by Scott Young
“You!” the assassin yelled. “What did you do?”
“You can see me?” Jill asked.
“Of course I can see-” the killer stopped in mid-sentence, looking around nervously. “Wait, I know this place. It can’t be. I can’t be here. It’s impossible.”
He turned around quickly and saw her: The Sandinista rebel from 1990 walking into the clearing. “How?” he said softly. Suddenly the rebel was attacked by a man, then thrown to the ground violently. The man, whose features were hidden in shadow, beat her into submission before ripping her clothes off. He climbed on top of her, his intentions clear. Suddenly, his face became visible and Jill’s assassin screamed, ripping off his own facemask as he fell to his knees. It was him raping the rebel, him beating her and him finally slitting her throat in that jungle clearing. The assassin writhed in agony, feeling every iota of pain he inflicted on the woman.
“What is going on?” Jill yelled.
The assassin said morosely, “She was my first. My first kill.” He looked up at Jill, his face full of pain. “I never knew how she felt, the pain of it. All I knew was...I liked it. I liked killing and once my superiors found out...well, the government can always use men like me.”
“Who are you?” Jill asked.
“They call me The Poltergeist,” the killer said, his face twisted in emotional turmoil. “They think it’s appropriate because no one ever sees me, but wherever I go, bad things happen.” He gave a weak smile before another wave of pain shot through his body causing him to clutch his chest.
The landscape changed again in an instant. Jill knew intuitively it was the Afghanistan desert. The Poltergeist was there, massacring a small village with the ease most people swat houseflies. He killed haphazardly, enemies and innocents alike, and he reveled in it. With each kill from the past, the killer now experienced all the death and pain he had inflicted on his victims. He shrieked out in anguish, his body convulsing in torment, as his counterpart murdered each Afghani.
Then it came faster, the landscape shifting each second. Hundreds of images: every casualty he was responsible for, every injury he had ever inflicted and every person he ever murdered was reflected back on him a thousand fold. The killer’s body shook uncontrollably, writhing in agonizing misery. His eyes rolled back into his skull as he gouged his head, desperately trying to claw out the memories.
He let out one last ear-shattering howl before collapsing at Jill’s feet. She looked down at him with more pity than hatred.
When she looked up again, they were back in the NDSA room with her body. Somehow she knew that the bizarre trip through The Poltergeist’s psyche only took a few seconds. The first thing Jill noticed was the alarms blaring once again. Her attempted killer lay in a heap on the ground, drenched in sweat, eyes vacant and jaw slacked, with drool running down his face. Dr. Musik turned to see if her body was still alive, trying to remove the plastic bag with her intangible hands. That’s when she noticed something different about her hands and arms, a feeling of warmth running through them. They seemed to be glowing with energy. Her whole body was awash with the same yellow and blue energy from the accident.
She heard multiple footsteps in the hall and began to panic, knowing what would happen when the others arrived. She looked once more at her comatose body, feeling a sudden calm overtake her. She felt at peace as it came to her in a revelation. Jill knew exactly what she had to do. She dove into her body just as General DeVane, Harkness and Sandra Allen entered the room with a half dozen armed guards. All of them stopped dead in their tracks when they saw Jill Musik standing in front of her bed, her body aglow with a blinding, white light.
“Who are you, mortals?” Jill bellowed, her corporeal form still pulsating with residual energy. She stood proud and confident. Her eyes were pools of fire, her face full of rage at the intruders.
“Dr. Musik?” DeVane said.
“Jill Musik is no more.” she replied, energy crackling around her hands. “I am something else, something above. I am the living embodiment of the very fabric of existence, the accumulated consciousness of humanity itself. Now and forever, I am the all- knowing essence of the universe.”
“Bullshit!” Harkness said as he walked toward her with malice in his eyes.
“You dare, little man,” Jill said. She moved to him in the blink of an eye and touched his face with both hands.
“Wha? Nooouuunnngh,” Harkness mumbled as he dropped to a kneeling position, his arms limp at his sides.
The Special Assistant suddenly felt warm sunlight on his face with the scent of an ocean breeze blowing over him. He saw the pristine sand from the porch of a rental beach house. He looked up into the face of his mother and instantly realized he was once again 6 years old. She was rocking him to sleep in a large wicker chair during the summer of 1966. This had always been the happiest memory of his life. He smiled broadly just before Jill broke contact. He looked up at her serenely, all at once missing the sensation of that memory.
