Tyler cleared his throat. “Do the Soviets know about us? Do they know we exist?”
Kilmer began pacing again. “They suspect you exist, but they don’t know for sure.” He raised his eyebrows toward Janis. “You asked earlier about who we’re protecting you from? According to our intelligence sources, at least one team of Soviet-sponsored mercenaries has infiltrated our country. There may be more. We believe they have standing orders to find you.”
Creed slapped the table, causing his mother to flinch. “Well, tell them to come on down!”
“I’m not sure you want that,” Kilmer replied. “And is it my understanding that Agent Steel incapacitated you with her knee?”
“Damn lucky shot is what that was,” Creed muttered, sitting back.
“So now what?” Scott asked.
“The Champions Program — which you’ve been an unwitting part of until now — was planned in two phases,” Kilmer said. “The first was to relocate you to Oakwood for your protection. All of your parents signed on, and by 1978 you came under our watch. That choice was made for you. The second phase was to help you develop your abilities and” — he held up a finger — “in the event your abilities could be employed in the defense of world freedom, assemble you into a team. This second choice was to be yours upon turning eighteen.”
That must have been the contract Mom was mumbling about, Tyler thought as Scott and Janis spoke with their parents in lowered voices.
“But you found us first, and that’s probably as it should be. You’ve earned your right to know. You’ve proven yourselves.” The lights rose, and Director Kilmer became the disarming uncle again. “And if I’m going to shoot straight, relations with the Soviets have taken a nosedive in the last months. We’d been in backdoor talks with their officials in favor of tamping down the Cold War, if not ending it. Things were looking so promising at one point, there was talk of phasing out our program here. But following Gorbachev’s assassination, those same officials were tried for treason. The new Soviet leader, General Dementyev, has been purging anyone deemed disloyal. His firing squads are working overtime. As are his arms factories, and he’s building new ones all the time. We have to assume he’s stepped up the Artificials program, too.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Janis asked faintly.
“Discretion comes first,” Director Kilmer said. “Your abilities have developed to the point that, used recklessly, they will draw attention to you. We can’t have that.” He seemed to be looking especially hard at Jesse and Creed. “The abilities themselves are nothing to fear. Properly cultivated, they could be the deciding force in the struggle between freedom and oppression, between clear skies and nuclear annihilation. If you commit to the cause, you’ll begin training this summer. We’ll teach you to control your powers and use them for the greater good.”
“And if we don’t commit?” Janis asked.
“You’ll sign a pledge of silence and be relocated far from Oakwood, free to live a normal life.”
Janis’s brows drew together. “What about the mercenaries?”
“You’ll be on your own, I’m afraid.”
A thin cry escaped Mrs. Graystone’s lips. She took a tissue from her purse and pressed it to the corners of her eyes.
“What kind of deal is that?” Janis demanded.
“It’s not an easy decision, I understand. And you certainly don’t need to give me an answer today. Take time to think it over. Discuss it with your parents and each other. Let’s see…” He pressed a button on his wristwatch and studied the digital face. “Your last day of school is June seventh, a little under two months from now. Let’s have your answer on the eighth. For those who commit, we’ll begin training the following week. Agreed?”
Janis turned to her father. “You taught me to be upstanding and honest.” She spoke slowly, her voice as rigid as her face. “And this whole time you’ve been lying to me.”
“We were sworn to secrecy, Janis. Your mother and I, both.”
“We all were, hon,” Mrs. Spruel added. She elbowed her husband, who’d begun to nod off, his bearded chin sinking to his chest. He gasped upright and blinked around.
“Put yourself in your parents’ place for a moment,” Director Kilmer said. “They were asked to withhold information from their children, yes, but it was for their children’s protection. And it was only until their children turned eighteen, at which point everything would be disclosed.”
Janis turned to her sister. “So you knew, too?”
Margaret started to open her mouth, then closed it and nodded.
“Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” Janis asked her family.
