Influence (Influence Series Book 1)

by David R. Bernstein

  It’s too late, though. I get up to save her as four men jump from the truck and approach her. Farren grabs my arm and jerks me back to the ground.

  “No,” he mouths to me, shaking his head. His eyes convey his urgency, but it’s the grip he has on my forearm that keeps me rooted to this spot.

  “Well, this is a fun treat,” a voice echoes from the dim-lit road. “Are you lost, little lady?”

  Amanda freezes in place as the hulking sounds of heavy feet stomp her way. Out of the crowd, one man, who looks like he is wearing a sleeveless fur coat, shines a flashlight on Amanda’s frightened face. His tattered cowboy hat covers his eyes as he tilts his head at her like a curious dog. Dirty, stringy hair dangles out from his hat like greasy strands of yarn as he inches closer to her. Amanda’s eyes scan the ground for some sort of weapon.

  “Eyes on me,” he says. “I asked you a question.”

  “Umm… I…” Amanda struggles to find the words. “My crew is on their way to pick me up right now.”

  Amanda’s lie has little effect on the men. Their faces change, and they resemble nothing so much as a pack of wild dogs that have cornered their prey. One man, shirtless and slender, rubs his hands together as he nods his head in excitement. The rest circle her, inching closer. I rise to one knee and dig my fingers into the dirt. I have to help her. Do something, Kaylin. Do something.

  “You see, this is my stretch of road and you have not gotten permission to pass through,” he says.

  There is a twang to his voice that you don’t hear anymore. People don’t stay in one place long enough to develop accents; this man is nothing but a stain on the region that hasn’t been removed.

  “So what we’re going to do here is take an inventory of what you have to offer us as payment for your lack of judgment,” he snarls.

  As one, the men look Amanda up and down. My chest tightens as the four men creep closer to her. Quickly, Farren digs through his bag and grabs something as he gestures for me to stay put. He gets up to a crouching position and vanishes into the dark cover of the brush as he moves closer to Amanda and the men.

  Only a second or two pass before I hear a heavy clank and a bursting sound that rattles the brush in front of me. All four men duck and frantically look around trying to see where the blast came from. Farren emerges from the cover of the brush pointing what looks like a Magnus security pistol at the men. I recognize the high-tech look of the weapon that only official sector group personnel carry. Even in the dark, these weapons stand out. The darkened metal and shielded handgrip are dead giveaways. Once again, I wonder what we got ourselves into by rescuing Farren. I don’t sense he’s a threat to us, but he is still part of the Magnus Order.

  “Get away from her, now,” Farren urges as he shifts his gun sight from man to man. “I will kill all of you.”

  “Is this sweet little thang your prize, young man?” the leader asks, his head down and his hands in the air.

  “I am no one’s prize,” Amanda shouts, and she kicks the leader squarely in the back with the sole of her boot.

  Sweat flies from his hair as he falls to the ground. He struggles to regain his breath as he gets back up.

  In a shallow voice, the man whispers, “Well, that wasn’t very sweet of you, was it?”

  I get up to go to Amanda’s side. I’m almost there when a fifth man emerges from the shadows, moving too fast for me to warn Farren. The man comes up on Farren’s blind side and smacks down on the arm that holds the gun. The weapon breaks free from Farren’s grip and scrapes across the road, sliding to a stop under the Harvesters’ truck. I run at the assailant, hoping to catch him off guard, but one of the other Harvesters spots me and with a vicious backswing of his heavy arm, I’m driven back several feet to the ground. Three of the men overtake Farren and start pounding on him from all sides while the fourth man restrains Amanda. She looks at me and gives a simple nod. I know exactly what she’s thinking. The determination in her eyes says it all.

  Clearing my mind, I do not hesitate. I focus on the collective consciousness of the Harvesters. The onward approach of the man who knocked me to the ground appears to slow as my mind alters the movement of time for our collective reality. The clarity of the moment sharpens the visual details. Surrounding sounds fade out and at once the slow-witted thoughts of the men cloud my mind: lust, rage, despair. It’s a disgusting feeling to be connected to these men.

