But that only lasted a few weeks. It’s awfully hard to be in the stoner crowd when, like me, you wear thick, heavy glasses and walk with a limp. My vision is so bad that I can’t wear contacts. Besides my Mom kicked my ass for it. As soon as my grades started to slip, she put me to work. Fixing stuff and cleaning up around the house. She’s tough like that.
My problem now is I’m not sure where I fit in. No one wants to hang out with the teacher’s pet.
Class wraps up and school is out. I don’t have a car, so have to take the bus. Randall Sibley, a big jock with a blunt military haircut, sits next to me. He’s kind of cute, not bad.
“Hey,” he says, looking right at me.
“Hi.” I have no idea what else to say. He’s never talked to me before, so it’s a little weird. He must want something. Or maybe he likes me? He stares out the window at the stark, flat California Tri-Valley. Not much to see, really.
“Heard you’re helping out with the school newspaper,” Randall says eagerly. “Listen, I’m running for class president so was thinking that you could write an article about me.”
I point to the book in my arm, Philosophy Before Socrates, and respond in a clipped tone, “Sorry, but the article I’m writing is about ancient philosophy.”
His stare is blank like he has no idea what I’m talking about. “Uh…never mind.” Frowning, he shrugs, gets up, and moves to another seat. So much for him liking me. I’m not sure what I said wrong, but I’ve never been great at small talk. If he doesn’t know about Socrates, though, I’m not sure we’d have that much to talk about anyway.
My mood instantly lifts as my house comes into view. The bus stops, I step out onto the gravel and hold my arm out and wait. In less than a minute, a graceful butterfly flutters down to rest on my forearm.
“Hello, my beautiful friend,” I say quietly. The intricate black and orange mosaic pattern on its amazing wings mesmerizes me. This is a special butterfly – a Monarch.
Soon, a large swarm of these butterflies arrive, transforming my arm into a mass of fluttering wings. I smile. This is the part of my life that I love most. Every afternoon, this is our ritual.
Rolling grape and olive orchards pepper the land around our house, but we don’t farm it. We’re just renting. For some reason or another, we’re always on the move. In fact, I don’t think we’ve ever stayed in the same home longer than a year.
As I open the front door, the familiar scent of fresh cut flowers hits me. Our living room is rustic, yet hip, with an oversized tan cowhide sofa accented with sheepskin pillows and a chrome-edged coffee table topped with a thick slab of obsidian. My mother has impeccable taste.
A stunning image catches my eye. A canvas up on the wall. Something new. The striking contrast of colors - vibrant greens and muted shades of red and gold - creates quite an intriguing, yet elaborate image of a tree.
Like magic, the tree seems to come to life as the intricate leaves sway to and fro. A mystical golden eagle is perched in the tree’s branches. Just like in the dream. Aetoa. The image changes with every twist and turn, like an intricate kaleidoscope.
It’s amazing, yet, something about it is amiss. It’s like some sinister darkness is brewing deep within the shadows of the branches. Like a complex paradox where nothing is as it seems.
Of course, it’s a cypress tree. My mother’s favorite charm and the centerpiece of my bedtime stories. Her epic tales were filled with triumph, glory and love between Greek and Egyptian gods and goddesses. But not like the myths we study at school. It was like they were real people. The tree was enchanted, holding some special power as it stood all alone, the last of its kind. She called it the ‘Lone Cypress Tree.’
No wonder I dream about it and love mythology so much.
The doorbell rings. As I peer outside through the screen door, I’m surprised to see two police officers standing there, a man and a woman. Hairs rise on the back of my neck in alarm. What do the police want with me?
When I open the door, the officers stand there, rigid and uncomfortable, eyes unblinking, arms folded across their chests. Finally, after a long, awkward silence, the woman speaks. “Helene Crawford?”
I nod.
“I’m Officer Riley from the Livermore PD,” she states in a cold, detached tone. She then points to the man, who has kind eyes. “This is my partner, Officer Ryan. Can we come inside?”
“Sure.” I nod, allowing them into our tiny foyer. “What’s this about?” I ask, a little nervous.
Her grimace falls away as her demeanor noticeably softens. “I’m sorry…” she stammers.
I try to concentrate, but I’m so nervous about being questioned by the police that it’s hard to focus.
She continues. “It’s your mother. There was a fire.” She pauses. Her voice cracks as she speaks. “Your mother is gone.”
2 – Trust No One
All I can do is stare. My brain tries to adjust to the shock of what I think I just heard. The quiet is so extreme that I can hear the slow, steady drip of a leaky faucet somewhere upstairs.
“Wha…what did you just say?” I stammer, looking down at my hands. “What do you mean she’s gone?”
This can’t be right. Mom’s probably just working late or out with friends. This must be some big misunderstanding.
But that dream is still fresh in my mind. I can hear her words clear as day, as if she is here with me now: “The rest of this journey, you must face alone.” The stark realization of what she meant hits me hard. Bam! It slams me in the chest.
“Are you saying…that…my mom…”– my voice cracks – “…is dead?”
A feeling of overwhelming dread starts to consume me, but then I remember. My mom is strong and vibrant. No such thing as impossible for her.
