9.
Gargling echoed from the bathroom at dawn.
Max sat up and rubbed his eyes. He waited for the splash of liquid in the sink, but it didn't follow.
Noah emerged a moment later and pulled on a faded Calvin & Hobbes T-shirt.
"You didn't spit it out," Max said.
Noah snorted. "Yeah, I'm going to waste Jack Daniels."
It took Max's sleepy mind a few seconds to process that. The thought of rinsing his mouth with whiskey made his stomach turn. "You OK after last night?"
Noah waved it off. "Looked worse than it felt," he said putting his sunglasses on.
"Your blood burnt through the sheet," Max said, holding up the evidence. "And the mattress!"
Noah pulled his shades down just an inch. "What do you want me to say, bro? We're dying. Hangs over us all the time. And it doesn't look like our dads are swooping down to save us. So we keep moving." Then the wall came back up. He slapped Max on the shoulder. "Devil hasn't caught me yet." With that, he launched out into the morning.
A chill greeted Max when he stepped outside. Gunmetal gray clouds hid the sun. Jamie and Vincent were already by the SUV as Max came over.
"Time for you to wake up," Vincent said.
"I am up," Max said. "And the way you put it sounds like something I don't actually want to do."
"I suspect you won't enjoy it as much as the pancakes," Jamie said. "Don't worry, if you survive ... well, let's wait and see if you do first." She got in front beside Vincent.
Max climbed in back with Noah and watched the Paradise neon sign flicker for the last time.
*
Mist descended over the woods. Max stuck his hands in his pockets trying to keep warm. He trailed just a bit behind the others as they moved deeper into the forest, way from civilization. Evergreens towered over them, blocking out what little light there was. His sneakers sunk into the moist earth. "This where you bury the bodies?" He got a couple amused glances, but no one said a word.
They strode over a fallen log to cross a wide burbling creek. Despite its slickness, the others walked across as if strolling down a sidewalk. They never looked down. Aside from one near slip, Max did the same. If the others noticed that he almost fell, they didn't acknowledge it.
Pushing past long stalks of thick brush, the four emerged into a clearing surrounded by a wall of rock on three sides. Had there been elevated seats, the location could pass for an amphitheater.
Vincent fell in beside him while Noah and Jamie went to opposite sides, waiting. "We need to know what you can do. Stakes are too high to leave this to chance," Vincent said. "They're going to push you. You've got to push back no matter how much it hurts."
This did little to alleviate Max's concerns. If anything, they took on life and death significance.
"It's about survival instincts," Vincent continued. "What are yours telling you?"
"To run," Max said, every nerve in his body coming alive, vibrating so fast he thought he heard the air around him buzzing.
"It's all about shifting molecular structures. You were born for this, you're one of us," Vincent said. "Fear is good. It keeps you safe. But too much can paralyze you. Use it – but don't let it hold you back."
He didn't know what he was born for, but he hoped it was for more than being savagely broken. "Just like that, just think it and it happens?"
"Not really," Vincent said, moving out of range. "You have to really figure it out on your own. We're just accelerating the process. But I suggest you do so quickly."
Noah and Jamie's faces were hardened, devoid of emotion. It seemed as if they'd left their humanity back at the motel. Max wanted to say something, to ask them to wait until he knew how to wake up or whatever it was, but one look at Jamie and he realized she'd never respect him after that. He'd endure the pain, whatever it might be.
A haze of black smoke lingered in the spot where Noah had just stood. He rematerialized beside Max, his fist shot-out blindingly fast into Max's jaw.
Max didn't realize he'd been hit until he lay face down on the wet ground. Pain followed an instant later. He shakily climbed back to his feet, not quite certain if his facial structure was still intact.
Noah disappeared and reformed. His fist slammed into Max's side.
It felt like his kidney ruptured. Max struggled not to fall, sensing it was imperative he didn't show weakness. He tried to grab onto Noah, to grapple with him, but Noah was nothing more than vapor as he moved out of range. How was it possible to stop him?
"Don't think; feel what's coming. You can't reason your way through this," Vincent said, moving around the circle. "Molecules move in patterns. Disrupt them. Control the pattern, make it yours."
Max didn't have the faintest idea what that meant. He couldn't worry about it as he whirled around searching for Noah, but it turned out Noah was the least of his problems. His hands now trembled. He twisted around by no choice of his own. Jamie's eyes bore into him. She controlled him, willing him with telekinetic commands. Despite his struggle, his fists opened and he dropped to his knees. His arms shot out to the sides as if he were on the cross. She could make him slit his throat if she wanted.
"She's controlling your thoughts. Block her," Vincent yelled, frustration rising.
And then he knew pain on an epic level. His ribs tightened as if a python curled around him and squeezed each precious breath from his lungs. Max caught a glimpse of Vincent and realized that his savior was crushing him without a hint of mercy. The grip tightened. He tried to will Vincent to make it stop, but that did nothing.
