The Elementalists Page 22

  “What the hell are they up to now? Probably cutting down the forest and poisoning the ground water for their bottom line!” Audrey snapped angrily before driving on with a heavy foot on the gas. Chloe remained silent. But the following Sunday morning, when she found herself with an extended amount of free time and a total lack of adult supervision, she put on her black running sweats, laced up her shoes, and locked the door behind her.

  She paused at the side of the old barn and pushed against the weathered boards of the wall to stretch her hamstrings. Muted red paint flaked off beneath her fingers, and the half-rotten wood creaked as she bent low into the stretch with one leg and then the other.

  She caught the sickly sweet reek of a dead animal and broke the stretch to cover her nose. Shipwreck had taken to leaving dead mice, squirrels, and birds rotting within. The half-eaten remains could get really gross, but at least it was better than the year the cat had experimented with carrying his fresh kills into the house—and once, to his near demise, onto the kitchen counter. It had since fallen on Chloe to occasionally venture into the derelict building to clear out the putrid carcasses. She wasn’t sure she had such a mission in her today.

  This one smelled like a big one, too, and she shuddered at the thought of having to shovel a mangled possum or raccoon into a trash bag. She stood on her tiptoes and peered through the filthy window, but thankfully saw nothing past the dirt and gloom to demand her immediate response. It’s not like it’s going to get any deader.

  She took off at a gentle lope that carried her across the street and toward the mouth of the Red Hill Trail Loop. This would be what her coach referred to as a “day-after wind-down run,” meant to be a short, leisurely paced jog to ease her postrace legs back into a fresh week of training. She, of course, had ulterior motives, and half a mile later, she turned from the winding path and charged into the woods at a good clip.

  She’d come in third in the race against Jefferson Academy the day before, and though she was happy enough to come in behind her teammate, Angela, who was potentially the fastest girl in the state, she didn’t like losing to a private school girl as well. She pushed herself past the same forked tree that she always passed and started to travel more naturally over the leaves and through the woods. Even though she was only a sophomore, Chloe would bet real money that there wasn’t a girl in the state who could beat her in a race from her house to the pond.

  The wind brushed her cheeks as dappled autumn light filtered through the leaves. She remembered years when the leaves would have completely turned by mid-October, but now, only a couple days away from Halloween, there was barely even a yellowing to the lush canopy above. Her feet found just the right places to step as she wound her way through the trunks. She moved with such assurance that the birds in the trees didn’t even bother to bolt as she passed below.

  She streaked by the stump from which she’d once given Liz an impromptu speech about the profound ecological importance of trees, and she adjusted her pace to the gradual incline that led to the lightning hill. Running up hills was Chloe’s specialty, and she’d learned quickly that attacking the slopes was the best way for her to go from tenth to second or third place in a competitive race.

  Chloe climbed, pretending that every tree she passed was another struggling runner. She embraced the pain in her thighs, as every little victory pushed her harder toward the next. She imagined that she was long, sinewy, and sleek, gliding through the forest with ethereal grace—both master and servant of the elements. For a moment, she was lost in the deep, resonant thundering of her own heart, beating in union with the land and filled with a seemingly bottomless pool of vitality and hunger…

  She snapped out of it as her feet instinctively reversed into a frantic, scrabbling attempt to stop. She lost traction on the groundcover, and found herself skidding on her hip and elbow into the new twelve-foot-high chain link fence that blocked her way. The links were not forgiving, and she crumbled into a heap with a loud rattling that traveled along the weave of metal in both directions.

  Slowly she shook off the weird runner’s high and gazed up at the spiraling barbed-wire that capped the length of the barrier. She used the fence to pull herself to unsteady feet, thankful in that moment that it hadn’t also been electrified. Fifty yards further on the other side, repair work had begun on the destroyed lightning tower. Already the bent and torn steel had been cut away, and two sections of fresh beams had been riveted in place on the existing foundation. As she watched, a crane swung another ten-foot girder toward a team of men who were strung about the scaffolding that surrounded the structure.

