Illusionary Page 3

"Dad, where's Mom?"

  My father ran his hands roughly through his hair again and fell onto the ugly floral-patterned couch he had been pacing in front of.

  "Your mother? Oh, she was going to use one of her gadgets to locate you after starting dinner." He waved his hand dismissively then froze, his eyes widening as realization dawned. "Did she not see you come in? I can tell her to call off the search," he launched off the couch and charged ahead, down the hall toward the office which housed my mother's "gadgets," and therefore, usually my mother. She must have gone to put her locator back once she’d seen me.

  I shook my head and as I took a seat on the couch, I heard my mother's insistent voice both with my ears and in my mind. A moment later they emerged from the hall where my father had disappeared only moments before.

  "I told you she would make it home, Connor," she said, smiling indulgently at her husband. Mother was a beautiful woman who reminded me of what a Sage embodied. She stood a mere five-feet-three inches tall and her frame was narrow, wispy. Her long, honey-blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail low on her neck, and eyes the color of the sky on a cloudless day twinkled at me with humor as she reached up to cup my father's face in her palms. She had an unwavering faith in knowledge and technology, accompanying the belief that Sages held the keys to making the world whole again.

  I wasn't so sure.

  Like others, my mother was also a bit leery around me. She didn't like that I could "hear" her. She often wandered off to fiddle with her gizmos. I tried not to let it get to me, rationalizing that her Sageness made her feel that way.

  “Nathalee, would you mind putting together a salad to go with the pasta?” Mom said. I meandered to the refrigerator and gathered the ingredients for a nice, “well-rounded” salad.

  Dad wouldn’t eat one that didn’t have half the produce section in it, so I knew to load up. Almost immediately, my mother’s internal monologue started, though this time, she was visualizing the best way to solve a short that kept occurring in one of her locators. I tuned her out, which was much easier when I didn’t understand the subject matter.

  I circled back to remember Holden, yet again, as I began chopping the various veggies I planned to put into the greens. I couldn’t get him out of my head. It wasn't like I hadn’t been around guys before, it’s just that Holden seemed so different from the boys I normally interacted with.

  Sage men could be attractive, but usually in a sort of geeky way. They were very buttoned up, and—I don’t know—cold? Distant? Holden didn’t seem to be either. And let’s face it, he was also gorgeous. The last part I had known in theory but seeing him up close? He was breathtaking. I swear his eyes could burn holes through whatever held their focus, and his strength was sure to be unmatched by Sages whether or not he was Primal. But by the flowing, graceful, nearly prowling gait he affected, my money bet he was.

  A sharp pain lanced my finger, forcing my attention back to my task. I noticed the cutting board now sported a small, but growing, pool of crimson which flowed from a decent slice in my thumb. Way to go, high five! This was exactly why you didn’t do such things while holding sharp objects, especially if as accident prone as I seemed to be.

  I whipped my lacerated flesh toward the sink and grabbed the towel sitting neatly on the edge. My mother was still wrapped up in her musings, so I turned on the faucet to let cool water run over the abused digit. After a few moments, I pulled my hand from the water and took a look. It was already done bleeding, and if I watched, I would notice the flesh knitting back together. This was my greatest secret, the thing that would get me locked away and poked and prodded into oblivion.

  I could heal myself.

  CHAPTER 3

  IT WASN’T AN INSTANT thing, not unless the injury was almost non-existent to begin with, a paper cut for instance. Anyway, not instant, but rapid. My body mended sprains within hours, fractured bones in days. My early childhood escapades clued us into those timeframes and became the referred to incidents when my dad needed to remind me as to just why I could not play like I wanted.

  We had to keep my activities very sedate so I didn’t reveal this fact. That in itself wasn't too unusual, though many Sages avoided physically strenuous situations as well. Most of their bodies didn’t hold up well under stress, especially for longer periods. So to keep my Primal enhancement secret, we played up the Sage portion of my genetics, claiming that other than my height and possibly a bit of strength, I was all Sage.

