The Traveler

by Melissa Delport

  Dex is positioned at the edge of the lake, crouched down on his haunches, his glowing eyes fixed on me, his expression unreadable. The woman is standing just a short way behind him, her jet-black hair blowing in the high wind. Dex has one hand outstretched, palm facing downward, resting on the water and under his bare touch the water is turning to ice. Spreading from his fingertips, moving much faster than I am swimming, the frozen mass moves swiftly toward me. I can feel it as well as see it, a pressure, building in the water and growing in intensity with every passing second. I come to the terrifying conclusion that I’m going to die, trapped in a cold, frozen grave. I turn and double my efforts, each stroke a grueling victory. My arms are so heavy they feel leaden and the cold biting into my skin is agony. Peter has already made his way to the water's edge and I can see the others, having warned me, sprinting back across what remains of the bridge. I almost weep with relief when I finally feel the cold, wet earth beneath my hands and I scrabble desperately, trying to pull myself forward. Peter plunges into the water lifting his feet as high as possible as he races toward me. Grabbing the back of my jacket he hoists me to my feet and we turn and shuffle toward the others, who are still yelling, urging us to hurry. Risking another glance over my shoulder I see that the ice is upon us and I give a scream of warning. Peter doesn’t turn around but he suddenly shoves me forward and I fall into Jason’s waiting arms, safe on the hard ground. Peter gives a bellow of pain and we turn to see his legs trapped from just below the knee in the ice.

  We leap forward and, as I step onto the lake’s frozen solid surface, I glance across to where Dex is still crouched. He is watching me but he stands quickly and turns to the woman who is yelling beside him, her hands indicating that she is clearly unhappy that we are still alive. Dex is replying, but there is no way to know what it is that he’s saying.

  “We have to get out of here!” I whisper urgently as Jason and I tug futilely at Peter's arms trying to pull him from the ice.

  “It's frozen solid,” Peter gasps through gritted teeth. “You need to find something to break it.” I glance around and my gaze falls on a large boulder lying on the ground nearby. I lift it and drop it heavily beside Peter’s body but the ice barely chips. I give a howl of frustration. I can hear that Dex is raising his own voice now and I turn to check on them. Voka is standing at the water's edge, her arm raised, pointing straight at us. Dex falls silent but I can sense that he is still staring directly at me, his green eyes burning into my face.

  We have all turned to watch; even Peter has stopped struggling and is looking over his shoulder, his eyes wide. A ball of fire blossoms in Voka’s hands as though out of thin air and blazes brightly, casting a flickering light over their black clothing. I grab Peter’s arm and start pulling with even more urgency but he yanks it out of my grasp and takes me by the shoulders, dropping his head and forcing me to look him in the eye. Over his shoulder I can still see the light blazing, growing bigger by the second.

  “Run,” is all Peter says, before releasing me and shoving me toward the edge of the lake back towards the park. I cannot leave him; he saved my life coming into the water, and I half-turn back but Jason grabs my jacket and pulls me away. Kate is already making her way into the trees assisted by the newcomer and I stumble blindly along with Jason. Just before we reach the safety of the tree-line I hear it. It is a whooshing, hissing sound and I turn, just in time to see the fire-ball streaking across the surface of the lake. Peter looks up at me, a sad smile in his kind eyes and then it hits him, engulfing him in an inferno of flames. I feel the bile rise in my throat as the blaze suddenly goes out. There is nothing left of Peter but ash.

  I bend over and throw up. Jason gives me only a moment and then he gently places an arm on my shoulder.