“Do you need any more proof, mortal?” Jill said.
Harkness began to weep uncontrollably.
* * * * *
Colleen Crenshaw looked at the digital clock on her dashboard for the twentieth time in the last 5 minutes. She was sitting in her Hyundai Sonata in a parking garage on Connecticut Avenue just a mile or so from the Chevy Chase Pavilion. She’d backed into the parking spot designated B-3 just as instructed. It was 7:43 p.m. exactly. The meeting wasn’t until 8 o’clock, but she’d arrived early to scope out the place. Now, the waiting was driving her crazy. Maybe she was crazy for showing up at all but when she received the package in the mail this morning, she didn’t have much choice. It instructed her to be in this place at 8 p.m. if she wanted to know what happened to Jill Musik. The mystery person said to come alone and to tell no one. She complied out of fear mixed with curiosity. Her best friend had been missing for four days, and come hell or high water, Colleen was going to find out where she was.
At 8 o’clock exactly, an SUV with black, tinted windows pulled into the garage, taking a parking spot diagonally to her left. After a few moments, it flashed the headlights. Unsure of what to do, Colleen flashed hers back. A lone figure got out of the car and looked around nervously before slowly walking over to her. She opened the door, her right hand tightly gripping a can of mace before warily getting out. This was it, the point of no return.
When the other person was about 10 feet away, Colleen said, “Hold it right there, buddy. I have mace and 911 already dialed. All I have to do is press send.”
The man put his hands out in front of himself to show he wasn’t armed before saying, “It’s alright, Miss Crenshaw. I’m not here to hurt you. Dr. Musik sent me. My name is Gene Brontkowski.”
“Where is she?” Colleen said frantically. “I’ve been trying to get anyone at the damn NDSA to tell me something but they’re not talking. What happened?”
“Let’s talk in your car, Miss Crenshaw,” Gene said, still looking around. “I don’t like being out in the open like this.”
Once inside the car, Gene said, “Tomorrow, they will be introducing Jill as the newest member of The Power Elite.”
“What?” the reporter asked. “How is that possible? She isn’t a superhero!”
“Well, she is now,” Gene said before adding quickly, “Let me explain. There was an accident but she’s okay. Physically anyway.”
“What does that mean?” Crenshaw said.
“She has gained the ability to touch people’s minds, to make them relive their fondest memory or worst nightmares, to make them feel the pain they’ve caused others,” Gene explained. “It’s really amazing. They’re calling her Epiphany now.”
“Are you fucking with me?” Colleen said incredulously.
“No,” Gene said earnestly. “Why do people keep asking me that?” He pursed his lips and took another look around the garage. “Look, Jill is telling everyone that she is the living embodiment of the human consciousness or some such nonsense, but i
t’s all a ruse.”
“Then why-?” Colleen started to say.
“She needs our help to do what she wants, to take down the NDSA and help the members of The Power Elite.” Gene said. He reached into his pocket before adding, “Look, Miss Crenshaw, Jill wanted me to tell you that you were right. She’s sorry for doubting you and she wanted me to give you this.” He produced a USB flash drive and handed it to her.
“What’s this?” Colleen asked.
“It has some documents from Jill explaining what happened to her and what she plans to do,” Gene explained. “You have to believe I tried to talk her out of it but she won’t listen. She is going to infiltrate The Power Elite to help them get out from under the thumb of the NDSA.”
Colleen eyed the flash drive suspiciously for a long time. “Why you?” she finally said. “Why are you helping her?”
“I want to help her. I’d do anything to make sure she is safe,” he said, looking away, but it was too late. Colleen could see how much he cared for Jill. Gene looked down at his stomach and grimaced before adding, “I feel like it’s my fault this happened to her. She asked for my help investigating what happened to one of her patients and I should have said no. I didn’t and now she’s stubbornly putting herself in a very dangerous position.”
“Dangerous how?” Crenshaw said, her voice rising.
“Check the drive. It will explain things better than I can,” Gene said.
“All right,” Colleen said with a sigh. “Can you get a message to her for me?”
“She has to maintain her Epiphany identity at all times so it’s difficult for her to communicate with me much. It’s better if we only talk when absolutely necessary,” Gene said. “I’m sorry, Miss Crenshaw.”
