Chapter 3

A throbbing pain deep in my stomach wakes me up, a blistering heat I remember from long ago. I practically fall out of bed, then begin lurching towards my bathroom. It's not the food from the dining hall that did this, or at least I hope it wasn't; that grub was way too tasty, maybe the quality they feed Death Row prisoners the night before they get executed. I had a burger, but it was like some sort of gourmet burger, with meat better than I've ever tasted, any topping I could want, bread that tasted home-made and some fries on the side that were nothing like what you'd get at a fast food joint. All other burgers may be ruined for me from now on. Shoden on the other hand got some noodle thing from another area, which he got all excited about when he found out it was "highly quality, very fresh ingredients!" I'm pretty sure I'm going to gain a bunch of weight here, but it'll all be worth it.

Thinking about food is not the best thing to do when you might throw up at any moment. The pain is dissuading me from walking and I drop down to the floor, on top of a bag I almost finished unpacking earlier. Maybe … maybe it'll carry me there, like a faithful steed. Imagining that, I laugh weakly, but the thought catches in my feverish head. The bag's handles would flip down and become legs, pulling it and myself forward. The few remaining jackets inside would act like the fat on a body, cushioning the ride and giving structure. The bag itself would stretch and contract, helping the whole ungainly process continue to move forwards. It wouldn't be difficult after that, the door to the bathroom is already open, a fact I notice only as I am carried through it.

I've got my head over the toilet bowl, just waiting, but nothing comes. The bag is still underneath me, having helped me to sit up then falling lifelessly back down. The pain in my stomach isn't subsiding, but it's also not nearly as bad as that night when this first happened. That night sucked. I was something like eleven or twelve and the pain made me cry out, over and over, louder and louder. My parents ran into the room just in time to watch me barf up dinner over the side of the bed, then lunch. They managed to catch breakfast in a big basin from the closet, but the carpet was already sopping. The pain wasn't stopping, so mom rushed me to the hospital while dad stayed to clean up. He had to be at work in the morning so it made sense that he take the duty that would get him back to bed sooner.

Just as we were arriving at the hospital, the pain finally began to go away; the doctor thought it was appendicitis, that my appendix had almost burst from a rogue infection. She had me drink some chalky liquid so they could X-ray me and map out the problem, but the X-rays showed nothing wrong at all. In the end they told me that my colon or small intestine must have gotten inflamed, a rare but non-threatening problem that would probably never happen again.

The pain did come again, tonight is something like the fourth time. It's never been as bad as that first time, never so bad that I cry out or think I should worry someone with the details, and at least now I have some idea why it happens. It's probably safe to assume that some organ is literally on fire; it's usually accompanied by something like a short fever, with my body getting much warmer than usual. If it got worse I might really burn up from the inside, a scary thought, but so far it's only gotten easier to deal with. All I need is a moment to relax, and the pain starts to go away. I wonder now, knowing at last that there are indeed other people like me out in the world, if this is how they usually die. Maybe most of them don't even grow up at all, maybe they just burn up from the inside at a young age, or freeze, or zap themselves.

Well, apparently I've got nothing coming up this time, so … actually, going back to bed now just doesn't feel right. I need to move, go for a walk, maybe grab some gum from a snack machine or take a smoke under the stars. I drag the bag back into the room and stare at it, wondering if it will come back to life, but it only sits there. After pulling a pair of pants over my PJs and grabbing a coat, I'm off. I'm no midnight runner, but a stroll at least through my new home should get rid of this antsy feeling. I'm not sure how free we are to move around the school at night, so I'll leave that for another day, maybe after I've seen it in the daylight and won't get lost.

My door clicks closed, and I lock it with my brand-new keys. It's kind of empowering having your own keys. Down the hall, towards the stairs; maybe I'll be able to find the secret military command center they probably have under this place. That little kitchen has a light on, and I move towards it, hoping to meet some new people.

It's just those three jerks. I blink in the light, disappointed. They're playing a card game at the table, just the three of them.

"Good night, good night, oh, no good morning!" The girl in the wheelchair, Betty, is cheerful when she sees me standing there awkwardly. The others look and grin, only half nastily, then turn back to their game. It seems to be a pretty serious affair.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt, I'll just – ." She interrupts me quickly.

