River's Journey

by Arthurs, Nia

  The screen revealed a loading image and then Paul’s home page popped up. My eyes casually browsed the email message opened up on screen.

  I was about to close the browser when I froze upon the image emblazoned at the end of the text.

  It was a picture of an animal with a long head, a slim body and a scaly tail that wrapped around itself.

  I had seen that image once before, but it was locked away in a memory that I dared not contemplate tonight.

  I closed the program and pulled up a search engine. The Maruba Restaurant was easy enough to locate.

  Deciding to return for the car later, I closed my eyes and appeared in front of the large building. It looked exactly as it had in the picture.

  The boxy structure was strung all over with green ivy that threatened to overtake the sign bearing its name.

  The parking lot in front of the building was nearly empty. I scanned the models for Sterm’s vehicle but found no matches. Assuming there was a parking lot in the back, I headed around the side of the restaurant.

  The Caribbean breeze blew against my hair as I strolled. The night was dotted with stars and in the distance, the sea washed against a sea wall.

  Belize was one of the most beautiful places to observe the heavens, for their buildings gave the skyline more than enough room to breathe.

  I inhaled, searching as I always did for the star that only revealed itself when the world was at its darkest. Tonight, I did not see a hint of it.

  Ku-thump, ku-thump.

  I tilted my head, amused by the frantic thudding of a heart. My footsteps echoed in the narrow strip between the restaurant and the rear parking lot.

  Ku-thump, ku-thump.

  An accelerated heart rate could mean many things to a human. The causes ranged from sickness to fear to attraction. If I took note of every rapidly beating heart, I would never have a moment’s peace.

  “She’s over there!”

  My ears caught the words and the evil intent in the tone. I quickened my steps and came to a skidding stop when I rounded the corner of the restaurant.

  A man in a dark blue shirt and brown pants lay still on the ground. The shape of his body seemed oddly familiar. No, it couldn’t be.

  “Sterm?”

  I took note of the stillness. There was no heartbeat.

  I rushed toward the figure. The scent of blood assaulted my nostrils. I knew before I even stooped before him that he was gone.

  “Sterm?”

  I kneeled on the street, unconcerned with the blood seeping into the knee of my pants. Sterm’s dark brown hair and brown skin seemed pale in the shadows creeping in the back lot.

  His eyes were wide open and filled with intent as if he’d been speaking passionately just before death. I closed his eyelids and bowed my head in respect.

  “Hey you! Stop right there! I said stop!”

  The harried calls came again. I jerked my head in the direction of the sound. The alley before my eyes was empty and dark, but I could hear the frantic beating of a heart as if it were my own.

  Gritting my teeth, I returned my attention to the dead man lying in a pool of his own blood. The meteorologist wore the injustice of his end like a cloak. Sorrow picked at the hard surface of my heart.

  Paul was a colleague. A confidant. A friend. One of the few that I allowed myself in the five hundred years I’d lived on earth.

  Sterm was the quietest man that I knew. As humans went, he was not aggressive or attention seeking.

  Sterm preferred staying close to home and watching reality television shows than going out. He paid his bills on time and supported his mother. His dream was to someday return me to the star.

  What harm would anyone have toward such a human? Perhaps it had been a mugging? I checked his pockets. Sterm’s wallet and watch were still on his person. This was no robbery.

  “We just wanna talk!”

  Ku-thump. Ku-thump.

  The voices were male. The clatter of footsteps belonged to about six individuals. But the heartbeat that I picked out was a female’s.

  I listened closer, sensing that the woman’s pulse was accelerating the longer the men called after her. Was this frantic chase related to Paul’s murder?

  “I’ll be back, my friend,” I promised.

  Rising to my feet, I slowed my breathing and focused on the sound of hands brushing tree branches out of the way.

  I heard the smug tones of a man who knew he had cornered his prey. Felt the near-explosive sound of the female’s heartbeat as shots fired.

