The Silhouette (Alan Quinn and the Second Lifes)

by Thomas William Shaw

I turned around to search for some way off of the roof. It was completely empty with the exception of air conditioning ducts in the middle. I quickly walked towards them to see if there was anything on the other side. To my relief, I spotted the top of a ladder at the edge of the building. I ran towards it and stretched a leg down until I could set it on the first step.

  It was easy. I went step by step, nearing the street as I went. Everything was going well until I looked down. The road appeared to be a mile away and one false move would certainly have sent me to my doom. Of all of the places I could have used as a safe place, Lathon chose to force me to face my worst fears.

  I started to climb back up, but that appeared to be even further of a distance. I was stuck and crying for help wasn’t going to do me any good.

  Another couple screamed from the other side of the wall as another loud boom shook the building. I had to act fast. Quickly, I closed my eyes and went down the ladder as fast as I could. I pretended I was going down any other pile of stairs and when that stopped working I tried to think of things that made me happy. I imagined Jessica’s red hair hanging on her shoulders and Mom smiling with grace as she performed for a big crowd.

  Before I knew it, I had made it safely to land. I was really ashamed when I looked up to find I hadn’t traveled very far at all. I shook it off and ran down the alleyway to get closer to the action. There were at least fifty people in the street, but they were all standing still, locked in place like I was staring at a photograph. I couldn’t imagine that many people fit into Red Heart’s but I didn’t have time to think about it. I ripped open the café door and ran in.

 

  The inside was clouded with smoke, making it impossible to see anything that was going on. Every now and then a light would flash deep inside. I was reminded of some of the magic that Lathon could do, other than that, there was nothing.

  “Hello?” I called out, but no one responded. I doubted it would be easy to hear me with all of the debris. I shielded my face as best as I could and slowly progressed further into the building.

  As I got deeper and deeper and the tables came into focus, everything seemed to be in its proper place. The smoke, though thick, had kind of a moist quality to it and made my lips tingle like I’d swallowed a mint.

  As I began to feel safe breathing in the air, I put my hands out in front so I could avoid being knocked over by the building’s furniture. That didn’t help with anything on the ground level. The first obstacle in my way was a body lying on the far right section of the floor. I gasped at first, but, as I leaned down to try to make out whom it was, it became evident that the person was still breathing.

  I felt around on his face and found the grooves in the goggles that Davison’s men wore. I didn’t know what else to do to clear the smoke, so I blew at it like it was a birthday candle. For a brief second it cleared, revealing Desmond, passed out on the floor, as the first unlucky winner. I was sure he would have called for help, but I didn’t think there was a grunt for that.

  I kept moving. I was positive the building couldn’t be much bigger and I had to be getting close to Lathon, LeCarre, and my father. Was I prepared for what I would find?

  “Lathon?” I called out. “Lathon?”

  Slowly, the smoke began to clear, swirling back towards one source. I spotted a frozen, yet angry Martina sprawled out on the ground. A few paces away, a back table had three men in its seats: Davison, LeCarre, and Dad. LeCarre had his right hand facing Davison who appeared to be in mid fall, his chair tipping backward. Dad had his right hand around LeCarre’s throat who was stuck in his own place, while Dad’s left hand collected all of the smoke.

  Lathon in his solid form had his arms around Daemon, stuck in the middle of a body slam. The only one that seemed to be in complete control was my father who shifted his attention to me.

  “Alan,” he said as he picked up a chicken finger off of his plate, “You mentioned this was good place to visit, but you never said the food was so delicious. You were trying to hide it from me you little devil.”

  Nervous for my life, I responded, “Yeah, that is me. Dad, what are you doing? Do you want to stop, maybe?”

  Dad took in all of his surroundings. He said, “Taking control of my life, I suppose. I am in a perfect crossroads. I have the best of both sides and the fate of the world at my fingertips. I am part human. I am part Silhouette. I could really make a case for King of the World, would you not think?”

  The phrase played in my head: “The King must fall. The Silhouettes will rise.”

  I held my hand to my ear, wondering why I wasn’t hearing any sirens heading this way. I knew for certain one of the fleeing customers had to call the police into action. Someone had to stop Dad before he became too powerful.

