The Final Spark

by Richard Paul Evans

  Michael looked at Hatch. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Hatch turned and ran down one of the corridors. Michael didn’t move.

  “He’s getting away!” Taylor shouted.

  Michael looked at her with a slightly amused grin. “No, he’s not.” Then he rippled in an electric wave and vanished.

  * * *

  At the end of the dark corridor, Hatch ducked into one of the utility rooms below the bowl and locked and bolted the heavy steel door behind him. All around him were sweating pipes running from the bowl. He turned a valve, and a blast of steam shot out behind him. Then he pulled out his handgun. “Come get me, Vey.”

  Suddenly the room began to glow with light. Hatch turned around to see Michael, glowing brightly, standing behind him. “Okay.” He looked around. “It’s kind of steamy, though.”

  Hatch emptied his gun’s clip into Michael, but nothing happened.

  Michael just looked at him pitifully. “After what just happened out there, you don’t really think that gun can do anything to me, do you?” Michael smiled. “I held lightning.”

  Hatch dropped his empty gun to the concrete floor. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “What should I do to the man who killed my friends? What should I do to the man who tried to kill my parents? To the man who just tried to kill me?” Michael cocked his head. “Well?”

  Hatch was too terrified to speak. Then he squeaked, “Mercy.”

  “Mercy? I don’t think you know what that word means. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be locked in Cell 25? When you stop knowing the difference between reality and pure horror? Yeah, I do.” Michael’s eyes narrowed. “There’s an idea. I could put you in Cell 25 for the rest of your life.”

  Hatch turned white. “Please . . .”

  “Please, yes, or please, don’t do that? Because just saying ‘please’ is kind of confusing.”

  “Please don’t,” Hatch said.

  “Okay, that makes sense.” Michael took a deep breath. “Then again, the terror of being strapped down and slowly lowered into the rat bowl. Not something I like remembering. Should I do that? Feed you to your own rats? That would be kind of poetic. Kind of a Frankenstein’s monster thing.”

  Hatch didn’t speak.

  “Or there’s the one thing I haven’t experienced personally, but I’ve seen the result. I could cut your tongue off and put you naked in a monkey cage. Three of your own inventions. I’ll let you choose.”

  Hatch just looked at him fearfully. “Please, just kill me.”

  “Make up your mind unless you want all three. A month in Cell 25, a year in the monkey cage, then the rats.”

  Hatch turned and grabbed the door handle. Michael pulsed, shocking Hatch just enough to drop him to his knees. “There’s no place you can hide, Dr. Hatch. I’m everywhere.”

  He looked up at Michael from the floor. “Mercy, please. Finish me!”

  “You don’t give orders anymore,” Michael said. “I gave you a choice. Now, what will it be?”

  Hatch closed his eyes, then said, “The rats.”

  “The rats,” Michael repeated. “Good choice. Terrifying and painful, but the fastest of the three.” Michael leaned against one of the pipes. “The problem with the whole rat thing is that I would be imitating you, and I never want to be accused of doing anything you would do. But then, if I put you in Cell 25 or in the monkey cage, that would also be an imitation, wouldn’t it? And that would make me like you.

  “But I can’t leave you around either. You wouldn’t stop trying to rule the world. You would just keep getting into trouble. So I’m going to show you what mercy is and just say good-bye.”

  Hatch looked up. “Good-bye?”

  “Good-bye, Dr. Hatch.”

  Michael pulsed in full. The blast was so hot that it scorched the metal door behind Hatch a powdery white. Admiral-General Hatch, the self-proclaimed messiah, was nothing more than a pile of smoking ashes. Michael stepped on them as he walked through the door back out to the corridor. “So ends another would-be god.”

  51

  Reunited

  Michael walked back out to the bowl. He could have just rematerialized himself back, but he figured that everyone was already having enough trouble believing he was real, so he did his best to be normal. As he walked out of the dark corridor into the light of the warehouse, everyone stopped talking and looked at him.

  After a moment Michael said, “It’s just me.” Still no one moved. “You can touch me. I figured it out.”

