Original Souls (A World Apart #1)

by Kyle Thomas Miller

  I'm being called in on two counts of‘Malicious Acts’ against the State. First, my failure as a commander for the death of three of my Squadron members. And now, for my wife's frantic actions, which can get even the highest of officials locked up and the key thrown away. Executed even.

  I glanced at Evan, sitting in the backseat of this official state vehicle with me. We were driving down the main road, passing gray building after building. The occasional pop of color coming from a restaurant banner or department-store sign, but mostly gray, dreary tones. I glanced to Evan again. He was barely breathing, he looked so tense. The two guys in the front seats were stooges I had never laid eyes on before. They must be the private transport of one of the 8ights members.

  When they hustled me in, I noticed that this car isn’t even marked with the eight tiered Squadron seal. The same insignia that is on my, and all other, Squadron members police badges. It's a government vehicle for sure, but what department I can't say. In fact, it seemed like a piece of government crap. Nowhere near as sturdy as the standard issue patrol units that are manufactured from Valid steel, which is the strongest stuff around. The exterior of the car was gorgeous, but the building concept seemed farfetched at best. Design wise, I couldn't tell this thing from a tin can. It most likely belonged to, Sebastian, the Chancellor of Draconia. I'm sure he'd want to question me himself, as Evan mentioned he'd placed a call. And he is known in Draconia for his dreadfully, dreary stylish flare. But style doesn't equate quality. This car is a colossal piece of crap for security, which is something the acting Chancellor would normally need much of. And considering his connection to the steel industries, he'd have access to the expensive stuff, easy.

  While my mind drifted in thought, I surveyed my friend, as we're buckled into this shuttle driving me toward my ultimate fate. His chest, still so tight and his face was as white as a ghost. He's a rather dark-tan skin fellow, but he didn't even seem to be breathing. No air must have meant no color.

  I tried to catch him off guard amidst the eerie silence. "So the day's going great so far, don't you think?"

  He turned to me, but didn't let out near a chuckle or even a sympathy smirk. His face was stone cold emotionless. I had never seen him look so out of it before. Since he was a kid, he never processed emotion well, but I'm sure he has it. He never quite knows what to say or how to respond, but in his own awkward way he usually gets the job done. But today he looks so serious, he almost looks brain washed. He turned his head so that he was facing forward again, and started to slowly open his mouth to say something. At first, he spoke so softly that I couldn't make out what he was saying, but I started to catch on.

  "Once I do that," is where I picked up in mid sentence, "you'll be able to unlock the car door with the black lever on the side panel," he mumbled quietly.

  I'm not sure of what he was planning to do that would allow me to unlock the car door. Then assumedly jump out of a moving vehicle, which really seems like a bad idea. But I'm shocked that my best friend is still on my side and trying to help me out. Still, I don't fully understand why he thinks I need to bail. A few questions never hurt anybody. After all, that's what he told me I was being taken in for. The charges, I’m sure to beat, so I’m not so concerned. There's no other explanation anyhow. That's all they could legally do and that's all that needed to be done. Unless there's something Evan knows that I don't.

  He noticed me drifting away into thought so he mouthed to me, "Focus!"

  I didn't like where this was headed. I mean, I could get seriously injured. Some scraps and a concussion at the very least. The worst-case scenario being death, of course. I'd be road kill in the middle of a-busy buzzing boulevard. Another car could hit me. Not to mention a host of other unexpected things I don’t want to imagine. Why is he doing this? Why can't I just go to the Squadron headquarters and talk this out?

  And just like that, I understood it all. I had been wondering this all along while I looked out the car window. We’re on Madison Avenue. The busiest street in Draconia, that leads from one end of the city center to the other. It even extends farther out into the suburban towns, like the one I live in. But this means we aren’t on our way to headquarters, we’re in route to the shipyard docks. That's where we do our 'special' interrogations of the worst kind of slime anyone could think up. After all that's happened with Corinth and Julia, I wasn't thinking straight. Luckily, Evan is, and he's got a plan. A plan I'm not quite sure I can jump on board with, because I don't know how we can pull it off.

