by Bryan Cohen
Natalie took a turn that would convert a seven-mile run into a 12-miler. She wiped the sweat from her forehead. "Not much difference between five hours of sleep and four."
She hid the episodes from everybody at first. Travis found out when she saw the decaying corpse of a dark soul in her locker. He'd covered up her screams well enough by shuttling her into the girls' bathroom, but she had to tell him about the hallucinations. Travis looked at her differently from then on, as if she were an accident waiting to happen. As if there were something wrong with her. For all his problems, Ted never did that, and their five-minute stolen make-out sessions became something more. She felt like the worst person in existence, but at least she didn't see visions of a deadly hellscape for a few hours.
"It shouldn't have been like this." Natalie hopped over an errant tree branch. "We should've done it right. Now it's too late."
Whenever Natalie brought up Erica, Ted changed the subject. She wondered what would happen if the protector found out. Would Erica stab her and watch her bleed out in the middle of the school day? Would she send her back to the wasteland of the Realm of Souls? As if the visions and the guilt weren't enough, Natalie's stomach would twist into a knot whenever she was within 10 feet of Erica. They'd become friends from months of training together during the summer without Ted. Even though she'd completely betrayed Travis, it was almost worse what she'd done to Erica.
"Maybe I deserve a good stabbing." Natalie picked up her pace. "At this point, I bet my blood would be black with chunks of evil."
The world had been a messed up place ever since Ted became a hero. Nearly everything that had happened since their breakup had been a disaster. She'd accidentally solved a murder and nearly been killed in the process. She'd been kidnapped and framed before almost killing Ted on the prom catwalk. After hopping through a portal in an effort to be a hero, she lived through a hellish nightmare and almost died on multiple occasions.
In all of those incidents, Natalie could pinpoint her fatal flaw. She took action. She ran toward the danger instead of away. Once again, she was taking action by running toward another trainwreck: infidelity.
"That's it. It's over." Natalie stopped running. "I can't do it anymore. Any of it." Natalie breathed deep to fill her worn-out lungs. A chorus of crickets served as the soundtrack to her declaration.
"I'm starting over." She stood up tall. "I've done enough already. I'm not running toward or away. I'm standing still." Natalie looked up into the sky. "You hear me?! Send all the damn visions you want. I'm gonna suck it up and deal."
Natalie growled to herself and started walking home. "No more late night bullcrap rendezvous. If Ted wants something different, he can break it off with Erica and go shack up with his fan club." She slammed her fists together. "I am not a groupie!"
Natalie kicked a stone from the path so hard, it took off a large chunk of bark from the nearest tree. "It's over with you too, Travis. Pity me all you want. I can take care of myself."
The night air wicked the sweat away from her neck. "I need a clean slate." She sighed. "It's what I deserve."
Natalie stepped off the path and crossed the street to get back to her house. The calm suburban road looked peaceful in the wee hours. Everything was in its place, from the manicured lawns to the SUVs in all the driveways. The world was as it should be, aside from a few shards of glass on the sidewalk by her mailbox.
Natalie crouched down to examine the glass. The shards were bigger than the tiny pieces from a shattered car window. They were dirty, as if whatever they came from hadn't been cleaned in decades. Natalie spotted a streak of crimson on one of the long, sharp pieces. "What in the–"
A noise from the front of Natalie's house caught her attention. It was almost like a moan. On the side of her porch, she saw a silhouetted figure.
"Danger-free." Her heart beat faster. "I need to be danger-free." She looked at the front stoop once again and sighed. "Starting tomorrow."
She took slow, even steps up the driveway until the figure came into view. Natalie's jaw dropped.
Sitting on her doorstep and covered in blood was Travis with a dopey grin on his face.
"Hi honey, I'm home."
17
The General paced back and forth in his bedchamber. His attempts to sleep were completely thwarted by the war within. Each time he tried to focus on a memory he knew was true, a moment from Ted Finley's life came crashing in like a tidal wave. As he recalled his rooftop battle with Cora so many years ago, he couldn't help but see a playful sparring session with Erica LaPlante that ended in kisses instead of death. As he thought of his merciless rise to the top, he pictured floating a group of doctors and patients through a hurricane gust of wind onto a rooftop for safety. The memories were all part of him. They all seemed like his, which was impossible.
The General stopped in front of a mirror and stared into his own eyes. With a deep breath, he slouched his shoulders and took all the authority out of his voice. "Hi, I'm Ted Finley. Superhero and resident dor.... Agh! I can't do it!" He looked down at his bare arms. "It feels like I'm wearing someone else's skin. And it doesn't fit."
The General considered Pluric's words. The torturer had said that someone else handed down the order to make him this way. With Ted's memories and power imbued in him, the most logical explanation was that he was actually Ted.
He sat on the edge of his bed. "It can't be. I'm worshipped like a god." He lowered his voice. "I am a god!"
The General went back to pacing. "Ted Finley could never do what I've done. I'm the one who rose to power and took over the dark souls. When the war ended, I put those traitors to death. I tore their families apart and I felt nothing!" He stomped out every syllable. "I felt nothing! I felt… remorse."
