Parallel Worlds- the Heroes Within

by L. J. Hachmeister

  Harper plucked the eMuse out of Jake’s hand and threw it against the door of 13E. “I don’t give a shit about an eMuse. I have five of them.”

  He slugged Jake in the stomach, and Jake went to his knees. The air felt like sludge in his lungs.

  Dimly, Harper laughed. “You like talking about tueets? We’re going to treat you like one.” Harper’s belt jingled. He started unbuttoning his jeans. “And it wasn’t dad. It was me that gave it to Talitha. I didn’t know I had it when I did her, but I know I have it now.”

  Jake looked up, pain smearing his vision. Harper’s face was a leer, a mask, a horror show, painted green.

  Green. Because the light on the security pad of 13E was green.

  Harper’s grinned. “I’m dying. And soon you will be too.”

  Jake lurched forward and slammed his burned hand on the button to open the door. The blisters on his palm burst.

  The aluminum door wheezed open. The smell rolled out of unit 13E like a fog. Excrement and sleep and something completely other, completely alien. Then, the purple light revealed a feline shape, tawny fur, multiple legs ending in massive paws, hooked claws reaching from black pads.

  The adult launched herself out of the unit taking Harper’s head in her jaws.

  Jake saw a kit the size of a small dog, scooped it up into his hands, and ran.

  And ran.

  And ran.

  He breathed through his mouth because blood and snot packed his nose.

  The howls of pain and the splatter of blood disappeared behind him. The roar of the adult echoed through the aisles and alleys of the storage units.

  Jogging down Rudyard, Jake saw the lights of the police cars charging through the bicycles. Black vans followed. And then, finally, the floating cars carrying men who possessed more wealth than he could imagine.

  He didn’t know if the adult would retreat into the storage unit, or if it would pursue him in search of its lost kit. Either way, the government men and their guns would capture the mama, seize the kits, and study them. The offworld traders wouldn’t get a dollar.

  Jake kept the kit wrapped in his shirt. He expected the animal to scratch him, but it didn’t. It probably thought it was safe with Jake.

  Wearily, Jake climbed up the steps to their room. His father was asleep in the folding chair, but Talitha was awake on the mattress.

  Her eyes were bright for once.

  “Where were you?” she asked.

  Her question woke up their father.

  Jake took the kit out of his shirt and put him down on Talitha’s bed. The kit was a boy.

  “We can sell it to the scientists for the retro-drugs,” he said. His hand throbbed, but he’d take care of the burn in a minute.

  “Where did you get him?” his father asked.

  Jake shrugged.

  The kit had the same tawny coat of a lion, but instead of four legs, he had ten. His eyes were a reptilian green. A pink tongue licked his sister’s gray skin.

  “Can we keep him?” Talitha asked, giggling as the little guy toyed with her hand. Five paws held its lithe body on the bed while the other five wrestled with his sister’s hand.

  Jake watched the baby. What kind of life would the kit have in a lab? How long before some scientist split him open to study his guts? Or would they let him grow and put him in a zoo? Jake couldn’t think about that.

  “No, Talitha, we have to sell him. You need medicine.”

  His sister’s eyes dimmed, a frown bowed her lips, as the kit playfully nipped at her hand.

  “You did good,” his father said.

  “Maybe,” Jake said, thinking of Harper, thinking of the animal.

  “It’ll be okay,” his father said.

  “Maybe.” Jake lifted his eyes and looked into his father’s face. “I’m sorry, for what I said before. I know the truth now.”

  Jake and his father gazed at one another for a long time. With an understanding that had not been there before. Jake’s burned hand throbbed.

  Talitha continued to play with the animal that would save her life at the cost of its own.

  BIO

  Aaron Michael Ritchey is the author of seven young adult novels and his short fiction has appeared in various anthologies and online magazines. He is also a dynamic speaker, having taught classes all around the country on all aspects of writing fiction.

