Chapter 4 - Maetha and the Sanguine Diamond
The time trials are not what I expected. I guess I figured we’d run on an oval track with a starter’s gun telling us when to leap forward, and a finish line showing us where to stop. It’s not at all like I imagined.
The first event is an individual run through the trees to the top of a hill and back down. There is no trail or even an outlined course, only the simple instruction to run up and back. I’ll be one of the last to go, so I’ll use the opportunity to watch the others to see what they do.
I’m amazed to watch this display of agility and speed for the first time since arriving here. Runners are graceful and fluid in their movements, not to mention quick. However, I know I can run faster than the Runners I’m watching.
Beth is next in line. Ms. Kimura holds a stopwatch and gives the order to begin. Beth runs like a deer, gracefully bounding over fallen trees and weaving in between boulders and brush. Sometimes she jumps from tree trunk to tree trunk without her feet hitting the ground. She has cat-like grace and speed that’s mesmerizing to watch. She reaches the top of the hill, having been out of sight for some of the run, and doesn’t pause a second before turning around. When she runs back down the hill, she takes a different route than any of the others. I think she likes being different.
A few more Runners take their turns. Soon it will be Chris’s turn. I notice his size and muscle development is more advanced than nearly every other male. His only contender in that department is Justin. However, the younger boys seem to be more agile simply because of their smaller frames and trim bodies.
Standing in front of me are a couple girls who are evidently smitten with Chris. They giggle every time he moves and they whisper comments that make me blush. After hearing some particularly inappropriate and disrespectful words and phrases, I clear my throat and say, “Do you mind?” They both turn and give me the stinkiest stink-eye, but at least they stop.
Chris starts his run up the hill. His moves are different than Beth’s, naturally because of their gender difference, but also because of his muscle mass. His powerful legs take him over the ground Beth bounded over. I understand how this makes his time faster after hearing Coach Simms instruct the hurdle runners to just skim over the hurdles and get their feet back on the ground as soon as possible. I once heard him say, “Your strength is in your legs. Anytime you’re in the air, you’re slowing down. You don’t have wings to propel you forward.” Observing the difference between how Chris runs compared to Beth is proof enough the laws of physics are alive and well. I’ll keep my feet on the ground as much as possible when I run the race.
When Chris completes his run, he jogs past me. He doesn’t look at me when he runs by, but somehow I know he’s quite aware I’m there.
Now it’s my turn. I’m glad most of the Runners are gone so they won’t witness my incredible speed. I’m determined to carve myself a niche in this group, no matter how much they end up hating me in the process. Ms. Kimura tells me to go. I launch forward and swiftly bound over the first fallen tree, getting my feet back on the ground immediately. I want to run faster, but I can’t because of how many trees and rocks I have to dodge. I wonder to myself how this is considered to be an effective way to test a Runner’s speed.
Near the top of the hill, I come across a cliff about twenty feet high that I’ll need to climb. This must be where I lost sight of the other Runners. I’m not sure exactly how to approach this obstacle, but my intuition tells me to avoid the cliff and run around it to the other side where Beth came down on her run. That’s exactly what I do, and I feel I made a better choice than slowing down to climb.
When I reach the bottom of the hill, Ms Kimura says, “Very good, Calli.”
I feel like I did well.
The next event resembles a military obstacle-course, complete with a string of tires and a climbing wall. I wonder if this is a speed test, or combat training? What difference does it make if we can swing from a rope? We are Runners, after all.
Three of us run the course together. I hurry through as fast as I can, keeping an eye on my opponents. They seem to be taking care to place their feet directly in the center of each tire and to make their movements rhythmic. I just want to win, and I do. Well, at least I place first in my group. I don’t know how I performed overall.
The final race takes place on a dirt road that winds up through the mountains from the compound. We walk up the road for several miles and then prepare for the race back.
This is my moment to shine, to run as fast as my legs will take me, and blow their socks off, I think to myself. I catch Beth’s eye as we are preparing to begin. She shakes her head as if to warn me not to win. Yeah, right. The starting gun sounds and I run as hard as I can . . . and yet I watch the backsides of everyone else get further and further ahead of me until I can’t see them anymore. When I finally cross the finish line, they all cheer, or more like jeer. Some of them say I’m faster than any human, insulting me further.
