Water (7 page)

"I'm sorry, son.  There is just no way you can recreate the strength and the affinity a Gaia has with the elements.  You alone could not bring the balance Earth needs."

Shawn refused to listen to reason, "We can recruit more elementals.  Bring them here, train them to work in circles."

Cato shook his head, "We've been over this.  To maintain control we must keep the group small.  Besides, how do you suppose we would fund all that?"

Shawn paced with excitement, "The Seven for hire.  People will pay for rain, or to divert storms, whatever the case may be.  We can do that." 

"No, no, no."  Cato stood up.  "Protect, conserve, balance."  He counted off on his fingers.  "This is what we do for Earth.  We are not a for profit agency.  This has been drilled into you from day one.  You live and breathe this stuff – I do not, for the life of me, understand how you can deviate."

Shawn went silent.  He walked over to Cato's desk, picking up the small glass globe, used as a paperweight, from its base.  He began to play with the globe, rotating it in one of his hands.

Cato knew his words fell on deaf ears, but he continued anyway, "Besides, Kaitlyn is the strongest Gaia I've ever encountered.  Possibly the strongest in history."

At those words, the globe in Shawn's hands went still.

Cato didn't notice, "Handled appropriately, she can make a real difference."

"What did you say?" Shawn asked.

"Handled approp– "

"No.  Before that."

Cato hesitated, "I said she could be the strongest Gaia the Earth has ever seen."

"Right.  And if I had that strength..."

"But you don't."

"You are right, old man."  Shawn walked toward the door, placing the globe in Cato's hands as he passed.  "I don't…"

Chapter 8

Fast Enough

My eyes fluttered open to the sound of a shower running and a deep voice humming a muffled tune. 
Dad?
  Couldn't be, unless I was dreaming.  I pinched my leg. 
Definitely awake.
  I shot straight up in bed.  Micah!  Did we?  No.  My clothes were still on.  Wide awake now, I tried running my hands through my hair.  One was stopped short, metal clinking as my wrist jerked.  I was handcuffed to the bed.  I heard Micah’s humming over the shower again.  Now it only annoyed me.  Despite the intimate kissing, I was still trapped here like a caged animal. 
Guess I wasn’t that great of a date. 

I looked around his room.  It was messy, and lacked any sort of decorating attempt, but it smelled like him.  I frowned.  I ran my tongue over my lips, which were still recovering from his bites.  The sting was painful but sparked warmth deep in my belly.  My cheeks flushed in embarrassment.  I'm glad he didn't take it any further; had I not been so exhausted, I don't think I would've stopped myself.  Besides, being drunk with power would have been a convenient excuse for the morning after.

I spotted my dream log on the bedside table; Micah must have brought it to me. I reached for it with my free hand and flipped to the last page, anxious to fill my mind with something other than dirty thoughts. 

*  *  *

My recurring dream finally concluded last night; it scared me and exhilarated me all at the same time.  In my dream there was only silence and darkness.  Except for one thing – me.  As long as I was still there and aware, there was hope.  I began to reach out with my mind for anything else, a tiny glimmer, the slightest speck, and they started to appear.  They seemed to materialize from nothing, answering my beckoning call.  They all converged in exactly the right way, a perfect way.  The creation of air, water, and soil.  The creation of all that was good and bad, the creation of animals and plants – and the most special creation of all – life.  I know now what I had been searching for – a purpose.  My purpose.

*   *   *

I set the book back down as if it had burnt me, and for the first time was willing to admit there may have been some merit to my dreams.  I
was
needed.  With powers like these, my life had to have a higher purpose than photography.  But they were still dangerous to myself and anyone around me.  Staying here would only lead to trouble.  It already had.  Yesterday's storm.  Cato.  I couldn't put anyone else at risk.  Maybe I could return as soon as I had my powers under control.  Not before.

As I ran my fingers through my hair again, metal chinked and I was abruptly reminded of my imprisonment.
What am I doing?
 
