Soul Hunter

by Drew Briney

  As the hours passed and street life slowed down for the dinner hour, Tzun slowly stood up and slithered down the boardwalk, unnoticed by anyone at all. If he had any real talent, this was it: he could disappear – masterfully well. His right hand, now familiar with the vial it had been stroking throughout the day, held firm to its package. He needed to go somewhere private to divide his daily dose and see how it affected him. As he had thought about this while begging, he determined he would first go home, make his daily presentation of financial offerings to his family, visit the bathroom where he could hide his stash of money, divide the vial of Slice with a toothpaste cap, drink his daily dose, and go for a walk to the park where he could sit underneath some bushes and … experiment. He waited to take his first dose so he would have a strong buffer time between his meetings with Max. One missed day could lead to disastrous consequences – and that was a risk he wouldn’t take.

  Soon, Tzun was climbing the stairs to the second floor where his family lived. Part of him didn’t want to go home today – his swollen (probably black) eye would be embarrassing and he would have to tell the same story half a dozen times to half a dozen family members before the night was over. The other part of him was thrilled and excited – how would Slice enhance his powers? Rumor had it that Slice was somewhat unpredictable: its effect on some people was minimal while its effect on others was nigh unto disastrous. But for most people, Slice just magnified the abilities of whoever was using it. Of course, Tzun knew he was taking a gamble by hoping that Slice would treat him well but he suppressed those considerations.

  Hand held up to the doorknob, he briefly considered not opening the door to his apartment. What if he just downed half the vial right now, walked to the park, and learned what was going to happen without any further waiting? Maybe it would heal his eye – rumor said that Slice made some people heal ridiculously fast – but then, Tzun heard that from Patty and everyone knew she couldn’t reliably regurgitate the truth. Or maybe Slice would enhance his psionic talents and allow him to control his Uncle Kan – the scariest relative in his family. To date, Tzun hadn’t shared his Uzzit talents with anyone – not even with Koemi – so no one would suspect his taking control over Kan’s mind for a while …

  Without thinking, Tzun turned the knob, hung his head low, and brooded his way into the living room. With his bruised eye swollen shut, feigning depression would be easy and Kan probably wouldn’t badger him for his share of the money as intensely as usual. Marie, his mother was the first to notice, then Aki, his aunt, then Ba Tu, his mentally handicapped father, and then a slew of cousins all together. Within ten minutes, the entire household was in its traditional uproar and given the situation, it was easy for Tzun to excuse himself into the bathroom for a few minutes while the women of the family returned to their traditional meal preparations.

  Hand shaking, breath constricted, and pulse quickening, Tzun shut the door, locked it, unscrewed the toothpaste cap, pulled out the vial, popped off the cork top, and carefully measured slightly less than one half of the metallic liquid one portion at a time. Although gritty, Slice tasted somewhat like old car keys. And beyond that distinct metal taste, it sent subtle shocks of electricity down his tongue and throat, sort of like chewing tinfoil except that the tingling sensation traveled with the liquid all of the way down into the stomach. Almost immediately, Tzun felt energized and found himself hungrily sipping every last spec of Slice out of the toothpaste cap, carefully rinsing the cap with a couple drops of water, and sucking hard to make sure there was no Slice left in the cap. Leaving residue in the cap could be quite dangerous to other family members but Tzun nearly forgot to think about that. If anything, he felt strongly tempted just to drink the second portion of Slice and then come up with some lame excuse as to how he had spilt it on the ground so that he could get an extra serving – it was exhilarating, fulfilling, and demanding all at once – and Tzun soon felt growing impulses to do things he had never done before.

  The next hour with his family was painfully unfulfilling – like how a child feels when promised ice cream on a road trip: the excitement only lasts so long before the wait becomes agonizing. In between explaining what had happened in the alleyway (conveniently omitting anything involving Max) and presenting a disappointingly paltry financial offering for the day, Tzun found himself largely distracted by things that were happening outside.

