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CHILDREN OF INFINITY
by
Disclaimer:
For disclaimers, please see the prologue
Chapter One
The girl was unusually strong. She reached into the trunk of her small 87' Dodge Colt and lifted a small dorm refrigerator out as though it weighed no more than a small package. "She must be the Birche girl." The muscle above Ian's right eye twitched as he watched the girl broodingly. "None of the others have exhibited such strength."
The young woman set the appliance on the black asphalt. She paused for a moment, looking around curiously as though sensing herself being watched. Ian shrank back into the shadows and grimaced with distaste. "Oh, this will never do." He muttered under his breath as he studied the girl more closely. "This will not do at all." Silvery gray eyes narrowed with irritation and the Dean of Students spun on his heels, making haste hurriedly for the Academic Staff Hall. "I'm going to see to it that this situation is rectified at once and have that dreadful girl removed from this campus."
Logan Birche stood poised with her hands on the trunk lid of her small four-cylinder Colt. Her eyes darted about warily behind the shield of dark sunglasses. "This is crazy," she mumbled under her breath. "You're being paranoid. Who'd be watching you?" Slamming the trunk lid down, she spared a last glance at the charcoal gray car and was satisfied that all four doors were locked.
The metallic paint on the car sparkled like glitter under the late August sun. She was proud of that car. It was the only thing she ever possessed that was truly hers. "And no one can take it away from me." She felt as much guilt as pride from that thought but the truth was her independence had been diligently fought for and grudgingly given to her and the car was a symbol of that victory. For better or worse she was her own person now.
Pushing the mirrored Foster Grants further up on her nose, Logan squatted, wrapped her arms around the fridge, and easily lifted it from the ground. There it was again that feeling of being watched. Her back stiffened and her skin felt prickly, the hairs on the nape of her neck became rigid. She glanced around in all directions. There was nothing abnormal about the other students struggling under the weight of heavy boxes, microwaves, mini dorm fridges, and various appliances that were supposed to make dorm life easier. None of these people nor their relatives and friends seemed to have any interest in Logan. The collective concern appeared to be getting their burdens they carried to their perspective dorms.
The sounds of vehicles speeding into the lot and horns blaring rudely seemed no less than common place as last minute arrivals vied for the left-over limited parking spots. Chattering voices were carried across the air to Logan's ears. As normal as this all seemed, there was a feeling of surrealism to what she was seeing. She shook her head, not quite satisfied with that description. Maybe surreal was not the word she was looking for. She shivered suddenly; a bead of sweat formed beneath her hairline, trickling from her forehead to drip down the sides of her face and a drop of perspiration rolled down the bridge of her nose. Her anxiety mounted as she tried to remain nonchalant.
She experienced an unexpected jolt as the word stalked imprinted itself on her brain. She hurried to the rear entrance of her dorm and finally to her room. Once behind the closed door of her room she chided herself for being so easily spooked. "There are no boogey men." She laughed and shook off the eerie feeling.
Looking around at her cluttered private room and she was grateful for being on the first floor. It had made unloading and moving everything in go a lot faster. All that remained now was unpacking the five big boxes that were strewn about her floor and bed. Filled with reluctance, she grimaced and sat on a clear area of the bed. Logan was not looking forward to the task of unpacking and putting things away. It too closely resembled housework.
**************
Elizabeth glanced over her dorm room with satisfaction. A small smile teased about her full lips and she experienced only the slightest bit of guilt that she had left this chore until today to be completed. Having a private room afforded her such concessions like exclusive decorating rights and leaving off getting things in order until she was good and ready.
Now tired and sweaty from having been determined to finish the room before dinnertime she was very pleased with the results. It was certainly very her; the room resembled a cozy little cave or den. Having sprinkled just a bit of lavender and vanilla linen spray on the bed clothes and curtains, the scent faintly lingered in the air with an inviting, 'come in and cuddle with a pillow,' essence.
Over her bed hung a picture of a woman executing a yoga pose and beside it a poster of Vincent and Catherine from the popular TV series Beauty and the Beast. Elizabeth was not an avid fan of the show. In fact she hardly ever watched television, with the exception of MTV. But she'd bought the poster in salute to her occasional dark moods and twisted sense of thinking. Elizabeth's mentor had been surprised when she had purchased the poster. That surprise on the elder's face had given away to a knowing smile and the older woman had winked at Elizabeth, and teased, "Perhaps someday you'll find your own beast to tame."
Elizabeth had returned the wink and had responded by titling her head to the side and smiling mysteriously before whispering, "Who says I want to tame the beast?" The elder's slack jaw look of shock had been well worth the comment. It wasn't easy for someone to get the better of the Elder Mother. Elizabeth smiled at the poster with a bit of perverse pleasure and giggled girlishly. "Maybe I should go for a walk. I think all this work has fried my brain.
"Fate," Elizabeth's mentor had once told her, "Is like a premenstrual bitch. You can never be sure what will appeal to her flights of fancy or her mood. Some destinies she twines together on her loom, intertwining fates above the edge of a sharp blade. One false move can sever the ties and prove fatal to all those involved. Some destinies she merely links together for a just a brief but pivotal moment, never to once again meet , and others she allows to unravel only to form stronger, unbreakable braided chords in the future."
Elizabeth was of the firm belief that no matter what life threw at you, you could map your own course so long as you prepared for any possible variance in the life equations.
*******************
At a loss as to where to begin, Logan began to feel slightly intimidated by the prospect of tackling the boxes. "Maybe I'll do it later," she piped in a small voice then hurriedly lined the boxes beneath the window and a long the far wall. She stood over the boxes and smiled satisfactorily only feeling slightly guilty at knowing her mother would not have approve of such a sight.
The clock on the headboard of her bed blared 2:50 pm in red digital numbers. It was about two and a half hours till dinner. She sighed, feeling she might explode from restless energy. Pacing the floor, she eyed the boxes dubiously. "Well, I can be a responsible adult and unpack those boxes," she shuddered for dramatic effect, "or I can go for a walk and get to know the campus a little." She cast another cursory glance at the boxes, then grabbed up her keys from her desk and hurriedly left the room.
