Looking at the window of the limousine, Elijah watched as the roads wound their way through the Connecticut suburbs. Long driveways peeled off from the road on occasion, leading back to regal manor houses and the all-too-go-for-society snobs that lived within their walls. “It would have been quicker by helicopter.”
“It also wouldn’t have been respecting our contact’s request for anonymity,” Jakita responded. She was seated opposite of Snow, her legs crossed as her overcoat rested openly against the seat beneath her, a dour look spread across her face. “And if I recall correctly, one of Planetary’s doctrines is to preserve the conditions of the find.”
“Is that what we do?” a sarcastic voice asked from the front seat. Turning around to face the others, a younger man with a goatee and longish red-brown hair shot Jakita a sardonic smile. “I mean, of course, when we’re not chasing down personal vendettas.”
“I suggest you put that smirk away while you still have teeth, Drummer.” Elijah was in no mood to put-up with the man’s humor today, not that such a mood changed from one day to the next. The Drummer had always worn thin on his nerves, even if the young man was an essential part of his team.
Jakita interrupted the spat by saying, “We’re here, anyway.”
The limousine pulled to a stop in front of high brick wall split by a pair of wrought-iron gates. Ivy grew long and tall upon the edifice of brick, hiding most of the surface beneath a sea of withering green and brown. Another car waited adjacent to the gate, and as the limousine’s engine quieted a hunch-shouldered man stepped from the driver’s side door. He wore a Carhartt jacket over his bib overalls and, oddly, an engineer’s cap atop his head. Offering his hand in a wave to the approaching trio, he said, “I s’pose you’d be Mr. Snow, s’that right?”
“It would be,” Elijah answered without returning the man’s gesture. Instead, his hands remained in the pockets of his overcoat. “On behalf of my team, I’d like to thank you for meeting us out here.”
The old man scoffed somewhat. “T’wasn’t no trouble. Not many folks coming up to these parts lately, and the grounds don’t need much in the way of keeping. Mostly, I just make sure this old gate stays well tended. Age has a way of wearing on things, but this beauty’s gonna open and close for many years to come, I’d wager.”
“History lessons aside, I’d prefer to get on with our business. That is, if you don’t mind,” Snow said, shooting the caretaker an icy stare. The older man winced beneath the stare and then turned his attentions – and arthritic fingers – to the lock.
The doors soon parted and the old man stepped aside. “This is as far as I go. Things to do, you understand? The headmaster will call me when you all need to leave, and I’ll be back up lickity-split.”
As the man climbed back behind the wheel, Elijah turned to face the manor house once more. Strangely, it appeared much more distant now with the gates open, than it had with the courtyard locked away. Examining the windows, he had a hard time discerning whether or not the facility was still in use or not, something that was probably well-intentioned by its inhabitant.
A throat cleared behind him, and Elijah turned to face the Drummer. Scratching his head, the scruffy man offered a cockeyed smile and said, “We’re being watched, boss man, and it’s not just people eyes, either. Machines all over the place. Surveillance. This place is wired and in that advanced way that tickles me in the pants.”
“Drummer, if I ever hear you talk about your pants again, I’ll be sure to remove any reason for you to wear them. Am I clear?” Snow moved toward the front of the house, stepping onto the dark black pavement of the circle drive. His mind got to wondering about the aesthetics of the house and its grounds, but those thoughts were interrupted as the front door opened on a slow hinge.
Stepping across the threshold, the slender woman brushed her red hair back over her shoulder and raised a hand to her eyes, shielding them from the afternoon sun. Her skin was pale as drawn snow and contrasted against the deep emerald of her eyes. Slide-stepping down the front stairs, she offered a timid smile and said, “It’s been so long since I’ve had visitors. I was not sure that you’d come.”
From the look on Elijah’s face, it was clear that he would not be forthcoming with a reply. Taking this as her cue, Jakita assumed the forefront and moved to offer the redhead her hand. “On behalf of Planetary, Ms. Ashe – or would you prefer Jan – we’re happy to be here. My name is Jakita Wagner; we spoke on the phone. If half of what you’ve told me is true, then my colleagues and I are in for quite the treat.”
“Oh, it’s all true. That and so much more,” the woman said, forlornly glancing back toward the house. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather do this inside. I don’t spend a great deal of time outdoors. It just makes me feel uncomfortable, unconnected in a way. Please, follow me.”