  We had driven so far down Madison now, so far that we aren’t passing as many tall buildings as before. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the bridal boutique that Julia deemed the worst shop in all Draconia. They didn't have the dress she wanted in her size. So she kindly bequeathed to them the gift of the horrible noise her vocal cords make when she's not getting her way. Just as a token of appreciation for their lacking service.

  This shop was on the farthest end of Broaden city. It was a grim reminder of Julia's ferocious temper, and the tight space it had me in now. I don't even know Evan's signal for crying out loud. For all I know he's already given it and is now sitting next to me tragically wondering why I haven't taken advantage of his quick thinking. I’ve got to stay alert. I know what goes on at the offsite questionnaire center. Known to us Squadron members as the Locked Dock. No one gets in undetected, and no one gets out unexpected. Or alive in most cases.

  But Evan’s no fool. In the last few moments he reminded me of why he wasn't built to be a part of the Gente Peligroso, and why I couldn't just leave him with them after we fatefully met. Our childhood greeting. A fist placed over the heart. It sounds silly now, but we always did it whenever we saw one another. We were fanatic about it back then. It was just for us. Though I now know the signal, I still don’t know what he’s going to do. If it’s subtle than I’m not sure this is going to work, because I barely heard him when he explained himself. But as always, he tired to anticipate my shortcomings. He did it. Something very, very easy to spot.

  I couldn't help but wonder what would happen to him as he was obviously choosing to stay in the car— after he conspicuously pressed the release button to the convertible feature of this council member's crappy shuttle of doom. I knew this car was too trashy, I mean fancy, from the start. The flimsy roof popped off and revealed a beaming night sky full off stars. I looked down and the car door was still locked. I couldn’t flip the lock to open, because it was jammed somehow. The window is still up too, but without the clasp of the roof attached any longer, it was almost too easy to bust the lock. With a little help from right shoulder knocking into it, the door roughly swung open revealing an ugly and gritty dirt road.

  We were frighteningly close to the docks at this point. I took a deep breath just before I tucked and rolled out to whatever fate met me on the open road. I tumbled out and kept rolling on the ground a few feet-before I stopped. I grazed the surface of the overgrown grass surrounding the outer perimeter of the shipyard docks, while silently thanking Evan within. Just before I jumped, I noticed how fast we were moving. The car began to swerve uncontrollably. The guy driving seemed to be stunned by the abrupt detachment of the roof above his head. Couldn't blame him for that. As if other drivers and bumpy roads aren't headache enough, he's got to worry about the roof flying off from above his head.

  I suppose that’s why I hadn't noticed these grassy hills all about the area. I knew they were there, but thinking clearly under pressure isn’t one of my strong points. I crawled low in order to stay out of sight from the incoming repo men. With Evan in toe, the three of them jumped out of the car. Of course, only after it came to a screeching halt out of its tailspin. Evan must have convinced them already that I was the one who pushed that release button. They didn't seem to think twice about the cause of all the commotion. All they could do was shout. "Where'd he go, where'd he go?" the skinny one with the limp kept yelling.

  I was somewhat insulted that they sent a guy with a limp to come tak
e me in. I guess Squadron didn't think I'd be much of a threat for some reason. They were right for the most part. If Evan had never given me this opportunity, I'd probably be sitting in one of those famous chairs right now. Adding to the stink of a thousand other scared-to-death men before me.

  I had to use this gift sparingly, because there wasn't going to be another one if I was caught. This high grass is perfect for hiding and maneuvering back up the hillside without being seen. Evan really had this planned out well. I guess that's why he wasn't afraid to send me hurtling from a high speed car. He probably thought I was as in on this as he was, but he'd be terribly wrong to give me that much credit. I was too wrapped up in Julia's decision to take Corinth away for good—from me. Away from the entire world of Draconia. I barely noticed a thing around me while we were driving. I couldn't remember near a detail about the surrounding topography of docks. I didn't even realize we were coming here until he clued me in to his seemingly flawless escape plan.

