The Last Chronicles of Pete Mersill

by David Millican

wondering why I killed my Fetch, and my daughter’s Fetch, but didn’t kill my wife’s. Do I really hate her that much? I don’t know. When the world went to pot and none of her lovers would take her in, she came crawling back to me. I could have left her, but Marissa still loves her, so I let her stay with me; I treat her as my wife but when her Fetch finally takes her, it will be the best day of a horrible life. But I didn’t kill hers because she was worried it might be nice. I’m not kidding, she was worried about hurting its feelings.

  Anyway, once I killed my Fetch, I could see the other Fetches. And I began seeing them in my dreams. And the more Fetches I killed, the clearer my dreams became.

  Wait, I realized I missed something. I know this is all over the place but I’m trying to get everything you need to save the world down but I’m not a writer you know. I don’t even really read that much so you’ll have to excuse my weak attempts.

  Anyway, you want to know how I killed the Fetches without killing the people. It was the knife that Hyan had given to me. It had some ancient juju on it that destroyed the Fetches connection to this world, meaning with humans, without letting them move on to the next world. During the craziness of the assassination, I lost the knife. I’ve learned how to keep them from moving on by myself, the separating from feeding on humans…that still eludes me.

  Anyway, the dreams got clearer with each new Fetch I killed. I didn’t go on a rampage or anything, just those whose people I liked or had helped me. And any Fetch that took too great an interest in me.

  The dreams showed this world that we live in now, where technology has been capped and Fetches control humanity’s hearts and mind. Humans are slaves to a ruling class of creatures that have no capacity for sympathy, let alone empathy. And people are kept in check by an invisible force of monsters that exactly equal their population. Well, invisible to most. And this new world was created by a single Fetch of such power that it warped reality around it.

  This Fetch’s human had been brought to the brink of death so many times they and their Fetch shared a single mind and body. Fully aware of each other they began to plot the overthrow of humanity. The human because of the wrongs it had suffered, the Fetch because it wanted more power. And in my dreams this Fetch looked, acted like, and sounded like our President.

  So, I began plotting the death of the President as all sane people would. I was willing to die to keep my baby girl safe from that world. Ten long months I studied his movements, his security details, his habits, anything really that would give me greater insight to him. Ten long months I prepared for my death shortly after his. Then, in a surprise move, he changed destinations and landed at F.E. Warren Air Force base just three miles south of me.

  Marissa’s teacher called and said that out of all the students in Cheyenne, she had been chosen to shake his hand on stage and read her story about America. My plans went out the window as I grabbed my uncle’s rifle and ran out the door. Of course Sara had the car, she never stayed home during the day anymore, but I had saved up enough to buy a scooter. I drove faster than was safe, if safe on an interstate on a scooter was a thing to begin with.

  There was a ton of security but I found it easy enough to slip through the back when they weren’t looking. Fetches tended to look where their humans were about to look, a precognition so to speak, so finding a place where no one was looking was easier than it would seem. I slid around to the side where there was a press booth set up. I climbed the stairs until I was covered by the black cloth. Scrambling up the scaffolding I peeked out the top, the press below me screened off by another cloth. Laying down I pulled back a flap to give an unhindered view of the stage.

  I’d brought the gun because I knew I wouldn’t be able to get close enough to stab the Fetch. But with the Fetch and human being one it would die and my little girl, and this world of course, would be safe. I was late and Marissa was striding across the stage towards him, confidence that could’ve only come from her mother clear in her walk. I aimed, heard a scream, and pulled the trigger.

  It didn’t take me long to figure out I had shot the wrong man. His Fetch stepped out from behind one of the Secret Service agents where it had been hiding. It, being joined with the President, had felt like it needed protection too. The crowd was in chaos and Marissa was screaming trying to wipe off the gore and mess. Secret Service and Security were swarming towards me as I lay too stunned to move.

