Fourth Birth: The Oakmont Saga, Book 1

The next morning, I was already awake when she got up. I didn’t want her to worry about me any more than she already did, so I decided not to shower until after she was gone. Once she left, I grabbed my things and headed for the shower to perform my morning ritual.

The water was as hot as I could get it, my new normal, and I scrubbed furiously since I hadn’t for several days. By the time I finally picked myself up from the shower floor, forcing myself to return to the world, I was bleeding in several places. I did manage to avoid the area where I now had staples in my chest. When I left the shower, I was shocked to see Mrs. Wilde on the bench where my stuff was.

“I heard that you were doing that to yourself,” she said, looking me over. I guess Aliyah had told her about my showers. “Melanie, if I could arrange someone to come talk to you, would you talk to them instead of me?”

“No, ma’am,” I replied.

“Melanie, you won’t heal until you talk about it,” she said.

“I’m not going to live long enough for it to make a difference,” I replied, making her look at me very unhappily, but not like she was mad. It was more like she was worried, or maybe sad. I actually felt bad that I said that, especially since I was fairly certain it wasn’t true. She didn’t deserve that, regardless of the fact that she was one of them.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Wilde. That was mean of me,” I said, looking down at my hands.

“Melanie, I know you’re hurting inside and I just want to help. I understand why you don’t trust me or anyone else here, but you need help.”

“I don’t want help. I just want to go home, but I can never go home again,” I replied, barely able to stop the tears from coming, as much as I fought it and as much as my emotions seemed to have gone away. Of course, my anger was always there, even though all of the others seemed gone.

I quickly got dressed as she watched, not saying anything else while I did. When I was done, I sat down and put my socks and shoes on. Once done with that, she slid over and wrapped an arm around me, “Melanie, I wish I could give that to you. If I thought it would help and I could, I would.”

“Mrs. Wilde, as smart as you are, you don’t know much. Momma’s and Daddy’s are the ones that should be there for kids that are hurt or sick, and I’m both. But I think it’s even too late for them. I’m lost and there’s no one that can find me anymore,” I said, standing up and walking out, leaving her there looking at me.

I went back to my room, getting my stuff and heading to English, totally missing breakfast. I got to class very early, heading straight to my seat. I was supposed to be in a wheelchair, but I forgot and now that I remembered it, I didn’t really care.

“Melanie, what are you doing here so early?” Mrs. Schmoltz asked, also coming early.

“I didn’t have anything else to do, and didn’t want to sit in my room,” I replied, then realized how I had spoken. “I am sorry, Mrs. Schmoltz. I did not—,” I started to apologize.

“Don’t worry about it Melanie,” she began, very deliberately using a contraction. “I shouldn’t have punished you the way I did when you first came into this class. Don’t tell the other kids, but I made a mistake and I realize that. I’m very sorry,” she said.

I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I sat quietly. “Would you be willing to help me?” she asked, thankfully changing the subject. She had an odd look on her face, as well.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

“I would like you to help me grade the tests from Friday.”

“I am not sure I should.”

“Nonsense. You know all of this material, and you won’t grade your own test.”

“If you think it’s okay.”

She set a stack of papers on my desk, with a red pen, and gave me guidelines for grading and walked to her desk. Once I got to work, I got so engrossed in my task, I was startled when I felt her hand gently squeeze my shoulder.

“Thank you, Melanie. That’s a huge help for me, more than you know.” She had an odd look on her face, kind of with a smile, when she took the papers from me.

A few minutes later, the other students arrived, some whispering as they saw me. Word of James and me must have spread around the entire school. Everyone knew about us and what I was. Thinking about that, I was surprised again when everyone was leaving. Class must have ended.

Grabbing my things, I went to Government and repeated the hazy dream of sitting through class. As random thoughts coursed through my consciousness, the images played in my mind. I had to excuse myself several times to throw up. It was getting worse and I couldn’t make it better, but I also didn’t want to talk to anyone, like Mrs. Wilde wanted.

Once Government was over I went to the old lab, backing into my hole. Sitting there with my knees pulled up, I rocked back and forth trying to make sense of the emotions that were at war inside me. Besides feeling ashamed of what I’d become, I knew I was depressed. It was probably enough to be sent to a looney bin or at least put on drugs. The drugs actually might not be so bad, if they’d help me forget.

What really bothered me the most though was how angry I was. I was having visions of doing horrible things to the people here, including a lot of the kids, and I knew that wasn’t right, or good. I’d even been reading books that were very bad, explaining ways people were killed or tortured. Maybe I just needed drugs that’d make me so happy I didn’t care about anything else. That might not be so bad, either.

My mental clock told me that it was time for math, so I pulled myself out and headed to Mrs. Wilde’s class. Although I didn’t like the looks she gave me, it wasn’t really that bad. It occurred to me that I needed to start training again and stop feeling so sorry for myself. Maybe I could focus my anger and make it useful.

Sitting in math class, the anger in me really bubbled up for no reason, making it impossible to concentrate on anything else. It wasn’t that I really cared to focus on what I’d been looking at, or anything at all, really.

A vision that had played over and over in my mind returned. One of the books I had read not that long before had someone getting burned at the stake, which played right into the way I was thinking.

Like playing with dolls, an activity I hadn’t done in years, I envisioned the Headmaster and all of the other people here that had hurt me, tied to a stake and some little dust bunny on the floor became the pyre around it. In my imagination I watched them beg for mercy, as I meanly told them ‘no’. Then the torch was placed in the pyre, and I watched them burn.