  Shortly after, I sense my own being expand out of my body and engulf the immediate area. A warm haze blankets our surrounding reality, sealing those involved. The overwhelming presence of the Harvesters becomes silent and I now push thoughts of mistrust and hatred at the men. Scattered sparks of light flicker before my vision as entangled energy fuses consciousness. Reality is altered and I sense a shift in the men as my push has changed the mood of the incident.

  The charging Harvester abruptly stops after a few steps and looks at me with his grimy face and soulless eyes. He looks as if he has conflicting thoughts running rampant in his head. His eyes shift from side to side as he tries to put them together. A few moments later the push takes hold as he squints and quickly shakes his head, jarring his confusion loose. A ravenous snarl overtakes his face as he changes direction toward his fellow Harvesters. The seeds of mistrust I planted in him have bloomed and his existing vile nature amplifies the intensity of his aggression. Fists clenched and head down, he rushes at the pile of men who continue to attack Farren. His chest and shoulders rise and fall as a wolf would before it pounces on its prey. He grabs the Harvester leader by the neck and thrusts him off the pile.

  “Darius,” he growls the leader’s name, “you’ve brought me down for the last time. I’m going to end you right now!”

  Darius crawls back a few feet as his fellow Harvester pulls out a small hunting knife and closes in.

  The shirtless man who restrains Amanda pushes her aside. He assesses the scene before racing toward the truck, intent only on getting away. Amanda crawls to a large rock and lifts it as she gets to her feet. Without hesitation, she smashes it over the head of one of the men who is fighting with Farren. The staggered Harvester falls to the ground face first. Blood trickles down the crown of his head, forming a small pool that reflects the light from the moon. Farren has only one attacker left to deal with. He regains control of the fight as he pins the Harvester to the ground, a knee on his throat. Amanda and I run to each other and embrace. We turn our attention to help Farren when the fleeing Harvester returns with Farren’s gun. He points it in the direction of Farren. A second later, a loud bang shakes the ground, and the fight is over. Farren scuttles back several feet, but to his surprise, it is the Harvester he was fighting who lies dead with a gaping hole in his head.

  The blast from the weapon distracts Darius’s attacker, and Darius lunges on the confused man. Within seconds, the leader has disabled his fellow Harvester and redirected the knife into the side of the man. He falls to the ground holding his critical gash. Darius then grabs ahold of his neck, twisting life from the man in one horrifying motion. A kinked body falls limp to the paved road; now the only Harvesters that remain are Darius and the man with Farren’s gun.

  “I knew I couldn’t trust you, Eddy,” Darius barks to the armed man as he twirls the hunting blade in one hand. “You’ve been after for me for years.”

  Amanda, Farren, and I cautiously regroup on the side of the road. I hold Amanda as Farren stands in front of us.

  Eddy points the gun at Darius. “How could I be worried of something so weak? Looking at all of you fools reminds me how you’ve been holding me back for far too long.”

  Darius moves quickly and flings the knife at Eddy, piercing his chest. He falls to his knees. He then charges Eddy only to be knocked back by the blast of the gun as it puts a hole in his belly. Darius collapses on himself as the life leaves his body. Shallow breaths are all that Eddy has to hold onto as the blade has punctured one of his lungs. He struggles to breathe as he spits out mouthfuls of blood, eventually losi
ng the race as he chokes one last time before toppling over.

  I stare at the horror that lies before me, my heart heavy. Although not by my hand, I have killed five men and I will have to deal with the weight that will tug on my soul.

  Farren wastes no time and takes charge by ushering us to the newly abandoned Harvester truck. Shaken by what has unfolded before our eyes, Amanda turns to me and asks, “Are you okay?”

  Words fail to escape as shock locks my body.

  We see Farren go back to collect our things; he pauses to evaluate what just happened. Does he know? He signals that he’s going to get his pack in the brush and he disappears in the dark.

