Project Aquarius (The Sensitives Series Book 1) (13 page)

“Old souls. What’s that mean?” The phrase resonated deep inside Darnell.

“Like, we’ve been here before in other lifetimes. We’ve reincarnated.”

Darnell had often felt out of place in his life. And he felt grown up inside his head sometimes, like some old dude said his inner monologue. He had never told anyone that. That kind of talk could get you killed on the street.

“I wonder if I lived back in the time of the samurai ‘cause I love them so much. I love they fightin’ moves and bushido code.” He whipped his arm in the air.

“Maybe you did,” Ms. Harding said looking deep in Darnell’s eyes, connecting to an indescribable part of him.

He believed her. He had never believed in something an adult said with so much faith. He was an old soul. He was a samurai warrior. He had survived many different lifetimes. That’s why he was so damn good at it.

“I believe we each have things that we are drawn to from other lifetimes. Like I’ve always been drawn to Victorian England,” she continued.

For Darnell it was exciting to finally have words to explain the unexplainable. His mind reeled. He had always felt different from his peers. He had figured it was because his family was messed up and he was in the system. But finally someone understood. There was something great inside him— something old and wise.

“We’re here, number 98,” Ms. Harding announced. She looked for a sign of recognition in Darnell’s face.

The house was plain and old looking, but in a swank neighborhood. Darnell certainly didn’t know anybody who lived there. “You gonna tell me whose crib this is?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Drea

At the moment, Drea was at peace in the chaise on the patio, staring up. She had come to terms with the fact that her parents were never coming home.

    No one was coming home.

    With Sammy around, it hadn’t taken them long to slip quietly into a routine. He was in up in his room researching plants like it was his job. While downstairs, every fifteen minutes, Drea got up peeked out between the cardboard coverings on the front windows. That was her new job: vigilance. In three days time, she had seen no one. Not a soul. Not even a squirrel.

    Creeptacular.

    When she wasn’t on guard duty, Drea was soaking up the April sunshine in her tiny self-contained backyard. Staring at the stark blue sky helped keep the creepiness at bay. The fluffy white clouds drifted normalcy over her eyelids.

Drea’s eyes ached from sleep deprivation and hours of weeping into her pillow so her noise-sensitive brother wouldn’t hear. She wasn’t sleeping well at night. She was afraid to close her eyes because her tsunami dream had turned into a real life nightmare. The psycho part of her brain thought maybe she had caused the cataclysmic event. Maybe, she was personally responsible. What if she fell asleep and caused another disaster? She had to remain on alert.

The warmth of the midafternoon sun bred nostalgia and fatigue inside Drea’s brain. She missed the clack of her Mom’s high heels and the way her Dad used to put the empty orange juice container back in the fridge by mistake. Though Drea would never admit it out loud, she missed her parents asking about her day, getting into her business. She wanted to be a kid again. She wanted to sleep again. She wanted to feel safe again.

BOOM. BOOM.

What was that?!? The jerk of her head snapped her sharply out of the drifting memories.

BOOM. BOOM.

A knock on the door— an unfamiliar sound after days of eerie silence.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Drea’s body jolted upright. Instinctively, she ran toward the sound. The knocking inspired a bit of hope in her chest that quickly alchemized into fear. She crept over to the cardboard that covered the front door and pulled it back an inch, as she had so many times before. But this time two unfamiliar figures stood on the stoop, one adult and one child. The kid looked highly impatient and crabby, whereas the woman was kind and hopeful looking.

Drea was locked in a panic, trying to decide what to do, when the woman knocked again.

BOOM. BOOM.

The sound drew Sammy to the stairs. “Make it stop, Drea. It’s too loud!” he whined in a perfect irritating pitch.

Sammy obviously didn’t realize the implications of the knock. Since the disaster, he had been acting exactly the same as always. He was in his Weekend Routine, with Drea’s added suggestion to follow “When Drea’s babysitting rules.” His days included: snacks, reading, small tantrums, and time for exploring in the backyard.

He was more upset about the unpredicted knocking noise than the fact that he would never see his parents again.

The knocks persisted. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Drea snuck another peek through the cardboard and came face-to-face with two beady eyes looking back at her.

“There’s someone inside!” the kid yelled, jumping up and down. “Told you I saw somethin’!”

The woman came over to the window. Drea’s heart was pumping overtime. Her hands were sweating and her mouth went papery like an arid desert.

“Hello? Is anyone there? Sammy, is that you?” the woman asked.

Did she say Sammy?

Drea’s racing heart skipped a beat.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Sammy

“
Don’t let in the knocking,” he begged.

His sister was going to open the door. He could tell.

Sammy knew it was a bad idea. Loud noises led to bad things. Keep loud noises out. That was a rule.

They were safe locked up inside their familiar house. A flood of bad things would come through the door. He knew it. Keep everything the same.

“I’m scared too,” Drea said to him with her hand on the knob.

Fear made people behave in funny ways.

“Don’t talk to strangers. Lock the door. Don’t let in strangers,” Sammy quoted, his voice light and high like their mother’s.

But Drea wasn’t listening. She was back at the window.

“Sammy, put your hands over your ears, I have to yell.”

