Revived (The Lucidites Book 3) (3 page)

“The department room is named after a Panther because this animal symbolizes the ability to see the unseen, which is much of what news reporters are expected to do,” Shuman says, as though reciting something from a textbook.

“Oh, did you hear us in the hallway earlier?” I ask, embarrassment flushing my face red.

“No,” she says at once. “I sensed the question.”

Oh, right. That’s not weird.

“Well, I brought Joseph with me because before you were interested in both of us reporting for you,” I say, watching satisfied surprise fall on Joseph’s face.

“Far out! Yeah, I’d love to news report,” he says.

“I did express this interest,” Shuman says, pushing her long, black ponytail off her shoulder like it’s a nuisance. “I believe that if you, Joseph, pass the news reporting tests and trainings you will be incredibly good.”

My face screws up in confusion. “Why would he have to go through the qualification and training process? I didn’t have to.”

“Your situation is quite different than your brother’s. He has been weakened. It is important to determine that he is worthy of the task of news reporting. There is much at stake when you lie down to report and it is unwise to compromise his and the Institute’s safety by putting him in that chair unprepared. I would––”

“I made a mistake,” Joseph interrupts.

“That is clear enough.” Shuman focuses on him. “But those problems do not need to become mine. Going through the process that all others have to follow is the best way to confirm this will not be an issue for you again in a different vein.”

“He’s been beside me through all the missions. He’s proven that he’s worthy of news reporting,” I say.

“Joseph has also proven that he compromises his own safety and that of others when emotionally charged,” Shuman says in an airy voice.

“People who make mistakes are in the best position to make better choices,” I say, standing tall, trying to match Shuman’s demeanor. “Just give him a chance. I’ll be working with him. If there’s a hint of a problem then he can go through ‘the process.’”

Shuman stands stoically considering me and my words. After a quick deliberation she takes a step backwards. “Joseph, you will give your report directly to me when you are done today. Then we will decide if you will new reports or not.” She glances at me. “Roya, give him a tour before you begin.”

“Yes,” I reply, feeling suddenly jittery with adrenaline.

She pivots and strides off like a soldier. I turn to Joseph with a suppressed smile of victory. He returns it.

“I like this idea for distraction, especially ’cause I was worried you were takin’ me to the library to read books,” Joseph says.

“That would have been a waste of my time. We both know you can’t read.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just go ahead and show me what happens in this voodoo shop.”

I lead him down the same path I took when I first toured the News Reporting department. Joseph listens, looking eager and also anxious. When we arrive at my familiar reporting station I point to an adjacent, empty chair.

“So I just lie down and find something to report?” Joseph asks skeptically.

“Well, you’ve got to focus and meditate, but yes. It’s pretty straightforward. There’s something about the way they’ve constructed the environment here that helps,” I explain, lying back in my own chair. “Clap on those headphones when you’re ready.”

“That’s it? That’s all of the explanation I get?”

“It’s way longer than the one I got. Don’t overthink it. You were born for this kind of stuff.”

He smiles weakly at me. “All right, here goes nothing.”

For the very first time I have an agenda while news reporting: to find information on Zhuang. Sadly, after a half an hour of meditating and focusing I admit defeat. It’s been impossible in the past for any reporters to find information on Zhuang. I’m not sure why I thought I’d have different luck. However, I did receive a multitude of other stories. Unlike any times before when I’ve reported, I’m given a few flashes of different upcoming events. It must be Joseph’s close proximity that’s heightening my clairvoyance. The flashes include a natural disaster that will strike Indonesia within the hour, tonight’s lottery numbers for the state of Illinois, a plane crash for flight 2347, a terrorist attack planned for two days from now, and a few other stories of national interest. Not only do I receive more than one story, which is unusual, but the timing of the events is hours or days from now––instead of minutes.

I awake from my vision and charge off to the computer terminal. With gentle keystrokes I detail the various events I witnessed. As usual the information is deemed “unverifiable.”

Joseph’s sitting at the large oval table in the main quarters of the department room. Shuman sits directly across from him, unblinking as she listens to his report. From my position, ten feet away, I’m unable to hear anything and too nervous to step any closer. After another minute Joseph stands up from the table and leans across it looking fluid and relaxed. He extends a hand to Shuman. She shakes it, but with a reluctant ambivalence.