  I resented the fact that I couldn’t explore my physicality outside of our home any longer. I wanted to do more. Be something more than a clerk. I hated that Enhanced were treated as lepers in the global scheme, hidden away and watched. Constantly monitored, and severely limited.

  There were cameras, sensors and guards placed at the entrances to Enhanced "communities." It was like a checkpoint, one tipped in razor wire atop a tall, thick barrier. Everyone was stopped and questioned. Documented. Only officially acknowledged and sanctioned exits were allowed and were always temporary. The Non-Enhanced who chose now to enter our gates were documented so that ninnies could be notified of their defectors.

  Any others were turned around and forced to return to the confines of the town. This was the only allowed point of entry and exit. The wall encompassed the entire Enhanced community. The government had pulled military forces from foreign lands to be our babysitters.

  I'm sure they watched us elsewhere, having many more cameras and spies within our ranks.

  "Nathalee?" My mother's face swam into my line of sight, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she stepped in front of me. This was apparently not the first time she'd said my name. Her internal scrutiny made me stand taller. I didn't like that she thought me “flighty.”

  "Sorry, Mother, what did you say?" I smiled, trying to relieve the tension.

  "I asked if you had finished the salad and could take it to the table." She lifted her eyebrows questioningly while pursing her lips. For a beautiful woman, I rarely saw it. She was too often scowling at me.

  I looked toward the cutting board still sporting a half-chopped carrot, and my blood. "Um, yeah. Just let me get the carrot in and I'll bring it right out." I hastily cleaned the blood from the cutting board and mixed the salad so I saw a bit of each component before heading into the dining area. The large table was situated before the bay window and allowed for natural light in this portion of the house during daytime hours.

  I sat and bowed my head alongside my parents as my father said a prayer of thanks then dug into the meal with fervor. I silently hoped the rest of the evening was uneventful so I could escape into my room and relax without further elaborating upon my day. I sat and nodded along with mild interest as Dad recounted his thoughts about a higher than normal incident of accidental or rage instigated injuries.

  People were coming to the emergency room with major trauma and explanations that didn’t add up. Mother was quite interested in his many stories, like it was a riddle she could solve with enough time, but I tuned them out. I finished my meal, cleaned my plates and headed to my room. The moment I crossed the threshold, I connected my music and let myself be lost in the melodies.

  Music was my savior. My "go to" for shutting out the world and allowing only my own thoughts to enter my head. Tonight, I wanted something relatable. I’d had a good day, so I picked a song about the best day of life and prepared to be absorbed in harmonies, chords, and bars. Some loud and brassy, some quiet and gentle. All calming.

  The next morning came too early, like all mornings. I hated the routine of blearily searching for clothes, food, and making myself presentable before scrambling out the door to make the walk.

  The campus was the worst. Not only did I have to deal with inane conversations between idle teens, but I also had to listen to whatever they were obsessing about in their minds. Tack on the fact that my intelligence was a dim light bulb in a sea of chandeliers, and my educational experiences sucked. I had been relegated to classes which most Sage Enhanced students had
long ago surpassed. I was ecstatic to have finished my required educational duration a mere two weeks prior. I only wished I didn’t have to go back to the campus for my job.

  Today was test day for those Dr. Parmore was taking on for summer sessions. These days were easier than lecture days. Less was required of me as there were no materials needed to have been gathered and/or distributed amongst the students. Though people's shields tended to be nonfunctional as they concentrated on their problems, I was no longer required to be in their presence without the necessary tools to overcome the chatter. While it was possible to create mental shields, it took immense concentration or an innate ability to shield without effort. For this reason, most didn't shield their mind often, or well.

  So again, school sucked. I had gotten headaches from the mental bombardment. It was just too much coming at me at once and my mind revolted in the form of physical pain. Awesome, right? Insistent pulsing behind my eyes and throbbing at the back of my head, it was like everything came in and then tried to pound its way out with no regard for my wellbeing.

