by J. M. Pierce
He took his mind back in time, to the very beginning of his new life. He even went a little beyond. He thought about Mark and how the two of them would goof off after school, listening to music and dreaming about being rock stars. He missed those simple carefree times at Mark’s house.
He thought about his Barracuda, the beat up old car that was the car of his dreams; he could almost smell the hot vinyl seats after a long day of it sitting in the hot sun at the school parking lot.
He thought of his mom and immediately the thought of ‘how sad that she had to die in order for our relationship to get better’ crept in. Before he allowed himself to follow the downward and pitied path of self-pity, he realized that if it weren’t for his gifts, the chance to get closer would have never been a possibility.
With a deep, prolonged yawn, he folded his arms in front of him and rested his forehead on them. He found himself breathing deeply and felt very calm. He focused on his breathing, feeling each pulse of his heart beat until he fell asleep.
****
“Test?”
At the sound of Nicole’s voice, Test turned. He found himself standing inside of the barn that he used to frequent just outside of Lincoln.
“Test?”
He heard it again and looked up, realizing that her voice was coming from the hay loft above.
“Nicole?” he called back.
He walked to the ladder and looked up. His heart nearly stopped as he saw her face peering over the edge looking down at him. It was the Nicole he wanted to remember. Not the strung out, drugged up version that he’d watched die in Kansas City, but the sweet, spunky, bright-eyed girl that he’d fallen in love with.
“What are you—we—doing here?” asked Test, almost unconsciously.
She smiled down at him and motioned for him to come up the ladder.
He could hear the old wooden rungs creak as he climbed. Once to the top, he stood and saw Nicole sitting on a straw bale to his right. She patted the bale next to her and smiled tenderly. Test walked across the loft, the dust hanging in the air like a fine mist while sparkling in the light that passed through the gaps in the roof.
He stared at her silently, taking in every feature of her face. Her skin was pink and toned, not a blemish to be seen. Her long black hair hung over her bare shoulders. She wore the sundress that always gave him that extra feeling of attraction when she wore it.
“How have you been?” she asked.
Awestruck, Test replied. “Okay.”
Nicole looked deep into his eyes and took his hand into hers. “Tell me the truth.”
Test suddenly felt a swell of emotion building; a deep and overwhelming sadness came spilling out of him. He lifted Nicole’s hand to his face and kissed it tenderly. He looked to her, but could barely see her through the tears in his eyes.
“It’s okay, Test,” said Nicole. “Let it out—all of it.”
Folding into her, Test’s body heaved with grief. “I’m so sorry,” he said over and over. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
Nicole wrapped her arm around Test, cradling him as she kissed the side of his head. “I know,” she replied in a whisper. “I know.” She reached under him and placed a hand on his chin, guiding his eyes to hers. “I don’t blame you.”
“How can you not blame me?” asked Test, followed by a deep sniff. “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be alive.”
“You don’t know that,” she replied. “Nothing is certain.” As Test looked away, she gripped his chin once more. “You need to know that I am okay.”
“Are you?” he asked.
With a gentle smile, Nicole’s eyes continued to swell as she replied. “Yes.”
The air around them became even more still, almost as if they’d entered a vacuum. Test couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He watched as her mouth opened and closed several times, with nothing ever coming out.
“What?” he asked.
With her bottom lip quivering, she replied in a heart-broken tone. “I need for you to let me go, Test.”
Her words brought on a crushing feeling in his chest. She wiped a tear from his cheek.
“The only way that you are ever going to be at peace is to let me go. You have to move on.”
Every piece of him felt as though it were shattering. He knew she was right, but he hadn’t realized how strong his feelings still were for her until that moment.
“I don’t know how,” he replied with labored breath.
“Sure you do,” she said with a bright smile. “You don’t have to forget about me—I wouldn’t want that. Focus on the night you came back to me, in my room. I realized just how much I loved you that night.”
Test thought back. Though he hadn’t thought about it for some time, his mind played it back in detail. He remembered the music that played, he remembered her shaving his face…he remembered the dance.
“Don’t let the bad memories destroy the good, Test. Hold on to what makes you smile instead of hoarding the things that cause you pain.”
****
The sound of dishes clanking together awoke Test with a start. He sat straight up in his chair, confused at the sudden change in scenery. Realizing that it had apparently all been a dream, he felt empty and sad, wishing that he could just close his eyes and return to Nicole’s side.
The sound of the faucet turning on stirred a hint of anger within him. He found himself upset that someone had awakened him and stolen the time he had with Nicole.
“Thanks a lot,” he said to Lauren who was at the sink preparing to wash the dishes. As he rubbed his face, he expected her to turn and fire back, but was surprised when she didn’t even acknowledge his presence. “I said thanks,” he repeated sarcastically. Again she continued to remain with her back turned, focused on her task.
Test pushed himself away from the table and walked up behind her. “You okay?” he asked. He watched as Lauren brushed her hair away from her face with the back of her hand. Her puffy eyes revealed to Test that she’d been crying.
“I’m fine,” she replied quietly.
Knowing that she was lying, he pressed his luck. “You don’t look fine.”
