The Never Paradox (Chronicles Of Jonathan Tibbs Book 2)

by T. Ellery Hodges

  Heyer nodded. “He didn’t know you existed, Grant,” he said. “He didn’t remember your mother’s name.”

  Grant stared into Heyer’s eyes as though looking for a hesitance that might betray a malicious lie. His body shivered under the weight of denial, searching his father’s face only to see the alien looking back on him in pity.

  “Then why…” Grant stammered. “Why have I seen your face? Why were you watching me?”

  Heyer took a long breath as he understood.

  It was true, the alien had checked in on him. Grant had only seen him the once, that he knew of, peering through his window one night when he was still a child. Heyer hadn’t made a noise, but the child had awoken. He’d been gone before Grant had blinked. He had hoped the boy would think it his imagination, perhaps a dream, upon waking. Heyer hadn’t made the mistake again, keeping his distance. Grant proved to be quite the light sleeper.

  Yet, it appeared the boy had fixated on that memory, had known what he’d seen. Heyer’s mistake, giving him the denial he now saw shaking the man to his core.

  “How do you know who I am?” Grant asked.

  In an empty parking lot, Leah waited impatiently, leaning against the black sedan. Olivia had been in the car awhile now, a fact that was starting to concern her. General Delacy, her father, wasn’t supposed to be here for another week, and his early arrival confirmed her suspicion that something was in motion within The Cell. While Leah had no place demanding details from Olivia, her own father was a different situation.

  What worried her was that Olivia had already been thinking of bringing Jonathan in for questioning. She dreaded what this meant, what she might soon be taking part in. The thought of him knowing she was involved with those who would torture him made her physically ill. She wouldn’t have a choice if he resisted. Her brother’s life was in the balance. She hoped that if Jonathan was threatened, he’d be wise enough to talk—see that there was no point in fighting. Leah knew they had the means to crack men trained to resist torture. She didn’t want to see him go through it. What scared her more was that, if they asked him something he truly didn’t know and couldn’t answer, they would go to whatever means necessary to confirm he wasn’t holding back. Leah couldn’t protect him from any of it … she wasn’t supposed to want to protect him.

  The car door finally opened and Olivia stepped out. She acknowledged Leah with the same usual polite nod and smile before stepping aside for Leah to take her place. Leah didn’t wait once the door shut behind her—the questions started spilling out before her father had time to finish lowering the dividing panel.

  “What is going on?” Leah asked.

  General Delacy looked back at her thoughtfully, not rushing to answer. “There have been developments,” he said. “Promising ones. We may now have good reason to deviate from the secondary protocol.”

  Leah kept her concerns off her face, held back her fear until her father gave her reason to acknowledge it. “What kind of developments?” she asked.

  “We may have a way of identifying where and when The Mark will appear and disappear. If we are correct, and the opportunity presents itself, we can attempt a capture.”

  Relief flooded Leah. Forcing information out of Jonathan had nothing to do with this. She relaxed, only to find herself reeling through a series of new revelations. If this were true, they may finally bring the alien into custody. She might be close to finding Peter.

  “This is good news,” Leah said. “Something is about to happen—no idea what, but it may mean the opportunity won’t be far off.”

  Leah spent a few minutes relaying the cryptic story Jonathan had given her about the diffusing of a bomb. Her father was the first to hear it—she hadn’t yet reported it to Olivia’s team.

  “Do we have a plan for actually subduing The Mark if we even get the chance?” Leah finally asked. “After all, his ability to teleport is only one obstacle to his capture.”

  General Delacy nodded. “A strategy is being developed for how to engage. Still, if we manage to subdue him and momentarily disrupt his movements, we’ll only get one shot before whoever he is working with can adapt. You will be staying in play. Chances are that Jonathan or Rylee are going to be present if the Mark makes an appearance. Do not break cover. If we fail to capture The Mark, whoever is present will be taken into custody at the time—if that includes you, we will take you in under the pretense of an assumed accomplice.”

  “What about Jack?” Leah asked. “We need to get him far away from this.”

  “Already taken care of,” General Delacy said. “Agents acting as his grandparents will be picking him up for a visit later today. If we need to prolong his absence while we wait for an opportunity, we will adapt.”

  Leah’s uncertainty about this plan showed on her face.

  “You are worried?” her father asked.

  “If we try this and it fails,” Leah said. “We’ll have wasted our chance to find Peter. Who knows how long until we’ll get another one. Either way, I’ll be cut out of the operation.”

  Her father gave her an understanding nod. “I will find another role for you within The Cell should that occur,” he promised. “You will no longer be in the field if your identity is compromised. For now, focus on not letting that happen. If Jonathan is brought in, we are working out an angle to exploit the relationship you have forged. You’ll be briefed on the details.”

  Leah nodded slowly, trusting Olivia and her father were covering all the bases. “Dad?” she asked a moment later. “That semi back at the base—what is it?”

  Her father turned and grinned at her. “Taxpayers’ dollars hard at work.”

  They were both tired and hungry when they returned home. Jonathan heated food in the microwave—containers of premade chicken, rice, and broccoli. He felt his cell phone vibrate with a text message as he descended the stairs back into the garage carrying a meal for each of them.

