Personal Bubble

 

Chapter Twenty Three

 

I’m sitting with my back against the black walls, when Rueben and Oliver return. Rueben looks pissed, Oliver looks excited. My stomach clenches.

This can only mean that they’ve found out about my little lie. What is that old saying? Liar, liar pants on fire? I honestly hope they don’t ignite my jeans.

“So you thought you could lie and get away with it, now, did you?” Rueben asks me. I’m guessing its one of those questions where he doesn’t really want a response. I stand up from my sitting position on the floor, ready to stand head to head with the father and son.

“Well, I’ve got news for you, sweetheart.” Rueben snarls. “Nobody—NOBODY—lies to me and gets away with it!” He walks up to me, getting close to my face.

“Personal bubble,” I spit out at him. Rueben looks astounded that a) I’ve talked (Oh, God, such a miracle! She talks!) and that b) I’m talking like a smart-aleck.

I have to say, sometimes I even surprise myself.

Reuben’s hand whips out, slapping me across the face. “I’m going to teach you a little lesson.” He says, grinning a little evilly.

I shrug. “Okay, teach. What’s the lesson plan?”

Rueben’s face darkens. “I told you before how Oliver got his Talent, did I not?”

I nod, trying my best to look bored. He’s stark raving mad, this man. “And all of those other Half-Talents?” I nod again. Rueben repeats himself again, ignoring my nods. Glad we can communicate. “I gave them their Talents,” Rueben says, smiling wistfully. “And I can give anyone a Talent. Anyone I choose.” He pauses. “Now, according to my sources,”—I snort—“you no longer have a Talent, is that correct?”

“Au contraire, Monsieur Rueben, I don’t think I ever had a Talent.” I smirk at his expression and raise my eyebrows. “Did your sources tell you that?” I ask, finger-quoting “sources”. Rueben sneers and ignores me, continuing. Like I said—Communication 101. We rock it.

“Being that you no longer have a Talent, I am in the position of so generously giving you one.” Rueben informs me. I chuckle.

“Maybe you could give me the Talent of super-strength?” I ask mockingly. “That way I could bust out of this jail cell and go to a sit-down restaurant.” I lean in closer to Rueben, conspiratorially, stage-whispering. “The food here sucks.”

Rueben ignores me (again!) and smiles kind of evilly. “I’m going to make you an Extinguisher.” He tells me, almost quite literally dropping a bomb. I blink— my smart-aleck routine dropping.

“Don’t.” I say quietly.

Rueben grins. “This is the lesson, Skye. Maybe you’ll learn from your mistakes this time. Nobody lies to me and gets away with it.” He states. I blink rapidly, thinking quickly of Chase—of Logan, Brody and Margaret—of my family and what it would mean if I were an Extinguisher. “Go get Alexandria and Nathaniel.” Rueben barks out at Oliver. Oliver, looking happy, leaves the room to get whoever his father just asked him to get.

I try to talk some sense into Rueben. “Look, I know I’m a brat. And I’m hard to deal with—and I lied. I’m sorry. Just don’t…don’t do this. Don’t make me an Extinguisher.” I say frantically. Rueben just shakes his head slowly at me, as if everything I’m saying makes no difference to him.

“Alexandria,” he explains to me, “is our prospective Talent. As of now she’s a Non-Talent. At the Company, here, we test on humans, duplicating DNA and cells, testing, to see which Non-Talents—humans—can be made into Talents.” Rueben tells me conversationally. I’m freaking out inside. But on the outside, I’m cool as a freaking cucumber. Rueben continues. “I’ve attempted to make her into an Extinguisher many times. But, to my disconcertment, her DNA is just not agreeable to that of a Talents. I’m lucky with you, however. Your DNA is just fine.” He smiles. “You’ll be a Talent in no time.”

“So why does this Alexandria need to be here if she can’t be made into a Talent?” I ask, my voice weak, wobbly. Rueben glances at me.

“I may be able to duplicate your DNA—your Non-Talent DNA— and give it to her, making her agreeable to my…Talent.” He explains. I nod, slowly, understanding.

