After the Storm
Title: After the Storm
Rating: PG-13/R mostly for thematic content
Word Count: approx. 26000 officially the longest thing I have ever written.
Summary: ummm superpowers +internment camps +kradam I guess sums it up
Warnings/Author’s note (and it’s wordy): This is AU. Mostly. I do not own any of the characters, even the fake ones. Inspired partially by both astolat’s zombie fic http://www.intimations.org/fanfic/idol/House%20of%20the%20Living.html and rubyfruit’s “Summer Boys” http://community.livejournal.com/glambert_fic/22502.html I can only aspire to be half as good. Special thanks to joey, sissy, lkay and missy for being my ‘betas’ and also for being characters. (Especially joey, I swear I’ll make it up to you someday). Soupy when you are old enough and possibly want to read this: thanks for being a character too. Yes there is character death. Please read this anyway.
Apologies to Green River Ordinance for stealing the line “She is the nights I call home” from your song “Endlessly”.
I hate begging for comments but this story as the better part of a month of my life.
Oh and I swear this is it: I thought about WIP but just couldn’t bear to split it up, except that it was too long and I had to anyway
Before.
The word hadn’t meant much of anything before the twenty-fifth of August. Before then, everything had been fine. Mostly fine.
After.
That was different.
They had been in trouble the moment they arrived in Columbus, the moment the tour had scheduled a concert there. The girls had invaded the guys’ bus, a variation on one of many pranks. It had been a typical Ohio day, clear, muggy, oppressive. Then the sky had turned green and the rain poured in from every direction. The crowds ran into the arena, Adam and Kris grabbed Allison and bundled her back onto their bus. That was the moment before and after split, when everything changed. Later, their publicist, Owen, would insist they had seen it wrong, that it had just been a fluke storm. But they all knew differently. Adam had felt it, seen the lightning reverberate down the aisle.
At first, nothing changed. The show went on. Except Kris’s killer migraine that night. And his wild looks, his new reticence. Adam tried to get him to see a doctor, but Kris shook his head. The tour was almost done, and it wasn’t that bad. Adam knew it was that bad, had heard Kris softly crying in the night. But Adam, of all of them knew the concept of before quite keenly. For Adam before was North Carolina, before was the moment he had almost ruined everything.
But then Matt was sick. The unexplained fevers, frustrating and frightening. Anoop, all too quiet, all too careful. Everything was different and no one would say why. It wasn’t until the last concert, when Adam had to practically carry Kris onto the bus, when he broke the silence and asked for the doctor.
“Kris, something is wrong.”
“I’ll be fine I just need to sleep.”
Adam frowned, helped him to one of the bunks, lay him down. Kris was not fine. He looked around outside, ignoring the screams of the fans, finding one of the handlers. Kris grumbled when the doctor arrived, gasped in pain as the light shone in his eyes.
“We need to run tests. Now.”
Kris moaned, and Adam nodded, his heart in his throat. He had been on the road for three months and no trip was longer than the ten minute ambulance ride to the emergency room. Kris swore under his breath, and whimpered he was fine, leave him alone. Adam paced the emergency room, and the stares from the other people, the group too quiet, all of them knew why they were here, too afraid to speak of it. Adam was too worried, knew it showed. Normally he could have contained himself, pushed away the feelings he had been fighting, but this was Kris. Adam admitted this was a shitty time to finally admit it was more than a crush, that maybe it was the perfect time.
Then again, the memory of Kris’ face in North Carolina, the space between them since, maybe Kris had known even before Adam had. Adam cursed himself for almost making the move, for leaning when he should have turned away. But it had been done, and since then… Adam sighed. Kris was his best friend, the one person he could count on, even after that night, but it was after that Adam had begun to realize how much Kris meant to him, that Kris was his everything, that Kris was the nights he called home.
It was then the doctor came out.
“Mr. Allen is sleeping right now. He wasn’t very forthcoming, and I had a question.”
Adam nodded. ”Okay.”
“How long has he been having these headaches? And do not tell me this is the first.”
Adam could have given her the exact time, the day, the cause….”Since late August. Sometime after Columbus.”
The doctor hemmed to herself. “I see.”
“Can I see him?”
The doctor frowned. “Only family is allowed in.”
