Jungle of Creation
Chapter 12

Have you ever been throttled awake?

As you can imagine, it’s not very fun.

“Mi! Mi! Miiii! Get up! We’ve got to goooo!” A whiny shout breaks through the heavy fog clouding my brain, while small hands shake away the cobwebs. For a split second, I’m back at home, Lyla whining at me for who knows what. Then reality smashes down.

My eyes crack open, focusing on the girl with deep red hair and hazel eyes that is currently on top of me. My eyes shoot up. Ash.

“What? What is it?” Seeing that I’m awake, Ash climbs off me, an impatient glimmer in her eyes. Meanwhile, I’m slowly sitting up, gradually waking up.

“Jeez, you’re a deep sleeper.” I just stare at her with a dumbfounded expression on my face before I realize she didn’t answer my question.

“Ash? What’s going on? Why are you waking me up at the butt crack of dawn? No—correction—why are you waking me up at all?” At this point, there’s just too much confusion for my brain to handle at this time of morning. At least I think it’s morning. I watch Ash blankly as slight irritation rolls across her features.

“For your information, it’s only four o’clock in the morning, you pansy. As for your question… we’ve been summoned.” Ash’s irritation gives way to foreboding, darkening her features.

“What? Summoned? What for?” I am completely and totally lost at this point, waiting for Ash to fill in the dots. What she says next, though, doesn’t need further explanation. The seriousness of her tone and the widening of her eyes says enough.

“There’s been a sighting.”

“Psssst,” I watch as Ash glances my way, the hyper gleam back in her gaze, “What’s the scoop?” Ash’s whisper is all but silent in the midst of Director Kline’s rather packed office. Ash and I are the only two directly in front of Kline’s desk, while Dr. Howard stands to the side behind her seat, and there are at least ten guards in the room with us. Both Jere and Cole are nowhere to be seen. Jere is absent apparently because he’s needed at the back of the compound to load boxes and crates for the scientists. Cole, on the other hand, appears to be out. Grant is here, though, looking as professional as ever, dressed in his navy uniform and serious expression. I try to make eye contact with him and give him a smile, but he doesn’t so much as glance my way. Talk about the cold shoulder.

“Psssssssst,” Ash’s whisper sounds more aggressive next to me, demanding my attention.

“The scoop on what?”

She rolls her eyes as if it’s obvious, “The date, obviously. How did it go?”

I just stare at her for a moment. Is she serious? Isn’t she the one who dragged me out of my room to come here? “Ash, I don’t know that this is the best time—” Before I can finish, she cuts me an impatient glare.

“Okay, fine, fine. It was…” A slow smile spreads across my face and I sneak a glance at Grant to replace he is watching me, “It was really nice.” I can feel my cheeks heating at the memory. I’m not used to talking about this or feeling this way. It’s strange. Like I could jump and giggle for hours at a time.

“Yes! I knew he could do it. He kissed you, right?” The look in Ash’s eyes tells me that she already knows the answer. I nod silently, not wanting to draw anymore attention to us. Ash obviously doesn’t care as she jumps up and down in her spot. She abruptly stops when a throat clears in front of us.

“Ladies, you know why you are here. Correct?” Ash and I both nod at Director Kline’s interjection. At this point, we both know not to interrupt this woman. “We have reason to believe the killer is in a small town nearby. The guards on duty there encountered a suspicious character, who then ran before anyone could identify him. I’ve called you two, as well as the highest ranking guards, in to track down this heathen. Amira, you should be capable of tracking down the suspect, and Ashley, your task is to incapacitate him.” I don’t dare tell Kline that I haven’t exactly figured out my powers yet. “I am going to send five guards with you, but my suspicion is that the killer is very experienced at evading capture,” She looks at both of us pointedly, “Meaning, the two of you are going to be the main agents responsible for his retrieval.” Now he—or she—sounds like a piece of luggage. Ash and I both agree firmly before we are ushered out the door with five unknown guards in tow. They form a box around the two of us: two in front, one on each side, and one at the rear.

