* * *
He wasn’t disappointed when he arrived. All eight Walkers were gathered in the center of the brown room, surrounding something or someone that was blocked from his view by their bodies. There was a desk against one wall. On the desk was an average-sized bowl and a small round rubber ball.
“Here he is,” Kenneth greeted Paul as he entered the room.
Liz, Juliet, Lisa, and Parker all gave him welcoming smiles. James and Allen just stared.
True to form, Hodge offered a more personal introduction. “New Guy,” he said, “aren’t you gonna say hello to your buddy?”
At first confused, Paul started to ask Hodge what he meant, but before he could get the words out everyone moved away from what they were standing around, which turned out to be Steven. He was standing on a small podium in the center of the room, looking very bored.
Paul was shocked. Why would Steven be here? He couldn’t see or hear any of them. What was the point? It almost seemed like some form of exploitation or discreet abuse.
“What the…? Why is he here?”
“He can’t sleep. He’s not allowed,” Parker explained. “It’s part of his training. Sleep deprivation.”
Paul walked up close to his friend and made a full circle around him. “It just seems a little like we’re intruders. I mean here we are, all standing around him and there is no way he could know it. It just seems… creepy.”
“Ain’t nothing new to you or anyone else here,” James drawled. “You been doing it for years already, you just didn’t know you were.”
He had a point.
Kenneth chimed in, recognizing that Paul was distressed at seeing his friend like this, “This is one of the first things they do with every Sentinel in training. Maybe not on public display like this, but they always test their limits. Since there will be a lot of times when the things we have to do will be at really odd hours, our Sentinels have to be ready to miss hours and sometimes even days of sleep at a time.”
Hodge turned around so that he was face-to-face with Steven. “Little white trash boy may be able to hold his own and take a beating,” he sneered, “but by this time day after tomorrow he won’t even know his own name.”
Paul chuckled silently to himself. Either Lisa hadn’t done her homework on Steven and her report hadn’t been very thorough, or they’d underestimated him yet again. Steven was the king of North Hardin High School when it came to partying, and even Paul, who was his best friend, couldn’t count how many times Steven had gone without sleep for entire weekends just so he didn’t miss out on any of the fun.
They were in for a shock if they thought missing a little sleep would be the straw that broke Steven’s back.
“Boy,” Paul replied with what he hoped came off as sincerity. “I sure hope he holds up.” Looking around the room with wide eyes, he asked, “So what’s the game plan for me tonight?”
Caught off guard at how quickly Paul changed the subject and his apparent complete lack of concern for Steven, Hodge squinted, wondering why Paul no longer seemed worried
It was at that point that Dittrich entered the room. “A couple of things, Paul,” he said. “Later, we’re going to put your new-found skills in navigating to the test, but first we’re going to spend some time working on helping you control your ability.”
“Alright,” Paul said. “Sounds great. But why are we doing this in the same room as Steven?”
“The perfect question!” Dittrich replied. Everyone else grinned. “Your friend has been told that it is his responsibility to stand exactly where he is now for as many nights as it takes for him to either fall from fatigue or be moved from his spot by someone else. If he falls from fatigue, he fails his training and will be removed from the program. If he is moved by someone else, he will be permitted to go back to his room for the night and sleep. Everyone in this facility, except you, has been instructed to keep their hands off your friend.”
Paul looked at all the grinning faces around him, shocked at their cavalier attitude and completely at a loss as to why they would be grinning when his friend was standing right in front of them, practically being tortured.
“And this is funny to all of you?!”
“Paul,” Kenneth said kindly, seeing his distress. “You’re thinking about this all wrong.”
Spreading his hands, Paul said, “Okay?”
“The most important thing to remember is that our Sentinels train for extremes. They have to. Your friend Steven, here, already knows that. It would be impossible for him to make it through even the first day of training without realizing it. Having him stand in this room is actually mild compared to what some of the Sentinels have had to do for their sleep deprivation training.
“If ever—and I mean ever—Steven fell asleep at a time when you were in a dangerous place, your life and the life of anyone with you would be in danger. We have to know, you have to know, that something as simple as Steven getting tired isn’t going to be a factor in accomplishing what it is that we do.”
His anger at the situation deflated and Paul nodded. He knew Kenneth was right. It was easy to be outraged at someone being treated like this in normal circumstances, but circumstances for both Paul and Steven would never be normal again.
“And then, there’s something else you’re not considering,” Kenneth said.
“Oh? And what is that?” Paul asked as everyone else began to grin again.
“Just like the rest of us, he is here in this room for you,” smiled Kenneth. “All you have to do is use your ability to move him from where he stands and your buddy can go to bed.”
“Which,” chimed in Dittrich, “is exactly what we’re going to work on. Beginning right now.”
As if that were a cue, everyone took a few steps backward to stand with their backs to the walls of the room. Only Hodge stayed where he was, still very near to Steven.
Addressing the room at large, Dittrich asked, “How many of you were present outside Paul’s room on his first night?”
A show of six hands came up.
