Catalyst: (Elevated Saga Book #2) Read online

  “You want to head back to my place?” he asks, finishing his last piece of sandwich.

  Considering staring out at this view seems to upset him, I agree. We head back into the car and down the mountain. Unlike the trip up, he doesn’t attempt to start any conversations. After a few minutes of awkward silence, I try my luck.

  “Pretty sure Shelia will go for Thomas. She has a thing for brown hair.”

  “Yeah,” Elliott says. “Pretty sure producers manipulate the whole thing anyway. Just a dumb show.”

  I sink back into my seat, feeling awful for spoiling Elliott’s day.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “No,” Elliott says, twirling his chair around. “You’re right. I’m grasping at straws. Not facing what we’re really up against.”

  “No, it’s not a bad idea. We need to be prepared. And there are worse things than living in the woods.”

  Elliott looks up.

  “I certainly could do a lot of plant studies,” I say. “Just promise, if we start living like Neanderthals you won’t knock me on the head with a club and drag me off to your cave, ok?”

  Elliott grins mischievously. “I don’t know. That’s a pretty big sacrifice.”

  We both laugh, and I’m relieved to have broken the tension.

  “Besides,” I say. “Somehow they’ve managed to live out there without trouble.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been wondering about that. How have they lived out there without any interference?”

  “Guess they don’t pose much of a threat. And they do have a legion of mutant animals around them.”

  Elliott leans on his elbow. “Maybe. I just think there’s more to these Naturals than people think.”

  It wouldn’t surprise me if that were the case. Although the books of explorers finding Naturals provided some fun reading, I didn’t believe any of the stories in them. It’s hard to imagine a group of people abandoning their life of modern conveniences and reverting all the way back to simple tribal living. There was definitely more to the story.

  We exchange theories the rest of the drive home. Maybe they swore those who discovered them to secrecy. But somebody would have taken their chances by now, at least for a few book sales. At the least, a picture would have leaked out or something. Maybe they surrendered their weapons to the government. But that would render them helpless against the mutant animals or outsiders. Most grimly, maybe they just killed everyone they came in contact with. Thankfully, I think we would know if that were the case since there would be a fair amount of missing people. As the theories continue to be shot down, I’m relieved that Elliott comes back to life. Distraction relieves depression. Maybe those reality TV shows weren’t so bad after all.

  Mrs. Ford greets us at his front door, looking perplexed. “You’re back early.”

  “Yeah, too hot outside,” Elliott says.

  She glances over at me. “Hmmm, ok. Well, you’ve made it back just in time. Shelia is getting ready to make her decision.”

  “Great,” I say, a little embarrassed the excitement in my voice is authentic.

  The living room is even more blistering than normal. She set up a heater in the room and between that and the humidifier, it’s an Amazon rainforest.

  “You ok, Grandma?” Elliott asks.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, although her voice sounds raspy.

  We take our seats on the couch. Shelia stands in front of the two men, dramatic music playing, as if she were going to sentence them to death. An attractive host in a suit stands beside her.

  “So Shelia,” he says, “let’s take a journey back to see how we got to this point.”

  “Stupid filler,” Mrs. Ford says. “Just dragging it out to get more commercial time.”

  Elliott stands up. “I’m going to grab a drink, anyone want anything?”

  “How ‘bout a martini?” Mrs. Ford says, and I notice her eyes are a little bloodshot.

  Elliott just grimaces. “I think you could use some water.”

  “I’ll take some water,” I say, wiping sweat off my face. I feel like I’ve lost a few pounds in just the few minutes I’ve been in this sauna.

  “Ok, be right back,” he says before leaving the room.

  “Have a nice time?” Mrs. Ford asks.

  “Yes, always,” I say.

  “Kissed you yet?”

  “What?”

  “Knew it. Just like his grandfather. You know, I had to practically jump on him? Shy boy. But once he got going, I tell you—”

  She cuts herself off and I’m glad to find out there’s at least some filter left. Thankfully, Elliott reenters the room a moment later, sparing me any further embarrassment.

