Dream Catcher Chapter 1

            No birds sing in the silence. There is only the hum of our car and the screech of its wheels against the road as we drive into oblivion.

            As I look out the window, I keep hoping the horses will come from the woods and run alongside our vehicle with their stately grace, their dark coats silhouetted against the meadow. But even if they wanted to stretch their legs and challenge advanced aerodynamics to a race, their instincts wouldn't let them.

            Horses are pretty clever creatures. They know never to trust the ones in the white lab coats. The White Coats' minds are curious, too curious, and they will change you. Alter you into a new invention, mold you like clay into whatever they need.

            Fabricate beauty.

            But they can't hurt you if they can't catch you. Run before they do.

            The car skids to a stop parallel to the wooden fences outlining the road. A butterfly rests on one of the fences, an Emerald Swallowtail.

            Its wings quiver like flower petals, delicate, vein-covered sheets of gossamer. They can't weigh more than a feather. I wish I could trace those veins, the ones lined with the glitter of fairies, tinted with sunshine, and obedient to their own natural design. But every time I reach for one, the glass stops me and the butterfly rouses. I only see the flutter of wings and a flash of color before it glides through the air with the dandelion wishes.

            Be free precious beauty. Fly while you still can.

            Outside the window, the world is wonderful. All seven colors of the rainbow coat the seas, highlight the skies, and everything in between. I can even see the wind and its invisibility; it proposes dance with the willows and sways with the grass, painting nature's movement with the tip of its finger.

            My hand draws closer to this beautiful world, my body wound with excitement. Quickly, I retreat. I clutch the camera close to my throbbing heart and raise its head. Snap. The Polaroid develops and slides into my hand, its edges warm. I wave the paper and the image leaks onto the page. I trace the butterfly's wings flapping in the sky. At least I can pretend.

            Suddenly the engine revs and the machine comes to life. The wheels spin and we leave behind the pretty picture.

            "Aaralyn dear, it's a long way until we arrive." She acts like we're friends. We're not. "You should take a nap."

            I feel a sharp stab in my side and everything fades to blackness. Before I am completely taken under, I see their wings, delicate like flower petals.

             *

            "Her papers are all set. Would like me to go over the file once more?" Swirls of color in darkness. They airbrush the page.         

            "Once more, Karina. We can't have any errors."

            Suddenly, the image washes over my eyes. I am in an office without windows. The furniture is black except for the clear vase of yellow Belladonnas. Are those coins at the bottom of the vase?

            "It looks like our guest is awake."

            I turn my head toward the man speaking. He is seated in front of his desk where there is a half-glass of water and a laptop. Hovering beside him is his partner, Karina Hunt. She smiles at me, bleached-white teeth glowing.

            "How was your nap?" she asks. I have to hold my breath to keep myself from snorting.

            "Pleasant, but I prefer taking naps without the help of a giant needle in my back." Using my elbow, I rub the spot where I was darted. There is probably a scar similar to a mutant mosquito bite.

            "It's the standard procedure. Also, you're a light sleeper." The man sips more of his drink, brown goatee brushing the top of the glass. A certain sharpness carves his blue eyes. I'm not so sure it's water anymore.

            "Belladonnas, huh?" I ask, stabbing a finger in the direction of the vase. The numbness of my legs begins to set in as I swing them over the leather chaise I was set on. "The Deadly Nightshades?"

            "They're Karina's favorite flower."

            "Figures..." I mumble.

            Amalie Maynard, labeled a desperate psychopath back when I was a freshman, ate them. The boy she liked, nicknamed "The Sucker" by those partial to English, made her. He said he would give her some of his renowned lip action if she did. 

            No one thought she'd do it. Belladonna berries are lethal. Amalie didn't seem to care. In fact, she swallowed five of them whole before her skin turned scarlet and her throat started burning from the poison. She squirmed on the ground like an earthworm screaming things I couldn't quite understand. I watched from afar. I didn't have the power to help her.

            "Forget about my favorite flower!" Karina adjusts her frameless glasses and shuffles her documents. "We need to get these files in order."

            Karina's partner waves a hand nonchalantly. A lit cigar magically appears in the other.

