All Worlds: Fantasy And Science Fiction Series Starters

by Vangjel Canga

  She walked half way to the door, turned, and answered him, "I can't. I have a Closing tomorrow and need to get some rest."

  "A Closing? Who?"

  "Topa."

  Mr. Griffin stated, "Yes, I know him."

  "Thought you did." She started to turn toward the door, paused, and said, "It's kind of sad."

  "What is?"

  "Our relationship, my life, you name it, but most of all that you were the one who got me into–" the words slithered from her mouth, "–my profession." Kim fisted her hands as she questioned him, "What kind of father has his daughter trained to be an..."

  She glared at him too angry to finish, and this time, he had nothing to say. Kim continued to the door.

  Mr. Griffin stood and spoke after her, "You should take some time off. You're looking a little tired. Maybe buy yourself a pet to keep you company. You can't be happy living all alone."

  "You have been spying on me!" Kim accused him after she paused at the door, then she acted as though she would say something more, but Kim decided against it, and walked through the door.

  He sat down after his daughter left, then faced the picture, and repeated his earlier phrase, "How you look like your mother?" He pushed his chair back and commanded, "Lights dim."

  The room darkened, and Mr. Griffin turned in his seat, staring out a window at Noir's skyline. He gazed at the Dry Clouds as they loomed over the dark city, and he spoke in nearly a whisper, "I wish you were here, Theresa. Our daughter needs you."

  * * *

  Kimberly's view...

  I drive my red VX Corvette into the parking garage of the Nexus Apartments. The small forty story building sits on the corner of West 1000 Avenue and Knot Street in the Hellenistic Sector, Residential Vicinage. I exit the vehicle and grab a bag of groceries from my trunk, then I take an empty elevator to the thirty-first floor, and walk down a deserted hall to Apartment H.

  Sometimes I...

  I command in a clear voice, "Door, unlock."

  "Voice recognized as Kimberly Griffin," the Apartment Computer System states. "Opening door."

  The apartment door slides sideways, then I walk into the small entry, and command, "Door lock."

  The door slides shut and locks as I go into the kitchen. The lights automatically flicker on in each room I enter as the Apartment Computer System or A.C.S. detects my presence.

  "Welcome back, Ms. Griffin," A.C.S. states in a female computer voice. "The apartment's temperature is set at seventy-eight degrees Fahrenheit. Lights are set at eighty-five percent brightness. Would you like to make any adjustments at this time?"

  "Yes, A.C.S. It's a bit warm. Drop the temperature to seventy-six, and I could use more lighting so change the brightness to ninety-five percent."

  "Making changes now."

  The air conditioner kicks on, and the lights brighten as I set down the bag and lay the key chain beside it on the kitchen counter. I put both of my hands on the inky-black surface, lean against it, and tilt my head down.

  Sometimes I wish...

  My blonde hair falls forward, covering the side of my face as I peer at my reflection in the marble. For Ares' sake! My life's so tedious! I lean back. All I have is routine. I start to unpack the bag and glance around the dark lifeless room, and it's quiet in a gloomy way. I look to one of three windows in the apartment and notice a dead Transgenic Vine sitting on the kitchen window sill.

  Great, just great! I forgot to ask the manager to water it while I was gone; it's too bad A.C.S. doesn't have a watering system for plants. I walk over to the vine, pick up the pot, and several brown leaves float to the floor. I move to the trash can, press the step, and it flips up a stainless steel lid. The brittle brown plant falls out of its container as I drop the pot in the waste, and dirt spills, exposing the vine's roots. I stare at the dead plant. Can't I keep one thing alive? I release the lid and walk away from the trash. Or are Closings all I'm good at?

  I return to my groceries. I put the eggs and milk in the refrigerator, put the dry goods in the pantry, then I place a stainless steel kettle full of water on the burner, and turn it on high. I reach up into the cupboard, remove a white cup and saucer, and place them on the counter. I walk to a drawer, open it, and grab a spoon. Is this really my life? I notice my reflection in the spoon's curved surface. My life's mundane and lonely.

  Sometimes I wish...

