Taker

by Patrick Wong

“I’m Shona.” The first lady approached Nicole and shook her hand. “I don’t know what to say to you, really. I must admit to being somewhat puzzled. I have some questions, if you don’t mind.”

  The president coughed. “My dear, the doctors say I don’t have much time, so please stop filling it with idle talk. She’s here to save me.”

  Shona Percival faltered.

  “I know you’ve been through the reports a hundred times and they say there’s no saving me,” he continued. “I’ve already had the VP in here sharpening his talons.”

  The first lady and the president glanced at each other, and their silent exchange held in it a hundred dinner-table conversations in which the VP’s ambitions had been noted.

  “But in the past few hours, I’ve learned of forces on this Earth of which I had no notion even existed. And that my body is beyond modern medical science.”

  It was Nicole’s turn to speak. Although she felt determined, nerves were playing their part now. Her mouth was dry. “I’ve already explained to Agent Bishop what I’ll need, and it’s in place,” Nicole replied. She hoped what she had said would instill confidence in the president and the first lady.

  “It is,” Bishop confirmed solemnly.

  “Good.” The first lady signaled to the orderlies. “Shall we?”

  “A moment with Nicole first? May I?” the president asked.

  “Idle chatter, remember. Now Nicole …” The first lady choked up then, at a loss for what to say next. “Nicole, please take good care of John.” With a glance to Bishop, the two left the room.

  Nicole played with her hands for a moment, not knowing what to expect from the president. “Please, Nicole, come closer and take a seat. I’d like to get to know you, if that’s all right.”

  “Of course, Mr. President.”

  “Call me John.”

  “If it’s all right, I’m more comfortable with Mr. President.” Nicole sat on a nearby rolling doctor’s stool and rolled over beside the president’s bed. It had always been one of Nicole’s simple pleasures in life — enjoying a good rolling chair on a smooth floor.

  This made the president smile. “Good chair?”

  “Yes, sir. This is a good one.”

  “I am the President of the United States, the most powerful country in the world. Of course I’d be surrounded by the best rolling chairs.”

  They both laughed, which broke the rigid conversation.

  “It’s been a hard day,” Nicole said, deciding it was time to bypass the niceties and get straight to it.

  “I sure know the feeling. People are always trying to kill me. But you — I’m sure that’s something new altogether!” the president joked.

  “You’d be surprised how often I’ve run into that dilemma lately,” Nicole shot back.

  “You really scared us out there.”

  “It wasn’t me. I swear to every god there is …”

  “I know, Nicole. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s read people, you aren’t the killer type.”

  “That may be, but I have had to kill in self-defense.”

  “Were you frightened?”

  Nicole nodded.

  The president took this in. “I’ve ordered bombing strikes, started wars and sent countless numbers of soldiers into battle. But I never fought. It used to be that presidents were soldiers first. Now we’re all lawyers.” The president coughed. “I’ve never killed anybody directly.”

  “Well, let me tell you, it’s a really sucky feeling.”

  “I bet.” The president leaned forward and let out a series of nasty-sounding coughs, and he took a few moments to clear his throat well enough before speaking again.

  “My title is powerful, but in the end, I’m just a person. When I’m laid low like this, it all counts for nothing. What good does it do when I’m staring death in the face?”

  He rested a moment in silence to gather some more strength, and then looked at Nicole in a fatherly manner.

  “You’re just a little older than my own daughter. I can’t imagine how I’d feel as your parents, after reading about the things people have done to you lately. People in my administration, even. It’s not right how they treated you, and I’m sorry for that.”

  “I know, sir — I know it wasn’t you.”

  “Unfortunately, when you’re the president, everything is me. Especially the bad stuff.”

  “It’s all right. Bygones.”

  “So we’ve tried to kill you twice and imprisoned you, and you can let it all go like that?”

  “Sure. How can anybody enjoy life if all they do is dwell on the hurt from the past. Bygones.”

