Sons of Chaos

by Jerry Hart

  Chris had his cell phone to his ear. “He’s not picking up,” he said to Owen.

  They ran up the stairs. Owen wished they’d gotten something closer to ground floor, but it had been Alyssa who’d paid for the place. She had insisted on the top floor.

  Thinking of her acted as fuel. He felt himself running faster. He didn’t want to lose Daniel the same way he lost her. He ran right past Chris and was the first to reach their place.

  * * *

  Chris heard Owen scream. He didn’t dare come any closer; he wasn’t sure if he could handle what was inside. If it made Owen scream like that, then it must’ve been bad. Owen backed away from the door. Chris stepped forward. He was the leader. He had to face whatever it was, but he knew Daniel was dead. He knew it without seeing.

  Then he saw. His eyes confirmed what his brain already concluded moments earlier. Daniel’s body was lying motionless on the floor of the armory. Blood was pooling around him. Owen and Chris walked over to their friend; they noticed his eyes were wide open, but he was smiling.

  Neither Owen nor Chris noticed the redhead standing in the corner.

  Chris did notice something flying toward the both of them, though. Something small and red. It tapped him innocently on the chest and fell to the floor. Owen acted immediately; he grabbed the tiny bomb and threw it straight into the air. It exploded almost instantly, blowing a hole in the ceiling. The shockwave pushed them to the ground.

  * * *

  Owen was the first on his feet. Michael threw another Buster. Owen, realizing the redhead was trying to kill Chris, jumped into the air and spin-kicked the bomb back at Michael. It exploded, sending him out the window he’d been standing in front of. Chris and Owen ran to the window and looked down at the street. Michael had landed on Chris’s Camaro.

  They stood there for a while, both sure Michael wasn’t dead and would start moving any second.

  Twenty seconds went by. He wasn’t moving.

  “Stay here,” Owen said to Chris as he went over to D. He opened the back of its head and turned it on. Chris watched, hopeful it was finally working. If anybody could fix it, it was Daniel. He had been a genius. Chris was so confident in Daniel’s talent, he was willing to stand aside and let the robot take care of Michael from this point on. Speaking of Michael, Chris looked back down to the street—

  “Oh crap!” he screamed.

  Owen turned around and saw Chris backing away from the window. Something flew through, smashing the whole wall in like a wrecking ball. It was Michael. His shirt was full of holes, and he had a few cuts on his face. That gave Owen a glimmer of hope: If Michael could be hurt, he could die.

  Before the dust could settle, Owen rammed Michael. The two of them flew through the hole. Instead of falling to the street below, they clung to the wall. They were just below the hole, trading kicks and punches with each other.

  Michael climbed up the wall, trying to get back inside, when Owen grabbed his ankle and pulled him off, swinging him at the wall below and smashing in the window, no doubt scaring whoever occupied that room.

  With all the strength he could muster, he swung Michael up over his head and let go, sending him up onto the roof.

  * * *

  Chris poked his head out the hole to see Owen climbing up the wall, digging his fingers deep into the bricks. In a matter of seconds, he was on the roof and out of sight.

  Chris ran over to the robot and started rummaging through the items and schematics on Daniel’s worktable, looking for the remote, but it was nowhere to be found.

  Focusing his attention back on the robot, he opened the panel on the back of its head. He hadn’t seen how Daniel turned it on the day he’d revealed it to them.

  Seconds ticked to minutes as Chris tried to figure it out, the whole time hearing the battle on the roof. He pressed a few buttons in the machine’s head, hoping something would happen. Nothing did.

  Chris was at his wit’s end. Finally he decided to just mess with everything—the wires, the microchips, everything—until the damn thing moved.

  That’s when a metallic hand grabbed Chris’s arm gently and pulled it away.

  D was online.

  * * *

  Owen and Michael continued trading punches. Michael’s face was bloody and bruised now, which reassured Owen. He knew it wouldn’t be long before Michael was defeated.

