by Brandt Legg
“How can I ever thank you, Fitts?”
“It’s not about thanking, it’s about forgiveness.”
25
“Didn’t I tell you to avoid Outviews?” Spencer asked, kneeling next to me in the warm grass.
“I don’t always have control over them,” I said.
“I know. I’m assuming since you’re still here that you didn’t encounter Omnia.”
“No harm done. How long was I gone?”
“Only a minute or two. They’ve got Clastier with the mystics. It’s our best chance. But if we’re going, we need to go right away.”
Afghanistan and Fitts/Ren taught me that some things are more important than a cause or even saving the world. Loyalty and forgiveness were two of them. Monumental things can be built on them and this was the reason Clastier and the mystics needed to be saved. One of the last things Fitts said to me was, “We’ll meet again and before again.” It was a nice way to put it. I looked forward to seeing him next, whenever that might be.
It was true Spencer and I almost died the last two times we went for the mystics, but I could no longer tolerate their imprisonment. We had failed on the earlier attempts to free Amparo, Baca and Kirby because we were doing it for the wrong reasons. Instead of strategy, now it was for loyalty. Rather than trying to hurt Omnia, this was about helping our friends.
They’d been moved from Nevada into a network of secret CIA prisons in North Africa and Eastern Europe. For more than a year, since our last try, the mystics had been held at three different locations and we could never identify more than one at a time. Now, suddenly, they were all in the same place again, and Clastier was with them.
“It’s gotta be a trap,” Linh said.
“Yes, it is,” Spencer said.
“Then you can’t go.”
“Tell that to him.” Spencer pointed at me.
“Linh, I’m sorry but they are only there because of me. Almost two years in prison, subjected to who knows what, for trying to help me. Baca saved me from capture or death. I have to do this.”
“You sound like the hero in one of those dumb B-movies you used to watch. You don’t have to do this.”
“Nate, I know I said this before the other missions,” Spencer began, “but I must repeat it. These mystics did all those things for you because you are so important to the Movement. They knew the risks and made their choices. They do not want you to put yourself in jeopardy by coming for them. We’re in contact with Clastier, he is willing to end his life, he only awaits our word.”
“I know and I get that. But I’ve let enough people down. I’m not going to abandon them. What good is a leader or even the Movement if we abandon people and principles along the way? My powers are their best hope.”
“Your powers aren’t much good against elite combat units when you’ve pledged non-violence,” Spencer said.
“Have you forgotten the hundred and four soldiers I converted at Outin?”
“That was a different dimension,” Spencer said.
“Our whole existence is a different dimension from somewhere,” I said.
“Yeah, and that helps you how?” Linh asked.
“Linh, don’t worry. This time will be different . . . we have help. Lots of help.”
“Nate is referring to six of the personnel deployed at the prison who are sympathetic to the Movement,” Spencer told Linh.
“Why?”
“Those six were at Outin; they’re members of the hundred and four,” I said.
“Part of the trap. Why would Lightyear put them there?”
“The mystics are in a special class of prisoners. Those six have experience with special people because of their time at Outin,” I said, “and there is no evidence that any of them have broken their oath to me.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I monitor them.”
“Really?” Linh asked.
“It’s not difficult . . . the astral.” I smiled.
“Nate, if you really want to go through with this, we need to go now,” Spencer said.
“We’re going.”
“I’m going, too,” Linh said.
“Too dangerous.”
“That’s my point.”
“Linh, you can’t come.”
“Then, I won’t be here when you get back.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Nate, I’m not some schoolgirl chasing you around. I’m part of this Movement. Do you forget that I’ve been through almost all of it with you?”
“I know, that’s why you’re too important to come.”
“Nice try. You and Spencer are the most important people in the Movement and you’re going.”
“I’m sorry, Linh.”
“Nate, our window is closing,” Spencer said.
“Good luck, Nate, and goodbye.”
26
Booker’s helicopter dropped us in a meadow above Crater Lake. After making our way to the Wizard Island portal, we quickly emerged in the jungles of Thailand. The compound was half a mile away. This was as close as we dared to be since it was likely that the jungle was filled with traps, cameras and guards.
“What’s the plan?” Spencer asked.
“Skyclimb to the treetops until we get close and . . .”
“Try shapeshifting,” a familiar voice said from somewhere in the thick undergrowth.
“Dunaway?” I asked.
A tiger lunged and knocked me down hard. It was a blur of fangs and claws as I wrestled with the massive cat. With some help from Spencer and Gogen I got free and levitated above its reach. The tiger morphed into Dunaway.
“You were terrified, Nate.” Dunaway laughed. “You shouldn’t let fear control you so easily. I mean, come on, a tiger against your powers? Don’t be such a wimp.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, failing to control my anger.
“Kirby is one of my mystics.”
“How nice of you to come and save her,” I said, sarcastically.
“I can’t let you two peace-loving hippie freaks get her killed.”
“We can use the help,” Spencer said.
“As long as he doesn’t use violence,” I added.