“Did she at least tell you why she’s doing this?” the reporter asked.
“I know she feels like she has to try,” Gene said. “She needs to help the members of The Elite. Like I said, I couldn’t talk her out of it. She seems driven beyond reason.”
“That’s my Jillie Jill.” Colleen said with a smile. “Ok, Mr. Brontkowski, how do we proceed from here?”
“Above all else, be careful,” he replied. “With Jill in harm’s way, we can’t expose the NDSA until the case is ironclad and right now we have no evidence of any wrong-doing. Jill hopes to get the proof you need to bring down the agency, but it may take some time. For now, go over the info on that drive and I’ll be in touch soon.”
Gene went to get out of the car when Colleen grabbed his arm, “Hey, Gene. Take care of my girl, will ya?”
“I will, Miss Crenshaw,” Gene said with a smile. “I promise I’ll take care of her.”
Gene Brontkowski waved to Colleen Crenshaw as she pulled out of the spot, watching her car move up the ramp to the street. He walked over to his car, unlocked the door and slid into the driver’s seat. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“I trust everything went as planned,” Harkness said from the back seat.
“Of course,” Gene said, his voice suddenly cold and hard. “Musik has no idea I switched out the flash drives and that Crenshaw woman will believe any drivel I offer her.”
“Excellent,” Harkness said. “I plan to pay back Dr. Musik for the indignity I suffered at her hands. You will make sure of it, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” Gene said, starting the car.
“Good man, Agent Eidolon,” Harkness said smiling. “Good man indeed.”
THE END
Acknowledgements
A big thanks to my mother for her never ending encouragement and boundless enthusiasm for my characters, my stories, and my talent. I’ve always believed I could do anything because she always told me I could.
Enormous gratitude to all the people who helped get me through the dark times until I could figure out where I was supposed to be:
John, one of the best friends a guy could have.
Brandy, who has been important to me since we met in the Army.
Joe, no one could ever ask for a truer friend.
Tony, who has had my back since the early days at the Kubert School.
Andrea, who helped me up from the depths.
Rebecca, a kindred spirit who has never let me down when I really needed her.
Dr. Malek, who set me on the path to understanding myself.
Dr. Midas, who helped me get further down that road.
The few special ladies who loved me when it couldn’t have been easy to do so.
I am very grateful to know so many wonderfully talented people like Tony Tabtong, who brought my concept for the book cover to life, Fernando Ruiz, Kim DeMulder, Pat Olliffe, Joe Episcopio and Joe Mondin, who each did one the magnificent illustrations for the stories. Many thanks, gentlemen.
“Thank You” to my beta readers: Terri, Andi, Rocco, Mom, Debi, Thad and Marie, Joe and Mr. Chen. Your feedback and answers to my endless questions were invaluable. Also appreciate those friends who took the time to read some of my stories and give me their thoughts and feelings about them.
Appreciation to those people who I based some of these characters on. You know who you are. If you weren’t already larger than life, it wouldn’t have been so easy to use you as templates.
Very special thanks to all my Kickstarter backers who literally put their money where their mouth is to help make this dream a reality. Your support and enthusiasm for this project means the world to me.
Finally, I want to thank the naysayers, the “haters” and the people that have tried to tear me down and denigrate me over the course of my life. You taught me to be strong, to never give up and to understand that you can’t please everyone so I might as well do what makes me happy. I’m happy now and I plan to stay that way for a long, long time.
CREDITS
For more information about the author including his website and blog:
scottzoid14.wix.com/author-blog
Twitter: @scottzoid14
www.facebook.com/Scott-Young-Writer-234203230005627/
Soulmates Illustration by Fernando Ruiz.
[email protected]
http://fernandoruizeverybody.com
Twitter; @FernandoRuizArt
Ties That Bind Illustration by Kim DeMulder.
[email protected]
http://kimdemulder.deviantart.com/
Thicker Than Water Illustration by Pat Olliffe.
[email protected]
patrickolliffe.blogspot.com
www.catskillcomics.com/Olliffe
The Devil You Know Illustration by Joe Episcopio.
[email protected]
More Than A Feeling Illustration by Joe Mondin.
[email protected]
http://joegrafix.deviantart.com/
http://joegrafix.tumblr.com/
Book Cover by Tony Tabtong.
[email protected]