With the game in my mind’s eye, my vision took on a red tint. I felt that click in my mind and the dust bunny vanished in a blast of flame and smoke. There was a surge of energy through my mind and body and pain exploded through my head. It wasn’t as bad as earlier attacks, and was actually manageable.

However, I was unable to move, shocked at what had just happened and the pain that did course through me. Maybe my inability to move because of it. I didn’t know.

“Melanie, are you alright?” I heard Mrs. Wilde ask. It took me a moment to get enough of my wits to answer.

“Yes, ma’am, I just feel bad. I think I just had an attack.”

“Go lay down. I’ll be there in a moment.” She was looking at me funny.

“Aliyah, go with Melanie and make sure she’s okay,” she said, turning to Aliyah.

“Yes, ma’am,” Aliyah replied, looking very worried.

“I’ll be alright Mrs. Wilde. Aliyah should stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, ma’am. I think I just need to lay down.”

“Alright.” She had agreed, but looked doubtful.

I left before she thought better of it, or sent me to the hospital. With as much speed as I was able to manage, I headed to my room to try and figure out what had happened. I definitely needed to be alone for this, and I definitely didn’t want to tell the doctor, or Mrs. Wilde.

As I was walking to my room, I realized if there was any chance of me escaping this prison, I needed to train. I needed to train hard, as hard as I could force myself to go. I knew all of this, but I hadn’t really been doing it. With this newly discovered skill, if it truly was a skill, I had to. If they ever found out I could start fires, I’d be lucky if they didn’t start doing experiments on me.

I also needed to return to getting supplies for leaving, so that maybe I’d be ready when the opportunity came. It would really suck to have a chance, but not have any stuff for surviving out there. Thanks to my earlier exploration, I knew we were in a northern region of the country, so I’d need winter gear, and a lot more than I had already found.

Getting to my room, I pulled our metal trash can over, emptying it of all but a couple pieces of paper. How had I done that and how could I make it happen again? I knew I was really mad but I’d have to be able to do this whenever I wanted, not just when I was mad, not that being mad was a problem for me.

I focused my mind, remembering when I was little and how I learned to turn the voices off. Concentrating like I learned to do then, but adding techniques Mr. Miller taught, I tried to bring about that same feeling I had when I made the dust bunny catch on fire.

After a long time, staring at the paper and having an incredible headache, I saw a very small spot of red form on one piece of paper. I was unable to hold the energy any longer, and let out a huge burst of air I hadn’t realized I was holding. My head felt like a freight train was running crazy inside it and it was pounding to a steady rhythm.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to go to the rest of my classes right now. That free pass would end soon, but for now I was very grateful for it. After I returned the trash can to its place, I laid down and fell asleep.

“Mel, wake up,” I heard, rousing me from the regular nightmares I had, which were made a bit worse than normal by the extra pain. It was very hard to open my eyes, the pain in them was like shards of glass being poked into me. I felt wet and cold, really cold. Finally I looked up at Aliyah, with Mrs. Wilde standing beside her.

“Melanie, are you alright?” Mrs. Wilde asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, although I was definitely not alright.

“There’s blood on you,” she informed me.

“Okay.” The reply was automatic, her words not even registering in me.

“Sit up and let me clean you up,” she told me, and sat on my bed. Although I thought I tried to sit up, I couldn’t seem to make my body work. It simply wouldn’t obey my commands. Lovely, another problem I had to deal with.

An odd thought then hit me. Maybe all of this stuff was happening to me so someone else wouldn’t have to suffer like this. That was the only good thing I could hope for out of my miserable existence.

“Come on, let me help you,” she said, starting to lift me into a sitting position.

“Dear God, you’re burning up!”

“Aliyah, call a nurse,” she commanded.

“Yes, ma’am,” my roomie replied, and picked up the radio, pushing the button on it.

After a couple of hours, I’d been given some horrible tasting medicine and they had an IV in my arm sending fluids into my body. “Melanie, you need to start eating more. You’re beginning to lose weight.”

“Okay,” I replied, although I knew I wouldn’t. I couldn’t make myself eat when I wasn’t hungry.

“In the X4 trials, were there ever fevers associated with the reactions?” the doctor asked, who I didn’t even know was there.

“No. In all of the observations, the…they would seem completely normal, other than the headaches and then they would have an attack that would finally short circuit their brain,” Mrs. Wilde responded.

I was tired of their talking. It was making my head hurt more, and the constant drone of their voices was making me feel sick. Not really knowing what I was doing, I told them, “Please leave now.”

As I said that, I felt a flow of energy in my mind. The doctor stopped in the middle of a sentence and they all got up and walked out, leaving me alone with Aliyah.

“Mel, how’d you do that?” she asked, an odd look on her face.

“Do what?” I asked, not understanding.

“You just made them leave. They stopped what they were doing and left when you told them to. That wasn’t normal. I could feel power come from you when you said that.”

“I don’t know. I felt bad and wanted the talking to end, so I told them to leave.”

“You’re going to be a problem for them.”

“I’m a problem for everyone,” I replied, my eyes struggling to stay open. I willingly gave in to their demand and fell asleep.

I had some weird dreams this time, unlike the nightmares I’d been having lately. This time, James wasn’t in them at all. I saw some people sitting in some kind of nice conference room, with what looked like pictures of a brain on a projector. For a little while, all I saw was the different pictures, each set shown with a heading that had the word subject followed by a number. They couldn’t even give them the decency of using their names.

After seeing the different images, I started hearing voices. “Doctor, subject 32145 may expire soon. We will open her head then and see what we can find. Subject 32023 has the same anomaly, but it’s stable,” the speaker said.

