Awoken (The Lucidites Book 1) (12 page)

“We’re having a great time in paradise. Glad you aren’t here.”

Someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn and catch Ren in my peripheral right before he punches me in the face. I fall toward the ground, but never find it. I just fall and fall. Then there’s knocking. I’m twisted in my dress, getting more and more tangled as I fall. The knocking continues and I scream out of frustration.

I wake up tangled in my bed sheets. Someone’s knocking loudly at my door. I fumble with shaking hands to release myself from the covers.

“I’m coming.” My voice constricts in my throat as the incessant knocking increases. “Yes?!” I exclaim as the door slides back.

A short gentleman with white sideburns, a hat, and a mustache stands grinning at me. He wears shorts, a T-shirt, and sneakers.

“Courier delivery for a Ms. Stark,” he sings, handing me a large box.

Confused, I let him shove it into my arms. “Thanks,” I manage, stepping back from the sudden weight of the box.

He tips his hat at me as he trots off. “Anytime.”

Why am I getting a package?
I heave it into my room and put it on the bed. Confusion tunnels through my thoughts as the dream images bounce around in my head. Then I see the covers in a heap on the floor and instant panic races through me.
Oh, no! I went to sleep. What if I’ve allowed Zhuang into my dreams?
Bob and Steve had warned me never to fall into an unfocused dreaming state. They’d said this was how to fall prey to Zhuang’s hallucination.

I race to the mirror to check my face, wondering if the blow Ren sent me had caused a real mark to appear on my face. Nothing. I scan my arms and legs for any signs of damage, but everything seems fine. The dream, although bizarre, appears to be just a dream. Somehow I’d been able to fall asleep without allowing Zhuang to get into my head.

When my heart stops racing, I edge over to the box and examine it. My name is printed on the top and it’s sealed with three pieces of shiny tape. I grab a pen from the desk and use it like a knife to cut along the seam. Once I pull back the large flaps of the box I find an envelope lying on top of a layer of white tissue paper. I slip a thick card out of the envelope. On the front are two birds singing on a tree branch. I open and read:

Dear Roya,

We’re proud of you. This has been a crazy last few days, but you’ve handled them well. Keep doing what you’re doing and know you have our support. If things get tough try and remember that your perception is the only thing you control, so change it.

Love,

Bob & Steve

I read through the note three times. Then after a minute I realize I’m holding the card to my chest, like it provides comfort. I set it on the bed and peel the tissue paper off the top of the box. Inside are clothes. Ones intended for me. Clothes with tags still on them. New clothes. A quick burst of laughter escapes my mouth as my hands run over the soft fabrics and my eyes take in the beautiful colors. I imagine this is what Christmas morning feels like when your parents actually buy you something, instead of regifting whatever generic present your father got from the office holiday party.

A small squeal actually escapes my mouth as I unveil seven perfectly folded soft knit T-shirts encased in tissue paper. One for each day of the week. Under them I find three fleece pull-overs and six blouses in beautiful patterns with quarter-length sleeves. The excitement is intoxicating as I turn my attention back to the box. I don’t know why these people have lavished me with these gifts, but at the moment I couldn’t care less. If they’re trying to buy my love and affection then they have it. If they want me to slay a dragon to keep the Lucidites from becoming extinct then I’ll do it.

Three pairs of designer jeans are neatly folded under the shirts. Under those, my excited fingers find shorts, pajamas, underwear, sandals and sneakers. Only one thing remains in the box. I reach out and find a soft velvet bag. Christmas morning is almost over, and although I’m grateful and excited for all my presents, I know when the contents of this bag are unveiled it will be over. I pull the draw strings that tightly clench the bag shut. I decide against looking inside, and instead plunge my hand in. It meets a silky fabric, soft like flour. It’s light. I can’t control my curiosity any longer. I wrench my hand from the bag to find a mound of black and white striped fabric. It’s a dress. The stripes are of varying horizontal widths. It’s gorgeous and absolutely not my style. I push the dress aside and peer down into the not-yet-empty bag. There’s more. A shiny pair of black, open-toed heels.