  Juan, known for blaring his mariachi music louder than anyone else in the neighborhood cared to hear began a long volley of expletives when his radio sparked and popped until it failed to work entirely. Experimenting further, Tzun brushed Juan’s mind with strong suggestions to include a string of defamatory rantings about his wife while banging on the radio – bringing no small fury from her tongue as she overheard what he had to say. A homeless dog known for random acts of aggression whimpered loudly and ran away down the alley. A short while later, a neighborhood bully sincerely and profusely professed his love to a stairwell while onlookers softly chuckled with eyebrows cocked and heads shaking. Other random incidents followed every few minutes.

  Psionics were Tzun’s passion but before today, he had only been able to master some few useful tricks. Even then, after a few bursts of effort, he usually felt drained and unable to do much anything else. Today was different. Tzun was embarking upon a new world. New ideas came readily and Slice opened his mind to make new efforts intuitive – instinctual. After an hour of experimenting and messing around with people’s heads as they walked along the road below, Tzun felt like he was just warming up. The moment dinner was over, he nearly bolted out the door and went for that long awaited walk to the park.

  2

  “Kan, you really should teach him how to fight. Didn’t you see his eye?” Marie coaxed, offering a prodigious puppy dog face to emphasize her point.

  “Not a chance. You heard how he lost his temper and beat those boys last year.”

  “Oh come on, you know Koemi is prone to exaggeration. Look at Tzun’s eye when he comes back. I really doubt her story carries much weight …”

  “The boy talks to himself late at night, comes and goes at random times, and has no job. He must first learn discipline, to control his passions …”

  “Kan,” Marie interrupted in turn. You’re such a hypocrite. “You began teaching your children before they were old enough to know these things. I know Tzun’s Australian mother unforgivably gave him a Chinese name but he is still your family. You cannot expect him to survive these streets much longer at his size without some training. How much longer until …”

  “No.”

  “Ba Tu would teach him but since his injury …”

  “No.”

  “Kan …”

  “No,” Tzun’s uncle repeated with exasperation. “He is already too dangerous. Koemi said that two of those boys last year went to the hospital in critical condition.”

  “Not true…” she sing-songed in response, trying to retain her composure – and her patience.

  “Why he let someone get the better of him again today, I don’t know but I am certain of this …” he paused for dramatic effect, shaking his finger with frustration. “Tzun is a danger to those around him. He is constantly in fights, he is unstable ...”

  “He’s a cheerful puppy dog who couldn’t harm a spring chick,” Marie interjected with unbelieving desperation, “he …”

  “I will not take part in teaching him anything that will harm others. It is already shameful enough that he makes money stealing and begging. He …”

  “Kan!” Marie interrupted. “Be reasonable. The boy has no means of getting a job – you yourself turned him down for a job – and surely you know your own children beg and steal to survive …”

  Kan yelled something unintelligible and stormed off into the other room, knocking chairs aside and swearing words in Japanese that even Marie wasn’t familiar with.

  Being the Australian wife of a severely handicapped husband was rarely easy. Being dependent upon the mercies of a qu
asi-traditional, quasi-dysfunctional Japanese family was even worse. She enjoyed Asian cultures but this family seemed to have forgotten its heritage altogether. Hypocrite, she all but screamed in her own mind as she watched him leave. Uuuooohh, she silently grunted. You couldn’t at least teach him some self defense? she sarcastically complained. Reasoning with Kan was as profitable as betting on race turtles but motherly instinct had required the attempt. Then again, Marie tacitly understood that Kan only allowed her and her crippled husband to stay so he could publicly protect his honor. The time would come when Kan would look for a good excuse to kick Marie, Ba Tu, and Tzun out of the house so she had to be careful not to push issues too hard. At the same time, it was becoming unbearably difficult to watch Tzun continually take beatings while roaming the streets just so he could put food on the table for her. The whole situation was one continual vicious cycle and she didn’t know how to get out of it.

