SPENCER CALLAGHAN : The Fight for Heaven and Earth

by Ryan Conway

  "How do you mean?" Mr. Wong asked, but from the slightly paler tone of his skin, Spencer was afraid he already knew.

  "It was insane. He grew about two feet taller and changed color," Spencer explained. "His face became grotesque, with fangs and wild hair—and his fingernails grew into long claws." His own account was starting to conjure the frightening memories and feelings he'd felt during his ordeal that night, and he was sure Mr. Wong noticed the fear in his eyes. "He was going to, to kill me, I think, but out of nowhere he started fighting this… this invisible force. They demolished the inside of my aunt and uncle's house."

  "And…?" Wong prompted.

  "Then this monster, who or whatever it was, took off and ran away, with our dogs chasing after him."

  "He didn't try to take the amulet?"

  "Actually, he was holding it when I woke up, but he lost it during the attack. The only reason I woke up in the first place was that a loud voice told me to." Then Spencer looked to Mr. Wong, hoping for an explanation. "What was that creature, and why was it after the medallion?"

  "We need to get you to Master Xin as soon as possible," Mr. Wong interjected excitedly. He began ushering Spencer toward the door, and was about to turn the knob when his cellphone sounded. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and checked the screen. "Oh, no. We need to keep a low profile and get you to Mr. Galloway right away."

  "What's going on?"

  Mr. Wong hesitated with his hand still on the doorknob, a stern look on his face. "Mr. Galloway informs me that we've got unwelcome company here in the restaurant." He cautiously cracked the door open and peeked out into the kitchen.

  "Is there a back door?" Spencer asked.

  "There's a side door, but we'll have to cut through the VIP section first. It's at the end of the hallway, where the restrooms are."

  Mr. Wong called a few of his most trusted kitchen staff into his office and briefly explained their situation, then orchestrated a plan for Spencer to hide among the waiters in disguise and exit the kitchen into the VIP area. From there, Spencer could set his platter down and enter the restroom hallway, at the end of which was an exit into an alleyway. The three kitchen staff agreed to the plan, and immediately took Spencer into their care. Within moments he was in a waiter's uniform, his street clothing tucked into his backpack.

  Mr. Wong didn't accompany Spencer out the kitchen door, in order to allay the suspicions of those searching for Spencer. When Spencer reached the threshold of the restroom hallway, he looked toward the exit at the end. Standing in front of it was a man in a dark blue suit with a red power tie. When the man looked at Spencer and saw the stunned look on his face, his eyebrows lifted, and he reached inside his suit as he began walking toward Spencer.

  Spencer immediately backed out of the narrow hallway and started to head back toward the kitchen. Three of the businessmen sitting around a large VIP table suddenly stood up, their eyes fixed on Spencer, and began pushing chairs aside. They began making their way towards him as one of the waiters "accidentally" dumped a large platter full of dishes on two of the suited men, and then used the platter to plow them both into the wall, knocking chairs and tables in all directions. Were these men from one of those malevolent offshoots of the Heaven and Earth Society, Mr. Wong had just mentioned moments ago?

  The man Spencer had spotted in the narrow restroom hallway was about to emerge from the passageway when one of the trusted waiters, hiding beside the threshold, backhanded him in the face with a closed fist. The man staggered back into the hallway holding his busted nose with one hand, while trying to swing at the waiter with his other. The waiter ducked nimbly and the agent forcefully punched the wall of the narrow hallway, breaking both the wall and his hand.

  Spencer looked out across the crowded main floor of the Dragon's Pearl, hoping to see a clear way to the front of the restaurant. There were a multitude of directions, by which he could escape, and choosing one, he dashed out among the tables, ducking and dodging carts and platters in his path. Suddenly, another suited man, this one with a yellow necktie, aimed an unusual-looking device at Spencer from his seated position. As soon as Spencer spotted him, he dropped to his knees behind a table—just as a thunderous sound filled the restaurant and the massive aquarium shattered, sending water, seaweed, and struggling fish gushing outward in all directions. Rushing water from the aquarium swept a few innocent bystanders off their feet and knocked over numerous chairs and tables, sending most of the occupants running out of the restaurant and screaming for their lives. Fish from the demolished aquarium flapped around on the main floor futilely. Customers and restaurant staff alike began screaming and panicking as they faced what must have seemed to them like a bout of gang violence.