  Suddenly Taylor ran to him and threw her arms around him. “It really was you coming to me. It really was.”

  Michael kissed her face, then held her tightly. “Yeah, it was. I’m sorry. It took me a while to figure out how to get back.”

  “You came to me first,” Taylor said.

  “Of course I did.” They kissed.

  When they parted, Taylor said, “That tingles.”

  “Sorry.”

  Taylor smiled. “Don’t apologize. Every girl wants to feel electricity when she kisses.”

  Michael turned toward his father and mother, who had stepped forward. His mother was crying and trembling. Michael walked over to her, and they hugged.

  “I thought I had lost you,” she said. “I never should have let you go.”

  “It’s a good thing you did,” Michael said. “Thank you.” Michael kissed her on the cheek, then stepped back and looked at his father.

  Carl Vey’s eyes glistened as he looked at his son. “You’ve grown into a man,” he said. “More than that, you’ve grown into a good man.”

  Michael looked at him for a moment, then fell into his father’s arms. “I thought you were dead.”

  “I know. I did it for you and your mom.”

  Michael looked down for a moment and swallowed. Then he looked back up. “I know. If it wasn’t for you, this world would have been owned by Hatch.”

  “No, Son,” Carl said. “If it wasn’t for you.” Michael’s father pulled him in tighter. “I’m so proud of you.”

  At that moment, for the first time, Michael broke down and wept. Not just for the reunion, not just because the battle was over, but for everything—for all their suffering and fear, the death of his friends, being sent into the rat bowl, even for Cell 25. Sharon stepped in and put her arms around him as well. For the first time since Michael was eight, the Vey family was reunited.

  * * *

  Michael was still in his parents’ arms when there was a loud explosion and the doors of the warehouse flew apart. Cassy and Zeus were poised to stop them, when Enele, Jack, and Ostin came running inside the room, followed by a couple dozen of their soldiers. They stopped suddenly, surprised to find no one but their friends.

  “Where’s Hatch?” Jack shouted.

  “He’s gone,” Abigail said.

  “Where?”

  “I mean . . . he’s gone.” She pointed to Michael.

  “Uira te Atua,” Enele said, and took a knee.

  “Stand,” Michael said. “It’s just me.”

  “Make way,” Jack said, pushing past the others. “Coming in for the bromance.” The two of them hugged.

  Then the rest of the Electroclan, one by one, came up to welcome back their friend. The last in line was Ostin. The two young men looked at each other, before Michael stepped forward and put his arms around Ostin. “Still glad you came to Pasadena with me, buddy?”

  “I’d follow you to hell.”

  “You did,” Michael said. “More than once. Was it worth it?”

  Ostin looked around at all his friends. Then McKenna sidled up to him and took his hand. “Yeah,” he said. “Definitely. Life can’t be lived on a couch.” He suddenly lifted his shirt. “Besides, look. I have a six-pack.”

  Michael hit Ostin’s stomach. “Like a rock, man. And you have a hot girlfriend.”

  “He does,” McKenna said. “Literally.”

  “I’m glad you came along,” Taylor said to Ostin.
<
br />   Ostin smiled. “Bones?”

  Taylor smiled and put out her fist. “Bones.”

  Ostin turned to Jack. “I’ve got another one. Why did the Elgen cross the road?”

  Jack smiled. “Easy. To get away from Michael Vey.”

  PART EIGHTEEN

  Epilogue

  My name is Michael Vey. I’m finally back home in Meridian, Idaho. Home. It feels almost weird to say that. I can now honestly admit that I never thought I was going back. Part of me wondered if I even could. I once saw a movie about a soldier who was at war, getting shot at, defusing bombs—traumatic, high-stress stuff—then came home and the peace got to him. I hope that’s not me. Probably not. I could stand a little peace.

  A lot has happened in a very short time. Just minutes after the Elgen surrendered, Enele’s grandfather was released from the monkey cage and taken to the hospital to recover. His friend, Elder Malakai, has been with him to help him through his recovery. It’s been difficult for the former prime minister, but he has been given a lot of love and respect by the Tuvaluan people. He was one of the few who refused to bow to Hatch, and he suffered for it. But all heroes suffer.