I put the dress and shoes back in the bag. Then I take my time picking up each of the other garments, holding them up, placing them to my body, before carefully folding them back into neat squares. I’ve never had my own clothes. The things I wore all my life had been my mother’s hand-me-downs. These clothes are brand new, with the tags still on them. I’ve never worn anything brand new.

I pull off my stiff clothes and tug on a pair of shorts and a striped shirt. I slip on the pair of new sandals. It feels good to finally have shoes.

Smoothing my hair back down I steal a glance at the clock beside the bed.
Shit!
It’s after one. I’m late for my first training.

Chapter Fourteen

W
ithout a second thought I bolt down the hallway toward the elevators. Once I arrive on level five I stand frozen. The last time I was down here I’d gotten in trouble. I don’t know what room number indicates Aiden’s lab. My folder is still upstairs in the meeting room. Tentatively I walk in the opposite direction as last time, thinking it best to avoid the lady in the purple scrubs.

The rooms on this level aren’t marked with numbers. They say things like, “Panther room,” “Scape’s Escapes,” “Equipment storage,” and “Shhhh.” Confusion mounts in my mind as I travel deeper into the passageways of level five. When I’m just about to give up I hear music drumming from the end of the hallway. Curious, I pick up my pace and jog until I find an open door. Beside it a sign reads, “Aiden’s lab.” I smile.

I poke my head through the door to find Misty, the alternates, and Aiden standing in a circle.

“Come on in,” Aiden says, offering me a smile and waving me into the room.

The dream is still fresh in my mind and reverberates through my body, making me instantly look away from him. He has a weird effect on me, one that leaves me breathless.

“Did you get lost?” he asks, handing me my folder. “You left this behind.”

“Yeah,” I say, my voice winded. “Thanks.”

The other alternates give me strange expressions. They’re still wearing the green scrubs and T-shirts. I must look a bit out of place in my fresh, clean clothes.

“You missed lunch,” Joseph says like he’s convicting me of a crime.

“Oh, well, I couldn’t make it.” I chew on my lip. “I was busy.”

Everyone follows Aiden to the back of his lab. Joseph narrows his eyes at me and turns to follow the group.

Aiden’s lab is the size of a furniture store. Around the perimeter countertops line the workspace. Computers and pieces of odd-looking equipment are stacked in piles on their surfaces. Black cabinets streak the silver walls above and below the workspace. In one corner is a large mounted TV. It displays geometric shapes which morph in unison with the music pouring out of the speakers. Below it sits an iPod. The center of the lab is mostly open with a table here and there covered in random objects, wires, and food wrappers. In one area a tarp sits on the ground covering up what appears to be a mound of dirt. I lean down to get a closer look when Aiden interrupts me. “We’re back here.”

He points to a long table maybe fifteen feet in length, covered in a white sheet. Once we’re all gathered around the table Aiden begins, “You’re about to choose your protective charm. For those of you who don’t know, these objects should be worn at all times from this point forward. There’s a special force fixed into these items and once it attaches to you it won’t work for anyone else. For this reason, don’t touch a charm unless that’s the one you choose.”

Aiden pauses, scanning the group for understanding. “All right, now here’s the skinny on protective charms for those of you who didn’t receive the Lucidite manual at birth.” He winks at me. Without my consent my face blushes. Aiden continues, “There’s a special technology we’ve harnessed and installed into these objects. It protects you from most outside thoughts being embedded into your conscious and subconscious. This is the most important use of these items, although there can be other benefits.”

I think back to when I learned about protective charms from Bob and Steve. It seemed like so long ago, but it had only been days. My family was already suffering from hallucinations. They’d been brainwashed and were harsher than normal because of it. Zhuang had tampered with their thoughts, making them believe I was to be feared. Whatever he did was powerful enough that my mother told me she never wanted to see me again. Bob and Steve had explained this much.

“Then how do I know anything is real? How do
you
even know I’m real, or each other for that matter?” I had asked them skeptically.

“You don’t,” Bob answered at once. “You’ll need your very own protective charm. Until you have something that’s specifically yours then you must question everything. We”—he motioned to himself and Steve—“are wearing protective shields that currently Zhuang can’t penetrate.”