The simple front door opened into a vast foyer with a grand staircase twisting up from the center of the room. Suits of armor flanked the front door, both shined to perfection and spotlessly clean. The heavy-stained hardwood floors held dark reflections of the trio as they moved through the front room and around to a corridor hidden behind the grand staircase. This corridor was lined with identical Elizabethan tri-corner tables, each adorned with a vase of wildflowers.
As she walked, the red-haired woman said, “As you can understand, we don’t receive many visitors here. Outside interference is hardly beneficial to maintaining the environment, especially the air of secrecy we prefer to keep about ourselves. Truth to tell, it’s a minor miracle that we’ve been able to elude discovery for so long, though I suppose there is some credibility to what they say about hiding in plain sight. There’s just nothing like it.”
“I admit I’m confused, Ms. Ashe,” Elijah began, stepping side by side with their host. As was typical, his hands were buried deep in the pockets of his overcoat, and he took his steps with an air of authority. “Every appearance shows this to be nothing more than a boarding school, some place where over-privileged parents send their over-privileged children when they want to forget about them for nine months. Are you trying to tell me this is something different?”
“Oh yes, Mr. Snow, the Chandler Academy is something much more spectacular,” Jan Ashe responded, a thin smile stretching across her lips.
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#1
MAR 14 |
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“These Hallowed Halls”
It was January of 1963 when Jan Ashe first discovered she was different from others. At first, it was just simple notions, intuitions of what others might do next or ideas of what they might be thinking about. Nothing specific, but it was there. She kept this part of her hidden, secreted away from everyone – including herself. After all, it was easier to bury a secret than to try and fully understand it. And high school hardly seemed to be the best place to sort out what made her so different.
But Marcy wasn’t like other people in Jan’s life. Marcy had been her best friend since grade school, and she had the fast track into Jan’s moods and emotions. In some ways, Marcy knew Jan better than Jan knew herself. It was on the way home from school that Marcy broached the topic. “So, you’ve had your head in the clouds lately. What gives? Boy troubles?”
Jan smiled shyly, and a deep rouge rose in her cheeks. She clung to the straps of her backpack as if they were her only security in the world. In a demure tone, she replied, “I wish it were that simple.”
“Surely it can’t be too bad. Nothing’s the end of the world,” Jan shot back, ever the optimist.
This elicited a small laugh from Jan, but her eyes communicated a slight sadness when she answered, “It’s much worse than that. I haven’t told anyone yet…”
“Well, I’d hope not. Otherwise, I’d be wondering who your new best friend was.”
“Margaret Hemlock,” Jan replied, unable to resist the challenge.
Marcy mocked an appearance of shock. “Marge the Barge? You wouldn’t dare.”
Jan shrugged. “If I have to replace my best friend, I might as well do it with someone who’s twice the size of my best friend. That way, it doesn’t seem like I’m losing as much in the bargain.”
The two girls laughed in unison, pausing only to stifle their giggles as they passed in front of the Percival Soda Fountain & Pharmacy. Through the window, Jan watched as Jimmy Denton laughed and joked with the in-crowd, his letter jacket draped over his broad football shoulders. She blushed and turned away from the window to see Marcy looking at her with a concerned expression on her face.
“Come along, Ms. Mopey. It’s a beautiful day, and you still have to tell me everything,” Marcy said. To highlight her point, she thrust her hands into the air, closed her eyes in jubilation, and danced around in a circle. As she stepped off the curb into the crosswalk, she added, “Don’t think you’ll get off the hook that easily.”
The car came from out of nowhere, maybe traveling faster than it should have been, maybe not. As the grill crashed through the girl’s fragile body, a sick crunch sounded through the deafening silence. Marcy rolled up the front of the car. The softness of her head ricocheted against the windshield, sending a spider web through the thick glass. Blood cascaded through the air, falling like rain upon Jan’s cheek, and she stared in wide-eyed horror as her best friend crumpled into death and rolled down the front of the car, finding a final resting place against the crimson-stained crosswalk.
At that moment, the world had stopped. Thoughts touched upon each other like overlapping tides, and Jan Ashe lost what little control she had over her burgeoning abilities. In that instant, she was afforded a glimpse of death that was not typically allotted to the living, and that brief touch was enough to snap her mind. She lashed out and seized the thoughts of those around her. Every memory, every instinct, every impulse collided in her mind at once.
