by J. M. Pierce
“It’s okay, I was just curious.” He paused as his face twitched with emotion. “You have no idea how bad I felt leaving you and my mom there.”
Cliff sat on the edge of his bed across from Test. With a deep breath and a sigh, he replied, “Son, you gotta stop beatin’ yourself up. Ain’t no use in dwellin’ on things that have already happened. I say let’s pack it in for the night and let tomorrow be whatever it is meant to be.”
“Cliff,” said Test, looking at his friend intently. “What’s going on with me? Do you think that my hands were really glowing like she said?”
Cliff rolled onto his back and rested his head on the lumpy pillow. Staring at the ceiling, he replied carefully, “All things come in their own time, Test. Like I said, I think you need some shut-eye. We can talk more in the morning.”
There was a long silence. Test leaned over to the nightstand that sat between the two beds and checked the time, though he really didn’t care what time it was. He reclined on the bed with his fingers interlaced behind his head. He was exhausted, but at the same time his mind was racing, making it nearly impossible for him to settle.
“I’m afraid of dying, Cliff.” His voice quivered. “I’m scared.”
Cliff sat up in bed and looked at Test intently, a lifetime of wisdom in his eyes. “Dyin’? Son, you ain’t even been born yet.”
Chapter 20
Happy Birthday
Test awoke in Nicole’s embrace. She was snuggled up behind him, spooning him tightly. He looked over to the clock; it was nine in the morning. Rays of sunlight streamed through cracks in the curtains, and the air conditioner was blowing noisily as it had been all night long. Test slid out from Nicole’s embrace and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked to Cliff’s bed, expecting to see the old man still asleep, only to realize that he wasn’t there. Does that man ever sleep? he thought. Test put on his shoes and went to the door. He opened it and stepped out into the hallway, looking in both directions to see if he could spot Cliff, but he was nowhere to be seen. Returning to the room, Test closed the door behind him, holding the handle to keep the door from slamming loudly and waking up Nicole. He was suddenly startled by her sweet voice.
“What are you doing?” asked Nicole from beneath her bed covers.
“Hey, beautiful,” replied Test as he turned to her. “I was just looking for Cliff.”
He walked to the foot of the bed and marveled at her simple beauty.
“Did you find him?” she asked.
“Nah, I don’t know where he’s at.”
Test crawled onto the bed, curled up beside her, and ran his fingers softly through her hair.
“You sleep okay?” he asked.
“Like a rock. I barely remember walking into the room,” she replied with a deep yawn.
“Well, I guess you earned that sleep, huh?”
She quickly sat up in bed and poked at his ribs. “You guess? I shouldn’t have to get out of bed for a week after the last two days!” she replied in jest.
“Okay, okay!” he yelled as he held up his hands. “Sorry, geez!”
She smacked him on the chest and then pointed to him dominantly. “Don’t let it happen again.”
“You know, you are beautiful . . .” he paused, smiling widely, “but you sure are crabby when you wake up in the morning.”
“That’s it!” she said as she jumped on top of him.
The couple struggled for a minute and then stopped face-to-face. Nicole, with her face inches away from his, asked, “So you really think I’m beautiful in the mornings?”
“Absolutely,” replied Test with Nicole’s hair framing his face like a canopy over a bed.
The distance between them faded until their lips were together. Her kiss erased the nightmare of his life, her lips soft and intoxicating. The two exchanged breath as if there were no air left in the world to breathe. Suddenly, with a loud clank, the handle on the door turned. Nicole quickly jumped off Test and buried herself under the covers as Test looked to the doorway. There Cliff stood with a morning paper and a couple of cups of coffee.
“Cliff, do you know that you have the worst timing ever?” said Test, staring at his friend in disgust.
Cliff looked at Test with a blank and straight face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mess up your plans.”
Concerned, Test sat up on the bed.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Standing by the foot of his bed, the old man took a deep breath that emphasized the bleak look on his face. Unable to look him in the eye, he handed the paper to Test. “You’d better look at this, son.”
