by Jason Luthor
Mike’s Recording 11
Much as I like spending time with Jackie and watching her hulk out lifting weights, I’m glad to get over to St. Patrick’s Cathedral after it’s all over. Place is just a few blocks north, and Cynthia and Mandy are waiting for me by the time I get there. They’re standing out front with a crowd of people who are going back and forth between tables, passing boxes of supplies around. I skip a few steps to get up to the church doors and wrap my arms around the two of them. “Father O’Connor can’t be angry at me, right? I was with the president.”
Cynthia frowns my way. “President Branagh’s already here,” she tells me with a nod toward the tables. I follow her eyes and spot the president smiling as he packs supplies into one of the boxes, laughing with the people around him. “You just got here late.”
“But he left after I did. How’d he get here first?”
“Maybe we should just to a table,” she says as she guides us down the steps and over near to where Branagh’s working, packing supplies into boxes meant for the colonies and some parts of Central. I take a look over my shoulder as she’s leading us, just admiring the cathedral. In a city filled with skyscrapers so tall they almost block out the sky, St. Patrick’s is something else. Some would call it a work of art. Wouldn’t be wrong. Two huge spires on either side of it, and this gorgeous rose window staring down from above the doorway. Pure stone, so it’s like almost nothing else in the city. It’s old, like Central Primary, built a long time before the city started stretching up toward the sky.
Branagh waves at us as we get up close. “Michael. Good to see you,” he says as he looks over at Cynthia and Mandy. “And you two, of course. It’s hard to imagine packing supplies for the colonies without the two sisters, Cynthia and Mandy.”
Mandy smirks as she starts shoving wrapped rations and supplies into one of the boxes. “I do all the heavy lifting.”
“That you do, young lady,” he says with a wink before looking up at Cynthia. “How have things been at your medical clinic? I don’t get a chance to head up to the Upper East District as much as I’d like.”
She nods. “Well, we’re worried. Fall is here, so people will start getting sick soon with winter around the corner.”
“That’s the crazy part about living in this city. Fall’s so perfect. Then winter rolls around, and the whole place feels like it’s freezing into an ice block. You can imagine what life was like here when it could actually snow.”
“You’ve talked about it before. I haven’t seen those pictures.”
“Hell of a thing. A blanket of white on the streets and sidewalks. Huge balls of snow piled on top of one another to form snowmen. The department stores filled with lights and decorations for the holidays.”
“It sounds beautiful.”
“It was. I’ll have Mike bring you down to Central Primary sometime to see the pictures. You know, the original building used to be a public library for the city. It’s filled with archives from the past, and that includes some amazing pictures they took back then. We might have lost a lot of it after the Following Fall, but there’s a decent amount that survived.”
“Well, Gabriel, I would love to go. You did ask about the medical clinic though . . .”
“Right.” He shakes his head as he passes a box along to her that she sends off to the next volunteer, sending it down the line to the end of the table. “I’ll make sure we have all the medical supplies we can muster sent out to the clinics by the month’s end. Then, we’ll try to organize some expeditions into the Deadlands. I’m hoping that we’ll have some fairly smooth times scavenging supplies while the raiders are licking their wounds.”
“You think they’ll stay away from Central for a while?”
“Exactly.” His eyes go over to mine. “How about it, Mike? Think that’s a plan that’ll work?”
“Sure,” I tell him as I pass along another box. “After what Dark Angel did, I think they’ll think twice before coming around again.”
“That’s what I’m betting on. She’ll give them something to think about, that’s for sure. Anyway, I’ll have to head out to Fort Silence soon to meet with Supreme General Suliman, but Martin’s got instruction to send out teams to recover whatever supplies we can. That will include medical supplies, of course.”
Mandy laughs from next to me as she’s packing a box. “Who calls themselves a supreme general? That sounds made up.”
“Well, little lady, this will be my first time meeting him, so I’ll have to ask for myself. But, I think you’re perfectly right. I think his father just made up the title to sound important.” That’s when someone coughing from behind the president gets all of our attention. When we look up from what we’re doing to see who it is, I practically see the president’s eyes roll. “Representative Dravic,” he says with a nod to the older man standing there. Then he looks at the slim black woman next to him. “Representative Bouley.”
She just gives him a courtesy nod back. “President Branagh. Always good to see the man of the people out with the people.”
“Kind of you to say. I can’t see your other hand right now though, Tasha. Is it behind your back, holding a knife you’re going to stab me with?”
“Gabriel, I don’t like you as a president, but that doesn’t mean I want to kill you. Not always.”
Dravic smiles uncomfortably as he holds up a hand and mumbles through his teeth. “Such incredible banter between friends. Must I be the voice of reason here and remind everyone we are at a supply drive, surrounded by people who could talk to the media, while standing on holy ground,” he says as he looks up. We all look up with him and down to the end of the table, where Father O’Connor is making rounds between volunteers. He’s wearing that long white robe he’s known for, water blue eyes staring out from between the lines in his face and sitting beneath his clean cut of graying hair. He waves and smiles at us when he spots us, and we all do the same, pretending to be getting along before he continues to the next table.
