All of those lost in the Joplin Tornado (May 22, 2011)
(Fifty percent of this book's profit is going to the Joplin Missouri Tornado Relief [to Habitat for Humanity]--I pray it helps the residents who lost everything.
And thank you for your download; it is helping to raise more money for Joplin's aid.)
Book One
DARKNESS
By Crystal D. Adamson
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Darkness (The Ethereal Series: Book One)
Published by Crystal D. Adamson at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Crystal D. Adamson
This book is a work of fiction.
Any references to any historical events, real people or entities, or real locales are used fictitiously. Any characters, names, places, or events are the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to any place, event, or person--living or dead--is wholly coincidental.
All rights to this work are reserved, including reproduction in any form.
My mother--for believing in my writing for so long; this book wouldn't be here without her support and encouragement,
and
My daughter--for her continuous encouragement, telling me how much she enjoys my writing, and listening to my incessant rambling about the story,
and
to everyone who encourages my writing.
Thank you, all!!
Darkness
(The Ethereal Series: Book One)
Chapter 13 ~ Shark-Infested Waters
DISBELIEF
As I slid out of Angel-Beast--my car--the air smelled an earthy musk, peculiar for a concrete industrial park. My flesh prickled, and all my senses honed sharp--something didn't seem fitting. Despite the few cars that dotted the street to that block and the five or six other cars parked in the same lot I was, no one seemed to be in the vicinity. Several two-and-three-story cinder-block buildings lined the road, but none shown signs of inhabitation.
It was quiet, deathly quiet there. Someone had to be around somewhere; there were just no signs of life to show anyone was present!
With the assumption that the corporation wouldn't send me anywhere dangerous to drop off my research, I locked Angel's doors and headed toward my destination--the corporation's office.
The area was unnerving; uneasy would have been an understatement to my feelings at that moment. My stopgap weapon in hand--my key ring inside my fist, finger gaps spiking the key-ends of the keys that dangled from its ring--I hastened down the walkway while trying to keep an inconspicuous watch around myself. A medieval Morning Star it wasn't, but I doubted my makeshift mace would bring an attacker pleasure if hit with it.
As I crossed the second alleyway, I noticed a few bodies gathered at the back of the building, and I silently thanked my supervisor for showing us girls the crude, hobnailed cudgel. Immediately, I decided to ask for an escort back to my car from whoever was in the office, hoping to prevent trouble from the hooligans.
On the second block's sidewalk, I gazed up at the address-numbers above the first door.
Bingo!
Upon entering, however, I became slightly alarmed. It wasn't like any office I had ever seen--dark, not a light on in the entire place. From the dim light of dusk spreading through the glass door, I could vaguely make out a desk in the middle of the large room. The air smelled musky and stale, a scent of citrus cleaner underlying. There was total silence--you could have heard a feather hit the floor.
Did I get the address wrong? Am I on the wrong street? "Hello?" my voice quivered.
"Ah, Ms. Knotting," a clear, deep voice emanated from the pitch-black space as a lamp illuminated on the desk.
Minutely flinching, I drew in a startled breath.
The man behind the table smiled warmly, but his eyes held malice. "I'm so sorry to have frightened you. I hadn't heard you come in. I was resting a bit while waiting, and I had flipped off the lamp--I have had such a migraine today. Anyhow, I am so sorry."
He motioned me to sit in one of the leather chairs before his dark-wooden desk. Slowly walking forward, I still felt uncomfortable; something wasn't right about the man. His black hair oiled back. His three-piece, pin-stripped suit shouted mob--or something worse. I half-wondered if he had an Uzi hidden just beneath his writing slab.
Able to see the room better with the lamplight, I realized it was merely a big, empty storage room. The walls were the inside of the outer cinder-block walls; the floor was bare concrete. My footsteps made a spine-chilling echo as I crossed the room's base, which added to my uneasiness.
Something didn't seem safe about the exchange.
Once I approached, I stood steadfast--the man made me too nervous to sit, so I said what I felt I should, hoping to leave directly after. "I'm sorry, I know most of the other participants turned in their research a while back." I handed my folder tentatively to the gentleman--who was smiling sardonically then.
"No, no. You don't need to apologize. We encourage participants to take their time and really give a go at the project." He intercepted the folder and laid it in front of him, motioning me to sit again, one of his eyebrows arching dubiously.
Stiff stance, I replied, "Well… Unfortunately, I didn't figure it out. I had some theories I felt were original, however, it didn't come to a resolution of the DNA. But I took very careful notes; made clear diagrams of all my steps. I'm sure you can follow my research easily. Thank you for allowing me to participate."
I began to slowly back toward the exit.
Slightly cocking his head, the gentleman's malevolent eyes turned treacherous. "Please, Ms. Knotting." He repeated his motion for me to sit, a previous sneer replaced by stiff lips, his voice sharp, demanding. "I would like for you to go over your results with me."
All I wanted was out of that room! That man was more intimidating than the room or the street outside. I used the first excuse I could think of.
"I'm sorry. You should be able to follow my notes easily. I really must leave. I have to be at work in a short amount of time, and it's across town."
The gentleman kept his eyes tentative, a wicked grin turning up his lips, as if he knew that I was lying to him. "I see. Well, if we have any questions about your results, we will give you a call."
"That would be fine. Again, thank you." Abruptly, I turned and made for the door--with the feeling something was sneaking up behind me.
As if a wild cat were on my tail, I flung the office door open and bolted through. In the fresh air, I drew in a jagged, grateful breath--not realizing I had almost quit breathing in the room. As I turned to head toward Angel-Beast, my momentum snuffed. The air puffed back out of my lungs. My eyes grew larger in surprise.
