The Traveler

by Melissa Delport

  Chapter 6

  Silently they follow me back down the stairs. Nobody wants to separate, fear is keeping us together. I hear Bill huffing behind me as we race back into the underground parking lot. Jason takes the wheel and I leap into the passenger seat, the others clambering into the back.

  “Wait a minute... where’s Joe?” A resounding silence follows Bill’s question. Jason shakes his head imperceptibly and I sigh, knowing it’s up to me. I swivel in my seat to meet Bill’s eye.

  “He didn’t make it.” Bill visibly recoils, blinking rapidly as he tries to process this new information. Bill and Joe had known each other a very long time – I know for a fact that Joe was often Bill’s driver when he was on assignment, before he took on the role of news director. Not knowing what else to say, I snatch up my purse and check my phone as we leave the basement, but I still have no signal.

  As we emerge onto the street and head southwest on 7th Avenue, Jason slams on the brakes as a tall figure leaps out in front of the van, waving his hands above his head and almost giving us all heart failure.

  “What the fuck?” Jason exclaims, but I quickly jump from the car.

  “Get in!” I yell, leading the young man toward the sliding door at the back before I get back into the passenger seat. This is no time to abandon survivors. He doesn’t hesitate and climbs in beside Bill and Kate, his face pale beneath his suntan, his blue eyes wide with fear. I hear brief introductions being made in the back, but I tune them out. I can’t help but stare at the devastation and destruction around us. The tremors have stopped, for now at least, and the city looks like a ghost town. The storm is still raging, but there is a stillness about the city that is eerie. There are far less people on the street than before. I assume that most have sought sanctuary indoors, away from the danger. 6th Avenue is chaos; all overturned cars and fires and smashed windows. New York is under siege.

  Fortunately the drive is short and, as we enter the park on Central Drive, the maelstrom of the storm seems to dissipate. The sunlight just ahead is clearly visible now, a perfect circular calm, like the literal eye of the storm. I feel my breath quicken in fear. As calm as this place appears I am willing to bet my life that it is far more dangerous than the raging city behind us and guilt rears its ugly head. Why have I brought my friends here – to this still, terrifying place? Every nerve-ending in my body is screaming that we should flee this place, but the pull is too strong – I need to know. I withdraw my inhaler from my jacket pocket and take another puff. I still feel slightly breathless, but the tightness in my chest eases slightly.

  Jason stops the van in Terrace Drive and I see the lake stretched out before us. The water is rippling in our direction, away from the center of the storm. Without giving myself any time to change my mind, I debark, rounding the fountain and taking the walk that leads to Bow Bridge. Ignoring the confused calls of the others, I deliberately place one foot in front of the other, my heart thudding loudly in my chest. As I pass the pedestrian benches I count silently in my head. It was the fifth bench. I stop beside it, gazing down as the memories come back. How could I ever forget?

  “Are you sure you don’t want some?” I offered him my cone, laden with chocolate chip, but Dex shook his head.

  “I’m not a big fan of ice cream.” His voice, as always, was low and melodious.

  “What are you a big fan of?” I asked, biting my lip. As expected, he just smiled at me in that secret way of his. It had been weeks and still I knew nothing about him. He was so serious and so intense, but he wouldn’t let me in, no matter how hard I tried. I could tell that he liked me; it showed in the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. But I was always paying attention. I noticed everything. I was fascinated by him and infatuated with him. I almost felt like... well, everyone said that seventeen is too young to feel real love, but I didn’t know what else this could be. I felt like he was the only person in the world, the only real thing in my life. Everything else was insignificant by comparison – school, homework, even track. I had missed another two practices and there was a worrying letter from my coach stashed in the bottom of my bag, addressed to my parents. My friendship with Kimberley was also becoming strained. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I had stopped confiding in her. Partly because she was so against my relationship with Dex, and partly because, in truth, I wanted to keep him all to myself. My beautiful, fragile secret.

