Page 4 of Ordinary Secrets (Secrets Trilogy #1)

4

TREY

The second Liz gets into her car and drives away, I reach back to feel around the fabric of my back seats. It doesn’t take me long to find what I’m looking for. When I do, I carefully fold the strands between a napkin from my center console; then I drag my phone out to call Victor.

“What?” my uncle answers, all clipped as if I’m interrupting a meeting with the fucking president.

“I got the sample.”

“Good. Come to Shadow Ridge. Now.”

I pull my phone from my ear to glance at the screen. “Now? It’s really late.”

“And?”

I should just do whatever he wants. It’s easier that way. “All right. I’m coming.”

Zordis only need to sleep half as often as Ordis. Lucky for me, I slept last night—not that Victor knows that. What if tonight was my night to rest?

“Can you send a Teleporter?” I ask.

“I only have one Porter right now. He’s busy, so you’re on your own. Don’t dawdle.” Click.

Huffing, I shove my phone back into my pocket. With a Teleporter, I could be at the Ridge within seconds. Now, I have a three-hour road trip ahead of me and another three hours back.

Whatever, I guess.

I start my engine, then head toward my house. Once there, I switch my car out for my motorcycle. Riding it will make this last-minute errand feel less daunting.

Going with Liz would make it feel less daunting too, but she doesn’t know that I’m a Zordinary Innovations Research and Development Agency agent. It’s better that I keep that information from her, too. She wouldn’t approve of me working for a group of Zordis who operate outside the zovernment on their own terms. Besides, it’s against ZIRDA policy to tell people in our personal lives that we’re ZIRDA agents.

While ZIRDA does good things, the secret organization has a reputation for being a group of vigilantes. Like how we’re working to discover what makes some rare Ordinaries immune to our powers. After that, we’ll figure out how to replicate their immunity, then ZIRDA will be able to overpower and take down the people who killed my parents. As for me, I’ll sleep better knowing that the people who destroyed my family never get the chance to hurt another little boy ever again.

Three hours later, I’m near my hometown, about halfway up the dark mountain. On the side of the road, I cut the engine and dismount my bike. A refreshing breeze grazes my cheeks as I yank off my helmet.

Since there’s a shortage of parking lots in the middle of nowhere, I flick my wrist, and my Harley lifts off the ground. It floats in front of me as I tuck my helmet under my arm and hike off the road, through some tall grass.

I trek through the woods until I can’t see the road anymore. In the air, my bike follows my hand movements, maneuvering around every tree in its path. As I lower my hand, it eases to the ground behind two thick tree trunks, where it’ll stay with my helmet until I return.

On foot, I march deeper through the forest in search of the perfect hover-log. The denser the woods get, the more I lose the moonlight, so I open my hand and imagine fire. A glowing ball of red and orange appears in my palm. Its warmth on my skin offers me a tiny sense of comfort between the dread and loathing of coming back to this place. I use the volleyball-size fireball to illuminate the ground until I spot a piece of wood about the size of a skateboard.

With a turn of my wrist, the log glides through the air toward my ankles. I knock on it a couple times to make sure it’s sturdy enough to hold my weight. It is, so I step onto it and kill my flames. As I lift my hand, I’m carried into the air above the trees.

I fly so fast that the wind whips across my face like I’m in a speeding car with my head out the window. Below me, the treetops are a dark trap waiting to swallow me whole if I fall. Of all the times I’ve flown above this forest, I’ve never fallen.

I used to hover-log over this area every day just to get to school, and I despised every minute of it. Doing this again reminds me that I didn’t grow up in a normal house like normal kids with a normal family.

I tilt my head back to gaze at the stars. Maybe my parents are up there somewhere, watching me. Does knowing that I’m working on the research they started make them proud of me? Or do I need to complete their research for that to happen? Either way, I’m going to finish this for them—no matter what it takes.

By the time the familiar peak of a mountain appears, my throat is dry. The still and silent mountain seems to say, “What are you doing back here?”

Trust me. I’m not happy about this, either.

Even though I lived at the Ridge from the age of seven to eighteen, I never called it my home. All of my memories here are of bloody noses and nights spent locked alone in my bedroom. I can’t count how many times I planned to run away, or how many times I was told to leave and never come back. In a way, staying was rebelling. Also, I had nowhere else to go.