"No, no, definitely not! Sit, stay, maybe play a round if you know how."

"I'm not much for card games, so I'll …" This time it's the rich-looking one, Dale, that picks up the conversation.

"Really, there's no call to be a wet blanket! But, actually, I must insist Betty my dear that he not play. I doubt he has the cash necessary to join, and I will not be loaning."

"Yes, yes, I understand you completely D, you're quite right! How's about," she turns to me again, "fetching me some milk from that fridge, would you? I will pay you, um, uh, hm, a hundred dollars for the honor of doing so, and then, yes, then you can join the game!"

"Sounds like some high stakes you've got there," I say sarcastically, although inwardly a little intimidated. And as if I would go get her milk! The silent one is already getting up, which puts me on guard, but he just quietly pads over to the cupboard and gets a clear plastic cup, then to the fridge where he fills it halfway full with milk. We all watch him; it's only now that I notice he's missing several fingers on his left hand, and glancing down at his bare feet, a toe on his right side. Finished, he brings the milk over to Betty, then sits as quietly as he stood up.

"Sam, Sam, Sammy! Now look what you've done, you've ruined the poor fresh meat's chance to play a round or two!" She is chortling into her milk, but otherwise sipping it daintily.

"Oh don't harp on poor Sam, he was just doing the stripling a favor. It'd just lose anything it gambled to you and you know it. You certainly do the same to us, every time!" Dale's getting into the fun too, but he also seems pretty serious about her skills. Betty is holding her cards loose and a little folded, but there's a professional air about her. It probably is a good thing I didn't want to join.

"Yeah, well, you guys can go back to your game, I think I'm ready to go back to bed now." Just talking to this bunch is tiring, they never seem to let up. Betty takes a quick glance at her hand, then smiles at me, a lioness' smile.

"Hm, hm, no, actually, I have a better idea. Dale, Sam, hand over the cards, chop chop, that's all for the night."

"Betty my dear, you just had a bum hand, isn't that right?" He dutifully hands over his cards, and Sam does the same, pushing them in along with the loose deck from the center of the table.

"Why Dale, I am shocked, amazed, struck dumb! How, how, how could you accuse me of such a thing?" These three really don't ever let up I guess. Betty gathers and shuffles the deck and carefully places it in an old ratty box, which then goes in her chair somewhere. Sam, again back behind her to push, leans down to put his ear near her lips, an ear which I can see has some chunks missing from it, hidden before by hair. She whispers to him, and he begins pushing. "Oh Dale! Dale, Dale, bring the little one, bring him along, we are going downstairs!" Dale grabs my arm enthusiastically, and hard, a smile spreading across his face as he escorts me after them. I consider resisting, but I'm a little curios as to where we're going.

Our march takes us out of the kitchen and down the hall in the opposite direction from the stairs I came down. It's pretty dark this way. Once he can tell I'm coming willingly, Dale releases my arm and quickly puts his hand up to his chin. A large brilliantly glowing golden helmet appears, completely covering his face, like something out of a picture of a medieval knight. The helmet glows brightly enough to light up the whole corridor, and I can easily see as Betty, having come to a stop in front of a large elevator, pushes an unmarked space just below the Up button. The door slides open, and we all get in; it's a very large elevator, with plenty of room for all of us. With a jerk and a groan we start to move downward.

"Well, I was hoping to see some of this place's secrets. Is this the way to where the Army people sleep, or their command center?"

"Oh, no, if only, if only we knew where those areas were!"

"Indeed. We've been trying to find those areas since we all first got here, but no such luck I'm afraid." In the well-lit elevator, Dale's face-covering visor has shrunk down to just a small circlet resting on top of his head. "No young chap, this is the way down to the Practice Hall, you should try to remember the way."

"Sweet, I'm a "young chap" now, I seem to be moving right up the food chain."

"Just don't expect to reach quite so high as us, understand?" Dale's smiling, which I take to be a good sign this time.