  “Miss much?” Elliott asks.

  “Just a montage of all the makeout scenes of the show,” I say, while a clip plays of Shelia kissing the seventh guy in a row.

  “Not sure why one would want to publicize that they exchanged saliva with so many people. Unless to brag about your immunity.”

  I laugh and glance over at Mrs. Ford, who shakes her head. “Just like his grandfather,” she says.

  Even so, as the montage continues and we watch the endless displays of affection, Elliott’s hand caresses my knee. Perhaps there’s a romantic inside him after all.

  I snap back when Mrs. Ford coughs loudly.

  “You ok?” Elliott asks.

  She keeps coughing, unable to give a response. Her breathing sounds like a chainsaw.

  “Grandma!” Elliott reaches over and touches her face. “Your face is on fire.”

  Her coughing calms down. “Just a little hot. I need to lie down.”

  “You need a doctor,” Elliott says.

  “No doctor,” she says in a strained voice as she lies down on the couch. She lets off a few more coughs, and then settles down.

  “It’s been getting worse every day,” Elliott says to me quietly and leads me out of earshot.

  “Why don’t you call a doctor?” I ask.

  “She won’t have it.”

  “But if she’s sick then—”

  “She’s also stubborn. Trust me. You can’t force a doctor on her.”

  She coughs again. Elliott walks over to her and feels her face. “I need to take your temperature.”

  “No, I’m—” she starts before turning away from him towards a wall. She coughs louder this time.

  Elliott leans over to me and whispers, “It’s a battle every time. I think she knows if it gets too bad I’m calling an ambulance.”

  I place my hand on her shoulder. “Please, we’re only trying to help.”

  She rolls back over, her shirt covered in blood. “Help, Elliott, hands.” Her arms stretch out towards Elliott’s, shaking violently before they collapse on the couch.

  “What does she mean?” I ask.

  Elliott pulls out his phone and dials a number.

  “Don’t call,” Mrs. Ford says. “Too late.”

  Elliott is giving the details of our location and Mrs. Ford struggles to reach out again. She forces some words out. “Only want hands.”

  I realize what is going on. “Elliott? She wants you to—”

  Elliott covers the phone. “Zap her. I know. She’s asked me before.” He reaches down to hold her hand in his own. “Hang on, Grandma, help is on the way.”

  She grips his hand tightly. “Please.” Tears run down her face. She keeps coughing and blood spurts out of her mouth.

  “Grandma, you know I can’t,” Elliott says.

  “Last wish,” she says.

  “Grandma, you’re just being melodramatic. They’ll be here soon, and you’ll be fine and—”

  She coughs up again. She’s gasping for breath, clinging on to life. I can’t believe Elliott didn’t call in medics earlier. He keeps massaging her hands. He closes his eyes and mouth, his entire face tightening. A blue glow begins to shine from his hand.

  I grab his shoulder. “Elliott, what are you doing?”

  “She’s dying. She deserves t
o know,” he says.

  “You don’t know that,” I say.

  If Elliott transforms his grandmother, then he would be discovered and questions would start coming, which would lead to me.

  I grab at him, trying to pull him away. “Elliott, stop!”

  He pushes me back and I fall to the floor. Immediately, I regret my actions. How can I tell Elliott what to do? I’m not even thinking about his secret, only my own. And doesn’t his grandmother deserve to know the truth? But his zapping will have a ripple effect far beyond this house. Elliott just isn’t thinking. He’s too wrapped up in his grandmother.

  I pull myself back onto the couch and reach over for his hand. Elliott blocks me.

  “No, Rose. This is my choice,” he says.

  His hand glows brighter. It’s close.

  Mrs. Ford looks up at him, and her face shows color for the first time. “Thank you.”

  The living room bursts in a dazzling flash of light. When my vision returns, Elliott is panting, his hands at his side. Mrs. Ford strains to sit up, her face beaming with excitement.

  “I knew it,” she says, voice still rough, but with a new resolve.

  I cover my mouth when I see them. Two wings of bright lavender stretch out over the edge of the couch. Elliott’s mouth hangs open.

