Chapter 9—Unseen Changes
Yes, Lydia decided as she watched the birds dip and dive. She wouldn’t fly miles to parts of the world beyond, like in her dreams, but back home instead.
Then her thoughts turned darker, and she began to blame her parents for this disaster. Why didn’t they do more? With great, fat tears they had let her go, but they had let her go all the same. She might be gone for so long that they would forget about her and not care if she was alive or dead. If they visited, she vowed she wouldn’t see them. Let them put on their song and dance the way they had at the hospital about how they wished they could’ve done more and would do more. If everyone abandoned her when she needed help, she decided she would not fly back home but go elsewhere.
Arthur tried again. “We didn’t know about you until we found an insurance report for the car you stopped. It was an odd one, since the driver claimed you damaged the car with your bare hands. By then, the security footage at Rooke Pharmaceuticals was gone and we couldn’t find it. The whole story was a blip in the radar; a side column in the newspaper.” Lydia snorted at this interruption and continued to stare out the window.
Something heavy dropped in her lap and she looked down. It was her camera bag. Arthur stood over her, smiling sadly and asked, “May I sit?” He was asking her permission now? Why not ask if she even wanted to go on this trip?
“Whatever,” Lydia said, grumbling as she took out her camera. She absent-mindedly ran through the memory. Every picture from yesterday was deleted, but she checked the rest of the functions, if only to avoid talking with Arthur.
No such luck for her. He sat down across from her and leaned forward. “Look, I know you must hate me, but what I did was for your benefit. There are dangerous people out there who will be after you, if they aren’t already—especially one particular group.”
Lydia considered not saying anything. Whenever Arthur talked or answered a question, she always had several new queries. Her entire predicament was driving her insane. But she relented, wanting to get to the bottom of it all. “Why? What do they want with me?”
“They want you, specifically,” he said, appearing at ease. “The accident at the labs granted you abilities they’d be very interested in. That’s why we sought you out before they could recruit you.”
“Because you’re interested in the same abilities?” Lydia asked.
“Only so that we can protect you and the public,” he said. “These guys are terrorists. They have caused widespread devastation and anarchy across the globe. You remember that virus that ran rampant through the northwest US and in parts of Russia? The MD89? Capable of shutting down one’s heart after a week?”
The name rang a bell, and it took her a few moments before she remembered all the details. Her parents had feared it would hit their town, but thankfully it never had. The virus had simply skirted the state’s borders. It had stayed predominantly in Oregon and Washington, but that hadn’t prevented Colorado’s inhabitants from rushing out to be vaccinated. She nodded. “Yeah, I know of it.”
“It’s their work. Have you heard of the SN91 in the news?”
“That disease that causes muscle weakness and nerve degeneration?” she said, recalling all that she’d heard from the recent news and last month’s broadcasts on Spain’s case. One anchorman had compared it to a faster, deadlier Lou Gehrig’s disease that attacked the body’s nerves, shutting down functions rapidly over a period of several weeks, tops.
“The very same.” He nodded. “That one is suspected to be courtesy of this same terrorist group as well, whom we’ve dubbed the Rogue BEP Brigade. This isn’t even including the myriad of other diseases we believe they’ve created over the years, too. It’s gotten some countries so scared that they have hired PMC groups to bolster their forces and counteract any further terrorist attacks.”
“Why not let the FBI, CIA, or whoever handle it?” Lydia asked, putting down her camera. “Why do they want me?”
“First of all, those organizations are involved, but we’re helping them. We’re in charge of situations such as yours and are dealing with events related to people like you,” Arthur explained. “It’s not only you they want. It’s anyone with abilities and powers like yours. You see, the Brigade has powers, too. Different effects, but still superhuman abilities. Our branch of the government works with other people like you to protect the public. We also help individuals, such as you, to control their abilities and defend themselves.”
That threw Lydia for a loop. She’d thought it was a one in a million chance for her to end up the way she was. But for there to be a part of the government designated to cases like hers was astounding. Logically, she found it farfetched, and she refused to believe it on his word alone. Especially not from him. Yet an area of her mind couldn’t help entertaining the possibility. How many others were there? What sorts of talents did they have?
Suddenly, her arm throbbed intensely, driving the questions from her mind. Lydia fumbled for the pills in her pocket and tried to unscrew the top. Arthur put a hand on her arm. “Where did you get those?”
“The nurse gave them to my mom. Said I needed to take them for the pain,” Lydia said, trying to pop open the lid with one hand.