The closer I get to my destination, the closer I hover near the treetops. I’m not ready to land yet though. Up here, I don’t have to watch for booby traps. If I had to hike this, like many do, I’d have to study where the traps are. I don’t come around often enough to do that. The only other time I’ve been back here since I moved out was last month when Victor called to assign me this mission. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come back at all.

I used to watch the weekly footage of wayward hikers tripping the traps. Some traps release snakes. Others release swarms of hornets or fire ants. Anything that keeps people from getting too close to this ZIRDA base.

In addition to the animal deterrents, small speakers are hidden in the trees that play bird sounds all day and crickets chirping all night. The extra noise masks the sounds of the waterfall that veils the entrance to Shadow Ridge.

Since I’m up in the air, the sounds of the waterfall reach my ears before it comes into view. The base’s entrance hides beneath strategically grown trees that blend in with the rest of the forest. Through a slight break in the treetops, I dip my hover-log down and stop just above the grass. Then I step off and drop my hand, making my hover-log return to its former useless state on the ground.

A towering waterfall stretches before me, cascading into a small lake. I used to spend hours swimming in that water, mostly because there isn’t much else for children to do around a secret hideout. Cable couldn’t have been installed out here even if I’d wanted it. As for the Internet, Victor made it a rule that children aren’t allowed to use the Ridge’s satellite. Since I was the one and only child who lived here, it was obvious who he made that rule for.

Trickles of cold liquid splash onto me as I enter the cavern behind the waterfall. My footsteps echo in the darkness. I open my hand and imagine fire until warm flames appear. I throw my fireball into the air and keep it floating a few feet ahead of me as I trudge deeper into the hollow.

Tiny cameras embedded into the rock wall follow my movements. I know where most of them are hidden. As I look for them, I spot more cameras that weren’t there before. They seem to have doubled.

Waving, I wink into one of the thumbtack-size lenses I’ve never seen before. The security guards hate it when I do that. They think their camera-concealing skills are top-notch. For the untrained eye, they probably are.

After a couple minutes, my fireball illuminates the Ridge’s entrance—a wide door that looks like any other part of the cave. With my hands flat, I feel around the rocks for the little hole. Once I find it, I stick my index finger in and press it against a fingerprint scanner.

Beep! Beep! Beep! With a mechanical screech, a ten-foot section of the rock wall retreats inward, then slides to the left.

Two men in security guard uniforms greet me with unwavering frowns. The zense in my chest spikes, confirming what I already know. Their aggravated energy seeps into my head, bringing my already shitty mood down more.

“’Sup, Carlos,” I say to the older one. He’s been working here for as long as I can remember.

“Don’t think I missed that wink,” he growls.

The younger, more muscular guard hooks his thumb toward me. “Who’s he?”

“Big V’s annoying nephew. He used to live here and liked to play practical jokes on me.”

I played jokes on Carlos because he was an easy target. This other guy though... He must be new, because I’ve never seen him before. He’s got a scar down his left eyebrow and looks like he lifts trains for fun. As a kid, I wouldn’t have played jokes on him. I wouldn’t have even considered it.

“You know the drill,” Carlos says. “Arms up.”

After being frisked, I take the elevator down from the sixth floor to the fourth. When the elevator opens again, I find two more guards waiting for me with stony expressions. The bulkier one gestures for me to follow him.

Based on their fancy suits in place of security uniforms, I’m gonna assume these men are Victor’s personal guards. Each of them has a wired device in his ear. If they were standing next to the president, they wouldn’t look out of place. The only difference is that they aren’t carrying any weapons. As trained ZIRDA agents, they are the weapons.

The bulkier guard stomps ahead of me while the skinny one trails behind. Our footsteps echo loudly against the walls of the wide hallways. As we turn the corners, I catch glimpses of more uniformed guards. When I lived here, it was never this packed with security. What changed?

We arrive at a locked door, where the bulkier guard holds his ID card up to a black device on the wall. A tiny light flashes green with a soft beep , and then the door unlocks. On the other side is another long hallway with more doors. At the end stand two guards posted outside a set of double doors. One of them scans their ID card and gestures for me to step into Victor’s office—alone.

