by Pam Eaton
After a few pushes, I hop off and face him. He’s dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, but he wears them so well. If I met him on the street I would think he’s a regular guy, except for the fact that he has a super power and works for a secret government agency. Normal things. “Thanks for that. I just really wanted to come out here and enjoy this.” My hand may point to the tree, but a part of me means: enjoying the freedom.
He smiles at me and it reaches his eyes. “No problem. You know, life isn’t over just because of where you’re going. Think of this as a new chapter, a chance to meet new people and experience things others can only imagine.”
He makes everything sound so easy. “I’ll go get Grandpa and let him know it’s time to head out.”
As I walk in the back door, I spot Grandma sitting solemnly on the couch. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
Tears begin to well up in her eyes. I wonder if she felt the same way when my dad went away. “I’m just really sad to see you go. It’s been so nice having you home. I don’t know when I’ll get to see you next.”
I stiffen my spine. I need to be strong, more for her than myself. I don’t know when I’ll be able to come again either. “Don’t worry,” I try and reassure her, “I’ll be coming home to see you soon. Do you know where Grandpa is? Gregory’s here to escort us.”
Grandpa walks in from the kitchen, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “I’m not going to come with you two. I need to stay with Grandma. But I’ll come down in a few days.”
A large part of me is pissed. And scared. I can’t do this on my own. But a small part, a secret part, is excited about the prospect of being alone with Gregory.
They both stand and I give each of them a long hug. Grandpa leans in and gives me a kiss on the forehead. He pushes my hair away from my face and whispers into my ear, “I love you. Don’t ever forget that.”
I smile at the man who’s been my rock. I’m going to miss him so much. Gregory peeks his head in the front door. “Are we ready to go? Joe, where’s your bag? Aren’t you coming with us?”
“No, I’ll join you guys in a few days. I need to stay here with Mae for now.”
His voice seems a little off. I can tell he’s lying. I doubt I’ll see him in a few days.
“All right, well, we should hit the road before it gets too late,” Gregory says.
I hug my grandparents one last time. I have to keep chanting Don’t cry to myself. It’ll only make things worse. “Okay. I promise to call you guys as soon as we get there, and Grandpa, I’ll see you soon. I love you both.”
Gregory stands by the door, my suitcase in his hand, waiting for me. We walk out the door and to the car. “Ready for a road trip?” I ask, getting in.
He smiles, a little crookedly, and we take off down the road.
This is the first time we’ve been alone together for longer than five minutes. I study his body. I can’t help it. His profile is to me and I trace the line of his strong jaw with my eyes. I follow it down the column of his throat to solid, wide shoulders. His forearms are bare and his muscles flex. I didn’t think forearms could be attractive, but maybe I need to rethink this. His hands grip the steering wheel, causing those muscles to flex even more. He shifts in his seat. “Becca?” his voice croaks out.
Did he catch me staring? My mind scrambles for a distraction. “Uh, so umm, tell me about yourself.”
Great opening there, really smooth.
“Me?” he asks, and there’s a hint of relief in his tone.
“Yeah, what’s your story?” I ask.
His body relaxes. No more taut forearms for me. He laughs and then raises an eyebrow at the question. “My story, huh?”
I don’t think that’s too hard of a question, but maybe I’m wrong. “Well, it’s just so quiet in the car and we have a long ride, so I figured that you could tell me a little about yourself. You know a lot about me, and I’m assuming we’re going to be working together.”
He sits there for a minute, not saying anything. Please say something because I cannot handle this ride in complete silence. “Actually, I’ll probably be your mentor during training and for a little while afterwards.”
Excellent.
His smile stays on his face and I can feel the burning in my cheeks. “So, where’re you from?”
“I spent some of my childhood in a little farming town in Iowa. Kind of a dull area, but everyone there was always nice.”
“Only for part of your childhood?”
He hesitates. “When I was nine, I was told my parents both were killed during a tornado.”