  Sweat dripped down my forehead as I concentrated on her screams.

  “It’s very unfair that you met Paul before I did,” one of the men said.

  Buoyed by the confirmation that this group was indeed related to Paul’s death, I prepared to teleport.

  I needed this jump to count.

  Feeling confident that I would end up in the near vicinity of the group, I closed my eyes.

  The clouds were passing over the moon when I appeared in the middle of a thick forest. I quickly gauged the circumstances.

  A girl lay on the jungle floor. Her arms and legs were spread wide and held down by four large men in black shirts. She was very still and a dark bruise marred her brown face.

  A large man sneered down at her. He had a gold tooth that glinted even in the deepening shadows.

  I moved quickly, grabbing the first man by his throat as he reached down to unzip his pants. Without a sound, I hauled the two men restraining the girl’s legs and punched them soundly.

  In the next instant, I stood behind the last two assailants and shoved them hard against each other.

  The girl on the ground was groaning. Her heartbeat which, only moments before had been racing, was beginning to slow. She was going into shock.

  I stood in the middle of the forest as the thugs moaned and writhed on the floor.

  Don’t do it, River. Don’t…

  I had not followed this group to save the girl, yet I felt compelled to help her. I slapped my forehead and bid myself to go the opposite direction.

  My feet ignored my better sense. I strode for the woman and scooped her up into my arms. She peered at me for the space of a second before her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp.

  At that moment, the moon broke free from the clouds and outlined her face in glorious detail.

  Her brown skin was an unadulterated blend of mixtures. Her features were dainty and small.

  Her smooth forehead bore the mark of a bruise. It angered me to think of these large men abusing her.

  The girl held no resemblance to Ivy and yet my heart contracted in the very same way.

  “Who-who are you?” one of the thugs inquired.

  The man with the gold tooth struggled to stand. My fervent observation of the woman had cost me in time. I had to get her to safety before confronting the assailants.

  With no knowledge of the locations of the hospitals in Belize City, I closed my eyes and pictured the police station that I had passed on my way to the Sterm residence.

  I appeared before the steps and deposited the girl gently there. She moaned and tried to hold onto my neck. I slipped her hand down and brushed her hair away from her face.

  Keeping my head away from the overhead cameras, I disappeared again. In the next moment, I stood in the dark jungle.

  I had a sneaking suspicion that the thugs I’d subdued were somehow connected to Sterm and his death.

  It had been a long time since I had used my abilities against humans, but I was prepared to extract the answers I sought at any cost.

  Chapter 6

  When I returned to the clearing a few of the men were just beginning to rise. They held their heads groggily and stumbled about in the moonlight.

  “What happened?” I heard one say to the other.

  The thugs scanned the surroundings, trying and failing to understand how they had been defeated in so short a span of time.

  The man with the gold tooth swaggered up t
o the two and wiped the blood from his mouth.

  “Nothing happened. We did what Crenley asked us to do. Sterm is dead. That’s what matters. The rest is irrelevant.”

  His followers mumbled in agreement. Their heart rates began to slow as they leaned heavily on their leader’s assurances.

  “What if that girl points us out?” The first man dared to question as the other went to rouse the last of their group.

  The leader’s eyes swept the forest and seemed to land on the shadow that I had merged with.

  “She won’t live long enough to say a thing.”

  I moved then, brought to an almost irrational anger. It was a strange reaction. The girl was not Ivy. Her clearly African heritage and curly hair was where the resemblance to the teenager ended.

  Still, the blithe injustice of the woman’s situation reminded me of Ivy’s capture. The girl would not be touched, not as long as I had breath.

  “Someone’s over there!” one of the thugs yelled.

  I employed my abilities with abandon to evade their gunshots and steered clear of their punches.

  The bullets soared toward me at obnoxious speeds, but I was long gone before any of them neared.

