“Perfect timing,” Nicholae said, accentuating his statement with one thunderous clap.
Colton saluted and exited in a flash.
“I’m here,” I said with a nervous excitement I tried to conceal. Mr. Gordon had taken me in months ago and trained me to get here, for this very moment, and here I was finally standing in a room with him and my father for a training session. This would have to be more than seeing hidden paintings, walking through walls, and moving glasses of iced tea. I had graduated from those minor exercises. My high expectations were making me break out in a cold sweat all over.
Nicholae looked happy to see me, but Mr. Gordon’s face was expressionless.
“Don’t be nervous,” Nicholae said. “Daniel updated me on all that he’s worked on with you. You’re ready for the next step.”
“There are safer ways to do this,” Mr. Gordon said, which immediately made me more nervous.
“Yes,” Nicholae said. “But this will have the most impact.” Nicholae squeezed my shoulder and strolled to one of the metal tables. “We’re living in a dangerous time. Oliver has experienced some extreme danger firsthand. I will not coddle him like a child. He’s a man and I will treat him as such.”
Nicholae brought back a black bulletproof vest similar to the one he was wearing over his shirt and tossed it to me.
“Put it on,” he instructed. “You’ve expanded your vision and awareness to see into the next plane of existence. It requires great singular focus, and each step up challenges that focus exponentially. The intention is by reaching the highest plane, you see life and the universe in a new way. A new paradigm is created, expanding your reach. It seems you’ve become proficient at pushing yourself through objects like doors and walls. It’s not easy and probably requires a few seconds to a few minutes of meditation to find the required energy, strength, and focus.”
As Nicholae spoke, he slowly walked away from me. Mr. Gordon stepped back, leaving me alone in the center of the room. I finished strapping on my bulletproof vest.
“There will come times when you don’t have that kind of time.” Nicholae pulled a handgun from its holster, hanging low on his hip. He turned back to me and clicked back the slide, chambering a bullet.
“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” I said, my voice cracking. I threw my hands up in front of me like they would provide me with some extra level of protection.
“You need to now learn to call that ability at will, with a snap of your fingers—when it’s needed. When it counts. And it helps to have some motivation.” Without pause, he raised the gun so the barrel was level with my chest. “Let the bullet go through you and this won’t hurt.”
Nicholae fired.
The bullet struck me square in the chest, dead center of the vest, between my outstretched hands, before I even had a second to think, let alone react. The force of the impact hit me like the smallest truck in the world and sent me flying backwards. All the air expelled from my body and I couldn’t seem to suck any more back in. My head slammed against the wood flooring and an all-consuming darkness crept into the edges of my vision, spreading fast. Straight ahead, white stars soared toward me and I had to shut my eyes before I became too nauseous. The pain from coughing was tremendous, but I couldn’t stop.
Mr. Gordon was suddenly at my side, kneeling down, pulling at the straps of my vest to help me find a breath. I tried to remember where I was, what had taken me down this time. My first thought went to Sasha stabbing me in the gut. Mr. Gordon had been kneeling beside me much like now. He placed a hand under the loosened vest, against my chest. Someone was talking far away. I couldn’t hear what was being said or who the voice belonged to.
The intense burning in my chest began to cool and I could inhale a little more in between each cough.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Mr. Gordon said, standing back up.
“I never said it would be easy,” Nicholae said. “I said it was necessary. We no longer have the luxury of time.”
I rolled to one side. The stars were popping, my head calming. My shaking fingers found the point of impact on my chest, which now felt like an irritating bruise.
“How do you feel, Oliver?” Nicholae called from across the room.
I crawled to my knees and then tested my legs as I slowly pulled up to a standing position. The room was moving ever so slightly—or I was swaying on unsteady feet. I coughed once more, but then took in a deep breath, which finally felt comfortable again. I blinked hard to pop the few remaining stars and refastened the vest.
“That hurt,” I said.