  Chloe ducked and scampered behind a tree. Her elbow throbbed where she’d clipped a root midslide, and she rubbed it for a moment as she caught her breath before peering back around. Two men with hard hats and an open map were moving in her direction. One of them made a sweeping motion across the woods, but their eyes remained focused on the paper stretched between them.

  Chloe darted along the fence at a bent shuffle, looking for a spot with a view of the pond itself. A hundred yards later, she crouched behind the trunk of a large elm. She peeked out from behind a bony knob of the tree, and her gaze was drawn to the swarm of activity around the water.

  A platform boat was anchored at the center of the pond with a cluster of people in white bio-hazard suits on board. One of them was probing the pond with a long, thin rod. Another was dangling some sort of device into the water as the figure beside him stared at a handheld contraption. A woman sat at a desk on the platform, watching a trio of monitors with unwavering attention. Her gloved hands gripped a pair of joysticks as a spool of cable ran out from the humming computer and disappeared into the water over the edge.

  Then Chloe spied Dr. Markson, pacing along the pond’s perimeter. He’d forgone the bio-suit for an outdoorsman outfit that looked straight from the pages of L.L. Bean: crisply ironed khakis, duck boots, and a charcoal grey explorer blazer. As he paced, he spoke occasionally into a headset with a fixed gaze that looked past the world around him.

  He knows something. Should I tell him what I know? But there was something off about the Daedalus Group; everything they touched seemed wrong. Chloe’s mom did not hate easily, but she’d openly worn her contempt for Mr. Roberts and his people for as long as Chloe could remember. Though she’d only been five or six at the time, Chloe even recalled her father’s anger when he’d come across the Daedalus Group recruitment campaigns in the local paper. He had a knack for the fire-and-brimstone talk in those days, and nothing set him off like corporate greed and industrial waste. Chloe remembered how Audrey’s smile froze when he really got going.

  A scuba diver surfaced at the pond’s edge and held something up toward Dr. Markson. It was about the size of a dinner plate and reflected the sunlight with a milky sheen that resembled mother of pearl. Dr. Markson shuffled over with obvious excitement and snatched the oblong disk with both hands before inspecting it closely.

  Chloe stepped out to try to get a better look but dropped to the ground an instant later. She held her breath as a man emerged from the trees along the fence, heading toward her. She slithered around the trunk with her back against the rough bark and peeked around the other side. Former officer Brent Meeks’s footsteps crunched past as he continued to scan the perimeter with a determined crinkle of his brow.

  Chloe exhaled slowly as Brent moved on. This is getting too real… I need to talk to Dr. Liou.

  • • •

  After a sprint, a quick shower, and more than an hour of waiting for and riding various buses, Chloe bounded up the steps of the Brooks Hall Anthropology Building at UVA. She needed to tell someone about Uktena, and only a student of myth and history like Dr. Edward Liou might be made to understand the lunacy she had witnessed. But she was also wearing the least practical outfit she’d worn since the dance, hoping that Kirin might still be there on lockdown.

  She felt a little naked with the freedom of bare legs beneath the long, flowing skirt her mom had al
ways encouraged her to wear as a jeans alternative. But she was hoping to find an opportunity to take off her jacket and display the formfitting tank top that Audrey insisted made her arms and shoulders look “awesome.”

  Of course, Chet the TA was there to greet her with a pretentious glare. He tapped his pen on the sign-in book and tracked her approach. “Well, if it isn’t community outreach day.”

  “I need to see Dr. Liou. Is he in?”

  “Sorry, he’s busy and his office hours are over. You’ll have to come back next week,” he said as if he thought he were a judge passing verdict.

  Chloe ignored his ruling and sidled up to the desk, taking off the jacket. She took the pen with a flex in her arm and watched as his gaze moved to her skin and widened just a little. Her eyes flitted to his ringless finger and then down to the book.

