Fourth Birth: The Oakmont Saga, Book 1

I got out of bed at 5:30, having been awake for more than an hour already. I didn’t really sleep much anymore. As bad as my waking dreams were, my sleeping ones were much worse and I badly wanted to avoid them.

Quietly getting my things, I headed to the bathroom for my morning shower, which was a bit of a torture session. I could never get clean enough, no matter how much I scrubbed and the dirtiness was driving me crazy. I always ended up on the floor, curled up and wishing this nightmare of a life would end. But, like everything else about me, I was too weak to do it myself.

Repeating the last several days, Aliyah brought me out of my thoughts, asking if I was alright and then commenting on how I scrubbed my skin raw. It was becoming a ritual for us in only a few days. I wasn’t even sure how many days it’d been anymore.

That morning, we went to morning exercise, but I actually got to work rather than just watch. Coach Hammond gave me a new exercise plan which was great for me, giving me something to do that focused my attention and helped to keep the images away for a little while. “The doctor and I came up with this to help you stretch and maybe heal faster,” Coach Hammond told me.

After exercise we went to get breakfast, which I didn’t eat much of, not that I ate much at any meal anymore. I just wasn’t hungry. After breakfast, we went to English followed by Government and then we parted ways for our different science classes. I was almost there, when I saw James walking in the door. He looked at me with a grin, as he entered, and I stopped dead, unable to take another step toward that room.

At that moment, I knew I couldn’t go there again. However, as that realization entered my mind, another thought occurred to me, actually giving me something positive in my life for a change. I could start using this time to train, combining it with my lunchtime, I would get over two hours to work on my skills. At least until they forced me back to Physics or did something else with me. I was sure I’d get punished for it, but that didn’t really bother me. Their punishment couldn’t compare to being in there.

I turned around and went to my room, where I started my first day of mental training. My big plans weren’t as successful as I would have hoped, though. I was unable to concentrate as much as I would’ve liked, which wasn’t a shock. Aside from my mind being a complete mess, I was generally a failure anyway.

Frustrated at yet another failure, I headed to my spot in the old lab and sat there shaking and crying. I had promised I wouldn’t let them see me cry again, but they couldn’t see me here so I made up for lost time. The tears flowed freely in this little hole and I shook horribly as they did, causing a lot of pain to my still hurting chest. Knowing I needed to get to math, I finally wiped my face clean, rinsed it in a sink in a nearby bathroom and headed to Mrs. Wilde’s class.

As I walked to class, I thought over my failed training. Everything about me was a failure, so why not that too? Why would that be any different? But even feeling that way, I needed to know, why was it so bad? I thought it might be because I was afraid of discovery, but wasn’t totally sure. I was still thinking about that as I entered Mrs. Wilde’s room.

It was an odd thing, but I found myself on Wednesday heading to another class. I didn’t even remember Tuesday happening. It was as if the day never happened and I just jumped to Wednesday.

Like every other day since the attack, the rest of my classes were forgotten before they were even over. It was all a blur, and had no meaning to me anymore. What was a little surprising to me, was that I remembered every tiny detail of my mental training and I realized some of the mistakes I was making and some things I could do to improve my skill. My fear of being discovered had to be at least part of my problem. One thing I thought might help me was to do it in some place other than my room.

As I was thinking about that, I realized no one had sent a probe to torture me lately. At least, I hadn’t felt one. That was very odd. Maybe they finally decided I wasn’t worth their trouble, although I doubted that. Why had they quit torturing me though?

When it was time for my special ballet lessons, since I realized it was Wednesday, I headed to the dance room to tell Mrs. Renault that I was quitting. I wasn’t sure when I made the turn, but I ended up in the old lab again. This time, my hole wasn’t where I went, which was a new thing. I wasn’t sure what made me go there, but I headed to the metal door on the left side of the room. It drew me like a magnet, and I couldn’t stop my feet from taking me there. My self control was nonexistent.

I took the doorknob in my hand and tried to turn it, but it didn’t budge. I would’ve been surprised if it had. Looking around, I found some tools that looked perfect for the job and decided to try and pick the lock. What was really weird was the book sitting there on lockpicking. It was way too convenient, but again, I felt compelled to try.