“We are family. Just one of us. Let one of us stay with him.”
Surprisingly the doctor nodded, a strange look in her eye. Adam was elected unanimously. Kris laid there, his frame small even in the cramped room. He did not move, even when Adam took his hand, brushed Kris's brow with his lips. The only accompaniment to his breathing was the whir of the machines, the steady beep of electronics, the thudding of Adam’s heart. Adam couldn’t close his eyes; afraid Kris would disappear in the night, could only study the perfect face, caress the calloused hand in his own and hope.
Of course Kris felt better in the morning. He always did. Adam was done with excuses, didn’t want to see the evasive look in Kris’ eyes. When the men in biological suits arrived, shouting orders, Adam knew that trouble had finally arrived at last.
From the recovered files of General Peyton Campbell: Project Storm, Base Zero.
It seems the side effects of Project Storm are as diverse as the subjects it has affected. While those who only received a mild exposure show no symptoms, it seems the more exposure, the stronger the corresponding “ability”. The following files are of all subjects, analysis, lab results, personal commentary from doctors, recommendations for future use.
Subject #1052: Allen, Kristopher. Arrival date 09/17/09. Symptoms: headaches, triggers unknown, though interviews with subjects that arrived with 1052 indicate emotional stress, large crowds were a problem. Telepathy confirmed 09/20/09. Telekinesis confirmed 09/25/09. Subject has been on medication for most of observation time due to said headaches. However, we have had other means of testing 1052’s abilities. As 1052 has learned to block, to filter other’s thoughts, the medication has been decreased. A couple of setbacks have pushed back his release date. His cooperation has been sketchy at best, though if one sees his lab tests, we have been able to work around that for the most part. A note: 1052 was one of the first to completely master his abilities. Well, the telepathy and empathy are still in flux, but the telekinesis is fully his to control. It was quite remarkable.
Testing did run into one snag. Like many of the others, 1052 has needed encouragement to work with us. In one simulation run with 1052’s companions, results were very satisfactory. However, when we ran the test on 10/23/09 with 1057 and 1058, the results were messy to say the least. As we all know now, 1052’s potential is somewhat frightening. However, after said incident, he was down for several days, so it may take time to tap said potential without after effects. Since 1052 has mastered his headaches, and needs to stretch his abilities in a different environment, release is recommended. We may need to bring him back from time to time for further testing, but release into main camp is approved. 02/14/10
Kris blinked at the sunlight, and the last remnants of the drugs still muffled his thoughts. He looked beyond the building behind him, its shadow barely passed his own. At first he saw the shoddily built cabins, and sand. Lots of sand. In the distance was a small complex of buildings, around it all a tall fence, soldiers with their guns pointed both inside and out. A lone road, if the trampled expanse of desert could be called road disappeared into what must have been mountains, surrounded only by miles and miles and miles of miles.
Kris began to walk, his footing still unsure, his shoes too unfamiliar. The people he passed looked at him for a moment, their faces seemingly familiar, then went on about whatever business occupied them, although it didn’t look like much. Kris remembered to filter then, remembered that thoughts were his enemy, crowds were not good, that pain was the only thing that came from the sheer number of people in the camp. He rubbed the back of his neck, and tried to forget the endless dreams, the stretching of time, the exhaustion. Somehow he had known that there were many people here, but seeing them, seeing how many people they had stuck here, still numbed him. Then he saw their faces, really felt them.
Although he buffered against the wave, their hopelessness was too keen, the weariness too heavy. Kris knew somewhere deep in his heart that he would never see home again, not after all that had happened, so he understood it a little. But how much time had really passed for those lines to be set on everyone’s faces? How long had he really been in that lonely room? In a corner of his brain a voice screamed that this was a dream, that if he could only wake up he would be on the bus, preparing for another concert. But that was before the storm, before everything had changed.
He searched the crowd, and looked for someone to hold onto. Despite the hair, Adam was the first person he recognized. Kris could have laughed; he would have known Adam anywhere. He tried to call out, but words wouldn’t come. The sight of the seven of them, some of the most important people in his life, left him speechless. He picked up his pace, until Allison squealed, pointed. Adam turned then, his eyes direct, everything he felt blazing through the delicate barrier of Kris’s mind. Then they all came, collided in a cloud of tears and laughter.