Not thirty feet from where I stood, at the corner of the building were three of the alleyway's dark-hooded figures I had seen on my way in. One was leaning against the wall on one shoulder, two more stood on the sidewalk; together, they blocked any path through. My heart sank to my stomach. I knew that I was in trouble. As that understanding flitted across my head, three more of them stepped out directly behind the three that were already in view!
I didn't know what to do.
I turned and yanked on the door that I had came out of--it had already been locked, the lamp off again. I had wanted out of that room with that man so desperately, but at that moment, I would have preferred to face his intimidation to the one I was. At least I only had one to deal with in there--not six! Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the six figures slowly advancing toward me. I knew I wasn't getting out of there alive--at least, not without hospitalization.
Then everything happened so fast that I couldn't see it clearly.
A streak zoomed around the corner and the hooded figures seemed to scatter--as bowling pins when the ball crashes into them. All in the same moment, I felt something slam into me and I lost my footing. A few seconds later, I realized I hadn't been knocked down; something had lifted me and was carrying me away. The hooded figures were in pursuit, but my rescuer and I were already a block ahead of them. Terrified of not knowing who had me, I was also relieved someone had taken me away. I glanced to see who my rescuer was, seeing the familiar face I had been trying to avoid.
Daniel's face looked more chiseled and tense than any expression I had ever seen on him. He had apparently scooped me off the ground, holding me the way you would hold a sleeping toddler. Since I was alert, I was sitting up more than a child would, my arms wrapped around Daniel's neck. I glanced back and saw that the hooded figures were gaining on us; only then, their hoods had fallen back.
My mouth gaped in disbelief.
Those men, they didn't look right. They were bald, heads mildly misshapen. Their lips curled back as a rabid animal's, saliva draining down each one's chin. Their teeth looked pointed, a piranha's multimillion daggers. Their features weren't human, more animal-like. Their lips were blue, a bluish tint to their skin.
They looked dead!
I stared into the eyes of the figure in the lead, noting they were pitch-black--empty hollows bored into them. I stared in shock for a moment and then realized how fast the buildings were whipping past them--and how fast Daniel and I were whipping past the buildings, too. Wide-eyed, I turned to gawp at Daniel. I didn't know how he was doing it. I knew he couldn't be doing it. No human could run that fast! I didn't know what the things behind us were, but I knew they weren't natural--they couldn't be human. So how was Daniel carrying me away like that--like them?
Daniel turned his head toward mine, gazing directly into my eyes. I felt burning razor-sharp pains fill my chest as I tried to suck in a frightened breath--Daniel had strange eyes as well. His weren't as frightening as those following us were, but they weren't human--a metallic gold where color should have been, outlined in black.
I began to shake and feel nauseas.
"It's okay, Mare." Daniel's voice was deeper than usual—and hoarse. Still, it had a soothing chime to it. "I will not hurt you. I will not let them harm you, either."
Not able to stand seeing those eyes so close, I broke Daniel's gaze. I had no idea where we were or where he was taking me. Glancing back at the things following us, I saw that they were a little closer. Out of my peripheral vision, I noticed Daniel's expression--disengaged, distant. It was as if he were trying to will something with his mind. The next thing I knew, Daniel flung me on his back, and it felt as if we were rising straight up in the air.
I could see a wall in front of us, and before I could understand what was happening, Daniel had me back in his toddler grip, sprinting across the rooftop--the edge closing quickly. Before I could shout a warning or even scream, we were on the next roof; Daniel had made the leap easier than an Olympic hurdler on a track. I looked behind us and saw that the things had fallen back slightly… but they were still pursuing.
My fear was subsiding, or at least, that is how it felt. I didn't feel locked in it anymore--at that moment, everything just seemed surreal. I realized I couldn't hear, though. I saw everything around me. I could feel the wind on my skin. I could feel my hair stinging my eyes as it whipped back and forth. But I couldn't hear a thing.
So emotionally numb, not being able to hear really didn't trouble me. My stinging eyes didn't cause me any discomfort. The wind on my skin didn't give me a chill. I turned to look in front of us, and along with my hearing, I wished my sight had disappeared, too--there was more horror approaching.
Three more figures drew near ahead of us. One was a female--long, flowing, blonde hair trailed out behind the tiny, curvy figure. A massive brute-looking shape was in the same charging line. The last was the alarm bell ringing; it was wearing a dark-hoodie sweat jacket, face hidden in shadows--exactly like the ones that chased us!
That was all my mind could handle.
I passed out knowing a man I knew and trusted was rushing me unnaturally across rooftops, scaling walls quicker and more easily than a spider--like the monsters that chased and charged us.
I passed out from pure terror, and my mind began to unravel those last three months since I had met Daniel, focusing frenziedly to make any logic of that night's events.
FIRST DAY
As I walked through the sunlit forest in the early morning hour, I listened to the songs chirped by the sundry birds. My favorite time of day--my walks there before my young ones awoke--was tranquil and relaxing. That morning, however, I was not there to find peace but to contemplate what I needed to do. I hoped nature would give me a sign when my correct path crossed my contemplations.
Suddenly, I heard the distant commotion--my son's voice emanating from within it. My body darted through the lush vegetation, and I halted several yards from the squabble.
My eyes grew. A breath caught in my chest.
Two adult men argued in the middle of nowhere; a young woman, uneasy, stood nearby. The older man was the father of the young woman; the younger man was my son. Fresh drops of blood dribbled across the breast of the lady's nightgown, and I knew what had occurred. I knew why the older man yelled and threatened my son--and I didn't blame him.
