by Lucas Flint
“He wasn’t so hesitant to beat the stuffing out of me the last time I saw him, though,” I grumbled. “And he hit a lot harder than I expected.”
“I remember what you told me,” said Fingerprints, nodding. “Still, you have beaten him before, so even if he is still hostile toward you, it shouldn’t be that big of a problem.”
I eyed Fingerprints and Shade carefully. “What does the G-Men plan to do with Uncle Jake if I help you guys? Are you going to take him apart to figure out how he works? Maybe make him a test subject in another top-secret project? Because I remember how well the last top-secret project the G-Men ran went.”
Fingerprints’ fingers twitched. “We are not going to torture him if that’s what you mean. We simply want to get to him before Seth Richards does, because we have reason to suspect that Seth Richards is after him as well. Plus, it’s very likely that Fisticuffs knows where Seth Richards is and may be able to tell us how to find him, which would make it easier for us to arrest Richards and shut down his operations once and for all.”
My paralyzed ears perked up at that. “Hmm … that’s not a bad idea. Seth was the one who originally woke up Uncle Jake, after all. If anyone knows where Seth is, Uncle Jake probably does.”
“Exactly,” said Fingerprints. “So? What do you say? Do you want to help us?”
I glanced down at the blankets covering my body. “I’d love to, but unfortunately Red Tide’s paralyzing toxins are still in effect. I can’t move even my pinkie toe. I’m not sure how useful I’d be in a fight.”
“We know,” said Shade. “That’s why we brought along these!”
Shade drew two bottles of purple liquid out of pocket and held them up for us to see.
“What’s that?” asked Blizzard, staring at the bottles in confusion.
“Miracle,” I said in a slow voice. “The same Miracle used to cure you of your virus.”
“Exactly,” said Shade. “It can cure pretty much anything, including Red Tide’s toxins. With a simple sip of this liquid, you two should be back in action in no time. How does that sound?”
I bit my lower lip. I still didn’t trust the G-Men, but I had to admit, the possibility of locating Uncle Jake and making sure he was safe sounded very appealing to me. Besides, I actually did owe the G-Men for healing Blizzard, even if they didn’t have to. It wouldn’t be very grateful of me to refuse to help them just because I had a general bias against the G-Men. Plus, Fingerprints was one of the few G-Men agents I actually liked. At least, he hadn’t screwed me over yet like the others had. That instantly made him better than all of the other G-Men agents I’d run into over the years.
“All right,” I said. “Blizzard and I will help you find Uncle Jake. But only on the condition that I get to talk to him before you guys try to interrogate him. Okay?”
“That is fine,” said Fingerprints. He nodded at Shade. “Shade, feed them Miracle right away. If we’re going to do this, then we need to do it now. We have no time to lose.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Less than an hour later, the four of us—Fingerprints, Shade, Blizzard, and I—stepped out of the shadows cast by a tree one by one, courtesy of Shade’s shadow travel ability. I was the first to emerge after Shade and immediately began looking around at our surroundings as the others followed.
We had emerged somewhere in rural Montana, seemingly miles away from the nearest town. Aside from the phone lines running along the roads, I didn’t see any other signs of civilization for miles in every direction. Just fields of hays stretching out for as far as the eye could see, illuminated by the full moon and the stars above. It was also extremely cold here. Not as cold as Colorado—there was no snow—but the change in temperature from the Braindome’s medical room to the wilderness of Montana was noticeable. Fingerprints actually shuddered, while Blizzard, as usual, looked perfectly comfortable in the coldness of the night.
“Is this where Uncle Jake is?” I said, looking over my shoulder at Shade, who did not seem terribly affected by the cold from what I could tell.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” said Shade, nodding. “Our agents in Montana think he was heading this way. Our working theory is that Fisticuffs, rather than stay in hotels or inns, is hiding out in abandoned barns, schoolhouses, and other buildings during the night in order to avoid detection. Obviously, it didn’t work, but it is harder to track someone that way than if they stayed in five-star hotels at nice resorts, I guess.”
