The Wanderer (Book 2): Stranded

by Giancioppo, Danny

  “I said be quiet!” Sam yelled, tightening his grip on her. Alannah almost fell out of his hand, and she yelped, grabbing onto his arm from behind. I felt my heart stop, and I stared him down again.

  “Listen to me, there is still a way out of this,” I said. “Give them to me, we can land– slowly, safely. We can deal with this together. We can go back to the way things were.”

  “I don’t want to go back,” Sam said. “I need to move forward. So do you.” I gritted my teeth, and paused, glaring at Sam.

  “I know you,” I insisted. “You don’t want to do this.”

  “No, but I will do it.”

  “You won’t. You do this and it won’t be worth a damn. It’ll all be for nothing– all of it– and you know it.”

  “You’re not the hero, right? That’s what you said. Go ahead, prove me wrong– show everyone you are really are the bad guy. Fly away, let them go.”

  “Wanderer, don’t listen to him!” the woman shrieked.

  “No, don’t play his game!” Alannah insisted.

  “I let them go and then what? You kill me next? And what’s after that? Anyone who sees you differently?” I asked. “You’re smarter than that. You know there’s no way out if you do this– don’t do this.” Sam shook his head, and let out a heavy, shaky breath.

  “If you wanted to talk about this, we would have earlier,” Sam said.

  “I tried to–!”

  “I am done talking! Either you listen to me… or neither of these two get saved.”

  I looked at Alannah. She kept glancing back at Sam as best she could. She looked so scared, so confused. And the other woman– the stranger– she was terrified. Lost in something that had nothing to do with her.

  “What do you want me to do?” I asked.

  “Face the cameras,” he directed. I turned around, and gazed out at the three news cameras all circling around us slowly in their helicopters. “Retract the suit.”

  “No, don’t!” Alannah shouted. He gripped onto her tighter, and made her wince in pain. My vision flashed white, and I had to seriously calm myself down. I had to keep playing along; I couldn’t let emotions get in the way. Not yet.

  The clouds around us pooled into a grey haze.

  I brought the suit back into the chestplate, and lifted my chin up, revealing myself to the world: a blonde-haired, green eyed, five-foot ten, twenty year-old man. I could see the camera-people making wowed expressions. Even the pilots seemed amazed.

  “Now, tell them your name,” Sam continued, still as monotone as before.

  “Jason Rhodes,” I announced. My face had a scowl struck on it that probably didn’t do my public image any favors, but I imagine the circumstances made up for it.

  “Now, turn back around…” Sam coaxed. I turned, and faced him again. He retracted his own suit, also seemingly by thought. His eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn’t slept in hours, maybe days. “And choose: hero, or–”

  He tried to finish, but in that moment, I flashed my anger back into focus, and honed-in a direct wave of cosmic energy right at his head. He let go of both the girls, and I made a swoop from my left around to them. I caught them both, and circled back into a more stable position.

  I flew down as fast as I could– which, with the anger, could have taken no more than a second, but with these two in my arms, took about fifteen. I had to account for their physical safety; too fast would kill them.

  I made it to the ground, where there were now at least a couple hundred citizens of Boston nearby. I let both of the women go, and glanced over at a portion of the crowd.

  They were all looking at me with slack-jawed, flabbergasted expressions. It was like they couldn’t believe I was telling the truth about being human.

  “You’re… just a kid,” one of the police officers marveled. I paid him no mind.

  “You’re the person who refuses to save us? A teenager?” someone else shouted. I’m a young man, but whatever.

  I looked at Alannah, and she ran over to me. I held her close for a few seconds, and dug my face into her hair. She cried a little, and took heavy, stuttered breaths.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered, holding her head against my chest.

  “I-I don’t know… I…” she stammered. “Jason, what’s–? Look out!” she screamed, gazing up into the sky.

  I shot my eyes up, and saw Sam come hurtling toward me. I stepped away from Alannah, and immediately found a defensive stance to hold him in when he landed.