“What kept you?” Adam asked as they stood in the shadows. “Or was the bunker that nice?”
“The bunker?” Kris asked.
Everyone pointed to the building in the east, the one Kris had emerged from that morning.
“Oh,” he said. “Okay. Well, to be honest, with the drugs and tests and all, I’m not even sure what day it is. What month it is.” What year it is.
Adam sighed. “Well, the camp counselors were kind enough to give us a day off for Valentine’s Day so you came just in time to help decorate for the dance.”
Kris gaped. February? It was February? Oh God. Katy. Oh God. His breath was shallow, the delicate wall he had constructed began to crumble, and everyone began to shout at him, at least it seemed to be in his mind. He could hear them telling stories, their voices building on top of each other, one of them screaming, it must have been Scott, for Todd. It was all bundled in love and joy and fear, the patchwork of emotions beginning to smother him. Kris tried to speak, to tell them they needed to stop, tried to resurrect one of the exercises, but he couldn’t focus. He dropped to one knee, forcing his hands to stay at his sides when he wanted to claw at his head, to release the pain. Adam knelt beside him, a new wave hitting him, all the things he had suspected confirmed in one moment, and assaulted him.
“Don’t… don’t… tell…” Kris gasped, and spots formed in front of his eyes.
“Shhh, don’t speak,” Adam whispered, “It’s okay.”
Kris panicked, because if the doctors realized that the headaches were back, he would be back in the bunker, back to the haze of never knowing exactly what was going on while being painfully and completely aware of it. He couldn’t go back, not to the dreams, the endless nights…
Don’t tell them it was a headache. Please.
Subject #1057: Lambert, Adam. Arrival date 09/17/09. No overt symptoms upon arrival. First use of ability unknown, as subject may have been using it without direct knowledge. For now we have termed it vocal manipulation. It seems that 1057 can influence others when using a certain vocal inflection. Subject mastered abilities rather quickly, though his vocal training probably helped in this area. As with others, 1057 became more difficult as he was not allowed to see the others. Again, with the right inspiration, 1057 became very helpful. While his ability is useful, getting him to completely cooperate will take time. He will be a useful tool in controlling the others. We must be able to observe him outside of the lab, to see if we can find a way to make him cooperate fully. Release to main camp recommended 10/30/09
Subject #119: Simms, Emily. Arrival date 08/30/09. Symptoms: a very loud voice. An extremely loud voice. Although of little use, 119 was one of our original subjects, and has been useful in providing base statistics for us. 119 is an interesting case study, probably an ideal candidate for Base Three, to see if her lack of power affects the possible genetic spread.
Adam had never cared much what people thought, especially now holding Kris’s hand, hoping he would wake, wondering if he would. Allison was just beside him, her eyes too old, too sad, a familiar ache in his chest knowing she shouldn’t be here. The others were in the main room of the cabin, waiting. The last five months had been hell, and without his best friend it had been bad. Kris seemed so much smaller, skin and bones and worry lines. Adam sighed, the only one who had heard the desperation in the voice that had rung in his head, was the only one who knew that Kris had had it very bad, possibly the worst out of all of them. Of course no one wanted to go back to the bunker, not even Danny, who had had a hard time believing that it had been as bad as everyone had said.
“Please tell me we got lost on our way to the airport and this is the worst hotel ever.”
Adam looked down, smiled softly, “Sorry, still in Area 51.”
Kris sat up slowly as Allison went to go get the others, “Area 51?”
“Well, that’s what we call it. The, ah, doctors, the guards call it Base Zero. We liked area 51 better. Especially since we are in New Mexico. And don’t ask how we know, we did check GPS on our phones before they were taken away.”
Kris chuckled, his face almost looking normal again
“So Adam says you must be a telepath or something,” Allison asked from the door, the others crowding in the tiny room.
Kris nodded slowly. “With a dash of empathy and telekinesis thrown in for good measure.”
“Ok you lost me for a minute.”
“He can move stuff with his mind. Also feel emotions to an extent. Right?” Anoop commented.
Kris nodded, and Adam realized the implications of it all, and carefully pushed his feelings down, his thoughts to something that resembled normalcy.
