Bringer of Fire

by Jaz Primo

  “I’m really glad your cancer treatments were successful,” he offered. “Your mom was pretty broken up when the traditional chemotherapy and radiation treatments failed.”

  I thought back to those days, and the sad truth was that I’d been ready to say goodbye to everyone. Those were rough days, and it about killed me to see my parents and sister in such emotional pain.

  Those were dark days.

  “Thanks. I was really lucky,” I said.

  The faces of my fellow cancer patients who’d lost their lives in the Wallace Building explosion flashed through my mind.

  Who knew how many of them might’ve been cured as well, given time?

  “Mom really appreciated your phone calls, Paul,” I said.

  “Your mother’s an amazing lady,” he agreed. “I still remember the phone call when she asked if there was anything that I could do to help get you into the Nuclegene trials. I was happy to help.”

  I looked up sharply and stared into Paul’s eyes.

  “You didn’t know?” he asked incredulously.

  “No,” I said. “Mom told me that she’d seen some article in a medical journal that Nuclegene was holding trials for a new form of chemotherapy. She directed me to their website to apply for the program, but she never mentioned calling you.”

  He appeared just as surprised as I felt, so I didn’t doubt his word. Still, I opened my mind to activate my ability.

  …can’t believe she didn’t tell him, Paul thought.

  It was true then.

  “You helped me qualify for the Nuclegene trials?” I asked.

  “Yes. Listen, Logan, I’m sorry,” he offered. “I hope you’re not upset with your mother. She was just doing anything possible to try and help you. Any parent would’ve done the same.”

  I held up my hand.

  “I’m not angry, just surprised,” I said. “I love Mom. But now I realize I need to thank her for a lot more than I already have, that’s all.”

  He adopted a sheepish expression.

  “So, how did you manage to get me into the treatment program, exactly?” I asked.

  He paused, as if gathering his thoughts.

  …better to tell him everything, Paul thought.

  “I’d just been selected as the Vice-Chairman of the House Science and Technology Committee,” he said. “I wrote a letter to Nuclegene asking that you be seriously considered for the trials. They’d already closed the sample group, but I managed to have them add you onto the list. Hell, we’d already formed a subcommittee to investigate Nuclegene’s proposal, and frankly, the science was impressive cutting edge stuff.”

  “Thanks for your help, Paul. I had no idea,” I said.

  I was stunned. It occurred to me that without Paul’s help, I might already be dead.

  “Glad to help out an old army buddy,” he said. “Or rather, a good friend.”

  Next, I wondered just how much he knew about the results of my treatments.

  “I feel almost like a new man now that the treatments are over,” I baited.

  He looked at me and his eyes narrowed slightly.

  …more than that, I’d imagine, came his stray thought.

  “I heard something about that, actually,” he said. “How are you dealing with it?”

  “You heard?” I asked.

  He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “You’d be surprised what I’ve heard and read about,” he replied.

  “So, did you also know from the beginning that the treatments might manifest these abilities in the patients?” I asked.

  He shook his head and softly whistled.

  “Now, there’s a hot potato issue,” he said. “No, I didn’t. And if we had, my Congressional committee probably wouldn’t have allowed the trials to take place. We approved a recommendation to petition the FDA to permit an experimental cancer treatment drug to go into immediate human trials, not an experiment to create super humans.”

  It made sense. Though for selfish reasons, I was suddenly pleased Nuclegene hadn’t let that particular cat out of the bag ahead of time.

  “Now look at us. Here we are,” I said.

  He sighed. “Yeah, here we are,” he said.

  “So, is this why you wanted to meet with me tonight?” I asked.

  “Not entirely,” he said. “Actually, I’m here to ask that you consider accepting Nuclegene’s employment offer.”

  That was definitely unexpected.

  “What? Why?”

  “Logan, I’m going to shoot straight with you on this. And, believe me, that doesn’t happen very often with politicians.”

  I couldn’t help but feel amused over that.

  “First, you’ve got to tell me how you knew about the job offer,” I insisted. “Was that your idea, too?”

  Paul appeared taken aback.

  “No,” he said. “Earlier today, I received a phone call from Nuclegene’s president, Clive Bernard. He told me about the offer that he’d made to you.”

  “That bastard told me not to tell anybody,” I groused.

  “I’d say he’s worried that you’re not going to accept his offer,” Paul said. “After all, he spoke to you more than a day ago. Geez, Bringer, most people would’ve accepted the offer before he made it out their front door.”

  Yeah, well, I wasn’t most people.

  “I’m just not sure I want to throw in with that lot,” I said. “Yeah, they cured my cancer, but now I’ve learned they’re conducting international espionage against some other shadow company over corporate secrets, and for all I know, agreements with other governments.”

  “Continuance Corporation,” Paul said.

  Once again, I was surprised.

  “How in the hell did you know about Continuance?” I asked.

  “Remember your meeting with Bob Tevin?” he asked.

  “You know Tevin?”

  “Deputy Director in NSA/CSS,” he said. “Yeah, he briefed us on Continuance. And on you, I might add.”

  “Us?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’m also a member of the House Homeland Security Committee.”

