Catalyst: (Elevated Saga Book #2)

by Daniel Solomon Kaplan

  “Nice place,” Elliott says, with a relief in his voice.

  “Thank you,” Peter says.

  He walks over to the wall and speaks into a console. “Normal mode.”

  A computer voice speaks back, “Two unidentified—”

  “Override. Password 7c4fg0.”

  A chime sounds and at once, the ocean scenes fade into something different. The first few are different perspectives on what looks like a large atrium, a beautiful piece of architecture I’ve never seen before. The atrium’s glass windows reveal a beautiful sunset sky illuminating the metallic floor in oranges and purples. The last picture is of an older man standing in the middle of the atrium. He bears a strong resemblance to Peter.

  “Your dad?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” Peter says.

  “Is that in Europe or something?”

  “Something,” Peter says. “It’s an old picture. I haven’t seen him in years.”

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “It’s ok, it’s by choice mostly,” Peter says, and offers us the couch before sitting down himself. “So, about your mother. I have an option. Sorry I couldn’t tell you until we got here, but I’m not so sure this building isn’t bugged.”

  “Right,” Elliott says, but I can tell from his voice he’s not sure if Peter’s crazy or not.

  “I’m only offering this option because I trust you.”

  “I understand,” I say.”

  Peter takes a deep breath. “She can stay with the Naturals. She’ll be perfectly safe there.”

  Elliott perks up. “How do you know about the Naturals?”

  “Because my dad is one.”

  “That’s why you haven’t spoken with each other for years,” I say.

  “Right,” Peter says. “When I was five, he decided to join them. My mom thought he was crazy. So she kept me here in the city. I didn’t hear from him. I thought he might be dead. So many crazy stories circulating on Naturals, you know?”

  We both nod.

  Peter sits up straight. “But then, when I turned sixteen, I received a package. It contained a letter from my father, apologizing for the lack of communication. It also had those picture frames on the wall and that password device that automatically adjusts them if others are detected.”

  “How did your father get all of that living with the Naturals?”

  “It also contained something much more interesting,” Peter says, and leaves the room.

  He reenters a moment later, holding a gigantic metal box taller than him.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  “My ticket to Dad,” Peter says. “He told me if things ever went chaotic, like he figured, I was to go somewhere quiet in the middle of the night, jump into this box and push this button.”

  He points to a large button on the side of the box.

  “It’s a homing beacon,” Peter says. “At least, that’s what I think. For Naturals to come and find me. Or maybe even a drone to come and pick it up.”

  “The Naturals have a drone?” I ask.

  Peter nods. “Maybe. They seem to have technology more advanced than ours. All that talk on mud huts and tribal people is completely made up.”

  I turn back to the pictures. “Wait. Is this the Naturals ‘home?”

  “Yeah,” Peter says.

  “How could they hide such a huge building?” Elliott asks. “Somebody would see it.”

  “Look carefully,” Peter says.

  Studying the picture, I notice something about the atrium. The walls don’t resemble concrete or marble; they look like rock.

  “It’s underground,” I say. “Those are augmented windows.”

  “That’s the best guess I have too,” Peter says. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I say. “But I have a question. Why haven’t you ever used it to visit your dad yourself?”

  Peter sits down in his chair. “I don’t want to leave. This world is messed up, that’s for sure, but somehow, isolating myself seems like cheating. Giving up somehow. As soon as I got there, I’m sure Dad would give me the guilt trip, try to convince me to stay. And I’d give in. But I don’t think I’d be happy.”

  “How are they going to feel about Mom using your transport?” I ask. “I doubt they’ll appreciate a random Elevated showing up on their doorstep.”

  “My Dad says that everyone is welcome to find a refuge there,” Peter says.

  “Sure aren’t making that obvious to everyone,” I say.

  “They can’t just let everyone in,” Elliott says. “Makes sense to me. If you know about them, you need them, if you don’t, they stay invisible.”

  “How come nobody has returned to talk about them?” I ask.

  “Probably because there’s no reason to come back,” Peter says.

  “Or they murder anyone who tries to escape,” I say

  “The Naturals aren’t like that at all,” Peter says.

  “You barely know them,” I say. “All you have is a letter from your father and a couple of pretty pictures.”

  “But it’s an option,” Peter says. “You tell me another place you can send your mother where she’ll be safe.”

  “There has to be somewhere,” I say.

  “I’m not so sure,” Elliott says.

  “You’re still holding out hope to move in with them someday,” I say. “But how do we know what will happen?”

  “How do you expect to protect your mom from a man who can disappear?”

  I look over at them both. I want to trust Peter, and I hold onto the idea of my mom hiding out somewhere the Catalyst can’t reach her. Ultimately, it’s either the police or the Naturals. I have to trust someone.

  “I guess I don’t have a choice,” I say. “We’re in.”

  Peter writes down an address and hands it to me. “Be here at midnight tonight.”

  “Thank you,” I say, taking the paper.

  “No problem,” Peter says. “I trust you’ll keep my secrets, as I have kept yours.”

  “Of course,” I say.

  Elliott and I leave the room and head to the elevator. I watch the numbers light up as the elevator clunks down the floors.