“Don’t completely freak on me, everyone. I, uh, can filter most thoughts anyway. Kind of like ignoring that high pitched noise that comes from your TV. It’s the strong thoughts and emotions I have to really worry about. Plus it would be rude to peek, right?”
“Allen, only you would talk about telepathy and think about your manners.”
Kris shrugged.
“So earlier, what was that about?” Michael asked.
“Well, I’m new at this, and with all of you, and finally realizing that I lost five months somewhere, well, I backtracked.”
“So I’m guessing you won’t need much of a recap of the last three months then?”
“Bear with me a minute: we’re in a government internment camp of some sorts for people with, ah, abilities? It had to have been that damn storm outside Columbus, wasn’t it? Todd and Lil were in the back of the bus, so they weren’t hit as bad, Alli’s mom was still on the girls’ bus, which means she wasn’t affected at all. They went home. Matt’s still in the bunker, somewhere. The rest of you are here, mostly. That about cover it?”
Adam stood and walked to the tiny window. It was odd that five months could be dissected in so few sentences, that it was all they had. Every day they woke to sand and sun and soldiers, their days concentrated on meaningless tasks, lab days that were best left alone. The most memories were from the beginning, the flight here to the special ‘hospital’, Kris and Matt rushed off with no words. Adam had held onto Alli as long as he could, until the lines were separated into boys and girls, her crying echoing from across the room. The moment they realized they weren’t going to a normal hospital, that this was real, when the young man in the blue shirt-no one had known him, Adam wished over and over he had at least had a name to call him- when he began to fight, to call for his lawyer, and demand his rights… The sharp blast still echoed in his dreams, the moment frozen in his memory, that was a moment of before and after. After that, going home seemed more distant than ever.
Adam had never thought much on his ancestry until that day, when they gave him a number, told him to strip, change into nondescript grays, to shave his head, to walk down a hall that resembled a hospital, except his door locked, and the screaming and crying kept him up the first few nights. But the one thing the doctors hadn’t counted on was that Adam didn’t care about his looks, not really, he had been himself for so long that a buzz cut and a terrible pair of pants wasn’t going to kill him. He was just glad to be the hell out of the building, the pain of not cooperating had almost killed him. Outside, nothing could be accomplished, because if you talked, you disappeared. Adam couldn’t see them all, but there were enough surveillance cameras to cover any escape plans. Suicide, if one contemplated it, was also out, no razors had been given out. Those who still wanted it over, they continued to tread water, to eat their three meals a day, do their chores, had chosen merely to survive. Adam, as well as others had chosen to cooperate at least on a limited basis, with the doctors, just to be given a chance to practice their abilities. Of course it was on their terms, but any chance to practice, just n case there was an opening to escape…
“Adam?”
Kris was holding onto his arm, his face pale. Adam shook himself. “Yeah?”
“They shot someone?”
Adam blinked, saw the room was empty, realized it was dinnertime.
“You, ah, were thinking pretty loud, and I, ah, wanted to get you for dinner, and I saw, uh, well,” Kris swallowed
“When we came in, when we got out of the bunker, others told us that they shot at least four or five others. Guess more of them resisted. Guess we can talk about it cause they want the lesson reinforced. I suspect if they didn’t want us to talk about it we would know,” Adam nodded towards one of the cameras outside.
“Jesus.”
Adam looked at him, and knew that even with what happened in the bunker, there were still things to fear. They walked in silence to dinner, and Adam was afraid to do what he really wanted, to sling his arm over Kris’ shoulder, to hold him close and tell him it was okay. But considering what had happened after North Carolina, Adam knew that it would be a mistake. In the months apart, he had confirmed his worst suspicions: he had fallen head over heels for his best friend, and he couldn’t let him know, didn’t want to bombard him with any more than he had to handle. They sat at a table and shoveled in what the camp counselors (and they really needed to come up with a better name than that) called food, and Adam noticed how separate the eight of them really were. Perhaps it was their friendship. The idea of having been through something together, having been through two somethings together. Maybe it was because some of the other refugees had recognized them; maybe it was all his imagination. Either way, their group was the one with smiles, the only brightness in the large room.
“JUST BECAUSE I’M FROM OHIO DOES NOT MEAN I BLEED SCARLET AND GRAY!”
