Chaos (The Realmwalker Chronicles Book 1) (20 page)

Chapter 26

Major Calm seems
eerily empty as I walk the halls. I figure Sam, Ember, and probably Crank must be out on a mission and everyone else is most likely top-side.

I have a few questions for Ben, so I decide to head to the Science and Tech Lab. I’m not surprised when I find the place empty, so I find a note pad and a pen and start writing.

In the note, I ask him if he knows of a way to pull some strings with UCLA to get them to accept an application from me for the fall semester. I explain how I’m sure I missed the deadline and my chances of getting in on my own are next to nothing. I thank him for his help and tape the note to the middle of his very neat desk where I’m sure he’ll find it.

On my way back to the living room, I hear what sounds like someone playing a drum set, so I head to the music room. Sure enough, I find Lang-hao pounding out a drum solo. He looks up and smiles. I wave back at him and lean against the door frame and watch him finish. He really is talented and looks every inch a pop star.

When he finishes, he comes over and gives me a hug. “Hey beautiful,” he says. Even though I’m beginning to get used to Lang’s flirty personality, I still can’t help blushing at his words.

“Hey! I’m surprised to see you here. Shouldn’t you be top-side?” I ask him.

“I’m actually thirty thousand feet in the air right now.” He smirks at my confused expression. “I’m on a plane to L.A. I’ve got some recording to do at a studio there.”

“Oh, I see. Long flight then?”

“Very. And why be cooped up in a plane for ten hours when I could be here having me a jam session.”

Every time I speak with Lang, his American accent impresses me.

“For sure,” I say. “Hey, I wonder if you could help me.”

“Anything for you, love.”

I laugh. “Well, I’m supposed to be getting my self-defense training, but I never really got the details about it.”

“I can definitely help you. It’s Kira or Boss who does the self-defense training. My guess is that Boss is going to be too swamped this week to teach you, so you’ll need to find Kira.”

“Hmm, this is going to be difficult. Isn’t she at London base?”

“She is, but you’re in luck. Kira’s a work-out-aholic. She’s almost always in the training center here working out.”

“Oh great!” I say with relief. “I knew Angel really wanted me to start today. I was worried about disappointing her.”

“Well, if you get to the Training Wing and Kira’s not there, come get me and I’ll train you for tonight.”

“Thanks so much, Lang!” I hug him again before I head out.

Sure enough, as I enter the main hall leading to the separate practice rooms, I hear Kira’s familiar grunts and shouts. When I find her, she’s decked out in boxing gear and is severely abusing a punching bag. When she sees me, she stops and takes off her gear.

“Hey girl,” she says to me, only slightly out of breath.

“Hi Kira! Do you feel up to doing some training?”

The rest of my night is spent there in the Training Wing. First, Kira takes me to the supply room where I find some comfortable workout clothes. Then she shows me where the showers and locker rooms are so I can get changed.

Once I’m dressed, we head to a practice room with a padded floor, and I learn basic defense maneuvers for the better part of an hour. Once I’ve got all the positions memorized, Kira stops pretending to attack me and actually does.

While I realize that she must be going easy on me, she’s still managing to kick my butt. Time and time again I end up on my back staring at the ceiling. She’s very patient and tells me it’s okay to get knocked down as long as I keep getting up. So I do. I get up every time, and gradually, things begin to get easier. Kira’s too tough an instructor to take pity on me and ease up, so this can only mean that I’m improving.

By the time my watch says six a.m., sweat drips in streams from my clothing. My limbs feel a hundred pounds heavier, and my pulse is pounding in my face. I shake my head when I see Kira isn’t even breathing heavy.

“Same time tomorrow?” she asks me cheerfully. I’m too exhausted to speak, so I give her a halfhearted smile and a thumbs up. I pat her on the shoulder as a way of saying thanks before I head back to the showers to rinse off.

I manage to make it back to my temporary room minutes before my alarm is set to go off. As I collapse on my bed, I concede to myself that I had a pretty great night tonight. I accomplished a lot, apart from the spat with Simone, and I’m proud of myself.

Now that I have a pretty good idea of what this next week is going to be like for me, I have fewer worries about my own inadequacy. I’m actually looking forward to tomorrow night as I fall asleep with a comforting sense of satisfaction.

Chapter 27

Monday morning is
agonizing. A long hot shower before school does little to relieve my aching muscles. The only highlight of my morning is the heaping piles of waffles I consume at breakfast.

“Whoa.” The sound of my sister’s voice breaks me out of my hunger-induced binge mid-bite. She’s sitting across the table looking perplexed and disgusted.

“Hungry much?” she asks.