It didn’t take me long to go through the book, which had some very good pictures. I read the material, as well, but as they say, “A picture’s worth a thousand words.”

Sticking the tools in the lock, I formed a mental picture of the lock in my mind, just like in the book. I placed the tools according to my mental image, hoping I got it right, and began making the slight moves and adjustments. As I was moving the tools in the lock, the vision I saw changed. The lock I was suddenly seeing had the parts in slightly different places, and it had wires attached to it. My imagination was taking over, and I couldn’t bring back the original image.

Hoping this altered image would still work, I continued moving the picks to the right places, like I thought they needed to go, but nothing happened. Getting frustrated, I couldn’t stop myself from imagining the tumblers lifting for me, as if God moved them, to help me. Of course, I was too dirty now for God to love me, but as this fantasy played out in my mind, I actually heard the tumblers click in place. I must have imagined it, since I couldn’t always tell what was real and what wasn’t anymore.

Slowly, I grabbed the knob and twisted. I was totally shocked when it turned and the door opened with a slight push. As I went inside, the door automatically closed behind me with a click.

That was when I heard a voice that sent terror coursing through me. “I saw her come in here,” Chelsea said.

“Are you messing with me?” James asked, and even I could hear the doubt in his voice.

“No, she came in here. It was a little while ago, but maybe she’s in there,” she told him. I quickly checked the door knob, making sure it was locked again and ran to the other side of the large wooden desk.

So, maybe I wasn’t completely without emotion anymore. I was just limited to bad emotions, like terror, anger and hate.

Getting to the other side of the desk, I climbed underneath trying to wedge myself behind the safe that was attached to the floor. As I worked myself in, unfortunately making noise as I did, the safe moved, making even more noise. Thinking I could make more space for myself, I pushed it more, exposing a small hole in the floor underneath.

That was when I noticed a cutout pattern that was hidden underneath the safe. The cutout had been completely hidden by the safe, until I moved it. There were also several little hooks that looked like they held the safe in place, but had somehow been released.

“We hear you in there, Little Miss Perfect. Come out and play,” James called through the door.

“Yeah,” Richard said, sounding lame, even to me.

My curiosity got the better of me, in spite of my terror. Moving the safe completely off of the cutout area, I stuck my finger in the little hole and lifted the cutout up. The panel came up easily, exposing a small square area underneath, holding a test tube rack with a bunch of test tubes, a black and white composition type book and a note, stuck between the test tubes. Looking at the test tubes, one row of tubes was labelled X6-I and the other row was labelled X6-D.

I took the notebook and opened it. It wasn’t long before I saw that these were notes on different serums that were made to create the telepathic ability in people, including the formulas for them.

This skill I had wasn’t even natural. I was a lab creation, which made me even more of an abomination than I already was. No wonder they viewed us like lab rats. We really were experiments, created by some insane scientist.

Continuing to read, I found an entry for X3, which was labelled as the only successful serum. However, further on, the writer mentioned X5, which was accidentally given to two soldiers. He wrote that the records for those soldiers were modified to list them as having received X3, though. The soldier’s names hit me like a brick to the head, Randall Brager and Michael Draper.

It then gave a lot of detail about a new serum, X6 and how it might open new abilities and more strength, but had not been tested, even on animals. The writing discussed how the simulations showed unexplainable results, indicating sudden and intense manifestations of power and abilities. The doctor expressed his fear of testing it, due to all of the failures in the past and his growing discomfort of the impact on the test subjects, plus the odd results from the simulations.

There were comments in the margins describing how they’d killed hundreds of people, many being children, testing these serums. In many cases, the subjects were made to go through brain surgery, while still awake. The scientists were becoming cruel. They were doing other experiments as well, all of which seemed inhuman to the writer.

Getting past the scientific details of the different serums and the notes, I came to several tables which outlined the abilities observed in the different serums. The first was for X3, completely ignoring X1 or X2, if they ever actually existed, and listed what ages the abilities would manifest, pretty much without fail. There were a few odd results mentioned, but they were very rare, and the table was adjusted to account for them.

There was a table for X4, but it was crossed through with a big red FAILURE written across it. There was a table for X5, but it was completely empty, other than some notes mentioning that abilities should manifest at a much earlier age and possibly with greater strength. There were notes under the X5 table saying lab simulations suggested a lot more strength, but those had been wrong before, so he didn’t trust them. There was a scribbled note at the end about some mental defect caused by the serum, as seen in X4. It took longer to manifest, but it would without fail. No remedy had been found.