************************
Carl Unger, President of Cayce College smiled complacently to himself behind the closed door of his huge office as he listened to the unmistakable sound of Ian Porter stomping down the long second floor hall of the Staff Business building. Carl settled himself comfortably in his overstuffed winged-back chair, enjoying the creaking of the black leather as it conformed to his body. He had known there would be a confrontation and he had purposefully left Ian ignorant of the new applicants until the day of their arrival. 'Today!' He smiled nastily to himself. 'He can bitch and whine all he wants but it's too late to do anything about it now. Too late! Too late! Too late!' He nearly giggled giddily but stifled it just in time.
The door swung open with an angry arc and there stood a very irate Ian Porter, Dean of Students, a small slip of a man really, mousy looking and pale, wearing black horned rimmed ill-fitting glasses and a gray tweed jacket with patches at the elbow - Ian's vain attempt to appear Cary Grantish. Carl itched to tell him that no one even knew who Cary Grant was anymore. In any case, Ian was a poor emulation and had been even in his prime. His blue overly-starched khaki slacks resembled cartoonish cardboard cutouts. Carl half expected the man to turn around and prove that they were exactly that. Once again he had to stifle a giggle. Instead he smiled broadly at Porter, knowing full well that Ian was aware that loathing was a mutual feeling between them.
"Ian." Carl Unger greeted him warmly enough. "You wish to speak with me about something." Ian's nostrils flared. Unger must think him a fool, Ian decided.
"That creature," Speaking through clenched teeth, Ian barely kept his voice at a respectable level. It was amusing to Carl to see Ian this mad. When Porter was furious his head shook slightly like a small vibratory device. He imagined the man's teeth rattling in his head and his eyes finally coming unhinged from incessant vibration. Unger chuckled at the image. "Do you think this is funny?" Ian spoke in a low hiss. "That thing ... I don't know where you found her but she does not belong here!"
"Of course she does." Unger placed the fingers of his hands before his face pressing them together as though he were deep in thought. "She earned that scholarship like any hardworking student would." He rocked the chair slightly to and fro, knowing that this drove Porter insane.
"Carl," Ian's voice cracked slightly and was raised just a notch bellow shouting. "We make painfully certain that we filter what comes through the doors here." He paused and quickly shut the thick soundproof doors behind him before continuing. "We have a standard to which we measure each and every applicant and you cannot tell me that this Logan Birche comes anywhere near that standard!"
"She surpasses that standard." Unger smiled smugly. "And she didn't apply; she was recruited."
"What!" Ian's eyes widened to near impossible proportions. His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose in comical caricature of himself. Carl managed to keep a straight face. "Why would you do that in lieu of all we are trying to do here?" He stuffed his hands in the pocket of his trouser pants to keep from balling them into fists, a gesture Ian believed to be a barbaric act and one that he was not about to engage in.
"Ian," Carl sat up straight lacing his fingers together and calmly placing them before him on the huge Oakwood desk. "Logan Birche is a big part of what we are trying to do here."
"I didn't realize we were doing charity work." Ian scoffed with a snobbish tilt of the nose.
"Don't be an ass, Porter." Carl spoke irritated. "Don't underestimate the girl."
"I don't think I am." Ian spat out the words accusingly. "I made some phone calls to those references that girl put down and I have to say that I'm thoroughly disgusted." He shuddered "What in the name of all we hold sacred were you thinking when choosing her!"
"A favor!" Carl fired angrily then calmed himself with the image of Ian's head exploding before him. "To a very old friend." He relaxed and met Ian's accusatory glare.
"Oh, really?" Ian mocked him. He removed his hands from his pockets and linked them behind his back as he paced the office. He turned a hard stare towards Unger before asking. "Are you aware of the upbringing she's had?"
"I am aware, yes." Carl nodded.
"Then you know that whatever plans you have for her don't have much of a chance for success."
"Don't judge a . . ."
"I am familiar with the cliché, Carl!" Ian, now well beyond angry approached the desk, abruptly placing his hands on the edge of the desk and leaned forward facing Unger squarely. "Do you realize that she is not safe here?" Porter groused snidely. "Do you realize the dangers here for her?" His eyes narrowed threateningly.
"Oh I wouldn't worry too much if I were you, Ian." Carl smiled, matching Ian's challenging expression. "As I warned, don't underestimate the girl."
"Why is she so important?" Ian's suspicion sharpened. "Why this particular girl?" Carl studied him closely and seemed to weigh his decision.
"As I said, a favor for a very old friend. I've been watching this girl for a very long time." He eyed Ian seriously. "I've gone through painstaking measures to ensure that she is exactly what I'm looking for." His eyes darkened. "Her life has gone exactly as I've wanted it, so do not even think," He leveled a warning gaze at the Dean of Students, "to question me further on this decision."
************************
Logan started out the side hall door to the right of her room. The door led to the rear hall and stairwell of the dorm as well as to the rear fire exit. She stepped out into the hall and was startled as a figured stumbled into her from the bottom stair. Logan kept her balance during the collision and instinctively reached out to steady the raven-haired young woman.
She held the girl firmly but gently
as violet eyes widened and stared up into Logan's own sable pupils. She was
caught off guard by the tightening in her lower abdomen, and she swallowed hard
as she felt her hands unconsciously move the girl closer. Embarrassed, the two
young women jumped apart, startled by their close proximity to each other. Logan
knew she was blushing.
"I'm ... I'm really sorry." The young woman's voice though flustered was soft and fluid. It had that soft silken quality that Logan had often associated with the voices of Asian women. "I lost my footing on that last stair." She was staring up at Logan with a strange mixture of startled and gentle wonder. The taller girl found herself transfixed by the deep purple of the woman's pupil's and irises. She hadn't known people of Asian descent could have that particular eye color. And was even more bemused to find that though the woman's features were Chinese, she detected no accent.
"I guess I should have turned those powers of mine off." Logan finally spoke then grinned rather sheepishly.
"Powers?" The young woman chirped, her eyes widening still further.