            "Aaralyn Hart, age sixteen as of the twenty-second of January. Pursued and captured ten miles south of Strasbourg, France by Mirage Sector V two days prior to today, the fourteenth of October. Powers still unidentified as well as origin, though it has been rumored somewhere in Eastern Japan. Daughter to molecular biologist James Frederick Hart and geneticist Sayo Takahashi, both of whom were members of the Resistance."

            "The Resistance," Karina's partner interrupts, taking another swig of the clear liquid. "Sector V believes the Resistance is based in...Japan." He slams the glass on the table and the room—along with everything in it—quakes in fear. “Those bastards. Of all places!”

            “Calm down. It’s only a hunch, isn’t it?” Karina asks.

            “But just the possibility.” He forms a cage with his fingers, shaking his head. “Don’t let me interrupt you. Go on.”

            Karina’s lips tremble as though she wishes to say something more reassuring, but she just nods and continues: “Physical profile: black hair, violet irises, frame type small. Approximately five feet and four inches weighing…”

            “You don’t have to go that far with my personal information, you know?” I add. Karina’s partner throws his bald head back to guffaw before he gestures for Karina to continue.

            “You were a very tricky one to catch, dear. Your parents were cunning and insubordinate, as are you.” Intolerance glints off of Karina’s lenses. “We’ve been watching you since you were very young. It wasn’t until your fourth birthday that you managed to elude Mirage’s watchful eye.”

            After a mere four years, my time with Mom and Dad was up. Dedicated scientists never have time for their children, or anything other than science really. My childhood was mainly composed of me being tossed from place to place like abandoned baggage. I don’t even think I have a hometown.

            “Twelve years to catch,” Karina continues. “You’re rather good at hide-and-seek, dearest. A little too good, don’t you think?”

            “It’s not my fault you didn’t bring your A-game to work for twelve years,” I grumble between breaths. “And personally, I think I should have moved more often to keep you and the rest of the bloody leeches in the Corporation off my back.”

            “Always the feisty one I see,” Karina says with a wry smile. “Well, I suppose we shouldn’t expect you to be happy about your capture, but we do expect your impression of Mirage and the Corporation to change in time. Hopefully you’ll begin to understand our true intentions.”

            Karina places the papers in a manila folder before inserting them into a machine similar to a paper shredder, only instead of a shredding sound it makes a vacuum’s suction noise. There is a long, awkward pause before Karina notices me staring at the device fastened to the wall.”

            “You’ve never seen one?” she asks, eyes slit with curiosity. “It’s a scanner that converts written documents into digital copies.” She presses her thumb against the glass screen beside the opening, making it emit a faint yellow glow. “I’m assuming she won’t verify her origin or power,”—she turns to her partner—“but we can confirm the strongest we have detected her abilities was when her energy levels simultaneously destroyed the scales in Paris and Lyon.” This makes her partner’s face stretch.

           “Step outside a minute, sweetheart. We’ll be right with you,” he says, gaze remaining on Karina’s.

           “Whatever you say…master,” I gripe, throwing myself off the chaise and slipping out the door. The upper half of my body is stiff from sitting so long on that rock of a chair.

            Who the hell do you think you are telling me what to do?

            I lodge my shoe in front of the door before it can close completely. My heart starts beating as fast as a hummingbird’s, hammering the walls of my chest. I lean forward until my ear kisses the door’s surface. I close my eyes.

           “We can’t put her through that.” There is only murmuring at first, and hushed breathing. “She’s simply not ready! All the other candidates have been here more than half their lives, and they’ve been trained for missions. She won’t last fifteen minutes.”

           “You know she’s fit for this, Karina. Do you really believe that this timing is a mere coincidence? Sheer luck? Because I don’t. To play a wildcard is to take a risk, and what better wildcard to play than the wild girl?”

           “There has to be someone else more qualified.”

          “There isn’t, Karina. The real competition has been stalled far too long. The Corporation has been on our tails demanding justice after the,”—Giovanni pauses—“the incident. If Mirage’s team goes one more day without proper compensation, Leonardo won’t think twice about removing us. We both know he has more authority in this business.” His voice cracks, either in envy or fear. He clears his throat. “Plus, I’m absolutely certain donations will triple at minimum if we select her as the replacement.”