  Spencer finally reached a table close to the suited man who had drawn the strange weapon and fired at him, starting the melee. Disoriented from all the commotion, the man was still looking around the room for Spencer, unaware that he hid directly below the table next to him. Then Spencer looked up at the stunned customers, who sat too scared to move at that very table and apologized for what he was about to do next. The assailants eyes shifted back and forth, scanning the room for his young target. Realizing there were no customers between him and his assailant, Spencer ducked under the table and lunged up in the direction of the attacker, palming the bottom of the table as a shield.

  Suddenly hot dishes of noodles and sauce sprang up into the attackers face as the table landed on his torso. Spencer gritted his teeth, pushing down on the other side, pinning the aggressive agent against the floor. The man's arms were still free, though, and he immediately pointed his weapon at Spencer, who rolled to the side as the agent fired what looked like a bolt of lightning, missing Spencer's face by a few inches. His skin stung like he'd suddenly developed a bad case of sunburn. With a tray of dishes from another table, Spencer desperately flung it at the assailant and succeeded in knocking the strange weapon from the man's hand while covering him in scalding egg-drop soup, that elicited a scream more animal than human.

  His actions alerted the two other men, who had been scouting the room to his location, and they immediately leapt down from the tables in Spencer's direction. One of Mr. Wong's waiters snatched at the ankle of one of the men as he jumped, causing the airborne assailant to face-plant into another table, catapulting half-eaten dishes across the room. Spencer immediately dove on the floor to allude the two advancing attackers from the VIP area. The henchman, who was momentarily pinned beneath the table, Spencer had been bearing down on, immediately recovered his weapon and quickly turned to set his sites on Spencer once again.

  Spencer dove, tucked into a roll, and jumped to his feet. The agent pushed the table out of his way staggering up from the floor. He made eye contact with Spencer, at whom he immediately aimed his firearm and shouted, "Stop right there, Callaghan!" Spencer froze, afraid to make any sudden movements or do anything to startle the man. Even Mr. Wong and the waiters on the other side of the main floor froze in place, careful not to jeopardize the fragile situation. The agent's gruff voice revealed his anger and frustration. "You stay right…"

  Instantly, a large metal platter lodged vertically in the wall directly in front of the assailant's face, thrown from the other side of the room, blocking his view of Spencer before he could finish spewing his demands. It simultaneously destroyed his lightning-bolt firearm, leaving him with nothing but his physical defense and his wits, which proved insufficient for the circumstances. The waiters seized the opportunity to pounce on the agent in his moment of defeat, and captured him in arm locks.

  "Come on! We gotta get out of here," a voice yelled from behind him. Spencer turned and saw the familiar-looking man gesturing toward the exit. At this juncture, no one seemed trustworthy; the only thing Spencer could tell by this man's actions and the expression on his face was that he wasn't on the same side as the agents.

  Then it finally hit him: this was the man who had personally offered his condolences to Spencer at his parents' funeral. />
  Chapter Eight

  Escaping the City

  T he suited men were starting to close in from all directions, and Spencer had no time to ask questions. He bolted in the direction the familiar man—presumably Mr. Galloway—was gesturing. Closer to the exit, another suited man with his eyes on Spencer threw his napkin down on his plate and stood up, just in time for Galloway to sweep his legs from under him and slam his head down on the table. Then he wrapped the man in his own tablecloth and threw his entire body over his back in one sweeping motion, like he was a sack of potatoes.

  Spencer sprinted past his new friend and out the front doors of the restaurant, sprinting down the sidewalk of the busy Chinatown street, gripping the straps of his backpack for dear life. He noticed people on the street stare at him, then erupt into action to join in the chase. Great, just great! Soon, four men were running along behind him, and another was advancing from the side.