I think back to last night’s exertions and the calories I must have burned.
Is it always going to be like this?
I shrug at her and make an effort not to inhale my food quite as fast as before.

After breakfast I say good-bye to Jana. She’s heading back to Flagstaff today and I won’t see her again for a while. I hug her and tell her to PLEASE try to drive carefully (something nearly impossible for her). I say a silent prayer that she survives the three-hour trip back.

Before I leave for school, I make sure I’ve grabbed BOTH of my cell phones. I’m going to have to get used to keeping my Walker phone on me at all times. As an afterthought, I also snatch up my new book from Mikhail on my way out.

School’s the worst part of my day. I try to be patient and pleasant to Tori before the first bell, but I’m finding it abnormally difficult this morning. Her comments and attitude are shallow and obnoxious as she gossips about people she partied with over the weekend.

I’m having a hard time concentrating on being the attentive, listening friend as my mind constantly wanders. If I’m not going over everything I learned from Angel yesterday, I’m playing back all my defense training, making sure I still remember it all. And then I’m wondering how the others are. How were the missions last night? Is everyone safe? Have they learned anything new?

It’s fortunate Tori doesn’t require much input from me in our “conversations,” or maybe she would’ve realized how distant I was, or how unimpressed I was by her list of scandals that had occurred last weekend.

As bad as it is being around Tori, my classes are even worse. Since finals are over, there’s little to hold my attention. I can’t stop thinking about Chaos. I wish I were back there training. This is pointless being here when I could be learning how to protect myself and help my friends.

I glance at my watch again only to find just a few minutes have passed since the last time I checked. My leg bounces impatiently, and I’m so frustrated I feel as though I could burst from my skin.

I try to pass the time by practicing some mental abilities. I send my consciousness out and explore the classroom. I watch from above as students visit and exchange yearbooks with each other for signing. I play with the idea of going into some of their minds for practice, but I can’t get past the feeling I’d be trespassing.

By third hour I’ve become brave enough to push my consciousness out of the classroom and into the hall. I do this slowly and carefully, trying to spread my awareness out rather than send it completely to one area. I can’t risk leaving my body inattentive in case the teacher calls on me. Even though it’s good practice, it doesn’t do much to ease my frustrations at not being in Chaos.

By lunchtime I’m starving. Tori finds me in some shade under a tree on the edge of the central courtyard. She looks pointedly at the three slices of pizza I bought from a vendor on campus.

“I missed breakfast,” I lie.

She gives me an exasperated look as she pulls a yogurt and bagel from her bag. I roll my eyes, not caring if she sees.

She frowns at me and starts to say something, but a buzzing sound coming from my bag cuts her off. I reach for my phone and stare at it in confusion when I see it isn’t ringing. Then I realize my OTHER phone is buzzing.

“Oh no.” I panic as I dig through my bag, thinking a hundred horrible things at once. I find my phone and answer before I can even read the name on the screen.

“Hello?” I ask anxiously, gripping the phone tightly. Ignoring the confused look on Tori’s face, I get up and walk a few paces away for privacy.

“Adelaide?” a man’s voice says. I recognize the English accent.

“Yes? Ben? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” he reassures me. Relief washes over me. “I’m calling about your note.”

“Oh right!” I slap my forehead. “Of course. Wow, I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“Well, it was a simple matter, so it’s no problem,” he explains. “I did not get UCLA to agree to accept a late application from you.”

My heart sinks. “Oh.” I think of how disappointed Ember will be and of all the fun I’ll miss out on next year.

“You see,” he says, “there’s no need for an application. I simply placed you on the roster as a full-time student with a full-ride scholarship. Your acceptance packet is in the mail.”

“You what?” Did I hear him right? “Wait, you can do that?”

“Adelaide,” he says patiently, “I can access any and all of the world’s satellites. Did you think I could not get you into a university?”

“Wow,” I say a little embarrassed. “I feel stupid.”

He laughs. It’s a warm, infectious sound that spreads a grin across my face.

“Well, we can’t have that. You’re a university student now. Mel suggested I enroll you in the art program there. I hope that was all right.”

“That’s perfect!” I can’t believe how easy this was. “Thank you, Ben. Thank you so much!”

“Of course, Addy. If there’s anything else you need from me, let me know.” I can hear what sounds like Mel in the background shouting ‘hi’ at me.

“Tell Mel I said ‘hi’ back and give her a hug for me!”

“With pleasure,” Ben says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Thank you again!”

I field Tori’s questions about who called me and when did I get a new phone as best I can. I tell her it was a graduation gift and that it was just a friend calling. She looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to elaborate, but I shove pizza in my mouth instead. Before she can grill me further, I pull out my new book and start reading.