He obeyed. Keep loud noises out. Keep bad things out.

“Hey out there! The front door is sealed shut.”

The woman’s voice went up a shrill octave. “Oh my God! You’re alive!”

Sammy could still hear the woman’s piercing tone through his hands.

“A real live person! I’m so glad to see you!”

“Glad to see you, too!” his sister effused.

Drea seemed happy, not afraid. This puzzled Sammy. She was smiling.

“Sammy’s here too,” Drea said to the strangers.

That was a silly thing to say. Of course he was here. This was his home.

“Really?” the woman questioned. “I’m a teacher at Sammy’s school.”

Sammy’s heartbeat doubled. Teachers didn’t come to houses. That was against the rules. Did he do something wrong? Leaving seclusion was against the rules. Opening the door to the playground was against the rules. He was in trouble. He knew it. Sammy began to panic.

“You’ll have to come around back,” Drea told the people outside.

“Okay,” the teacher said.

“Double back to number 94, two houses over. It’s a gray house. Go down the driveway, into the backyard. Then you’ll have to climb two fences to get into our yard. I’ll let you in that way.”

“Thank you!”

Sammy felt tornadoes churn in his stomach. The panic was crushing him. Use your words, he told himself. Use your words to tell your sister. “No. No. No. Don’t… Don’tttttttt let her in. I’m sorry. Don’t let let let her in.”

“Sammy, it’s fine, relax.”

This made the anger stronger. She didn’t understand him.

“No, Drea, I’m in trouble. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” he pleaded.

“What are you talking about buddy?”

“I did something at school. I did something wrong. I’m in trouble. Please don’t let her in.” He spat out the words like chewed up food. Using words exhausted him sometimes.

“It’s okay buddy, whatever it is. It’s okay. Why don’t you go get your headphones? That will make you feel better.”

She was right. The headphones would help. Keep loud noises out.

He bounded up the stairs and found them looped over the back of his desk chair. As he put them on, he felt his shoulders relax. Everything was going to be okay.

Sammy skulked slowly back to the stairwell and paused midway down the stairs. He sat with apprehension halfway between up and down. Two ways to escape. No way to be trapped.

Moments later, two figures hopped over the fence.

“Yo, you serious?” the kid complained as he tore a small corner of his sweatshirt on the fence post.

“Aren’t they an odd pair?” Drea said quietly.

Sammy didn’t know what she meant. He saw one tall teacher-looking woman and one kid with a hat and a bad attitude.

“Hi, I’m Laura… Ha… Harding,” the woman stuttered, just like Sammy did sometimes.

Drea nodded at the adult and turned to look at the kid.

“Sup?” he offered from under a baseball cap.

A boy of few words.

“Hey, I’m Drea.”

The three stood there for an extended moment. This was the part where they were supposed to shake hands. It was part of the Meeting People Script.

“So, this is awkward,” Drea laughed. “What’s it like out there? Still piles of corpses?”

Another weird laugh. It wasn’t Drea’s usual laugh.

“It’s not good,” the teacher said.

The group stared at the ground. Drea offered a fist bump to the kid. He left her hanging.

“You got a name?” Sammy’s sister asked.

The kid’s eyes widened. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. “Nah…” he muttered.

“Nah? That’s an unusual name,” said Drea.

Sammy agreed.

“That ain’t my name.”

“But you said it was.”

That is what he said. He was confusing.

“This chick is cray-cray. I’m outta here.” The boy ran back toward the fence.

“Darnell, wait!” the teacher yelled as she jumped in front of him to block his way.

“Bye Darnell, good luck out there,” Drea smirked.

Sammy would never understand smiles.

“Ms. Harding, you blew my cover!” the boy screamed.

“You had a cover? I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” The teacher was working hard to keep the kid’s attention.

“I dunno this rich chick. I don’t trust her.”

“I don’t know her either, but we have to give it some time and get to know her.”

Sammy crept slowly down the stairs. He was curious more than anything. The visitors didn’t seem dangerous, but they certainly were very confusing.

Cautiously, he approached Drea and stood directly behind her, hiding himself.

The angry boy clenched his fists as he paced back and forth. “You don’t know her? You dragged me all the way out here and you don’t even know this chick?”

“Hey, Nah! If you don’t want to be here, go ahead and leave!”

Drea’s shouting hurt Sammy’s ears.

“No yelling!” he commanded from behind his sister’s back.

The boy in the hat made eye contact with Sammy and froze. His mouth dropped open and his head cocked to the side. There was some strange look on his face. “We came here for that ‘tard?” the kid asked pointing at Sammy.

“He has autism, dumbass,” said Drea in her mad voice.

Uh oh. She used a bad word.

“Same difference,” the kid shot back.

“I’m not a retard,” Sammy whispered to Drea. “Tell him.”

“What are you then? What’s wrong with you?”

The boy advanced on him with his chest puffed out. The posture didn’t scare Sammy. It looked comical.

“I have autism. Which means I can do special things.”

“Oh yeah? I bet. Real special.” The boy drew out the sound of the last word.

Sammy wondered if he was trying to be mean.

“That’s enough, Darnell!” the teacher shouted.