  I subdued the criminals quickly, moving so fast that I had enough time to duck away from the fight to find a length of rope with which to bind them.

  While the men moaned and lulled their heads in misery, I grabbed the leader’s shoulders.

  “What’s your name?” I hissed.

  He groaned in pain. His head rolled to the side and he spit blood in the grass.

  “What’s it to you?”

  I dug my fingers into his collar bone. He yelped. His cronies tried to squirm out of the rope that I’d fixed around them, but it held fast.

  “What. Is. Your. Name.”

  “Vasquez,” he gasped until the whites of his eyes showed. “Luis Vasquez.”

  “What business do you have with Sterm? And who is Crenley?”

  Vasquez closed his mouth and refused to open it again.

  “Tell me!” I yelled.

  The thugs stared me down. I knew that they were memorizing my face, but I did not care. These low life criminals had not only murdered a friend, but had taken my opportunity to return home.

  After staring at me for a long beat, Vasquez caved. “It was an order. We don’t know the man who gave it. Or why.”

  “You’re lying.”

  Vasquez licked his thick lips. “I don’t normally negotiate,” he glanced at his colleagues, “but if you let us go, we’ll pretend this never happened. Capice?”

  I lifted my chin, repulsed by his coldness. A man had died tonight, but as all humans, Vasquez was focused on self-preservation.

  Ivy had been a gem among her species. She’d thrown herself in the face of danger for the sake of others. Her sacrifice made it doubly hard to stomach this drivel.

  Drawing closer to Vasquez and his crew, I nodded. “Capice.”

  I held the rope bounding the group and closed my eyes. Two seconds later, we were all standing on the steps of the police station.

  The girl was already beginning to draw attention. I smiled as she mumbled something like ‘Oreos’ beneath her breath.

  I would allow the police to take things from here. The criminals would pose no threat to the girl anymore.

  “No!” Vasquez shook violently.

  The rest of his crew gaped and looked upon me in confusion and fear.

  “Take me back!” Vasquez demanded, spittle flying out of his mouth. “I’ll do anything, but you can’t leave me here!”

  The words echoed in my head. I used most of my restraint to keep my fists at my sides instead of pummeling them against his mouth.

  The police were approaching. I did not want anyone else to see my face tonight.

  Vasquez’s heartbeat was pounding against his chest. The man was scared. I could only imagine the list of people he had murdered in cold blood before Sterm.

  All those deaths would be accounted for tonight.

  As the first call rang out from the station, I left the men on the steps and returned to the restaurant. The moonlight guided my way as I approached the alley that held Sterm’s body.

  Nothing was there.

  I stood on top of the pavement where less than an hour ago his still form had rested.

  It was empty.

  Pressing my hand to the concrete, I felt the heat that tattled recent activity. Was it a trick of the lighting or had Paul’s blood been scrubbed from the street? The scent of wet earth lingered in the air.

  I listened closely, but found no signs of life in the trashing of a heart or the echo of a voice.

  The neighborhood was completely still. The restaurant had closed its shutters and there were no vehicles in the lot.

  I stood, turning slowly in a circle. I hadn’t spent more than forty minutes pursuing the thugs and saving the girl. Who had taken Paul’s body? And why?

  If it was the police, why had they scrubbed the street and erased all signs of Sterm’s presence? Why was no one around?

  Suspecting foul play, I returned to the police station. I hid across the street and observed the frantic proceedings across the way.

  The thugs were being carted into the station and an ambulance had arrived to whisk the girl away.

  Belize Medical Center…

  I stored the name on the ambulance for future knowledge and watched as the officers removed the ropes and slapped handcuffs on the thugs.

  My hunch had been right. These men were undoubtedly responsible for countless crimes. Vengeance rose up in my chest, but I did not feel victorious.

  Questions buzzed around my mind like persistent mosquitoes.

  Who had contracted Luis Vasquez to kill Sterm? And why? Where had his body been taken? Would his family be next?