"Uh, yeah." Logan's blush deepened, now wishing she had not begun the lame joke. "The uh, unusual ability to make people fall powerlessly into my arms." That said, her grin broadened into a nervous but teasing smile. It was a long-standing habit of Logan's to revert to humor whenever she was nervous or angry - yet another thing that provoked her mother's disapproval. The young woman laughed and Logan joined in with her grateful that her joke, albeit a silly one had dissipated much of the unease between them.
"Elizabeth Wu," the young woman introduced herself smiling warmly. "I'm a junior."
"Same here." Logan offered her hand and was pleased when the woman extended her own for a brief handshake. She squeezed the soft hand gently, and then reluctantly released it, dropping her own back to her side. "Logan Birche," she introduced herself. "Transfer student. I've just arrived today." Logan's new acquaintance nodded and explained that she, herself, had arrived earlier in the week.
"Have you gotten all your things moved into your room?" Elizabeth sounded hopeful and Logan felt a pang of disappointment as she nodded her head. It would have been fun, she guessed, moving in her things with the girl's help.
"Yeah. Just got everything in." She tilted her head to the door and the girl followed her gaze. "I was just about to go for a walk," she explained, "to kill a little time before dinner." Elizabeth nodded both girls now at a loss for words. Logan cleared her throat feeling slightly anxious under her new acquaintance's scrutiny. "Well, I uh, better get going."
"Oh, yeah." The girl fidgeted nervously.
"I'll be seeing ya, I guess."
"Yeah."
Logan hurried past the girl and out the fire exit, only then releasing the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She leaned back against the door and allowed the fluttering in her stomach and the erratic beating of her heart to calm. Her brow furrowed deeply with concern. "I'm not exactly sure what just happened to me in there." A smile formed on her lips. "She's beautiful."
Elizabeth glanced at the door through which Logan Birche had just slipped out. She closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled and exhaled sharply to slow down her rapidly beating pulse. She still tingled from the brief contact with the other new transfer. That the brief meeting had caught her completely off guard was an understatement. She'd never quite experienced such powerful energy coming off anyone.
Disturbed and more than a little intrigued she changed her mind about walking the campus grounds and stepped out into the first floor hall. Someone was blasting Depeche Mode from one of the rooms. Elizabeth had heard it faintly in the rear hall but now she could hear it blaring and echoing off the walls. She grimaced while her sensitive hearing tried to adjust and compensate for the assault. Catching a glimpse of room 105 with the name Birche type printed in bold letters, she felt a sudden rush of warmth. Smiling, she turned in the direction of the room two doors to the right of 105. She knocked on 107 and was not surprised when the door was abruptly swung open.
Leslie Burkette smiled warmly upon seeing Elizabeth at her door. "Get in here," she ordered teasingly at the young woman then turned her attention back to her pale and too thin roommate and continued an interrupted conversation. "Alex, you can't still be hungry." She stepped aside, allowing Elizabeth to enter the sunlit room. "There's no way you can still be hungry after all the junk you just consumed." She looked at Elizabeth and rolled her eyes, then pointed to the desk upon which lay a pile of empty potato chips, Fig Newton and Doritos bags.
The pale, wiry girl in question moved to the desk tossing wild sandy brown curls out of her face. She grinned sheepishly at Elizabeth, picked up the pile of empty bags and tossed them into the trash.
"Hey, Beth." Alex Parker beamed at their visitor, chuckling when the woman cringed at the nickname. Alex then turned her nose up at Leslie and growled. "Well I am still hungry." She looked at Elizabeth as though for support. "In fact, I'm starving." Alex complained, "and we've another two hours and a half before the cafeteria opens."
Elizabeth giggled. She was used to this repetitive argument between her friends of two year. She settled herself comfortably at the head of Leslie's unmade bed. Fluffing a pillow, she placed it behind her back against the wall. Kicking off her shoes, she lifted one leg onto the bed and allowed the other to dangle over the edge.
"I don't get it." Leslie stared from Alex to Elizabeth with exasperation. "There's nothing to her." She took Alex's arm and wiggled it, causing it to flop around like a limp towel. Elizabeth broke into lighthearted laughter. Leslie released the arm and Alex growled playfully at her. "She's practically skeletal," Leslie exaggerated, pointing at Alex's thin dancer's body. "So where the hell does all that damned food go?"
"Metabolism." Alex grinned broadly, showing off a pair of miniature fangs. She turned away and wriggled her behind playfully, yelping when Leslie slapped it.
"Bitch!" Leslie giggled. "You make me sick." She looked back to Elizabeth. "I eat one cookie and I look like Madam Rotunda." She gestured with both hands to her own portly body. "The twig here," she glared at her roommate now seated on her own bed, "can eat the whole bakery out of business and the only thing on her that gains weight is her hair." She laughed then as Alex defiantly ran her left hand through the thick mane.
The laughter and silliness went on for a few moments until the finally decided their ribs could no longer take the mirth. "So," Leslie plopped down onto the foot of her bed and squeezed Elizabeth's toes gently. "Got your room all squared away and decorated?" Elizabeth wrinkled her nose disgustedly but nodded.
"You know my whole purpose for me getting here Monday was so that I could get my room decorated and be out of the way of the freshmen rush." She chuckled self -deprecatingly, "And I still put it off until last night and today."
"Well Leslie and I got done with our room Tuesday," Alex piped in smugly, earning a middle finger gesture from Elizabeth.
"Well," Leslie snarled and looked at Alex accusingly. "Miss Neat Freak over there threatened to shave my head if I didn't get my side of the room looking at least livable."
"Well, you're sooo messy." Alex grimaced. "And she squeezes the toothpaste tube from the middle." She shuddered dramatically. "God! She drives me insane doing that."
"Good." Leslie smirked, "then I'll keep doing it." Leslie stuck out her tongue, waggled it disgustingly and then added; "besides it's my tooth paste tube." Alex rolled her eyes at that. "And you can't even see it," Leslie continued her argument,"because I keep it in the drawer."