A silent scream erupted from her throat and echoed across the Tri-State area.
“It was Professor Scarsdale that pieced me back together. The process took years, and to tell you the truth, I don’t remember most of it. A great deal of the work was done while I was still in the coma,” Jan explained as she moved through the hallways and led the team into a sunroom at the back of the manor. “I woke up, and I still felt broken, empty, defeated. But there was something more there, something I couldn’t put my finger on at the time. Maybe it was hope; maybe it was some kind of serenity. I never really figured it out for myself.”
Jakita walked side-by-side with the woman, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her overcoat. The sun glinted off her raven black hair. Adopting a soothing tone, Jakita asked, “You came here for your rehabilitation?”
Shaking her head, Jan responded, “Not at first. The school didn’t exist when I first met Professor Scarsdale. It wasn’t until years later that I joined four others in the school’s founding class.”
“Were the others like you?”
“Extraordinary?” Jan asked. Her lips thinned as they pressed against one another in disappointment. “They each had their talents, their special abilities, but we were each different. Some of us were more tragic than others, and some of us could pass for normal out in the real world. We were each powerful in our own ways, though, and were all a danger to society if left to our own devices – if the Professor hadn’t come to help us.
“The Savage, for example, had regressed as his body had been transformed, and when he joined the school, he was more animal than man. But all of that was just a shell. Inside, he was a brilliant man crying to get out, and with Professor Scarsdale tutoring him, he found himself again.” Jan seemed to be lost in the memories for a moment, chasing pictures through her mind. After a few moments of silence, she said, “I’m sorry. You must have so many questions, and here I am, just going off on tangents.”
Jakita offered a smile of reassurance. Reaching out, she placed her hand overtop Jan’s and gave a gentle squeeze. “This is your story. You tell it at whatever pace is comfortable for you.”
Jan nodded appreciatively and responded, “To make a long story short, the Scarsdale Academy was a chance at a second life. It was an opportunity to rebuild myself and forge a new life. Now, I didn’t want to forget what had happened, but as the Professor often reminded me, it was important to move on, to live my life for me instead of the past. Funny how life has a way of deciding things for you, though.”
Speaking for the first time in almost an hour, Elijah cut into the conversation and said, “The founding class had five members. What happened to the others?”
Jan hung her head low. Her fiery locks obscured her face, but from beneath them, a small sob sounded. Straightening up, Jan wiped away the dripping mascara from beneath her eyes. “I’ve been living here with the truth for so long. It’s been so lonely – you really can’t imagine. All these years…”
“What happened to them?” Elijah asked, pushing harder.
Silence filtered between them, and then Jan swallowed hard. “I killed them all, Mr. Snow. I killed them all.”
1964
She descended the staircase one step at a time, her schoolbooks hugged tightly to her chest. It should have been a day like any other – classes, lunch, training, the normal routine – but there was an utter feeling of something wrong hanging in the air. When she’d awoken that morning, an icy chill had settled into her bones, and try as she might, it would not loosen its grip on her. Even her sweater failed to lift the cold from her body. As she rounded the last step and turned toward the eastern corridor, Jan felt an arm wrap around her waist. Surprised, she gasped slightly, and her books fell to the parquet floors.
A finger pressed against her lips and stifled her scream. Looking up into a pair of perfect blue eyes, Jan settled somewhat. Smiling down toward her, Preston Devane asked, “And how are you doing this morning, beautiful?”
“You almost scared me half to death, Preston,” she shot back, slapping him playfully in the left shoulder. Bending down to the floor, she scooped her books one-by-one and said, “We’re going to be late for class. We really should hurry.”
She tried to move past him, but he stopped her, stepping to block the doorway to the eastern corridor. Leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, he winked at her and said, “We have a couple minutes to spare. Old Man Scarsdale isn’t going to care one way or another. We’re his golden children, and he knows better than to throw away a good thing before its time.” Smiling unabashedly, he added, “So, how about it? Got a moment to spare for the love of your life?”
She blushed at his words, giggled half for his unrelenting confidence and half for his preposterous assumption. “I appreciate that offer, but I’m going to have to take a rain check. Really, I just want to start the day off on a good foot.”
“And I’m not a good start?” Preston asked, feigning offense.
She rolled her eyes and tried to see a way around him. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I just need to get through the day without any mishaps; that’s all. Surely, you can understand that.”