The elevator dings and smoothly opens, revealing a short hallway. Through it is a very large empty space, a big open gymnasium like the kind we had PE classes in. I'll definitely need to show Shoden this place later. Betty, for the first time I've seen, takes control of her wheel chair and heads towards one of the large rectangular areas painted out with blue lines on the floor, like a basketball court. There actually is a set of basketball hoops on either end, with no netting; the walls behind them have a variety of large bulls-eye targets. Shoden will definitely need to see this. She parks on one end of the court, and Dale once again strong-arms me, this time to the other end, opposite from Betty, then he joins Sam on the sidelines.

"Now then, now then, now! We … will see what you can do. And, and, and to make things interesting, you will be attacking me, because … well, I need some excitement! A little heat, some action, explosions!" She smiles excitedly, and raises her hands above her head. Slowly, carefully, her body levitates up from her wheelchair, and then continues to rise, up, five feet, ten feet. She stops, and does a quick somersault in the air. She laughs joyfully. "Yes, yes, yes! It is good to be back: back to school, back in the air, back where I belong!"

"I suppose you can't really do that in public, huh?" Okay, I'm impressed, but I sure as heck won't be showing it.

"Less talking, less, less, more booms!" She points at me, in a movement I immediately recognize; her fingers are more gun-like then I would do, but I can recognize a beam attack when I see one. I dive to the left, and she laughs wildly as the brilliant beam shoots past me.

"Are you crazy?! That could have killed me!"

"No, no, no! I put maybe, practically, basically zero juice into it, and hey, you dodged just fine!" She's giddy, her words tumbling over each other, and she does a quick loop in the air. "And, and, and besides!" She puts her hand, still pointed like a gun, up to her lips and blows. "I had it on stun, yes I did, yes, ha!"

A part of me is highly interested in how exactly she "had it on stun," while the other part of me is completely freaking out. Still, she's right about one thing, the heat of battle is invigorating. I point my own finger at her, think cold thoughts, and fire away; if I can hits her, at least a little chill shouldn't hurt too bad. She giggles, still cheerful, and puts up her hand; a big purple half-opaque wall appears and absorbs my shot.

"Not bad, not bad, not bad at all, but nowhere near good enough to hit me! Still, still, it's important to add, a simple energy ray is something most of us can do. Come on, come, come and show me what you really have!"

Most of them can?! Okay then, time to try my newest trick. A part of me begins considering the basketball hoop behind her: the base heavy and immobile but close enough, the pole long like the neck of a giraffe, the hoop and backboard like the mouth of some beast. Meanwhile, I'll need a distraction, something to trick her into thinking I'm making a frontal attack, something she might be frightened of. I ball my hand into a fist at random, and pull back like I'm about to punch her from afar. A look appears in her eyes, confusion perhaps, hopefully fear.

"What, what, what, now don't be ridiculous! There's no way, absolutely no way, positively no way … I refuse to believe it!"

"Then don't!" I shout, punching forwards. She quickly reforms the shield, larger and more opaque than before. But it doesn't matter, nothing happens from the punch. Instead, the basketball hoop casually leans down and grabs her from behind, catching her between hoop and backboard like a pair of wide … really wide … large gaping teeth. Like a pair of really wide jaws. I'm backing away, my mind is rushing with the memory of that dream, of the hammerhead gnashing its way towards me. Almost there, I'm almost back to the shore, almost … a scream of pure rage from Betty wakes me from confused thoughts, and I see Dale rushing at me. He's not just wearing the glowing helmet anymore, it's a full suit of medieval armor, a glowing golden armor that seems weightless to him; from his back he's pulling a very real claymore, larger than I thought a sword could possibly be. There's no way I can stop him, I'm tapped for energy, whatever he's going to do he might as well … he's standing in front of me, guarding me, as the burning wave washes over us. He almost doesn't reach me in time. The first licks of flame caress my skin, causing instant black charcoal marks to appear, the pain is over quickly and then I feel nothing, both because he's standing between me and the torrent of flames, and because any nerves I had in the burned areas are now cooked and dead. I'm cooked meat. Ha! I'm funny! And delirious from pain!