  Owen grabbed his arm and began swinging him around like a lasso. He released Michael; his body flew like a rag doll, and landed with a thud on the ground. Owen ran over to him, hoping to get a few cheap shots while the getting was good, but as soon as he got within reaching distance, Michael was on his feet again. He tackled Owen and the two of them fell on the ground hard.

  Having had the wind knocked out him, Owen lay on his back, looking up at Michael, who was grinning. He raised a fist, ready to pound Owen’s face in, but suddenly a flash of metal rammed Michael away.

  Owen was astonished—and very grateful—to see D standing over him. Chris had gotten him to work. And now Owen was on his feet again as Michael slowly got to his. Owen didn’t even think about his next move; he just did it.

  As fast as he could, he ran over to Michael, grabbed his arm, and then tossed him over to D. The robot grabbed him in midair and slammed him down, making a small crater in the roof.

  Standing back, Owen watched D slam Michael down on the ground repeatedly. A final slam put him down for the count. D stood over him, placing a metallic foot on his chest. Owen got ready to finish him—the murderer of his friends—personally, and so help Michael if he even thought about telling Owen his shoes were untied.

  Before he could even blink, however, Michael shoved the robot off of him and jumped to his own feet once again. He looked tired and angry, with blood pouring from his mouth and nose. He ran toward Owen. They collided and fell over the edge.

  * * *

  Chris ran up the stairs to the roof as fast as his feet would take him. He burst through the door and looked around for Owen and Michael, but all he saw was D. The robot was looking down over the roof’s edge. Chris’s heart skipped a beat. He ran over to join D. He too looked over the edge, but all he saw was the swimming pool...and two dark figures floating in it.

  * * *

  Owen woke with a start. He had no idea where he was when he opened his eyes. Everything was blue and blurry. He wondered if he was dreaming again as he looked around. There was a swooshing sound, far removed from the soothing electric hum he was used to in his dreams. This was something different.

  He suddenly caught a glimpse of something in the corner of his eye. Someone was floating toward him, someone with red hair and murder in his eyes.

  Michael!

  Owen realized where he was and what was happening. He and Michael had fallen into the Olympic-sized community pool. There was shattered glass from the skylight floating in the water. Michael punched Owen in the face. The force of the punch sent him shooting through the water like a missile, and he hit the side of the pool so hard it cracked the concrete. Any air he had left in his lungs was forced out by the collision. He tried to get to the surface, but Michael was already swimming toward him. He grabbed Owen’s foot and pulled him deeper into the pool. Owen felt his fingers wrap around his neck.

  He felt like his neck was about to snap.

  He grabbed Michael’s arms, trying to pry them apart, but he was too weak from the lack of oxygen. But he had to do something.

  He grabbed at Michael’s arms again, but instead of pulling them apart, he held fast, then kneed Michael as hard as he could in the stomach. As if in slow motion, Michael flew backward to the other end of the pool.

  Owen crawled out of the water while he had a chance and lay down on the concrete, too tired to run away. He was gasping for air.

  * * *

  Chris tore down the stairs to the ground floor. He had told D to go back to the room and stay there; he didn’t want anyone seeing the robot.

  He finally made it to the pool. He looked around and
spotted a dark figure lying next to it, breathing heavily. He could tell immediately it was Owen. He rushed over and kneeled down next to him.

  “Owen? Are you all right?”

  Owen didn’t answer. Chris took note of his appearance: He was extremely pale, as if he was sick. Chris was about to pick him up when a huge splash erupted from the pool, covering him in water. A figure landed next to him and Owen.

  Chris felt his body leave the ground. He was airborne, Owen and Michael growing farther away. Suddenly Chris hit the ground on the other side of the pool and was out like a light.

  * * *

  Owen had seen everything. He saw Chris run up to him and ask if he was okay, and then he saw Michael jump out of the pool and throw Chris away like he was garbage.