Arthur snatched her bottle away and held it out of reach. Lydia leapt for it but he kept a firm hold on the container. “The doctor said you only needed these!” Arthur said quickly, taking from his pocket the bottle that the doctor had given him.
Lydia stared at him and then at the pill bottle above his head. When she comprehended what he meant, she sat back down. Arthur opened the lid of the doctor’s pill bottle and poured her dose onto the table between them. Then he pulled a sharp knife out of his coat. He cut a pill in half, finding nothing except a solid center. He handed the pieces to Lydia, who swiftly gulped them down. The relief was almost immediate.
“This nurse,” he said, pouring out one of the cream-colored painkillers from the nurse’s bottle. “Describe her.”
“Uh, blond hair, white uniform,” Lydia said, doing her best to remember the scene, the good-byes with her parents, crying together with them in the lobby.
“Anything strange about her? Any distinguishing features?” Arthur pressed the knife into the nurse’s pill.
Strange? Lydia thought. Then one part of her memory struck her hard. “Oh! She had brown eyes with hazel swirls.”
Arthur looked up at her, his face as set as stone. The knife dug through the pill and split it into two equal pieces. “Are you sure?” he asked, his tone grave and chilling.
Lydia nodded and looked down at the pill. She’d expected the inside to be solid like the pill from the doctor’s bottle. Instead, there was a dark rectangular shape in the middle. Arthur pried at it with the tip of his knife and popped it out.
“Is that part of a computer?” Lydia asked, staring at the foreign object. Wires were embedded in its tiny surface, and it was bumpy and uneven to the touch when Lydia picked it up.
“I believe it’s a tracking device,” Arthur said, holding his hand out. Lydia dropped it into his palm and he examined it closely. “No doubt to keep an eye on you and to help find the Cave.” He picked up the pill bottle, but neither he nor Lydia found anything on it other than her personal information and directions. Arthur headed to the restroom and Lydia heard a flushing sound. When he came back, the pill bottle was gone.
Arthur walked to the captain’s cabin, leaving Lydia alone with her thoughts for a minute. A tracking device? Was that all it was? Who would do that to her? She would’ve swallowed it if not for Arthur. What on Earth had she been forced into?
Arthur returned, holding what looked like a flat, wide baton. “This is to locate any tracking or electronic devices like the one we just found. Dilbert says no one came onto the plane, but I swept the front regardless. I’ll need to search you, your luggage, and this part of the plane,” he said, waving the baton around. “But if there are any other devices like that one, they’ll likely be on the outside of the
plane.” He pulled down one of her suitcases from the overhead compartment. “Pick out some new clothes. I’ll check them, and then you can change. We’ll have to make an unexpected stop and land the plane at another airport. Then we’ll travel the rest of the way by car. Can’t afford to use the plane when there might be more tracking devices attached to it.”
Thirty minutes later found Lydia in a plain white T-shirt and jeans. Arthur was finishing his rummage through her things. The rest of the inside of the plane was, according to him, clear of bugs or other devices, so when he shut her suitcase and smiled, she felt relieved. Dozens of questions were buzzing around in her head.
“That woman you described is a member of the Brigade,” Arthur said, sitting across from Lydia again and resuming their conversation. “Obviously, she was in disguise since she’s actually a brunette. She must’ve been the one sent to recruit you.
“Remember when I said we’ve had an eye on Rooke?” he continued. She nodded. “We have reason to believe he’s connected to these terrorists.”
“Why help terrorists to dispense these diseases? Aren’t they working to cure the SN91? Didn’t they cure the MD89, too?” Lydia asked.
“Yes. Although we believe it’s for Rooke’s own benefit. Namely, cornering the market on needed pharmaceuticals by supposedly manufacturing and introducing these diseases. But any time we try to investigate Rooke, we’re stonewalled on every side. The spill accident? They swept that under the rug so quickly that we never had a chance to try and check out their storage. We might have found some concrete evidence connecting Rooke to the terrorists, and I suspect that’s why it was covered up so quickly.”
“He did pay for my medical bill,” Lydia added slowly.
“We know. Probably wanted to avoid any courtroom drama and to put your mind at ease. That’s most likely how he found you. He was also really quick to avoid anyone looking too closely at that storage room, more so than usual. Those pills,” he said, tilting his head toward the window, “are courtesy of Rooke, I’d wager. We’ll check into it, but I’m willing to bet he created them.”
