Elementals

2

Jude

When my eyes spring open, the first thing I do is reach for the pager. There's nothing new; no messages, calls, or file transfers. I sink back onto the bed, blowing a strand of hair out of my face. It's been a few weeks since Dr. Jansen sent me out and told me to wait for his signal. Since then, nothing. The pager looks as advanced as a phone, but Dr. Jansen set it up to work only one-way. I can't send him anything. I can only wait for the go-ahead to reveal myself to the world, but it looks like I'll be a ghost for another day.

I sit up, turn on the TV, and flip to CNN. There's no news about people with powers. It looks like the others, whoever they are, haven't gotten their signals either. We're supposed to come together after we've gone public. We're going to be a team. The Elementals.

One day, anyway.

The motel is in a mountain-forest town in Washington. I can't say I hate it here. The scenery's nice, as is the room itself, even if the heater is broken. It hasn't been a problem yet, since I've got enough blankets to keep me warm, but it will be a problem in a few weeks.

It's nice, the place. That's all I can say about it. It's an in-between, a kind of rest period before I begin the next phase of my life.

There's a knock on the door, and I scramble out of bed. I'm not supposed to have this many plants in here, so I wiggle my fingers and force the vines and leaves out of view right before I open the door. The guy waiting there is around my age, but he's not wearing a uniform.

"Hello," I say, blinking leftover sleep out of my eyes. "Are you here about the heater?"

"I'm not maintenance," he answers, but he offers no follow-up.

I close the door just a little, to keep him from seeing too much of my room. A new neighbor, maybe? Lots of people come and go here. I try to keep to myself, but others don't always have the same idea. "Sorry," I say. "I'm a little busy—"

"Are you Jude?"

I freeze.

No no no no.

Jude Sagong is dead. There's an accident report, an obituary, and a gravestone to attest to that. The only people who know the truth are me and Dr. Jansen. I checked into this motel as a Mr. James Newman.

So for all intents and purposes...

I am not Jude Sagong.

But instead of telling him that, I slam the door in his face. My plants jerk with the spike in adrenaline. My legs are jelly, but I force myself to remain standing and look through the peephole. He's already gone.

I sit down on the bed, fingers digging under the mattress, and it suddenly hits me.

He's one of us.

"You dumbass," I mutter to myself.

I burst out the door and immediately remember that I'm in pajamas. After changing at lightning speed, I go running down the steps to the ground level, my head swiveling left and right. There's hardly anyone around, and the people I do see are not him. I'm already forgetting his face; I only saw him for seconds.

White guy, brown hair, I think over and over so I don't forget. My age.

After checking the lobby, the garage, and the laundry rooms, I go to the pool. It's covered due to a mosquito infestation, but the lounge tables and chairs remain open. One chair is occupied, and it's him. I think. I hope.

I sit down on the chair next to him, hands nervously cupping my knees. He doesn't look at me or even move.

"I'm Jude," I whisper. "Who are you?"