  “What else would you like to do?” I asked eventually, wiping my hands on my napkin. Dex didn’t reply but something in his gaze changed. A look I had never seen crossed his features and I felt self-conscious at the sheer intensity of his gaze."Dex?” I questioned, smiling nervously. He lifted my hand from my lap, entwining his fingers with mine and I felt a surge of heat that spread from my fingertips right through my body. He said nothing, did nothing, he just gazed at me as though he was waging an inner battle with himself. I don’t know how I plucked up the courage, but I knew that it was now or never. I leaned forward, closing the gap between us by only an inch, but making my invitation crystal clear. Dex’s eyes never left my face as he lowered his head. When his lips touched mine, a jolt of passion and electricity made me leap back for only a second, but then his hands were on my face, pulling me forward with an almost carnal need. He kissed me on and on, and I was so lost that I am fairly sure I would have let him make love to me right there on that bench in the middle of Central Park. I wanted his hands on my body, I wanted him to smother me and completely own me. His tongue was warm and probing, exploring my mouth more intimately than could possibly be legal, and my head was swimming with desire.

  Suddenly, inexplicably, he let me go and I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. I felt empty.

  “Rachel,” he murmured and at least I had the satisfaction of hearing the tremor in his voice. He was just as affected as I was, I would bet my life on it. Blindly I reached for him but he stood abruptly and took two steps away from me, as if fearful of my touch. For once he was unable to meet my eyes.

  “Dex?” I let the question hang in the air, wanting to close the distance growing between us but not knowing how. “Please,” I murmured, so softly that only he could hear me, pouring all my pain and agony and wanting into that one tiny little word.

  He never replied. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked away.

  “Rhodes!” Bill appears beside me suddenly, panting with exertion and snapping me out of my trance. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I... I just...” I turn away from the bench, shaking my head, trying to clear my thoughts, “Nothing - never mind. What are you doing here? You should be back at the van!” I say and his chest swells with indignation.

  “I’m not a child, Rhodes. You don’t tell me where I should be,” he barks, his gruff voice lower than usual, “I was breaking stories when you were nothing but a twinkle in your father’s eye. This disaster is going to land us a Pulitzer or be the death of us. Either way, I’m not sitting on the sidelines.” I smile despite myself, nodding my head.

  “Let’s go.”

  We walk on a short distance. When we reach Bow Bridge I studiously ignore the ice cream stand, not needing any further reminders of that first kiss. Feeling the warmth of sunlight on my face, I tilt my head skywards and stare up at the pale blue yonder. We are right inside the epicenter of the storm. There is no wind, no rain - nothing. If I close my eyes I can almost imagine that it is just another ordinary summer’s day. A movement catches my eye and I crash abruptly back to reality. Bill has already stepped onto the bridge and I hasten after him, wondering briefly where the others are. Hopefully they have more sense than Bill and are staying as far away from this deceptive calm as possible.

  I catch Bill up and we walk side by side, our feet echoing dully on the wooden floor. I run my hand along the cast iron expecting it to be cold, like everything else in the city, but to my surprise it is pleasantly warm beneath my touch. The beauty of the ornate banister still takes my breath away – the br
idge is a renowned romantic setting for lovers. I can hear Bill’s labored breathing beside me, but I keep my eyes ahead as we make our way up the short incline that marks the halfway point. We are over halfway across the bridge when I finally see him.

  Dex.

  A myriad of memories flood my senses, more powerful than ever before. Dex is really here. My heart both soars and sinks at the sight of him, so many conflicting emotions overwhelm me that I lose my breath and automatically reach for my inhaler. But then I realize that it wouldn’t work anyway. This has nothing to do with my asthma. It runs far deeper than that.

  He is standing on the walkway ahead just beyond the bridge. He has his back to us and is over fifty feet away but it doesn’t matter - I would recognize him anywhere. He is tall and proud, his black hair exactly the same as I remember, and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. He is wearing the same black tunic as the others, the same black pants and black boots. I don’t know why I’m not surprised. I think deep down I knew it was him all along. I knew the moment it had started snowing. Bill sees him too and he drops into a half-crouch but I walk forward now without hesitation. It is still there, that physical pull I feel for him. I reach the edge of the bridge and glance around. He is alone, standing dead still in the center of the storm and suddenly I know that it’s him. That he’s the one controlling it.