The flames die down, and I peek around Dale's imposing form to see what happened. The armor is spotless and still gleaming, somehow even brighter than before. His sword is held defensively, facing the other end of the court. The first thing I see when I look is the glowing green dagger, made seemingly of pure energy, that Sam is holding. He's on top of the basketball hoop; it's now lifeless but still bent down, as if curious what we're up to. Sam is holding the glowing energy dagger against Betty's throat, and whispering in her ear. Betty's eyes hold my attention now, they're livid, I think I can almost see an inferno dancing in them. Her hand is still extended, a fist just like the fist I made, presumably from the attack she just used.

"He's, he is, but he's a kineticist! I can't, I won't, I won't allow …" She trails off as Sam continues whispering in her ear. Slowly, she nods, and pushes Sam's hand holding the dagger away from her throat. Slowly, very slowly she floats back down, landing gently back in her wheelchair. The dagger vanishes from Sam's hand, and he climbs back down the curved neck of the hoop. Dale shoves me backwards and off my feet with one hand while his other sheathes the claymore against his back. He runs towards Betty, the armor and sword melting back up into that same circlet on his head. She sits in her chair, unmoving, as he puts his hands around her in a careful hug. Sam walks up behind them and puts a hand on Betty's shoulder, another source of comfort for her. His gaze pierces me, holding me in place. After a moment he lets go of Betty and moves to stand in front of me. His hand extends slowly; when I reach out and grasp it, he easily pulls me to my feet. Some of the burns – the very, very serious burns I now notice – twinge against my uncooked skin, and I almost fall down from the pain. Sam manages to keep me standing, and none to gently leads me across the room to a small door I didn't notice before.

Inside the room are several tables, like hospital beds, but bare metal with no bedding. He points, and I lay carefully down on one. Above me is a large case with what looks like a department store mannequin inside. It stares down at me through its pink glass window, perfectly aligned with me, mirroring me. I hear a faint click; out of the corner of my eye I can see Sam has flicked a small switch beside my bed. The case with the mannequin above me begins to hum and glow, making it impossible to see the doll inside. A welcome sensation spreads over my body; when the glow ceases moments later, the mannequin above has large patches missing from its skin, with each patch in the same place where I had a burn before. Getting off the bed, it's pretty obvious that all my burns have been healed.

We quietly walk back into the other room, only to find Dale and Betty staring at a lanky black teenager standing in the middle of the room with a small pile of luggage around him. He speaks in a friendly Southern drawl.

"Hi y'all, sorry if I'm intrudin', I … seem to have caught ya at an awkward moment, sorry fer that. This is Psi House right? Pa said he'd drop me off in the right spot, but, well, he was drunk, so … Uh, hey, anyone wanna help me drag ma kit to ma room?"

---

Chapter 4

I don't get up for breakfast the next morning. I'm sure it was amazing. Shoden knocked on my door, or at least I would bet it was him, those three short taps exactly like before dinner the night before. He repeated the three knocks once, then left.

I consider briefly if I can skip lunch too, but my stomach is growling. I sneak out my door, not waiting to see if Shoden knocks. I almost expect to run into Dale or Sam and have them beat the crap out of me for … I have no idea what, but I don't run into anyone, not even Ben, who I speedily accompanied upstairs last night.

The dining hall is once again excellent. There's an area to the side with cases that hold nearly every cereal I've ever heard of, all easily dispensable into my bowl. That and some orange juice, and a melty-cheese Ruben afterwords, is all it takes to fill me up. More interesting though are the other students. Yesterday at dinner the place was nearly empty; apparently rich kids get to school when they feel like it, not the first day possible like me and Shoden. Today it's starting to fill up. I start feeling a little conspicuous not wearing a fancy suit like most of the guys here, and some of the girls are wearing what I would definitely call an evening gown. It's like a fashion show in here, and nobody told me. Are rich kids always like this?

"Intimidating, yes?" Shoden sits down beside me, soup and a sandwich on his tray. "If you look closely, I imagine some of them might actually have butlers."

"Woah, that right over there might be one of the Olsen twins. Am I crazy or do you see her too?"

"I am unfamiliar with the reference."

"Wow, okay, you need to watch more TV." He nods graciously, then points at my Ruben.

"And you need to be careful of how you eat, this place will be most hazardous in my opinion. Then again, maybe skipping breakfast was your way of watching your weight?"