“Meaning that you could then make her into a…Talent.” I say. Any Talent he wanted. A Killer. A Murderer. He could make her—anyone—into anything. Deadly, powerful.

Rueben nods. “What about Nathaniel, then?” I ask.

“Nathaniel is a human shield, of sorts. You know what a Shielder is, I take it?” Rueben asks me, opening a briefcase and taking out an empty syringe. I shiver.

“Yeah, they can basically just create a shield, like armor, and throw it over people to protect them from other Talents.” I say. It’s like what Brody does, only Brody’s Talent is far, far more powerful. Yet another reason why I couldn’t let the Company find them. Rueben nods, scanning a paper full of numbers and then opening a metal cylindrical container containing some sort of liquid. I shiver again.

“Exactly, Skye. So when I turn you into an Extinguisher, you won’t be able to harm any of the people in this room.” He smiles, sucking up the clear liquid into the syringe. He turns to me, syringe in hand, and smiles wider. “Maybe I can learn to control you once you’re an Extinguisher, and use you for the Company.”

I snort. “Good luck with that, Ruebes.”

Before Rueben can say anything, Oliver returns with a big brawny guy and a small, petite girl in tow. I narrow my eyes at the girl, the Non-Talent. Why does she want this for herself? Why is she allowing herself to be tested?

The big man—Nathaniel—walks right up to me and stand next to me. I look over at him and roll my eyes. “Hope that shield of yours works.” I say, and then narrow my eyes at the girl.

She looks to be around my age—small and stick-thin—with red hair and freckles. I glare.

Rueben smiles. “Let’s begin.” He says, picking an empty syringe and walking towards me. I flinch away, and Nathaniel holds me in place. I pull myself away, but the beast of a Shielder pulls me forward, toward Rueben.

Rueben takes my arm—against my will—and sticks the needle into my forearm. I don’t even feel the flinch; my mind is working so fast to find a way out of this situation. He pulls is out of my arm and ejects the liquid into another metal container. He hands it to Alexandria. “Go give this to Sandy.” He tells her, and her big Bambi eyes widen as she nods and scampers away. Twit.

Rueben then picks up the syringe he had prepared earlier. I pull away more violently from Nathaniel the Beast. He keeps an iron-grip on my arm. I try to kick at him, to push him, to do anything—anything—to get out of this room, but I can’t move him even an inch. Even a quarter of a freaking inch.

Rueben walks up to me and poises the needle by my arm, looking over at Nathaniel. “Have you Shielded us?” He asks. Nathaniel nods. Does the Beast ever talk? I wonder.

I give one more crack at Rueben. “Please, please don’t do this. Don’t. I’ll do anything. Just…don’t do this. Make me anything but an Extinguisher. Anything.” I beg. Rueben shakes his head sadly and sticks the needle into my arm. I feel the pinch this time. And then I feel the liquid moving through my veins, working its way through my body. I shudder.

Goodbye, life as I knew it.

Goodbye, life as I want it.

Goodbye life as…my eyes droop closed and I feel myself falling, falling. I hit the floor (thanks for catching me, Beast! You charmer, you).

And then I’m unconscious.

 

I wake up a couple of times, warily look around and then feel my eyes droop closed again.

What…is…happening?

 

When I wake up and open my eyes I see men in white lab coats standing around me, taking notes, studying me. I blink sleepily and then don’t notice I’m awake—too busy watching my heart monitor’s and the other machines hooked up to me. I’m in a hospital, I decide. And then I see Rueben. Only, Rueben is here.

I groan inwardly. I’m still at the Company.

I see a particularly nosy doctorish person lean over me, jabbing me in the arm and side with needles. Out of habit, I slap the hand away. And then I hear a gasp fill the room, followed by dead silence as a thud sounds. I open my eyes fully now and Rueben looks surprised, but not all that concerned.

“So it worked.” He murmurs mostly to himself. The other doctors take quick notes and then crowd around the body on the floor. The body of the doctor I just smacked.

Only…I lightly smacked the hand away…that surely wouldn’t kill somebody.

And then I remember the black room, the needles, the injections, Rueben’s words. So when I turn you into an Extinguisher you won’t be able to hurt any of the people in this room.