  I place a single tea bag in the solitary cup and a slice of lemon on the saucer.

  Sometimes I wish...

  I glance at the answering machine as the water starts to boil. The number on the machine reads zero messages; it's the number of my friends and the same number of my acquaintances. The kettle whistles, I remove it from the burner, pour hot water into the cup, and steam rolls up from the liquid. Shouldn't my life be different? Wasn't I meant for more than this... this wretched life as a Closer? I wish... I dare not think it, and I dare not hope it.

  I grab a remote from the counter and aim the device at the wall. I click on a fifty-inch TV that hangs over a fireplace, and then I gaze at the picture from the open kitchen. The evening news is on, showing footage of a small office building on fire. I move behind a black leather couch and watch the blaze, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of the first door in the hallway, walk to the room, start to command it to unlock, but stop myself. Sometimes... I pull on my left earlobe. I wish...

  The spare bedroom has remained lock since I first closed it. I store my mom's belongings in it. My bedroom the master bedroom is down the hall. I return to the kitchen, grab the remote, and look to the TV, and an anchorwoman, Linda Harvey with NBS (Noir Broadcasting Station) reads a report.

  "The Corporate Senate will be meeting later this week to vote on the proposed bill for a sales tax increase. The quarter cent raise will bring in much needed money for the planet's civil defense and continue funding Research Project Clean Air. Analysts are predicting the bill will be voted in." Linda Harvey pauses. "In other news, Dr. Robert Seeker the foremost expert on the Dry Clouds problem will be heading out to Antarctica to..."

  I turn off the TV, plunging the room back into silence. Enough with the news. My life is miserable enough without having to hear about someone else's. I pick up the saucer and cup, walk to a small round table, sit, and stare out the window. The Dry Clouds entomb the starry sky, leaving the night dismal and bleak just like my life. I pick up a clear plastic container of honey that's in the shape of a bear, pop open the yellow lid, and squirt a smiley face on the spoon with the golden sugar.

  I whisper a phrase my mom used to say, "Fly... fly away, sad, sad day."

  I stir the honey in my Orange Pekoe, remove the tea bag, place it on the saucer, and stare at the now warm brown liquid. The phrase used to cheer me up, but not anymore. I arch my head back, looking at the ceiling. Hades... What a life I have?

  I open my hand and gaze at a star burned into my right palm. The only constant in my life seems to be it; it has been with me for nearly two decades, and I can't remember where I got the burn. I make a fist and open my hand again. Oh for Ares' sake! Look at me! The only thing I have to look forward to is maybe someday discovering where I received the burn. Hades! I slam a fist on the table, and the tea cup rattles. Sometimes I wish... I wish I wasn't so alone! I wish I had more in this life and that there would be someone there for me!

  * * *

  October 13...

  Wednesday...

  5:49 A.M...

  A laptop sitting on a desk in Kim's bedroom screeched like a bird and alerted her to an incoming message.

  "No," she whined, placed a pillow on her face, and rolled over. "It can't be morning."

  A screen saver of a flaming bird flew across the laptop, and the fiery glow lit up the dark room and after a few minutes, she dragged herself out of bed. She put on a white housecoat and slippers, fixed a cup of hot chocolate, and sat down at the desk. She hit the space bar, woke up the computer
, and clicked on the message.

  It read, "Have you accepted the Closing?"

  "Voice is up early this morning," Kim mumbled and took a sip of the hot chocolate. "Or maybe up late, depending on where in the world Voice is sending the message from." She typed a reply, "Yes."

  "I'll send an encrypted e-mail with directions," Voice typed back. "He should be in his office for most of the morning."

  "Standard operation?"

  "Yes."

  "Understood."

  Kim pushed her chair back, but the computer's beep grabbed her attention.

  "You should take a break after this Closing," Voice wrote. "You have been working rather hard, and the Moscow Closing was rather difficult."

  "You sound like my father. Are you sure you don't have children?"

  "Yes, in our line of business it isn't wise to have them," Voice typed. "As for your father, you should listen to us, we are your elders."

  "Since we're getting a little personal, I was wondering why you're called Voice? All these years I've worked for you, I've never heard you speak."

