by Nathan Wall
“Just say it.” Jackson stood and crept over to Shah's side. His body continually ached all over. “I'm regressing.”
“Don't get me wrong, your blows still pack a wallop. But these vitals and measurements... they're nothing like what you were able to produce—”
“—In the beginning.” Jackson nodded, wiping his face with a towel. “I know. It's like I can feel my energy fading the more I exert myself. In that town, with Oreios, my stranglehold on the fight waned. I think he knew it. I need more doses.”
“We need to pinpoint the source of the problem and run a full analysis on you.” Shah put the papers down, lowered his glasses, and looked at Jackson. “We don't know if the catalyst is losing its potency, if your body is getting used to the doses, or if you're just wearing down. It could be a laundry list of things.”
“Putting me up for full analysis will take me out of the field.” Jackson slid a shirt on and rubbed his right shoulder. It felt like it was on fire. “We're close to something. The other agents like me are scattered all over the globe. We can't afford to put me on leave.”
“Then we'll bring them in.” Shah placed his hand on Jackson's back and rubbed it firmly. He nodded at his friend, sighing. “Whatever is affecting you could do the same to them.”
“Call them in, but don't put me on watch.” Jackson walked away, stopping at the door to turn and look at Shah. “Run your tests on me, but allow me to talk Sanderson into coordinating a task force. Oreios wouldn't have come out of hiding for no reason. We could be close to finding the rest of the star.”
“But your health—”
“—Is of little importance to harnessing the full capabilities of the starstone.” Jackson walked back to Shah, towering over him by a good foot. He placed a hand on Shah's shoulder, smiling. “You're the smartest guy I know. You'll fix me quickly.”
“There comes a time when the pawns on the chessboard can no longer be sacrificed.” Shah walked over to a chair, sat down, and rolled himself in front of a large monitor. The bright light from the screen washed over his face with a blue hue. Words and graphs on the screen could be seen perfectly in the reflection of his glasses. “If the starstone is anything like the rest of this technology, then you and I both know it's useless without people like you to control it. In case you haven’t noticed, we can't just grow you on trees.”
“I can be of some help.” Jackson sat next to Shah and pulled in close, speaking at a whisper. “I'll take it easy. I can promise you that. I'll even come in here three times a week, or every day, whatever you need, and get myself back in tip-top shape. Just don't sound the alarm bells yet. We both know the best way for us to get the starstone is for me to continue active duty.”
“Fine, but you'll do so in a limited capacity. Nothing more than an advisory role.” Shah glanced at Jackson and then looked back at the screen. “Now, if you'd give me some privacy, I really must finish these analyses.”
“That's what I wanted to hear.” Jackson smiled, patted Shah on the left shoulder, and then stood to walk out of the room.
* * *
Jarrod slowly pulled his hand from the mud, pushing himself up onto his knees. All around him, scattered as far as he could see, were the slain bodies of thousands of men, women, and children. The warmth of his breath formed a cloud of fog around his eyes. He looked to the sky, counting more stars than he'd ever seen before. As he looked back down, he saw a city with buildings and homes, surrounded by a wall well over one hundred feet high.
He stood, walked toward the burning buildings, and heard the screams of those trapped inside. He ran, but quickly stopped when he heard the clanging of metal. He looked himself over and saw he was dressed in a strange bluish and shiny black garb.
“Help,” a young child screamed in a language he didn't recognize, yet was able to comprehend.
Jarrod continued his sprint toward the crying child when three horsemen charged in his direction. Forging their way between Jarrod and his destination, they threw long spears at him. Jarrod raised his left arm and a large shield manifested out of his armor, splintering the javelins. He lowered his arm, looked at his armor, and noticed the blue scales were moving and seemed to be alive.
His eyes moved past the horsemen and to the building in the distance. Large sections of the wall surrounding the city collapsed. The horsemen dismounted and drew their swords. They attacked, lunging forward in turn. Jarrod, seemingly unable to control his own movements, fended them off.
