Project Aquarius (The Sensitives Series Book 1) (6 page)

Matt approached from behind. He made a guttural gulping noise that contained notes of grief. Slowly, he knelt next to the body and rolled Sierra on her side. Blood dripped out of her nose and ears, still wet, viscous.

Drea was numb to what it all meant. The scene was an exact replica from her dream. This was the part where she was supposed to wake up, but she was left looking at the shell of the girl who was once her bestie. Sierra was so still— the humanity undeniably drained from her body.

“Hey, what’s in her hand?” Matt asked breaking the silence.

A small corner of thick white paper peeked out of Sierra’s right hand. Matt carefully opened Sierra’s fingers and pulled on the edge of the folded card.

The image of Judgment stared Drea in the face. Sierra had died clinging to that fated tarot card.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sara

Sara saw the logo for her research group flash onto the screen. Impossible. The meeting couldn’t be about Project Aquarius. James was in charge of the Project and she was the lead researcher on the team. They had not been informed about this meeting. This was not protocol. What was happening?

Sara watched the sweat roll off James’ brow as he mouthed, “Told you so.”

James did have a reason to be suspicious after all: the text, the early morning meeting, and now a surprise presentation on their own research.

Something was really off.

She tuned back in as Dr. Shin mentioned, “… advances in noetic science. Our capable Noetics Team has isolated a part of the human genome responsible for a type of evolved superhuman— A Sensitive. You may be familiar with psychic terms such as: clairvoyance, mediumship, and astral projection. You may have also heard of alleged mental deficits such as: sensory processing disorder, autism spectrum disorders, and mood disorders. What do these traits have in common? These are but a few of the ways that Sensitives manifest in the world. We at Project Aquarius see these Sensitive qualities as gifts, as elevated parts of human consciousness–– potential if genetically tracked and controlled, that could shape the fate of humanity itself.”

Sara’s heart tried to leap through her chest.

James asked through gritted teeth, “Isn’t that what you said at the grant meeting? To justify the funding?”

In fact, Sara had uttered the exact same sentence in a team meeting the previous week. She watched with horror as Dr. Shin used her stolen words to address the entire company.

“As you can see, our Noetics team has located the DNA base pairs that code for Sensitivities.”

The projection screen showed an image of a double helix, with a highlighted section of nucleobases.

Sara wanted to vomit.

James whispered, “This is your work.”

“I know,” Sara replied in resigned anger. This was the exact image she had created last month for a presentation to graduate interns on the potential applications of tracking the Sensitive genome.

“He’s using your presentation to get the rest of GenetiCorp up to speed on Project Aquarius,” James concluded.

Sara thought she had created the visual to help younger scientists understand the potential applications of Project Aquarius research. But Dr. Shin had lied. There was no upcoming graduate intern presentation. It wasn’t for students; it was for members of GenetiCorp’s other departments. It was for this moment.

The auditorium filled with Dr. Shin’s voice, “As you can see, there are certain strands of DNA that code for Sensitive abilities. We have studied for the presence of visual and auditory gifts, as well as those who experience the movement of time differently, and those who have epistemic access to the future.”

“We’re the only ones who know the implications of this,” Sara said in a forced whisper. “My words are being mangled and manipulated for his purpose. And our research—”

“—Is dangerous in the wrong hands!” James asserted.

Sara’s anxiety manifested as an instant headache. She had always known the dangers of scientific discovery. Human genetic information could be used for a variety of evils. But Sara had always trusted her fellow scientists.

“We did this research for the greater good, James. Shin will use it for good. Right? He built this company for all the right reasons. Right?” Sara asked.

Her supervisor shrugged.

Dr. Shin continued, “Essentially, the hard work of the Project Aquarius team has lead to the discovery of a breed of superhuman that has evolved naturally. They are already out there, these genetically Sensitive humans, and they have the potential to change the course of history forever… Some are even in this room.”

Dr. Shin’s gaze swiveled in Sara’s direction. “Some of you may have revealed your Sensitivities as children and been rejected by society and your parents. Typically, Sensitive children are told that they have overactive imaginations and are prone to exaggeration.”