  Wonderful. Paul sure gets around.

  “For Pete’s sake, do you sit on every committee on Capitol Hill?”

  He laughed.

  “Actually, that’s the two that I’m particularly active in,” he said. “And Tevin’s one of the good people, so you can trust him.”

  I considered what he just said.

  “Well, I liked Tevin on first impression, at least,” I said. “Damn sure, he’s a hell of a lot more likeable than Special Agent Prichard from the CIA.”

  Criswell chuckled.

  “Prichard’s a pain in the ass, even toward us congressmen. That ink pen episode Tevin told me about cracked me up,” Paul said. “Bringer, you’re a riot.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  “Criswell, maybe you should tell me what you don’t already know,” I challenged with an edge to my voice.

  My friend’s expression turned serious once more.

  “We don’t know what Continuance is planning to do next,” he said. “That’s why it may be in your best interests to accept Nuclegene’s job offer. They’re in a position to leverage resources that the government can’t touch…legally.”

  That brought an entirely new dimension to the topic.

  “You mean I can do things that the government can’t,” I asked.

  He pointed his finger at me.

  “You got it, Bringer,” he said. “Between all these competing intelligence agencies, they sometimes can’t tell their asses from a hole in the ground.”

  Listening to him talk sounded just like old times. It was good to know he’d kept his down-to-earth sensibilities about him.

  “Listen, I got into this to protect my family,” I affirmed.

  Criswell nodded. “You can still do that. Again, you can operate outside the system. But then, you can also leverage government resources through the FBI, as well.”r />
  Made sense, really. It might be the best of both worlds if what he said was correct.

  “Do you trust Nuclegene?” I asked directly.

  He appeared amused.

  “You mean, after they misled a Congressional subcommittee and violated who knows how many federal statutes on improper experimental testing on humans?” Paul asked.

  “Good point,” I conceded.

  Criswell reached out to clasp my shoulder with one hand, just like he used to do years ago.

  “Logan, I can’t order you what to do here,” he said earnestly. “All that I can do is offer advice. And yes, I know you didn’t ask for it in the first place.”

  I nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “However, your country could really use your help on this one, my friend,” he said. “And I can assure you, you’ll have friends who can help you through tight spots now and again.”

  “What kind of friends, Paul? Who are we talking about?” I asked.

  He paused, as if considering what to say.

  I opened my ability again.

  . . . Conway and Brooks, among others, Paul thought.

  “Powerful friends,” he said.

  “Republicans?” I asked, trying to get him to come clean.

  He looked at me sharply. “Maybe. Who do you mean?”

  Who told him? Criswell thought.

  “Dammit, Paul, you’re in bed with Republican Senator Benjamin Conway?” I demanded. “You’re a democratic representative from New York, for Christ’s sake.”

  Criswell shrugged sheepishly.

  “Hey, I’m hardly in bed with the republicans. And I don’t know who told you, but yeah, we collaborate on key pieces of legislation from time to time,” he said. “Listen, I know that guy, Conway, is way over the top on most things.”

  “You mean, as in right-wing-extremist-whack-job kind of over the top, right?” I demanded. “As in, ‘America might just get owned by corporations during my lifetime’ over the top?”

  He laughed. “Okay, Bringer, you make a good point. But I haven’t drank the punch just yet, so calm down. There are some ideals I refuse to compromise on. Still, he and I agree that terrorism by international corporations isn’t a good thing. And then there’s my fellow Congresswoman Tonya Brooks from here in Iowa. She’s a moderate republican at least, and she helps to balance things out with Conway. Between the three of us, we can pull together a powerful voting bloc. He’s also a close personal friend of President Graydon, which could be useful from time to time.”

  I shook my head. “Man, you’re way in over your head on the Hill, aren’t you? It’s no wonder you barely have time for a phone call, buddy,” I mildly chastised.

  “I did check in with your mom from time to time,” he said.

  Well, that was worth something.

  “As a matter of fact, thanks for that,” I offered. “It really meant a lot to her…and to me, too.”

  He looked back at me in a familiar, reassuring manner that I hadn’t seen in years.

  We both fell silent, and I sighed heavily.

  “All right, Paul. I’ll seriously consider Nuclegene’s offer,” I said.

  “Good, and thanks,” he said. “But hey, don’t forget that you can always counter-propose things on your offer.”

  Counter-propose?

  “I hadn’t considered that,” I admitted.

  I’d never been very good at haggling. The process usually just pissed me off, resulting in me getting too annoyed to bother with it.

  “Works for us politicians most of the time,” he said.

  “How would you like to help me out with that?” I asked.

  He gave me a sardonic look.

  “Yeah, right, Bringer,” he retorted. “I could get into enough political trouble just for advising you on this issue. Let’s think of this as a conversation between old friends and call it a night.”

  “You politicians are simply priceless,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, just keep my cell number handy in case some shit hits the fan,” he said. “Of course, knowing you, Bringer, it’ll be sometime soon.”

  I gave him a sour look.

  “Very funny, mister comedian,” I chided.