“Now I’m a mishap?”
Before she could respond, a voice called out from behind her. The voice belonged to a gaunt boy standing on the stairs, his face hidden behind a contraption that looked more like a Halloween mask than a pair of eyeglasses. “Just let the lady get to class, Pres. Be a gentleman and respect her decisions.”
A raucous laugh rolled from Preston’s mouth. “Of, perfect timing. The knight in shining armor is here to save his lady fair. And let me ask you, Alan,” Preston began, using the other young man’s name as a weapon. “What are you going to do if I don’t oblige?”
“I don’t think you want me to answer that question, Preston,” Alan shot back. His voice trembled quietly, as if he didn’t quite believe the words himself. Jan knew that the thinner boy wasn’t one for violence. It was just a matter of whether Preston would see through the macho façade or not.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Allie. I don’t think you want me to answer the question for you. Remember last time?” Preston lowered his armor and pushed past Jan, making his way toward the staircase and Alan. “Remember how I put you in the infirmary with a black eye?”
Alan nodded quietly, but he didn’t back down. “I also remember that I grounded you for three weeks. You can’t fly on a broken wing, can you?”
Preston huffed at this, but let the argument stop where it was. With his face screwed up in anger, he stormed past Jan and proceeded down the corridor. Jan watched him disappear around a corridor and then turned back to Alan. “You didn’t have to do that, you know? He’ll only take it out on you later.”
Alan nodded. He knew the truth just as well as she did. “Maybe so, but I couldn’t let him act that way in front of a lady. It isn’t proper, and you deserve better than that.”
Once again, she blushed and said, “Well, thank you.” And with that, she stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss against his cheek. “Thanks for being sweet.”
Later that afternoon, Scarsdale called Jan into his private office. Taking a seat opposite the Professor, she crossed her legs beneath the chair and folded her hands atop her lap. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
Truman Scarsdale nodded. Light from the window behind him reflected off the slight sheen of sweat upon his bald head. “You’ve been missing our private sessions, Ms. Ashe. You do remember that these were a mandatory condition of your admission into the school, right?”
She closed her eyes and frowned. “I didn’t think I needed them anymore. I’m feeling much better lately,” she said, lying.
The Professor’s dark eyes gave away no emotion as he responded, “Everyone feels better just before a relapse. That’s why it’s better for the proper people to make diagnoses and not the patient themselves. Otherwise, our hospitals would be a lot emptier than they are.”
“I really do feel like I’ve been making progress. There have been no nightmares lately, and I don’t remember the last time I awoke in a cold sweat,” she began, leaning forward. Her voice adopted a pleading tone as she continued. “And you’ve been there for all my training sessions. My control is getting better than it’s ever been.”
Nodding, Scarsdale said, “That much is true. I’m seeing almost a delicate touch when it comes to your psychokinetic handling of objects, but that is beyond the point. I am concerned more for your mental condition. More specifically, I am worried that you are burying the problem rather than confronting it. That’s not helping you at all.”
She stared at him, studying his face and searching for some sign of acceptance. She found none. “What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do? I’ve burned away the weak person that I was, and I’m all the better for doing it. What else is there?”
His brow furrowed as he responded, “You need to stop hiding behind your innocence and acknowledge that Marcy’s death was your fault.”
She blinked hard. “Excuse me?”
“If it had not been for your selfish refusal to share your secrets with your friend, she would be alive today. She would not have been in that crosswalk at that time and place, and you would not have gotten her killed.”
“It wasn’t my fault…”
“I’m sorry? What was that?”
Jan escalated the volume of her voice, creeping toward a scream. Tears poured down her cheeks. “It wasn’t my fault! I had no control over those events, and how dare you insinuate otherwise!”
His expression remained impassive. He was offering her no measure of forgiveness. “Then who should we put the blame upon? There is no such thing as fate, no such thing as forgiveness. If you are not at fault, then who?”
She vaulted across the desk at that desk and wound her fingers into the collar of his shirt. Spittle flew from her mouth as she screamed into his face, “You evil, old man. How dare you! You were supposed to be helping me, and this is how you do it? How could you even believe…”
She did not have the chance to finish the sentence. Gears turned in her mind, and the floodgates reopened. A sudden expression of fear washed across Professor Scarsdale’s face, and she felt the futile attempt to hold her mind back, but it was already too late. The power poured from her mind, pulsing over and over again, each time gaining strength and severity. It was a scream erupting into the wind and pushing back the storm, devouring it in the process.
