Lies (The David Chance Series Book 3)

by Hileman, John Michael

  "I'm psychic," his voice responded.

  The man blinked. "What?"

  "I know what you came here to do, but you need to think about Bonnie. If you do this, she gets nothing."

  Donald struggled to process what he was hearing, then lifted the pistol again with emphasis. "A psychic? You really expect me to believe that garbage?"

  "If you shoot yourself, your wife won’t get a dime from the insurance company."

  "You're from the insurance company?" he said with a snarl.

  Jon felt his face tighten with disbelief, his voice came out harsh and scolding. "How would the insurance company know you've come here to kill yourself! Come on, man!"

  Donald wiped his sweaty lip with the back of his hand and swallowed.

  "If you shoot yourself, your high school sweetheart will live the rest of her life thinking she drove you to this."

  The words struck a chord. "It's not her! I don't want her to think it was her. I just can't do it. I can't make it work. The money’s gone. It's all crumbling. She deserves better than this."

  "I know," said his voice, continuing in a soothing timber. "I can help you leave her with a better life. If you trust me." Jon's blood ran cold at the implication of the statement. "Think this through, Donald. Your insurance company doesn't cover suicides. But if it looks like you died of natural causes, your wife will get the full payout on your insurance policy. How much is that again?"

  "Five hundred thousand..." He choked.

  "That's right, and your wife won't see a dime of that if you put a bullet in your head."

  "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying, let me help you. We'll go at your pace. You tell me when you're ready, and I'll put a pillow over your face and hold it there till your heart stops—" Jon thrust the alien influence from him and stumbled to the wall. ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!

  "Be calm Jon," said a female voice. "Look at him. Watch his response. He wants this. He needs this."

  I don't care what he wants! Jon's belly felt like its contents were coming up. He reached out to steady himself against the wall.

  "Are you okay?" said the man, letting the hand with the gun fall to his side as the other reached forward.

  Jon shook his head. "No. I- I don't feel so well."

  The middle-aged man rubbed his balding forehead and attempted to take it all in. "Are you really a psychic?"

  The tentacles begged for access again, but Jon refused. They’d said enough.

  "Would you really do what you said?"

  Jon lifted cautious eyes.

  "Would you make it look like a heart attack?"

  There was no mistaking the eagerness in the man's face. The voices were right about him. He wanted this. But they were out of their crazy minds if they thought he would let them take this man's life.

  "Do you see it in his eyes?" crooned the woman’s voice. "The need?"

  The need is only there because he is desperate. Why don't you just fix this? Why don't you help him out of his financial trouble?

  "It's more than financial."

  Then fix that, too! With your technology, you can do anything!

  "Some things cannot be fixed."

  I don't believe it.

  "This man's chemistry is broken beyond repair. Even if we gave him all the riches of the world, he would never be able to hide from the all-consuming depression stalking him."

  Was it true? Was he a victim of his body's own chemistry?

  The man's pathetic eyes continued to stare pleadingly.

  "Look at him. He is begging for it!"

  Jon's heart broke for the man, bitterness filled his heart. Why are you doing this to me!

  "Because you must grow in strength, Jon, prove you are willing to obey our every command. You have no idea what is at stake. You must show that you will trust us. Completely."

  I do trust you.

  "Prove that you are ours."

  But—I can’t do this!

  "You can. That is why we chose you."

  His rib cage shook like he was standing in a freezer. I've never taken a life!

  "You're not taking a life," a voice soothed. "You're releasing him from the prison cell of his body."

  I can’t!

  "And, you are sparing this man's wife from a pain you can't imagine. You're helping them both. He will be freed from his broken flesh, and she won't have to feel the guilt his death will leave behind. Think about it, Jon!"

  He turned and looked at the trembling man covered in his own sweat and tears, his expression pleading for a release from his pain. "Please," whispered the man, sweat shining on his lip. "I won't fight back. Is that what you're worried about?"

  A quake washed up through Jon's chest and shook his neck and jaw. "I'm sorry. I can't do this."

  The man's face sank.

  "I'm so sorry," he said, backing away.

  A stronger voice filled his head. "Don't DO this, Jon! You are not the weak person you once were!"

  I won't take his life.

  "With us you can be strong. With us you can be more than you were born to be."

  Jon pushed the voices back. This is wrong!

  "Please." The agony in the man's voice stabbed at Jon's heart.

  "Death is not what you think it is, Jon," said the soothing voice. The tone of it caused him to slow his retreat.

  What do you mean?

  "Flesh is just a shell. All life is energy."

  Energy? He struggled to wrap his brain around the idea.

  "To travel to your world from ours we ourselves must strip away our flesh and be only energy. Yet, we are not dead. We can make new flesh."

  This is too much. I can't...

  "Trust us, Jon. Don't give in to the lies and superstitions of your primitive race."

  "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," was all Jon could manage as he backed out of the room. He closed the door and let his sweaty palms slide down the wood.

  "You see this as a matter of life and death, but it isn't."

