World's End

by D. B. Green

  The wedding.

  Her touch triggers a memory. I’ve seen her before… She was the planner for the Church wedding. I remember seeing her on the news. Andrea Shaw… She took over Church Incorporated after James Church collapsed.

  “We’ve got a problem.” Mel, the woman Shaw gave the phone to, walks in front of me. “There’s a Military Police Incursion team at the hospital.” She glances at me. “They’ve got kill orders on these two.”

  Shaw walks to the left, focusing on the parking lot. “How many?”

  “Five.”

  She turns to the other woman in black. “Open a Traverse, Kim,” she shouts, pushing Dean forward. “We have to get these two out of here. Now!”

  Red spots of blood cover Dean’s white lab coat. Suddenly, one of the spots moves. It dances across his body, resting on his forehead.

  Shaw screams. “Melanie—”

  11:48 GMT

  LUTHER STONE

  RUTLAND HOSPITAL | NEW BAKEWELL

  “No!”

  The scream reverberates through the camper van from outside, sending my mind back to the Gulf War. I close my eyes, but I can’t block it out. The town of Khafji. The screams. The explosion. My leg…

  “Snap out of it, Luther!”

  My eyes spring open at the panic in Nicci’s voice. I rub my knee and then reach further down. There’s excruciating pain where my calf should be. This soon disappears as I press into the cold metal rods underneath.

  Kathy’s last words in the journal fade away, leaving a blank page. “No… not again.” I push open the door and step out of the van. My hands shake as I pull my Berettas out of their holsters.

  Nicci grabs my shoulder, pulling me back. “What the hell just happened?”

  “Kathy… She’s gone.” I twist away from her grip and run up the parking ramp into the glaring sunshine.

  Dizzy.

  Pain shoots through my knee with every step. I shift more weight onto my good leg. I don’t want to pass out.

  A whirring noise, like helicopter blades, buzzes close to my head. I drop to the ground and scramble behind a metallic blue car. Shielding my eyes, I look to the sky for the source of the noise. A soldier flies over me, blocking out the sun. It’s like a giant, invisible hand is twirling him by his leg. He fires his MP5. Bullets thud into the asphalt next to me. He continues firing as he spins. A curved line carves through the car bonnet and across the windscreen.

  The fuel tank.

  I dive behind another car as the metallic blue one explodes. Chunks of burning metal pepper the side of the silver car protecting me. It rocks sideways under the impact. Another smaller explosion sends a plume of black smoke high into the sky.

  The smell of burning metal is overpowering.

  Libby.

  Think of anything. Anything but that… Think of Khafji.

  I shake my head, but worse memories force Khafji aside in my mind. They attack my soul.

  No. Please, no.

  My mind jumps back to Pennsylvania Avenue. Our car. Black smoke. Burning metal. The melted purse. Libby…

  I jam my knee down into the socket of the prosthetic leg and turn what’s left of my limb.

  Intense pain.

  The nerve endings scream as I rotate my knee. But the pain drives the car bomb memories away.

  Dizzy.

  I stop turning the joint as the first stings of dizziness creep into my mind. I can’t pass out, not now.

  The soldier’s helmet falls, bouncing off the car hood onto the asphalt. The attached radio earpiece hisses. “Report. Report.”

  I peer over the hood. Another soldier rises into the sky from the far side of the parking lot, like a marionette on invisible strings. Then three more rise from their hiding places. They crash together in mid-air and rise even higher, like a distant flock of birds in the sky. Then they drop. Fast. Crashing against the stone corner of the hospital and landing in a heap on the sidewalk.

  I head past the smoking blue car, to the pile of broken bodies. A dark stream of blood trickles into the storm drain at the edge of the road. I step over the blood and run to the corner of the hospital. Pressing tight to the cool stone wall, I peer around at the smashed entrance.

  Kathy.

  She’s lying on the ground. Not moving. Her head resting in a dark red puddle. Dean crouches over her, shaking.

  The three women stand behind him in a Trinity Formation. Two dark suits, one white.

  “Freeze. Don’t move!” I shout, aiming my Berettas.

  The three women start turning, like a carousel.

  Suddenly, I rise from the ground, like someone is yanking me up from my collar. My stomach drops like the first seconds of a parachute jump. I swing my arm, but there’s nothing above my head.

  I’m at least ten-foot from the ground. I shield my eyes from the bright sun and squeeze the Beretta triggers, firing four quick rounds at the spinning women below. But the bullets bounce off a hidden barrier protecting them as they turn. I fire off another two rounds. I drop a little. The more I fire, the lower I drop.

  I fall the last four-feet to the ground.

  I spin around and aim my Berettas, but the three women are gone. Turning in a circle, I check the perimeter, but there’s no sight of them.

  Avoiding the broken glass on the ground, I head over to Kathy. There’s a dark bloody hole in the center of her forehead. Her lifeless, empty eyes stare back. I check for a pulse. Nothing.

  She’s dead.