  His eyes grew way too big for my preference, and he muttered, “What the---”

  I heard a fizzling sound, and spun around just in time to see a rocket propelled grenade headed down range at us from across the dimly lit park.

  Only barely managing to raise my shield between it and us, the projectile impacted my invisible barrier and ricocheted into the grand display next to us. The concussion from the explosion knocked us both to the ground as bits of marble, rock, and hot metal showered around us.

  I felt partially stunned as my hearing still buzzed from the explosion. Flames licked at shrubs and grass near us, and I thought I heard muted gunfire. A bullet impacted the ground just an inch from my hand, casting a small plume of dirt into the air next to me.

  My military training kicked into high gear, and I immediately reached for Criswell, who was still trying to push himself up from the ground.

  I grabbed him by the belt and dragged him with me as I hauled us toward the still smoldering monstrosity of rock near us. Artistic value notwithstanding, it nevertheless seemed to be the most defensible structure near us.

  “Just who the hell is firing at us?” Criswell demanded as he vainly tried peering around our impromptu cover.

  “I dunno, but I think the shit just hit the fan,” I said.

  He glared back at me.

  “Not funny, Bringer,” he said.

  I pressed my cell phone into his hand and urged, “Call 911. Then speed dial Megan Sanders. She’s FBI.”

  “Me? Just what the hell are you planning to do?” he countered as two small bullets impacted the ground near my foot.

  I sought the direction of the incoming rounds, trying to discern if it was the same shooter or a second one.

  “Offense. Using the element of surprise.”

  He looked at me like I was insane.

  “With what, exactly? Are you going to uproot a tree and throw it at him?”

  “Trust me,” I said. “And keep your damned head down!”

  I manifested my shield, hoping it had the kind of coverage I’d need. As in the Nevada house fire, I tried to smooth out the shield into a larger area, all the while imagining a rigid shield like the Romans used in ancient times.

  Then I stepped into a hailstorm of bullets coming from two angles.

  Rounds impacted my barrier and ricocheted off in various directions. I rushed in the direction of the shooter to my left, the one with the most dangerous angle of fire at Paul.

  A rapid succession of bullets impacted the front of my shield, causing small pangs of irritation inside my head. Thankfully, I sensed that I was bearing impacts much easier than on prior occasions.

  I rushed forward, desperately concentrating on holding my shield in place while also trying to spot the assailant. I managed to spy a small muzzle flash of light to my right and barreled toward it.

  Four bullet impacts later, I spotted a dark-haired man less than fifty feet away wearing black fatigues and leaning against a tree truck while holding a high-powered assault rifle.

  I opened my right palm at my side, trying to create a fireball in my hand while also trying to maintain a shield. Fire sputtered in my hand and I sensed my shield fading as two rounds impacted the barrier.

  Both bullets were suspended before me in the barrier while the flames in my hand extinguished. My head pounded from the strain I was enduring.

  The whole situation made me angry, and I rushed toward the gunman at a dead run. All I wanted was to pummel the bastard with my bare fists.

  I tried to focus on my shield again, and I practically felt it slip back into existence. Fortunately, I raised it back into place just in time to deflect two more rounds.

  The resulting stabs of pain in my head suggested that the strain on my talents was increasing.

 
; I could see the gunman’s eyes widen as I drew closer to him, and I let out a roar of frustration as I charged him.

  He let his rifle drop to the ground and drew a large-bladed combat knife as he slipped from behind the cover of the tree trunk. His eyes narrowed with the grim, steely determination of someone who intended to win.

  But then, I felt much the same way.

  Using the last bit of concentration for my shield, I forced it further ahead of me until it impacted the gunman. His blade momentarily deflected against it and his body was thrown backward a couple of feet.

  It was just the edge I needed in order to catch him off balance as I slammed my fist into his jaw.

  My training kicked in as he swiped his large blade toward me, and I caught his wrist with my left hand. I punched him in the eye and temple with two quick strikes, feeling pain shoot through my knuckles in the process.

  Using the momentum of his counter-stab toward me, I neatly swung his arm into a natural arc, slamming the blade home into his abdomen.

  The guy screamed in pain, and I used his distraction to punch him once in the throat and again to his temple with as much velocity as I could muster. He dropped to the ground unconscious, and I grabbed the assault rifle next to his body and stripped a full magazine of ammunition from his belt pouch.

  Sirens wailed in the distance from multiple directions as I tried to raise my shield again just in case the other assailant was nearby. Desperate to return to Criswell, I ran through the park to where I’d left him.

  I heard the telltale sound of another rocket propelled grenade launching off to my left. I spun toward it and the round bounced against my shield, exploding with full force as I was thrown to the ground.

  I fell onto my back with an impact that nearly took the air from my lungs. The ground around me was on fire, including parts of a small tree next to me.

  I drew a painful breath to refill my lungs; the scent of burned wood and leaves was also drawn in through my nostrils. I coughed once before staggering to my feet.

  Adrenaline coursed through my body as I forced flames into my right hand and scanned the area for my next assailant. I concentrated on spinning the flames into a tight fireball, fueling the effort with both anger and steely determination.

  No more mister nice-guy.