Impact (Book 1): Regenesis

by Harrison Pierce

  “Do you think this will make a difference in finding him?”

  Mia let out a breath and said she wasn’t sure of anything. “Just do that for me, alright?”

  Bryce agreed and said he’d let her know. “What does that mean though?”

  “I don’t know Maguire,” she snapped. “It could mean this guy’s collecting the bodies like trophies, he could be eating them, I don’t know! Stop asking me questions neither of us has an answer to. If you really do want an answer, find it for yourself, okay?”

  Bryce only apologized and said he’d let her know while he headed for the door.

  ---*---

  8:18 PM

  Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean

  Drake sat in a private jet on a return flight home. When he was arrested, his thoughts, his concerns were centralized on the meetings he would miss because of the interruption, but his father’s company was the furthest thing the pondered on the flight home. What concerned Drake was why his father and Victor were killed by the same individual.

  A young stewardess walked toward him and asked whether he wanted a drink. Drake simply nodded and asked for a generic orange soda he knew his father had stocked on the plane for him. He watched the woman turn around and walk back toward the tail end of the plane. Drake watched her walk and studied how she slowed down ever so gradually to the point in which she nearly remained still. The world outside continued to fly past him, though at a slower rate. Drake returned his gaze to the frozen woman and allowed her to resume her task, though he sped her up to the point in which when she returned within what Drake felt was a second, he’d missed her comment entirely. He let the world return to its normal pace, thanked the stewardess, and took his drink.

  He discovered his ability while in prison in Tokyo and quickly discovered he had the unique power to age anything he touched, but more importantly, that it was rooted in a much greater skill, which was time manipulation. Drake fooled the authorities by only revealing the portion of his powers that would allow him to return to the United States as a free man. He never told them he could manipulate time though, as Drake knew it would further incriminate him. Upon release, Drake dealt with the press, scheduled a flight home, and tried to push the level of his powers.

  He learned that his time manipulation allowed him to completely control the flow of time, be it accelerating, slowing, or even stopping time altogether. Drake discovered that when time was frozen he could walk on water, yet rain or other forms of moisture in the air did not hinder him, and additionally, he could continue to hear and see in that realm (although there was nothing to hear when he stopped time, aside from his own voice). Initially Drake assumed light and sound would cease to function, but to his astonishment the two senses seemed to continue unhindered. Drake could not however jump forward in time or fully control the extent of his expeditions into the past. He’d only been able to move backward in time but did not end up when or where he’d originally hoped to. The limitations to his powers bothered him and Drake eagerly wanted to test them.

  Drake asked one of the flight attendants how long until they landed, then mentioned his plan to sleep through the rest of the flight, and asked not to be disturbed. Once he made himself comfortable and pretended to sleep, he accelerated the flow of time and made the rest of his trip in what felt like only a minute to him. Time resumed its normal pace, he woke up, and readied for landing.

  -- -- --

  He arrived home later than he wanted to on account of the press that awaited him outside of the airport, as well as Jonathan Vane and other executives of his father’s company. All parties expressed their condolences, though both groups held differing motives. Drake dealt with them as quickly as he could and returned home via taxi Jonathan opted to pay for. Drake wanted to walk back through means of stopping time, but he felt obligated to accept Jonathan’s offering, if for no other reason to conceal his abilities. Once home, Drake left his things at the door, wandered up to his room and paused in silence. His bedroom continued to feel adolescent and meaningless in contrast to the sudden loss and gravity of how his life would be from then on. His father’s room on the other hand seemed to be a hallowed place he dared not disturb. All he could manage was to close his father’s door and leave it as it was.

  The kitchen was immaculate and cold, just as the marble countertop felt as Drake ran his fingers across it on his way to the refrigerator. His home was hushed aside from the hum of the appliances and Drake’s rustling about the house. It felt alien and Drake was unsure of how he could counteract that isolation.

  He quickly took his keys, exited his house, locked the door behind him, and started off down the road on foot. The sky was still a deep blue and the only other people out that early in the morning were people on their way to work or the exceptional few who dedicated themselves to an early morning exercise routine. Drake checked the time on his watch and tried his best to calculate how many hours had passed since he took the orange soda from the flight attendant on his father’s private jet. After another minute of walking Drake focused his ability, stopped time, and continued to walk.

  The world remained still beside him while he contemplated the facts in his father’s assassination. The obvious similarities between his father’s murder and Nick’s brother’s death raised questions, none of which he could answer. Drake knew his father and Victor were well acquainted, but he wasn’t certain of what connection could warrant two well-timed murders by the same killer.

  Drake remained lost in thought as he headed down toward the heart of Bothell. However, Drake saw a man off in the distance who walked toward him. The figure wore decorative equestrian-styled armor and a cape of extremely fine material which Drake couldn’t quite distinguish. The individual continued toward Drake and only stopped when their paths crossed.

  He wore a kind smile and asked Drake what troubled him. “I gather this is the first time you’ve found someone who moves in this realm besides yourself?”