  Instead though, he just stopped next to me. He even did so without smashing the ground. He landed softly, and planted his feet, now completely suitless.

  “Look at that! Surmounting the odds stacked against him, like a real hero,” he said, staring at me. His face didn’t look happy though. He just looked… driven.

  “Sam, enough of this,” I ordered again. “I played your game, now stop it.”

  “I didn’t say your name, why’d you have to give away mine?” he complained. I gazed at him, baffled, and tried to wrap my head around his total misunderstanding of the situation. “Well anyway, everyone, that’s who we are!” he announced. “The Wanderer is Jason Rhodes, and I’m Sam Finn. I am the dead man walking; I am: the Stranded.”r

  Everyone had more or less fallen apart with that one. Finally, the confirmation of all their suspicions had been proven; he was real, he was here, and they were stunned. It wasn’t a kind of awe that came across as grateful, though– it came as fear. By the look on Sam’s deadened face, he misread that.

  For me, I was just confused as to why he decided to be the Stranded again– I was scared, honestly. I told him that sounded way too scary as it was. There was no way he actually thought that was a better name, did he?

  “From here on out, especially now that you know who we are– know that we’re people, almost just like you– have faith in our ability to protect you. To protect the world!”

  “Sam…” I cautioned. He paid me no mind, though.

  “We’ll bring about a time of peace the likes of which the world has never seen. So long as you take our presence with grace, then the world will become no less than peaceful and benevolent.”

  I didn’t even know what to say. I hoped my face read disagreement to the public, but I was in such utter confusion over Sam’s decisions moment after moment, I didn’t know how to move forward.

  “We don’t,” someone said, stepping forward from the crowd. “Not yours– neither of you.”

  Some of the crowd cheered in agreement. Some of them still seemed afraid. Sam scowled a little.

  “That’s fine,” I waved off. “Sam, listen to me–”

  “What?” he asked the crowd.

  “We’ll never just bow down to someone like you!” another person shouted. “You’re just people!”

  “We are not just people,” Sam argued. “We’re more than that. Better.”

  “We’re not, he’s…he’s kidding!” I tried to deflect.

  “You’re not even full grown men!” someone else said. “I got grandkids older than you!”

  “You can fly, good for you!” a protester said. “That doesn’t mean we’re just gonna bow down to a nobody and a public menace!”

  “You’re supposed to be dead anyway!” an angered voice came from the crowd.

  The shouting and jeering only grew more fervent and angry by the word, and before we knew it, we were surrounded by a rebellion to a rule not even begun.

  “Get out of here, now. Call Julia, have Bell or Bentley come get you,” I muttered to Alannah. She nodded, and ran off into the crowd.

  When I turned back, I saw Sam’s eyes locked on me. His face was one of betrayal, which was ironic, all things considered.

  “Sam,” I said, “listen, it’s still not too late; nobody’s been hurt, alright? People are just… they’re just scared. We can still stop this, together. I can still help you–”

  “Do you see what you’ve done?” he asked. “All your rejection, your refusal to help me, your best fr
iend! Your brother! All that, and now…now these people are going to have to be swayed even more than before! That’s on you!”

  “Sam, you’re not going to sway anybody; listen to yourself, man! This is over,” I replied. He gazed out behind me, and stared at Alannah, still making her way through the crowd.

  “Not yet,” he muttered. “If you’re going to turn my friends against me, if you won’t even help me willingly… then you’re going to have to be swayed yourself…”

  Sam extended out his hand, and I glanced back at the crowd Alannah weaved through. Every person she had to push past, keeping her that much closer to the calamity that fell behind her. Every shoulder, arm, leg that she had to bump into, try and avoid. I could tell she’d already tried to pick up the pace, even before Sam did what he did. She knew things were about to fall apart.

  But good lord, she had no clue just how bad it would get.

  Nothing came from Sam’s hand– he flicked it up like the action meant hardly anything to him; his fingers just barely lifting, as if it were a half-hearted, departing wave. And yet, as soon as his palm faced those civilians, in waves, they burst into pockets of blood and dust.

