Force

by A.R. Rivera

Going Back To Cali

  Regret is my closest companion during the long trip back.

  Going West doesn’t take as long as it did to go East. I don’t have to steal as much as I did on the way to New York. I still have to change cars now and then, but there’s enough money to buy gas and a little food. I try to time my need to stop near state boundary lines. Once I’m over into the next state, I find another car to switch plates with.

  It’s hard not to think of those two kids all alone, abandoned by their mother. But my thoughts keep going back to little G’s dad. He was alive when I left. I shouldn’t have left.

  The image of that giant fish swallowing Daemon whole fills my mind, quickly followed by the image of the vortex opening from inside the creature’s body. I push them both away, replacing the thoughts with wonder; if it was my order for little G to stay where he was that did his father in.

  I was working with what little information I could garner at the scene. I’m no medic, but I saw no blood, felt no lumps on his head. His neck had definitely been twisted some, but he had a strong pulse. He was breathing. What else was I supposed to do? I did what I knew would keep them safe— I went after Daemon.

  I shouldn’t have listened to little G. He’s an angry kid who knows nothing about the toils of life. I’m the adult; I should have made them come with me. Would help them break the promise I made?

  Daemon is only after them because of me and my dad. The only solution that makes sense is to leave them be for now while I take care of Daemon. Once he’s dead, I can go back for them. Take them some place safe. Eli will help. Abi might, too. If she’ll even speak to me.

  I shake away the thoughts to focus on driving, counting the mile markers on the roadside. But soon, my head is right back there, replaying the events.

  He’s dead. Again. What does that mean?

  The most obvious interpretation is that Eli was right about the ‘this-is-not-time-travel’ thing. This is not my past, it’s someone else’s present. I’ve never been so happy to be wrong. I saved Carrie. Saved her and... left him for dead.

  Who would I if I’d lost my dad instead of my mom? How will little G manage losing both? Will he blame me? I blamed my mother for years and it never helped. Still, truth is difficult to accept in the best of times. Maybe it’s better to let him think what he wants for now. To cope.

  The thoughts are too much. I’ve been through too much to think about anything so I push it all away and let my mind go blank, concentrating on the road. On finding Daemon again.

  One thing that’s been bothering me is how my dad called Daemon by another name. His alternate also called him a Keeper. How is it that this one guy has so many names? Is he such a prolific, pretentious piece of shit that he requires a specific moniker for each victim? He does seem to think very highly of himself. I’ll be taking that ego down a few notches when I catch up with him.

  I crossed the border into California at the butt-crack of dawn.

  Six hours later, I’m well into central valley, very close to finding the farming town of Ivanhoe.

  All I can remember about the directions Eli and I followed to get the first set of stones my dad left—the scenery and Road 308. Of course, I’m in another dimension so there’s no telling. I just have to follow my instincts.

  Luckily, almost everything in this dimension has been the same, and that gives me hope.

  It’s a relief that Ivanhoe is pretty much identical. Some of the orchards are smaller or grow different types of trees, but the smelly dairy farm is there and a little ways past it, the road I need.

  The leaves have fallen from most of the trees. Only the citrus groves are flourishing. Half of the orange groves are being harvested by huge machines that shake the trees to make them drop their fruit into waiting crates on a long conveyor.

  I pass through the damp, dirt roads with little notice from anyone on my way to the spot where Eli and I stopped before. This time, I park a little closer to the edge of the field, near the wire fence that corrals the cattle that are nowhere in sight.

  The grass on the rolling hills is sparse with patches of green and brown everywhere. The distant mountains stretch up for miles into the cloudy sky. At the summit of the low end of the first hill, there’s no missing the circular brown markings and the old stone fire pit in the center.

  Eli was right. The soil in this part of the hill is diseased and has been for some time. The dirt is cold and hard, but it doesn’t take long to get to the old metal box or the rubber bag inside. I guess neither version of my dad was ever concerned with originality.

  Soon after, I’m near the small transformer. There isn’t a cow in sight when I stop to slip into my radiation suit—strap on my boots and hood with mask, before slipping into the gloves.

  The two nitroglycerin charges are enough to get me to wherever Daemon has gone and back but if I use one, I’d only have one left and that makes me uncomfortable.

  As soon as I get to wherever he is, I need to find a weapon of some kind. He’s much stronger and faster than I anticipated and I can’t chance him getting away again. I need to be smart and stealthy. To catch him unaware, though, it’ll be a challenge. He’s so eager, so bloodthirsty—exactly why I have to master these stones and catch him off guard.

  I unzip the bag and take out the stones. They are beautiful and I’m pissed that I’ve only got the one set. I cannot believe I was stupid enough to take them with me when I went after him. They are what he wants—how could I not consider losing them a possibility? I won’t make that mistake again.

  These exquisite rocks, three of the same suit in different colors, are an exact match to the previous. The odd crystal quality, unnaturally cold, the strange light shining from within: they’re stunning and slightly larger than my previous set. The first set of three fit easily into one open palm. These three require both hands to hold. I wonder briefly what Elijah would make of this fact and am sure he’d ask a million annoying questions that neither one of us could answer.

  As I step nearer the transformer in the large field, the stones glisten. I’m transfixed as an arm of lightning whips out from the wires above, reaching for the rocks. They glow as if filled with infinite fire and float in their triad over my hands. They’re probably burning, too, but I can’t the feel heat.

  The gateway appears before me and stretches into heaven. The doorway opens to a room filled with more light and color than I remember.

  Crossing the threshold is easy. A step is all it takes.