“See you tomorrow,” he sings, waving for me to follow as he charges to the exit.

“Were you able to see anything?” I ask, having trouble keeping up with his excited steps as we head to the elevator.

“Oh yeah,” he says with a confident smirk. “I saw somethin’ all right.”

“Is it relevant enough?”

“I’d say so.” He turns to me, his chest swelling with unmistakable pride. “I just told Shuman how she’s gonna die.”

Chapter Four

“W
ow! Nice necklace, Stark,” Joseph says, taking the seat next to me in the main hall. He leans in closer, eyeing the ruby beaded necklace that now holds the frequency adjuster.

“Thanks,” I say, running my fingers over the cool faceted ruby beads. “It’s our birthstone, you know.”

“I didn’t. Is it from Harvey and Harvey?”

“Yes, it’s from Bob and Steve. For my birthday.”

“I remember having a birthday as well. Where’s my gift?”

I ignore him by turning to George. “The last time I saw them, Bob had a fit because the adjuster was tied around my neck with a piece of twine. He said if I had to wear equipment full-time that it deserved to be displayed with class.”

A slow smile spreads across George’s face. “It is classy. Makes the adjuster look more like an ancient artifact.”

“I’m glad you like it,” I say, clasping the adjuster between my fingers and turning to Joseph. “Anyway, if you want some fancy jewelry then go get your own pseudo parents.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Joseph sings, then gives a sudden laugh. “Hey, you reckon Trey owes our fake families money for back child support or somethin’?”

“Actually, you want to know what’s weird?” I say, having a host of memories rush to the surface suddenly.

“Besides your fashion sense? Do tell,” Joseph says.

I roll my eyes. “Well, every year or so my parents would get unexpected money. It was always for different reasons: an overpayment on the insurance policy, a class action settlement they didn’t remember being a part of, different things like that. They actually began joking over the years about what long-lost aunt was going to die that year, leaving us unexpected money. Guess that was Trey, huh?”

“Just proves you’ve always been the favored child,” Joseph says with a huff. “I can’t ever remember my fake dad getting money.”

“Or he hid it from you and spent it on booze,” I say, remembering Joseph’s fake father had problems when it came to drinking.

“Yeah, that’s probably the truth. Still, I think Pops favors you.”

“Oh, because he elects me for dangerous missions? More like he wants me dead.”

“Whatever. Well, I’ve got to go see a guy about a thing,” Joseph says, waving to George and me.

“Fine, just don’t go resurrecting some zombie, would you?”

“Ha-ha, Stark. Not funny,” he says over his shoulder.

“One day, we’ll laugh about this whole Zhuang thing,” I say to George, the only person I’ve confided in about the drama. “Well, we’ll laugh if Zhuang doesn’t kill us first.”

“On another note, and hopefully less morbid,” he says, sweeping crumbs back closer to his plate, “at your party you said there was something you wanted to talk to me about. Is now a good time?”

My mind flashes on that moment. Hard to believe, less than forty-eight hours ago I thought I had a future with Aiden. I was going to tell George about it, let him down easy. What was the point now? Aiden and I are history. “It’s not important anymore,” I say, dismissing the idea with a wave of my hand.

He eyes me cautiously. “Well, do you want to talk about the Trey situation?”

“Not really. Thanks though.”

“You know, I didn’t know my father,” he says, then bites down on the corner of his bottom lip.

“Really?” I ask, more surprised by the disclosure than the information. George only goes into “sharing mode” when he’s trying, senses he can make up ground with me.

“My mother is definitely a Middling, so he must be a Dream Traveler,” he says.

“How do you figure?”

“Well, the trait has to come from somewhere, like a gene or something. Dream Travelers are a race, right? That’s what Shuman says.”

“True,” I say, ruminating on the idea. “So what happened to him? Your father?”

“My mother says he was abusive. She ran away from him when I was a baby in order to protect us.”

“That’s sad. Were you ever curious about him?” I ask, thinking how the last couple of months my own curiosity regarding my real parents had been trumped by all the deadly missions.