Preening for Micah?
  I wanted to look my best for him, whether he was my captor or my newest fling. 
I wonder which will come out of the shower.
 

The only thing keeping me from the chance at fulfilling my life’s purpose was handcuffs.  I looked at them, perplexed, and pulled.  They didn’t budge.  I growled at my incompetence.  I could correctly judge aperture and shutter speed from a quick glance at surrounding lighting and subject movement.  I could extract, develop, apply fixer, and stabilize film in a pitch black dark room in record time.  But for all my life experiences, I had no insight in how to escape handcuffs.  Perhaps that should have been a required course in high school; home economics, physical education, escapology.  Central High School – cultivating criminals and magicians alike. 

I made a futile attempt at rummaging in the drawers of the bedside table with my toes, feeling for a key.  After working up a sizeable horse cramp in my leg I gave up.  Short of dislocating my thumb, physically forcing myself out of the situation was not an option.

Not everyone reacts to the elements like you do, Kaitlyn.  I should say rather, interacts with the elements.
  Cato’s words resonated with me.

I could obviously affect wind and rain.  Last night had proved that several times over.  But could I control the temperature?  If the handcuffs were cold enough, frozen over, I could shatter them.  The first trick was figuring out how to do it.  The next trick would be figuring out how to do it without giving my wrist frostbite.

I shrugged, "No time like the present."

Closing my eyes, I recalled my mother’s meditation sessions.  I breathed in and out slowly, clearing my mind and forcing my muscles to relax.  I called upon the air to cool itself.  Nothing happened. 
Maybe I need more energy?
  I tried drawing out energy from the earth below me.  I found it at a much lower frequency than air or water, but it was done easily enough.  I released the energy into the air simultaneously willing it to turn cold.  Still nothing.  I glanced at the bathroom door.  I needed to hurry.  Micah could be finished any moment.

Repressing the urge to panic, I thought back to high school science classes.  Hot air is caused by active and fast moving air particles; cold air the opposite.  Instead of closing my eyes, I left them opened and concentrated on the space around me.  I called the earth’s energy into my body once again and used it to sharpen my senses.  Soon enough, the composition of the air was revealed and the particles slowed, conforming to my will.  The temperature of the room chilled.  I could see my own breath.  But it still wasn’t cold enough and I didn’t want to freeze myself in the process.  A larger but more concentrated jolt of cold air was necessary.

I refocused my energy and sent waves out with ten times the intensity.  Something definitely happened, but it was misdirected.  I felt the air interacting with a large amount of water that lay well away from me.  Focusing even harder, I tried again, trading some intensity for accuracy.  My efforts emitted a high-pitched squeal from the shower.  I stifled a laugh.  It was similar to my dad’s yelp while in the shower at our New Jersey home when mom snuck in to flush the toilet. 

I had missed the mark again but was significantly closer.  I quickly released the energy lest Micah know what I was up to.  With pressure mounting, I had to follow through and fast.  Third time’s a charm.  Working out the correct balance of intensity and accuracy, I was finally able to hit my mark and I felt the metal around my wrist turn cold, so cold the skin touching the metal actually burned.  I gritted my teeth, putting forth my best effort to endure the pain and kept the cold coming.

Waiting until I could bear it no longer, I finally slammed my wrist against the headboard.  On the first attempt, the metal shattered into tiny slivers that made a satisfying noise as they hit the wall behind me and scattered on the bed and floor below.

I barely took notice of the atmosphere regaining balance, righting itself once free of my energy waves.  The squeak of the shower faucet turning off told me I had little time left.  I bolted for the door and skid through a turn, racing down the long hallway.  The largest swaths of natural light guided me through a spacious living room, and I ran out of a large sliding glass door conveniently left open.

Once outside, I took a moment to consider my escape route.  This would probably be my last chance.  I was determined to make it work.  Quickly discounting the deceiving gardens, I eyed an expansive forested part of the grounds.

"Out for a run?"  My train of thought was interrupted by a man I had failed to notice taking in the morning sun until now.  "Need some company?"