“What makes you think you get to make the rules, Nate?” Dunaway asked. “Omnia isn’t some pushover. They have mystics and magic, too. Why do you think Kirby isn’t able to just shapeshift her way out of this? Omnia has powerful people keeping watch over these mystics and they know you’re coming.”
“We know they know.”
“So Skyclimbing is your big plan? Let me just move out of your way. I’m too impressed.”
“Unlike you, Dunaway, I think the universe is based on love and I trust the universe.”
“Then trust that I’ll do the right thing.”
“But I don’t trust you.”
“You two are like a couple of children. Grow up,” Spencer said. “We have serious work to do.”
“Hey, Spencer, I don’t work for you, okay?” Dunaway jeered.
The three of us Skyclimbed to the top of the trees.
I communicated with Spencer directly over the astral so Dunaway wouldn’t hear. “I’ve told our six friends from the one hundred and four that we’re here. Clastier and the mystics know, too.”
“Nate, I want the Jadeo from Dunaway before we leave here.”
“I know you do. But let’s not get distracted from our mission. There’ll be time for Dunaway and the Jadeo later.”
An invisible force hit us so hard we were knocked from the trees and sent tumbling through the tangle of branches. Before I could even right myself, I realized the jungle was burning beneath me. It was an inferno that could have been caused only by soul powers. The sky, lit from bright flames, suddenly filled with choppers. I had no idea where Spencer and Dunaway were. I brought a torrential rainstorm down, which doused the flames and caused the helicopters to retreat. Spencer appeared from out of the smoldering ashes and smoke.
“This way
, Nate. Hurry!”
I soared down and followed him into a long tunnel that the flames had formed through the trees. A rushing river of blackened water and debris filled much of the space. We floated toward the compound.
“There’s no longer an element of surprise on our side,” I yelled to Spencer.
“There never was.”
“Our six friends have been instructed to use non-lethal force against their comrades. If we get out of this, we’ll have to bring them with us.”
The downpour suddenly ceased. Dunaway was Skyclimbing next to us. “You overdid it with the rain, I’d say.”
I ignored him.
We broke into a clearing and spotted the building that housed the prisoners. That’s when things got very strange. Blue twilight changed to a pink and yellow glow. Everything was pulsating; the sound evolved into a high-pitched hiss. Slow motion blurring of colors and scenery rippled around us. Trees and buildings appeared and disappeared in a collage of time and dimension. There was no way to be sure what was real. Four helicopters fired at us. I caught Dunaway waving his arm in a circular motion above his head apparently causing the choppers to crash into each other. Fire and shrapnel enveloped us. Spencer was hit. I rushed toward him. Dunaway tumbled past in a glowing orb, and, in one fluid motion, left the orb on Spencer as he continued flying. I followed Dunaway through a darkened spiral into the building.
There were soldiers down all over the place - alive but unconscious. The six had been helpful. Once we got through the exterior doors I expected the surreal vortex-world we’d been in to recede but instead it became psychedelic. The corridor flexed and bent, grew and shrank - movement was extremely difficult.
“What powers are they using on us?” I shouted to Dunaway.
He shook his head and pointed forward.
The drugged bodies of seven or eight soldiers rolled into us as the hall tilted severely until we were dropping down a dark round shaft of red and blue lights. It was a nightmare version of Alice in Wonderland. The unconscious soldiers came down on top of us as we dropped what felt like a mile. Death seemed certain and I fought mightily against fear. We ended in a pile, smothered by the bodies. I used Gogen to free myself. Incredible pain came and went.
Someone pulled me to my feet. It was one of the Outin one hundred and four.
“What is all this distortion?” I shouted, above what was now a groaning siren.
“We don’t know, it just started. Thought you were doing it.”
“No. Where are my friends?” I asked.
“Follow me,” he said. Dunaway was already ahead of us.
We entered another hallway that was spiraling and growing longer. “It’s like some kind of funhouse from hell,” the soldier shouted.
Dunaway put more distance between us. The hall turned steeply upward. I threw the soldier on my back and Skyclimbed toward the opening that Dunaway had already gone through. We fought our way out of the hall and into a large room where the noise and distortion finally stopped. Six cells lined each side. Three more of the Outin hundred and four were there.
“We’ve got two men helping Copeland,” one of them told me. They, like every member of the military or law enforcement, knew Spencer on sight.
I noticed that one of the solid cell doors was already open. I pointed. They shook their heads. “Open the other doors,” I yelled. They did, and Baca, Ampora and Kirby rushed out. The other cells were empty. “Where’s Clastier?” I yelled.
“He was in that one,” a soldier answered.
“Damn it.” I slapped the door. “Kirby, do you know Dunaway?”
She looked confused.
“Come on!” I left through the door opposite the one I had entered; they followed. Immediately the distortion resumed. This time I tried various powers to temper it but nothing worked. After what seemed like days, we emerged into the night. It was, thankfully, normal again. Spencer, mostly recovered now, stood with two friendly soldiers.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Dunaway got to them first.”
Spencer looked at the mystics and back to me. “He has Clastier?”
