by Jakob Farrar
“I burnt my house down,” Mark said slowly.
“Wow,” Ashley said after a pause. “That really sucks.”
“Yeah,” Mark replied, “And I don’t even know if my family made it out in time. What about you?”
“I was always a disappointment to my family,” Ashley said. “I was adopted, but my parents forgot about me as soon as they figured out they could have kids. I was sort of a big mess of mistakes and never really fit in. I was the only one not interested in militancy and law enforcement, which is kind of ironic considering both my brother and sister were assigned to different Sectors and I was the only one chosen to stay at home. Once I found out about this Shapeshifting thing my family was anything but supportive. I heard their whispers about sending me back where I came from. So I just ran off into the blue. I doubt my family even noticed, and I know no one else did. I just continuously turned into other people in order to survive. I would do things like change into other people to get into their homes and steal their things so I could keep myself alive. Over the course of a few weeks I learned to really get good at shifting, and I learned to have fun with it.”
“So how do I know that what I’m seeing right now is the real you?” Mark asked. Ashely smiled.
“That’s part of the fun,” she said. “But doing it felt so lonely. I had no clue whatsoever of how I could Shapeshift, or what had happened to me to make me do it in the first place. I didn’t see anything similar happening to anyone else, and I felt so alone.
“Things started getting difficult for me. It wasn’t easy to stay a thief in a city of police. People were catching on to their things being gone, and the authorities began to notice all my patterns and routes. They had just about caught up to me, but Byron found me and convinced me to leave Sector One with him. He showed me that I wasn’t alone. That I wasn’t the only one with abilities. And now I see that there are more people like me than I ever could have thought.”
“Do you think there’s more than just us?” Mark asked.
“I’m sure there is,” Ashley said. “In fact, that’s what we’re doing. That’s why we’re not just going straight out of the Nation. Byron says there’s many more just like us, and that we have to find them all.”
“So that’s what his deal is,” Mark said, looking back at Byron, who sat still on the rock. His face was contorted, as if he were concentrating extremely hard on something.
“I know I’m not a mind-reader like he is,” Ashley said. “But I think there’s more to Byron than meets the eye.”
“How do you mean?”
“Something really bad happened to him, I can tell,” she said. “He puts up this act that he’s a tough, jaded person, but every once in a while something comes up with him and he is very caring. Phoebe told me when she discovered her power and freaked out Byron was patient and managed to calm her down, which probably saved the street she was on. She told me what he said to her, and it sounds different than how I’ve seen him act.”
“Do you know anything about his tragic backstory?”
“Nothing specific, just what I can assume. Judging from what he said earlier though I can guess it has something to do with the Secret Service.”
“So you think that was actually the Secret Service we were in?”
“From what I saw it looks like it. Believe me, I’m just as shocked as you are, but it seems pretty real.”
Suddenly, Byron’s eyes flew open. “I’ve found him.”
Peyton Burton walked the long, dark halls of the President’s Mansion. He didn’t know why, but the President preferred to keep his Mansion dull, devoid of any unnecessary light.
He had been called to an emergency meeting with the other Sector Zero officials. Peyton was the head of the Secret Service and to everyone except for the people he was about to meet with, didn’t exist.
He sat at the short, round table. Only eleven people, occasionally twelve, when the President decided to show up, ever were seated at this table. These were the people that governed the Nation. They were the ones that decided its direction and made all of the final decisions. These were the people that the general populace fearfully referred to as Sector Zero. The eight governors of the Sectors, Charles Hammok, who had the unsavory duty of moderating the Council during its meetings, Thomas Garek, the Nation’s war coordinator, and Peyton himself.
Charles began speaking, but Thomas interrupted him. “We all know why we’re here,” he said, “The Unnatural.” ‘Unnatural’ was the name the Council had given to the people who kept popping up around the Nation with extraordinary powers.
"Thomas,” Genie Scott, the oldest on the Council and the governor of Sector Five, scolded, “Wait for Charles to finish.”
“He’s right, though,” said Sarah Spyre of Sector Eight, “Something has to be done with them.”
“Yes,” Lee Wallace of Sector Four agreed, “They will go running unchecked, destroying property, causing thousands of dollars, if not tens of thousands, in damage, not to mention they will inevitably endanger lives.”
“I can send legions in for them,” Timothy Ormiston of Sector One said, “We’ll kill them easily.”
“We’ll have to move quickly, though,” said Thomas, “They seem to be uniting, gathering to each other. We need to strike before they can get together and hit us. They’re strong enough on their own.”
“No,” interjected Peyton. The Council turned to eye him. He hardly ever made such sudden outbursts. “We can’t kill them,” he continued, “We need to use them. We don’t want another 2107 incident.” The Council shivered at the thought of another attack like the one the Nation had experienced almost a hundred years ago. “The Leonics will be back, and probably stronger than before. These Unnatural could help us significantly if that were to happen again.”
“So we capture them,” said Willard Poore, governor of Sector Six “We’ve already taken one captive.”
“How?” asked Karla Martin of Sector Seven.