She makes a huffing sound. “Well, I’m not going to sit here and watch you read. Have a good lunch.” She gathers her things and leaves. She’s angry, but for the first time, I really don’t care.

This last weekend I learned what real friendship is, and I’m acutely aware that it is NOT what Tori and I share. I’ll try and be civil toward her. I’ll always be grateful for her being there for me when my dad died. But I’m done making myself miserable over her.

I really do read as I eat, and I find the novel intriguing. I get so enveloped in the story and characters that I nearly miss the bell signaling lunch is over. As I cram the book into my bag and get up to rush to fourth hour, something strange happens.

I feel like I’m being watched.

I look around, searching for a familiar face gazing my way. Students are all around me, talking and heading in different directions—on their way to class, horsing around, laughing and flirting with each other. No one’s looking at me. No one’s watching me.

And as abruptly as the feeling came, it’s gone.

I shake my head and blame it on stress. This is my school. This is the most normal aspect of my life right now. Surrounded by students and teachers, with things as mundane as calculus and gym class, I’m certain this is one place the mysteries and dangers of my new life can’t reach.

My theory proves right when nothing life-threatening happens on my way to my next class. In fact, while abhorrently slow, the rest of the school day passes without incident.

At home, I rush through the evening as quickly as I can. I do chores. I do homework. I help with dinner. As soon as my mom and I finish eating and the dishes are cleared, I feign exhaustion and say goodnight, anxious and excited for what the night holds.

Chapter 28

Before making my
way to the library to train with Angel, I knock on Ember’s door. No answer. I drop my head against her door. I was hoping to check in on her, see how things were out in Chaos. I look down to the end of the hall toward Sam’s room. I know I won’t find him in there either. My frustration is renewed as I think of the two of them hunting every night while I remain unable to help them.

Train, Addy
. The only solution is to train as quickly as possible. I turn and jog down the hall, determined not to waste another second.

Running through the halls of Major Calm, I encounter no one until I round the corner entering the main living area. I’m running too fast to stop the full-body collision. Completely startled, I bounce back off a dark figure hard enough to land me on my butt.

Before I can see who I crashed into, strong hands wrap around my upper arms and lift me with ease. Once on my feet, I look up into a pair of light gray eyes.

“Oh,” I say inadequately.

Mikhail lets go of my arms once I steady myself. “Are you hurt?” he asks quietly, concern on his face.

“No, I’m okay,” I say embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention, I—”

“It is nothing,” he says as he steps around me to leave.

“Wait!” I say impulsively. He hesitates before turning to face me. I can’t let myself pass up any chance to get to know Mikhail. I know the others haven’t had any luck, but he came to my home and left me a book. That must mean something.

“I wanted to thank you,” I start uncomfortably. He isn’t looking me in the eyes, so it’s difficult to gauge his reaction.

“For the book I mean.” Still, his gaze only flicks in my direction before shifting to the walls or the floor. This is awkward. I wonder briefly if he’s intentionally making this difficult or if he just has a complete lack of social skills.

Not willing to give up yet, I continue. “It’s really good! I started it at lunch yesterday and couldn’t put it down.” He nods slightly in acknowledgement.

“Well,” I say, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, “it was really nice. Of you. I mean,”
am I stuttering? What is wrong with me?!
“you didn’t have to go out of your way. But you did.” Gosh. Is his social ineptness contagious? I feel as though I’m de-evolving right here in front of him.

Again he nods, still withholding conversation. I sigh inwardly. On an impulsive whim and as my last attempt to salvage this, I reach up and place my arms around his shoulders in a hug.

Mistake.

Instantly, he’s stiff and unmoving, like the way a deer freezes when caught in the beam of headlights from a car. I’m pretty sure he isn’t even breathing. Things have just escalated from awkward to miserably humiliating.

What must he think of me, if he won’t even accept a friendly embrace? The other Walkers hug me with nearly every encounter.

Leaving me the book was a kind and thoughtful gesture. I knew Mikhail was shy but I never expected this extreme reaction. I force back feelings of hurt and confusion at his mixed signals.

I step away, eager to leave. “Well, it was good seeing you,” I say quickly, not looking up into his face. I wave briefly, and head down, walk swiftly in the direction of the library. The whole way there, I try to convince myself not to let the meeting with Mikhail discourage me. This might be the point at which another person would give up, maybe say, “Oh well, I tried.” But I couldn’t do that.

An image of Mikhail flashes in my mind. He’s standing alone, hovering awkwardly by his Big Bike in the garage of Minor Calm as the other Realmwalkers are greeting me for the first time.