No….no, no, no. It can’t be true. It just can’t. I don’t believe it.
Officer Riley’s features melt into sadness, her eyes wide and glassy, her façade of professionalism gone. Her face is raw with emotion. She nods somberly and whispers, “Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“No! There’s no way she’d just leave me like this!” I shriek. I feel as if I’ve just eaten a sandwich with glass in it. The shards cut into my thoughts. My stomach churns and spasms.
Officer Riley takes a moment to talk with the other officer, Officer Ryan. Their voices seem so far away, I can barely hear what they are saying through my racing thoughts.
When they return their attention to me, Officer Ryan explains, “After the fire died down, we found this amongst the ashes in your mother’s workspace.” He pulls out a photo of an object that looks like a medallion, and on its face is a blue, black, and red emblem with two snakes wrapped around a torch in the double helix shape of…DNA. Very strange.
My head feels fuzzy, like maybe I’m losing my mind.
“Have you ever seen this before?” he asks earnestly.
I study the medallion, but it means nothing to me, so I shake my head.
He shifts awkwardly from side to side. His discomfort is clear and obvious. We’re getting nowhere.
He instantly snaps out of it, though, at the sound of squealing tires. Both officers’ eyes grow wide as they exchange looks of alarm, rush to the window, and pull out their guns. I step up behind them and we peer outside.
A bright red Mustang coupe peels into my driveway, kicking up gravel into a cloud of dust. My nose wrinkles at the acrid stench of burning rubber, but apparently, there is no threat. The officers seem relieved and holster their guns as the screen door opens with a swift jerk.
A seventy-something man, pasty pale with crooked, yellowing teeth, wipes sweat from his forehead with a napkin. It’s not even that hot outside. His s
tern eyes follow me with a forced smile. Maybe it’s his cheap-looking suit or his weird toupee, but all my instincts scream that this guy is not my friend. There is something seriously off about him.
“Miss Crawford,” he says with a slight lisp as he shoves a dog-eared business card into my hand. “My name is Harold Avery, attorney at law.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Your mother hired me. You can call me Hal.”
Hal snatches the medallion photo right out of Officer Ryan’s hand, catching him totally off guard. His eyes widen in shock as Hal asks, “What’s this?”
“Wait…who did you say you are?” Officer Riley asks him suspiciously, then turns to me. “Helene, can you excuse us for a moment?”
I nod. “Of course.”
The police officers motion Hal over to the corner where they huddle. I hear bits and pieces of their discussion. It sounds like Officer Riley is talking about the medallion. She holds up her phone to show the attorney something, so I can overhear them perfectly.
“Our research indicates that this unique helix symbol may be connected to a complex underground crime network that operates out of Athens,” the officer says crisply.
“You can’t believe everything you read on the Internet,” says the attorney indignantly. “Most of it is just urban myth.”
“Our sources are way beyond the scope of the Internet, Mr. Avery.” Officer Riley says tersely. Hal scoffs at her with an air of annoyed indifference.
A chill runs down my spine at the words ‘underground crime network’. Are they talking about the mafia?
“Wait, Athens? As in Greece?” I say out loud.
They all turn to look at me. “Relax,” says Harold Avery. “There’s nothing to get excited about.” They turn and start talking again, voices low and urgent.
Then I hear more.
Officer Riley continues in a low steady voice. “This was likely arson. Gasoline was found on the scene. The fire erupted into an inferno at 2:33 p.m. at the lab where Diana Crawford was working. Then there was an explosion. She didn’t make it out in time.”
Arson? Someone did this to my mom intentionally? I knew that she was working on some government-sponsored research at the Lawrence Livermore Labs, but this is crazy. Something doesn’t add up.
“So, it was…murder? But why?”
They all turn to face me, looking surprised to still see me there.
“No one said the word murder, Helene,” Officer Ryan offers in an overly calm and reassuring voice. “We’re still investigating all avenues.”
They turn and start whispering again, but this time so softly that I can’t hear them at all. I look down at my iPhone. The image there makes me sad. It’s Mom and me. It was my sixth birthday when she surprised me with a last-minute trip to Disney Land. Like every other kid on the planet, I was ecstatic to be there. She was alive and well. We were so happy.
In the photo, around her neck, is the cypress tree necklace.
I reach down to my chest as if to feel it there, but instead, I feel the soft steady thump of my beating heart and something more…
Our ‘soul bridge’. Whenever something important happened to me – good or bad - somehow, Mom seemed to know instantly. It was like she could feel me through the energy connected between our hearts, through our invisible ‘bridge.’
During my ‘wild-girl’ phase, I was out past my curfew, very tired, and was in a horrible accident. I totaled the car just down the road from our house. The minute it happened, Mom claims that she popped up straight out of bed. She instantly knew everything, as if she were right there with me.
Right now, this is how I know she’s okay. I feel her life’s essence stronger than ever.
“What if my Mom is still alive?” I ask out loud.
“No, dear. I’m sorry, but that’s not possible,” Officer Riley says with somber seriousness.
Have I lost it? I don’t think so. The soul bridge has never let me down before.
