Chapter Seven
I squinted my bleary eyes at the fiery sphere breaking the horizon, sending a ripple of orange lights streaking across the inky water. Sunrise came quickly. Too quickly, as it often does for borderline insomniacs like myself. If I’d had an opportunity to sleep it had now passed me by, and this light show was my alarm clock.
Exhausted, I shuffled through my pockets in search of my medication. I popped the caps and swallowed a handful of multicolored pills, choking them down just as I heard rustling from the sleeping quarters. A door squeaked open, and footsteps padded across the steel floor. I pressed the caps back onto the bottles and jammed them back into my hoodie before my pilot emerged, yawning with an overhead stretch.
Karin joined me in the passenger bay, barefoot, and still clad in her yellow pyjamas. She asked what our strategy was. Strictly speaking I didn’t have a ‘strategy’ to find Brynja – the chain of islands that span the Caribbean are in the thousands, with the Bahamas home to five hundred just on its own. I’d memorized a chart of statistical probabilities that I threw together in the early hours of the morning – that would serve as our guide. Using public access real estate records, I was able to determine which islands had been purchased or leased in the last year, which narrowed my search significantly. From there it was just a matter of making educated guesses; relatively low price ranges, the amount of seclusion they provided, and if the realtor had deleted any property information from the holoforums after the deal closed. I’d narrowed my field down to thirty-seven possible locations. Better than a thousand, but it would still require some leg work to search each island individually.
After the gang rolled out of bed and had been sufficiently caffeinated we got to work. Karin took the transport off autopilot and assumed control. She circled each private island from a distance, allowing us to scan the areas for possible traps. If the coast looked clear we’d land somewhere secluded and search the perimeter on foot, trying to catch a glimpse of my elusive friend. Scanning, searching, flying to new locations...it was a task that could’ve taken a week or more – time we certainly didn’t have. But luck, if such a thing existed, seemed to be once again on my side: twelve hours and three islands into our search my wrist-com chimed, loud and piercing, amplified by the metallic walls of the passenger bay.
Holo-forum request from ... Brynja.
“Guys, it’s her.” I called everyone over as the high-pitched ping continued, motioning to the text floating above my wrist. Sensing the urgency in my voice, Gavin, Peyton and McGarrity rushed to my side. Karin quickly followed, racing from the cockpit with a half-eaten sandwich in-hand.
With a quick voice command and a tap of the screen I accepted the request, and a holo-forum winked open. It was the woman I hadn’t seen in close to a year, but who had never escaped my thoughts for more than a day. With her face washed clean of make-up and a bright smile stretched across her lips, Brynja’s striking resemblance to Peyton seemed a hell of a lot more striking. If there weren’t a sweep of bubblegum-blue hair draped over her shoulder, the differences between the two would have been microscopic. And although the curl of her lips was trying to convince us otherwise, Brynja’s eyes reflected a sadness – a weight that overwhelmed her.
She waved, leaning in towards the camera. “Hey guys. It’s nice to see all of my friends again...and you too, Steve.”
McGarrity scoffed, scrunching his face into a dismissive scowl. Brynja ignored it.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yup...down here in paradise, living the dream.” She held up a pink cocktail, topped with a curling straw and a pastel-colored parasol. “I’ve got the beach at my front door, sunshine year-round, and an unlimited supply of these babies. Can’t complain.”
Her sunny disposition persisted, but I was far from convinced. We were playing a game of show and tell, and nothing she was telling me matched what she’s was showing; the sorrow that strained her voice, or the tension around her pale features.
“We’re in the area,” I said. “We need to talk.”
“I’ll send you my coordinates,” she offered without missing a beat. “I figured you’d be looking for me after what happened in London. But Matt...I need something from you.” She took a deep breath before continuing, suddenly flicking her eyes towards Peyton. “I’d like you to come alone. Just for a few minutes, before the rest of the gang comes down.”