“And out of everyone that was there, does anyone dispute that Paul was able to affect a solid object while in the dream?”
The room remained silent.
Dittrich turned to Paul. “No one here disputes that you have the ability to manipulate matter. For those of us who were not there when you scared the daylights out of Carlisle, we take the word of the six who were. The question that is most important, though, is whether you believe it. And whether you believe you are able to again. Just a few short minutes after your display, you and I stood at the elevators and you were unable to access that ability.
“You know what we do here at Astralis. You know that your ability could give us an added edge that we never thought possible, which is why we’re all so excited that you’re here.”
Looking from face to face, Paul could see what Dittrich said mattered a great deal to every one of them. If he were able to gain control of his ability, it could be the difference between success and failure for much of what they did as an organization. The simplicity of brushing aside a tree limb in the graveyard, something that he’d taken for granted, was equivalent to being able to move mountains as far as they were concerned.
“Our limitations have been explained to you,” Dittrich continued. “But do you truly understand? You need to be aware of the scope of those limitations to truly appreciate what your ability means to us. For the short time you’ve been here at Astralis, you have purposely not been exposed to some of the extremes that are, to us, an everyday, or should I say every night, part of our lives as Walkers.
“Already, you may have some awareness that it can be easy to forget that the rules that apply at night aren’t valid during the day. You get surprised when you get winded from exercise, you allow yourself to get hurt by small, sharp objects simply because, at night, those objects are of no concern to you.
“There is a brutal truth to the limitations that apply to us at night, which is why yo
u will undoubtedly be shocked in a moment. Please be assured, Hodge will be putting on this small display for your benefit. We could explain it, but it so much easier to accept if you see it. It is important that you accept these rules, these limitations, and take them for granted, the same way you take breathing for granted.”
Turning to Hodge, Dittrich gave a brief nod. Hodge returned the nod with an enthusiastic grin and, to Paul’s absolute horror, pulled back a fist and slammed it into Steven’s jaw as hard as he could, grunting with the effort.
Paul let out a cry of objection but as he should have expected, Hodge’s fist bounced back off of Steven’s jaw with an audible thump of flesh and bone. Steven didn’t flicker an eyelid. Clearly, he’d felt absolutely nothing. Hodge grimaced and then grinned again, winding up a kick to Steven’s abdomen, again with the same effect.
“This is our greatest gift and at the same time, is our greatest setback. Hodge could do this all day,” Dittrich explained, as if teaching a class. “And nothing would come of it except short stints of pain in his hand or foot. Even those will disappear within seconds. And Steven would never feel anything. You know this because Lisa already explained it with a similar demonstration in the graveyard. But knowing this—using this—is something that takes some getting used to.”
Paul nodded his understanding, still somewhat off-kilter after seeing his friend physically assaulted, even if it had no effect.
“We have this limitation,” Dittrich continued, still in teacher-mode, “but it goes further. Let me show you to what extent.” Walking over to the table with the bowl and rubber ball on it, he said, “I want you to pay attention. Do you see the bowl?”
“Yes.”
“Come over and take a look, please.”
Curious, Paul walked over and looked into the bowl. It was full of clear liquid. “What’s in it?”
“Water. Just water.”
“Alright?”
Giving him a level look, Dittrich abruptly bared his teeth in a ferocious grimace. With an unexpected high-pitched shriek, he swung his arm up and back behind him, bringing it down as hard as he could into the bowl of water. A wet-sounding smack, like the sound of Rocky Balboa in his prime doing a belly-flop, echoed off the glass walls of the small room. Not a drop of water had been splashed. In fact, there wasn’t even a ripple on the surface. Paul looked at Dittrich, mouth open, the obvious question written on his face.
“Now you begin to understand more completely,” Dittrich replied to the unspoken question. “This is why you are so valuable to this organization. We can’t move anything. If we need to get somewhere and there is not an opening large enough for our bodies to fit through, we can’t do it. But you can.”
Paul looked around a room full of people who’d known they were Walkers for years, some of them even for decades. They had been operating within confines that they had believed were irrefutable, but now they saw in him the chance to change those rules.
It was both exciting and intimidating. No one had ever counted on him for anything big before, and this was definitely big. It was a wonderful feeling to be regarded with respect, but he knew he still needed to earn it. At this point, he knew they just hoped they could respect him.
“I really don’t know how I do it,” he said. “I didn’t even know I could until the other night.”
Dittrich nodded. “That’s what we’re here to find out. Your daytime training will focus on learning everything you will need in order to complete missions and bring back the Target intact, but at night, every night, we’re going to gather here for a couple of hours.”
“That sounds good to me. Where do we start?”
Dittrich motioned down at the table. “With the ball. Can you move it?”
As an answer, Paul put the palm of his hand over the ball and tried to roll it, but his hand just slid off the top. Breathing out through his nose, not looking up at anyone else, he concentrated. He tried again, a little more slowly and with more intensity, willing his hand to make the ball move.
Nothing.
Paul looked back at Dittrich. “It’s the same as when I tried to push the elevator button.” One of the others in the room muttered something to someone else. Paul didn’t catch what was said, but the tone of voice suggested that they this was a waste of their time.
