa stepped into the cold water that flooded her shoes and pricked her skin like thousands of ice picks. A feeling of misery engulfed her and, for the first time ever, she actually felt like crying.

  Unacceptable.

  Ellyssa straightened her shoulders and pulled her lips tight; then, as if she had pressed a delete button, all emotion fell away. She’d be damned if the first time she cried would be over feeling sorry for herself.

  8