by Ross Buzzell
“Bara’Helor, how did you get here?”
The girl chuckles nervously and shakes her head.
“Not Bara’Helor! My name is Emma. I did not mean to scare you. I saw a bright flash from a few kilometers away and thought I would investigate.”
Her eyes venture up and down the warrior’s form. The lake washed some of the blood away, but there were still parts of him that were caked in the lifeblood of both his fallen family and himself. A sympathetic look falls on her face; she waves him to follow her as she begins to float back down over some of the steps he just traversed before stopping at the side of the building with a patio. She bends down and lifts up a green hose as she waves him over to her again.
“Look, big guy, we can’t have you parading around covered in gore. Get cleaned up, then we are going to talk.”
Konner hesitates; she motions once more, this time with the hose.
“Come on! I’m not going to bite.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Konner descends towards her as she turns a valve that causes water to pour from the hose’s mouth. Konner moves his way to the water source. Putting his hands under the cold water, he begins to wash them, rubbing them together until they are no longer stained red. Grabbing the hose from her, he begins to scrub his armor as best as he can as flashes of what happened just moments ago flood his mind. The memories grasp at him, but he forces them out of his mind in an attempt to show no emotion or weakness before this woman in front of him.
“I am sorry about that, Emma. I have had a rough day.”
Konner tries his hardest, but his voice hides a strained tremble as the last of the blood is washed from him. Emma turns the faucet off and begins to coil the hose before pausing for a moment. She looks over at Konner; the young prince has never seen a look in a person’s eye like this before. It was admiration, heartbreak, and wonder all rolled into one.
“You’re a super hero, aren’t you?”
she asks in a forward manner as if it was just a point of fact. This confuses Konner. He has never heard that phrase before and he wonders just what it means.
“A what?”
Emma stands straight. A smirk forms on her plump lips revealing her bright white teeth that hide just behind. Her likeness to Bara is such that, even still, Konner is struggling to figure out if this was real or just a dream before his death. Emma continues:
“A hero, you know, has special abilities, saves people. Typically, your powers come through some sort of horrible accident… Spill it. What are your powers?”
This confuses the prince even more. What does she mean by gaining powers from horrible accidents? The people of this world were from his as well; there have been records showing that others have risen up with powers in the past. Perhaps that is what she is referring to.
“I uh… I do not have any. My armor and the technology from my world allow me to open wormholes to different destinations… it is what brought me here… This is Sol 3… I’m sorry, Earth, correct? No humans have the abilities to fly, not according to my father’s record.”
Emma laughs nervously as she looks down at the ground… Konner realizes that she was not hovering by choice but that she probably was stuck in the air.
“Oh yeah; no, we can’t. Not historically anyway. A lot of people have tried and a lot of people have died failing. This thing started only a few hours ago… wait…”
There it was:
“… what do you mean tech from your world?!”
The level of excitement that brims from the human’s face causes Konner to take a bit of a step back.
“You’re an alien, aren’t you? Omygodomygodohmygod this is soooo cool! I have met an actual alien, probably the first human to…”
She was clearly talking to herself at this point, and as her excitement grew, so did her altitude over Konner. Reaching forward, Konner gently grabs Emma’s hand in an attempt to get her attention.
“Emma! I need you to calm down. Yes, I am not from this world, but please, I need you to focus. I need to get out of wherever this place is and head west… So where am I? And why are you still flying?”
As Konner grabs her hand and his sharp words pierce her ears, she focuses on the prince that is holding on to her.
“Oh, this? I haven’t figured out a way to land yet. I almost did once, but I did not want to end up slamming into the ground and breaking, well, everything. How about this? Tell me about your whole alien shtick and I will tell you where you are because I am really interested in that teleporting armor of yours. Also, that is a lot of blood. How are you not injured, why do you speak Englishhowlongdoyouliveforwhatabout…”
She has begun to ramble, so he turns and begins to walk away.
“I do not have time for this, Emma. There is something very dangerous out there and I have to get it before anyone else gets the chance…
Emma quickly flies in front of him, blocking his path. Frustrated, Konner attempts to sidestep her; she gets in his way once again. After three failed attempts to get around her, Konner gives up in frustration.
“Fine! I have overlapping muscle fibers which from my research on your kind is something you lack. My armor… my rings; those allow me to teleport through something your kind calls quantum entanglement and string theory. Which is actually more of a farce. We broke that secret hundreds of years ago, but I digress. Aside from that, I am just like you, okay?! Now where am I?”
Konner barks, frustrated, tired and drained from the ordeals he has had to deal with today. Clearly, this startles Emma as she floats away from him a little bit. Her voice gets soft.
“You are in a country called Sweden. This town is named Sigtuna.”
Immediately, Konner feels remorse wash over him as he snaps at the first human he has had a real conversation with, one who was just being curious. He sighs and shuts his eyes before rapidly scratching the back of his head, a tic that would come out when he was frustrated.