Walking around the circular compound, we stop at the door to the outside when Dr. Howard approaches us with two bandannas in hand. I’m about to tell him I’m not ready to make that kind of commitment when two of the guards take the bandannas from Dr. Howard and tie them securely around our faces. My vision is completely dark, revealing nothing of my surroundings.

Ash stays silent, but I’m too confused to. “What are these for?”

I sense Dr. Howard in front of me as he clears his throat and speaks, “These are to ensure the location of the compound remains secret.” Ohhhh. He did say it was top secret. I nod to let him know I understand and then I feel a guard grip my left arm. From the sounds, I can tell the guards have opened the door and are leading us outside into the cool rain forest. At this time of morning, the sun hasn’t risen yet, making the cicadas and the occasional bird the only sounds. My guard gently steers me along, alerting me whenever there’s some sort of stump or log in the way.

After what feels like hours, though we probably only walked a mile or two, I can finally feel the guard reaching behind my head to remove the bandanna. I replace myself in the midst of a little village, the early morning air clearing the streets. I don’t have the faintest idea why they thought I would know where I am, because I have absolutely no inkling what town this could be. The roads weaving throughout the little stucco buildings with thatched roofs are faded cobblestone. The village is arranged in rectangular blocks from what I can see, and the quiet marketplace beside us is full of empty stands just waiting to be filled come sunrise. Ash and I are silent, following the guards through the paved alleys. We tiptoe through the village, waiting for any sign of the suspicious character that was spotted.

There are a thousand questions buzzing through my head: How do they know this person is even important? What will we do if we replace him or her? How far is this killer willing to go to get what they want?

The last question I think I already have an answer to. As far as it takes.

I stay utterly silent, not voicing a single question. Although I would never admit it to these people, I’m scared. I’m not prepared for this. I haven’t trained for this my whole life, and the powers that should supposedly protect my life are nowhere to be found. As I begin gnawing on my bottom lip to hold in my fears, I see the guards stiffen around Ash and I. Ash’s usual excitement and fiery personality are nowhere to be found. A grim line takes the place of her smirk, her eyes crackling with gold sparks. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a shadow peeking around a corner, the source of the guards’ anxiety.

All at once, the soldiers turn rapidly, a wave of heat rolls off of Ash, my heart jumps into what feels like cardiac arrest, and the shadow leaps out at us. In the space of a millisecond, five guns are trained on the stranger’s head, the shadow’s hands held above his head. In the gray tint of early morning, I can make out white, shaggy hair, an old Hawaiian shirt and khakis, and a potbelly that speaks more of lounging than killing. Ash and I release the breath we’d both been holding. This guy isn’t the murderer.

The guards, however, don’t lower their guns, and the old man doesn’t lower his hands. His eyes aren’t focused on the armed men at all, nor the girl releasing enough nervous heat to rival a sauna. No. His eyes are directly focused on me. And he doesn’t look happy to see me.

The old native looks at me with disgust, his lip curling. “You smell of jungle. Panther,” he spits the broken English out at me, his Brazilian accent heavy. With his discovery, the man backs up, dropping his stance of surrender and points his condescending finger at me. The guards around me raise their guns higher, patience running thin.

“How do you know what I am?”

Why is it that this man that clearly despises me automatically knows more about me than me? I briefly wonder if I should have gone with denial, but oh well. Too little, too late.

The man just looks me up and down, as if the answer is glaringly obvious. With condemnation in his voice, he replies, “Any human with brain sees. Your eyes. Death.” He gestures frantically to my eyes where—I assume—the green is glowing in the darkness. This man obviously knows about me, about my powers. If he knows my history, he could explain why I am what I am. Unfortunately, he doesn’t look too keen on answering my questions. What is he talking about? I am… death?

When I don’t say anything else, the native just scoffs and dismisses me with a wave of his hand, “Thought we rid of you. Nuisance.” I just stare wide-eyed at him, not understanding what he’s talking about. Jeez, the English he does know hurts. He must be just a ray of sunshine. Luckily, Ash makes up plenty for the words I can’t think of. Obviously having enough of this guy insulting me, she rolls her eyes and curls her lip at him.

