1 + 2

by Kristie Lynn Higgins

  "Shy. That's okay. Come on. I believe grilled cheese and tomato soup are on the menu tonight."

  Chapter Seven

  Farewell My Friend

  Seven months later...

  32 A.D.C...

  May 25...

  Tuesday...

  7:30 P.M...

  Katharine's view...

  A helicopter flies over Wayfaring Lane just beneath the looming Dry Clouds, and a gust sweeps up an old newspaper, tumbling it down the potholed blacktop as me and Preacher sit on a stoop in front of the Kitchen. We watch the people in the neighborhood as he tries to comfort me in his own way. Preacher once told me he's never seen someone so lonely or lost. He understands that we're from two different worlds, but... Preacher still wants to understand me as desperately as I want to be apart of his life. What frustrates me the most is that my past that keeps eluding me, just won't let it happen.

  He glances at me and must notice how depressed I am. He rests his rough callused hand on mine, and we sit there in silence for about twenty minutes. I try not to be so distant, and it's still hard for me to connect. There have been so few people who have been good to me, and he's top on the list.

  "What are you thinking?" he asks me.

  I start to answer, but instead I stare up at the ever present nemesis of Noir. I've always wondered how something so fluffy and so soft looking could beat back the might of the sun; it's only another question on my endless list of questions. Since awakening in Etna Toys, I've discovered nothing about my past or why I'm hunted.

  I glance at his hand. Usually his touch makes me feel better, but not today. Only answers will fill the hollowness of my soul, so I gently pull my hand away from his and rest my hand on my lap. I'll do almost anything to find some scrap of my past. If I can just find out if Kat's my real name and where I come from, I'll be happy. It hurts too much not knowing, and I don't think Preacher understands. He doesn't understand how frustrating it is and that in itself hurts. I'm alone in a void of uncertainty and because of that, I'm a stranger in our relationship, but I don't know why I haven't shared this with him. I guess I'm afraid he won't understand, and I don't think I can take it to be alone in something else, so I haven't said anything.

  When I don't answer his question, Preacher looks down at his Bible he always carries as if he's unsure of what to say. It's like he's searching for words that will comfort me, and then he finally tells me, "Katharine, don't you know there's more to this life than what you can see?"

  I focus on the book he holds, and then I reply, "You have told me, but still there's something within me that wants to discover who I am." I stare at my worn shoes and speak softly, "And yet, there's this part that fears what I might discover."

  I turn to him, hoping to find a sympathetic heart and a look of understanding to the uneasiness that haunts me, but what I find is Preacher peering at the street, his attention drawn to a group of kids playing. He smiles... and I wonder if it's because he knows even in Wayfaring Lane children can find time to be children. When he doesn't notice my searching gaze, I turn my attention to the kids. I'd usually go play with them, but today... so much is on my mind.

  I frown, turn my attention back to my shoes, and then say almost in a whisper, "What if I'm a bad person? What if I've done terrible things?"

  "We've all done bad things," he answers as he finally turns to me.

  I lift my gaze back to him, searching once again for the sympathetic heart and look of understanding, but all I see is that his expression saddens as if his statement was a reflection of his own life. I notice a red VX corvette with the license plate FromAshes drive by with a blonde lady at the wheel before I once again divert my eyes to my worn shoes.

  "I feel like I should be searching for something," I tell him, not sure he's really listening. I grab my backpack that's sitting beside me, unzip it, remove the worn note, business card, and the music box that was with me at Etna Toys Plant and Warehouse, and then I say, "I know these are clues to my past, but how do they fit?"

  "Our Gracious Lord has a plan for you. I know it, and in due time, he'll show it to you. You only need to be patient."

  His words don't help me, and I wonder again if he's really listening as I say, "That's all I seem to have, but even my patience is running out."

  Preacher grins and his blue-gray eyes and pearly white smile catch my attention once again. His warm expression makes me feel safe and gives me some hope; it gives me hope that my search won't be in vain. I no longer fear he's not listening to me as I lean over and lie my head on his shoulder. If only my life was always this peaceful as this very moment.

  End Katharine's view...