“I know,” Nicholae answered. “I had no illusions that you’d get the first one, but you needed to feel it. It’s much worse without the vest, trust me, whether one of us heals you or not.”
I nodded.
“This time will be slower. You know what to expect. You know how to prepare. You just need to get to the place within yourself to tap into the ability you already have, summon it forth, and have it obey without resistance.”
I took another deep breath, blowing it out like the release of air in a slashed tire.
“You can do this.”
“It’s exactly what you’ve already been doing,” Mr. Gordon said.
Nicholae raised the handgun again and my whole body immediately tensed into bundles and bundles of knots.
“Relax,” Nicholae said. “And breathe. When you’re breathing steadily, you’re in control. And when you’re in control, you accomplish your goal. It all starts with your breath.”
“Okay,” I said and focused on steadying my breathing.
“That’s better. Slow, steady, full breaths. Now close your eyes.”
I did as I was told, continuing my meditative breathing.
“Picture yourself passing through a wall. Nothing can confine you. You are free to walk in a straight line forever. Take yourself there in your mind. The wall is no more solid than the falls and there is nothing stopping you from passing through.”
I pictured everything he told me, as vividly as I could like Mr. Gordon had taught, like TJ had—
The next gunshot echoed through the room.
I dropped to the floor like a lead weight. But I wasn’t thrown backward and I wasn’t hit with a sharp blinding pain.
He hadn’t aimed it at me this time. Or I dropped to the floor fast enough to dodge the bullet.
“You can’t drop to the floor fast enough to dodge a bullet,” Nicholae said and I felt the immediate violation of having my thoughts floating freely in the cosmos where anyone could read them. “The bullet travels faster than sound. By the time you heard the shot, you would have already been hit.”
I opened my eyes and glanced around. Mr. Gordon was smiling. I looked to the wall behind me and saw the bullet hole in the metal—directly behind me. My legs were like soft clay. The more I tried to stand up, the more I sank into the floor. From where I had been standing, the bullet hole was directly behind me, chest high. If it wasn’t dead on, it would have clipped me in the arm. It wouldn’t have missed me entirely.
“See? When you don’t panic, you don’t get in your own way,” Nicholae said. He was smiling, too.
It took me another minute to solidify my legs enough to stand.
“I did it?” I asked meekly.
“You did it,” Nicholae responded, pointing the pistol at the floor. “Now you need to do it with your eyes open.”
“That’s a bad idea,” I said. “I’m already panicking.” I felt hot, my face beginning to break out in a cold sweat. My hands were clammy. I pictured Sasha standing before me, antagonizing me in front of the whole school. And then I realized something. I was afraid, but I didn’t back down. I stood my ground (even though we didn’t remain standing for long).
“You can do this,” Nicholae said.
Sasha’s voice left my head and I was transported back to the present, to the challenge facing me now. I took another deep breath and tried to envision what I had before, but this time keeping my eyes ope
n. Instead of looking at Nicholae, I looked past him, to the far wall, relaxed my eyes, and let the mental vision consume what I saw. I could still see Nicholae, but I tried to forget he was there, removing him from my mental picture.
When I hear the shot I’m not gonna fall.
When I hear the shot I’m not gonna fall.
When I hear the shot I’m not gonna—
BANG!
I was off my feet before I heard the shot, flying back through the air as the bullet struck me in the chest again. Just because I knew what the hit would feel like, didn’t make it hurt any less. The wood flooring didn’t cushion my fall any more than the last time. My head bounced off the wooden planks as my neck snapped back once my body connected with the floor.
Mr. Gordon was once again by my side in a flash, loosening my vest and helping me to regain my breath. I wanted to yell out in pain, curse myself, curse the world, but I could do nothing but gasp like a fish out of water. An acidic wretchedness built up in the back of my throat. Mr. Gordon rolled me to one side and released the pain from my body with one touch. The sharp pain shrank to a dull ache and I could finally breathe once more.
