The Riser Saga

by Becca C. Smith

I had to take a minute to calm my brain down from all the excitement. “You’re the human equivalent of a brain-fry,” I said and laughed a little.

  Ryan smiled back and kissed me gently. “I just want you to know…” Ryan was suddenly very serious.

  I had a surge of panic. Was he going to break up with me? Was I terrible? Why was he looking at me like that?

  “I love you,” he said and there was genuine fear in his eyes.

  And I realized the fear was because he didn’t know how I felt about him. He was completely putting himself out there and I was officially letting him hang.

  “I love you,” I said and kissed him again.

  We couldn’t seem to control ourselves. It was getting harder and harder to break away. I was filled with a genuine glow of happiness I had never felt before. Ryan loved me. I guess I already knew that from the way he looked at me to his actions over the last week, but to hear him say it made my heart swell uncontrollably. He pushed in closer to me and I was so besieged by this onslaught of sensations I couldn’t even keep a coherent thought.

  This time I had to rip myself away from him. “Whoa,” I said and I felt like laughing again. These past days were filled with one extreme to the next. From the devastating death of my mother, to constantly fighting to stay alive, to the awe-inspiring loyalty of friends, to Ryan. I was shocked that my heart was still beating.

  “Yeah, whoa is right,” Ryan said with a genuine grin. “I really meant for you to go to sleep,” he said sheepishly.

  “Sure you did, perv,” I said and tickled his side.

  Ryan squirmed and laughed, then his eyes met mine, intense. “Everything that we went through today… I just wanted to tell you how I felt… In case…”

  “Don’t start thinking that way. I’m going to meet with Turner tomorrow, Jason is going to release the holo-footage and everything is going to be fine. I promise,” I said and hoped I wasn’t lying.

  Ryan held my face in his hands and kissed me lightly. “You’re right. Everything will work out. I have complete faith in you.” Ryan positioned himself so he could cradle me from behind. He kissed the back of my neck. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

  Ryan’s arms felt strong and welcoming as they held me close when exhaustion finally claimed me. I was asleep in seconds.

  Monday September 27, 2320

  Chapter Seven

  I became aware of the fact that I was dreaming when I realized I was flying over Nancy’s house. It was strange because I felt completely awake, but I was soaring through the air like a bird. I could even feel the wind on my face and all the sounds of nightlife chirping and hooting as I sped past. I had no control over my destination. It was as if I was a fish on a hook being reeled in.

  I was above it all; houses, buildings, hover-cars, almost in the stars themselves. I viewed the city below. Tiny glowing strings of light weaved together like a tapestry of luminosity. One thread radiated brighter than all the rest and I was immediately drawn to it. When I looked down at my body, I saw that it was actually connected to my chest and was the source that pulled me forward. Up close the string was bright yellow and seemingly had no substance, it was made up completely of light, and yet it was strong like a rope. It tugged me down toward its end.

  Once I gave into the pull, I soared at a thrilling speed to see where this cord of light led. My surroundings whizzed by me at lightning speed. It was such a rush I didn’t want to wake up. I could feel my adrenaline course through my body and it was exhilarating.

  The roof of an enormous twenty-acre mansion rose up to meet me like a wall of doom and I flinched, ready for impact. Instead, I flew straight through it as if it were made of air. The thread of light was so bright it was almost blinding as I entered a master bedroom the size of Nancy’s house and I suddenly stopped, hovering over the source of light. I was drawn to it like a moth to flame. I was connected to it as surely as I was connected to anything. It felt right. It felt warm and inviting.

  Through the glow I could tell it was another person who was emanating this cord of light. I squinted to see whom I was so drawn to. To see who pulled me out of my body to bring me here? I could barely see their face…

  No.

  The cat-like features of my grandmother glowed brightly from the string of light that bound us together. I tried to break free. I wanted to wretch from the realization of who was lying in front of me. I could see Turner sleeping soundly next to her then. He just looked like an old man, snoring loudly, thinning hair tousled. Not nearly as scary as when he was awake, but Roberta was just as terrifying asleep, with her pulled back skin and frozen features. Truly a monster in the darkness. I would have thought she was dead if I hadn’t seen her chest moving up and down.

  The string started to rein me in once more. I tried to put on the brakes. I couldn’t believe there had even been a second of comfort from this wicked woman. The last thing I wanted to do was be sucked inside her vortex of evil, but the pull was too strong. I was going inside her head. Just like Turner did to me that night in the hospital. This was the astral projection thingy that Jason talked about. I must have a natural instinct for it. Or, when Turner did it to me, it opened up that part of my brain so I could do it myself. Whatever the reason, I was here in Roberta Turner’s bedroom, about to jump inside her brain.

  And it suddenly occurred to me: that might not be a bad thing. Maybe I could find some things out. Maybe I could convince her to leave my friends and me alone. It was worth a try.