The attorney cuts in. “Your mother hired me to handle her estate and to transport you to Greece where you will live with your godfather, Janus Giannopoulos.”
“Wait, what?!” I ask. I have never heard of Janus Gianno-whatever-his-name is. I have no idea what is going on across the planet, much less what is going on here. This is crazy. Will I move across the world to live with someone I’ve never heard of before when my mother just died…? No. My body doesn’t even want to move two inches. “There must be some mistake. I don’t have a godfather, and I’ve never been to Greece, and neither has my mother.”
Hal frowns and clears his throat. He peers down at the rain-soaked papers in his shaky hand. “Well, this is a power of attorney granting me temporary custody as your legal guardian until you arrive safely in the custody of Mr. Giannopoulos in Athens. He will be your guardian until you’re twenty-one.”
My mouth falls open. The room feels as if it’s slowly closing in on me.
“You don’t have any other living relatives, do you?” Hal prods me.
“No,” I say quietly, “I don’t.”
Of course, I make no mention of my dad. That’s because he was an anonymous sperm donor. Mom was all alone and wanted a baby, so here I am. The sad part is that Mom never had any brothers or sisters, and my grandparents passed away long before I was born, so it’s just us…all alone. It was just us.
Officer Ryan grabs the tattered papers out of Hal’s hand, studying them carefully. “I’m not sure about this. I don’t care what paperwork you have. We can’t just hand her over to you without Child Protective Services being here.”
Officer Riley chimes in. “Yeah, and isn’t it a little concerning for Helene to go to Greece? Isn’t there a serious crisis going on there right now?”
I don’t know much about Greece, but I seem to recall some violent protests and graffiti on the news a few years ago. This upsets me since I love mythology. Greece is home to some of the most amazing ancient sites in the world.
The police officers continue to argue back and forth with the lawyer. Something is off about Hal Avery. His smile seems forced, doesn’t reach his eyes. I can’t imagine my mother trusting a slime-ball like him.
A loud pop! smacks into the front window of our house. Glass shatters as tiny particles shoot out, littering my cheek with pain.
“Get down!” I feel Officer Riley’s arm pull me hard to the ground.
Seconds later, rapid gunfire covers the whole front of the house. My hearing is almost gone from the sound. I’m dizzy.
The weight of Officer Riley’s arm across my chest seems unusually heavy. “Hey,” I start but stop short when I see why. She’s been shot in the head. I hear myself scream. My mind can’t register what I’m seeing. My body shudders as I turn my head and dry heave. “Oh…!”
Just as I’m about to pass out, I remember the dream and who I am. Once a girl, now a woman…forged from the fires of life. A strange sense of calm comes over me and my focus sharpens. I shimmy out from underneath Officer Riley’s arm and run across the room.
That’s when I see him. Officer Ryan is lying on the floor in a heap. He’s barely breathing. Another shot sails past me as it grazes the top of my ear. “Ack!” I yell as I throw myself down onto the floor next to him. I try to pretend I don’t feel fresh blood trickling down my cheek. If I freak out now, it will slow me down.
His eyes are fluttering as he struggles to say something. “The medallion is the key… Trrrruuussst…”– blood spurts out of his mouth as he utters a long, ragged breath – “…noooo one.” His eyes roll back as he takes his last breath.
I cry out. What did he mean about the medallion? None of it makes sense. If these are the people who caused the fire, t
hen they are out for blood. And now, for some reason, they want me too.
As I brace for the sound of more gunfire, I’m shocked by the silence…that is, at least until I hear the ragged voice of Hal Avery talking to someone. But who? The gunman?! I’m suddenly filled with a horrible sense of foreboding. The officer was right. I can’t trust anyone.
Hal is facing the opposite direction from me, scanning the area for something. Me. I need to get out of here…now!
I pull myself up. My head throbs and heart races as if it’s going to fly out of my chest. Every cell in my brain screams to get away. Terror threatens to overcome me, but I push it out of my mind.
I must focus or die.
Hal’s shoes crack under his feet as he turns the corner towards me. I’m out of time. I sprint out of the house as fast as my legs will go, onto the gravel of the driveway. Blood pumps fiercely through my veins. I can’t look back. I run as fast as I can, full tilt down our long, winding driveway. As I reach the main road, my ears start to ring, causing me to trip over my own feet.
I land face-down on the gravel. My cheek is raw and throbbing. I think I’m alone now. Maybe Hal didn’t see me or wasn’t really after me. He’s supposed to be a good guy, hired by my mom. Perhaps he took out the gunman.
The silence is broken. Boots thud nearby, crunching gravel behind me. I squeeze my eyes closed as my body tenses and wait for an attack.
It never comes. Slowly, I open my eyes. Hal Avery is standing above me. His face is an impassive mask as he frowns at something on his phone, oblivious to me, as if I’m not even here. He’s not anxious to leave, which is weird with all that shooting back at the house.
He takes off his jacket and throws it to the ground. That’s when I see it. An enormous bloodstain on his shirt. He’s been shot. I scan the dusty road and the greenery around us for the sniper as Hal collapses onto the worn grass next to me. The coast is clear, but I won’t let my guard down.
Protogenesis: Before the Beginning Page 2
