by Nat Kennedy
“Help me, please!” the woman's fading voice pleaded. “She's got my purse!”
Duh, Lady, Reggie thought unkindly. As he pumped his legs, he noticed a few faces peek at him through windows, but nobody came out to help.
The culprit turned left up ahead, cutting off Reggie's view of her. The air around him held no warmth as he charged through it. An affect he'd only experienced a few times. He put it all together: larger woman, cold surrounding her, her fast pace. She had to be a booster. She'd enhanced her legs to run. Most boosters had extra weight on them, because they needed to eat constantly to fuel their Wielding power.
Damn, he didn't know if he could catch her. Eventually she'd tire out, but she wasn't a male. Reggie couldn't rely on some Taint to rear its ugly head and force her to jump in ice cold water, or a madness that made her to do something illogical that might help him catch her. He would just have to keep up with her until she tired.
He was already tired himself. Even wrapped up in her cold Tracer, sweat trickled down his back. His breath and heartbeat battled for dominance in his ears.
Taking a left at the intersection, he zipped downhill, the road lined by storage units on the right and a gas station and autobody shop on the left. Another intersection approached and he searched the night for the thief. He stopped, sliding his foot along the gravely concrete. His ears were full of his own struggling breath, though he tried to quiet it down to listen for her footfalls. He couldn't see her. Couldn't hear her. His heart beat slowed. Did she go left, right, or straight? Or was she hiding nearby?
He decided to round the block and return to Kyle. The place was a dark maze and she'd effectively lost him.
Kyle was puffing hard enough to take down a house as he reached the top of the hill to turn down McDougal and head back to the tracks. Reggie coasted next to him. He gave Reggie one of those 'are you incompetent' looks. “You lost her?”
“She's a booster, of course I lost her.”
Kyle trotted to a stop, rolled his shoulders back and scanned the buildings clothed in night and scant illumination. “Oh, well… I guess that makes sense. She was a bit of a chunk to do a 4 minute mile.”
They spent another twenty minutes searching the area and gave up the chase. Kyle kicked at large pieces of gravel; they clattered across the asphalt.
“Shall we train?” Reggie wondered if he'd lost all respect from Kyle. Neutered. In more ways than one.
Kyle, head still tilted down, looked up at Reggie. “You still want to?”
Reggie lifted his eyebrows, pulling on the mantle of amused, knowledgeable, experienced teacher. It was his armor to that quest for forgiveness. “Of course. We've much work to do, young Grasshopper.”
He pushed himself along with his feet rather than pedaling ahead of Kyle.
“Grasshopper?” Kyle asked. “I'm not a booster. I can't jump tall buildings in a single bound.”
Reggie bit back a laugh and they completed the trek to his house in silence.
With his bike tucked away in his shed, Reggie let Kyle and himself in. The sweat cooled on his skin, the salty coating causing his back to itch. He couldn't stand it.
“I'm going to take a quick shower. Help yourself to—” he waved his hand towards the kitchen, “—whatever you find in there.”
“Hey can I grab a shower, too?” Kyle pulled his sweaty shirt away from his skin.
Reggie didn't even bite that hook, though he couldn't stop his own appreciative gaze. “After I’m done, sure. But make it quick.”
Reggie grabbed some clean clothes and took them to the one bathroom of his house. He shucked off his sweaty clothes, eager to jump in the water and scrub away at himself. He didn't even look in the mirror, he rarely did when he was unclothed. He cranked the water on high and hot and let it sluice down his body. With sharp, mechanical motions, he soaped up a washcloth and scrubbed himself down. Then soaped up a loofa on a stick and scrubbed at his back.
He sighed in the heat. In the cleanliness. He scratched at his back with the loofa.
He allowed himself five minutes and then he cranked off the water and toweled himself off. The fan rattled on high, but the mirror had still fogged up. He wiped it down, then pulled on his clothes. Toweling his hair dry, he popped open the bathroom door. Kyle was standing there, leaning against the hallway wall.
“I considered joining you.”
Reggie frowned at the other man. “I'm glad you didn't.”