“What?” Peyton shouted, pushing her way past Gavin to get a better view of the hovering screen. “No way. We all come down, or no one does.”
Brynja rolled her eyes with such an exaggerated motion that I could practically hear the gesture through the com. “Come on, princess. You really think I have something to do with these attacks?”
“We don’t know what to believe,” Gavin said, placing a comforting hand on his sister’s shoulder. “But we’re not going to assume anything at this point.”
“Relax,” Brynja sighed, already sounding drained from the conversation. “Just five measly minutes to chat with Mox. No coms, no monitors – that’s the deal.”
McGarrity blurted out a caustic laugh. “’The deal’? And if we refuse to play your stupid game what are you gonna do about it, B?”
“What I do best,” she said plainly. “I’ll become a ghost. Phase out, disappear. I might not be able to pass through objects anymore, but I can make myself scarce...I bet it’ll be another year before you catch up with me again.”
McGarrity scowled, looking more perplexed than usual. And that was saying a lot.
“And Steve,” she added with a lopsided smirk, “you of all people should know that betting against me is a bad idea.”
“You cheated,” he screamed, grabbing two fistfuls of his dishevelled blonde hair. “I don’t know how, but I know you did it! You ganked that jet from me and I want a rematch!”
“All right guys,” I cut in, “that’s all in the past. I don’t care what happened between you two, but I’m interested in getting some information about current events.”
“Then come down here,” she said swiftly. “Alone.”
“We don’t have to listen to this crap,” Peyton fired back. “We have all the resources in the world. We can figure out who’s behind all of this, and deliver them right to the White House’s front door if we just—”
“I know who has the jet,” Brynja interrupted.
Her words sucked all the oxygen out of the passenger bay.
I exchanged glances with Peyton, Gavin and McGarrity, whose faces had been drained of color.
“Five minutes?” I confirmed.
She nodded in agreement.
The holoscreen blipped off and was replaced with a series of coordinates; the longitude and latitude of her exact location, just twenty miles from where our transport was hovering.
Peyton had nothing to say about my decision. She didn’t need to because I knew exactly what she was thinking. She thought I was being reckless and stupid, and she also knew I was going down to the island alone whether she liked it or not.
Karin offered a me reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’ll be watching from the ship, boss. We won’t have ears on you, but we’ll have eyes...cross your hands above your head and I’ll drop. I can be on the beach in thirty seconds.”
McGarrity balled his hands into fists and started bouncing from one foot to the other. “No doubt, son. We’ll come rushing out with guns and swords blazing!”
“Take it easy, Braveheart. This won’t be a shootout,” I assured him. “Or a swordfight. This will be a discussion – a very civil discussion. Trust me.”
Karin began inching her way towards the bulkhead where the arsenal was hidden. “But you’re taking a gun with you...right?”
I squinted hard, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Guys, just please—”
“Non-negotiable,” Gavin interrupted. He breezed past Karin and popped open the weapon case, pulling a pistol from the rack. Holding it by the barrel, he ext
ended the handle towards me and refused to break eye contact until I accepted it. After a moment of hesitation I snatched it from his hand and tucked it into the back of my jeans, concealing it beneath my t-shirt.
“We’re a team,” Gavin said, his voice hardening. “And yes, you’re the leader, but this isn’t a dictatorship. These are life-and-death decisions we’re making here, and you can’t make them all on your own. Sometimes you have to let us in.”
“He’s right,” McGarrity said. “Except the thing about you being the leader. I always kind of saw myself as the leader, and you guys as my...well, I don’t wanna use the word ‘sidekicks’ because that sort of cheapens it, but—”
“Thank you,” I said flatly. “We’ll sort out the official rankings if we make it out of this alive.”
Our transport touched down on a golden sand bar that led to the pristine stretch of beach, lined by a dense jungle comprised of tropical palms. I stepped off the corrugated metal ramp, splashing into a few inches of water. Then, moving away from the transport, gave the thumbs up towards the cockpit, waiting for it to disappear into the sky before making my way down the beach.