“This is Montana?” said Blizzard, who apparently wasn’t paying attention to our conversation. She was looking at the wide-open hayfields around us with interest. “I’ve never been here, but it’s so beautiful. More beautiful than I imagined. Even more beautiful than my home state of Arizona.”
“Isn’t everywhere more beautiful than Arizona?” said Shade.
Blizzard glared daggers at Shade for that comment, but then Fingerprints held up his hands and said, “Ladies, now is not the time to fight. We have a clone to catch.”
“Where do you think he could be hiding?” I said, looking around again. “In the hay?”
“Probably in that abandoned church over there,” said Shade, suddenly pointing behind us.
I turned around to see a small, abandoned country church sitting all by itself in the middle of a nearby hayfield. Even from a distance, I could tell that the old church had seen better days, with boarded up windows, missing roof tiles, and grassing growing uncontrollably all around it. There was something sad about the abandoned church, too, as if it had been forgotten to the sands of time. Kind of like Uncle Jake, although I guess Uncle Jake wasn’t nearly as forgotten as this church.
“You really think he’s in there?” said Blizzard, glancing at Shade. “It doesn’t look like anyone has visited that place in a long time.”
“Where else could he be?” said Shade, putting her hands on her hips. “Like I said, Fisticuffs is known for hiding out in abandoned buildings. That church is the perfect example of what I am talking about. If he’s not there, I’ll eat my hat.”
“You don’t have a hat,” I pointed out.
“It’s just an expression,” said Shade dismissively. “Anyway, we should approach with caution. I don’t want my face to end up looking like paste like Blood Boil’s.”
The four of us cautiously made our way across the hay to the church, doing our best not to make any unnecessary noise or draw attention to ourselves. We didn’t even use any lights. That way, if Uncle Jake was indeed inside the church, he would not be able to see us, although given how bright the full moon was, perhaps we were still visible anyway.
In minutes, we reached the old church. Its stone steps were chipped and faded, while the handrails were rusty and looked like even Blizzard could snap them off with minimal effort. I would have dismissed the church as having been abandoned a long time ago if I hadn’t also noticed that the front door stood slightly ajar. Even that I could have discounted as nothing if I hadn’t noticed the lock sitting on the front steps, smashed in half by what could have only been a superhuman with a strong fist.
“See?” Shade whispered, gesturing at the front door. “What did I tell you? Fisticuffs broke the lock so he could get inside. Probably a lot warmer in there than sleeping out in this hay all night.”
Shade took a step forward but I grabbed her arm and said, “Wait.”
Shade looked over her shoulder at me like I had just said something especially dumb. “What?”
“I should go in first,” I said, putting a hand on my chest. “Last time I saw Uncle Jake, he had been under Seth’s control and nearly killed me. I don’t think he is anymore, but even if he is, I’m the one with the best chance of talking him down. If all four of us barge in at once, he might just decide to fight us or run away entirely.”
Shade opened her mouth to argue, but then Fingerprints said, “I agree with Bolt. He should go in first to scout out the situation. The rest of us will stay outside and surrounded the building. That way, if Fisticuffs does prove, ah, less than coop
erative, we can jump in and help Bolt.”
Even I was surprised at how Fingerprints agreed with me. I thought for sure that Fingerprints would be more likely to support Shade, a fellow G-Man agent, than me. I guess he really was the only good G-Men agent after all.
Shade clearly looked like she disagreed, but apparently, Fingerprints had authority over her, because when she wrenched her arm out of my grasp, she simply stood still and gestured at the door. “Go ahead and do it, then. I don’t mind playing the cavalry. Way more fun than getting punched in the face by a crazy clone, anyway.”
Rolling my eyes at Shade’s comment, I gave Blizzard a quick goodbye kiss and then walked up the steps. When I reached the door, I hesitated for a split second and listened closely for any sounds on the other side of the door.