  Breaking from the shock, my mind jumps back and forth with thoughts of taking the truck and leaving him, but he risked his life to protect us from those men. We can’t do that to him now.

  It has been several minutes since Farren left to find his pack in the brush. I’m worried and call out for him, but there is no answer. I tell Amanda I am going to go look for him, but she stops me and volunteers to go instead.

  “You have done enough, Kay,” she says. “I’m sure he just can’t find his pack. I will go help him.”

  Amanda has apparently changed her attitude toward Farren. His willingness to step in and save us has softened her protective exterior. She jumps out of the truck and quickly fades into the black landscape.

  “Farren, you lost?” Amanda calls out in the distance.

  Several minutes pass before I see the brush begin to shuffle. Deep panic overruns her voice now as she screams for me instead. Quickly her calls stop and the uncertainty of what lies out there begins to enter my body. I worry that more Harvesters might be out there, but that does not stop me from going after Amanda. Leaping out of the truck, I rush toward the roadside only to be brought to an uneasy stop. Farren’s solid frame lumbers toward me with Amanda draped over one of his shoulders and the Magnus weapon in his free hand pointing right at me. Shock sends ripples of energy down my back. How could I have failed to read this imposter? My instincts about people are never wrong or, at least, that is what I thought. I feel naive and foolish.

  “I am sorry, Kaylin, I have no choice,” he says while shaking his head. “I am beyond overdue to bring someone in and the threats to take action on my family have intensified.”

  He looks disgusted by his actions, but I will not let him suck me into his lies again.

  Hoping my push can be played off I plead, “What are you talking about; what have you done?”

  “I have never seen anyone with the abilities that you have; the precision, the power. It was remarkable,” he says as he sees right through my act. “I can’t go back without something. I just can’t.”

  “I saved your life.” I struggle to find the right words. “How could you do this to us? What have you done to Amanda?”

  He looks at her and stumbles to say, “No-no-no, she isn’t hurt. I have only sedated her.”

  “I am not going to let you get away with this,” I say as my eyes well up with emotion. “You will suffer for playing us.”

  I calm my nerves and begin to push my influence out toward Farren. Thoughts and feelings of panic enter the surrounding conscious fold. My mind reaches out to entangle his helpless consciousness. I will make him flee into the dark desert until his legs give out and his heart stops. The push reaches Farren, but I do not hear his thoughts, I don’t sense the connection happening; something is wrong. I take a step back to gather myself and find Farren inching closer. He looks at me and I sense that he knew it would not work. My faulty ability around him goes beyond not being able to sense his awareness. It’s useless on him.

  “It is called a Push Block implant,” he says while carefully resting Amanda in the bed of the truck. “Most official sector group personnel have them implanted now.”

  “Of course, why wouldn’t these paranoid groups have a mad scientist on hand,” I say while rolling my eyes in frustration.

  “I don’t know where it came from, but most of the sector groups in the region have implemented this precaution,” he says. “It has something to do with disrupting the magnetic field around the brain.”

  With a subtle gesture, he asks for my hands. With a gun pointed at my head and lacking any special gifts, I reach out my arms in compliance. He confines them with some sort of plastic wrap that forces my hands together as unusable fists. Guided to the Harvester truck, I sit next to Amanda as Farren loads our packs and other salvaged supplies from the area. I manage to brush Amanda’s soft, blonde hair from her face with my forearm before a quick, sharp pressure pricks my arm. I look back to see Farren with a syringe in his hand and an ashamed look on his face.

  “I am sorry, I can’t have you unleash the world on me as we travel, just keeping us all safe.”

  Warmth radiates from my arm and spreads throughout my body. I’m at ease for the first time in a long while. The cool bed of the truck counters the heat flowing from the effects of the sedative as I lay back. My eyes flutter and roll upward as the once-protective light from the moon slowly evaporates, leaving me lost in my own mind.

