Read Talented Online

Authors: Sophie Davis

Talented (4 page)

BOOK: Talented
9.9Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

 

Chapter Six

 

After the Mandatory Testing Law took effect, several Rebel factions developed in response; they accumulated a strong following, mostly in the southwestern United States.  The Rebels staged a small revolt, but the Agency had quashed it before it had gone too far.  In the end, the Coalition of Rebel States:  California, Nevada, Utah, Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico and Texas, seceded from the rest of the country and elected their own president.  Over the years, the Coalition has served as a safe haven for citizens who championed a country where Talents were suppressed, hidden, where being Talented, was something to be ashamed of.  One of the primary objectives of Toxic is to prevent the Coalition from gaining any more momentum.  In fact, Mac’s main goal as Director was to defeat the Coalition’s leaders and reunite the country.

I was ten years old when my parents,
Katerina and Francis Lyons, were killed in an attack by the rebels.  My family moved around a lot when I was a child, on account of my father’s job as a government scientist, and at the time of the attack we visiting the States so that my father could attend an annual meeting with members of Toxic.  My family always stayed in the same hotel in the same small town in Maryland, about twenty minutes away from the School’s campus.

The men in black came in the dead of night.  My father and his bodyguard tried to fight them off, but they were greatly outnumbered.  My mother hid me in a closet and went to my father’s aid, but she was no more a fighter than he was.  I watched through the slats in the closet door, terrified, as the men in black mercilessly killed my parents.  I stuffed my small fist in my mouth, and bit down until I tasted blood, willing myself not to scream out loud.  I wanted to close my eyes against the carnage.  Instead, I sat frozen, with my eyes open so wide that they began to water, producing tears even before my brain could process what was going on.

My parents’ deaths had been quick.  One cold metal bullet to the side of my father’s head was all it took to steal the life of the man whose lap I curled up in every night before bed so he could tell me a story; the man who brought me cold milk and warm cinnamon sugar cookies when I had nightmares; the man whose warm, dark brown eyes and toothy smile lit up the room every time my mother walked in.

My poor mother, she never stood a chance.  Before she could even reach my father, a man in black grabbed her from behind.  With one flick of his wrist, a gaping wound appeared across her throat.  The man in black tossed her carelessly next to my father’s crumpled form, like she was trash.

I was murderous.  The feelings overwhelmed me, stirring in my stomach and rising like bile in my throat; overwhelmed me.  Then the horrible, high-pitched shrieking started; it filled my ears, suffocating all of the coherent thoughts in my brain.

I am still not sure if it was the cold, calculated murder of my father, or the careless disposal of my mother – probably both – but I felt something inside of me snap.  One minute, I was hiding in the closet with the silk of my mother’s long dresses pulled tight around my face, like curtains trying to block out the brutal scene in the bedroom.  The next, I was sitting in the outer room of our hotel suite, surrounded by broken furniture, shattered glass, and the bodies of the men in black.  They were all dead.

The heavy black clouds in the night sky matched the darkness I felt building inside me.  The rain began to fall through the now-broken windows in fat drops; they came down slowly at first but it wasn’t long before the drops blended together, resembling streams of water falling from the sky.  The rainwater was cold – a sharp contrast to the hot tears pouring from my eyes.

I don’t know how long I sat there in the rain before a large, blonde man rushed through the open door to the hotel room.  I recognized him from meetings with my father, but I couldn’t remember his name.  He was a large man, with broad shoulders, hair that was cut short, and a tanned lined face from spending time outside over the years.

The blonde man carried a large gun slung over one shoulder, and several smaller ones were tucked at his waist.  An entire team of men clamored through the doorway after him.  He held up one of his hands, indicating for the men to stay back.  He approached me slowly, hesitantly.  He was greater than an arms distance away when he tentatively extended one of his large, gloved hands toward me; I had seen people do the same thing with wounded animals.

“Natalia?” he asked in a soft voice.  I couldn’t find the energy to even nod my head, I just stared blankly.  “Natalia,” he repeated.  “My name is Danbury McDonough.  Do you remember me?  I’m friends with your daddy.”  I rewarded him with another of my blank stares.  “Natalia, are you hurt?”  He took my silence as an indication that I was not.