  Suddenly a moped showed up beside Spencer, traveling in the same direction, and slowed to match his pace. The familiar stranger was riding it. "Quick, get on the back," he ordered. Spencer hopped on and held on tightly. The man sped up just in time to escape the clutches of three quickly advancing assailants. The moped was small and agile, enabling Galloway to swerve between the stagnant cars of the congested New York City traffic, and its motor was more powerful than Spencer would have expected. When Galloway observed more opposition closing in at an intersection, he told Spencer, "We weren't expecting this. We've gotta be flexible, fast, and on the alert, got it?"

  As the light turned red and cars slowed to a stop, Spencer's defender veered sharply to the side, cutting off the other traffic as they started taking off on their green light. "Who are those guys?" Spencer asked, his heart in his throat as they brushed by one of the ubiquitous yellow cabs.

  Galloway pushed the moped to full throttle every chance he got. "Long story, but they're after your amulet," he shouted. "I'll explain more later. We need to get to a safer location first."

  Two motorcycles roared up the street, approaching from behind. "Hold on," Galloway shouted, "We're taking a sharp left!" Then he started muttering to someone via a Bluetooth earpiece gleaming in one ear. "Hey, there's been a change of plans." There was a short pause as he received feedback. "Yeah, we're not in Chinatown anymore. Right now we have to lay low for a bit. I'll vector you to wherever we end up."

  The moped sped ahead, zigzagging through the traffic, practically bouncing against the sides of large trucks and taxi cabs like a pinball. Spencer clutched the man tighter, gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes. The motorcycles behind them cut off traffic and ignored traffic lights to catch up to their fleeing targets.

  Galloway jumped a curb, disrupting yet more traffic, and accelerated down a fortunately uncrowded sidewalk. One of the predatory cyclists stuck to the streets and raced along the curb until flanking them, whereupon Galloway swiftly and powerfully kicked a half-full trashcan into his path. The cyclist was unable to swerve, striking the can full-on and causing his motorcycle to flip back over front. He spilled out onto the street, sliding for yards and developing a major case of road rash as he caused traffic to brake and swerve around him. The other cyclist jumped a curb, pursued them onto the sidewalk, and started gaining on them. As they maneuvered back and forth to avoid the pedestrians, the cyclist rocketed straight down the sidewalk, creating his own path with a complete disregard for safety, forcing pedestrians to leap aside or die.

  Galloway reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a black tennis-ball sized sphere. As the motorcyclist approached on their right side, Galloway whipped the sphere to the pavement, aiming at the motorcycle's tires. The ball immediately erupted into a blazing orange-and-yellow explosion, completely engulfing the front tire of the aggressor's motorcycle and setting the front of his bike on fire. The assailant lost control and swerved at high velocity into a parked car, sending him headfirst over the hood.

  Spencer's companion saw another opportunity to reenter the traffic and try to jet across the street to the other side. "Hang on! We're jumping back in!" Unexpectedly, a third cyclist appeared from a side street and drew one of the lightning firearms. They spotted the cyclist as he was trying to take aim. Galloway launched the moped off a curb back into traffic, scooting them behind a public bus and out of sight from the cyclist before he could target them. After crossing the next intersection, they hung a quick, sharp left down a one-way side street and managed to evade their chaser. "Okay, I think we've lost 'em," the other man said to Spencer after a while. "But just to be on the safe side, we're going to cut across Central Park."

  They immediately took a swift right onto a public path shaded by trees and lined with benches. Central Park was full of people picnicking, roller-skating, walking dogs, and jogging. The backdrop of the city vanished behind the park's tree line, and their relief at losing their pursuer made the park seem even more serene. They finally reached the other side of the huge park, and found a small area overgrown with bushes near one exit. They dismounted from the moped and took cover in the shrubbery while Spencer's new bodyguard reestablished communications with his contact. As he was reporting their rendezvous location, Spencer lay down on his chest, so he could see past most of the foliage to the street beyond, remaining on the lookout for anyone or anything that looked suspicious. He was shocked when he recognized Tom's car headed in their direction. The last thing Spencer wanted to do was risk Tom's life by getting him mixed up in this predicament.