One girl comes up to me with a genuine smile and pats me on the back. “Thanks, Calli,” she says. “Now I’m not the slowest muck anymore. I won’t have to go on the assignment.”
What just happened? I shake my head in confusion. I ran so fast the trees blurred as they flew by. The skin on my face had been blown back by the g-force because I moved so rapidly. But I was the slowest! I certainly didn’t hold myself back like Beth told me to do. No, I went into the race determined to kick everyone’s butt. However, the only butt that got kicked was mine.
I feel crushed and humiliated. I am a muck, I think.
Clara comes over to me. At first I think she’s going to chastise me for going so slow, but she congratulates me on my speed and instructs me to head to her office and wait there for her.
* * *
As I enter her office a few minutes later, I’m caught off guard to find Chris sitting there. Even after the exertion of the course, he still smells wonderful. He stands, seemingly nervous, when he sees me. I stop and take a step back and say, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—um, Clara told me to meet her here.”
“Because you finished last,” he states, then sits back down, his body language tight.
“Well, yeah, I guess.” I sit down in a chair next to him to wait for Clara. My brain explodes with the realization: Clara did know I’d be going on the delivery, but as the slowest.
Chris must have placed first, and that’s why he’s here in Clara’s office.
He confirms my thoughts by saying, “We’re supposed to select a third for the assignment. I’ve chosen Justin Macintyre.”
“Justin? Beth’s boyfriend?” I cough out my response and turn halfway in my chair to face him. Of all the people in the clan, Chris and Justin seem to be the ones who have some problem with me. “Why?”
“I don’t need your approval.”
“You just said we have to choose the third,” I point out. “We means both of us.” I’m not in the mood to take his attitude.
He glares at me. “You don’t know anything about what’s going on here, Calli. You don’t know the other guys like I do. You shouldn’t even be here at all.”
“Who peed in your Cheerios?” I mutter.
Ms. Winter enters the room, ending our conversation. “Have you two come to a decision on who’ll be the third?”
“Justin will be the third.” Chris glances at me as he informs her.
“Are you good with Justin, Calli?” Clara asks.
“I guess.”
Chris pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to her. “Here’s my list of the preferred twelve for the accompanying group.” His tone is all business.
She looks over the list. “It’s evident you’ve planned this out well, Chris. You have a good equal representation of different skill levels.” She looks at me. “What do you think, Calli?” She passes the list to me.
I find this interesting, considering I still don’t know most of the people in the compound as Chris has so arrogantly pointed out. The names all run together in my mind, except for Beth’s—that name stands out real well. Near the bottom of the list, one name has been crossed out and another added. The crossed-out name is mine.
I hand the list back to Ms. Winter and say, “This list looks good to me, except for the fact Chris obviously didn’t want me on the team. He scratched my name out.”
Chris answers my retort before Ms. Winter can. “You came in last and that automatically put you in the trio. I had to add someone else.”
So he originally wanted me on his team. The fact he’d already drawn up the list beforehand means he knew he’d be the fastest. That doesn’t escape my attention. He also didn’t think I’d finish last, so he was expecting me to be faster than a muck.
I’m not sure what to think about that, given his behavior towards me.
“All right, Chris,” Clara says. “Alert everyone else and be ready to run in thirty minutes.”
Chris stands and leaves the room in such haste I can’t help but be offended. Not even a “see you later, Calli.”
Clara turns to me and says, “Calli, don’t worry about your speed. You’ll get faster over time. Your powers are still developing.”
“Clara, this doesn’t make any sense. Why send me on a running assignment when there are so many others who could do this better? I’m so slow compared to them.”
“Everyone starts out slow, Calli, and everyone starts out by going on an assignment. There’s a reason for this procedure. What better way for you to learn how your new world operates?”
“But my slow speed could jeopardize the safety of the other Runners.”
