Alex Armstrong: Awakening (21 page)

****

“You’re moving us, aren’t you?” Alex said.

“What makes you say that?”

“There were no buttons. You didn’t push any to open the door, and you didn’t push any once we got in here.”

“Well, then I’d say this is a pretty secure place.” President Joyce stopped the elevator.

“Where are we?” Eva said.

“Alex, can you help her?”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell her where we are.” He started cleaning his glasses.

“I don’t know. Underground?”

“That’s a start.” He put his glasses back on and looked up at Alex. “But you should know much more than that. Close your eyes.”

“Sir?”

“I find it’s easier to develop a new sense when we aren’t relying so much on the ones we’ve already mastered.” He squinted a bit. “So close your eyes.”

Alex glanced at Eva and then did as he was told.

“Good. You’re going to need to concentrate. I want you to think back to your first few months here, when you were eager to try to wrap your mind around anything in sight as you tried to find the limits of your powers. Bort, graphite, twigs, rocks, ice cubes, cups—anything and everything. Are you with me?”

Alex nodded.

“Now, in moving these different objects, I’m sure you noticed that each item had a certain…‌feel. Ice cubes felt like ice cubes, sticks felt like sticks, and so on.” Alex nodded his head again. “We call those signatures, Alex. Every material—every
object
—has a certain signature. And the more objects you learn to control, the more signatures get filed away in your mind.”

President Joyce took a step to the side so there was nothing between Alex and the door. “Signatures are not seen, Alex. They are felt. For instance, I can close my eyes right now and sense the wooden swords you use in self-defense. They’re fifty feet above my head and standing upright in the storage closet on the right side of the room.”

Alex smiled. That’s exactly where they were.

“Every Natural has the ability to sense objects that are out of view. At its highest level it becomes something like X-Ray vis—”

“Alex can do it!”

Alex shook his head.

“Yes, you can! I saw you; we all saw you.”

Alex’s eyes were now open. “That’s different.”

President Joyce looked surprised. He turned to Eva.

“He did it the first night in the DH. He could tell when people were moving around; what they were doing.”

“No one told me this.”

“I’ve only done it for my friends,” Alex said, shrugging. “It’s nothing, though. Only people. And they have to be in the same room.”

“Nothing?” President Joyce said. “Alex, only a few Naturals in the
world
can sense people.”

“Oh. I’m sorry; I would’ve told Professor Startsman had I known.”

“No need to apologize; I’ll tell your professors myself. For now, though, close your eyes. We’re going to try this again.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now, the key to sensing something in another room is to not force the issue. You must remain passive. Let the signatures come to you. Start by imagining your mind slipping through the crack between these doors and then spilling out onto the other side.”

Alex nodded.

“Here’s the tricky part: I want you to keep it there. Don’t talk, don’t move, don’t try to do anything. Just stay put. Keep your mind in the middle of the room and the feelings will come.”

It took a while. The hardest part was not being so preoccupied with his companions. Eva probably thought he looked silly standing there with his eyes closed. Maybe if he didn’t close them so tightly his face would be less scrunched. When Alex realized what a ridiculous thought that was he shook it from his mind, only to have it replaced by a sense of worry that maybe he was taking too long and that President Joyce would grow impatient and call the whole thing off. He started pulling on his eyebrows.

“You’re doing fine,” President Joyce said. “Keep your mind open.”

Alex slowed his breathing and waited. And waited. And then, piece by piece, a picture of the room began to form as familiar signatures trickled into his mind. One signature stood out amongst all the others. He opened his eyes and found President Joyce staring at him with his eyebrows raised and a slight smile.

“Well?”

“Diamonds,” Alex said. “Everything’s coated in diamonds…‌and there’s a lot more than shields in there.”

Right on cue, the doors slid open. “Welcome to Pal Tech’s Armory,” President Joyce said.

Alex and Eva took one step out of the elevator and froze. Everything sparkled. Shields of every size and shape were on the left wall; guns straight ahead; knives and swords and a collection of hand-to-hand weapons on the right, all hanging neatly on the backlit walls like tools in a garage. Alex noticed some of the spaces were empty.