He knelt down next to me, and gently untangled my fingers from the folds of my dress.  Without thinking, I threw my arms around his neck.  He patted me awkwardly on the back, unsure how to react.  I dug my small fingers into his shoulders, scared to let go.  He carefully picked me up.

“You’re freezing,” he commented, hugging me close and trying to warm me with his own body heat.  I started shaking, actually feeling the cold for the first time.  He carried me through the crowd of men huddled in the hallway.  The men spoke in low voices to one another as Mac carried me the length of the corridor, and down the stairs to a road car waiting in the parking lot.

“How many are dead?” One man whispered to the shorter man standing next to him.

“There have to be at least ten right there,” another proffered.

“Did she do that?” the shorter man asked, in disbelief.

“Impossible, she’s a child,” a heavily accented voice interjected.

“Does she even have a weapon?”

I could feel Mac’s body tense in response to the mutterings of the men.

He placed me in the back seat of the waiting vehicle. I curled into a ball as he covered me with dry blankets.  My body and mind were numb, impervious to the rain and cold.  He tucked the red and black fabric under my chin.  I was vaguely aware that the material was itchy against my skin, but I didn’t move it away.

I could hear the soft ping of the raindrops hitting the metal roof of the car, keeping perfect time with the tears leaking on to the soft leather seat and pooling underneath my cheek.  I tried to concentrate on the noise instead of the slideshow of my parents’ deaths playing on the inside of my eyelids.  I was convinced that the images, now seared into my conscious, would never fade.  The feelings I’d had in the closet were now gone, leaving me empty and hollow and tired – so tired.  I closed my swollen eyes and willed my own mind blank.

I spent one month at the Medical facility located on the grounds of the McDonough School for the Talented.  Mac came to visit me every day.  He would keep up a constant, one-sided, conversation, never appearing bothered by my lack of response.  Every day the medics would draw my blood, hook me up to machines, and talk about my vital signs.  Sometimes they talked at me, sometimes they simply talked around me.

One morning, Mac came into my room, instead of sitting in his usual chair in the corner he crouched down next to the side of my bed.  He made a point to lock my purple eyes with his own steely gray ones.

“Natalia, I need to talk to you,” he said, in the most serious tone he’d ever used with me, “and I need you to listen very carefully.  The medics here say you are physically healthy, and that you can be released.”  When I did not comment, Mac plunged forward with what, I assumed, was a carefully thought-out speech.  “You have two choices.  I found an uncle – your father’s brother, I think – in Italy, who said he is willing to have you live with him and his family.”  He hesitated before giving me my second option, but I didn’t need to hear him say it; I read the one word plain as day out of his mind.  Before he could open his mouth to formulate the words, I said my first word in an entire month, “Revenge.”

During one of his daily visits Mac had explained to me Toxic’s theory of what happened the night my parents were murdered.  They believed that the president of the Coalition, Ian Crane, had ordered the deaths of my family in retaliation for my father’s scientific contributions to the study of Talents and what caused our abilities.  Mac said our family wasn’t the only one the Coalition had targeted, but it was the first time they had left a survivor.

That day I left Medical and went to live with Danbury “Mac” McDonough, his wife Gretchen, and their twelve year old son.  I had no personal items, so I followed Mac, empty handed, up the long stone path to a sprawling ranch-style house.  Before we reached the bright red front door, it opened, and inside stood a tall woman with pretty blonde hair and big brown eyes.  Standing next to her was a boy; he looked to be slightly older than I was, and already as tall as his mother.  He had shaggy blonde hair and big pale blue eyes. He smiled at me and, for the first time since my parents’ death, I smiled back.

“Natalia, I would like you to meet my wife, Gretchen, and my son, Donavon,” Mac said to me, as he gestured to each in turn.

“Natalia,” Gretchen greeted me warmly.  “I had some clothes made for you sweetheart.  I hope you will like them.”  I knew I should say thank you, but I couldn’t find my voice, so I simply nodded.

“Donavon, why don’t you show Natalia to her new room and let her get settled.  I am sure she needs to rest,” Gretchen said to her son, still smiling down at me.

