Jungle of Creation
Chapter 13

Nope.

Darn.

Nothing.

I’m back on the floor of my room, criss-cross applesauce, meditating. Desperately hoping for some sign to awaken my powers. As usual, there’s no such luck. I’m really getting kind of tired of being told I have these powers and not being able to use them. Maybe they’ve made a mistake.

Even as I think it, though, I know it’s not true. The emerald green is still spreading through my eyes, although I’m not sure if it’s a virus or evolution at this point. Good or bad? Now all that’s left of the amber is a small crescent at the top of each iris, framing my deep set eyes. The abnormal healing must have done more than just remove all traces of the bullet wound. There’s not even so much as a scar. This is some serious stuff.

I slept most of the day after I awoke from my big endeavor and its complications—yeah, that’s a word for it. Only leaving my room to eat dinner with the others, I stayed here and slept. Proof of how much the healing wiped me out. I’ve also been ravenous. Between the pain and exhaustion from waking up, I hadn’t had a lot of time to notice, but as soon as my mind was clear, my stomach made its needs known. Loudly. My body’s been seriously craving the sustenance and energy it used up earlier.

It’s past noon now, and my hunger is sated after just getting back from lunch. It was amazing seeing Jere and Ash after the ordeal, considering they didn’t bring it up, choosing to have mindless conversations instead. Ash didn’t say anything, but when I greeted her this morning, I swear there was a tear in her eye. Ash. The forceful, sarcastic, no-back-talk Ash had a tear in her eye. I’m not much of a hugger, excluding ones with Dad and Lyla, but both of them forced me into a group hug when they saw me. I didn’t complain. Of course once that mushy moment was done, Ash carried on to discuss all the kick-butt ninja moves she would’ve used on the rude native man, given the chance. I give a mental eye roll at that.

I haven’t seen Cole since the morning I woke up since he doesn’t eat lunch with us. He wasn’t even in the cafeteria today. As wobbly as my feelings toward him are, I feel like I owe him something for sharing so much about himself, for keeping me company. He’s shown he cares about me. Do I care about him? Or is it that I just don’t totally hate him? Jeez, that guy confuses me. Of course, at least I’ve seen him. I haven’t seen Grant period. I know he just kissed me and that doesn’t mean he’s tied to me for life, but it still kind of hurts that he won’t give me the time of day.

I shake my head fiercely, snapping out of it. This is not the time to get distracted, Amira. More than ever I need these powers. I just got shot for Pete’s sake! Closing my eyes and begging focus to come, I envision my family and my love for them. I hold tight to those emotions, but I replace my mind wandering anyway. To Mama. To her newly green eyes, just like mine will be. To Nemo. With his eerily similar gaze. The message that Mom wanted me to get. I growl out of frustration, urging my mind back on track. Andrew Denton and Lilli Faller came together almost twenty-one years ago to make me: Amira Denton. Eight years later, Lyla Denton was born. One like mother, one like father. Pointedly ignoring the sadder parts of my childhood, I move past Mom to the life Dad, Lyla, and I made for ourselves. Love. Protection. Bonding. We became a family unit. My eyes tear up at the thought of the two people I love most in this world. Then came Nemo, with his demanding meow and his cuddly nature. His big, bright green eyes.

Oh no. My memories flash back to the images of Mama’s, Nemo’s, and my own green eyes. Too deeply enthralled in the shamrock green to redirect the memories again, I just let the eyes lead me. I’m reminded of the eyes that were so often in my dreams. Eyes that I now believe to be my own. My panther’s eyes. I haven’t dreamed of them since… Since when? They haunted me from the moment I stepped foot on that plane to Brazil. They were calling me, leading me. But where? Where could the eyes that live inside me possibly want to go? And why would they open only about a month ago? I rack my brain, trying to replace the connection between my powers and the eyes that seemed familiar, so comforting. When we got to Brazil, I had no dreams because I was so bone-tired. The next day, we went out. Dad and Lyla left.

Then I felt that irresistible pull. The jungle was calling me and I was helpless to do anything but enter its depths. I felt at home in there. Comfortable. It felt familiar. My eyes pop open, realization flashing in front of them. The family that I love dearly is my anchor. But they are not my center. The eyes only left me once I was where they wanted me to go. The jungle. Visiting the jungle awakened my powers, awakened the magnificent beast inside me. That’s how I found Charley. Being in the jungle intensified my abilities and allowed me to sense his body. The jungle is my center. My home, my peace.