“All the time for a while, but then I developed my empathesis and experienced the emotions of abusive people. They’re toxic. I’m better off not knowing him.”

“Maybe your dad is Ren,” I say with a laugh. “He’s verbally abusive and who knows what else he’s capable of. Wouldn’t that be weird if he was your secret father, like Trey is mine?”

George pretend scowls at me. It’s kind of endearing. “My father was from Chicago, not London. And do I look the least bit like Ren?”

A sudden chuckle falls out of my mouth. “No, thank God. You’re attractive and Ren looks like a giant leprechaun.”

“Attractive, huh?”

“Well, yes.” I blush. “Did you want me to elaborate on that description?”

He leans in close. “Very much so.”

Just then from across the room Aiden’s eyes collide with mine. I turn back to George in a rush.

“Well, the part I like about you most is your brown eyes––they’re subtly intense.” I laugh. “Does that combination even sound possible? Subtly intense?’”

“It does,” he says evenly.

“And I love your hair,” I say, skirting a bit of it off his forehead. “It’s neither straight nor curly, brown nor blond. It’s a mixture of all of it.”

He smiles. “It’s working.”

“What? What is?” I say, pulling my hand back to the table.

“This is making Aiden jealous.”

“George,” I reprimand. “That’s not––”

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind because I know you’re not acting. I feel that you’re sincerely attracted to me. You just have a double agenda.”

Shocked by his unusually casual attitude I slide down an inch in my seat.

“However,
sooner
rather than later, this is going to have to be solely about us and not him,” George says in a surprisingly smooth voice.

“You deserve that, George. I’m sorry. He’s just had me confused in the past, but that’s all changing. I see the truth now and realize I was being stupid before.”

“He was leading you on. You’re not stupid. I totally get it.”

“You do?”

“Yes, because sadly if you lead me on then I’m going to trail behind you. I know that with absolute certainty. I’d willingly stick my heart into a fire if I knew it would get me closer to you.”

“George, I haven’t tried to lead you on. I’ve been honest with you.”

“As have I.”

“I’m not using you to make him jealous.”

“Well, if you were then I could think of much bolder ways than just stroking my face,” he says.

My face flushes hot. The usually reserved George is transforming into someone new. Maybe he senses the opportunity, but whatever the reason I like this side of him. I like all sides of him, but this one is exciting.

“Care to continue listing all the things you love about me?” he says, cutting into my thoughts.

I resist the urge to smile, but it no doubt still surfaces in my eyes. “Oh, I will, but you’re going to have to earn your compliments.”

“I’m more than willing to do that.”

Chapter Five

B
ob, Steve, and I are meeting in a place that’s 1,783,510 square miles of nothing but sand. The odds of getting lost and never finding each other are too great. There’s no way we can meet by the Starbucks or red fire hydrant because there’s nothing. No landmarks, just sand for as far as my green eyes can see.

I close those eyes now and focus on the coordinates. Instantly I’m soaring through the silver tunnel like a comet plummeting to the earth, or so I imagine. Three sharp turns are followed by more charging. I enjoy the wind sweeping through my hair more than usual since I haven’t dream traveled in a few days. Typically I do at least every other night, but Trey’s ordered me not to dream travel alone since he fears Chase will stalk me.

When I land, the arid heat of the desert is rising fast. The sun peeks up over the horizon, which to be appears a million miles away. Bob and Steve aren’t here yet. Incredible unending blankets of sand stretch out in all directions. The eco-region of the Sahara desert is not a place where you want to go with only half a tank of gas and a Snickers bar. Hell, you won’t even get there on that. It’s vast. Now as I stand looking at this place of nothingness I totally get it. Everything here is dead or hardened by the heat and the wind and the sand. From my perspective that’s all that’s here anyway.

The sun, a huge ball of fire in a pale blue sky, pierces my eyes as it lights up the landscape. Immediately, a presence presses up against my consciousness like it’s right behind me tapping on my shoulder. Tentatively, I turn around. In the distance, maybe a mile, maybe twenty, it’s hard to tell in a place like this, there’s a figure. Unmistakably a person, but who? And why here?