  Not surprisingly, his grandson, Enele, was named the new prime minister of Tuvalu. We were invited to his inauguration. We were also honored. Jack, Taylor, Ostin, and I were given the Tuvaluan Order of Merit, which is their country’s highest honor. We wore ceremonial gowns and flowers wreaths on our heads. There was a lot of dancing going on. It was pretty cool.

  We were also there when military honors were given posthumously to Gervaso and Tanner for the battle of Hades. I’m not embarrassed to say that there were a lot of tears shed. On the island of Niutao, the one we called Hades, there’s now a monument erected to the Electroclan, who risked their lives for the Tuvaluan people. Gervaso’s and Tanner’s names are carved at the top.

  On the homefront, we’re not poor anymore. In part because my father took over the distribution of the Joule’s cache. That’s a job in itself. He made sure the families of those hurt in the resistance were taken care of for life, college funds, the whole shebang. And he took care of us. The truth is, it’s the Electroclan’s gold. And when you’ve got a few billion sitting around, well, you can’t even spend the interest.

  On top of that, my father’s now a big executive at the Elgen Corporation. It’s weird to even think about that. The new board is thinking of changing the name of the company to VEYTRIC Inc. I don’t know. It’s kind of catchy. And it doesn’t make me think of being eaten by rats every time I hear it.

  Not everything in the reentry was smooth. There were a lot of questions asked, some that couldn’t be answered. When people asked where we’d been, we just told them that Taylor, Jack, Ostin, and I had enrolled in the Elgen Academy in Pasadena and then it shut down. All true. We never tell them that we’re the ones who shut it down. Or that we were almost killed in the process.

  There were problems that had to be cleaned up, like with Taylor’s parents and the whole kidnapping thing and the van blowing up. We kind of made a huge mess of things. But no one could really prove anything, anyway. And sometimes it’s just who you know. When the president of the Philippines and the president of Taiwan called the secretary of state, who called Idaho’s governor, who called the mayor, who called the police chief . . . Well, let’s just say they let things slide. It happens. I’m not saying it’s right. But it happens.

  Fortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Liss were back in Idaho when the Elgen attacked Christmas Ranch. They had left just the day before. It was a beautiful coincidence. Maybe there are no coincidences.

  Some things we lost we can never get back. Like our innocence. Or, like my father said, the time we could have had together.

  Most of all, we’ll never get back the friends we lost. Maybe it’s being back in Idaho, but I think a lot about Wade. Especially when I walk out the back door, where he, Jack, and Mitchell tried to pants me and I shocked the daylight out of them. Strange, but if that hadn’t happened, I never would have met Jack. And without Jack, well, I don’t even want to think about that. It just goes to show you how good can come from bad.

  It makes me sad that no one ever asks about Wade. He really had no one but Jack. Today there’s a monument in the Meridian cemetery for him. It’s a marble pillar with the words:

  Wade West

  He died a hero for his friends.

  He’ll live forever in our hearts.

  Taylor wrote that. I thought it was really good. The pillar is six feet tall, taller than Wade was. That’s good, because, in his own way, Wade was bigger than life. I once heard it said, there are no great men, just great challenges. I don’t know if that’s true. I know some great men and women, but maybe it was the challenges that made them great. If it hadn’t been for Dr. Hatch’s evil, Jack might never have found out how good or heroic he really was. Maybe that’s true for all of us.

  * * *

  Strange, school didn’t change all that much. I did. We all did. I still have Tourette’s, but I’m not short anymore. Ostin’s not chubby anymore. But school, well . . . same spaghetti with mystery sauce and that same sticker still stuck above my locker—the one of the skull with a lightning bolt in it. Someone said it was from an ancient rock band called the Grateful Dead. I don’t know anything about them, but that sticker has me written all over it.

  * * *

  Of course, every school still has its bullies. My first day back I was walking down the hall with Taylor and Ostin when an overgrown, red-faced senior noticed my tics and stepped in front of me. “Hey, twitchy, you got your blinker on.”