  “Red laser targets came out of nowhere, covering us all,” Dean says, his eyes falling on Kathy. “The women couldn’t get their magic barrier up in time.”

  Reaching down to Kathy, I gently close her eyes.

  Dean’s teary eyes sparkle with orange Radiance, brighter than I’ve seen before. It spreads out from his eyes onto his skin in tiny glowing veins.

  “Dean, you need to calm down.” I help him to his feet. “Take a deep breath and count to ten.”

  I flick on the Beretta safety and pull the slide back on, ejecting the round in the chamber. I do the same for my other Beretta. “Where did they go?” I ask, holstering my guns.

  “They opened a Traverse.”

  Dean drops to his knees, next to Kathy’s body. He starts shaking. Fast. Raising a blurry fist, he pounds it down onto the asphalt. Tiny cracks race out from under his fist, rupturing the ground. I step out of the way as they shoot past my feet, tearing through the ground like burrowing animals. They glow orange, like the veins on Dean’s face.

  Affinity.

  We both watch the cracks, mesmerized, as they crunch through the sidewalk and race past the exposed lobby, towards the corner of the hospital like fizzing fuse wires.

  Move.

  I dive over to Dean, pushing him to the ground.

  A huge explosion shakes everything around us, like an earthquake. A dust cloud balloons from over my shoulder. The right-hand corner of the hospital is gone. As the dust clears, I focus through the gaping hole. I can see trees on the riverbank behind.

  Pulsating orange veins cover most of Dean’s face. His eyes fizz with matching, orange Radiance. The shaking gets worse. I can hardly make him out.

  Pain.

  I punch Dean, aiming for the middle of the orange fizzing blur. My fist connects with his jaw and he drops to the ground, like a boxer knocked out. The shaking stops and the glowing veins disappear from his face

  “That’s one to remember,” I whisper.

  “What did you do that for?” He rubs his jaw as he shakily gets to his feet.

  I point back to the hospital. “You lost control!”

  “John Munro was right,” Dean says, looking at his hands. “I can’t control Affinity on my own.” He looks down at Kathy’s lifeless body.

  “There’s nothing we can do for her now.” I grab his shoulder. “We need to go.” I pull my hand away, and it’s smeared with blood. His blood.

  “What the hell happened?!” Nicci shouts, running through the dust cloud.

  I c
ough and glance at Dean. “He happened.”

  Between us, we support Dean and help him back down the parking ramp. “Kathy’s dead,” I say. “Shot by a Military Police sniper.”

  Nicci’s lip trembles as she glances over her shoulder. “What about those women?”

  I help Dean into the van, sitting him down on the comfy seat at the back. Amber slides into the chair across at the table, her wide eyes staring at him. She’s got the journal. I hold out my hand to stop her, but she ignores me and opens it.

  “Kathy recognized one of the women,” I say. “It was the CEO of Church Incorporated. Andrea Shaw.”

  Nicci bangs the side of the van with her fist. She turns and walks back to the hospital entrance. “What about Kathy? We can’t just leave her.”

  I jump out of the van and grab her arm. “There’s nothing we can do for her now.”

  “But…”

  I turn her around. “When I restore the timeline, Kathy and Eddie will be still alive. This won’t have happened.” I focus on her eyes. “Hold on to that thought Nicci. Keep it in the center of your mind… We can still save them.”

  She glances back over her shoulder at the crumpled bodies of the MPs. “Fricking bastards!”

  We climb back inside the van. “We need to get moving,” I say, checking the time.

  “Do you want me to drive?” Nicci asks, nervously glancing at my hands.

  “I’ll be fine,” I say. “Can you take care of him?”

  “What do you mean?” Nicci notices Dean’s shredded, blood stained, lab coat. “Jesus Frick.”

  I turn to Amber. She’s staring at my journal page. I bend down and look her straight in the eyes. “Everything will be okay,” I whisper. “We can still save them all.”

  I prize the journal from her grasp, open it to an empty page and drop it on the seat next to Dean.

  “It’s okay,” he says, grimacing. “I remember what to do.” He plants his hand down on the page.

  12:01 GMT

  DEAN DARWIN

  RUTLAND HOSPITAL | NEW BAKEWELL

  What the hell was that? I’ve never felt rage like that before. I barely even knew Kathy, but when she died, it was like a part of me died too. It triggered something deep inside, something I can’t control… Affinity.

  Where are you, Emma?

  My hands still tingle from the magic. It’s all a blur, but I remember pounding the concrete — hard. I should have broken bones, but apart from dust and dirt, my hands are fine. But the smell from the explosion lingers in my nostrils like burnt ash after a bonfire. A reminder of what I’ve done. But, if I haven’t met Emma in this world, how can I even do magic?

  Kathy.

  It must have been Kathy. Her connection to me… to Affinity. She must have given me a temporary focus.

  I glance at the journal on the table. Words spread across the page from where my hand rested, like a swarm of ants. I read the words, looking for answers. But then I remember it only shows your thoughts… These thoughts.