  Too many people in confined areas made tuning them out difficult. Enter my need for music. Not being allowed to use earbuds in class had been a huge hindrance. That was one plus to my new station in life: I could usually spend much of my time with earbuds in while I worked. It’s not like anyone wanted to talk to me, anyway. I had limited success.

  After collecting the completed test papers, I trudged to lunch feeling much more relaxed. The campus was large, but seeing as it was where all Minefield children came for schooling, it needed to be. Add in the desire to separate Sages from others, and it sprawled across several blocks and resembled a rundown university campus in a poor city, or so I had gathered from the internet.

  The buildings were separate and each housed certain subjects: Harper Hall for mathematics, Thompson Hall for sciences, and so on. I could usually avoid mass mental bombardment during my food runs thanks to this fact. That is until I came upon the commons. Here it was simply impossible to avoid people as there were always at least a few groups. My standard practice was to get in and get out quickly, or make sure I had my earbuds and music to drown out the chatter.

  It always seemed like there were twice as many people around when you could hear thoughts because most people thought something different from what they said. If they kept the same track in both, they expanded and dwelled mentally. It was the internal voice that drove me crazy. That mental voice was unfiltered, and truth was dangerous and forever sought.

  For the first sixteen years of my life, I was able to tolerate being around groups of people quite easily. In fact, I had many friends. Our enhancements seemed to culminate around one's sixteenth year, though abilities had been seen both earlier as well as slightly later.

  So basically, there was no norm.

  The most prevalent aptitude within the Sage populace was telekinesis: the faculty to move objects with thought. It was a competence which tended to show itself early. Telepathy was a much smaller group, and skill varied widely. Early in my adolescence, I had a sense of what someone was feeling, a mental "tone" if you will. It wasn't until I was able to actually hear their thoughts in detail that my friend pool suddenly dried up.

  The plus to this development was that I didn't have to decipher what was actually voiced via mouth…and respond accordingly. All too often, I had found myself responding to thought.

  Do you think anyone will notice if I padded my bra?

  Nat is such a prude, I mean, kissing? That's it. Won't let me under her shirt, let alone in her pants. That particular tidbit earned my then boyfriend Toby, a vicious bite during said kissing. Then for good measure, I punched him in the nose. It broke. Perfect.

  I learned two things that fateful day. One, my temper was worse than normal, which was concerning. Second, that I had more strength than other Sages possessed. This gift of brawn, which I seemed to gain overnight, was physical, further separating me from my peers. They weren't sure if I had clout, or good aim and a temper. In their defense, both were true. Luckily my strength wasn’t so much that I couldn’t hide the scope of it. It was more in the realm of really fit ninnies. Needless to say, there was enough "fodder" of my differences to occupy Sage mouths, and minds, for a long time.

  The “friend well” ran dry after too many of those encounters and news of my breaking Toby's nose, coupled with falling behind in classes, kind of sealed the deal. From then on, I was feared for both my mental and physical ability. I was now truly an outcast, adrift. This outsider status only made being in others' company that much more unbearable. They couldn't hide it from me and gave up trying, turning instead to openly jeering at me when given the opportunity.

  Only Jade stayed by my side, and I hers. Speak of the little blonde devil.

  Jade sauntered toward where I stood looking over the options of today's rations, trying to find something to satisfy my craving for protein. Jade was small, standing at an even five feet, very slight of build and with severe asthma. Her long hair shone like spun gold and her large eyes were the color of—you guessed it—jade. Her asthma was enough to keep her from most physical activity, so she spent as much time as she could sunbathing. I often found her in the quad, tucked against the trunk of a large oak tree, reading. We had that in common—the desire to be alone and soothed by nature. I usually took my peace at the barn just off campus.