“Alright, let’s monitor them for now. If 32145 expires, bring the body here for examination. We’ll determine the course for 32023 at that time,” another voice said.

“Would there be any benefit in opening them up now?” a third voice asked.

“I think we can wait. If 32145 expires, we can then open up 32023 and compare a living specimen to the expired one,” the second voice replied.

“Go ahead and assume control of 32145, and order another full profile of 32145, 32023 and 31067. And stop that idiot at Oakmont from harming 32145 any further,” the first voice commanded.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I knew who 32145 was, I was almost certain who 32023 was, and I had a strong suspicion who 31067 was. Surely, they wouldn’t do something that’d damage her mind while she was still alive. Unfortunately, I wasn’t at all certain of that, especially with how they talked about us as numbers.

And that led my mind to what the journal said about the things they did. No, they were definitely capable of horrible, gruesome things.

I woke up in a cold sweat, shaking from the emotions going crazy in me. When I got up, I grabbed my clothes and stuff for getting clean and headed to the shower.

Sitting in the shower after my normal ritual, my mind was in more turmoil than normal, thinking about the dream I had. Was it real, or just some new nightmare my twisted brain came up with? It felt real though, like I was listening to a conversation somewhere.

“Mel, are you alright?” Aliyah asked, repeating our morning routine. I wasn’t alright. I never was anymore, but I didn’t want her to worry.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I said, not sure if I should tell her about my dream, or vision.

I got up off the floor, and dried off before going to the bench to get my clothes and get dressed. Going through my morning classes in a daze, I thought about the dream I had. I was also very worried about what was going to happen to Aliyah, now that I knew she would die too.

After Government, I went to my room to start practicing, but when I got there, I finally made the decision to change things. Going to a different room, I grabbed the metal trash can out of it and went to the basement.

Down there, I thought I’d have privacy and also I shouldn’t have to worry about catching anything on fire, if I could actually get this fire skill to work. I went through the mental warm up exercises that Mr. Miller had been teaching us, as well as some other things he showed the class. It was much harder without a partner, but I couldn’t have one for this.

Once I was focused, I sent probes throughout the building. I was trying to hide my probes when anyone noticed them, but also trying to practice and strengthen my skill. Somehow, I managed to stay mostly hidden, even though different people occasionally saw an unexplained probe. I also started playing with trying to make my probes seem less strong. I’d kind of done that a little, but hadn’t been serious about it. I really needed to try and hide my strength from them.

Having enough of that, I balled up a couple pieces of paper, dropping them into the bottom of the trash can. I focused my mind on them, trying to reach that energy I felt when I set the dust bunny on fire. I wasn’t sure how long I did this, my mental clock seemed to be non-existent while I was focusing on it.

After a great deal of struggle, I finally started feeling the energy, but I only managed a very small red dot on the edge of one piece of paper, just like the last time. It was like I was trying to pull a super-size tractor trailer through my head. That was enough for my first session, besides the fact that my head was killing me.

I went to math feeling like a zombie, unlike my normal days now where I was numb to what was around me, but at least I was functional. I walked in a tiny bit after class started. Mrs. Wilde looked at me when I came in, but got the class started before coming over.

“Melanie, are you alright?” she asked, concern etched on her face.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, barely able to mumble the words.

“No, you’re not,” she said, as I slid out of the chair onto the floor.

“Aliyah, come here!” I heard her call. I felt myself being carried, although I didn’t know where or by who. I woke up a little later in the hospital. Why was I back there?

Looking down, I had an IV in my arm again and I was freezing. Shivering, I pulled the thin sheet up over me, curling up under it. Why did hospitals only have thin sheets, when it was always cold?

“Melanie, how do you feel?” I heard a male voice ask. Opening my eyes, I saw the doctor staring at me.

“I’m cold.”

“You were running a very high fever which has thankfully broken, plus we’re giving you fluid and nutrients, which will also make you cold,” he told me.

“Why?”

“Well, you aren’t eating much, so we decided to give you nutrients just in case. Along with not eating, you’re not drinking enough water and you’ve become dehydrated.”

“Okay,” I replied, not really caring, even though I did ask.

“Did you work with your telepathic ability,” he asked.

“No sir,” I replied, having enough of my wits to know I couldn’t tell him I had. The look on his face was not good, but he didn’t say anything.

“Can I go back to my room, now?”

He looked at me for a moment. “Yes, I suppose. Let me get this IV out of you.” He worked with it, and very gently removing it. “I want you to start eating and drinking regularly. Okay?”

“I’ll try.” I wasn’t sure I’d eat much. How could I eat when I wasn’t hungry?

“I want you to promise me.”

I didn’t want to give my word, because I’d have to keep it. “I don’t want to.”

“That means you won’t eat,” he said, looking less than pleased.

“I’ll try,” I said, repeating my earlier response.

“I want better than that. If you won’t promise me that you’ll eat, I won’t let you leave the hospital until I’m sure you have enough nutrients in you and then I’ll make you return often for more treatments.”

“I promise I’ll eat,” I finally gave in.

“That’s better.” Although he smiled at me, I didn’t feel much like smiling, not that I ever did. “I’ll be monitoring what you eat to make sure you’re eating enough. Don’t make me get involved with your diet.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, you can return to your room. Do you need someone to take you?” Standing up, I felt weak, but I thought I was okay to make it back.

“I’ll be okay,” I told him, walking out. I could feel his eyes on me as I left. He didn’t trust me, and wanted to make sure I could actually make it.