Steve stepped forward and pointed to the tiny silver loop in his right earlobe. Behind him, Bob pointed to a thin gold bracelet on his wrist.

“These pieces of jewelry were specifically created for us and they protect us from foreign thoughts being embedded in our memory,” Bob said. “You’ve met some of the others. You probably will remember that they too wear a distinct piece of jewelry. This is their protective charm.”

My mind now flashes to Trey’s amulet. Then to the gold ring Ren wears.

Aiden claps his hands together, rousing me from my reverie. “All right, without further ado let the protective charm hunt begin. Take as long as you need to explore,” Aiden says. “I’ll be up front if you have any questions.” He pulls the sheet from one end of the table and wads it up in his arms.

Along the table are roughly four dozen objects all calling our attention. Most of the group makes a quick rush for the table. I hang back a minute, and observe the others search for their own charm.

Tentatively I step up to the table. Once I’m closer, the choices are overwhelming. No doubt each of the objects has a luster and draw to it, but there’s nothing I see that pulls me in, compelling me to wear it forever.

A gold and black watch with Roman numerals sits on the table eyeing me. Next to it, a small flawless diamond stud. There’s a large looped chain with a box locket at the end, a gold beaded necklace, large silver rings, earrings of all types, sizes, and shapes, and so many other choices and options.

Misty is the first person to choose her charm. She grabs it hastily, like she’s afraid someone is going to steal it first. “Oh! Look at what I’ve got,” she says, holding up a small ring with a gold band and a row of three pearls. “This will be perfect on me!” Goat Girl exclaims, slipping it on her finger. It hesitates at the knuckle and she pushes a bit before it slides the rest of the way.

I watch as one by one each of the others discovers an object that calls to them. Trent chooses the gold watch. Whitney selects a silver necklace with a heart-shaped charm. Samara picks a pair of silver earrings in the shape of angel wings and Joseph a bracelet made of gold and silver links. George, the guy with the angry eyes, slips a platinum ring with multiple symbols adorning it on his thumb. As each of them makes their choice, everyone else admires their piece. Then they leave the lab looking lighter.

After a few minutes, on my third time around the table, worry edges into my thoughts. I’m alone now and nothing has appealed to me. Scanning the contents I search for something, anything I can picture wearing. I don’t have my ears pierced so that takes care of a lot of the women’s jewelry. The necklaces are either too long or too short. I keep picturing them getting tangled in my long hair as I sleep. After a long time lost with indecision the music in the room grows louder. It has a compelling beat and an eerie tone.

“Oh,” Aiden squeaks. “I didn’t realize anyone was still in here.” He’s carrying a stack of binders, which are dangerously close to slipping from his arms.

“Here, let me help.” I take two binders off the top.

He reshuffles the other five in his arms. “Thanks. Mind setting those down over here for me?”

I do and he turns to me, looking curious. The expression in his eyes reminds me again of my dream. My insides squirm with apprehension. “So,” Aiden says, “everyone else left ages ago. Not that I mind, but why are you camping out in my lab?”

“I can’t find anything.” I scrunch up my nose in frustration. “None of the jewelry is my style. I don’t want something flashy or dainty or unpractical, you know?”

He nods, an easy grin on his face. “I do.”

The beat of the music ramps up and I find myself moving my head to its rhythm. “Who’s this?” I point overhead to where the speakers are.

“Black Gold. It’s called
Plans and Reverie
,” Aiden says. “You like it, huh?”

I nod. “And I don’t usually like music.”

He arches an eyebrow at me. “Sounds like you do, you just haven’t been exposed to the good stuff yet
.
”

“Well, the cave I live in only gets AM radio, so that’s a real possibility.”

His laughter makes the room feel instantly bigger. “Another good reason to stay here at the Institute.”

“Another? Are we making a list now?” I say.

“Yes, it’s something I’m putting together in all my spare time. Top ten reasons Roya should remain at the Institute.”

I hadn’t really thought about what would happen after this whole thing was over.
I’d go home, right?
“I’d love to see the list.”