Adam laughed as Kris’ head whipped around, and looked at a nearby blonde.
“That’s Emily; she has trouble with her volume sometimes.”
Kris smiled a little. “I don’t blame her. I mean, really, Ohio State?”
Adam watched as he, Anoop and several others began to argue college ball. He shook his head, glad of the diversion, any diversion that put smiles on people’s faces. He shrugged at Emily who blushed and tried to argue that high school football was way better than college ball anyway. Emily was one of the closest to their group. She and Allison had been released the same day, had made friends.
Anyone who made Alli smile again was good in Adam’s book.
Adam sighed when everyone rearranged themselves in the cabin to put Kris in with him. Of course it made the most sense: they were best friends after all. Plus with Danny across the “street” and Allison next door, there was still a little room to maneuver. It was late in the night when Adam heard Kris get up, go outside. Adam hesitated, cursed himself and followed.
“Can’t sleep?”
Kris shook his head. “Have to filter consciously. Can’t block dreams yet.”
Adam swallowed. “I can see how that may be a problem.”
Kris wryly smiled. “It has nothing to do with geography if you are terribly concerned. It could be anyone’s.”
“Well, still, I’m sure there are plenty of bad dreams to be had.”
“You have no idea.”
The bitterness made him want to weep. This was not his Kris. This Kris was unsteady, unsure. The Kris Adam knew was the rock they had all leaned on. He was their foundation. Seeing him like this, knowing he had suffered, even knowing they had all suffered knowing Kris’ pain… Adam wanted to reach out, like before. Before it would have been fine. Before, Adam could have done it. Before, Kris had been able to handle anything with calm and grace, rarely broken his reserve. After, three times in the space of one day his face had fallen, his eyes had turned hard, his voice had broken.
“All right, spill.” Adam sat on the steps, as close as he could get without directly touching him.
“It’s nothing. It’s everything. I missed Christmas. I missed drinking with my brother and singing Christmas carols off key while wearing an ugly sweater my aunt gave me. I’m supposed to be promoting my album, gearing up for a tour. I’m supposed to be home. All these people: one day with them, even filtered and I’m worn out. Worn down. Worst of all I’m glad Katy isn’t here. Does that make any sense? This whole year has been surreal, but this takes the fucking prize. And you. You’re sitting over there, thinking to yourself so loudly that you can’t let me know, that it’s too much for me to handle. I’m telling you right now that I didn’t have to be a telepath to know how you felt, Adam! Jesus, it’s all over your face! Don’t look at me like that! I’m tired of that look, tired of people shying away and it’s been one fucking day! I-“
Kris rubbed his face with his hands, trembling, and Adam gave up. He reached over, pulled Kris close, held him as his body shook, and wished the tears would come, and knew even this was a step forward. Adam rubbed his back, softly singing the first Christmas carol he could think of. “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” probably wasn’t what Kris had in mind, but it seemed to be working. The tremors seemed to have passed, Kris seemed to be calming. Adam sighed. He didn’t care anymore; it was good just to feel something positive for once.
Yeah. Me too.
Subject #1056: MacIntyre, Scott. Arrival date 09/17/09. No symptoms exhibited upon arrival. An interesting ability. The return, the gain of eyesight was most intriguing. He kept demanding his brother, subject #1049, remaining completely uncooperative his whole time in testing. However, the mishap (as described in 1056’s last lab report) has made 1056 very volatile. While he has been released to main camp, we still recommend termination. Even though base three should be a possibility, the combination of the error in testing and the psychological effects of our testing has made 1056 entirely unsuitable for any further research.
I can feel the dust everywhere, the dry heat cracking my skin, the sun beating down. But it is better than the cool hallways of the bunker, better than the place I was. I didn’t have to see the shot to know our captors meant business. After all, we had been unceremoniously been shipped off without a word to our families, where did they think we were going? Sometimes I feel so lost, I wish my brother was here.
I want to go home, where the steps are all familiar, where the spaces don’t change. I want to sit at my piano, to sing again. I want that one shining moment in the locked room where I could see, where everything came at me in shapes and colors. I want my brother back. The guards call me Cyclops, because of the glasses, glasses I should have never needed in the first place. I wouldn’t know about comic books, about any of it.