“That’s easy,” said Peyton, “Capture them by force. Send in helicopters, tanks, do whatever you can, but make sure that they survive. I’ve already tried to go after them using just the Secret Service, but I’m afraid we’ll have to pull the military into this soon. The Unnatural will go public very soon, and this will then become a public matter.”
“You realize,” said Charles, “that, since you made this suggestion, you should be the one to oversee the Unnatural once they are caught.”
“I accept full responsibility,” Peyton said.
“But what if they manage to get away?” said Thomas, “We need a Plan B.”
“Oh, but the solution is so, so easy, Garek,” came a high, sing-songy voice from in the corner. The only things visible were a crossed pair of boots and two crossed hands, fingers intertwined. Even with his vague appearance, Peyton knew who it was standing in the corner.
The President.
“We make another Sector.”
Chapter Five
Wheeling and Dealing
Gasps of panic. Raised voices. The pounding of footsteps echoing through narrow constricting hallways. These were all things Byron saw as he experienced a particular event from this individual’s point of view. He could feel the person running from something, he could feel and understand the person’s fear and shock. Byron searched this person’s mind as he ran, digging for any information he could find on him. Something as simple as his name would help Byron significantly.
Stephen Jaxon. That was his name. The person whose brain chemistry was different from all the others around him, that was his name. Stephen’s mind stood out from every other human’s in the vicinity, as if he was a beacon to those with telepathic abilities.
For some reason Stephen was running through a dark hallway, people shouting behind him, presumably chasing him. Stephen turned a corner, heading for a door marked by an exit sign. Byron could feel the sense of relief that Stephen did as he saw his escape.
Suddenly the door flew open, blinding Stephen t
emporarily, stopping him in his tracks. When Stephen’s eyes adjusted he saw a man dressed in military uniform aiming a gun at him. The man shouted something, but Byron didn’t hear him because all of a sudden Byron lost him.
“I’ve found him,” Byron said, his eyes flying open. It was still dark out, and Mark and Ashley sat in front of him.
“Found who?” Mark asked.
“The person we’re going to look for,” Byron said, “His name is Stephen Jaxon but…” He paused for a moment. “I lost him.”
“What does that mean?”
“It was as if our connection was cut. Like his mind was suddenly erased from existence. And before it did…”
“Byron,” Ashley said cautiously. “What’s wrong?”
“He could be dead,” Byron said. “I saw someone pointing a gun at him and all of a sudden he was gone.”
“What if he is?” Mark asked.
“I’m not sure. Regardless we still need to go into Sector Four to get supplies. For now we need to rest. In the morning we’ll make our way into Sector Four.”
“I’ll make sure that we stay out of sight just like I did in the Secret Service,” Byron said as the group approached the boundary marker for Sector Four the next day. “It would be helpful if we could find a vehicle of some sort. It would make transportation much easier.”
“I can take care of that,” Ashley said.
“Good,” Byron replied. “We should split up. You go find us a vehicle and I’ll keep track of your mind. I’ll be able to track you, so if you need anything just think it. Mark, Phoebe, and I will all head towards the Sector’s Work Center. Since Sector Four’s singular export is vehicles, every employed person checks into the same place at some point in the day. We can head to the Work Center and try to find Stephen.” Ashley nodded and began running off, her skin twisting as she ran, changing her into a completely different person.
“The Work Center shouldn’t be that difficult to find,” Byron said. “You two take the lead, I’ll follow close behind you.”
They approached the Work Center slowly. So far there hadn’t been any incidents, but, to Mark, it felt like the calm before a storm. For some reason, he felt tension building around him, as if the entire Sector was holding its breath.
But, when they reached the Work Center, what they saw surprised them. In front of the main entrance was a squad of police cars, sirens flashing. Security guards ran in different directions. In the distance, Mark could see a pillar of smoke rising behind the Work Center.
“Byron,” Mark whispered. Byron looked up and understood. He began to walk towards an alley. Phoebe and Mark followed him.
“I’ve got it under control,” he said, “Just follow me and keep quiet.”
They did so, and Byron led them straight to the main entrance. When they tried to go inside, a security guard stopped them.
“We apologize for the inconvenience, sir,” the guard said, “But there’s been an incident, and the Work Center is closed until further notice.”
Byron reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Byron Peters,” he said, “Secret Services Agent, Level Three. My colleagues and I have been sent here to investigate.” The guard studied the card for an excruciating eternity in a few seconds.
“Byron Peters,” the guard said, handing the card back, “Former Secret Service Agent.” The guard pulled his pistol from its holster. “You’re under arrest,” he said, aiming it at Byron’s forehead. Suddenly, his eyes went wide. He lowered the gun. Mark looked behind them. There, standing, grinning was a man. Or, at least, he had the general physique of a man. He had two arms, two legs, a torso, and a head, but the similarities stopped there. Where normal human lips would be was a thin crack in his face, the line turned upwards in a sickly grin. His eyes were yellow and bloodshot, seemingly glowing. His skin was yellow and covered in something…not flesh, it seemed more like scales. His hair was thin and stringy, tangled and twisted. His long fingers ended in claws.
Even though he didn’t look like much to Mark, the man…creature…thing still seemed to intimidate him.
