“You’d better get up, muck, or you’ll be the last one entering the dining hall. And believe me, last is not a place you want to be.” Beth makes her little pronouncement without looking at me, then leaves our room.
I jump up and hurry to dress. Unzipping my suitcase, I rummage through the contents looking for the bare necessities it will take to get ready in the quickest amount of time. I put on some clothes, run a comb through my hair, rub lotion on my face, and reach for my perfume, but then change my mind and set it back down. I don’t want to appear to be trying too hard.
As I race down the empty hall to the stairs, I hear voices floating up toward me. The giggling and whispers of words like “muck” and “sloth” increase as I approach the door, then the voices quiet as I enter the room.
The huge dining hall is filled with large round tables and fellow athletes. Over at the nearest table, Beth sits next to Hot Jock from the night before. Her eyes narrow as she gives me the once-over. With the amount of black eyeliner she has on, she looks downright scary. The guy glares at me and makes me feel as if I’m the last person in the world who should be trying out for the Olympics. Obviously Beth has told him about me.
“Good morning, Calli,” Ms. Winter says as she comes up beside me. “Everyone, this is Calli Courtnae from Ohio,” she says, announcing me again. I suppose the introduction is meant for the guys and the other adults, since they weren’t present last night.
No one says a word. I glance around the room at all the blank faces, imagining what they might be thinking. I have yet to find a face, female or male, that isn’t strikingly handsome or gorgeous. Too bad their coldness seems to be equally distributed, too.
Ms. Winter leads me to a table filled with kids who don’t look any older than twelve. One seat is unoccupied. I guess this is what Beth meant by not wanting to be the last one to breakfast . . . you’re forced to sit with the children.
I sit and make eye contact with the curl-lipped faces of boys and girls. I figure I’d better show some kindness if I expect to get any in return, so I smile and say “Hello.” They all quickly look away, as if even the sight of me is disgusting. Is no one friendly in this place?
Ms. Winter takes her position at the front of the room. “This is Calli’s first day, and she hasn’t had her orientation yet. I want to remind everyone about the do’s and don’ts concerning new arrivals and the consequences of disobeying them.”
A low grumble rolls throughout the dining hall, which only adds to my mounting confusion.
Do’s and don’ts?
Ms. Winter continues. “We will be holding a time trial tomorrow morning as we’ve received a new assignment. Okay, let’s eat.”
Everyone gets up from their seats and starts filing toward the door to the kitchen.
I end up half way back in line, surrounded by boys and girls who won’t talk to me or even acknowledge me. I face forward and find that the line moves rapidly. At least this torture will be over soon.
Once I enter the kitchen and view the spread of food set out in buffet style I am dismayed—fruits of all kinds, some vegetables and nuts, in fact more nuts than I’ve ever seen before, are the only foods to choose from. Several pitchers of different colored juices and ice water at the end of the table complete the selection. No bacon and eggs or French toast? No pancakes or waffles? Where is the real food? Needless to say, I don’t end up with much on my plate.
I go back to my seat and glance around the room. Everyone seems to be staring at me, which I suppose is normal. I’m the new girl, after all. I indulge in a bit of lip reading to try to get an idea of what they are thinking. Other than standard questions about me, the only strange comment I pick up on is, “She’s so old for a newbie.”
Old? I’d figured the athletes training for the Olympics would be older than me. In fact, now that I think about it, where are all the older athletes? A quick inventory of the room reveals almost everyone is my age or younger. It makes no sense at all.
Ms. Winter comes over as I finish my food and invites me to follow her after I clear my plate. She waits for me as I exit the kitchen and then leads me down the hall to a private office and closes the door behind us.
“Take a seat, Calli,” she says, motioning to the overstuffed leather sofa along the wall.
I sink into the luxurious, buttery-soft cushion. Right away I relax since I’ve gotten away from all the judgmental stares.
She sits in an extravagant executive chair behind her desk. “You must have questions for me by now. Go ahead and ask.”
Where to start? “What is a ‘muck?’”
“A muck is a slow Runner.”
“Well, I guess I should have told them my time, then.” I pile a heavy dose of sarcasm on my statement.
She smiles. “I believe the word ‘muck’ is used in a similar fashion as ‘loser.’ When you understand the nature in which you are viewed, it won’t seem as harsh.”
“Why did Beth refer to me as a human?”
“She doesn’t think of you as being on the same level as her. Do you have any other questions, or shall we get started?”
“Let’s start.”
“Good. First up, feel free to call me Clara. Ms. Winter is too formal. Calli, I want you to keep an open mind and try to understand what I’m about to tell you. This may be hard for you to comprehend at first.”