“If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. We don’t have time for your enlightening conversation.” Ash grabs my hand and pulls me away from the urchin. As we’re walking away, on-edge guards in tow, she mutters, “Unneeded waste of space.”

I jab her in the ribs, “Not very nice,” I scold her, even though there’s a small smile playing on my lips.

She just stares at me with a bland expression, “What? It’s true.” I smirk at her, earning a little laugh in return.

“Now… If you don’t mind… Could you stop scalding my hand?” Ash’s eyes widen as she looks down at our joined hands, then she gives me a quick guilty smile.

She releases my hand and lets out a little laugh, “Sorry.” I just shake my head, wondering how we’re able to laugh in this creepy little village. At this point, Ash and I are further ahead of the guards, while they survey the surroundings behind us. While they are investigating an alleyway less than a block behind us, I spot a dark flash move around the corner in front of us. Not giving the guards behind us a second’s thought, I grab Ash’s hand again and drag her around the corner, inwardly hoping I’m not just on a wild goose chase. Ash looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, which, honestly, I might have if I’m thinking of chasing a possible murderer on our own. I’m not thinking right now, though. My common sense has left the building.

“Thought… I… saw the… guy,” My voice comes out in hurried huffs as we run to where I saw the shadow disappear. Ash just rolls her eyes at me—I probably would’ve too—but she continues following. We round another corner, the guards nowhere in sight, when I finally catch sight of the shadow peeking around another corner a little ways down the street from us. I hear Ash’s deep intake of breath as she sees him too. This particular stranger does seem pretty suspicious. He also doesn’t seem to be very eager to step into full view like the last guy. Either he really doesn’t want his girlfriend to catch him out after dark… or this is our killer. Neither Ash or I make a move toward him, unsure about what he’s capable of, and the stranger just stays under the cover of darkness. Sooner or later the guards are going to catch up to us and we’ll lose our chance. I take a small step forward, Ash gripping my hand and keeping me from moving too far. With my move forward, the man takes a move back. I don’t think Ash’s heat works from this range, and I sure as heck can’t do anything against a trained assassin. Contemplating how to catch this guy from here, I catch the sound of shouts coming from the main street not too far away. The guards.

Knowing the window is closing, I take another—bigger—step forward only to see the killer hold up something and point it at Ash right beside me. Gun. Oh crap. Oh darn. I need to do something. Right. Now. My eyes flip back and forth rapidly between Ash and the shadow. Ash’s face is all wide eyes and slack jaw. She sees the gun too. She may be able to melt metal from close up, but even she can’t outrun a bullet. I watch the killer in slow motion. He aims the gun. He clicks off the safety. He settles his finger over the trigger. Damn. He’s actually going to shoot her. He doesn’t look like he’s aiming for me, but he is definitely aiming for Ash. I hear footsteps sounding down the alley, signaling the guards on their way. They won’t get here in time.

The man settles the gun in place. Finding his mark, pressing the trigger. My brain stopped functioning as soon as the gun came out. The trigger clicks. The bullet shoots out. The weapon explodes in a show of gunpowder and thunder. The bullet hits. I look back at Ash behind me. She looks shocked, appalled, murderous, guilty. Then I double over and the pain hits. I don’t even remember jumping in front of her. It was instinct. I clutch my side where the bullet hit. What would’ve been Ash’s heart… I think it’s safe to say we found our killer. I’m gasping for air, not getting enough, and my side is flaring in the worst burn imaginable. I see Ash leaning over me, crying, pleading with me to stay with her. I hear more than see five guards rushing into the alleyway, pushing Ash back from me. There are black spots across my vision, the view around me blurry and distorted. There is one thing I see crystal clear, though. From my fetal position on the ground, with my hands pressed to my side desperately to hold in the spilling blood, I see the shadow. He is still lurking around the corner, watching me. I stare blankly as he gives a slight shake of his head. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. Then he ducks around the corner, disappearing into grayness. The empty corner is the last thing I see before my vision gives way to the dark.

