Hysteria

by Gordon, Christopher

  “Why don’t I just skip to the part where I ask Damien to kill me?”

  “He can’t,” she says. “Not yet. Not while he needs you.”

  “Why don’t you just call the cavalry?” McKenzie says. “This is the part you say the FBI is on its way and second now. Don’t be shy.”

  “I am the cavalry.”

  McKenzie’s mind races. He’s somehow able to process these, weigh up all the parameters, make guesses he knows are correct on this little information.

  “You’re using me as bait for something else?”

  She shrugs. “I want Oscar Del Amitri,” she says.

  “He killed my parents,” McKenzie says. “You think I don’t want him too?”

  “If the FBI comes rushing in we will never get him,” Angel says. “You game?”

  McKenzie sits up in bed.

  “Are you really dating Damien?”

  She smiles, leans forward and kisses McKenzie’s lips passionately. Pulls away taking McKenzie’s breath with her.

  McKenzie ponders this confusing answer.

  The door opens.

  “You’re awake,” Damien says. “Good. I have a favor to ask.”

  “I, know we, have a problem,” Damien says. “For every code, every source code, there is an anti-code. A virus. And fantasy fifteen is no exception.”

  “A virus?” McKenzie says.

  Damien nods.

  “So take two aspirin and call me in the morning,” McKenzie says.

  “Funny man,” Damien says but his eyes don’t smile. “We need you to find her.”

  “Her?”

  “Madison Del Amitri.”

  “The run away?”

  “Bring her to me,” Damien says.

  “What’s in it for me?” McKenzie says.

  “If you wish when you return I’ll find a painless, risk free way to remove the source code from your body.”

  “That’s it?”

  Damien smiles and leans over McKenzie. He wipes his finger over McKenzie’s lip and looks at the red lipstick smudge now on his finger. He glances over to Angel and says, “Anything you want.”

  McKenzie looks at Angel.

  She gives the tiniest, almost imperceptible shake of her head.

  “Sorry,” McKenzie says, “Can’t help you. He turns over and fluffs his pillow.”

  “No problem,” Damien says and walks towards the door. He stops next to Angel. “Have you ordered breakfast?”

  “It’s morning already?” McKenzie says.

  Damien nods, slips his hand into a pocket, pulls out a knife, grabs Angel’s long hair, jerks back her head and places the knife against her throat.

  In a split second Angel’s leg moves faster than McKenzie has ever seen and kicks out at Damien’s knee.

  Damien seems to anticipate Angel’s move and effortlessly drops his weight onto the back of her legs. Slamming her into the floor. He Drags her towards the bed and slams her face into the bedpost. Lifts her up by her hair. Replaces the knife to her throat.

  Angel seems unconscious but still breathing. Blood spurts out her nose and cut lips.

  Where does Damien get his strength and speed? He’s only a skinny kid.

  “You have until midday,” Damien says. “Or Angel dies.”

  McKenzie feels his hands clench tight into fists. The familiar gentle tingling sensation across his fists and up and down his arms. He looks down at his fists. At the blue sparks of lightning. They seem to become more animated with every Nano second passing.

  McKenzie tries to calculate the odds. Could he make it across the bed, leap the dozen or so feet across the room to where Damien stands before he kills Angel? He tries to imagine himself making the leap. Reaching out for Damien’s knife.

  Desperate to buy himself time to make a decision. But inside screaming at himself for listening to Angel in the first place. He to sound like he so doesn’t care. But if he bluffs Damien, will Angel die?

  “And here I was thinking you two love birds were going to elope,” McKenzie says

  Damien runs the knife along Angel’s throat.

  Angel seems conscious. Her eyes seem to say no. No deal. NO DEAL. Not now not ever.

  So what can she know that McKenzie doesn’t? Damien must be lying about something. But what could be worse than Angel dying here and now in this private hospital.

  A tiny fleck of blood appears on Angel’s throat.

  “Ok, stop. I’ll do my best,” McKenzie says. “Why me?”