Branagh smirks as he shovels another box along. “So, it takes an act of God to make us all get along. Ironic.”
Dravic pats him on the back. “For the record, we are both visiting our constituents who are volunteering here.”
“I guess the boxes are a little too heavy to pick up, eh, old friend?”
“Enjoy the blessings of youth while you may,” he says with a nod as he moves on. Tasha lingers there for a little bit longer, standing at Branagh’s side until he looks annoyed.
“Anything I can help you with, Tasha?”
“A little bird told me you had the Dark Angel in today.”
“I did. It’s not a state secret.”
“It’s not exactly something you let the rest of us know about either.”
“The Advisory Council is just so busy. You know, checking up on its constituents.” Tasha grits her teeth and fakes a laugh as she leans into him, wrapping an arm around Branagh. It’s just then that I realize there are people behind me, and I’m half turned around, looking like some dumb animal with its jaw hanging open, when the flashes start going off. The press, tablets up and flashes firing away as they’re taking pictures. Tasha’s teeth are still locked together like a skeleton’s when she says, “Always a pleasure, Mr. President!”
Then, just as soon as it all started, she’s gone, and the press is gone too. They’re moving around the tables, taking pictures and lining up to interview Father O’Connor. Branagh heaves out as he turns back to the table, his hands grabbing for supplies to shove into another box. “We’re on church grounds, so I’m not going to say I hate those two. It’s just . . .”
Mandy shrugs. “Cynthia always tells me that I don’t hate anyone. I just strongly dislike them.”
“Thank you, Mandy. That’s about right,” he says as he looks down the row of tables, to where Dravic and Tasha are talking to volunteers. “I very, very strongly dislike those two.”
Cynthia must notice I look uncomfortable, because she leans my way and whis
pers in my ear, “Is something wrong?”
Have to admit, I do look unhappy when I look back at her. “Think they’re going to publish that picture of me looking dumb, with my mouth hanging open, in the news?”
That gets a laugh from her as she goes back to packing. “You know they will.”
Jackie’s Recording 01
Recorder on.
It’s been four months since the incident. Three months since I recorded. I just . . . I haven’t wanted to do it. Which is funny, since I used to be all about it. Now . . . not so much.
I don’t think I wanted to talk to Tommy and Mike and Dodger. Not really. I’m not sure I wanted to ever speak to them again. I don’t know . . . Maybe too much time had passed. Maybe too many things had happened. It was just amazing to see that they were doing alright, but I don’t think I was ready to meet up with them again. To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I would ever have been ready, but I had to do something when I saw Central Freedom was being attacked. I knew I had to make some kind of move. Otherwise, everyone would have died, and that’s just . . . That’s something I will not allow.
I will never let something like . . . something like that . . . happen again.
At least, not as long as I have the strength to make a difference.
Well, the cat’s out of the bag, now. They know I’m alive. This whole city, everyone in Central Freedom, knows the monster they’ve been talking about out in the Deadlands is actually me. Or, at least they know it was the Dark Angel. When they see me walking around Central Primary, I can tell they don’t know what to think of me. I know some of them respect me, but a lot of them probably still think I’m a monster.
I just held up 50,000 pounds of weight above my head today, so I don’t blame them.
Dodger. Mike. Tommy. They’re all glad to have me back, but things are still a little weird. They’ve had a year to go without me, so the group’s changed. Dodger’s shacked up with Tommy and Mike’s with that girl, Cynthia. I’m happy for them, but the whole group dynamic’s different now. Better, maybe. Tommy’s turned out to be a great leader, from what I can tell. Dodger and Mike, too. They’ve really become . . . amazing. Mike doesn’t have that old fear that used to follow him everywhere, always scared he was going to get someone killed. I guess he finally realized how good he was at his job. Or, maybe he just remembered he was that awesome. Dodger’s working through some stuff right now. She’s still a little in shock from her gun wound, and I’m pretty sure she’s still thinking she got someone killed. I’ll . . . I’ll talk to her, if I need to.
Nighttime bothers me these days, but it got worse after I moved into my apartment. After everyone goes to sleep, I’m just left standing on the apartment rooftop. They gave me my own place, but . . . it’s weird when you don’t actually need to sleep. The longest I ever went was 13 days, when I was tracking a slave trader across the Deadlands. God, what a trip that was. Even burning fuel day and night, I wasn’t ever able to track him down. I just accidentally stumbled on where he was camping out. At least I got him. I helped people, made some families happy. Those are actually some pretty good memories. Anyway, the whole not needing to sleep thing just messes with my already deeply rooted anxiety, so even if I can still technically fall sleep, it’s hard to make myself do it.
