by John Corwin
"You saw the fight?" Alexia asked.
"Yes. Out of the ordinary. You understand why we can't tell the locals about this. Who would believe it?"
She hated to admit it, but Victor was right on that count. Anyone else who could confirm her story was dead or unconscious. "What about the guy who saved me?"
"Did you consider that he might be the killer?"
"Why would the killer help me? Maybe he feels guilty that his victims are rising from the dead and massacring anyone who happens to be nearby?" She snorted. "I doubt it."
"Just tossing out suggestions."
Alexia sighed. "I'll go write this up."
"Remember, send it only to me," Victor said.
"I remember." She went outside to her car and tapped away on the laptop. The tingling sensation had finally subsided after the fight between the creature and the man, but as she worked, it started up again. This time the feeling was more subtle.
Alexia looked around. Most of the cops were inside or out front gathering evidence. A group stood just outside the back door, smoking and chatting. Movement to their left drew her attention. Recognition set in. It was the girl from the alley. She was peering at the cops from the corner of the building. Alexia set down her laptop and slid out of the car. Keeping low, she humped it over to the concrete barrier separating the parking lot from the one next door.
She stopped and watched the girl. The girl took a step forward and the air swallowed her whole. Alexia's eyes widened and her jaw went slack. She walked over to the police and stared at the air. One of the cops offered her a cigarette. She almost took it.
Something out of the ordinary, indeed. None of this could be real, but it was. Aliens maybe? It was the only scientific explanation for these events. Victor seemed to know and accept whatever was happening based on inside knowledge. Somehow Alexia needed to find out what Victor knew.
Chapter 13
Against her better judgment, Tollee decided to swing by the morgue after escaping Lucas. Martin still wanted the body. She wanted redemption. Apparently, neither would get what they wanted tonight. As one might expect, the morgue was filled with dead bodies. Oddly enough, those bodies belonged to cops and people who worked there. Even worse, whatever had happened the last time seemed to have repeated itself.
She wondered if Lucas had massacred these people. Given the earlier events and his psychotic behavior, it certainly seemed plausible, even likely. Martin would probably massacre her for failing to retrieve the second body. Tollee shivered. The disfigured bodies looked worse from within the Blight than they would in the normal world. Coupled with the chum wandering the scene it took all her willpower not to barf. She wondered briefly if her puke would stay in the Blight or vanish.
She took some pictures with her cell phone and left. Outside, she dashed to the corner of the building and slipped back into Normal. She'd mostly recovered from the earlier chase but craved vodka. It didn't take much to charge her energy levels, but tonight she might finish off a fifth of it. It'd be great if it got her drunk as well but the last time she'd tried to that, she'd ended up so wired and full of energy that it took a night of running to burn off the excess so she could get some sleep.
Energy drinks that chum seemed to adore so much only made her tired. Maybe that's what she should've consumed after her failed intoxication attempt. What would be really nice was another Scion who could fill her in on why the heck things worked they way they did.
She entered the Blight and sped for Martin's. She wondered if other seekers had a term for Blight hopping. "Blopping" might be a good one. Maybe when she met experienced seekers she could offer that gem to them. It had to at least be on par with whatever genius had coined the term "blog" out of "web log". She already had a concocted term describing tonight's events. Terribad.
The door was unlocked. Martin could probably sense anyone or anything entering the door anyway. She walked back to his study where he waited by his favorite window.
"I almost died tonight," Tollee said, though he already knew. She hoped an ounce of pity might spare her his full wrath since she'd failed to retrieve the body yet again.
"I believe we have a problem."
"No, really? Everything's going according to plan." A shock pulsed through her head. She stumbled back and gasped at the needles of agony in her brain. Hot tears welled in her eyes.
"I'll not tolerate insolence, girl. Keep your petulant comments to yourself."
Her cheeks burned. She forced herself not to punch a hole in the wall. "Yes sir."
"I believe our tool is psychotic. That would explain why I have such difficulty controlling him and why he came undone and gave chase."
"It's happening again isn't it? He scared the hell out of me. If you'd seen his eyes you'd understand. And that bird freaked me out. It knew my name."
"Bird? Explain."
She described the scene. "I've seen that bird, or at least one that looked identical to it once, a year ago after the first big failure."
Martin blanched. He slumped into his chair. "God almighty. A myna bird."
Unease wormed into Tollee's stomach. If Martin was as concerned as he looked, this couldn't be good. "You gonna tell me what that means?"
"History, child."
"Yeah, well you've kinda neglected that part of my education."
"I know you lack a formal education, but our known history is in my library. At least the history that survived the Founders War."
"Just tell me what's so horrible about the friggin' bird."
He narrowed his eyes.
"Please?" she asked with a sheepish grin.
"During the Victorian era when the Scion factions were relatively young, a newly minted arbiter found a Welsh immigrant who'd died seconds before from the cold. The arbiter managed to revive him. The immigrant, simply referred to as Cross in the history texts, was a latent executor."
"And he had a pet myna?"
