XGeneration, Books 1-3: You Don't Know Me, The Watchers, and Silent Generation

by Brad Magnarella

  “So you drove one hundred fifty miles to Tallahassee,” he said at last.

  “I know I should have called, but—”

  “You lied to your mother and me this morning.”

  She swallowed. “No, I—”

  “And you’re lying to me now.”

  The words hit Janis with the force of a slap. She stood there, quiet, waiting. Dull anger radiated from her father. Janis could also feel his disappointment, which seemed far worse. A lump swelled in her throat.

  He sighed and pointed the book down the hallway. “I want you in your room.”

  Janis hesitated. She’d been planning to shower away Hotel Sinclair and then head to the woods for a walk, for her meeting with Mr. Leonard. The sun had dipped nearly to the treetops by the time Blake dropped her off.

  “For… for how long?” she asked.

  “Until I tell you to come out again. And then you and I are going to have a serious talk.”

  A spark of anger flared inside of her. “I’m not a child anymore.”

  “No, but you’re still my daughter.”

  She shut the door to her bedroom and flopped onto her bed. So this is the price of saving Star, who didn’t need saving after all. When she closed her eyes, the events of the day rippled through her. She saw the burned-out Hotel Sinclair sign and hugged her shoulders. She’d been terrified, yes, but nowhere near what she should have been. The men, the laughter, the leers — she heard Split Lobe’s syrupy voice: I bet if we stroked her little belly, she’d calm right down.

  But the voice in her head hadn’t been afraid. The voice saw in the men opportunities to inflict pain and fear, to feed off of them. Behind her eyelids, she watched the men tumbling inside the vortex she’d created, shouting, sobbing…

  Bleeding.

  She opened her eyes before the disturbing joy could steal back inside her. Only, the voice hadn’t been there when she’d faced Trips. And neither had the joy. She had felt terror then. Naked, mind-straining terror. She shuddered at the image of Trips staggering toward her through the brown storm of cockroaches, his bulging red eye invading her fear centers.

  But who was he, and how had he come to be there?

  Maybe that’s why she’d had the vision, she thought. Not to save Star, but to be led to Tallahassee, to that hotel — to be shown that there were others like her and Scott. Every day, more questions.

  Janis sat up and walked to the window.

  Time I started getting some damn answers. She slid the window open and pushed the screen out. She peeked toward her closed door. Maybe she’d be back before her father came for her, maybe not. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She’d had experiences she’d never asked for, experiences that would challenge the sanity of most adults.

  And if her father wanted to punish her for that, fine.

  * * *

  Janis looked around, the stick she’d picked up in her meandering walk tight in her grip. The setting sun winked through budding branches and fans of slash pine. She had taken twenty minutes to arrive, twenty of the longest minutes of her life. But she was alone. Ten paces from where her and Scott’s fort had once stood, she held her breath and listened. Except for the chirps of birds, the woods were silent. She knocked on the cement slab between her shoes. The short, hard impacts of wood on stone propagated through the ground.

  She waited.

  When a minute passed, she tapped again. This time, something in the dull blows told her that Mr. Leonard wasn’t there. Something had happened to him. She stared at the stark patch of cement, mentally preparing to check inside the bunker — assuming she could get in.

  “Janis.”

  As casually as she could, she raised her face. The top of his pale head peered over the embankment. A hand appeared and waved her toward him before both hand and brow disappeared.

  In her relief, Janis fought the urge to run toward him.

  When she was nearly to the high bank, he whispered again. “Sit there. Face away from me. Become interested in something on the ground. Do not talk. Do you understand me? Not a word.”

  The fright in his voice stole into Janis’s stomach and scurried around like a trapped spider. She sat cross-legged. Finding a fallen leaf, she began picking away its edges.

  Only then did she realize how vulnerable she’d made herself.

  “Someone came here last night,” Mr. Leonard explained from behind her, still in whispers. “I had some warning and got out. It could have been a routine inspection of the bunker, but something tells me it wasn’t. I stayed one more day, but I’m going to need to leave here.”