"Oh yeah?" Alex grumbled, "Well, I still know it's in there." Her face scrunched into an expression of distaste. "All twisted up and squished in the middle." Elizabeth's eyes widened at her friends and she wondered if she weren't the demented one for hanging out with the two. "It's disgusting and sick." Leslie's stuffed alligator caught Alex right in the face. That immediately brooked more lighthearted arguing between the two.
The young Asian American shook her head at her friends' antics and moved her attention to the study of the room. Raised blinds and parted curtains allowed in harsh sunlight.
That two completely different personalities inhabited the room was astonishingly obvious. The wall above Alex's headboard was covered with a neatly framed poster of Albert Einstein and another framed poster of Jon Bon Jovi hung on wall beside the bed. Leslie's side of the room was decorated with a poster of Andy Warhol and another of the heavy metal group Guns & Roses, simply taped to the wall.
Alex kept her side of the room in
perfect order. The bed was neatly made with hospital corners, and decorated
with a single pillow encased in beige and brown striped cover that matched the
thick comforter. There was even a special tray on her dresser for her toothbrush
and toothpaste tube, equipped with an additional matching cup for rinsing and
a floss distributor.
Leslie, the less neat of the two, was perfectly happy with her unmade bed littered with a scattering of stuffed animals, yesterday's worn clothing, and a collection of mismatched comfort pillows she'd brought from her bed room at home.
Her bathrobe was tossed haphazardly across the back of her desk chair. It was clear her side of the room would never measure up to Alex's neurotic neatness. Elizabeth hoped the two wouldn't drive each other insane but it seemed more likely than not. Of course, it had been two years now and the friendship between them appeared to be suffering no ill effects from their polar oppositions.
Her thoughts drifted to room 105 and she wondered how Logan Birche's room looked. She smiled as she replayed her collision with the girl earlier and imagined that Logan didn't seem the neat freak type nor of the Leslie slob variety. She pictured clutter. Organized clutter. Things arranged in order of their emotional importance and value to the girl not aesthetics. So caught up in her thoughts, she had not realized she was being stared at until the continued silence interrupted her thoughts. She blushed at finding Alex and Leslie grinning from her to each other knowingly.
Leslie spoke first. "Something's happened," she accused, sounding like someone left out on a bit of juicy gossip. Alex nodded enthusiastically in agreement. "Give it up," Leslie demanded greedily; her eyes narrowed with suspicion. Elizabeth blushed a light flushing of red across the skin.
"God," Alex groaned jealousy. "You have met someone!" she accused; the envy in her voice, however, was teasing. "You little slut. Who is he? What's he look like?"
"What kind of car does he drive? What's his net worth?" Leslie interjected, getting to the more important issues. "Is he hung like a horse?" Both Alex and Elizabeth gaped at her, wide-eyed, and shrieked laughingly.
"Leslie!" Leslie stared at her friends and shrugged.
"Hey! Those are important things to know." She defended her inquiries. "Obviously if he drives a convertible then he's just a playboy looking to score as often as he can. And net worth will tell you whether or not he can afford to buy you that Biani or Rocha or if you'll need to purchase it for yourself. And his dick size is important because..." She paused, winked, then continued, " well, for obvious enough reasons."
"Uh huh," Alex responded dryly and rolled her eyes. "Ignore her," she advised Elizabeth who was looking at Leslie with incredulous disbelief. "Now 'fess up, hussy. Who's this new hunk that's got your head in the clouds?" Embarrassed, Elizabeth slumped down on the bed and grabbed up one of Leslie's stuffed koalas.
"Honest guys, I haven't met anyone." She blushed deeply. "At least not like that." She took a deep breath. "I mean, I ran into someone but I didn't ... it wasn't." She snapped her mouth, shut realizing she was stammering badly, and her friends burst into gales of laughter at her expense.
"The girl from 105?" she finally got out. "Have you guys met her yet?" she looked at her two friends curiously, receiving only blank stares from both of them.
"No." Alex answered finally for both Leslie and herself. "She arrived today though. We've heard her going in and out several times. I think her name's Logan Birche. At least that's what the name on the door says." Elizabeth nodded in concurrence. "I really am starving, you guys." Alex patted her rumbling belly and reached into her nightstand for a snickers bar. She tossed it to Leslie who was eyeing the candy with forlorn lust. She grabbed another and held it up for offer to Elizabeth, who declined with a shake of her head. "Anyway," Alex spoke as she began unwrapping the candy bar for herself. "Why the interest in our new neighbor?"
"I well no interest really." Elizabeth captured her top lip between her teeth and began biting on it nervously. Leslie's eyes narrowed suspiciously and Elizabeth glanced down at her lap, suddenly finding interest in the hem of her skirt as she arranged and rearranged it to avoid looking into her friend's eyes.
"You've met her, haven't you?" Leslie smiled wolfishly, squeezing the slender foot that rested beside her thigh. She leaned slightly to the side towards Elizabeth, forcing the violet eyes to look up at her. "Come on, Elizabeth, spill it."
"Well, yeah I kind of met her." She took a deep breath, explaining tripping as she reached the last stair and stumbling into Logan Birche who caught her and kept her from falling on her ass. She was babbling, she knew that, but she didn't know why nor why she was so uncomfortable talking about it. She cleared her throat. "She's very strong. When she caught me from falling, she nearly lifted me off my feet."
"You mean swept you off your feet." Alex teased. Her hazel eyes twinkled with merriment.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Elizabeth snapped defensively.
"Well," Leslie spoke tongue in cheek. "She's just saying that it sounds like your Mr. Right or maybe your Ms. Right has come along after all."
"That's not funny!" Elizabeth snapped defensively, and stood glowering at them both, prepared to storm out. "I was only telling you what happened and you guys have to make something big out of everything!" Alex and Leslie exchanged a puzzled look and shrugged.
"Hey! We're only teasing." Alex offered. "You know us. We never take anything too seriously." Elizabeth relaxed and sat back down. "So what does this amazing superwoman look like?"
