Killer Geezer

by T. Jackson King

  Relief filled me. Whatever the anger had been about, now, the man was showing many emotions. Surprise. Empathy. Curiosity. Normal emotions versus mystery stuff.

  “Well, I tried talking the guy out of robbing me. Then suggested he pawn his gun for cash. Since that would get him more cash than the $23 I had on me. Plus my bank debit card.”

  Ansgar nodded encouragingly. “Go on. What else?”

  “Well, that suggestion infuriated him. Too quickly he fired at me. I focused intently on the gray bullet. Saw it leave the muzzle of his .38 revolver. Saw it move ahead of a spurt of yellow flame and black smoke. As I focused, the bullet slowed. Slowed to where it only made it halfway to me. I then thought of it moving upward.” I shrugged. “I thought of stopping it but my reading about inertia suggested that would be a bad idea. The slug angled up and flew over my head, up into the air. Slowly. Then fury filled me. Along with flames red and orange. Which I directed at the robber’s entire body. He combusted in place, versus from the ground up like I did with the Chinese guy on Delgado Street, here in Santa Fe.”

  Ansgar lifted his own beer. He drank from it, his gaze shifting to look at the people passing by us. It was mid-afternoon and a slight Spring breeze had sprung up. But the yellow sun in the bright blue sky had a number of women pulling off their scarves or jackets to soak in the rays. Whether for warmth or for a sun tan to make up for the cloudy winter, I didn’t know. Nor did it appear to matter to Ansgar. He seemed to be enjoying the view. A view of normal folks with normal emotions and normal abilities. Unlike the two of us. He turned back and looked at me speculatively.

  “Jack, what happened after you let go of time?”

  I winced. “I let go after the bullet missed me. It felt like a hurricane wind hit me. A diffuse force moved toward me from where the robber was standing. I bent forward from the force of the impact. Then I mind-burned him before he could fire again.”

  He nodded slowly. “That is similar to the effect Alicia described to me. Except she said the force knocked her down. Since then, she says, the longer she has stopped time, the harder the impact has been.” Ansgar’s eyes, eyes that had seen centuries of human history, people and astounding events, those eyes showed compassion. “Be careful when you use temperokinesis. And please, do not use it where there are witnesses. Otherwise people will think you are moving so fast you must be a movie superhero. Understood?”

  That caution made sense. I nodded slowly. “So, to repeat, how did I become Transcendent?”

  Ansgar actually smiled. “Another good, basic question. With a simple answer. None of us knows. Nor did anyone in the past. It just happens. Very rarely.” His manner turned musing. “The brain changes observed by your professor Claudia are new data not known to any of us. I will be sharing the data with the others. Let me know what her DNA analysis of your genome shows. If it shows something unusual, I might convince the others to send me blood samples. For inspection by a private lab whose owner owes me some favors. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I fixed a stare on him. “Ansgar, what do you think causes us Transcendents to exist? Surely you’ve thought about it.”

  “I have.” He looked down at his mostly empty beer glass, then up. “The rarity of people like us suggests a very rare mutation, a mutation that could be explained scientifically. Except for there always being three Transcendents no matter what size the normal human population has been. That suggests something supernatural to me. But none of us have spoken with God. Or the Goddess. Or the Buddha. So we are all left to cope, as best we can.”

  Cope. That’s all I had been doing these last three days. Apart from sleeping, eating, walking across town and visiting Claudia. The train gave me access to Albuquerque and smaller towns between it and Santa Fe. Should I take a bus to Denver to see Sally? Or the train to head East and see Justin and Louise? Well, that would take money. And so far as I knew, there was no Federal Reserve shredder facility in or near Santa Fe. Which left me with mugging the muggers for cash. That did not appeal. Especially since it gave muggers a chance to threaten to kill me. I did not trust my emotions when someone tried to kill me. My full-body rush of fury too often led me to killing the mugger. And killing was something that repelled me intellectually, even as my inner self had become almost . . . comfortable with killing. Which left me with a final question about people like us.

  “Ansgar, why does every Transcendent you know agree on one thing? That humanity must be preserved?”

