Page 48 of Bound By Water
Part of me wants to close my eyes and shut out the world for the rest of the day, but I’ve already missed two classes. Showering makes me feel a bit better, but putting on a clean set of grey sweats brings my mood down. Where can I get some normal clothes? And my go bag. I don’t like being without it. Needing some sense of normalcy, I decide to talk to Oliver tomorrow. Right now, I’ve got to get to class.
First one this afternoon is with Quaid. It takes me no time to get to the gym where he’s holding class. Thankfully, it doesn’t have the usual gym socks and sweat smell, but the cavernous tan interior matches the building’s boring exterior all the way down to the light brown wooden floors. Although, this one lacks the obligatory basketball court. Odder still, the rear of the gym is in shadows. I stare at it for a second, wondering what the tall shadowy shapes could be before turning my attention to the rest of the class.
To my relief, there are roughly fifteen others here with me. If it was just the two of us, I’m sure something snarky would slip out of my mouth, and that would be bad. There’s enough going on in my life without adding more conflict, and after he had to step in, I doubt he’s happy with me. Also, he’s a big guy and intimidating as hell, not that I’d let him know.
“Line up!” he shouts, eerily similar to a drill sergeant.
When we’ve all assembled in front of him, tall, muscular legs stalk up and down, eyeing each of us.
“I’m not going to teach you how to fight. Raven is full of trained soldiers. Some with powers and some without. In a fight, they will win.”
Wearing his usual uniform of camo fatigues and a matching Army green t-shirt, he stops in front of me and studies me for a second, then continues, “I’m going to teach you defensive techniques to help you evade and escape. And finally, if all else fails, how to use your powers toneutralizethem. Not fight. For example, I have the ability to manipulate fire. One way I could neutralize them is to light a ring around them, so I can escape.”
A brave young man I’ve never seen before raises his hand and asks, “Why don’t we use our powers to do more?” With his dark hair and eyes, as well as his complexion, he could be Hispanic. Maybe a year or two older than me and very good-looking. Well, except for the current of electricity coursing down one of his arms. That’s a bit frightening.
“Good question,” he tells him. “What happens if you hurt or kill one of their men? Purposely?”
“They’ll use force against you,” an older man states with confidence. With his receding hairline, I put him in his forties. Slim, with bent shoulders, he looks like life has taken a few hits at him. “Maybe it won’t be just you they go after either. Maybe it’s your wife who knew nothing about your powers. Or your children who inherited them.”
Sadly, I look at him and nod, knowing he’s right.
“Or they take video of you using your powers and threaten to release it to the public,” a young girl with short black hair and kohl-rimmed eyes states in a clipped voice. “Or they force you to use your powers in front of regular humans, making them afraid of you and removing your support system. They’re ruthless.” Her voice rings with truth and anger.
A stubborn glint shines in the young man’s brown eyes. “Or you take them out. Somewhere quiet. Where there are no working cameras.”
Quaid folds his arms across his chest and stares at the guy. “If you do, they’ll never stop hunting you. Their tactics include whatever is most useful to them: declaring you a dangerous person in the media, countering your powers with technology that neutralizes yours, or even taking you out from a distance. You are a thing to them. Not a person.”
Chills run down my spine. Hightower will never quit. My goal was to leave here with a new identity and find the life I worked so hard to achieve, but I realize that’s not going to be possible. At best, I’ll have to live a small, quiet life, making few waves, my dreams lost to the past. Worst, he finds me. Is there a middle ground? Damn, I hope so.
Determination lifts my chin higher. Good thing I was wearing tennis shoes when I left my old life. Looks like I’m going to be doing a lot of running.
The young man looks away from Quaid’s relentless gaze. It’s clear he remains unconvinced, but I can see by the clench of his jaw, he’s determined to learn whatever he has to in order to survive.
Quaid clears his throat and points to the darkened area of the gym. “Behind me is a replica of a city with buildings, streets, alleys, and Raven’s men. You will have ten minutes to find a place to hide before I come looking. A horn will blow when the ten minutes is up. Make sure you’re hidden by that time.”
Everyone starts talking at once and he holds up a hand for silence. “Take this seriously. If I don’t find you in fifteen minutes, you win a point. Points are rewarded. Failure results in laps.”
He raises a small gun. “This is a paint gun. When I tag you, you’re done. Return here and wait for the rest of the class. If I don’t find you, stay hidden. When you hear the horn sound for the second time, it will be safe to come out.”
Lights go up, and I see that what I mistook for a gym is actually a ginormous warehouse surrounding a small realistic city. I study the grey buildings and wonder if the Army used this for training purposes. When I return my gaze to Quaid, he’s holding up five fingers.
“5, 4, 3, 2,” he shouts, then pauses. “1. Go!”
I take off running into the streets. Stationed at the corner of the first building is a man in blue fatigues with an armband. Embroidered on the band is a black raven in mid-flight. River mentioned they had one on their uniforms, but the men at the gas station had been in suits, and I was too distracted to notice them at Jordan’s. I stare at the beady red eyes of the bird. Sinister-looking, the image burns itself into my brain, leaving me with a lingering sense of foreboding.
Shaking it off, I head farther into the city. Most of the doors are locked. The few that aren’t open to reveal restaurant kitchens, apartments, or offices with workers in them. I reach the end of the alley and spin in a circle. There’s a dumpster, but that’s too obvious. Some boxes. I look up and contemplate the railing on the building that leads to the roof, but what happens if I go up and there’s no cover?
Aware of the clock ticking down, I try to remember the little bits River taught me, and I get an idea. Going back to one of the kitchens, I hurry to slip into position. A loud foghorn bellows in the air.
Shouts and screams come from outside, and my hands shake a little at the thought of being hunted. I can see why Quaid does this. Everything about this feels real. Heart racing, I stand still, ears peeled for the slightest noise.
Minutes go by. The door behind me opens. From the corner of my eye, I see Quaid silently sweep through the kitchen, poking in cabinets and opening ovens. When he finds nothing, he stands completely still. I’m barely breathing, inhaling the shallowest of breaths. Sweat beads at my temples and the back of my neck while my muscles strain to hold my position.
Finally, he leaves. The door closes, but I don’t move. Thirty seconds later, it opens again, and this time, it doesn’t close. Is that so he can glance in here when he goes by? I continue to hold my pose, making sure I don’t lock my knees and possibly faint. Gradually, I increase the depth of my breaths but not to the point that anyone can hear them.
Eons later, the foghorn sounds again. For a second, I slump against the stainless-steel counter, but there’s little time for relief. Hurrying, I change out of the chef’s clothes and back into my own. A minute later, I’m running back to class.
Five people are standing in front of Quaid without a speck of paint on them. I slip into line beside the girl with the short hair. The younger man made it. So did the older man. I nod at the remaining four ladies, who flash relieved grins back at me.