“Really?” Kyle pushed himself off the wall and stepped chest to chest with Reggie. Reggie stiffened. He didn't want to do this. Didn't Kyle get it?
“I still think your argument is stupid,” Kyle continued.
A little shorter than Reggie, they were nearly eye to eye. Reggie struggled to keep the younger man's gaze and not let his eyes drop down to his lips.
“Six years is nothing.”
Reggie started to speak, to shake his head and tell him age wasn't the only problem, that they'd been over this again and again, but Kyle cut him off.
“And you're not my professor. Not even in the same department. There's nothing improper about this.”
Reggie closed his mouth. That was exactly the argument he was going to use.
“You also forget,” Kyle continued, “that I am an adult. And can make my own decisions. Right now, it's just us, here in your house. Where you know all of my secrets.”
Kyle reached up and touched Reggie's chest, ran his fingers along the cotton fabric down to Reggie's waist and he couldn't move. He was trapped. As if petrified by his own power. His body screamed at him to seize this other man, take what was being offered, dive on those lips, cradled him up in his arms and hold him. His mind, on the other hand, knew nothing so romantic or simple could ever happen to him. Past experiences with other men proved it.
“I'm not asking for commitment, or declarations of love. I just want to have someone I can be close with. That I can trust. And, I trust you.” Kyle leaned forward, sliding his hands up Reggie's shirt, and they both jumped. Reggie away, scrambling, creating distance between himself and those searching fingers. Kyle in alarm. He looked at his fingers, then back at Reggie.
“What—?”
Reggie cleared his throat, and draped the towel over his shoulder. He hoped the steam in the room hid his frustration. “Kyle. I'm your teacher. I'm older. And, I'm not interested. You're here to learn how to control your Taint, not to get laid. You've got the idea of it now, so don't lose track of that.” He pressed his lips together, forcing sanity onto the randy man.
Kyle wasn't even paying attention, he was looking at Reggie's torso. “On your back?”
Reggie's stomach dropped, nausea filling every inch it. He hoped Kyle wouldn't push it. Ignore the white elephant, pretend everything was normal.
“What is that on your fucking back?” Kyle's eyes were wide, his nostrils flaring. Reggie shook his head. Denying everything. Kyle lunged for him. Reggie pushed back, but he hadn't expected Kyle to get physical. He grabbed Reggie's shirt and yanked it up. In the clouded mirror he saw Kyle's look of horror, and the thick lizard-like skin covering his back.
“Corruption?” Kyle stepped away.
“What else do you think?” Reggie demanded, dial on full-steam pissed. He jerked his shirt back down. The seam had ripped. “Did you think I was immune?”
“No, I didn't—I didn't know anything. You didn't say, and I didn't pry. And now. You've got… corrupted skin? All over your back? You've been Wielding with me this whole time. You can't stop Corruption, you said. You can't stop it and yet you're making it worse?”
“And that's my choice, isn't it? I want to help you.” He touched the tear in his shirt, the weave of the fabric catching on his fingernail.
“But you wouldn’t touch me. Is that why?” He pointed at Reggie. His eyes were blazing, the heat of anger giving color to his pale skin.
“And you're my student, if not at the university, at least in this.” It sounded false, even to his own ears.
“
You are such a hypocrite. You tell me not to Wield, but then you go and do that to yourself. How much longer until your entire body is covered and you become a circus freak?”
Goddamn. It was like his sister speaking out through Kyle's mouth.
Kyle gripped his fists and threw his head back, screaming at the ceiling, “Damn it.” He stepped forward, grabbed Reggie's biceps. He drew Reggie toward him, head tilted, eyes on Reggie's lips.
Reggie leaned back. “Kyle, no.”
“Why not? You like me. I've seen you looking at me.”
Panic and adrenaline and fear flooded Reggie's veins. He did not want to be having this conversation, over and over. “I can't do this!” he spat in Kyle's face. Reggie tried to yank himself away from Kyle's grip, but Kyle had a death hold on him fueled by desperation. “Yes, I find you attractive. And I've been looking at you, but I am not interested in dating you, in fucking you. I'm not interested.” Lies. Lies. All lies.
