Evolution

by Dave Nesbit

  Evolution

  By Dave Nesbit

  Escapism Publishing

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  © 2016 Dave Nesbit

  Published by Escapism Publishing

  Edited by Chanelle Deck

  978-1530878208

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Acknowledgments

  Dedicated to

  David S Nesbit Sr

  (Hey Dad! Look at what I did!!)

  Chapter 1

  It's nine a.m. and I'm carrying the heaviest weight I've ever known. We’re walking down a long flight of marble steps outside a church, four of us shouldering the weight of a casket. While I'm sharing it with three of what have become my best friends. It’s hard not to feel like the whole load is borne solely by me.

  It's not like I'm weak. When last I checked I can, and have, bench pressed a Humvee. Though, that’s nothing compared to what I can do with my mind; let’s just say I can make amazing things happen.

  Sometimes the weight of events, and your part in them, creates a sense of responsibility to be carried; especially when the event leads to this.

  The rain was coming down in a fine drizzle as we walked to the hearse and helped load the casket into the back. I'm dressed in a black suit and white shirt with black tie for the occasion. Around me my three fellow pallbearers are dressed much the same. Walking away from the back of the vehicle, we hear the first shout.

  “Goddamn freaks!” A man with the face of a newscaster yelled.

  “You oughta burn, Ryan!” Another guy from the crowd added.

  A few others joined him in yelling at us. Others maintained a respectful silence. They were part of a small crowd that could see us through the barricades the police had erected. A few held signs, most held cameras. Looking at them made me feel resentful of sharing this moment with people who had never known my friend, yet felt the need to insult us.

  The cops kept the barricades manned and the crowd back while we stepped into the limousine that would take us to the grave site.

  I settled back into a luxurious leather seat as my friends joined me. “Dude, that's just fucked up.” One of them said.

  “Heckling a funeral parade. People got no respect.” The other says as I stretch out.

  “And saying that to Ryan. What was he supposed to do?”

  I'd been asking myself that question for four days; so far I hadn’t found any brilliant answers.

  I settled my head back and sighed. Looking back on it all, I wondered about whether this part was ordained from the moment the madness all began.

  Chapter 2

  “Let me tell you about the circle of life. It begins like this. Some sadistic bastard says, 'let's schedule Ryan for a math class at 8 am.' Then Ryan shows up half awake and fails. Off to summer school I go.” I said, walking down the halls of the school. We had just finished four hours of physics class and my brain was swimming. The gods had been kind to me though; I had managed a “B” on the test.

  From beside me, my buddy Rich was chuckling. “Ohh dude; I feel that.”

  “Then of course next year, what do they do? Schedule for me physics at 8 am. Apparently some sick idiot thought that lightning couldn't strike twice.” I paused and took a drink from the soda I had gotten from a vending machine. “And again, off to summer school I go.”

  “Maybe you should tell them to not schedule those courses then.” Tim was the guy to my left. A nice guy who believed in things like processes and fairness. To date my experience of high school education did not have me holding out hope for either.

  “I did. I talked to Mr. Talbert in guidance asking for a class transfer.” I said.

  “What happened?” Rich inquired. He was a long string bean of a kid, with curly red hair that resembled more of an ongoing riot than a style.

  “Well I'm in summer school; what does that tell you?”

  “Might as well have talked to the wind.” Rich said and chuckled.

  “Gonna go with us to the show tonight?” Tim asked. A few friends of ours had a metal band together and were playing backyard parties. They weren't exactly blowing the world up with their success but they were getting us out to meet different folks. I would occasionally roadie for them and pick up a few extra bucks for my trouble.

  “Nah, I'm helping my dad get his gear together to do a trade show in Chicago tomorrow,” I answered.

  “That blows.” Tim said, running his hand through his dark hair. He was your typical Filipino Kid. Average height and weight, dark hair surrounding a pleasant, if not handsome face.

  “It gets me out of the house. Of course when he's not looking I'm gonna sneak away and check out the McIntosh booth.” They were aware I wasn't talking about the computer model. McIntosh was a company that made high end stereo gear. Their base model turntable cost about three grand. My love of music and the gear associated with it was kind of common knowledge.

  “Bastard,” Tim said, bumping into me. He was a fellow music geek. We were that classic clique of high school rockers; not stoners, not jocks and certainly not preps. We were the guys who wore jeans, band shirts, and leather jackets. No real talent for music but we loved the scene and found ways to work our way into it. I was rapidly becoming a fairly decent sound guy and was looking into the local community college for a tech program involving audio and video.

