by Ammar Habib
Ethan could feel weariness coming over him, but he didn’t want to end their night. “Katrina, what ever happened to that music career you wanted to go into? Before I left you were set on becoming a singer.”
“…After you left I did go to a few auditions, but they all said I needed more practice, more training.”
“After tonight, all I can say is that they must’ve been deaf …or just stupid”
She briefly laughed. “I actually did take more lessons and was planning on trying to audition again. But after my grandfather’s health started declining I had to take over the company and put it all on the backburner.”
Ethan looked into the warmth of the fire place. “Sometimes life throws those curveballs at you.”
She continued to stare at his face. “…sometimes it does.”
He looked back into her eyes. “I think you should try again once Boris’ health improves. After hearing you tonight, I know you’ll be a star.”
Her smile widened. “If you say so.”
“You know, Katrina, there’s something I’ve been wondering since our dinner the other night.”
She leaned forward in her chair. “Go ahead.”
“Well…I wanted to know how many men have asked you to dinner before I did.”
“I’ve lost count.”
His eyes widened. “And how many invitations did you accept?”
She playfully made herself appear lost in thought. “Mmm…none until your invitation.”
His expression became playful. “Good. Now I know that I don’t have to kill anybody.”
Katrina let out a laughs, not realizing that despite Ethan’s appearance of jesting, a small part of him was completely serious.
“Can I ask why you rejected them all?”
“I was waiting for the right one to ask.” She replied, adverting her gaze as a faint blush crept along her cheeks
Ethan smiled inside. The moment was so peaceful. He wished he could capture and store it in his memory forever.
But he knew that it would soon be over. He couldn’t stay here much longer, no matter how much his heart wanted to spend the rest of the night in Katrina’s company. He needed to go back to the warehouse for…preparations.
Chapter 11
Daken
Sitting at his desk in his office, William leaned back in his chair. He had finally sent out the email to his editor, Carl Burke. The email that contained the article covering his interview with Ethan Daniels.
William looked at his wristwatch. It was barely past ten in the morning and he had already finished his day’s work. He personally hated working on weekends, but the one good thing about constantly working was that it kept his mind off…well, other things.
A loud knock on his door caused him to sit upright. “Come in.”
The door swung opened and a woman entered the room.
“Morning, Susie. What’s up?”
Susie moved towards his desk. “Hey, Will. Someone stopped by today and left a message for you.”
“Thanks.” William came to his feet as he took a piece of paper from Susie’s hands. He glanced down at the folded paper. “Do you know who left it?”
“He didn’t leave a name and I barely got a look at him. He just handed me the note and said it was for you.”
“…Ok…well thanks. I appreciate it.”
Susie turned and quickly left the room, gently closing the door behind her. William quickly unfolded the paper and read the message that had been scribbled inside:
You’re a reporter that’s willing to take a stand. Willing to tell the truth. That makes you a minority. If you want to turn the tide of what’s happening, if you want to be part of the solution then come to the corner of 42nd and Almond Street tonight at 8 in the alley behind the antique shop. And come alone.
William’s eyes opened wide as he read the message. Quickly, he folded it and slipped it into his back pocket. He knew who had sent the message. It was the same man that was responsible for killing Eugene and several other drug dealers. The stories were all over the news.
Still standing, William drummed his fingers on the top of his desk, wondering if he should take the offer. For all he knew, this person was some psychopath who would kill him too.
But then again, when would another opportunity like this arise. Maybe he was trying to achieve the same goals that William was trying to achieve. Maybe they were both on the same side. The investigative reporter in William couldn’t pass up the lead.
He knew what he was going to go.
***
Ethan heard Naira scream in terror as the sound of gunshots rang in his ears. She clung to his waist, shaking in terror as he searched for the threat.
A large man rammed Ethan from behind, causing him to land hard on his front and forcing Naira to let go of him. Ethan quickly leapt to his feet calling to Naira.
“Naira, run!”
Turning, Ethan rammed his attacker in the face causing him to spit out blood as he fell backwards. Ethan grabbed the next assailant’s fist as it nearly made contact with him after coming out of know where. With his free hand, he struck the hooligan straight in the neck and then smashed his open palm against the thug’s face.
Ethan fought with everything he had but before he knew it, he was surrounded. Their numbers were too high. He was attacked mercilessly, powerless to defend himself. Bottles were smashed against his now broken body. Then their sharp edges cut him open further. He could feel his warm blood pour from his wounds and with each blow he fought to contain his anguish and pain, instead calling Naira’s name.
He was powerless to do anything.
As the beating continued he became numb below the neck. He was not sure how long it lasted. But he could do nothing but take their blows and curses.
“The runt’s dead.” He heard Baatu drunken voice before a laugh following the omission. “…and you’re next.”
Ethan screamed inside and then everything went black.
***
When he awoke, the first thing Ethan noticed was that the pain was all gone. Quickly opening his eyes he sat up in a flash. He was lying on a thin, blue carpet. He was almost completely naked, except for a brown cloth that went around his waist and down to his upper thighs. His body was drenched in his own sweat.