  Janis’s fingers trembled as she picked away another bit of leaf.

  “They are a special program of the United States government. Whether it’s under the auspices of the CIA, I can’t say. I don’t know. Colleen and I were agents in the field, but our recruitment summons came in unmarked letters. Likewise, our training happened in an undisclosed location, conducted by men and women whose real names we never knew. We signed letters denying our affiliation with any government agency. We signed away our lives, essentially. We did it because we were told the Project was crucial to the security of the United States.”

  Janis’s brow furrowed as she tried to follow him. Her fingers selected another leaf.

  “You can imagine our surprise when we ended up in a suburban neighborhood in North Central Florida, a setting of no apparent strategic importance. That is, until we observed your and your sister’s abilities. When we agreed to the assignment, we were told it was up there with the Manhattan Project, the development of the first atomic bomb.”

  Leaves crackled beneath Janis’s shifting weight. She remembered her father’s conversation with her in the parking lot about nuclear annihilation and mutually assured destruction. She felt the same dark pall settling over her.

  “There’s no easy way to say this, Janis, but you’re the next generation of weapon in the Cold War.”

  The leaf in Janis’s fingers froze midtwirl. What?

  “That’s what I’m convinced this is. A project that hides you and the others in plain sight until your powers develop sufficiently. Until you’ve incubated.” His whispers coarsened. “And the cruelty is, you’re being led to believe you lead normal all-American lives.”

  Janis thought about their neighborhood. She and Scott had called it a fort, a bottle — but is that what it really was? An incubator?

  “I don’t know where your abilities come from. I don’t even know how you were chosen. What I do know is it’s not about you, not to them. Remember that. No matter what they tell you, it’s not about Janis Graystone. It’s about your powers. It’s about their weaponization. That’s why I urge you never to use or speak of them again. Not even with those you trust most.”

  A chill shuddered through Janis at Mr. Leonard’s tone. Had she and Blake been followed to Tallahassee after all? And if so, what had the watchers seen?

  “If you get into trouble, there’s a name I want you to remember: Senator Barbara Collingsworth.”

  The woman who spoke at this morning’s rally!

  “She’s here in Florida. She’s the chairwoman of a committee that oversees U.S. intelligence and appropriations. I can promise you that she, as well as her entire committee, is as much in the dark on this as anyone. And that’s not going to please her. Especially if she learns innocent Americans are involved. I considered contacting her myself, but the revelation is going to set off a firestorm. With the publicity of Senate hearings, you could end up in just as much, if not more, danger. But it’s there if you need it, Janis. Consider it your nuclear option.”

  “What about you?” Janis whispered before remembering she shouldn’t be talking.

  Mr. Leonard sighed. “My time’s up, I’m afraid.”

  His resignation made Janis turn her head — another no-no. But the sight that greeted her made her forget the rules. They didn’t matter anymore. Janis stood slowly. The men perched atop the levee wore riot gear and helmets, faces conce
aled behind reflective visors. At a glance, Janis counted eight of them, each with a black rifle aimed at Mr. Leonard.

  “Move away from the girl,” one of them ordered, his voice amplified as though through a microphone.

  Mr. Leonard lifted his hands to shoulder level, but his gaze never left Janis’s. His feet splashed into the creek as he stepped backward, the pull of his gaunt cheeks inflecting his eyes with a kind of sadness. The look reflected everything: his regret at having been a part of the Project, his love for Colleen, the loss of Colleen, his wish that he could have done more for Janis.

  She felt her bottom lip quiver.

  “Lace your fingers behind your head.” Four of the men leaped to the ground while the others kept their guns trained on Mr. Leonard, visors tucked to their sights. The men fanned slowly around him, two of them wading into the creek, their rifles extensions of their reflective gazes and muscular arms.

  Mr. Leonard slipped his hands behind his head.

  “Now kneel down.”

  He obeyed, the cold water darkening the thighs of his khaki coveralls.

  No, this isn’t right!

  Janis’s lungs swelled with the words. But before she could say them, bright lines thrummed into being, connecting her to the men closing in on Mr. Leonard. A cold void distorted the air around their suits.

