The Grand Attraction

by Enoch Enns

  “Why are you simply giving me these? You said you charged, what is their cost? Or are you not telling me for a reason?”

  He got a mysterious glare. “Like I said, there are only a few meant to be wielders, less they use these gifts incorrectly.” The man snapped his fingers and was gone-- table and all-- and Carls was left gazing at the door, two cards in his hand. Both of which he had not seen the likes of before.

  Finally, A Man Worth Reckoning

  For something to occur so sudden, it was as though the entire scene had already been planned. Carls saw down the aisles of chairs leading up to the far wall. He also saw the dark hands coming after him in a furry of rage and hunger. The fists of the beast thundered into the room’s interior as Locke propelled himself along the wall and over the first line of seating. He could vaguely make out the image in the distance. Not of his opponent, but of her. His view was quickly obstructed by the monstrosity of a resistance far greater than he had expected.

  It was a Shem.

  The creature had no sense of form in its movements and attacks, it but moved and responded in the instant that its last action completed. A third limb reached out for Carls-- the other two re-merging as its mass corrected to his evasion and struck again. The place stained with his blood and sweat-- his bones crashing against the far wall. It had him in a vice-grip but he'd managed to pull the stick from his sash just beforehand. He struggled for room and put all he had in efforts to pierce through the grip that bound him.

  POW!

  His eyes shot wide to the wave of rippling force shredding from his small stick. His feet touched ground and the Shem reeled in attempt to regather itself. He looked down. A handle had appeared at its bend and from its front barrels of some blue energy emerged. He fired again.

  A blast met with the adjoining parts of the Shem and it lashed back at him. Left knee down and shift to the left, Carls dictated as his body moved.

  A thud hit where his body had last been and he rolled up three feet from it. What had happened? What was it that the Nightingale had giving him? He held up the gun and fired again-- the substance of the Shem's exposed limb snapping under the contact of energy. But it's only rejoined as I segregate it. There must be some way... he recalled his first encounter with one. Had Kit actually defeated it or simply warded it off? How could he kill what has no flesh?

  He'd made the mistake of thinking too long and underestimating the Shem. Before he could interpret it, the Shem had spread its form across the entire room. What? It hadn't hit?

  That wasn't its intent.

  The walls broke way and room shuttered. The Dealer had been right, this was more than a Shem. It had been fused with something else-- and he only knew of one other thing to manipulate its surroundings. He shot off another round at its center mass and tried locating the girl. Too late, a splinter of a snapped two-by-four came flying at him. To make matters worse his footing completely gave. The floor beneath him dropped two stories as he twist his waist toward the splinter and fired.

  The wood cracked and showered about him as he hit against an emerging vein. Moss? Was this the same as the room the boy had led him through? He caught his breath as the rejuvenated Shem came rushing at him. It had grown three times in mass-- as had everything else. He couldn't believe his eyes seeing the force that emanated from its body, causing objects to levitate in the air and dash toward him as will. What?

  “Barrier!” Carls yelled, not realizing his hand had lifted before him. The Shem clashed against it and splinters deflected and bounced back. Had he just summoned a barrier? Carls looked at his left hand. The card was still there; the gun still dripped in sweat to his right. Where had it come from?

  The barrier wasn't meant to be circumnavigated. The Shem had broken to the left and peeled around it where it could-- lashing its body at him from the side. Carls made a leap for the adjacent vein as the one he had been on snapped. Climbing up, he managed a glance at the card. It hadn't vanished. When he'd used the Chamber of Fire it had been engulfed. Did they have limits to their use? Or could they be used more when wielded correctly?

  “Barrier!” Carls shouted again to his right and the Shem collided against its clear wall. The barrier was indestructible. But are they permanent?

  Drop and to the left, Carls processed as his body landed on yet another vein. Regardless, he wasn't getting any closer to beating it. The Shem was learning to read the barriers quicker now too. He'd best not overuse them. Where is she? He searched pleadingly in hopes of locating the illusionate.