Martin took out his pipe and clenched it in his teeth for a few seconds, seeming to contemplate something. "The arbiter explained the Covenant and duties of an executor which, by the way, was a new concept at the time. Cross, of course, agreed to everything. What sounds better, staying dead or turning super human?"
"Right, but if he agreed to the Covenant…"
"A few months after, the authorities found bodies with stones on them. All the victims were Scions."
A sick feeling rose in Tollee's stomach. It sounded awfully close to their activities. "And then the myna showed up?"
"Yes. After the first few deaths, word on the street was that a man with black birds following him was committing the murders. People claimed that the birds appeared from nowhere when a murder was about to happen and if they listened, the birds spoke their names. Most of that is likely superstition and rumor."
"So the birds are harbingers of doom?"
"Perhaps mynas have some connection to the foreknowledge of death or the afterlife."
Tollee's mouth went dry. Was she going to die soon? "Why mynas? I always thought sparrows or ravens had those connections."
Martin pulled the pipe out of his mouth. "You read too many trashy horror novels, girl. Needless to say, Cross was found to be the killer and imprisoned for the rest of his natural life." He opened his mouth as if to continue but instead clamped down on the pipe again.
"And?"
"I already know you didn't retrieve the body again. Care to explain?"
Tollee's stomach twisted. "Lucas Fowler killed some chum again and made off with the body."
"We may have to dispose of him. He's becoming unstable."
"Becoming? He's already there. Not only that, but did you know he can look into the Blight?"
Martin's pipe dropped from his mouth and into his lap. "How do you know?"
"I watched him do it. If you were looking at me from within the Blight, you'd see my aura glowing. If I looked inside the Blight without actually entering, my body would still glow, but my eyes wouldn't. Lucas did that and
looked right at me."
"Perhaps his psychosis is activating other latent abilities."
"Scions don't share core abilities. You've told me that a million times. Seekers can enter the Blight. Executors are the strongest and can use the stones to channel essence. Arbiters can look into the mind."
Martin smiled. "But futurists can enter the Blight."
Tollee scrunched her forehead. "What are they?"
"Futurists are what you might call advanced seekers. Of course you won't find one now. The last one died during Cross's murder spree."
"And what happened to him?"
"Her. Serena was one of Cross's victims."
"Could she tell the future?"
He shrugged. "Some said she could. She wasn't active for long before Cross murdered her."
Futurists? That sounded like pure fantasy. "Back to Lucas, how do you explain his ability to view the Blight?"
"The Transcendist faction has an explanation for you. They believe every chum is a latent Scion."
Tollee snorted. "Yeah, right."
"Don't laugh, I used to be a Transcendist."
"And you buy into that?"
"Perhaps. They believe every chum has a switch that will activate their abilities."
"I thought only Scions have switches. Have you ever looked for one in a chum?"
"Of course. I used to do it regularly as part of my duties when I was an active member. That was the very thing that made me interested in the afterlife." He seemed to take the puzzled look Tollee made as a request for elaboration. "Every Scion has a quantum link to the Blight. Beyond that, some very gifted and sensitive arbiters such as yours truly have discovered possible links leading to other places, perhaps other quantum pockets in the universe."
"In other words, one of those might be the afterlife."
"Indeed. Our energy auras are neither created nor destroyed. They only take on another form. The question is how do we find out where it goes once separated from our physical shells?"
"When I watched the stones in action," Tollee said, "The light they suck out vanishes a few inches from their source. You'd think it might get weak like a flashlight beam, but it doesn't. It just cuts off. Maybe the stones open a scar into the afterlife and the essence drifts through."
"Smart girl."
"Do chum go to the afterlife?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Chum do possess a similar energy, but stones do nothing to channel it. It is another avenue I intend to investigate once this phase draws to a conclusion."
"You can't keep using Lucas. He's gone mad."
Martin put the pipe in his teeth again. "Let's give him one more go. I may need to borrow your eyes when the time comes."
"You've got to be kidding. Do you know how close he came to killing me?"
"Indeed. But if he's truly exhibiting other core abilities, he may be more valuable than I could have hoped."
Tollee groaned. "Don't you see this is a repeat of what happened a year ago? You're asking for trouble. I may not be as smart as you, but I can see it plain as the eye pits on chum."
"I understand, child. God's business is more important than your misgivings, however. Our tool is special for a reason. It may be time for God to reveal the path." Martin muttered and withdrew into himself. Several minutes later he flinched when he noticed Tollee still standing nearby. "Prepare the next mark."
Tollee opened her mouth, closed it. Martin was beyond listening to her comments, complaints, or suggestions. She finished off the contents of her flask and tucked it inside her small backpack. Religion wasn't her forte but she wished she had someone to pray to. Martin rarely mentioned God. His whole take on the afterlife seemed grounded more in science than religion. Now he was starting to scare her with all the "God and his path" stuff. She entered the Blight in a hurry after realizing that he might be tuning in her thoughts. Then again, he seemed pretty consumed right now. This was getting bad. Terribad.
She needed to get out. The factions were starting to look like a viable alternative. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be easy to leave Martin. He'd once told her that after an arbiter attached another Scion to themselves, that connection was permanent and unbreakable. Was that true, or had he lied about it to keep her from leaving him? Everything he'd told her was truthful enough, but he was probably hiding far more than he was telling her.