  I make no sound as I walk, stopping only a few feet behind him, but I know the instant that he senses me there. His shoulders tighten and he cocks his head ever so slightly towards his right shoulder. The storm seems to close in on us, drawing around me like a tightening rubber band and the wind picks up, whipping my hair painfully into my eyes. My jeans are flapping around my ankles so hard that I think they might be ripped off at any moment and I can barely draw breath. The heavens open and the rain immediately starts pelting down. Over the roar of the storm I hear Bill’s bellow of panic and turn to see him sprinting for cover under a nearby tree. He gestures frantically for me to join him but I simply stand there, water coursing down my face and into my mouth.

  I turn back to Dex and, as I watch, he draws himself up to his full height, opening his hands suddenly and flexing his fingers. The instant that he does, a bolt of lightning strikes the bridge behind me where Bill had been standing only seconds earlier. With a creak of protest the bridge crumbles almost in slow motion, a whining of tearing iron as chunks of concrete and metal drop into the lake. Dex flexes his fingers again and I watch in horror as the lightning zigzags through the sky overhead and hits the tree under which Bill is standing as though it was hunting him. While most of the energy is mediated by the tree, the current transmits over Bill’s body on its path to the ground and, as he drops to his knees clutching his chest, I understand what has happened - Bill has gone into cardiac arrest. Fierce, brave Bill – the toughest of us all, who has survived war and worse, defeated by a simple flex of the hand. My brain whirrs with the horror of the thought.

  I am about to rush towards Bill when out of the corner of my eye I see Dex start to turn and, as he does, his fists open once more, his fingers splaying rigidly. I know instinctively that this bolt of lightning will strike me – I am the next target. I close my eyes, knowing it is too late and spare a last thought for Bill, who I will never be able to help. I can only hope that the others will make it out; that they can find somewhere safe, somewhere far from here.

  Slowly, I become aware of the silence. After the pandemonium of the raging storm the silence is deafening. There is not even the boom of distant thunder. My heart is beating wildly in my chest and my breath is coming in short hysterical sobs, tears mingling with the rainwater that is still dripping from my hair. I am too terrified to open my eyes, too panic-stricken even to move. And then I hear him speak, closer than I expected, sounding stunned and angry, “Rachel?”

  Chapter 7

  I open my eyes to clear skies as far as the eye can see and Dex standing right in front of me. His eyes are wild but, as I watch, the unnaturally green glow fades until they are as clear and as beautiful as I remember. He looks exactly the same; his hair, his eyes, his perfect bone structure. I scan his face, looking for any sign of the time that has lapsed since the last time I saw him seven years ago, but there is nothing. He hasn’t aged a day.

  I open my mouth to speak, but as I do my legs buckle underneath me and I collapse in a heap on the ground. Dex automatically takes a step toward me but I scurry backward, my legs kicking out in front of me in my haste to get away from him. A brief pained look crosses his face, but he comes no closer. I roll over and get unsteadily to my knees and then I crawl as quickly as I can to Bill’s side. He is face down in the dirt. I roll him over gently, but it’s no use. Bill is gone. I cradle his head in my arms, biting my lower lip painfully to stem the sobs that are threatening to burst from my chest, but I can’t stop the tears that spill from my eyes, running down my face and dripping from my chin onto Bill’s forehead.

  “Rachel?” I hear him an instant before his hand comes to rest on my shoulder and I rise to my feet, whirling on him hysterically.

  “You killed him!” I shriek, the words echoing through the trees in the silence, “You’re killing everyone!” I push hard against his chest but he doesn’t budge. I lash out at him again and again with my hands, my nails, my arms, but he remains impassive. Eventually he grabs my arms, pinning them to my sides.

  “I need to bring the storm back now,” he growls, pinning me against his side. I watch in abject horror as he closes his eyes briefly. When they open again, the iridescent green is back and I mewl pitifully in terror, trying in vain to get away from him. It only takes a few seconds and the storm is back, raging around us just like before while we stand in this clearing as though in an insulated bubble. He glances down at me, his eyes cold.