Filled with new vigor, I stop trying to focus on Dad and Lyla, instead turning my attention to the trees, birds, cicadas, vines outside this compound. I picture the sounds of rain forest in my mind’s eye, the dampness of dew and moss, the vibrant greens and reds and oranges throughout the Amazon. Slowly, I feel my control gaining and my breathing steadying bit by bit. I feel more at home with each beat my heart makes, with every detail my imagination adds to the mental illustration. Slowly, I allow my eyes to scan the room around me, taking in the extra-fine details of the room. My heightened senses enable me to see the chip in the paint at the far corner of the room, the speck of dirt still on my used sneakers, my tiny reflection in the wrought iron of the bed. Glowing eyes. Completely green.

Before I even have time to react to the reflection or jump three feet in the air, a tingle spreads down my spine. Something’s wrong. My instincts are going nuts right now. Stretching out my senses as far as I can, I hear a low ring in my ear. Focusing on the jungle and my hearing, the steady hum becomes louder, sharper, higher. It’s not a hum. It’s a scream.

******

I’m out of breath and I’m cranky.

I quickly type in the code and burst into Dr. Howard’s office, the remnants of the scream still in my mind. He looks up from his desk and a quick look of shock slides across his face before he wipes it away. He is surprised to see me. I don’t have time for that.

Throwing my hands on my knees to catch my breath, I bend down while still trying to keep Howard’s attention, “Screaming… Couple miles… Have to… Go.” My sentence is broken up by deep breaths, but he gets the message all the same.

Jumping out of his seat, he grabs a phone and dials a number, “Kline. The killer’s attacked. Get Ashley, Jeremy, and Cole out here now.” There’s a brief pause while Howard listens to the other side of the conversation, a scowl passing his face, “What do you mean Cole’s not here?” This has to be the angriest I’ve ever seen Dr. Howard. The only time I’ve seen him lose control. “Well, tell him to get back from whatever this errand is as soon as possible. We don’t have time to wait.” Slamming the phone down, Howard runs his hands over his face and looks back at me, distraught. I can only imagine the kind of earful he’s going to get for talking to Kline like that later. Wiping his face clean again, Dr. Howard addresses me, “Ms. Faller, I really hope you can track down this killer because there’s no one else who can get to the victim fast enough.”

I don’t dare tell Howard that the screaming has stopped and it’s probably too late. Instead, I push the depressing thoughts aside and focus on my sense of smell and hearing, working on using my newfound center to heighten the senses. Immediately I latch onto a metallic scent, faint, so it’s most likely a good distance away from the compound. I look Howard in the eye, putting on a fierce expression instead of the heartbroken one I want to where, and nod. I smell this person’s blood. Without wasting another second, I race out of the door, hoping that Howard is following. I jump from foot to foot as he punches in the code to the outside and then I’m off, running faster than any human should be able to. Not Cole fast, but fast. Leaping over broken logs and tangled vines, the midday sun does little to brighten my mood.

I’ve ran at least three miles, running on pure adrenaline, when I finally come to a halting stop. The smell of blood is overwhelming. A sob escapes me before I can smother it. I’m in another clearing, similar to the green, open one that Charley died in. The canopy of treetops secludes this section of jungle, but nothing can hide the panic-stricken face of this poor, poor victim. In the middle of the clearing is a beautiful woman with tumbling black hair against ivory skin and gorgeous, stormy gray eyes. The eyes are staring wide open, right at me, staring into my soul. I walk over on shaky feet, afraid she will rise from the dead to curse me for failing her. I bend down and gently close her eyes, taking extra care to avoid the puddle of sickly green blood at my feet. It coats the grass she lays in.

I stand back up and take a step back. Tears are falling freely from my face now. I failed her. I didn’t make it. The only comfort I can take from the scene is that the green blood is the only harm that came to her. Her clothes aren’t torn or removed, there are no marks of a struggle on her pure skin. The killer likely surprised her, shot the cocktail into her system, and left. The screams I heard were the after-effects. I vaguely feel hands wrap around my waist, and I glance down at the porcelain skin. Turning in her arms, I hug Ash with everything I’ve got only to have Jere sandwich us both between his arms. Wet streaks are running down my face, Ash’s expression is firm but the corners of her eyes are leaking, while Jere is turned away from me, hiding his grieving face. Stepping out of their arms, I scrub my eyes and paste on a detached mask. This won’t help anything. This won’t catch that S.O.B.

I turn back to the lifeless unnamed woman, surveying her surroundings. There’s green blood everywhere, freely flowing, but there’s no syringe. The killer was careful this time. A grim smile passes across my lips. Not careful enough for me. Turning on my abilities is easier in the midst of the rain forest; its essence is calling for me to use it. I crank up my vision, scanning the body and the clearing for anything that could help. Crossing over the other side of the body, I notice a faint imprint in the grass and foliage. I kneel down beside it. It’s a shoe print. A big one from the looks of it. My fingers trace the swirling lines. And it looks like some sort of tennis shoe. Great. That really narrows it down. I’m wearing tennis shoes right now.