  The ground shook again and the entire place shifted its terrain. The vein he was on lifted at least twenty feet as one of the walls broke off and formed beneath him. How the Shem was doing this, he did not know. Only that he had to stop it soon before it cornered him. Diving to the right, he flung his gun at the passing mass of dark-- the limb peeling from its entity. Not good enough, he commented, twisting his body upright at the new direction of attack. The Shem caught his shoulder. At just the moment of impact, it had redirected its entire motion and now came to entangle him.

  But Carls wouldn't let that happen. His lungs bellowed in a roar of effort as he dug the barrels of his gun into the dark below. The barrels broke through to a blade of emerald. A blade?

  He plummeted to the vein below. The Shem retracted and repaired. Yes, the barriers were not permanent. He'd noticed the Shem moving through were they had been-- being how it had come at him from all sides just then.

  The Chamber of Ice, he reminded himself. The Dealer had also given him that card, and he was beginning to understand why. The man was more aware than he let on...

  He needed to draw it out. He was unsure as to whether he had just one use or more with the card, and he wasn't going to risk any chances. High ground, he observed. With feet in balance and body low to combat the currents, he ran his way along the veins to the opposing end. He needed to be at least two flights higher than he was (the floor he had originally been on). Hands to the wet vine-like moss, he climbed. As his palms reached the next height so did the mass of the Shem coming at him. He rolled onto the extent of overgrowth and shot his gun twice in the opposing direction. When had it switched back?

  His heart skipped a beat to his surprise. There, he redirected himself. The form was barely recognizable, but there the girl resided-- arms dangling above her in a mess of vine and her head drooped low. Her body was pale and near bloodlessness. Carls swung his gun at her and to his need it formed into a fine point and cut through her bindings. She leaned forward for Carls to catch-- but his embrace came empty as his own body hit against the adjacent wall.

  A blade to the first limb, he spun and dodged the second, deciding best to deal with the Shem first before her. Though she looked so weak, he saw her awareness returning as her eyes lifted. But to his misfortune, she did not recognize him as friend. In terror she pressed her back against the wall and tried to stand so as to flee. “No!” Carls called out seeing a hand of the Shem reach after her. He raised his blade and found that it had returned to its first state-- a bent stick. “No!”

  Veins snapped beneath his crushing body as he tried landing himself upright (which he failed miserably at). Pain wasn't even beginning to express how he felt. Torture was more like it. He felt every inch of his fall down the bottom floor and hitting with a thud. The Shem wasted no time and now sent its entire entity down toward him.

  Now.

  Back numb and nimble, Carls somehow mustered the strength, flinging a barrier before him and rolling from beneath it. The Shem’s center mass collided and its own previous momentum kept it from altering course in time. Which was exactly what he wanted. With all left in him, he forced his weight upward and over the barrier. “Ice!” he yelled from within, his face tensing and both hands shoving outward. The card lit in a cold mist of blue and chill as the entire room before him froze to ice. And as he fell, he drew forth his gun and braced himself.

  POW!

  The Shen shattered into a million pieces and Carls landed to t
he wet mush below him, puffs of air leaving his lungs.

  The Return (Arms Wide Open)

  The scenery had changed again. Though not to something new. He was back into the hall-- his knees pressed to the carpet floor and eyes squinting to the florescent lights. The girl resided not but ten feet before him, her body shivering to an internal chill. Just past her, and in the doorway of her attempted escape, stood Xavier. Had he been the one to stop her? But how? He was only a hologram… a tripper…. Though Carls was beginning to think otherwise... Regardless, his attention returned to the illusioned girl. Her name-- what was her name?

  He staggered his way toward her. He could hear her muttering as she shook her body back and forth. “No, no, no...” she wept.

  Carls eased beside her, weary as to not overdo himself.

  “No!” she lashed out, body flailing across the carpet as she tried to keep him distant.

  “I'm here to help you,” Carls called back to her.