  I gaze out at the passing scenery. “We should start packing soon.”

  Elliott cocks his head.

  “To move in with the Naturals, like you said. If Dad gets convicted, it’s only a matter of time before they come for you.”

  “We’re going to figure something out. We’ll catch the Catalyst.”

  “It might be our only option soon.” I put my arm around his shoulder. “Hey, if the Catalysts want to start a full-fledged war, it’s better to get out. The Naturals have stayed out there somehow.”

  Elliott sighs. “I just find it hard to believe that a Catalyst would announce themselves without explanation and then go on a random killing spree.”

  “Not everyone can handle power like you.”

  “But what do they hope to gain?”

  “Fear, probably. Destroy enough so the rest of humanity falls back in line.”

  Elliott slams his hand against the elevator wall. “I just hate that that psycho Jason was right.”

  “He was a genius. Didn’t invent GEMO for nothing.”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t have to be right about people. I wanted to think everything could be fine, that somehow we could adapt.”

  I stroke his face with my hand. “We will adapt.”

  “What if your mom doesn’t agree to this plan?” Elliott asks.

  I take a deep breath. I have an idea, but it’s not something I want to do. Unfortunately, I may not have much choice. I reach over and punch some coordinates into the car.

  “We need to take a detour before we get home.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When we arrive at Mrs. Ford’s house, we find it surrounded by police cars. A large police officer steps out and shines a flashlight in Elliott’s face.

  “May I assist you?” he asks.

  Elliott grips the steering
wheel firmly. “We already did this, this is MY house.”

  “Do you have ID on you?”

  “You have to be kidding me.”

  “Sorry,” the officer says. “We are keeping guard on Mrs. Williams.”

  “No, you’re harassing me,” Elliott says. “Look, I’m going to get out of this car and go into my house. If you want to arrest me, go right ahead.”

  “Fine,” the officer says.

  As we walk, the officer trails closely behind us.

  “Am I still under investigation?” Elliott asks.

  “Sorry,” the officer says. “Just following protocol.”

  Elliott leans over and whispers, “This is more like house arrest than protection.”

  I can’t help but agree.

  “It’s nothing like a house arrest,” the police officer says. “She can leave at any time.”

  The police officer is a Hearer obviously.

  Elliott clenches his fist, before releasing it and leaning down to whisper again, “Grandma is right, they do wear tight pants. You think they force them into it? Can’t be good for circulation.”

  We turn back to the police officer, and his face turns red. Elliott gives me a mischievous wink, and I can’t help but giggle. When we enter, there’s another police officer sitting on the couch, sipping a cup of coffee, and watching TV with Mrs. Ford.

  I turn towards her. “Where’s Mom?” I ask.

  “She’s in the back bedroom right now,” the police officer says, “sitting on the edge of the bed.”

  It makes sense to send a Scanner to the house, but the idea of a police officer watching my every move makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

  “Thanks,” I say, more resolved than ever to get Mom out of this situation.

  “This is ridiculous,” Elliott says. “It’s like a prison.”

  I go into the kitchen and pour Mom a cup of coffee. When we reach her room, she greets us with a warm hug. From the way her body shakes, it doesn’t seem the police officers have calmed her nerves. I grab a piece of paper from the desk and write on it:

  There’s another place you can hide. Someplace safer. But I don’t want the Hearer to listen.

  Mom nods and turns on the TV, and cranks it up.

  “He can’t hear us now?” I ask.

  “Trust me,” she says quietly, “he won’t be able to filter our conversation through the noise.”

  “You always told me even if I turned the speakers loud you could hear me.”

  “You wouldn’t expect me to tell the truth about that, would you?”

  I laugh. My mom knows me too well.

  I hand Mom the cup of coffee and take a deep breath as she sips it. As I relay the plan from Peter, Mom’s eyes widen.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “But it’s got to be safer than staying around here.”

  “Peter could have turned us in already,” Elliott says. “It seems unlikely he would lie now.”

  “Dad told you not to trust them,” I say. “And it’s no wonder. Already they’ve turned this place into a high security prison. I don’t know what they plan on doing with you, but it can’t be good.”

  Mom’s eyes start tearing up. "If Eric murders me, that'll prove Adam didn't do it, right?"

  "Mom," I say, "how could you think of something like that?"

  “Adam is trying to protect me, he always has. But I can’t keep doing this. Keep living on while he suffers.”

  “We will catch Eric,” I say.

  Mom grabs me. “Stop it Rose! You need to get away from all this, have a normal life.”

  “I can’t have a normal life. And how could you expect me to live on and leave my parents to suffer?”

  Mom releases me and sinks back down onto the bed.

  “I need to know at least one of you is safe,” I say.

  Elliott claps his hands together, and it causes me to jump.

  “What if your mom goes to the Naturals, but also stays here?” he asks.

  “You’re not making sense,” I say.

  “You’re a Scanner. How clearly do you see people’s shapes in other rooms?”

  “Fairly clearly.”

  “What if we gathered some pillows?”

  “Would only work from a large distance, and it depends on whether or not he’s good at density scans.”

