The Search for Artemis (The Chronicles of Landon Wicker)
Page 8
Riley motioned to a girl about sixteen sitting alone at a distant table. She didn’t look like what he had expected of an outcast, but she did have that typical introspective quality about her. She had a child-of-Oberon look due to her petite frame coupled with short, haphazardly cropped platinum blonde hair and luminescent pale skin. But despite her spritely qualities, she seemed to dress normal enough, and her most striking feature was her violet eyes. Landon thought she was quite beautiful, and he wondered what could be so bad that made her a social leper.
“Yeah, she has it the worst. I’m surprised the Gymnasium actually keeps her around. She can barely lift a book, and in her condition.”
“Her condition?”
“She’s blind,” Katie Leigh interjected.
Landon found himself staring at her, imagining the circumstances that would bring her to a place like the Gymnasium, only to make her an outcast. Suddenly, she raised her head and faced Landon head-on. It was like she was staring right back at him, but her eyes were blank.
“All right, Landon, I think we better get moving. If Dr. Wells wants me to show you around this place, it is going to take a while. It’s huge.”
Riley’s words jolted Landon out of his trance. He rotated around and, grabbed his tray, and stood up. Landon shouted “Goodbye” to Katie Leigh before hurriedly catching up with Riley.
For the rest of the afternoon, Riley led Landon around the Gymnasium. At each of the four corners of the facility there was a massive tower with colossal hallways identical to the ones branching off the Atrium, connecting one to the other. The towers each housed a separate function of the Gymnasium: the Administrative Tower in the southeast; the Library in the southwest; the northeast tower—where they’d had lunch—was the Student Tower; and the northwest tower was off limits to the general student population—Riley just referred to it as the Restricted Tower. And he didn’t seem to have any idea what went on there. To access the individual floors of each tower, one had to take the main stairs off the giant hallways or use the hidden stairwells that exited into the Atrium.
Riley took Landon through each floor of each tower in perfect tour guide fashion. On the base floor of the Administrative Tower resided the medical wing, which Landon already knew far too well, with the scientists’ labs above it, then the faculty offices. and the tutoring rooms for their normal scholastic education.
The majority of the Student Tower was filled with the student dormitories, but speckled throughout the floors were the cafeteria, recreation area and some study rooms.
The training facilities, where Landon would be learning to control his newfound powers, were in the northwest wing of the Gymnasium adjacent to the Restricted Tower and could only be accessed by the enclosed staircase in the Atrium.
After what seemed like hours, Riley concluded the tour by bringing Landon to the Library. Riley explained to Landon that it was probably the least frequented area of the entire facility, but as they entered, Landon had a near out-of-body experience. From the outside, the tower may have looked square, but inside it was a goliath rotunda. Books upon books covered its outer walls, creating a tube of literary masterpieces, and running up its center, a wide spiral ramp wound up to the ceiling.
Landon bolted up the ramp without even telling Riley where he was going. He moved quickly around, pressing up the incline, catching book titles as he breezed by, and noticed that occasionally, small doors led into secluded reading areas with more books shelved all around. The entire time, Riley stood in the center of the rotunda floor, watching the strange behavior of his companion.
Landon ran from one floor to another and disappeared for minutes on end into the back rooms. After a while of this, Riley finally saw him emerge and head back down to the ground floor. As Landon reached him, Riley noticed that he was carrying something.
“What’s that you got?”
“Oh, it’s just Treasure Island,” Landon replied, holding the book up in his hand so Riley could see it. “I really needed something to read.”
“You are one weird guy, you know that? Apart from Katie, I have never seen someone act like that when they came in here.” Riley looked all around as he spoke, as if he was looking for someone to agree with him, but found no one.
Landon never replied. He just looked down at the worn cover of the old leather-bound copy of his favorite childhood story. It was soft, worn from countless reads, but there were a few small rough bumps where water had obviously seeped into the leather. Landon didn’t mind at all. After being brought to this place, he’d realized he might be able to survive at the Gymnasium after all.
Following their visit to the Library, it was already time for dinner. The sun was setting and the Atrium emitted a vibrant pink light throughout the halls of the facility. Landon wasn’t hungry after the gargantuan meal he devoured at lunch, but he joined Riley for a quick bite before they headed to his new living quarters. As they walked down the hallway, Riley pulled Landon’s schedule out of his back pocket.
“All right, so we need to head up to the fourth floor. Your room is up there,” Riley said as he read through the text on the page. They started walking that way while Riley continued to read. “Today’s Tuesday, so it looks like you have Telekinetics tomorrow morning at nine as well as on Fridays and Mondays. Huh . . . I’m in that same session, so I guess I’ll see you there.”
“But I thought you’ve been here for two years?” Landon worriedly asked. “Why would they put me in the same session with you? I’m not ready for that.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. They place you in the levels where they think you are most prepared. You must be farther along than most people coming in. And Telekinetics is more about control, not power, so everyone is always working on the same thing.”