          “Oh, silly me! I forgot that the sponsors adore the gambling aspect of the competition. That’s why throwing an untrained, unarmed girl in the den of assassins is okay.”

          “God Karina, you make it seem like we’re all sadists in this business! The sponsors just find the competition more interesting when we mix things up a bit.”

         “We’re not sadists. We’re master of euphemism,” Karina grunts. “They believe what we tell them to believe.”

         “Exactly. And besides, she can learn from experience! I bet the second we send her on a mission her war instincts will kick in. This child was bred for combat! She has a power beyond comprehension.”

         “And a power she refuses to use. We’re not even sure what it is exactly.”

         “We’ll find out later this evening. What power she has is completely irrelevant to the matter at hand. What matters is that she has potential. And power…broke two scales. Ha! Reminds me of Valter, only she’s more of the talker. Both broke the scale, did they not? There’s not a doubt in my mind she’s the one.”

         “Hush up! You know of Valter’s past dealing with this placement. Speak of his name and he just might have another outburst,” Karina hisses. The frigidness of her tone makes me shudder.

         “Don’t be so defensive, Karina. Valter tried to break out of here a few times is all. We’ve seen plenty of unsuccessful rebellions in our time.

         “Oh no.” Karina’s voice turns solemn. I clutch the hem of my trousers, palms coated with sweat. “Not like him. You know very well he’s caused a lot of chaos--”

         “Eavesdropping I see,” someone whispers from my side. My heart drops. I whip around to find a girl with blonde hair highlighted bright pink. “Don’t be scared. I won’t snitch on ya!” She winks, thick black lashes coated twice with mascara. Her cheeks and lips match the streaks in her hair; they stand out against her skin which is white like a black canvas. “If you’re hanging out at headquarters I’m assuming you’re new?” She flashes a cool smile. “I’m Reverie, Reverie Jakoba, but everyone just calls me Koba because it takes up less breath.” Koba extends an open hand.

        I open my mouth to speak but find no words. I can only stare and wonder what the rest will look like, if they all acted this normal. The possibility that this girl managed to avoid being selected as a subject for experimentation comes to mind.

       “Koba, it’s obvious this imbecile isn’t familiar with manners.” A boy appears from behind Koba and sneers. He wears dark eyes and a scowl unfitting to his ghost-like profile. “She doesn’t like you and she’s not even courteous enough to say it to your face, let alone react.” I feel my cheeks start to burn.

            “Oh…” Koba withdraws her hand, grin falling.

            “Wait!” I shout, taking her wrist. Koba and the boy’s eyes instantly flicker into mine. They share a power in their gaze, an intensity almost too fervent. “Look, I’m sorry. I was just a bit stunned. I’m Aaralyn.” I hold a hand out to her, praying she doesn’t hate me.

            Koba’s face lights up and she shakes my hand, nearly ripping it off with sincerity.            “Enchanté.”

            “Uh, pleased to meet you,” I say with a shaky smile, unable to remember the last time I met a new face that didn’t want to capture me.

            “I’m sure you are,” the boy groans, index finger wrapped around the chocolate-colored ribbon under his collar. Koba gives him a pointed look.

            “Circa, don’t be rude! You don’t even know her!”

            “And I could do without meeting her,”—Circa turns on his heel to face her—“Besides, why should I be nice when you rarely are?”

            Koba’s bottom lip quivers. She turns to me.

            “Ignore him, Aaralyn. He’s still upset that one of our teammates screwed up Mission 3 and basically put us in last place.”

            “Mission 3 was child’s play,” Circa mutters. “All we had to do was break into the air weapons complex, grab a Infra-red search and track system, and leave, but no! He just had to snoop around for more equipment.”

             “We told him it was totally pointless because we have our own engineer who makes the rest of our gadgets, but the silly boy didn’t listen,”—Koba rolls her eyes—“Now we’re going to need one hell of a candidate to help us defend our title.”