  Ansgar’s intense expression grew more direct. “You lived through the Cold War. Do you really think diplomacy prevented a thermonuclear war and the death of most of humanity?”

  I recalled the internal upheavals in the old Soviet Union, now the Russian Confederacy. I remembered the negotiations Ronald Reagan had with Premier Mikhail Gorbachev. The fall of the Berlin Wall. The breakup of the old Soviet states into independent nations like the Ukraine and Latvia. The decay of the old Red Army. A lot had happened in 1989 and through the 90s. Most experts had blamed an internal economic collapse for the breakup of the Soviet Union.

  “So it wasn’t due to economic failures?”

  Ansgar shook his head quickly. “No. During the premiership of Yuri Andropov three senior generals of the Red Army who controlled 20 armored and infantry divisions in the Ukraine and in Belorussia were determined to invade Western Europe, before their advantage of numbers in troops and tanks vanished. Such an invasion through East Germany, Czechoslovakia and Rumania would have caught NATO off guard. To preserve Western Germany, Austria and Italy from occupation, NATO would have used tactical nuclear warheads fired against ground forces and dropped on rear assembly areas inside Russia itself. That would have led to the launch of ballistic missiles. Both from silos and from subs. Most of the planet would have been poisoned and thrown into a global winter of a 100 years.” He grimaced. “Two of us who were living in that part of Russia took action. The three generals died when their plane fell or their tank combusted. Four members of the then Central Committee died from what appeared to be natural deaths. Those in favor of all-out war vanished. Realists took over. Konstantin Chernenko came to power, followed by Gorbachev.” He blinked, then lifted his beer in a toast. “To the survival of humanity!”

  I slowly lifted my beer, clinked the edge of his glass and repeated his sober statement. “To the survival of humanity. What now? I’ve asked all the questions I could think of.”

  Ansgar put his empty glass down with a soft clink. “You will think of more questions. I did over the years I have lived.” He pulled out a small card that resembled a business card. He put it down. He watched as it slid over to me without him touching it. “You and I can cause any security camera or video machine to have a brain fart, just by seeing the machine and thinking the action. That has my address, my email addy and my personal cell phone number on it. Take it.”

  I took it. “Thanks. Uh, what about the names and contact details of the other Transcendents?”

  He smiled casually. “Well, that is up to them. I will share with them what you have shared with me. And what I have observed here. If they wish to contact you, they will do so.”

  “How? You don’t know where I live. Or my phone number.”

  Ansgar nodded slowly. “True. You could write that info down on the beer coaster napkin. Or you could lower your barrier for me to read that data in your surface thoughts.”

  I sat back, thinking hard. This man, this cultured, richly dressed man, had told me a lot about what it meant to be a Transcendent person. And he had given me clear warning to avoid being too public about my abilities. Not a word he’d said had been a lie. Nor had he made any threat to me, despite his obvious concerns over some things I had done. Like pyrokinesis. And his aura, well, that did it. There was only beauty, power like the sun and a mix of other healthy colors that I could only hope showed in my aura. Whatever his personal history, whatever he had done in the past, this was a good man. Mentally I lowered my barrier to my shoulders.

  Ansgar chuckled. “A
h, you are cautious and only exposed your head. Good.” He stared at me. I felt something like a breeze touch the surface of my mind. By instinct I thought my cell phone number, my email addy and my street address. Then without intent I thought of Sally, Justin and Louise and the pain I felt about them.

  “Is that enough?”

  “Yes,” he said, nodding slowly, new empathy showing on Ansgar’s light brown face. “Sorry to learn about your divorce from Sally. And your estrangement from you grown children Justin and Louise.” His expression turned thoughtful. “But Jack, now you have a few lifetimes in which to live the life you choose. There is time for you to reconnect. To see grandkids get born. To celebrate life with those you care for. Including future people you will meet. Be at peace.”

  I almost cried then. But being a guy, I didn’t. I just pushed the emotion deeper. Deep into my inner core. I fixed on this man who was less a mystery than when he’d come to my table. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  He laughed. Loudly enough to draw the attention of the few other folks sitting at Second Street Brewery outside tables. Then he tapped his iWatch.