  As it seemed poor scheduling was pretty much gonna screw my chances at a real college.

  “Okay, dudes. Gotta bail, got real work to do. See ya Monday.” I said. Rich and Tim waved me off and away I went. I pulled my phone out and set it to a playlist, popped in my ear buds and hopped onto my bike.

  It was a long ride home. My school was within the city proper but I lived out in the county, which meant I had plenty of time to work through the playlist. I had inherited a very broad taste of music from my Dad. As a result, today’s collection ranged from Eminem to Miles Davis to Slayer. What it lacked in consistency, it made up for in the ability to keep me from being bored.
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  By the time I made it back home, Dad was already there going through his sample cases and such. He looked up as I got off my bike and popped my ear buds out. “Hey! How was school?” He asked with a smile.

  “Not bad, got a ‘B’ on the final. My guess is that will probably be my finished grade.” I locked up my bike and looked over the stuff we’d be unloading in Chicago tomorrow. Dad worked as a sales rep. Basically he’d get the rights to certain lines of goods, then act as the guy selling them to stores and distributors so the producer wouldn’t have to.

  Looking out I saw Dad had six cases that looked to be about five foot by three. He was itemizing everything in them. “Almost done.” He was ticking stuff off a list. When he was done he stood up, and looked the whole collection over. “Okay we just have to close them up and get ready.”

  As we closed up the cases and I hefted them into Dad’s Suburban, fitting them just right so they wouldn’t slip around, he looked at me. “Explain to me again how you can get an ‘F’ in physics during the regular year and yet you manage a solid ‘B’ in summer school when the material is condensed?”

  “It’s the difference between 8 am and 10 am Dad.” Slinging another case in.

  “You cannot be serious,” he replied.

  “Hey, you’re the one who told me the proof is in the pudding.” I answered with a shrug. “It’s not an excuse when it’s the truth.” I lifted another one in and set it so it balanced with the others. I’d done these trips with him before and I had packing the car down to a science. “First period algebra, ‘F’.” I said. “Took the class 11-3 in summer school. Bam! I get an ‘A’.”

  Dad shrugged. “Okay, we’re heading out at 7 am, think you’ll be able to handle working at such an ungodly hour?”

  I laughed. “Chances are good. Besides, it will take us an hour and a half to get there. I’ll nap in the car.”

  Dad rolled his eyes. “Come on. Your mom’s gonna be home in an hour. We better have something that looks like food ready.” I followed Dad into the house. If you had told me at the moment that I was in what could be described as the last normal day of my life, I likely wouldn’t have believed you. Of course the events of the next day changed everything.

  Chapter 3

  The turning point for me, like for the world itself, happened on August 28th. I was seventeen years old and accompanying my dad down to Chicago to help him set up a booth for a trade show at the McCormick Center.

  Well, that was the excuse anyway. It was the end of summer and school would be starting soon; Dad was hanging out with me as much as possible. Not that I minded; dad-time got a little short during the school year with all the travelling he did.

  The two of us lugged out all of the cases of samples in front of the display that had been shipped there. Then we sat back and watched as the union guys did all the work for us. Whether we wanted them to or not.

  I made a provision run for coffee and donuts, then sat next to him. To this day, I can't remember what we were talking about when we saw people beginning to crowd around a TV monitor. My old man nudged me and we both went to take a look.

  A host of various sales people and reps were taking in a news report on CNN. The first thing I could see was an image of a bright object flying through a night sky on the screen. “What's going on?” My dad asked. He was well over six-foot-tall and could stand back and see over most of the group there.

  I was a bit shorter than that and forced my way through the crowd.

  “Something about a piece of comet entering the atmosphere.” I heard a voice in the crowd whisper.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” Another guy dressed in a tweed jacket and white shirt snorted.

  “Part of it smacked into Kiev fifteen minutes ago,” the first one said. “Apparently it blew up over the city and did serious dama....” He paused and turned his head as some of the crowd ran to the window. Seconds later, a few more followed to check out the view, drawn there by curiosity

  I turned and looked too; a bright spot was forming on the horizon and was getting bigger by the second.

  My dad had done his time in the service. As he looked up and saw it, he had a good idea of what to expect. As I stood there with my jaw hitting the floor, he acted.

  He surged through the crowd and pushed me to the ground. I was still looking at the window as the piece of stellar matter passed straight over the building. A moment later a huge boom blew all the windows out.

  A fraction of a second later, the explosion happened.