"You're still thinking. That'll get you killed," Vincent called, while suffocating him. "Fight back!"
Pain wracked him. Shock therapy was child's play compared to this agony. He couldn't even writhe on the damp ground.
"This is pointless, he's got nothing," Noah said, coming over to look down at Max – not with pity, but more as if his expectations were true.
"Vincent, forget it. He can't do anything," Jamie said.
That comment hurt almost more than the crushing grip.
"Do you want to die, Max? You will if you don't stop me," Vincent said.
Vincent's hold tightened once more as the last bit of air was crushed from his lungs. Max felt consciousness slipping away. Vincent was willing to kill him.
From an abusive foster father, to visions that drove him to suicide – his whole life had been suffering. He'd endured pain for too long.
He focused on Vincent's clenched fists. Despite the agony, the image clicked closer and closer, as if Max were seeing it through a telescopic lens – the same as it had that day in the rain at Hanover.
The closer he brought it, the more removed he felt from the vise grip. Vincent's hands morphed into a mass of flesh, and the flesh magnified until he saw microscopic particles - molecules bounced off each other. 'Break the pattern,' echoed in his head.
The molecules began spinning, breaking apart from their bonds. Then he heard screaming. The image pulled sharply back to reveal Vincent's fingers disintegrating.
Vincent collapsed to his knees struggling to hold his hands together. "Stop!" he yelled. Max blinked. All at once, Vincent's hands became intact.
No one moved or spoke until Noah came over and lifted Max up. "Not bad, runt."
It took all of Max's effort to rise through the pain and remain standing.
Vincent came over, his face unreadable. Max wasn't sure if he was about to get a knife plunged into his gut. But Vincent engulfed him in a hug.
"I knew you were one of us." Vincent grinned, letting him go. "By the way, that really hurts."
Max cradled his ribs. "Tell me about it. Would you have killed me if I didn't do whatever I just did?"
"Do I seem like that kind of guy?" Vincent replied as he and Noah laughed and walked off.
Max took a few deep breaths, trying not to strain his still tender ribs. Then he saw Jamie heading the other way into the woods. He followed her.
"How do you feel?" Jamie asked, leaning against the trunk of a tree.
"Are you kidding?"
"Say what you will, you woke up," Jamie said.
Max ignored the dampness of the branch when he climbed up the boughs above her. He'd always felt a comfort sitting in trees and was already covered in mud. "I'd have rather slept a while longer," he said. He was amazed he could still talk after the beating.
"Think you've been asleep long enough." She climbed up beside him, swinging her legs. "So why'd you run from me?"
He wasn't sure what she meant.
"Back in your room at Hanover, when I broke through, why'd you push me away?"
The words came out before he really thought them through. "A strange, beautiful girl pokes into your mind and tells you you're going to die without her ... who wouldn't run?"
"You think I'm strange?" she teased, shaking a branch above so the water poured over him.
"No, it's totally normal to dig around somebody's mind and freak them out," Max said.
"That's your fault. Should have made it easier and we could have avoided all the wasted time," Jamie said.
Wasted time – that's all his life had been up until now.
"Those visions you had, the world on fire – why do you think the Eye showed you all that?"
He pulled a long green leaf free and turned it, watching droplets spin off. "Who knows. Must have had the video on repeat and forgot to turn it off."
Jamie took the leaf and let it fall. "Something tells me you're not that lucky. The Eye is waiting for something from you."
"Seems like the Eye was much more willing to let you guys in on the secrets. How long have you known you were different?"
"From three or four. You'd think it would be cool, but it was like I was moving faster than everybody else. I didn't know how to fit in. And when you first start reading people's thoughts, it's scary." She looked down, picking at little bits of bark. "Not just scary, it's depressing. I heard everyone thinking 'What's wrong with her?' or 'She's a freak.' That'll build your self-esteem right up." She met his eyes. "It's why I know how you felt – we all do."
He wanted to lean in and kiss her, but suspected she already knew that. "When all this is done, you think we'll find a way to fit in?" he asked, realizing that might be much harder than he first pictured.
"You didn't know what you were before. Did you fit in?" Jamie said. Before he could answer, she reached out and took his hand. "Do you want to know your future?"
"Only if it's good," Max said.
"Let's see." Jamie's long, thin fingers traced along the lines of his palm. "It looks like your future splits between two paths." She turned his palm this way and that. "Which way will you take, I wonder?"
"That's it? Nothing about whether I'll be famous, or if I'll find true love?"
"Which one is more important to you?" Jamie said, still holding his hand.
"I'm not interested in fame."
"Good answer. Time will tell." Jamie dropped to the ground like a gymnast sticking a landing off the uneven bars.
He watched her walk off, one thought lingering -had she ever read Vincent's palm?