  “The virus always seeks out the source code,” Damien says. “She will find you,”

  Techs drag Angel away. Strapping her into a wheel chair.

  “Our ride awaits us,” Damien says. “Get dressed.”

  A tech places khaki pants and shirt on the edge of McKenzie’s bed. Together with matching socks and boxers. And a pair of boots. His exact size. A photo of Madison Del Amitri sits on the boots.

  “We leave in two minutes.”

  McKenzie grabs the clothes. “Need to pee.”

  Damien points out a door.

  McKenzie shuffles into the bathroom. Locks it behind him.

  A small window above the toilet. Blacked out.

  He stands on the toilet lid. Pushes at the window. The latch is locked. It doesn’t move and he can’t risk breaking it.

  He pees. Notices his urine glows bright green. Decides he’s more important things to worry about. Washes his hands. Tiny sparks throw up as the water splashes across his fingers. He cups his hands. A pool of sparks dances across like lightning skimming over an ocean. He can’t seem to get his hands clean of the blue glowing hue dancing across his skin. He wonders if his blood is changing color.

  He throws water on his face.

  For some reason he can’t look at himself in the mirror. His mind races with what he’s about to do. What will Damien do with this Madison? How did she even become the source code? Was she infected the same way as Mackenzie? The how disappears to be replaced by the why. Whatever the reason, it can’t be good. And McKenzie is helping Damien. To do what?

  He catches himself in the mirror for the briefest moment. Tries to look away but can’t. Something inside makes him take it all in. As if this is the last chance he’ll get to remember what he is. Or was? Staring at his eyes, he can see the creatures moving around. Feel them. Tiny sparks of lightning across his eyes. Their energy. Building up inside him. Like a pressure straining for release. Like a bomb. A nuclear explosion of energy. Does Damien even know what he’s created?

  Evolving. That’s what Damien had said. Is McKenzie a new step in human evolution? Accidental and dangerous?

  HE dresses and as someone begins knocking at the door, he ties his bootlaces.

  “Are you with us, McKenzie?” Damien shouts. “Or against us? Decide now.”

  “This is your chance to find mom and dad’s killer,” he whispers to himself in the mirror. And looks at the photo of Madison. If he has Madison then he has her father. And he has his revenge. “You can do this McKenzie. Whatever it takes.”

  He takes one final look at Madison’s picture. “You’re going to help me find your daddy.”

  And for that reason, he opens the door as he shoves Madison’s picture into his back pocket.

  Accompanied by two men in military uniform they walk down a white corridor. Beneath the glass floor, a white room the size of an aircraft hangar where rows of helicopters and armored tanks sit. Waiting for what?

  Trucks painted with fantasy fifteen logos rumble up a spiraling ramp and out of sight.

  McKenzie listens carefully. He can just make out the rumble of traffic above. We’re in an underground military base?” he asks.

  Damien laughs and sweeps his arm through the air as if presenting a magic trick and says, “All those years of apparent delay in construction,”

  “They were busy building this?” McKenzie asks.

  Damien ignores him and points to the silver elevator doors ahead.

  McKenzie steps in and feels the elev
ator doors slide shut on his old life. For the next two minutes as the floor seem to blast up through his stomach he keep his eyes shut. He knows when he opens them his new life will begin. For better or worse.

  *

  THE ELEVATOR DOORS OPEN.

  McKenzie realizes he’s on the roof of the tallest skyscraper in downtown Manhattan. He looks over the edge and far down below at two giant square pools reflecting the sky back up at him. The memorial pools.

  “This is the new world trade center building,” McKenzie says.

  Damien ignores him. Seems to be watching the sky.

  A khaki brown helicopter settles down on the roof. It’s spinning rotors buffeting McKenzie. He follows Damien and they run to the helicopter. AS he climbs aboard he realizes the pilot is in a military uniform.

  The helicopter lifts off into the dawn sunrise.

  His stomach back flips. A new product range. He turns to Damien. “Who are your investors?”

  “It’s not what you think,” Damien says. “Trust me.”