  Chet Swanburg: #123637 9:06 a.m.

  “You have a girlfriend, Chet?” she asked.

  He swallowed and sat up a little straighter. “No,” he said warily.

  “Surprising,” she offered with a coy smile that could have been taken either way. She looked back to the book.

  Dr. Edward Liou: #288362 10:00 a.m.

  No +1; Kirin’s not here. The smile faltered, but her front of joy vanished completely as she saw the third entry on the list.

  Richard Roberts: #GUEST 12:30 p.m.

  “What the?” she blurted.

  “What?” asked Chet with a raised eyebrow.

  Chloe pointed at the name with a shaky finger. “What is he doing here?”

  “Oh,” said Chet, snapping out of his daze. “He’s kind of a big deal, actually. Dr. Liou sees lots of important people.”

  Chloe stared at the name and tamped down the impulse to bolt. The clock on the wall behind Chet read 12:46 p.m. Her heart was beating as if she was back at the run, but she had to know what Mr. Roberts wanted. “Well, he’s expecting me, too. So is it all right if I wait?” she asked with the play of sweetness returned…

  “I guess you can wait over there if you want,” he acquiesced with a point to a wooden bench framed by a couple ferns.

  “Cool. Can you tell me where the bathroom is?” She flashed him the cutest smile she could muster.

  Chet eyed her closely as she scribbled a deliberately illegible name in the book. “Top of the stairs on the right,” he answered.

  “Thanks.” She flew up the steps two at a time.

  At the top of the stairs, she heard Mr. Roberts’s pompous voice echoing into the hallway through the open office door. It was joined by a flutter of laughter from Dr. Liou that reminded her of Kirin. Chloe ducked through the squeaking door of the coed bathroom and closed it sharply behind her. I seem to be making a habit of hiding in bathrooms.

  The room had five weathered but clean stalls on one side and a row of matching sinks beneath the spotted mirror on the other. Cool air whistled through the cracked window with a tinny echo off the vaulted ceiling. Chloe ducked low to check the stalls for legs and then turned back to press her ear to the door. All she could hear was the muffled huff of her own breathing.

  She pulled on the tarnished knob just enough to peek out. The hall was still empty, and Mr. Roberts’s voice had started in again. She strained to listen, but could only make out a few strings of his words:

  “…trying to take a greater interest in the university’s resources…want to show our support of a wide array of disciplines throughout the academic community…”

  Chloe opened the door wider and leaned her head out into the hallway.

  “…My partner in particular, Dr. William Markson, smartest man I’ve ever met, has taken a real interest in local mythology,” he chuckled. “You know, Indian stories and folk legends and such, particularly as they pertain to fantastic beasts and cattle mutilations—things like that. Everyone we asked said you were the man to talk to. Wilkie even tracked down and read your paper on these dragons of yours; I swear he doesn’t sleep. Long story short, he’d be interested in funding your research and hearing everything you know on the subject, if that would work for you?”

  Chloe could picture his insidious smile despite the distance and walls between them.

  “I…I don’t know what to say,” said Dr. Liou. “This is all so unexpected.”

  “Yes, well, the best things in life often are,” answered Mr. Roberts with a cold little laugh. “If you’re interested, we’d even be able to look into making arrangements for you to go take a look at this old cauldron firsthand.”

  “I would love to, but I’m afraid it’s in a very private collection in Hong Kong—”

  “Oh, we can be very persuasive, Dr. Liou,” cut in Mr. Roberts. “With the Daedalus Group behind you, you’ll find that doors open up to you that you didn’t even know were there.”

  Chloe heard the abrupt scooting of a chair and she ducked back further into the bathroom.

  “I’m at a loss for words,” Dr. Liou admitted. “Thank you, this is an amazing offer.”

  “Well, you don’t have to answer now; I have a few more stops today. We can finalize everything later this week.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” stammered Dr. Liou.

