Void

by Kate Sander

  "I tried, mom," he said, reaching for her.

  She still wasn't dead. The torture ongoing. "I needed you to help me," her lips barely moved, but her words traveled effortlessly. "You left me. Just like everyone else. I died alone. You let me die alone."

  "I'm sorry," Titus sobbed. He grabbed his knees and tried to close his eyes, but the terrible vision was everywhere. "I'm so sorry mom, I tried to come rescue you. I tried."

  "You let me die alone."

  Squish. Squish. The knife moved in and out of her chest. Over and over. Blood spurted and pooled.

  "Just die, mom," Titus mumbled. "The pain will go away."

  Malin's face appeared in front of him. "You want your mother to die?"

  "No, no that's not what I said," Titus said. He could see his mother being stabbed in the chest from behind Malin. Could see her body lurch with every thrust of the knife. Her eyes pleaded with him.

  "I heard what you said. You said you wanted your mother to die."

  "No."

  Squish. Lurch. Squish. Lurch.

  "Alright. Yes. I want her to die." He looked at Malin and pleaded, "Just let her die. Just let her pain go away."

  Malin nodded. "I can take any and all decisions away from you, Titus dear. You never have to make a decision like that again."

  Titus nodded.

  The squishing stopped. His mother lied in a pool of her blood, eyes finally dead.

  "Just look into my eyes," Malin said. "The pain you feel in this moment will go away. You never have to condemn someone to death again. I will take that burden from you."

  Titus looked into her eyes. "Just make it go away," he whispered. "I don't want to remember."

  "I promise," Malin said. "You won't remember."

  Fog drifted over everything. It was just the Forsaken in the fog. There was no sorrow, no joy, no loss, no emotion. The fog was thick and left his skin cold. The Forsaken liked the cold.

  "Kneel," the sweet, disembodied voice commanded.

  The Forsaken knelt.

  Gasps and screams echoed behind him in the fog but the Forsaken didn't care about them.

  "Stand."

  The Forsaken stood.

  "Good, you do well," the voice said. "Now, I want you to take this."

  The Forsaken felt something heavy appear in his hands. The Forsaken looked at it. A knife around eight inches long was in his hand.

  "Stab her," the voice said.

  A woman appeared in the fog. A twinge of recognition in The Forsaken's mind.

  "No," the voice said. "No, you don't recognize her. Kill her."

  "Titus," Big Mamma said shakily, looking him in the eyes. "Titus, dear, you don't have to do this." Wiping her hands on her apron nervously, she looked around in fear.

  The Forsaken hesitated.

  "You know Big Mamma," his own voice said in his head, small but clear. "She loves you. You love her. Don't hurt her."

  "Forsaken," the disembodied voice said angrily. "I command you to kill her."

  The Forsaken clutched the hilt tightly and took a step forward.

  "Titus," Big Mamma said, putting up her hands defensively. "Titus, darling, don't do th-"

  She never got to finish her sentence. The knife flashed and The Forsaken cut her throat. A twinge of guilt tickled his spine as the woman fell to the ground, dead, eyes open and pleading with him.

  "Good," the voice said. "Good. You've done well."

  "I've done well," the Forsaken repeated, guilt bleeding away into nothing. The fog thickened.

  "That's right," the voice said. "You've done well. Now, you're going to follow us. Understood? I will have more tasks for you later."

  "I've done well," the Forsaken muttered.

  Big Mamma's dead eyes were left forgotten as the fog swirled around her body, making it disappear.

  "I've done well."

  8

  Carter

  "Why do you feel bad?" Igor asked Simone. The ZTF were all still in the office, waiting for Black Eyes to return. Leslie had given her the coordinates of the old Freudman property, and she'd gone to see if she could find anything.

  Now they waited.

  "Shoot them in the head. Sleep like a baby. Why feel bad?"

  "Because," Simone said sharply, "You take a life. It is there, then poof, you've taken it away. So I don't kill."