  I closed my eyes and leapt in like I did when I flew through the roof. It was as if her body was insubstantial and only the light was real.

  I opened my eyes…

  I was alone in total darkness.

  I didn’t panic like I thought I would. I was actually quite calm considering I was in feline freak’s head. Trying to figure out how this whole thing worked was my biggest concern. Do I walk around? Will things just appear in front of me? Is there some version of her in here like when Turner visited me? He was much more experienced than me when it came to this out of body ordeal, but so far I’d been figuring this kind of thing out just fine.

  “Memories,” I said out loud, hoping for some result.

  And sure enough a long hallway opened up in front of me with doors on either side. It seemed to stretch out for miles and miles as if there were no end. I walked over to the first door and opened it.

  Inside was blurry, like seeing through a pair of someone else’s glasses. No matter how much I squinted my eyes to get a clearer picture, it stayed the same fuzziness. From the blurred scene, I could make out a couple. It looked like Turner and Roberta when they were younger, in their twenties, but it was hard to tell for sure. It was outside in a park, Turner kneeled down on one knee, holding Roberta’s hand. A proposal no doubt. Blek. I was glad it was blurry. Seeing them happy and in love made me want to puke. I closed the door.

  I skipped ahead a few doors and opened a second one. This one was as clear as crystal and I nearly leapt back from the shock of it. It was the actual facial surgery that made Grandma a feline. I could barely watch as they lifted her skin off her skull and began cutting off the excess…

  I shut the door as quickly as possible. Gross.

  I walked down the endless hallway until I found a door that was partially open. Maybe it was something she wanted me to see? Curiosity got the best of me and I opened it the rest of the way.

  It was a birthday party. Streamers, balloons of every color, and a sign that draped over the table that said, “Happy Birthday Franklin.” My heart nearly stopped. My dad’s birthday! Turner and Roberta came from the other room, looking the age they were today. Roberta was carrying a cake with two candles spelling out eight-five. I felt a thrill of excitement. I’d get to see my dad again, probably right before he met my mother by the happy expressions on Gram’s and Gramp’s faces (definitely pre-Mom era). They still had that un-tainted pride for their son in this memory. The kind of look I’d see in parents where they truly belie
ved their kids could do no wrong.

  “Franklin! Come blow out your candles! You can play with your toys later!” Roberta called out.

  Toys?

  I wanted to cry.

  My dad came running in the room and he looked eight-years-old.

  They gave their own son Age-pro! Eighty-five-years-old and he was still a child! It was grotesque. It was so wrong on so many different levels. My dad was forced to be a kid for almost a century! Maybe longer! This was just one memory and I had no idea how old he was when he died. My head felt like it was going to explode from a mixture of intense feelings I couldn’t even fathom.

  And he looked so happy.

  That was the hardest thing to watch.

  They were a family.

  A real honest family. And they loved each other.

  I stepped out of the entryway and practically slammed the door.

  I didn’t want to see that.

  I liked thinking of my dad hating his parents as much as I did. They killed my mother, they killed him, they tried to kill me!

  So what if they had a few moments of humanity in them! Hello?! He was an eighty-five eight-year-old! I don’t care how cozy they looked, they were still psychotic.

  I just couldn’t seem to shake the sparkling glow of contentment in all of their eyes. It was haunting me worse than anything.

  I decided to walk a few doors down. This one was harder to open, but after a large tug it finally gave.

  Roberta was waiting in her gold living room. (I recognized it from my mother’s vision.) Her face wasn’t as stretched as it was today, but I could definitely tell she had started the madness that ended up being her face. A man entered the room with trepidation. He looked very familiar, but I couldn’t quite place where I knew him. He had small furtive features, almost mouse-like, very fitting for the feline standing over him. He seemed to be a doctor of some sort, at least the white lab coat suggested this to be true. His hair was gray and he had crinkles around his pale brown eyes and a large two-inch crease between his eyebrows as if he were perpetually upset.

  “John, come in,” Roberta said to the man.

  John Fortski!

  The man who invented Age-pro! Of course, my grandparents knew him. I should have known better.

  “Do you have it?” Roberta’s eyes went wide with anticipation, and this was quite a feat considering the paralysis drugs injected into her expression lines were doing their job very well.

  “Yes, but it’s in its very early stages. I can’t promise that there won’t be side effects.” John was down right jumpy as if he knew how Roberta would react.

  “I don’t care about side effects! Does it work or not?” Roberta went from excited to angry in about a millisecond.

  “It should work, yes, but I haven’t figured out the proper dosage for the way the drug effects brain chemistry. A couple of the test subjects have had severe brain damage. They’ve become erratic and even dangerous.” John couldn’t even look Roberta in the eye he was so leery of her response.

  “All I care about is the wrinkles, Fortski. Does it stop those?” Roberta seemed unfazed by John’s warning.

  “It should, yes, but…” John started to argue.