Dropping her hands into the water with a splash, she looked straight ahead into the wall. “I kind of need to be alone right now,” she replied. “Do you mind?”
Normally, the ‘do you mind?’ would have been delivered with a snide sarcasm. This time, however, it was presented in a very somber, un-Lauren-like way. This response actually scared Test even more.
“Um—sure,” he answered taking a couple of steps back. “I’m just—um—going to go and see what everyone else is doing.”
Once again Lauren didn’t acknowledge Test’s statement. As she began to scrub a pot, He turned and walked away.
He proceeded to the living room. Expecting to find Iku and Prim setting up their master plan, he was surprised to find it empty. Somewhat relieved, he sat on the edge of the couch and looked out the window. He looked at the crack and was reminded of his outburst earlier that day. As usual, he felt a pang of guilt for having lost control once again. At first, he told himself that he was due; he’d held it together for so long that everyone should be happy that it didn’t happen more often. Then, within his mind, he heard Nicole’s voice.
“Hold on to what makes you smile instead of hoarding the things that cause you pain.”
The memory of her words was so clear it was as though she were sitting next to him. Sitting in peace, he thought hard on the words. He began to form an analogy to help him understand, likening himself to an earthquake. The plates within the earth are far less savage when they release their stored up energy more frequently over time. If they became hung up on one another, each plate trying to suppress the other’s movement, eventually, something gives and an explosion of energy is set free. Test suddenly saw himself in this way.
‘Hoarding the pain’ was the equivalent of two tectonic plates pressing against one another. In the past (though he’d always
felt it as a just punishment for himself as well) he’d always kept his feelings hidden in order to spare other’s the pain he was feeling. Making it doubly hard was the fact that every person in his life had suffered due to his actions. Complaining or venting about his feelings to those who had suffered because of him seemed selfish.
With a sudden moment of clarity, he realized that the potential harm he’d caused by his earlier outburst could far outweigh the pain that could’ve come of speaking his mind instead. As if emerging from a thick mist, the clear path had been discovered. Walking that path, however, was yet another obstacle he wasn’t sure of how to overcome.
Chapter 16
Sitting in his dimly lit living room, chain smoking cigarettes and watching game shows, Dawson stared at the television with an expression as dead as his career. His pale skin drooped from his sunken cheeks and, with the heavy bags under his eyes, his yellow tinted glasses appeared two shades darker than they actually were. A week’s worth of facial hair curled in every direction on his face, and the clothes he’d worn for three days straight reeked of smoke and whiskey.
As he opened a fresh pack of smokes, a voice came from behind him.
“Wow, you sure have let yourself go.”
Dawson jumped from the couch and turned in time to see a young red-headed woman smack a young red-headed male on the shoulder. Before either of them could look, he reached under the cushion of the couch and retrieved his nine-millimeter pistol, aiming it back and forth between the two unannounced visitors.
“How the hell did you get in here?” he shouted.
Placing her hands up and presenting herself as submissive, the woman replied. “Don’t shoot. We’re only here because we need your help.”
Dawson watched the smirk on the male’s lip. “Bullshit,” he replied, raising the pistol a touch higher while aiming more intently on a target.
The woman turned and shot the male a look. Turning back to Dawson, she spoke with a calm and slow delivery.
“My name is Ashley. This is my brother Casper,” she said, holding a hand to her left. “We are here because we have a common enemy, and we’re afraid that he’s getting ready to surface again.”
Dawson’s concentration faltered for a moment as he allowed his arm to drop slightly. “Davis?” he asked.
With an intense scowl, Ashley replied. “Yes, Test Davis.”
Dawson scratched his chin with his free hand, allowing his weapon to drop even further. As Casper shifted his feet, Dawson regained his bearings and raised the pistol once more. “Don’t move!” he shouted. “Not one muscle, do you understand me?”
Raising her hands once more, Ashley replied submissively. “Of course, you’re the boss.” She glanced to Casper and could tell he was exercising every ounce of control to keep from laughing.
“How do you know Davis?” asked Dawson. “What has he done to you?”
Lowering her hands, Ashley forced a look of sadness on her face; pouting slightly as she looked down to her feet. She glanced back and forth from the dirty carpet to Dawson, trying to give the appearance that she was hesitant to speak.
“I’m afraid to say,” she replied.
“Why?” barked Dawson. “You done something wrong?”
“In your eyes, maybe?” replied Ashley.
Dawson looked to Casper, his aim still true. “What’s with that shit eatin’ smirk on your face, boy?”
Casper looked to his sister and spoke with a smug confidence. “Let’s just show him.”
Before she could answer, Casper pulled up the sleeves of his black shirt, revealing the pulses of red light as they began to flash down his arms.
“Son of a bitch!” shouted Dawson as he squeezed the trigger.
The repeated muzzle flash brightened the room as Dawson squeezed off the entire clip into Casper’s head and torso. He could feel the waves of energy as if they were a wall of water pressing him backward. He struggled to keep his balance, using the coffee table behind him to steady himself.
Once emptied of ammunition, Dawson stared forward and watched as Casper smiled, bent over, and retrieved a mushroomed bullet from the floor. “You’re one of them,” he replied. “You’re a fucking Ghost.” The gun shook in his hand and sweat from his brow poured into his eyes. “What do you want from me?”
