ANOM: Awakening (The ANOM Series Book 1) (6 page)

Jeremy
looked at her. He didn’t get the joke.

Kate
continued. “You honestly don’t remember, do you? We were only making out in the
middle of the street, for like, ten minutes or something.”

Jeremy
understood. “You had to give me CPR? It was that bad?”

Kate
blushed. “Yeah, well, they wouldn’t teach it in Health class if they didn’t
want us to use it, right?”

“Katie,
you saved my life. Thank you.”

She
pulled a strand of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Of
course. I love you, Jeremy.”

Jeremy
shook his head. He knew where this was going. “Kate, listen—”

Kate
looked down at the floor, and Jeremy could tell she was trying not to cry; he
could hear it in her voice. “I know. I already know what you’re going to say.
We just can’t get our timing right. It’s so stupid.”

“Kate,”
Jeremy’s voice fell. He wanted to say something now—anything to make it
better—but there was nothing else to say. Instead, he changed the subject. “I
got hit by that bus today, Kate. I know I did. I didn’t feel it, but—it didn’t
hit a car and then stop. It hit
me
.”

Kate
shook her head. “It looked like you got hit, but the doctor said—”

“You
were there, Kate! You saw it. I got hit!”

“Yeah…you
got hit.”

Jeremy
fell back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “So if I got hit by a bus, how
am I okay? How is that even possible?”

“I
don’t know. No one does.”

Saturday,
mid-morning, and the King of Prussia Mall was busy as usual. The air inside was
alive with the dull, muffled sound of conversation and a hundred footsteps
falling in disparate rhythm. The kind of background noise you only hear when
you actually stop and listen.

Today,
Jake
Snyder
was
listening. As he stood on the escalator, rising up toward the food court, he
closed his eyes and soaked in the sounds of the mall. He could tell there were
a lot of people inside. For Jake, that meant a bigger show, and he always lived
for the show. As he neared the top of the escalator, he opened his eyes and
smiled.

Today
he wore a pair of brown suede oxfords, dark jeans, and an open navy pea coat
over a white wool sweater. He was clean-shaven and blue-eyed, his thick brown
hair combed back from his forehead. He carried a brown leather messenger bag
across one shoulder, and more often than not the corner of his mouth curled up
in a half smile, as if he was always ready to finish telling a joke.

He
certainly looked the part of a “Jake”—fun, easy-going, life of the party—but
Jake Snyder wasn’t his real name. It
was
the name printed on the
driver’s license in his wallet, just like it was the name on his credit cards,
and his health insurance card, and half a dozen other forms of identification,
but the name itself was fake. Just as fake as Bruce Chapel or Victor Mangelli
or any of the other 20 names he could have picked for this morning.

As
he reached the top of the escalator, he turned left and started walking for the
food court. Just ahead, he could see a smoothie stand painted turquoise and
pink. A pair of teenage girls stood at the counter, talking to each other and
waiting for their order. On the other side, Jake could see a row of tables
stretching across the food court, lined up along the metal railing that
overlooked the bronze fountain down on the first floor of the mall. At this
hour, most of the tables were still empty, but for now it would have to do.

Jake
pulled the first table away from the railing as he took off his bag and laid it
carefully on top. He did the same with his pea coat. Then Jake pushed up his
sleeves and opened his bag. He found a wireless microphone headset inside and
tucked it around his ear. Then he pulled out a small wireless amplifier, placed
it on top of the table, and turned on the power. He was ready to begin.

“Ladies
and gentlemen! Gentlemen and ladies!” Jake’s voice boomed over the wireless
amp. “It is my pride and pleasure to present to you the one, the only, the
ammmaaaaaazzzing Hot Shot!”

As
he finished the introduction, Jake threw open his arms as if the entire Food
Court had erupted in applause. In fact, the few people actually sitting around
him barely noticed at all. Some had turned around in their chairs, curious, but
another man with a gray and grizzled beard never looked up from his coffee.
Such was the life of a performer.

Jake
was undeterred; he continued, even louder than before, “Today, ladies and
gentlemen, you can count yourselves among the lucky few, because today you will
witness never before seen acts of balancing.”