  “We have to go, Rachel.” Nodding, wiping my mouth with my still-dripping sleeve, I glance behind us. Voka has another ball of fire dancing in her hands. “Now!” Jason adds. There is no time to mourn Peter, no time to even process that he was murdered, in cold blood, by a fire-wielding maniac not even of this earth. I feel as though I have entered an alternate universe where nothing makes sense and nothing is real. Jason’s hand on my elbow, guiding me, is the only thing that keeps me moving as my body screams in protest. As we head towards the tree-line, I hear a low hum that increases in only a few seconds to a high-pitched, ear-piercing whistle. “What the...” Jason looks heavenward, trying to see over the canopy of trees and locate the source of the sound. My heart soars when two fighter jets streak overhead, moving so fast that I only actually see them for a fraction of a second before they disappear over the trees on the other side of the lake. “Oh hell yeah!” Jason grins, as we keep moving towards the trees. “Bring the rain, boys!”

  Relief courses through my own body at the sight of the airforce jets, although I am not quite as excited as Jason seems to be. We are still far too close to their intended targets to be out of danger. As we slip through the tall trunks I spare a last glance over my shoulder. Dex and Voka haven’t moved although they are no longer paying any attention to us. Both are watching the sky, standing dead still. I feel a tug of trepidation in the pit of my stomach. Why aren’t they running?

  We sprint towards the news-van, every step agony as the pins and needles prick painfully at my body. I pump my arms trying to improve my circulation. The coldness of the lake numbed me for a while but my feeling is returning quickly and painfully. The storm is intensifying once more and lightning streaks across the sky above us, the jagged light both terrifying and beautiful. The rain has also started again, the warmer droplets burning my frozen face and hands. As Jason opens the door for me I hear a massive crack of lightning and Kate shrieks in fright. The explosion that follows immediately after and the high screech of a massive jet engine chills my blood. I turn just in time to see one of our fighter jets plummet to earth, exploding in a plume of fire and smoke.

  “Oh my God,” I shake my head, glancing around for the remaining jet. I see it, on our side of the lake, only a moment before the fire-ball hits it and a second later it too drops from the sky. This explosion is closer and the sound reverberates through my body. Not wasting any more time, I leap into the passenger seat and turn the heat on full, as Jason rams the gas pedal and we race back toward the Central Park exit.

  “There is no way,” the young man behind me is muttering, “no way they could shoot them down like that.” I swivel in my chair to face him, my teeth chattering.

  “They just did,” I stammer. “What’s your name?”

  “Darren,” he replies, in a foreign accent, “Darren Roy.”

  “You’re South African?” I hazard a guess.

  “Yeah, I’m here with Ernst and Young, doing my six month trainee period in the New York office,” he recites, as though he has explained his tourist status a hundred times, before getting back to the point. “How did they shoot those jets out of the sky?” He shakes his head not really expecting an answer. “My father’s an aircraft buff - those F-22 Raptors exceed Mach II speeds - that’s over 1300 miles per hour. And they’re fitted with the most high-tech jamming systems. They can’t just be shot out of the sky!” A pregnant silence follows this as we all process what it means. Our most revolutionary military equipment is no match for the invaders who have laid siege to our planet.

  “There’s no limit to what they can do,” I break the silence as we come to a halt just inside the park’s boundary. And just like that the emotion hits me like a ton of bricks. Dex tried to kill me. Dex – the man I have held in my heart like a talisman for seven years - killed Bill. He killed Bill and he tried to kill me. A vision of Bill, face down on the ground... of Joe, impaled by a metal shaft... of Peter, burning... an aeroplane falling from the sky... people falling into a dark chasm... around and around the images swirl in my head – each more horrific than the last. Dex... Dex is a murderer... he’s a monster!

  “Rachel!” Jason finally notices that my body is shuddering and shaking and my breathing is coming in shallo
w gasps. “What is it?” he asks, his voice frantic, his hands flapping futilely in the small space between our seats, completely clueless as to how to handle the situation.

  Darren squeezes into the space between our seats and says my name, over and over, as he tilts my head this way and that, and then puts two fingers to my wrist, measuring my pulse. I don’t acknowledge him, or reply to his continued verbal efforts to get my attention. I simply stare into nothing, my head throbbing.