I fled the scene unnoticed--knowing I had the answers I had been seeking.
Then, my melodious alarm startled me awake from my dream--in my usual distasteful mood. I rolled over and struck the snooze button. What is the hype about mornings? Ugh! They are dreadful things! I curled tighter in my blankets and cuddled with my pillow, letting my mind drift back to slumber. That sleep wasn't as deep as the one I had been in; my dream did not continue, and I was happy--elated, actually--about that.
Since childhood, I had been having those bizarre dreams. Images that felt more like deep-seated memories, truly, than a fictitious illusion my mind had summoned. They were rarely the same but always possessed a quality of likeness; the same locale and moment in time were a common theme throughout each of them. The only difference from those that I had as a small child versus the ones I had as I grew into an adult was the fact that the older I became, the more frequently they occurred.
The droning clamor emitted from my alarm again, and I struck the snooze button once more--with a bit more force that time. I had never been a morning person. A night owl is what I remembered my mother saying I was.
The warm sun breaking my siesta in the early morning hour had always been abhorrent to me. The darkness and quiet that lent itself to the night were not only peaceful but also comforting. It was like floating in a pool, ears filled with water; noises muted, less sharp.
The morning's sun and hustle and bustle that followed it were aggravating. It was hard to sleep with the warm rays sprinkling through the window, cascading across my face. It was hard to think with all the action about. Moreover, it was hard to imagine why so many people were fond of that time of day!
It's not that I hated the sun--which was good seeing that I was born and raised in the Sunshine State! I'd always liked the bright rays, the feel of the warmth on my skin, all of the light, fragrant smells of the flora that drifted through the balmy air--but only after I was wide awake.
The alarm returned and I squashed my face into my pillow--and whimpered. I pressed the snooze button to make the rueful noise end--and then I turned off the alarm entirely. Closed, my eyes felt so good--as if my day didn't have to begin if I didn't open them. But despite my ghastly mood, the subdued squeak of my door made me smile.
"What are you doing up so early?" I chortled, my grin widening.
"You going to school today?"
Covers flipped back with a fling of my hand, and I motioned my little princess to join me. She ran to me as our morning custom demanded, and I held out my arms to catch her as she made her gigantic two-inch jump at the end of her sprint to launch onto my bed. I pulled her up and cuddled her to my chest like a baby, staring into the beautiful, green eyes of my three-and-a-half year-old daughter. That little face staring back at me with absolute adoration, devotion, and conviction, I smiled grander. I sat up with Clarissa, kissed her forehead, and slid her into my lap.
"Yes, sweet pea. Mama is going to school today." I sighed disappointedly and then raised my eyebrows in playfulness. "I'd rather stay home with you, though." I tickled her belly as I spoke the last.
She giggled her sweet, soft, little laugh--the one that made my world go around. She made my world go around. She was what kept me focused and working as hard as I had been for those last four years.
Clarissa rose up on her knees and placed her tiny hands on my cheeks. She stared intently at me a moment--and smiled. "I love you, Mama."
"I love you, too, ladybug!" I squeezed her tightly to me. "You are what makes Mama's world spin." I pulled her back a bit so that I could look at her. "You know, Mama wishes she had more time to spend with you. I have to do this to make a good life for us, though. You understand that, don't you?"
Clarissa nodded, a grin stretching across her cherubic face. "You want to give me everything."
I stood up, still nestling her body to my chest and staring into her ever-so-trusting eyes. I bent down, setting her tiny feet on the floor, and squatted next to her, looking straight into her gaze.
"Um-hmm," I replied, nodding my head. "And what does that take?"
Clarissa beamed. "You get smart!"
Then she clapped for herself because she knew it was the correct answer. I made all kinds of excited faces for my big girl as I clapped for her, too.
She and I had many conversations about what I had to do to provide for her--to really provide for her. She had a persuaded reply when asked what I had to do to take care of her; that persuaded reply was, "you have to get smart".
What I knew was that I had to get an education in order to provide Clarissa the life I wanted her to have. I knew that it would be tough for her, for the both of us, but I knew it was necessary--the amount of time I had to be away from her. Moreover, I knew it was important that she understood why I was away as much as I was! I didn't want her to resent me for the time I was gone, especially when it was to obtain what was necessary to give her everything.
As easy as it would have been to have gotten a minimum-wage job and raised Clarissa with the help of state aid... Well, I couldn't allow that life for her. I wanted to provide her with a better life than that. I wanted to give her all of the things that she needed, all of things that she wanted, and never have to worry about our finances.
A nice house with a great yard Clarissa could play in was my primary goal; a dependable vehicle was my secondary. Children needed room to grow in, and I didn't want to have to depend on the local park or our apartment's ten-by-twenty-foot common's area as her only fun space. I never wanted to face my mode of transportation making mysterious noises--as my current clunker made--or praying everyday that it would start.
I had to keep trudging forward, for my daughter--I couldn't collapse.
And we were getting there--almost all the way there.
Clarissa was born mid-way through my junior year in high school; that morning, I was beginning my junior year in college, and I would graduate that May. My senior year in high school, I had taken elective college courses, and I had taken a few summer courses every summer after. Combined with the eighteen hours that I took each semester in college, I was beginning my new life with Clarissa a little sooner than most--and I was ecstatic about it! I would graduate the University of South Florida--Tampa with a Bachelor of Science degree.
After encouraging my daughter on her response to my question, I stood and offered my hand. Clarissa took it and we walked to the bathroom. I put her dishwater-blonde hair up in her favorite style--puppy-dog tails. Then, I helped her brush her teeth and put on her clothes. We headed for the kitchen and I made Clarissa's breakfast; she sat at the table eating her favorite, fruity cereal.