He says it so matter-of-factly that it throws me a little bit. And I’m kind of surprised he’s telling me this. Then again, he already knows my backstory. But maybe this is like the way people in Project Lightning introduce themselves? Man, that would be depressing. “That’s horrible. Wait, told?”
“Yeah, and that’s what the newspapers said too. However, when I got older I learned they didn’t die in a tornado. I don’t really know how they died. I’ve never been told what actually happened, but I know it was something else.”
He jerks slightly. I wonder if maybe he didn’t mean to tell me that much.
And I thought the history with my parents sucked. “You don’t remember how they died?”
He takes a deep breath, probably resigned to the fact that he might as well tell me more. “No. I have no memory of their deaths, just the life I had with them. After they passed away, I was also raised by my grandparents. They gave me a good life, taught me to speak fluent Polish and Russian. With their help, I was able to attend MIT and earned a degree in aerospace engineering. Then I ended up with a job at the FBI.”
I wait for more, but nothing comes. That’s it, that’s all he has to tell me about himself? He seems so evasive and acts like there is still so much more. Stupid guys, don’t they realize we hate when they pull this Mr. Mysterious act thinking it’s hot?
A strangled cough pulls me from my thoughts. I wait for him to say anything, but he just keeps watching the road. “Sorry, got something stuck in my throat.”
Okay.
Everything he tells me is so vague. Like, why is he working in this division and what powers does he have? I look him over. There’s no way he could have graduated from MIT. He hardly looks older than me. “MIT? How old are you?”
A sly smile spreads across his face. “I’m nineteen.”
My mouth must be hanging open like a fish, because he starts laughing. What, am I with baby Einstein here? He must be some genius to have already graduated from MIT. I can’t believe he’s only two years older than me. I haven’t even graduated high school! I know nothing about him, and what I do know makes him out to be even more secretive. “Did not see that coming. Got any more crazy details to tell me?”
He barks a laugh at me. “In time you’ll learn more about me, along with the others.”
I’m not going to lie; I want to know much more about him now. And what I have learned has made me more attracted to him. Wait, did he just say others? What does that mean? Better yet, who does that mean? “Will Ania be with us during training?”
I cringe at my question, but wait for the answer.
“Yes, she’s got a lot of knowledge that you’ll find useful.”
I was hoping she would be off on some mission. I didn’t really talk to her before I left our last meeting. Her beauty really intimidates me. How can I possibly compare to that? Maybe if I knew more about her she wouldn’t seem so perfect. “If you won’t tell me more about yourself, what’s Ania’s deal?”
He perks up in his seat, eager enough to talk about her. Rub it in, why don’t you? “Well, Ania is an interesting and sad case. She was born and raised in Poland with her parents until she was fifteen. She’s special like you. She received her powers at fifteen. Her mom was also part of Project Lightning. But she was actually tried and executed for treason in Russia. I’m not allowed to divulge all the details, but she’ll probably tell you when she’s ready. After
her mom was executed, Ania’s father brought her to America and the FBI. “
Do none of our parents die from old age? I wonder if everyone’s story is going to be tragic. “That sounds really rough. Is anyone’s power like hers?”
“No, every one of the surviving hundred possesses a different power. Sort of like snowflakes, no two are the same, but some are similar. With Ania’s strength she has amazing fighting skills. That’s because she has the strength of a hundred men. She’s been training at the FBI since she was a teenager. Her knowledge on weapons is more extensive than almost anyone on the planet.”
All right, that’s a little scary. “Sounds a little—well actually, very— intimidating. I would hate to get on her bad side.”
“She’s a firecracker, but she’s been a good friend, with a lot of advice and experience to offer.”
I have the sudden urge to shake my fist at the sky.
I wonder if they’re more than just friends. She looks older than him, and even more so now that I know he’s only nineteen.
“What’s your power?” I ask him.
He rubs the back of his. “I’m not at liberty to tell.” His voice is hesitant.