“No,” Director Kilmer interjected. “Your parents were focused on raising you. They left the details to us.”
Mr. Graystone nodded, resting a hand on Janis’s back.
“That’s not true.”
Everyone turned toward Scott, who’d risen from his chair. He seemed to sway for a moment as he touched the gauze over his eye. Then he lowered his hand and cleared his throat.
“Your father’s one of them, Janis. He’s a watcher.”
Janis spun on her father. “You are?”
Mr. Graystone opened his mouth in a silent stammer, but Scott spoke before he could. “He was the one who tried to open the Leonards’ shed the night I went back there. His voice was on the recording I obtained. He was helping to direct the surveillance of you and Margaret.”
Janis stood from her chair. “Is that true?”
Mr. Graystone tensed his lips toward Scott.
“Is it?” Janis’s face had gone pale except for a red splotch across her forehead.
“We’ll talk about it later,” he said.
“No, we’ll talk about it now.”
Her mother reached tentatively for her arm. “Please, hon, have a seat.”
Janis shrugged from her touch. “You’re both hypocrites and — and liars.” She raised her eyes to Scott. “And you’ve known this for weeks and haven’t said a word.”
Scott’s face staggered as Janis strode from the room.
Mr. Kilmer looked after her, then turned to the table with an affable shrug. “Emotions were bound to run high. Why don’t we conclude today’s meeting and plan to talk again. In the meantime, consider what I’ve told you.”
Kilmer walked over and spoke with Mr. Graystone and placed a reassuring hand on Mrs. Graystone’s back. After a few moments, he turned to the Spruels, thanking them for coming. He shook Scott’s hand, pulling him close. Some words were exchanged, and he clapped Scott’s shoulder.
Tyler wanted to avoid Kilmer until he could think straighter. He looked down at his mother, who seemed to have sobered a bit. “You ready to head home?” She nodded heavily. As he and Creed were helping her up, Director Kilmer approached.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice, Diane,” He took their mother’s hand in both of his. “It’s good to see you again.”
She smiled. “Anytime, sweetie.”
“We’ll talk again, boys?” He raised his wiry brows.
“Aye, aye, captain,” Creed said.
Director Kilmer pumped Creed’s hand, then stood in a way that separated Tyler from his brother and mother, who began to move off. When Director Kilmer took Tyler’s hand, his grip was padded with age but imposing. Tyler struggled to meet his gaze as the director leaned nearer.
“Listen,” he said, “I know it’s been hard, your father not being around. But maybe his leaving was for the best. You’re your own man now.” A hardness gleamed in his dark eyes as he clapped Tyler’s shoulder. “Just as long as you make the right decisions. Understand what I’m telling you?”
Tyler nodded vaguely.
Director Kilmer crushed his hand in a parting squeeze that said, Good. From far away, Tyler watched him move on to Jesse and Mr. Hoag, grinning his tomcat grin, extending his hand amiably.
They know. All this time, they’ve known.
Tyler’s lunch turned to an ir
on ball in his stomach as he followed the others down the corridor, back toward the elevator.
Which means you don’t have a choice in this, after all.
36
One week later
Saturday, April 20, 1985
11:02 a.m.
Scott was halfway up the trunk when he spied her blaze of red hair. He nearly lost his grip and, for a moment, considered lowering himself and backtracking through the woods. But he’d known she would be there, hadn’t he? He’d told himself he was only coming to the fallen tree to think, but he’d known she would be there. And it was time to talk.
Scott pulled himself up the rest of the way and dusted off his hands.
Her legs were dangling over the side of the tree, hands clasped between her knees. Drapes of sun-streaked hair hid her face. Scott pushed up his new glasses to the bandage-covered stitches that circled his left eye, and he lowered himself beside her.
Her legs kicked as though from a quiet breeze.
For several minutes, neither spoke. Birdsong filled the silence. After a solid week of rain, summer had come early to the woods, violent and green. Scott could barely make out the levee through the foliage. And the ground beneath the fallen tree held water again — only a few inches, but it was there, wrinkling over sand and clover. With enough time, the spot might even become a bog again.