"Naw, sorry man, I just … I had a rough night. First time sleeping in a new place, you know?"

"I suppose, although I had no such problems."

"Must just be me then. Hey, I've got a ton of stuff to take care of, books to buy, a little more to unpack, all that registration stuff. I'm gonna run, okay?"

"Of course, go right ahead. Oh, Mr. Baker is looking for you, something about needing to chat?"

"Right, I'll probably run into him somewhere around here. See you around!"

"Yes, goodbye." He looks a little disappointed in me, like he can tell I'm keeping stuff from him, but he waves as I leave with the greasy Ruben in hand. Don't know why he bought that lie about the books, we haven't even signed up for classes yet; maybe he just let it slide. Shoden's a cool guy, but I need to find someone who knows this place a little better before I can tell him about what happened last night. I need someone who can set the facts for me.

As I'm approaching Psi House, the guru himself is present. Thom's sitting at the same outdoor table as yesterday, maybe even waiting for me. Probably so; he waves me over when he sees me.

"Hey, Trevor, good morning. I had something to discuss with you."

"Oh man, I hope being a kineticist isn't some kind of expelling-worthy offense, cause I've got no idea what that meant last night and I'd prefer if I could stay here."

"This … has nothing to do with being a kineticist, or with your little fight last night. Yes, Dale came and told me about it, first thing this morning. Being a kineticist is a serious issue, but not why I wanted to talk to you. Tonight, at seven, Psi House is having a small party to welcome all the new students joining us this quarter, down in the Practice Hall. The last two should be arriving in the next hour or so, and the hope is that you can join us all."

"Shouldn't be a problem."

"Good to hear." There's a long pause, and he starts staring into space, absentmindedly picking at a nail. It's like he's trying to ignore I'm here, now that he's passed on the invite.

"Hey, so, being a kineticist is serious? How serious are we talking?" Thom sighs, seems he just didn't want to talk about it.

"Normally, being a kineticist wouldn't be very serious at all. But, back … back when I was a student here, the resident director of Psi House, a man only six years older than me at the time, left our world. He was the strongest psion to ever graduate from this school, a true prodigy. He could do things you would never believe possible, and he was also a kineticist. But he went beyond that. He went beyond where we humans should go. Do you ever wonder where it is you get that elemental energy? It's not just caused, it is called, from other planes of existence. We call them the Elemental Planes. When you use fire, you are tapping into the Plane of Fire, and the same goes for the others. Well, that resident director wanted to explore them. So he left his body here and just … went to them. From then on, he became something known as an Uncarnate, a body-less mind. We lost contact with him, or, more likely he just stopped contacting us. As far as we know, he learned the answers to many mysteries while out on the Planes, and when he finally returned, he was … changed, mostly for the worse. Luckily for us, he couldn't return completely. For some reason, while he's still there, he can't use whatever power it is that opens up a gate between our world and the Planes. So to get back, he needs a psion over here to open up a gate. And only kineticists have access to that power. Every psionic discipline has it's own powers that no other type can use, it's why we say there are different disciplines at all, and when you animated the basketball hoop last night you made it clear that you were a kineticist." Finally, he seems done. It's a crazy story, but then I don't really have any reason to doubt it.

"Okay, fine, so I need to be careful about what powers I use, I get that. Still, why were they so upset with me?" He looks at me, a tired look; he really doesn't like recounting this story. But he eventually continues.

"Last year, when those three were still Freshmen, they had another member to their group. Her name was Cindy, and she was a kineticist like you. Those four were very close, and I believe it was at the other three's request that she opened the gate, perhaps as part of some prank. Cindy died instantly as the Uncarnate entered her mind. The Uncarnate then attacked the other three, the only kind of gratitude he understands; it was only when Sen and I got there that we were able to send the Uncarnate back through. Betty lost the use of her legs from that attack, Dale suffered severe psychological damage, and Sam has quite a number of physical scars. None of them really survived that night, and I wouldn't say I'm going too far in guessing that they are now very interested in keeping the Uncarnate out of our world."

With no warning at all a voice speaks in my mind, alien and overpowering: "But then again, sometimes one must break a few eggs, yes?"