  “You do not get rid of me that easily! Come, travel with me to your local airport and have a look at what is possible in your future. My personal jet is roomy and has a nicely stocked bar.” He stood up.

  Slowly, I stood up. My glass was empty. And saying no to this man did not appeal to me. I wanted more of his company. Maybe even his guidance. “Where to?”

  He gestured up toward the end of the tracks. “Over there. To Tomasita’s restaurant. My car is parked there. My chauffeur will take us to the airport.”

  I walked alongside him. “You have a chauffeur-driven car? I didn’t even know they existed in Santa Fe.”

  He chuckled, his voice deep and cultured. “Of course they do. And they are not that costly. Come. Relax in comfort. And maybe join me for a Scotch on the rocks aboard my plane. Enjoying life is one thing all we Transcendents have in common.”

  I liked the idea of enjoying life. Versus worrying about muggers. And living on a tight budget. “Sounds good. Ansgar, is one of those Federal Reserve shredder warehouses located in Denver?”

  “Yes, there is one in Denver. After all, it was the western office of the U.S. Mint in the 1800s. I have its address. And I know the schedule for bundled money deliveries. Would you like that data?”

  Going to Denver would give me a chance to see Sally. If she would agree to meet me. Maybe if I took her to a really expensive restaurant, she’d say yes.

  “Yes, I would like that info. Thanks.”

  He gave me a questioning look. “Well?”

  I realized he expected me to read his mind. Something I’d never done. Yet. Focusing tightly I felt part of me reach out to him, pass over his mind, get the info he had on the warehouse, then feel his inner barrier slowly push me out of his mind.

  It was so weird to touch another mind. As he had done with my mind, I picked up other thoughts beyond the data. Images of his luxurious condo that occupied the top floor of a residential tower, his morning view of Central Park, an image of Alicia and details of his wine cooler box. Which was as big as a full-size refrigerator.

  “That’s enough,” he said as we crossed the tracks and headed for the back parking lot of Tomasita’s.

  In a few moments we reached a shiny black Mercedes sedan. A Black man wearing a top hat and dressed in a tux got out and opened the rear door for Ansgar. He scooted over. I followed. The chauffeur closed the door, got in the driver’s seat and started the engine with a tap of a button.

  “Fernando, take us to the airport.”

  “Of course. Sir, I will take the least bumpy route out there, if that pleases you?”

  “It so pleases me,” Ansgar said with a chuckle. Then he touched a button on the back of the front seat. A clear pane of glass rose up to the car roof, isolating us from Fernando. My host reached down, picked up a brown leather carrybag, unzipped it, inserted his hand, and pulled out a large yellow envelope. “Here, Jack. For you.”

  I took the envelope. It was unsealed. I lifted the flap and looked in. Five pads of $100 bills were inside. My mouth went dry. “Uh, why, uh, there is—”

  “There is $5,000 in that envelope. That will pay for your trip to Denver. Take a big suitcase with you. You’ll need it. For the cash.”

  I sat back, still holding onto more money than I’d ever held in my life. Even the down payment on mine and Sally’s house had been done electronically. I’d never seen this much cash at once. Other than on TV shows.

  “Thanks. Uh, thanks a lot. How can I repay you?”

  “You don’t. It’s a gift. From one Transcendent to another Transcendent. Sharing our riches, whether it be booze, clothing designers, artwork, a new vaccine or a new scientific discovery, is how the 25 of us get along with each other.”

  I laughed softly. “Sounds like fun. Do you guys ever go to a convention somewhere? I went to the ComicCon in Albuquerque a few years ago.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. We’ve all learned to be very careful about getting together. We do not wish to draw attention to ourselves. And in today’s world with so much automated surveillance and video records, none of us wish to draw the attention of governing bodies. Which is one reason most of us visit casinos, lose money there, and sometimes leave with money. Gives us a tax reporting reason for having lots of cash. Especially when we do not work the usual jobs.”

  That made sense. “Seems I have a lot to learn.”

  He turned and looked at me, his expression sympathetic. “Yes, you do. But you have almost all the time there is in which to learn what you need to learn. Meanwhile, have fun!”

