Project Aquarius (The Sensitives Series Book 1) (19 page)

“No, stay armed! We can’t trust them!” Kitty pleaded.

“Why are you being so hostile toward us?” Drea asked.

“The only other adult we’ve seen tried to kidnap me in a van,” said Kitty. “And that was two days ago.”

“We can help you. We can all work together,” said Ms. Harding, trying to work out a truce.

“That’s what the kidnapper said too. We can’t trust them Rat Face,” Kitty insisted. “Remember our pact.”

“Yeah,” Rat Face agreed reluctantly. “We don’t want your help. Do we?”

A single tear escaped down his cheek. He looked back toward his group for approval. “Remember our pact.”

They all shook their heads in obedient agreement.

“But you must need something. You can’t live out here all by yourselves with no supervision,” Ms. Harding reasoned.

Darnell’s ropes gave way not a moment too soon. He moved in purposeful slow motion, pressing a shush gesture to his lips as he picked Sammy up off the ground. It was time for them to get out of there. Now that there were real guns, the stakes were too high. Darnell knew better than to try to talk down an armed gang leader.

He cleared his throat loudly. “Fine. You stay here on Applewood Lane. It’s your turf. No need to beef. We go back to ours.”

Rat Face spun around to find Darnell and Sammy holding hands. “How’d you get out?”

“Magic,” Darnell answered with a flick of the red knife.  He stabbed the air in front of him to show he meant business. “Like I said, we be goin’ now. Have fun livin’ in your tree fort.”

Darnell walked slowly toward the front of the house, dragging Sammy with him. “Oh, and just so you know, e’rybody between here and Cambridge is dead. So there ain’t nobody comin’ for you. Peace out.”

Darnell pulled Sammy by the arm with a swift tug and caught up to Ms. Harding and Drea. “This is the part where we run,” he said with confidence.

The girls gave him a quizzical look.

“Trust me. They ain’t stable. They think they a gang and they got a pact. We gotta get out of here. Or people gonna end up dead.”

He grabbed Ms. Harding with his free hand and Drea followed. Arm in arm, the group ran back to their temporary safe house on Birch Grove Road.

Someone fired a single shot after them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Sammy

Sammy was curled up in a tight ball in the armchair in the living room. He sensed the anger in the room. The air felt tight in his lungs. He closed his eyes and wished he were alone.

    Everyone was talking at once. “What’s the plan? What’s the plan?” they repeated.

Laura talked about adopting the Applewood Gang. “Can’t leave them alone,” she said. She was very loud when trying to make her point and it hurt Sammy’s ears.

Drea kept saying they needed to go to New Hampshire. “Find family. Find Mom and Dad,” she said.

But Drea had told him Mom and Dad were gone. Gone with a capital G. And capital letters meant business.

Darnell said he wanted to “Just chillax for a while,” whatever that meant. Did Chillax have capital letters?

Sammy just wanted everyone to be quiet and stop arguing! The headphones weren’t helping. Words seeped in. New Hampshire. Adoption. Rats. Danger. Weapons. Walking. Staying.

Laura was yelling at Darnell, pointing at the red-handled knife in his hand. She said over and over again, “Where did you get it?”

“I nicked it.”

Drea patted her pockets. “That was a gift from my friend Matt, asshole!”

That was a bad word. The headphones couldn’t stop the bad words. Bad words. Good words. None of it made any sense to Sammy. The knife was a gift. Gifts were good. But knives were weapons. Weapons were bad.

Sammy didn’t want anyone to get hurt so he spoke up, “Knives are dangerous Drea. Mom says so.”

No playing with the knives in the kitchen. No sharps. Those were the rules and the rules kept him safe.

“It’s for protection Sammy!” she said with an annoyed voice.

“Oh.” Protection from strangers. Bad guys. Fight bad guys with bad weapons.

Drea’s voice softened, “And the knife reminds me of the time before… before the power went out.”

Sammy understood. His specimen book reminded him of the time before the power went out. Comfort.

Drea patted him on the head. His short hair smooshed around in circles. It felt like a thousand tiny knives pricking his scalp. He winced.

“Go into the other room Sammy. It’s going to get loud in here,” Drea instructed while glaring at Darnell.

Sammy obeyed. He walked down the hall to the room with all the books and statues and shut the heavy oak door.

Even with the door closed Sammy could still make out the voices through the walls. Drea’s voice raged, “How on Earth did you get my knife? When did you take it?”

“Noneya business,” Darnell spat back.