  3

  Bursting with energy, Tzun nearly felt out of control. He tried focusing his mind on healing his eye but nothing happened. He tried to make his muscles stronger so that he could run faster or jump higher. Nothing happened. Tzun saw a nerdy kid on the street corner trying to impress a blond girl way out of his league. She smugly walked over to the boy as if she were going to give him a major tongue lashing and instead … kissed him. He saw a little toddler on the corner staring wistfully at the only real flower garden in the entire city. Tzun sent her visual images of flowers dancing all around her and singing happy songs. The girl clapped in delight and called to her mother to show her the dancing flowers. Tzun tried to break a twig with his mind. Nothing happened. He used his mind to roll a small boulder a good ten feet. It worked. After messing around with several more random psionic tricks, Tzun began to feel physically drained and while he walked towards his apartment, he began to drag his feet as he awkwardly swaggered.

  He didn’t make it out of the park before passing out.

  He woke up late the next morning and looked at an antique clock erected on a stone pillar at the south edge of the park. It was nearly time to meet Max. Blasted bricks! he swore at himself. I have to hurry. But as he tried to stand up, Tzun found himself unable to balance well on his feet and fell over twice before gaining enough control over his body to tentatively walk towards the alleyway where he had met Max. Nausea; fatigue; headaches; dizziness; sore muscles; they consumed him but he pressed on. Although only twenty minutes passed, Tzun felt as if he had heroically pressed through days of trials just to make it back into the alleyway. By the time he rounded the corner to meet Max, he worried that he might pass out while receiving his first Uzzit lesson.

  Familiar leather trappings identified Max as the first man Tzun saw in the alleyway but there was another young man there, perhaps twenty years of age. His natural hair color was dubious underneath a strong coating of aqua coloring but Tzun guessed the man was naturally blond. A string of cursings poured out of his mouth as he argued with Max but the veteran drug smuggler barely responded. Instead, he simply hushed the younger man, brushed him aside with a cursory wave of his hand, and tossed a small package into the air. The man with aqua hair held onto whatever he caught like a starving man in a desert holds onto a diminishing flask of water and then ran around the corner as quickly as he could. The exchange left Tzun feeling uneasy as Max turned around.

  “Hey kid, you made it!” Max said pleasantly as if nothing negative had happened in his life for days. “You never told me your name.”

  “Tzun.”

  “Soon?” he responded, puzzled.

  “Ttttzzzun,” the young boy repeated. “You hold your tongue as if you are going to say something that starts with a ‘T’ and then say ‘Z’ instead.” The explanation wasn’t quite right but it gave Americans a good shot at pronouncing his name.

  “Got it … Tzun,” Max repeated carefully. “You look awful kid. You didn’t sleep well?”

  “Uhhh, I don’t know,” Tzun confessed. “I sort of passed out on the way home last night.”

  “Oh. You didn’t use Slice in the evening did you? I gave it to you yesterday morning – you should always use it before the afternoon.”

  “Oh,” Tzun mumbled, feeling stupid even though no one had ever told him that before.

  “No matter kid. Here, take a little extra now and then drink another dose after our lesson and you should start feeling better right away.” Max threw a small vial at Tzun who wolfed down the liquid without a thought. Immediately, that tingling sensation buzzed down his throat and into his stomach as Slice made its way through his body. Then, Tzun’s headache, soreness, and dizziness gave way to an exhilarating surge of energy. Even though it was only a small dose, he was entirely overwhelmed by the feeling it gave him. Max glowed with satisfaction as he observed the change in his client.

  “Okay Tzun, how much money did you bring me today?”

  Tzun pulled out a few small bills he kept in his pockets as a reserve in case he needed to buy food on the streets and briefly touched the only large bill he left stashed away in his hidden pocket. The rest of yesterday’s earnings were hoarded away back home, underneath the bathroom counter and in a small bag where he kept his toothbrush, razor, and other personal hygiene items. He had sewn a secret compartment at the bottom of that bag so no one would find it and it came in handy from time to time.

  “Here,” Tzun offered the small stash of bills as if he was pleased with how much money he was giving Max. He suspected Max might not be satisfied with this paltry offering so he feigned pride so that, on the off chance Max objected, he could tell Max to count the money. Then, if Max was still unhappy, Tzun could say he had counted wrong and let Max count the money again before pulling out the larger bill from his hidden pocket. If Max said nothing, Tzun would say nothing.