Groaning, flashes of silver light spear me in the eyeballs, igniting throbbing pain behind my temples. My eyelids flutter multiple times before the movement sticks and they stay open. Lazily waking up, I immediately notice the stabbing pain in my left side, below my ribs, then the white walls and the iron hospital bed clumsily come into view. My eyes glaze over the room, vaguely recognizing it as the one I woke up in when I first got to the compound. As my stare skips over the corner where the armchair should be, though, all I see is a blank space. It isn’t until my eyes pass over the right side of me that I see the familiar corduroy of the chair. With someone in it.

I shoot up at the sight of Cole sleeping in the chair, with his arm propping up his head on my bed. Big mistake. Instantaneously, my bullet wound in my side flares, burning like a thousand flipping suns. The throbbing in my head intensifies until it’s a roar, making it nearly impossible to think. I gasp, trying to clutch my ribs and my head at the same time. I can feel gentle hands easing me back down on to my back, the pain making it too hard to put up a fight. When my eyes open and my vision focuses again, I see Cole wide awake, his dirty blond hair tousled and a concerned look in his eye. But I’m not worried about that right now.

“Why are you here?” Cole flinches at my tone, part-confused, part-shocked, and part-downright snippy. The concern in his eyes fades, leaving behind a hard look.

“I didn’t realize there was a guest list. Should I leave you to your pain, Your Majesty?” Cole’s voice is thick with sarcasm and annoyance. I almost feel bad… Until I realize he still didn’t answer my question. I have a hard time believing my self-defense instructor cares enough about my apparently non-fatal gunshot to sleep in an armchair. It is Cole after all.

I clear my throat, trying desperately not to push his buttons again, “I’m sorry. I still have to ask. Why are you here?” I ask again in my sweetest voice imaginable.

Cole just lets out a deep breath and drops his head into hands before looking me in the eye again. That’s when I notice it. The day-old stubble. The bandanna that has come untied around his neck. The dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in the past twenty four hours. He really has been worried. At this point, I do start to feel a little guilty for snapping at him. After all, his job as my instructor is to teach me to be safe.

“I just needed to make sure you were okay,” Cole pauses, looking as if something is on his mind but he doesn’t know how to say it. He averts his frigid blue eyes before he continues, “You scared me.” His voice is nothing more than a whisper. Are we sure this is Cole I’m talking to? Where are the cameras? My face is a mixture of shock and gratitude. Until another shot of pain shoots through to my eyes. Cole is at my side in an instant, hands squeezing mine as an outlet for the pain. I grip his hands like a lifeline until the wave of hurt fades back into a steady throb.

“You’ll be okay soon. You got lucky with that shot.” I weakly lift my head from the pillow to look at him, at the regret swimming in his eyes. “Don’t ever do that again.” My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. Even in pain, I don’t appreciate this guy telling me what to do. The fact is, if it saves Ash’s life, I would do it all over again. It was for a friend. For family.

I just give Cole a weak glare, “How did I get lucky? I got shot.”

He shakes his head and shoots me a look of disbelief, “The bullet was still in you, but it missed any vital organs. That’s lucky. They performed the surgery to get the bullet out about twenty hours ago.”

“How long have I been out?”

Cole looks downright devastated. Since when has he cared so much? “Over a day,” Cole looks down at me and reveals a sad little smirk, “You really can’t handle your blood.”

I just scoff. No one ever said I was good with blood. Or bullets. I let out my own sarcastic look, directed straight at Cole, “Aw… You care so much about me that you stayed here?” I’m poking fun at him, but I’m still genuinely curious. I don’t understand why my well being matters so much to him.

Cole rolls his eyes and lets out a bark, “I was only worried that all that time I spent training you would go to waste.” Even as he says it, his eyes meet mine and I see the truth. Sometime over the last two weeks, Cole began caring about me. Imagine that. Do I care about him? My inner questions cause another round of burning to go up my side and temples, dissuading me from thinking about it anymore.