  They likely felt no pain, but like lambs to the slaughter, they were torn particle by particle into nothingness, as well did the ground beneath them. Men, women– people who had no idea what was going on– no paid the price for my ignorance to Sam’s mental rampancy.

  I felt my heart freeze over. For the first time in a while, time seemed to creep to a halt, and it wasn’t Sam. I just watched as one person after another hardly even had the time to recognize they were next, about to be evaporated– murdered– by my best friend.

  Sam just crossed a line I never dared dream either of us capable. At least twenty, maybe thirty innocent, scared human beings, dead, because of a direct course of action he made; a decision to wipe them from this world, and for no other purpose than to reach one of his oldest friends, and my fiancee.

  The wave of decimation made a straight and quickening path to Alannah, and I acted before I had time to think. Without a word, I grabbed Sam by the torso, and flung him into the first floor of the Hancock.

  This all happened relatively quickly, so the rest of the crowd had only seconds to react to the massacre Sam had just nearly begun, and Alannah glanced back in total shock. I hardly had time to lock eyes with her, see the complete devastation in her gaze, before I waved her off, and turned to the people.

  “Everyone leave, now!” I commanded. The crowd scattered in a frenzy. The cops stood there for a moment, uncertain what to do, and just faced me. “Get out of the way; evacuate civilians. If anyone gets hurt in the crossfire, protect them. Don’t worry about–!”

  Just like that, I was in the air, a fist slamming into my face a not-so-good handful of times. I brought my suit back on for protection, and gripped Sam’s head between my hands, blasting cosmic energy out of them. It burned him pretty badly, so he brought his own suit back on too, and backed away from me.

  “What the hell is wrong with you!?” he screamed. It sounded like he was crying. I wasn’t though– he’d lost that privilege from me.

  “Have you lost your mind!” I yelled back. “You just killed people! Do you even know who you are anymore!?”

  “Do you!?”

  He shot toward me again, screaming all the while, and tackled me. We soared right through a building’s floor. I kicked him in the stomach, and released myself from his grasp on the other side of the building.

  I lunged at him this time, and swung quickly and precisely, all while still maintaining as much momentum and force as my movements allowed. I landed the first handful of hits on him, but then he started blocking my attacks, eventually punching me in the underside of my right arm. It didn’t break, but it hurt like all hell.

  In that moment of pain, he very quickly clicked my chestplate, retracted my suit, and extended his hand, somehow blasting me backward. I flew back a ways before recovering, and when I reoriented myself, he was already flying toward me like a bullet.

  He hit me backward again, and I was just trying to understand how all the while. Also, I was trying to dodge him, which only made things take longer.

  It seemed like he was just making pockets of air literally burst right in front of me out of nowhere. If I had to guess, I’d wager it was some form or another of his matter manipulation.

  Once I got blasted back for the seventh time or so, I dropped myself down, and landed in a vacant street. He came down not but a second after I did, and stared me down, only a couple yards away.

  “I thought we were friends! Friends don’t hurt each other like that!” Sam shouted.

  “I thought so too. I thought you were my brother,” I responded. “But Sam, you tried to kill Alannah; you tried to hurt the love of my life.”

  “She was never in any danger!” he argued.

  “You murdered a mass of people, trying to reach her!”

  “I just wanted to prove a point! I am your brother!”

  “Sam…! My brother would never do that.”

  I blasted toward him, and grabbed a parked car to my right. I quickly went around Sam, and bashed him over the back of the head with the car. He fell onto the ground, and I just kept swinging it down on him, trying to at least knock him out.

  When the car had been thoroughly destroyed, I started grav-manipulating him into the street, and bringing other cars down on top of him with my free hand. I could feel him struggling against it though, and it was getting harder and harder to resist.

  Suddenly, there was another burst of sorts, only this time, all of the cars on top of Sam just… disintegrated. They turned to almost miniscule pieces of ash, and he stood, facing me.

