by C. S. Won
Tobin collapsed to the floor next to her. He clutched his stomach, dark with blood. Jae ran over and knelt next to him.
“Tobin! I thought—”
“Just help me back up,” Tobin said.
Jae gently removed Tobin’s hand from his stomach. A bloody hole about the size of a quarter gaped back at him, close to where he had been stabbed earlier. A gunshot wound right in his gut. It was then Jae noticed Tobin wasn’t wearing his Kevlar vest anymore. Did Rena somehow tear it away from him? Jae ripped the sleeve off of his shirt, and pressed it against the wound. That elicited a sharp hiss from Tobin. Jae took Tobin’s hand and placed it upon the dressing.
“Keep applying pressure,” Jae said.
“We need to keep moving.” But as Tobin said that, he pulled his head back and grimaced hard, his eyes squeezed so tight that he almost produced tears.
“We need to get you to a hospital.”
Tobin reached over and grabbed Jae’s collar. “Not when we’re almost to your brother. We go to a hospital now, especially when we’re this close, then this was all for nothing.” He gestured to the gunshot wound.
“You’re liable to go into shock any minute now. If we don’t get this treated—”
“We free Han and Marlowe first, then I’ll go to a hospital.”
“Damn it, you might not even survive the rest of the way.”
“Then we should hurry.”
“You shouldn’t even think about moving. You’ll only worsen the damage.”
“We’re wasting time.”
“And what about Clay and Andrea? They’re still trapped. We have to get them too.”
“I overheard the conversation. They’re safe. I’ll retrieve them once we finish what we came here to do.” Tobin released a long, pained groan. The color was starting to drain from his face. “You’ll have to carry me. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stand.”
Distant shouting voices grabbed at Jae’s attention. Cursing under his breath, Jae knew he had no choice. He scooped up Tobin, and broke off into a sprint down the opened pathway. He ran for what seemed a quarter-mile, until another iron door loomed ahead. Unlike the gate prior, this was one more traditional in shape and size, rectangular and only a few inches taller than he was. A swift kick brought it down, and as he entered through the entrance, a large, cavernous chamber opened up before him, the walls lined with what appeared to be endless rows of small glass rooms, stretching far into the distance.
“What the hell is this?” Jae asked. Was this the prison? He approached one of the rooms, and through the partition he saw a man, confined inside a strait jacket, sitting alone in the corner, his hair stringy with grease. He didn’t seem to notice Jae, instead focusing with fierce intensity at the mattress that floated in the air before him.
“It’s a farm,” Tobin said. His expression turned sour. “I’ve heard facilities like these existed, where neo-humans were secretly stored, but I’ve never seen one myself.”
Jae walked to another glass room, and through this one he saw a pale woman sitting on her bed. In her hands she held a small, shimmering, sculpted ice figurine. It was in the shape of a ballerina, frozen in the midst of an arabesque, and the woman stared at this sculpture with sadness in her eyes.
“Hey,” Jae called out, tapping the glass. It was cold to the touch. The woman looked at him, her eyes going wide with fright, and she scooted to the farthest end of her bed. The figurine fell from her hand, and shattered onto the floor in a million little pieces. She curled up into a ball and buried her face into her knees, making soft sobbing noises. “What did they do to these people?”
“Broke them in every conceivable way,” Tobin said.
“We should free them.”
“Don’t. We have no idea the extent of their damage. They might harm us if we let them out.”
“They don’t want to be free?”
“What I’m saying is that we don’t have the time to talk to every person here and see where their allegiances fall. We have to keep moving.” Tobin gritted his teeth and groaned.
They passed more glass rooms, a seemingly endless number of them, each one housing a neo-human who looked lost in their own world. They were all of varying ages, some as young as children and others withered old by time, men and women hailing from disparate backgrounds and cultures, the shade of their skin encompassing all the known tones of the world, from pale and untouched to dark and sun-kissed. Some of them were demonstrating their powers, while others simply slept away their troubles, curled up in their beds. A few looked up at them as they passed by, but none made a plea for liberation.
“Over here!”
Jae looked ahead, and saw a lean, awkward kid banging against the glass of his room. As Jae came closer, he realized it was Marlowe, and quickly closed the distance between them.
“Marlowe, are you okay?” Jae asked.
“I think so,” Marlowe said. His eyes widened. “Is that Tobin? Is he hurt?”
Tobin looked at him and gave a weak smirk. “Just banged up a little.”
“I smell so much blood.”
“Did they hurt you, or do anything to you?” Jae asked, quickly changing the topic.
Marlowe kept his eyes on Tobin. “They brought me into a room and asked a few questions, but that was it. I’ve been staying here ever since.” He looked up at Jae and smiled. “I got excited the moment I noticed your presence here.”
“Do you know if my brother is here?”
“Who is he?”
“You never met him?”
“Only my dad did. He never took me to his secret meetings.”
That makes sense. “His name is Han. He should—”
“Is he the guy with a similar scent as you?”
“. . . I guess?”
“Then he’s in the room at the farthest end.” Marlowe pressed against the glass and pointed to their right.