"She's Black. Or at least I assume she is. She's got beautiful skin. It kind of reminds me of light caramel." She closed her eyes, missing the knowing looks being shared between her friends. "Her eyes are really light brown, actually sable, I think." She opened her eyes. "She's tall." Elizabeth's glazed for a moment. "Impossibly tall," she breathed out in a hushed voice. She shrugged her shoulders and then frowned, "which doesn't say much on this campus. Have you noticed that?" she looked to her companions who hunched their shoulders cluelessly. "How tall every one is?" Elizabeth clarified. "I didn't really think about it until just now. But I don't think there's anyone here under five-eleven," she frowned again. "Except me. Doesn't that seem strange?"
"Not really." Leslie smiled. "Probably just some freak coincidence." Elizabeth nodded, figuring it was a rather a small incidental thing. "Anyway, about Logan Birche?" Leslie urged.
"She's got to be even taller than 6'2". She's taller than Philip." Elizabeth smiled. "She's funny." Elizabeth found herself chuckling at the small joke Logan had made about having powers. "And she's kind of shy, you know? Kind of like she felt out of place, like maybe she always feels out of place."
"How long did you guys talk?" Leslie asked curiously, casting a knowing grin to her roommate who winked back at her.
"Not long." Elizabeth sighed with disappointment. "I got the feeling she was uncomfortable. But she seemed really nice, you know." She looked down at her lap, recalling more detail about the encounter. "Her voice is kind of husky and low, like a smokers voice but it's kind of sultry, you know, sexy like that singer Sade." She played with the ears of the stuffed gray koala.
"Maybe we should invite her to join us for dinner." Alex suggested seriously. In the two years she'd known Elizabeth she had not seen the girl this affected by anyone.
"No!" Elizabeth looked up at her horrified by the suggestion and then blanched. "I mean. Well may ... maybe we should wait." She swallowed hard. "I mean she seems like the loner type."
Inwardly confused by Elizabeth's strong reaction to her suggestion, Alex shrugged then smiled in support. "You're probably right."
"Yeah," Leslie offered. "Give her a few days to get settled in."
"Yeah, sure." Elizabeth stood awkwardly and moved jerkily to the door. "I need to go wash up." She smiled vaguely at the two. "I'll meet you guys in the cafeteria." She opened the door, slipping out of it and closing it behind her.
Leslie waited a moment to assure that their friend was well out of earshot of their door before speaking to Alex who was staring at her with a befuddled expression. "Maybe Elizabeth got swept off her feet after all." Alex giggled and nodded in agreement. "This amazing superwoman certainly had an effect."
"Can't wait to meet her," Alex chuckled.
************************
She wished that she had thought
to invite the intriguing girl to walk with her. Guilt immediately followed that
line of thinking as Logan realized what her mother would have said. She blanched
physically, as though she had been struck.
Elizabeth Wu would not have been Shirley Birche's idea of a suitable association. Logan's mother would have perceive the soft understated make up Elizabeth wore to be ungodly and whorish. The fact that Elizabeth was not Black would certainly not have scored any points either. Shirley Birche had been of the firm belief that practically everyone was going to Hell, especially if they were not black.
Logan continued her walk, squinting against the harshness of the sun. The intense pain behind her eyes reminded her that she had forgotten to grab her Foster Grants. She sighed sadly as she realized the futility of pursuing any friendships while at Cayce. She wasn't sure she could get past years of programming. It was that whole 'unequally yoked' passage her mother had constantly read to her from the Bible, whenever she had wept at not being able to join other children in recreation. The church pastor and her mother would quote the passage as though that in itself would cure her of her loneliness. It had been the whole basis of them keeping her away from other children and schooling her at home. She was special, they had told her and had to be set apart from the possible influences of evil.
Logan had read an entirely different meaning behind that scriptural context, however but she had not dared share her perceptions with her mother. The girl had been was keenly aware that her mother had considered herself to be an expert on the subject, second only to God, and that her mother had been second only to the Jehovah of the Bible in the matters of Godliness and perfection.
Besides, in those days it seemed to Logan that her very existence was cause enough for the rift between herself and mother. Logan had learned to keep her opinions on biblical matters to herself but she was blatantly aware that she saw much of the bible differently than her mother had.
She had not wanted to further damage the strained relationship with her. But with Logan's rebellious decision to attend college her mother had been resolute in her disapproval of Logan's attendance to any secular schooling and was certainly not pleased when she had learned that Logan would be transferring the following semester to Cayce Christian. It had the name Christian in it but she had known Logan would not be as careful watched as she had been at Corpus.
Logan recognized a once in a lifetime opportunity when she saw it. Although her parents had not been poor, and could afford to help her with schooling if they had chosen to, they would never have been able to afford even a partial semester at Cayce. Logan had not even bothered to apply to such a prestigious and elite school. She had spent her first two years of schooling at the strictly Christian college Corpus Christian and had been enrolled there miraculously on full scholarship based on her work in her parent's church.
Corpus had been a somewhat stifling and, Logan hesitated to admit, a frightening experience. Her every move had been watched by school counselors and monitors. If she so much as spent less than two minutes saying grace before a meal she had been sharply admonished. It had been disheartening to think she would spend her whole educational experience in that suffocating environment, yet by an even more amazing miracle, Cayce had come to her and offered a full scholarship.
"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to get into heaven." Her mother had quoted that scripture when Logan had shared the news with her about the scholarship to the very prominent college. Her mother had scoffed and slapped the notification from her face and out of Logan's hands. "Nothing attends such dens of carnality but the vilest of hell's spawns."
Despite Logan's defense that Cayce was a Christian school as well, her mother had looked at her with eyes glazed and had gone into her rhythmical preaching voice while practically shrieking in Logan's face. "Those people up there, ahuh, think they can buy their way into the pearly gates, but let me tell you something, girly! They're all going to Hell! They're gonna burn, and if you don't watch yourself, you're gonna burn right along with them. Lily white and rich don't wash away the stench of darkness and sin. You hear me, gal! You get yourself messed up in those people garbage out there in the devil's playground, and the Almighty in His Infinite Wisdom will find you and strike you down!"
