Gabriel's Sacrifice (The Scrapman Trilogy Book 2)

by Noah Fregger

  “I call it an echo.” Gabriel interrupted. “It is a side effect of the transfer–a memory from the past impending on the present, something I’ve tried in vain to correct.”

  Mohammad reflected briefly upon the Traveler’s answer, soon deciding he was not satisfied with it. “It felt like something else to me,” he stated.

  Gabriel’s head tilted. “Did it?”

  “Like going to the other side, then being pulled back.”

  “The other side?”

  “Yes.”

  A smile began to spread along Gabriel’s thin lips as he triggered his wrist device, causing multiple solar systems to leap from it. They shrank instantly to specks within their galaxy’s outer edge until multiple purple swirls came to accompany them.

  “We are organic matter, Mohammad, a simple byproduct of a most chaotic Universe; and we grow and thrive wherever it permits us.” He waved his large hand through the air, spinning them like a mobile, before choosing a single solar system to enlarge.

  With a glowing, yellow sun at its center, it consisted of twelve revolving planets. Gabriel chose the fifth one out, the one that struck Mohammad as looking remarkably like Earth. Through its massive canyons and mountain peaks, the image took them across a great ocean to a structure of a most intelligent design.

  “Religion is a useful crutch at the dawn of any civilization,” Gabriel said, “but is meant to be discarded upon further advancement.”

  Many dark, red-clothed beings were huddled outside the angular structure, humanoid in their appearance, busily etching away at the stone walls.

  “So I take it you don’t believe in a higher power?”

  “A higher power?”

  Mohammad nodded.

  “Yes, I believe entirely in a higher power, Mohammad.”

  The vision of humanoids shrank from view, soon replaced by several structures of Earth’s. The first was the pyramids of Egypt, eclipsing an orange sun with the center’s peak. The second was of Stonehenge, those familiar slabs of rectangular rock. And the third was of an ancient ruin he didn’t recognize; but even within the aftermath of time, Mohammad could still witness the precision of its former edges, the perfection of its once-design.

  “But I’ve watched your race a long time, Mohammad, watched your ancestors document our visits on cave walls, clay tablets, and stone monuments.”

  A slew of ancient artwork suddenly swept over them–from the abstract flash of a Native American marking, to a marble sculpture of Perseus, entangling his fingers into the snakes adorning Medusa’s head.

  “A thousand years later, those meetings had become the myths and legends of a new era of man.” He looked back to Mohammad, lowering himself as his voice grew more firm. “So once you understand that every civilization, in every language known to man, has looked up at the stars to ask of their gods, that’s when it becomes quite clear…” He brought himself closer still, his pale, black-eyed face but inches away. “That we, Mohammad, have always been the higher power.”

  The Traveler rose again, the strength of his claims enough to make Mohammad wish he hadn’t mentioned it, enough even to send the most religious door-knocker screaming.

  “Well, aren’t you the atheist alien,” he muttered.

  “It is of no matter, Mohammad.” Gabriel sighed, his mouth becoming a mere slit beneath the holes of his nose. “The same will be true of this. For these, now, are the days of new legend. And in a thousand years, when I return, it will be your name I’ll find in the stories of your offspring.”

  Dingy Pete’s Café

  The morning’s rain collided with the sign’s bold, red letters as the two of them rounded the square building, not a single person visible through any of the diner’s windows.

  “Looks pretty deserted in there,” Ethan noticed.

  “She’s here,” Amanda spoke with confidence. “She said I’d always be able to find her here.”

  Ethan wasn’t feeling quite as certain, however. He’d spent a bit more time in this world than she had, gotten to see it a little too up close and personal on a few unlucky occasions. His anxiety ran like a tether from his insides back to the haven of her apartment. Tugging heavily at him, it grew more taught with every step taken. This was a bad idea, he was sure of it, knew it to be true before they’d even stepped out her window.