  I looked up at him calmly. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Yeah, weirdo, I’ve got a problem with you.”

  “It’s Tourette’s syndrome, you moron,” Taylor said. “And if I were you, I’d start apologizing before you get hurt.”

  “Straight up,” Ostin said. “Just apologize, and maybe he’ll let you go.”

  The bully stood there, not sure what to make of us.

  “Look at him,” Ostin said. “What an ape. He’s got the frontal lobe of a baboon.”

  The guy turned to Ostin. “What did you say?”

  “Sorry, I’ll use small words so you can keep up,” Ostin said. “You’re clearly not the brightest crayon in the box. In fact, I think someone left your crayons in the sun.”

  Taylor laughed. “That’s funny.”

  The bully blushed at being laughed at by a cute girl. “All right, dude. I’m going to pound blinky boy. Then I’m going to pound you into dust.”

  Taylor laughed again. “Man, did you ever pick the wrong guys to bully.”

  “Yeah, dude,” Ostin said. “You’re a stupidiot because that was the height of stupidiocy. Like, inviting-Hitler-to-your-bar-mitzvah stupid.”

  I laughed as well. Then I said to the bully, “Look, man, I don’t want to hurt you. So step aside and I’ll let you walk away.”

  He looked at me like I was taking crazy pills. “You’re going to let me walk away?” He laughed, though I could tell that, on some level, he was worried.

  Just then Jack walked up. “Hey, bro.” He was wearing a tank top that showed off some wicked bullet scars and his arm muscles, which, by now, looked more like most guys’ thighs than biceps. In fact, his tattoo of the jackal was so stretched by muscle that it looked pregnant. “What’s going on, loser-bait,” Jack said to the bully. “You picking on my friend?”

  The bully stepped back. “Oh, that’s why you act so tough. You get your big brother to fight your fights.”

  “I’m not his brother,” Jack said. “And I didn’t come to fight for him. I came to see him waste you. This is Michael Vey, the same guy that took out Corky and me.”

  The guy looked at me nervously. “You’re . . . Michael Vey?”

  “He’s legacy, man,” Ostin said.

  “You are my brother,” I said to Jack. “So, bro, what should I do with this clown?”

  “Just waste him,” Jack said. “Th
at’s the language bullies understand. I ought to know.”

  The bully looked at me fearfully.

  “No, wait,” Ostin said, stepping forward. “I got this.” Ostin looked the bully in the eyes, then took off his glasses. “All right, brain-swamp. Wanna dance?”

  The bully looked at him, then at me and Jack; then he said, “I—I gotta go.” He turned and ran down the hall.

  “Yeah, you better run,” Ostin shouted after him.

  Taylor waved. “Good-bye.”

  I turned to Ostin. “ ‘Brain-swamp’? ‘Wanna dance’? Where did that come from?”

  “I don’t know,” Ostin said. “But it felt good.”

  Jack and I hugged. “How’s reentry?” I asked.

  “You know. Good seeing my sister. Still twelve credits from graduation. But Welch offered me the head security job at the Elgen Headquarters. Pays a fortune. He said I could bring my brother on too if I want.”

  “Are you going to take it?” Taylor asked.

  “Probably,” Jack said. “Abi thinks I should. It means we’ll have to move to Italy. That will suck.”

  “Moving to Italy sucks?” I said.

  “I can think of worse places to live,” Taylor said.

  “I’m not saying Italy sucks,” he said. “It’s being away from my friends. From you guys.”

  “We’ll come see you,” Ostin said. “We’ve got a couple of jets at our disposal.”

  “That would be nice. And I could definitely get fat on pizza and pasta. But it won’t be PizzaMax.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” I said.

  Ostin gasped. “You didn’t.”

  “I’ve seen the world, my friend,” I said. “Comparing PizzaMax pizza to real Italian pizza is like comparing Richard Simmons to Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

  “Well said,” Ostin said. “Painful, but well said.”

  “How is Abi?” I asked.

  “She’s good. She’s thinking of going to nursing school. She could do that in Italy too.”

  “That’s so cool,” Taylor said. “She would be the best nurse ever.”