“I am sorry, Emma. I should not have yelled at you like that. In the past Boronian day, I have seen my entire family slaughtered, my planet… my kingdom fall to a madman. I was run through with my own weapon and barely escaped with my life. I lost a very precious gift that was given to me by my greatest ally, which if used by anyone, especially a human, disastrous things could happen to everyone.”
Konner takes a deep breath as he attempts to bring peace to his frustration. Emma’s voice is soft, hardly noticeable, and sympathetic:
“Skit du behöver en kram.”
Konner glances up. The language is similar to that of Na’era’s kingdom. Emma shakes her head.
“Never mind. Help me to the ground and I will get you to wherever you’re going.”
Gradually, she floats over to Konner, who offers her his hand, and she gently takes it. Upon coming into physical contact with her, he feels a surge of energy like a wave pulsate through him starting at his hand, something he has never felt before. As the sensation fades, his attention goes back to Emma, who now stands on her own two feet with a smile wide on her lips.
“Thank you. I have to tell you this is a novel feeling.”
She laughs as she begins to walk up the steps. Stopping near the road, she points the same direction the yellow car went.
“There is a bus stop down the road, just down the line. I have a friend that can get you into some more inconspicuous clothing and give us a ride to the airport. I’m sure he could get you into a cargo hold or something. He still has a few friends there.”
A smile forms on Konner’s lips as he follows Emma, his sight following her finger.
“Thank you. Your kind is not as bad as Xero made you out to be.”
A perplexed look crosses Emma’s face.
“Xero?”
Konner shakes his head before he begins to walk down the street.
“You really do not want to know.”
Chapter: 2
Natalie’s Impact
Natalie, a beautiful young woman with long red hair, wipes down the se
rving side of an old bar. There is not much in the middle of Utah and this establishment is one of the few “refueling” stations that is open this late. The nearby town is small and most of its inhabitants are retired with a few being military as well. She picks up a clean glass out of the sink and begins to dry it off. Some of the water droplets fall on her white tank top. Turning, she places the glass on one of the shelves. She loves this old bar; true enough, she is young enough to be most of the patrons’ granddaughter, or even great-granddaughter, but they treat her well. The musky smell of old wood, stale beer, and the cigars that one or two of the patrons smoke is a welcome scent to her.
As one of her regulars sits at the end of the bar, she grabs him the same beer the older man always gets. Opening it, she places it in front of him. He grunts and nods to her. Natalie laughs lightly to herself; this particular regular liked to act crankier than he was. She turns to head back to the far side of the bar, nearest the entrance, her banana curls swaying as she does. The bell on the door rings and an old man with wiry white hair and a long beard halfway down his chest enters. His baseball cap is pulled down, but Natalie recognizes the denim on denim attire of her favorite regular, the man who has been like a grandfather to her since she moved way out here, Stan.
Stan slides into his regular seat, third from the door as Natalie makes her way over to him, her cowgirl boots causing the old floorboards to creak under each step. She stops in front of him as he takes his hat off before giving her a semi-toothy smile.
“What can I get for you, Stan?”
she asks. Her delicate southern accent floats off of her lips like the seeds floating off of a dandelion in a gentle breeze.
“Oooooo nuttin’. Just gunna settle my tab and mosey on home.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an old worn down leather wallet, one he must have had for at least fifty years now. He pulls out two hundred-dollar bills and slides them over to Natalie. She takes one, leaving the other and moves over to the register. As she begins to ring him up, she glances over to him.
“How have you been doing? Do you need me to come by this weekend to help in your garden again?”
She finishes ringing him up. His bill is only $15.65. She gets the change and walks back over to him, placing it on the bar in front of him.
“Oh I s’pose not; but thanks fur the offer, sugar.”
His broken way of speaking always makes Natalie feel as if she is home. It is one of the reasons she has gotten so close with him. In a town full of people un-relatable, this old veteran is more family than she’s had in a long time. She gives him a sweet smile; he winks back to her before shuffling out of the front door, leaving the rest of the change for her as a tip. Stan is always generous with her as well, viewing her as his own granddaughter he pushes for her to do something bigger with her life and always says if he could help her with that in any way, he would.
Natalie looks at her watch. Three AM. Closing time. She walks over to a bell hanging over the bar and reaches up to ring it, but she is just barely too short, pushing herself up on her tiptoes as she leans against the bar for support, her short, cut-off jean shorts being the only thing that prevents her leg from touching the old wooden bar. Her fingers grasp around the rope for the bell and she gives it a few hard swings. The rope yanks violently against the clipper of the bell, causing it to slam against the side of the brass ornament, letting out a loud “GONG.”
“Alright, everybody, we are closed now. Thank you for coming in and we look forward to seeing you tomorrow!”