  God only knows what would happen to Amanda, were they discovered–a pretty girl like her. And God only knows what would happen to him, the only one who could stand in their way.

  But it was then that he discovered his own chivalry, a most peculiar epiphany considering how he once perceived himself. No matter how taught the tether became, he could control whether it affected him or not, whether he’d allow it to resonate through his trembling hands.

  Despite his nerves, Ethan remained like stone, as secure in body as he was in mind.

  He could protect her.

  And that somehow granted him an element of peace, finding the knight tucked deep within.

  The stale fragrance of the place remained the same as Ethan took in a lungful of dry and dusty air. The bell above them chimed merrily, instantly alerting the caretaker of their arrival as both he and Amanda readied their weapons for the unexpected.

  But the soothing softness of a woman’s voice came to them before anything remotely harmful, her smile thereafter prompting them to relax all but entirely.

  “Amanda!” She came to wrap her arms around the young redhead. “My girl, how are you?”

  Despite the fact that she was probably in her mid-forties, her hair remained dark as a gypsy’s, her face heart-shaped and trusting.

  “I’ve been fine, Claire, thanks to you.”

  She released the hug, but kept her hands on Amanda’s shoulders. “My advice paid off then, I take it?”

  “Yes, Ma’am, down to the room I’m living in.”

  “Perfect.” She nodded. “That place is one of the safest in the whole city, eluding the Devil’s eye like a blind-spot in a mirror.”

  “I keep the dead bolt locked all the time, and I hear people rummaging through the building sometimes, but no one’s ever even tried my door.”

  “And they never will.” Claire smiled. “You’ll be safe there for years to come, until the coming of the creatures in time. But that is when all will come out from hiding.”

  “The creatures?” Ethan asked.

  “Don’t worry yourself over that just yet, Son,” she assured him. “You’ll need to survive the next decade first.”

  Both Ethan and Amanda shared a vacant expression with one another.

  “Claire,” Amanda broke the brief silence, “Ethan is actually the reason why we’re here.” She placed a hand on him. “He’s had a bit of an … experience.”

  Claire looked at him. “What did you say his name was?”

  “Ethan,” she repeated. “You met him once before, remember?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Uh-huh. I see now.”

  “I woke up a few days ago, Claire,” he held out his right hand, “and my scar was gone … and I wasn’t sick anymore. It felt like I was on the verge of death just before … and then nothing.”

  She took his hand, looking it over. “I see.”

  “Do you know what happened to him?” Amanda asked.

  “Yes,” Claire answered. “Looks like they’ve gone a little sloppy with this one, haven’t they?”

  “Sloppy?”

  “Amanda, would you mind if I had a moment to speak with … Ethan here, alone?”

  “Oh.” Amanda straightened herself, looking slightly insulted. “Sure, I guess.” She turned and walked away, taking a seat in the adjacent dining room area.

  “Follow me, Son,” Claire instructed, leading Ethan through a curtain and to the other side of the diner, where Amanda would be unable to eavesdrop. She sat him down at a small table there at the back of the room and faced him, concern present in her expression.

  She leaned forward and squeezed his hands, a gesture that instantly reminded hi
m of the awkward assurances he’d received at Dad’s funeral.

  He looked around, at all the familiar tables, booths and chairs.

  A handful of memories awaited him within Dingy Pete’s, each of them pleasant yet painful in their own right. It used to be warm, a place for family and friends, filled always with laughter and the sounds of sizzling bacon. He’d salivate if he thought too long on it. Dad used to take him there after soccer games, patting him on the back as Ethan would chase down mouthfuls of chocolate chip pancakes with a tall, silver-cupped strawberry milkshake–a breakfast of champions.

  How the thought of it could still make him smile.

  Only the warmth of the place diminished just after Dad’s passing, the milkshakes becoming bitter as Ethan soon outgrew his taste for childish things. It then became a place, however subconscious, that he avoided.

  “My dear boy,” Claire said. “Where to begin?”