It was almost the end of regular classes, so I went to the old lab. Crawling into my little hole, I sat there with the vision from last night going through my mind, over and over. At least it wasn’t the images James gave me, but it was almost as haunting.

Remembering my promise, I left earlier than I had been leaving, so I could go eat. When I walked out, the soldier I remembered from earlier was outside.

“Good evening,” he said,with his smile, and the tone of his voice, he seemed friendly. Oddly, I didn’t feel the need to pull away from him, like I did most people, especially men. However, I really didn’t feel like saying anything, my shyness taking over. He actually stepped away a little though, allowing me to pass with plenty of space, seeming to understand my feelings somehow.

When I got to the cafeteria, I started to get a very small portion of meat, but got a little bit more knowing the doctor was watching. I then got a salad and put some Italian dressing on it. Even though it was hard at first, once I started eating my body made me keep going and I ate it all. I actually felt better than I had in awhile, at least in my body.

Aliyah, sitting beside me, smiled when I looked over at her. “You haven’t eaten that much in a long time.”

Lowering my head, I looked at my tray, not sure what I should say. In the end, I decided not to say anything, got up and put my tray in the window, then walked to our room.

Instead of going into my room, I headed to the basement. I went through the warm up exercises again, and then focused on trying to set the paper on fire. I really wanted to figure this fire thing out. I managed to get a tiny ember, just like earlier, but nothing more.

My head was hurting really bad, but maybe a little less bad than earlier. By the time I got to my room, I was feeling a lot like I did before, and just as cold. I collapsed into my bed, asleep as soon as I landed.

“What is the status of our newest subject?” the Headmaster asked, once everyone was settled around the table.

“She’s intermittent at best with her ability. Her connectors don’t show the strength that I would expect based on her brain scans,” Mike Miller replied.

“What can we do to speed the process?” the Headmaster asked.

“Frankly sir, I don’t know. She’s only been here a month. If she truly is new to her ability, I think we’re making good progress,” Mike said, rubbing his temples. He had a growing headache thinking about Melanie Brager. He still wasn’t convinced she’d been functioning for that long. However, there were definite oddities to her that there were few other rational explanations for, aside from her having shields.

“What about her medical status?” the Headmaster asked.

“She’s in a great deal of pain from several broken and several more cracked ribs, a dislocated jaw and a great deal of bruising throughout her body. Then there are the headaches associated with the psychic bursts she’s frequently suffering. We still have no idea what’s stopping her heart, although we strongly suspect it’s connected to the anomaly in her brain, which is likely the reason for the numerous psychic bursts. The last couple of days she has developed a new issue. She’s suddenly started running exceptionally high fever for a very short time, but it breaks without any intervention. She seems to suppress her pain, forcing herself to work through it,” the doctor informed them.

“Thank you, doctor,” the Headmaster replied.

“What is her current academic status?” he asked, his attention turning to the teachers.

“Aside from the times she’s been medically unable to attend, she attends class without fail, but she’s not there. She didn’t participate in the test,” Mrs. Schmoltz said, Edward Ratzinger indicating that it was the same for him.

“What do you mean, she didn’t participate?”

“She didn’t answer any questions, or do any of the work,” the English teacher replied.

Before the Headmaster could move on, Mrs. Schmoltz continued, “On the test, she scribbled in a few places, but answered no questions. Going on my intuition, I had her grade the tests for the rest of the class, without giving her a key. She graded them perfectly. I have given her a perfect score on the test as a result.” Everyone just stared at her for a moment.

“Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that,” Mr. Ratzinger admitted.

“Give it a try. I’ll bet she does perfectly,” Mrs. Schmoltz replied, with an odd smile.

He looked at Mr. Braun. “Due to her medical status, she’s been unable to attend my class for some time. Of course, she’s not one of my better students anyway. She’s restrained, remaining defensive. She doesn’t have the killer instinct we demand of our agents. However, I am impressed with the progress she had made in the time she was attending, in addition to the backbone she seems to demonstrate outside of my class,” he said, almost sounding disgusted with her, but oddly impressed at the same time.

“She hasn’t attended my class this week, but she did take the last test, which was almost the same as the others described. She did write something on every blank though, but it seemed very odd and I thought about referring it to Dean Hargrove,” Mrs. Warple informed them, getting everyone’s attention.

“What was it and why have you not informed anyone of her absence?” he asked, his voice sounding almost dangerous.

“She has some issues to work out and I figure she’ll return when she’s worked through them.”

“What was it she wrote on the test?” he asked, sounding impatient and more than a little irritated.

“She wrote, ‘I am a slut’ in every blank. That kind of language isn’t acceptable.” It seemed as if her nose went a little higher in the air.

“Are you serious!? She’s been sexually assaulted, multiple times, by your star student and you make light of it, as if it’s some minor issue she can work out in a matter of a few days? These things can take years to work through, and many victims never fully heal,” Rebecca said

“That’s enough, Rebecca,” the Headmaster said, looking unhappy.

“No sir, it’s not. I warned you about putting that girl in a class with older students as did your head recruiter, and no one would listen to us, including you. Now we have likely destroyed any chance of bringing her around to support the program,” she said.

“That does not matter anymore. The Neuro-Research team is in control of any further decisions regarding Melanie Brager. All of this will be added to her file for their deliberations,” he said, sending a feeling of panic into her. “For now, we continue with things as they are unless instructed otherwise. She will continue classes as normal, but if she misses any, it doesn’t matter. They will let us know if they want any changes made. Doctor Neil, both Draper girls are to have updated full cranial panels completed ASAP, along with DNA samples and full blood panels. The same is to be done with the Brager girl. Are there any questions?” he asked, scanning the room. There was absolute silence. No child had been taken into the control of the Neuro-Research Department since the school program had become independent.

