by Wall, Nathan
“In a lot of ways, it was like it’d been through a reset. Or maybe it never started the game to begin with.” He knelt beside Lian, checked her pulse, made sure she was still breathing, and then stood in front of Claire. He turned her chin up and rubbed his fingers along her cheek. She squeezed his palm between her face and hands. “That place and here fit together perfectly like… like jagged blocks. We have inspiration that they lack, but what we fail to understand they’ve always known. I can…” He tapped his chest, searching for the words. “I can feel the two coming together. All around us, in the air, everywhere and nowhere, all in sync as the cycle creeps towards something inevitable. And you know what I want to shout?”
“What?” she asked as if she didn’t really want to hear the answer.
“That I’m OK with it… and that’s not OK.” He pulled her in close and turned his gaze out the window.
A distant explosion rumbled through the building. Claire jumped, pulling on his shirt. He ran into another room. A helicopter had crashed into a warehouse. The flames reflected off his face. An arrowhead-shaped aircraft became visible and then disappeared. He squeezed his fists and the aurascales slowly washed over his skin.
“Please stay,” Claire urged. He turned around. She leaned against the doorway with a desperate fear shining through her eyes and skin. “Don’t leave us.”
***
Jarrod crashed onto a roof. The hawk-faced enemy landed on him, driving downward with his knees almost immediately. They broke through the ceiling and the dilapidated building—which had been hanging together by a thread—toppled inward with them inside.
Jarrod punched through the rubble, dust flying off his armor as he stood. That last blow had packed a wallop. The avian bandit was nowhere to be seen. He heard something stir behind him and his eyes crept over his shoulder. He took a section of concrete encased rebar and swung it. The concrete exploded into pebbles, but the impact knocked the soaring assailant through a still-standing wall.
“He can fly?” Jarrod stumbled out of the debris and outside. People watched the fight from atop an overpass while others hung their heads out of their condos and duplexes. Jarrod and this new foe had torn through the city, neither really gaining the upper hand.
Stay vigilant.
“I know what to do,” Jarrod griped. He turned to the spectators. “If y’all people knew what was best for ya, you’d leave here.” They continued to snap pictures and make calls. Police sirens grew louder. His armor erupted like a solar flare. “I said leave.” The onlookers scattered.
“You are not without honor,” the mechanical voice proclaimed, sounding like it was broadcasting out of a loudspeaker. It echoed down the residential street lined with tricycles, white picket fences, and tire swings. There was no way of knowing its origin. “But you are not the hope I seek. Instead, Death incarnate. I was foolish to think otherwise.”
Jarrod was plucked from the ground and dragged into the sky by his shoulder plates. The winged fighter flew straight up and then slung him down. Jarrod tumbled end-over-end until he finally righted himself. The aurascales formed a layer of skin between his arms and legs, like a flying lemur. His enemy wasn’t done.
A crossbow of light materialized over the foe’s wrist and he blasted holes in Jarrod’s armor. The wing suit vanished and he bounced twice off the ground before crushing the hood of a parked car.
Police surrounded the street. The avian bandit hovered a few feet off the ground with his crossbow still fixed on Jarrod. The faceguard slid back, exposing his tan skin and curly hair.
His eyes narrowed. “You wear Azrael’s colors, yet you are not him. I’d like to know how.”
“Yeah, good ol’ Azrael,” Jarrod croaked, rolling forward and falling face first onto the ground. His rickety knees barely worked. “I keep hearing that I bear a striking resemblance, and as much as I’d like to, I can’t seem to escape his name.” He squinted at the flying foe. “You know a lot about me. Who are you?”
“I am Horus, Prince of the Southern Corner, and guardian of my people.”
Jarrod nodded. “Horus, yeah, I took a semester of mythology.”
“Stop. Land. Put the… glowing weapon down and your hands behind your head,” the police insisted over the megaphone.
Jarrod nodded their direction. “I’d prefer no one else get hurt, but I can’t promise that unless you leave me alone or kill me.”
“You mean to do them harm?” Horus shouted, gliding forward slightly.