  “No...” she answered, her body broken.

  “Please, don't let this win you. You don't have to be like this. He's still waiting for you. Mike is still wanting you to return. Don't leave him like this.”

  Her head shook and hands trembled. Carls knelt low to her level still keeping his distance. “He wants you back, miss, and I'm here to take you. But you have to fight it for me. For him.”

  “I... can't...”

  Her breathing hardened. Time is running out. “You have to fight it,” Carls reiterated.

  She wasn't listening anymore, her back against the wall and palms to her tear-filled eyes. He had to think of something and fast. But she had been illusioned for so long now... He remembered just moments before: the man on the fringe of becoming a Fallen One. She was nowhere near his state. She could fight it. She had to.

  Carls reached into his sash and felt for the vial. It was still there. But should he? Should he force it to the girl even if she didn't want it?

  He looked to Xavier for confirmation. The man still stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, just watching. Locke held out the vial for her to see. He wanted her to know what he meant to do. That she needed it. Her body was fighting a million-and-one things and it would do her best even without just the one. He gazed deep into her eyes and hers locked back to his. For a moment, he caught glimpse of the true person lying beneath the illusion.

  “Just hold on there,” he said, bringing his hand steadily closer to her outstretched arm. She followed his movements down to her wrists and fought every sense screaming to jerk away. Carls could but hold his breath and hope that she would follow through, the needle touching skin to her vein. He could feel his eyes dry out from the infinity it seemed to drain in the time it took to puncture, but before he could even blink, he felt the grip of another hand grab hold of the vial. It was hers, and she seemed determined to help. Thus, hand in hand, she pressed the needle down and remained steady to the last drop of liquid entering her blood. She did it for herself and for the hope of reaching her husband again. Though a simple feat, Carls was astounded at the significance of her involvement. It seemed as though she were forcing herself to be convicted of fighting against everything she believed. As if she were re-experiencing a change in realities. Only this time, one less feared. This time it was for one that she desired.

  The vial fell to the carpet empty of everything and the girl took in her first breath of a revived life. Though not instantly healed, the action had changed her heart and mind and she once again opened her eyes.

  The medicine was fast at work, but her body still far from recovery. Carls drew one of her arms atop his shoulder and decided to carry her the rest of the way-- Xavier being the one who led the way, his image flickering from joint to joint, corner to corner, and hall to hall until they finally broke free of the corporation’s maze.

  From there, Carls did as any good man would do and carried Sherlin's wife all the way back to him, bearing her weight over his and ignoring his discomfort and pain. For him, it was enough just knowing he was to see his daughter again.

  He was welcomed with arms wide open. Joanna looked more lively than he'd ever seen her. Then again, it seemed she were but just three a few moments ago. Time had sped by and he hadn't cared to notice. When it all began, everything went by so quickly. His reality, his daughter, his shock, terror, loss, confusion-- his wife. Sherlin noticed his fists clenching to the thought. The man moved from the tent where they had his wife under tensive care. She had been returned, but not all was well for her. Sherlin took a seat atop one of the empty supply crates next to Locke.

  “I can't express to you how much I appreciate what you've done,” he said. “You must have gone through a lot to get her, I can only image the kind of man it took to bring her back. But how about you? Have you come around yet?”

  Locke didn't answer. He was stuck in the state of hearing but bearing an inability or desire to respond. It was as though he just stared into space, trying to communicate through the absence of sound.

  “I never told you her name, you know...” Dyrdrik went on to say. He looked out across the encampment at all the people that were sheltered by it. “Elpida. It means 'hope'. Quite a coincidence, eh? I don't know who you are or your story, but I do know I have you to thank for bringing me back hope.”

  Hope. What was it about such an ideal that clang to the desperate man's heart? Hope in what? An end?

  He wanted to compliment the man on her name but remained speechless. He could only watch as his daughter played in the distance. She'd been getting along with the other kids. They all seemed to love her company. And who couldn't? She was a beautiful young girl. Just like her mom...