Rebecca left the room once he dismissed them, in a daze. Although no subject had been experimented on in many years, she knew what that group was capable of. For them to be in control of Melanie had her extremely worried, and they were obviously interested in the Draper girls as well. What had made them come out of their shell after all of this time? Surely her sending the images and concerns weren’t the trigger.

Lost in her thoughts, her heart leapt into her throat when Stone gently tapped her on the shoulder. “I’m sorry I startled you. I attempted to get your attention.”

Getting her nerves settled back down, she turned to him, “I’m sorry. I was lost in thought. By the way, I forgot to thank you for rescuing her from the lab. There’s no telling how bad things would have gotten if not for you,” she said, with a very gracious smile. He was shocked by her words, still feeling as though he had failed. Her smile disappeared quickly though, her facial expression returning to a very concerned look.

“Is anything wrong?” he asked, seeing the look on her face.

“The head docs have taken ownership of Melanie,” she said, referring to them with their local name. He looked at her for a moment, but didn’t seem shaken by this revelation.

“I have several different items for you, which may not make your day better,” he told her, once Mike was out of earshot.

“Do I need to sit down for this?” she asked, seeing the look on his face, in combination with his words. Although he was always a very serious looking man, the look on his face was one of deep concern.

“That might be advisable.”

A few minutes later, they were sitting in her living room. He pulled out a very thick folder from under his arm, which she hadn’t noticed earlier, and handed it to her. “You might want a drink before you read that,” he said, further increasing the feeling of dread coming over her.

Setting the folder on the coffee table, she got up and poured herself a glass of wine. “Would you like some wine, or a beer?”

“I’m after hours, so a beer would be nice, thank you.”

A couple minutes later, she finally picked up the folder, while he drank slowly from the brown bottle in his hand. His manner of drinking wasn’t that of a young soldier or a hick, but rather as a distinguished man, in her opinion. She was impressed with his composure and his confident mannerisms, but he didn’t come off as arrogant.

Opening the extremely thick folder, she looked at the front page, which was all of the bio information on Melanie Brager, subject #32145. She immediately saw IQ scores that were off the charts, although the girl was in fifth grade in a public school prior to coming to Oakmont. She had a brother, Benjamin who appeared just as intelligent, although he was too young for a conclusive evaluation. Parents were listed as Randall and Rebecca (Becky) Brager.

Her kindergarten teacher noted that Melanie was a very nice and polite little girl, but was too smart for the class. She interacted and played well with other children, like any other child, but always seemed a little disconnected from them. No real concerns with interaction although she didn’t seem to have any real friends. She was always very quiet and never talked unless directly spoken to. The teacher worried that Melanie might be on the autism spectrum, but without the parent’s initiating the evaluation, it would remain speculation.

Rebecca already knew Melanie wasn’t on the autism spectrum, although she could see why a teacher might mistake her interactions as such. Melanie missed several of the key signs of it, as Rebecca knew them.

Continuing to read, Melanie was withdrawn from public school during her first grade year, due to some unlisted psychiatric breakdown. She was admitted to a mental rehabilitation facility for a short time, but the records said nothing of what was done or what the diagnosis was. The name of the facility was even removed. What was printed in that area was, “RECORDS DELETED”.

In the place where medical issues and the psychiatric evaluation material should’ve been, she saw the line “RECORDS DELETED” again. There was a photocopy of a handwritten note that listed the hospital that Melanie was admitted to, as well as the psychiatrist that handled her. It almost looked as if that was snuck into the file.

Seeing the behavior area, she was shocked at the change that occurred during that time. As with kindergarten, she started the year being a lot like any other child, even if too smart for the class. Sometime before Christmas, there were teacher comments detailing how the other children would openly taunt her and tease her all the time, but the reasons for it were again deleted.

By the time she was withdrawn from school the following February, it was clear to the teacher that she’d withdrawn into herself. She didn’t interact with any children in any way, always sitting alone wherever they were and never talking to, much less working with other students.

She looked up at Stone, “What’s with the deleted records? I don’t recall having seen that before.”

His eyes never having left her, he answered, “Neither have I. You won’t find her medical records in there either. Everything’s completely gone. The psychiatrist mentioned in there lost his license during that time period and the school principal where she attended was removed. There were also a number of people with the local Children’s Services Department that unexpectedly became unemployed. An unnamed federal agency was involved with all of that, along with at least one U.S. Senator. It almost looks like someone attempted to overstep their authority and let’s just say Mr. Brager has some lofty connections.”

She stared at him for a moment. “How’s that possible?”

“Keep reading,” he said, kind of nodding toward the folder, deliberately not answering her question.

The next section had a very short mention of All Saints Academy. Melanie was under threat of expulsion from the school due to a charge of theft and some association with a teacher, the details of that association oddly left out. Although the details were not in the file, Melanie was cleared of the charge and the teacher, Mr. Radnick, was arrested for many counts of child molestation and several associated and similar crimes, spanning a number of years.

According to an attached newspaper clipping, the entire event was a major scandal for the school, and there was the suggestion of an attempted coverup. The newspaper article did not contain the names of any children, of course, and only a few details of the case, concentrating more on the scandal and the apparent demise of the school.

The attached court records were very odd, though. Within them were large redacted sections, primarily the child that was the most recent victim, although every other victim was still listed. All of the testimony from the most recent victim, which wasn’t a lot, was also redacted.

