Elijah's Chariot (The Forgotten Children Book 1) (24 page)

Sean
extended his hand, fingers pointing toward the figure on the couch. He closed
his eyes and concentrated, imagining the electrons in the air entering an
increasing state of agitation, heating up as they bounced off each other in
countless indeterminate patterns. He was aware of a slight sucking sensation in
the air around him as oxygen collected. Suddenly, a thin jet of flame burst in
the air a few inches from his fingers and shot in a stream toward his father’s
body. It was just enough to ignite the gasoline and the entire pyre was quickly
ablaze. 

The
four stood silently still as the sun slid slowly below the horizon and the
smoke drifted softly into the air. 

Sean
backed into the door slowly, pushing it open with his shoulder blades as he
balanced the box of canned food and army-issue packets of macaroni and cheese
with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. As he stepped into the spacious
living room and kicked the door shut behind him, he heard the banging of pots
and pans from the kitchen to his right. 

“Whoever
these people were, they sure knew how to live it up,” Ryan McCaney called from
the kitchen. He stepped into the doorway that led into the living room, holding
a large, Teflon-coated, steel pan about a foot-and-a-half in diameter. “Much
better than that place in Kez last night.”

“Crime
pays,” Viktor said from the leather couch in the living room. He was lying back
against a couple of large, colorfully stitched Uzbeki cushions, a large atlas
on his lap and a couple other folding maps spread out around him. Svyeta was
curled up nearby, leafing through an old magazine.

Sean
set the box of food down on a chair next to the door and carried his bag over
to the couch, plopping down next to Viktor. Ryan ambled over to the cardboard
box of food and pulled out a couple cans. 

“Chili-mac
okay with you guys?”

“You’re
killin’ me, man,” Viktor said, smiling as he perused one of the maps.

Ryan
chuckled and walked back into the kitchen, swinging the large pan over his
head. 

Svyeta
looked up, smiling at the unfamiliar words. Her English had been improving greatly
over the past couple days, but at nowhere near the rate of Viktor’s. And most
of the American slang was still way beyond her ability.

Sean
sat staring tiredly at the large television screen in front of him. This was
the second dacha, or country house, that they’d stayed in. Once they’d left the
Moscow metropolitan area, the small country towns had been easy to spot along
the road. Some were larger than others, but all had been entirely deserted, as
far as the three of them could tell. The first night they’d stopped, Private
Ryan McCaney had been ready to pull in at the first shack off the freeway, but
Viktor had urged him to drive through town first to take a look at their
options. He’d explained that a majority of dachas were very primitive – just a limited
cottage where work-weary city residents could spend the weekends soaking up sun
or gardening. But, many of the communities had at least one or two very nice,
brick homes that would be fully outfitted with all the latest amenities –
usually owned by Mafia members. Although the water wasn’t working, the large,
fluffy beds had been exactly what they’d needed. 

They
had been driving for three days straight, traveling over a thousand miles, but
still had about nine thousand more to go – another month of driving. Viktor was
impressed with the progress they’d made so far, despite a couple detours around
the major cities and some blocked roads. The Russian teen was guiding them
along roughly the same route as the Trans-Siberian railroad, which would take them
to the coast. From there they had a couple options. Hitching a ride on a plane
out of Vladivostok was a longshot, but one that they wanted to investigate
before beginning the longer and more difficult trek north to a smaller coastal
city. Viktor insisted a boat trip across the Bering Strait to Alaska was
possible, despite the fact that none of them had any experience with
seafaring. 

Thinking
about the distance they still had to travel made Sean even more exhausted. He’d
managed to grab a quick nap during the ride that afternoon, but he’d awoken
from the same dream that he’d had the night before. It always began just as his
normal forest dream that had repeatedly visited him over the past few weeks. He
was hiking through a dense forest, toward some bright clearing in the distance,
but this time, as he was clawing his way through the underbrush, he ran into a
body slumped against the thick bushes. The face was broken and bloody almost
beyond recognition, but he knew it was Ivan. As he was looking at the face, the
dead boy let out a horrid scream and lunged toward him. Sean had awoken in a
cold sweat both times, his heart racing, plagued by a single thought. It was
the same thought that had been racing through his mind for the past few days: I
am a murderer.  

