Lightning

by Bonnie S. Calhoun

  “You are correct,” Glade said. “Because we recognized the symbol, it gave us a good reference for where to place the rest of the points to complete the pattern. With the documents I had, the Keeper journals from Charles Ganston, and what this man has, we can fill in all of these points.” His smile radiated satisfaction.

  “How is this possible? How is any of this possible?” Bodhi swept his hand around the room. “Up the road, people live technologically superior lives in a biospheric Mountain, yet here in a cave, in a land where horses are used for transportation, the equipment is more advanced. How? How does this happen?”

  The old man shuffled over to where Bodhi still stood under the illumination. “My boy, there were great technological societies 150 years ago. They were the cause of this mess in the first place. So there are many remnants that have survived—just some that shouldn’t have.”

  “I still don’t understand—why now? How can you be sure that the way to the Third Protocol should be discovered at this very time and not fifty or a hundred years from now?” Bodhi was clutching at anything. Maybe Selah had more than nine months. There had been novarium who left TicCity, and no one knew if they had fractured.

  “Why do you think I was standing at the entrance expecting you? All the parts have arrived. The ancient documents say that shortly after the transition, the novarium will come and the key will bring the lightning that illuminates the future,” the old man said.

  “That’s not correct. The novarium isn’t here,” Bodhi said.

  “But she is. She went into the Mountain with the Keepers’ child and another boy.” The old man sat down and started shuffling through the documents from Glade.

  Glade and Bodhi spun to face him.

  “When was my daughter here? Why didn’t you say so before?” Glade stormed toward the old man, but Bodhi jostled his way in between and used an arm to restrain him.

  “You can’t stop this, or it will take another 150 years for the Mountain to complete the cycle again,” the old man said matter-of-factly.

  Glade slumped into a chair. “I don’t think I could endure that much more. I’m tired.”

  Bodhi squeezed Glade’s shoulder and backed toward the cavern opening. “Which way did she go? We’ve got to get her. After the things they did to Glade . . . That is a very evil place.”

  “She has to be here.” Glade’s voice sounded strangled.

  Bodhi stopped. His fists clenched as his temper rose. Glade seemed old and resigned. Not at all like the fierce one who’d steered him from Selah just a few short months ago. “If that doctor catches her in there, we’ll never see her again. Do you want to risk that?”

  “No, I don’t, but I also don’t want to draw attention to the fact that she’s in there. If they don’t know, we may lead them straight to her,” Glade said. He seemed to be recovering from his initial shock.

  “Neither of you seems to have read the Keepers’ documents.” The old man threw up his hands, seeming exasperated. “The order of the cycle is very specific. Apparently you’ve stumbled upon the steps by some grace. But now you must retrieve her so that she is on time.”

  “On time for what?” Bodhi and Glade asked in unison.

  The old man shrugged and looked at Glade. “The end of the cycle you started when you began adding additional data to the map.”

  “End of the cycle? Why didn’t you tell me I would start a countdown?” Sweat popped out on Glade’s upper lip. Bodhi felt more panic from seeing that than he did about the situation.

  “Because I didn’t think it was an accident that you all showed up at the same time. In twenty-four hours everything will be done.” The old man continued to look at the map.

  “This could have been delayed—if I hadn’t added data?” Glade’s expression crashed.

  “But then Selah would not have the key and she’d go mad,” Bodhi said, trying to center Glade.

  The old man stood up. “Do you know what it’s like to live in a cave for 150 years?” He looked at each of them, holding their gaze for several seconds. “No. I didn’t think so. I’m tired. My job needs to be completed.”

  “I only have twenty-four hours to get her back here.” Bodhi looked to Glade. “I know you don’t want me near her, but you’re not going to stop me.”

  Glade nodded once. Bodhi darted for the tunnel.

  “Wait! Not that way.” The old man hurried to a limestone panel on the far side of the cave. “Use these tunnels. The distance is much shorter. Always stay to your right going there, and to your left on the way back.” He used a holographic keypad to swing the door open. “After being inside, she may act a little disoriented. Bring her back here to me and Glade.”