Jarrod shook his head, biting his lip. His hands trembled. Someone near him had evil in their soul and he knew once he snuffed it out, he likely wouldn’t be able to stop there. His lips quivered as he fell to his knees.
“I said kill me,” he shouted. His eyes erupted, as did the urge to cleanse. “You don’t know what it is inside.”
Neither do you.
“I said shut up,” Jarrod cried, picking up the car and slinging it at Horus.
***
“You don’t know what’s out there,” Jarrod said, relaxing his muscles. The aurascales held back, momentarily. He took Claire’s hands. “What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not sure anymore.” A tear slid down her cheek. “Losing.”
“Like a contest?”
“In general. Everything.” A wise yet fearful glimmer was in her eyes. Like she knew what they both weren’t talking about. None of them talked about it. Their silence around him was annoying. “Losing this world, losing the family I have left, losing you out there…” She paused and touched his head. “And in here. I’m powerless to help any of you, and right now I feel selfish to ask that you be here with me instead of helping the ones we love, but dammit, at some point don’t I rank?”
“You always rank…”
“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “Like when you joined the army to look after Austin because Mrs. Hanigan made you promise? That was noble, yeah.” She rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated grunt. “Ugh… Sometimes I think the choice for you to leap is easy because you know I’ll always be here when you get back. But what if I’m not?”
“I’ll protect you.” He hugged her tight and kissed her forehead. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“I’m not talking about if I die, Jarrod.”
He leaned back. What was that supposed to mean? “You’re saying?”
“I just want to spend whatever time this world has left being happy. We got Lian to where she wanted to go, and Austin loves her. They’re in it together.” She looked at him, crying. “And I don’t feel like you’re in this with any of us. So where will home be, Jarrod? Our friends are fighting for theirs. What are you fighting for? Because I need to know if I’m a part of your home… if any of us are. If I’m not then I won’t continue to fight for you to be in mine, because history has shown me enough to know when it’s a lost cause.”
“I don’t, uh…” He pretended to not understand what she was talking about, but it was pretty clear. Another explosion rattled the windows behind him, rumbled through the floors, and shook dust from the ceiling.
She didn’t even flinch. “In case the message is lost in translation, I’m saying if you go out that door—abandon me in this dark shithole to look after Lian’s idle body alone—I won’t be here for more than five seconds after she wakes up.” She slung his hands off hers and pushed him away. This time, his silence was suffocating. She nodded. “You can be selfish sometimes. It doesn’t always have to be about someone else.”
If you only knew. Jarrod was dying to tell her that. Maybe it was unfair to keep secrets and not allow her to be brave enough to handle the truth. But whatever time was indeed left for either of them, it was best if she didn’t waste hers waiting for him to get better. He wasn’t going to. He was too dangerous for her to be around. “I have to go.”
“You don’t.” She shook her head. “But you will.”
***
Jarrod pulled shards of rebar from his shoulder. A pale blue light hovered over his wounds, keeping th
em sealed so he wouldn’t bleed out. The light turned rigid. More aurascales slithered over his body, keeping his armor whole. He slowly stalked Horus, taking well measured steps towards his foe.
He stood on Horus’ wrist and pulled the sword away. The Angel-born crawled backwards and manifested a shield. Jarrod struck, lodging the blade into and through the shield. The sword missed Horus’ head by mere inches.
A trio of helicopters soared over head. The aircrafts unleashed hell upon the fighters. Jarrod sprinted away, zigzagging so quickly through back streets and alleyways that soon he was just another body in the bustling city. The sun replaced streetlights, and his aurascales vanished. The wound on his shoulder bled through his clothes. Passing by an apartment complex, he grabbed a few new shirts and jackets from clothes lines and redressed. He pulled a leather hood over his head and zipped the coat up.
Who runs from a fight? the voice taunted. He ignored it. You’re butt hurt.
Despite the carnage on the other side of the city, the people seemed rather immune to it all. The busses ran on schedule and kids walked to school. It was like the rain had washed everything away. It didn’t make sense. Was this the new normal?