“Oh, we’re back to that, are we? Being all hard? Being a liar!”

“Where I come from, you carry a knife. Ain’t no big thing.”

“Where I come from, people don’t take things that don’t belong to them!”

Laura’s voice topped them both, “And where I come from, children listen to adults! Hand it over.”

Sammy winced.

“No! I need it for protection!” Darnell shouted.

Sammy knew how he felt. Sammy needed plants for protection. He felt strange without them. Like he was missing a part of himself.

“You don’t need weapons. There’s no threat out there,” said Laura.

“Oh yeah? I already used it once to save our butts.”

Sammy remembered clearly Darnell waving it at the Applewood kids.

“I’m keepin’ it,” Darnell asserted.

“It’s not yours to keep,” said Sammy’s sister’s angry voice.

Darnell fired back, “See, Ms. Harding? She wants protection too. Told you I can sense these things.”

It was quiet for a moment before Darnell continued, “It ain’t safe out there. I know danger when I feel it. And the thing that killed e’rybody is over and done. The real danger now is in the people who survived. They scared. And scared people act all crazy like they got nothin’ to lose.”

“You’re right about that,” Drea acquiesced. “Those kids we met weren’t kids anymore.”

Sammy was confused. The Applewood kids looked like kids to him. Angry bully kids.

Darnell added, “See? You scared too, Drea. That’s why you want to carry a knife so bad… They more crazy fools out there who will tie you up and wave a gun in your mug. You both know it.”

Sammy thought mugs were for hot cocoa.

Drea conceded, “You’re right, Darnell, it’s dangerous. Carry a knife if you want. Carry ten knives for all I care. But this knife is mine. Get your own.”

The yelling was over. For now.

Drea clomped away down the hall. Sammy heard her steps coming closer to the statue room. She opened the door. The red knife was in her hand.

“Go to bed Sammy,” she said.

So he did.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Drea

Squatting in someone else’s house made Drea uneasy. The total darkness magnified the weird and unsettling feeling. During the day, Drea found silence relaxing, but at night the creepiness factor was off the charts. Her near-constant state of anxiety made sleep almost impossible. Her brain focused on every little noise. Was that skitter a mouse? Was that creak a burglar? Small sounds stood out in a world with no electric hum.

      She finally drifted to sleep just before dawn. The dreams were coming more frequently now. This time she was on a highway in a bleak landscape dotted with car wrecks. Drea glanced over her shoulder and saw that her brother, Darnell, and Laura were following her; dodging piled up cars, walking quickly her way. But every time Drea looked, instead of getting closer, they were further and further away, little specks fading into the horizon, as though they were riding a treadmill in the wrong direction.

Drea squinted at their shrinking forms and for a moment, she thought she saw that Sierra had joined the group. Sierra was pulling Sammy in the red wagon. Drea tried to turn around to go after them, but an invisible momentum pulled her forward. She called out to Sierra, but her voice wouldn’t work.

All of a sudden, the sky went black. The silhouette of an enormous hawk eclipsed the sun with its twenty-foot wingspan. The giant bird swooped down, calling out with a deafening cry. Menacing foot-long talons unfurled from the creature’s bony feet, as it effortlessly plucked Laura off the ground. Laura screamed and fought, but the gigantic bird held the teacher firmly in its claws. Then the predator flapped its gigantic wings and hauled its prey toward the sky.

Drea looked frantically for help, but the others had vanished. She was alone, on the desolate highway, watching Laura’s struggling form grow smaller and smaller, as the bird flew off into the horizon.

***

Drea opened her eyes and found an ornate crown molding staring back at her. She wasn’t in her room in Cambridge. Was this a dream within a dream? She pinched the fleshy part of her arm and felt a twinge of pain in response. Definitely awake.

She took in the opulent mantle above a fireplace, large enough to swallow an adult. Drea remembered she was in a rich person’s house— a strange place. She groaned as she recalled that the line between reality and the dream world had recently been permanently altered. The whole world was strange now.

She rolled over on the luxe couch cushions and found Laura awake, staring back.

“Get your stuff,” Laura directed with a stern voice. At the foot of the couch, Laura’s bag was open and already half-packed. The room was full of nomadic energy.

“We’re leaving?” Drea asked, still groggy from her transition back to the waking world.

“We discussed this last night. It isn’t up for debate.” The words tightened the creases around Laura’s mouth. The journey had hardened her. Stress did awful things to wonderful people.