Retaining her submissive charade, Ashley took the bullet from her brother and dropped it to the floor. “I told you, we have a common enemy,” she replied. “Not all of our kind are like Test. He will be the death of us all—humans and,” she looked to Casper and contained the sarcastic tone that she so desperately wanted to set free. Looking back to Dawson, she continued. “Ghosts—if that is what you call us?”
Dawson’s body trembled and his mouth had gone dry. He nodded his head. “What do you call yourselves?” he asked nervously.
“We are called Shadows among our kind,” replied Ashley. She looked to Casper who stood wide-eyed and with mouth agape at her announcement. Turning away from her brother, she slowly walked around the couch to stand next to Dawson, though he retreated to the side several steps to for each step forward that she took. “Like you humans, we are not all equal in our desire to live peacefully. Those who choose to live with little to no regard for human life are called Reapers.”
“That’s great,” blurted Dawson with sweat and spittle spraying as he spoke. “It’s like some fuckin’ biker movie then, right—the good club and the bad club? You’re all pieces of shit as far as I’m concerned. God-damned freaks, every one of you.”
Never before had either of the twins endured such abuse without acting upon it, but in order for their mission to succeed, they needed Dawson.
“I’m sorry that your experience with our kind has shaped your opinion in this way,” said Ashley in a sickeningly sweet voice. “I assure you that there are those like us,” she motioned with her hand between Casper and herself, “that have lived peacefully among you for hundreds of years or more.”
Dawson’s face crumpled in disgust. “Bullshit again!” he shouted.
“It’s true,” replied Casper. He looked to his sister who glared at him with a ‘don’t screw this up’ sort of look. He nodded and continued speaking to Dawson. “For example, my sister and I are each seventy-two years old. Have you known of our existence before this moment?”
With a skeptical look, Dawson huffed. “You’re seventy-two years old?” he asked.
“Yes,” replied both twins in unison.
As she watched Dawson continue to shake, Ashley reached out her right hand and allowed her power to remove the pistol from Dawson’s hand. Instead of bringing it to her, she rested it on the couch in front of him.
“What can we do to ease your mind?” she asked.
Shaken even more by the removal of his weapon (more the manner in which it was removed than the act itself), Dawson replied. “You can start by knocking that shit off!”
Casper allowed his lip to curl up with pleasure, but quickly wiped it away as Dawson glanced to him. Bowing his head, he opted to let his sister carry the remainder of the conversation.
“I do apologize,” said Ashley. “It won’t happen again.”
Dawson eyed her with great skepticism. His life had been altered by the appearance of the “Ghosts” in his life, and it would take an act of God to get him to change his mind.
“What do you want from me?” he asked gruffly, retrieving a cigarette and frantically trying to light it. With a quick inhale, a plume of smoke exited his mouth in a single stream as he blew out forcefully. “You’re the one with the powers. What do you need me for?”
Motioning to the couch and then to a rocking chair that resided on the other side of the room, Ashley spoke. “How about we all take a seat and I’ll explain everything to you?” She looked to Casper and motioned for him to take the rocking chair and then turned her attention back to Dawson. “May I?” she asked as she walked around to the side of the couch.
“Sure,” replied Dawson blandly as he took another,
more serious drag from his cigarette.
Ashley took a seat and motioned for Dawson to sit opposite her. Reluctantly, he obliged, reaching across the coffee table to get his glass of whiskey in the process.
As Dawson chugged his drink, Ashley began. “You are correct, we do have powers, but Test Davis is special for our kind. He can do things that no one has ever seen before. We are not strong enough to defeat him.”
Dawson took a cube of ice into his mouth and began to crush it with his teeth as he grunted. Sounding as though he had a mouth full of marbles, he replied. “Neither was I. And I had an army behind me.”
Ashley crossed her legs and spoke in a flirtatious tone. “I’m going to admit something to you. We’ve done a little research on your career.” She watched Dawson’s eyes grow wide at first, but then they drew to slits as his anger began to swell. “We know,” she continued, “that you were on the right path. You were doing something—the only thing—that would enable you to defeat Test and the rest of the Reapers.” From the back of the room, Casper giggled and, though she wanted to send him flying through the wall, she remained focused on Dawson. “I know that you were working on creating clones of Test.” She paused for dramatic affect. “I know that you succeeded.”
With an eruption of spit and liquor coming from his mouth, Dawson slammed his glass on the coffee table. “How the fuck could you know that?” he shouted.
In an attempt to show that she was intimidated, Ashley replied as she clasped her hands in her lap and lowered her head. “Because we’ve seen it ourselves. We were in the lab.”
Dawson stared at her in disbelief, trying to process what her words meant. Suddenly, it became clear.
“You did it, didn’t you?” he asked. “You stole PG15!”
With a submissive nod of her head, Ashley replied. “Yes, but we did it with all of our best interests in mind.” She raised her eyes to meet Dawson’s and pleaded. “Please believe me; we only did it to keep Test from taking him. Can you imagine what would happen if he took the child?”