After a short walk I arrived at a clearing in the trees, but it wasn’t a naturally occurring formation; it had been meticulously cleared away by excavation equipment and beautified by landscapers. Set back from the coastline across a manicured lawn was an estate; a palatial three-story monstrosity that looked like a Beverly Hills mansion on steroids. As I studied the ivory structure I heard someone approach from behind, and I knew it was her before I turned.
I wasn’t expecting a hug, but I felt that a sharp backhand across my cheekbone was a little harsh, especially considering everything we’d been through together. Brynja’s shot was perfectly placed, and hard enough to knock me off balance. My foot lodged in the sand and I stumbled, bending forward at the waist.
Brynja lunged and, reaching over my back, yanked the pistol from my jeans. She held it up by the barrel and crinkled her nose. “Are you kidding me with this bullshit?” And with an overhand toss my gun spiralled through the air, splashing into the Atlantic.
“First of all, ouch.” I massaged my stinging face, brains still scrambled. I think Santiago’s punch back in The Fringe had left me concussed, because Brynja’s shot took a lot more out of me than it should have. “And how did you know?”
“How do you think, dumb ass.” She pointed to her head with both fingers, raising her eyebrows. “I read thoughts, remember? You came strolling down the beach and all you could think about was the big fat gun sticking out of your pants.”
I snuck a quick glance at her powder-blue bikini, trying to suppress a smile. “Well now it’s not the only thing I’m thinking about.”
“Oh grow up. You think this is scandalous? I’m European – I sunbathe topless.”
After a quick moment of recovery I glanced back at her waterfront property. “That’s pretty crazy.”
“Not really,” she scoffed, “You spend way too much time in America, Mox. Not every country is full of dusty old prudes. Most of us are just fine seeing boobies while we’re hanging out on a beach.”
“No, I mean...” My eyes flicked towards her beach home, and then back to her.
I could see the heat rising in her pale cheeks. “Oh...we’re not talking about my boobs anymore.” She quickly cleared her throat, glancing at the sand beneath us. “Yeah, well, as far as houses go, it’s not bad I suppose.”
I noticed someone making their way down the flagstone walkway from her mansion towards the beach. It must have been a servant. An elderly woman in a white linen frock approached, balancing a tray on her palm. She was toting a pair of halved coconuts topped with sliced oranges and tiny straws.
If I was walking into a trap, it was the strangest scenario that I could have ever imagined. I’ve seen a lot of movies, and I don’t ever recall the hero being drawn into a dastardly plot that involved sipping Piña Coladas by the beach with a bikini-clad woman.
Brynja snatched a coconut from the tray and took a sip, sighing with joyous relief. “Maria, you are a life saver.” She glanced at me and tilted her head towards the tray. “Help yourself.”
I waved her off. “No, I gave that stuff up a while ago. I’m all about clean living now.”
“Really?”
No, I’m just fucking with you.” I took the coconut, and a sip later the sting in my cheek had melted away. “Damn,” I whispered.
Brynja’s eyes met mine in mid-sip. “I know, right?”
Maria wandered back towards the house and I realized that neither of us had said a word about the jet. But the tension between us was too bizarre not to address. “Look, about the gun...it was only a precaution. Just in case...”
Brynja shook her head. “Don’t. It’s fine, really.”
“Really?” I said awkwardly.
“Really,” she assured me, now getting annoyed. It never took much to set her off. “Let it go. I’m sure the princess wouldn’t let you leave the transport without it. It’s all good.”
I fumbled with my empty coconut, rolling it back and forth in my palms. “I figured you needed some space...and you know I wouldn’t be bothering you if the world weren’t falling to pieces.”
“Yeah, it tends to do that,” she said with a weak smile.