  “Really kid, that’s it?”

  Fairly relaxed and confident, Tzun feigned surprise. “Count it,” he coaxed, “that’s more than I can usually lift in three days,” he claimed, only stretching the truth a little. The amount was more than he got to keep for himself after three day’s lifting. Max counted the money.

  “Alright,” he conceded grumpily as he stashed the money in his pockets and pulled out a vial of Slice for Tzun to drink. “Don’t drink that until after our lesson,” he instructed, “but you need to drink it right away after we’re finished. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Tzun repeated. This guy’s a drill sergeant, he silently groaned. “What’s our lesson today?” he pressed, brimming with hope.

  “First off, I’m gonna need more money than that from day to day,” Max complained. “Slice is expensive to make you know? I’ll go broke trying to help people out if I can’t at least pay for the production of your daily dose. Right? You follow me?”

  “I’m following you,” Tzun repeated. At least he didn’t need to pay any extra money today but quickly calculating in his mind, Tzun estimated that his stash wasn’t going to cover as much Slice as he’d hoped.

  “Okay then, let’s see you lift something,” Max instructed.

  Tzun nervously looked around him. There was no one in sight and he had never let anyone watch him pickpocket before. What if Max caught Tzun on video? “Ummm. You want to follow me to Mariner’s Market Street?” he tentatively asked.

  “Ha!” Max laughed with one of those hearty smoker’s laughs that almost sounded more like a cough than a laugh. “No kid, I mean lift something; pick it up using your mind.” He pointed to his head.

  “Oh, gotcha,” Tzun answered, feeling stupid again. Fortunately though, he had already thought through this part of the lesson. If he started big, Max might give him better lessons. If he started small, Max might later become impressed with his progress and be easier on him if Tzun ended up a little short on money. Street savvy in some ways, Tzun nevertheless sported a strong naïve streak so he opted for the possibility of better lessons – without even considering that Max might not be invested in these lessons or considering that the lessons were really just a means of keepin
g kids on Slice.

  Bearing in mind that Slice enhanced his capabilities, Tzun gave everything he had to lift up one side of the dumpster, an object much larger than anything he had ever tried to move before – including the small boulder he rolled the night before. It moved but the one side of the dumpster didn’t stay in the air very long before the wheels on the other side started rolling, ruining Tzun’s control over it. It slammed back down onto the ground. Frustrated and initially too intimidated to look at his mentor, Tzun was slow to meet Max’s gaze. He struggled to discern his mentor’s reaction. Was he disappointed? Impressed? Was that surprise in his eyes? Tzun couldn’t tell.

  “Not bad kid,” Max started, pursing his lips into a frown and bobbing his head up and down as if he was trying to be encouraging. “Do it again.”

  Those three words scared Tzun interminably. He desparately wanted to impress Max. He wanted a great lesson. He wanted direction. But he didn’t think he could do it again. Levitation was Tzun’s weakest Uzzit talent. Tzun focused. He tried to channel the energy he had received from the small dose of Slice he drank earlier but it felt almost used up and his strength was notably weakening. Remembering how Max had torn that same dumpster the day before, Tzun pushed his hand into the air as if he were going to lift the dumpster with his own hand. He pushed with his mind as well and tried as hard as he could to tip that dumpster over.

  And it actually worked.

  But the instant Tzun began to smile with satisfaction, he collapsed and his world went dark. Unhallowed visions enveloped him. Scenes as if from a horror movie flashed through his mind and tormented his body. Imprisoned in unconsciousness, Tzun learned depths of fear previously unknown to him. Even the venomous battling of street life held no candle to the haunting fears he suffered within the confines of his own mind. Suffocating and struggling to breathe throughout his hallucinations, the young boy lashed out at unseen attackers and silently screamed for help. His words were never heard, his sentiments never understood. He felt smothered. He felt as if he was falling. Perhaps this was the feeling of death.