“Sammy, back up. Let me handle this,” Drea whispered.

“Let me show him,” he returned with a furious whisper. It was the easiest way for him to make friends. A way to show people how his brain worked.

“Show me what?” the other boy questioned. He was curious.

“My special ability.”

“This oughta be good,” Darnell said with his eyes raised.

“When is your birthday?” Sammy asked.

“Why you wanna know?”

“Just do it,” Drea urged, rolling her eyes.

“It’s on Christmas,” Darnell replied.

Sammy closed his eyes and said, “So this year it will be on…” Images of the calendar flipped by in his head. Numbers and boxes scrolled by until he arrived at the answer. Crystal clear. “A Sunday.” Sammy smiled and waited for a response.

“So? You know when Christmas is, big whoop.”

“When’s your birthday, Laura?” Drea asked. She was trying to help.

“August 28.”

“Ah, that will be…”

The birthday game was a math game. Sets of seven compared to number of days in a month. Plus one for a leap year…

“A Sunday also.”

“You’re lyin’.” Darnell looked spooked.

“He’s not. It’s his special ability,” Drea asserted.

“He memorized the calendar?”

“Sort of. He memorized the calendar rules. He has the math in his head. Ask him any day, any year.”

“December 26.”

“What year?” Sammy was growing more confident. The calendar flipped faster each time.

“Three years ago,” Darnell said closing his eyes.

“Hmmmm… A Friday.”

Darnell stared him down, biting his lip. Then he simply nodded and walked away.

Sammy felt relieved. He was right. And being right at the calendar trick made him friends. Darnell was his friend now.

There was a long time where nobody said anything. That was fine with Sammy. He felt relaxed now.

Finally, Drea inquired, “What happened on December 26?”

“Noneya business,” Darnell snarled.

“Seems like you were begging for us to ask.”

“Shut yo’ mouth!”

That was anger. Sammy was confused. He thought they were friends now.

“Okay then. Never mind…. You said you were from Sammy’s school?” Drea asked the woman. “You’re a teacher?”

“Yes. I teach third grade.”

She didn’t look familiar. But Sammy was bad at faces.

“How do you know Sammy?”

Before she could answer Darnell jumped in, “We don’t. Let’s get out of here Ms. Harding. I’m not hanging around with this hipster wannabe and the kid encyclopedia.”

“Shut it, Nah. The adults were having a conversation.” Drea used fire to fight fire.

It worked and the teacher continued, “I don’t know him well. I just know he was in Mrs. M’s class.”

“Then what made you come here?” his sister asked.

“I saw him, on Monday… after it happened… when I was chasing after Darnell. Besides us, he was the only one who survived at JFK.”

Sammy thought back to Monday. He had seen a teacher and student playing tag, but he didn’t remember what they looked like.

“Yeah, I know how it is. I was the only survivor at Phipps Academy,” Drea said.

She swallowed hard and grabbed Sammy’s hand. Her hand felt clammy against his.

“You want to come in and we can talk about it?” she asked the visitors.

The wind picked up and blew a spring chill across the yard. Sammy pulled away from his sister and went inside. It was done. The Meeting People Script was over now. He had nothing left to say.

“I ain’t goin’ in there.,” Darnell said as he took a seat on the patio furniture.

“Suit yourself… Nah. What’s his problem anyway?” Drea asked.

“He’s a gigantic ball of trauma,” the teacher said.

Sammy wondered, what color ball? Blue?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Drea

The upstairs hall elongated into eternity. Dozens of doors lined each side of the hallway, all closed. Intuitively, Drea knew it was her house, even though it was dark and looked strange. The first door on the left was Sammy’s room, then Mom and Dad’s. A puddle of sewage seeped out from under the bathroom door at the far end of the hall. Drea walked past. She was compelled to keep going, the hallway stretching on further and further.

She broke into a run. Her feet felt heavy like they had bricks strapped to their soles. She ran and ran in super slow motion, finally arriving at the huge set of doors at the end of the hall.

Suddenly, the double-doors blew open revealing a blinding rainbow of light. Drea stepped through and the scene morphed into a laboratory. She hovered above the lab like a bird, observing many people in white coats scurrying around carrying test tubes. They looked busy and determined, as though completely consumed by their research.

With laser-like vision, Drea read the labels on the glass tubes. Some were marked Poison, others Pathogen. A flat screen monitor that hung on the wall spewed a fast-scrolling message: Save the Human Race. The whole room looked sterile and unfriendly.

All the scientists worked at a frenetic pace, except for one. A female scientist with black wavy hair pulled back into a ponytail, was curled up under a workbench, crying. Her lab coat was pulled over her knees, as though she was hiding. She held her head in her hands.

Abruptly, the woman looked up at the ceiling as if she sensed Drea hovering there. Her gaze pierced Drea’s face.

“RUN!” the woman mouthed.

With a blink, the scene changed and Drea was laying in a field. The grass made a soft cushion under her head. The sky was a normal blue and a gentle spring breeze blew over her skin. As she slowly stood up, Drea recognized the terrain–– perfectly cut grass surrounded by a perimeter of trees. It felt familiar, like a place from her childhood…