  “You think I’m not me anymore?” he asked. “You think I’m not your brother!? What do you think I am, then!?”

  He tackled me again, and lifted us off into the sky. We went through the top few floors of another tower, and then he turned around, and tossed me back onto what was left of its roof.

  Helicopters flew around in the distance, still trying to get an angle on the fight. It was absurdly stupid, but thankfully, Sam was focused on me.

  “You think I’m Malek?” he pressed, drifting down closer to me. “You think I’m some kind of a crazed, psycho murderer? Is that it!?”

  “I don’t know w-what you are,” I said, struggling to stand back up. “But you...you are not the man I grew up with. You’re not you, Sam.” Sam stopped then, floating just a few feet above me. He retracted the suit, and stared at me with his eyes. His pained, bloodshot eyes.

  “How can you say that…?” he asked, for the first time sounding just a little bit like him again. That… hurt to hear. And I was right, he was crying.

  “If you were you, you’d understand why,” I said. “You’d see why what you’re doing is wrong. Why you let this…this need for fame and recognition, for a better second chance, twist your mind. You’d know why you can’t have this power. Why you’re not meant for it.”

  “And you are?” he asked, the monotonous dead-eyes slowly sinking back into place. I shook my head.

  “I was just a kid in the wrong place at the right time; I was never meant to have it. But I’m going to use it, to do what’s right.”

  “And what’s right, Jason?”

  “Taking away the powers I gave you.”

  “And killing me in the process…?” I paused, and stared at the ground. My chest felt like it was caving in on itself. It felt cold. Filled only with tensions and stress. I looked back up to him.

  “Only if you don’t stop this.”

  Sam scowled, and in that moment, I willed the suit to do what I had only theorized, but seriously hoped would work. I asked it to take his suit off of him, and come back to me. It was made from my suit after all, so I had assumed that some part of it would still be connected to me, if I willed it hard enough; much of the suit worked based on will, anyhow.

  Sam’s scowl quickly turned into a face of shock a
s he dropped onto the roof of the tower, shouting. The chestplate slowly ripped from his chest and back to me, piece by piece.

  After a few seconds of freaking out, Sam’s grimace crawled back onto his face, and he glared at me, breathing like a madman. Like he had just run a marathon.

  “F-Fine you– you want it back!? Take it back!” Sam screeched, firing it out of his chest at once in tiny shards, and sending them hurdling into my body.

  They injected my skin. Each piece felt like bits of hot magma, burning away at my insides. Then he shot toward me, and put his hands over my own chestplate.

  “In fact, why don’t you take it all!” he whispered, then phasing my chestplate into my torso.

  It was like he made it dissipate, and then almost instantaneously reappear underneath my skin. It felt like it was fusing with my bones, and my body was trying to find any and every way to accommodate for it. It felt like my entire upper half was being restructured from within, both from Sam, and my rate of healing trying to repair myself.

  My bones regrew around and within the chestplate, and I could see the light of the center just barely shining through my skin. It felt like pieces of the suit were falling apart; disintegrating all on their own to make sure I wasn’t overstuffed. I screamed at first, but after a moment I was just fighting for air. It was horrifying; like I was suffocating.

  Sam just watched, his chest now ripe with cuts and blood. I tried to stare up at him, but the pain was still too much to bear.

  “Sam…!” I muttered. He leant in closer, and held a single remaining piece of his chestplate in his hand.

  He shoved it into my left eye, dug intensely around in my socket, and then ripped it out. I felt what was left of my eye go with it. I screamed the whole way through. I could feel blood pour down the left of my face, as everything on that side went dark.

  The sky itself was almost black with clouds now, and rain sliced through the air like knives.

  “What, Jason? What now?” Sam egged on through my wails of pain. “Are you going to beg me to stop? Try and get me to see things your way? Apparently I’m not Sam anymore– I’m not your brother, your best friend– so what makes you think I’m going to listen?”