  “We can take that chance.”

  “And then you’ll leave,” Mom says.

  I nod “Right, we—”

  “You’re a terrible liar, Rose,” Mom says. “No. I won’t let you wait around in a trap for him.”

  “We just need to be nearby, to make sure he doesn’t get away. We won’t be in harm’s way.”

  Mom shakes her head again. “I won’t do it.”

  Her eyes continue to droop as she sinks further into the bed. She snaps to attention.

  “Was-s-s there s-s-something in that coffee?” Mom asks.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” I say. “Dad said you couldn’t go with them. I had to make sure I could rescue you.”

  “S-s-stop, d-d-don’t—” she says as she collapses on the bed.

  My stomach clenches at the sight of my mom passed out on the bed. She would have to forgive me one day, but first, I have to forgive myself. Struggling to calm myself, I gaze at her slumped figure. Elliott calls Shelly and Zach to make a plan, but I can’t concentrate on the words. I’m too busy feeling guilty about Mom. After a short conversation, Elliott says goodbye and turns to me, the strength behind his blue eyes managing to calm me somewhat.

  “They’ll be here soon,” he says.

  I nod.

  “We can get her out, but it’s going to be a bit tricky. I think we have a plan.”

  ***

  For the next hour, we sit in the living room, watching TV. The news reports continue their diatribe against Dad, painting him as a sociopathic scientist turned evil. People I’ve never heard or seen before claim to be close friends, or high school buddies. Beyond the interviews, the only piece of evidence they can come up with is a picture of Dad scaring some pigeons from a yearbook photo. Of course, as the stunning blond host with perfect teeth will tell you, those who torture innocent birds must be psychopaths.

  A particularly disturbing interview comes on, and I search for something to throw at the screen when Elliott nudges me. He shows me his phone displaying a message from Zach:

  We’re here.

  Time to go to action.

  I jump up, head to Mom’s bedroom and stand by the window, facing the street. Zach and Shelly are supposed to wait there, within my scanning range but not so close as to raise suspicion from our resident Scanner. The quiet street is easily scanned, and I quickly spot them walking along the sidewalk. I wait for the signal. Zach and Shelly stroll until they are even with the house. She reaches into her purse to pull out a Spikeball. They start to toss it back and forth.

  I knock over a box of papers sitting on the dresser, scattering them over the bed.

  “Oh no!” I yell, although I can tell from my scan the Hearer is already on his way.

  He storms into the room. “What happened?”

  “Sorry,” I say. “Just knocked over a box of papers. I’ll clean it up.”

  “No problem,” he says.

  As soon as he leaves, I gather the papers and spread them out next to the fan on the floor. I open the window a crack, flick the light switch on and off, and then scan back outside. Shelly stops tossing the spikeball. They’ve seen the signal. Shelly pulls back hard and tosses the ball, right onto the back part of our roof. Zach flies after it, making the most noise and movement he can. From my scanning of the living room, I can tell they fell for the bait. Both police officers run to the backyard. Zach just needs to distract them for a few minutes. Considering he’s a buff spikeball Flier, that shouldn’t be a problem.

  I start to pull my mom to the edge of the bed, when my scanning picks up Shelly slowly walking towards the window. She gets close and begins to vanish
. I prepare to pass my mom to Elliott through the window and turn on the fan, causing the papers to float through the air. No chance of the Scanner catching anything through the visual noise. As I reach over to open the window, a strange blob begins to pour through the small crack. It’s Shelly.

  “What are you—”

  Shelly silences me with her hand. She reaches over to help me with Mom. It’s risky having the extra person in the room, but hopefully the Scanner is too distracted. I scan to the backyard, and find both police officers tossing a spikeball back and forth with Zach. Shelly helps me drag Mom towards the end of the bed, and then we fling open the window to pass her out to Elliott. Just as he carries her out to the sidewalk, I notice the Scanner heading our way.

  “Quick!” I yell as we throw a pillow under Shelly’s shirt and put her in bed.

  The Scanner bolts into the door. “What is going on?”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I turned on the fan and then everything went crazy.”

  He reaches over to the blanket on the bed. “Your mom, is she—”

  “She’s still sleeping,” I say, pushing his hand back.

  I can tell from the Scanner’s expression he’s scanning her to make sure she’s ok. I just have to hope he hadn’t got a good enough scan before to tell the difference.

  “Right,” he says, and heads out of the room.

  I sigh, happy he’s obviously so unskilled. No wonder Dad didn’t think she would be safe with them.

  The Hearer enters the room. “Everything ok?”

  “Yeah,” the Scanner says.

  “Dude, look at this!” the Hearer holds up the spikeball from Zach. It’s autographed. “You realize how much this will be worth? He even dated it. If he becomes a professional—imagine a first year Volare autographed spikeball.”

  “He’ll go professional for sure,” the Scanner says. “My daughter goes to his high school. He’s amazing.”

  They continue talking as they leave the room. I laugh and remind myself to tell Zach he made a couple of fans. I scan outside, watching Zach pick up Mom and carry her off. I know she’ll be safe.

  At least, I hope she will.