So there I am, standing there by myself when everyone’s already getting ready for bed. I realize it’s a bad idea when I feel him coming for me. When he comes calling, I’m sort of expecting it. It’s been a while. I don’t have to look back, because I see a red flare of light along the edge of the roof. Before he says a word, I can tell he’s standing behind me, and he knows that I know, but I just keep staring out on the city.
“You can’t ignore what’s in front of you.”
It takes a second before I say anything. I still don’t look back at him. “Took you long enough to come after me.”
“Are you really going to stand there with your back to me? Did we abandon all manners? Perhaps people have just stopped saying hello.”
I suck in a deep breath before turning around. He’s there, looking the same as usual, floating just off the ground and with a shadow over his almost empty eyes, like you can never really get a good look at his face. “Good to see you, too.”
“There’s no need to lie to me. I see your every thought and taste every feeling. If you’re not happy to see me, then just say so.”
“Fine. I’m not happy to see you.”
“After all we’ve been through. After I helped you during your struggle against Judge and helped you escape the Tower, after I explained all the power that would wriggle between your fingers, you still hate me this much?”
“I don’t . . . It’s not that I hate you. What would I hate? You’re not even . . . you’re not a human. You’re not a part of the Creep. I just . . . I’m never going to be able to shake the feeling that you know more than you tell me.”
“You think I’ve held back secrets from you. Secrets that would have helped you avoid what happened during your ‘incident’ all those months ago? You think I could have stopped it from happening.”
Just thinking about it makes me turn around. For a second, I want to say something, but I feel my voice shaking. It’s bad enough that I can barely mumble, “Yes.”
“Truth remains even when we try to look away from it. In this world, I am limited, but that wasn’t always the case. I remember seeing beyond doors, seeing the truths behind realities, and understanding the past and the future as one vision. But I can’t do that anymore. Something’s blocking me, but you should know that. Do you remember what’s restraining my powers?”
“I do. The Creep. And the Angels.”
“We have a contract, Jackie Coleman. A pact. I chose you to find out what the Angels are.”
“A contract? What contract? What did I ever get out of helping you?”
“How quickly you forget that I gave you the spark of life necessary for the cells in your body to adapt to the Creep. Or perhaps you don’t remember that I saved you from Judge’s hunt, when you were running terrified through those black halls in the Tower.”
“I never agreed to do anything for you.”
“And yet we both know that it is in our mutual best interest for you to find out who the Angels are. If all your world’s troubles can be traced to a source, we both understand that it has to be them.”
“I know.” I turn around again and look back down on the city. “I just need some time, okay?”
“You’ve had time. You’ve had a year to master your suit and discover your powers.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I see. So, like so many others, you want to live in that one single moment, in your guilt, imprisoned by something you cannot change.”
I whip around, and I can feel my lungs burning when I stare him down. “What the hell would you know about it? You come around whenever you feel like it, then act like you can tell me what to do. You can’t . . . you can’t even do anything in this world without me doing it for you. Isn’t that what you were always telling me? That you can barely make anything in this world change? So, what good are you? All you ever did was show up in the Tower and scare people. Well, I’m not scared of you anymore, and I’m not scared of the Creep. I’ve already died, and the Creep doesn’t affect me anymore, so why should I be afraid of you?”
His eyes narrow as he folds his arms across his chest. “How disappointing. Are you done blaming me for your own failure?”
“Stop it.”
“Take responsibility for your choices, Jackie. You chose to trust the wrong people.”
“Shut up.”
“It was your decisions that brought the most permanent of consequences to the people around you.”
“I told you to stop talking . . .”
“In your anger, you wander off on this little crusade of yours to wipe out every raider in the Deadlands, distracting you from the real threat that looms over your world. Then, somehow, you find a way to blame
me for your own failings. How disappointingly human.”
“Just get the hell out of here, okay? I didn’t ask for you to be in my head all the time. I’m not the little girl you met who was trying to figure out a way just to get out of the Tower.”
“No, you’re not. You could have changed the world. But, human beings are cursed by their limitations. To grow, you must move forward into the future, but you’re still trapped in a single moment of your past.”
“Look. I need you to leave me alone. Please.”
“I will, and when you need me again, don’t reach out your hand. There’ll be nothing to spark your heart back to life next time, no one else who understands your powers when you stand alone in the cold night, when the darkness is consuming and you realize that nobody else can see the depth of the threat that lies out there, in the Creep.”
I look away from him, trying to figure out something to say. I lie. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t, Jackie Coleman? Then look up.”
For a second, I hesitate, feeling my chest tightening up but also just compelled to look up at the same time. When I finally lift my head, the city’s on fire. The buildings are collapsing as tendrils rip upward out of the ground, ripping buildings apart and sending steel and concrete collapsing out of the air. My breath is picking up speed as my eyes move further up, watching huge orbs of living muscle and tendrils falling out of the sky, collapsing onto the city streets and sending thousands of Creepers exploding out into Central, tearing into buildings and swarming, like a flood of living mass. They collapse over each other, swarming through the streets in a wave and overwhelming people trying to run away, a flood of claws and teeth shredding people apart in seconds.