Sometimes, when I feel the most confused, when it becomes really bad, Adam sits with me and tells me it’s going to be okay. He is very calming. But I still want to go back to normal. Sometimes I dream about what happened in the dark, and I’m scared. I don’t want to be scared anymore.
Subject #1053: Giraud, Matthew: Arrival 09/17/09. Symptoms: persistent fevers. First exhibited signs of pyrokinesis 10/12/09. A most cooperative subject, it has been necessary to keep 1053 here for his own safety. A number of accidents have pushed back his release date several times. However he is most eager to explore all aspects of his ability. In the time we have had with 1053, he is an ideal candidate to recruit right away. He has worked with us directly and honestly. In order to truly test his compliance, we must release him into camp, must let him gain information our cameras cannot collect. Release approved 03/01/10
Kris sat on the steps of the cabin, and hummed softly to himself. He had no idea how this particular song had gotten stuck in his head, but it was a welcome distraction in the break before lunch. The last two weeks had been tough. He remembered particularly the one day he had lain in bed, crying because it had been too much. All these people, all their pain. The memories of his drug induced state were coming back, the time there too painful to ignore, the horror too much to bear. Most days, he would grit his teeth and get up. His friends helped. Before, and there was a word that carried so much weight, before he had been so sure of everything. Now it was all a mess, and without his friends to lean on, he was sure he would have been lost.
He laughed a little. A year ago, he would have said he was strong enough on his own. Six months ago, he would have said without Allison and Adam, he wouldn’t be standing where he was. Now, if he was asked…. He shook his head, the low buzz too familiar. Adam had barely talked to him since his arrival in the main camp. Kris understood, considering, but at the same time it depressed him. Adam had been the one person he had been closest too, and now-Kris should have been frightened of all those feelings, should have walked away. Should was another weighty word. Knowing what Adam felt was more of a comfort than it should have been. It was nice to experience good feelings, though Kris felt guilty for purposely placing himself in Adam’s presence just to feel them. But at night, when the dreams came, when the memories were to dark, and left him shaking, running to the bathroom, he knew he had to grab onto something to survive.
“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain, too much love drives a man insane, you broke my will, oh what a thrill, goodness gracious great balls of fire”
“Kris?”
Adam looked at him, his face concerned. Kris hadn’t even realized he was singing aloud. He looked around quickly, and realized it had only been just loud enough for Adam to hear. Late February they had had the ill advised idea to give a mini concert after dinner. But any activity not sponsored by their camp counselors was strictly forbidden. They had all decided then that having a gun stuck to their throats was not a good way to spend any evening. That “Doctor” Campbell, head counselor, camp headmistress, was a scary scary woman.
“Of all the songs to sing, to get yourself killed over, why that one?”
Adam leaned over the rail, grinning.
“I don’t know, just popped into my head. The funny thing is that it sounds exactly like Matt.”
“Matt?”
“Did someone call for me?”
Adam’s head turned and Kris stared as the song turned up full blast. There was Matt, the healthiest looking camper he had ever seen, a stupid grin on his face, singing in his head. Then Allison, always Allison, came ruining and screaming and they were a pile in the dirt, laughing and calling his name.
People passed by them on their way to lunch, brief flashes of fear and jealousy. If the guards, the counselors disapproved, Matt would not be here. Why shouldn’t they be happy? Matt was a piece of them. Kris concentrated as everyone chattered. He hated to peek, the battle between wanting to know and respecting everyone’s privacy fresh in his mind.
“The bunker? Is that what you call it?”
Everyone nodded, Alli shivered. “So glad to be here?”
Matt shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad.”
Then Kris got it: Matt was one of the lucky few who had escaped the worst, who had been treated as if he were normal. He looked confused at everyone’s stories that builded on top of each other. Well, the stories they wanted to tell, wanted to share. Some things would never see the light of day.
“But they said, I mean, the guards… they shot someone?”
Everyone nodded. I can show you if you want.
His face turned to Kris’, the crack in his heart all over it. “Okay,” he whispered.
Kris concentrated: he hadn’t tried this before, was only slightly sure it would work, considering it wasn’t his memory. Matt slowly paled, nodded.