  * * *

  Five months later...

  October 12...

  Tuesday...

  10:11 P.M...

  The day before Kat arrived at Topa's estate...

  Katharine's view...

  A car burns then explodes, sending fiery shrapnel in all directions. Bullet holes litter the buildings, and the citizens of Wayfaring Lane run screaming for their lives as I return from meeting an informant who never showed.

  An old bag lady holding a golf club runs up to me out of breath and exclaims, "Someone shot Preacher!"

  "What?! Where is he?!"

  The bag lady points with the golf club as tears stream down her wrinkled face.

  I take off running in that direction as anxiety presses against my chest. A million things run through my mind as I hurry toward the Kitchen, screaming, "Preacher! Preacher!!"

  I continue running till I spot Argus who's standing at the entrance of an alley with his back to me as he stares at the pavement. I run past him and find Preacher lying in a pool of blood. He's been shot several times in the chest. I freeze, paralyzed with dread, and I stare in disbelief at his lifeless body.

  "No," I whimper and take a step forward. "No."

  I walk to Preacher and collapse at his side. I fear touching him and discovering the truth as my eyes burn with my cowardice and anguish. He can't be dead. He's not dead. I pick up his hand and his skin's cold to the touch.

  "Preacher," I whisper, looking into his pale face. "Look at me." He doesn't respond to me. "Don't you die on me." I squeeze his hand. "Don't you leave me alone." He still doesn't respond, so I turn to Argus and desperately order, "Hurry! Go get some help!"

  Argus doesn't move or say anything, so I turn my attention back to Preacher. I rub his cold hand as if to bring warmth back into it. My mind already knows something that my heart refuses to believe.

  "Don't worry," I tell him. "Help will be coming, hang in there. You have to. You can't leave me alone." I lean to him, pleading, "I can't bear my life without you, so please... stay with me."

  I lean back, looking at the man who has been there when I wake screaming in the middle of the night in the shelter, the man who held my hand and stayed by my side for three days when I had been shot, and the man who didn't care that bio-mechas hunted me or that I'm the Pandora Project.

  His eyes are closed, and he looks as if he's sleeping. I notice there's something missing about him, not something physical but spiritual. I know it's too late as my heart realizes what my mind has kept from it, and I finally allow myself to believe he's gone.

  "Not you!" I scream. "Not you!!" I shake him and cry, "Noo!" I cradle his head in my arms and wail to the heavens as I beg him, "Don't leave me! Don't leave me!"

  My heart aches, and my eyes swelter with a dry grief as I'm unable to shed a tear. It never tortured me before that I couldn't cry, but now I wonder if it's because I'm some thing like a bio-mecha who's not capable of expressing grief.

  I sit there for minutes, holding Preacher in my arms as his blood saturates my t-shirt, then I rest my head on his, and whisper, "Forgive me, I should have been here. You told me not to go to the meeting and that it might be a trap, but I didn't listen. I had to go; I had to find that scrap." I sniff before continuing, "I should have listen
ed, but no... I had to find out if the man knew anything about my past, but he wasn't there. No one was there."

  I notice Argus' shadow that's stretches down the alley, and I wonder if the Council's behind this and if they lured me away to kill Preacher in another one of their tests. My sorrow turns to anger as I come to the conclusion that the Council did kill Preacher.

  I direct my rage at Argus and demand, "Who did this? Who shot him?"

  He doesn't answer me, and he stands there as the breeze whips his black trench coat as if he's a stoic knight standing guard at a drawbridge. I know he's no knight; knights are gallant and protect the weak. No one can't protect if they only watch.

  I snap at him as if yelling at myself for not being there to save the man I love, "I know you saw... You're always watching. Was it the Council? Did they have Preacher killed? Did they have him killed to get at me because I'm not passing their tests? Because I'm not passing something called the Gamma Phase?" I gently lay Preacher down, stand, grab Argus by his coat's collar, and slam him against the alley wall. "You were here, weren't you?!" I scream, wild with rage. "You were here and did nothing!" I beat my fist on his chest. "Isn't that right? Tell me! Did you watch them kill him?"