  Ethan considered her quite an attractive older woman. And her eyes, just as he remembered, they had a way of seeing through him. Whatever mask he might choose to wear in her presence would be of no use. It was as if he was naked, transparent, stripped to the very core of his being beneath her gray-eyed gaze.

  “A man came to me recently with a similar story,” she began. “Now I’ve never come across anyone like this before. He is something … completely new.”

  “What do you mean?” His face scrunched. “What kind of person?”

  “I call him the Hollow,” she answered. “He looks and acts like he used to, but it’s as if his insides have been scooped out.” She saw fit to elaborate further, probably on account of Ethan’s raised eyebrow. “I don’t mean anything is physically missing from the man. If you were to dissect him, I’m sure you’d find all the necessary organs intact.”

  “So what do you mean, then?”

  “Every single person I meet has got a little color surrounding them, some indication of energy inside.” She made the shape of an orb with her hands, mimicking the flow of its energy by the wiggle of her fingers. “But then it was like something came to extract that force from him, like some kid sucking the center out of a jelly doughnut.” She clasped her hands together, the orb no more.

  “Weird.” He didn’t know how else to respond.

  “They’re very good, whoever’s doing it … but for some reason they slipped up with you, leaving us a handy little clue in the process.” She pointed to his palm.

  “So you’re saying I’m … a Hollow now?”

  “That’s what I prefer to call it, Ethan, yes.”

  “What else would you call it?”

  “I might call it … soulless.” She sighed. “But that’s far less politically correct.”

  “Soulless?”

  “As a Sunday corpse.” She nodded. “But for whatever reason, something made damn certain you’d still be able to walk this earth without it.”

  He sat back in his chair, knowing he didn’t believe her. Still, based on his experience, it did make some sort of sense. There was that man waiting for him when he awoke on the sidewalk. He could be the soul-sucker Claire was referring to, not to mention his other-worldly meeting with Dad.

  “Wait a minute.” Claire squinted at him. “You saw something, didn’t you?” she asked, somehow able to sense his current thought.

  “Yeah.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Now I’m not saying I believe I’m soulless, but … I did see my dad just before I woke up–different than a dream though.”

  She nodded. “Did he say anything to you?”

  Ethan removed his eyes from hers, fighting back the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he whispered.

  She squeezed his hand firmly. “What did he say, Ethan?”

  “He said … there’s my boy,” he answered, embarrassed that something so trivial as three words could move him almost to tears.

  “You’re right to think it wasn’t a dream, right not to explain it away because that would be an injustice to the gift you’ve been given, Ethan, a glimpse into the afterlife.”

  “Fine.” He wiped his face. “But that’s the only part of this conversation I choose to believe.”

  “Take from it what you like.” She nodded. “But know your destiny has hardly changed since last we met. I still maintain that you, Ethan, are going to play a vital role in bringing forth a new beginning.”

  He stood, thanking her as he offered his hand in a show of goodwill. But she batted it away, embracing him tightly.

  “Try not to dwell on it, Ethan,” she insisted. “I promise the answers are coming.”

  He nodded, not exactly sure how he was supposed to do that, but he would take her advice–focus on the day at hand, at surviving it, and then the next. That alone was surely enough to occupy his mind until each piece of the puzzle was accounted for and placed neatly before him.

  “What’s important now is life,” she added.

  “I know. That’s why I came, to find out why I’m still alive.”

  “But the why doesn’t matter. And it’s not your life I’m referring to.”

  “Then whose? Amanda’s?”

  “Neither of you directly, but of the one yet to be born.”

  “A baby?” His face became warm. “You’re talking about us having a baby?”

  “It’s no time to be coy, Ethan.” She smiled. “The state of the world depends on it, in fact.”

  “Look outside.” He pointed toward the aftermath surrounding them. “Does that look like a world you’d like to bring a baby into?”

  “Someone needs to,” she looked out in that direction, beholding the scars of a war past, “if we are to rise above our own destruction.”