“Kay, follow me.”  I looked up at Mac; he nodded encouragingly, so I followed Donavon.  He didn’t speak as we wound through the maze that was his house.  Finally, we reached a set of double doors in the very back of the house.  Donavon opened the doors and led me into a small living area with two overstuffed red couches and a small dark wooden table.

“This is your sitting room,” he explained.  “Through that door over there, are your bedroom and bathroom.  My mom hung clothes in the closet, and there are some books on the desk.  My dad said you like to read old books.”

“Thank you,” I croaked, in a voice that was hoarse from non-use.

“You need anything else?” he asked.  I shook my head and he turned to leave.  He hesitated at the door.  “Is it true you can manipulate people’s minds?” he said it so fast I nearly misunderstood him.

“Who told you that?”  I demanded

“I heard my dad and one of his Hunters talking,” he replied, sheepishly.   “Dad says you can perform mind manipulation.”  I just stared, not sure how to react.  My parents taught me to
never
talk about my special abilities.

“So, is it true?” he pressed. After a long moment, I walked towards him. His eyes widened, but he didn’t flinch as I reached out and took his hand.  I fixed his wide eyes with my own.


Yes, it’s true
,” I answered mentally.  His eyes grew even wider, but he didn’t release my hand.


Whoa, that’s so cool
,” his mental voice replied.  “
Can you make anybody hear what you are thinking?”

“Only if I want them to; I can make people hear or see anything.” 
He smiled.


That’s so cool
.”  He repeated


You’re . . . not scared of me?”

”I don’t know how anyone could be scared of you.”

I looked up into his shining blue eyes and smiled.  For the first time in my life, I knew that I had a friend.

The first couple of days with the McDonough family were strange.  Mac and Gretchen continually tried to engage me in conversation, but I wasn’t ready to talk to them.  Mac would come visit me in my sitting room, and talk about my soon-to-be new life at school.  I had heard my father talk about the school when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.  I listened intently to every word Mac said, mentally filing away every detail.

While Mac’s sole concern was making sure that I understood my new role as a student at school, Gretchen’s sole concern was making sure that I never wore the same outfit twice.  When I arrived, the closet was filled with elaborate dresses made of raw silk, soft animal hair sweaters in varying colors, and comfortable looking cotton pants.  Every day more packages arrived with fabrics that Gretchen had ordered from New York City.  She would send for one of the seamstresses from school, and the two of them would spend the day fussing over what new outfits I needed.

Each day, after lunch, Donavon would rescue me from his mother’s fawning.  I seldom spoke when I was with Mac or Gretchen, but with Donavon I rarely kept quiet.  Donavon wanted to know all about the glamorous life I’d led, traveling around the world; he’d spent all his life living at either the School or Elite Headquarters.  I hated having to tell him that I spent most of my life inside hotel rooms, and rarely got to see anything cool.  Likewise, I wanted to know everything about his life at School, with kids and friends.  I had little interaction with kids my own age growing up, and even less interaction – none, actually – with
Talented kids.  In fact, before coming to live with the McDonough’s, I didn’t know that what I could do was considered a “Talent.”

Donavon was what Toxic termed a Poly-Morph.  He was able to change himself in to just about any animal.  He told me Mac had been teaching him how to morph into other human forms, but he was not even close to achieving such a feat.

Some days I would spend the afternoon watching Donavon show off, morphing from one animal to another, while I giggled and clapped for him.  Other days he would work with me on my abilities.  We would hide out in the woods behind his parent’s house and see if I could reach his mind.  We would widen the gap each day, until we could communicate across the entire compound.  Other days, we would wander down to the lake on the other side of the woods to play in the water.

BOOK: Talented
9.9Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Beneath by S. C. Ransom
The Hunt by Ellisson, C.J.
Dualed by Elsie Chapman
Shotgun Charlie by Ralph Compton
The Aeneid by Virgil, Robert Fagles, Bernard Knox
The Guns of Easter by Gerard Whelan
The Professor by Kelly Harper
Duke: Fallen MC #1 by C.J. Washington
Wicked and Wonderful by King, Valerie