  "Yes," Argus answers as he looks down at me, taking my hits as if they're a small part of his penitence. "My job is to watch," he tells me as his expression remains blank. "I'm not to hinder or help. My job is to..."

  "Shut up! I hate you!" I snap at him as I drop my fist, lean my head on his chest, and whisper, "I hate you."

  My words must sting as if I punched him for his body flinches. I lift my face to scream at him again, and the next thing that happens, surprises me. His eyes are watering. Argus never showed any emotion before, and for the longest time, I thought he was an Un-Man.

  Argus lifts his hand as if he's going to stroke my head and soothe my sorrow, but then he drops his hand. He had told me once that he developed something his training should have prevented; he developed feelings for me. A part of me wants to reach out to him and find some comfort with him, but I can't. He's part of the Council... He's part of those who did this to Preacher.

  I deeply heave as sorrow and anguish drown me as I demand, "Tell me. Tell me who murdered Preacher. Was it the Council or the Factory?"

  He doesn't answer me and that makes me infuriated more with myself than with him. It's not Argus' job to protect Preacher; I should have been here. I should have listened to Preacher's advice, so I direct all my anger at Argus only because he's standing there.

  "For once in your life do something useful! Take a side... Take a stand!" I scream as I die inside. "Be more than an observer!" I look up into his watery blue eyes, looking... no pleading for comfort and whisper, "Kill me." I strike his chest with my fist; it's the only thing I can think to do for no one will wrap their arms around me again. "Help me," I beg as I hit him again. "Just do something!"

  I hide my face in his coat as my body trembles with sorrow and heartache, knowing nothing will bring back Preacher and that I'm all alone.

  "Topa," Argus whispers. "Topa ordered the Closing on Preacher. He has an estate on the outskirts of the Hellenistic Sector."

  I sniff, pull myself back, and stare at him heartbroken. I stare at him for a long time, then I slap Argus in the face, and he only looks at me. I tell him with self-loathing thick on my lips, "That's for doing nothing and letting Preacher die."

  It was me though... I let Preacher die. I'm the one to blame because I wasn't here. My eyes still burn as I turn my back on him and tell him, "I don't ever want to see you again." I walk over to Preacher, take the Bible from his grasp, and head out of Wayfaring Lane as I inform Argus, "You're my shadow no more, so don't follow me."

  Chapter Eight

  From The Ashes

  Present time...

  October 13...

  Wednesday...

  9:47 A.M...

  Katharine's view...

  Topa's office feels menacing and reeks of corruption as the men in the photos stare at me. They seem to glare down at me as if I'm the monster in the room, but I ignore their silent accusations as my heart aches so much it makes me ill. Preacher gave me the strength to go on, and he made me feel like a person, not a project. Now I feel empty, alone, and part of some twisted experiment. Topa will pay for killing the only light in my life; I'll snuff out his flame as he had Preacher's life extinguished.

  My gun weighs heavy in my hand, and I don't know how much longer I can hold it up. Sorrow overwhelms me as I aim for Topa's forehead. I have to make the pain go away, and this is the only way I can think of to make it stop hurting. Preacher's presence is here with me as I cradle his book, clenching it as I will him to come back to me. I know he won't be coming back, and as I grip the gun, I also know Preacher would want me to do this. He's urging me on. He's telling me to take the shot, but... I feel like I'm missing something. I feel as though I'm about to betray him in some way.

  Topa must notice my hesitation for he questions me, "Have you ever killed someone?"

  I don't answer as I start to press my finger against the trigger. Topa's death will be like the others; he will die just like the Un-Men. I'll squeeze the trigger, and the bullet will penetrate his forehead and enter his automaton brain. No... That's not right. I can't be naïve about it. This killing will be different. Topa's flesh and not a bio-mecha, so I have to be honest with myself. I waver a little. I'll be taking a life, and it's the one thing I fought so hard not to do, but he killed Preacher, so it has to change things. Preacher was my friend, and I lov...

  I let the last word fade from my mind. I have no right to claim that type of relationship, not when I couldn't admit that simple word to Preacher. I pause in my thoughts as grief seizes me again, and I scream, "Nothing will bring Preacher back, so you have to die!"