  “And I’m sure Dr. Markson will want to stop by and talk to you in person before long, so get your notes ready; he can be an intense student.” Mr. Roberts chuckled again as Chloe retreated behind the door. The sound of Mr. Roberts’s phony attempt at mirth sent an unpleasant tingling down her spine.

  “I look forward to it,” offered Dr. Liou. “There’s nothing I like more than talking about my obsessions with a challenging and attentive audience.”

  “Very good,” replied Mr. Roberts with a tone of finality. “I’ll let him know, and I’ll have my secretary phone you in a couple days.”

  Chloe listened as their footsteps moved past the door, and she breathed a slow sigh of relief. Her breath seized when she heard the steps pause at the top of the stairs.

  “I’m going to make a quick stop before I’m on my way,” sounded Mr. Roberts as the footsteps reversed course.

  “Of course, thank you again,” offered Dr. Liou as Chloe darted away from the door, scanning for an escape. There was no janitor’s closet and no way out the window. As the footsteps drew closer, she frantically ducked into the third stall and latched the door behind her.

  The door swung open with a shrill creak, and Mr. Roberts cleared his throat. As quietly as she could, Chloe rose to an unsteady balance with her feet on the rim of the toilet bowl. The fringe of her skirt slipped into the water below, and she yanked it back out with an echoing drip of water as Mr. Roberts opened the first stall and unzipped his pants.

  Her breath locked in her throat as he started to pee… Come on! After what seemed like an eternity, he zipped up and walked to the sinks, where Chloe glimpsed his reflection for a moment through the seams of the stall. He ran his hands under the faucet for a few obligatory seconds before turning around to peer at the stalls behind him. Chloe hunched into a ball and froze. Don’t see me! Don’t see me!

  She only allowed herself to look up again when she heard the dialing of a cell phone. Mr. Roberts moved over toward the window before he spoke.

  “Wilkie, it’s me,” he announced. “The paleontologist and the anthropologist are in, though one or both of them may very well be crackpots… Yes, I’ll get them to sign the nondisclosure agreement later this week, and then we can find out what they know and keep them quiet.”

  Chloe was a statue.

  “Really?” cut in Mr. Roberts. “Where did you find that? Does it match the scale we found at the cow farm?”

  “…Well, that sounds like something this paleo-guy might help with.” There was an edge of impatience in his voice. “I don’t see how; he’s writing a book about dragons… Wilkie, more importantly, where are we with getting Tower 1 back up and operational? These guys are breathing down my neck for actionable results, and apparently the Chinese aren’t as far behind as we thought… I’m not asking you to forget about it; I’m as curious
as you are, but we need hard data on the positron trap last month, and we don’t have time right now for another of your wild goose chases…”

  Even from across the room, Chloe could hear the muffled anger of Dr. Markson on the other end of the call.

  “And where would you have had me find the funding for this? You think some private investor is just going to throw half a billion at your theory?” countered Mr. Roberts with his own anger on the rise. “This is half a billion dollars we’re talking about here. I don’t think there’s a name for whatever branch of government these guys are from, and they don’t care if you disapprove of their money; they expect a return on that investment soon… Yes, but if we can give it to them, and we both know that we can, then we’ll make twenty times that amount, win the Nobel Prize, and solve the world’s energy crisis by the end of next year.”

  Chloe’s leg muscles started to tremble.

  “I understand your position on this, Wilkie, really I do, and after this one, we can finally afford to be idealists. Whatever you think of the circumstances, this will change the world for the better! History needs to know your name, and this is the one to make it happen!”

  Despite the chill in the room, a bead of sweat rolled down from Chloe’s scalp.

  “Yes, I told Dr. Liou that you’d come and talk to him this week, and I have people looking into getting access to this old cauldron if we can’t just buy it outright…”

  Chloe’s foot slipped and almost wound up in the water. She froze again with wide eyes and her hands pressed against the walls of the stall. For a long moment, all she could hear was the sound of the wind sailing through the window and the sporadic ticking of the radiator.