  Igor shook his head, dumbfounded, "But they kill you if they could. Eat or be eaten."

  "Or just don't put yourself in that situation to begin with,” Simone shot back.

  "Enough," John snapped before Igor could reply. "You guys have been going on and on about this for the last ten minutes. Plus every Christmas party for the last three years. Let it be."

  They obliged, but shot each other glares from across the table.

  The only sound was Emily clicking her pen as she cruised Facebook on her phone. They waited nervously for a sign or a direction from the ghost.

  What an odd sentiment. Waiting for direction from a ghost.

  Black Eyes appeared in the center of the room. The first thing Carter saw was pure terror in her eyes. The second was Pierre, Lee's handler, actually let out a scream at the sudden appearance. Everyone else tried not to jump or to laugh at him.

  "Hurry up," Black Eyes said to Carter. "We don't write in this language. I need to tell you the password to that folder before I forget."

  "He was logging into the folder?" Carter gasped. "Really? We're never this lucky."

  "Shut up and pull the folder up," Black Eyes snapped. "Before I forget."

  "What's wrong? You don't look like you."

  Black Eyes held up her hand, effectively silencing him. "I have crazy shit to tell you, but I don't want to forget this."

  Ramjeet pulled up the folder. The prompt for the password came up.

  "Okay," Black Eyes said, staring at the keyboard. "That sign," she said, pointing to the ampersand, "then a big one of that, then he hit that button and then that one..."

  She rattled it out. It was about ten characters long, all random, while focusing and staring at the keyboard. No wonder they weren't able to hack into the folder.

  "You sure?" Ram asked. "If we're wrong he's going to know about it."

  Black Eyes closed her eyes, going through the motions on the keyboard. "Yes," she said. "I'm sure."

  Ramjeet pressed ENTER.

  The folder opened.

  "Atta girl!" Lee exclaimed, trying to pat Black Eyes on the back. He gasped when his hand passed right through her.

  "What happened over there?" Carter asked quietly while the others looked at the contents of the mysterious folder. "Where did you go?"

  "Later," Black Eyes said, walking to the corner and sinking to her knees. "I need to process it. You read. I'll tell you later."

  "Boss," Ramjeet said. "You're never going to believe this."

  Carter turned and saw the contents of the folder Ramjeet had opened. In it were photocopies of old journal pages.

  Carter took a breath. And read. The whole, unbelievable string of events unfolded in front of his eyes.

  New York, April 18, 1905

  I knew that Wolfgang had a problem as soon as Nikola walked into the room. He greeted him with such malice without prompt that I knew, without question, the meeting would sour almost as soon as it began.

  Alas, I was not mistaken in that initial assessment.

  Nikola had barely sat and lit a cigar before Wolfgang was arguing with him.

  "I know you think the girl went to a different world," Wolfgang had yelled at him, "But you offer no proof. I deal in absolutes, not fantasy."

  It was then that Nikola showed us his stone. Black like obsidian, beautiful in depth and larger than a man's fist.

  "This was red before I sent her," he said. "This stone... It has power."

  Wolfgang had scoffed at this. "Where is this girl you speak of? I'd love to talk to her."

  I secretly agreed with Wolfgang. I'd had my doubts about Nikola's ramblings, which is why it took so
long for him to secure this meeting. His letters were that of a man obsessed, often an incoherent stream of words that neither I nor Wolfgang could understand. Amid the ramblings, however, was this thread of something worth looking into. Power, a stone, and a woman he sent to another world.

  He could not provide proof in letter, for fear of others discovering his science. He wished to meet in person. Wanted my money, I'm sure. There was something about the ramblings, however, that had me interested. I'd managed to convince Wolfgang to join me, and he was less than enthused.

  That's when Mr. Tesla told us that the woman had died only a few days after he'd caused a comatose state.

  "You probably just like killing nigger girls!" Wolfgang had yelled at Nikola. That was the end of it for Mr. Tesla. He shoved his beautiful stone into his pocket and left as quickly as he'd come.