While panting heavily, his eyes quickly took in his surroundings. He was inside of a small hut. A brown circular wall surrounded him. Its rotting surface showed its old age. The carpet he sat on rested on a dirt floor. There was an open doorway with the curtain that covered it having been drawn back. Rays of the sun came in through the opening and provided the one-roomed hut it’s only illumination. At the center of the circular room, sitting on the dirty floor, was an unlit lamp.
Looking down at his body, he stared at his muscular build for a few seconds. Ethan realized that something was wrong. Quickly, he touched his face and then ran his hand over his scalp. His eyes enlarged as he recognized what it was.
There was no hair. It was all gone.
Ethan leapt to his feet, frantically touching his head. He looked down at his body once more. All the bruises were gone. The cuts, the places where he had been sliced open by the broken bottles, were gone too. There was no sign of the beating he had received at the hands of Jutu’s son. There was not a single scar anywhere. Not one. His skin was as unscathed and unmarked as that of a newborn child.
How could this happen? Who could have done this?
Hearing footsteps, Ethan’s stare shot up at the doorway as a man entered. His black skin was covered by a ragged, emerald cloak while his head was bald. But that was not what caught Ethan’s attention.
The stranger’s entire body was covered in scars.
But these were scars that could only be received by fire. Ethan knew it was impossible for a person to have the entirety of their skin covered in burn scars and still be alive. That much fire would be certain death. He stared at the dark-skinned man’s disfigurement, wondering how he was still alive and walki
ng.
“…Where am I?”
The stranger let his eyes inspect Ethan head to toe. In one of his hands was a thick walking stick. He spoke perfect English. “Follow me.”
Ethan cautiously followed him out of the hut. Coming outside, Ethan raised up his hand to cover his face from the blinding sunrays as he looked around. About fifty yards away was the bank of a large river. He was surrounded by numerous huts just like the one behind him. Ancient trees were planted everywhere and provided the little camp some protection from the scorching sun. Tall, green, and luscious grass was growing all around them. Looking down the dirty road, Ethan could see a much larger hut at the center of the camp. There were no signs of life anywhere. He looked back at his host, who had stopped to let Ethan observe his surroundings.
“Come. He is waiting.”
“Wait. Am I dead?”
“Quite the opposite. You’re as alive as the day you were born, Ethan.”
“…How do you know my name?”
The stranger continued to move further, forcing Ethan to run to keep up.
Ethan grabbed the stranger by his shoulder as his voice spiked. “Answer me!”
Without flinching, the stranger shoved Ethan seemingly without effort. Ethan flew in the air several feet before landing hard in a patch of long grass. With a groan, he got back to his feet as the stranger continued to go towards his destination, not even glancing in Ethan’s direction.
Ethan ran to catch up with the stranger again. Coming behind him, Ethan raised his hand preparing to strike his host in the back of the head. As Ethan’s fist flew towards the stranger, the man turned around with inhumane speed and caught the fist in midflight. Ethan swung with his other hand, but the stranger effortlessly swatted it away, deflecting both attempts.
“Do you want to die, Ethan?”
As his arm was painfully twisted, Ethan let out a groan. “Tell me who you are!”
The stranger let go of both of Ethan’s wrists and took a step backwards. With his walking stick, he pointed towards the entrance of a hut thirty yards away. “Your answers lie in there.”
Ethan looked at the entrance, then at the stranger, then back at the entrance again. Taking a few long, deep breaths, he made his way towards the entrance of the hut, leaving the stranger behind him.
Coming to the entrance, Ethan paused and looked behind him. The stranger was gone. He stood several seconds, wondering what was going on. None of this made sense. It was all like the scene straight out of a dream.
Turning back around, Ethan walked into the hut.
An elderly man sat near a fire, a grey cloak covering his body. His eyes were closed and he appeared unaware of Ethan’s presence.
Ethan took a few steps into the room and began to slowly circle the fire coming closer to the old man. As he made his way there, the crackling of the fire echoed through the warm hut. Halfway there, the old man’s eyes suddenly shot open and he turned to look at Ethan.
Ethan stopped moving. For a long time the two stared at each other before the old man finally spoke. “Sit down.”
The old man’s voice was that of a king, filled with authority. But Ethan didn’t immediately follow the command, instead asking a question he didn’t actually expect answers to. “Who are you?”
“I am the one who saved your life.”
“And Naira? Where is she?”
“Dead.”
The old man said the word so coldly that it sent shivers up Ethan’s body, leaving him speechless and numb, unable to respond. He had expected this answer but had no idea what hearing the words aloud would do to him. He looked down at his hands, fisting them in an effort to calm the tremors.
Finally, he said the one word that came to his mind. But even before he spoke, he knew—he knew how Naira had died and who was responsible. The memory was burned into his skull. “H—how?”
“He made her watch your torment. Then he slit her throat.”
Ethan was silent. He would kill him, would kill the man responsible for taking Naira from him.
“I imagine you’ll weep now. They all do when they learn that their loved one has been killed.”