  "It isn't all that easy taking someone's life," Topa tells me as he reaches down, and I hear him open a desk drawer which probably has a gun in it. "Can you do it?"

  "I will kill you! You murdered Preacher! You should die!"

  My arm shakes as rage and grief shrieks at me to pull the trigger, but something holds me back.

  He must see the hatred in my eyes for Topa becomes a little nervous, but then two of his men enter from the door behind me, and he regains his confidence and questions, "Preacher? Oh... You mean the do-gooder causing me problems on Wayfaring Lane. You say he's dead?"

  "You know he's dead! You ordered the Closing!"

  "Maybe I did."

  "I know you did!" I scream as the pain in my chest worsens, and I can no longer withstand the sorrow wanting to consume me. My resolve to kill Topa vanishes as I wish with all my being that Preacher would wrap his arms around me and tell me everything will be all right. I know that will never happen, and my gun arm drops slightly, and I no longer aim at Topa. I pull into myself, and once again aim the blame at my own feet. I should have never left Preacher's side. He's dead because I wasn't there to save him.

  "You're here to do what?" he asks. "Kill me?" Topa looks me over and mocks my resolve, "You don't have it in you."

  I can't let him dictate my revenge, so I lift my gun as if this action alone will give me the courage, but something within me tells me courage isn't what I'm missing. I ignore the voice and tell him, "You should die for what you did, but before I kill you, I have to know. Do you work for the Council or the Factory? Which one of them had Preacher killed?"

  "The Factory I've never heard of, but the Council..." He studies me more closely as if seeing me in a darker shade than before, and then he questions me, "What would someone like you know of them?"

  "You didn't answer my question! Who do you work for?!"

  Topa laughs at me again as if I should know the answer, and then he tells me, "I work for no one but myself."

  I don't believe him, and I let him know by saying, "You can refuse to answer me, but I know better." I scream, "You have to die because
you killed him!"

  I aim the gun again as I wrestle with the trigger and my emotions. I don't understand… I shouldn't be hesitating. I should shoot Topa and finish it! At that moment, I once again feel the worn leather of the book, reminding me of Preacher, and this time, I hear his true voice. I drop my gun arm and sob as I finally understand. Preacher wouldn't want me to take revenge. It's wrong. He wouldn't want me to kill someone because of him, and he would never tell me to take the shot.

  End Katharine's view...

  Outside the window...

  Kim watched the entire scene unfold, and then she muttered, "Idiot! You're weak and spineless." Kim gripped the PPK as she muttered, "Kill him. Take your revenge. I wouldn't hesitate if someone had killed someone precious to me."

  Within the Sanctum...

  An alarm sounded. The analysts and supervisors fell silent in the Chamber as they tensed, fearing the reaction of the Council. On the center screen in large red letters blinked, Third Evolvement Failure.

  "NO!" Mr. Decuma shouted as he slammed his fist on the table, jogging his laptop. "Pandora failed! Why can it not take a life? Pandora has no problems dealing with the Un-Men, but it refused to kill every human assassin we sent after it."

  "The Un-Men are bio-mechas. They are not alive," Ms. Nona stated. "Pandora knows the difference even with the conditioning."

  "Should we terminate the project? "Mr. Decuma asked.

  An analyst turned off the alarm as Mr. Morta replied, "No, not just yet. All we need to do is find a sufficient catalyst."

  "What about the tests?" Ms. Nona questioned.

  Mr. Morta ordered, "Call off the bounty on Pandora's head and cancel the Life Closing for now. Pandora could use the rest."

  "Agreed. I stated my concerns earlier over its fatigue," Ms. Nona said. "We have been pushing it too hard. Most subjects would have broken by now, and what about the Un-Men? Can we get the Factory to call them off?"

  "We can request it, but I doubt they will," Mr. Morta answered. "The Factory feels they have as much of a right to Pandora as we do, and most likely, they will continue to test their bio-mechas. We will focus on finding a catalyst for now."

  "Agreed," Ms. Nona and Mr. Decuma said in one accord.