Sara had never revealed to anyone at GenetiCorp her true motive for studying noetic science, but Dr. Shin was reciting her childhood experience verbatim.

“You may have expressed your intense emotions through crying or yelling. And your parents may have told you that you were overly sensitive, dramatic, or weak. Early in your life you may have learned to keep your paranormal experiences a secret. Maybe your parents even took you to a therapist to talk about seeing and hearing things that weren’t there.”

Dr. Shin’s dark eyes bored directly into Sara’s soul.

“How does he know that? My parents thought I was psychotic. Why is he looking at me?” Sara said softly while trying not to move her lips.

“So, what did the shrink say? Were you crazy?” James asked cautiously through the side of his mouth.

“No, she said that I was prone to anxiety…”

“Despite all the education and privilege in this room, many of you still struggle to accept the unexplainable. Perhaps, you have heard that a skeptic makes a good scientist. I can relate. That is why, as a fellow rational mind, I set out years ago to get proof of Sensitivities. How do you explain the unexplainable? You look for answers in non-traditional places— places other rational minds never look.”

“To begin, in high school I took a lot of drugs looking for answers in the altered states of my mind. Needless to say, that didn’t go well.”

The crowd laughed. But Dr. Shin’s light-hearted tone made Sara feel even worse. Her body anticipated a bad ending.

“In the end, I stuck with the academic route to discovery, where I met all of you. And here we are now with over a decade of research on the subject of noetics, THE science that explains the intersection of genetic expression and consciousness.”

Sara’s chest was overcome with a tidal wave of fear. She grabbed James’ hand and dug her nails in as Shin’s voice filled the auditorium. “GenetiCorp is ahead of the curve. We have genetic proof of the existence of Sensitive superhumans. We know parapsychological experiences, paranormal experiences if you will, are real. Additionally, we’ve spent the last several years studying the impact of electromagnetic energy on the human energy field and we learned that hearing is the most fragile of the five traditional senses. Specifically, a Sensitive superhuman’s hearing is very acute and remains in tact long after the average person, even when exposed to high decibel levels.”

Sara breathed in sharply. That was data from her study. There had been only one study group over a year ago and although the results were conclusive about the sensitivity of human hearing to electromagnetic energy, it was hardly ready for application. There needed to be more research and significantly more test subjects before the evidence would be considered viable in the scientific community.

“You may be wondering what this research has to do with today’s meeting. In short, everything.”

Dr. Shin paused for what seemed like dramatic effect. Sara detected a slight smirk, as though he was enjoying delivering the news. She let out an audible gasp.

“It is with a heavy heart I report to you that this morning, a little bit after 9 a.m., there was an electromagnetic incident that will go down in history. An event that will change our lives forever.”

“There may be some of you who are doubtful, even scared about this information. But I assure you, if you are in this room, you were handpicked to come with GenetiCorp into the next wave of the future. It is no accident that you were asked to arrive here early this morning. You all possess Sensitive DNA and you are needed here for this very moment in history. You have the unique opportunity to be a Believer in the future of humankind. From this historic day forward, the parent corporation GenetiCorp is no more. Welcome to Project Aquarius.”

The screen changed dramatically, revealing the wavy lined logo once again. In a perfectly choreographed motion, members of Dr. Shin’s entourage unveiled a new white company polo shirt with a black Project Aquarius logo embroidered over the left breast. In the next beat, the shirts were tossed into the crowd. One for every person.

Sara bit the inside of her cheek. Metallic blood leaked onto her tongue. It was all so surreal.

“The dawning of the Age of Aquarius is upon us. And you have been ushered into the future. For your safety this facility will be on lock down for the next seven days.”

A surge of noise from the crowd blocked out Dr. Shin’s voice. Did he say they were all being locked in for a week? And earlier did he imply that there was an electromagnetic terrorist attack?

Sara’s mind flooded with memories of every conversation she had ever had with Dr. Shin. She knew he was an egomaniacal rich prick, but she never imagined he would have the foresight to make a bold move like this.

James interrupted her racing thoughts, “We have to get out of here. This is crazy. I’m not staying.”

Sara stood up, ready to flee.

“Everyone please REMAIN SEATED!” Shin’s voice boomed. Someone had cranked the microphone up a few notches.