  He found Rylee standing over the cigar box in which he emptied the contents of his pockets most days. His father’s pocket watch lay open—she had looked to see if there was an inscription, but now, she was looking at the photo of his father. He held the food out to her and absentmindedly she accepted it, taking a fork full.

  He checked the message he’d received as he heard Rylee making a coughing sound.

  “Ughh….”

  She’d taken her eyes off the photo and looked at what she was eating. Upon seeing how plain and unseasoned the food was, she looked at him as though unsure if he had intentionally pulled a prank on her.

  “Sorry,” Jonathan said. “I haven’t had much time for the culinary arts.”

  Rylee studied him but continued to chew, wincing as she finally swallowed. Then she noticed the frown he had as he re-read the message he’d received.

  “Something up?”

  “Strange message from Lincoln,” Jonathan said. “Says he won’t be working at the gym anymore. That he will have to contact me once he gets a new location to train his clients.”

  “Oh,” Rylee said knowingly. “Guess that makes sense.”

  “I miss something?” Jonathan asked.

  “His manager stopped by while we were training. Asked Lincoln to come to his office once he was done with his clients for the day,” Rylee said. “He didn’t look happy.”

  Jonathan eyebrows drew down considering it. “Think he got let go?”

  Rylee shrugged. “You know,” she said. “He attempted to be subtle, but Lincoln tried to get me to tell him what you were always training for. Told him I didn’t know.”

  Jonathan nodded. “Can’t blame him. He’s been curious since the day we met.” He put the phone back in his pocket, distracted by his thoughts.

  “You keep these things separate from everything else?” she asked, changing the subject. “Sentimental value?”

  He bit his lip, then, pulling out of his thoughts, and looked at the contents of his cigar box. “The watch is a family heirloom,” he said. “It was my grandfather�
��s, then my dad’s. When he died, my mother gave it to me.”

  “Does a smart man stay in sight of those who would protect him?” she asked.

  Jonathan saw that she had found the note The Cell had left for him. “That was waiting for me when I got back the other night,” he said.

  Her eyes widened. “Do they leave you messages often?”

  “No,” he said. “This is a first.”

  She looked at the note again, more thoughtfully. “What do you think changed?”

  Jonathan shrugged. “My guess, it was the first time they lost track of me,” he said. “It rattled them enough that they felt I needed a warning.”

  She studied him, her face seeming to grow sad, almost sick. “Why don’t you tell me these things, Jonathan?”

  Jonathan took a deep breath. “It was the least of my worries that night. That, and I guess I haven’t completely gotten used to there being anyone around I could tell.”

  Her expression didn’t change. “I….” She grimaced. “I don’t think you’re being honest with me.”

  He looked away, down at the floor. “Alright,” he said. “I didn’t want to burden you with things we can’t do anything about.”

  Rylee reached for his chin, maneuvered it so that he couldn’t divert his eyes from hers, then gave what could only be described as the most pissed off smile he’d ever seen. “It burdens me,” she said, slowly enunciating each word, “when I don’t know what is happening.”

  Slow and apologetic, Jonathan nodded.

  She held his eyes for a moment longer before appearing satisfied that they understood one another, then let go of his chin. Jonathan turned to take another bite when the question he should have seen coming fell.

  “What else haven’t you told me?” Rylee asked suspiciously.

  He put his fork down, and turned back to her. She narrowed her eyes then, knowing there was something, and he sighed, reaching behind her to push the button on his watch.

  “There are things I’m afraid to tell,” he said. “Some that I can’t.”

  Rylee’s face became indecipherable to him, then—she was either angry or concerned. “Why don’t you start with what you’re afraid to tell me?” she said.

  He swallowed, but after a moment he looked to the floor and nodded. Of all the things he didn’t want to tell her, there was one he knew Rylee alone might have insight into, and he’d said too much now to not say anything.

  “He wants me to lead us.”

  She blinked at him, not exactly sure what he was trying to tell her.

  “The army Heyer is amassing on earth,” he said. “He expects me to lead them.” He closed his eyes, shook his head as if the words he was saying made as little sense to him as they must to her. “I don’t know why, or what he imagines I’ll have to offer them.”

  He waited for her to say something. Rylee couldn’t seem to stop blinking. Jonathan had wanted to tell her this, but had been hesitant as well. The bond had let her see inside of him. Maybe, she had glimpsed whatever it was that made Heyer think him fit to lead. The longer she seemed unable to make sense of what he told her, the more he knew she had seen no such thing.

  Jonathan nodded once, knowingly, his shoulders slumping as he took a seat at the edge of his bench.

  “Why would he do this to you?” she asked. “What could he possibly expect from you, from anyone…”

  He closed his eyes as she trailed off, and a moment passed with no one speaking. He felt Rylee’s hand on his shoulder, and he turned meekly back to her. He saw, then, that she still held the photo of his father in her hand, and he reached for it.

  “I see how my father looked in these photos. He’d fought in a war, knew firsthand what he had to tell his men to do,” Jonathan said. “He had a gift for words, could have given them reasons to hope. Ever since Heyer told me, I’ve wished my dad was here to tell me what to do. I feel like all I have to offer them is anger.” He looked at the picture. “But what good is that in a leader?”