  Jade threw me a knowing smirk as she grabbed an apple. Juice sprayed as she bit out a huge chunk, and with it, the sweet aroma of the fruit. It now resembled Pac Man. Reaching to extricate one earbud, she asked, "Test day?" raising her eyebrows in tandem with her question as she batted her eyelashes in feigned innocence. She was already aware of my mild mood. Jade's ability was shunned almost as completely as mine. She was an empath.

  She had the ability to feel what others did. She explained it once as her "energy moves to coincide with those around her." It wasn’t a sight, sound, or hearing culmination. It was touch. Her energy "buzzed" to match others, and was effective in telling her how they felt, often making her emotions match. Luckily for her, it was a short-range talent. She usually needed to be within a couple of feet of her subject.

  I tossed a grape at her and returned the smirk. "Shut up."

  I picked chicken strips to add to my tray and continued toward the exit as Jade kept pace beside me, though with her short legs, she really had to work at it. I slowed a bit so I didn’t cause an asthma attack. Once we were through the doors and under the sun, I led us toward the least populated area I could find, which turned out, pleasantly, to be under the trees.

  I put my back against the trunk of a large oak and slid to sit at its base as I brought my lunch tray to rest across my knees. Jade crossed her feet and lowered herself to sit crisscross applesauce–a silly saying of Dad’s–facing me.

  As we finished our meals, we each leaned back to soak up the glorious heat from the sun's rays. With us sitting in a treed area, it was chilly. The sun’s warming embrace not quite reaching my limbs. I was still able to relax enough that the sound of Jade's voice startled me and I jerked upright, knocking the tray from my lap. I flopped my hands between my legs, widening my eyes a few times in an attempt to focus.

  Luckily, it took only a moment to get my bearings, but that didn't stop Jade from throwing her head back and cackling like a loon, her golden hair glinting in the sunlight. I glowered at her, hiding a smirk when she started coughing a bit. She had laughed so hard, she pushed herself into an asthma attack. Serves her right, the witch! Jade had an emergency inhaler on her at all times for occasions like this, which happened often, though she never let it slow her down, or convince her to give up her dreams.

  Jade's outcast status was one reason I adored her. She, like me, would love to try something new. Something that would make her feel accomplished and like she overcame her shortcomings. Something a Sage didn't do, happy as they were within their molds. We were still working on what feat would achieve this without sending her parents into abso
lute hysterics, and neither of us to the hospital. Or the grave.

  CHAPTER 4

  BILL AND JUDY DANFORTH were the type who would have loved to wrap their little girl in bubble wrap and put her on a shelf, away from wandering hands. To be fair, the Danforths had a hard time carrying to term. Jade was the only child of five conceptions. They didn't understand that their nervousness, the constant hovering and gasps of worry, only made Jade more determined.

  She was hot to handle and actually showed emotion unlike many Sage, though maybe both of us got our tempers from being exposed to so much of the internal strife of others. It was constant. The relentless barrage of thought and feeling, it wore you down. Made a person twitchy and irritable. So we had tempers, and sarcasm bled from our mouths like a seeping wound.

  Now recovered, Jade spoke earnestly. "Have you found something for us yet, Nat?"

  Our conversations invariably circled back to this as-yet-unknown-activity which would make us stand a little taller, hold our chins a bit higher, make us proud of ourselves and our lives. Jade was brilliant, unlike myself, so she had promising recruitment offers. Her gift could be used in many professions, as could mine, however people were usually afraid of us getting past their proffered personas and didn't want to offer the chance.

  "No," I picked blades of grass and released them, airborne, in an effort to alleviate my frustration. "There are plenty of things we could do that would be risky, but they serve no higher purpose, other than excitement." I looked at her sideways, not wanting to say the rest. Your asthma could kill you if we go too far. I went back to killing grass, but she caught my emotions anyway and sighed. Jade wanted so badly to pretend her body wouldn't fail her. That she could push through, but I wouldn't take that chance. I couldn't lose her.

  I steered the conversation in a different direction in hopes of clearing our melancholy. "Saw the guy at the barn yesterday."