So he’s here. Thank god. “Marlowe, go to your bed and cover yourself with the blanket. I’m going to break this glass and free you.”
Marlowe nodded and did as he was told, climbing into his bed and shielding himself with his blanket. Jae gently set Tobin aside, away from Marlowe’s room, then made his way back to the glass.
“Are you ready?” Jae asked.
“Yes,” Marlowe said.
Jae closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, curling his hands into a fist. When he opened his eyes back up, he exploded forward, and his fist shattered the glass into a spray of bright shards, submerging the floor of Marlowe’s room in an array of spiked debris. “Don’t move. I’ll come get you.” Jae went inside, the glass crunching underneath his shoes, and picked up Marlowe, taking him back out.
“I’m so happy to get out of there,” Marlowe said, dumping the blanket on the floor.
Jae scooped up Tobin and nodded at Marlowe. “I bet. Now, show me the way to my brother.”
Marlowe ran ahead of them, and Jae followed. The moment of truth, at last. For twenty long years, Jae had used every means at his disposal to search for Han, the brother who had erased himself from the world. Lost to all those who had known him, Han had become a ghost, gone for so long that Jae wondered if his memories of him were a lie. But after twenty long years of heart-ache and frustration, Han was finally here, separated by only a thick glass membrane, alive and hopefully well.
“Over here!” Marlowe stopped before a room, but quickly took a step back, a look of shock on his face. Jae ran up to the glass and looked inside. Han stood in the middle of the room, looking nearly the same as he did so long ago. The only noticeable change, as far as Jae could tell, was that his hair had been salted with some grey. But the change in his hair color wasn’t what concerned Jae; it was his behavior. Han was waving his arms around in wide, frantic motions, appearing panicked about something. When he finally noticed Jae standing before him, he didn’t seem surprised. Instead, he pressed himself against the glass, and rather than greet the younger brother he hadn’t seen in over two decades, he yelled: �
��Hurry!” That startled Jae. Hurry? Why was he acting like this? This was not the reunion Jae imagined. He thought it’d be a happier, conventional moment, with smiles and maybe even some tears, along with exclaims of “I missed you,” and “it’s so good to see you again.” But his brother’s odd, if not insane, behavior defied all that, and it scared him.
“Sir, are you okay?” Tobin asked Han.
Han looked at his associate, and didn’t even seem surprised by his appearance or his condition either. Instead, he only repeated his command to hurry. “He’s coming!”
Jae looked at Marlowe, then at Tobin. “Coming? Who is? I don’t see anyone h—”
A portal opened up behind Han. A tall, lean man, dressed in all black, stepped through, ducking through the rift.
Edison.
Jae was dumbfounded. Everyone was, in fact, except for Han and Edison. What was Edison even doing here? This unexpected turn of events dulled Jae’s thinking, and his slow search for an answer procured nothing. But as Edison regarded Jae and his friends with a blank, neutral expression, then rested an arm around Han’s shoulders, the realization of his sudden appearance hit Jae with the force of a hurricane.
“Han, get away from him!” Jae said.
“Shit!” Tobin said.
But Han made no move to pull away. Instead, he just frowned, and looked at the ground, as if accepting his fate. Edison turned him around and began leading him back to the portal, coaxing him forward.
Without realizing it, Jae dropped Tobin to the floor, but before he could even land, Tobin had already teleported inside the room. At the same time, Jae pulled his fist back, ready to break through the glass, but by the time either of them could do anything, Edison and Han had already stepped through the portal. The rift shrunk behind them until nothing remained but Tobin lying on the floor, his fingers reaching out towards nothing.
Chapter Thirteen
Tobin shivered in his arms. Cool to the touch, and wet too, as if he had just stepped out of a pool. Jae kicked the door down to his room and placed him on the bed.
“I need a towel,” Jae said, looking around.
“Here.” Andrea handed him a T-shirt. Not a towel, but Jae wasn’t picky. He dabbed Tobin’s forehead with it, and already it turned grey with sweat.
Clay stood in the doorway with an arm wrapped around Marlowe, who stared fearfully at the scene before him. Andrea stood next to them. Outside, dawn had already broken, morning light seeping through the shuttered windows.
“Everyone is here and accounted for. Now hurry up and teleport to a hospital,” Jae said. The sleeved cloth pressed against Tobin’s bullet wound was soaked entirely with blood. Jae removed it, grabbed another nearby T-shirt, and shifted it over the wound to serve as replacement. Tobin groaned, his hand finding the cloth and clutching it tight.
“Not everyone. Your brother . . .” Tobin began.
Jae tightened his jaw. “We’ll worry about that later. Just get to a hospital.” He was still trying to make sense of what had happened. Han was right there. All he had to do was break the glass that held him, then reach out and take him. The whole thing wouldn’t have taken any longer than five seconds, but somehow, Jae had failed at such a simple task.
“I need to tell you something, alone,” Tobin said, straining the words out.
“Get patched up first then we’ll talk,” Jae said.
“It’s important.”
“You have a bullet buried deep in your stomach. I’m no expert at this, but I’m going to guess that if we don’t get this treated right now, you’re going to come to regret it. We’ve wasted enough time as it is. Whatever it is you need to tell me, it can wait.”