Logan took in a deep breath and broke into a sweat at the vision of her mother's angry, shrieking purpling face bearing down upon her as she bellowed about the power of the Almighty's Infinite Wisdom. She closed her eyes for a moment to clear her mind of the image. Her eyes sprang open abruptly and she spun about jerkily, feeling once again the eerie sensation of being watched. The girl swallowed nervously and wondered for a moment if her mother hadn't been correct.
She looked around cautiously for
anything or anyone appearing suspicious and finding nothing that seemed amiss,
she reprimanded herself for such foolishness, but still she couldn't shake the
feeling that someone was watching her. She had experienced the same alarming
sensation on several occasions while living at home and while attending Corpus.
At home, she had been able to put the notion down to paranoia at working so
often alone with the animals on her parents' swine farm.
The hogs had at times made noises that could very often sound like people talking and the sound of a particular sow - female adult hog - could sound like a name being called. And often when the animals grew quiet suddenly it could make one feel paranoid. Logan sighed and then picked up her pace, heading back in the direction of her dorm. She had summed up her paranoia at Corpus to being in a strange and new environment away from home.
Perhaps she was just experiencing a ghost effect of having worked so often on the farm on her own - kind of like having the heebie-jeebies for awhile after a seeing a bunch of bugs or maggots crawling over something dead. "Yeah," Logan relaxed and giggled to herself. "That's it. I've got a case of paranoid heebie-jeebies."
***********************
Elizabeth could not shake her daze. Taking the elevator to her floor, she was purposely avoiding the rear stairwell as she tried to make some sense out of what had happened earlier. 'Who is she?' She mouthed the girl's first name. Her arms still tingled from the stranger's touch and her senses were reeling from having reached out to touch the other girl's mind and finding to her surprise that she couldn't read her. It had been as though her mind had slammed into a concrete wall. Yet fierce emotions coiled and whipped about the girl like violent winds. Logan Birche was like an emotional conductor.
Calming her unsettled nerves, Elizabeth took a deep breath and continued on to her own destination. It had been a fluke, she decided, and blamed the strange incident on having been unnerved by her collision with the girl. Cayce was a small college. She was bound to run into the woman again. 'Next time would be different. For now,' she relaxed only slightly as the elevator doors swished opened to her third story floor, 'I need to meditate -then a long, hot, revitalizing shower before dinner.'
************************
Almond shaped violet eyes and a heart shaped face framed by a mass of beautiful obsidian tresses was all too easily recalled to Logan's mind.
"Elizabeth Wu." Logan sounded the name out, liking the way it felt on her lips. She found herself curious about the young woman and she wanted to know everything about her - such where she had grown up and if her childhood had been a good one. Was she the only one in her family with eyes t hat color or if she'd gotten them from her mother or father?
The young woman's speech was too Americanized for her to have grown up anywhere but the states. Secretly embarrassed by her fixation on the other student, Logan glanced around nervously and cringed as if her thoughts might have been read. Feeling guilty and self-conscious, she decided it was time to get her mind off the girl.
Returning to the privacy of her single room, Logan found herself still possessed of restless energy. She glared at the unpacked boxes which leered at her accusingly for her neglect and she gave into her own guilt-driven need to live up to her mother's expectations of cleanliness and order.
By the time she glanced up from her completed chore it was after five p.m. Shrugging at the surprisingly quick passing of time, Logan gave a last approving survey of the room and grudgingly admitted to herself that the job had not been that unpleasant after all. In fact she felt considerably calmer and she had managed to work up an appetite.
A rueful grin tugged at her lips as she contemplated what the cafeteria food would be like. If it proved to be anything like the grub offered at the school she had transferred from then she was certain she would definitely need to keep her appetite worked up and in a state of desperate hunger. She figured that would keep her stomach too occupied to question what it was digesting.
Pocketing her keys and her driver's license, she headed out the door and locked it behind her. She dashed out the exit beside her room, intending to take full advantage of the convenience as often as possible. Having made it out the back without someone falling into her arms, she made sure the door was secured before heading for the cafeteria. She wasn't surprised that guilt chased her heels on the walk over to dinner. After all, she had taken advantage of the convenient backdoor exit on several occasions in one afternoon, which in her mother's opinion would be equated to laziness, in spite of the heavy loads Logan had transported from the car.
Her mother had viewed the entrance
and exit from a back door as a sign of laziness and vulgarity. 'People who
use backdoors, Logan, are nothing more than back-alley sluts and carnal seeking
vultures who pay whores for iniquitous pleasures.' Logan shuddered reflexively
at the mental intrusion of her mother's judgmental words and haughty expression.
Her mother had believed herself to be godly indeed and second to none but the
Almighty.
There were times, however, when Logan wondered if her mother didn't have aspirations of taking over the title of God herself. She couldn't recall the number of times the woman had uttered in disgust at some newspaper report on crime, "All I can say for that sort, Logan, is it's a good thing for them, I'm not God. Yes, indeedy." The woman would then shake her head as if exasperated by the antics of a willful child and would frown with mild disapproval. "I suppose the Almighty in His Infinite Wisdom has his reasons for letting such evil go on and allowing such vile people exist. Well it's like I said, it's a good thing for the world that I'm not God."
Shirley Birche's sermons pursued her daughter to the cafeteria. By the time Logan reached the first step of a ten-step climb into the dining hall, she had lost much of her good mood. It seemed that even in death her mother was reaching from the grave to dog her only daughter's every stride. Logan felt the beast behind her eyes stir angrily and she swallowed a lump of panic lodged in her throat. 'Oh, William,' she spoke internally to a ghost from her childhood, 'sometimes I think I might be just like you. I don't want to be. Please God. Don't let me be like that.'
She had felt the thing stirring before from deep within, peering through her eyes with greedy hunger and growing fat on pain, mistreatment, and her mother's abusiveness. The beast had begun to stir once William was gone. She could sense its face pressed snugly between the bars of its internal prison, waiting, always waiting. Its lips twisted in a smirking sneer, mocking Logan's attempts at control.