  Make them fear you. Make them hurt.

  Mr. Leonard’s eyes widened and he shook his head slightly. No, he mouthed to her.

  Janis struggled to lower her arm.

  The two men in the creek holstered the rifles on their backs. One removed a small device from his belt; a blue line crackled between two nodes. The other man held out a pair of thick cuffs as he advanced. Creek water gurgled around the calves of their black boots.

  Janis stepped toward the embankment.

  “You.” One of the men on the levee was pointing his finger at her. “Step back.”

  Janis ignored him.

  The man holding the blue electrical device paused to glance up. Mr. Leonard splashed to his feet. Shouts rang out. Mr. Leonard scrambled toward her, mud and water shooting up around his flailing limbs.

  No, what are you doing? Are you crazy?

  And for the briefest moment Janis thought he was crazy. She shuffled back. Then he winked an eye, and Janis understood. It was to be his final, heroic act: convincing the men that he’d wanted to harm her, thus removing her from any suspicion that she’d gone to him willingly.

  All right, you’ve convinced them, now stop. Stop!

  He leaped, his fingers clawing black tracks into the embankment where her feet had just been. One of his fingers pointed. Janis glanced over. Something formed a small swell beneath the leaf litter — something he’d hidden there for her. Then he clasped her ankle, gently.

  The shot slammed the air like a thunderclap.

  Ears clanging, Janis fell to a knee as the ground shuddered beneath her. Men leaped from the wall. Janis reached for Mr. Leonard’s hand, but it was gone. The men converged beneath the embankment. Beyond them, where the creek trickled away, a blood-red thread grew to the size of a ribbon. Janis squeezed her eyes closed and pawed through the leaves toward where Mr. Leonard had pointed. Her hands encountered something metallic and dense, the size of a chalkboard eraser. She grasped it, leaves and all, and stuffed it into her jacket pocket. Then she collapsed to the ground, her body pummeled by sobs.

  Star hadn’t been that day’s target after all.

  “Are you all right?”

  For a minute, Janis didn’t move. When she could breathe again, she pushed herself to her elbows. Leaves and debris fell from her hair. A pair of solid black boots stood in front of her. She followed the boots up. The agent had raised his visor, but the face remained a blur.

  Janis sniffled and wiped her eyes. “J-just leave me alone.”

  “You’re safe now.” The voice echoed through the lingering ring in Janis’s ears.

  When Janis blinked again, the face wavered, then took shape. A pair of lunar blue eyes stared down at her. Agent Steel holstered her rifle and held her gloved hand out.

  Janis shrank away.

  “We’re the good guys,” she said with a touch of impatience, her hand still extended. “Now come with me. We’re going to need to check you out and make sure you’re all right.”

  “You s-said he was dead.”

  “That was tactical. He can’t hurt you now.”

  Janis didn’t have to ask to know that she had taken the kill shot. The men grunted and splashed in the creek as though struggling to lift something heavy. One of them swore.

  “Come with me,” Agent Steel repeated, a command.

  Janis shook her head and pressed herself up to one knee. The object shifted in her pocket, but Agent Steel’s eyes didn’t waver from hers. Janis’s chest hitched once. She wiped her cheeks with the wrists of her jacket.

  “I’m going home,” she said.

  “I’m afraid we need to ask you some questions first.” Agent Steel reached for the back of her belt. With the flick of her thumb, she released a holstered device. “It will only take—” A red blast crashed into the ground and threw Agent Steel backward. She grunted beneath a wave of dirt and debris, gear clattering where she landed. When the dust settled, Janis peeked beneath her forearm. The figure running toward her was wearing a helmeted suit — homemade, from the clunky looks of it — but Janis would have recognized him anywhere.

  And Scott wasn’t alone.

  “On alert!” Agent Steel barked.

  Black-helmeted heads appeared above the embankment like prairie dogs, and the men scrambled up from the creek bed. Janis backed away, and Scott came up beside her. Their hands found one another’s.

  “You okay?” he asked, giving her hand a squeeze.