  The thought resonated. I owed it to Paul to protect his mother.

  Luis Vasquez and his crew would face judgment according to the law. The girl was receiving medical attention. The ends were tying up nicely.

  Too nicely.

  The mystery of the body’s disappearance disturbed me. I ached to investigate further. But if Sterm was alive, he would undoubtedly bid me to take care of his mother before unlocking the puzzle.

  I pushed against the tree trunk that had shaded me from sight. In the next moment, I stood in Paul’s work room.

  The posters on the walls looked exactly the same. The chaotic array of documents on his table was just as it had been before. The computer waited patiently for its owner to return.

  The items knew nothing of the circumstances tonight. Their function overshadowed any external forces. They had no feelings and bore no loyalties.

  Age had made me as emotionless as these inanimate items. Death was a part of life. My longevity meant that I would definitely outlive anyone that I grew close to.

  Though I mourned Sterm’s passing for the sake of his family, I felt a sense of inevitability.

  This day was not one that I’d thought of often, but the lessons life taught had prepared me so that any flicker of grief quickly burnt out.

  My main concern was keeping Mrs. Sterm safe. It was my last gift to a dead man.

  When I appeared in her room, Mrs. Sterm was visibly upset. Her short hair, bound in a black satin scarf, poked out from the edges.

  Wide brown eyes took me in. She pressed a wrinkled brown hand against her pink T-shirt.

  “River, what are you doing in here?”

  “Mrs. Sterm, you need to listen closely.” I held out my hand and helped her out of the bed, “Gather everything that you need to travel. Is there somewhere you can stay that no one knows of?”

  “What’s going on?”

  She refused to move. Mrs. Sterm trusted me, but not enough to flee at my sudden instruction.

  “Paul is dead,” I said.

  She staggered backward. “Don’t joke like that!”

  “I am not,” I trained my eyes upon her. “His death was carried out by five cr
iminals on someone’s beha-”

  I stopped mid-sentence. A heartbeat, steady and calm, thumped in my ears. The thud of hard soles against the concrete pounded like a gong.

  My instincts screamed that there was no time to waste. It was imperative that I get Mrs. Sterm out immediately.

  “Quickly,” I hissed.

  She hesitated, but jumped out of bed with a spryness that belied her age. Mrs. Sterm stormed to her closet and extracted a duffel bag. In the midst of her frantic packing, three solid knocks sounded at the door.

  “Good night,” an unfamiliar voice called.

  Mrs. Sterm paused, tilting her head toward the disturbance.

  “Are you done?” I demanded her attention.

  She ducked her head and padded to her bathroom. The sound of glass tinkering seemed especially loud. I shuffled and peered past the curtains to watch the side street.

  “Alright,” Mrs. Sterm grabbed her bags and slipped a ream of documents subtly into her purse. “I’m ready.”

  At that moment, the sound of splintering wood and a lock giving way echoed through the house.

  Men charged up the stairs. The frantic roughness of their boots ground against the wooden steps.

  Mrs. Sterm covered her mouth and cried out in fear. “What’s going on?”

  “Take my hand,” I offered her my palm.

  She grasped it tightly. In the next moment, we stood outside her house, nestled behind a coconut tree.

  Mrs. Sterm watched with widened eyes as men in black suits poured out of two dark SUV’s. They charged liberally into her home.

  “How did you do that?” she gaped.

  I said nothing. Revealing my abilities had not been my first choice, but I’d seen no other route. Mrs. Sterm stared at me and then swiveled her head toward the invasion. Tears cropped in her eyes.

  “Who are those people?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  A tear slipped down her weathered cheek. “Is my Paul really dead?”

  There would be plenty of time to mourn. Right now, I needed Mrs. Sterm to focus. Grasping her hand tightly, I led her to my car parked across the street.

  “I’m taking you to the airport. Book a flight out of the country and stay there. Do not return. Do not contact anyone.”