The Search for Artemis - By P. D. Griffith Page 0,104

and Landon couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement in seeing the exemplary lineage of his Pantheon namesake.

With a sweep of Apollo’s arms, the training ball at his feet rose into the air, flew around him in an intricate pattern and, coinciding with a forceful push from his torso, rocketed straight at Landon and the crowd of spectators.

Without even time to react, all Landon and the others could do was watch as the ball sped through a narrow gap between their bodies. Excited and somewhat surprised, every member of the spectator party turned in their place and saw the training ball lodged with a craterous effect deep into a concrete wall. A circle of concrete, reaching around three feet in every direction of the ball, had been blown out, and a pile of rubble and dust covered the ground.

“Oohs” and “aahs” burst from the crowd’s mouths as they realized the implications of this student’s awesome display of telekinetic power. Landon, however, was more shocked than anything. As this former Apollo moved, Landon didn’t really follow the motions of the ball, but more so the movement of the recruit’s body. With the first motion of his arms, Landon realized why he seemed familiar. His appearance was much different than what he was used to, but the fluidity of his movements and his posture easily gave away his identity. It was a teenage version of Dr. Brighton. Before he could even process the implications of his discovery, Dr. Pullman’s voice consumed his mind.

There you have it. Project Prometheus was my chance to leave a mark on this world, but my ambition blinded me to the truth of what we were doing. I wanted to show everyone the strength of the American mind and the power of science, but in my desire for glory, I helped create the most dangerous weapons the world has ever seen—I helped create you.

The images faded out of existence, and blackness consumed Landon’s mind. A moment later, he was back in the dark examination room, standing alongside Dr. Pullman’s frail body. He still lay strapped to the steel gurney.

Landon experienced a strange blend of confusion and rage. The ability to experience another’s memories was never discussed in any of his training courses, but after having just lived it, he wanted to know how it was possible; however, as the implications of the memories he’d just seen processed and synthesized in Landon’s brain, he was overcome with a sense of anger.

“You—You—You did this to us?” Landon exclaimed, stuttering his speech in outrage. He paid no mind to his volume, and at that moment, he didn’t care in the least if anyone heard him. “And Dr. Wells?”

“Yes,” Dr. Pullman answered with difficulty. His lips quivered, and his voice was labored. “And I’ve worked to make up for my role in Project Prometheus for the past thirteen years.”

Landon let out a lengthy exhale in an attempt to calm his temper. He was born psychokinetic, but he couldn’t believe the government was to blame for turning him into what he was. And at orientation they told him they were uncertain of how psychokinetics acquired the Prometheus gene. What else had the Gymnasium lied to them about? He looked back at Dr. Pullman, realizing he had a potential source for the answers.

“What’s the Gymnasium actually for? Are they really helping us? What about the Pantheon? They really do work for the government, protecting the country, right?” The questions flew out of his mouth at breakneck speed. He needed to know the truth.

“I—I—” Dr. Pullman’s speech staggered. Before turning away, Landon watched as the doctor’s eyelids blinked erratically and his eyes began to roll to the back of his head. Something was wrong. His body seemed to be shutting down. This must have been the moment Dr. Pullman was expecting. His death was upon him.

“What’s wrong?” Landon asked. The anger he was feeling was overridden by the motivation to help a man obviously in a state of need.

Dr. Pullman turned back and looked Landon square in the eyes. Fighting to tell him something, the doctor’s lips quivered, and he let out a strained mumble. Landon leaned in with his ear, prepared to hear the words the doctor was struggling so hard to tell.

“Find Artemis.” The words just made it past his lips, barely audible. “She’s your—”

Landon turned and looked down at the dying scientist. The muscles around Dr. Pullman’s eyes looked strained, and his lips were trembling. The veins in his neck and