  McKenzie’s hears that all too often. He sits back as the helicopter rises up of the platform on the Trade Center. And wonders how and why Damien built a secret military base beneath the new world trade center. If he can do that, what else is he capable of?

  Chapter Thirty: The Chaser

  Damien’s’ helicopter lands on Columbus circle. He and McKenzie step out.

  The pilot keeps the rotors turning.

  McKenzie keeps his head low.

  “Where is she?” McKenzie says.

  “This is her last known location,” Damien says. “Finding Hysteria is only half the problem. To catch her I need the best.”

  “Why me?”

  “I need a Chaser. Chase by name, Chase by nature,” Damien says. “When no one else can catch Hysteria, it’s a job for the Chaser.”

  McKenzie looks around.

  The streets are empty. Quiet except for the swishing sound of the rotor blades.

  No sign of Madison.

  “She’ll find you, sniff you out,” Damien says and hands McKenzie a cell phone. “Call me when you catch her.”

  He runs back to the helicopter, climbs in and its takes off.

  McKenzie looks around him. He’s alone. And never felt lonelier than in this moment.

  *

  MCKENZIE WALKS along central Park South to Fifth Avenue. Not knowing why. As if drawn by some invisible force tugging at his hands. Energizing the tiny sparks across his fingers. He finds himself walking along the boundary wall of central park south. A gentle breeze brushing the tree canopies and teasing him with its cool damp fingers scratching at his neck and teasing McKenzie with the prospect of rain. He keeps it to his left until he comes to Grand Army plaza.

  A giant glass cube across the street glows softly with the dawn light’s early hues of the city. He stands at the corner admiring the glass cube’s simple beauty reflecting the world around and above as if it’s the soulful center of the universe. Realizing it might be open even as a new day breaks and feeling the chill in his bones, he allows himself to be drawn and walks diagonally across grand army plaza. Something he could never imagine doing safely with its normal traffic flow racing down town. HE takes the opportunity to follow the glass cubes reflections of the skyscrapers and lets his eye drift upwards to the peace and serenity of the new sky. A rare moment of such peace between the crazy city and the world above. He allows himself to revel in the danger of walking without a care in the world across one of the world’s busiest traffic lanes in a state of mediation. Calmly imagining letting himself soar up the face of the glass cube to the freedom of the sky. The world passing over and through the glass cube. Showing him the world, as he’s never experienced it before. Fresh and vital. AS if reminding him of the limitless frontiers of his own soul. Connecting him to something. As if the cube itself is a portal to another strange and hidden world. A place of freedom, joy and excitement. Free of cares, free of worries and calling to him. If only he would break his mediation for the briefest moment and glance to his right.

  To the six tiers of gently lapping water of the Pulitzer fountain spilling over with tiny sparks of soft green lightning.

  But McKenzie drifts across grand army plaza to the glass cube oblivious of the fountain. He puts his face up to the glass and allows his eyes to follow a glass spiral staircase deep into the heart of glass cube. He enters the cube and slowly walks down the staircase. Looking up at the skyscrapers as his hand glides down the safety rail.

  The cube is empty except for a guy in a Dinosaur Games Gladiator t-shirt at the end playing angry birds on a laptop.

  McKenzie feels the sparks across his hands and shoves his hands quickly in his pockets.

  The guy looks up and nods at McKenzie before returning to his game.

  McKenzie turns three sixty breathing in the calm ambiance of the glass cube. Hears gentle raindrops like footsteps above his head. His peripheral vision catching the first flashes of a gathering storm and he prepares himself to expect the rain drops sliding down the faces of the cube to call to him with a greater insistence. Until he’ll finally obey their command.

  He leans back and looks up through the glass ceiling.

  The cube seems to transport him into the sky amongst the storm clouds as long fingers of green lightning reach out across the glass ceiling and fold around him as if ensnaring McKenzie.

  A shadow moves across the glass ceiling. A girl. HE allows his eyes to focus and realizes the lightning is not of the sky but of the girl’s hands.

  Their eyes meet. It’s her. Madison Del Amitri.