I looked him over.  He was a few years younger, but a full two heads taller, with much longer legs.  I tried to talk my way into a plan.  "Maybe.  How fast are you?"

"Fast enough."

"Good.  Shall we?"

"After you."  He extended his arm to the green landscape.

Since that seemed to be the end of the pleasantries, I took off like a bat out of hell.  His heavy footsteps let me know he wasn't far behind, keeping a steady distance.  I considered trying to call for more energy, but he was pacing me, and I didn't want to spare the concentration.  He hadn't closed the distance but just as if my thoughts gave him the idea, he bellowed, "We’ve got a runner!"

I lengthened my stride.

"Twenty bucks I catch you before the lake," my pursuer shouted.

What lake is he talking about?
  I saw nothing but trees ahead of me.

"Save your breath.  You’ll need it," I called, trying to keep my own breathing under control.  My lungs were burning as I willed my legs to keep moving.  They felt like rubber.  I prayed that my previously injured ankle would hold out.

The composition of the ground beneath me changed abruptly.  It was now smooth and slick.  I was making forward momentum without having to move my legs.  The allusive lake had appeared in a most undesirable way.  It was completely frozen over.  This was the large body of water I encountered in my wildly miscalculated attempt to freeze the handcuffs.  I slid, holding my arms out to either side, trying to stay upright.  I soon lost control and fell, hard, on my butt.  My running mate had fallen a second sooner, veering off in another direction.  He was no more prepared for it than I. 

After skidding to a halt, I stood, gingerly, and heard cracking ice.  I froze.  There was cracking again, only this time not underneath me, but my pursuer.  All too aware of his precarious position, he was similarly frozen on his feet.  We faced each other, perhaps twenty feet apart.

"Didn’t have any trouble finding the lake, eh?"  He forced a smile onto his face, but his voice cracked.  Was that a dimple in his right cheek?  He was cute, with light brown hair trimmed into a buzz cut and ears that stuck out just a tad too far.  Thick eyebrows made up for the shortage of hair on top.

"Well, at least we are not
in
the lake," I pointed out.

"Not yet anyway," he said, and as if on cue, more ice cracked around him.  He laughed nervously.

"What’s your name?"  I asked.

"Alex."

"Alex."  I tried to make my voice as soothing as possible.  "I want you to stay very, very still.  I’m going to come and help you."

"Are you sure?  You might be safer risking the posse."

I looked toward the shore.  Several men lay in wait at the edge of the ice, unsure how to proceed.  Micah stood among them, sporting disheveled, wet hair.  A final crack of ice, a brief moment of silence, and the splash of a body hitting the water filled me with dread.  Damned if one more life would be pinned on me.

Without hesitation, I ran toward the watery hole and jumped in feet first.  I wasn't thinking, at least not until I was completely submerged in icy cold water.  Even then my only thought was
, I
hate swimming
.  But, then again, there was no swimming about it – I was just drowning.  The initial shock from the icy water caused me to open my mouth and I fought my first instinct to inhale.  I scrambled to the surface, coughing and sputtering, coming up through the same hole.  Alex had not been so lucky; there was no sign of him.  I pulled back wet strands of hair plastered over my face to see three men attempting to cross the slippery lake surface to get to us.  They would never make it in time.  I took a deep breath and went back under, this time mentally prepared for the cold.

Visibility was poor at best.  I searched right beneath the ice as quickly as I could; Alex would have tried to return to the same spot.  I began swimming along, careful not to lose my own bearing of the hole.  My search attempts were cut short by the painful cry for air from my lungs.  Returning to the hole, I spotted Alex just on the other side.  His body was limp and starting to sink.  I quickly swam toward him and wrapped my arms around his waist, kicking up to the surface.  I struggled under his weight, and was now desperate for air.  Still, if I let him go, he wouldn’t have a chance.  I kicked and kicked but the hole didn’t seem to be getting any closer.  My lungs threatened to burst and instinct for my own survival took over.  I let him go.