And just as suddenly as it had come, it was gone. And in its wake came the most uncomfortable of silences – from miles around.
Running a trembling hand back through her red hair, Jan sniffled wetly and said, “Later, when I’d gathered myself, I walked through the house and found them one at a time. All of them were gone – Alan, Preston, Billy and the Savage. Their eyes stared up at me as if they didn’t even see me anymore, and I cried for each of them until I couldn’t cry anymore. I buried them the next morning,” she finished, pointing out to a grove of trees that grew in the midst of the sprawling rear lawn.
Jakita reached out and gripped the other woman by the shoulders, offering some semblance of comfort – or at least as much as she could. Allowing a moment of silence to offset the gravity of the woman’s story, Jakita waited and then said, “There’s one thing I don’t understand. If all of this happened years ago, why would you stay here all this time? Why not just leave all this sadness behind?”
Blinking away her tears, Jan responded, “We had each made a promise to the Professor when we entered the school. There were secrets here that needed protecting, technologies and information that the Professor did not want falling into the wrong hands – particularly a man from his past. It took me awhile to realize that the Professor had been trying to help me, even if he chose the wrong way to do it. And like it or not, I was the only one left to keep that promise. I had to stay.”
After all this time in silence, this was the part of the story that intrigued Elijah the most. And from the sudden gasp behind him, Elijah assumed the same stood true for the Drummer. “You’ve been protecting all this for forty years?”
Jan nodded once again. “It’s not difficult to hide something when nobody comes looking for it. Still, I needed to maintain the privacy of the estate to do it. Over the years, I’ve honed my abilities and used them to subconsciously urge the residents to move away and to deter solicitors and would-be thieves. You’d be surprised how far irrational and instinctual fear would go to meet those goals.”
“So, what are we talking about here? I can feel something, but not enough to tell what it is,” the Drummer said excitedly, like a child set loose in a candy store.
Elijah looked from the Drummer to Jan. “You’re doing that, aren’t you? Dulling his senses to prevent him from learning too much. That’s utterly brilliant. I wish I could accomplish the same.”
She turned away from them and gazed once more upon the grove outside. “I needed to speak my peace. This is, after all, my first and only opportunity to do so. One needs to give voice to their sins eventually, and I’ve been holding onto mine for more than four decades. I’m tired of keeping secrets, and the truth of the matter is, I’m tired of keeping my promise. I’ve been watching you for a while, Mr. Snow – you and your team. You do noble work, and I’m sure that you’ll put the information to good use.”
“You have my word. But, what of you, Ms. Ashe? Where do you go from here?” Elijah seemed authentically concerned, but his eyes hid the emotion well behind their frosty color.
Jan Ashe rolled her head back to her shoulders and said, “I have a place for myself with the others. They’re waiting for me, somewhere beyond that grove. I’ve just been waiting for the right time to release from thoughts from this world, to shut my body down and fall away into an unending sleep. Thank you all for listening to me, for taking my last confession.” She paused there and looked back at them through the reflection on the glass. “It’ll be so nice to hear Alan’s voice again…”
Outside, Jakita and the Drummer were whispering softly as Snow approached. His coat was slung over his arm, and his sleeves were rolled back to his elbows. “Is the extraction team on its way?”
Jakita nodded. “I radioed for them as soon as we left the house.”
“Good,” Elijah responded. “See to it that the caretaker is properly compensated for his time and attention to duty. I want the site cleaned and closed within the next twenty-four hours. Drums, I trust you’ll be completing the site findings report?”
The Drummer rubbed his hands together playfully. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“New toys excite him,” Jakita said, as if such needed explanation.
Elijah rolled his eyes. “Just make sure it gets back to headquarters intact. I don’t like discovering things like this, secrets that have been hidden in plain sight for so long. It makes me feel as if we’re not doing our jobs.”
Nodding in agreement, Jakita asked, “What do you think it means?”
“Damned if I know,” Snow responded, and then with some thought, added, “But I know it’s a question that could do with an answer. Let’s set about finding it.”
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To Be Continued...
Next: In Planetary #2: The Drummer cracks into the find, but will the first round of answers set the team onto a web of discovery that threatens their perception of the secret history of the Twentieth Century?
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