What’s it like for him? It’s hard enough to have to face the evils and dangers of Chaos, but to do it all alone? No. I won’t give up yet.

A smiling Angel greets me in the library. “Are you ready for tonight?”

I grin back at her. “Let’s do this.” I clap my hands together, ready to begin.

“First, we start with manipulating and shaping the space here in Major Calm.”

“Whoa, already? Isn’t that one of the more difficult abilities?” I say surprised.

“It’s one of the more important abilities,” she stresses, “which is why we’ll tackle it tonight. Don’t worry, I’m confident you’re capable.”

I follow her out of the library, nervous and hoping I’m ready for this. There’s no sign of Mikhail or anyone else as we make our way toward the residential wing. Angel stops once we get to the area where the three halls of rooms branch out.

“I believe you’re down this hall?” I nod as she points down the middle hall.

“Would you like to stay there, or do you have a preference elsewhere?” I briefly note how easy it is to forget I’m speaking to a child. What nine-year-old says “elsewhere”?

“Well, I’m particularly fond of Ember,” I say through a grin as I think of the spunky redhead, “but there aren’t any empty rooms down her hall.”

Angel smiles meaningfully. “Just because there are no available rooms doesn’t mean there’s no space to build one.”

This hadn’t even occurred to me.

“It just so happens there is space available. Plenty, actually.”

The next few hours are spent creating a living space for me directly across the hall from Ember’s room. I observe Angel’s mind as she examines the fabric of Major Calm. She walks me through the steps she’ll take so I know what to expect when she acts.

I watch, amazed, as she pushes and pulls at the substance of space, creating a pocket. With her help and guidance I’m able to stretch the pocket. I spread out the space, in a way that’s similar to the way I had spread my consciousness out the day before in school, only now I give this space a defined shape, structure.

Together we form a room, large enough to fit all the necessities and furnishings I would need to live comfortably. At Angel’s insistence, I create an additional wing to be an art studio.

“It’s important for us to have hobbies here. We need the option to busy ourselves with tasks that make us happy. Without some creative outlet, we’d probably all be really grumpy.”

“Sounds like a good idea. I could always use the time to try to improve.”

“You know, you may come to find that the gifts you possessed before coming to Chaos have dramatically improved.” She smiles mischievously.

“How’s that?”

“You already know that Chaos has physically changed you in order to help you cope with the demands of this lifestyle. Your mind has been expanded, strengthened.”

“So having a quicker mind will help my art?”

“It’s not JUST quicker.” She waves her tiny hand dismissively. “Oh, you’ll have to see for yourself. You’ll be busy for a while training but do try and grab a few minutes to yourself sometime soon. Give your artwork a try here—you’ll see what I mean.”

With my room complete, we make a trip to the warehouse, and I select furnishings as Angel records them on a list. She says she’ll leave it for the next shift of Walkers, and they’ll move everything over for me. I feel bad that the others will be doing all the work and heavy lifting, but Angel insists it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

“Besides,” she assures me, “the boys enjoy throwing their muscles around whenever they can.”

When we return to the library, we’re surprised to find a concerned Lang-hao hovering over a squirming form laid across one of the sofas.

“There you are,” Lang-hao says urgently and darts toward us. I’m able to see now that the person on the couch is Crank. He’s grimacing and writhing in obvious pain.

“Crank!” I gasp as I see his leg is twisted and bent in an unnatural way. One of the bones that runs from his knee to his ankle is broken. The sight of it pushing sideways against the skin of his leg is enough to make me retch.

“Angel, Faye is busy top-side and we need a healer,” Lang says in a rush.

Angel hurries to Crank’s side. “Hang in there, Oscar. I’ll try to be quick.” He nods his head as he breathes heavily through clenched teeth.

“What happened?” I ask Lang quietly. Angel speaks up before he can respond.

“Addy, come here please.”

“What?” I ask surprised.

“Please come here. You need to learn to heal and there is no time like the present,” she says calmly.

I’m shaking and dizzy as I approach the sofa.

Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

“Watch me very closely, Addy. I don’t want to drag this out too long, for Oscar’s sake.”

I nod quickly. I try and push my thoughts out toward Angel, but all I can think about is the leg that’s twisted grotesquely in front of me. Like a car wreck, it’s horrifying to see, but I can’t tear my eyes away from it. I try again to push my thoughts out but it’s a weak attempt. Oh gosh. I can’t do this.

I can’t do it. And Crank is suffering because I’m failing. This thought forces me to look into Crank’s face. His pain rocks me and snaps me out of my panic. My friend is hurting. I CAN do this. I have to.