“Does it bother you that this place was a lie?” Janis asked without looking up.
Scott cleared his throat. “It was real to us. As kids.”
“We’re not kids anymore.”
“No,” he said. “I guess not.”
Janis sniffled.
“Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your father.”
Janis’s left fist disappeared beyond the screen of her hair and rubbed. “It’s not your fault,” she said.
“No, I should have told you. At the very least, I shouldn’t have announced it like I did.” Scott hadn’t planned a public declaration, but something in the way Mr. Graystone had sat stoically, preparing to let the lie about the extent of his involvement stand, had angered Scott.
Plus, there had been the childhood incident with the football.
“The signs were there,” Janis said. “Like how he knew I went to Tallahassee that day. Or the time I went to softball tryouts instead of the library; he knew that, too. I just never thought to question how.”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to trust your parents.” Scott picked at the tree. “Did he, um, ever explain himself?”
“He said that, after the stabbing, he wanted to be more involved in Margaret’s and my protection. He worked in military intelligence during the Korean War… something else I’ve learned about him in the last week.” Janis chuckled once, dryly. “The Program granted his request. That’s how he became a watcher.”
Scott frowned, supposing it made sense.
“My mom was upset — that the stabbing happened at all, of course, but about the dishonesty within the family. That’s why my parents had been fighting. She thought I was old enough to be told what was happening. When Dad wouldn’t budge, she took her complaints to Director Kilmer.”
“How are they now?” Scott asked carefully. “Your parents?”
“Better.”
Scott considered placing his hand on the curve of her back, but he still sensed a gulf between them. He swung his legs a little. “Tyler says he’s signed on.”
“Yeah?”
Scott nodded, even though Janis hadn’t looked up. “He probably figured it was either that or keep growing his rap sheet. Of course the pay and benefits don’t hurt, either.”
“What about the others?” she asked.
“Jesse and Creed? No word yet.”
“And you?”
Scott studied his nail beds. “When I was a kid, I used to wonder why I didn’t fit in, why the other kids singled me out. I think it’s why I was drawn to superhero comics. They told stories of outcasts who were special in ways no one else could see or understand. And in a sort of poetic twist, the heroes used their abilities for the benefit of the same people who dumped on them. I won’t lie — a part of me has always wanted that for myself…” He peeked over at her. “But for now, I guess I’m undecided. You?”
“My dad’s not pushing the issue — guess he knows he’s on thin ice — but he’d like me to sign on. Duty to your country, and all of that. I can tell Mom would rather I not, but she says the decision needs to be my own.”
Hope glimmered inside Scott.
Janis shifted on her seat. “I keep thinking about Mr. Leonard. He gave his life to warn me — to warn us — about the kind of people we’re involved with. People desperate to harness our abilities while claiming to be acting in our best interests. I know what we code-named him, but Mr. Leonard wasn’t a nut. If anything, he was the only sane adult. The only honest one.”
Scott’s hope sputtered out beneath a fresh tide of guilt. “So you’re out?”
“Yeah,” she murmured. “If it weren’t for my powers.”
“Huh?”
Janis draped her hair over her ear, eyes glistening as she looked up. “I could have killed Agent Steel, Scott. I would have killed her if you hadn’t stopped me. I can’t control them anymore.” For a moment, Scott saw her, not as Janis Graystone, but as she’d appeared that morning — a force, beautiful and terrifying. “If Director Kilmer says he can help me…” She balled her hands into fists. “As much as I hate the idea, I have to at least consider his offer. So I guess that puts me at fifty-fifty.”
Scott nodded.
Janis pulled her legs up and, inhaling, rotated toward him. “I had a long talk with Blake yesterday.”
“You did?” Scott asked, not sure what that meant.
