FOUR MONTHS LATER
The sun hung high, its golden light spilling over a sprawling field of sunflowers that seemed to ripple like waves. A blue butterfly fluttered among them and landed on a tall sunflower.
For a moment all seemed peaceful, but then something appeared to be moving through the field. A gentle rustle of leaves and the faint sound of footsteps approached.
Kali emerged from the sea of yellow, her once buzzed hair now grown out into a short style that framed her face. She wore a dark purple sweater that hung over her jeans and her steps were unhurried as she watched the butterfly take off.
She followed its flight and then let her gaze wander farther ahead. Across the field, Dakota was kneeling among the sunflowers, cutting a few stems with practiced ease and carefully adding them to a woven basket.
Kali bent down to pick up her own basket, already brimming with freshly cut sunflowers, and made her way toward Dakota who greeted her with a warm smile.
"Perfect timing," Dakota said, taking the basket from Kali. They walked together through the field, and approached the old farmhouse in the distance. Sitting on the porch in a rocking chair was Dakota's mother.
In the months since Kali had been there, all she knew of the woman was her name, Anowen, as she still hadn't spoken a word. But Kali often saw her looking farway—as though searching for something lost—and sometimes at her.
Today was no different. As Kali and Dakota reached the porch, Anowen's gaze lingered on Kali for just a beat longer than usual. It was the same look she'd given her when her powers surfaced uncontrollably the once.
Heading inside the house, Kali helped Dakota chop herbs for the evening meal. She felt lucky that Dakota had found her, taken her in, and trusted her enough to offer her safety and a chance to heal.
Kali had shared pieces of her story—of how Brenner had taken her, the horrors of the lab, and the other children trapped there—but some things she still couldn't bring herself to tell Dakota. That of her powers. Her gift.
She worried that Dakota would not believe her, or worse that it might change something between them if Dakota did. Would she be afraid of her? Kali wasn't even sure why her powers had worked that night in Kingswood, when she'd escaped.
Since then, they had been silent, but she was grateful that the panic attacks and uncontrollable visions were also gone.
After dinner, Kali riffled through the stack of photocopied newspaper articles in her bedroom. Dakota had spent hours combing through the local library archives, searching for articles that might help them expose the lab. She found many cases of missing children, but there was no way of knowing if they were the same children taken by the lab.
However there was one person that Kali recognized from a photo, someone she could not forget. Terry Ives, the woman she'd seen years ago who tried to take Jane away.
Terry claimed her daughter was abducted by Brenner, and Kali had hoped to meet her, but another article revealed that she was now brain-damaged and unable to speak.
Kali had no doubt it was Brenner's doing and what happened to Terry served as a warning of what could happen to them if they kept looking for answers.
After that Kali saw how uncomfortable Dakota seemed at any mention of the lab, and so she did not speak of it again. But the memories of her parents and Jane always lingered.
That evening, as she and Dakota watched The Bionic Woman on the tv, Kali's mind wandered to them and Dakota seemed to notice as she glanced over to her.
"I've been thinking for a while now…. that you need more than this place. You need other people."
She paused, as Kali seemed to misunderstand. "There's a reservation in West Virginia. It's where my mother's people are from. They live off the grid, out of reach of the government."
"And Brenner?" Kali asked.
Dakota nodded, "You wouldn't have to worry about him or anyone else finding you there. But most of all you'd have a community. Other kids. A real chance to start over."
But Dakota didn't push her for an answer.
***
The following day, Kali made her way to the barn, a place she often sought solitude. The scent of hay and aged wood filled the air, and the afternoon sunlight streamed through the slats in golden beams. She sat near the loft window, the world outside painted in the hues of the fading day.
Dakota's offer replayed in her mind. A real chance to start over. But how could she leave everything further behind? Her parents. Jane. The other children, still trapped in the lab. How could she walk away from them?
The barn darkened as the sun dipped behind the clouds, the vibrant strips of light on the floor retreating into long shadows. A faint breeze whispered through the cracks, stirring the hay, and for a moment, Kali thought she heard something—a faint murmur, like voices carried on the wind.
"Kali…" The voice was soft but unmistakable—her mother's. It came from the far end of the barn, "Why have you given up on us?" her mother's voice asked, trembling.