Test took the paper and at the top of the front page, the headline read:
“HUNT STILL ON FOR SUPER TEEN”
Test smiled as he read the headline. In a twisted way, it made him feel special.
“Keep readin’,” urged Cliff.
Test continued to read.
“The Lincoln Police Department, along with the National Guard, is into its second day of hunting for Test Davis, a fugitive teen who has been on the run since Friday evening. He is described as being around six feet tall and of moderate build with a prominent scar on his left cheek.
“The police caught a break when they happened across the fugitive in the West Side Shopping Center parking lot late yesterday morning; however, Mr. Davis escaped after a frightening display of unnatural powers. Cars were thrown through the air, officers were incapacitated by an unseen force, and a tremendous wave of energy rolled through the parking lot, damaging more than 20 vehicles and injuring several people. Two of the injuries were minor. The victims were treated and released on the scene. The third, ironically the fugitive’s mother, suffered a severe concussion and later slipped into a coma after arriving at the hospital. Mrs. Davis later died from complications.”
Test froze. He read the last line again.
“Mrs. Davis later died from complications.”
“Died?”
Nicole jumped up. “What?”
“I’m sorry, son,” said Cliff sadly.
“This can’t be,” said Test. He looked to Cliff in disbelief. “Is this real?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Nicole put her arms around Test and laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
Test sat limp. Every ounce of wind had been knocked from him. With the paper still lying on his lap, and tears welling in his eyes, he looked back to the article.
“. . . a tremendous wave of energy . . . injuring several . . . Mrs. Davis later died from complications.”
This can’t be happening. In a broken voice, he said aloud, “I’ve killed my mom.”
In an instant, his world had completely changed yet again. While Nicole and Cliff seemed to be frozen, Test stood quickly and aggressively. As he did, his pulse raced uncontrollably and his breathing became fast and shallow. As he brought his hands to his face to wipe his tears, he closed his eyes. He could see a glow through his eyelids as if he were looking into the sun with his eyes closed. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see his palms directly in front of his face radiating a brilliant shade of red. In shock, he looked to Nicole.
She returned his look of shock with a look of terror. Radiating from his core were waves of energy that looked like ripples on a pond, distorting the vision of everything around him.
Control it, son!
He looked to the old man.
You have to control it! You can’t let it control you!
Test heard Cliff’s voice, but he wasn’t speaking. Test took a step toward Cliff and then looked down to his hands. He heard and understood Cliff’s words, but Test’s grief and anger had overtaken him. He continued to think of his mother. He felt regret on a scale that was beyond what a rational mind could handle. The last few years, he had blamed her for many things that were wrong in his life, only to discover that her reasons for behaving as she had may have been largely his fault.
Nicole sat and watched the spectacle unfold. Suddenly the room began to
vibrate, blurring her vision and creating pressure on her ears as if she were under a mountain of water.
“Test!” she screamed. “Stop it!”
As he turned to her, she could see the palms of his hands still glowing red. Through his shirt came a glow, much the same as that of his palms. The center of his torso pulsed red and was bordered by an electric blue. The blue continued down his arms and covered the backs of his hands as well.
“Test, stop!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, the pressure on her ears becoming unbearable. She placed her hands on them and tried to block the sensation, but it was no use. She was losing consciousness.
Cliff, feeling the pressure as well, was now on his knees. He’d tried to get into Test’s mind and calm him, but now the pain wouldn’t allow Cliff to focus.
Test had traveled beyond rational thought. He saw Nicole lying on the bed with her eyes closed, and he saw Cliff on his knees, but he couldn’t shut it down. The only way that he could stop their pain was to not be there. He turned and ran to the door. As he reached for the handle, the door exploded into dust. He entered the hall and ran. After a couple of steps, he heard Cliff’s voice in his mind.
Test. Please stop.
Now four to five rooms away, he turned to see Cliff standing in the hallway. Behind him, a small group of hotel staff had gathered while terrified patrons ran down the hall towards them.