            “What exactly are you kids doing out here?” The door is now wide open with Karina clawing the knob. Her eyes are narrowed with suspicion. “You know the Mirage Headquarters are off limits to the students.”

            Koba smiles impishly while Circa forms a gun with his hand and aims it at his temple.

            Off limits?

            “We were sent here to check the status of the…transaction,” Koba says, cupping a hand over one side of her mouth as though sharing a secret. “In other words, we want the 4-1-1 on who the new candidate will b--”

            “That is highly classified information. Tell whoever sent you to quit wasting my time with their personal problems.” Karina digs a heavy heel into the floor.

            “Yes, ma’am.” Reverie sighs and files down the shadowed hall behind Circa. Before entirely out of view, she yells, “You better cheer for us in the competition, alright Aaralyn? We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

            “Competition? What is she talking about?” I ask Karina, the words “air weapons complex” still lingering in my mind. What on earth did Circa mean by that? What were these missions? What happened to the guy that screwed up the mission?

            “Don’t worry, dear. It’s nothing you need to worry about,”—her body is still tense, eyes everywhere but on me—“yet. Let’s just focus on Classification for now.” She fans an index finger before strutting down the hall, her heels clicking against the glossy black floor. “Come along.”

            “Classification?” I ask, just barely keeping at Karina’s side. “Excuse me?” The floor fades to black as orbs of violet light fall from the ceiling like tiny planets. They circle above my head, following their own gravitational path.

            “It’s similar to what you might call a placement test.” Karina doesn’t seem to notice the abnormal light fixture, or if she does, it’s nothing new to her. “Mirage uses the results to identify students’ abilities and personalities, pinpoint their strengths and weaknesses, measure their power levels, and furthermore, classify them into a taxonomic category.”

            The way scientists biologically classify organisms.   

            “So you basically rank us against each other,” I mutter. “All that using a written test?” Walking through a world I can’t quite see makes me lightheaded. The universe seems to tilt and swivel like a decrepit bridge one thousand miles above sea level. Subsequently, the tip of my shoe finds its way in a crack and I plunge into the chasm.

            “Watch your step.” Karina seizes my shoulder seconds before I can observe all ninety degrees of the angle. Her reptilian nail extensions dig deep into my skin. “And no. Classification isn’t exclusively a writing exam. Portions of classification are physical, others are mental, and a few rely on quick thinking and strategy. The way students respond to obstacles helps us determine their ranking.” She’s dragging me now, guiding me in a way that a mother would with her adolescent child. It makes me wonder if Karina ever had a child of her own. I bet her eyes would tell me if I could see them.

            “I’m guessing the highest ranking students compete,” I bring it up casually, trying not to sound too curious or eager. Or terrified.

            “Your curiosity might kill you one day,”—Karina sighs—“but if you must know, yes. Mirage isn’t the only academy of its kind. There are others, and each one builds their own team to contend for the gold in the annual Competition.” Gold rectangles for elevator doors appear before us and Karina holds the corner of one so it won’t depart. Quickly, I hop in.

            “What exactly is the nature of this competition?” I blurt, regretting the question soon after I spit it out. The edges of Karina’s lips curl into a bitter frown as the button indicating “Lobby” glows bright olive. She fastens her eyes on the buttons counting down the floors.

            Fifty-five, fifty-four, fifty-three.

            “I see you’ve had a nice chat with Koba.” Karina runs a hand through her ruby-red hair. “Well dear, if your Classification goes the way they expect it to, you just might find out.”

            She finishes and the elevator buttons start blinking a rainbow of colors, signaling our ride is over. We continue down the lobby and I can’t help but gawk at this strange world. The beams falling from the skylight seem to come from a place with temperatures much more intense than the glacial weather that’s really outside. Potted plants, copper furnishings, and sets of magazines laid artfully on coffee tables. Can an organization that conducts experiment on children really be this civil?

            There’s a multitude of flat-screen televisions displaying America’s local news as well as the global news. An Arabic man with a wiry, off-centered toupee on one of the screens is scowling, an image of an “unexpected” desert bombing waving behind him. The dead persons’ families are probably mourning for them. It’d be wiser to stifle their tears and cling to their lives while they still can.

