I see them long before they see me.
There are four of them. A petite, pale skinned girl appears to lead the way, her hair cropped short to her skull. Her expression is totally blank, her eyes far away. Like she's listening to something.
A brain-washer, like Madi.
Behind her is a very good-looking Hispanic guy, probably around my age. There's this weird thing about the way he moves – it's like those movies about the people that walk on the moon, always jumping and floating with every step.
Holding onto the guy's hand is a girl, also floating. She has red hair, a strange contrast with the surrounding blue, and green eyes. And there is something wrong with her, with the way she looks in the light of the black sun. Kind of…out of place.
I don't see the fourth one at first, he is so far ahead.
His motion is even weirder than the other guy's. He is tall and kind of gangly, but he moves with cat-like, predatory grace. His eyes – a clear gray, even in the indigo light – are both unfocused and sharp at the same time, shining with something like…like…
Hunger.
His pace quickens to a sleek lope, reminding me of a jogging lion on the move. He stares at the ground intently, as if searching for something.
His head snaps to the left, seemingly at random, down the street Madi had just gone.
The brain-washer sucks in a breath.
"You're right again, Alec," she says. "She's in the park."
Alec isn't listening. He speeds up again, almost running. And his eyes are no longer unfocused. They are clear, cold, and concise.
The cute guy and the red-head jump farther and higher, catching up quickly to the brain-washer. Cute Guy grabs her hand, and then she is flying too, soaring in graceful arcs over rooftops…
It's hard to keep from flipping out.
I am supposed to be the only one that can move, except that idiot Madi. I haven't seen anyone alive in the indigo hour in my entire, sixteen-year life.
Madi is a bitch, always going on about how she knows what everyone's thinking all the time. How it hurts. How it sucks that I am awake during the indigo hour as well, because without me she wouldn't have had to babysit when I was a kid. But I'm not a kid anymore, and I definitely don't want to be babysat.
I move silently from my hiding place behind the bushes, my gift smothering any disturbance my body makes. I rustle no leaves, bend no grass, stir no air, make no noise…
And apparently am mentally silent, as well.
I am quick – another part of my "gift", I suppose. I'm across the street and down the block in seconds.
There is no sign of them.
Hastily, I hop a fence or two and cut through the Johansson's back yard. The brain-washer had said the park, and that could only mean one place.
The trees come into view a short time later, looming silent and eerie in the flat light. They cast hardly any shadow, allowing a clear view in-between the widely spaced trunks.
I duck behind a garbage can and listen.
That's another weird thing about me. I have really, really good eyesight and hearing. I can hear my next door neighbor's cat tell the family it's time for her dinner, and their house is about a hundred yards from mine.
Creepy.
Noises. Rustling leaves, snapping twigs, muffled voices…