Let me help you, son.
In a voice filled with emotion, Test replied, “I have hurt enough people, Cliff. I don’t want to hurt you or Nicole any more. I don’t know what I am, and don’t know what I am capable of. I can’t be here anymore, and I’m sorry that I got you involved. Please tell Nicole I love her.”
He turned back towards the door, and with a thrust of his right hand, sent it exploding off its hinges. The door flew through a Dodge Durango sitting in front of the exit, nearly cutting the car in half down the middle. He stepped out into the fresh morning air, and took off with such force that the concrete beneath him buckled and fractured from the pressure.
Cliff walked down the hall to the carnage that seconds ago was an entrance and looked up to see an empty sky.
“I’m sorry, son,” he said aloud as he recalled the last conversation that they’d had the night before. “Happy Birthday.”
Chapter 21
Separation
Police officers, firefighters, and paramedics arrived within minutes of Test’s departure. Nicole found herself waking up in the back of an ambulance.
“Ms. Paxton, can you hear me?” asked a woman’s voice.
Nicole’s eyelids felt like they had lead weights attached, but slowly, she was able to open them. Everything was hazy, but she could make out a short-haired woman of slight build hovering over top of her.
“Ms. Paxton, do you know where you are?” asked the woman.
“Hotel,” said Nicole in a labored voice. It was a struggle to speak. Her mouth was dry and her thoughts detached.
“My name is Melissa Cadman. I’m an EMT.” Taking notice of the readings on her equipment, she continued. “Ms. Paxton, we’re going to take you back to Lincoln. You have been unconscious for a substantial length of time so we are going to get you to the hospital for some tests and observation.”
With the mention of the word “test,” her fractured reality came back to her as a man’s voice boomed from the rear of the ambulance.
“Ms. Paxton, I need to ask you a few questions.”
Nicole looked down to see a man in plainclothes, jeans and a collared shirt, standing in the doorway. He had straight black hair with gray peppering on the sides and was wearing yellow-tinted glasses with very thin frames. The sleeves of his shirt gripped his biceps tightly.
“Ms. Paxton, were you abducted by Mr. Davis or did you go of your own will?” asked the man.
Nicole looked at him with contempt. “Who are you?” she asked.
The man’s posture inflated. “My name is Agent Dawson. Now answer my question, Ms. Paxton,” his growling tone filled with agitation.
Nicole looked to the ceiling and stared silently at the light fixture above her. She didn’t know what to do.
“Ms. Paxton, I know that you and Mr. Davis have a relationship. If you don’t wish to speak to me, I’ll have to assume that you are protecting a murderer and fugitive.”
A murderer! she thought.
She struggled with the situation and how things could have gotten to this point. In flashes, moments came back to her. She vaguely remembered Test reading the paper. And then with a rush of sadness, it hit her. Maggie was gone. She remembered the pressure in the hotel room, and then nothing, nothing until waking up in the ambulance. If she ever wanted to have a chance at freedom, she had to think quickly.
Slamming her clenched fists down into the stretcher, she replied angrily, “Okay, I dated him for a day. ONE DAY!” She sat up with tears streaming down her face and continued. “Then I saw that he was a freak and I . . .” She paused, searching for the words and looked to the man. “Well, would you stay with someone like that?” The tears added to the realism of her words. The reality was that they were in fact partly for the love of Test and partly for the fear of him.
“So, you don’t know where Mr. Davis might be?” asked Agent Dawson, continuing in his growling tone, unfazed by the tears.
She rolled her eyes, rested her forearm on her forehead, and replied condescendingly, “I wouldn’t have a clue.”
“What about Mr. Johnston? Can you tell me anything about him?” asked Agent Dawson.
“Who?” replied Nicole full of disdain.
“Clifford Johnston. He is believed to be an accomplice of Mr. Davis.”
Biting her bottom lip, Nicole rolled over on the stretcher, pulling her knees to her chest. “I don’t know him at all. To me, he’s just a creepy, grumpy little old man,” she replied.