"Mama is going to go get ready now. I will be back in a few minutes, okay."
Clarissa nodded while crunching her breakfast; she was accustomed to our morning routine.
Once in the bathroom, I threw on my clothes, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I pulled out my make-up bag and threw on my five-minute makeover. My light brown hair pulled up, I swooped my bangs down and headed back to the kitchen. Any time Clarissa and I had together was a blessing and not taken for granted. I retrieved a spoon from the drawer, snatched a yogurt from the refrigerator, and headed to have breakfast with her.
"So," I asked, "what do Grandma and you have planned for today?"
"Grandma said we are going to the park."
I nodded my head approvingly. "Well, I hope Grandma and you have a good time playing at the park. Don't play yourself all out, though; Mama wants to have some playtime with you when she gets home. Mama doesn't have to work tonight!"
As I spoke "playtime with you", I touched the tip of Clarissa's nose with one finger, which made her giggle. She always liked it when I did things like that. They made her cackle as if I had just told her the funniest joke in the world.
As soon as we were both done eating, I put her dish and our silverware in the sink after I threw away my trash.
"Well, let's get your bag so we can get to Grandma's. Mama has a big day of new classes ahead of her."
Clarissa jumped down from her chair and raced for the living room. When I entered through the walkway, Clarissa already had the handle of her bag in her hands and an ecstatic smile to greet me.
"I hope school's good today, Mama!"
Backpack flung over my shoulder, I picked Clarissa and her bag up. "I'm sure it will be, sweetheart."
We walked out the door, locked it behind us, and headed for Beastie--the nickname we had given my old, beat-up, 1966 Dodge four-door sedan. It received that epithet due to the fact that, while running, it sounded as if it were a groaning monster. Once we were in the brute, I crossed my fingers on my left hand as I turned the key with my right, simultaneously praying that the monster would fire-up--and the automobile groaned to life. Clarissa chuckled in the backseat and we were off to Grandma's.
Gene was a wonderful woman. I couldn't have asked for any better a grandparent than my own parents for Clarissa. Unfortunately, I never got to see them with her, and she never got to meet them. My parents passed away in a car accident shortly before I turned fifteen--I became an emancipated minor. Christian, Gene's son, left a great deal desired as a father, but I was not going to take that out on his mother. From the beginning, Gene was there for me, there for Clarissa--even though Christian was not.
In the early stages of my new life as a mother, Gene was beside herself with guilt. I finally convinced her that I did not hold Christian's actions against her, and that I was astounded at the measures she took to be in her granddaughter's life. Gene finally accepted that I pleasured in her involvement, but I think she still carried the guilt that belonged on her son.
Christian and I met when we were fifteen, and we dated for eight months. He broke up with me suddenly for another woman; I would have used the term "girl", but Christian thought of her as "the perfect woman"--I didn't know who she was. Two weeks after our breakup, I found out I was pregnant.
I could never get ahold of Christian to tell him about his child growing inside of me. In a repeated attempt to reach him, I went to his house--another failed effort. Gene told me that Christian had moved out and that she never saw him, but that he called her every once in a while. Since I couldn't contact Christian myself, I told Gene my urgency in reaching him. Gene fell silent, and then she began weeping.
At first, I thought she was upset--angry, maybe--but then I found out the waterworks were from joy. Gene hadn't planned on being a grandma that early--she was only thirty-five at the time--but come to find out, she couldn't wait for the day that she did become a grandmother. The next time Christian called, she couldn't wait to tell him--thinking that he would be as excited as she was and come home. Instead, Christian hung up on his mother. Gene didn't see or hear from him again for over a year; the next time Gene had contact with Christian was because he had moved back to Tampa.
Gene was... unusual in her responses to Christian. She loved him; she said that one day she knew he would do the right thing--at least one of us did. But she was also up-front about her disapproval of his lack of responsibility, even with him. Which, I assumed, was why he didn't visit her often--Christian had never taken well to reprimanding.
He was living in the city, but I still hadn't seen him--and neither had Clarissa. All I knew was that I had been lucky to have never ran into him since he had been back. If he didn't want to be a father to our daughter, I didn't really care to ever run into him again! I had learned the hard way not to be bitter; my simple reaction to the whole matter by then was: it's his loss!
In many ways, Gene and I were more like mother and daughter than her and her son were like mother and son. We visited more often. We got along a lot more often. I was at her house more often--Gene had babysat Clarissa since birth.
Genuinely, I had thanked Gene over the years; her being a part of our lives was a blessing. I vowed that one day I would find a way to repay her for all that she had done for us. Gene told me that I had already repaid her tenfold by allowing her to be in Clarissa's life--but for me, that was not a good enough repayment, even if it was for Gene. I still planned to find a way to do something for her someday.
Gene was on her front porch to greet her granddaughter as we pulled up. As soon as I set Clarissa's feet on the ground, she was a flash of lightening. Her voice called to her grandmother as she raced up the sidewalk--arms straight out, ready for a hug. Gene was already off her porch and in a squatted position, arms spread wide, waiting to embrace Clarissa. Clarissa smashed into her grandmother and threw her arms around Gene's neck in a bear hug. Gently rocking Clarissa in a tight squeeze, Gene rose up with the most joyful smile spread across her face.
As I strode up the sidewalk, I heard Gene whisper in Clarissa's ear, "I love you, too, baby bird."
Upon approaching the cuddled pair, Gene swung Clarissa around to her hip and took her bag. She threw the strap over her shoulder and opened her free arm to me--her gesture for me to give her a hug, too. Secretly, I had always loved the way Gene had embraced me as a part of her family.