I take a deep, slow breath and force my hands to stop trembling. With renewed purpose, I send my mind out to join with Angel’s. Her process is clinical and emotion-free. She’s not uncaring in her manner; she’s merely saving herself from being overcome by the clutching grip of panic.

I watch as she extends her awareness deep into Crank’s body, into his actual leg around the area of the break. She mentally examines the injury.

She narrates as I observe.
If the injury is not life-threatening, the first thing we do is block the pain signal to the mind.
I watch in fascination as she travels to his mind and stops the flow of information entering the area that interprets pain.

A huge sigh of relief escapes Crank. “Gracias,” he says wearily, lapsing into his native tongue.

“You might not want to watch this Oscar,” Angel warns him gently.

He throws an arm over his eyes and nods. “Go ahead.” For a moment I’m nearly overwhelmed with concern and sympathy for Crank. I force myself to focus on the task at hand.

Angel places her small hands on Crank’s leg and with surprising strength for her size, she sets the bone, all the while observing with her mind to make sure she accurately aligns the two pieces of bone.

What happens next is peculiar. I can sense Angel sending out information. She’s sending it to the bones, muscles, and tissue of Crank’s leg. It’s almost like a foreign language. While I can’t understand the words, I instinctively understand the meaning and purpose. It’s as if she’s entreating the body to heal itself. Encouraging it.

Incredibly, it listens. The cells already have the blueprints and instructions. Angel’s just giving them a shove to get them going. Torn muscles begin to repair themselves. Inflammation reduces. Bone builds more bone as the broken pieces stretch out like a bridge to join and fuse with each other.

All this happens at an alarming rate. All the while Angel nudges and shoves the process along, not letting it slack.

This is unbelievable.
I think to Angel.

She stops sending her message out and the body stops healing.

Now you finish.
She thinks at me.

But I can’t. I don’t know how. I don’t know where all the pieces go.

You don’t need to, s
he insists.
The body will do the work. You must understand—the body WANTS to heal itself. All you do is press fast-forward.

Without knowing exactly what I’m doing, I push my thoughts out to Crank’s leg. I think of Angel’s message and try my best to mimic it, sending it out tentatively. Very slowly, hesitantly, the broken pieces begin to mend again.

Very good. Now, be more firm. It must not be a question, not a request for the body to heal itself. It must be a command given with authority.

Certain now that the message I’m sending is correct, I send it out more forcefully and am filled with wonder as Crank’s body responds to my command.

The moment turns surreal as I realize what I’m doing. I’m healing a broken leg with the power of my mind. I’m actually doing it and I’m suddenly giddy. I’m suppressing excited laughter as Crank’s leg finishes healing. I’m staring at a perfectly structured and intact leg.

“You’re a true Mimic, Addy. A natural,” Angel praises. “Well done!”

I release a pent-up breath as relief and pride wash over me. Oscar jumps up and begins testing his leg out by stretching and bouncing.

“Good as new, Addy! Maybe even better. Way to go, thank you!” He hugs me tightly. At this close proximity, I’m overwhelmed by a horrid stench coming off Crank’s entire being. It’s horrible yet indescribable. I’ve never smelled anything even remotely comparable to this putrid scent.

“Ugh.” I hold Crank at arm’s length to look him over. “What IS that?” I notice thick black sludge splashed all over his body and clothing. Clumps of it even hang from his dark hair and black grease smears his right cheek.

“Oh yeah,” Crank says sheepishly. “I kind of forgot about that. Sorry.”

Lang-hao laughs out loud. “Addy fixes you up and you thank her by sliming her with Shade guts. Very thoughtful, Crank!” he teases. The brown skin of Crank’s face turns a shade of red in embarrassment.

“It’s all right, Crank,” I say, trying to make him feel better. “I don’t mind. I guess having Shade guts on me makes me feel more like a Walker,” I laugh.

He smiles now, visibly pacified. “No outfit is complete without it!” he says.

We’re all laughing when a very tired and disheveled-looking Ember comes into the library. I look behind her expectantly but no one else follows her in. She too is covered in Shade guts, only hers are intermingled with singes and black smoke residue.

“Hey!” I say happily, wanting to hug her but not badly enough to endure that awful stench again.

“Hi girly. How goes training?” she asks as she drops herself down into a high-backed chair.

“It’s going great. But what about you guys?” I ask the three sludge-covered Walkers. “How’s Chaos been?”

“Busy,” Lang says.

“Busy?”

“Very busy,” Ember agrees. “There’s been a massive increase in the number of Lesser Shades the last few nights. It seems all we’ve been doing is fighting Lesser Shades.”