Dusting off my jeans, I turn back to the body in front of me. Dr. Howard is standing at the corner of the scene, tight lipped and stone-eyed. He’s just as pissed about this as I am. No way is the murderer getting away with this again. My eyes narrow, reanalyzing Jane Doe for anything I could’ve missed. Halfway up her torso my eyes stop. My breath hitches, my heart stops, and my eyes slowly move to where Ash and Jere are standing. Ash catches my distressed stare and cocks an eyebrow, asking what’s the matter though none of us seem capable of speaking right now. My eyes just keep flipping between the woman’s torso and Ash, woman and Ash. Eventually, Dr. Howard catches on and strolls over to the body, looking where my eyes are glued.

His hand freezes on its path, eyes widening. Now everyone is gazing at the same spot on the body’s chest. Reaching out a shaky hand, Ash grabs the focus of our shock. She holds it up beside her head. There’s no mistaking it, even if I wanted to. Held up, in Ash’s trembling fingers, is a strand of hair. A strand of straight, shoulder-length, fire-red hair.

Ash’s eyes shift up to connect with mine, green against hazel. The bright gleam of a fighter is gone from her gaze, replaced by outright confusion and devastation. There’s not a single spark alive in her eyes as she begs me to believe her, just cold misery. I look downward, unable to hold her pleading stare. How could she have done it? How can you argue with her DNA at the crime scene? A tear slips down my cheek, and my gaze shoots back to Ash. Her eyes are circling between Jere, Dr. Howard, and I. They are too afraid to make eye contact too. Everyone is so silent. Deadly.

It’s Dr. Howard that speaks first, the rest of us too shocked to even move, “Director Kline said the likelihood that it was an inside job was high.” Howard shoots Ash a brutal look, obviously recovered from his dismay.

“No…” I don’t even realize I’ve spoken until everyone turns to me. As real as it looks, I have to say something. Ash wouldn’t kill this woman, Charley. Would she? “But… Ash was with me the morning I was shot. If Ash is the killer, then how would that explain the shooter?” Ash takes a jumpy step back from me at my words, her eyes a mirror of anger and betrayal that I would even consider this. I gulp, trying my best to ignore how much my chest hurts.

“Ms. Faller… Amira…” My eyes fly to Howard’s calm and resolved blue ones. This is the first time he’s called me by my name. “I know this is hard to believe, but that stranger in the alley easily could have been a thug. Or maybe even another goon hired by Inception to aid Ashley.” That did it. Now Ash’s scornful gaze is directed straight at Dr. Howard, unable to believe her ears.

“I can’t believe this! I threw away my life for two years, swearing my undying loyalty to you people, and you’re going to believe the first thing you see? You’re just a bunch of lying pieces of scum! Why did I ever give you the time of day?” Ash’s voice is fierce and rapid, the bitter cold replaced by searing heat that is spreading around us fast. Tears are rushing down my face now, but my expression is hard and unyielding. If she wants to play this game then we’ll play alright.

A raging growl tears out of my throat, more animal-like than it’s ever been. It calls Ash’s attention right back to me, conjuring not a look of fear, but of pure, unadulterated menace. “Why would you do this?” I’m screaming at the top of my lungs, needing to let my frustration and pain out in any way possible, “These people did nothing!”

Ash releases her own growl, though it is far more human, “Don’t you think I know that, Amira?” She spits out my name as if it disgusts her, “Did you ever consider that I cried for weeks after Charley died? I knew him, Amira! He was like a father to me!” I flinch even as rage is boiling in my bones, but Ash isn’t done. “Where do you think I was when you heard the screaming? Not out in the middle of the jungle, that’s for damn sure! If this is what our friendship is, you can throw it in the filthy trash!”

If Ash could spit fire, there would be an inferno burning down the rain forest. My eyes are filled with hurt and hate, but I can’t stop the swell of guilt from rising up in me. This is my friend. One of the best friends I’ve ever had. I narrow my eyes and shake my head. If this is what my friend does in her spare time, then I want no part of it. I cross my arms over my chest, closing off my feelings from the rest of the world.

I can feel the heat rising in the air to a sweltering level. Ash is getting angrier by the second and something needs to be done. Just as I widen my stance to do the unthinkable—attack my former friend—the job is taken from me. Ash stands with a hand clutching the side of her neck where a syringe sticks out, her face showcasing bitter confusion. Someone snuck behind Ash and sedated her. The person that’s been silent and grief-stricken throughout this whole conversation. Jere stands behind Ash, holding his hands to his face, though I know there are tears streaming down it. We’re both crying for our lost friend. My eyes are locked onto Ash’s collapsing form, her fading gaze. As I watch the consciousness slip from her, a sob escapes my trembling lips.