After our hug, she kissed my cheek and said, "You know I love you, too."
Returning her peck, I replied, "And you know I feel the same. I really wouldn't know what to do without you, Gene."
Gene smiled.
My arms held up to take Clarissa, and she lunged into them. I squeezed her tightly. "I love you so much, sweetheart! You take care of Grandma for me today, okay?" Clarissa nodded enthusiastically. "I've got to get to class. I'll see you in about five hours. I love you."
"I love you, too, Mama!"
With that, I handed Clarissa back to her grandmother and headed down the sidewalk.
"Good luck, Mare!" I heard Gene call after me.
I waved my hand in appreciation as I walked toward Beastie, calling over my shoulder, "Thanks, Gene. I'll see you guys after while."
Two weeks before the quarter commenced, I checked my schedule and knew where all of my classes were located. I knew where to park, and I knew where I would spend my free time between my second and third class--the campus lawn, which sprawled out next to the building that hosted my third and last course of the day.
When I pulled into a parking space, I tried not to notice if anyone around was gawking at my giant, deafening, hideous Beastie. He was hard not to pay attention to when you shut him down. He sounded like an old smoker coughing up a lung--after an attempt at smoking a first-in-the-morning cigarette. I snatched my backpack from the passenger seat and let the monster rest.
Keys in hand, I slithered out of my car and headed for my first class. My eyes were elevated just enough that I could see where I was going, but not where I could see anyone around me--so that I wouldn't know if anyone was staring. Once in my class, I searched the room for a suitable seat.
There were several empty spaces about two-thirds of the way back in the center of the auditorium--I took a seat in the middle of the open area. Pencil, notebook, and the class' textbook fished out of my backpack, I slid down in my chair, arms crossed, waiting for the professor to commence class.
The room was still half empty, and I realized it felt as if someone were watching me. I knew it must be my imagination--I had also expected to hear masses of laughter at my repugnant mode of transportation while pulling in. Since that had not occurred, I knew there was no reason someone would be staring me down; I was simply paranoid because it was my first day at a new school--I had attended a community college my first two years of higher education. The stared-into feeling was unrelenting, though. My mind kept telling me to look to my right.
And I couldn't help myself--I looked!
IMPRESSIONS
To my surprise, I was amazed to see a boy, five rows in front of me in the seat closest to the outside aisle, eyeing me. He didn't mind that I had caught him staring; he kept his gaze on me for several seconds longer and then casually turned away. It wasn't a turn of embarrassment--as if he knew he shouldn't be gaping. It was more like a realization that I was not what he thought he was seeing; for instance, if he had thought I was someone I wasn't, or thought I may have been pretty and decided otherwise. Whatever the case, I decided I wouldn't let it bother me--or at least, I tried not to let it.
I heard the professor open class, so my focus turned where it should have been. I couldn't get the image of the young man's expression out of my head, however. Something in the way his mouth held while he watched me was... intriguing--as if he were seeing a long lost relative who had been missing… and presumed dead. Unsure if that was his exact expression--I would had to have seen his eyes to be positive, and he was wearing dark sunglasses--I realized I should be more preoccupied with what the professor was saying. Instead, I found myself asking twenty questions to myself inside my head.
Why was he staring at me that way? Do I have something on my face? Do I have something hanging out of my nose? The mere thought made me tense, and I lightly brushed the end of my nose to check. I glanced at my clothes to make sure there were no stains. Why does it matter? Who cares if he stares?
Again, feeling that someone was watching me, I couldn't help but glimpse in his direction. To my surprise, he was following the teacher, as I pretended to do. He did have a slight smile gracing his expression, though; I could see it from the edge of his mouth.
I wonder what he thinks is so funny?
At that same moment, he turned and caught me gazing at him. Quickly, I returned my gawk to the professor, hoping that guy hadn't realized I was staring at him. He may not have seen the social faux pas in gaping, but I did! I tired to drop my paranoia and focus on the professor--I refused to allow my apprehensions to interfere with my goals.
Surprised, I assumed the professor would be covering our syllabus or something of the like, instead, he was explaining a program that we could sign up for. Since USF was a reputable research school, an outside corporation had presented the university's students with a problem to solve. All we had to do was register, and a representative from the corporation would contact us; the sign-up sheet was on the professor's desk.
The reward for attempting or solving the conundrum? Anyone who attempted would have their textbook and lab fee costs reimbursed by the corporation for the remainder of their education. The person that solved the puzzle would have all past, present, and future costs associated with their academics paid in full.
Wow! If I could solve it, that would be a godsend! Perhaps it would even let me decide on a different field of study that could make an even better living for me to raise Clarissa on--even if it would take more education. If I don't have to concern myself with paying back loans--
My thoughts interrupted from the same ogling sense. I automatically cut my eyes to the boy's seat. The young man's attention was still on the professor; however, his amusement had ceased. Every muscle in his jaw was taut then.
Once class was over, I waited for everyone to exit, including the other students who had lined at the professor's desk to sign up. Then, I approached the professor.
"Can I help you, Ms. ...?" Professor Billings asked, trailing for emphasis--he was unsure of my name.
"Ms. Knotting, but please, call me Mare." I continued as I nodded to the sign-up sheet, "Can you explain a little more about this program?"
"Well, they merely fill us in on the details of the reward. The corporation tells you what you do and how you go about it once you speak with one of their representatives. I do know it is secretive to an extent; the students that participate must sign a confidentiality agreement. Other than the rewards, all I know is that it is some type of DNA-splicing project. Are you intending to sign up?"