Arthur leaned back. “Like I said before, the Brigade is a collection of people just like you. We’re not sure of their exact number, as it does seem to fluctuate, but we do know some of their members. They, too, have special abilities and are believed to be funded, and possibly armed with chemical weapons, all by Rooke. They have even stolen government weapons and technology. They sometimes consort with other terrorist cells, aiding them in uprisings, providing the technology they steal to the highest buyers or to anyone they support. This destabilizes countries, harms innocents, and worse. But they also work alone. That nurse was Heather Stanson, one of their most dangerous agents. Perhaps you remember her from the MD89 incident?”
Now that Arthur mentioned it, Lydia was reminded of the blurry news footage, briefly covering the identities of those behind the attack. But it was a while ago, and her memory on the subject wasn’t clear. “Sort of,” she said.
”There wasn’t much,” Arthur said. “Rooke saw to that. They couldn’t claim it wasn’t Heather, no matter how hard they tried. We personally made sure of that. But he paid the right people to let that part of the story fade into the background. It was a small victory for us, since that was the first time we could ever implicate one of their order in an incident this large. Often these people leave no trace of evidence or anything solid to convict them with. Even when they do leave some clue proving they’re involved, they’re very elusive.”
“So you have no definite proof that Rooke is behind this?”
Arthur sighed and shook his head. “Nothing concrete enough to hold up in court. Or at least nothing to overcome their bribes. In normal circumstances, what we have would be enough to at least go to trial, but so far, Rooke has kept us at bay. We can’t prove the bribes at the moment either, and don’t have the resources to investigate them. We’re smaller than other organizations, so we can only focus on gathering evidence that’s strong enough. Regardless, they’re the most likely culprit among the suspected sources we have, and I won’t stop, no matter what obstacles they throw in our way.”
Lydia nodded. Remembering the tiny listening device, she turned her attention to the chair’s tray. Arthur followed her gaze and his shoulders slumped.
“I was foolish,” he said, rubbing his temple. “I was too focused on Mitchell and overconfident when we were in the lobby. There may have been more of their group in the building, and they could’ve tried to take you then and there. They could’ve been disguised better than Heather was and I wouldn’t have noticed.”
“Heather was watching you a lot,” Lydia commented.
“I knew my disguise wasn’t as effective as I could’ve made it. We had little time to throw it together, since I was already pressed trying to get here,” Arthur said, his English accent growing with his obvious frustration. “Couldn’t exactly go into enemy territory unprepared. Lot of good that did. Didn’t even have time to get some colored contact lenses. No doubt she knew it was me and what I was there for. I was lucky to catch Rooke and his ilk unawares, but the fact that they very nearly had you is troubling.”
He hung his head, and Lydia watched him stir his thoughts around for a few minutes before she coughed, returning his attention to the previous topic. “She was there to recruit me?” Lydia asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Whenever someone new acquires abilities like yours, the Brigade seeks out that person and tries to recruit them.”
“What if they can’t?”
Arthur frowned. “That’s why we train everyone at the Cave to defend themselves. Regardless, some have been lost while others have turned traitor to one group or another. That’s also why we’ll keep an eye on you once you’re fit to leave—and we’ll help you hide,” he said.
The plane began to descend and soon touched the ground. The cabin suddenly seemed too cramped to Lydia, and she still felt trapped. Her freedoms were being taken away one by one. She thought Arthur talked a good game, but all she’d heard was that she would be locked away for a long time. Lydia hated that Arthur and his group would watch her forever. She hated the idea of the Cave. She hated Arthur, Rooke, and anything to do with her strength. She loathed this last item above all else.
She was envious of and upset at the others at home. They had no idea how great their lives were, being able to stay with their family and friends. Including Mark, who she was positive had been splashed with the same drugs. He hadn’t been affected in any way, though, which was strange. She detested his good fortune.
“Lucky Mark,” Lydia spat as the plane stopped on the runway.
“What was that?” Arthur paused in the middle of opening the overhead compartment to retrieve her belongings.
“Nothing. Just this guy I know,” she said. Wanting to be left alone as soon as possible, she tried to make her answer short. “He got some stuff on him like I did and the paramedics didn’t find anything wrong with him.”
Arthur spun Lydia around roughly and stared her dead in the eye. “Who is he?” he asked urgently.
“What’s it matter?” She tried to wiggle free, but he squeezed her shoulders harder.
“Just because there was no immediate or apparent change doesn’t mean he wasn’t affected. Rooke will try to recruit this boy,” he said, spelling it out for her. “Now, his name.”
* * *