  I don't care what it is. I can't do it. I won't do it.

  "He will leave your world tonight, whether you help or not. But you have the opportunity to reduce his guilt and help his wife deal with his passing. This is the opportunity we are offering you."

  Opportunity?

  "You are saving this man's wife from a horrible financial crisis and sparing her the years she will ask herself why he would rather die than be with her."

  But what you're asking me to do is murder.

  "How do you murder a willing man?"

  He was speechless. His understanding of the universe was being shattered and there was no way to piece it back together. He knew they were right. It wasn't murder, and, even if it was, they had proven their ability to control the outcome of the situation. There was no fear of repercussion. But he was still unable to shake the feeling that it was wrong. I just can't...

  "Never mind," said a sharp voice. "It's too late."

  Jon's skin turned cold. Wh- What? In the intensity of the moment, Jon had been so focused on his own moral dilemma, he had completely neglected to consider the option of saving the man from himself.

  His hand shot to the doorknob and he pushed his way back into the room. The curtains from the balcony blew in. The man was already on the other side of the balcony rail. "NO!" He ran forward. But the man wasn’t waiting to consider his fate. He had committed to the task before climbing over. He released the rail and disappeared from sight. Jon crumbled to a stop, his body unable to process the emotion that set his skin on fire. There was no screech of terror, no sound of the body hitting the ground below. He was simply, gone.

  Is he dead?

  "He has transitioned."

  Jon scrambled to his feet. Security will come check the room! What do I do?

  "Be calm, Jon. You have plenty of time."

  He struggled to take a breath, he felt dizzy. What do I do?!

  "See the gun on the dresser?"

  Yes!

  "Put it under yo
ur shirt."

  What? Why?

  "Do you prefer to do this alone?"

  No! I've got it. He took the revolver and shoved it in his waistband.

  "Take the towel and wipe the wall where you touched it earlier."

  A damp towel hung on a nearby chair. He snatched it up and rubbed the wall where he had steadied himself with his hand. "Now rub the door handle on both sides and throw the towel into the bathroom." He did as they instructed, then peeked out into the hall. To his relief, it was still empty. "Leave the door open and take the stairs up two floors."

  Without resistance he made his way to the stairs and headed up. "There are camera's in the elevator. By going this way, you will avoid drawing any suspicion." Two floors up, a voice instructed him, "Exit the stairway and get on the elevator. Good. Now head down to the ground floor."

  His body went rigid as he almost looked right at the camera in the corner of the elevator, as though he might see if they saw him react to the command.

  No. I'm going back to my room.

  "There is one thing left to do."

  I've had enough.

  "You’ll want to see this, Jon."

  He gritted his teeth and pressed the lobby button with a sweaty finger. I'm not going anywhere near that body, if that's what you're planning.

  "We wouldn't ask you to."

  Then what are you doing?

  The elevator made a ding and the doors opened. A giggling couple got on from the fourteenth floor and cuddled into the rear corner. Jon reached up and wiped the sweat from his temple, discreetly. After a few seconds the doors opened on the sixth floor and an old man got on. Jon scooted to the side and avoided eye contact. The elevator continued down to the lobby where the doors opened onto pandemonium. Hotel staff rushed about with concerned faces as a flood of people moved from the casino to the front parking lot. Jon slipped into the flow and followed it out.

  Several yards away he saw a group of hotel employees gathered around a still body lying in the grass just inches from the pavement. Through the moving crowd and the flutter of emergency responders, Jon couldn't make out much, but he could see enough to know it was the man from the room. He covered his mouth and pushed back through the crowd. I don't want to see this.

  "It’s okay. That was enough."

  For what?

  "Enough for you to understand what we are about to teach you." Jon continued to push his way out of the crowd. "You believe that man is dead, but with our technology we could repair him. Even now. Even if all that was left of him was a fragment of DNA."

  Jon slowed.

  "He's not dead. He has become energy."

  You said that earlier. What does that mean?

  "Jon. He is with us, just like the little girl in the cafe. It is hard for your primitive mind to fully understand, but imagine there are many rooms existing in the same space. You are in one room, this man was in another, and we are in our own. We asked the man to join us so that he might speak with you." Jon whirled around and looked back toward the commotion as a familiar voice leaked into his mind.

  "Is that me?" said the man.

  Jon froze.

  "This is so weird. I've never seen myself from this angle." After a pause he added, "Am I that bald?"

  A gentle female voice joined in. "Do you remember this person?"

  "Who?" said the man.

  "The one lying on the ground."

  "Yeah. That's me." His voice cut off as he realized the full implication. "But how?"

  "It's okay. It is normal to feel disorientation."

  "Wow. I did it. I really did it," said the man.

  "Do you remember why?" asked the woman.

  There was another long pause, but finally the man spoke again. "It seems strange to me now. I don't really know why I did it. Finances were tough and we were having family issues, but nothing we couldn't work out."

  "Things are different outside the flesh."

  "My wife," he whispered.

  Jon's heart broke as the sound of the man's grief became audible.