  4

  BELLY OF THE BEAST

  STRETCHING UP, MY hand is completely encompassed in what feels like the grasp of a giant, though the grip is soft and warm. Someone is guiding me, but all I can see is a distorted cloud around the face of an immensely tall being. My eyes are constantly forced back down, almost as if I’m not allowed to see this person. Looking forward, I see two blurred forms in front of us. One much larger than the other. My heart races with excitement as a smile fills my face. I realize what’s going on. This is not a giant holding my hand, it’s my mother and we’re walking toward my family. I am just a child, barely conscious of the world around me. Warmth takes over my body and I try hard to clear the haze that surrounds the faces of the people who obviously mean so much to me. Muffled voices call out my name. They sound familiar as I release the hand of my mother and eagerly run to them. I edge close to the tallest figure when suddenly I hear a deep thud and we are thrust several feet into the air. Before we have a chance to land, the beings evaporate into a smoky haze. The surrounding backdrop begins to brighten as if an immense sun is burning holes in the setting. Flickering light forces me to squint as I try to open my eyes. Tall evergreen trees tower over me as the now normal-sized sun glimmers through the openings between the branches. I’m jolted up again as the familiar hum of the electric Harvester truck thrashes about on the uneven dirt road. My shoulder is throbbing from pounding into the side of the vehicle.

  My experience was nothing more than a sedative-induced fantasy, or it could have been real memories trying to surface. Either way, I am brought right back to the bleak, yet dazed reality of being transported to the Magnus Order against my will.

  My eyes struggle to stay open as the sedative keeps me in a loopy trance. In between stages of dozing off and uneasy panic, I start to recognize the area we are traveling through. We’re in the foothills of the Sierra Mountains in the Southern Coastal region. The smell of fresh pine that floods into the bed of the truck and those lush trees that line the sloping terrain are a dead giveaway. The height of the sun in the sky tells me it must be late morning. Farren must’ve stopped in the middle of the night to rest.

  I shift my elbow in search of Amanda and nudge her side, but she doesn’t respond. She is still out, but at least we are together. I try to stay alert as we continue through the forest, but I can no longer prevent my eyes from rolling back as I drift off again.

  ***

  Thrust awake by the sudden stop of the truck, my head barely avoids smashing the rusty sidewall. The sedative’s still working, though; I’m only able to turn my head to see that Amanda is no longer next to me. At the sight, I should be more worried—but I can’t summon the will to care. My heart maintains the even rhythm of someone in deep sleep.

  Farren tells someone that he just came from the settlement wing. Calm as can be, he tells the man he was ordered to deliver me to the Proprietor
of Hawthorne.

  “Yes, sir,” an official-sounding voice says in response to Farren’s words. We must be at a checkpoint of some kind.

  I remember hearing of this settlement wing at Hawthorne before. It acts as a sorting station for new recruits of the Magnus Order, and Hawthorne is the name of the southernmost hub for this corrupt sector group. The Magnus Order consists of a network of massive cement structures that were commissioned by several prominent figures toward the end of society. Around thirty years ago, these hubs were built as survival bunkers for the elite who feared the wrath of the world their greed had created. The abuse of Influencers backfired and these powerful people lost control of their corporate empires. The scientific discovery of youth who could affect the collective consciousness of others was supposed to be an enlightening breakthrough, but power has always been more important in this world. The former United States imploded from excessive greed and the financial way of life stopped working. The country fell into chaos and shattered, leaving these titans of destruction to flee to their protective shelters at the foothills of the Sierra mountain range. These structures have since lost their original purpose and have become beacons for this power-hungry group. This web of Magnus strongholds is the last place on earth I want to be.

  We have arrived at the main entrance of the Hawthorne hub. I pretend to be fully sedated as two men move me from the truck and load me onto a smaller cargo carrier. My feet dangle off the end of the little utility vehicle. The men place a strap across my chest and snaps click on each side of my secured arms. A soiled towel that smells of mildew keeps my head from resting on the rough, metal surface.

  As I’m dragged deeper into the hub, I try one more time to push my will onto the people nearby. My focus feels aimless and I fail to gain control of my ability; I remain paralyzed.