“SIT DOWN!” His angry voice reverberated in Sara’s chest. She obediently sat back in her chair.

The room followed.

Dr. Shin spoke with pressure in his voice, “I am sure you all have a lot of questions. This is a lot to digest. As discussed, I am available to answer your inquiries. But I need your total cooperation. Please understand that you are on complete lockdown for your own safety. This will not change no matter what your argument. Don’t worry, as we speak, your offices are being outfitted with cots, clothing, and food supplies to make your stay as comfortable as possible—”

“You can’t hold us here against our will!” a man from the back row yelled.

“I’m doing this for your own good! This is an honor. You could not possibly understand now.”

The crowd united in their dissent. Shouts of “This isn’t a prison!” and “I quit!” could be heard around the room.

Dr. Shin kept his composure. He appeared to have anticipated this response. “Please remain calm. After the mandatory one-week lockdown you will be free to go and you may quit then if you desire. However, I encourage you to grasp the full state of the world before making that decision.”

“This is illegal!” the crowd roared once more.

“If you review your contracts carefully, you will note that your job description includes mandatory overtime for safety-related issues…”

Sara’s chest tightened. He had planned this. It must have taken years.

“I’m calling the police!” shouted a woman Sara knew from the nanotech department.

“You don’t realize what has happened yet. The police will not respond. And you’ll be thanking me in a week. Project Aquarius will be vital in restoring order and you all have important roles to play. Now please remain calm and stay in your seats. In a few minutes we will share images of the outside world taken by our Ground Team.”

Dr. Shin made eye contact with Sara Owens. There was a subtle nod of approval.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Darnell

The sight of the fat lunch lady’s crumpled body stopped Darnell in his tracks. There was something grotesque and familiar about the pose.

     Blink. A dead body, limp on the living room floor, needle in the arm, hunched over in an impossible position. Angry purple petechia skittered across the dead guy’s pale skin.

     Blink. Darnell stared at the lunch lady’s corpse, the present mixing with the past in a strong mental cocktail. Her body was discarded like a peanut shell. Empty.

     Darnell knew now, all dead bodies looked the same–– the eyes, vacant like a motel on a weeknight in winter.

     Blink. The man who had OD’ed had gray eyes. Pained eyes. They held the desperate stare of a junkie, even after death.

     Blink. The memory conjured the taste of pennies in Darnell’s mouth. He swallowed it down.

    “Don’t be a pussy,” he said sternly to his stomach.

“Come back, Darnell!” his teacher called in his direction.

There was nothing to come back to. Before everything went dark, he had wished his teacher dead. Then the old lunch lady had fallen to the ground and there had been a blinding pain in his head. Darnell had killed the old lady and now he couldn’t stop staring at her dead body.

Ms. Harding staggered her way out of the freezer. “Oh, God,” she gasped as she bent down and took the woman’s limp wrist in her hand.

Ms. Harding looked up at the clock to check the pulse and Darnell’s gaze followed. The dial was frozen. He had never seen a school clock stopped before. So many times in class, he had wished for the second hand to stop endlessly gliding around the face.

Maybe, his wishes were coming true after all…

Ms. Harding shook her head regretfully and dropped the lunch lady’s arm. From his position, it was hard for Darnell to see the look on her face, but he knew that grief usually looked like the moment before someone puked all over the place.

It was over.

For ten seconds, they stood still, unsure what to do.

Darnell felt nothing. He was as empty as the lunch lady’s carcass.

At eleven seconds, his heart rate increased. He started to freak out. He couldn’t afford to get in trouble. And he had messed this one up pretty bad.

His body knew what to do. Mindlessly, he put one foot in front of the other, gliding quickly across the kitchen. In the next instant, he was in the hallway with Ms. Harding’s voice calling after him, “Darnell, wait!”

Instead of going to the nearest exit, his feet steered him toward the gymnasium. The doorway to the gym had a halo around it that drew him in. It didn’t make logical sense, but he was compelled to go that way. Maybe he wanted to say goodbye or see his classmates one last time. Whatever the reason, Darnell always answered the glowing halo.

