Flee (The Aurora Lockette Series, Book 1) (11 page)

The hateful protestors were still there,
albeit in much smaller numbers. A much larger group of people had
shown up, fighting against the actions of the hateful. They were
camping out, keeping the crazies off of my mom’s property, and
telling them to leave. They interviewed one of the new group
members.

“This is ridiculous. She probably can’t fly,
and even if she can, who cares? This family has lived here for ten
years. They’re good people. We won’t let these hate mongers run
them out of town. She saved a life. Why are people making such a
big deal out of this?”

I was relieved someone was standing up for me
and my mom when we couldn’t do it ourselves. It restored my faith
in humanity. Well, somewhat restored my faith in humanity.

“Thank God,” my mom said. “I was starting to
think the whole world was completely mad. Maybe this will die
down.” She took a long drink of her third cup of coffee and set it
down on the table. “Let’s go canoeing,” she suggested brightly.

“Sure, Mom.” And we did. We stayed away from
the T.V. and phone.

We returned to the cabin several hours later.
She cooked some steaks on the compact charcoal grill outside. We
ate in front of the T.V. I mentally braced myself for any more
Aurora related coverage.

A pretty brunette appeared on the screen of a
national news network. “And now returning to the story grabbing
national headlines. Spectators claimed a woman, Aurora Lockette,
saved their child by flying to catch her when the cliff the child
was standing on gave way. Additional reports surfaced Lockette was
with Gavyn Dhaval at the time, a notable Hollywood figure. It seems
that at least this part of the bizarre story is true. Today, for
the very first time since these events unfolded, Gavyn Dhaval
released a written statement as follows:

‘I’d like to clear up some misconceptions
about events that recently transpired. Earlier this week, I was
with Aurora Lockette. She was brave and alert enough to lunge after
a little girl who was falling off a cliff, saving her life. Aurora
caught the girl before she went over the edge and pulled her back
up. I can only imagine the trauma this family experienced at almost
watching their child die. However, I can no longer remain silent
while they continue to make ridiculous assertions that Ms. Lockette
flew. These are absurd and hurtful, as they have caused unwanted
attention and hate to be directed to Ms. Lockette. I would ask the
media respect Ms. Lockette’s privacy. It is unfortunate a heroic
but very human act has been turned into a hate-filled media
circus.’ ”

“Wow,” my mom said.

I’m sure his agent and rep were cringing he
would have to publicly comment on such a ridiculous situation. Pain
broke through my numbness and threatened to crash over me.

I excused myself and hid behind the closed
doors of my bedroom. In the darkness, I thought about everything I
had lost.

I slept in late the next morning. When I woke
up, my mom was stretched out on the couch in the living room.
“Morning,” she said as I trotted in with a cup of coffee. “I think
we can go back in a couple of days. The news broke this morning the
family retracted their statements and apologized. They ‘admitted’
they were looking for some publicity. All your classmates are still
refusing interviews. That was early this morning and there hasn’t
been a single story again,” she said. “I don’t know what prompted
them to do this, but I’m sure glad they did. This family and Gavyn
are covering for you now. Maybe it’ll be enough to get everyone
else to back off too.”

Sure enough, four days later we were loading
up the car to return to Kansas. Erica reported there were no
visitors to my mom’s home in several days. The story completely
dropped out of the media. My mom had her phone service restored
under a new number. There wasn’t a single errant message.

I had time to think about what the future
might hold for me as we drove back. I had withdrawn from law
school, knowing my situation would be ingrained on my classmates’
minds forever.

When we pulled into the driveway, I hadn’t
come up with a plan and I was exhausted. I went straight to my old
bedroom. My sister’s boyfriend had kindly driven to San Antonio and
vacated my apartment. Boxes of my stuff were stacked in neat rows,
filling half of the room. My furniture was in storage in my
sister’s basement. I was grateful to have most of my stuff back. I
still had a stash in the cabin I’d shared with Gavyn, but that was
gone forever.