“Yes.”
“Damn him!”
“Why does he want Clastier?”
“Same reason Omnia does. Clastier is the next best thing to having you. And in Dunaway’s case, it’s even better because he can’t kill you but he can kill Clastier.”
“And there’s something worse . . . Clastier knows what the Jadeo is.”
27
Baca came over and hugged me. I hadn’t seen him since he saved Dustin and me after we left Outin the first time. He’d been in prison for more than two years because of me and his first act was to embrace me. “You needn’t have come,” he said in Spanish. “This was too much risk.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t make it sooner.”
“It’s not been so long. Time’s a funny thing.”
I smiled. “Nice tattoo.”
“When I was first captured, they put me with other inmates. One was a member of the Movement, an artist from Peru. It’s his work.” It was fantastic, stars changing into butterflies. “I’m sorry to say he died during my escape attempt.” He bowed his head. “That’s when Omnia realized I was a mystic. They spent months trying to convert me to their side.” He meant torture. “I’ve been in power-controlled solitary ever since.”
“I’m so sorry, Baca.”
“No, Nate, it is I who am sorry. I should have escaped to save you this trouble.”
I shook my head.
“How’s your brother?”
“Baca, you are my brother.”
He smiled. “Then your other brother, Dustin.”
“He’s okay. I don’t see him much.”
“That’s never good. Brothers ought to see each other every day. There are too few brothers in the world.”
Kirby shapeshifted into her younger form and kissed me. “I knew you’d come. Dumb thing to do, but I knew you would.”
Ampora took my hands and pulled them to her lips. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “Thank you, Niño. You should not have troubled yourself.”
“We need to go,” one of the soldiers said. “It’s almost two clicks to the transport plane. Normally, we’d take a helicopter but . . .” He pointed to the still burning heap of wreckage. The plan was to fly the plane to the nearest portal that would get us to Crater Lake. We’d be in the air for about twenty minutes. The odds were still heavily against us but there might just be time.
As we entered the jungle the first explosion occurred. The soldiers immediately took up defensive positions.
“Use no force,” I yelled.
Spencer created a dense blue fog that extended from just above our heads and continued hundreds of feet into the air. But after two more near misses it was clear the bombs were not being dropped from above. And while we were still figuring it out, the fourth one exploded.
“Henderson and Martin are down!” one of the soldiers screamed.
“They’re detonating them from satellites,” another shouted.
Thick smoke mixed with Spencer’s blue fog. Flying dirt and rocks injured Amparo’s leg. I did a healing and stopped the blood.
“We have to move!” a soldier yelled. “They’ll keep hitting closer and closer until air support can pick us off.”
I carried Amparo while doing a low Skyclimb. Henderson and Martin were dead. I read the minds of the remaining four soldiers who were questioning their decision to help me. They would be lifelong fugitives . . . if they lived.
Two more explosions on top of each other. “Dawson is hit,” a soldier cried out.
Baca screamed in pain. While racing toward him, the other soldier pulled me to Dawson; his whole left side was burned and bleeding.
“This is a Lusan,” I said, handing it to the soldier. “Move it across his injuries.” Then I continued in the direction of Baca.
Trees fell as the next explosion rocked the air. Before I could get back on my feet a
nother opened a crater next to me. I’d lost track of everyone and my ears had been damaged by the blasts.
“Spencer,” I said over the astral, “we’re in trouble.”
“I think I’ve located their satellite.”
“Seriously? You can do that?”
“I can only home in on it when they are using the signal to detonate these things. Damn, I need one more.”
“I don’t think you’ll have to wait –”
This one threw Amparo and me into a crater. I rushed to her side; she was hardly breathing. I had enough minor injuries to make doing a full healing difficult, but it would have to do. I left her cradling two Lusans.
“I’ve sent their satellite out of orbit. They won’t be able to correct it,” Spencer said on the astral.
I found Baca on the astral maybe eighty feet away and crawled over to him. At least two of our remaining soldiers were now exchanging ground fire with Omnia forces. “No force,” I said, but no one could hear.
Baca was dead. I tried to revive him until Spencer found us and stopped me.
“Let him go,” he said on the astral.
“Damn Omnia!” I shouted, unable to hear my own words.
Shots whizzed all around us.
“Spencer, do you have a pen and paper?”
He looked at me, puzzled.
“Give it to me,” I mouthed.
With bullets flying in all directions, I carefully traced the butterfly and stars tattoo off his arm, then stuffed it in my pocket.
“We’ll meet again and before again,” I whispered.
Three of our soldiers, Amparo and Kirby were still alive. We moved Spencer’s blue fog into the direction of Omnia’s shots and I brought the rain back to that section of the jungle. It gave us enough cover to reach the airfield. None of us could hear, so we communicated over the astral or with hand signals and made it out of the trees. When we got to the hangar, the plane was gone.
“Are there any other portals we could reach?” I asked Spencer.
“No.”
“There can’t be much time until they get here.”
One of the soldiers patted my shoulder. It seemed like he mouthed, “Back. Up. Plan.”