  “I like that. ‘Bygones.’ I’m going to use that the next time we’re negotiating with other countries.” The president took her hand then and looked at her firmly. “In case I don’t make it, I want you remember something: Always surround yourself with good people. Those people may not always say the things you want to hear, but those are the people to hold closer than anything. Once you find them, never let them go.”

  “I understand, and I know who I can trust.” Emotion rose in Nicole now as she thought of Amy and Ben — and of Drake, who had died trying to help them all.

  “That’s good. Very good. Before we start, can I trust you?”

  “Well, my mom voted for you. And I liked you, too. I’m only 17, but if I could vote, I would’ve voted for you.” Then Nicole’s eyes shifted away.

  “Let me guess — but your dad didn’t?”

  “No, sorry. He voted for the other guy.”

  “Well, that’s OK. That’s what democracy is all about. You and your mom make a majority, and that’s good enough for me. “

  President Percival and Nicole shared another pleasant bout of laughter, the weight of what was to come lingering around them.

  “Look, Nicole. I know you’re here because you feel an obligation to save the leader of the free world.” The president looked somber. “But don’t just save me because I’m the president. Save me because I’m just a man who wants time to grow old with my wife, see my kids graduate, and … not have to say goodbye to them just yet.”

  Nicole squeezed his hand. “I can do that, Mr. President. Tell me your favorite memory.”

  Let’s Do This Thing

  The president and his wife had held each other before the attendants wheeled him into the elevator. They had agreed: no goodbyes. Then the large service elevator had transported them upward.

  If Bishop hadn’t told Nicole what to expect when the doors opened, the view of the lush, green vista would have surprised her. This was, as Bishop had explained, a small, protected forest and farm. It produced organic fruits and vegetables for the meals served to the president and visiting dignitaries, as well as furnished a place where the president could wander and relax in peace without concern for his safety.

  Nicole could feel the weight of responsibility upon her. Although she had Balanced several times now and the president’s last words to her had taken a certain amount of pressure off, she couldn’t escape her own insecure thoughts. The last time she had Balanced on a person, things had gone horribly wrong.

  She tried to work off some of her nerves by clenching and unclenching her fists as she followed the president’s gurney, which was being wheeled by orderlies into the center of the green.

  “Please lay him down on the grass,” she instructed them, her heart pounding in her throat. The orderlies lifted the president’s frail body and then transferred him to the mossy ground below.

  Bishop gave Nicole a quick look, as if to check in with her, and then turned to face the soldiers and medical teams.

  “Thank you all for your help with the president. You all have Secret Service non-disclosure papers to sign downstairs. And we all, apart from the president and Nicole, must now go back downstairs.”

  The head Secret Service agent glanced at the president.

  “Agent, at ease.” President Percival pointed toward the elevator. “Please do as he says, by order
of the President of the United States.”

  The agent nodded. “Yes, sir. God bless you, Mr. President. And may God bless the United States of America.” With that, the agent turned around to usher the group into the elevator.

  Bishop approached Nicole, reached out and touched her shoulder.

  “Good luck.”

  “Thank you.”

  He turned on his heel and joined the group in the elevator. Nicole watched the doors close. All the while, the president was watching her.

  When the elevator display indicated that the group had arrived downstairs, Nicole knelt by the president.

  “Are you ready?” she asked softly.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “OK. Let’s do this thing.”

  Nicole took the president’s hand again. She knew he wouldn’t have much strength, but what he did have left allowed him to squeeze her hand tightly.

  Nicole closed her eyes. She had kicked off her shoes and felt the joyous cool of the earth beneath her feet, the soil gathering between her toes. Trees, lush ferns, long grass and peaty soil. Verdant branches with birds and a rich sub-terrain of ants and other insects. Vivid colors abounded. The oranges and golden reds seemed somehow to resonate with the life ebbing away from President Percival.