The gym held the slight stench of sweaty socks and kickball rubber that pervaded all grade schools. The old tilt-pane windows were open near the ceiling, making a feeble attempt to air out the staleness. The aged and peeling basketball hoops were cranked up out of the way, making room for the balance beam and the pull-up bar. Blue gym mats were stacked in the corner, waiting to be used for the grueling sit up and push up drills mandated by the state fitness test.

Darnell wasn’t even one step inside, when he saw the mess. The bodies of his classmates were strewn like garbage all over the floor. They had stopped in the middle of their warm up stretches, some frozen mid-bend reaching for their toes. There was no movement and no sound at all. Darnell felt nothing but the presence of a vacuum, an unfillable hole. Like the night they took his father away in handcuffs–– nothing would ever be the same. This was the tipping point.

Darnell stared at the body closest to him. Small streaks of blood trickled down Katie’s face, her eyes still open, wide with terror. She would never flip her hair at him again. Someone had killed Darnell’s classmate. He had killed her.

His heart raced. It wasn’t his fault! He hadn’t meant to. He was only mad at what the lunch lady had said about him––

“Darnell, get down! Go to the far wall! Get away from the windows!”

Predictably, Ms. Harding had shown up again and started flipping out. But Darnell couldn’t move. He was stuck in the stillness of the sea of bodies, drowning in his own destruction.

His teacher heaved the gymnasium’s double doors closed, kicking the doorstops out of the way.

“Go in lockdown mode,” she shouted, “the shooter could still be in the building. Get down!”

Ms. Harding ran toward him in slow motion, wild arms outstretched. Just as she was about to throw him to the ground, Darnell snapped and yelled, “Get away from me, you crazy bitch!”

He easily anticipated Ms. Harding’s next move and sidestepped to avoid the tackle, causing his teacher to hit the ground hard and land on top of one of her other students. The crunch of her weight on Brayden’s tiny body echoed in the cavernous gym. Blue eyed with bleach blond hair, Brayden looked like a broken porcelain doll.

Somehow, Ms. Harding recovered her balance quickly and got back to her feet.

“Get down Darnell! You could be in danger. Get down behind the blue mats!” she urged.

“Nah.”

He wasn’t going to go down for this alone. Adrenaline was running the show now and it was time to take action. Time to get revenge. His fists curled into tight balls. Darnell knew what he needed to do.

Man up.

In his best gangsta voice he said, “We need to strap up and go after these bastards.” His face scrunched up tight. His muscles were taut, ready to spring an attack on anyone who came too close.

“Go after who? Did you see someone? Tell me what you saw.”

“Shut up,” Darnell said, fists hot with rage. Ms. Harding would be his next victim, if she didn’t watch herself.

“What did you see? What happened?”

She continued with the pointless questions.

Darnell swallowed down the truth that he had done something terribly wrong.

“I didn’t see squat. You ain’t figured it out yet?”

“Figured what out? What is it?”

“I ain’t gonna tell you. I’m no snitch. Snitches get stitches.”

Ms. Harding made eye contact with him for the briefest moment before he took off running again.

“Darnell, wait! Darnell! Where are you going?”

“To mess these playas up!” he yelled, not stopping for a second as his sneakers squeaked down the hallway. He knew exactly where to go to find the people who dropped bodies for a living.

Darnell didn’t have the courage to look in every classroom as he went by, but the silence said it all. They were all dead because of him. He ran faster.

As he rounded the corner to the fifth grade wing, he saw a kid walking down the hallway as if nothing had ever happened. Darnell paused for a split second; the sight of another live human being had thrown him off.

A red-haired boy loped along the middle of the hallway, avoiding the cracks in the tiles. His gaze was averted and he was muttering to himself in a singsong tone. Darnell noted the characteristic bright red earphones. A sped.

The red-head didn’t react to Darnell’s presence; he continued to walk forward, softly counting out loud.

If that kid had survived this mess, it was good news for Darnell. Maybe he hadn’t killed everyone with his mind after all. Maybe his boys hadn’t come by to finish the job. Maybe this was only a neighborhood beef. Maybe the situation wasn’t so bad after all…

But just in case it was, Darnell kept going. That’s what he always did, just kept going.