  Drake nodded. “I assumed there could be others, but I assumed they would not notice my decision to stop time.”

  “Meaning, you believed you would never cross paths with another soul like you because in your mind, I would not have noticed your activities with your powers.”

  “But you did and here you are,” Drake began, “So I assume this is something you’re familiar with?”

  “Actually, this is a first time for me as well,” he chuckled. “How long have you had your power?”

  Drake told him it was very new. “All of this is still a trial run to me.”

  “Then you haven’t discovered the limitations, have you?”

  Drake said he had found a few. “Do you mean the inability to jump forward in time or to completely control where and when I go when I go back into the past?”

  The armored man nodded. “One cannot see the future because it is not completely defined. There are events which will occur, that is certain, but the minor details as well as catastrophes, personal choices, the results of wars, and other events shape the future. Simply put: the future is not predetermined.”

  “Then what about the past?”

  The stranger admitted he was unsure why Drake had such a limitation. “What have you witnessed thus far?”

  “I only watched some man propose to a young woman in Japan in what I could only guess was thirty years ago or so.”

  The armored figure admitted he was uncertain why Drake saw what he had and only offered the advice of continuing to experiment with his adventures into the past.

  Drake thanked him and asked for his name.

  “You can call me Pyotr.”

  “Alright then, Pyotr, were those the only two limitations I need to worry about?”

  “For the most part. The only other restraint I can think to mention is that there are certain times and places you cannot go to or see.”

  “For instance?”

  “Christ’s era, a majority of the dark ages, and primarily anything which surrounds significant religi
ous events throughout history.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I believe it has something to do with a religious barrier which has been set around individuals with abilities.”

  “Do you think that means there really is a God of some sort?” Drake questioned him, “That we might have received out abilities from Him?”

  Pyotr simply chuckled and said, “I am not one to press my beliefs onto others, especially since I would hate to send you down a road that might be contrary to what’s beneficial to you.”

  “Do you believe there’s a God?”

  “I do, but it has nothing to do with our situation.” Pyotr waited for a moment before he asked whether Drake had questions he might be able to answer for him.

  Drake said he only had a few. “Firstly, how is it possible for me to exist like this?”

  “Could you explain what you mean to me?”

  Drake extrapolated by questioning how he could survive moving at speeds beyond the speed of light, as well as how he could continue to perceive light and sound in an environment which neither light nor sound could travel in.

  Pyotr smiled and told Drake that his ability was far more complex than he realized. “This place, this stopped time, isn’t traditional. As you most likely guessed, both air and water are stationary in this environment, which means that realistically you could not move through either rain or the air, as it would be immoveable. The same is true for light and sound.”

  “Then how can I function here?”

  “This ability is more than a simple matter of time control, my friend. I am not entirely certain of the possibility or classification of such a thing, but you could call this realm a separate dimension from the traditional third and fourth dimensions you are familiar with.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Basically, this is a place that exists outside of the limitations of the first four dimensions you are familiar with. Here you can walk through low density matter in a stationary environment, you never feel hunger or fatigue, you are able to hear and see even though you shouldn’t be able to, and your structural integrity is fortified to withstand heightened speeds.”

  Drake looked away from Pyotr and mused at the thought of an additional dimension. “It does explain the anomalies…would that also explain the minor healing factor?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I entered this dimension as you called it with a minor cut on my finger earlier in the day and it regenerated itself,” Drake explained. “Would that explain that occurrence as well?”

  Pyotr slowly nodded his head. “It would. You could think of it as a failsafe against a demise paradox.”

  “A what?”

  Pyotr repeated himself, “A demise paradox. It’s a term I made up to categorize this phenomenon. Basically, if you were to be fatally wounded, stopped time, and perished while time was stopped, only one of a few outcomes could occur. First, you would die and time would remain still indefinitely. Second, you would die and time would resume upon your death, as you could no longer control time. Third, you could not die in the stopped time environment and as such, a selfish being would remain living in the stopped-time environment indefinitely to preserve their life. However this revelation solves for the dilemma; you are healed whilst in this realm, which negates any need to remain here once healed. It also safeguards against death in this realm.”

  Drake could hardly follow along with Pyotr’s reasoning. He took a moment to run the hypotheses through his head once more before he asked, “You weren’t aware of the healing factor here?”

  Pyotr said he hadn’t ever been injured and entered into that realm before. “It makes sense though…I mean, some contingency needed to be in place, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Drake didn’t respond.

  Pyotr paused for a moment before he asked whether all of Drake’s questions were answered; Drake merely told Pyotr that he was satisfied and left the matter alone. “Then I guess you and I had better part ways here. I’m personally off to Iraq, so unless you’d like to accompany me–”

  “How is it that you and I can both stop time?” Drake interrupted him.

  Pyotr frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Is there anyone else who can do what we do?”

  “Not to my knowledge, no.”

  “Then this is a completely new experience for you as well?”

  Pyotr nodded, “More or less.”