  Nicole began to gather the essence of each vital presence — the blades of grass, the veins of the leaves, the mulch creating life anew for the worms, and then in turn the worms feeding the songbirds circling above. She could sense everything, from the tall, strong, trees shading them right down to the microbes in the soil beneath them. She gasped when she considered the whole of it. There was so much life here to be had. Nicole marveled at how nature could blossom into such an extraordinary reserve of life energy.

  Then she recalled the president’s memory. She felt the weariness from the long night’s work on the election trail — how it had harried John’s nerves and furrowed his brow. Shona had knocked on his study door to bring him some coffee, and she had carried in their daughter, Lisa, to come say goodnight. The girl — only 6 — had fallen asleep as they had talked. And when the two finally noticed, husband and wife had smiled at the sight of their sleeping child. Their eyes had locked, and, in that moment, the president had stepped away from affairs of the state and worries of wars, and the world had gone small again. His heart grew back exponentially.

  A moment of true love between husband and wife. Nicole stretched out her hand to gather the warmth.

  Then the image of Drake’s face flashed into her mind’s eye. Drake and Amy. In killing him, she had torn them apart forever. What if she did that again here?

  “Control yourself,” she reasoned, clenching her fists again. The president was dying — there wasn’t much else she could do to harm him. But then a new thought swam in: Perhaps it would be kinder to leave him to die? Just like she could have done with Drake?

  Nicole felt herself flounder, and more doubts began to seep in, like dark moths fluttering around an ailing flame.

  Nicole’s eyelids flickered, her concentration wavering.

  Hot sun beat down on her head. She opened her eyes to find herself no longer in the lush green vegetation, but instead under a turquoise blue sky and surrounded by enormous golden monuments. Statues and winding paths towered to her left, dark green trees were plentiful, and mountains could be seen in the distance. Looking down at her feet, Nicole found dusty earth instead of rich grass.

  Up ahead, a crowd was gathered, watching a man clad in white. As the man turned his head, his crown reflected the sunlight, and a glint of the bright white light blinded Nicole. She turned her head back and saw a grand, high-pillared structure with arches. Could this be?

  Then Nicole saw them. It was Caesar who was standing in white, and by his side were his senators.

  The man to Caesar’s right suddenly plunged a knife deep down into him.

  “No!” a teenage girl screamed, pushing past Nicole and into the crowd. She was being chased by her mother.

  “Lavinia!” came the woman’s cry. The girl continued steadfastly on, however.

  Lavinia turned back briefly to connect her blue eyes with Nicole’s.

  “While there’s life, there’s hope.”

  She then began to concentrate and Balance the way Nicole would. Nicole could almost feel the force of Lavinia’s determination as the girl began to draw life from around her to save Caesar.

  Her mother wrenched the girl’s hands and broke her concentration, though. “Don’t show it. It’s too dangerous here.”

  A moment’s concentration, lost.

  A great cry went up across the crowd.

  Caesar was dead.

  Nicole opened her eyes.

  She was back in the greenery again. With a sinking heart, she glanced down. Just like the girl, she had lost concentration in those vital moments. Horrified, she let out a gasp as she realized the president was slipping away.

  She touched his hand and he opened his eyes, gasping for his final few breaths. His firm grip was gone.

  Nicole felt the devastation and disappointment hit her.

  “No!” she exclaimed. Tears swam up.

  “It’s OK, Nicole. It’s OK. It was a long shot.”

  “But it shouldn’t have been,” she blurted out. She meant it too. Why was her gift failing her now? Had Drake been a turning point for her?

  “You did your best.” He summoned some strength then to lift his head a little. “Remember that. There was nothing more you could have done — nothing more that you could ever do than that. Now is my time to go.”

  He offered a small smile and then shut his eyes. Coughing racked him, and he winced in pain. His breaths were rattling.

  Nicole felt panic rise. Could this be it? She had to concentrate. These weren’t going to be the last breaths he would take.