“I think this is enough,” he said to Nicholae.
I still knew where I was. Tears had welled up in my eyes, but I wiped them away before they could fall.
“He’s old enough to decide for himself,” Nicholae replied. “This isn’t a casual lesson. This is training for war.”
My breathing steadied, faster than before, but I remained on my side, not sure if I could handle standing yet.
“Oliver,” Nicholae called. “Have you had enough or can you handle more? This is what it takes. You’ll get it. It’ll click, and when it does, it’ll give you a new level of confidence. So I’ll ask you again. Have you had enough?”
“No,” I replied softly, my voice sore and hoarse from all the coughing.
“Then get up.”
I pushed up to my knees. My legs shook under my own weight, but I didn’t let it stop me from climbing back to my feet. Nicholae’s expression was serious and fierce. I quickly tightened my vest, afraid that he might not let me finish before firing another bullet.
“Just say when,” Nicholae said.
I took a deep breath and attempted to regain my concentration. Mr. Gordon stepped away.
Again I looked to the wall past Nicholae and pictured it disappearing and myself with it.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m ready.”
Nicholae fired again, and again I found myself gasping on the floor, the pain blinding, but Mr. Gordon brought me back with a power I still couldn’t quite fathom.
“Get away from me!” I tried to yell.
I didn’t have the breathing capacity to do so yet, but the intent was there. Mr. Gordon stepped away. The impaling pain was already subsiding, but I didn’t want it to. I wanted the pain as fuel, as drive, as motivation...
I lay on my stomach, balancing myself on both hands, resting my head on the floor, and released a gurgling scream. Nicholae was waiting for me to get up. I had to get to my feet, so I pushed up with all the strength I had left.
Once up, I closed my eyes for a moment to regain what sense of composure and confidence I could find. Then I reopened my eyes and looked directly at him.
“Do it,” I snarled. “Now!”
The shot came before I even finished talking and I went sprawling to the floor. I screamed in my head since I couldn’t through my mouth. The coughing and wheezing left me without air for anything more. I cried but unfastened the bulletproof vest on my own. Mr. Gordon was once again at my side, but I waved him away. I pulled the vest over my head and the heavy material fell to the floor. The burning in my chest seemed to increase the more I tried to suck in air. Mr. Gordon remained at my side, but didn’t lay a hand on my chest to ease the pain.
“Shit!” I said, more to myself since there was no volume left, and pushed up off the floor. I wavered on my feet and stood before my father. The vest lay on the floor beside me, but I wasn’t about to bend down to pick it up. It hurt too much. It took everything I had just to get to my feet one more time.
It’s now or never.
“Again,” I said.
And as soon as I said it, the shot rang out again. No hesitation. No question. No concern.
But I was still on my feet. I didn’t have a second or thought to react. I continued to look straight at Nicholae, met him eye-to-eye. He kept the pistol pointed straight at me, the barrel still smoking. And I was still standing.
I’m still standing!
My chest burned and I couldn’t take a full breath of relief that I was still on my feet. But I was still standing.
“Again,” Nicholae said.
The shot rang in my ears.
I pictured him and everything around us as a dream. Nothing was real. We were all ghosts in this afterlife and couldn’t be hurt anymore. And I was still standing. Nicholae had the gun pointed at me. I had heard the shot and the bullet flew right at me. I saw it all happen somehow, like a dream, like it wasn’t real. And I was still standing.
“Again,” I said and he fired another shot.
I remained on my feet. The vest remained on the floor. Mr. Gordon remained a few steps away. And Nicholae lowered his gun, his lips curling up into a smile.
“The last bullet would have hit you,” he said.
I took in a breath with needles digging into my chest. I had no strength left to remain on my feet, but somehow I did. Nicholae stood twenty paces away, but I could no longer make out his face. Everything around me was blurry; the back wall didn’t even exist anymore for all I knew. But I had heard what he said.