“Why?” I ask.
“Orders.” I wait for more of a response, but that’s the only one he gives me.
We drive for a long time in silence. Nothing to do but watch the trees pass by and try to imagine what the future has in store. Will I be alone? I should have asked more questions. I never ask enough questions.
Gregory finally breaks the silence in the car. “We should be there in about forty-five minutes, so let me give you a run-down on how tonight will go. Once we get there, I’ll show you to where you’ll be staying. It’ll kind of be like living in a dorm room again, but it’s not too bad. After that, you’ll attend an orientation where they’ll go over ground rules and you’ll be able to meet others like yourself.”
“How many others are there?”
“I think around twelve or so. Mr. Smith usually does orientation once a year around this time, if there are new recruits.”
“Rough year?” I ask, completely shocked.
The atmosphere changes. And his whole body seems to slump. “You have no idea,” he says in a voice filled with regret and a sadness I don’t understand.
This must have been a seriously bad year for them.
“This sounds a lot like freshman orientation,” I say, desperately grasping at the fun banter we had not long before.
He attempts a smirk at that comment. “Yeah, it’s sort of like that, but a lot more intense, and thankfully shorter. You’ll see what I mean when we get there. Won’t be too long now.” I try to swallow the lump in my throat.
“Did you come in with a lot of people too?” I ask.
“No. It was just me, actually,” he says.
“Did that suck?” I ask.
He laughs. “Yeah. Nothing like being the center of attention.” He sobers quickly. “Just so you know, we won’t be telling anyone about your power.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Since you’re showing signs of being different, we want to keep it quiet. We don't know how some of the others will react. I’m sure it’ll be fine, but better to be cautious.”
Well, this should be interesting.
Twelve
The hall leading to my room reminds me of the hospital-like feeling I got during my interview. Very plain and sterile. If it weren’t for the number three next to my door, I’d never find the room.
Gregory opens the door so we can drop my bags off. I shouldn’t be surprised really; look at the rest of the place. But would it kill them to use another color besides white? Like blue, that’s still subtle. “Lots and lots of white,” I say.
“Uniformity,” he tells me.
“Does my personal space have to stay this way? Because this will drive me crazy.”
He grabs the door and closes it. “I’m sure you can add your own touches to it, but you won’t be staying here for your entire training.”
He starts walking, but I stay in the same spot. Leaving? I run to catch up with him. “Where else am I going?”
His face doesn’t give away anything. “You’ll see eventually. Let’s get to the meeting. You might find out where else you’ll be training.”
We walk down another long, dull hallway until we come to a room that reminds me of a high school classroom. Desks in rows, a whiteboard at the front, and Mr. Smith standing at a podium like a stern math teacher. I didn’t know my dad, but I can’t figure out how he could have been friends with this guy. Sure, he was okay when I met him, but he just has that military feel about him.
Sitting around the room are twelve other people ranging from teens to maybe early twenties. Beside everyone looking under thirty, there are no other similarities. It’s a mix of genders and ethnicities.
“You’re late. Have a seat so we can get going,” Mr. Smith says to me.
A little embarrassed, I grab the seat next to another girl who looks close to my age. I give a polite smile and she returns it with a grimace. All right, then.
We turn our attention to Mr. Smith at his podium. “First and foremost, I would like to welcome you here and thank you for accepting the opportunity to be a part of Project Lightning. All thirteen of you have met with me individually already throughout the last few months. After I have finished my presentation, you’ll have a chance to talk and get to know each other. Some of you will be working together, so try to build a good rapport with one another. But we won’t be discussing powers right now. We’ll leave that for another time. Some of you might not even have a grasp on what your power is.”
That sucks. I really wanted to know what power everyone has. And there’s thirteen of us—like that’s not a bad omen or anything.