  For a moment it seem to McKenzie they share a realization she is the anti-source and he the source coming together in a moment of union. Of understanding. They are two halves of a whole. A beautiful but terrifying realization. Neither can exist without the other and yet each one exists to destroy the other.

  Her eyes open wide as she stares down through cracking glass.

  McKenzie raises his arms to his head as the ceiling shatters and the girl drops onto him.

  Chapter Thirty One: Hunting Hysteria

  Shattering glass spears fly at McKenzie’s face. He knows in less than a second Madison will die. Most likely killing him too in the fall.

  He knows two things instantly. There is nowhere to hide and he must save her.

  McKenzie’s stomach back flips. He feels his leg muscle fiber twitch and tense. He feels the tiny metallic spiders forming a preordained pattern with his senses. Billions of calculations, possibilities, probabilities, trajectories burning through his brain in Nano seconds. Speeding out along his nervous system.

  Blood flow oxygen sweeps along the canals of his vessels at incredible speeds. Flushing through him like a tsunami. Energizing deep resources. Turbo to the max. Nuclear in capability. A Chain reaction of the Gods courses through his mind and body. A nine point nine super quake of power vibrating his every cell. An unstoppable fusion. A super nova of strength. Signaling his metallic friends for action. Like a black hole in space imploding oneself and consuming the entire universe. His hunger and his thirst for this intense experience consumes him.

  Every hair on his body tingles and stands in anticipation of a miracle. Only now does he begin to realize. He is becoming more than he could ever dare dream. Tears sting his eyes and burst out along his face.

  His skin glows with blue lightning as the creatures reshape him to their design. He feels his feet launch him into the air. Hurling him up towards the glass ceiling. Fifty feet or more. He lets out a scream like the time he found a spider waiting for him in the shower. So cool. Not. He hopes the noise of shattering and crashing glass beneath them, drowns out his pathetic whimper.

  He collides with the plummeting Madison. His arms wrap around her waist as his momentum carries them both upwards.

  With one hand, he reaches out to the glass cube frame and holds tight. He Swings back and forth like a monkey from a jungle canopy brandishing a hard fought victory prize. How long can the cube f
rame support their combined weight?

  It creaks in the dawn breeze under the rumble of the new day’s first traffic.

  He knows he needs to do something fast.

  Madison’s hands cling to his neck tight. Squeezing. Hard.

  “Don’t thank me,” Mackenzie says. “I just saved your life, that’s all.”

  Madison’s’ fingers dig deep into his throat. “You should have let me die,” she says.

  Her eyes swirl with green lightning sparks.

  He feels the metallic spiders behind his eyes. Swirling in union to Madison’s lightning eyes. But in the other direction. She seems just like him. But different. Opposite. Like polar opposites. A perfect attraction or ultimate irreversible repulsion? HE feels it both.

  “Why?” McKenzie says.

  “You must die,” she says.

  Madison grabs McKenzie’s wrist and bites into his hand hard. Pulling his hands free. They plummet towards the floor covered in glass shards pointing up at them.

  McKenzie rolls their bodies. Twists them like a cat. Arcing them to hit the glass staircase at an angle where their shoulders can glance off the railing.

  They hit. Hard. Roll. Tumble down the steps to the floor. Lay there. Silent. Unmoving.

  The shop guy wearing the laptop over his head for protection stumbles towards them.

  Madison knocks McKenzie onto his back. She rolls on top of him. Kneels on his chest as he wipes shattered glass from his face. She looks up and across to the shop guy crawling on his knees with his laptop still perched on his head like a sloping Swiss ski resort chalet roof.

  Shop guy pauses. “I can see you two got issues to resolve,” he says. “I’ll be out back if you need anything.”

  He looks at Madison. Seems to be staring at the picture of a kid about McKenzie’s age riding a Tyrannosaurus Rex and words The Dinosaur Games emblazoned across her front. He stutters, “Nice tee.”

  Madison glances down at McKenzie.

  “You are the source?” she asks.

  He nods. “McKenzie.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says.