Inside the cafeteria, she made her way up a steep inclining ramp to the service line. She fought hard to steady her breathing and shake the picture of her mother's disapproving frown from her mind. Logan nearly gasped when the image of violet and obsidian sprung unbidden to her mind. Her nerves quieted but she was troubled at having reflexively evoked the Asian woman's face to calm herself.
****************************
The cafeteria was noisy but not overly crowded. Elizabeth tried to concentrate on the chatter at her table but found herself unable to find much interest in her tablemates and friends' discussion. The best she could make out was that they were arguing over whether time was linear or side by side, which in such a case would do away with time all together and suggests that the past, present, and future are each happening simultaneously. Elizabeth looked at their faces for a moment before shaking her head, not exactly clear if they were arguing for the sake of arguing or if someone were actually trying to prove a point. "Would you guys move on to the next topic?" she growled, tired of their circular debate. "Besides there's no such thing as ti..."
Her voice died in a whisper. Elizabeth tensed in her seat as she felt the strange sensation of heat wrap around her upper torso and arms. Her fingers clenched into fists on the tabletop and her head felt strangely light and mildly faint. It was the same sensation she had experienced just before stumbling on that bottom stair and bumping into ... "Logan," she breathed the name out softly.
Alex's eyes widened as she and Leslie turned to stare at each other. Casting a warning glance at their other two table companions, Alex winked at the young man, Philip Hessing and his fiery auburn haired girlfriend, Victoria. The pale girl gestured subtly with a nod, directing their gazes to Elizabeth who seemed to have forgotten their presence completely.
Watching Elizabeth closely, her friends noted the light beading of sweat on her upper lip and the trembling in her upper arms. Elizabeth felt suspended in the moment as she turned her head in the direction of the main inner cafeteria entrance that also acted as a steep wheelchair ramp. Her heart accelerated almost painfully and she took a deep breath. Waiting ... waiting.
Alex and Leslie, along with their friends, were quiet and remained still, as though expecting some pivotal event to unfold. Long, black, denim-clad legs made an appearance first. Even in the slightly loose fitting denims it was easy to see the ripple of muscle in calves and thighs. And slowly from behind the divide, she appeared. The air around her seemed to shift for a moment before returning to normal, but not before a small disbursement of heat touched each of them. The noise in the cafeteria came to a sudden halt.
"It's her," Elizabeth breathed. She stood abruptly, her empty dinner tray clattering to the floor. Jolted by the noise, her companions and the rest of the cafeteria jumped, startled by the sound, and stared at the new arrival with wariness. Elizabeth stood, watching as Logan moved with her tray to a nearby table, seemingly unaware of her presence. Elizabeth took a step and found a gentle hand clasped around the fingers of her left hand. Confused at having been blown off, she stared down into hazel eyes - the hurt in her expression barely hidden, but not from Alex.
"Give her time," Alex whispered softly. Elizabeth cast a quick glance in Logan's direction, noting that the girl did not once look up from her tray or in her direction. She looked back at Alex and nodded solemnly. She picked up the dinner tray and set it aside. Elizabeth took her seat and gloomily resumed eating her meal in silence.
"Who...?" Leslie shot Philip Hessing a warning glare and he fell silent. His eyes narrowed as he looked across the room at the solitary stranger peering out of the large picture window. Something about the girl prickled his gut. And what the hell had happened when she walked in? He was not surprised when Elizabeth stood quietly and announced that she would be returning to her room.
The Asian quickly deserted their table and left through the side exit and Philip wasted no time leaning in closer to his companions. "What the hell was that about?" he growled under his breath. "Who is that ... that thing over there?" Leslie chuckled and winked at Alex.
"Well that that's Superwoman." Alex smirked, then launched into Elizabeth's tale of having met Logan at the dorm. Victoria frowned slightly.
"That's it?" she asked incredulously. "That whole scene was over some stranger she met in a stairwell?" She shook her head in disapproval. "I mean, for God sakes, look at her. She's certainly not our caliber of people. I mean, for Heaven sakes where does she shop? JC Penny's?" Victoria giggled, delighted by her own her wit. "She's built like a . . ."
"Like what?" Leslie eyes narrowed. Victoria's snobbery was even a bit much for her. She had more than once during their short acquaintance felt the nasty bite of Victoria's comments about her appearance.
"Well, like one of those women construction workers you see on television."
"Bet it makes you wet, doesn't it?"
"Leslie!" Alex hissed.
"If you're suggesting that I feel the least bit turned on by that Common Ni . . ."
"Torie, stop!" Alex glowered angrily at her red-haired friend.
"Common trash," Victoria amended. "Then you are sadly mistaken."
"Then why can't you stop staring at her?" Leslie challenged snidely. Victoria's embarrassed blush fueled the young woman's anger and she directed that ire at Leslie as she broke into a grimacing smile.
"I imagine for the same reason I found myself gaping at you with open mouthed wonder." Victoria smile widened into a vicious sneer. "It's called morbid curiosity," she delivered with her soft southern drawl. "You know, kind of like what one experiences while touring a freak show." Leslie lunged at her, provoked by the young woman's light laughter, and found herself restrained by her roommate.
"I'll give you freak show!" Leslie growled furiously through clenched teeth. "You southern fried cu..." Her words were stifled when Alex's free hand clamped over her mouth.
"You see Philip," Victoria smiled demurely at her companion, completely dismissing the furious woman. "I told you, no breeding whatsoever."
"Better than inbreeding." Leslie had snatched her mouth free of Alex's hand. And then freed herself from her friend's deceptively strong grip. "Fucking bitch," she growled as Alex followed gloomily behind her towards the exit. "That's alright. I can't wait for her to find out I'm fucking her boyfriend," Leslie sneered.
"What!" Alex stopped and gaped at her as they slipped out of the exit and into the approaching dusk. "When the hell did this come about?" Leslie turned to look at her and blanched, immediately regretting her out burst.
"Don't be mad at me, Alex," Leslie pleaded softly. She looked away miserably. "She's been riding my ass since we met." Her shoulders slumped with guilt. "I just wanted to..."
"Get revenge," Alex supplied gently.