  “What are you?” I whisper.

  “You know what I am, Rachel,” he scoffs, releasing my arms. “You’ve always known.” I don’t try to flee - what would be the point? Dex is controlling the storm; he could strike me down in a second if he wanted, no matter where or how far I managed to run.

  “Why are you doing this?” I persist. He’s right - maybe I did know or at least suspect that Dex was no ordinary boy, that he was not what he appeared to be. And yes, even that he was dangerous, but I would never have imagined him capable of murder, let alone genocide.

  He doesn’t answer and I hear yelling coming from behind us. Oh God, the others! I had forgotten all about them. I risk a quick glance back at Dex praying that he hasn’t heard, but his smug, tight smile assures me that he has.

  “Don’t hurt them,” I gasp frantically, tugging at his arm as he passes me. He is heading back towards the bridge. “Please! Please, don’t hurt them!”

  “They’re going to die, Rachel,” he answers calmly, his face displaying no emotion. “Regardless of what I do, they’re all going to die.”

  “No, please!” I scream, tears of rage and frustration streaming down my face. I pull again at his tunic, leveraging all my body weight. “Get out of here!” I roar in the direction of the bridge, “Jason! Can you hear me? Get them out of here, now!” At the last I change my strategy and launch myself at Dex, leaping onto his back and clawing at his face. I no longer care if I live or die. His actions, his betrayal, are so agonizingly painful that it would be an act of kindness for him to end my life but I have to at least try to help the others. This is all my fault. I brought them here, to him. I walked them right into the lion's den. We should have made a run for it while we still could and escaped this godforsaken city.

  Dex swats me away as easily as an irksome fly and I tumble to the ground at his feet. He stares down at me his green eyes glowing.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask, both my voice and my heart breaking. How could he do this – be capable of this? I had loved him once with all my heart and soul. How could I have been such a terrible judge of character?

  “Rachel!” I hear Jason’s voice and I scramble toward the remains of the bridge, casting te
rrified backward glances at Dex. He is suddenly standing too still, his head cocked in the direction of the nearby trees.

  “Jason!” I heave a sigh of relief when I see him crouched on the opposite edge of the demolished bridge, Peter, the fireman, beside him. “Jason, you need to get out of here!” I glance back at Dex and my next words die on my lips as a stunning, raven-haired woman emerges from the trees behind him.

  “Dexon!” she calls out, and her voice is just as enticing as Dex’s. She is dressed all in black, the familiar tunic making my stomach churn. As her gaze falls on me her eyes glow green and she raises her hand almost lazily.

  “You need to get back to your post, Voka.” Dex’s voice is ominously low. The woman – Voka – ignores him, her eyes never leaving my face. “Voka.” It’s more of a snarl now, and with a small frown of confusion she turns her attention to Dex. I can hear the others hissing frantically, calling me, but I can’t tear my eyes from the scene unfolding before me.

  “Who is she?” Voka asks, her frown deepening.

  “She’s none of your concern.”

  “She’s one of them,” she counters. “She needs to die.”

  “And she will.” His voice is so cold that I cringe.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “Why did you abandon your post?” He changes the subject, sounding furious, and she looks almost sheepish, although she gives a haughty toss of her black mane.

  “I’m bored.”

  Reluctantly I tear my gaze away. This is my chance to get out of here. I can’t hang around to eavesdrop on their conversation. Without the bridge there is only one way to get back to the others quickly. I scramble over the concrete debris and, without hesitating, I plunge into the unusually icy water. The weight of the heavy jacket pulls me down, but I throw one arm in front of the other, hauling myself across the lake, the cries of the others encouraging me to keep going. After a few exhausting minutes I feel my strength waning - my numb, tired body resisting all my efforts - but the sudden frenzied screams from above rouse me from my weary numbness. Looking upward, my relief that I am over halfway across is quickly replaced by fear. The brown-haired young man who we picked up on the street near Times Square is leaning out over the side of what remains of the bridge above me, his finger pointing northeast in the direction I have just come from. Jason, beside him, is gesturing wildly, “Swim!” he roars and in a panic I turn to look.