  “Physically, yeah.”

  Under different circumstances, she would have thrown her arms around him, buried her face in his neck, and never let go. She snuck a peek behind her to make sure she’d seen correctly. She had. Jesse Hoag lumbered toward them, his great stomach swaying side to side. Creed and Tyler Bast followed closely, Creed wearing a back brace. Janis had a time-twisting glimpse of the summer day back in ’79 when the three had come to this very spot as kids. But currently, they all appeared to be on the same team. And Jesse was wielding a tree trunk.

  Agent Steel coughed. She shook leaves and a clump of earth out of her helmet before replacing it on her head. She activated the visor, the reflective shield sliding down over stunned eyes and a dirt-ringed mouth. It was the first time Janis had seen her control challenged. Whether that made her less or more dangerous, Janis didn’t know, but she had a sinking feeling.

  Agent Steel raised her fist above her shoulder. Visors fell to rifle sights.

  Scott’s grip tightened. “What are you gonna do?” he asked. “Shoot us all in cold blood?”

  Agent Steel hesitated, appearing to consider his question. In her peripheral vision, Janis saw Scott’s far hand poised beside his helmet. Behind them, Jesse’s breath boomed. Under his own breath, Creed whispered, “Bring it, bitches.” Creed’s younger brother was silent, but Janis could feel her hair lifting from the back of her neck as though the air was being supercharged.

  Janis narrowed her eyes at Agent Steel. The lines pulsed with each thump of her heart, binding her to the men poised to shoot — and they to her. Could she shove their rifle barrels toward one another? Could she summon another vortex, this one larger than the one in Hotel Sinclair, more powerful?

  Yes, make them hurt. The voice thrummed with joy and fury. Make them fear you.

  But then another, rational, voice spoke over the first: Don’t let them see. Don’t let them know.

  Janis willed the lines away. “We’re going home,” she said.

  Scott lowered his hand from his visor. “Yeah, c’mon guys.”

  They turned, Jesse carrying his tree trunk a few paces before tossing it aside. Creed remained glaring at the armored men another moment, then he relented and limped alon
gside Tyler. When they had gone what felt like a safe distance, Janis peeked back. Agent Steel had lowered her fist, and the men were beginning to disperse, but her reflective visor remained locked on Janis.

  This isn’t over, her stance said. Oh, no, not by a long shot.

  “So,” Scott whispered, his voice starting to quake a little. “How about that second date?”

  She faced him. He’d raised his helmet, and something in his soft gaze spoke to what she’d seen in Mr. Leonard’s face when he’d quietly laced his fingers behind his head. Mr. Leonard, who had fallen to the thunderclap from her vision. Mr. Leonard, who lay dead in the creek behind them, his blood painting ribbons in the water. The look said he would do anything for her.

  Janis inhaled against the threat of fresh tears. “Is this week too soon?”

  30

  Four days later

  Wednesday, March 20, 1985

  8:33 p.m.

  Janis’s bedroom had changed since Scott had last been inside it four years before. A full-sized bed sat in the middle of the room instead of against the far wall. New posters lined the walls (though taped to the same floral wallpaper Janis had always wrinkled her face at). The trophies over her dresser had proliferated, as had the books on her bookshelves. But Scott only noted the changes peripherally.

  “The next generation of weapon?” he whispered.

  Janis, who sat at her desk, glanced toward the half-open door and tucked her leg further beneath herself. “That’s what he said.”

  Scott sank onto the beanbag beside her bed and tapped his English notebook against his thigh. Janis was grounded for taking the trip to Tallahassee on Saturday (a trip so mind-bendingly wild that the fact Blake had driven her no longer stoked Scott’s jealousies — much), so he and Janis had come up with an “English study session.” Her father had consented on the condition the session be limited to an hour and Janis leave her door open.

  “I have to admit,” Scott said, “it makes sense.”

  But his head was still spinning with the unreality of it all. Human weapons under the employ of some super-secret agency? Fine for comic books, maybe, but for them? Janis Graystone and Scott Spruel, not to mention the others, high school students and… superheroes?