  “... if you would like--” Sherlin's hand pattered against Locke's shoulder. His reality jumped back and he looked at the man. He hadn't caught a single word, but the man stood regardless and left.

  “Hey, dad, look!” a voice cut in. He turned back to his five-year-old as she came running up to him wielding a toy airplane.

  “Wooh, that's cool!” he played along, swooping her up and to the side. She was to her feet and running again. Such innocence; so unaware. He wished she would never have to see what it was like out there, but he would be doing her wrong to hide it from her. He would have to explain to her eventually. But for now, he would let her play. Let her live.

  Commotion stirred in the back. He heard some men shouting and saw a figure approach the camp. “Daddy!” Joan called out to him, running to his feet for embrace. The unease had scared her. He decided to check it out.

  “Get out!” one of the men was shouting at the intruder, “You don't belong here! Scat!” It was Jailer, and he had his shotgun waving in the air.

  “Wait!” Carls bud it. “Stay here,” he said to his daughter as he pressed to the front. “I know this man!”

  “We all do,” Jailer scoffed back, not hesitant in the least. “He's only trouble, you know nothing!”

  “No, I mean I helped him while finding Sherlin's wife. He's changed, he's fine now.” It was the same boy he’d left in the storage. The same one who had resisted becoming a Fallen One.

  Jailer clenched his jaws and shook his head. “I won’t buy it!”

  “Calm down, Jailer,” Sherlin ordered. “Carls, stay out of this, this man doesn't belong here. Not with us. Not with our people.”

  “So you know him? You can't just leave him out there! He'll die!”

  Jailer loaded the gun's barrels, “And I can help that!” he scratched, aiming it at the intruder.

  “Stop!” Carls yelled. Before any of them could do anything he had managed to get between the boy and the gun. How could he forget the face?

  “Carls, back off,” Sherlin said, “there is just way too much happening here than for you to play macho.”

  “You can't just--” Carls' words were silence by a deep groan. Every eye before him shuttered. He himself recognized it.

  “Please...” the man pleaded behind him, “Please, just a place to stay...”


  They were right. He didn't know what was going on. But he knew what was coming. Sherlin ordered the women back and Jailer pressed past Carls' still body. “Just for you, I won’t kill him,” he spat in passing.

  “Please!” the intruder yelled as Jailer shoved him back and away.

  Sherlin gripped Locke's shoulder to prevent any more interference. “Come,” he spoke urgently, “we're moving camp. Now.”

  Hearsay (TAP)

  Joan had been by his side the whole time. Even after they had moved camp she now rested on his legs as he sat next to the sparking embers of the small camp fire. He couldn’t tell for sure if it were night or day, but it definitely felt late to him. Time seemed only a shadow of significance in such a place—for he had completely lost track of it. They had barely managed to escape detection of the stalker. Carls couldn't stop worrying about the man they had left behind. He knew the kid stood no chance against a Possessioner. Not in the state he was in. Not in his weakness. His palms sweat with the quilt of not pressing harder for the man's safety. But Sherlin had seemed pretty set on the decision, and back there wasn't the time to be picking fights. He was still trying to find those he could trust and depend upon.

  “Why couldn't you take him in?” he asked against the flames. Sherlin had sat in silence across from him, a stern look over his face. Almost as though a bitterness was attached to the appearance of the man Carls' had helped fight against falling. Carls couldn't even recall his name. He tried thinking back to that moment—to what had been said.

  Sherlin spoke. “Next time, when we tell you something, while you're in my camp and under my wing, you better listen. You could have had twenty people killed back there, easily. This kid, this Narrl, is no man we can trust. He... he has only brought trouble.”

  They both gazed into the fire. “Sherlin, I've been out there, I've seen what it's like. I saw him and what he was becoming and I stopped it. He is no different--”

  “That is where you are wrong, Mr Locke. Do not think you have the whole picture, for none of us do. Yes, you may have helped him back there, but you didn't save him.”