Only, he was wrong. Because I just did.

 

You might be wondering right about now, what the hell is an Extinguisher? Basically, in my definition: a friendless, lonely killer than lives by their selves their whole life.  

But you probably don’t want my definition.

Technically speaking, an Extinguisher is a Talent. But the “talent” is more of a “curse” no matter how you look at it. You see, an Extinguisher can’t touch another living being without killing them. I’m talking, insta-death. An Extinguisher accidently brushes against another person in an airport and boom, their dead. An Extinguisher accidently elbows the person standing next to them in the movie line and boom, their dead too.

They’re called Extinguishers because they extinguish life.

The only other Extinguisher there is in the world lives by themselves, last I heard in a cabin up north. Who can blame them? If you would kill anyone you came in physical contact with, would you be living with five other people? Uh, no. Probably not.

Needless to say, making me an Extinguisher was the worst type of punishment Rueben could have given me. Needless to say, I understand why he needed Nathaniel the Beast to be around when Rueben first made me into a Talent. Or more appropriately, a Curse.

 

And—it suddenly hits me—I just killed a man.

 

 

Rueben walks over to my bed, Nathaniel now standing near by. With Nathaniel around Shielding everyone, if I were to touch Rueben he wouldn’t die. The shame.

“You can leave now, Skye.” Rueben tells me, unplugging the machines, unhooking me from the hospital bed.

“What, just like that? You’re going to let a killer on the loose?” I ask, dumb-founded. I’m in shock, okay? So I’m not that great with words.

Rueben shrugs, studying a piece of paper. “According to these tests, the Company cannot teach you to control your Talent. Only you can do that.” He pauses and looks away from the paper, up at me. “And it stand to reason that you’d better teach yourself control if you were away from the Company—the people you hate.”

I nod, understanding. They’ll let me free so I can teach myself to conquer my Talent, and then they’ll kidnap me again, so that they can use me as a weapon.

“What about the Davenports?” I ask cautiously, not forgetting the days before.

Rueben shrugs. “You’re not the only one who needs to learn to control their Talents.” Rueben says to me. “You and the Davenports are wild animals, if you will. If you try to capture a wild animal, it will fight back. Now, if you capture a tame animal, the animal will be less inclined to fight.” A pause—Rueben smiles. “This will not be the last time we see each other, my dear Skye.”

I jump down from the hospital bed. “Once we’re tame, as you say, what makes you think we’ll want to work with the Company?”

Rueben smiles softly. “Once your tame, Skye, you’ll see that the Company isn’t the bad guy.”

And with that, I whip out my arm, pressing my hand to Rueben’s chest—testing, seeing—how trusty Nathaniel’s shield really is. When Rueben doesn’t drop dead like I was half-hoping him to, I get my answer. I smile, withdraw my hand, and walk from the room, down the corridor, down the stairs, out the doors. Away from the Company.

 

And then I realize, I have nowhere to go. I can’t go to the Davenport’s. I couldn’t.

I could never hug Margaret again, feel her maternal love. I could never jokingly hip-check Brody. I could never give Logan another high-five. I could never touch Chase again. Never kiss him…never hug him…never hold hands…nothing. Why would I go back to the Davenports now? When nothing would ever be the same?

When I could never be near them without the fear that I might kill them. What would they think? What would Chase think? Would he want a girlfriend that he couldn’t hold, couldn’t kiss? Would he want anything to do with me if he knew that just being in the same vicinity as me may kill me at some point. One wrong move—one moment of off-balance—and I could kill him. Any of them.

No, I decided. I couldn’t go back there. Not now. Not ever.

 

Like I said, Extinguishers live by themselves. Away from family, away from friends. Away from everybody.

Pulling a jacket—whose jacket is it?—around me, I walk aimlessly, my tears mixing with the rain. This—me walking by myself, fighting against everything and everyone—is my life now.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

 

Reviews

[Anya]

oh nooo I have school and can't read the ending! oh no.... i'll be thinking about it all day. ugh, I wanna know what happens to Skye and Chase and... oww this is so unfair! Absolutely A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!!