Kyle pushed him away. “Because you've neutered your cock like you're trying to neuter my Wielding?”
The petulance, the pain, the fury coming from Kyle beat upon Reggie. “I don't see—”
“No you don't. You're all about not Wielding. You don't want anyone else to use their powers. Well, I've always thought you small minded, but I didn't want to say it to your fucking face. Now I will. I am a Wielder! I was born to Wield and I'm going to Wield. So, screw you!”
Kyle dashed down the hall and seconds later Reggie heard the front door slam closed.
Chapter 8
His flier that read “Need Help?” was half plastered over by someone selling their tickets to the weekend football game. The corner of the paper had been torn off. Only part of his number could be seen.
Maybe it was too obscure. But he couldn't make it any clearer.
He continued his march to the cafeteria. Inside, the seats were mostly full, the food lines packed. The mob of students had their noses in books, notebooks spread open next to trays of food as they jotted down ideas and solutions. Though nearly over, the week of tests before break took many souls. Reggie wondered if Kyle was all right. Studying for his own tests? Hanging out with his friends, safe from the cult predators? He hadn't heard from him in days.
He grabbed some rice and chicken and smiled at Zack, the regular server every day but Wednesday.
“Haven't seen you in a while,” Zack said.
Reggie forced a soft chuckle. “Family emergency.” Then adopted an 'I'm sad, but don't want to talk about it' face. “Needed to take some time.”
The food tasted like cardboard on his tongue. His phone rang. It was Bethany. He stared at her name, the ringing becoming more incessant. Finally, with an ounce of regret, or maybe a gallon, he touched the screen.
“Beth, Hi. I'm at the cafeteria right now,” he said to explain why his words might not be clear.
“Hmm, yummy. Listen, I got my assistant digging on this Scott woman. I found out some interesting things.” His sister's earlier joy at his reinstatement had been buried under her hard agent need for justice and an explanation.
“Sis, you can't solve everything for me.” It came out more harsh than he intended. So, he tried to soften it, “And it's done and over with. But, so, anyway, what did you find out?” Nobody sat near him, but still he kept his voice quiet.
She told him something he hadn't expected to hear.
“Seriously? And that's all buried, huh? But why would that matter? Why attack me? I just can't imagine that kind of viciousness.”
“You never could, Reg. You were always the softhearted one.”
He poked his fork into the cafeteria fried chicken. “Well, my world seems way more sane than the alternative.”
“It probably is,” she said. “How's the kid?”
What did he want to say? Everything, tell her all about their fight, his discovery of Reggie's Corruption? His views on Wielding? Say he was taking tests? Lie, say everything was fine?
He knew he could not lie to his sister.
“We had an argument. He left. I haven't talked to him since.”
“An argument? About what?”
“Cafeteria...” he sing-songed.
“Oh, so you broke another heart, did you? Poor guy. Didn't stand a chance against your monk-hood.”
“Wait? What! No! That's not—” But it was part of the problem, just to Reggie's mind the lesser of the whole problem. “More to do with … playing the guitar. I told him that he shouldn't play the guitar anymore, and he said why own a guitar if you never play it.”
There was silence on the opposite end of the phone and Reggie thought back over what he'd just said with the mindset of being an Agent. Oh damn.
“Reg—”
“Listen, he's a good kid. He won't do anything stupid.”
“I'm just saying, if he causes problems... that was his chance. You were his chance.”
“Don't you think I know that!”
A woman munching on noodles and veggies looked up at him through her long bangs. Reggie narrowed his eyes at the woman and redirected his own attention to his bland food. He dropped his volume down to a raging hiss. “Don't you think I understand? Don't you even get how fucked up this whole thing is, sis? I was his chance, and I pushed him away. I don't need threats or a lecture from you.”
He was panting and the edges of his vision had gone dark. He closed his eyes, rubbed at his temple.
