by Shea Oliver
“Dr. Tarea,” stated Mr. Freeman flatly, “you should be dead.”
“Should be, but it didn’t work out that way. The Thai police found me in that warehouse. I spent months in a rundown, nasty hospital and then decades in the hell they called a prison. I’m going to enjoy killing you. Turn around.”
Mr. Freeman turned to look at Dr. Tarea. The years and time in prison had worn on him heavily, but the evil look still remained in his eyes. He was a cruel soul, and his crooked smile began to spread as he looked at Mr. Freeman.
Dr. Tarea began to lift the gun, bringing it chest height, only a couple of feet from Mr. Freeman’s chest. “I’ll put this hole right where you should have driven that knife.” Dr. Tarea began to laugh, as the perverse joy of finally killing Kadamba swept over him.
The blur of Mr. Freeman’s cane as it spun into Dr. Tarea’s knuckles resembled an airplane propeller. The solid maple cracked as it hit bone, and the gun went sailing across the room. Dr. Tarea looked in shock, as the cane spun again and flew across the room. Everyone’s heads spun as the solid maple hit a large metal barrel, sending a gong-like sound through the room.
The grunting “ugh“ that gushed from Dr. Tarea’s lips turned everyone’s attention back to the doctor. The brass handle of the cane was firmly in Mr. Freemen’s hand, and blade that was hidden by the maple was buried in the Doctor’s chest.
“Stay dead this time,“ commanded Mr. Freeman, as Dr. Tarea fell backwards, landing with a thud on the hard floor.
“Perfect throw, Hector,“ Mr. Freeman remarked, peering at the stunned members of the group.
“Huh?“ replied Hector as he felt for the knife at this thigh. The man in the back of the room had dropped the submachine gun and was staggering backward. His face showed a look of utter terror, as the handle of the dive knife protruded from his throat.
A scream of pain alerted the group to the fact that there were others in the far room. They all scrambled for the door, and Hector rudely yanked his knife from the dying man’s throat as he ran past him.
Chapter 37
Brainwaves
Bjorn felt the powerful grip of the man holding him in place. The bag that was slipped over his head was dusty and smelled of burnt oil. The vice-like grip on the back of his neck tightened as the van accelerated. Bjorn wanted to scream, but was too scared to even form the sounds needed.
Wherever they went had been fairly close by. Bjorn’s feet barely touched the ground as they walked him into a building and forced him up a flight of stairs. Not a word had been said in the few minutes since he was snatched out of the park. He was roughly pushed into a chair and could hear tape being ripped from the roll.
His legs were taped to the legs of the chair, and his arms taped to its arms. The adhesive, pulling tightly at his skin, hurt. The minutes seemed to tick by. He could hear whispers nearby but couldn’t understand the language that was being spoken. Then there was silence. He couldn’t tell if anyone was in the room or not. Bjorn tried not to cry, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t sure how long he had been taped to the chair when he heard the sounds of the men’s voices again.
The light was dim in the room when they pulled the bag from his head. Four men, with one significantly older, stood regarding at him. They stared for a minute, not moving, not saying a word. They just peered at him with cold, uncaring eyes. Tighter and tighter, the fear gripped Bjorn, making him wonder if he would ever see his mom and Dylan again.
“What do you want?” begged Bjorn when he couldn’t stand the silence anymore.
The older man sneered at him. Bjorn hated this man from the moment he’d seen him. He reminded Bjorn of some of the homeless men that would panhandle and hassle the kids on the busy street near his home. He looked gaunt, and his greasy hair clung to his head.
Another of the men began to chuckle. “Do you realize that we have members of three exploratory missions here in one room, and we’ve got a potential Transprophetic right here in front of us? What are the odds?“
Bjorn looked around, hoping to find something that would give him some clue as to what was going on. The room was obviously in some type of industrial building. The ceiling was high, and the few old sodium lights that still worked barely lit the room. There were empty shelves along one wall, a stack of rusted 55-gallon drums, and doors on each end of the room. In front of the chair, where he was tied, stood a small table with single rose and a large, unsheathed survival-type knife.