“Much like your shield this morning, everything in this room is coated in diamond powder. Of course, many prefer something with a touch more…‌bling. So we use gem-grade diamonds for decoration.” A samurai sword flew off the wall and into President Joyce’s hand. He flipped it this way and that and let its handle catch the light.

“We use diamonds because they’re durable and because their carbon structure is particularly easy to manipulate; our brains are simply hardwired for it.” He let go of the sword and it raced back into its slot on the wall. “In the heat of battle, you don’t want any hesitation. You need absolute trust in your weapon. The diamonds afford us that extra degree of control.”

Eva stared wide-eyed around the room. “This must have cost a fortune.”

“Yes, the price would far exceed our funding.”

“So how did we get them?”

“We mined them.”

“Who did?”

“Pal Tech graduates.” President Joyce was smiling. “My dear, it became clear early on that we would require more diamonds than our bank account would allow us to purchase. So we went into the mining business. It was quite natural, really. Sonnier likes to say we can sniff out diamonds as easily as a German Shepherd sniffing out drugs at an airport.” He chuckled. “There are now six mines spread across the world being run by former students. What you see here is the fruit of our labor.”

“Who uses all this stuff?” Alex said.

“Palkins, mostly. They come and go as they please, outfitting themselves with whatever is suitable for their current mission. Greyjeans also have access, although they’re not allowed to take anything beyond our training simulators.” He pointed at the door in the back left corner of the room.

“So why are you showing it to us?” Eva said.

“Because Alex is now officially a Greyjean.”

“What?”

“That’s right. I want you traveling with them when they oversee our next diamond shipment.”

Alex tried to swallow but there was nothing there. Every bit of saliva had just evaporated.

“Don’t worry; you are more than ready. Now, you will be the youngest—the others are juniors and seniors, the top ten from each class—but in terms of skill level, you will fit right in.”

Alex’s head was spinning. He started looking around the room. “So—so do I need to pick something out? Start practicing with all of these things? I’ve never shot a gun.”

“Good Lord, no! Alex, you need to finish your self-defense class before I let you play with anything on these walls.”

“When’s the mission?”

“In a few months. Alex, you’ll get all the details later.”

Alex nodded, more to himself than in response to President Joyce. He noticed Eva seemed worried. He smiled and her green eyes brightened just a bit.

“So what do I do in the meantime?” Alex said, still looking at Eva. “Does my class schedule change?”

“No. I wouldn’t take you away from your friends. You will continue with your freshman studies. However, I do think it would be a good idea for you to meet the Greyjeans. Maybe even join them in a few training sessions…‌but let me sleep on that. Still, you should meet them. I’ll arrange something and email you the details.”

“Yes sir.”

“Excellent.” President Joyce checked his watch. “I won’t keep you any longer. Let’s head back to the surface.”

21 - Drinks Are On Me

21

Drinks Are On Me

“Aww, man, that’s just nasty,” Nate said. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, come on; it’s not like it’d smell any worse than those broccoli farts you’re always pumping into the air. Those things are rancid.”

“Patrick, stop,” Eva said. “I don’t want to hear all this.”

“What? You know it’d work. It’s a good idea.”

“It’s disgusting,” she said. “Who thinks of this stuff?”

“Me,” Patrick said, beaming.

The platform stopped moving. There was a chime as the van’s door slid open.

“Tell Gus,” Alex said. “You’ve gotta tell Gus.”

“No, he doesn’t wanna hear—”

“Tell me what?” Gus leaned in, bringing with him that familiar aroma of tobacco and firewood. There was a trace of a smile behind his bushy beard.

“Patrick was telling us his plan for if he ever went to prison,” Eva said.

“
Prison?
You plannin on commitin some crime I should know about?”

“No! No, nothing like that,” Patrick said. “Just something I’ve thought about. Don’t ask me why.”

Gus turned to the others. “Is this really worth me hearin?”

“You’ll never look at him the same way again,” Alex said.

Gus chewed on that for a while. It seemed that everything he did was in slow motion. He looked at Patrick. “Let’s hear it.”