  His series, The Juniper Wars, is about three sisters on a post-apocalyptic cattle drive. Aaron lives in Colorado with his cactus flower of a wife and two stormy daughters. Visit his website at aaronmritchey.com or find him on Facebook.

  LINKS

  Author Website: www.aaronmritchey.com

  Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Aaron-Michael-Ritchey/e/B007PRZMSQ/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/aaronmritchey

  Unnamed

  Gama Ray Martinez

  Thomas tapped his Bluetooth earpiece to mute the call just as the ball of lighting zipped over his shoulder and crackled into the steel girder behind him. The gremlin who’d thrown it growled a series of incomprehensible sounds. Its two companions leaped from window to unfinished wall and back again while some middle manager blathered on about quarterly earnings not being as high as they should.

  One of the creatures launched itself at him, but Thomas twisted out of the way and slashed with his sword. The light blade barely slowed as it sheered through the creature’s wrist. A leathery hand fell to the ground and evaporated in a puff of green smoke. The creatures shouted at him in unison. Thomas resisted the urge to laugh. They weren’t much bigger than rats, and their ears, each as big as his palm, flapped as they jumped up and down. They had a penchant for messing with technology, and they had driven the workers to abandon this site. Fortunately, no one had been killed. Yet.

  Thomas stepped forward and swung his sword at one standing on a pile of bricks. It danced out of the way, avoiding his strike easily. It didn’t, however, see the heavy dagger in his left hand. The weapon slammed into the creature’s face, and Thomas pulled it out just as the gremlin disappeared into mist. A question buzzed in his ear. Thomas ducked under a gremlin’s leaping attack and unmuted his headset.

  “I didn’t get the reports until late last night. I’ll get-ow!”

  The one-handed gremlin slashed across his arm, tearing his sleeve and leaving three lines of blood. His dagger clattered to the floor.

  “What was that, Thomas?” his boss asked.

  “Sorry, Mike, paper cut. I’ll get to them this afternoon.”

  He hurriedly muted his phone before slamming his fist into the one that had wounded him. It flew back and crashed into its companion. Pain shot up his arm, but the creatures tumbled back. He took a step forward and thrust before they could untangle from each other. His blade pierced them both. One growled something before they both vanished.

  “Thanks everybody,” Mike said. “Thomas, are you going to make it for the 11:00 status meeting?”

  Thomas rolled his eyes and pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. 9:30. He sighed and tapped his headset again. “Yeah, I should be getting into the office in about an hour.”

  “All right. See you then.”

  There was a round of goodbyes as the conference call ended. Thomas pulled off his ear piece and stuffed it into his pocket. He looked at his wound. The cuts weren’t deep and had already started to heal, as spirit wounds tended to do. Still, it could’ve been a lot worse. He must be getting old. It had been years since anything as minor as a gremlin had scored a hit on him, even while he was on the phone. He shrugged.

  “It happens to the best of us,” he said under his breath.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crystal hanging from a silver chain. He stared into it, but it remained clear and motionless, and indication that there were no other supernaturals nearby. It was only then that he allowed himself to relax.

  He walked to the nearby alley and got into the sedan parked toward the back. He pulled a
first aid kit out of the glove box and sterilized the wound before wrapping it. That done, he got his phone out of his pocket and spent the next few minutes disabling his GPS, his data, and every other app that could be used to track him. Then, he pulled out the false patch in his jacket and retrieved his other SIM card. He switched it out with the one in his phone and dialed. It rang twice before someone picked up, though no one spoke.

  “Conundrum,” Thomas said. “Omega three-two-seven.”

  “Who is this?” a distorted voice said.

  “I have no name.”

  “Confirmed Unnamed. Status?”

  “Just a couple of gremlins. They’ve been dispatched.”

  “That’s the eighth incursion this week.”

  “Eighth?”

  There was a pause. “We had one in London a few hours ago and another in Sydney just before that.”

  The line remained silent, but Thomas could guess at what they were thinking. Ever since the Unnamed had prevented the Mayan apocalypse of 2012, supernaturals had been coming into the world at an alarming rate, and not all of them could be vanquished as easily as gremlins. They wouldn’t be able to keep them secret much longer.