  “Then why didn’t I frighten you when we met?”

  He smiled once more and said, “Drake, think for a moment. You were on the right path earlier when you asked me how there could be more than one person pulling on the reins of time. If there were two people who could manipulate time, they would either have to act in tandem or neither of them could stop or move time at all.”

  “Then how is it possible for you and I to be here right now?”

  Pyotr shrugged, “Maybe one of us isn’t who they say they are?”

  Drake stared at him. He felt his limbs stiffen and tried to make his mind about what the man said, but Pyotr only chuckled and told him to put it out of his mind. “I am not like you and that is all that is significant about my presence here Drake. What I do suggest is that you try to solve your dilemma with whatever it is you see in the past and apply it to your present.”

  “Who are you?” Drake asked.

  Pyotr turned away from him and vanished in an instant. And though Drake tried to stop him, time was already frozen, which to Drake meant that Pyotr moved on a plain of reality outside of time, which was utterly beyond Drake’s control and influence.

  The meeting bothered Drake, but he knew that even if he turned and headed straight for Iraq, he doubted he’d ever find the man again. As such, he relented and returned to his wanderings through a stationary world.

  ---*---

  Part III

  Obscurity

  Chapter 17

  September 11th, 2029

  6:44 AM

  Baltimore, Maryland

  Detective Felton stood beside a mound of freshly unearthed dirt and grass. A deep hole in the ground exposed the damaged and emptied casket of Jeff Foster, the eighth victim in the case. The bitter morning held Felton’s breath midair as he studied the roped off site. The grass was held erect in every place except for where Detective Felton, the groundskeeper, and a few officers had stepped, though from the recollection of the groundskeeper, who called in the grave desecration, there were no footprints at the site. The only clue Felton had was the Roman numeral carved into the headstone, assumedly by whoever committed the crime.

  Bryce Maguire happened to be one of the officers who responded to the call first and helped keep the onlookers away from the site. Felton called him over and had another officer replace him. Bryce glanced once more at the open grave and the Roman numeral for eight carved in the headstone before Felton asked how everything appeared when he first saw it.

  “Well it was open, there were footprints, not that we’d be able to use them, since we assumed they were from the groundskeeper, and you noticed the marking on the tombstone…” he scratched the back of his head, “Does that answer your question?”

  “Not really,” he mumbled, “But that’s fine. I think we’re done here.”

  “Do you think this was Cladis?”

  Felton admitted he wasn’t sure and started off toward his vehicle. He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Sergeant Murdock, who responded to another instance of an apparent grave robbery. It rang twice before the sergeant answered, “Find anything worthwhile?”

  “Take a guess,” Felton sighed. “Who was the site for on your end again?”

  “I was lucky enough to have two cases on my end,” Murdock informed him. “Caroline Reynolds and Tim Qing; both unearthed, coffins broken into, not opened mind you, bodies gone.”

  “Did you find anything on the headstones?”

  “Yep, number four for Qing and nine for Reynolds, both in Roman numerals.”

  “Same here.”
r />   “So what do you think this means? Do you think Cladis is collecting the bodies?”

  “I don’t know what else to think at this point.”

  “Well what about the ones that were cremated?”

  Felton rubbed his forehead and said he was unsure. “Maybe he got to them before the bodies were burnt and replaced them?”

  “I’d like to think that someone would have noticed they were cooking up the wrong stiff. And that could even mean additional bodies if Cladis was stealing the others…and why not use those if he did?”

  “I know, it doesn’t make any sense to me.” Felton paused and watched his breath dance before him. “Maybe he doesn’t need the whole body, but only a part of it,” he mused.

  “Like a piece or an organ?”

  “Possibly. He could take that before the cremation and leave the rest of the body to burn.”

  Sergeant Murdock relented and told him he had a few more graves to check on in the area. “I’m guessing anyone buried up to now isn’t going to be resting soundly, judging by the number of calls we’ve received about the graves. Are you headed back to the station yet?”

  “Nope. I have another graveyard to visit myself.”

  “Do you know which victims they are?”

  “No, but I’ll text you once I do.”

  They hung up and Felton unlocked his car door, entered the vehicle, and swore under his breath as he started the engine.

  ---*---

  7:22 PM

  London, England

  Relax Jason. They’ll no doubt marvel for a short while but you’re not going to be the spectacle of the evening. Abigail will undoubtedly remark about the uncanny similarities between the heroes across the world and my recovery, but they won’t accuse me of having super powers…they shouldn’t. Audrey hasn’t told them, she wouldn’t, I know she wouldn’t gossip about this. It’s going to be fine. You haven’t had any media coverage, you haven’t pranced around London proclaiming yourself a hero, the savior of the whole damn world, you’ll be fine Jason. Breathe and relax. This is going to be another long evening in with her family, you’ll stop Alan and Audrey from bickering, listen to Abigail’s stories and Jack’s self-righteousness and the evening will go off without any complications. Everything is going to be fine. Everything will be fine.