Jake
reached into his messenger bag again, this time for two halves of a pool cue.
He quickly screwed the two ends together and tossed the cue high into the air.
It turned over once above his head, and as it came back down, he reached out
his hand and caught the tip of the cue on his index finger. It wavered back and
forth, but only for a second. Then it stood perfectly straight, perfectly
still, perfectly balanced.

Jake
raised his other arm out to his side and shouted into his mic, “Tada!”

He
was answered with silence. Still he pressed on, “I know what you’re all
thinking. ‘Pretty boring stuff so far, Hot Shot.’ And you would be right. But
what can I say? If I started with the good stuff, it would be a pretty short
show. Trust me folks, before I’m done, you will be truly amazed. Otherwise I’d
have to change my name to ‘The Boring Hot Shot,’ and that just doesn’t have the
same ring to it.”

Jake
flipped the cue into the air again. Then, as it fell, he caught the fat end on
his finger, balancing it again. With his free hand, he reached into his bag and
pulled out a white cue ball.

“We
all know that anyone can balance the flat end of a pool cue on the flat end of
a finger, but who can balance a round ball on a flat cue?”

Jake
lowered the cue stick down to eye level. Then he placed the cue ball gingerly
on the tip and slowly moved his hand away. The ball stayed in place, balanced
on the narrow cue tip. Jake lifted the stick and cue ball higher into the air,
and for the first time all day, he heard a smattering of applause.

“Thank
you. Thank you.” He looked around.

Most
of the shoppers sitting in the food court were watching him now, some turning
their chairs completely around, a number of others stopping as they walked by,
gathering around in a wide circle to see the unexpected show.

“Still
too simple, you say? Not amazing enough for you, you say? Well what about a
round ball balanced on top of a round ball?”

Jake
reached into his bag again and pulled out a black eight ball. He tossed it up
high into the air. Then he darted his arm forward. The eight ball landed
perfectly on top of the cue ball, the cue ball stayed on the tip of the cue,
and all three were balanced perfectly on the end of Jake’s finger. And then
there was no need for a “Tada.” Everyone in the food court and everyone
gathered in the circle around him clapped excitedly.

Jake
bowed at the waist. “Thank you, but how do you all feel about juggling?”

Again
the crowd clapped their approval. Jake lowered the cue and tossed the two
billiard balls into the air. Then he reached into his bag for a third ball, the
blue number two. With another flick of his wrist this third ball was in the
air, and Jake was juggling. Another round of applause went up from the crowd.

“You’re
all too kind. Trust me, folks, this is just the warm-up. You see, not everyone
in this world can juggle, but anyone who
can
juggle can juggle three. I
promised something truly amazing.”

Then,
faster than anyone realized, all three balls were in the air at once, and Jake
was in his bag pulling out three more: the red three, the orange five, and the
yellow-striped nine. Now he was juggling six, and the crowd roared.

“Thank
you. Thank—”

“All
right, sir, that’s enough,” a deep voice shouted over the crowd as a stout
security guard shouldered his way through the mass of people. “We’re not
running a carnival here.”

*****

Jeremy
walked out of the Nordstrom’s and into the concourse of the mall, a large
silver shopping bag dangling from his hand. Kate walked half a step in front of
him and just to his left. The trip to the mall was her idea—any chance to buy
shoes—but Jeremy hated it. If it were just a typical week, he probably would
have passed. In fact, when Kate called him last night to invite him along on
her birthday-money shopping spree, he had his excuse half-blurted out before he
reconsidered.

It
had been over a week since his accident with the bus, and his mom had insisted
on holding him out of school. That meant it was a week stuck at home. A week
cut off from human contact. A week, home, with just his mother. So Jeremy was
ready to get out of the house. Even so, now that he was here, he regretted it.

Kate
looked over her shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m
fine. I was fine a week ago, and I’m even more fine today.”

It
was a lie. He wasn’t fine, at least not yet. He had been sore for a couple of
days after the accident, and by the middle of the week his vertigo had finally
passed, but he still couldn’t sleep through the night. The problem was the
dreams, or rather the same dream, every night. He would open his eyes and see
his dad, like he had for the last six months, but now the dream always ended
with the explosion. And every night he would wake up in a cold sweat,
exhausted.