“It’s
you,” Viktor said suddenly, staring at Sean from the other side of the couch.

Sean
stared in surprise at his friend, suddenly terribly afraid that he was somehow
able to read his thoughts.

“What?”

“I
think it’s you – you’re causing it. You remember how I told you two days ago
that I felt like I was getting smarter? Even smarter than before? The
combinations, the equations that I was seeing – nothing that I’d even imagined
up to that point. And now… everything is suddenly more clear just since you
walked into the room… I think you’re causing it – you’re strengthening my
intelligence power somehow.”

“How?
I’m not doing a thing,” Sean replied.

“You
may be using this new ability occasionally without even realizing it… through
some type of unconscious activation – just as I suspect Ivan did…”

Sean
thought back to that horrible moment a few days ago in the courtyard. Just as
he was about to hit Ivan, he’d experienced the rushing sensation, meaning that
someone nearby was using their special power. Then, right after that his fist
had connected with the boy’s face…

“Ivan,”
Sean said aloud. “I felt it right before I hit him. He could have been using it
without even knowing. He was panicking – he was being attacked.”

“Yes,”
said Viktor quietly, “he amplified the power being used around him,
accidentally causing his own death.”

Pulling
himself out of the disturbing memory, Sean turned to Viktor. “What power? My
telekinesis? But, I wasn’t using that – I was just punching.”

“But,
punching with all your strength – including the additional strength you gained
from Aleksandr. You couldn’t have caused that much damage with your natural
strength alone.”

Sean
nodded as it slowly became clear. “That day at the mall. The car was heading
right for him, but he blocked it somehow at the last second. It wasn’t a force
field at all…”

“No,
Aleksandr’s ability, it seems, was extraordinary strength. That’s the only
explanation – you haven’t seen any other kids exhibit any similar power right?
Nothing that can explain what you were able to do to Ivan’s face. So, you must
have picked up this powerful strength from Aleksandr. He himself didn’t even
know about it up to that point. And since you weren’t aware of the power that
he’d had, you weren’t able to use it consciously. Not until…”

“Not
until I was angry enough. Angry enough to kill,” Sean finished.

“It
wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know you had that extraordinary strength and you
didn’t know that Ivan was able to amplify it even further. Besides, Sean,”
Viktor said as he leveled his gaze at the American boy, peering at him through
his thick, dark eyebrows, “he killed Zhenya – murdered her. He might have
murdered us too if you hadn’t stopped him.”

Svyeta
had only understood bits and pieces of the conversation, but she looked directly
at Viktor at the mention of her sister’s name. 

Sean
slumped back into the couch cushion, reliving in his mind, once again, that
terrible afternoon. 

Viktor
stood up and hobbled over to the black-finish cabinet underneath the
wide-screen television. It was packed full of video cassettes and DVDs, mostly
American movies dubbed in Russian. He flipped through the movies casually,
looking for something interesting. He turned back to Sean and Svyeta, holding
up a copy of
Terminator 3
. “You like Schwarzenegger?”

Sean
shrugged, not opening his eyes, and let his head fall back onto the leather
couch. Viktor began pushing buttons on the VCR and DVD player, trying to come
up with the right combination to make the system work. After a couple of
minutes, he turned back to Sean.

“How
is this thing turned on?” When Sean didn’t reply, Viktor turned to glance at
his friend who was lying still. He looked over at Svyeta and she nodded,
mouthing “asleep” silently. 

Viktor
rose from his knees and walked quietly over to remove Sean’s duffel bag that
was still lying open on his lap, some clothing and a couple books spilling out.
Viktor looked down curiously, moved the bag to the other side of the couch,
then pulled out a video cassette and turned it over in his hands a couple
times. Glancing again at Sean, he moved back to his position in front of the
television and began searching for the instruction manual. 