  I stayed relaxed the whole time as Wolfgang shamed the man. Through manic eyes of a man exhausted, I saw what I believed was truth. This man truly believed that the stone had power and that this woman had gone to another world.

  "It's a shame you didn't let him show us his evidence," I told Wolfgang.

  "You don't truly believe he was telling the truth."

  I shrugged at this. I am starting to believe. Mr. Tesla has changed the world with his electrical power. Maybe he changed the world again.

  Sir Roald Ammondson

  Vienna, Austria, Aug. 09, 1906

  Over a full year of research had led me to this man. Gustav Mahler was a man of few words and of high report. He composed symphonies and was highly regarded as a conductor.

  And, strangely enough, he'd fallen ill with a fever a few months ago. In the time that he was in a comatose state, he'd had bizarre dreams. Dreams he swore were real.

  Our talk was of too much importance to even record here. No one can find out about Gustav and the powers he holds. One thing I know for certain is that Mr. Tesla was correct. He'd opened a window into another world. A fantastical place where the effects remain, even when the person is awake.

  I must find a way to harness this power.

  Gustav is amazing.

  I must find more of these men. Men that Gustav called Zoya.

  I will bring them together to change the world.

  Sir Roald Ammondson

  Toronto, Canada, May, 1908

  I did it. The Canadian Military finally agreed to something that the Americans and the rest of the world would hear nothing about. All it took was me bringing dear Gustav in for a demonstration of his incredible handle of flames, convincing everyone that this was something Canada needed to be taken seriously as a country.

  I knew it would work, much to Wolfgang's chagrin.

  I have three Zoya. Men with powers I can't possibly imagine. Their existence is now classified, but they only answer to me.

  I will find more. Once I get that stone from Nikola, I will rule this world.

  Sir Roald Ammondson

  Seljie, Norway, November 17, 1911

  I write this from the ship I secured. I still have not procured that stone from Nikola, but I will. Poor Gustav did not survive his encounter with the stone. The man was dead a mere month after trying to take it from Nikola.

  He was not worthy of the stone’s power.

  I am.

  But first I need the same power as the men I control. Only then will I be worthy of the stone and the mantle I wish to take.

  War is coming. It's inevitable. If I could unite all of the world's Kings and Queens, I could save this planet from killing each other needlessly.

  That is why we are on our way to Slavbard from my home town of Slejie. This ship rocks in the wind and I can barely hold the pen due to the cold. Persevere I must, as it is imperative to record these thoughts in case this does not go to plan.

  The aim of this trip not survival, but evolution. There is a place in Slavbard that is rumoured to be magical, where the veil is thin between worlds.

  We are going to cross the ice bridge into The Other Place and become Zoya ourselves. I have only the bravest men with me. A lovely young woman, Ms. Malin Auber, has accompanied us to be our scribe.

  Imagine, a woman able to read and write different languages. What a world we live in.

  She is a wonderful soul, and our nights together on this ship have been paramount in my mental fortitude.

  She has convinced me to allow her to cross into the world with us. I am in no position to deny her.

  She has every right to be my Queen and to rule this God-forsaken world with me.

  By dawn, we will reach Slavbard. Then we will walk over the glacier into the unknown.

  Sir Roald Ammondson

  Slavbard, November 24, 1956

  I have finally returned, as my master Roald has instructed me to.

  This world has been so different since I woke here ten years ago. I still don't recall how I survived the walk to the nearest village. I believe a hunting expedition found me, but I cannot be sure. In any case, Roald sacrificed me to the gods. Our theory that only a head injury would kill the Zoya's body in this world upon death in The Other Place was correct. I bravely took his sword to my belly, bleeding out on the floor as dearest Malin cradled me to her breast. We've done so much in The Other Place, but the only way this succeeds is if I find the comatose bodies of Roald and Malin and keep them frozen.

  They will do the Ampulex's good work in The Other Place. I will do it here. I can communicate still with Roald. My powers were never as great as his and Malin's. They are truly terrifying. But I can communicate with anyone in any world.