  As I looked back, from the summit of the hill, at the three of them aimlessly wondering about the edge of the dirt road, I couldn't help but feel this went off too perfectly. They didn't even venture into the high grasses up the hill to find me. They just searched along the road's edge with their flashlights. They could have used their llaves, but I guess they’re trying to keep in accordance with the law. It was as if they thought a scary-scary monster was lurking in the grass that'd eat them alive if they came too close. It felt like they didn't really want to find me, but it also seemed like Evan was working some more of his magik plan over on them. I chalked it up to nerves when I saw him gesture farther down the road. He was leading them clear away from me. I had a lot of other nerves right about now, and the immediate ones were telling me to go and find Julia.

  I needed to head to the Puente del Cielo. That's where the TV headline said Julia preformed the spell that started all this trouble. I needed to get away from the docks fast, but I dreaded using magik right now. It’s against the law unless there’s a warrant for it, even though the law hasn't been treating me with much respect lately. That shouldn't be a big deal, but I guess I'm way too much an officer of those law. Julia was right about me, I do think like a cop. I trust in laws that don't mean a thing to the people who make them. They break them like twigs beneath their feet. I mean, they would have beaten me senseless to get information out of me that I don't have.

  They'll likely want to know Julia's Letra de Tesoro. To gain entry to the new World she's created, you must be invited. The treasured letter Julia chose restricts who can gain access. It's like a pass code. It’s based around some powerful magik. It's the same monstrous magik the Great Eight used to create the eight Worlds that exist today. Actually, I suppose there are nine now. The letters can't be read, spoken, nor understood by anyone who isn't welcomed through the portal by Julia herself.

  No doubt she's drained from using that kind of power. It could have killed her to dig that deep, but she managed it, somehow. Now she and Corinth are sheltered from all this evil that's taking hold over Draconia. Corrupt leaders, oppressive laws, and worst of all, a roving gang of misfits that personally have it out for our son. If I had better accessed this situation back in the hospital room I would have been on board with her. She wanted my help, but I denied her. I can't see how she'll ever let me into her new World now.

  It’s risky with Evan and those two goons still creeping around down the hill, but I'll have to make an exception to the law and to their presence. I may not be on duty, but I pulled my llave from out of my back pocket and gazed at the intricate details about it. It's slightly rusted considering all the hard times I've been through with it, but that gave it a bit of character. A gold skeleton key with dark engraved lines moving in every different direction. I remember the day it was cut from a magnum llave, or master key. I thought the engravings on it were supposed to be symbols of the wind, or something lame like that. But the old man at the key shop informed me otherwise. He told me in his monotone voice that they were spells. 'Big-boy spells, boy'. He called me boy when he addressed me, which I hated, but he taught me a valuable lesson that day. That a person holding a llave could open any door as long as they never closed their mind. I had to open my mind to new ideas and release myself of this old creed. Here I come, Julia.

  I spoke loudly the word I needed to say to get me where I needed to go. I envisioned the Puente del Cielo and called out to air. "Teletranspotar!"

  In an instant, I was gone from the gray and blue plume of smoke that my spell ignited and left behind as I disintegrated to dust and light. I'm sure those goons and Evan saw it when I disappeared. The hauntingly bright dust cloud likely lit up the very late night sky surrounding the Locked Dock, but luckily, there's no way for them to follow me to where I'm headed. The teleportation spell leaves no trail behind. Wielding magik for non-police business is fun. I can't believe I've been enforcing laws against it for years now. The wonders of wielding magik are too great to be kept under wraps, and no one right now knows that better than Julia does.