Another voice joined in, deeper, —her father's. "You were supposed to come back to us."
Kali pressed her back against the wall, as her parents' figures began to emerge from the shadows, their faces etched with pain, their eyes accusing.
"You left us," her mother said, stepping closer.
Kali shook her head, tears already spilling over. "I didn't want to—" But before she could finish, the shadows shifted again and a smaller figure stepped forward.
Jane. Her wide eyes shimmered with disappointment.
"You said you'd protect me," Jane whispered.
Kali was rendered speechless, as the shadows grew closer, stretching across the barn like grasping fingers. One by one, the other children from the lab appeared, their voices swirling around her, shifting between sorrow and anger.
"You abandoned us."
"You're weak."
"You could've saved us, but you ran."
Their words hit her like stones. The children stepped closer, their faces pale and blurry, as if painted in smoke. Their eyes gleaming through the darkness like tiny embers.
"You'll forget us," one of them whispered.
"I won't." Kali stammered.
"You already have!" The voices echoed in unison.
The children raised their hands toward her, their fingers stretching unnaturally long, reaching for her.
"No!" Kali shouted, scrambling backward as the space around her seemed to shrink. The edge of the loft was just behind her, but she didn't notice until it was too late.
Her foot slipped, and she hit the ground hard, the impact jarring the air from her lungs. Pain shot through her back and shoulder as she lay sprawled on the dirt floor, dazed and gasping for breath. For a moment, she thought she was alone.
But then the barn door creaked open. Kali blinked against the light streaming through it and a shadow stepped inside. At first, the figure was just a silhouette against the brightness, but as Kali's vision adjusted, she saw her.
Anowen reached out, her hand settling gently on Kali's arm. The touch was warm and grounding, as Kali allowed Anowen to help her to her feet.
The walk to the house was a blur and by the time they reached the porch, Dakota was there, her face pale with worry.
"What happened?" she said, darting from Kali to Anowen. Kali shook her head, unable to meet her eyes.
"I…" she started, but the words fell away.
Anowen's hand loosened slightly on Kali's arm, and she stepped forward. For a moment, it seemed like she might remain silent as she always did. But then, she spoke.
Just one word. "Orenda."
Both Kali and Dakota were silent, expecting Anowen to say something else, but her gaze remained fixed on Kali.
"What does that mean?" Kali asked.
Dakota took a breath, as she explained. "Orenda.. It's a spiritual force. A power that flows through everything. Nature, objects, people. She thinks it's within you."
Kali shook her head, "No. What I have… it isn't good."
Dakota stepped closer, "Why would you think that?"
"Because I'm different!" Kali's voice cracked, "I thought what I could do was special. I thought it was a gift. But I was wrong."
Kali turned away, as her words came in a torrent, raw and unfiltered. "It's a curse. I can't control it anymore. The fear—it takes over, and I can't stop it."
Dakota gently placed a hand on Kali's shoulder. "Whatever they tried to make you… that's not who you are. You're not a curse."
Anowen and Dakota knelt beside her, as though they were willing Kali to see what she couldn't see in herself. But the guilt and fear still clung to her like a shadow.
***
The next morning, Kali found Dakota waiting for her at the kitchen table, her expression somber.
"I'm sorry," Dakota began, her voice heavy. "I didn't realize how much you've been carrying. That you felt like you had to hide the truth from me."
Kali's gaze dropped to the table, the words stirring something raw inside her. "I was afraid," she murmured.
"I know," Dakota said gently, "I haven't been entirely honest with you, either."
Kali looked up, confused. "What do you mean?"
Dakota's fingers fidgeted with the edge of a folded stack of papers on the table. "I found these a while ago. I didn't show them to you because… I thought I was protecting you. But maybe I was just afraid of what you'd think."
She slid the papers over and Kali unfolded the first article. The headline read Funding approved for Fertility Study– March 12th, 1966. Kali scanned the photo below it. There, standing tall and confident, was her father, smiling beside another man with large spectacles.
"What is this?" Kali exclaimed.
Dakota's face was grim. "Keep going."
Kali turned to the next article, her eyes widening as she took in the photograph. The same man that was with her father was shaking hands with Dr. Brenner.
"No," Kali whispered, shaking her head.