A sword materialized in his right hand. He swung it around in a circle, easily slicing through the shield and torso of the first assailant. As the fight raged on, the cries for help from the young child became less frequent and fainter. The second attacker snuck around behind Jarrod and wrapped his arms around him while the other latched onto his ankles.
Jarrod broke free from their grasps, easily throwing them several yards away. He restarted his sprint for the building, but the screams had ceased. Plowing through the wall of the building, and walking fearlessly into the fire, Jarrod searched for the boy, throwing tables, burning columns, and all sorts of items out of his way.
Then, in the middle of a large flame, he saw a boy whose skin was charred. He reached into the flames, the heat not bothering him or his armor, and pulled the boy out. He emerged from the building and laid the boy on the ground, causing the flames to dissipate. The child's searing flesh left only a faint trail of smoke as Jarrod fell to his knees. He then thought he recognized where he was.
This scene had played out a million times before in his dreams. He looked to the sky and lightning stretched across the horizon, encompassing his whole field of vision. There was no thunder accompanying the large flashes, and no clouds for the lightning to originate from. In front of the electric shrills, large balls of burning rock fell from the sky.
He brushed the embers from the child's face. When his fingers caressed the boy's body, they tore the skin apart, revealing unscathed flesh beneath it. Tearing apart the destroyed shell like a snake shedding skin, Jarrod saw the boy take form. It was like looking into the past as the boy that lay in front of Jarrod was a younger version of himself. It was a version he could barely remember as every time he attempted to think back that far, all he could see in his memories was static. His younger self opened his eyes, sitting up.
“When I count to three, Number 21, you will tell me what you see.” The voice coming from his younger self was that of a grown man. Even though he didn't know whose voice it was, it was familiar. “Are you ready for what's next?”
Lightning reached down toward the ground and a bright light washed out everything. A distant ringing grew eerily closer and seemed to stretch out Jarrod's head. He closed his eyes and covered his ears. His breathing and heartbeat quickened. His wrists and ankles burned as dirt rose up from the ground around him, encasing him, until finally there was nothing but vast empty space left.
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
The steady monotonous digital sound walked across his brain, digging its heels in deeper with each step. Jarrod opened his eyes and looked around the room, illuminated only by a small window in the door at the opposite end of the room. To his right, he noticed the dim glow of the machine which made the irritating noise.
He sat up and an ache shot through his torso. He ran his hand over his stomach, arms, and chest, but everything was normal. The ache turned into an awkward numb sensation as a nurse walked into the room.
“The monitors said you were awake,” she said, walking up next to the bed and leaning him back. “The healers had to do a lot of repairing, but you're going to be fine.”
“The what now?”
“Just relax,” she said, rubbing his head. “I'll let them know you're awake.”
* * *
Sanderson sat alone, watching the sun slowly fall to sleep on the other side of the distant mountain range. He leaned back and slouched to the side of his favorite chair. The cigar between his knuckles took its last breaths when he put it back to his lips and
inhaled.
The two ice cubes in the single malt had completely melted away. He gently swirled the glass around, dangling it from his fingertips, and lifted it to his nose to make sure the flavor was perfectly mixed.
Not quite yet, he thought.
“I don't have to be psychic to know you're here,” he said, taking another long puff. This time, he held the smoke in, letting it tingle inside his lungs before expelling it. The sun dropped out of view and the sky turned to black. Lian's reflection came into full view behind him. He moved his eyes up and they stared at each other through the reflection.
“I'm never going to leave, am I?” she said, standing still with her delicate hands folded together on her stomach. She looked away from him, not moving an inch, and studied the cracks in the film-coated dome. The abrasions sprouted up as a result of the harsh pelting of sand and wind that accompanied every nightfall. “I always knew that. You can't do and see the things I can and not know. It's just completely different thing to acknowledge it. I guess this is what soldiers feel like in the moments before a battle. The night before, all is well because the morning is miles away, but the dawn brings the harsh reality.”