“Is there a problem, officer?” the man said, his voice high, grating on Mark’s ears.
“N-no, sir, n-none at all,” the guard said, dropping his weapon, shaking in fear. The man seemed to be outputting some sort of field, some kind of aura, of pure fear. Mark could feel it, and it was obvious from the guard’s constant quivering that he did, as well.
“Good,” the man said, “But I don’t think you’re telling the truth.” The guard nearly fainted.
“However,” the man continued, “I’m feeling generous today, so, not only will I let you live another day, I’ll even take these three off your hands.”
“Oh, t-thank you, s-so much, sir,” said the guard, slinking away on the verge of tears.
Now Mark didn’t feel as much afraid as he did disturbed.
“Come with me, children,” the man said, beckoning to them. Phoebe looked at Byron, who informed her, despite his puzzled look, to do as he said. They followed close behind them man. A crowd had gathered around the Work Center, but they parted as soon as they saw the man and his companions approaching. The man smiled evilly at them as he walked through; as if he were their master and they were his slaves. He led them into an alley, not speaking to them, almost as if he didn’t acknowledge their existence. When they reached the alley, he turned to them on his heel and looked at them.
“So you’re the ones Sector Zero wants,” he said, grinning. Phoebe, Byron, and Mark were silent, eyeing this strange man intently.
“I must say, you’re going for quite the bounty, now, even though it’s been barely twenty-four hours since you’ve made your public arrival,” he continued.
“Are you going to turn us in, then?” came Phoebe’s reply. “Because you might want to think twice about it.”
“Oh, but I have,” the man said, “I’ve thought more than twice about it. More than thrice, even. And, no. I’m not going to turn you in, or kill you, even though it is tempting. I could do it so easily. In fact, I’m going to help you.”
“Help us?”
“Absolutely! Not only have I swooped in and rushed you safely away from the grasps of the government already, but I shall also send you speedily on your way.”
“You know were Stephen Jaxon is?” asked Byron.
“I know where he is,” the man said, “But, no, Byron Peters, I will not help you find him. Unless, of course, you were willing to pay me something in return.” Mark didn’t think it possible, but the man’s smile became even wider, as if he was playing with puppets and having the time of his life.
“Who are you?” Byron demanded, ignoring the man. “Why can’t I read your mind?” Mark looked over at Byron, his eyes wide with shock. Mark could see the confusion on Byron’s face. It was obvious that his power had never failed him in the past before, and he was shocked that it had happened again.
“Never mind that,” the man said. “Just know that I can get you what you want for a price.”
“What price?” said Byron.
The man stopped smiling and frowned, as if thoughtful. After a long pause, his smile came back on and he said enthusiastically, “A box of hot chocolate mix!”
“W-wait, what?” said Byron, wondering if he had heard right.
“A box of hot chocolate mix!” the man said again, laughing. Mark cringed, the sound was so loud and incredibly horrible. “I do so love that stuff!”
“So…wait, let me get this straight,” Byron said, blinking, “If we bring you a box of hot chocolate mix, you’ll help us find Stephen Jaxon?”
“Do we have an agreement?”
“Um…ok?” said Byron, still confused, “But from where?”
The man rolled his eyes and said, “Duh! We’re standing behind the market!”
Byron took a nervous step away from the man.
“Trust me,” said the man, “You don’t want to break this deal! Don’t try to run off.” And then, just
as suddenly as he had appeared, the man disappeared again.
“Do you have any clue what that was?” Phoebe asked, looking over at Byron. Byron shook his head.
“I always knew that my life would be strange as soon as I discovered my powers,” he said, “But I never considered the possibility of it getting that strange.”
“How did you get your powers, Byron? How did you find out about them?”
Byron was silent. “I…,” he couldn’t bring himself to say it. “What happened to me was horrible,” he said instead, “I prefer not to speak of it.”
“Can’t you tell us? We deserve to at least know the person we’re following around the Nation.”
“Perhaps some other time. But for now we must focus on finding Stephen.”
Mark caught up to them. He had his own questions about Byron’s past. “Back there,” he said, “At the Work Center, the guard said that you were a Former Secret Service Agent.”
“And you’re wondering if he was right.”
“Well…yeah.”
“To put it bluntly, yes, he was correct.” Mark stood, silent for a moment, before asking, almost in a whisper, “So then it’s true? The Secret Service exists?”
“Yes.”
“He said you were a Former Agent. How’d you get out?”
“It’s a rather personal subject, Mark; I don’t like talking about it.”
“Does it have something to do with your powers?” Phoebe asked.
“Yes,” Byron said, “And, as I have repeatedly related to you, I do not wish to convey that story to you right now.” He turned away from them, speeding up and walking into the market.
Chapter Six
Making an Exit
Stephen looked over his shoulder as he entered the supermarket. He shouldn’t have gone back to the Work Center that morning. It had been a mistake, and now he would be on the run for who knew how long. He would have to lay low, he knew that, and in order to do so he would need a lot of things. What was happening to him, he had no clue, but he knew that whatever it was it did not work in his favor. He was in serious danger now because of what he could do.