  Mrs. Ford’s face erupts into a huge smile, and then she begins laughing. Her laughter gives way to a cough, and her breath becomes labored. As she struggles, her body convulses, until she gives in and slumps onto the couch.

  Elliott grabs her shoulders. “Grandma!”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A few minutes later, the door swings open to a group of paramedics. One of them reaches down and takes her pulse.

  Elliott’s voice wobbles. “Is she—?”

  “She’s alive,” a paramedic says. “Hopefully she’ll fit on our gurney. You didn’t say she was a Flier.”

  “I’m sorry, I was so panicked I—”

  Taking extra precautions not to damage her wings, they take her body onto the gurney and wheel her out. Elliott and I follow behind.

  “Awfully old to be a flier,” one of the paramedics says.

  “P-p-pilot group member,” Elliott says.

  “Didn’t realize they ever did GEMO on people that old.”

  “Just a few, t-t-to make sure they d-d-didn’t have a bad reaction. Her son, my father, worked in Fothsville.”

  “Oh,” the paramedic’s face drops. “Sorry to hear that.”

  Elliott never told me his parents’ history, so I’m not sure if he’s telling the truth or not. At any rate, it’s a reasonable story because Fothsville was one of the earliest GEMO stations. After being open only a few months, a mysterious accident shut it down. To this day, no definitive answer exists as to what caused the incident. GEMO technology was so new, so delicate. It was at the end of what seemed like a perfect afternoon of GEMO treatments. After almost a hundred people had been successfully zapped, an explosion ripped through the entire building. There were few survivors.

  “I’m sorry,” Elliott whispers. “I shouldn’t—”

  I cover his mouth. “We’ll talk later.”

  On the ride over to the hospital, they are able to stabilize Mrs. Ford’s breathing. Elliott sits beside me, staring into space. I take his hand in mine and he perks up. We’ve never held hands before. His warm hand sinks into mine and caresses it. I gaze into his blue eyes and give him a reassuring smile. He looks strained, eyes watering, but refusing to surrender to tears.

  “You can cry, you know,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “I hate crying, especially in front of strangers.”

  My hand nuzzles his face. “How about in front of your best friend?”

  He freezes a moment and stares back at me.

  “Well don’t look so shocked,” I say. “I thought you liked me or something.”

  He smiles. “Something, I guess.”

  I punch him in the side. “Jerk.”

  ***

  It’s a whirlwind once we arrive at the hospital and before I know it, Elliott and Mrs. Ford are rushed into the ER. I wait outside in the waiting area, which is the definition of sterile. Ash gray walls top a speckled carpet the color of sand. Chairs line the wall in an exact configuration only achieved from cementing them to the ground. Even the magazines on the waiting room table fan out in a meticulous manner.

  A teenager sits on a chair covered with black ink. He must be a new Inker. He hides his face in embarrassment. It’s rough for them until they hone their powers. I take a seat across from an Eater, snacking on a mail bin he pulled from the Eater tray. The only advantage to being an Eater is the cheap grocery bill. Most places set out random items that would be thrown out anyway. Many suffer from poor nutrition since science hasn’t quite caught up to how their stomach works.

  I wait nearly an hour; the Elevateds near me are called in one by one, and by the time Elliott comes out, I sit alone. I try to sense from his posture how his grandmother is doing, but his blank face is hard to read.

  He sits next to me. “She’s in surgery now. There’s something up with her lungs.”

  I nod.

  He glances around the room, looking for anyone nearby. “I think she’ll be ok, but I—”

  He pauses and rubs his hands together. “I don’t know, Rose, what was I thinking?”

  I grab his shoulders, hoping to calm him. “You were thinking of your grandmother. She wanted it.”

  He frowns. “Yeah, she wanted it. I wonder if she was keeping me from calling the hospital just so she could guilt me into it.”

  He stops talking for a second.

  “Forget I said that, Rose.”

  The truth is, I’ve wondered the same thing. With his grandmother so desperate to acquire a power, it would have been tempting. But the last thing he needs is to hear that.