  “I’ll log it with the others,” the voice said. “Keep in touch.”

  He hung up and switched out his SIM card again. His phone chirped when he turned it back on. He groaned. Someone had scheduled another meeting for noon. It was going to be one of those days.

  Thomas just barely had time to shower, clean his wound again (you could never be too careful with gremlins), and put on a fresh set of clothes. He sped to work and arrived just in time, as everyone was taking a seat around a large conference table. He sank into a chair and made a show of paying attention.

  The status meeting, like many others of its kind, was filled with people who didn’t really need to be there. Of the fifteen people, maybe five had something relevant to say. The rest, including Thomas himself, would’ve better spent their time actually doing their jobs. To make matters worse, the air conditioning had gone out again, and the windowless room was quickly becoming unbearable. Mike seemed oblivious to their discomfort and just went on with the pointless meeting. Thomas let out a long breath. In his experience, giving up your common sense seemed to be a prerequisite for going into middle-management.

  That and gaining a few pounds, he thought as Mike waved his pudgy hands at a chart projected on the wall.

  The meeting droned on. A few people started playing on their phones while others gave pointless reports. He found himself nodding off and decided that a game was better than the attention he would draw if he started snoring. As he reached for his pocket, he felt a vibration. Assuming it was another meeting request, he pulled out his phone, but he didn’t have any new notification. He shrugged and opened a puzzle game he’d been working on.

  He had just started when his pocket vibrated again. A sharp point poked at his leg, and his blood went cold. It was the crystal. He glanced down and saw a flash of bright green light. He reached into his pocket and closed his fingers around it before he could make out a pattern. It felt warm, and he cursed under his breath. Vibration, light, and heat. Three signs. This was no gremlin. He had to get out of here. He stumbled back and every eye turned to him.

  “Sorry,” he stammered. “I have to go.”

  “Thomas?” Mike asked.

  Thomas got up and rushed to the door. The crystal was getting hot in his pocket. Mike got up, but Thomas didn’t wait for him. He left the conference room and half jogged past the receptionist. He had just pushed the button on the elevator when Mike poked his head out of the conference room.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Sorry, it’s a message from my doctor.” Thomas spouted the first thing that came to mind. “I have to go.”

  For a moment, Thomas thought Mike would insist he come back. He wouldn’t, of course. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d lost a job for his duties as an Unnamed, but Mike gave him a slow nod. “I hope everything is all right.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll try to get back this afternoon.”

  The elevator dinged and Thomas stepped through the door, wondering if he had misjudged Mike. As soon as the door closed, he pulled out his crystal. He had to hold it by the chain to avoid being burned. It glowed bright green. Every few seconds it flickered red, and once there was a flash of white. He searched his memory for what kind of creature that could be, but he came up empty. The elevator reached the ground floor, and Thomas shoved the crystal into his pocket, gritting his teeth against its heat. He nodded at the security guard in the lobby and rushed out to his car. Once inside, he replaced his SIM card and called in. They went through the same security measure, and the voice on the other side asked for a report.

  “I’ve detected a major supernatural,” he said.

  “Signs?”

  “Light, vibration, and heat. A lot of heat. I can’t hold the crystal without being burned.” Suddenly the crystal began to hum. “Do you hear that?”

  The voice sputtered for a second. When it spoke again, there was fear in its words. “Sound?”

  “Yes.”

  “Elements?”

  Thomas waited until the pattered of lights repeated themselves. “Earth mostly, but there’s a little fire and a touch of air.”

  Muffled voices came from the speaker as Thomas hung the crystal over his rearview mirror. It drifted to one side and he pulled out of the parking lot, following its direction. It only pointed to the source. It didn’t tell him how to get there, and he wound through the streets. They were relatively empty, it being before the lunch rush. He was so focused on the crystal that he missed the red light. A car missed him by inches, honking and giving Thomas rude gestures. Finally, the voice came back over the phone.