“As the senior member, Dr. Tarea, do you want the honors?” asked one of the younger men.
“Tempting for sure. I’d love to see what this little boy is made of,” replied Dr. Tarea, “but I’d also like to see if you young guys have any new tricks up your sleeve, Commander Fahey.”
The Commander gestured to another of the group, “Dr. Nadina, please, proceed.”
Dr. Nadina took a step towards Bjorn, slapping him hard across the face. “Do you want me to hurt you little boy?” he asked.
Bjorn began to cry. “No, no, please don’t hurt me.”
“I’m going to carve your fingernails off of your thumbs if you don’t do exactly as I tell you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I’ll do anything.” The tears were streaming down Bjorn’s face.
“Lift the rose,” commanded Dr. Nadina.
Bjorn looked at the man, wondering what he meant. “I can’t. I’m taped to this chair.”
“Just lift it with your mind, or I’ll cut your ears off and feed them to you,” threatened Dr. Nadina.
Bjorn looked at the man, the fear beginning to be replaced with curiosity and indignation. Could this guy be that stupid? “Untape me, and I’ll dance around with the rose,” Bjorn offered coldly.
Dr. Nadina put his hand on Bjorn’s shoulder and, in a very gentle and calm voice, told Bjorn, “You have the capability to lift that rose using nothing more than your mind. You can do this. I don’t want to have to carve you up. Just lift the rose.”
“Okay,” replied Bjorn as he began to focus on the rose. He looked at the red petals of the flower, then the leaves, and then the stem. He knew that he would have to lift it by the stem. He focused, but nothing happened.
“Believe that you can do this, and you can, little boy,” Commander Fahey assured him. “We don’t want to hurt you. We just want to see if you are as special as we think you are.”
Bjorn looked at the men in the room. They were all staring at him intently. “They must be insane idiots,” thought Bjorn, “How can four grown guys actually think that I can do magic?” Inside he chuckled to himself. “They’d all crap their pants if I actually made that rose fly into the air.” Looking at the rose again, he imagined how funny it would be to lift it. In his mind’s eye, he put the rose into the air.
“Lords of the Fourth System!” gasped the fourth man in the room as he watched the rose rise into the air. “A Transprophetic has evolved on this planet.”
“You stupid fucks,” snapped Dr. Tarea, “I told you that I found one thirty years ago in Thailand. This has been a waste of time. We need to get to your return vessel and let the Donovackia Corporation know that it is time!” He turned to the fourth man in the room, admonishing, “Gomarha, you and your crew should have found at least one ten years ago when you were here.”
“Yes, it is time,” Commander Fahey agreed. “Our return vessel leaves from Fat Bottom Lake in two days, and we now have proof that Transprophetics exist on this planet.”
The sound of a door squeaking on its hinges alerted them that someone had come into the warehouse. Commander Fahey gestured to Dr. Tarea to come with him. Pointing at Bjorn and then looking at Dr. Nadina and Gomarha, the Commander drew one finger across this throat.
Bjorn watched as Gomarha walked to the table. As he reached out for the knife, Bjorn visualized it flying away from the man’s hands. Gomarha cursed as the knife shot away, leaving his hand grasping at air. Dr. Nadina walked towards the door, opposite the one that Commander Fahey and Dr. Tarea had slipped through
. “I’m heading out. We’re not risking all four of us. Kill the boy and catch up if you can.”
Bjorn, holding the knife in the air, began to move it around. He found that if focused on what he wanted the knife to do, rather than on just the knife itself, that he could move it easily. Gomarha grabbed for the knife, as Bjorn floated it in front of him. Bjorn shot it across Gomarha’s face, leaving a gash across his cheek.
Gomarha spun trying to follow the knife’s flight. He shot out his arm again, and the knife slashed across the top of Gomarha’s hand, opening another wound. He spun towards Bjorn. “I’ll just strangle you, stupid kid.”