“Ms. Paxton, can you tell me anything about any weakness that Mr. Davis might have. Any facts that might help us apprehend him without incident?”
“Weaknesses?” she replied with a huff. “No, I didn’t see anything that I would consider a weakness.”
“Please be—”
“Sir, I’m sorry,” interrupted the EMT, “but we need to get Ms. Paxton back to Lincoln. I’m going to have to ask that this be continued later after the doctor’s approval.”
As she stood to lock in the stretcher, Agent Dawson remained in the doorway motionless, staring at her with a disturbing smirk. “We’ll see each other again soon, Ms. Paxton.”
He backed away and glared into the ambulance as the doors were closed by an unseen hand.
“Please just relax, Ms. Paxton. We’ll be to Lincoln soon,” said the EMT in a calming voice.
****
Cliff was left alone in a dark room. There were no windows, no chairs, nothing but walls lined with cracks. He thought about the events that had brought him to this place. It was hard for him to feel regretful about anything. Had he been able to see his own future, he wasn’t sure if he would have gone to work the day that Test walked in or not. Cliff was getting older and a week prior, he would have said that he was getting more conservative; however, at age seventy, he had done and seen more in the last couple of days than most people his age could ever fathom.
After a rattle of keys at the door followed by a click, the door opened. Standing in the doorway was a man in plainclothes and yellow-tinted glasses. His salt and peppered black hair made him look distinguished, and his broad shoulders made him somewhat intimidating. Cliff closed his eyes, and in a flash, he could see everything that the man had seen in the hours since Cliff’s arrest. The conversation with Nicole, the angry thoughts toward the EMT, and a helicopter ride to the location where he now stood. The man’s name was Chris Dawson, and he held immense amounts of hostility. His demeanor made Cliff extremely uncomfortable.
“Hello, sir,” said Cliff politely. “How are you today?”
“Mr. Johnston, I’m not interested in idle chat. You have been aid
ing and abetting a murderer. If you ever have plans on seeing the light of day again, I strongly suggest you answer every question that I may have quickly and honestly.”
The man didn’t know that Cliff knew every question before he even asked it, giving him precious seconds to think about his answers.
“How long have you known Mr. Davis?” asked the agent.
“Oh . . . just a couple of days I suppose. He come into the store where I work; seemed like a good kid,” replied Cliff with a smile.
“Do you know anything at all about Mr. Davis’s abilities? Is there anything we haven’t seen?” asked the agent sternly.
Quickly, Cliff replied, “I couldn’t honestly say, sir. Like I said, I’ve only known the boy for a couple of days, and out of that, I’ve only been around him for maybe ten to twelve hours. The boy’s got a lot of power though, lots of power for sure.”
“How about you wipe that smile off your face?” growled Dawson as he took a step towards Cliff. “Now . . . do you have any idea where Mr. Davis might be?”
Cliff straightened his face and looked at the man bitterly. “He took off so fast that I didn’t even see what direction he took off to. He was upset about his mother.”
“Mr. Johnston, is it true that Mr. Davis and his mother didn’t get along?”
“Well, yes, to a point. But the boy didn’t mean for his mother to get hurt, let alone die if that’s what you’re gettin’ at!” replied Cliff angrily, letting his emotions get the better of him.
Suddenly he could see in his mind the man before him standing in a room. The room was dimly lit and at the door was an armed guard. There were instruments in the room with flashing lights and he could hear the steady hum of a pump. The door opened and in walked a nurse. It was a hospital room of some sort. The nurse walked to the side of a bed and asked a question of the person lying in the bed. He then saw the patient open her eyes and turn to the nurse. The light slipped through the shutters covering the window, illuminating the room just enough for Cliff to see a face. It was Maggie, and she was alive. The whole thing had been a setup, a trap. Someone had planted a lie to the press to flush Test out. It had worked except that they didn’t know the extent of his power and were in no way ready for it, even if they had actually found him.