  “This is your fault, old man. You knew she was the novarium and you let her go back in that Mountain to be captured. If she’s harmed, I will haunt your dreams till the end of time.” Bodhi surprised even himself with the ferocity of his response.

  The old man shrugged as though he didn’t notice. “She had to go in there. The chemical compound she needs to inhale is the very thing that has been degrading the DNA in those people for the last 150 years. It’s very ironic—what gives her life hastens their death.”

  18

  The rear guards pushed Selah and Cleon behind Bethany. Two more guards fell in line outside the doors to the Historical Antiquities Department. With no possibility of escape, Selah focused her thoughts on seeing her mother and finding a way to free her and Dane, but her plans were tempered with fear for Treva’s safety. Would this evil woman make Treva suffer for Selah’s actions?

  This time Selah recognized the halls back to Bethany’s building. Committing them to memory gave her an exit plan if they got free again and a mental exercise that helped calm the chaos within her.

  The time from the department to Bethany’s offices took exactly five minutes and seven seconds. Selah sucked in a breath when the scorched palm pad came into view. They bypassed that door and turned to another corridor on the right.

  Selah stopped short. She knew this doorway and so should Cleon. This lab had held Glade during his incarceration. Here they’d found the unconscious form of Bethany’s husband, Noah Everling, and the burnt remains of the man who’d worked for him.

  The guard tried to push her forward, but she resisted. What had happened to Noah, the doctor who’d tormented Glade? Selah had only seen his wife since she’d been here.

  She got a whiff of that floral scent again. If she lived here and had to smell that every day, it might drive her nuts. A lightning flash crossed her vision. Her mind struggled to focus.

  The guard pushed Selah harder. She contained the urge to turn on him since it might endanger her mother, and instead let him push her through the open door.

  On the right sat the cell where she’d cried when viewing what she thought were Glade’s burnt remains. She hesitated to look in that direction. A banging sound filtered into range. She looked over. Behind the transparent plascine wall, her nine-year-old brother, Dane, his brown eyes wild-looking beneath the darkening mop of blond hair, pounded on the wall with both fists.

  Selah’s heart beat to bursting. She ran to the wall. “Mother! Dane! Are you all right?” This was the room where fire burst from the walls. She tried to find the control to open the doorway.

  Pasha Rishon, in her quiet elegance, strode to the wall and calmly placed her hands flat on the clear plascine, her flowing mane of dark hair set against green eyes and her lean frame dressed in gray slacks and tunic. She smiled softly. Selah instantly remembered a time when Father had playfully threatened to cut Mother’s hair so the horse he was showing at Farm Competition could have an impressive tail.

  Selah moved to the spot and placed her hands against her mother’s. She barely felt her warmth through the wall. Yet the connection, no matter how slight, brought her a flood of peace. She’d found her mother and little brother at last. She turned to Cleon. A guard held him back with a weapon pressed to his chest.

  “Let Cleon come ove
r here,” Selah said, trying to force courage and composure into her voice, though it sounded strangled. She had to remain calm for Cleon and Dane.

  Bethany didn’t move, and neither did the guards. Selah spun to face them. “Mrs. Everling, if you want me to—”

  “Dr. Everling is my official title,” Bethany said with arms crossed.

  Selah pressed her lips together. Her defiance bubbled up. “Bethany, let my brother come see our family. If you want me to cooperate, let’s see you do some of the same.” She fisted her hands on her hips. Where the brashness came from, she didn’t know, but she felt like a weight had lifted from her chest.

  She turned back to her mother. They communicated with their eyes, and Mother gave her strength.

  Bethany shrugged off the demand but directed the guard to let Cleon go to the wall. He hurried over to reach out to Mother and Dane.

  “I want time with my mother and brothers.” Selah rubbed Cleon’s shoulder and turned back to face Bethany.

  “And why do you think you rate special treatment? You’ve already assaulted me, Chavez, and my guards.”

  “Because I’ve got what you want, and it would go a lot easier for you if I were happy while I was doing it. You wouldn’t like me angry.” Selah glared at her.