  The Puente del Cielo was free of people when I arrived there. I guess Julia's big display had set the tone for this. I walked over to the railings overlooking all the Worlds below, and noticed some Squadron police tape coiled around it. The bridge of the sky had been cut off to civilians for the short lived investigation. No one could travel freely back and forth any longer. People from visiting Worlds will be stranded in Draconia, and other Worlds that they don't live in. They didn't want any activity disturbing the pending investigation, I suppose. Also, I'm sure the 8ights Council just wanted to use this incident as an excuse to exert and abuse their power. They'll likely turn the issue on its head and use it as propaganda to justify their own jobs. There have been talks lately of change in the air, drastic change. The media simply reports as instructed by the Council, but things have been coming apart lately. Especially where I’m from.

  I stood at the gold topped railing, with its silver spiral bars that attached it to the ground. The railing spanned the length of the entire bridge, which was the length of— well, the whole darn planet. I took another peek over and absorbed more of the breath taking view. Seeing the skyline of all eight Worlds from this high waswonderful. The view doesn’t allow you to fully see all eight Worlds, but Draconia does sit just beneath this portion of the earth spanning bridge. So as usual, I'm staring at my own blue-eyed kinsman's below. Just above my head, in the sky are blues, yellows, orange, and gold hues streaming through the clouds. They meshed in such a way that it created the picture perfect illusion that nothing was ever wrong with any of these divided nations. Nature is so peaceful, it makes me wonder why its inhabitants don't reflect that tranquil anomaly. It would appear that peace is not in human nature. A working, more so fighting, attitude is what we possess in a higher resolution. I suppose it’s all some grand scheme about survival of the fittest. Though as I gaze at this molten skyline high above, overlooking the towns and cities of the Worlds within my eyes' range, I can't help but wonder what they’d all look like without continuous conflict.

  The sun was dawning, peeking out through the clouds. I can’t believe how quickly the hours were flying by. It felt like only seconds ago Julia was in my arms. But the sight tells me otherwise. A carefree bird flew overhead. Off to start its routine day, likely free of consequence. Unlike the dove in the distance, I am in a very peculiar and dark situation. I have almost no recourse to contact Julia. None I can think of without her Letra de Tesoro.

  While pondering, out of the corner of my eye, something caught my sight, grabbing it hard. Something enticingly shining as the sun began its trek across the morning sky. I had to cross the bridge to get over to whatever it is that’s catching so much light. I walked away from the gold and silver railing, stepping down off the brass metal sidewalk and into the cobblestone roads. These roads were especially beautiful in the daylight. Mostly because of the tiny specks of gold and silver pixie dust that sparkled when given attention from the sun's rays. I thought
for a second that maybe that's all I had noticed, just the streets shining in the light because of the angling of the sidewalk in proportion to the road. Then it gleamed again. Like a beacon of light guiding me to its place, it began to blink off and on every few seconds. It was in a fixed position on one of the support pillars that rose high above the Puente del Cielo. These support beams for the bridge are made of marble, so this gold little light flickering on it stood out quite a bit. I reached the other sidewalk, and as I stepped up onto the curb, the little gold light suddenly stopped blinking.

  I walked over to it, hunched over, and gently rubbed my hand over it. Slowly, I discerned the markings at the center. I realized that it was a keyhole. Just a small little keyhole in the bottom center of this large support pillar for a bridge constructed over one-hundred and fifty years ago. Why? That’s the first thought that came to mind. This couldn't have been here when the bridge was built.

  Then I started to put the message together, because that message spoke to me. Literally, the keyhole starting turning and the mechanism inside projected a holographic image. The image flickered in front of me, as I was jostled back by the sudden outpour of lights. It uttered a single phrase. "Insert key, please," the computer generated female voice stated firmly.

  The video instruction seemed somewhat unnecessary, even redundant. But whoever designed it wanted it to be perfectly clear what was expected of the key holder. Julia was always the biggest micro manager kind. She probably thinks this type of set up is spelled out perfectly. No ambiguity. She didn't like when things weren't absolutely certain. I guess that's why I'm here after all. If she were more optimistic, she would have never broke the law like she did.