Bjorn, spinning the knife in the air, brought the point it into Gomarha’s butt. It took every bit of focus Bjorn could muster, but he pulled the knife out of Gomarha’s butt, spun it in the air, and then drove it into Gomarha’s thigh. Gomarha grabbed the handle of the blade, wrenching it from his leg. Holding it up, Gomarha stepped towards Bjorn, sporting a cruel, angry grin.
Bjorn visualized the knife stabbing into the man’s shoulder, and Gomarha shrieked in pain as his own arm flailed, making him stab himself.
The door that Commander Fahey and Dr. Tarea had left through burst open, and Tim and Dylan ran into the room, followed by Joanna, Mr. Freeman, and Hector. Gomarha turned and ran through the other door, hoping he could catch up to Dr. Nadina.
“I’ve got this,” Hector announced, as he bolted after the escaping Gomarha.
The rest of the group ran to Bjorn, freeing him from the chair. Tears flowed freely down everyone’s faces as they reunited with the little boy. The nightmare was over. The little boy was reunited with his family. He was happy to see that Mr. Freeman was there too.
“Mom,” Bjorn said, as the group began to regain its composure.
“Yes, my precious angel.”
“There was never a poltergeist, and I was the one who made that vase hit that man,” the little boy confessed, with another tear streaking down his face.
Joanna, reaching out, wiped the tear away. “I know, son. We have a lot to talk about.”
A smile crept across the boy’s face, and he turned to his brother. “See—brainwaves, baby. I gotz dem brainwaves.”
*****
Gomarha, having misjudged the stairs at the back of the building, stumbled and fell. The wounds inflicted by the knife, wielded by the boy Transprophetic, had made him weaker than he had anticipated. He pulled himself upright, trying to stand, but realized that he had injured his knee in the tumble down the stairs.
Hector, slowing, walked down the stairs when he saw that the man was unable to stand without the support of the wall.
“Commander, you’re alive!” Gomarha explained, as Hector descended the staircase. “We found one. Upstairs. There’s a Transprophetic. We’ll all be rich heroes!”
“Gomarha,” replied Hector, “ten years is a long time. What have you been up to?”
“It doesn’t matter. I found the next crew that came here to Earth. One of them is already on his way to Fat Bottom Lake. Their return vessel is hidden in the same place as ours was, and the crew’s before that. Crazy. Their return vessel leaves in two days. We could be home within a year.”
“Can you walk?” asked Hector
“No, I think I broke my leg or maybe my knee,” replied Gomarha.
“Too bad. I guess only one of us will be a hero when we return to Koranth,” Hector declared, as he drove his dive knife blade low into Gomarha’s gut, pulling it upward until he hit the bottom of the man’s ribcage. He stepped back as Gomarha slumped to the ground.
“Why, Commander—why?” Gomarha pleaded.
Hector looked down at the man, as blood began to pool around his body from his already blood-drenched shirt. A crooked smile spread across Hector’s face, and he turned and headed back up the stairs.
Chapter 38
Actions and Consequences
It was late in the evening when the group finally arrived back at Tim’s condo. The police had grilled them for hours, and they were repeatedly chastised for not allowing the police to do their jobs. The three dead bodies were eventually taken to the morgue. To keep from being kept in the local jail, all of them relinquished their passports until they would be allowed to leave the country. Their simple vacation had transformed into something that none of them could have ever imagined.
Before the police had arrived at the warehouse, the adults of the group told Bjorn not to share any of the unusual happenings of the day. The ability that he had was something that absolutely needed to be kept secret, at least until they were cleared of any wrongdoing and allowed to leave Mexico. It would simply be too sensational otherwise. Tim also texted Kaylee, asking her to let Sebastian know that the boy was safe and he could stop searching.
As the seven of them sat around the table, Mr. Freeman placed a cup in the middle of the table.
“My young friend,” he said to Bjorn. “You will need to learn to use your abilities, so that you can control them.”
Bjorn was exhausted. He simply made the cup go up a few inches and then set it back on the table. Joanna looked at him and sent him to bed. Tomorrow would be a better time to help the little guy begin to deal with all of the things that had happened to him during this traumatic day.