  “Give them to me.” Roberta was on him, grabbing his lab coat, searching his pockets. John just stood there, frozen, letting her do as she pleased.

  “Not yet, my dear.” Turner entered the room. He was probably about ten years younger than he looked now.

  “Geoffrey, don’t start.” Roberta let go of Fortski and whirled to face her husband.

  “Let’s give it a few more tries before we start down that road.” Turner was calm and steady as if he’d had these kinds of discussions with Roberta before.

  Roberta backed off of Fortski with what I think was a pout (it was so hard to tell from all the injections). “Fine, but if it’s not finished within the year, you’re buying me another face lift.” She shook her finger at Turner.

  “Deal, my love, though you hardly need it as beautiful as you are.” Turner reached his hands out and Roberta took them lovingly.

  Barf.

  I walked out and kicked the door shut on my way down the hallway.

  I was getting the hang of this and starting to feel more at home inside the head of Grandma. I was sure I could find something that would help save us, if I just picked the right door. I’d stay all night if I had to, and the next night, and the next, I’d know everything about Gramps and Grams and all of their evil plans. I couldn’t wait to tell Jason and the others about this, just a few more doors and then I really needed to get some honest to goodness sleep. I’m sure this was paying a toll on my psyche and I didn’t want to be exhausted in the morn….

  I stopped dead in my tracks.

  Roberta stood about ten feet in front of me in the hallway.

  All the doorways disappeared in wisps of smoke.

  Uh oh.

  “Well,” was all she said, but in that one word so much was packed into it and none of it good.

  We were in utter darkness, but somehow both of us were visible to each other.

  “Well.” I tried back, but mine was completely lame. Can I just leave? How do I do that? I’m still dreaming right? My body is back at Nancy’s so can she really hurt me?

  “You thought you could nose about in my memories, did you?” Roberta wasn’t pleased.

  “It was sort of by accident. I thought I was dreaming and I saw this giant beam of light and it kind of pulled me in and it was you.” I was seriously stalling at this point. I may have been asleep, but she still scared the living crap out of me.

  “The unfortunates of being related. We’re connected you and I, more than I care to admit,” Roberta confessed.

  Yuck. I wanted to break that connection more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. I couldn’t stand thinking of being linked to the woman who was responsible for killing my mother and father.

  “You kept my father a child for eighty years.” I don’t know why that came out, but I was glad it did. Her face winced.

  “A hundred to be exact, and he’d still be my child today if it weren’t for your mother.” Roberta was livid now, but I couldn’t help my morbid curiosity. I wanted to know more about my parents and she was my only shot at finding anything out.

  “How is that even possible? I saw my mother’s vision, Dad was an adult. They met when he was twenty,” I repeated what I had been told by Mom.

  Roberta laughed which was really grotesque to watch. “Is that what she told you?”

  “It’s the truth.” I did that to provoke her. Mom had obviously fibbed a bit and the only way to get anything out of this feline was to hit her anger buttons. And I was really good at hitting people’s anger buttons. I had years of practice with Jill.

  Roberta snarled in fury.

  Okay, maybe I pressed too hard. I had to remind myself that I wasn’t really there. But somewhere deep down I knew that wasn’t true. I knew on some basic level of understanding that if I was jolted out of her head, or if I broke the connection between us, I might wake up damaged somehow.

  “Lies. Everything that came out of your mother was lies!” Roberta’s hands were shaking from the venomous anger coursing through her veins. “Your traitorous mother was our Nanny!”

  What?

  No, seriously.

  What?!

  Oh crap.

  “When she found out Franklin’s true age she kidnapped him and stopped giving him Age-pro! She let him grow up! She kept him from us for ten years! Ten years of not seeing your own flesh and blood! I hadn’t been away from Franklin for more than a day in all one-hundred years of his life and then to have him ripped away from me like that!” Roberta said, pain in her voice. I’d almost feel sorry for her, if she wasn’t crazy! “Geoffrey and I will never forgive your mother for that. For turning our Franklin against us and kidnapping him. Your mother was worse than trash! She fell in love with an eight-year-old!”

  My mom would have been about twenty
at the time and my dad a hundred, but on some level I was repulsed by the idea myself. This must have been the part that Mom didn’t want to tell me. It made more sense why she picked a man like Bruce to be her husband. It wasn’t just the guilt of losing my father, it was the guilt of falling in love with a boy who looked eight-years-old. Even logically knowing he was eighty years older than her, the inherent wrongness of the situation probably haunted her until the day she was killed.

  “Okay. I get it. You’re right, it sounds gross, but how is that my fault?” I hoped I could reach her on an emotional level. Even though I wanted to say that I thought it was even more horrifying and repulsive that she kept a human being eight-years-old for a hundred years. But I wanted information and since her doors of memory seemed to be out of the question now I needed to nurture her anger for my mother. I went a step further. “Look at my eyes, my lips, they’re his, you can see it.” I stepped closer to her, trying not to show my fear.