  "Long before you joined us, I made contact over the phone and received the tag."

  She wondered how long ago it was and typed, "I'm also curious as to why you wanted me to join the Assassins League. I do live on the planet's Dark Half. I should be a part of the Assassins Union."

  "And let Thanatos have one of the best Closers. I think not. He would only waste your talents, and anyway, those of us on the Light Side still have work that must be done on the Dark Half. You aren't the only Closer there that belongs to the League."

  She stretched, yawned, and typed, "Will contact you this evening. Signing off."

  Kim went into the kitchen. Maybe she did need a break. She noticed the key chain on the counter, thought back to the Moscow assignment, and brooded. The last Closing had really gotten to her. Kim grabbed the key chain, walked to the living room, and moved to a bookcase beside the fireplace. She placed the key chain in a wooden box sitting on a shelf and glanced at a picture frame with a photo of Theresa Griffin. Kim and her mother could have been twins.

  She whispered, "Mom, if you were here, what would you think of me? I wish you had never left. I wish you were here for me..." Kim paused and then questioned, "What would you think of my pathetic life?"

  Chapter Four

  Topa's Estate

  8:48 A.M...

  On the outskirts of the Hellenistic Sector...

  Katharine's view...

  I see Topa's estate in the distance, and it's in the midst of an apple orchard. Sunlamps light up the imported trees as a gentle wind sweeps through the orchard's green leaves. Places like this, the lamps are on sixteen hours and off eight. If they didn't use the sunlamps, the non-Transgenic trees would starve in the endless night and die without them. I'm dying right now. I'm dying from my heart out.

  Fruit trees here in Noir are rare, so the place should be a good thing to see, but a lot has happened to me lately. My heart burns with sadness and rage, and the only thing I can think of is, he'll pay, so I continue forward with my plan. I walk up a winding path from the darkness of the day, and the path leads me to the square mile estate. That's how I feel, I feel like I'm emerging from darkness into blacker shadows, and I swear to myself that he'll pay for killing Preacher. I don't care anymore about what's right or wrong. I'll make him pay for taking the only light in my world.

  I trudge forward, determined to go through with my grim plans. The past year's nonstop hunts, what the Council calls tests, have taken their toll on me mentally and physically, but what happened yesterday... it... it can't be ignored.

  My pants and shoes are worn and dirty, but not as worn out as me. They're the same ones I had on when I woke up at Etna Toys Plant and Warehouse. Life is hard here in the Hellenistic Sector, but I couldn't complain, not until yesterday. I remove a single strap backpack as grief wraps its arms around me and won't let go. I unzip my gray-black athletic jacket, and my chest hurts as anguish presses against it like a heavy boulder. The jacket covers my dingy white t-shirt and protects me from the cool breezy air, but it does little against the sorrow that chills me to my soul. I take off the jacket, remove a black Ravlek Vest I carry on the outside of my backpack, and then I put the vest on. Ravlek's an experimental material like Kevlar, but generations ahead, and seeing the vest makes me think about my life as it is. It's almost been a year since I awoke in Etna Toys Plant and Warehouse, and so much has happened. I've created memories, I've learned what it means to care for another person, and how to trust. I've learned what love and devotion are... but now all of that's gone along with Preacher.

  I glance at the Ravlek Vest as if it'll console me. I acquired the body armor months ago from an assassin who died from a fall when he attempted to take my life. I worked so hard over the past year not to kill anyone who came after me, and I haven't failed yet, but he still died, and he wasn't the first to lose their life in their pursuit of me. I cried so hard after the assassin died as if I had been the one to kill him. My heart has changed so much since then... since they took Preacher away from me. I no longer care if someone dies. I actually want to kill Topa and make him feel as much hurt as I do now, so I force myself forward. I set the backpack and the jacket beside a dead gnarled oak. The tree's a remnant from the sun era just as Preacher's a remnant of a future I'll never have, not since Topa killed him. I move forward, but have no sense of my own actions, engulfed by an overpowering heartache, and I move as if I'm a robot fulfilling a programmer's command. The shock of seeing someone I deeply care for die in my arms numbs me to the bone. I want to scream out, but that would give away my position, so I remain quiet and keep my grief within me. This is a nightmare... It has to be a bad dream. Preacher can't be dead.