            Thousands die across the globe because their brothers will it, and somewhere along the lines of attending funerals of war victims and terrorist attacks, I stopped caring. Pausing to shed a tear only makes you vulnerable to attack, so why do it? 

            “Come along now, Aaralyn,” Karina calls back to me from a town car outside. “You don’t want to be late for Classification.”

             With a flick of a wrist she shoves me in the back seat, inserts a glass card in the reader, and slams the town car into drive. I crane my head over my shoulder and gaze at the Mirage Headquarters shrinking behind me. It might be the last time I’m welcome there.

            *

            Look anywhere in the room and you will see nothing. I would have guessed a black hole was spiraling nearby if I couldn’t feel the air conditioning at full blast.

            “Calm down child and remove your shoes.” Karina assures me with a squeeze of my shoulder. I didn’t realize I was shivering. I bend down to unfasten my boots when I hear something whiz nearby.

            “Karina?” I call. “Ms. Hunt?” There’s no answer.

            I try to steady my breathing but I already have that feeling you get when you’re watching a horror film and you know your favorite character is about to die in the upcoming scene regardless of how many times you scream “watch out!”

            I think back to what Karina said earlier. She mentioned something about Classification being altered to fit the “unique needs” of an individual. They know I have a power I won’t use in front of them. They also know they will get it out of me one way or another.

            I look around. A band of reddish-orange light zooms at my side.

            “Who’s there?” I step backward, bringing my fists at center. Hopefully years of avoiding the government and other annoying people will pay off. I try to recall those fighting techniques my former classmates used to drone on about and that I drowned out to read a dream interpretation guide book, and that year of gymnastics I was forced to take when I was nine.

            The ground starts vibrating and the resonance rises from the balls of my feet up my spine. Then comes the first attack: a streak of flames heads for my face. Seconds before my annihilation, I fold backward and cartwheel to escape.

            “I‘m your first opponent. How you handle me will test your wits.” A voice like crackling firewood says.

             I open my hands to activate my powers but quickly make them fists again. My goal is to give Them as little information on my powers as possible, so I should only use them when absolutely necessary.

            Another stripe of light charges and I dive out of the way. The corner of my sleeve is scorched. There was a reason I never joined the swim team.

So you like head-on attacks at full force? Interesting…I wonder how he tracks me in the dark.

            I hold my breath and become a statue. My eyes dart from left to right as I wait for him to launch an attack.

            “Nice trick, but I can still sense your body heat.” He snickers and I lick my lips.

            “Really?” I say. “How resourceful.” I begin running around the room in the shape of what I make out to be a large circle.

            “Who do you think you are, girly?  I’m still better, stronger, and faster.”

            “Oh really,” I say, cocking a brow. “Looks to me that you’re not skilled enough to shoot fireballs. I don’t know what kind of standards you hold for yourself, but personally I think that’s pretty pathetic.” I can hear him grind his teeth. Like my life depends on it, I rummage through my bag.

            “Pathetic?” He groans and fakes an inflamed fist. “Who the hell are you calling pathetic?” A ball of fire cuts through the darkness and toward me. Sweat forms on my brow and I’m sure there’s a river up there.

            Got it! I let out a sigh of relief. Pulling out my can of hair mousse, I spray its fluffy white contents on the ground until I’m certain I made a complete circle with it.

            “You want to go?” I challenge, standing still at the edge of my mousse circle. I touch the circle with my foot to make sure I’m positioning myself correctly.

            “Let’s dance.” He grinds his teeth some more and suddenly his body is swallowed by scorching red flames. He charges like a mad bull.

            “Three…” I count to myself as he nears me. “Two…one!” I lunge forward and out of the way as planned.

             My opponent slides across the flammable substance and stumbles inside the circle. The circle bursts into flames, trapping him inside its fiery prison. I can now identify the fire manipulator: a toned young boy with cropped, midnight hair. Droplets of sweat cover his arms and his face like a swarm of parasites. I reach into my pocket and pop a piece of gum in my mouth.

            “What else you got?”