  "Where are you right now?" the man asked his contact. After a short pause, Galloway looked in the same direction from which Tom's car was approaching, and responded, "Okay, good. We're right here to your right, by the entrance. Just come pick us up." Then the man addressed Spencer. "Okay, Spencer. It's time to move."

  Stepping out of their hiding spot was the last move Spencer wanted to make. "Mr. Galloway, my best friend's car is right…"

  "Get up. We gotta go now," the man interrupted.

  Spencer stayed low and watched Tom's car, which was about to pass their hiding spot. For some reason, Tom decelerated and pulled up to the curbside, as if he were about to park right in front of the bushes where they were hiding. The passenger side door swung open, and Tom stared right at Spencer, making direct eye contact through the foliage. Then he looked up at Galloway. "What are you waiting for? Get in. Hurry up. Put your cycle in the back, Sean."

  Tom's trunk popped open, and Spencer's protector swiftly carried his fold-up moped over and placed it inside. He looked at Spencer with a look of urgency. "Spencer, get in the car. We'll explain later." As soon as he climbed in the front passenger seat, Spencer jumped up out of his hiding spot and into the back seat, completely stunned by the notion that Tom was part of this whole set-up. Tom hit his left turn signal and smoothly pulled out in into the traffic just as Spencer got his door closed.

  The other man turned around and addressed Spencer as he sagged in relief. "Hiya, Spence. I'm Sean Galloway. Long time no see."

  It was nice to know his assumptions about, who the man was, were correct.

  While Tom and Sean were belted securely in their seats, Spencer was still rolling around the back of the speeding car, struggling to fasten his belt. Tom was methodically weaving in and out of tight opportunities in the moving traffic, trying to get them as far away from the ominous forces they faced as quickly as possible, without seeming too rushed. That would surely draw attention from the wrong people. Sean, meanwhile, quietly instructed Tom on which turns to make, and told him to make it quick. "They're still after us. We're not in the clear yet," he told Tom. Then he turned around. "Spencer, forget the seat belt, okay? Just do your best to stay out of sight until we're out of the city."

  So Spencer stayed down with his face pressed against the seat. "I'm getting as low as possible, 'cause I'm scared to death right now," he admitted to Sean, just as confused as he was frightened. "But I've got a lot of questions… a lot."

  Tom kept his eyes on the road, while Sean scoute
d all other directions for potential attackers. "And what's your first question?" Tom asked.

  "Well, for starters, how are you in on all this? How do you two know each other?"

  After a long silence, Tom said, "I was born to this. Even before we met in our freshman year, I was assigned as your Nirmanian World guardian and guide." He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice had a tinge of concern. "Spence, does this change anything for you?"

  "Maybe a few things," Spencer replied. "But what's this Nirmanian World thing?"

  "The Nirmanian World is this world," Tom replied.

  "It's the world as it's known and understood by just about every community, society, and civilization on Earth,” Sean Galloway added, "but it's not necessarily the world as it actually exists."

  Spencer turned over into a more comfortable position. "So, Tom, when we first met and became friends, you were just carrying out a duty?"

  "Yes. At first." From the tension in his voice, it seemed Tom had grown even more concerned about how Spencer might react to this new information. "Please don't get any wrong ideas, okay? I'm still the same Thomas Englewood you know, and you're still my best friend." Spencer lay back in silence, processing everything that was happening. "Believe me, Spence. Getting to know and work with you made this assignment more personal for me than obligatory."

  Spencer pondered Tom's revelation for a while, then switched topics to one of the many other things bothering him. "Mr. Wong wasn't able to explain much at the restaurant. Are you guys going to fill in all the gaps?"

  "As much as we can for now," Galloway answered. "We need to transfer first."

  "Transfer? What do you mean 'transfer,' Mr. Galloway?"

  "After all that, kid, you can call me Sean." He turned back and looked at Spencer. "And you can sit up now. We're out of the city."