Cole watches as my face screws up in a grimace, wanting to do something. I make eye contact with him, wanting a distraction, “Distract me. Tell me something about yourself.”

A small smile plays across his face as he thinks of something. After a moment, he speaks in a nostalgic tone, “I grew up in Wyoming. On a farm.” My brain immediately conjures an image of Cole with shaggy hair, old jeans, a flannel, and a pitchfork. A series of giggles, developing into coughs, sputter out of me. He cocks an eyebrow, silently asking what’s so funny.

“You were a farmer?” As soon as the words are out, the giggle-coughs start up again. That darn picture just won’t leave my head.

He gives an exasperated sigh, though he seems to be enjoying himself, “No, I was a farmer’s son.” His face breaks into a grin, humoring me.

“What was your family like?” I regret that question as soon as I ask it as the grin falls from Cole’s face.

“My… Mom died in childbirth. I’m an only child.” Cole turns away to face the wall by my bed.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” Cole holds up his hand to silence me, looking back with a rueful smile.

“It’s okay.” I hold my tongue for a minute before the smothering silence and my curiosity are too much to bear.

“What about your dad?” That earns another sour look. Man, am I not great at conversations?

Nevertheless, Cole answers without a hitch, “He was never a real father to me. He worked on the farm for most of my childhood—too busy to waste time on his burden,” Cole’s eyes overflow with bitterness before morphing to solemn acceptance, “But by the time I turned thirteen, the income was becoming too little, even for only the two of us. Dad sought out a job in the city, and he moved us to Cheyenne, Wyoming for a position as an agricultural scientist. He became really successful, went and got some degrees, began rising the business ladder. The only issue is he became even less of a father than he used to be.” I reach out and grab Cole’s hand, calling his attention back to me, before squeezing the hand.

“Thank you for sharing that with me.” Cole gives me a little smile, making me feel better about pushing him so much. Even so, there are more questions bumping around in my head. Anything for a distraction.

Before I can stop myself, words start spilling out, “I’ve been thinking, how—” I promptly cut myself off, realizing I’ve probably asked two too many personal questions for one day.

To my surprise, Cole gently grips my blushing cheeks and turns my face to look back at him, “Whatever you were going to say, say it. I promise I don’t mind.” Since when did this nice, protective, open-minded Cole appear? I could’ve used him when he kidnapped me.

I shake away the questions for the moment, focusing on the one that’s been bugging me, “Ash and Jeremy said the powers are triggered by some survival situation… What was yours?” I expect to see some form of hurt or pain flash across Cole’s face, but he just gives me a little smirk instead.

“I told you I grew up in Wyoming, on a farm. Well, I was out playing in the fields alone one afternoon a couple miles from my house. I was, say, eleven at the time. It was getting dark, the sun was going down. I started heading home, but apparently too late because I could hear some coyotes howling. They were out hunting. Well, I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them getting closer. They were gaining on me so I was running as fast as I could. Somewhere, deep down, I knew I wasn’t fast enough, that I would never make it home. I was so afraid, but I kept running, urging myself to go faster and faster. I don’t know what happened, but suddenly I found myself going faster and faster. I ran the two miles home in three seconds flat.” Instead of the traces of fear or anxiety that a sane person would feel, Cole’s voice is full of pride and arrogance, his face a testament to how happy his eleven-year-old self was to make that record.

My lips quirk up in a teasing smile, “You know… A normal person would be scared to talk about having coyotes on their butt.”

Cole’s face pulls into an ear-splitting grin that makes me realize again just how attractive he is, “I’m not a normal person, Kitty. Obviously.” He wiggles his eyebrows and releases another smirk. Without thinking, I stretch out the kinks in my arms. Wiggling a little in the seat, I get no twinges from my side. Huh, weird. My head has stopped its incessant pounding too. Amidst the thrilling conversation, the distraction must have seriously taken root because I don’t feel pain anywhere.

Cole takes notice of my shocked—no, flabbergasted— expression, “Hey, Amira. You okay?” I see the concern jump back to life in Cole’s blue eyes and I quickly nod to quiet his worries, though my expression doesn’t change.