  Nicole began again, and she thought this time of the president’s daughter, Lisa. She had played a part in the president’s memory too. So, if the memory of a loving husband and wife had distracted her, she would have to find a different part of it to use to Balance.

  Nicole returned to the memory. John Percival, husband to Shona and father to Lisa, had gotten to his feet, and Shona had transferred the weight of their sleeping daughter onto him — all the love and the trust. That was the memory for all time. Little Lisa continued sleeping, her total frame bearing down on her father’s shoulder. She remained unaware of being transferred from parent to parent and was about to be carried up to bed. Shona looked up at John, the light of love in her eyes, and gently patted their daughter’s back.

  His family.

  This was the memory Nicole would use to Balance.

  Nicole opened her eyes. It was as though she were carrying the weight of the president’s pain in her hand, and the terrible agony of being burned from inside out was almost overwhelming. But as easily as a father taking the weight of his slumbering child, Nicole held up the life energy of the forest. It fizzled and sparked in her open palms. This time, albeit with shaking hands, she knew she was ready.

  Then she Balanced.

  Although the cameras overhead that were connected back to the PRESS rooms were indestructible and had every electrical backup imaginable, the sheer force of Nicole’s power shocked the system. At the moment Nicole raised her arms, all the transmitted views displayed static and the sound of white noise.

  Up above, the greenness began to drain as each blade of grass and each leaf gave up its precious energy. The energy seeped into the man on the ground — John Lane Percival, leader of the free world, President of the United States, husband to Shona and father to Lisa.

  Nicole knew it was finished when she sensed no more pain and no more energy fizzing in her fingers.

  The first words she heard were the president’s.

  “My God.”

  Nicole opened her eyes. All around was the devastation she had anticipated — broken-up, dried ground underneath her, withered trees, and the skeletons of the birds that had just moments be
fore been swooping above.

  She had done it. Relief flooded through her.

  The president stood up. He looked up at the sunlight for a moment, a smile breaking through on his face.

  “That’s the most remarkable thing I’ve ever experienced. I’m at a loss for words.”

  “Yeah.” Nicole admired the revitalized president. “It is pretty cool, isn’t it?”

  “It most certainly is. I feel amazing — like I’m a teenager again.” His smile beamed down on her, and he held out his hand to help her up.

  She took it, and before she knew it, she found herself locked in the tightest of embraces.

  Downstairs in the PRESS rooms, the cameras had flicked on again, revealing a president on his feet, alive and hugging his savior. Those in the room burst into rapturous applause. Spontaneous hugs ensued all around.

  Shona Percival ran almost immediately to the elevator to wait for Nicole and the president to arrive.

  Handshakes and Hugs

  Nicole and the president emerged from the elevator to loud applause and a fair number of disbelieving faces. The president’s colleagues, advisers and security detail had all been preparing themselves for the worst, and yet here he was, looking healthier and more refreshed than they had seen him in years.

  The president held Nicole’s hand aloft like a prizefighter for several minutes. And then everything began to slow down and he caught sight of his wife in the throng. Unable to contain her excitement, Shona pushed through the awaiting crowd and ran into her husband’s arms, her eyes locking with Nicole’s as she did. She started to cry and mouthed the words “thank you” to Nicole.

  Seeing John and Shona Percival reunited made Nicole miss her mom and dad. But Nicole had her own welcoming party in Jason and Ben. Amy had offered praise, but it had been without her usual warmth for Nicole. Bishop and Velasquez took their turns nodding congratulations to Nicole before receiving grateful handshakes from the president.

  After half an hour of handshakes, hugs and high-fives, they were now sitting in the boardroom of the PRESS offices. The president was enjoying his first proper cup of coffee in 24 hours alongside a smoked salmon bagel. Bishop and Velasquez had returned from briefing the various agencies, and Nicole had been able to take a few minutes of peace for herself.