“All of you come from a long line of gifted people. All of you have a different power, which means different strengths and different weaknesses, but that’s what makes Project Lightning great. Here you’ll learn more about your history and the history of our people. I believe it’s vital to understand where you’ve come from. We have been persecuted and our ancestors have been murdered. We won’t let that happen again.
“You’ll learn to master your powers and overcome your weaknesses, as well as have opportunities to perform a great service to our country. In order to accomplish these tasks, there are ground rules that have to be followed.”
Of course.
“The first and most important rule is that you won’t be able to contact the outside world for a while. Secrecy is essential, and we cannot risk exposure. So for now, communication with anyone outside of training is forbidden. This is the reason all of your phones are have been taken. Don’t worry. I don’t want to keep them; you’ll get them back”
A hand shoots up from across the room. The owner of it’s a guy who looks to be in his early twenties. He has dark brown hair and alluring eyes, along with olive tone skin. He’s pretty hot, but no Gregory. “What is this, the fortress of solitude?” the guy asks.
Mr. Smith levels him with an exasperated look. “Anthony, it’s vital right now to keep silent. In time you’ll be able to communicate with friends and family, but not yet. I would also recommend that you learn to control these outbursts.” Anthony leans back in his chair and throws his arm around the seat. I swear I see Mr. Smith holding back an eye roll.
“Moving on.” His eyes stay locked on Anthony. “As you may notice, many of you are close in age. There can be no improper fraternization with each other, so there will be curfews in place and we will be closely monitoring you. You’ll need to be focusing on training and educating yourself. That will require you to devote all your attention to your training. Make friends and allies, but keep it at that.”
I wonder if my parents broke this rule. They were mentor and student who fell in love, so either they broke the rules or are the reason behind it.
“Most of you will be training here, but a few of you will be taken later to an off-campus site.
While you are here or anywhere else, I want to you to remember that I’m not a maid, and the mentors aren’t either. Clean up your rooms and after yourself.
“That’s it for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll meet with each of you individually and go over specific goals and training strategies. For now, get to know one another and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He leaves his podium and exits the room. Gregory said that I probably won’t stay here long. Maybe some of these guys will be coming with me.
We all sit in our chairs staring at each other, not really knowing what to say. There are different walks of life in the room. I’ve already taken notice of Anthony and the girl next to me. A guy in his mid-twenties with thick glasses is hiding in the back corner with ragged clothes and messy hair. Poor guy looks like he’s someone who was teased in school.
Right next to the podium sits a beautiful redhead whose hair runs down her shoulders in a shower of curls. She has piercing blue eyes and a curvy frame. Another guy catches my eye. He’s close to my age, but built like a freaking ox. He totally flexes his arms when Miss Redhead turns his way. Guy must have worked out for hours to get that body.
So many different types of people, but they’re all here for the same reason.
What do you say when you realize you’re in a room filled with people who have powers? This isn’t a typical get-to-know-you situation. What are we supposed to say? Should we all apologize to each other because we’ve all lost a parent recently? A minute of the most awful silence passes and finally Anthony stands up. “I feel like I’m at an AA meeting.”
We all give a nervous, forced laugh. I’m not surprised that he’s the first to stand. “Well, you heard Mr. Smith call me Anthony, but I go by Tony. I’m eighteen, from Boston, was planning on going to college, but that’s out of the question for now. Let’s see what else I can tell you. I enjoy long walks on the beach and lots of inappropriate fraternization.”
We all laugh for real this time and his eyes lock with mine. My cheeks flame and I avert my eyes. It’s a nice release to have someone crack a joke, though. Around the room people take turns standing, introducing themselves, and saying a little about who they are. The redhead’s name is Arianna. When she talks it isn’t hard to tell she’s from the South. All the guys in the room hang on her every word. The nerdy-looking guy in the corner is Dexter, possibly a cruel joke by his parents. All he tells us is his name. The big ox is Mike. He goes on for several minutes about his successful high school sports career and how upset he is to not shine in the college or pro arena. Pretty sure if there was a mirror in here he’d be flexing.