“We’ve always divided up the responsibility of assignments by using an equal representation of the fastest, the slowest, and an average Runner. This way, if a trio is ever overtaken and lost, the clan will still have members who can replace those who are lost—we can’t afford a total wipeout. Our missing clan members right now are a prime example of this. Chris was already on a delivery when we received a second assignment, so we held another time trial and a different trio was selected: Dirk, John, and Macey.
Doesn’t she realize she isn’t giving me any comfort at all? “Do you think this assignment could end badly?” I ask.
“Every assignment is dangerous, Calli, this one no more than the next. I know you’re worried about your speed, but your position in the trio is non-negotiable. You’ll need to hold someone’s hand to draw upon their speed for a while.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious. Your participation in this assignment is non-negotiable. That’s why we held the trial.”
“No, not that part—you’re saying I have to hold someone’s hand when I run?”
“Yes, either Justin’s or Chris’s. They can both boost your speed.”
Oh, brother. This just keeps on getting better and better!
“Here.” Clara hands me Chris’s list. “Learn the names of your teammates.”
* * *
I soon find myself in a community changing room, similar to a locker room, with the six other girls on the list: Beth Hammond, Shanika Williams, Ashley Bryant, Kayla Cooper, Lizbeth Morales, and Jessica Harper.
According to the list Chris created, our entire team, the guys included, ranges from age thirteen to twenty-three. I am shocked to learn two thirteen-year-old girls, Shanika and Ashley, are even allowed to go on the trip. Don’t their parents have to give approval for such a thing? If they were at my school and about to go on a field trip, they would need a signed release form. Somehow I doubt that is the case here.
Shanika and Ashley look like they’re close friends. They both have short, pixie-type haircuts, however Shanika is a brunette who looks to be part African-American and Ashley is a blonde with freckles. They aren’t much smaller than everyone else, but it’s obvious they are younger. Jessica is a stunning redhead. Her smooth complexion and green eyes complement her long curls. I think she’s probably eighteen. Kayla is the girl from the lunch line who thinks Chris likes her. She has light brown hair and looks to be close to my age. Lizbeth is the oldest girl on the team at twenty-one. She’s Hispanic with beautiful dark skin, brown eyes, and long black hair. Beth stands out like a sore thumb with her black hair and pale skin. I’m thinking she’s a year older than me.
Clara and Ms. Wood bring in several piles of running clothing, all in a forest-green color. I figure there must be some wisdom behind this choice.
The running outfit is similar to the one I saw Chris wearing in Clara’s office the day before. The fabric consists of a strange material that is kind of a cross between silk, gossamer, and finely spun steel. The outfit has virtually no weight and is designed to endure excessive friction and not wear out. The form-fitting design of the suit makes me extremely self-conscious. The cut fits the contours of my body like a glove fits a hand—a very thin, silky glove. My father wouldn’t let me leave the house in this outfit—it’s that scandalous. Clara explains the fabric keeps moisture off our bodies but also acts as a thermal insulator to keep us warm. I catch my reflection in the mirror, astonished at what I see. A different girl with an hourglass figure stares back at me.
Our specially-designed underclothing is made of the same material. Our bras fit tight, like sports bras, to prevent bouncing, yet don’t flatten us down to nothing. The boxer-brief underwear ensures no snuggies will have to be pulled out. Sweet.
On the jacket, the front pouch has zippers designed to prevent accidental opening. Individual pockets inside the pouch allow space for personal items, such as Beth’s black eyeliner, I think, smiling to myself, and additional hair bands for Lizbeth’s and Jessica’s long hair. A detachable hood folds neatly in one of the pockets, not taking up any more space than a folded dollar bill. On the back of the jacket, near the collar, another pouch contains an incredibly thin blanket, no thicker than plastic wrap. I assume this, too, will keep us warm if needed. Our running shoes are a slipper-type design with a firm bottom. They remind me of high-tech ballet slippers. Socks don’t seem necessary with these shoes.
We will each carry our own four-day supply of food, consisting of nothing more than four individually wrapped granola bars formulated to give us energy and fill our stomachs. Each bar has three pieces, one for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The kind of granola bars I’m used to eating certainly wouldn’t have lasted all day—I can eat four normal bars and still be hungry—but these are special. We will be able to obtain water from rivers and streams using a collapsible cup, and we can purify the water using a small bag of purification tablets. Each tablet is the size of the head of a pin.