“So what do we do about getting out of here?”
Everyone gasped and looked around.
We don’t talk about that. Not unless you want to disappear. And for crying out loud can you sing a new song already?
Matt looked at him, a small smile on his face. “Sorry, it’s just been in my head man.”
“Why that one?”
Matt grinned, holding out his hand, a small flame appearing, gone.
Anoop poked him. “Bet you couldn’t hold it in. Couldn’t control it, except instead of riffology it was flameology.”
Matt laughed. “Got it in one, man, got it in one.”
Once again at lunch they were slightly separate, the nine of them joked and laughed, although not too loudly, they knew that was a problem, too. To Kris more faces would turn their way every day, more people seemed to want to join, but were too afraid to ask. Emily was the only one who dared, the only one who seemed comfortable enough to enter their bubble. He made a mental note to try and make friends, to try to include them, if he could, if the counselors would let them, to try and bring some light.
“All right, so I know Kris is a what do you call it?”
“Telepath. With telekinesis thrown in for good measure. I move stuff with my mind.”
“I know what telekinesis is. What about everyone else? What? I’m curious? I mean, it makes us the Justice League of America or something, doesn’t it?”
Kris cracked a grin. Trust Matty to reduce it to comic books. Just like everyone else had.
“No way,” Mike spoke up. “Totally X-Men.”
“X-Men?”
“Yeah, I mean we got Cyclops,” he pointed to Scott, “A much more powerful version of Jubilee, maybe Dazzler,” He nodded at Allison, “Our very own Beast, except a lot less furry,” Anoop grinned, “A female Angel, no wings necessary,” Megan rolled her eyes, “I guess I could call Adam somewhat like Banshee or Siryn, but a lot cooler, and Danny is kind of like a reverse Wolverine, and you Matty, well, I guess you don’t really have a character, but I’m sure I’ll remember one soon. Me? I guess I’m Kitty Pryde, much to my dismay. And Kris, well, Kris is our very own Jean Grey.”
“I told you a million times, I am not Jean Grey. At least give me Professor X. Jeez,” Kris sighed.
“Nope. You aren’t strong enough to be Professor X yet. Gotta work on it for awhile.”
Matt giggled through the whole of this; the rest of us had already heard this. Mike and a couple of comic book geeks had categorized everyone in camp as best they could, arguing X-Men had the most diversity; therefore it was the best fit. It was also the fifth meal in a row this conversation had been brought up.
“I still say that there are nine of us, and that makes us a fellowship,” Anoop argued.
Adam, Allison and Kris all groaned. Not this again.
“Just because I’m short does not make me a hobbit, Noop. Anyway, they were all guys.”
“Anyway, Adam is more of a Dumbledore than a Gandalf,” Allison giggled, and tried to change the subject yet again.
Kris laughed then as they ventured into other literature, what the rightful name of their group should be. He was fairly certain that the counselors would not approve of any such idea, that if they ever settled on a name, that mentions of said name would be banned. Yes the counselors let them be together, but Kris had a distinct feeling they had their reasons, that it was all a part of the larger experiment. Matt had been right, there had to be a way out of here, but they couldn’t talk about it, could do nothing but live each day as the one before, to wonder what was the purpose, to begin to ear down in the dust, to be blown away, just another grain of sand.
Then the stupid song came again.
“Jeez, Kris, I can’t help it!”
Kris stared at Matt, sitting three people down, and glared right at him. “I didn’t-“
“You told me to shut up.”
“I--” Kris paused, and his thought whirled. He nudged Adam and Allison, and focused on all three of them. He wondered if he could get it to work again.
Can all of you hear me? They nodded. Hmmm, guess this means I can reach just a little further. This could be interesting.
If he could talk to them, what about the others? What about the whole camp? Kris had a vague memory of doing something big, of the pain that came with it. If he practiced enough could he do it again?? Kris tried to keep calm, but his thoughts kept bouncing around, asking new questions at every turn. Could he form an escape plan without anyone finding out? Kris tried to keep reality in check, but the thought of seeing trees again, of sleeping in a real bed, of sleeping without the dreams appealed to him. For the first time since he had lain down with a blinding headache in August, he began to hope again.
part 2: http://poppetawoppet.livejournal.com/3119.html