There were notes randomly written in the margins throughout the notebook, many about how the test subjects were being used, which I had already read. There was one note in particular that caught my attention, partially because along with it was Daddy’s name, written very heavily and underlined to the point that the writer had ripped through the page. It said to never give any serum to subjects with a natural dispensation for telepathic ability for fear of unpredictable results.

“Come on guys, she’s not in there,” James said, very loud. My mind was elsewhere though.

Done with the notebook, I picked up the little note and unfolded it. “To the X5 recipient that is reading this note, I know you have received X5 because only you could have opened the lock and triggered the release of this hidden compartment. It is amazing that you found it even then, but I had to protect this material. I wanted to destroy it, but I could not bring myself to do it. This is my life’s work, but I also don’t believe that the government should have it, regardless of how much good it can do in the right hands. Unfortunately, theirs are not the right hands and I know that now. I pray your hands are, but that will be up to you. X5 is flawed and will kill you, but not all the products of it. The stronger you are, the more danger you are in. I think I found a solution in X6, but I don’t know. No simulations have been run on it that I can believe, and there have been no tests. It might make things worse, but it’s all I can offer. With all the bad I’ve done, I know that I found my God and he has forgiven me for my meddling in his creation. At least I believe he has. Now it’s up to you to find the right place for the gifts that God has given to you, through me. Go with God and may He bless you. Yours in Jesus, Dr. Rudolph Hammond”

I stuck the note in the notebook, grabbed a test tube from each row, resealed the hidden compartment and stood up. James and his friends seemed to have gone, so I thought I might be safe. They beat on the door for a long time while I read the journal. Maybe they decided I wasn’t really there.

It was almost funny to me to be safe, even if a prisoner. Almost at the end, I heard the outside door close. However, I also knew they might try and trick me so I prepared to run as soon as I opened the metal door.

Building up my courage, which there wasn’t much of, I put my hand on the door knob. My other hand was holding the two test tubes with the book under my arm. It wasn’t the best arrangement, but there was nothing else I could think of to do.

As ready as I could be, I turned the doorknob and ran as hard as I could, pulling the door closed behind me. Just before I made it to the exit, my feet came out from under me and I slammed onto the floor with a jarring impact, my head slamming down really hard. Just before I passed out, I noticed the book slide under the bookcase, hiding it from view.

“Did you kill her?” I heard, as painful consciousness returned.

“No, stupid. She’s breathing,” I heard James reply to Richard’s question.

“She’s moving. Must be waking up,” James observed.

“Little Melanie,” he said, poking me with his foot.

For some reason, my anger suddenly erupted in me, drowning out my fear of him. “What, you creep,” I said, as my eyes opened, a red haze already settled over my vision.

“She’s got fire in her today,” Chelsea said, smiling.

“Yeah, but we don’t want fire,” James said, drawing a foot back before slamming it into my side. I thought I heard, and felt something crack, but I didn’t care with the pain I was suddenly in. In addition, my breathing instantly became extremely difficult. I started coughing, which made the pain worse. The deeper I breathed, the more it hurt, but not breathing deep made me short of breath, so occasionally I’d take that deeper breath. It hurt too much, though.

“Let’s continue where we left off. Okay?” he said, and I saw the probe come from him. It hit my mind and stopped, unable to enter. There was shock on his face, but he seemed to get a look of concentration and finally forced his probe in, after a lot of struggle and constantly slamming it into me.

The feeling in my mind was horrible, as he tore his way in. I wasn’t sure how I blocked him for that little bit of time, but he got past it and the pain from his entry was really bad. It was like he ripped something apart to get in.

“James, that doesn’t look good,” Richard commented, bringing me back to reality.

“Shut up. She’s just reacting to her shields failing or something,” he replied, but even he looked worried.

“No, James. I think you busted her lung or something. She’s getting pale and she’s struggling to breath. It’s just like we were shown in the first aid class,” he argued.

“Well, let’s make sure she gets the lesson before she dies, then,” James told him. Standing by my feet, he knelt down and pushed my skirt up.