The basic idea here is to take only the bare necessities without adding extra weight or wind resistance. Therefore, no jewelry, wallets, or unnecessary items are allowed. Clara also emphasizes there are to be absolutely no phone calls except to communicate with the other team members in adjacent rooms once we are in hotel rooms.
Clara explains further, and I feel this is for my benefit more than anyone else’s, “Remember, once this party leaves here, you’ll be on your own. The leadership trio will make the decisions for sleeping accommodations every night. No reservations have been made in advance for any motel, since that would mark your trail if anyone is watching the clan’s credit card transactions. You may find, at some point, many of you could be crammed into the same room due to limited room availability. If that happens, I expect maturity and consideration from everyone, and no inappropriate conduct.”
A few girls giggle, while others groan. At least that part of my new world is normal.
Clara continues. “There have been missions in the past where hotel rooms were unavailable, and quick decisions had to be made about where to stay for the night. I expect you to act without question if you find yourselves in such a situation. Chris has the responsibility on his shoulders to make sure the Runners are safe at all times. Do exactly as he says. Am I understood?”
A collective “Yes ma’am” echoes throughout the room.
Clara begins talking with each individual girl, inspecting and approving what they’ve placed in their pouches. A few personal items don’t pass inspection. I watch the other girls intermingle with one another, and wonder if they will ever include me. Beth is the only one who will even speak to me at this point, and that isn’t saying much.
The door opens, and I swear fog rolls in to dramatize the entrance of the eight guys. I’m pretty sure they walk in slow motion with a spotlight trained on Chris—at least that’s how my eyes see them. They wear similar dark green running suits which enhance their physical shapes even more than seems humanly possible, with Chris winning grand prize in my book.
Chris is the oldest of the team at twenty-three, according to the giggling girls. It’s only appropriate he’s the leader, I suppose. The youngest boy on the list is a fourteen-year-old named Jonas Flemming. He’s easy to spot in the group because he’s the shortest. He has dark hair that’s trimmed short like most of the other guys. The next oldest is Yang Chan. He’s fifteen with thick, black hair, and still has a smaller, lighter, more agile frame. I think he’s Chinese. Ricky Chavez and Michael Fields are my age. Ricky is Hispanic with dark features and black hair. He’s one of the few Runners who smiles often. Michael looks like a California surfer with blond hair and tan skin. Justin and Will Malone are like the dynamic duo: dark hair, dark, deep-set eyes, and sharp jaw lines . . . and rude to the core. I’ve heard Beth say they are eighteen. Then there’s Tyler Beck. He’s nineteen and on the whiney side, in my opinion. His overgrown blond hair is always in his eyes, well, except for when he’s running.
My assessment of the guys comes to a halt when I make eye contact with Chris. My heart rate jumps a notch. I think about how, only a few days ago, I was nothing but a normal girl at a regular high school with only a couple of semi-good-looking guys there. None of them could hold a candle to Chris’s looks or . . . “assets.”
Suz would kill to be in my position.
My position. What’s my position? Oh, yeah, that’s right, slowest muck around, the loser who will be the tag-along and slow everyone else down on this assignment.
As the boys near, I watch Chris’s expression change, and the look isn’t attractive. I feel like I represent failure in his eyes. After losing the time trials this morning, I feel completely inadequate around him. I hope my day will end on a different note. It can’t get much worse.
* * *
“Sir, the Runners are here.” The secretary announces our arrival over the intercom.
The forty-five-minute run to the office complex was rather pleasant. I held hands with Chris, but only after Ms. Winter insisted he cooperate. Humiliated, I had assured him I didn’t have any diseases and have had all my shots. He scrutinized me with his intense blue eyes, then reluctantly took my hand. I concluded he’d rather have surgery without anesthesia than touch any part of me.