“Try harder,” Dittrich urged.
Swiping at the ball, Paul tried to slap it off the table, but it was as if it were glued and bolted to the table top. Swinging his arm harder, he tried again, but all he managed to do was reward himself with a brief flash of pain. Someone behind him sighed.
Paul turned around to face everyone else. “I’m sorry! I don’t know why it comes and goes, I really don’t!”
“You’ll get it, Paul,” Lisa encouraged. “I know you will.”
“Yeah, man,” Kenneth said. “We all know you can do it. Just keep at it.”
Paul felt a surge of conviction. His face grew serious and he turned, swinging his arm at the ball. Once again there was no effect except to sting his hand. He looked apologetically at Dittrich, but Dittrich turned away and gave Hodge a look.
Hodge started laughing. “Not only can you not do the one thing that makes you even moderately useful, but you hit like a freakin’ girl.”
Imitating someone with their elbows tied to the sides of their body, Hodge began making exaggerated half-swings at the air, grunting each time he swung. A couple of the others laughed quietly, most of them clearly not wanting to make Paul feel bad, but Hodge’s antics were funny enough that they were unable to keep from cracking up.
Frustrated, Paul began to feel the familiar burn of anger and shame deep in his gut. It was like he was back at North Hardin High all over again, but this time it was worse—this time he had something to lose. The people who were laughing at his expense were people that he had thought were becoming his friends. Looking from face to face, getting only looks of pity or straightforward laughter at the obvious hurt on his face, his temper went from a slow burn to all-out fury.
“I don’t see you doing any better!” he yelled at Hodge, who was at the table flailing at the ball again, a mock look of concentration on his face.
“Don’t be mad, Paul,” Juliet said kindly, trying to diffuse the situation. “We’re not laughing at you. It’s just us trying to keep things light. We laugh at each other all the time. You can’t take things so seriously or you’ll end up driving yourself nuts!”
“Yeah Paul,” Hodge mimicked in a high-pitched voice, for once actually using Paul’s name, “we’re not laughing at you—we swear!”
The last words were said with dripping sarcasm and a few people laughed even louder. At that point Paul knew he’d had enough. No matter what everyone else’s intentions were, the laughter made him feel like a failure and an outcast. He turned and tried to push Hodge out of his way, trying to get to the door and get away from the people in the room. Hodge stood firmly against Paul’s shove, forcing Paul to turn sideways and try to wedge his way in between Hodge and the table.
And the room went silent.
That is, almost silent.
“What the hell!” yelled Steven. He stood in a half-crouch, his body turned toward the table. His arms were out in front of him like he was ready to start a wrestling match, eyes darting from left to right as if he were afraid something were going to sneak up on him.
Still standing wedged between Hodge and the table, just inches away from each other, Hodge looked up from the table with a raised eyebrow. “There ya go, New Guy.”
Twisting around and pushing Hodge backward, Paul turned to look at the table. It was soaked in water, the bowl now only half full. The ball came to a stop at the edge of the table, a line in the wetness behind it from where it had rolled through the spilled water.
Looking back at everyone else, he saw smiles on most of the faces, astonishment on others.
“Hello?” Steven called out, still looking around. Everyone ignored him.
Paul jumped a little as Dit
trich clapped him on the back. “Looks like the trigger is universal.” Turning to Hodge, Dittrich smiled. “Thank you for facilitating an emotional investment out of him.”
“Emotional investment?” Paul asked.
“Yes. Intense emotional investment. Anger, sadness, happiness, excitement—we’re fairly confident that these and many other base emotions will work, but you have to be feeling them strongly in order for it to trigger your ability. Mr. Hodgins? Could you give him a demonstration?”
Hodge grinned with malice. “It would be my pleasure.”
A couple of others in the room snickered, obviously aware of what was about to happen.
Moving up close to Steven, who was still looking nervous about being in the room, Hodge leaned in and put one arm around Steven’s shoulders, as if to tell him a secret. Paul could only imagine what Steven’s reaction would be if he knew that Hodge was so close to him.
Looking at Steven intently, Hodge began breathing heavily, his face slowly transforming into a mask of anger. Breathing faster and faster, teeth bared, Hodge opened his eyes wide and screamed, directly into Steven’s ear at the top of his lungs, “Trash!”
Jumping and crying out like he’d been stung by a bee, Steven turned and faced Hodge who, of course, he couldn’t see. “What the hell!” he yelled. “What the hell, what the hell, what the hell!” The room dissolved in laughter as Steven began to spin around in one hundred and eighty degree circles, looking for the source of the voice he’d heard.
Paul tried not to, but he couldn’t help joining in the laughter. He shouldn’t, but knowing that Steven was in no danger and seeing him so disoriented really was comical.
“What we need to do,” Dittrich said, “is find a trigger that you can pull from at will. For Hodge it is anger. It may be the same for you. For the next two weeks, it will be the goal of everyone in this room to help you do that.”
Watchers of the Night Page 35