  Rylee, seeming not to know what to say, sat down behind him and put her arms around him. He didn’t pull away, didn’t tense. Though, as he looked at the picture in his hands, he saw the box his mother had left, full of his father’s belongings. He stood up, and Rylee let her arms falls off him as he walked to it, taking the box off the counter and sitting down on the floor. He pulled the lid off and began going through the contents. Looking for what, he didn’t know. Some piece of his father that would bring him some meaning.

  Rylee sat beside him. She didn’t speak, just looked through the items with him—until she lifted a frame out of the box and he heard her breath go still.

  “Jonathan, have you ever seen these pictures?” she asked.

  “Not since I was a kid,” he said. “My mother put them all away after he died.”

  Her hand came to her lips.

  Jonathan, unsettled by her reaction, reached across the box and took the frame from her hands. He remembered the picture, from so long ago. It had been framed and put out during his father’s wake. Libya, 1984, Douglas Tibbs and his surviving Army Strike Force.

  There was a man, kneeling next to Douglas. A man Jonathan never would have given a second look so long ago. The hair was darker, but the face was unmistakable.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  DATE | TIME: UNKNOWN | FEROXIAN PLANE

  “ANSWER THE QUESTION,” Grant repeated.

  “It is…” Heyer said. “Complicated.”

  “Then uncomplicate it.”

  “That implant….” Heyer staggered forward, toward the box of Borealis steel his brother had left for him in the center of the room. “Grant, it is not like the others. Did he not explain this to you? Has he not told you—”

  When he was within reach of the box, he began to fall, and was forced to grip its edge to keep himself standing. When he peered down at the contents, he closed his eyes in disgust.

  “You are not who you think you are,” Heyer said. “Not the real Grant Morgan. You’re only a shadow… and you are dying.”

  “Yeah,” Grant said. “Your brother already gave me the bad news, laid out my options.”

  “The implant,” Heyer said. “Malkier gave it to you to slow the degradation, then, but to what end?”

  “We came to an agreement.”

  Heyer steadied himself. “What could you possibly offer—”

  Heyer broke off as a door into the chamber manifested in one of the side walls. Malkier stepped inside, contemplating him with disdain. “Human,” Malkier said, “do not let my brother manipulate you. You have questions, and he is distracting you. You’ve come so far—now get your answers.”

  Heyer was straining to breathe normally, faltering in the effort to keep himself conscious and standing. Malkier, studying him a moment, seemed to understand the difficulty.

  “Cede,” Malkier said. “You are being overly cautious—the threat my brother poses is rather negligible. Reduce the effect of the dampener, otherwise we’ll be waiting all night for him to finish a sentence.”

  The fog weighing Heyer down lessened, his vision coming into better focus as the throbbing blue lines on his chest grew stronger. Within a few moments, he was able to stand without the effort requiring his full attention.

  “So unfortunate for you, brother,” Malkier said. “Your own son stepping through the gates. Had I not heard his story, I may never have seen the full shape of your betrayal. I find myself curious what you are thinking in this moment.”

  Heyer looked at his brother but gave no sign that he intended to answer.

  “No? Well, I suppose I understand.” Malkier said. “However, the human and I have an agreement, and part of my end of the bargain is that you will answer his questions. We both feel, quite strongly, that you owe him an explanation.”

  Heyer’s eyes narrowed as his brother spoke. He looked away, his hand reaching down into the box in front of him. There was a stack of the Foedrata’s human implants, unceremoniously piled and left here for him to see.
He picked one up, considering what the existence of more devices meant and wondering where Malkier had recovered another cache of implants. Yet, the question of greatest importance, now, was when his brother had returned to the Foedrata’s planet to recover them.

  Heyer dropped the device back into the box. “You already know the answers,” he said. “So why do you wish me—”

  “Because,” Malkier interrupted. “I wish to hear it from my brother’s lips.”

  Heyer closed his eyes. Eventually, his brother would ask him things he could not answer. This was not the time to pick his battle. “Grant, the implant inside of you,” he began. “It was intended for your father. At the time, he was the only human genetically compatible with that particular device. Unfortunately, Holloway’s brain was severely damaged in the same conflict that left my previous human body beyond repair. The trauma had rendered your father’s body unresponsive, comatose, and transferring myself into it was the only option I had at the time. When this occurred, I thought that the device had lost its one compatible recipient.

  “Years later, I became aware of your existence, when your genetic makeup came up as a compatible candidate for the device my brother has now implanted in you. The reasonable conclusion was that you were the son of Jeremy Holloway. The son of this man’s body.” Heyer looked away. “I checked in on you from time to time as you grew into adulthood.”

  Grant studied the floor as he processed all this information. Heyer saw that Malkier must have explained the devices to him on some level, as Grant did not appear confused. “But, you never brought this to me,” he finally said, pointing to the glowing lines on his chest.

  “No,” Heyer said. “I chose not to.”

  Grant stared back at the alien, his face on the brink of outrage. “I am its rightful owner,” he said. “Who are you to withhold it from me?”