“And now that it’s breaking apart I’m kind of in the middle of it, so...there’s that.” Our conversation was getting more awkward by the second, and thanks to my limited social skills, small talk was never my strong suit. So of course I followed up with, “So...a mansion, an island, your own staff...the mortgage on this place has to be a killer.”
“About that,” she mumbled, her gaze trailing off into the distance. “The jet...the one you’re about to ask me about...I kind of sold it.”
“Kind of?” I shouted, though I didn’t mean to. “What does that even mean, ‘kind of’?”
“Well they offered and I accepted, so...yeah.” She swirled the straw into the remaining ice cubes at the bottom of her coconut. “It was purchased by a holding company in Eastern Europe...this guy showed up on my doorstep and offered a ridiculous amount of money for it. I don’t have names, but I can give you all the banking information that I have.”
“Why sell it?” I asked. “You know I would’ve given you as much money as you needed.”
Her eyes met mine, and they were misted over with sadness. “They also promised me answers,” she shrugged weakly. “I spent months tracking down any doctor, scientist or crackpot who’d agree to run some tests on me. I was looking for anything – even just a solid theory about my abilities. Everyone came up empty. Then this conglomerate shows up with money and resources and these insane research facilities, and they said they could figure me out.”
“And?”
“And nothing,” she said, throwing her hands up, tossing her coconut over her shoulder. “They worked on me for a week solid, and once again, nada. No recorded cases of ‘Perceptions’ anywhere. They ran all sorts of scans, x-rays...everything came up inconclusive. Those labcoats didn’t have a freaking clue. I’m ‘one-of-a-kind’ they kept saying...as if that’s a good thing. They offered to do blood work but there was no way I was going to let them go down that route.”
I studied her face, just for a moment.
Then a moment too long, apparently, because my intrusion caused her to lean away, arching her eyebrows.
“Okay, weird much?”
“No,” I said with a laugh, “It’s just...you look the same as the last time I saw you. Exactly the same.”
“Right, I’ve looked like this ever since you first observed me. Just like...” she trailed off, rolling her eyes. It was the exaggerated roll she reserved for conversations involving Peyton. “Well, I look mostly like her.”
I nodded in agreement. “Which makes sense, since you were with me when you got electrocuted and disappeared back in Arena Mode. By continually observing you, I was keeping you corporeal.”
“But, when I rematerial
ized, I still looked the same as the first time you observed me. I haven’t seen you since January, and I’ve spent months virtually alone on this island. I should’ve de-materialized by now, right? Come back with a new appearance?”
Brynja’s powers – as far as I understood them – forced her biological make-up to rearrange itself when someone observed her. Being a ‘Perception’ means that she’s a cluster of atoms, awaiting an external observer to birth her into existence; converting her from a ghost-like apparition into a solid form. Since she’s the only Perception (at least as far as anyone knows) the details beyond that were little hazy, but there was a glaring detail that simply didn’t make sense: this much time in isolation should have caused her appearance to change, but she remained identical.
My voice softened. “I know you wanted more info about your powers, but you didn’t have to go it alone, Brynja. We’re a team, remember? I could’ve helped you.”
She cast a furtive glance at my transport that hovered over the crystal-blue Atlantic. It was as if she were preparing to say something intimate and was concerned that someone could be eavesdropping. “I needed distance from you,” she whispered. “Other guys had observed me before, but with you...”
“It’s just you and me here,” I assured her, patting down my hoodie with both hands. “No wires, no long-range listening devices.”
She drew a long breath. “It’s just that I’d connected with you on a level I can’t explain. It was chemical...it overtook me. I felt what you felt, I wanted what you wanted. It was too much. I just needed space to be ‘me’...whoever the hell ‘me’ is. Was. Whatever.”
“So who are you?”
“A liar,” she blurted out, masking the pain in her voice with a caustic laugh. “I wanted to call and tell you about the jet. I should have.”
“It was yours to sell,” I stated firmly, “you had every right, Brynja. And besides, you didn’t know what would happen.”
Final Empire Page 9