Landon stared ahead nervously.
How could I be farther along than most people? he thought as they moved through the facility.
Riley didn’t pay any attention to Landon’s fear-struck facial expression and continued to read through Landon’s schedule.
“Tactometry’s on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. You’re so lucky to only have that twice a week, let me tell you.”
“I don’t even know what it is.” Landon felt himself getting more and more anxious, clamming up with every class Riley rattled off.
“You remember Dr. Wells talking about extensity and tactometric spheres in orientation? Your reach? Tactometry’s supposed to train you to”—Riley altered his voice to what Landon imagined was supposed to resemble a pompous professor—“‘broaden your extensity and hone your sensitivity.’ But it’s more like glorified meditation for three hours twice a week. You just sit there with your eyes closed, ‘feeling the world around you.’
“And you have Thought Reception in the afternoons on the same days you have Tactometry. It looks like we will be together in that one too. Your tutoring sessions where they’ll teach you math and science and stuff are after lunch on Mondays and Wednesdays. That’s not too bad.
“So now,”—Riley looked up from the paper for the first time since they left the Library—“let’s find your room.”
Landon followed closely, watching as Riley searched the room numbers above the doors. Landon had no idea what room he was assigned. Riley never said it aloud. Eventually, Riley stopped.
“So here we are, room 498. Wait—no way! You can’t be serious!” Riley’s voice turned from one of a gracious host leading his guest to their appropriate lodgings to one of an obsessed conspiracy theorist who just received crucial evidence from an anonymous source.
“What? What is it?”
“You’re roommate . . . it’s Brock. You’re sharing a room with Brock Holbrooke!”
“Are you sure?” Landon shakily asked.
“Yeah, this is supposed to be your room—498. Your name’s right there under Brock’s.”
After a few deep breaths, Landon stepped up to the door, hesitantly turned the handle and walked in. The room was pitch black, and the air felt dungeonous and suffocating. Being one of the interior rooms, there were no windows to cast any natural light or get any air circulation. Landon flicked up the light switch, and the room’s overhead bulbs turned on with blinding intensity. Landon let out a sigh of relief, though, when he saw Brock wasn’t there.
The room was in perfect symmetry. On either side, an extra-long twin bed jutted out with the headboards pushed up against the back wall. Next to Landon’s bed was a small, two-drawer wooden nightstand and a little double bookshelf, and each had their own four-drawer dresser and a desk with a rolling chair along the side walls. But even with its symmetrical layout, it wasn’t difficult for Landon to distinguish Brock’s side from his.
Brock’s bed was covered in disheveled blue sheets and an overstuffed comforter. A couple of drawers were ajar and loose articles of clothing and toiletries covered his dresser. His desk had papers strewn everywhere, and a stack of books was haphazardly piled up on his nightstand.
Landon, however, was welcomed with a neat stack of white sheets and a green comforter folded flawlessly at the foot of his naked mattress. His shelf contained a small collection of books lined up from tallest to shortest, and his desk was clear, except for a brand new laptop and a desk lamp. Landon set the copy of Treasure Island on his desk as he walked over to the dresser.
He opened his drawers to find them stuffed with pairs of pajamas, t-shirts, sweaters, pants, shorts, underwear and socks that weren’t his. His closet wasn’t any different. Jackets, an assortment of long-sleeve and short-sleeve oxfords and a few pairs of dress trousers lined the racks, and the closet floor was covered in at least twelve pairs of shoes in all styles.
“Everything okay?” Riley asked. Landon had forgotten Riley was still standing beside the door.
“Is this all Brock’s?” Landon asked.
Riley walked over to the closet and inspected one of the dress shirts that were hanging on the pole. “Nope, it’s too small. . . . I actually think it’s yours” he said. He continued to peruse the closet, pulling miscellaneous pieces off the rack and scrutinizing them for a few moments before wedging them back into place. Riley spent a bit longer inspecting a green, felt basketball jacket with a ribbed neckline, cuffs and hem. “Can I have this?” he asked shamelessly.
Can this all really be for me? Who bought it? Where did it come frome? Landon was having difficulty wrapping his head around everything. When he was woken up that morning, he had no idea how much his life would change by dinner time. He wasn’t sure how to react to it all. Then he noticed an old pair of pants lying in the seat of his desk chair.
“Seriously, can I have this?” Riley asked again, holding the jacket up prominently for Landon to see.
“Sure,” Landon said, distracted.
His eyes were solely trained on the pants; he couldn’t figure out why he didn’t notice them earlier. He walked over, picked up the pair of worn jeans and pulled them toward him. A note fell to the floor. Riley quickly grabbed it and handed it back to Landon, who opened it up and read it.
Landon,
I hope you like your new space. I know you didn’t come with much, so I have taken the liberty to acquire all the necessary items to make your stay here as comfortable as possible.