  “We think it’s an earth dragon.”

  “What?” Thomas swerved in his lane, but managed to control his vehicle. “There hasn’t been a dragon in fifteen hundred years.”

  “That’s what the signs point to.”

  Thomas took several deep breaths to calm himself. It didn’t work. “If I’m going to be fighting a flying fire breathing lizard, I’m going to need backup.”

  “Earth dragons don’t fly, Unnamed.”

  “Does it still breathe fire?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, I’m going to need some backup.”

  There was the sound of rustling pages. “Nine-five-seven is in town.”

  Thomas cursed. “Anyone else?”

  “How long?”

  Thomas stared at the crystal a few seconds, timing its pulses. “Under an hour.”

  “No one else can get there in time.”

  “Fine. Give me a minute, and I’ll get you a location.”

  The crystal led him across a series of turns before finally ending up at an abandoned warehouse. Graffiti decorated one wall, but no one seemed to be around. He gave the voice the address and waited. Unnamed nine-five-seven took less than ten minutes to arrive. He parked a beat-up old pickup next to Thomas and glared. Both men got out of their cars, and Thomas stood face to face with a man tall enough that he could’ve stood next to a professional basketball team and not stuck out. He spoke with a heavy Greek accent and wore a long trench coat, the kind that would immediately attract the attention of any police officer who saw it and make them worry that it hid all sorts of deadly surprises. Of course, in this case, it did.

  “Dmitri,” Thomas said, inclining his head.

  “Thomas. What’s this about?”

  “Didn’t command tell you?”

  Dmitri shrugged. “Something about a prime supernatural.”

  “Haven’t you checked your crystal?”

  “I lost that in Moscow fighting against those vampires. Haven’t had time to get a new one made.”

  Thomas pulled out his crystal and showed it to the other man. Dmitri blanched and took a step back, tripping over a beggar neither had seen. Dmitri retained his balance, but the other man fell to the gr
ound. Dmitri reached into his coat, but Thomas grabbed his wrist.

  “Leave him alone. We have other things to worry about.”

  The beggar looked from Thomas to Dmitri, apparently unaware of the danger he had been in. Thomas’s eyes seemed to slide off of him, and indication that he probably had some sort of supernatural ancestry. Of course, so did about a quarter of humanity. Thomas glanced at the crystal, but this man was nothing special. The beggar picked himself off the ground and dusted off some of the gravel that had gotten onto his oversized coat.

  “Mer’s not here,” he said in a raspy voice. “He’s not here yet. He was supposed to be here when I woke up, but he’s not here.”

  He shambled away, and his voice faded to mumbles. Dmitri sniffled, but Thomas quirked an eyebrow.

  “You really shouldn’t act that way toward the people we’re defending.”

  “We’re not defending him. His kind are a drain on society.” Dmitri reached into his coat and pulled out a shotgun. “Did they say what kind of creature it is?”

  “Where’s your sword?”

  Dmitri groaned. “You guys really need to come into the twenty-first century.” He opened his coat and revealed a long thin blade. Like Thomas’s weapon, it gleamed slightly blue from the fairy magic used to enchant it.

  “Actually, I was thinking it would probably be a bad idea to fire that in the middle of the day inside the city limits. The police get a little annoyed at that.”

  Dmitri smirked. “Whatever is necessary.”

  “They think it’s an earth dragon.”

  Dmitri laughed. “That’ll be a story to tell. The legends are awakening, it seems.”

  “Do they always have to wake up grumpy?”

  Dmitri kept chuckling as he put away the gun and drew his sword. The crystal pulled Thomas to an aluminum door. It wasn’t locked. A pentagram had been spray-painted on. Thomas got close and sniffed at it, but it was only paint, probably from some fool who didn’t realize how much power that symbol could have if done correctly. Of course no one who knew how to do it right would waste their time drawing it with paint so far from ley lines or other sources of power. He drew back and stepped into the warehouse.