“The last shot?” I asked.
“Your vest was off,” he said. “I had to be sure.”
I thought I had accomplished dodging three shots, but it had only been one. Then I let that thought sink in. It had been one! I was still standing!
“And you were sure on the last shot?” I asked.
Nicholae didn’t answer, but his grin grew wider.
My knees buckled, dropping me to the floor. Mr. Gordon returned to my side and this time I welcomed his help. He placed a steady hand on my chest and the burning subsided like a month’s worth of rest in a moment. I brought my knees up and hugged them. My whole body shook—from what? Adrenaline? Excitement? Exhaustion?
I glanced down at the bulletproof vest to my side and saw the welts where the first few bullets had hit. From the pain of being hit wearing the vest, I couldn’t imagine how much worse it would have been to have the bullets go through me the old-fashioned way.
“How were you so sure?” I asked since Nicholae hadn’t answered my last question.
“You kept getting back up and began refusing Daniel’s help. You were determined to get it. I could see it in your eyes. You were going to keep getting up until you could no longer stand.”
“I was pretty close to that.”
“I know,” Nicholae said. “When you’re determined, you stop panicking, and when you stop panicking, you begin to focus. You were doing that through the pain, which I’m guessing is how you got out of Alexandria’s hospital.”
Nicholae holstered his gun, walked up, and offered me a hand. I accepted. My weak legs were barely holding me up, but I felt phenomenal nonetheless.
“I think that was a pretty good first lesson,” Nicholae said.
“Amazing progress, Oliver,” Mr. Gordon said.
With this being the first lesson, I couldn’t imagine where we were going from here.
“Go get some lunch,” Nicholae said. “You need to replenish your energy.”
That was the understatement of the day.
8
Falls
“He did what?” Desiree asked in horror, her face pale, dropping her fork into her tray.
“He used you as target practice?” Jeremy asked, with his signature smirk. “Sounds about right.”
“No,” I said, trying to clear the air. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then maybe I misunderstood you,” Desiree said, picking her fork back up. She looked like she may stab someone, and then sunk it into a chunk of chicken. “I thought you said he was shooting a gun at you. We were all shooting at targets—and you were the target!”
I thought Richard was going to weigh in, but he continued eating his lunch and listened.
“You’ve seen what Mr. Gordon can do,” I said to both of my critics. “Nicholae can do all that and more. I wasn’t in any real danger. I was in pain for a short while, but they were both looking out for me.”
“Yeah, as Nicholae took his aggression out on you—probably picturing me.” Jeremy drank from his soda and softened a belch.
“Whatever,” I said. “I did it. It was unreal.”
“Where’s Daniel?” Richard asked.
“I dunno,” I said. “I guess he’s still with Nicholae.”
“What building were you in?”
I had to think back for a moment. It seemed like forever ago when Colton had led me there. “Building T1.”
Richard stood up and excused himself, taking his half-empty tray, and leaving us to finish our lunch.
“What was that about?” Jeremy asked.
Neither of us had a definitive answer.
“Give Nicholae a heart-to-heart?” Desiree shrugged. “Don’t shoot at my stepson again or I’ll kick your ass?”
We all laughed, knowing how poorly that would go over—cartoonishly bad.
After lunch, we wandered around the compound for awhile, and then headed back to our room. Richard arrived with Mr. Gordon about an hour later.
“I’m going home now to check in on your mother,” he said, sounding as sullen and unsure as I’d ever heard him. “You’re in better hands than mine. There’s not much else I can do here, but say I’ll see you soon.” Richard walked up and enveloped me in a crushing hug. “You’re going to be fine—you’re going to be better than fine.”
“I’ll be great,” I said.
“Yeah...you will.” He let go and stared at me for a long moment with a wet film over his eyes. “You’ll be great. Take good care of her,” he said, gesturing to Desiree.
Doria Falls Page 10