Tim looked intently at Atticus and Hector. “The events of today make me think your story of being from some other planet isn’t as much bullshit as I thought this morning,” he confided. “So, what happens now?”
“My best guess is that the one guy that got away, this Dr. Nadina, will head for their return vessel,” began Mr. Freeman, “Bjorn said he remembered one of the men saying that it would be leaving in two days. If the return vessel gets off this planet, it would take about one year for it to make it to Koranth. Then, if a spaceship and a portal were ready, it would take two years to return. However, it is unlikely that a ship and portal are just waiting. They would likely take a couple of years to prepare for the mission back to Earth. Regardless of when they return, within a week of the portal being activated, Earth will be invaded.”
“So how do we stop them?” asked Dylan.
“I wish I had an answer to that,” replied Mr. Freeman. “If we could find and destroy the return vessel, then it might be another five to twenty years before another exploratory mission is sent again to Earth.”
“Where is the return vessel?” asked Dylan.
“Dylan, I wish I knew. Mine was hidden in the mountains, deep in a body of water called Fat Bottom Lake. Theirs could be anywhere on Earth,” Mr. Freeman conveyed.
Joanna held up her hands, and everyone turned to her. Everyone had been talking about the big picture, saving Earth, but she was focused elsewhere. “What about Bjorn?” she questioned, “What happens to him?”
Mr. Freeman explained that Bjorn still was a normal kid. He just happened to be able to do some things that others couldn’t. The abilities that Bjorn possessed were not unnatural, just simply the ongoing evolution of the human species. Mr. Freeman proceeded to share a little of the history of Transprophetics on Koranth and how they changed everything in almost every scientific field.
What Mr. Freeman could not predict was what would happen to Bjorn if the world found out that he was different. The Transprophetic that he had found in Thailand completely disappeared, and despite his searching for years, he was never able to find her or any other Transprophetic. He’d spent years looking for them.
He went on to explain that if scientists here on Earth studied Bjorn, it would take at least a few years, but everything would very likely begin to change on Earth. That’s what the Corporations from his world feared. However, he wasn’t convinced that it would be more than an annoyance at this point for the mighty military machines of Koranth or Zoranth. The truth was that they simply didn’t want to risk a planet taking any technological leaps before the planet was under the control of a Corporation. For Bjorn’s safety, it was probably best that his abilities remain absolutely secret. Once the Donovackia military arriv
ed, they would be looking for Transprophetics, so they would likely kill him in order to keep Earthlings from studying him.
Joanna continued to look at Mr. Freeman, unable to hide her mixed feelings about him. That scar on his arm seemed to scream at her. If this man’s own planet had rejected him for killing a child, had her sons been safe around him?
“Explain this to me, Mr. Freeman,” she asked coldly, “if you’ve spent so much time looking for them, how did you somehow end up my neighborhood?”
“Joanna,” began Mr. Freeman softly, sensing the mistrust in her voice, “I happened to be passing through a small town in Tennessee. I picked up the local paper, and there was an article about a haunted house in that town. A very pious woman was also having lunch at the diner where I was eating. Apparently, she’d written the article for her church newspaper, and the paper’s editor, who was also a member of the church, decided to publish it in the town’s paper. She had all kinds of things to say, including how a wall-hanging picture flew off the wall and nearly hit her.”
“So you tracked us down?” asked Joanna.
“Yes,” replied Mr. Freeman, “I’d spent years looking for Transprophetics, hoping to be able to protect them from any future missions from Koranth. Bjorn was the closest thing that I found, and I just decided to base myself out of Denver to watch him. Most of my trips have been to see if I could find any others.”
“Did you ever find any others?” asked Dylan.
Mr. Freeman, turning, looked intently at Dylan. His gaze made Dylan feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t an accusatory look, but rather like Mr. Freeman was trying to look inside of Dylan. “In all my travels, Bjorn is the only Transprophetic that I am sure is aware of his own abilities,” replied Mr. Freeman, maintaining the direct gaze.