by Pam Eaton
I can’t believe I just lashed out at them, and Mr. Smith blinks, surprised at my sudden burst of anger. But how hard does he think he can push until I break, even if he’s being somewhat gentle?
He straightens his posture and addresses me with a demeaning air. “There are only a few people in the world who know what we are about to reveal. Keep in mind that everything I say can easily be wiped from your memory if need be.”
Mr. Smith says it calmly, like this is an everyday occurrence. Wiped from my memory—what the heck kind of place is this? I swallow hard and nod. He leans forward across the table and grabs my hand. I try to recoil, but his grip stops me. “Calm down. Nothing is going to happen to you. You have inherited powers upon your mother’s death. There are ninety-nine other people left who are similar to you. Three of them are in this room right now. All our powers were passed from one of our parents to us.
“Welcome to the extraordinary few.”
Ten
Someone’s fingers snap in front of my face. What just happened?
“How’s it going?” Gregory’s face comes into focus above mine. And what a gorgeous face. He smiles, making me smile too.
“Rebecca?” I turn to the voice and see Mr. Smith. Crap, not a dream. I push myself up, struggling to get my legs under me.
“It’s okay, calm down,” Ania tells me.
I turn my face toward her. “Calm down?! It’s one thing to be told there are others like you, it’s a whole other thing to be locked in a room with three other people that have super powers. And who the hell knows what those are? How do you expect me to calm down? How about next time you ease a person into it rather than just blurting it out.” The last comment is a demand, not really a suggestion.
“Sit down,” Mr. Smith says as a command, and everyone sits, because this guy missed his calling as a general.
My mind reels for a minute with the information he just gave me. There are others out there like me. I know they said it before, but it’s finally sinking in. I look at the three of them in a completely different light. Gregory was right. I’m not alone in this anymore.
“Go ahead, Ania. Let’s show her what you can do,” Mr. Smith says without taking his eyes off me.
She stands and smooths down her shirt. She places her hands under the table. And without any change in her face, the table rises into the air. She’s not even breaking a sweat. “Strength,” she says as she lowers the table.
My hands, which were in my lap until this moment, press against the underside of the table. Yeah, nothing happens.
“Did you just try and lift the table?” Gregory asks me in a low, humor-filled voice.
I shrug my shoulders. I couldn’t not try.
“Does this help?” Mr. Smith asks.
I nod, because what do you say to watching that just happen? Great to know I’m not the only special person in the room.
“Now, let’s try this again,” Mr. Smith says so calmly, like the fact that I just watched someone lift a wooden conference table like a piece of paper wasn’t even a little crazy.
Mr. Smith continues. “Even though there are a hundred of us in the world right now, there used to be thousands upon thousands. As our numbers grew, so did the fear among ordinary men. Many friends turned foe. Our ancestors helped bring some great men to power, but that came with an even higher price to pay.
“There was a great purge of us during the time of Moses. The Egyptians were our people’s greatest nemesis. They thirsted for power, and are to blame for so many of us dying. The people claimed that we were the gods on earth, and in turn this made the pharaoh furious. While the pharaoh persecuted the Jews, he took that opportunity to execute many of us, too.
“He was so afraid of the people looking to us to lead, afraid we’d help the Jews and cause his demise. After that great eradication of our people, we went into hiding, only married outsiders to blend in, and never let our powers be known to the outside world. But this wasn’t the first time we’re mentioned in history.
“Well over two thousand years ago is when the first account of our people is mentioned in Mesopotamia. We’ve found vague references in writings from the ancient Sumerian city of Ur. Even though we can trace our ancestors back that far, we still have no idea of our exact origins. And even with this great history and legacy, there are only a hundred left.”
I slump down in my chair. Well, at least he didn’t mention aliens, but I guess anything is possible at this point. Egypt? Ancient Sumerian cities? What’s next, is he going to tell me that Atlantis really exists? I actually wouldn’t mind that, but now’s not the time.
The lines on his forehead become even more pronounced as his face contorts into a frown and his tone becomes gravely serious. “Of the hundred left, not all are good people. Those who seek power and domination align with evil. The most important thing right now is that there are others who will find out that your mother died. And they will find out who you are and what you’re capable of. Some of them will want to take you and use you for their own advantage. That or kill you. What we have to offer is security, a chance for you to embrace your powers—your destiny—and do great things.”
Well, with that kind of sales pitch, who would say no? Basically I either join up with these guys or die. Sounds like an amazing future there, Grandpa.
“This is where you’re supposed to be, Becca. Can’t you feel it?” Ania asks.
Can I? Can my power be more than a dirty little secret? Can I embrace it and learn to wield it? Whatever it is.
The gold sedan flashes in my mind. The shadows outside my window, the feeling of being watched at the graveyard—it all comes flooding back to me. I was being watched; he was right. There’s so much more going on than just learning about this power.
Gregory sits up straight, breaking me out of my thoughts. I hold up my hand, stopping him before he can even utter a word. This is a lot of information to take in, but there’s been a question gnawing at my brain since before he even talked about the one hundred. I steel myself. “How do you know about my mother, and what do you know about my father?”