“The night you and I kissed. I’ve gone back there so many times in my head. At first, I told myself I was worried about you and that I’d kissed you out of friendship. But I think it goes deeper than that.”
Scott watched her moving lips, speechless.
“For the past week, I’ve been trying to sort out what’s real in all of this, what I can believe. And what I keep coming back to are my feelings for you.” Janis’s gaze roamed the tree branches overhead before returning to him. “You’re right. This place was real to us as kids because it reflected — not all the stuff they built around and underneath it — but where you and I and the things no one else could ever understand overlapped. Back then this place was…”
“…Our world,” Scott finished.
For the first time, a corner of Janis’s mouth turned up. “And still is,” she said.
That’s your cue, pal, the Bud voice prodded.
“I, ah, I have something for you.” Scott fumbled around the back of his shirt and pulled out the card he’d drawn for her, slightly worse for the wear after five months of being toted around. Janis didn’t seem to notice the creases. She’d already opened the card to the illustration of the two of them on the same fallen tree, hands joined, color and magic unfolding around them.
“I meant to give it to you sooner.”
“You drew this? It’s so…”
Scott’s heart pounded as he watched her eyes shift to the side with the writing. Watched them linger over the final two words: Love, Scott.
“…beautiful.”
She began to raise her eyes, but before she could say more, his lips were against hers. In that moment of dizzying contact, the pounding in his chest became a hammering, and his lips felt as if they didn’t belong to the rest of him, and he became terrified that he was kissing her all wrong. But then her hands slipped inside his and, in a hush, the pounding became something soft and soothing. His mouth relaxed. The world around them wavered away.
Except for Bud.
Between you and yours truly, I didn’t think you had the goods, pal. Color me mistaken. He clapped Scott’s back. It’s been a pleasure working with you, my friend. Honest to goodness. Treat her like a saint.
And with that, Bud disappeared.
&
nbsp; “I need you to promise me something,” Janis said.
Scott realized they’d eased apart, Janis’s eyes shining into his. He blinked her face back into focus. “Yeah?” he said.
“For all of his apparent sincerity, I don’t trust Director Kilmer. He couldn’t tell us where our abilities came from. Couldn’t say how they found us in the first place. I have a feeling he’ll utter the ‘powers that be’ line as often as it’s convenient, and as long as we let him. And did you hear him try to play down Agent Steel’s intentions? Tell me, Scott, did it feel to you like she was bluffing?” She compressed her lips. “There’s no telling what else he lied about, either outright or by omission.”
Scott shifted slightly. The thing was, he did trust the director. At least he wanted to. There was the thrill of getting to live out his childhood dream of superhero coolness. But his interest went beyond that. At the conclusion of last week’s meeting, Director Kilmer had seized his hand and pulled him close. “This group’s going to need a leader,” he’d said, eyes wide and frank. “You’ve got the potential, Scott. I’ve been watching.” For his part, Scott had reciprocated Director Kilmer’s handshake with one equally firm and assured.
If there was one thing bothering Scott, it was Kilmer’s mention of yardmen being contracted from the outside. For the untoldth time that week, he thought of Mr. Shine, someone who seemed to know more about the neighborhood than he let on. Had he been the one to request the data on Oakwood at the County Recorder Office years before? And if so, why?
“Now, more than ever,” Janis said, “we need to share everything.”
Scott’s thoughts jagged from Mr. Shine to Agent Steel.
(Where’s Mr. Leonard?)
“So, no more secrets,” Janis went on, watching him closely. “Even if you think you’re protecting me.”
“Okay.”
“Do you promise?”
Scott nodded. “I promise.”
Janis took his hands and peered into the woods. Scott could see the weight of indecision in her eyes. Stay or leave this place forever? Sighing, she set her head against his chest, just as he imagined her doing all those nights he lay in bed, missing her. He rested his cheek on her autumn-red crown and breathed her warm halo, the woods singing and chattering around them.
XGeneration, Books 1-3: You Don't Know Me, The Watchers, and Silent Generation Page 62