She gives a big smile as the only three people left in the bar shuffle out, the little brass bell over the door giving off a worn “ding” with each exit. Natalie pauses for a moment. She looks around the bar; the jukebox in the corner is often neglected but filled with her favorite music. A pool table sits not far from it with the pool cues hanging on the wall beside the jukebox. The area around is littered with license plates from around the United States, one for each state. Where there was not a license plate, there were photos of famous people who had visited the bar for one reason or another.
Natalie pulls a hair band off of her wrist and pins her hair back into a ponytail before sliding out of the bar and locking the front door. She grabs a few quarters from her tips and walks over to the jukebox. Putting them in, she flips through for a few seconds before her eyes lock on to her favorite song, “Drops of Jupiter” by Train. She selects the song. As the intro picks up, she spins. Dancing around the bar, she places chairs upside down on the tables as she does. When the music starts to pick up, she runs over to a chair. Leaping on it, she puts one foot up on the back of the chair while holding an air microphone.
“Well tell me did you sail across the sun? Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights are faded and that heaven is overrated? Tell me, did you fall from a shooting star? One without a permanent scar, and then you missed me while you were looking for yourself out there…”
As the song continues, she leans forward. The chair tilts and falls over. She gracefully slides off of the seat before putting it up. Grabbing a towel, she continues to sing at the top of her lungs while wiping down tables and countertops. She throws the rag into the sink before grabbing a broom and dancing with it for a few bars before giving the ground a quick sweep in the process. As her favorite line of the song comes up, she holds the broom like a mic stand. Leaning over, she shouts the lyrics into it.
“Plain ‘ol Jane told a story ‘bout a man who was too afraid to fly so he never did land…”
Out of nowhere, a shock rips through the building, a deafening explosion followed by a blinding azure blue light. Everything happens so fast; whatever hit the roof of the bar sends a shockwave through the inside of the bar with such force that the wall behind the bar, made up of a mirror with glass stands full of drinks, shatters, sending shrapnel throughout the bar. The roof explodes like a plastic bottle under too much pressure. A wave hits Natalie so hard, the wind is forced from her lungs. The force lifts her off of the ground and sends her sliding across the old wooden floor, only to be stopped suddenly and painfully by the leg of the pool table. Her body snaps back and she feels her back crack from the force. An un-earthly noise leaves her delicate lips as her petite frame is thrown like a rag-doll across her place of work and everything goes black for a split second.
Dust, that is the first thing she can feel as she takes a deep breath, dust pouring down into her lungs, burning and causing her to cough violently. Her eyes lurch open to see a thick fog gradually settling throughout the bar. She attempts to sit up. Her hair, having been released from its confines, is a mess and all over the place. With a quick swipe, she lifts her hair out of her face only for a sharp pain to shoot through her side. She looks down to see a long, thick spike of wood protruding from her lower abdomen, her white tank top covered in dirt and now beginning to be contaminated by a rapidly progressing puddle of crimson. Her hands shaking, and in shock, she instinctively reaches for the wood. Wrapping her fingers around the splintery spike, she gives one powerful and pain-inducing yank. Like a bolt of lightning through her side, Natalie feels every centimeter of the large penetration wound in her side.
Instantly realizing it was a mistake, she puts both of her hands on the wound as grunts of agony worm their way from her throat. She tries to stand up, but her body collapses back against the table. It is then that she feels the sharp pins-and-needles pain shoot up and down her spine and throughout her body, which folds in on itself. She collapses back to the ground. Her right eye begins to see red as blood drips from her forehead and into her eye. She tries to wipe it away, but her body is too broken, in too much pain to move. Then her eyes see it, movement from a small crater before her. Typically, she would close her eyes to pray, but fear and bodily injury have her frozen. Out of the smoke rises a shadowy form, an azure blue light in the omega symbol with a strange lightning bolt in the center of the arch. It is visible for a moment before it flickers out. The form looks strong, menacing; to Natali
e, it is terrifying.
The being stumbles slightly, Natalie takes notice as the being becomes more visible. He looks human; her eyes catch the crimson stream that flows from his side as well, but the most noticeable thing about this mystery man are his eyes. They are not the eyes of a psychopath, nor a person that means harm. They are bright, almost glowing the same color as the blinding pulse that struck her. Most notably, they are broken. She can see the sorrow in his face as he looks at her and witnesses the injury he has caused her. When seeing this, her fear for this man dissipates.
“I am so sorry.”
His voice is weak and sad. Gradually, a white light forms in the man’s hands. She does not flee, only stares intently at the beautiful white light as it dances up his arms, which are hidden by what could only be described as battle armor that looks like it has been through hell. As the light leaves the man’s arms and floats into the air, it seems to evaporate. As each lick of light evaporates, Natalie feels the pain throughout her body begin to vanish; first the sharp pain on her forehead, then the agonizing pins and needles throughout her spine followed by the fiery pain in her side. The man collapses. She hears him mutter something before a robotic voice responds and with a single phrase.