“Reggie,” his sister began, all soft tones and compassion. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean...” She shut up, and for that Reggie was profoundly thankful.
~~~
A single bird was chirping in the bushes. An insistent tweet that repeated over and over. The trees were nearly bare—other than the evergreens—and the late fall lighting cast long shadows, though it was only just past noon. A layer of soggy leaves crusted the ground and clung to Reggie's shoes.
The bench he sat on was damp, but that didn't faze him. So, he'd have a wet butt. Not the end of the world. Not the potential end of some kid's chance at normal.
Crap. He leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. How did he mess this up?
His phone rang. Probably his sister. Probably an apology she didn't really mean. It rang, and it rang, then stopped. The voice mail finally picked up.
He sat there, listening to the birds chirp and the distant rumble of the creek, for about five minutes before he checked his phone. Bethany didn't deserve a silent treatment.
The call wasn't from Bethany. It was from Kyle. A sense of loss washed over him, and he dialed his voice mail.
“I'm with Mara Murda, up on Steptoe Mountain.” His voice was rushed and quiet. “Off this old logging road that crosses three rivers. I think we're on the north side. There's some clear cuts down in the distance. And a stream. Tell Agent Wolfe-Martin. It's not—” he stopped speaking. There was some noise in the background and the call ended.
Reggie sat there stunned. The sparrow tweeted, harsh and loud, the sound breaking the eerie silence after the phone went dead.
He called his sister. It went to voice mail. “Beth, call me now. It's about Kyle.”
He jumped to his feet. The seat of his pants stuck to his butt as he speed-walked home. He wasn't much of a mountain man and had spent hardly any time on Steptoe, but he was certain Google Earth could shed some light on a road that crossed three bridges on the north side.
His phone rang.
“Beth?”
“Reggie, I'm really sorry—”
“They've got Kyle. Mara Murda. They've got him and I have a general idea of where they are. But they knew he called me.” He rattled off the directions Kyle had given him.
“That's great, Reg. With this and satellite footage, we'll probably be able to nail these guys. Don't worry about Kyle. I've already got someone in with them. He'll make sure the kid will be okay.”
“How do you know that? He can't know Kyle is with you. He could be some innocent shit who ran off in a pout. Or a brain-washe
d cult cadet.”
“Reggie, don't do anything. I'll let you know when we move out.”
“Take me with you.” He waited for the crosswalk light, his hot breath huffing in the cool fall air. The smell of burned beans wafted from the Taco Bell on the corner.
“Of course I'm not taking you with me. You are not an agent. You're not even good at physical fighting. You're a professor. Get real, Reg. I'll save Kyle, but you have to promise me you aren't going to do anything stupid.”
“What could I do? Damn it, Beth.”
“I've got to go. I need to get the task force prepped and it takes time. Like I said, we've got an inside man there. He'd already slipped us some information on the location of their hangout. We are going to nail this cult, Reg. No more students being preyed upon. Gotta go.” She hung up. Reggie stuffed his phone in his jacket pocket and ran the rest of the way home.
Unfortunately, Google Earth wasn't the best tool for the job. He couldn't see enough detail in the Steptoe area to trace the logging roads. Reggie was dead in the water.
~~~
Reggie hiked along College Way towards the student union building, past the women's dorms on the south hill, by the gym and all through the engineering campus. Bethany wouldn't tell him a thing. He considered getting in his car and just driving the forest roads, but that was wasted time. Another plan was brewing.
Back at the engineering campus, Reggie found her. She was hopping down the endless stairs toward Calvino Park. Reggie hung back, trailing her at a sedate pace though his heart pattered in his chest, a little unevenly like children jumping rope. She would help him. She had to.
In the park, shrouded by junipers, he called out to her. “Sandra.”
She jumped a little, then turned and donned a winning smile. “Professor Wolfe, how are you?”
Reggie offered her his own friendly grin. “Just fine. Are you staying for break?”
“I'm leaving on Wednesday. Too much parent time...” She shrugged in one of those you-know-how-it-goes ways and Reggie nodded, joined her in dissing on her probably loving parents.