Quietly, in the early morning light, Drea gathered her few belongings. She was surprised at how quickly she was packed. She didn’t need many things anymore, just a few articles of clothing and her sacred tarot cards, the ironic posthumous gift from her best friend.

Drea remembered Sierra’s iconic neat braids and carefree head tilt. Suddenly, she felt pulled to do a reading. It was a burning urgency, a gut feeling if ignored that would fester into regret. Sierra had taught Drea to listen to this pull, answer its call, as it was always informative.

She glanced around to make sure no one was looking; she needed a private moment with the deck. She grabbed the cards off the top of her backpack and slid the stack into her hands. They felt warm to the touch, as though they had been set on top of a radiator. Drea concentrated on images from her dream and asked for clarity. The enormous hawk flashed in her mind’s eye, talons outstretched. As though in response to her thoughts, the deck seemed to get even hotter in her hands.

Three down from the top, a card pulled her attention. She flipped it over and laid her eyes on The Eight of Wands. It was familiar card that signified swift change in the presence of the unknown. The Eight of Wands wasn’t particularly ominous, but it clarified that the group wouldn’t be sticking around the Birch Grove neighborhood. No surprise there, as swift change was the new normal for Drea.

“I told you, it’s time to go,” Laura argued loudly with Darnell in the kitchen.

The streetwise foster kid was having a surprisingly hard time accepting the fast changes in the new world.

“Y’all should relax and stay for a few days. No reason we can’t live here in luxury for a while,” he protested. “Drea? You wanna stay, too. Amirite?”

Drea also felt a slow sluggish tug to stay wrapped up in comfort of the temporary home. She wanted to pull the covers over her head and sleep for days. She wanted to cry it all out until she had no tears left. But quickly she suppressed the urge. She scuttled the cards back into their bag and pulled the drawstring taut. The Eight of Wands had given Drea the push she needed. She couldn’t afford to entertain the hazy seduction of depression right now.

She got up off the couch, marched into the kitchen, and put her hand on Darnell’s shoulder. “There is a very good reason we can’t stay here and you know it. You said it yourself last night. The Applewood Gang is not the only group out there with guns. There is danger here.”

“But there’s danger e’rywhere! That was my point. This house has a sweet setup. Look at this place!” He pointed at the side-by-side stainless steel fridge that was the size of a gardening shed. “And there are two generators in the basement. Two! Let’s just chill for a few days,” Darnell begged.

“Please, Drea, can we stay?” Sammy joined in from his place at the breakfast bar.

His request gnawed at her. Drea knew Sammy didn’t want to leave any more than Darnell did. And he so very rarely asked for anything. In many ways, Sammy had adjusted faster to the new world than the rest of the group by following his specific rules and routines. His internal organization was a compass he brought with him everywhere he went. He had found his proper place at a breakfast bar, in a different kitchen, second stool from the left. In the new world, Sammy’s autism made more sense.

Drea took a deep breath and firmly said, “No. We can’t stay here. We’re heading north, away from the highway.” She closed her eyes when she was done, so she couldn’t see their hearts break.

“I know,” Sammy sing-songed, disappointment evident in his tone.

“We need to continue on the Pike and see if we can find anymore survivors,” said Laura, perpetually sticking to her original plan.

Drea’s eyes snapped open.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ve seen enough survivors. You saw what this new world did to those kids. I don’t think we’re going to make any friends out there. Let’s take back roads.”

“Two more days on the highway. Then we can cut through the woods to the north. That was our compromise,” Laura reminded.

Drea sighed, “Fine.”

Darnell jumped up off the end stool.

“Woods? I ain’t goin’ in no woods!”

“We’re not going in the woods yet. In a few days.”

“Nah. No woods for me. I’m all set.” He looked visibly shaken.

Drea couldn’t win.

“You ever been camping Darnell?” she asked, trying to be helpful.

“Do I look like I go camping?” He pointed to his pristine Red Sox hat and his newly stained Jordans. “I go to the mall.”

Laura assured him, “You’ll be fine. You’re going to like Drea’s cabin in the woods.”

“That… uh… place… is in the woods? I didn’t know. Deal breaker.”

Drea noticed restraint in Darnell’s word choice. He had wanted to say something more colorful, more descriptive. But somehow, against all odds, he was learning to be more in control.

“Of course it’s in the woods. What did you think was northwest of Boston?” Drea questioned.

“Lameness,” Darnell said.

Drea laughed.

“That’s true, but it’s surrounded by trees.”