  “Rachel,” Darren’s voice finally penetrates my panic-induced haze, “you’re in shock,” he murmurs, stroking my hair and speaking in a hushed, calm voice. “You’re hyperventilating, Rachel. Can you breathe with me? Like this...” he breathes in deeply through his nose and then exhales through his mouth. “Now you try,” he coaxes, breathing deeply in and out again. I blink a few times, my vision clearing and I mimic his actions almost automatically. I remember my inhaler in my pocket, but my hands are shaking too much to reach for it. Besides, this is not asthma – this is pure panic. A few minutes pass and eventually I feel my emotions coming back under control.

  “I’m sorry,” I gasp, as soon as I feel calm enough to speak. I am mortified by my temporary lapse of restraint, but I cannot explain to them that seeing Dex after all this time and learning what he really is, quite literally broke my heart and shattered seven years of memories. With every ounce of resolve I can muster I shut it away in the deepest part of me, determined to be strong for the others.

  Noticing the others shivering I speak directly to Kate. She has barely uttered a word since this whole thing started.

  “Kate, do me a favor please.” Her big brown eyes seem to look right through me. “Could you dig around in those boxes and see if there are any more jackets? We’re going to freeze to death if we don’t find something warm to wear.” She rummages around for a few minutes and then hands us each a white T-shirt, emblazoned with the ABC logo across the back. There are only three jackets left, but thankfully she had donned her own waterproof coat before we left her studio. I quickly remove my jacket and blouse which are drenched thanks to my impromptu swim, and pull the T-shirt over my head while Jason and Darren slip on their jackets. Gratefully pulling mine on, I fleetingly wish there were some dry pants in the boxes, but my sodden jeans and sneakers will have to do for now. Before I toss the dripping jacket into the back, I transfer my inhaler to my new pocket. I just hope that it still works after being submerged in the lake.

  Chapter 8

  We need a moment to gather our thoughts and come up with a plan; we can’t just head blindly into the city. Jason explains this to Darren who wasn’t at the station with us. He didn’t see the footage.

  “They’re all over the planet. It’s bad…floods, windstorms, fires, tsunamis, earthquakes. Every natural disaster you can think of. Except it’s not natural. Not even close.” Darren’s blue eyes narrow thoughtfully as he contemplates this and then, suddenly, he shakes his head.

  “It’s the elements!” he exclaims and I raise my eyebrows, not following.

  “They’re manipulating the elements.” He sits forward, his face animated, “Earth, water, fire, air. Think about it – floods, tsunamis, that’s water. Wind storms – air. The earthquakes are obviously earth. And the fires. It’s the elements!” he insists. We all consider this and I have to admit it does make a lot of sense.

  “What about the storm?” I ask, “The lightning? He’s controlling it, but last I checked that’s not an element.”

  “No, it’s not,” he shakes his head in agreement. He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “I don’t know,” he admits, seeming less sure of himself, “but I still think they’re manipulating the elements. The storm is something else.”

  “Let’s say they are controlling the elements,” Jason interrupts and we all turn to face him. “How the hell do we stop them?”

  “We can’t,” Darren answers, “the elements are infinite. They have unlimited resources.”

  “Okay, well for now let’s focus on finding somewhere safe to hide,” I interject and Kate is quick to voice her agreement.

  It has only been a few minutes since we left the lake but it feels like hours. We are all anxious to get out of this immediate area but in the absence of a plan we are hesitant to just drive aimlessly around. We quickly try to decide on a strategy. Jason wants to get out of Manhattan, but Darren believes that if this attack is global our safest bet is to get underground. I agree with both of them but, like Jason, I would rather get off this island while we still can. Once we cross over to the mainland we can access the underground, but at least we won’t be cut off from the rest of the country. Darren reluctantly agrees.