As she read through the information, the teacher’s name jostled her memory, because she remembered Melanie mentioning him. His association with Melanie suddenly fell into place in her mind and tears formed in her eyes as that realization sunk in. He had molested her, at least to some degree, which meant she was not a first time victim.

“My God, that poor girl,” Rebecca said, the tears now running down her cheeks.

Moving on through the folder, the gap from second to fourth grade screamed out at her, with the only information being that slight mention of the All Saints Academy in California during second grade, but no other records of that time were included. There were no medical records, no school records or any other records, nothing. Late in the first semester of fourth grade, she was readmitted to public school, and some semblance of records resumed, although they were still sparse and there were still no medical records.

Her fourth grade teacher had high praises for her academically, stating how Melanie was unable to learn anything and should be promoted. There were signed documents from the parents declining early promotion, however.

Small comments added to the student record detailed how Melanie didn’t cry, even when she got hurt. There was a hand written comment of a very bad cut and little Melanie did not shed a single tear as the nurse worked on it, very obviously in a lot of pain. It did mention that Melanie received several stitches at the hospital for the cut, the only instance in the folder of a medically related record and Rebecca suspected that it was only there because it was in her school records.

The file went on to explain that she was always alone, not engaging with any students in any way, no matter how much the teacher pushed her to interact. The more the teacher pushed, the more she withdrew.

The teacher wrote comments on how group projects were a disaster. Melanie obviously did the entire project by herself, but never talked to the other students, except to hand them their parts of the project when it was complete. She always allowed the other students to do all of the presentation portion. The teacher stated that she would confront Melanie, but she would say nothing, not even defending herself.

Melanie would not speak in front of the class for anything, including threats of bad grades or letters to the parents. The fourth grade teacher wrote in bold print that she had given up trying to get Melanie involved in class, allowing her to be completely self-guided.

There were more comments on how Melanie would not talk to the teacher, always being secretive about everything. The teacher regularly had to stop other children from bullying her, but she never complained about it or even admitted that it had happened when asked. The pattern was identical to what Rebecca had come to see in her.

Fifth grade, although cut short, began the same. The teacher had high praise for her academically, but expressed serious concern about her social interaction, being there was none. The bullying didn’t seem to be evident in the records for fifth grade, but that didn’t mean it didn’t happen. Then she was withdrawn from school, presumably to come to Oakmont.

Rebecca could see the picture forming in her mind. The Headmaster and Emily travelled to Alaska and convinced Melanie and her parents that Oakmont was a school for exceptional children. Melanie latched onto that, starving for any challenge at all, and possibly any social interaction she could get that wasn’t abusive. When she arrived, she discovered that the school offered her nothing. In fact, the abuse was not only worse, it was administered by the school itself, which had always been what saved her in the past. But there was still something about that theory that wasn’t quite right. There was still something missing.

Before she could think further on that theory, it hit her, sending a chill through her entire body and causing her to have a quick shiver. Dear God, she started hearing the voices at six years old. Being that she was returned to public school, Melanie must have learned to silence her ability by the time she was eight or nine. No, she had to have silenced it before she went to that school in California, second grade. That meant she was seven or eight. She looked up at Stone, stunned.

“Keep reading,” he told her. She stared at him for a moment longer, then returned to the dossier in front of her.

Next was the information of the parents. Rebecca Brager, referred to as Becky, maiden name Rebecca Draper—Rebecca stopped dead. The two girls were related!

She walked to her computer and very quickly pulled up Aliyah’s records. Going to the biographical information, she found Aliyah’s parents and stared at the father’s name for a long time. Staring at her from the screen was the name, Michael Draper, son of James and Sharon Draper. Not only were they related, but closely. She couldn’t believe the incredible odds against what had obviously happened. She forced herself to continue reading the dossier.

Becky Brager had one brother, Michael Draper. Daughter of James and Sharon Draper. She finished college with two PhDs before she was twenty four, magna cum laude in her undergraduate and all graduate degrees. One was in Electrical Engineering and the other in Chemical Engineering. What a combination!

She was prepared to defend a thesis in quantum physics but declined just before the appointed defense seminar. She then married Randall Brager and became a stay at home Mom when Melanie was born, less than a year later. That was the end of Becky Brager’s dossier, other than all of the known biographical information and early history.

The next section was actually thicker than both Melanie and her mother’s combined. Major Randall Brager, U.S. Army transferred, but the transferred portion was blotted out. Transferred where, she wondered, since the bio didn’t list it. She only glanced at his bio data, turning the page to his army career. The commendations and combat actions were incredible. This man had probably been under fire more times than many soldiers during World War II. His commendations, which included several citations for some of the highest commendations given to an Army soldier, would make an entire division well decorated. Oddly, he didn’t have a CMH, considering everything else he had.

At the end of his Army record was a page which detailed his injuries from a particular operation that went horribly wrong thanks to botched intelligence. What was most notable was that he and Michael Draper were brought to Oakmont hospital for trauma care after saving the unit they were leading. Both were cited for heroism and submitted to a CMH review board, but the board was shown to have been commanded to deny the medal due to national security concerns. While at Oakmont, they were administered X3 during their care. There was no documentation of them being aware of this, at any time. She realized, they were given it completely unknowing. She noticed a small bit of odd ink where the serum identification was, making it look like it may have had corrections made, but poorly done.

She looked up at Stone, after staring at the inkblot for a moment. “Is it possible they were given a different serum and the records were modified?”

“Looking at that record in addition to what I know of Melanie’s situation, I think it’s more than just possible,” he said, his expression never changing and his eyes never leaving her.