  Bethany turned away to face a console. Selah figured the demand hadn’t worked. She’d better get in any greetings before her family disappeared. But as long as she cooperated, their safety would be ensured, and she’d demand proof of it.

  Bethany cleared her throat. “Okay, I agree. You can have an hour with your family.”

  “And a noontime meal for us?” Selah asked, wanting to stretch the time.

  “You don’t get that long. A meal will be sent. Immediately afterward we start the extraction.”

  A chill crawled down her back. Selah shuddered involuntarily. The feeling came so swiftly it tingled her toes. Did she really hear a humming in her head? She looked around. It sounded like a machine had started, but no one else reacted to the sound.

  Selah hugged her mother and brother, then hugged them some more as they ate the meager meal of fruit and bread. She watched Cleon being smothered in little brother giggles and mother kisses. She’d been silently hoping for this day, but at what cost? Knowing the disregard her stepfather had already exhibited, she couldn’t think of a single circumstance where this could have turned out differently. Even Varro’s mandate—

  She stopped. She had just thought of her stepfather as Varro. Did that seem right? This was the man who had raised her since birth.

  Dane grabbed Selah around the neck and gave her a big hug. “I missed you something fierce. You left without saying goodbye. Mother said you had important business to attend. Are you coming home now?”

  She smiled and tousled his hair, then looked over his head at Mother hugging Cleon, motioning that they needed to talk.

  Mother nodded and whispered to Cleon, who turned to Dane. “Hey, shrimp, I missed you. Let’s see if you remember the wrestling moves I taught you.”

  Cleon and Dane moved off into the back corner, and Mother scooted over to Selah.

  With her mother’s arms resting around her shoulders, Selah felt a new sense of responsibility. She had to protect them from Bethany . . . and from Varro.

  “Mother, what happened after I left? How did you get here?” Selah pressed her head to her mother’s shoulder. The familiar herb scent of her special soap comforted her.

  Mother didn’t answer. Selah sat up. “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m sorry.” Mother closed her eyes and shook her head. “I dreaded the day I’d have to tell you. I’ve played it over in my mind a hundred times, and I still don’t understand any of this. I don’t know why or how long he knew, but Varro and his friends from Waterside were trying to keep you from becoming novarium. They wanted some kind of Protocol to pass from you to your offspring with Jericho Kingston.”

  Selah grabbed her mother’s hands. “What do you know about the Protocol?”

  “Nothing. I’ve just heard Varro use the term numerous times in his conversations with Simeon Kingston. The man was quite upset about not getting back the dowry he paid for you.”

  Selah wanted to blurt out that Varro and Simeon had been part of a murder, but that knowledge might become a bargaining chip if it were truly a secret. “How much did Var—Fa—” Selah squeezed her eyes shut with a sigh and dropped her head.

  Mother rubbed the back of Selah’s hand. “You can call him Varro. I heard you found Glade, and I’m so happy you did. I’m sure you’ve decided to call him Father.”

  “I hear the caring in your voice when you say his name.”

  Mother’s eyes moistened. She turned her gaze and took on a faraway look.

  Selah smiled softly. At that moment she knew what she wanted to do. “How much did Varro owe for my dowry?” She figured even a reasonable amount could be dealt with. Repayment would smooth all this over.

  “Apparently it was a million bio-coin. Varro spent most of it on land and extravagant high-tech farm equipment. He brought us here and made a deal with that evil woman for all the coin he owed plus a bonus.”

  Selah gulped in air. There was no reasonable amount anywhere close to that value. The reality of the deal had become clear. This wasn’t clan. This was commerce. Dowries were payment. She had come close to being married off to cement a neighboring clan relationship. But in reality, she was being sold into some strange slavery. How often had that happened to other girls in Dominion?

  Bethany swept into the room, followed by four guards. “Okay, your time is up. We have to get you to prep.”

  Selah stood in the doorway between their weapons and her family. Cleon moved to her side and put his hand on her shoulder.