  “We can’t take the bridge,” Jason says the second the decision is final. He’s right. The George Washington Bridge is far too exposed, if it’s even still standing. Our detour to the park has cost us dearly, we have lost invaluable time and I suspect they would have destroyed the bridge early, knowing it would contain people within Manhattan and limit their escape routes. Our only other options are the Lincoln or the Hudson tunnels, both of which connect Manhattan with New Jersey. With any luck they may not yet know about the tunnels. I have no idea how they researched this invasion but hopefully they only had an aerial view. They would have seen the bridge but not the tunnels which run under the Hudson River. Although, I think dourly, Dex was here, in New York, for at least a few weeks. He might know of the tunnels – and he could easily have enlightened the rest.

  “Dammit!” I curse, racking my brain for another solution, but there is none. The only way out of New York is through one of those tunnels. We’ll just have to risk it. “Let’s take the Lincoln,” I decide. Jason looks dubious.

  “Lincoln’s an extra mile’s drive. I don’t want to be out in the open if we can help it.”

  “The Lincoln’s only an extra mile if we’re following the traffic flow,” I counter. “I don’t think that’s necessary anymore.” I remember how quiet the roads were on our way here. It’s disconcerting to dwell on the reasons for the lack of traffic but it’ll work to our advantage. The downside is that, with no cars on the road, we are going to stick out like a sore thumb. “Besides, if we manage to get into New Jersey, I’d rather be in Weehawken than Jersey City. These bastards seem to be targeting the bigger cities. We’ll probably be safer in a smaller town.”

  “What do we do if the tunnels are blocked?” Darren asks. Clearly he would still prefer that we get into the subway as soon as possible.

  “Or destroyed,” Kate adds.

  “We keep trying,” I smile reassuringly at her.

  “Or die trying,” Jason points out sardonically.

  Having a plan, no matter how flawed, gives me a sense of calm. We set off with purpose, rolling slowly out of the park, all four of us keeping our eyes peeled for the slightest sign of danger. The storm seems to be dissipating, the rain has slowed to a drizzle and the sky is ominously quiet, devoid of the thunder and lightning that has been so prevalent since this nightmare began.

  We haven’t even driven a mile when we slow at an intersection and my door is suddenly yanked open. Before Jason can hit the gas, Dex hauls me from my seat and out onto the street. I scream and struggle helplessly against the firm grip he has on my jacket collar.

  “Go!” I scream, praying that Jason will listen. Sadly, Jason seems to be full of surprises today and no sooner has the word left my lips, when I see him rounding the front of the van, the tire-jack in his right hand.

  “Let her go,” he instructs, a clear threat in his voice.

  “Get back in the vehicle,” Dex’s voice is infinitely more menacing.

  “Why are you doing this?” I plead again, staring up at him. “Please, Dex,” he winces slightly at the sound of his own name and I press on desperately, “just let us go. You owe me this.”

  “You know him?” Jason sounds as though he has just had a bucket of icy water thrown over him and I turn to see the look of horror on his face. He retreats a few ste
ps, looking uncertainly from me to Dex.

  “It’s not what you think, Jay,” I stammer. Dex smiles evilly at Jason and then he pulls me back against him.

  “It’s exactly what you think, Earthling,” he drawls, and the sneer in his voice is impossible to ignore. The use of the word also drives home that he is what we suspect. He’s not even from this planet. “I can draw you a detailed map of her anatomy, if you’d like...” he grins maliciously and I flush with embarrassment and hurt.

  “Rachel...” Jason looks pained, torn between his loyalty to me and the fact that my response to Dex’s words is a clear indication that he is telling the truth. Anger boils over in my chest

  “You son-of-a-bitch!” I scratch my nails down the side of Dex’s face and I am satisfied to see that at least he bleeds. Just like before he pins my arms easily to my side. Jason takes a few steps towards us and I shake my head. “Go,” I insist, “get them out of here!” He hesitates for only a moment and then, with a final look of frustration, he gets back into the van and drives away leaving me alone with the only man I ever loved, who is now quite probably the only one I’ll ever hate.

  “Let me go.” The words are cutting and defeatist but, to my surprise, Dex releases me immediately. I gaze up at the clear sky. “You control the storm,” I say, glancing across at him.