I didn’t expect to hear anything, which was why I was surprised when I heard low muttering on the other side of the door. It sounded like someone chanting something over and over again, which instantly set me on edge. I didn’t have a whole lot of positive encounters with magic users, so if there was a wizard or something inside, I was more than prepared to fight for my life if I had to.
Bracing myself for whatever awaited me on the other side of the door, I opened the door to the church and stepped inside. When I closed the door, I instantly looked around at my surroundings.
The church was even smaller on the inside than on the out. It was a one-room church building, a lot like the one my parents took me to see when I was ten, the one founded by a distant ancestor of mine in New York even before the United States was founded. Two lines of pews on either side stretched the length of the room. Most of the pews were in good condition despite their age, although a few were broken down the middle or had rotting Bibles and hymnals in their backs.
At the other end of the room was a simple wooden pulpit, illuminated by an oil lantern burning brightly at its side. And kneeling before the altar, his head down and his hands together, was Uncle Jake, also known as Fisticuffs and once known as the Crimson Fist.
Uncle Jake’s back was to me and he had not moved from his position when I entered the room, so I was unsure if he had heard me enter or not. He was the source of the muttering I had heard earlier, but he was still muttering too quietly for me to hear very clearly. Was he praying? If so, that was odd, because I didn’t know that Uncle Jake was religious.
Despite the dilapidated appearance of the church, I could not help but find the sight of Uncle Jake praying at the altar calming and even peaceful. I was not a religious man myself, but a part of me felt drawn to kneel and pray with him, too. Even the icy coldness of the church did nothing to take away from the peaceful atmosphere of the setting.
Unsure what to do, I decided to get a little closer to see if I could make out what Uncle Jake was saying. I took one step forward, but stopped as soon as I heard a loud, terrible creaking sound under my feet as one of the floorboards creaked under my weight.
Uncle Jake immediately stopped praying. He went as still as stone for a second, but then slowly rose to his feet and turned around to see me.
If I hadn’t known who that was, I might have assumed it was just some random hobo staring at me, rather than my own uncle. His ratty jeans, mismatched socks, overgrown red beard, and hole-filled jacket made him look like a homeless guy on the street of New York City rather than the powerful superhuman he was.
But when I looked into his eyes and saw the fire burning with them, any doubts I had about this man’s real identity instantly evaporated.
I held up a hand. “Hi, Uncle Jake. It’s me, Kevin. Your nephew.”
Uncle Jake said nothing at first. He simply stared at me for a long while before he said something I did not expect him to say:
“Did you come here to ask for forgiveness, too?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Uncle Jake’s question—spoken in a soft, but hoarse, voice—knocked me off-guard just as easily as if he had sucker-punched me in the face. I struggled to find the words to respond until I sputtered, “Wha-What?”
Uncle Jake gestured at the altar behind him. “I said, did you come here to ask for forgiveness, too? That’s what church is for, isn’t it? A place where we can meet God and ask Him to forgive us for our sins.”
I eyed Uncle Jake carefully. He seemed perfectly sane, but I found his comments odd nonetheless. “I guess that’s one reason people go to church, though most don’t go to abandoned churches like this to pray.”
Uncle Jake averted his gaze, looking down at his feet. “I don’t like being around other people. I barely feel like a person myself. I’m not even sure I am a person, in all honesty. Not a real one, anyway.”
“Well, then why are you praying?” I said. “I’m no theologian, but I’m not sure if God listens to ‘fake’ people or not.”
Uncle Jake shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m hoping God will give me a soul, if I don’t have one already. Or at least forgive me of the awful things I’ve done. Everything I read says I was a hero before I died, but I don’t remember any of that. I do remember, though, all of the awful things I did, the things no real human would ever do willingly, after I came back.”
I bit my lower lip. This was an unexpected development. I guess it was better than having to fight for my life, but his questions made me feel uncomfortable if only because we were getting into some pretty deep waters I normally didn’t think about very much. “Whatever you did can’t possibly be that bad. The Uncle Jake I was taught about as a kid was a hero. Not perfect, maybe, but a good guy who generally did what was right and devoted his life to protecting the innocent and fighting bad guys.”