I nod.
“You are an extremely fast athlete, and your speed is only emerging. Not everyone is able to run as fast as you—your fellow teammates back in Ohio, for instance. But your burst of speed isn’t, how should I put this . . . normal. Your ability comes from a cosmic energy blast originating in a distant constellation.”
I stare at her for a second and then laugh. I can’t help myself. How ridiculous!
Clara keeps talking as if she’s used to being laughed at. “What we’ve found is the running ability surfaces during puberty, usually around twelve to fourteen years of age. Yours came a bit later. You are a Runner, Calli, but you won’t be in the Olympics. I’m sorry I had to lie to you. You wouldn’t have come here otherwise, nor would your parents have allowed you to, even though your life depended on it. I told you not to go outside last night because there are dangers in the nearby shadows, waiting for someone with cosmic powers to come along . . . someone like you.”
“Paparazzi?” I roll my eyes. “You know, I haven’t even seen one guy with a camera outside.”
“Not paparazzi. The dangers I’m talking about are only found in absolute darkness where they wait for someone with powers to wander too far away from the light.”
“Homeland Security Agents? Are they going to throw a net over me and haul me away?”
“No, Calli, the dangers in the shadows are invisible to the eye, but they are there all the same.”
“Oh, like ghosts?” I lift myself up from my spot on the couch, laugh, and rotate a complete circle, letting her know I am looking for any suspicious objects. “Is there a hidden camera here or something? I’m not sure why you brought me here, but I’m not the kind of girl who believes in fairytales or spooky stories.”
Clara doesn’t move from her spot and remains unperturbed by my attitude. “Calli, I’m completely serious when I say you have an ability that originates from deep in the cosmos, one that’s sought after by unseen forces that lurk in the shadows of the night. We refer to the forces as Shadow Demons.”
“Of course you do.” I throw my hands up in the air. “I want to call my parents. This is a big mistake and I want to go home.”
“Calli, going home before you learn how to protect yourself will get you killed.”
“Are you going to let me call my parents or not?”
“You can call your parents after I finish my explanation of your superhuman ability.”
Superhuman? That’s the last straw. I’ve heard enough. I shake my head as I back up toward the door. I turn to leave the office and am shocked to find her in front of me, blocking the way. I glance over my shoulder, convinced there must be two of her, only to see an empty chair.
I take one step back, afraid and shaking. “Please let me go.”
“Calli, I’m not holding you captive. I’m trying to teach you about your gift and how to protect yourself from the evil waiting to harm you. I’m not trying to hurt you, and I understand how insane this must sound, but allow me more time to explain. Please.”
I stare at her for a second, a million thoughts running through my head. I guess what convinces me to turn around and walk back to the couch is the fact I have nowhere else to go. I’m trapped in the Rocky Mountains of Montana, sixteen-hundred miles away from my parents, with a beautiful psychopath who operates a cult-like compound, surrounded by freakishly perfect-looking people with really bad attitudes.
She takes her place behind her desk once again and continues speaking.
“Everyone you know was affected in one way or another by galactic cosmic energy rays while they were in the womb. When a fetus is exposed to the energy blasts, some alteration to DNA will occur depending on the proximity to the hot zone, the area at the direct center of the blast. Those, like you, who are located in this area end up with a superhuman ability. Those on the outside edges of the hot zone will experience increased intellect, photographic memory, artistic or athletic ability; those further out will be affected with milder increases in their skills and abilities. The ones way out on the perimeter can end up with deformities and mental delays. Think about your own high school. There are probably a couple of highly athletic individuals, the kind who get scholarships, and a small handful of extra-intelligent kids who will become valedictorians. Also, a few who excel in the arts, I imagine. And then I would hazard to guess some in your school are a few bricks shy of a load, right?”
I have to cut her off here. “Clara, I haven’t ever heard of this. These findings would be all over the news and in the scientific community if they were true. What about DNA testing? If my genes were changed, don’t you think something like that would show up in my blood work? I think this is all hogwash.”
“Calli, radiation hazards in outer space are well known. Astronauts are bombarded with radiation continually, and scientists have proven that a developing fetus subjected to x-rays can suffer damage. What they don’t understand, however, is the same cosmic energy rays that fly around outer space also hit the earth in a pinpoint fashion, creating a ripple effect. Drop a small pebble in a puddle of water and watch the ripples form. Now, imagine the pebble is the cosmic energy blast that results in fetal DNA alterations, and the ripples represent lesser alterations. The further the ripples travel away from the center, the weaker they become.”