The General returned to the bed and put his head in his hands. "Either I'm weak… or I'm someone else."
The General lifted his chin. "If I'm him, then I should have incredible abilities. If I don't, then it's all just some fluke and I can go ahead and kill Pluric in his sleep."
The General walked to the middle of the room and opened his stance. "If I'm Ted Finley, then I should be able to fly."
He pictured himself floating several feet into the air. Before long, the ground seemed to press up against him, and he hovered above the cold stone. He looked around in every direction.
He saw the open window to his right and smiled. "There shouldn't be too many sentries out tonight."
The General shot out the window like a hawk and dashed into the darkness. As he pressed his body to go faster and faster, the wind tickled his cheeks and back. All the pressure of guiding the peace accords and the weight of the deaths he'd ordered came apart in the night.
He closed his eyes and arched his back. "This is pure freedom." The General spun through several upside-down arcs. Everything he did in the air felt natural. It was as if he'd performed these moves hundreds of times before.
The General returned to a stationary floating position. "I'm not convinced."
Far in the distance, he spotted a familiar wooded area, one of the last few on the planet. He pointed toward it, and before he knew it, his body blasted ahead at an incredible rate of speed. He arrived at the edge of the wood faster than a ship could take him there.
The darkness was even more pronounced as he stepped beneath the canopy of the thousand-year-old trees. The dark souls would've removed the resources of the forest centuries ago if the area hadn't been protected. It had been a bitter reminder to the General that his power was far from absolute.
"But Ted Finley could clear this forest in a heartbeat. If I'm truly him then this should be a cake–"
A snarling Lychos slashed for the General's back, but he quickly floated upward and out of the creature's grasp. Several fellow wolves joined their packmate and leapt to try to bring the General down. He was just out of their reach.
He smiled. "Nice doggy."
The sound of his voice and the whining of the other Lychos brought dozens of their br
ethren out of the dark woods. Several of them climbed up nearby trees, attempting to get close enough to strike the floating invader. One of them sprung off a branch and came within inches of the General's arm. He used his powers to push him backward, as if a gust of wind had thrown him to the unforgiving dirt far below.
When over 100 Lychos were below, the General prepared for the second test. He pressed fingers to both of his temples and attempted to grab hold of all the creatures' minds at once. It took mere moments to lock in the connection. The creatures stopped barking and whining. They didn't move or jump. They stood silently and waited for their new master's command.
"Wake him up. And kill him."
The wolves took up the call, moving slowly and in sync. His army of Lychos marched ahead for several minutes before they all let out a low, eerie growl. The ground began to rumble beneath them and the forest shook. Trees cracked at the base and fell. Several of the General's wolf-like troops fell through fissures that opened in the ground. A giant rock-like creature as wide as it was tall emerged from the dirt. The General could faintly detect eyes and a mouth through one side of the massive, gray beast. In previous attempts to take over the forest, he'd seen the Hill slaughter hundreds of his men before he ordered the retreat. This time, the General had a few additional tricks up his sleeve.
In words that sounded more like an avalanche than language, the Hill spoke. "He who wakes me courts death."
The General smirked. "I couldn't sleep. Maybe a bedtime story will help."
The Hill gestured to his former guards. "Protect our land. Kill the intruder."
The Lychos all looked toward the General at once. He pointed straight into the center of the beast. "You heard the rock. Kill."
Without hesitation, the Lychos struck, diving onto the creature until every square inch of it was covered. They clawed and tore at the stone, ripping off chunks of gravel as they went. The Hill cried out in agony, but it wasn't through yet.
It rumbled forward, tramping several more trees in its wake. "I am sorry."
In a lightning-quick motion, the creature closed its arms and legs in on itself. The Hill turned into a bloody, furry trash compactor in a hurry. The Lychos yelped, but there was no use. Their bones and bodies were crushed in no time at all. As the Hill reverted to its original form, mangled Lychos collapsed to the forest floor like acorns from a tree. They made a satisfying squish when they landed.
The General began a slow clap. "Bloodier than I expected, but very impressive nonetheless. Now about the deed to this land...."
The Hill screamed so loud, the General was certain his entire stronghold would wake. The mourning creature ambled forward and swung a thick, rocky fist in the General's direction.
If I'm Ted Finley–
A shimmering blue portal just wider than the arm of stone opened between the Hill and the General. As soon as the beast's entire arm entered the gateway, the General nodded.
"Yes, I could see how this power would come in handy." With a snap of his fingers, the portal closed, and the Hill lost 80% of its arm to another world.
The creature's bellow was even louder this time. It collapsed to the ground and nursed the wound with its other arm as if it were bleeding to death.
The General's eyes lit up. With these powers, he could easily subjugate the light souls and any people who could rise up against him. While he had Ted Finley's powers, there was none of his moral compass to speak of. At least, that's what he thought, until the Hill began weeping.
"You made me destroy the ones I love. You take my land. You'll blanket the world with evil."