Kate
stopped and waited for Jeremy to fall into step beside her, “I don’t know why
you’re complaining. I told you: You owe me.”

“You
said dinner and a movie, not shopping and smoothies.”

Kate
laughed. “Same thing, right?”

“No,
not even close.”

“Well,
the smoothies will make up for the shopping.”

Jeremy
forced another smile. “We’ll see.”

As
they turned the corner, Jeremy could see a crowd of people gathered at the far
end of the food court.

Kate
spoke first. “What do you think that is?”

Jeremy
shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know.”

*****

Jake
stood in the middle of the crowd, still juggling the six billiard balls higher
and higher into the air.

The
security guard spoke again. “Stop the juggling now, sir. Show’s over.”

Jake
smirked. “Well, there’s your problem, because the show’s not over. In fact,
we’re just getting started.”

Another
security guard pushed his way through the crowd of people; he pointed his
finger at Jake. “You have ten seconds to put the balls down, sir, before we
drag you outta here.”

Jake
still looked up in the air, still juggling, but before he could answer the
guard, something distracted his attention.

He
looked off to the side and spoke as if to himself. “Target’s on the move.
Understood.”

Then
Jake raised his hands in mock-surrender. The six pool balls fell to the ground,
and the second guard stepped forward, reaching for Jake’s bag.

“I
didn’t say I was done.” Jake stared at the guard, his eyes suddenly cold.

He
would have said more, but a little girl at the front of the crowd interrupted;
she pointed down at the ground and squealed, “Look, Mommy, look! Magic!”

Everyone
in the crowd looked at where the girl was pointing. That’s when they realized
the six billiard balls, the ones Jake had been juggling, never actually fell to
the ground. They hovered a couple of inches off the marble floor, arranged in a
perfect circle around Jake. A murmur of disbelief ran over the crowd.

Jake
touched a button on the side of his microphone headset; the soft music playing
over the mall loudspeakers crackled into silence, and when he spoke again,
Jake’s voice filled the mall, droning over the PA system.

“Attention
shoppers, I’d like to invite you all to the food court at this time to witness
the grand finale of the Amazing Hot Shot!”

Jake
turned his hands over, so that his palms were facing the ceiling. The pool
balls rose; now they were floating chest high, and they started to spin around
Jake like planets orbiting the sun.

The
first guard stepped forward. “I told you once, David Copperfield, show’s over.”

“And
I told you, I’m not done.”

“Well
that’s too—”

Before
the guard could finish, Jake punched his arms straight out into the air, and
the six hovering pool balls shot out in all directions. The striped nine hit
the first guard in the mouth, and the lower half of his face exploded into
blood and broken teeth. The red three ball hit the second guard in the throat,
and he fell back to the ground, clutching at his neck, gasping for air. The
black eight ball hit the man with the gray beard in the forehead, crushing his
skull. The cue ball hit a teenage girl in her thigh, and Jake could hear her
femur snap from across the food court. The two ball hit an older man in the
side of his head. He collapsed to the ground in a lifeless heap. The five ball
hit a woman in the chest.

Then
Jake spun around and punched his arms out again. The balls whipped back through
the air, this time in opposite directions, hitting six more people. Jake
punched again. The balls flew back across the food court, but now it was
impossible to track who was hit. There was only running, and screaming, and
chaos.

And
above it all, booming over the PA system, was the voice of Hot Shot. “Tada!”

*****

Jeremy
grabbed Kate by the hand and started to run. They couldn’t see what was
happening, but they heard the screams, and that was enough. They turned the
corner, away from the food court, and sprinted to the first store on their
right. The security gate was down. A girl on the other side of the gate, inside
the store, was holding the metal bars with both hands, jerking her whole body
back and forth, trying to move the gate to get out.

She
was sobbing and screaming. “Let me out! I want to get out!”

Jeremy
pulled on Kate’s hand, and they ran down the hall to the next store. Like the
one before it, the security gate on the front of the store was already down and
locked in place. A handful of people trapped on the outside banged against the
bars and shook the gate, trying to get in. Jeremy looked down the corridor. At
every storefront it was the same thing: a growing crowd of people desperately
trying to get inside to safety.

Jeremy
pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed 911. He raised it to his ear and
waited for the ring. Silence. He looked down at the screen. No service.