  “What’s important now is for her to be alright,” I continue, trying to convince myself.

  “And if she is ok, what then?” Elliott asks.

  “One step at a time.”

  Elliott places an arm on my shoulder. “They won’t find out about you. I promise. And even if they do, I’ll just say I forced you to let me experiment on you.”

  Leaning closer, I stare into his eyes. “You can’t do that.”

  His voice is direct. “Better I get put in prison than both of us.”

  “I’ll tell them, I won’t let you—”

  “You will. It doesn’t make sense any other way.”

  My parents enter the hospital, interrupting our conversation. We exchange hugs and update them on the situation. Then, we sit back down and wait. And wait.

  ***

  A few hours later, a nurse approaches us holding a clipboard. “Excuse me, Elliott. I just wanted to let you know she is out of surgery now. She came through with flying colors, but we’re still working on fully stabilizing her breathing.”

  I groan inside, wishing she had picked another metaphor. Nothing is going to be fine. Any investigating and his story will fall apart. His best bet would be for her to say she bought the powers off some black market dealer or something. Better her going to jail than Elliott. She took advantage of him. There’s always the chance she could relapse. The morbid thought goes through me that if she dies, then Elliott is in the clear. But I feel selfish for even entertaining it.

  “Is she awake?” Elliott asks.

  “Not yet,” says the nurse. “Soon.”

  “I’d better head back then,” Elliott says and heads through the swinging doors leading to the emergency ward.

  Dad taps me on the knee. “Probably should get going too.”

  My parents stand up and start to leave, but I remain sitting. Dad glances back at me.

  “We can bring you back in the morning,” he says.

  “I don’t know if I could sleep anyway,” I say.

  He nods and takes Mom by the arm. I watch the sliding doors close behind them, leaving me alone in the waiting room. There’s a buzz in my poc
ket from my cellphone. Maybe it’s Aaron. He still hasn’t responded to any of my texts over the past day.

  When I pick my phone up, I see it’s from Zach:

  Sorry to hear about Elliott’s grandmother.

  I respond:

  Thank you.

  A second later I receive another text:

  Keep an eye on Elliott.

  Dad must have told him Elliott zapped Mrs. Ford. I’m not angry; Zach and Shelly had a right to know. Just hope they aren’t too upset with Elliott. Of course, I’m pretty upset with Elliott at the moment too. My head turns towards the television, where a marathon of Elevated Love has just begun in preparation for the finale. I smile when Shelia makes out with a contestant for the first time, remembering Elliott’s distaste and my hands reach out to the empty seat next to me.

  ***

  A voice jolts me awake. “Rose?”

  It’s Zach.

  “Are you ok?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, rubbing my eyes. Based on the episode playing on the television, I was out for a few hours. “Thanks for coming over.”

  “How is she doing?” Zach asks.

  “Did they discover her ability?” Shelly asks.

  “I think it’s rather impossible to mask giant wings,” Zach says.

  Shelly rolls her eyes.

  “So far,” I say. “They’ve been able to stabilize her. Nothing’s come from her being a Flier.”

  “Can’t believe Elliott would do that,” Shelly says. “Blow his cover so Grandma could go out in a blaze of glory.”

  Zach gestures at the people sitting near us. “Shelly, quieter please.”

  Thankfully, they seem too enthralled with Elevated Love to pay attention to our conversation.

  “Elliott has compassion,” I say.

  “Unrestrained heroics are the most dangerous of all,” Zach says.

  “What’s going to happen when they find out?” Shelly asks.

  “She’ll be arrested,” Zach says. “Then they’ll start trying to track down where she got her powers from.”

  “Can’t see how they can trace it back to Elliott,” I say.

  “Unless,” Zach says, “he tries to be a martyr.”

  “If he does, I’ll kill him myself.”

  Zach laughs. “Always the ray of sunshine.”

  Loud music from the television grabs my attention. It’s another breaking news report. The same blonde woman from the other night sits at the desk, with a large headline in the corner: “The Catalyst Returns.”