The General looked at the contorted face of the rock-creature. He knew then that he wouldn't kill it. It was a sensation he'd felt once before since peace had come to the Realm of Souls.
A tear trickled down his face. "I'm sorry." He turned away. "I'll send more Lychos into the forest. I–I didn't realize–"
The creature's sobs nearly drowned out the buzzing of the new portal the General created. He walked inside and left the maimed beast behind.
The General's heart ached as he reentered the stronghold from the inside. The portal had taken him to a series of tunnels not even the torturer knew about.
"I should have the Hill's head mounted on my wall. What have I become?"
The General sniffled as an ancient guard came into view. The dark soul ahead of him seemed as old as the Hill and the forest itself. Gray didn't just coat his hair and beard. It seemed to infiltrate his very essence.
"General. It's an honor. Your eyes are red."
The General ran his hands over his face. "Just an infection. Can I see the prisoner?"
The old man nodded and gestured for the General to follow him.
The guard's jaw seemed to creak like a rusty hinge as he spoke. "I remember when my dungeon was full of prisoners. Peace changes things in a way I'm not sure I'm ready for. People like us may only be fit for war times."
The General nodded. "You might be right."
"We can't change who we are."
They reached a cell that reeked of excrement and hopelessness. The General spoke softly, as if the words were only meant for himself. "You may surprise yourself."
The old man unlocked the final gate and the General entered.
Huddled in the corner beside a foul-looking rag was a prisoner so secret, the General had even kept the person's existence from himself.
The voice that reached him was hoarse from lack of use. "General. I thought you'd never come."
He sighed. The tears were fresh in his eyes. "It's good to see you again, Razellia."
18
President Blake walked through the halls of the White House with some extra pep in his step. He felt like he was in a movie musical and would burst into song at any point. Several staffers had commented on his seemingly everlasting smile in the last week. He'd told them he was excited about the Summit, which was the truth in a way he'd never tell.
As his Chief of Staff handed him the seating arrangements for the upcoming event, he couldn't help but see every name as an opportunity. His finger moved along the page and stopped on China. He imagined how beloved he'd be if he could make the Asian nation forgive all U.S. debts in the blink of an eye.
The President who balanced the budget and took our debt from trillions to pennies. That'll look mighty nice in the history books.
His fingertips danced along the page and moved to the table that seated Mexico and the Central American delegates. What if these countries would gladly take back all of their immigrants, saving the U.S. billions in border security and healthcare?
The Land of Opportunity. For me.
YNN and the other news outlets said that Blake's ability to get North Korea and other controversial nations to visit the Summit was a coup. Imagine what they'd say when Blake got them to reverse all of their backward human rights laws. Sure, he'd save a lot of people's lives and improve the world as a whole, but more importantly, he'd be a hero who lives on in history.
"Are there any problems with the seating, sir?"
He woke as if from a dream. "No. You've done well keeping potential arguments at bay. Thanks."
He handed off the chart and walked toward the light that streamed in through his window. He stared into the distance.
Nobody will argue. Nobody will fight. They'll all have one leader to follow: the President who ushered in an unprecedented era of world peace. Now that sounds–
The door to his office swung open and Blake's wife blew in like a tropical storm. The plastic surgery ensured she was just as beautiful as the day they'd met, but nothing on the outside could cover up what fame and money had mangled within. With each step, her perfume came closer to engulfing him in a cloud of sharp sweetness. She took quick, exaggerated steps forward like a runway model.
"Alan. Have I actually caught you in between matters of life and death?"
The President attempted to keep his focus on the lawn that lay below, though the pull of the perfume made it a chal
lenge. "I was just finishing up some Summit business. Are you looking forward to it?"
His wife reached his side and squeezed his waist. "Of course I am. So many old friends together in one place." She made her voice sultry for a moment. "And seeing the Prime Minister is bound to stir up some old memories."
Blake held his tongue. He wasn't going to let her ruin his picture-perfect mood. "I think Ted Finley's speech is even going to wow your favorite head of state. After me, of course."
Blake's wife squealed. She gripped his suit tighter. "Our very own American hero. I can't wait to meet him."
Blake pictured a room of bloody corpses, red seeping into carpet and tablecloth alike. In the front of it all, his mercurial wife was slumped over, ready to be replaced by a person under his complete control.
Blake returned to reality and placed his hand on her lower back. "Don't worry. I've got you a front-row seat. You won't miss anything he has to offer."
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "And here I was, thinking you were a lame duck husband. I'm almost convinced I was wrong about you."
Blake wondered if the General could start his work a few days ahead of schedule. He balled his hand into a fist at the base of his wife's spine.
"Let's just say I'm making a comeback."
A knock at the door drew their attention. The President's secretary showed in Ridley, one of the few Secret Servicemen who knew the plan to the letter.
"Sir. I didn't realize you were occupi–"
Blake's wife withdrew her head and pierced the air with a shrill laugh. "Boys, boys. I'll let you to discuss your big man business." As she passed Ridley, she made sure to slap him on the rear on her way to the door. "I'll start working on my outfit for the Summit. It's going to be a stunner."