Ethan’s legs suddenly gave in and he fell to his knees. His head hung low as he buried his face into his hands. But not a single tear came out. Now wasn’t the time to grieve, now wasn’t the time to weep as the stranger expected him to do. The rage that shook his body kept his tears at bay.
“Of course, this is not the first time you’ve lost somebody close to you.”
With his face still hidden, Ethan spoke. “Was it painful? Did she die in pain?” Uncovering his face, Ethan saw the old man nod, his eyes gaze locked with Ethan’s.
“She died calling your name.”
His body trembled as the old man’s words echoed in his mind again and again. He could see the sinister face of Baatu smiling down on him, could hear Naira’s screams in the background as he lay dying on the cold asphalt ground, feeling the life leave his body. Ethan’s eyes widened as he realized the truth. That he hadn’t simply been beaten unconscious.
He had not been dying. He had died.
He struggled to process his realization. He remembered standing outside of his body, looking down at his broken form. He could remember feeling his spirit being pulled away, but refusing to leave. Fighting with all his might to stay there—to stay with his body, to survive.
And then, he remembered a dark voice’s chant echoing through the night. A sinister voice. A voice of evil.
Ethan stared at the old man. “…I―I wasn’t just dying. I was dead.”
The old man stared into the fire and nodded.
“You didn’t save me.” Even as he spoke his words, he hardly believed them. “You brought me back. How did you bring me back? I shouldn’t be here!”
The old man looked back at Ethan. “I brought you back and that is all you need to know.”
“Why?” Ethan nearly shouted. He could have been with Naira, he could have still had her in his life, afterlife, whatever it was that was on the other side.
“You still have things left to do in this world before you pass on.”
Ethan’s loud, deafening voice echoed throughout the entire camp. “Enough with the damn riddles! How do you know all of this?! Who are you? What are you?!”
His yelling didn’t faze the old man. “…My name is Daken.”
Ethan repeated the name. “Daken.”
“I can see everything, Ethan. I know all of your past. I know everything about you. Who you hate, who you love. I can see into your very soul.” Daken rose to his feet. “Everyone in this camp is like you. They died and I brought them back. I gave them the means to finish their business in this world.”
Ethan stared at Daken. “No…this can’t be happening. I was dead. I was freaking dead! I can’t be alive. I was standing outside of my body!” Ethan began pacing. He was losing it. He was finally losing it. Insane! That’s what this was.
As Daken took a step towards him, Ethan moved backwards. Suddenly, he collapsed to the floor and vomited onto the dirty ground beneath him. As Ethan endlessly coughed, Daken stood there stoically without trying to help him.
Finally, it stopped. Wiping his mouth, Ethan looked up at Daken. “How long has it been…since…since I died?”
“Only a few days.”
“And…and Naira? Has she been buried?”
“She was left on the side of the road. Vultures had their way with her.”
Ethan’s fist slammed the floor again and again. His anger and sorrow fueling his rage. He didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to believe that there was still a way to go back and save her, but he knew that it was hopeless. He felt Daken’s ancient hand fall upon his shoulder. Looking up, Ethan stuttered, “They….they left her there?”
Daken shook his head.
Slowly, Ethan rose back up. “That dog slaughtered her…he murdered an innocent girl…and they…left here there?” Ethan clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. “Wha
t about Baatu?”
“He didn’t lose a second of sleep over it.”
Without thinking, Ethan let out a roar that shook the walls of the hut. Looking up at the ceiling, he felt his muscles tense up as his cry echoed throughout the streets of the camp. He began to breathe heavily as he looked back down at Daken. Any sadness that had been in his eyes was gone now. His body shook with rage and his eyes were full of it. “Where is he, Daken? Where the hell is that animal?”
“Far from here, Ethan. The village is far from here. Every place you’ve ever known is far from here.”
“What do you mean?”
Daken turned and began to walk in circles around Ethan. “You’re not sure whether to feel sadness for your loss or anger for your crime. You don’t know what you want right now more: to butcher the killer or mourn Naira.”
Ethan didn’t reply, but everything Daken said was true.
“But in the end, you want revenge Ethan. Vengeance is the key to overcoming grief. You know this better than most.” Daken stopped moving as his eyes stayed locked on Ethan. “If you go to exact your revenge, you will die. You will fail and Naira will never be at peace.”
The young man’s eyes agreed with every word.
Daken raised his hand and placed it on Ethan’s shoulder. “But, I can give you the tools for your revenge.”
Ethan glanced down at Daken’s hand and then back at the old man’s face. “What tools?”
A smile came onto Daken’s face. “You’re strong, but I can make you the strongest man ever. You’re fast, but I can make you even faster.” The smile seemed to grow bigger. “I can make you invincible. I can make you a god among men. I can make you a living weapon that everyone will fear.”
Out of nowhere, a knife came into Daken’s free hand. Both Ethan and Daken looked at it.
“I know you’re skilled with knives, but I can teach you to never miss.” The sly smile grew on the old man’s face. “I can make you unstoppable, Ethan.”
“How―”
“I brought you back to life. You are indebted to me. Do one task and I will grant you the powers for you to extract your revenge on all those who are responsible for Naira’s death.”