You will notice that I have stocked your drawers and closet with an assortment of clothing and shoes that I hope you find to your liking. I used Dr. Marquez’s measurements to determine your size, so everything should fit. I found you some nice linens and put together a modest set of personal hygiene products. I also managed to get you a new laptop and a set of all the appropriate reading materials that you’ll need for your studies.
And if you’re reading this, it means you noticed I was able to rescue your old jeans from the incinerator. It was a perilous mission, but I returned victorious.
I told you I’d take care of everything.
Welcome to your new home,
- Sofia
“You okay?” Riley asked while Landon read over the note a second time.
“Ye . . . Yeah, everything’s fine,” Landon replied. “I can’t believe all this is happening.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it. Give it a few days and it’ll feel just like home,” Riley said. “Anyways, I’ll leave you to get used to your new place. The community bathrooms with showers are down the hall to the right. And I’m heading to the Rec Center on the second floor for a while if you feel like joining, but if not, I guess I will see you tomorrow at breakfast? Eight o’clock, sound good? Afterwards, you can come with me to Telekinetics. I kind of feel responsible for making sure you don’t get lost on your first day of training.”
“Yeah,” Landon replied. “Eight o’clock. I’ll be there.”
Riley grabbed the door handle and closed the door on his way out, leaving Landon alone in his new residence.
Landon stood in the same spot for a while, taking in his new surroundings. Eventually, he put the jeans on the dresser and spent the next half hour making the bed and going through all of his new stuff, mentally cataloguing what he had and where it was. Everything seemed normal, except the laptop. There was no power cord or even an input for the charger cable. Landon turned it over in his hands multiple times, trying to figure out how it worked. How does this thing stay on? he wondered. What is it, solar powered or something? If it was, he’d have a problem . . . no windows.
Landon plopped down onto the bed, physically and mentally exhausted from the day. Is this really happening? How can a place like this even exist? he thought as he stared at the white ceiling. What wardrobe did I walk through, because this place is a whole other world? As Landon contemplated everything he’d gone through in the past two days, he slowly began to accept that the Gymnasium was his new home. All of a sudden, he felt himself choking up and his eyes getting watery as the reality of his mother’s death resurfaced in his mind. If they knew I was a psychokinetic, why didn’t they get me earlier? Why couldn’t they train me before everything happened?
CHAPTER SIX
GREAT
EXPECTATIONS
Landon woke at 7:15 in the morning, feeling completely unrested. He wasn’t sure exactly when he fell asleep, but he was certain it had been early. But throughout the night, images of Landon’s mother and his apocratusis flashed through his dreams, startling him awake over and over again. He had killed his parents, and he couldn’t shake that fact from his mind, no matter how much he wanted.
As Landon moved about the room and got his things together to take a shower down the hall, he realized he had yet to meet his roommate. Landon expected some shaky introduction and awkward tension to occur the night before when Brock came in, but he never did, and every time he woke up, he looked over to Brock’s bed, worried he might have woken him too, but Brock was never there. Landon found it strange that on his first night in this foreign place, his roommate was missing in action.
After getting ready but before leaving for breakfast, Landon stood in the middle of his room, staring at the floor, mentally searching for anything he’d forgotten, but he soon realized he had no idea what to expect on his first day of training, and he didn’t have a clue what, if anything, he needed. He left the room still a bit anxious and headed to the cafeteria to meet Riley.
Landon’s heart fluttered in his chest when the smell of bacon and warm maple syrup floated down the hall an
d into his nose. He couldn’t wait to eat his favorite meal of the day, but the moment he walked through the door, he realized he wasn’t going to enjoy his morning. As the door closed behind him, everyone’s gaze in the cafeteria turned to him. He tried not to pay attention, keeping his eyes on the floor and lankily moving to the back of the breakfast line, but before he even got a single pancake on his plate, Riley was sprinting over to him.
“Landon! Why didn’t you tell me?” Riley blurted out. “Quick, come with me. You have to tell us everything.”
Landon was yanked out of the line and was dragged behind Riley as he made his way to a large group of people circled around a small section of a table.
“Riley? What are you talking about?”
Riley never responded. He just continued to hold Landon by the arm and pull him closer and closer to the crowd.
“All right, guys, I got him!” Riley yelled as they reached the group.
The crowd divided, revealing a small section of available bench, and Riley plopped Landon onto it.
“Okay, Landon, we have to know. . . . Is this really you?”
Riley grabbed a sheet of paper from off the table behind Landon and placed it in front of him, but it took Landon a moment to focus. The number of people surrounding him made him claustrophobic, and he couldn’t figure out anything he had done to warrant such an exuberant audience.
Landon honed in on the sheet of paper, attempting to discern what was on it amid the distracting bombardment of inquiring and affirmative voices. He realized, once he’d gathered himself, that it was a poorly-printed photograph—but it wasn’t any random photograph. It was a photo of him crouched down in the middle of the street wearing his dirty yellow shirt and grimy old jeans with a fully occupied city bus floating ten feet overhead. If he squinted, he could see the scared, screaming faces of people through the bus’ tinted glass.