“Please.”
“You’re pale as a ghost. If you don’t act now, then—”
Andrea placed a hand on Jae’s shoulder. “We’ll give you the room. It probably won’t be long.”
“But—”
“There’s not a hospital around for miles. He’s the only one who can realistically transport himself to one. If he has something to say before he can go, then let him say it. Get it over with so we can get him treated.”
Jae wanted to protest further, but knew that she was ultimately right. Nothing Jae could say or do would change Tobin’s mind. The sooner he said what he wanted to say, the sooner Tobin could leave. Jae nodded at Andrea, and she led Clay and his son out of the room, closing the door behind them. Jae turned back to Tobin and placed a hand on his forehead. Sticky with sweat again. Hot, too. “What did you need to tell me?”
“There’s something I need to come clean about,” Tobin said.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does, because there’s more . . . that I was being dishonest about.”
“Like I said, it doesn’t matter. Get treatment first before you feel the need to come clean.”
Tobin suppressed a groan. “Earlier, when I told you that I didn’t know what Han’s powers were—that was a lie. I do know.”
Jae closed his eyes. “I figured as much. You can tell me about it later.”
“It’s important because it ties into a confession.”
Jae opened his eyes. “A confession?”
“You brother is a clairvoyant.”
“He’s a . . . what?”
“Foresight. He has the gift of foresight. He can see things before they happen. The future. It’s probably why he was screaming at us to hurry, because he knew Edison was coming.”
With that admission, Han’s odd behavior in the prison began to make sense. The urgency in his actions, his cries for them to hurry—Han already saw it happen. It wasn’t paranoia, but precognition.
“It’s imperfect, however,” Tobin went on. “He can’t tap into his powers like we can. He has no control over it. The future only comes to him when he sleeps, and he cannot choose what he sees. Most of the time, the future arrives disjointed and disconnected, making little to no sense. Much like a real dream.” His breathing became more labored. “But eventually, what he sees always comes true.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I didn’t want you to be angry with him.”
“Why would I be angry with him?”
“Because there was something Han wanted to tell you himself, but that opportunity may be lost forever now. So I’m going to tell you, because you deserve to know.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Last year, several months before the storm, Han began to see several visions of you and Madeline. Most of it was mundane, like conversations at dinner or trips to the movies. Some of it, however, was also important, like your proposal to Madeline. I remember how happy Han was when he saw that.” Tobin paused to catch his breath. “But then he saw a certain future, one so absurd that he didn’t think it was real. Too illogical, he surmised. More dream than prophecy, he declared. So he ignored it. But the vision persisted for weeks on end, every single night, refusing to let go, as if it was angry that Han refused to acknowledge the truth of it and wouldn’t stop until he believed it.”
A pang of discomfort started to settle in Jae’s stomach. “What did he see?”
“Madeline . . . dead.”
A cold shiver ran up the length of Jae’s spine.
“But Han could not see what led to her death. It was almost as if his visions refused to clarify, purposefully withholding information. The only thing that was clear was the outcome—her death. To Han, however, that was enough, and he was determined to prevent it.”
“How?” Jae whispered.
“By using the Evolution Trigger and awakening your powers. He thought that by doing so, it would be enough to stop whoever, or whatever, was coming for Madeline. So for weeks, he made appeal after appeal to his overseers to use the Trigger on you, but they staunchly refused. They could not allow an ordinary citizen to have their powers awakened. The risk was too great. Han argued for an exception, but he was stonewalled at every turn. The weeks went by, and as the dreams continued, he gr
ew ever more desperate, so he decided to take matters into his own hands, and accessed the Trigger without authorization or supervision. The penalty of doing so is severe, obviously, so he worked quickly, afraid that he was going to get caught. But in his haste he was careless and sloppy, and he inputted the improper directives into the Trigger.”
“What do you mean by improper directives?”
“When Han accessed the Trigger, you were supposed to be the only recipient, the only one to have their powers awakened, but the parameters he mistakenly keyed in called for everyone who was eligible.”
“Everyone?” Jae said the word as if it was the first time he’s ever heard it. “Then the storm . . .”
“Was your brother’s doing. A mistake he didn’t realize until it was too late.”
The color drained from Jae’s cheeks.
“After that, his visions suddenly became clearer, and for the first time ever, he finally saw who hurt Madeline, and it devastated him. He couldn’t figure out why he was granted clarity only after the trigger had been activated. He thought—”
“Because he created that future. The Trigger gave Adam his powers, which in turn granted him the means to do what he did. Madeline would have never gotten killed if Han didn’t tamper with the Trigger.”
Tobin tried to roll over in his bed, but quickly gave up on the notion. “That’s not true. He already saw visions of her death, so clearly something was going to happen to her. He just could not see how it happened.”
Jae clenched his fists. “Then why did his visions only show Adam after he used the Trigger? Why not before?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt a specific action needs to be taken to induce clarity. Sometimes the blanks fill themselves in, and sometimes they don’t.”
“Then why not just wait until he had the complete picture?”