  He felt something on his stomach now. Michael had placed his foot on it and was pressing down, making it impossible to breathe. Owen tried to push the foot away, but he was too weak. A bright light began clouding his vision.

  Suddenly the pressure was gone. Michael was looking at something in the background. He looked back down at Owen.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” he said, and was gone in a flash.

  Now Owen saw something else. He wasn’t sure what it was; it hovered over him, white and misty—completely indistinct. It almost looked like a ghost....

  He knew now he was dying. What he thought to be his spirit, his soul, was floating away from his body. He reached up to grab it. He could feel it in his fingers; it was warm to the touch. It was like grabbing water.

  The mist stopped flowing and stayed still over his body. After a moment, it returned to Owen. He could feel his senses slowly coming back.

  Now he could hear voices somewhere in the background.

  “Are you sure he’s the one?” a voice asked.

  “Yes,” said Michael. “I saw it.”

  The one for what? Owen asked himself.

  He didn’t want to find out. He tried to move, to muster enough energy to stand, but he couldn’t. He rolled onto his stomach and tried to crawl away.

  He didn’t get very far, however, because something pressed down on his back, holding him in place on the wet concrete.

  It was a foot.

  “Where are you going?” the unfamiliar voice asked. “You can’t leave. We need you to do something for us.”

  * * *

  Chris came to moments ago and saw a blond guy talking to Owen across the pool. Chris didn’t recognize him, but he recognized Michael, who was standing behind him. Whoever the blonde was, apparently he was friendly with Michael, and therefore, no friend to the Unstoppable Titans.

  Chris made an attempt to stand but found it difficult. His whole body was in pain, including his head, which was throbbing. He saw the blond stranger and Michael pick Owen up and leave. He had to stop them. Chris made an even greater attempt at standing.

  This time he was successful. He ran to where the two had carried Owen. He saw a silver Jetta speed out onto Calhoun Street.

  Wherever they were going, he had to get there too, and fast.

  Chapter 19. Brothers of Chaos

  Owen heard a car honk but could see nothing but streetlights and the sides of buildings from the backseat. He could tell the car he was in was speeding, and Michael and the blond stranger were in the front seats, but he had no idea where they were going. He was still weak from the pool fight.

  “Where are we going to do this?” he heard Michael ask.

  “There,” the stranger said.

  Owen assumed the guy was pointing at something but he couldn’t see where. Suddenly the car made a sharp right. Owen was pushed back against the seat, as if the car was going uphill. He looked up through the window and saw a low concrete ceiling and a lot of columns.

  This had to be the six-level parking garage that was a few blocks from the condo.

  Suddenly the car stopped and the driver’s-side window lowered.

  “Jason, what are you doing?” Michael asked.

  “Getting a ticket to park,” Jason replied. “It’s free. There’s no point in making a scene. It could make things difficult for us. If we’re interrupted, we might not finish at all.”

  The car was in motion again. Owen could hear voices in the distance. He wanted to scream for help, but he knew whoever it was would be no match for Michael, and Owen didn’t want to get innocent people killed.

  He decided to keep his mouth shut and, once his strength was back, he’d take Michael and Jason out himself.

  * * *

  Chris jogged down Calhoun Street, looking left and right for the car he’d seen Michael and the stranger driving. He patted his hoodie pocket for reassurance; they were there, all right.

  Suddenly he stopped at the corner of Calhoun and 3rd Street. He had caught a glimpse of something silver driving up through the parking garage in front of him.

  It was the Jetta.

  He crossed the street and ran up the nearest stairwell of the garage, heart racing with every second that ticked by. He knew what he was going to do when he got up there, but he was afraid of how things would turn out.

  For him and for Owen.

  * * *

  Owen felt the car pull into a slow stop. Jason got out as Michael looked back at Owen from the passenger’s seat.

  “It’s showtime,” said the redhead.