“That sounds like a good man,” said Uncle Jake, still not looking at me. “A much better man than me. I don’t say that to pity myself. I’m merely observing facts.”
I suddenly remembered something Mecha Knight told me once, about one of the reasons Project Revival was shut down. The cloning process had been able to reconstruct a person’s physical body, but it had never been able to ‘clone’ their memories, minds, or personalities. As a result, clones who came from Project Revival could technically be considered new people depending on how you looked at it. I wondered how that squared with the clone of the Neo-Killer, who seemed to have all his memories and personality intact, but regardless, that was what Mecha Knight had told me.
If that was the case, then it explained why Uncle Jake did not seem to feel good about himself, because the actions of his original self were actions committed by a completely different person from his point of view. It would be like me trying to make myself feel better by telling myself how awesome Strike was. It was a weird theory, but it explained Uncle Jake’s depression quite well.
“If you say so,” I said. “Me, I’m not really here to ask for forgiveness. I’m here to save you.”
Uncle Jake looked up at me suddenly, confusion in his eyes. “Save me? Save me from what?”
“I … don’t know,” I said. I scratched the back of my head. “I guess I just assumed you didn’t enjoy being a homeless guy. If you come with me, I can take you to Hero Island, where you can join the NHA, have a place to sleep, and three solid meals a day. I’m sure most of the older members will be glad to see you again, the ones who knew you before your death.”
Uncle Jake turned around. “No thanks. I’m not a hero. I’m just a man trying to find his place in the world. The old me might have been a hero, but that’s not who—or what—I am. Not anymore. Perhaps never again.”
Okay, Uncle Jake clearly wasn’t interested in coming with me. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t convince him. It would just take a little bit more time and effort than I originally thought.
“Can I ask where you’ve been for the past couple of months?” I said. “Last time I saw you, you got swept out to sea in a sinking yacht. I thought you were dead, so I was pretty surprised to find out that you were still alive.”
Without turning around to face me, Uncle Jake said, “I was adrift at sea for a couple
of days before I landed on an island. There, I spent some time with the most beautiful woman in the world. Hair like silver, skin like porcelain, lips as red as strawberries. A goddess walking on the earth. If I could have stayed with her, I would have.”
I frowned. “Can I ask this woman’s name?”
Uncle Jake shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what her name is. I had to leave her, return to America, to get forgiveness for my sins. To seek redemption. Redemption isn’t something that you can find at home. You have to go out and get it yourself.”
“Uh huh,” I said, not sure whether Uncle Jake was as sane as I first thought. “Why did you feel the need to leave so quickly? You were only gone for a few months.”
Uncle Jake finally looked over his shoulder at me again, this time with tears in his eyes. “Because I’m dying, Kevin, and if I put off what I need to do much longer, I will never be able to do it.”
“Dying?” I said. “You look fine to me.”
Uncle Jake turned around to face me again. He slowly unbuttoned the front of his jacket and then opened it completely. I nearly gagged at the sight he showed me.
His chest was little more than rotting flesh. Even from over here, I could smell its stink in the air, making me cover my mouth and nose to protect my breathing. It looked like it had been sewn together dozens of times, but it did nothing to hide the obvious signs of decay in his skin.
“It’s worse than it looks,” said Uncle Jake, closing his jacket back over it and buttoning it up again. “But it is very bad. Lethally so.”
“What … what was that?” I said. “Your skin looked like it was rotting away, like a … like a …”
“Like a corpse?” Uncle Jake finished. He sighed. “That’s exactly what it’s like. Because, in a sense, that’s what we clones are.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “You’re zombies?”
Uncle Jake sighed again. “Not zombies. But we clones do have accelerated aging processes. It’s due to our nature. When we are born in our cloning tubes, we do not get a full eighteen years or so to grow from baby to adult-like normal humans. Instead, our aging is sped up, so that we go from newborn baby to full-grown adult in an extremely short time period, about eight or nine months.”