“So, you’re saying that as an embryo I was hit by some rogue cosmic ray that altered my DNA, and the alteration popped out two days ago?”
Clara leans forward, resting her elbows on her desk and interlocking her fingers. “The alteration simply reached maturity level. Calli, remember how your body felt as you ran and the fact that you could have run faster? You said so yourself. Now, put everything you felt into the perspective of a scientist. Would a scientist be able to explain your impressive burst of speed other than through performance-enhancing medications? You told me you were clean. Were you lying to me?”
“No, I wasn’t lying, but—”
“Reflect on your own amazement. You hold the key to understanding this remarkable event, more so than any ordinary scientist. However, we have scientists in our community who are currently working on determining which galaxies or constellations the different powers come from.”
“Different powers?”
“Yes, super-speed running is one of the several powers. There are also Mind-Readers, Healers, Seers, and even some who have over-sensitive olfactory abilities. We call them Hunters. They’re easy to spot because of their oversized noses, the same way Runners are identified by their ideal genetics. The other types of powers do not have physical attributes associated with them like the Hunters and Runners do.”
“Is that why everyone around here is unbelievably beautiful?”
“Beauty comes from the inside, Calli. Exterior appearances can be a gift and a curse. For Runners, it seems the DNA alteration affects the proportions of the body’s structure making an ideal frame to handle the power. Unfortunately it results in an almost unnatural physical form . . . freaks of nature, if you will.”
I wonder to myself why my physical form doesn’t match the lithe bodies I’ve seen so far. Compared to the girls from my hometown, I rank myself above average simply because I don’t have a crooked nose, my facial proportions are symmetrical, and my body-fat percentage falls in the normal range. Here at Models-R-Us, the bar has been raised and my above-average looks fall to the bottom of the barrel. At least my intelligence level and sarcastic attitude remain top-notch.
Clara continues. “We employ three individuals with power here at the compound: a Seer, a Healer, and a Mind-Reader. This is a common practice among clans. I’m a Runner and I’m also trained in the art of spell-casting, which I use on foods and herbs for the benefit of the clan.
“Clan?” I ask.
“We refer to groups of individuals with the same power as a ‘clan.’”
“Spell-casting?”
“Yes, there are Spellcasters who cast enchantments and such.”
“Are you telling me there are witches and wizards too?”
“The ability to harness the energy around us, and utilize the benefits from certain plants and organic material, has always existed, Calli. This is not a cosmic ability but a learned one. Although I do not use witchcraft for my spell-casting, there are some who find it useful for theirs, and those Spellcasters would technically be considered witches and wizards. However, the clans believe that witches and wizards are the evil, underhanded Spellcasters who go against nature’s will, who are actually known as sorcerers in the spell-casting world.”
“Um, I don’t see the difference.”
“Spellcasters are aware of their natural limitations and do not push nature’s boundaries. Sorcerers and sorceresses use their knowledge against nature’s limits, not in conjunction with it, and not for the benefit of anyone but themselves. The clans erroneously mistake these people with witches and wizards thanks to cultural influences, but it doesn’t matter. Any involvement with one is frowned upon. In fact, consorting with a ‘witch’ or ‘wizard’ can get you thrown out of our clan.”
“You know,” I interrupt, “the science stuff is almost believable in my mind. But to say that witches and wizards actually exist is not something I’m able to wrap my head around. I don’t believe in that kind of stuff.”
“Well, Calli, all I can say to you is your ideas and beliefs have been shaped by the limited information you’ve had access to during your upbringing. There’s more to the world than what you’ve been taught. With time, you’ll learn what I’m talking about.”
I close my eyes and try to contain my erratic thoughts. I decide to focus on the running ability.
I ask, “What else can Runners do? I mean, do they only run or do they have other special abilities?” Not that I’m completely buying into anything, but after hearing her list all the other superhuman powers, I feel a little cheated that I can’t be a Mind-Reader or Seer. How cool would that be?
“Calli, you are wise to question the value of our ability. Being able to run fast allows us to cross over the top of bodies of water or swim through them with incredible speed. We can travel as the crow flies—without roads—but that’s not all. Our ability originates in our nervous system, causing our impulses to fire at extremely rapid intervals. We can catch a hummingbird effortlessly because of our enhanced reflexes. With enough distance from a shooter, we can even dodge bullets . . . well, that is if we know a bullet is about to head our way. Because of these supernatural abilities, we’re able to avoid knife blades, steer clear of punches, and simply disappear in a flash. This is why we are selected to run errands. Not only can we run, we are our own security force and are not good people to be cornered.”
I have to admit this description sounds pretty appealing. I ask, “What kind of errands are you talking about?”
