by Dan Kemp
Skye couldn't see what James was doing now, but after a moment the water began to change. A ring of clear blue had appeared around him and was spreading out in every direction, cutting through the murky brown. Skye watched in awe as the waves lapping against the shore cleared.
The two men nearby were silent. All around the lake the men, women, and children who had been hidden began to emerge. Gasps and quiet cheers could be heard echoing across the water.
James soon emerged from the lake, his pants and ragged shirt dripping water. One of the men hugged him, and James simply smiled. Soon he was surrounded by at least two dozen of them.
"I can’t give you back what you have lost," James said to the gathered throng. "I can heal your land, but I can’t heal what may be broken inside each of you." His eyes lingered on Skye as he said this. "I can only tell you that the men who wronged you so terribly are gone from this earth, and before I’m done many more of their kind will join them. Tear down their dam, take back your home. When I’m gone, don’t think back on who I was. I ask you, don’t tell stories of me to your children's children. If you must remember me, do only as I have done. Provide for your fellow man. Defend those who can’t defend themselves."
It took a long time for James to free himself from the crowd. Once he did, he stood before Skye wringing out his pant legs and fastening his belt once again. His hair was messy and the edges of his eyes wrinkled. He looked like no more than a man, but of course, he was much more.
"What are you?" she asked.
"I don't know," James said. "But would you like to hear my theory?"
James
The van shuddered and creaked under a heavy gust of wind, and James turned the wheel slightly against it to maintain his course. Night had fallen hours ago but still he drove on, the empty highway ahead lit only by the van's one working headlight.
The dashboard clock read 1:19 in an irritating fluorescent glow. The wind died down and gusted once again, as it had done all through the evening. In the quiet between the gales, he could hear the soft snoring of the young woman in the passenger seat.
Skye slept with her knees folded up against her chest and her head, the only thing poking out from under a ratty old blanket, resting on the window. She bobbed with the motion of the road, but hadn't awoken since she’d fallen asleep two hours before.
She was a curious woman. James, with his penchant for reading people, could sense the immense anger and resentment within her the moment he’d met her. There was more to her though, and he would have seen that even had he not witnessed her get herself killed in order to save a couple of poor captive women. People, with rare exception, always had a more interesting story to tell than one might think. That was something Martin never seemed to understand.
'What are you?' the woman had asked him, hours ago when they left that town. The candor of the question had been somewhat unexpected. Perhaps that was why he had responded the way he did.
'I don't know,' James said, and that was the truth. After millions upon millions of years of life, he was hardly any closer to understanding his own existence than he had been when he first woke up on that beach so long ago. What he did know was that he was connected to this world, and it to him. He could manipulate its elements, and in turn the earth would respond to his own emotions. James asked the woman if she wanted to hear his theory, and she said yes.
'I've lived on this earth for as long as any life has existed.' He had paused there, testing her reaction, but she had none for him. 'I told you I’m not a god, but in truth that may be what I am. Or as I think of it, maybe the spirit of life itself. When I was young, every day was a new adventure. The world stretched on before me, and life flourished and evolved. When I finally became lonely, mankind appeared to share the world with me.'
Skye only continued to listen, apparently accepting everything he had said. 'I've only ever tried to protect the earth and all its people, even when they did nothing but cast me out. Nothing hurts me more than to see the innocent suffer. The only thing I wanted in return was anonymity. I learned early on that nothing good could come from humanity's knowledge of my existence. And finally, two years ago, my one true enemy decided that the best way to hurt me was to make that impossible, forever. He knew I couldn’t stand by and watch him destroy everything. Once I was exposed, there could be no peace for me. And despite my efforts the world suffered terribly anyway. He won. So I went into hiding, too ashamed to show my face. I prowled around like that for two years, until an old friend tracked me down and called me the coward that I was. So I’ll do what I can to fix my mistakes. And then I’ll die, and take Martin with me. But I'm afraid of what happens to the rest of you when I'm gone.'
James finished his story, his voice strained and a flutter in his chest. He looked to Skye for acceptance, for any recognition of how much he had laid bare for this woman he had only just met, but found only anger within her unnatural green eyes.
'You say it hurts you to see us suffer? But you've killed, too. Why do you get to judge who’s innocent and who isn't?'
James was quiet for a moment, unsure what to say. What he wanted to say was Who else is going to do it?, but he instead he just raised his hands apologetically. 'I'm not perfect. Whatever else I am, I'm a man. I'm not all-seeing or all-knowing. I have emotions, and I make mistakes. Like I said. I'm not anyone worth worshiping.'