As he lowered his pants, I couldn’t stop tears pouring from my eyes at what was happening to me, again. In spite of the fact that I thought it might be easier to just allow it, I couldn’t help but fight. I didn’t want this and it terrified me that it was going to happen. My mind seemed to disconnect, and it was like I was watching but not in my own body.

“What’s this in your hands?” he asked, stopping what he was about to do, noticing the test tubes I was still holding. I didn’t even realize I still had the test tubes and I was amazed they weren’t broken. He snatched them from my hands and looked at them.

“X6-I and X6-D. What does that mean, Miss Perfect?”

“Nothing...you’re...smart enough...to understand,” I managed to reply, struggling to say each word. My anger was still raging, although the pain in my chest was excruciating, and I felt like I’d been holding my breath way too long. Somehow, I was still in enough control to reply, even if I was an observer.

Aside from the weirdness of being removed from my own body, I was absolutely terrified and I thought I was about to pass out again. I couldn’t believe I was able to say that to him.

“Well, if you feel that way, why don’t you show us what they do,” he said, pulling the stoppers out and holding them up to look at them for a moment.

“James, are you sure about this?” Richard asked.

“Why are you such a pussy?” James asked.

“I’m not, but that could kill her. I’m all for doing what we were told, but I’m not going to murder someone.”

“You will do what you’re told by your commander,” James replied, looking at Richard with command in his tone.

“Yes, sir,” Richard finally said, submitting.

James suddenly punched me in the stomach, and as my mouth opened, he poured the contents of the two test tubes in with one hand, while making sure my mouth stayed open with the other. He then held my mouth closed and hit me again, forcing me to swallow it. I started gagging, as the stuff was somewhat thick and stuck inside my throat. Some of the stuff went down my windpipe, causing me to cough even more than I already was. The serum burned like fire as it went down my throat and it was like molten lava in my lungs. When it got to my stomach, there was a flash that looked like I was in an explosion, and then after a moment that seemed like everything went silent, my head felt like a bomb went off inside. There was nothing else. All thought had ended, all my comprehension was limited to the fire I saw in my mind and the pain.

This went on for a long time before blackness finally took me. I welcomed the blackness. With it came nothing. No pain. No blinding light. No images. Nothing.

I wondered, even hoped, that I was dead, that the blackness was all I’d ever know anymore. At least then, this nightmare would be over.

Stone ran as hard as he could to try and get there before anything happened to her, but he was too late. By the time he arrived at the lab, James was laying on top of her. She was naked below the waist, and his pants were off. He had no idea if James raped her or not, but it was clear he was close if not successful, considering how things looked. They were all unconscious.

Although he couldn’t help but do an initial survey, his focus went to Melanie as soon as that was done. Her skin was ashen, and she was breathing raggedly. Without being a doctor, he knew something was wrong, very wrong.

“I need a team in the old Hammond lab immediately. I’m taking a student to the hospital. Detain any of the three kids in there until I say otherwise, no matter what anyone else says. Also, alert the hospital staff that I have a patient with a possible lung puncture on the way. The three students in the lab are unconscious as well and they are the perpetrators,” he said into his radio.

He scooped Melanie into his arms and ran as fast as he could to the hospital wing.

“I..love...you...Daddy...don’t...be...sad,” he heard her whisper, her voice raspy sounding.

“You’ll be at the hospital soon. Hold on,” he begged her.

“It’s...okay...Daddy. I’m...ready...to...go,” she said, which made him run even harder, tears forming in his eyes.

“Melanie, you fight, you hear me!” he yelled at her.

“So...tired,” she very weakly replied, as she went completely limp in his arms.

As soon as he entered, nurses and a doctor took her from him, placing her on a gurney and began working. Stone plopped into a chair, exhausted and worried, his eyes wet. He failed his promise to Rebecca and he felt like he had betrayed her in that. He was actually afraid to call her, and sat there for a long time, deciding how best to break the news.

Finally, he pulled his phone out and dialed her number. “Mrs. Wilde,” he began, not feeling he had the right to call her by her first name. “Melanie was attacked again in the Hammond lab. She’s in bad shape and I brought her to the hospital. I don’t know if he finished his task, but he definitely came close and I’m almost certain he punctured a lung,” he told her. Before she could reply, he hung up.