“Other clans employ us to deliver goods and messages that are too high-profile to be trusted to standard delivery services. Even governments have used Runners for top secret assignments. In fact, during the Civil War, many orders were delivered by our clan.”
“Civil War? These powers have been around that long?”
“Longer, Calli—since ancient Egyptian times.”
“Well, how did they stay hidden? Why hasn’t the rest of the world picked up on them?”
“The world has picked up on them. Think about all the big blockbuster movies that feature characters with superhuman powers. Consider the subject matter of popular fantasy and science fiction titles and comic books, and you’ll recognize that these powers and abilities have been in the public eye for a long time. The clans have endeavored to fictionalize their powers throughout history because regular people function better when they think these powers are just a fantasy.”
“What about vampires and werewolves?”
“They existed at one time, but not in the way you’ve learned about through fiction and movies.”
“This is too much for my mind to handle. The next thing you’re going to tell me is there used to be dragons, fairies, and leprechauns.”
“Well, I don’t know about fairies and leprechauns, but dragons definitely existed.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course they did. And you know this because of all the scientific evidence that exists in the world today?”
“No, because I use powdered dragon bone in some of my recipes. There are no complete bones remaining for science to study. Anyway, Calli, try not to let all this information overwhelm you. Focus on this: our Seer saw you four weeks and two days ago. His vision revealed your powers would emerge at a high school track meet. I was there to collect you, to keep you alive. Once you learn how to protect yourself, and if you so desire, you can return home. But leaving too soon, without the knowledge we can give you here, would be disastrous.”
I bend forward and put my head in my hands. This can’t be happening. I definitely recognized a strange feeling in my body at the track meet, but superhuman power? Her description almost makes sense, but I can’t help but think this is all a joke. Yet, I did feel the impulses she spoke of, experiencing them firsthand. Unless . . . unless I’m caught up in some kind of hypnotic session and my mind is being toyed with to convince me this is real. Yes, that would be more realistic. My mother uses hypnotherapy to help people in her clinic, and this woman might be using the same thing on me with evil purposes . . . but choosing me for some evil purpose seems just as unbelievable.
While I try to rationalize away the ridiculousness that threatens to make sense in my head, a knock on the office door pulls me out of deep thought. I glance over at the half-windowed office door to see the profile of an extremely handsome guy with well-trimmed blond hair. Not that seeing a good-looking guy at this crazy-house compound seems out of the ordinary, but this guy is much more than handsome or good looking—he’s a stunning display of ultimate masculinity, a walking euphoria, and the total embodiment of every girl’s dreams. My dreams, truth be told.
“Come in,” Clara answers.
He enters and walks with purpose straight to her desk without even acknowledging my presence, his eyes firmly set on Clara. His aroma, somewhat like a combination of citrus and fresh-cut wood, drifts along behind, tantalizing my senses even further.
From my vantage point I again admire his commanding profile and strong jaw. He wears a uniform similar to a jogging outfit, which seems to be made of extremely thin material that purposely hugs his lean, muscular body in all the right places, accentuating his well-defined physique. His voice flows like liquid satin. “Clara, they never reached their destination. I searched with the Hunter for trails or clues, but they’ve simply vanished mid-journey.”
“I’ve had word the Healers are missing three as well.” Clara’s eyes move to me, and then back to Chris.
“When did they disappear?” he asks, turning his head in my direction. Our eyes meet and lock.
Clara says, “Oh, excuse me. Chris, this is Calli Courtnae. Calli, Chris Harding.”
I reach forward to shake his hand. Chris doesn’t make any attempt to reach for my hand, so I lower mine to my lap. All the while, our eyes are locked on each other’s. His eyes are blue, like . . . like the summer sky I used to gaze up at, dreaming of all things good and wonderful. I can’t look away. His eyes hold strange emotions, however, emotions I can’t identify as he looks my face over. Is he confused? Is he angry? He seems to recognize me, but that can’t be. His mouth parts as if he’s about to say something, and I wait impatiently to hear his voice again. Instead, he closes his mouth and slowly turns his head back to Clara. His eyes remain connected with mine until the last moment when he has to look away. As he speaks again, his tone is different. The confusion in his voice matches the strange emotions in his eyes. “Why did the Healers send her? Why not the leader? This is a highly unusual move on their part to send Cal—um, a beginner.”
“Chris, Calli isn’t a Healer. She’s a Runner. This is her orientation.”
He turns to look at me again, only this time his eyebrows are scrunched together, causing vertical lines to appear between his brows. His jaw falls open and he actually takes a step backward. What is it about my presence that causes such a physical reaction in everyone? Am I that out of place here?