"How long has this been going on? For Pete sake, Les, classes haven't even begun."
"The end of last semester," Leslie admitted softly. "I knew Victoria wasn't putting out so I I kind of " Alex closed her eyes against the sharp pain in her chest. She hated Leslie's self-destructiveness. And she was certain of one thing, if anyone was going to really be hurt by the backlash of this, it would be Leslie.
"I'm not mad," Alex finally whispered. Leslie nodded sullenly. "Leslie..." Alex pulled the woman into an embrace. The heavier girl started to pull away but eventually relaxed, allowing herself the luxury of rare comfort. "Leslie, be careful." Alex whispered into her ear. "I know we've only been friends for two years, but I care about you."
"Yeah, right," Leslie replied tersely and abruptly ended the embrace.
"Yeah," Alex asserted vehemently, "I do and I don't want to see you get hurt."
"I won't." Leslie's eyes narrowed "But I'm not gonna let that Cu "
"Leslie," Alex cut her off. "I don't like that word. Please don't say it."
"What word?" Leslie stared at her, stupefied.
"You know." Alex blushed. "The C-word."
"Oh, you mean Cu "
"Leslie, please," Alex beseeched softly. "Please don't use that word anymore."
"Why does it bother you so much?" Leslie asked curiously.
"I'll tell you some day." Hazel eyes saddened and Leslie's breath caught in her chest at the sight. She never wanted to see that look on her friends face again.
"S'okay, Alexandria. I won't say it again."
"Come on," Alex shook off her morose frame of mind. "Let's go eat something actually meant for ingestion. Uck." Alex grimaced playfully and patted her unimpressed stomach.
"Sounds like a good idea." Leslie smiled broadly. "Bad cafeteria food is such a tiring cliché. As much money as this school brings in, you'd think the cafeteria would do something original."
"Yeah," Alex agreed and then chuckled, "like cooking food that's actually edible."
"Or at least looks like what it's supposed to be. Who'd have guessed?" Leslie grinned wittily. "Mystery meat is universal."
************************
She glared at the barely eaten steak. It was well disguised beneath the lumps of brown gravy but Logan was not at all convinced that the thin piece of 'steak' was actually meat. Absently pushing her food around on the plate with her fork, she sighed heavily. She had not meant to hurt Elizabeth's feelings. Logan had been aware of the girl's eyes on her and had been equally aware of the curious and mixed interests of Elizabeth's table companions. She had felt intimidated at having that much attention drawn to her. Her gaze drifted to the world outside the picture window that made up one whole wall of the cafeteria.
Now that the sun was going down, the pain behind her eyes had begun to recede. As much as she enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her skin it was the nighttime she craved. Daylight was too callous and revealing in its harsh light, whereas the night was kind and cast truths in shadow, making mockery of reality. She resumed picking at the food on her plate, ingesting as much of her meal as she could. Finally, unable to eat anymore of the questionable cuisine, she shoved her plate away and drank the rest of her soda.
She was keenly aware of the hard stares directed at her from the table Elizabeth had occupied and propping an elbow on the table, she rested her forehead in the palm of her hand and avoided looking around the cafeteria at the other students.
The young man and his attractive red-haired companion (girlfriend, Logan guessed from the close proximity they were to each other) had hardly taken their eyes off her. She could feel their hostile glares raking over her like slivers of ice pelting at her skin, judging her clothes, her shoes, the color of her skin. She was well acquainted with their kind. They were like her mother, looking a person over once in judgment and deciding from one glance that they knew her life and who she was and what she would be. Well, they don't know me. She'd had enough of their brooding glares and stood, anger making her movements appear jerky as she grabbed up her tray. They know nothing about me.
**************************
Ian stared at Carl Unger with wide-eyed disbelief. "What you are suggesting is preposterous. We are the immortal," he argued passionately. "We are eternal. We cannot die."
"You have always been a shortsighted fool, Ian." Carl snarled disgustedly at the dean. "Yes. We are eternal beings. Yes. We have immortal strength. And we are not easily killed." He grimaced.
"And there." Ian gloated smugly. "You've disproved your own theory." He crossed his arms across his chest in triumph.
"Are you really that stupid?" Carl Unger shook his head and nearly gave up the idea of enlightening Ian Porter, but Ian was kin and that made Carl feel at the least a small amount of loyalty. "Ian, although you may think we are like the gods, we still have weaknesses. We do need sustenance; nourishment for our bodies and spirits to continue to hold their continuity and for our cells to constantly regenerate. And for that we need the humans."
"Well, there's no shortage there."
"At the present no." Carl's eyes hardened. "But humans are self-destructive, with no reverence for their lives or for the world that sustains them." He paced his office restlessly, his eyes becoming distant as he continued, unaware that he now had Ian's full attention. "Every year they spend billions and billions of dollars building toys and new technology with which to destroy each other and in massive numbers.
Millions of them are dying each year from diseases and they refuse to devote the resources needed to find cures. Instead, millions of dollars are spent in research to manufacture newer and deadlier diseases. Humans are starving and dying from exposure and no one has the time to stop and care about these things."
"Well, how big of you Carl," Ian sneered mockingly. "Suddenly you've become the champion of the human cause. Is that it? Suddenly the plight of mankind has softened your heart and you've become sympathetic to their suffering?" Ian laughed out loud at this. "That's what we do, Carl." Ian grinned wolfishly "We are their angels of mercy. We are the death angels that end human suffering. And in return they give us eternal life."
"And what happens when mankind has succeeded in making itself extinct? When disease and starvation has killed off those that have not been killed by the depletion of this planet's resources or from their killing toys. Who will nourish us then, Ian? From where will we draw the life-giving sustenance we need to survive? After they have succeeded in destroying themselves what will prevent our own extinction?" Ian's pale face was now almost translucent.
He gasped, finally realizing the truth behind Unger's words.
"Ah." Unger smiled grimly. "You understand now." Ian nodded mutely, his eyes still wide with shock.
"This cannot be allowed," Ian hissed. Carl nodded rather impatiently.
"As I said before, everything is going according to plan."