'You know what's going to happen when you're gone?' Skye asked him. 'Nothing. Do you think we can't survive on our own, that without your magical presence life as we know it will vanish? The way I see it, the world right now is a lot worse off because of you and Martin. Have you ever considered we might be better off without both of you?'
Though he would not admit it, James never had.
The clanking and sputtering of the van tore James away from his thoughts. The gas indicator had been illuminated for miles, and now he finally felt the engine's last jerk forward before it began to coast to a stop. James looked over his shoulder into the back seat, where two red gas cans still sat. It should be plenty.
When the old rusted van came to rest on the highway, James pushed open the heavy door and stepped out onto the road. In the distance he could hear a quiet chorus of crickets, and the howl of the wind as it gusted across the marsh below the highway.
The back door swung open with a squeal, and James retrieved one of the canisters, which he then emptied into the tank. He tossed the empty container into the trunk and leaned for a moment against the van, enjoying the feeling of the cool metal against the back of his neck.
The moon, hanging high in the sky, cast a spectral glow across the wetlands. A small herd of deer padded their way north, the same direction he was traveling. Farther off in the distance, a spike-backed dinosaur trundled lazily west.
James took a deep breath of the night air. Even in its current state, he still found the world almost painfully beautiful.
He hauled open the driver's door once again and sank into the soft seat. The engine started with a growl, and the fuel indicator swung back up halfway. Good enough for now.
"Do you want me to drive?" Skye, her position unchanged, had apparently awoken.
"No, thanks. I don't need to sleep."
"That sounds like it would be annoying, actually."
James laughed as he put the van into gear. "I can sleep, if I want. But I don't need to."
"That sounds better."
The wind continued to buffet the van as they drove on. Before long, they passed a sign which welcomed them to Maryland. James wondered if Skye had fallen back asleep, but the neon eyes peeking out above her blanket were open, gazing out the windshield.
"I'm sorry about what I said earlier," she said.
"You told me how you felt, and I understand it. Don't apologize for it. It was something I needed to hear, I think."
"I was thinking about what it must have been like. To live so long; to be alone for so many years. Part of me feels like it would be peaceful, but another part says it would be tortu
re."
"This place has always been good to me," James said. "Even when I was alone, or suffering, I was always happy to be here, to be alive. Because I remember what it was like to not be alive. Before."
"What was that like?"
"It was just darkness, and an endless pursuit for something I couldn’t ever reach, or even understand."
Skye was quiet for a few seconds. "Do you think that's what it will be like, after? For all of us?"
"I hope not," James said.
"Me too."
Skye fell back asleep before long, her slow breathing melding into the sounds of the wind and the road rolling by.
***
They arrived just after dawn. Following a little two-lane road slithering through a dense forest, he rounded one final curve before the massive walls leaped out to greet them.
James stopped the van in front of the gates, which remained closed. He could see movement in the tower above as the guards reacted to his arrival. James knew he should be surprised to see such a massive compound stuffed here in the middle of the forest, but that Dorian had managed such a thing was really no shock to him at all.
After a moment, one of the guards stepped out onto the wall and pointed to James's left, where a path had been worn through the grass by tire tracks which curled around the wall. James pulled off the road and followed the trail. He put his hand on Skye's knee and shook her gently.
"Hey, we're here."
She awoke, yawning and blinking against the morning sun before uncurling herself from her position and stretching out her arms and legs.
"I can't believe I slept so long," she said, balling up the blanket and tossing it in the back seat. "More than I've slept in ages."
"Understandable," James said.
He stopped once again at a guard post, this time situated in the ruins of what clearly had, until recently, been more wall. Any rubble had been cleared away, but the walls alongside the small wooden barricade were cracked and uneven. A handful of armed guards stood motionless behind the fence.
Skye looked out the window as they arrived, then did a double take. "Oh, no," she said.
"What?"
"This is the place your friend is in charge of?"
"Yes, Dorian Black. You know him?"
"Yeah."
James studied her as he released his seatbelt. The hard edge over the woman's face seemed to have evaporated, and all he saw in her demeanor now was fear. The implication that Skye's cult must have run up against Dorian at some point was obvious enough to him.
"You're not with the Church anymore. It'll be okay. Trust me."
"It may be more of a problem than you think," she said as James stepped out of the car. He walked forward toward the barrier, his feet crunching on the gravel. The guards watched him impassively, with their assault rifles trained on him.
"I'm here to see Dorian Black. Tell him it's James."
Their demeanor changed subtly. Though they didn’t lower their weapons, there was less of an intensity to their glares. Dorian would likely have told them to expect his arrival. One of the men was talking into a radio. James could just barely glimpse the city beyond the walls. Freshly paved roads, homes, what looked like businesses. It was all very impressive, no denying that.