“You're too smart and well-read for a girl your age.” Sanderson finally took a sip of his single malt. She looked back at him through the reflection.
“There's not much else to do here than just lose yourself in a book. It’s not like I'm going to a theme park anytime soon.”
“I'm sorry that the way this world works can't be shielded from us all.”
“Don't be. I'm sorry that some of us have to be shielded.” She brushed her black hair behind her ear and walked up next to the window. She wondered, just for a second, how hard she'd have to push to break through and jump. She closed her eyes and the scenarios played out in her head. There wasn't a single option she could choose that ended with her breaking through, so she chose the only option that ended with her leaving the room without being sedated, and stepped away from the window.
Sanderson paused for a second, looking her over. He stood from his chair as he finished the glass of single malt and put out the cigar with the toe of his boot. He walked over to the letters he received from his superiors, delegating his course of action with the new men that Jackson and Hershiser came across in the town. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lian interrupted him.
“Yes, I do.”
“What's that?” he asked.
“The answer to what you were going to ask.” She walked up next to him and glided her fingers across the files. “Sometimes I wonder if I am seeing the most logical outcome, or the only choice.”
“I told you to never snoop.”
“You left the door open.” She smirked, drawing a small chuckle from Sanderson. “You ever wonder that if we really have free will why do I see the things I see?”
“Free will is an illusion. The choice is always made for us by someone else.” Sanderson picked up Travis’ file and then flipped it away from him. He repeated the process with Christian's file. “Someone else makes their decisions, so on and so forth. It's an endless cycle.”
“Someone had to start it.” She pushed her fingers down on Jarrod's file and kept him from looking at it. “You taught me that there is always a beginning.”
“And we're well past that. Closer to the end, I'd say.” He tugged the file out from under her fingertips and read the words “DNA Match Percent: 92.” He put it on top of Austin's file and then looked at Lian. “I used to be a dreamer like you were until you reached the morning before the battle just a few minutes ago. It's all well and good to dream and hope, but the cold harsh truth of it all is that everything is a cycle. We just march to the beat of the music until it stops, then we hope we can find a chair. I like my chair.”
“You don't believe in God?”
“You've been reading too many books, Lian. Get some sleep.” He tucked the folders in his armpit and walked toward the door.
“You haven't read the right ones.” Her voice strained as she prodded. “Don't make me poke around for the answer. Tell me.”
“What's the point in believing if he doesn't believe in us?” Sanderson turned around, smiling at her. “Get some rest, Sweetheart. You'll need it for tomorrow.”
As Sanderson walked away, Lian leaned over his desk and propped herself up on her elbows. She ran her fingers through her hair and looked up to see Elliot standing in the doorway, watching her.
“Such a beautiful sight,” he said, walking toward her with a creepy grin on his face. His Wayfarer sunglasses still sat perched on his nose. “The night sky, that is. It's amazing, all the stars that exist out there. Do you know how they say stars came into existence?”
“Why are you still wearing those? It's so dark outside.”
“I guess not. I'll tell you anyway,” he laughed. “Some cultures believed that the stars were put there to guide us, and that each one was put there to protect specific sets of people. Everyone was born with a star. Some stars were greater than others, but one thing always remained true; the stars could only shine if the ones they're sworn to protect still believed in them. Over the course of the millennia, stars would fade from existence and form black holes of fear and despair, sucking in everything around them. The stars we have left belong to those who still believe.”
“Why do I care?” She stepped back behind Sanderson's desk as Elliot walked toward the large window and pressed his fingers against it.
“Your star still glows. Don't let it get sucked into the black hole where Sanderson's used to be.” Elliot scanned her body language, seeing if his words made an impact. “You've got an incredible gift. The likes I've only seen a handful of times before. But you've done this long enough. Help me nudge Sanderson in the right direction and you can leave this once and for all. Be free. Help me reignite Sanderson's star.”