She stowed those thoughts and decided to see how the next experiment went. The twist in her guts told her it wouldn't go well at all.
Chapter 14
Lucas stared at the grocery store. It wouldn't open for another two hours and he couldn't wait. He had to eat, had to replenish himself after all the running and fighting. A long bruise ran from his shoulder to his forearm where he'd collided with the woman. Already, it was healing, spots of the bruise turning a healthy pink again. Speed, strength, fast healing—it all seemed like a great package. Except for the insane murdering aspect. He shook his head. That woman was supposed to be dead. He'd killed her. Instead, she was alive. More than that, she was super-powered and insane. Just like him.
The nauseating twists in his stomach had been overpowering. Fighting had been difficult when it felt like he needed to throw up every second he was close to her. He still wasn't sure how he'd come out on top in that fight. Lucas had taken wrestling in high school, but that was quite a departure from fisticuffs with an insane super woman. Another disturbing thought occurred. Maybe he wasn't killing people. Maybe the ender was really a hypodermic needle filled with mind-corrupting strength serum and Lucas was the government's way of testing it out on the public.
If he was caught, people would chalk it up to the act of one lunatic while the government got away clean. It made sense. They'd used it and some mind-control serum on Lucas and now he was administering different strains of the same stuff. No wonder the poor lady had gone crazy. But the more he considered that scenario, the more absurd it seemed. Something deep in his gut told him this was different. He was killing people and that woman hadn't stayed dead. What about David Young, his first victim? He could be alive and insane. Maybe running around killing people too.
Lucas glanced at the clock on the bank across the street. He couldn't wait any longer. Trying to summon his strength, he ran toward the doors. His pace remained average. His legs faltered. He was sucking wind halfway across the parking lot.
"Come on, I'm starving," he said to himself. His body didn't respond. His stomach rumbled. A touch of nausea made him sway. A strong urge to eat seized him. His muscles tightened. Instinct, desire, or some trigger had finally worked. He blurred across the parking lot and smashed through the doors, trying to avert his face from the camera overhead. Lucas reached the produce section and made for the carrots. Any sort of vegetable seemed to hit the spot, but he'd discovered carrots or turnips worked especially well. Fewer carrots worked faster than larger bulks of other vegetables. Turnips worked almost as fast, but he preferred the taste of carrots. That, plus he was tired of going to the bathroom all the time. Way too much fiber in his diet now.
He snatched a two-pound bag of carrots and ate them on the spot. Before his speed and strength abandoned him, he grabbed one more bag and blurred out of the store until he was well away from it. There had to be a better way to handle this. Carrots didn't cost that much but he never had any with him when he really needed a hit.
The thought almost made him laugh. Almost. Instead, the faces of his victims rose up from memory and glared at him. Guilt overpowered everything else. He'd killed people and carrots were taking priority. Disgusting. Had his murderous side really dulled his value of life so much? He had to do something.
When Lucas arrived at his apartment, he chucked several carrots in the blender and set it to liquefy. After a brief search of the cabinets, he turned up a plastic container with a screw top and poured the soupy results inside. Now he had lunch already made. The container was too large to carry with him, so he stuck it in the fridge. To be on the safe side, he called his usual grocery store and asked them to d
eliver a couple of five-pound bags of carrots and an assortment of other groceries for the sake of variety.
He grabbed his wallet and walked to the hardware store a few blocks away. With the help of a clerk, they measured off twenty feet of thick chain and found two of the sturdiest padlocks in stock. Lucas told the clerk it was for pulling a tree trunk out of the ground. Even though most of the surrounding area was taken up with concrete, condos, and shopping centers, the clerk didn't ask any questions.
Back at the apartment, Lucas unloaded his purchases. The grocery store kid showed up a few minutes later with his delivery.
"I got something for ya," the boy said.
"My carrots?"
"No, I mean about that other thing you asked me about."
Lucas arched his eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Charity work. You was interested in it, right?"
"Yeah, that's right. I'd forgotten."
"My mom was real proud of me asking about it. I think she figured I was gonna do it." The boy laughed. "Anyway, she made a list."
Lucas took the list from the boy's outstretched hand. He paid for the groceries and gave the boy a tip. Nothing would make up for Lucas's crimes, but he might be able to use his abilities for good while he tried to figure out how to stop the bad. The list had some good ideas: Habitat for Humanity, the animal shelter, serving food at the homeless shelter. In the meantime, however, Lucas was going to ground himself.
Literally.
In the utility closet in the middle of the apartment, a steel support beam exited the concrete floor and entered the ceiling. It would come in handy now. Lucas took the padlock keys and stuck them atop the kitchen cabinets. He went back to the utility room, looped a section of the chain he'd purchased around the beam and locked it with a padlock. He wrapped the other end of the chain around his waist twice until it was tight and only mildly uncomfortable then padlocked it. He braced his foot against the brick wall, grabbed the chain near the pipe, and tugged with all his might. The beam didn't move. He was set.