He glanced back at the van, where Skye remained in the passenger's seat. James gestured for her to follow, and she emerged from the van with some reluctance.
Dorian arrived surprisingly quickly. "Drop the weapons," he said, and his guards did. "If this man wanted to hurt you, they'd do you no good anyway."
James started forward through the barricade, smiling and extending his hand to Dorian, who returned both gestures before pulling him into a hug.
"About time," Dorian said. His neatly-combed hair and slim-fitting suit would have fit right in on a typical day several years ago, much unlike the gruff, dirty marauder he had looked when last they met. "How the hell are you?"
"I'm good," James said, but Dorian's attention was off of him now, and on Skye.
"What the fuck is she doing with you?" It was a question, but he didn’t look to James nor wait for his reply. His hand was already moving to the handgun at his waist.
"Wait," James said, but the gun was out, and Dorian's finger was squeezing the trigger.
"Stop!" James shouted, stepping forward. He thrust out his hand and the earth shook beneath them. The gun fired as Dorian went flying, landing hard in the dirt six feet away. Skye stood behind James now, unharmed but terrified.
James sensed movement to his left as the guards raised their rifles once again and opened fire. He raised an invisible barrier between them, and the deafening barrage of bullets fell harmlessly to the ground as they flew toward them.
James walked calmly over to Dorian, who was sitting on the ground dusting off his knees. James offered him a hand and Dorian took it with a scowl, pulling himself upright again.
The ineffectual volley of gunfire had stopped and the men looked to Dorian, who waved them off. Dorian looked at James this time when he asked. "What is this?"
"I found her on the road. I just recently learned you two have some history."
Dorian snorted. "She's the one who did this." He gestured to the destroyed wall. "Her fucking Church killed innocent people here."
James turned toward Skye, who looked on with an expression that confirmed the truth of what Dorian said.
"Well, then that’s something she's going to have to live with, for the rest of her life." Skye looked down at the ground. "But she left this Church. She says Martin is behind it, that she was brainwashed. If you want to be angry at someone, be angry at him. Skye is going to help me destroy him, and the rest of that Church. Isn't that right?"
She looked up and met his eye, then nodded.
"So that's it," James said. "If I'm staying here, so is she. Nobody is to harm her."
Dorian was seething with rage, but he didn’t argue. "Alright. For now. She won't have any trouble from my men. But she’d better be careful. Some of the people they killed have families here. Can't make any promises what they'll do."
"Wouldn't expect you to. Now, where's Hope?"
"She arrived a few days ago. And the kids. We had them set up in a nice house on the east side of town, near the park. Somebody else is taking over for her with the kids, so she's moving to another house next door. Just for the two of you."
"Thanks, Dorian."
"No problem. I've gotta get moving for now, but one of my men can show you the way."
"No need," James said. "I wouldn't mind finding my own way."
"Alright. It's #15, just past the park. Meet me at the town hall tonight at sunset. Both of you," he added with a glare. "We'll have a talk."
Dorian put out his hand, and James grasped it.
"Good to see you, man," James said.
"Yeah. You too."
The guards stepped aside begrudgingly and let James and Skye pass into the town. It was still early, and the streets were mostly empty. The mesh netting suspended twenty feet overhead cast a faint shadow over everything, but the scene was still pleasant enough. Once away from the walls, one could hardly distinguish the place from a normal town in a more normal time.
Skye seemed to be thinking something similar, and the girl looked around with interest at everything they passed. The quiet clanking of the chains at her wrists, if it wasn't imperceptible to her by now, must have been a reminder of how out of place she was.
Heading east, they passed rows of buildings, some of which seemed to be empty. They passed the main gate, where James could see the backs of the guards as they watched the forest on the other side. Next they passed through a park and crossed a bridge over a little stream.
"Thanks for defending me back there. Again," Skye said.
"He'd have killed you without a second thought. And as he said, there are probably others here who would happily do the same."
"I know."
"I do believe you were brainwashed," James said. "And I can
see remorse in you, a real desire to change. But that doesn't absolve you of the wrongs you’ve done, and I think you know that. You'll have to reckon with those yourself. And if you're going to survive here without my protection, you'll have to try making amends. One way or another."
"I'm not sure I can."
"Maybe not. But you can try."
"Once you find out everything the Church has done, I'm afraid you might not feel so kindly toward me. I don't really understand why you've helped me at all."
"As I said, we aren't absolved of our mistakes. Believe it or not, I bear responsibility for making the monster who turned you into one. Each of us has to accept our part in that, however big or small. Consider all of this part of my own amends."