“Aurora!” My mom’s voice floated through my
half open door. “You have a piece of mail.” I walked into the
dining room, where she had left the large ivory envelope with a red
flap on the table. My name and my mom’s address were written in
calligraphy. I picked it up and flipped over the envelope a couple
times, feeling the heavy weight of the fancy paper. There was no
return address. It was postmarked from Fairbanks, Alaska.

“Quit playing with it and open it,” she
called from the kitchen.

And so I did. I read the note twice,
struggling to understand the words neatly handwritten on the plain
ivory paper inside.

Aurora,

We have been watching your family bloodline
for several generations. Somehow we missed you. For that, I am
sorry. We were able to gain control over the situation with the
media this time. However, you are still in grave danger.

There are others like you. You are not
alone.

We will be making contact with you
shortly.

I must have dropped the letter, because it
was gracefully spiraling toward the floor.

My mom paused her sweeping. “Are you okay? Is
it something bad?”

I didn’t answer. Was it a joke? An unknown
relative?

She stooped down to pick it up, reading as
she stood. “Is this real?” She tossed the letter on the table,
strode over to the door and locked the deadbolt. She methodically
went through every window in the house, checking to make sure they
were latched. I heard the click of her gun safe from the
bedroom.

“Mom! Just chill. It’s not a threatening
letter. And it was sent from Alaska, not here.”

“I know, but it’s a little strange, and it’s
been an eventful week. I’m just taking some precautions.” She came
back into the dining room. We both sat on the table with the letter
between us. We stared at it, as if it would reveal its secrets.

Finally, she spoke. “Okay, there are two
basic options as I see it. Let’s start with the simplest
explanation first. It’s a joke. Someone who saw the news stories is
trying to mess with you. That’s the most likely scenario.”

I shook my head in disagreement. “From
Alaska? Someone in freaking Alaska saw the news last week, composed
this creepy little letter, found out your home address, and dropped
it in the mail four days ago, exactly when the media storm died
down?”

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her
arms. “You’re right. This letter was mailed the same time Gavyn and
the family released their statements. The media interest
evaporated. I didn’t realize the timeline coincided. But it still
could just be a coincidence.”

“What’s your second scenario?” I said.

“It’s legit. I’ve always wondered if there
are more people like you out there. The letter mentioned bloodline,
and your great grandmother was institutionalized for delusions.
Maybe she said she could fly.” She picked up the letter again. “I
wonder if there would be some sort of support group or something. I
guess that could make sense.”

“I’m not an alcoholic. I don’t need a support
group. Do you really think there’s an anonymous secret support
group for the gravity challenged in Fairbanks, Alaska?”

“Well, when you say it like that, I guess it
does sound surreal.” Her face became more serious. “Let’s face it
though, your life is pretty surreal. Stranger things have
happened.”

I took the letter back and read the words one
more time. “The mysterious author said they will make contact with
me soon. Let’s just keep our guard up, and see what happens. If no
one contacts me, then we know it’s a joke. If someone contacts me,
we’ll go from there.” I smiled at her. “Try not to shoot anyone,
okay?”

“Fine. I’ll try to restrain myself. For now.”
I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

I was awake in bed for several hours watching
the occasional light flash across the ceiling from passing cars. I
thought about the possibilities hinted at in the letter, providing
a welcome retreat from my heartache. Could there really be a group
of people out there like me? If it was genetic, why did my mom and
sister remain firmly planted on earth’s surface at all times?

I tried not to get too excited about the
letter, but I couldn’t help it. Nothing about the letter made
sense, but logic rarely prevailed in my world.

As usual, the pain over losing Gavyn was
still working at the corner of my mind. Alone, in the dark, I let
it wash over me. I cried into my pillow, soaking it with my tears.
I could only hope as time went on, the pain would at least dull to
a more manageable level.

It didn’t. Boredom defined my life in
Wichita. I didn’t go to school, I didn’t have a job. The novelty of
having nothing to do quickly wore off.