Mr. Smith hesitates for a moment. “Your mother was approached in the same manner as you were, with the lure of internship. Her mother, your grandmother, also had powers. Your mother came here at the age of twenty-two, after her mother passed away. She was trained here and participated in our covert operation, which is called Project Lightning. She met your father here. Even though he didn’t have powers, he was a brilliant strategist. He was her mentor. They began a relationship, eventually got married, and brought you into this world.
“When he died, your mother decided she no longer wanted anything to do with Project Lightning. She was an amazing woman who did great things in a short amount of time, but the loss of your father destroyed her. She turned to drugs and alcohol to help suppress her powers and her memories.”
The honesty and bluntness of his response causes me to sag even more in my seat. I’m not surprised that she fell in love with my dad, though. He was a handsome man, and Grandpa said that he loved to laugh. I bet working alongside him only made the attraction between them grow. I glance over at Gregory, and then quickly look back at Mr. Smith. “Why would I want to be a part of the FBI?”
He breathes in deeply. I can’t tell if he’s annoyed with me, but I hardly know the man; he can’t expect me to just say yes on a whim. “I already know that you feel a change in your body. We all experienced it when our parent with powers died. You felt the charge when you shook our hands. This isn’t going to go away, and any of our kind can know you by touch alone. We can help you learn how to control and utilize these powers. The world can be scary for any regular individual, but when you’re an extraordinary person amongst ordinary men, it is downright terrifying.
“We were given these powers to accomplish things even the most influential people in the world can’t. We have a chance to save this world from itself. Let us train you. Let us show you your worth. Work with us. Serve and protec
t this country in a way only a few can.
“We can help keep you safe and teach you how to protect yourself, too.”
That last comment makes me snap to attention. “So, are you trying to tell me that I’m not safe right now?”
“Make no mistake; people will come for you.”
“Yes, but how do I know you won’t harm me?” For all I know, that could have been Gregory outside my window last night.
Mr. Smith exhales slowly. “If we wanted you dead, it would have already happened. But others will come. I know we’re asking a lot of you, but in return we’re offering a lot as well. I understand the gravity of the decision you have to make, so maybe you need some motivation.”
Ania walks back to the door and unlocks it. I’ve forgotten about that. But any thought I have is washed away when in walks Grandpa Joe. And his face is completely awash with guilt.
Pure shock washes over me like a sudden downfall of rain. I feel my mouth open in a silent gasp, but as his face registers, my mouth sets into a harsh line and I jerk my face away from him.
I look back up and catch him shake Mr. Smith’s hand. There’s a familiarity there. My fists curl at the sudden need to hit something for all the lies and secrets he’s kept.
He sits down in the chair next to mine and takes my hand. I instantly tense, wanting to rip it away, but he tightens his hold. Crazy strong Grandpa.
I take a deep breath. He’s always told me he wants the best for me. I pray that that hasn’t changed.
He finally looks me straight in the eye. “I know you’re angry and confused. I kept this from you because I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted you to have a life full of opportunities and chances to excel. Grandma and I knew that one day your mom would die, but we had no clue when that would be. I always hoped that she would explain everything to you, but her sudden death came as such a shock to all of us.
“And why not tell me before we got here?” I ask.
“The words never came, and I just thought maybe you’d—”
“You’d let complete strangers tell me?” I interrupt him. And granted, Gregory’s hot, but I don’t know the guy.
He squeezes my hand. “I didn’t even know who they were when they showed up at the house. That’s why I made a phone call to D.C. I never thought someone would be showing up at the house right after your mother’s funeral.”
They knew I would have powers—we all knew, but he never told me about any of this. I stare into the eyes that have always been the source of so much comfort and confidence, and in them I see truth and love. I drag my hands over my face. “I don’t know what to do, Grandpa.”
His eyes stay focused on mine. I couldn’t care less what anyone else wants to say. “I can’t make this decision for you. I can tell you that you’re in good hands and you’ll have the chance to do amazing things. Mr. Smith was a good friend to your dad, and I’ve had the chance to work beside him on legal matters. I don’t believe they’ll lead you astray, but the decision must be yours.”
All those times he told me that he was going to do consultant work, I wonder if he was coming here. “I don’t even know what my power is.”
Mr. Smith clears his throat. “I think it would be best if I tell you what we assume your powers should be.” Great, he knows more about me than I do.
“What do you mean assume?” I ask.
“Traditionally, whatever powers you have were passed to you from your parent. The powers don’t change, but the person wielding them may be better than the one before. Your mother had the abilities of levitation and speed, almost like flying, but we’re not talking superman. It was almost like she was gliding across the ground at incredible speeds. There’s something different about you, though, that doesn’t make sense. We can already see that you have your mother’s powers, but there seems to be more to you than that.”
I thought he just said that the powers don’t change. “More to me?”
The room becomes very silent and the air is thick with uncertainty. “When we were doing your physical evaluation, the doctor and Gregory noticed something. You, for lack of a better term, flickered.”