"Yes, I believe I will. It doesn't sound like an answer anyone can unravel--apparently, the corporation's scientists couldn't. However, if I can get the remainder of my textbooks and lab fees paid for, it's worth the effort to at least try."
The professor smiled while appending, "And to solve it would be a more worthwhile reward. Remember, I am sure every person that has answered a pondering question never thought they would be the one to answer it either--especially when others had tried and failed."
An unoptimistic smile adorned my features, but I nodded once at the professor in acceptance of his wisdom--still unbelieving that it was possible to solve. I scribbled my signature and phone number on the sheet and journeyed to my subsequent course--reaching the door as the professor initiated what she expected of her students.
"First," she stated, while in a death-eye lock with me as I scampered toward the first available seat I could scout, "don't ever be late for my class!
"Second, always turn your work in on time--I have no tolerance for laziness.
"Third, never let me catch you cheating in any way."
The professor finally refrained from giving me the evil eye and went on to everything from what we would be covering to what we should do if we had to miss a class. She handed out the syllabus and list of mandatory reading. Halfway through the period, she wrapped up her speech and announced we were free to leave, but that we should have the first half of our first book read when we returned Wednesday.
Since my next stop was the sprawling lawn toward the back of campus, I headed that way.
I might as well get an even further jump on my reading.
In a shady spot, I perched myself against a tree trunk. I dug out my sack lunch and opened my book to begin where I had left off--I had began reading the day after I had gotten the book. Engrossed in my read, the being-watched sensation overcame me again. I scanned the lawn and saw the young man from my science class, his stare fixed on me. I watched for a second more, his gaze never broke mine, and then he strode directly toward me.
My mystified stare eased as I watched him approach. His stride was fluent, graceful--almost as if he hovered above the ground and floated toward me. His jet-black hair was untidy, a contemporary cut. His all-black clothing fit snuggly, outlining his slender-yet-tone build. His smile, however, was his most distinguishing feature. His teeth were pearl white, perfect, and his lips enclosed them in a staggering smile. I didn't know about his eyes--dark sunglasses still covered them.
Wonder replaced my earlier discomfort of his gawking as I watched him approach; and then I realized I was smiling directly at him! Instantly, I forced my brows to furrow and my mouth to draw up in annoyance--which was a difficult look to hold, because that guy was breathtaking! I didn't want him to think I was interested in him, though, so I had to put on a front--quickly!
As my expression radically altered, he bellowed a short, deep laugh and shook his head. He came to a halt directly in front of me, crossed his ankles, and sank to the ground as if strung by wires. Mock annoyance in my expression, I dropped my eyes back to my book--pretending to read.
He snickered under his breath and spoke, "Hi, I'm Daniel." He held out his hand in a gesture to shake mine.
My hands stayed where they were, and I responded, "Okay, Daniel. Now that you've introduced yourself, why don't you go find someone else to bother?"
Daniel laughed, remarking, "Feisty, aren't we?" One side of his mouth pulled up in amusement. As much as I wanted to ignore him, I couldn't help but observe him through my peripheral vision. I saw his forehead crinkle as if he had raised his eyebrows--I couldn't see them through his sunglasses. "I thoroughly enjoy spiritedness," he said teasingly.
My tongue barely slid between my teeth, and I bit it firmly--something I did when I became frustrated--and my eyes unwillingly glanced at him. I refocused on my book, pretending to read again, but still maintained a sideline view of him. "Well, what gave you the false impression I wanted you to thoroughly enjoy me or my dialogue?"
Daniel shook his head slowly, minutely. "I never said anything did. You are new here," he stated as he glanced around the campus that lay at my back. "I thought, perhaps, you could use a friend. Someone that could help you find your way around or answer any questions you need answered."
"Thanks, Mr. ..." I scowled at him.
Daniel repeated in amused disbelief, "Daniel... Daniel Stotts."
Annoyance still donning my expression, I replied, "Thank you, Mr. Stotts; however, I have all the friends I need. I've apparently been able to get around this campus just fine, and if I have any questions, I believe I would prefer to get my answers from the horse's mouth--not its rear end."
Daniel sat, smiling appreciatively. "Very spry. I like it."
My eyes rolled before the thought crossed my mind how rude it was to do so--not that it really mattered, I had already been rude to him, even though it was merely a ruse. But I couldn't help myself; something about that guy sent shivers of irritation through me. I didn't have time for a man in my life--even an incredibly handsome one; especially one that so obviously flirted with me, though I couldn't imagine why he would; or one that, for an unknown reason, made me feel like something was crawling beneath my skin.
My book crammed into my backpack, I began to rise. Daniel put his hand flat on my forearm, and while I couldn't feel any pressure from his touch, I couldn't raise either. I turned my head, pure disgust gracing my expression, ready to unleash on him when he spoke very quietly and soothingly.
"Please, Mare; I am sorry." He removed his hand from my arm, continuing, "We have gotten off to a bad beginning. I regret that. Please, sit and talk with me for a few moments." His expression seemed very solemn, very tranquil, yet... very pained.
For a moment, I held my raised position and stared at him--I was ready to leave that meeting. I really didn't know what made me decide to stay. However, I let my backpack go and sank back against the tree.
"First," I asked irritably, "could you please remove those sunglasses? It is very... unnerving to have a prolonged conversation when you cannot see someone's eyes--especially when that conversation is with a stranger."
Daniel nodded understandingly, ducked his head, removed the fashion accessory, and recaptured my gaze. I gasped quietly. Astonishment filled my expression.