  I continue up the path in a dismal drudge toward my grizzly objective as a hatred overshadows my grief and suffering. The constant struggle between me and the Un-Men seems to persist for ages, and I'm always the prey, always running and hiding, but not this time. My foes, the Council who send human assassins and the Factory who sends the Un-Men after me, remain in the darkness and beyond my reach. Today's different... I know one of their names and one of their places of safety. I grip my gun and in my left hand, I carry a white book smeared with blood. Topa will pay. Rage fuels my exhausted body, revenge fixates my mind, and anguish rips at my spirit. He took the most precious thing in the world from me, so he has to pay. I stare at the book as I slowly die inside. For Preacher, I'll kill, and I'll break an oath I made to myself long ago.

  End Katharine's view...

  Behind an iron gate, four men armed with hand guns stood beside a brick guardhouse. Two of them talked while the other two walked their designated area. The gate was the eastern of four entrances, and a fifteen foot wall of stone surrounded the estate. Three of the men wore a Winnow Mask type B or WM-B. The air filters covered their mouths and noses, and the masks permitted those not used to the Dark Half of the planet to work outside in the Dry Clouds' pollution.

  The lead guard moved away from the man he was talking to, pressed a button on the side of his WM-B, and shouted to the woman in the distance through the mask's intercom, "Halt! State your name and business here!"

  Katharine's view...

  I don't respond, consume with a murderous grief and continue my war march toward them.

  The four men move to the gate and position themselves to fend off my attack as the lead guard shouts, "She's wearing a vest. Switch to A.P.Rs."

  The four men eject their 9 mm magazines and replace them with the Armor Piercing Rounds.

  The lead guard declares, "We'll open fire if you don't state your name and business here!"

  "My name?!" I question. "My name?! I'm Sorrow! I'm Emptiness!"

  "She has a gun!" the lead guard shouts. "Take her out!"

  The four men shoot at me, hitting me in the chest, and I lurch back with the impacts as images of Preacher flash thro
ugh my mind. I cry out in pain, seeing him die in my arms over and over again. I fall face down to the path, and I exhale from the impact as if it's my last breath. Fireflies dance about me and the surrounding area, paying no heed it's morning. I watch them and wonder if they can feel sorrow, and then my eyes slowly close as I slip into despair's embrace.

  End Katharine's view...

  The lead guard ordered, "You two, go check on her."

  They stepped out of the gate, scanned the surrounding darkness to make sure she was alone, and then approached her. The second guard rolled her over, Kat moaned, and he noticed blood covered her shirt underneath the vest.

  He said, "She's as good as gone." The second guard reached down, took her weapon, tucked it in the front waistband of his pants, then grabbed the book, and said, "This could be valuable." He searched her pockets, then scanned the area again, and spoke, "She has no ID or business card on her, so she isn't a Closer. She must be a nut job. See anyone else?"

  "No," the third guard replied, and then after taking another look, he said, "Take her arms. The orchard could use more fertilizer."

  The two guards dragged her inside the gate and dropped her on the dirt path.

  "What's that?" the fourth guard asked. He wore no Winnow Mask since he was a native of Noir.

  The second examined the item he held and then replied, "A book covered in blood."

  "A book you say. Is it legal?" the maskless guard asked.

  The second opened the cover, peered at a paper tucked in a clear plastic pocket, and replied, "Yeah, it's legal. Here's its registration." He read the top and said, "The Bible's registered to one Norman Odin."

  "A Bible?" The maskless guard walked over, grabbed the book, and flipped through it. He handed it back to the second, walked over to her, and told him, "Throw that archaic thing away before you get some disease." He snarled his nose up at her, then spat on her, and said, "She looks like she's from Wayfaring Lane. Bums, the lot of them."

  "I thought I might get some money for the book off the black market," the second said.

  The maskless guard folded his arms, shook his head, and said, "Not from that thing you won't. It's trash." He threw his thumb over his shoulder and ordered him, "Toss it!"