My one salvation was exercise. I could run
eight miles at a time and spend hours in the gym lifting
weights.

I was fit, but I was clueless. I couldn’t
figure out if I wanted to go back to school. If I did, I wasn’t
sure if I would finish law school or do something else. My job
options were somewhat limited in Wichita. A liberal arts degree was
almost completely useless on that front.

I allowed a few days to slip by until I woke
up determined to spend my day productively. The least I could do
was help out my mom while I was living like a useless bum in her
house. I left for the grocery store, taking my old economy car my
sister’s boyfriend had retrieved from San Antonio. I took the time
to peruse the aisles and compare prices. It felt good to be doing
something constructive with my time.

I was walking out of the store when a short,
wiry forty-something man with bright blond hair approached me.
Thick sunglasses hid his eyes, but he still looked vaguely
familiar. I stiffened and wrapped my hand around the pepper spray,
for once glad my mom insisted I carry it with me wherever I go.

“You received our letter?” He had a faint
eastern European accent.

“What? Is this a joke?”

He glanced behind him before he spoke. “It’s
not a joke. Please believe me. We cannot talk any further here.” He
handed me an envelope. “It’s time we met. Here is an address of a
small café just outside city limits. Meet me tomorrow at two in the
afternoon. Bring your mother if it will make you feel more
comfortable. It’s a public place, but we should be able to speak
privately. I’ll have some answers for you. Please come.” He started
to walk away, and then paused. “There are others.”

He disappeared into the crowd of people
walking into the grocery store. I was transfixed, gripping the
handles of the shopping cart until my knuckles turned white.
Eventually, I managed to get a hold of myself and go back to my
car.

Once home, I booted up the computer and
looked up the address of the diner. It was a small place, just like
he said. I would go. I would tell my mom about it, but I would
definitely go.

She wasn’t nearly as excited about it as I
was.

“This whole thing is really bizarre,” she
said. “I don’t know about this.” She was sitting at the table,
pinching the top of her nose with her eyes closed, something she
only did when she was really upset.

“It’s in a diner, a public place. I’m going.
If you would like to come, you are more than welcome,” I said.

“Fine. I will be armed,” she said.

I was practically bouncing in the passenger
seat when we pulled into the diner parking lot the next day. My mom
wore a baggy t-shirt to conceal the gun she was wearing on her
person. She looked at me, resting her arms over the steering wheel.
“Are you sure about this?”

I appraised the small, old metallic diner.
There were a couple of trucks and one shiny black car parked
outside. “Yes.”

A girl my age behind the counter took orders
from the bar and waited on the tables. It was simple fare:
hamburgers, hotdogs and waffles.

The man was there, waiting in a booth at the
far end of the restaurant. He sat with his hands folded in front of
him. He was pale, and leanly muscled, with grey eyes like me,
except his were a steely light grey, almost blue.

Without sunglasses, I recognized him. I’d
seen him before back in San Antonio, at the grocery store and the
bookstore.

He smiled as I settled in across from him.
“I’m so glad you decided to come. My name is Konstantin.” He
reached across the table and shook my hand. He directed his gaze to
my mom. “You must be Aubrey. Thank you for being here.”

“Are you alone?” she asked.

“Yes, I am the only one here.”

The waitress took our order. When she left,
Konstantin clasped his hands together. “I know this must be very
strange for you. I understand in order for us to communicate
further, I must first earn your trust, and your mother’s.” He
gestured toward my mom. “The best way I can earn you trust is to
give you some information about yourself, and your ability. I must
warn you, some of this will be surprising. Please remember we are
in a public place.”

He turned his head, scanning the restaurant
with his eyes. When he was done, he lowered his voice. “It starts
off as almost, shall we say...levitation, and for some, that’s as
far as it gets. For others, it can be much, much more. It’s
something you have to control at all times, which clearly you have
been able to teach yourself how to do. At times when you are very
sleepy or in an extreme emotional state, be it good or bad, it is
harder to control. Sound familiar?”