“Clara, may I speak with you in the hall?” he asks through tight lips.
I watch as they both walk to the door. Chris holds it for Clara and then exits, pulling the door closed behind him. Through the window, he stares at me with an unreadable expression.
Clara’s back is to me, but I can tell she’s talking to him.
I read his lips as he replies, “She’s not a Runner, she’s a Healer.” Clara says something else and he replies with, “I know she can’t be both, Clara, but I know she’s a Healer . . . well, they were wrong. She doesn’t belong here.”
Chris looks over Clara’s shoulder at me. His eyes are narrowed and his jaw clenched. Why would my presence tick him off so much? Why would he think I’m a Healer? Is he confusing me with someone else? Before turning and leaving my sight, he says to Clara, “I don’t like this one bit.”
She reenters the room and forces a smile back onto her face. “Where were we?”
“What was that all about?” I try to sound innocent.
“Nothing. Let’s get back to—”
“He thinks I’m a Healer. Why?”
“I’m not sure. I know you are a Runner. The Seer foresaw your powers emerging, I witnessed your speed, and no one holds more than one cosmic power.”
I can tell by her facial expression that Chris’s reaction bothers her.
She takes a deep breath and says, “You overheard information here that needs to be kept quiet or else widespread panic could erupt. Yes, we are missing three of our Runners, but we don’t have enough details to make an announcement yet. I need to ask you to keep this quiet. Will you, please?”
“Yes, of course.”
A thought comes to me. “Clara, why don’t you ask your Seer what’s going on?”
“Seers’ powers are quite limited,” she replies. “They can only view the future four weeks out. If something is going to happen sooner, they can’t envision it. They can only spot the changes to the future roughly a month ahead. The problem is, there seems to be a cloudiness or fog where the future of our clan is concerned. Our Seer is unable to interpret our Runners’ futures. He’s communicated with his clan, who are also confused by the mysteriousness of the situation.”
How frustrating would it be to have that kind of power and not be able to see things sooner? The Seers got the bad end of the cosmic-powers deal, in my opinion. I stop myself. Now I’m thinking as if this is all possible.
Clara’s phone rings, interrupting our conversation. “Excuse me, Calli.”
I sit back on the cushy couch while she speaks on the phone. So many thoughts are running through my mind. The new information from Clara spins wildly through my brain, bringing everything I’ve known and learned into question. I haven’t witnessed anyone else exhibiting any significant power. Only the power within my own body helps confirm her information. Even without more evidence, the appearance of Chris and hearing of his investigation into the missing Runners has helped my mind begin to accept the reality of this new world.
Chris speaks of me as if he already knows me. I don’t remember ever meeting him, and I know I wouldn’t have forgotten that! Thinking back on the last look he gave me before leaving makes me slightly disheartened. Oh well, he’s way out of my league anyway. Plus, he’s older, in his twenties, and most likely has a significant other, what with all the beautiful girls floating around here.
“Calli, I need to take this call,” Clara whispers, with her hand covering the phone. “Go on up to your room and rest. I’ll come get you later.”
“All right.” I get up and leave her office and head to the main staircase, debating whether or not to call my parents later.
The daylight shining through the skylights in the vaulted ceiling illuminates the ornate, precision-crafted, beautifully polished woodwork of the main entryway and causes me to think of my father. He loves this type of architecture and would love to see it. I climb the large wooden staircase as a few girls head down in my direction. They pay me no attention, and that’s fine by me. After visiting the ladies’ room, I go back to my bedroom and find Beth studying at the desk.
“Got your head messed up, didn’t you?”
Her smug question reveals she knows exactly what I’ve been through in Clara’s office. I have to suppose every individual here has gone through the same emotional roller-coaster I experienced a moment ago. I nod at Beth and lie down on my bed.
“Well, don’t go feelin’ all sorry for yourself. No one here will waste any time feelin’ sorry for you either. There are no pity-parties in the Runners’ Clan Compound.”
“What are you, the head cheerleader for team depression?”
Beth grunts some curse words and leaves the room. Even though she left, her attitude lingers. I recall Beth’s words from the night before. She called me a human, then a muck. With the new insane information I’ve learned, I understand that to be called a human is worse than a muck. Even though a muck is a slow Runner, at least they have a cosmic power.
I close my eyes and try to imagine my life back in Ohio, but I can’t get Chris Harding’s face of out of my head. I think about his perfect features and his determined scowl as he tried to convince Ms. Winter I was a Healer and not a Runner.
Information overload threatens to short-circuit my mind.