  “I don’t think so, Claire.” He shook his head. “It’s hard enough just keeping myself fed. I’m not ready to be a dad on top of it.”

  “When is anyone ever really ready?”

  “And what about Amanda?” he went on. “Even if I was all for it, you’d still have to convince her.”

  “Please.” She gave him a sideways glance. “I’ve already given her the means to make it possible–the safety and resources. And as much as she might enjoy her privacy, Amanda was never meant to stay at that place alone indefinitely.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, pulling the dark strands away from his eyes. As opposed as Ethan was to bringing a child into the madness, he couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement he felt at the thought of staying with Amanda. If Claire could achieve that for him, then it would make the journey to Dingy Pete’s entirely worth it.

  “She’s pretty stubborn,” he warned.

  “Hard-headed and tough as nails, that one,” she agreed. “But just give me a few minutes with her. Besides … ” Claire grinned. “She owes me big time.”

  “Alright.” He nodded. “But be sure to mention that whole I’m gonna change the future thing, okay?”

  “Oh, Ethan.” She smirked, placing her hands on her hips. “After this conversation, it should be obvious now what that meant all those months ago.”

  It then struck him, euphoric in the way it seemed so predetermined, like he and Amanda were star-crossed in chaos, their futures decided in an assortment of Tarot cards.

  Claire reached up to pat his cheek, then gently closed his mouth. “I’m afraid astonishment does not suit you, Dear.”

  He found Amanda still waiting by the entrance of the diner, her eyes hopeful.

  “Find your answers?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “Just more questions.”

  “She doesn’t know what happened to you?”

  “Not really, just some theory about someone sucking the souls out of jelly doughnuts.”

  “What?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He waved his hand in the air. “What matters now is that I’m alive and that I keep it that way.” He pulled the hood over his head, readying himself for the weather, then motioned toward the other side of the diner. “She’s got something she needs to talk to you about.”

  Amanda rose
from her seat. “What is it?”

  “I ... I dunno,” he fibbed. “You’ll have to go see.”

  She passed him, disappearing behind the brown curtain as Ethan wished he could be a fly on the wall for the next couple minutes.

  He tried to imagine her reaction. Would she be disgusted by just the notion of such a thing?

  Not even if he were the last man on Earth!

  He’d heard it before–never thought it would ring so true, however. But the end of the world certainly helped to level the playing field. Back before the world went to shit, Amanda would’ve been the kind of girl he’d never have the nerve to strike up a conversation with. And even if said conversation did take place, there was the horrific responsibility to keep it moving without the inevitable slumps of awkward silence he was always prone to.

  But they weren’t in that world anymore. And next to the ones claiming the inner-city streets as their own, Ethan surely looked like Prince Charming.

  Still his skin felt fuzzy, like he was next up for a job interview–his strengths and weaknesses about to be weighed against one another. That made for an eerie sensation, knowing also that his genes were up on the docket as well, even though he really didn’t want a child ... at least not at the moment.

  The curtain swung open again as Amanda exited, Ethan trying to gauge her facial expression. But due to the fact that she couldn’t seem to look at him, it was all but impossible.

  The absence of her eyes caused a sinking in his chest.

  Claire came out behind her, giving them both a farewell embrace before seeing them out the door and back into the gloom.

  Claire called him hollow, soulless as a cadaver. But what he felt inside was nothing of the sort. He rummaged through himself, checking off emotions like on some kind of internal scavenger hunt.

  He found compassion, found sorrow, found envy, found hope and fear. He found hatred, found empathy … which was next to compassion. But each came with a memory attached to it. Compassion belonged to Mom, how she’d taught him to care for all things as equal. Sorrow belonged to Dad, how he’d had to leave them far too soon. Envy belonged to his best friend growing up, how it seemed he always got everything he ever wanted. And hatred … hatred belonged to the group of men that put a hole in his hand, while fear belonged to the world all around him.