  To live for having fun. And to learn new stuff. These new powers definitely had a lot going for them!

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Friday morning I sat at my usual table in Café Loco, seated so my back was to the rear wall, giving me a view of the rest of the café. It was shortly after 6 a.m. and only a few folks were in the place. To my right sat Carlos, Angelina, Leroy, Christine and Petros at their usual tables, drinking coffee and eating either donuts or a full breakfast. In the middle of the room were four older, retired couples. They were being tended to by Mabel, dressed today in a spring-like green top and dress that had sunflowers printed on the fabric. Through the service window I saw Lorenzo’s back as he worked on his large cookstove. The front bay window view was the usual scene. It showed a stretch of the parking lot that served the L-shaped shopping strip where the café was located and a view beyond of Canyon Road. My walk to the café had been uneventful. Perhaps that was due to the new clothes I now wore. Thanks to the ride home given me by Fernando the chauffeur I had gotten him to wait outside the Wal-Mart on Cerrillos Street as I went in and used one of the $100 bills to buy a new shirt, new shoes and a sleeveless brown sweater. All of which I now wore along with my old khaki pants. I sniffed the rich odors of the brown waffle, fake maple syrup, bacon and coffee that sat before me. My stomach rumbled. Though I had not used my powers this morning, still, I felt hungry. Clearly psychic energies needed food stoking.

  “Jack,” called Carlos from the table next to me. “Did you see this morning’s New Mexican? They had a suspect sketch with the story about the Tuesday deaths and the holdup here yesterday. They’re looking for the guy who zapped the gangbangers.”

  I turned and faced my friend. His handlebar mustache was a bit frayed. It did not look as professionally kept as did Ansgar’s mustache. But his dark brown eyes were intent as he stared at me. I gave a shrug.

  “Nope. Left it still rolled up at my place. Why?”

  Carlos lifted a black eyebrow, as if surprised. “Well, because the sketch of the man described by the surviving gangbanger kinda resembles you. The drawing shows an older man with full beard and mustache wearing a hoodie sweatshirt and top pulled over his head.”

  I smiled. “That sounds like some of the older PC guys who were here yesterday. And some of the folks who wander around the Plaza downtown, loo
king for either a date or someone to impress.”

  Carlos nodded. Behind him I noticed Angelina was listening, her bubble of tight-curled black hair shifting as she looked up from her plate of huevos rancheros. Beyond her baldheaded Leroy, our Lucy clone Christine and burly Petros were also watching as my friend pressed me on my resemblance to the man Juarez had described to the SFPD cops. And surely to detective Warren.

  “True. And your new duds do not resemble your usual hoodie, jeans and sneakers. Nice shoes, by the way.”

  I shrugged, then gave him a bright smile. “Had some spare bucks from getting a few swamp coolers turned on for retirees in my neighborhood. Fresh leather shoes feel nice. And the sweater helps against the morning chill. You know.”

  “I do know.” Carlos had yet to complain about anything. Not normal for someone known to be a grouch about life, politicians and mouthy younger folks. He took a sip of his coffee, like mine the rich, fresh-ground Columbian that Lorenzo always stocked and Mabel always served. Then he fixed me with an intense stare. “Jack, whatever you did yesterday, thanks. We’re back to normal here, today. Thanks to you, I suspect.”

  I put a fork full of waffle in my mouth, chewed, enjoyed the sweetness of the syrup on my tongue, then swallowed. I followed it with a long sip of my coffee. The ambrosia of some god or gods filled my nose. Most mornings I had a mild sinus congestion that clogged my nose. Not this morning nor yesterday morning. Clearly the healing energies Ansgar had mentioned were keeping me quite healthy and fit. What could I say to this regular who knew my morning routine from ten years of shared mornings? Carlos also knew of my interest in science, given the number of times I’d chatted with him about his work at Los Alamos National Lab. His comment yesterday about physics not being involved in what I’d done to the shorter robber was fresh in my mind.

  “Didn’t do anything another regular wouldn’t do. Petros was ready to do something. I just stood up to some nasties when one of them hit Mabel. She’s a jewel. It was our luck the three went up in flames from something flammable on their persons.”