Chilly air nips at my skin as the door shuts. My body’s equilibrium immediately works to warm me. Victor’s office feels cold because it’s huge for no goddamn reason. There’s barely anything in it. A giant desk sits smack-dab in the middle, and behind that are a bunch of filing cabinets. Otherwise, there’s so much open floor space that he could fit at least four king-size beds in here.

Victor, in a brown tailored suit, scowls at me from his colossal office chair behind the U-shaped desk. His emotions slap me in the face, somewhere between frustrated and angry. It’s nothing new. I wish I could say his hostility is because of the stress from being the head of a ZIRDA base. I’m sure he’s got lots on his plate, but Victor’s hostility is only ever directed at me. Whenever he talks to other people, he’s always firm but never demeaning.

“What took you so long?” Victor turns his finger in a circle above his mug. His wind power spins the metal spoon around.

I want to say that if he had sent a Porter like I asked, I would have been here hours ago. Since that’ll only piss him off, I say, “Traffic.”

My uncle flashes me a foul look. We both know there’s no traffic at three in the morning.

“What’s with all the extra guards?” I ask, desperate to change the subject. I take a seat in the small wooden chair on the other side of Victor’s desk.

Every little movement sounds like nails on a chalkboard. The chair creaking beneath me. Each clink of Victor’s spoon against the side of his mug. The cold air blowing in from the vents.

Silence always irks me. It makes me feel lonelier than I already am, so I usually play music around my house to cover it up. Ever since Aunt Jodi left him, Victor’s opinion of music is that it’s “for the weak.” To him, my career choice is simply a “pathetic grab for attention.”

“We’ve discovered moles,” Victor says, scratching his forehead.

“Moles?”

“Yes, as in double agents. Royals.”

My heart shrivels up at the mention of Royals. “How many have you found?”

“Two, and we took care of them appropriately.”

I know exactly what that means and feel no remorse. The Royals deserve that fate for all the innocent lives they’ve stolen—especially my parents’. Instead of fighting for the development and growth of Zordis like ZIRDA does, the Royals would rather cause chaos and destroy any sense of peace in the world.

ZIRDA has been around since before the Grand Separation in 1326. Before that, Zordinary humans lived in harmony with Ordinary humans. Besides being born with powers and different bodies, we’re all the same. Everyone just wants to be happy.

Unfortunately, some Ordinaries didn’t see it that way. They felt threatened by anyone with gifts, so they manufactured a poison that affected only Zordis and distributed it through alcohol. Two million of us dropped dead within a year.

After that, it was clear that Zordis weren’t safe anymore. Our choices were to either eliminate all the Ordis who wanted us dead, or go into hiding. So the zovernment recruited eighty-nine of the world’s most powerful Scrubbers to alter the memories of all Ordis at once, erasing our existence from their minds. Sadly, not all Zordis agreed with this decision, and they came together to establish the Royals.

They’re the Zordis who believe that we were robbed of our freedom. They believe that because we are born with powers, we are entitled to power over Ordinaries, a mindset I can never understand. Some Royals go as far as believing that Ordinaries don’t have a place in this world at all. Those are the people who scare me the most.

The Royals want to control all governments and be treated like kings, hence why they named themselves Royals . They will stop at nothing to get what they think they deserve. They have gotten and will get rid of anyone who stands in their way. Unfortunately, while in the middle of working their Immunes project, my parents learned what happens when you stand in the way of the Royals.

Now, ZIRDA doesn’t work only on the development of Zordis but has also established an anti-Royals department. The department that I’m now a part of. The department that I’ve wanted to be a part of since I was seven and was told the truth about who caused the explosion that killed my parents.

Victor stops spinning his finger over his mug, and the spoon goes still. “Where’s the sample?”

From the inner pocket of my leather jacket, I pull out the folded napkin holding the three strands of Arella’s long hair. The woman has so much of it, I’m surprised I didn’t find more lying around on my back seat.

Victor accepts the napkin from me, setting it on his desk. “I’ll have our lab techs run their tests on this right away.”

“What are you looking for in her DNA?” I ask.