“I just…” I’m gazing off at some random point across the room now.

“What?”

I turn back to look at him and spit it out, “The pain’s gone. I think the wound is gone.”

Cole just looks at me before laughing, earning a killer glare from me, “That’s what you’re worried about? I could’ve told you that.”

I don’t know what to say, “Huh?”

He looks at me with an amused smile across his face, “Kitty, Ash and Jeremy told you we don’t heal fast, right?” I just nod, “Well, you already know you’re different. You were born with your ability. We weren’t.”

I shoot him a look, “Is this going somewhere?”

He rebuttals with a look that tells me to shut up, so I raise my hands in mock surrender. “Your panther is a part of you. It improves your reflexes, enhances your senses, boosts your metabolism, gives you another form to protect yourself. It also speeds up your healing.” Cole pastes on a grin, pleased with the information he just dumped on me.

Makes enough sense, I guess. My real question is : “How do you know all this?”

Cole rewards me with a droll look, “Your mom? Remember? The woman who worked here and contributed to S.C. research for two years?”

“Okay, okay,” I say, rolling my eyes, “If I’m healed, then I want to go back to my own room. I’m exhausted.” I let out a loud yawn to emphasize my point. It’s true, too. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so utterly drained.

Cole gives me a knowing look, “Healing will do that to you. Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

We walked back to my room in comfortable silence, the past day’s events wrestling in my mind. Cole leaves me to rest, which I get right to as soon as I wash my face and change out of my scrubs someone must have changed me into. I expect to pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow, but no matter how bone tired I am, sleep evades me. My mind keeps tripping over Cole staying with me in the hospital room. The dark shadows under his eyes that revealed how worried he really was. I’m confused why he would lose sleep over me, someone he is just forced into training. Ash, I assume, had to report on what happened. Jere very well could still be caught up with the scientists. What really gets me is that it was Cole in the chair instead of Grant. Did he lose any sleep? Countless, pointless, worthless thoughts bounce around rowdily, preventing my escape.

I toss and turn, ending up front ways, sideways, on my back, on my stomach. No position is comfortable, and sleep is not coming to drown out the white noise in my head. Giving up on sleep for now, I get up and plan to go for a little walk. I haven’t investigated all of the hallways around this compound, so now seems like a perfect opportunity. I pop open my door and step out into the white emptiness. There’s hardly anyone ever on this secluded hallway, but there’s even less this early in—what I think is—the morning. I walk silently down the halls, not trying to hide, but not trying to draw attention either. Every now and then I will pass a worker, and they will give me a not-so-subtle stare that I return with an overly sweet greeting. I really hate the stares. After a few dead ends that I try my best to commit to memory—let’s face it, dead ends are not that exciting—I finally come to another hallway with a door at the end.

The door itself is nothing extraordinary. It’s white. It’s glossy. It’s the same as any of the other doors in this building. What does catch my eye, though, are the multiple keypads and security measures attached to it. There are the normal number pads, there are fingerprint scanners, and even optical eyeball scanner things. Not even the door to the outside has this much security. This is the kind of thing that I expected to replace the night I learned about my powers. Weird, scary doors. I know it’s stupid to even think about it because there’s no way I can make it past these defenses, but I can’t help but want to see what’s so important that it stays locked up behind three keypads. Realizing the hopelessness of the situation, I make a mental note of where the creepy door is located before turning back the way I came.

I head back to my room, noticing all of a sudden that my bed sounds really good right now. I only have room for so much craziness and secrets in a day. Plopping my head on the pillow, I climb under the covers and curl up in a ball. This place is seriously testing my sanity, not to mention my overall health. We did replace the killer, though. That’s more than I can say for the last two weeks. No more murders. No more schemes. The shadows covered too much of the form to hint if it was a girl or boy, but it was something. My thoughts are still swirling wildly, one leading into rabbit hole after rabbit hole. My little excursion did make one difference, however. When sleep came, I welcomed it.