People are lazy. They condition themselves to accept an inconvenience rather than fix it.
A red double-decker bus rolled up and he got on. He searched his new pockets and found enough spare change to buy a ticket. He lowered his head, walked up top, and sat in the back.
Horus tore through the bus, grabbed Jarrod by the head, and flipped him backwards. Jarrod rolled to a stop and tried pushing off the ground. Horus stomped on Jarrod’s back, pinning him. His hands clamped around Jarrod’s neck, squeezing. Horus pulled backwards with all his might, trying to snap Jarrod’s spine.
“Do. It. Already,” Jarrod urged, clenching Horus’ wrists. “Rip my head off.” He fought back against his aurascales, but they had other plans.
The voice in his head grew desperate, his life nearly extinguished. Then it felt something. Horus’ soul, or an aura very similar. Jarrod, or the voice inside, laughed: the advantage was theirs.
A blue flare erupted. The blinding light drained from Horus. Jarrod could feel him grow weak. Horus’ aurascales merged with Jarrod’s, and the color of his skin faded until it was a sickly yellow.
Jarrod broke free of Horus’ grasp and stood over the prince, choking him with one hand. Just as the voice inside Jarrod’s mind grew to dominate, Jarrod decided he’d had enough. He released Horus before absorbing his life force.
No. You can’t! the voice screamed. Jarrod hunched over, trying to shove the entity back into a box. You will regret not finishing him. Devour them all and we can leave this place.
“I won’t,” Jarrod growled. He grabbed Horus and returned the aurascales he’d stolen. “I’m dangerous to everyone and this is the only one who can kill me.”
Horus looked at Jarrod, confused. His breathing steadied. He pushed against a light post and stood. “What are you?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Jarrod covered his face sat on his feet. He looked at the sword forming Horus’ hand, nodding in approval. Having nearly killed Horus by absorbing his essence, he’d seen inside and knew he was a good man. His friends would be in good company. “Do it,” he begged.
Horus lifted the sword. Athena knocked him out from behind. He hit the ground, out cold. Austin pulled Jarrod to his feet.
“C’mon, we don’t got much time,” he panted, dragging Jarrod. Athena slung Horus over her shoulder. “Lian’s awake. She’s got bad news, and Claire is gone.”
Fate lets us live.
“While it can,” Jarrod whispered.
I fight for survival, Jarrod, said the voice. The sound pushed his brain against his skull. He couldn’t breathe. Darkness crept over his vision like the time he’d nearly drowned. His grip on his shell was slipping. What do you fight for?
Chapter Thirty
Jarrod VI
Lian prodded Jarrod with her foot. She stood over him with knuckles on her hips. “Wake your ass up.”
He tried sitting. His ribs and legs felt splintered. Through his hazy vision, the fire-orange sky loomed over a burning village. A gigantic wall circled the horizon. The people’s cries drowned out Lian’s voice. Her lips moved and he heard nothing.
“The people.” He pulled himself up and stumbled before gaining control of his legs. He bumped into Lian who steadied him. “You have to speak up.” His eyes turned to the town. A boy was crying for help. “Can’t you hear that incessant shrieking?”
Jarrod sprinted down a hill and Lian followed. The smell of burning flesh overcame him. God, was it potent. He stopped. The flaming house loomed tall like an executioner. Lian put her shirt over her face and tugged on his arm.
“Wake up,” she insisted. He was relieved to hear her. The aurascales crawled over his body and he continued despite her words. “Come on.”
Inside, the roof had caved. The heat had no effect. The aurascales coddled him and flushed his blood with adrenaline. “This has happened before, I swear.”
“This isn’t real,” Lian said, standing next to him, sweating. Jarrod scooped her up and jumped outside. Her face was smeared with wet, black ash. She rubbed it off and showed it to him. “See, I’m fine.”
“You’re gonna get hurt,” he yelled. A screaming child snared his attention. “I have to go.”
Jarrod leapt into the home once more. It crumbled and slid towards Lian like a river of lava. She crawled backwards, eventually jumping to her feet and scurrying out of its path. To her right, three devious-looking horsemen sat on their sickly animals. Black hoods draped over their heads cast shadows on their faces.