  Bethany motioned her out.

  “Will my family be safe?” Selah stared at Bethany, reading her body-speak.

  “As long as you cooperate and don’t do anything funny to your blood, we’ve got an agreement.” Bethany’s posture verified she spoke the truth. It also told Selah that Bethany believed her story about being able to manipulate her blood. Bethany’s knowledge of novarium was an act. Selah needed more time to create a plan.

  “Let’s get started.” Selah moved through the doorway. Cleon followed.

  Bethany pointed at Cleon. “Not you. Stay in there with your family.”

  He started to object.

  “It’ll be all right.” Selah pushed him back in with Mother and Dane.

  It’ll be all right echoed in Selah’s head. The sound stretched and vibrated, each word repeating multiple times, ebbing and flowing like the ocean. Selah tried to concentrate on the surface where she lay. A dizzying wave kept pulling her mind away. Her stomach lurched. She fought to swallow what little moisture she had in her mouth. Focus! Fighting her way back, she latched onto the wave, bringing feeling in her arms until they became solid. Her palms pressed to the cold metal beneath her. She moved her fingers.

  Voices talked around her, but the echo made them impossible to understand. Focus! She fought frame by frame to quiet the sounds in her head. The only thing that could cause this kind of disorientation was a drug. Selah tried not to panic, and the sense was so dull she almost laughed. That would not be good. They’d know she was conscious.

  Feeling returned to her feet. Slight moves of her toes. Now her brain. One. Two. Three. Say them faster, faster . . . Her head cleared. She remained unresponsive, hoping to hear something useful.

  “I’ve got you hooked to bio-machines. I know when you’re awake, Selah,” Bethany said from a distance of about five feet.

  Selah figured it was now or never. She lunged, straining against the straps holding her arms, legs, and torso to the table. Her eyes flew open. She felt rage . . . but it was too dull and flat to pull a forceful response. Her body betrayed her.

  “That’s more like it. As you can see, I sort of lied. The liquids you received to replace the blood loss were a drug cocktail I developed for the next generation o
f clones, which you were also responsible for me losing. So I decided to try it out on you.” Bethany snorted with laughter. “And guess what? It worked. Not like I wanted, but you’ve been out for an hour, which was more than enough time to get a good harvest of your blood. My team is at work in the lab as we speak.”

  Stark white walls and floor prevented Selah from locking on a focal point other than the wires and tubes attached to her arms and legs. She was dressed in white shorts and a T-shirt. She could hear rhythmic clicking from the machine behind her head, but trying to focus on the sound made her head reel.

  “An hour!” That was what she wanted to say, but the words came out slurred. She tried to sit up, but the restraint on her chest held her down. She sank back to the table. She checked the tubes and apparatuses connected to her body. Blood leaving in one place—her right arm. Fluids coming into her body in one place—her left ankle. She had to concentrate on restricting flow to those areas.

  “Hmm, look at that.” Bethany studied her screen and waved her hand over a halo-button.

  A shriek of pain burst from Selah’s lips as unbelievable white-hot pain seared her brain. Her body convulsed and her back arched, straining her chest against the strap. Stop! Dots of sweat burst on her forehead and ran down her temples in lazy rivulets that ended puddled in her ears.

  The pain disappeared. No lingering sensation. Gone. Selah shuddered. Her breath came in great heaving gulps. “Water! Please give me—”

  “Now we make a new deal. You keep the blood flowing, and I won’t introduce you to any more of my new forms of persuasion.” Bethany didn’t wait for an answer. She turned away from Selah, poured a cup of water into a squeeze bottle, then turned back to loom over Selah’s face. “Open up.”

  Selah set her jaw. She tried to glare, but her eyes were still drifting in and out.

  “I hope you don’t think I’m going to untie you to let you drink. Open up.”

  Selah reluctantly opened her mouth. The spray bounced off her lips and she closed her eyes. Refreshing. The water washed away some of the fog in her head. Her tongue wasn’t stuck to her mouth. Maybe she could earn a little sympathy by showing compassion. “Are your people safe?”