Turning back to the folder, his education was almost as impressive as his wife’s although he didn’t complete one PhD. It appeared he made that choice himself. He was scheduled for defense of his thesis in Chemical Engineering with another scheduled for some area of Physics that she couldn’t even pronounce, but he cancelled it all, enlisting in the army instead. He was twenty years old at the time. Good Lord. Her parents were geniuses, which was where she got it from.

Turning the page, there was a lot of blacked out information. Many pages of it in fact. Only a word or two here and there hadn’t been blotted out. Looking up, she saw an intensity in Stone’s stare.

“Why is all of this blacked out?”

“Because his security level is higher than we have access to.”

“I thought we had the highest?”

He shook his head no, which surprised her. “There are very few people we don’t have access to their complete records for reasons of national security. He’s one of them.”

“How many are there?” She was scared of the answer, but knew it was needed.

“I can’t tell you, because quite frankly, I don’t know. However, the number’s likely under one hundred. The President and no member of Congress are in that list, if that helps give you the magnitude of this. Even though we have denied admission to a handful of children, none of their parents came close to this level of risk.”

“Now that you’ve read through that, let me give you a little background information I dug up. Melanie was admitted to the All Saints Academy with a complete scholarship. They were ecstatic to have her, from what I’ve found. She did exceedingly well while there, going beyond anything they could’ve imagined, based on comments in the few records I’ve dug up. Then a teacher exposed a rather incredible treasure trove of information implicating Mr. Radnick in many counts of child molestation and varying degrees of sexual abuse. The teacher refused to reveal how she discovered the trove of evidence, even accepting jail time for her refusal. If I was a gambling man, I’d say our little girl provided that information. The DA ended up not pressing charges on the teacher for obstruction, thankfully,” he explained and paused for a while to let her ponder on that.

“Now that you’ve digested that, or are starting to, let me update you on our little girl. Since I started watching her, she’s changed her patterns little, being a bit of a creature of very deliberate habit. She gets up incredibly early and heads to the shower, usually between 5:00 and 6:00. Of course I have no idea exactly what happens in there, and I won’t, but she spends a very long time in there and only comes out after Aliyah goes in. When she exits, even I can tell her skin is scoured fairly thoroughly and she’s bright red from head to toe, as if she’s been sitting under very hot water. I actually suspect she has the water as hot as it’ll go, but again, I can only guess. She almost never eats breakfast, or eats barely enough to feed a bird. However, I understand that the doctor has made her start eating as of today, but you would know more than me, in that area.” In spite of already knowing most of this, Rebecca felt a deep sadness settle on her.

“She attends her first two classes without fail, other than when she was physically unable to and even then, she resumed much sooner than the doctor wanted. She stopped attending Physics recently. On October 14th, she was headed to Physics and stopped in the middle of the hall when she was almost there. James preceded her into the class, so I suspect she saw him, bringing about the change. I have no idea if he did anything to prompt it, though. Regardless, she turned around and returned to her room, and has not returned to Physics since. That first day, she went to her room and stayed there until your class.”

“She didn’t eat lunch?”

“No. In fact, she hasn’t eaten lunch in weeks and she eats very little for breakfast or dinner. That’s how it’s been since the first attack. I’m not sure if this is something you’ve noticed, but when she arrived, she was very deliberate with her hygiene and personal appearance. I would say she was almost obsessive with her hair being brushed. Since the attack, I’m not sure she’s brushed it once,” he said, giving her another minute to think about this added insight into Melanie Brager.

“It’s only been two days since the last attack, but yesterday and today she went to the old Hammond lab.”

She seemed to think for a moment. “Isn’t that where the most recent attack happened?”

“Yes, it is.”

“And she still went there?”

“Yes. Oddly, she doesn’t seem to have location association with the attacks. My guess is that she quit Physics because James is there and she’s terrified of him, definitely associating that place with her attacks, even though none of the more serious ones have taken place there, not that what has happened there is minor. I suspect she’s made the lab a refuge in her mind somehow, in spite of the recent attack. I’ll continue to watch it as close as I’m able, hopefully giving her that refuge. I think she needs it.”

“Yes, I think you’re right. Please keep her safe.”

“I’ll do my best. Anyway, she’s begun going into the basement, usually during her lunch period, which is now substantially longer since she doesn’t go to Physics anymore. Sometimes, she returns looking very bad. I’m not sure what she’s doing, but I’d guess she’s exercising her telepathy. She often comes back bleeding from the normal spots, and even I can see the pain on her face.”

She stared at him for a moment, suddenly recalling the images Melanie sent into her mind. With everything else that had happened, she had completely forgotten about that, until that moment. That girl was much more advanced than anyone here could have imagined. Even she was shocked by the apparent strength and skill she already had, now that she was able to think about it. And Mike said her connectors seemed weak, which meant she might have figured out how to mask her strength. That was a skill that had been mentioned in X2 trials, but never manifested in X3. Even in the X2 trials, it was inconsistent between subjects, apparently being very difficult to figure out.

Stone brought her back to the present, after giving her a few moments to think. “There’s something else you need to think about. When she arrived, she cried easily, as you’re well aware.”

She nodded that she was. “Since the attacks, she’s stopped showing any real emotion other than a lot of anger. This is actually in line with what her file indicates, other than the anger. Her anger is almost irrational at times, even with her situation.”

“That could be a product of the injections the head docs have her on,” she informed him. He only nodded at that. “What does that have to do with anything, though?”