The horses’ pounding strides thundered against the ground. They were nearly on top of her when Jarrod sprang to the rescue. He knocked the spooky individuals to the ground. They attacked in unison, but were easily gutted. They fell to the ground and evaporated into blue mist. Jarrod lent his hand to Lian and lifted her up. The armor retracted from his face.
“It may not be real, but it’s no less dangerous,” he said, walking away.
She followed. They stopped at a child with charred flesh. Lian covered her mouth, trying not to vomit. Jarrod pulled a handful of the boy’s crisp skin away, revealing the face of the child who cried for help.
“Is that... you?” she asked, in awe.
“It was.” Jarrod nodded, still cleaning his younger version. “This is all I dream of anymore. I must’ve been here a thousand times.” His eyes looked up at the brimstone-filled sky, crackling with lightning. “This part isn’t a dream. It’s the convergence of memories that aren’t mine.”
“Can you wake up?” she asked, pressing herself close to him. A crack formed in the giant city wall and portions of it crumbled. “You’re in London. You’ve passed out and are lying on a sofa.”
“This must finish.”
“We didn’t bring you back alone,” Lian said. Jarrod was intrigued. “Do you know who the man piloting that… spaceship was?”
“He’s Horus.” Jarrod looked at the boy, who’d started breathing again. “In his thoughts—when I nearly killed him—he’s what they call an Angel-born, with a soul or essence like ours. I could feel it and nearly consumed it. His memories are now in my head too. Is he awake?”
“He’s alive, but recovering slowly from that wallop Athena gave him.” Lian stood over his shoulder and watched as the boy awakened. “Does he mean us harm?”
“Horus or the boy?” Jarrod asked.
Lian giggled at Jarrod’s question. “Horus, of course.”
“Horus, no. He’s like us. Lost and trying to unite his family.” Jarrod stood and wrapped his arms around Lian’s head so the sonic boom of what came next didn’t deafen her. The aurascales covered his head. “The boy, on the other hand, he’s the voice I hear. His name is Ryan, and I think he’s the rightful owner of my body.”
Lian looked up at Jarrod, confused. A blinding flare exploded in the sky. The sonic wave tore th
e landscape apart. She sat up straight—back in the dingy apartment—screaming her lungs off.
“You’re fine,” Austin reassured her. “What happened?”
Her eyes shifted over to Jarrod. He sat, staring at her while Athena stood next to him with her armor beaming and sword in hand. Jarrod flinched at the sight of the weapon, rolling out of the way. Athena was on edge, engaged. The point of her weapon pressed against Jarrod’s heart.
Lian sprang forward and stood between the two. “He’s OK. I’ve seen it.” She pushed hair out of Jarrod’s face, revealing his lost eyes. “I don’t get it.”
“What happened?” The last thing he remembered was blacking out to the voice in his head trying to suffocate him. Slowly, his body was becoming less and less his own.
“Can you remember your dream?” Lian asked.
“What dream?” Jarrod pushed away, his hands shaking. He imagined putting his head into Claire’s embrace. It was for the best that she’d left.
“Who’s Ryan?” Lian asked.
“That’s Jarrod’s last name,” Austin responded.
“No, the boy Ryan. The one inside your mind. The voice you claimed drives you mad.” Lian pulled on Jarrod in a rage. “You have to remember, dammit. You’ve nearly killed us all because of the shit you’ve kept to yourself. Tell us.”
“You’re the one out of control.” Austin yanked her back.
“Don’t touch me.” Lian finagled a way out of his grip and held her hand up. He crumpled over, in pain. Alarmed at her own actions, she stopped. She knelt, too tepid to touch him. “I’m sorry.”
“Look at who’s the monster now.” Austin pushed her away.
“I’m done.” Jarrod moved for the exit.
Give the bitch a psychotic breakdown, Ryan laughed as Jarrod walked away. Only I know what you are. Only I can understand you.
“I heard that, Jarrod.” Lian stood, glaring at him. “Or should I say, Ryan.”