  Even now, as I clutch my ring in my hand, a beautiful ruby Malin gave me for the trip, I cannot write without shaking due to the chill in the air. Even with the wealth of Roald behind me and the best equipment money can buy, the wind still shakes the tent as I write this by candle light.

  We never crossed a veil between the worlds. Malin and Roald fell into a crevice one night. I went looking for them during a storm and the last thing I remember was being cold in a snow bank.

  They must be frozen in a comatose state.

  The facilities in Canada are ready for them. I will complete my mission for my masters.

  The morning draws near. Soon, I will try to lead the team I have brought to exhume Malin and Roald, keep them frozen, and ship them to Canada.

  They cannot thaw. They do not want to wake up.

  There is still work to be done in The Other Place.

  The Ampulex need time to rise in power.

  After this, I must find that stone that Nikola talked about. We will take over both worlds at the same time. Only then will we know peace.

  Wolfgang Freudman

  9

  Akira

  "Keep your guard up," Eris said, "You're dropping your guard."

  Swords clashed as Eris swung towards Akira's head at half speed. Akira barely got her katana up in time to block Eris' khopesh.

  "See," Eris said, stepping back to give Akira a breather. "If I would have gone full tilt, you'd be dead."

  Akira rolled her eyes, "So dramatic."

  Eris laughed and Akira smiled.

  A sailor called something from the crow's nest. The sea was calm and beautiful today, barely a wave in sight. They were only a day from Langundo, and Akira was impatiently waiting for them to land. Killing Ampulex. That's all she wanted to do.

  Revenge for her parents and for Tomo.

  Her mother's haunting final scream reverberating off of the trees echoed in her mind as Akira fled in the forest. Akira shook her head, trying to disrupt the memory.

  "Akira?" Eris said from far off.

  "Yeah? Sorry what?" Akira said.

  "I asked if you wanted a break," Eris said, a look of worry flashing in her eyes.

  "No, sorry," Akira said. The scream faded and she was back on the boat, a beautiful sun overhead and sailors doing their jobs around her. Tory, Senka and Ujarak were watching the training from the railing. They had to keep close to the edge so Senka could puke. Ujarak
had finally overcome his seasickness and was actually looking pretty healthy. Akira had met the man the day before. Kai lounged in some sun on the deck, the sailors giving him a wide berth.

  Akira was lucky that Kai and Senka had found her and introduced her to this group. Hesitant to trust anyone but the panther and his friend, Akira liked to work with Eris, even though something felt… off about the other teenager. Eris used to be an Ampulex. The Ampulex had killed her parents. She'd sworn revenge. But Eris was nice to her and helping her learn to fight. How could someone nice have history of being so mean?

  "Okay," Eris said. "One more round then a water break."

  "No," Akira said. "No. Let's keep going."

  "You need to rest sometime," Eris said. "Or you'll fall down. We'll get you ready to fight Ampulex, don't you worry."

  Akira nodded.

  "Okay, good," Eris said, lifting her khopesh. "Now, keep your damn guard up."

  Akira raised the tip of her sword. Eris attacked low, catching Akira off guard. Eris pulled her sword to the side at the last second, catching Akira in the stomach with the hilt.

  It hurt a bit and Akira stepped back, coughing. The conversation of Tory, Senka and Ujarak faltered a little as they watched the training.

  "Don't assume," Eris barked. "You assumed I would go high. Don't assume. Keep focused."

  Akira nodded, straightening herself, eyes burning.

  "Again," she said harshly. "Let's do this again."

  So they sparred. And they sparred. Sweat poured down their faces. Swords clashed, ringing out over the water. Carrying into the unknown. Water and food breaks were forgotten.

  Eris may be a Zoya, but Akira was angry and had something to prove. She got better as the time went on. Realizing this, Eris increased her speed and power. But, Eris had only really been fighting for a few months. Akira's father had been teaching her for the last eleven years. Eris may be bigger and stronger, but Akira had the technique.