Dakota leaned forward, cautious. "Kali, I don't know what your father knew. But if there's even a chance that—"
"That what?" Kali's voice cracked as she looked up, her eyes blazing. She shoved the papers away, the anger and pain boiling over. "He didn't—He couldn't have—"
"Kali," Dakota said softly, "I don't think he meant to hurt anyone. But if he was involved, even indirectly… it might be why they came for you. Why they chose you."
Kali pushed back from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The kitchen light above them flickered.
Dakota looked up, concerned. "Kali… listen to me. I don't know what this means, but we'll figure it out. Together."
But Kali wasn't listening, as the faint hum of electricity intensified, making the hair on her arms stand on end.
"Look at me, Kali." Dakota said, the panic in her voice rising. "You can stop this—"
The door creaked open and Anowen stepped inside, her pale gaze falling on Kali, who was now completely absorbed by the chaos raging inside her.
A low buzzing filled the room, building up until all the lights snapped off. Shadows swallowed the kitchen, and the air grew heavy, as though another presence had entered the room.
Then suddenly the lights flicked back on and standing at the edge of the table were Dakota's father and younger brother, their eyes cold and sunken.
Anowen gasped in horror, as tears filled her eyes.
"Stop this!" Dakota shouted, her voice breaking.
Kali's eyes filled with anguish. "I can't trust you!" she cried, as she reached for the papers on the table.
The lights flickered once more, then burst back to life, casting the room in a stark glow. The illusion dissolved in an instant, leaving Dakota and Anowen alone.
The front door slammed shut, and Dakota quickly ran outside, skidding to a halt on the porch. She scanned the field of sunflowers, but Kali had vanished without a trace.
Kali ran through a meadow, the grass whipping at her legs. She didn't know where she was going—only that she had to get away. From the house. From Dakota and Anowen.
But she could still see their faces. Their fear. Their terror. The way they had looked at her, as if she were a monster.
And then there was her father and the doubt that everything she thought was true may be a lie. Brenner's words echoed in her mind: They gave you away.
But that didn't make sense. They wanted to find her. Or maybe they were just trying to help Brenner.
The field seemed to darken around her, the wind dying into an unnatural stillness. A shadow moved at the edge of her vision, and she turned to see him.
Brenner stood before her, his hands clasped behind his back. His face was calm, but his eyes gleamed with that familiar coldness.
"You always run," he said, smooth and condescending. "But you can't outrun the truth, Eight."
"You're not real!" Kali shouted, her voice shaking.
Brenner tilted his head, a faint smile on his lips. "But aren't I? You've always carried me with you. Every step, every thought. I'm inescapable, because I'm part of you."
"No you're not!" Kali cried.
"You think you're strong because you escaped?" he continued, stepping closer. "But you're nothing without me. Without the pain I gave you. You're just a scared little girl, broken and alone."
His words cut deep because they echoed her fears, the ones she tried to bury and ignore for so long. But then she saw something move in the corner of her eyes and she froze.
It was her 7 year old self. The little girl from the night she was abducted. She stood a few feet away, wearing the same pajamas with tiny blue butterflies.
Kali's heart twisted painfully. She had spent so long trying to forget that girl, to erase the pain of that night. But now, seeing her here, she understood.
The girl wasn't her weakness. She was her strength.
Kali knelt, her hand outstretched. The little girl hesitated, but then stepped forward, placing her small hand in Kali's.
Brenner's voice sharpened. "You're deluding yourself. You'll never be free, Eight."
Kali rose to her feet, her younger self standing beside her, their hands still clasped. She turned to face Brenner, her fear giving way to something else—determination.
"You're wrong!" she said, her voice booming. "You don't control me. You never did."
Kali lifted her free hand, and the little girl did the same. Together, their palms faced Brenner. The air around them grew heavy, charged with energy.
A wave of light and heat surged forward and struck Brenner head-on. He screamed, as his body began to crumble, breaking apart into ash that was swept away by the wind.
As the last of him disintegrated, the field grew still again. The sky seemed brighter, the weight in the air lifting.
Kali looked down at her younger self, who smiled faintly before fading into the breeze.
Tears streamed down Kali's face, but for the first time in a long time, they weren't from fear or pain. They were from a release. She wasn't free of her past. But she had faced it.