We flew, or at least it seemed like we did, through the forest and over the lakes. Clara was right. When you run so fast you don’t sink in water, you can go anywhere. The special shoes apparently have water displacement properties that help us stay on top of the surface as long as we don’t slow down.
Chris’s running power is much more intense than mine. I actually found myself having fun running hand-in-hand with him. What made the journey the most pleasant was the fact I couldn’t talk or read lips while running. I didn’t hear any snide remarks or degrading comments as we wove our way toward the destination with the other members of our team following closely behind.
When we arrived at the office complex, the rest of the team waited outside while we entered the building to receive the package. The secretary seated us in the foyer.
I look at Chris and Justin as they sit across from me in uncomfortable contemporary-style armchairs in the foyer. Chris fidgets, shifting side to side. Justin has his arms stretched out on the armrests and his feet spread apart. He stares back at me. A short coffee table covered with magazines sets in front of us. I glance down and notice the magazines are normal ones, the type I would have read only last week. The sign on the door says, “Harold Bates, Master Gemologist.” I deduce from the kind of reading material set out in the waiting area Mr. Bates is a normal guy without powers.
The secretary at the front desk is busy filing her long and elegantly-colored nails. The sound reminds me of Velcro being pulled apart over and over. She is pretty, well put together, and probably close to fifty years old. If only everyone’s appearance could be as favorable when they reach her age, I think.
“Send in the fastest,” a male voice booms over the speaker at the secretary’s desk.
She glances in our direction. Chris stands and walks gracefully to the door and goes in.
I feel a whoosh of air and turn my head to find the secretary standing beside me.
Before I can even voice my amazement at her speed, she says to Justin, “Your task, Justin, is to deliver the Sanguine Diamond to the Death Clan.” She extends her hands, cupped together. They hold what looks like a huge diamond, about the size of a small orange. “They have hostages from every clan, and this stone is what they’ve demanded as payment to gain the hostages’ release. This must be delivered by the very best of the Runners’ Clan.”
Justin fidgets in his chair.
She thrusts her hands a little closer to him, reaching over the coffee table. “You must take this, Justin.”
“No!” He presses his back into the chair. “I’m not the best Runner. Chris is.”
“You know he’s not,” she insists.
“He’s the fastest.”
“He’s not.”
“What makes you think that?” Justin asks. The flash of trepidation in Justin’s eyes makes me wonder what’s behind his question. Is he asking, “Why are you assuming I’m the fastest?” or, “How did you know?”
“Will you carry the diamond, Justin?” she presses.
“No!” He barks his answer and looks toward the door Chris entered a moment ago.
The secretary turns to me. “Will you carry the diamond, Calli?”
Justin’s head snaps back to me, as if he is torn between wishing Chris would come out and take the lead position, or making sure I don’t end up with the valuable stone.
I cough and sputter my protest, while Justin’s eyes bore holes through me. “I’m definitely not the best,” I say, “in fact, far from it.” And who told her our names?
“Being the fastest doesn’t mean you’re necessarily the best.” She grabs a chair and pulls it close to me, then sits.
“Are you going to tell me being the slowest is?” I ask.
“Will you be the carrier of this diamond?”
“I don’t—”
Justin points at me in outrage. “She can’t. Look at her! She’s a muck!”
“Silence.” The woman flicks her finger toward him and he seems to freeze in place and shuts right up. Then she turns to me. “Calli, you’re here for a reason. You’re different from the others, and you’re the one who must carry the stone.”
“Why not Chris?”
“He’s not to be trusted.”
“Justin?”
“Same.”
“Me? Surely one of the Runners outside would be better.”
“No, this task will be carried out by you or no one. I’ve watched you for some time now, and you are the carrier.”
“Then why did you make the offer to Justin first?”
“I wanted you to witness his inner weaknesses, his insecurity and doubt. Remember this moment in the days to follow, and never forget that, yes, he’s faster than you, but you’re stronger than he is in more ways than one.”
“What do you mean you’ve watched me for some time? Why would a secretary for a gemologist be watching me?”
“I’m not Harold’s regular secretary. I’m giving this diamond to you, Calli.” She hands me the magnificent diamond. “You’ll understand everything in due time,” she says with a sly smile. “Take a long look, child. You won’t lay eyes on this diamond again until it’s delivered.”