“Defects. Anything abnormal for an Ordi. We’ll also see if there are any matches to the other two Immunes we have DNA from.”

“How are those missions going?”

When Victor gave me this assignment, he told me that there are two other agents doing the same thing I am. Even though I’ve experienced being around an Immune myself, it’s still hard to imagine that there are other Ordinaries out there like Arella. How many more? I have no idea, because according to my extensive research on the z-net over the last month, being immune to Zordi powers isn’t possible.

Victor shoots me a venomous look. “You know the rules. Missions are not to be spoken about between agents.”

I know that. I was just trying to make conversation, but whatever.

“Are you making any progress with the girl?”

He’s not gonna like my answer, but it’s the only one I have. “This might take more time than we thought.”

Originally, Victor and I estimated that this mission would take about two months. Three, max. I spent the entire first month observing Arella from afar. Now I’m almost through week five, and all I’ve got is some hair in a napkin.

I continue, “She seems reserved. Not quick to trust people.”

“Work around it!” Victor snaps. The long horizontal scar on his neck shifts as he swallows with anger. The scar reminds me that a Royal almost took his life too—on the same night my parents died.

“You need to think more like a woman,” Victor says. “If you were in her shoes, what would make you trust someone enough to spill every little detail about yourself?”

I think about that for a moment. The only person I’ve ever trusted enough to tell almost everything to is Liz, and that’s only because she’s seen the worst of my memories. Otherwise, I would always keep my lips sealed around her. Even now, I still don’t tell her everything.

Apparently, I’ve taken too long to think, because Victor scowls at me. “It’s simple. To get, you need to give. If you tell her personal things about yourself, she’ll return the favor.”

“Tell her personal things? Like what?”

Victor bends back in his chair. “I don’t fuckin’ know. This is your mission, so you’ve gotta figure it out.”

With a nod, I say, “Fine, but I still need more time.”

“The longer you take, the longer you’re postponing the process of figuring out how to reproduce her immunity. We need this to have an advantage over the Royals. Can you imagine how much easier it would be for us to overpower them if their gifts can’t affect us? The sooner we can destroy all their bases and capture their leaders, the sooner we can stop them from killing more innocent people. So stop wasting time, and go get the information we need.”

Ever since a Royal tried to kill him, Victor has dedicated his life to eradicating the Royals. Over the years, he’s gotten more and more bitter about how they’re still a thriving organization of violent criminals. He’ll probably stop at nothing to take them down.

What Victor doesn’t realize is that I feel the same. I want the answer to Arella’s immunity just as much as he does. I want to take down the people who killed his brother—my father—just as much as he does.

That’s why when I arrive back home, the first thing I do is grab my laptop and log in to the z-net. A few thoughts occurred to me during my three-hour ride home, and I’m itching to do some research.

In the search bar, I type, Is it possible for an Ordinary to be part Zordinary?

My theory is that maybe, by some fluke in the biological laws of reproduction, Arella could be half or even part Zordi. If so, maybe immunity is her gift.

After reading many articles written by reputable professors and medical zoctors, I conclude that the answer is no—being part Zordi is impossible. The Ordinary egg isn’t strong enough to hold a Zordi sperm. The aggressive Zordi sperm always destroys the Ordinary egg upon impact. On the other hand, Ordinary sperm isn’t strong enough to penetrate the cell walls of a Zordi egg. Most of the time, a Zordi woman’s body kills off the Ordinary sperm before it can reach the egg, anyway.

So I ask the search bar another question: Is it possible to block the zense?

Since it’s not possible for a person to be part Zordi, maybe Arella is full Zordi. Maybe her immunity can block that tingle we get in our chests whenever we get near one another.

After some reading, I conclude that it’s also impossible to block the zense. Even Zordis with dormant powers will still activate the tingle in other Zordis.

Back at the search bar, I type, What can make a person immune to Zordi powers?

I get the same information I got all the other times I researched this question weeks ago, which is nothing. The bottom line is that since people don’t know that Immunes exist, there’s no information about them.

But if Immunes have existed since before my parents were killed, how is there not a single article about them? ZIRDA can’t be the only people who know about Immunes. The zovernment has to know they exist too, right? So why isn’t there any information anywhere?