“You're totally creeping me out right now.” Lian crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “If you don't mind, I was just about to lock up.”
“Of course, not at all.” Elliot nodded, walking away. “Think about what I've said.”
* * *
The door opened to the cafeteria. Austin, Travis, and Christian walked through, spotting Jarrod on the other end of the large circular room. He sat alone, eyes glazed over and staring at the wall. Christian nudged Austin in the arm and nodded in Jarrod's direction. A smile formed on Austin's face. He hurriedly stepped over to see his friend. When he got closer, the worn and restless night was visibly plastered on Jarrod's face.
“Long night?” Austin sat in the booth across from Jarrod. He glanced at the other two, lifting his left hand just enough to have them stay put. “You know we're heroes, right?”
Jarrod kept staring off into space, just nodding his head. He lifted his hands from underneath the table and grabbed his glass of water. His hand shook uncontrollably as he placed his lips to the rim of the glass.
“I guess it goes without saying that what you did was pretty dumb. Luckily, I was there to save your ass.” Austin cocked a fake smile and leaned back, hoping to jar Jarrod from his funk. “In all honesty, I don't know many people who would charge into crap like that, but that's what you've always done. It's worked out well enough so far.”
“Am I asleep?” Jarrod's voice was low, breathy, and without any vibration. He kept looking at the napkin dispenser.
Austin, confused and a bit taken back, looked around and then back at Jarrod. He leaned forward, tilting his head to the side and placed his hands over Jarrod's shaking left fist, attempting to steady it.
“I don't know what you—”
“—Is. This. A. Dream?” The last word had a definite vibrato to it. Jarrod shifted his eyes to Austin, clenching his jaw tightly. His breathing was heavy and his forehead wrinkled with a cocktail of fear and anger. Travis and Christian started walking over, but Austin shot over a look to have them stay put.
“No.” Austin shook his head, slowly sliding away. “This... This is real. Are you ok?”
“Thank God,” Jarrod sighed, sliding down in the booth and running his hand through his hair. “I'm sorry. I haven’t been able to shake this dream I had last night. It was just so real and all this isn't helping matters either.”
“No, no. I completely understand. Believe me, it gets weirder.” Austin nodded, standing up from the table. He offered his hand and helped Jarrod up from the booth. He wrapped his arm around the back of Jarrod's shoulders and squeezed. “Just promise me you'll look before you leap next time. Alright?”
“Where's the fun in that?” Jarrod cracked a smile, pushing Austin aside. “My arm feels pretty good. It's like it was never snapped in half. You guys seen these healers? Freaky little head-shaved kids running around in night gowns. It's like something out of a bad M. Night Shamalan movie.”
“Has anyone talked to you about what goes on here?” Austin asked Jarrod as they sat down with Travis and Christian.
“I woke up about six hours ago and just came in here.” Jarrod shook his head. “I haven’t talked to anyone. Frankly, I was trying to avoid it. Why? What do they do?”
“Something about using the supernatural to fight crime and wear capes and all that jazz.” Austin shrugged. He tore open a packet of sugar and dumped it into his coffee. “They have this thing called the Double-Helix program which is supposed to make you... I dunno. I just have this voice in my head telling me no.”
“What do you think of this Double-Helix?” Jarrod turned to Christian and Travis.
“We weren't offered a role,” Christian replied.
“They said we weren't a match,” Travis added. “Though, I think it'd be pretty badass to wear the suit that Jackson guy does.”
“What suit?” Jarrod asked.
“You were knocked unconscious by Oreo, the mountain dweller.” Austin smirked, nodding his head as Jarrod shot him a perplexed look. “I know, I didn't believe it either.”
“We would like to talk to you.” Austin and Jarrod heard Lian’s voice in their heads. “Please, follow the guards outside the room.”