His eyes were... They looked like... They were beyond a description. I had never seen anything like them. They were gorgeous? Amazing? Beautiful? Striking? They were beyond any adjective in existence.
As he ducked his head to put his sunglasses back on, without thinking, without hesitation, I put my hand on his arm to keep him from doing so. He looked at me with perplexity.
"Please, don't," I murmured.
He gave a quick and slight nod. "That is why I wear them," he stated. "Most people are very... taken by my eye color."
"It's a very beautiful color," I whispered. His eyes were so engaging it was difficult to feel or say anything while locked in his gaze. His eyes were an amazingly soothing sky blue, flecked with gold.
"Well..." He hesitated, raised his eyebrows, and then continued in a mockingly sinister tone, "If you saw what else they did, you may not feel so idyllic about them."
Bewildered, I crinkled my brow.
"They can change color... dramatically... drastically swift at times. It is even more unnerving when they do that than it is to speak to me while I'm wearing sunglasses."
"Why... How... What color do they turn?" I prodded.
"Well, you see the gold sparkle? Sometimes they turn to a complete gold." My eyes gave away my emotion of disbelief. Daniel smiled timidly and paused. "Would you like for me to put them back on?" He held up his sunglasses by one arm and swung them in his hand a few times as he asked that last question.
Slowly spoken, I said, "No. That isn't necessary." I hesitated a few seconds more, and then with a slight shake of my head, snapped myself back into the present. "You asked me to talk with you for a moment. What is it that you need?"
Daniel stared at me with an expression of distress and reverence. "I could tell you were intrigued at the program Professor Billings outlined in class." Daniel paused a moment. Conviction drenched in his tone, he stated, "I think you should steer clear of that project, Mare."
"Why?" I asked in confusion.
"I don't believe the corporation sponsoring this project has a noble cause behind its interest. I know that sounds... paranoid, but I believe it to be the truth." As I tried to question--or rather, argue--the words wouldn't emit from my mouth. Daniel held up his hand, urging me to listen, and continued, "When the corporation first began this endeavor--two years ago when I began attending this university--their story did not have as much substance as it has today. As questions arose, it subtly worked itself into the silver-tongued manifestation it has become. Their evasiveness combined with their modifications prompted me to do a little investigating of my own.
"My research found that the program is based on converting human DNA to a strand the corporation has a sample of. Their story is that it is archeological DNA of the beginning of man. They theorize if someone can figure out how to change our current DNA to this string of DNA, that they can outline exactly how we evolved without any presumptions. The problem is, their DNA sample does not match any found at any archeological dig site on record."
I hesitated a moment. "Have you talked to the corporation?"
"Yes. They told me that they appreciated my interest and would pass my findings along. The next day, someone from the corporation was waiting for me outside my science class. He... graciously informed me that I was misinformed. He then told me that the corporation was grateful for my aid in the project, but now that I had given my results, I could no longer participate. He gave me the address to send my receipts for reimbursements and left."
"Well, that seems reasonable, Daniel. Perhaps you didn't know about the site they had gotten their sample from."
Daniel's eyes closed, his expression seemed wounded, and he slid his sunglasses back on. He adjusted his head as if he was turning to make direct eye contact with me. Then an expression of antagonism graced his features--his voice and demeanor still held a gentle quality, nonetheless. "Because I know, Mare. The corporation's sample is not what they claim it to be."
"What do you think their sample is then?"
"I believe..." Daniel hesitated as if he was searching for the correct words. "I feel they have ulterior motives. I assume they are actually trying to create some sort of... superhuman--something exceptionally fast, strong, and nearly impossible to kill. That means it will be difficult to be halted once created, and if something like that is constructed, I doubt it can be controlled--and that is dangerous for everyone."
Unsure of how I quite felt about Daniel's proclamation, I nodded my head in acknowledgment of hearing him out as I let his supposition soak-in. Then, glancing at my watch, I realized how fast time had flown since beginning my conversation with Daniel; my next class was moments from commencing.
As I gathered my possessions, I announced, "I'm sorry, I have to go--I'm going to be late for my next class."
As I scampered across the lawn, Daniel's edict churning in my mind, I tried not to look back at him, but I couldn't help myself. Daniel sat in the same position as when I had left him, staring off into emptiness. I didn't know if he hadn't noticed my departure or if he didn't care--I assumed the latter.
I had just found my seat as the professor for my third class entered the room and began his opening oration. After class, I grabbed my things and headed across campus to Beastie--and the odd ogling sensation came back.
I wanted to turn and see if Daniel was following me--maybe he was a stalker--but I decided if he was tailing me and I looked, it would simply encourage him. I didn't feel a need to be leery of him; he seemed nice enough, just eccentric! Finally deciding it was just paranoia, when I attained a close enough distance to my car, I was taken aback to see Daniel standing beside it. He was leaning against the vehicle parked next to Beastie; it was a top-down, sea-blue colored convertible--which appeared to have the velocity capability of an airplane!
Acerbically, I snapped upon approach, "I doubt the owner of that car would appreciate you leaning on it as if it were a lamppost."
Daniel chuckled--presumably at me--and countered, "I don't think he would care, seeing that it's my car."
I gave Daniel a demoralizing look--which made him chuckle again. I exhaled sharply in exacerbation and decided to ignore him. After unlocking my door, I threw my backpack into the passenger seat while climbing aboard my repugnant beast. Daniel seized the driver door as I began to sit down and pull it to.
I glowered and spit my next words succinctly. "Let… go!"
Daniel abided by my wishes and I slammed the door. I brought Beastie to life and pulled out of my parking space. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Daniel still standing in the same position, what had been to the left of my vehicle. His arms were crossed, and he was watching me--anger and astonishment adorning his expression.