  I'm sorry, thought Jon, I'm so very very sorry.

  "Why didn't you help me?"

  I couldn't. I'm not a killer.

  The man's voice lost its accusatory tone. "No. This was my fault. I made my own choices."

  I'm sorry. I wish I could have helped you.

  "The man can't answer you, Jon. He has left," said the female voice. "He has gone on to join the others."

  What others?

  "That is not for you to learn today. What we want for you to understand is the nature of what you call death."

  Will he be all right?

  "Yes."

  There was some solace in that.

  "Do you see how your lack of understanding hurt that man? Do you see how your ignorance prevented you from helping him?"

  He had no answer to give. It was true, the man was on a course to kill himself, and it would have been a mercy to his poor wife if he had helped to make it look like a heart attack. But it felt so wrong. It still felt wrong.

  "Do you still struggle with your programmed morality?"

  It is wrong to kill.

  "Is it wrong when a cat kills a mouse?"

  He scowled. I don't know.

  "Is it wrong when a butcher kills a pig?"

  I'm not a butcher.

  "Sometimes to kill is the greater mercy. Do you see this?"

  Yes.

  "Yet you will not take a life to help another?"

  It is not who I am.

  "Then your planet is doomed."

  His heart constricted.

  "We chose you for a reason, Jon. We thought you were different—but you are no different. You are like all the rest."

  Because I won't kill?

  An eerie silence filled his head. It lasted far too long for comfort.

  "It was our desire to make contact with your species, to bring cures for your diseases, prosperity for your poor—and to stop your imminent extinction. But we see now that your fear and ignorance is too deeply rooted."

  Extinction?

  "Yes. The current timeline for your extinction is set for under two decades. We had hoped you could stop it. We had hoped you were different."

  John stood dumbfounded.

  "You are unable to break free of the shackles of your own preconceptions. Religion has done this to you. It is a cancer that will ultimately consume you all. There is nothing we can do to stop it."

  But I'm not religious.

  "Their yeast is in you. It is what prevents you from making the choices you know are right. You are controlled by fear that has no substance in reality; that fear will be your ruin."

  I- I can change. Show me how to change.

  "It’s too late."

  You said we have years. I- I can learn. There's still time.

  "No. It has run out."

  What do you mean?!

  "We thought you were ready, but we were wrong."

  Just tell me what you want me to do!

  "We have seen only one option to save your people and open a way for contact to be made, but it will require you to do something very hard—something that will seem wrong to you."

  You mean take a life?

  "Sadly, that's how you will see it."

  His knees gave out and he crumbled onto the front steps. Could he kill someone to save his world from extinction?

  "Tomorrow, religious leaders from every corner of your planet will gather to have a conference in this city. These are the men and women responsible for this dark age. Their superstitions are the cancer fueling all of your wars. Not only will they be responsible for the extinction of your species, they are preventing us from bringing the healing you need."

  Dread washed over Jon like a mighty crushing wave. Did they want him to kill everyone at that conference?! Was that the solution they were suggesting?!

  There has to be another way!

  "No. It is the only way. To save you, we must remove them."

  I can'
t kill all those people! That's insane!

  "Jon," they scolded, "you won't be killing anyone. No one will die. They will sleep for a season, and it will be painless."

  Jon struggled for breath.

  "Once we have made peaceful contact and set up healing centers across your world, we will bring them back—in the same way we reconstitute ourselves after light years of travel. It is our joy to give them a part in this future we offer."

  Was it possible? Could such a thing be done? Could they bring them back to life?

  "And when we wake them, we will help them re-enter society and leave behind their primitive and destructive biases. They, like you, will be able to live forever in peace with all creatures, just as our people do. But this all depends on you, Jon. We cannot help a people unwilling to be helped. If fate has determined that your world should perish and your energies return to the universe, we are prepared to accept that. But if we can save you—if we can share our technology with your people and steer you away from this inevitable extinction, then that is our desire."

  Immortality? Peace? Could these alien beings actually do these things? More importantly, could he do what they were asking him to do? Could he take lives in order to save them?

  "If you help us transition these people, there may still be hope. But we do not have the confidence in you we once had."

  How will it happen? How do I transition these people? Do you have some kind of advanced technology?

  "You need time to absorb what you have learned, Jon. But tomorrow you will have a visitor."

  Chapter 28

  On the phone, Castle went on for several minutes without so much as a breath. He spoke of crews flying in from New York and Los Angeles and about all he had set up. It was to be the most spectacular day in the history of the world, according to Castle. But the aliens had no interest in pursuing those matters any further. The goal was to be invited to the conference, and that had been accomplished.

  "I'm sorry. Come again?" said Castle, his voice dripping with shock.

  "I won't be available today," Jon repeated.

  "We're set to make a killing today, Jon! We've had calls from practically every media outlet. They're paying top dollar for exclusives."

  The aliens made an attempt to use his lips, but Jon resisted. "Tell him you will be available to do whatever he wants once the conference is done." Jon relayed the message.