Cupping my hands around the stone, I reverently study the intense fire of the facets as they reflect the light. A delicious smoky aroma drifts to my nose. The diamond actually has an odor—I’d never thought of a diamond having a smell. On one of the facets, I see a word etched near the bottom: Sanguine.
“What does ‘Sanguine’ mean?” I ask.
“Don’t you sense what it means?” she says, looking deep into my eyes.
I feel so many things racing through my body: hope, optimism, certainty, awareness, strength, and power. I meet her eyes, and my mind unexpectedly opens up and my senses numb as if I’m falling into a dream. A swirl of mist clouds my vision, and then a scene slowly emerges.
I see an expansive clearing or meadow in a forest. Large tents similar to what might be used for a wedding reception are set up near the surrounding tree line. Several hundred people stand near the tents. In the center of the clearing, a mound of stones creates a table. I see myself, Chris, and Justin standing next to the table on one side, and three figures dressed in white robes standing on the other side. My mind recognizes the figures as Death Clan members, even though I’ve never seen them before. I see myself present the diamond to the three men, and the hostages are brought out from inside the Death Clan’s tent. The group of Runners standing near the Runners’ tent whisper words that indicate they view me as their leader and that they have absolute respect for me. Another swirl of mist passes by and the vision switches to a scene of destruction. The Death Clan members all wither away, crumbling to nothing. Dead. An enormous glittering circle comes down out of the sky, encircling the clearing and all of the occupants. Outside the giant shining ring, the woman who gave me the diamond speaks strange words and waves her hands high above me. I shake myself and pull out of the trance.
The woman smiles as I blink to refresh my eyes. Unbelievably, I enter her mind and hear her say, You’re protected, Calli. Your mind cannot be entered by anyone, and this vision is now sealed by a circle of light. No other Seer will envision this, nor will they be privy to any additional visions you may have on the subject so long as you never pull the diamond out of this pouch, lest the spells protecting it be broken.
She slips the diamond into a leather pouch and pulls the strings together, sealing it tight. My mind closes and the aroma of the diamond disappears. She chants some words over the small bag and hands it to me.
“Do not let anyone touch this pouch. No one can hold this except you.”
I place the bag inside my jacket pocket and close the zipper. This seems a rather precarious place to put something so priceless, but I trust in the protection she’s placed upon the stone, upon me.
I don’t know how to explain the complete sense of knowledge and trust I now possess. Prior to a couple days ago, if someone had told me I would soon be seeing the future and reading minds, I would have laughed in their face. But after experiencing these events firsthand, I have no doubts whatsoever. The only example I can liken this to would be someone who believes in the existence of a supreme being, versus someone who actually meets and shakes hands with the god in question. It’s one thing to have faith and believe. It’s entirely different to actually meet the deity.
Is this woman a goddess? No, I don’t think so. But in my mind she represents everything I haven’t allowed myself to believe in—magic and metaphysical powers.
Even with this firsthand knowledge and full understanding, I still wonder if this is all a dream. Well, it’s a pretty good dream, if that’s the case.
She says, “You’ve seen the future as it can become, now make it so. If the diamond is not delivered, your vision will be nullified.” She stands and replaces the chair she’s been sitting on.
“Wait! What do I do?” Panic races through my body. “I don’t know anything about this world.”
“You already possess everything you’ll need. Follow your leader, follow your instincts, and never tell a soul you carry the Sanguine Diamond. You’ll know when the time is right to disclose that it’s in your possession.”
She walks around the table to Justin, who has been staring at us the whole time with his mouth hanging open. She places her fingertips on his forehead, and says, “You will forget all you’ve seen and overheard concerning the Sanguine Diamond and Calli.” She gently pushes his head back and lets go, walking away as Justin comes back to his senses.
The door to the office opens, and an older gentleman invites the two of us inside. Justin shakes his head and rubs his eyes as he stands. I watch him to see if he shows any signs of recognition of what has just happened, but he appears oblivious.
As I stand to walk into the office, I glance d