  Owen was pulled forcefully from the back seat. Michael carried him, feet off the ground, toward Jason. Jason saw them and an angry expression grew on his face.

  “Put him down, damn it!” he spat. “We don’t want to look suspicious. Not now.”

  With a sigh, Michael set Owen firmly on the ground. Owen looked around; they were on the top level of the garage. There were only a few cars parked around and there were no people present.

  The moon was shining brightly upon the three of them. The stars were more visible than Owen remembered them ever being before. Maybe it was fear making him more aware of things; he didn’t know what was about to happen, and it truly frightened him.

  That was when he noticed Jason carrying a backpack. He set it down on the ground and opened it, placing himself between Owen and the pack.

  Owen tilted his head, trying to look around Jason to see what was inside but Michael held him fast.

  “You’ll see what it is in a minute,” he whispered in Owen’s ear.

  Jason turned to face them, holding in his hands what looked like a dark-red bowling ball.

  No, it wasn’t a bowling ball.

  It looked familiar to Owen, so very familiar. Jason walked toward him, holding the ball before him, an evil smile on his face. The closer he got, the more Owen grew afraid. It was slowly dawning on him where he’d seen this ball—this orb.

  His dreams.

  He had built it himself. Or, at least, he thought he did.

  “Now,” Jason said to Owen, “you’re up.”

  * * *

  Chris frantically searched the second level. He didn’t see any Jettas anywhere. There was so much ground to cover, so he ran around with no clear path. He thought of screaming for Owen, but figured a sneak attack was best; he wasn’t as strong as Owen, and if he was still in Michael’s possession, that had to mean something was wrong with him, that he couldn’t fight.

  Chris continued to search for a few more minutes, and then when he was satisfied—and frustrated—he made his way to the stairs, up to the third level.

  * * *

  “What do you mean?” Owen asked as casually as he could. “I don’t know what to do with this.”

  Jason, still holding the dark-red orb in front of them, scoffed and shook his head. “You do know what to do,” he said, casting an uneasy eye toward Michael.

  “What do you guys want with it?” Owen asked.

  “What we want,” Jason said, stepping closer and grinning, “is for you to turn this thing on so we can use it. That’s all.”

  “What makes you think I can get it to work?”

  “I know you can because I can’t,” said Michael.
“You and I are two pieces of a puzzle, my friend. I know you dream about making the orb. I do too. You and I made this thing, in a different life.”

  Owen had no idea what to make of this. It was similar to what Nikki had told him. He looked at the orb again. He and Michael had made it? In a “different life”? Was that true? He only had a vague sense of its purpose.

  Yet, he could remember vividly how it felt in his hands: slimy and warm.

  Evil.

  That’s what it was: evil. Even though he didn’t know exactly what it would do, there was no way he could activate it for them.

  He wouldn’t.

  “Do you know what it can do?” Owen asked Michael.

  Michael looked down at him and grinned. “Oh yeah.”

  “Tell me, and maybe I’ll do what you want.”

  “How about you tell us or we’ll kill you.”

  “If you kill me, you’ll never get that thing to work.”

  Jason lost his grin. “What if I told you it will bring about world peace?”

  “I would tell you I didn’t believe you,” Owen replied.

  “And then I would call you were a fool,” Jason said. “Our plan is to end all world wars and bring about a more peaceful existence for everyone, including you.”

  “How is this going to accomplish that?”

  Jason stepped closer. “Turn it on and find out.”

  Just then, Owen kicked Jason in the stomach, sending him flying against a parked car.

  His strength was back.

  But just as he was about to swing around and take down Michael, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck. He felt dizzy and dropped to the ground. His vision became extremely blurred, the pain in his neck intense.

  He looked up and saw Michael lowering his arm after delivering the strike. Then he ran over to Jason and helped him to his feet. Jason was groaning and bent double. He looked at something Owen could not see. He walked toward that something, which was blocked by a few parked cars.