“Only this. She was acting when she arrived, using the crying to make herself look weaker. Maybe she thought it would garner sympathy and make things easier on her or maybe hoping someone would slip some useful information to her, playing the weak little girl card. I’m really not sure, but since the attacks, she’s reverted to her true self. I would guess she’s actually worse than she was before. I can only speculate there, but I’m fairly certain that the crying was an act. She did it with motive.”

“She was playing us…me?” she asked.

“What would you do if you’d been kidnapped and were being abused?” he asked in return, not holding any punches.

“She wasn’t kidnapped!” she replied, her tone rather energetic.

“She believes she was and perception is reality, especially to a child, no matter how intelligent that child is.”

After thinking about what he said, she looked back at him. “I would do whatever I could to survive and maybe improve my situation.” Her face was downcast, with that admission.

“And that’s exactly what she did. What concerns me is where she learned that, because most children wouldn’t think of doing that. I suspect her father, based on that file. Whether it was her father or not, she entered this facility with intent behind her actions. As I said, motive. What that intent or motive is concerns me greatly, along with the fact that she may have had at least some idea of a plan when she arrived. Now, here’s something that adds to the intrigue. Certain supplies have been going missing, all since she arrived. Little things here and there, nothing big. I don’t know for sure that she’s taking them, or that she has any intentions in that regard, but with that file and her acting, the oddity and timing of the missing supplies is a rather large coincidence, and I don’t believe in coincidence. In addition, I’ve witnessed her wandering through abandoned sections of the building. I assumed she was just getting away, which she likely was, but what if she was also scouting out the area?”

“You think she’s planning to escape?”

“I suspect she had that in mind from the time she arrived. She’s very deliberate with everything she does so she won’t just attempt to escape without a plan or supplies. She apparently knows she wouldn’t survive in a northern climate without the proper gear, which isn’t surprising considering where she comes from. If…no, when she executes her attempt, I think we’re going to have a hard time catching her.”

“How would she know we’re in a northern climate? No one’s told her anything about where we are and she hasn’t been allowed outdoors,” she stated, not doubting him, but curious how Melanie could have figured out their location.

“That girl is incredibly intelligent and I would bet very observant. She may have noticed that the flight didn’t take as long as it should have. Also, if she knows anything about trees or plants, she may have noticed the trees when she landed and was brought here,” he said, then as if it was an offhand comment, he added, “By the way, she’s been researching trees lately.”

Giving them a moment to digest that, he continued, “Lastly, recall what Emily said about the comments Melanie made on approach. She knew then that something didn’t seem right, so she was alert and searching for anything that might help her confirm her suspicions about the school. I’m certain she’s planning to escape. Now, back to her visits to the Hammond lab. I told you I would install cameras to watch her, and I did. What I have witnessed isn’t pleasant. I will show you, if you think you’re able to take it and want to understand what I think she’s going through.”

“I need to see, if you can show me.”

He gave her a small, sympathetic smile, then pulled his tablet out and pulled up a video, pressing start as he handed it to her. Although the image was grainy, she saw Melanie enter the lab and head to a small space underneath the far workbench that spanned the back wall. She crawled into the space, curling into a ball. At first, she could tell Melanie was rocking and she appeared to be shaking, but she wasn’t sure what the shaking was all about.

Pausing the video, she looked at Stone. Seeing the confused look, Stone explained, “She’s crying.”

She looked up at him for a long moment. “I didn’t think she cried?”

“I think she doesn’t want to let us know she’s crying. She wants to keep it all to herself. I’m glad she’s still crying. When she stops, we need to worry.”

She resumed watching and saw Melanie finally crawl back out of the space, and begin wiping her face as she walked out. That confirmed for Rebecca that she was indeed crying. The last image was much closer and left no room for doubt. She could actually see the tear tracks on her face. Rebecca had tears in her eyes as the video ended.

“We need to go to the Dean, but I wanted to show that to you first no matter what he said. I also wanted to update you on her status and tell you my thoughts as well as give you the opportunity to see that video. I wouldn’t advise telling him of me monitoring her, or my speculations.”

She smiled, although she still had tears in her eyes, “Thank you and I’ll keep that between us.” He only smiled back and they both headed to the Dean’s office.

After letting the Dean read the report, asking almost the same questions that Rebecca asked, making almost the same exact comments, he put the folder down. He looked at them both, with a very unhappy scowl.

“You obviously showed it to her first.” Stone was about to speak, but the Dean waved him down. “I’m not unhappy with that, just making an observation.” After a bit of a pause, he said, “We have a big problem. That girl shouldn’t be here and it’s now worse since the head docs have effectively taken ownership of her.”

“Sir, if he comes for his daughter, I won’t have my men try and stop him,” Stone stated.

“Nor would I expect you to,” the Dean replied.

“Sir, there’s something else I haven’t told them. She was given a different serum in the last attack. Somehow James got a sample of X6 and forced her to take it,” she informed him.

“How did he get that? For that matter, what is X6?” he asked, his reaction rather more animated than he typically was.

“We have no idea. We didn’t even know X6 existed. The last serum we have any knowledge of is X5, and precious little is known of it, other than it was a horrible disaster.”

“For now, we’ll keep this to ourselves. Definitely don’t let the head docs know about it. At least not until we have to. That little girl has suffered enough,” he instructed them.

“Yes, sir,” they both replied in unison. They both glanced at each other, as well.

“Let the report filter to Emily as it should. Do not let her know that we’ve seen it. I’m curious what her next move will be, if anything. If there’s nothing else, I think we can return to our duties. Let me know of anything important with regards to her or her roommate.” They both nodded agreement and walked out of his office.