Guess that was a two-way mirror. Wait, did he just say what I think he said? “You’re kidding, right? I flickered, like a bad light bulb? What does that even mean? I didn’t sense that.”
Mr. Smith drags a hand over his face. Guess he doesn’t like the fact that I’m not going according to their plan. “We really don’t know what this means either, but hopefully with time, we can figure it out. Of course, this is only going to happen if you take us up on our offer.”
I think about school and not being able to finish. Not only that, but what about my friends? I wonder if I would even be allowed to talk to them anymore. What about dating; was that even permitted? I have all these thoughts jumbling in my head, yet something keeps telling me to give it a chance. But what about later in life—husband, kids, and the whole shebang? “I have a question for you, Mr. Smith. Say I join with you, train and help. What happens if I ever want to quit? What future can I even have?”
He looks at me with a smug smile on his face. He must know that I’m leaning toward yes, that my walls are crumbling and all he needs to do is smash some of the stones and I’ll come running.
“We’re not taking away your future. We’re trying to give you one. We need you to have one. We need you to get married one day, have an heir so your power will pass on. I wouldn’t worry about it just yet; you’re still young. As far as quitting, there are opportunities for jobs within the FBI and not out in the field. If you decide that you want nothing to do with us ever again, we would have to wipe your mind. It’s imperative that our secrets are kept. You would no longer have any memory of this place, what you’ve done or who you’ve met, but you would still have your powers.”
“Is that what you did to my mom?”
I’m met with silence.
“No. We lost track of her,” Mr. Smith pauses, and something like pity appears on his face. “Until she was at the hospital.”
Where she died. But what about the A. A. meetings? The year sobriety coin? Does anyone know about that? I’m guessing they don’t; otherwise maybe she wouldn’t have ended up overdosing.
What do I have to lose, besides my life? I’ve always felt out of place and now I’m virtually an orphan. My parents were able to find some happiness here, so maybe I will too. Maybe someone here can shed light onto my mom—a woman who, it seems, was not what I thought. Honestly, it’s not like I can really say no, because if that wasn’t them in the gold sedan, who knows what might happen? “By any chance have you guys been following us around in a gold sedan?”
Everyone’s head snaps toward mine at that comment. Apparently this is news to them. Mr. Smith’s eyes grow wide. “You’ve been followed?”
Well…hell. I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Yeah, I saw them outside my grandparents’, and then last night there were two men outside the house we were staying in. I assumed it was the FBI.”
Mr. Smith narrows his eyes at Grandpa. “Joe, did you know about this?”
Grandpa hangs his head. Tapping snags my attention. Gregory’s fingers keep drumming the table and he looks like he has murder in his eyes. “I just assumed it was nerves, and Becca never told me about the men outside,” Grandpa says.
“That wasn’t us, and it concerns me that you’re being followed already. That’s what I was trying to tell you about possible danger. We can protect you and teach you to protect yourself, but you’d have to agree to stay here,” Mr. Smith says.
I feel my free will slowly slipping away from me. I’m not going to lie to myself. This is intense and a lot to digest, but if my Grandpa believes I should do this, then I’m willing to give it a try. What are my alternatives? Maybe I can do the good that my mother never did. No. Not maybe. I will do what Mr. Smith said. I will find my worth, even if she ended up losing hers. I won’t be like her.
I take a deep breath and release it slowly. “What choice do I
have? I’m willing to try.”
Grandpa nods his head in agreement and the decision is made. “So where do we go from here?” I ask.
Mr. Smith smiles at me. “And so it begins.”
Eleven
Two weeks. Is that even enough time to get my life in order? My packed suitcases mock me from my bed. Time’s up.
Grandpa called school last week and informed them of my mom dying. We lied. Said the grief was too much and I’d finish up my classes online. I tried to use that same spin with my friends, but some of them were surprised since I didn’t exactly speak kindly of my mom. I laid it on thick, though, claiming to feel ridden with guilt for never healing the breach between us. I almost believed myself—also scared myself with how good of a liar I’ve become. But that’s the new norm with all the secrets I’ll be keeping.
But here I sit. Headed to training today and learning to perfect my powers. Life is too freaking crazy. At least one good thing has happened these past two weeks: no gold car. Maybe it was just a fluke. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
I walk down the stairs and out the back door, toward the swing hanging from the old willow tree. Grandpa hung this for me when I was seven after I begged him for weeks to do it. The tree itself is old and strong. Its limbs are as familiar to me as my own. I lean back, closing my eyes, and push off, soaring toward the sky. Is this what it’ll feel like when I use my powers?
A cool breeze tangles my hair, soothing my nerves, comforting me. It makes me feel alive. A hand touches the small of my back and pushes me from behind and my body tenses. “It’s okay. It’s just me, Gregory. I was a little early picking you up and saw you out here swinging.”
Everything relaxes. A huge smile appears across my face before I can stop myself, but at least he can’t see it. Every time his hand rests on my back, even if only for a few seconds, it’s pure bliss, mixed with that same shock that seems to have diminished the more contact we have.