  Have you ever felt something go straight through your body? A sensation that hits the top of your head and passes through you, like one long long string vibration to the bottom of your toes? That’s what it was like. And it kept happening for the next few seconds as the deep rushing sound of the air being blown backward by the exploding comet piece buffeted the city.

  Then it passed. I felt my dad grab the back of my shirt and lift me. I looked up, dazed, then tried to get my bearings, an attempt that largely failed. The sheer impact of both blasts had left me a little deaf and finding it hard to focus on anything.

  It took a second to realize that he was talking but that I couldn't hear anything, aside from a roaring in my ears and a high pitched whine. Then a few seconds later I could hear again; my head having that feeling as though I had drained water from my ears.

  “Are you okay?” Dad yelled to be heard over all the background noise.

  “Yeah, I think I am. What...”

  “Worry about it later, let’s go.” He said; and walked to one of the exits taking me with him.

  We walked past a scene of devastation. The glass from the windows had blown in and cut down most anyone in the way. I passed a number of bodies, cut to pieces, mangled, and a floor covered in blood, mixed in with the leftover pieces of displays of home wares and such.

  It was all a bit much to take in. After passing my fourth obviously dead person, I focused my eyes dead ahead as the building began to fill with smoke.

  Or not smoke? It didn't smell like anything burning, it smelt like...ice? A cool resonant wave of humidity spread through the building. A mixture of steam with what looked like other matter trapped in it. A few of the particles seemed to glow or to shine as the rays of the sun hit it.

  I found myself giggling for no apparent reason. This whole scene was strange and unsettling. None of it felt like it touched on anything I could accept as reality.

  Walking out of the building, we could see crowds of people rushing out of their buildings; people stumbling out of cars and more of that weird smoke. No one had crowded the street yet. Dad sat down on a bus stop bench and took a deep breath. I collapsed on the bench next to him.

  And then the whole world felt like it fell away.

  Chapter 4

  I'm pretty sure we all remember what happened next. The comet pieces hit across the world. Kiev, Chicago, Manchester, Portland, Osaka, Riyadh, all those cities got a piece of the same treatment. The explosions weren't big enough to topple buildings, but windows blew out all over the world. There were deaths and countless people wounded. The characteristic smoke of the explosion choked all these places. It left behind a surprise for those who had experienced it as it dissipated.

  None of us knew at the time what that would mean for the people there or all over the affected areas. It all began to dissipate after a few hours, but by that time it had a chance to work.

  The smoke was just beginning to clear when we got our first tastes of how the world was going to change. In Riyadh a man began glowing, casting a light that helped people find safety.

  In Chicago a woman summoned water from what seemed like nowhere to quell the fire that was claiming her apartment building. In Kyoto a man jumped to avoid having a steel girder land on him and suddenly found himself flying.

  There was, at the time, no name for it; much less an explanation. It just was.

  Meanwhile, as the news spread and more strange things began to happen, troops spilled into th
e cities helping the wounded and restoring order. Apparently when they came upon us still outside the McCormick I was out cold, Dad had tried to get me awake and now just stood over me making sure I was undisturbed until the medics came.

  A result of the impact the smoke had on me, was that I missed the next couple of weeks. As more people developed odd abilities, we learned that our world was going to be a much stranger place than we had known. The police and governments tried to catch up to the notion early on. Thankfully, due to the situation and cause, most of the people who had been empowered used their abilities to help others, initially.

  Soon a name came into common parlance for the people who had had this experience. “Touched.” As in touched by the hand of God. The Arabic for it came to something like “lmast” and that word gained ground as well.

  And Me? I was sleeping it all off; causing trouble even as I napped the days away.

  Chapter 5

  I woke up in the oddest hospital room I had ever seen. My mouth bone dry and my muscles feeling tense, yet weak.

  I slowly sat up and felt IV needles in my arms. My mind was having a little difficulty processing. Looking around it seemed like everything in the room was made of clear plastic. The IV poles, the stands the gear was sitting on, everything around me seemed vaguely transparent.

  To my right, a lady in blue nurse’s scrubs looked down and smiled. “You’re awake.” She finished a note on her chart. “Stay right here, I need to call the doctor.”

  I tried to make a reply but my voice was mostly a mumble as it tried to work in the sand pit my throat felt like. Thankfully the doctor and the nurse returned briskly. The doctor was a fairly tall Asian man with what looked like an athletic build under his scrubs. His face was handsome, even with the pronounced stubble he had going on, which I noticed as he bent to look at me.