As I pulled forward to drive down the lot, he raised his arms out, shoulders up, and shouted, "Come on!"
I acted as if I didn't see or hear anything--and drove away.
* * *
After watching Mare exit the university parking lot, Daniel shook his head. Once reaching his car, he put one hand on the door and leapt over it, sinking perfectly into his seat. By the time he pulled in front of his workplace--The BloodBank on North 40th--he had regained his composure, but his mind was still racing.
Daniel walked behind the counter, donned his white lab coat, and sensing his tense mood, the woman sharing his mutual job sarcastically piped, "Bad day, captain?"
Tersely, Daniel responded, "Yes, Angela. You know the project at the college?"
Suddenly intrigued, Angela was no longer passive at the conversation. Between greeting donors, and handing out and receiving paperwork from patrons in the waiting room, the two turned their conversation to one of psyche. The human clientele was unaware of the mute conversation being held in front of them.
A new girl signed up for it today. I tried to talk her out of it, but she is determined.
Angela shot a look of hatred toward Daniel. You know, I see her through you; this is about more than merely her, this is about all of humanity. Are you positive she's the one that figures it out? Are you positive you have the objectivity for this?
You do not have to worry about her or my objectives. I have this under control, Daniel's psyche responded.
For everyone's sake, I hope you're correct about your control. Angela gave a frustrated sigh. Honestly, I don't even know why you bother with her!
Daniel's jaw tightened; he could see the vision Angela's mind held. Daniel paid no mind to Angela's words or thoughts; he continued his job. A moment later, a hand smashed against the counter in front of him; looking up, Daniel saw a livid face.
Calm down, Daniel eased.
I need it! the man's psyche answered, practically in a growl.
Daniel looked down at the paperwork in front of him and nonchalantly replied, You know, you bring most of it on yourself. If you weren't out stalking most of the night... If you would try and resist--
The hand smashed the counter again, sending a slight shock wave through it that time. The gentleman's expression twisted. A slight growl emanated from his throat.
Don't! Daniel turned toward Angela and directed, Please, take Chris, and attend to his need. Daniel emphasized the last word, meaning for it to be an obvious blow as he turned back to the angry, contorted expression.
Angela nodded once. Come with me--we will have you fixed up in no time, Chris! Then added, Or maybe we should let him take care of his need on his own today--I'm sure I could point him in the right… direction.
A silent hiss, merely loud enough for Daniel and Angela's ears, escaped Chris' lips; that life repulsed him, and he had never harmed, nor ever planned to harm, a human for his need. Angela faltered a second from the booming berating Daniel's psyche ensued over her comment. Once she had adapted, Angela strode through the door leading to the backroom, a satisfied smirk adorning her features--with Chris heeling her.
* * *
I don't know why you're letting him get to you. Who cares what he says? C'mon, if this place were trying to make such a grizzly abomination, someone would have shut them down by now! He has obvious issues--mainly delusions and schizophrenia! This place can't be making anything too bad; and what they offer could help so much!
I tried to relax and erase my thoughts.
No use!
You know, he wasn't even rude about it. Why does it upset you? He seems nice... concerned. I mean, it's not like you honestly thought that he could have an interest in you! That the reason he was staring at you during your first class, that the reason he walked across that sprawling lawn, smiling, was because of you!
Oh, no, my mind whispered as my mouth slightly gaped.
My thoughts had been swimming, going every direction around each other; like a galaxy whose sun had imploded and no longer had a gravitation pull--all the planets wandering aimlessly about. Then, every thought made it's way into complete harmony in my head--as if that galaxy's sun had reappeared and all the formations that had been circling haphazardly fell back into their truthful orbit.
That is exactly how it felt when the realization of why Daniel grated on my nerves--like fingernails on a blackboard--hit me like a ton of clouds.
ON FOOT
In other words--I was interested in Daniel. Which, at its least, was absolutely wrong!
Oh! No! No! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! Uh-uh! You are not getting interested in a guy now! I know it's bound to happen someday, but not today!
You don't even know this guy! Sure, he's cute... Okay, handsome... Mmmm, maybe sexy is a better description.
No! Quit going there! Block him out! He is not a part of the plan, and it's not going to happen! There will be other dark-haired, light-eyed, absolutely breathtaking men to throw yourself at later! Not now!
Lost in thought, I hadn't realized I was already at Gene's. As I opened the front door, I tried to let my day's happenings melt away and announced, "I'm home!"
The pitter-patter of little feet was the initial sound I heard. I rushed for the hall entryway on the opposite side of the rectangular space and took my position--I knew my daughter was rushing for me. Fresh-baked cookies fragranced the house, and I scooped my little girl into my arms as she zipped around the corner, slamming into me.
"Hey, sweet pea!" I said while rising up with her, and then I gave her Eskimo kisses.
"How was school, Mama?"
"It was wonderful! One day closer to what we are working so hard for."
Clarissa nodded enthusiastically. "Want a cookie?" Her eyes sparkled with excitement at what Grandma and her had made that day.
"Did you help Grandma make them?" I asked with mock curiosity. An immense smile spread across Clarissa's face, and she nodded her head rapidly. "Well, I can't pass up a cookie from my favorite little baker!"
As I lowered her, Clarissa's feet were barely on the floor when she grasped my hand and dragged me to the kitchen. She snatched a cookie off the platter and gave it to me, and then she darted into another room. Gene inquired about my day. My dramatic sigh let her know something was wrong, but she would wait until later to inquire--when Clarissa was out of hearing distance.