By
the time Ryan McCaney and Svyeta began dishing out food at the table, Viktor
had the tape playing. He’d never heard an English-language news broadcast
before and was fascinated at the way the reporters’ words jumped up and down.
The cadence was almost lyrical – so different from the way Sean and Ryan spoke.
He watched as the home video-quality recording of the scientists standing next
to the large meteorite played across the screen. 

“Hey,”
said Ryan as he scooped a ladle full of chili into a bowl, “do we get the news
here?”

“Videotape
from before.”

“Yeka…
Yekaterin….Yekaterinburg,” he finally managed in his easy Southern drawl.
“Isn’t that about where we are?”
       Viktor nodded enthusiastically. “We’re right outside of Revda, which is
a suburb of Yekaterinburg. The newscaster said that Ilya, or Elijah, crashed
just a few hundred miles north of the city.”

Sean
opened his eyes abruptly, realizing that he’d been dozing. He focused on the
images on the television – the scientists in their white, protective suits,
tramping around the foliage next to the enormous rock. 

“Wasn’t
it supposed to explode or something when it landed?” asked Ryan. 

“It
was,” Sean said quietly, “but it slowed down once it broke through the
atmosphere. It should have exploded into a million pieces, but it just crashed
and rolled a little.”

The
four of them watched in silence as the broadcast continued. Finally, the report
cut off and the screen dissolved into static. They continued to stare for
almost a minute, the image of the giant unearthly rock turning over and over in
their minds.

“That’s
when it all started, didn’t it? That week when Ilya came down,” Svyeta said.    

“It
must be responsible,” Viktor said quietly, his voice suddenly sounding very
deep. He turned to Sean. “Elijah has to be the reason for all this.”

Sean
nodded and leaned forward, still staring intently at the blank screen. It was
supposed to have been such a monumental event, even before all the people
started dying. The fact that an asteroid of such size was actually going to
collide with Earth was, up until that point, the news of the century. Probably
the most significant thing since the Apollo moon landing. His father had been
so excited about all the possibilities – even the meteorite’s fragments would
be extremely important. Everyone had been hoping that the pieces would yield up
some secrets about the universe. Never before had anyone been able to study
such a large asteroid up close or even been able to predict with such certainty
when the thing would come down – it was a fresh sample, untainted by the years.
Luckily it hadn’t been too big – otherwise, the crash might have been much more
devastating. But, much smaller and they would have never even seen it coming.
Jerry/Elijah was just right. 

Sean
looked over at Viktor, into the boy’s large, dark brown eyes. He was chewing on
his lip nervously as his mind raced back and forth. Sean could feel the
excitement coming off him, the possibility of discovery. Suddenly he glanced up
at Sean, the question hanging in his eyes. 

The
American boy rocked back and forth gently, his elbows on his knees. “It might
kill us. The same thing could happen to us that happened to everybody else.”

Viktor
nodded and looked down, his large hands fidgeting as he concentrated. “Maybe,
maybe… but, I think it would have already if it was going to. Distance or – how
do you say? Closeness or, or – proximity!” He pronounced the word slowly.
“Proximity didn’t really have any effect on the rest of the world. Adults in
America died just the same as people in Russia, even though we were closer. I
think we would be okay.”

Ryan
stood silently, listening to the two boys. He set the pan down on the table.
“Could we actually get to it? Do you know where it is?”

“The
news person on the tape gave the longitude and latitude. We could find it on a
map,” Viktor said excitedly.

“I’ve
got a GPS device – if it still works. I’m not sure about the satellites and all
that,” Ryan added.

“What
are you talking about?” Svyeta asked.

“We
could go find Ilya – it’s still out there somewhere,” Viktor said.

He
turned back to Sean. “Don’t you want to know? At least see it? Maybe your
tricky eyes could see something.”

Sean
nodded and stopped rocking. They were in the area, it was only a little out of
their way. Were they in any hurry anyway? It had already been weeks since his
mother had died. There was no telling where Elizabeth was or if she was even
still alive. She might have been captured by some gang too, there was no way to
know. It was still going to take them almost another couple of months to get to
California anyway.