  Dad got up from the table and left everyone, Silhouette or not, frozen in place. He walked to me, but I backed away upon every step he took. I never thought I would be looking at my Dad in this light. I was generally terrified and defenseless.

  “What have they done to you?”

  He said, “What have they done to me?” Gesturing to the aftermath of their battle. Continuing, he said, “Alan, I mean you no harm. Please stop moving. All they have done is wake up my true self. I was a human that studied the art of the Silhouette. I can do anything they can do, but better because I have self control.”

  “Self control?” I pointed out our surroundings. “This is beyond self control. This is wrong.”

  “Ok, maybe I lost it a little, but in my defense they had made me pretty angry.”

  He walked away from me and rounded the table, studying each person. He said, “Every member of this table has a story. Lathon was the first Silhouette I ever met and I looked up to him. You could say I considered him a friend. But, he abandoned me when I needed him most.”

  Dad moved over to Lathon holding firm on his chokehold. He said, “Andrew Lathon. Did he ever tell you why he has a first name? It is because when all of the Silhouettes were being sealed in their cages, he was busy helping the high council lock them up. He was no longer fit for his Silhouette’s name. They cast him out. He had to be given a human name. I was the one that named him Andrew.”

  I covered my ears. I didn’t want to hear anymore. It was too painful.

  Dad continued to Davison. He said, “Davison is the best and worst person in the room. Best because he nurtured me to help me remember what I once could do. Worst because he used it to help me murder so many.”

  “You didn’t know,” I said. “You couldn’t have known.”

  A burning pain in my throat set in. I was fighting with all my might not to cry. I had to be strong. I had to.

  “Brazil, Germany, England. They would scope out for Silhouettes that escaped the cages and lead me to slaughter them. The two in this room are worth quite the bounty on Draio. Their permadeaths are highly sought after by both sides.”

  He looked back at them, “This was never about destroying the world, Alan. It just ended up that way. If Lathon and LeCarre would go quietly with me back to Draio, this would all be over.”

  I looked into his eyes, searching for the hint of a joke that never arrived. I said, “Why is it important to kill the Silhouettes? They helped create Draio.”

  Dad turned back to me but lowered his gaze to my feet, “Before the Great War, they were hunting for our children, kidnapping them, converting them into hybrids. They are savages.” He smiled, “If they won’t come with me, there is another way. You can come with me back to Draio. The high council would be astonished to be in your presence.”

  “Wh-wh-what is so astonishing about me?”

  “You are the offspring of a Silhouette hybrid and a shifter. Who would not be astonished?”

  “A shifter? What is a shifter?”

  Dad looked up with an expression akin to someone speaking out of turn. “A beautiful thing.”

  He placed his hand on Davison’s head and whispered gibberish I could b
arely understand, immediately causing him to unfreeze and jump up. He looked back and forth between my Dad and I.

  “Reese, this is our chance,” he said. “We could take out the rogue Silhouettes for good.”

  “Yes,” Dad responded, “Indeed.”

  He snapped his fingers together, generating a blue light in the center of Davison’s chest that began to grow in place of his heart. Davison looked down at it and back up at my father, panic-stricken.

  The blue light, not too different from the light I saw in the woods when I met Lathon, morphed into a miniature black hole that began to suck Davison inward. I shielded my eyes as best as I could but that couldn’t erase the image of Davison vanishing into dust. How much more death was I going to be forced to witness?

  Once Davison’s body was gone, the black hole closed up. Dad enjoyed every second of it. He was applauding during the whole thing. Whatever his intentions, Dad had to be stopped.

  He made his way towards Lathon and Daemon. He said, “What is the phrase? Two birds with one stone?”

  Dad forced his hand into Daemon’s chest. The frozen dream chaser sprung to life. His hand passed through without spilling blood to the ground and made it to Lathon who also began to shift. Daemon withered into dust on the ground. Before Dad could put an end to Lathon, the Silhouette exclaimed, “NOW!”

  I did what any confused thirteen-year-old boy would do. I ran full speed at Dad, catching him off guard and knocked him as hard as I could into the closest pillar.

  If I was lucky, he was unconscious. If I wasn’t, I could be turned into a miniature black hole.