Patrick flashed a grin before taking on a more serious expression. “Okay, so we’ve all seen what jail’s like from movies and all those TV shows. Keeping that in mind, I think it’s pretty clear what would happen to a little guy like me if I ever got locked up…‌and I’m thinking it would happen
a lot
. Obviously, that’s not a good thing. So my only chance would be to do something extreme—something where, after I did it, they’d all look at me like I was crazy.” He stopped and made sure he had Gus’s full attention. “So I’ve decided that the moment they close my cell door, I’m heading straight for the toilet. I will then poop into my own hand and spread it over myself like I’m putting on sunscreen. I’ll reek so badly no one will go near me. And I won’t stop. I’ll keep on doing it every day until they wise up and send me to the psych ward.”

There was a long pause, and then Gus shook his head. It was hard to tell, but it looked like he was smirking. “Well, son, that wouldn’t be my plan…‌but I do believe that it would work.”

“See!”

Gus watched him for a bit and chuckled and turned to Alex. “You’re not wearin your uniform.”

“No sir.”

“I told him he should,” Patrick said. “It would’ve been our only chance to get a few drinks tonight.”

Gus ignored this and kept looking at Alex. He squirmed in his seat. “I don’t know,” Alex said, “it still just doesn’t feel right. I mean, it’s only been official for a couple weeks. I haven’t even met all of them yet.”

“Hmmm. I guess I can appreciate that. Hell, I’ve never been one for uniforms myself. Congratulations, by the way. In all my years here, I’ve never heard of a freshman makin it.”

“Thank you.”

Gus straightened and rapped the roof with his knuckles. “All right, you guys can get movin. Yall just take it easy tonight. Try not to get into too much trouble.”

The smell of tobacco lingered in the cabin long after they left the gate.

****

“Good-bye, Drunk Bus!” Patrick called, waving.

The front tires chewed across loose bits of gravel as the matte-black van U-turned and headed back for campus. They stood there watching until its red taillights were no longer in view. The van was one of two in operation tonight, each one running a loop from campus to Knightsville. It was a service offered to freshmen on the second Friday of every month.

The vans were fully automatic, opening their doors only for card-carrying Pal Tech students. If someone happened to sneak aboard without an RFID card, the warning lights would flash and it would refuse to move.

“So where are we going?” Eva said.

“I was thinking we could try Cellar Door,” Patrick said.

“The wine bar?” Nate said. “Isn’t that a little high-class for us?”

“Compared to the pizza place, yeah. But I looked it up last night and it didn’t seem too bad. We’ll be fine dressed like this. And who knows, maybe if we go to a place that’s a little nicer we’ll have a better chance of getting some booze.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Eva said, rolling her eyes.

“Right? Now come on, it’ll be fun.”

Cellar Door was located on the opposite end of Main Street, in the basement of an attractive office building. The main tenant was a law firm with a spectacularly boring combination of surnames. Alex forgot it as soon as he read it.

Patrick bounded down the stairs and stood ready at the door. Clusters of grapes were carved into its surface. “Get your game faces on.” He yanked it open.

The room was dark and it smelled of oak and sour wine. When the door settled into place and blocked out the noise from the street, they could hear jazz music playing through the speakers. Piano. There was no sign of a hostess and so they stood there pointing and nudging and whispering as they planned their next move. They settled on a booth halfway down the left wall. It was made to look like an oversized wine cask.

“This place is sweet!” Patrick said, his voice just above a whisper. He tapped the green wine bottle hanging above the table and sent it swinging. The little light inside flickered.

“Please don’t break anything,” Eva said. Patrick made a face and tapped it one more time.

“Welcome to Cellar Door. May I start you off with an appetizer??” The waiter was in his forties. He wore skinny jeans.

“Why, yes, that would be excellent,” Patrick said. “And perhaps a wine list?”

“Certainly. I’ll just need to see some ID.”

Patrick began patting his shirt. He feigned a look of shock and turned to his friends. “Can you believe it? I forgot it again!” Alex wanted to hide under the table.

The waiter stood stone-faced. “Would it be in your wallet?”

“You would think so,” Patrick said. “But I feel that my ID deserves more than to be cramped in my smelly wallet. That’s why I make it a point to carry it here, in my shirt pocket,” he said, tapping his chest. “Right in front of my heart.”