  They ripped me out of the scaffolding and I fell twenty feet to the hard clay soil below. With a whoosh I heard the air escape my lungs and a knee dug into my back while hands yanked on my arms. I’d dropped the gun but it was useless now. The crowd had been pushed back and a black Lincoln town car pulled up on the opposite end of the stage. All action came to a halt as the President jumped out of the backseat in his undershirt, boxer-briefs, and black socks. All eyes were on the newcomer as he hustled towards me.

  Even the fast fading Fetch of the real President stared in shocked disbelief. But I saw what none of them did. The new President was a Fetch, fully formed and physically manifested Fetch. Its human, a plain looking slightly overweight girl of about twenty, was inside of it. They moved as one, the Fetch overlaid on the girl, and knelt in front of me. That’s when I learned that Fetches can shapeshift.

  “Thank you for stopping him. I don’t know what he was planning to do.” He said in the deep voice of the President.

  She winked at me. The Fetch didn’t wink, the girl inside winked. She knew I could see.

  She stood to address the agent who had hustled up, gun not pointed at the newcomer but not put away either. The agent asked the false President a lot of questions and he gave the woman his answers which she seemed satisfied with and holstered her weapon. We were all whisked away to the Air Force base then, even Marissa who I wasn’t allowed to see yet.

  Safe inside a hangar the false President told his/her made up story about being switched out for a look alike. About my fake anonymous call to the FBI to rescue her, I apparently had seen something, and my determination to not let the imposter hurt my daughter. I didn’t know how much of this had been set up by the false President ahead of time and how much it was chance but I had just handed over the Presidency of the United States to a Fetch. A cold, merciless, life-leeching Fetch.

  They cleared out the hangar because the President wanted to thank me in person.

  “So you know to keep your mouth shut right? First, who’s going to believe you? Second, if they do, you assassinated the President of the United States.” It spoke with the girl’s voice.

  “Who are you?”

  “It shouldn’t matter, but seeing how much you’ve helped me today, I think I’ll give you a little something. Nicole. My name is Nicole.”

  “Nicole what?”

  “Wells.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  She waved over a Secret Service agent. It was the one who had driven her to the scene of the shooting. The one that I could now see was also a fully manifested Fetch. A Fetch that had no human. There wasn’t another human close enough to belong to this Fetch and there was something about his look, his feel, which told me he was in this world permanently.

  “I was raised by a coven of witches. Most people don’t believe in magic but I assure you it is real. I guess I don’t need to assure you of that.” She ran her hand along my jawline but it was the President’s hand as well. “And they took me to the edge of death so many times it seemed I just lived there.”

  “One time,” the President Fetch said, “I was with her night and day for two weeks. Every time she improved they came to nudge her back to the edge.”

  “Why?” It was all I could think to ask.

  “Because they had no talent for magic so they stole it from me,” Nicole said with a dead voice. “And, because they had no talent, they couldn’t steal it magically. They had to bleed it and beat it out of me. Though my aunt had…other methods.” I didn’t want to know about them so I let that statement lie. “But I began to tal
k to my Fetch, his name is Ghanka by the way, and the more I talked the more we became united.”

  Ghanka stood and paced away while Nicole remained in front of me. The split was instantaneous and without show.

  “One day, something happened to the witches, and they went into hiding. They left me alone for three weeks. Three weeks that resulted in their undoing. Ghanka brought me food, he was solid enough by then to move in this world by himself, and bandaged my wounds. And he was waiting for the witches when they returned.

  “I didn’t know how to use my magic; I had been nothing more than a well to be drunk from before. But he did. He’d been watching them use my magic for ten years. And thanks to the witches I knew how to give my magic away.” She had been looking off into the distance but now she returned her gaze to mine. “Have you ever made love with something that can touch your soul?” She laughed at my discomfort.

  The Fetches laughed, too but it was delayed like the joke had to travel a long distance first.

  “I was twelve years old when Ghanka took the magic from my body and killed the witches who had tortured me all of my life.” She paused as though a thought had just occurred to her, “Isn’t your little girl twelve?”

  “Leave her out of this.” My voice had more growl in it than I had ever