  I close my eyes tight, hoping it’s a dream, hoping I’ll wake up next to Emma.

  “It’s not a dream.”

  The voice is female. Soft but with an eerie, electronic echo. It came from the young girl opposite at the table. She strokes her hand over a heart-shaped, silver locket around her neck.

  “You’re Amber,” I say.

  She wipes her eyes. “Yes, and that’s my aunt Nicci, talking to Luther.”

  “Nicci,” I say. “The one that got her memories back.”

  The blonde-haired woman leaning over the driver’s seat turns at the mention of her name. “You make it sound like an episode of Friends,” she says, sitting down next to me.

  “What’s with her voice?” I whisper.

  “It’s her Electro-Larynx Choker, my invention,” Nicci says. “Amber’s voice was stolen.”

  “By magic,” I say.

  Nicci twists my shoulders around. “Yes, by fricking magic.”

  Poor kid.

  Nicci tugs at the white coat. “Can you lift your arms? I need to get this off,” she says.

  I raise my arms as high as I can. There’s no pain now — only a cold numbness to my skin.

  “Keep your arms up.” She lifts off my T-shirt too. “Amber, pass me some water.”

  I try to turn my head, but Nicci forces me back around to face the window. All I can do is watch the buildings whizz past outside. Blue flags hang everywhere — they turn into a long blue blur the faster Luther drives.

  “Where are we?”

  “It’s called New Bakewell,” Nicci says.

  The blurry skyline looks more like London or New York City. “I grew up in Bakewell. It doesn’t look like I remember.”

  Amber puts a bottle of water on the table.

  “I’m so sorry about your voice,” I say. “It must be terrible.”

  “It’s okay. I’m fine now.”

  Brave kid.

  Nicci grabs the bottle of water. “Lean forward, Dean. This might sting a bit.” She dabs at my back with a towel. The numbness is fading, but the water doesn’t sting — it soothes my skin instead.

  “Jesus Christ. It looks like you got a window’s worth of glass stuck in here.” She grabs a small first aid box from under the table. Flipping open the lid, she takes out a pair of tweezers.

  I grab a tissue from the box next to me and wipe away the dirt on my hands. They still tingle; I clench my fists to shake away the feeling. My knuckles crack, the same noise Kathy’s head made as the bullet exploded through her skull. The scene plays over in my mind like it’s stuck on repeat.

  Kathy… Kathy… Kathy!

  Every repetition brings more intense fury. My whole body feels on fire. “You’re not bothered, are you?!” I shout. “Kathy’s dead and none of you give a damn!”

  Nicci jumps back, pressing herself against the side door, her eyes open wide in shock.

  Luther slams on the brakes and the van screeches to a stop. “Nicci, if the veins around his eyes glow orange, knock him out!” he shouts.

  Amber’s terrified face halts the burning fury swelling in my head. There’s a kettle on the table. I check my reflection in the shiny metal.

  My eyes sparkle with fiery-orange Affinity Radiance. But it’s different, more intense, like hundreds of tiny exploding fireworks. I don’t understand. I only have Radiance when I’m with Emma… or Kathy. It never happens just with anger.

  As I stare at my reflection, the veins around my eyes turn orange too. They pulsate in rhythm with my pounding heartbeat. I touch a vein, but a wasp-like sting bites at my fingers. The rage builds again.

  Nicci’s face appears in the kettle reflection. I turn around, but she backs away, dropping the tweezers. “Luther! His fricking veins are glowing!” She reaches over the back seat and pulls out a baseball bat. She holds it above her head, ready to swing.

  “Whoa, it’s okay.” I hold up my hands. “I know what to do.”

  I close my eyes and breathe slowly, counting the breaths.

  One… Two… Three… Four… Five…

  The rage fades and I’m relieved to see normal blue eyes looking back at me from the side of the kettle.

  “Is he okay?” Luther asks.

  Nicci bends down and grabs my face with both hands. “Yup, his eyes look normal again.” She shakes her head and puts the baseball bat back behind the seat.

  Luther stares at me, narrowing his eyes. “Are you sure, Nicci?”

  “Yes. He’s fine.”

  Amber still looks terrified. “Don’t worry, I was taught by Zen monks to meditate,” I say, leaning forward. “They must have known.”

  Did they know?

  Those intense weeks in the Tibetan mountains with Emma suddenly make sense now.

  Amber tilts her head. “Zen monks? Really?”

  I force a smile. “Yes, really.”

  Nicci grabs the kettle from my hand and swaps it for a chipped mug. “Hold this.” She pours in a little water. Grabbing the tweezers from
the floor, she stirs them twice and then sits down behind me. “This might hurt,” she says.

  No pain. Just a tiny tug on my skin, like when you have stitches under anesthetic.

  A piece of glass splashes into the mug. “One down, a million to go,” Nicci says.

  “How’s his back?” Luther asks, as the van starts moving again.

  “It’s starting to heal. Some of the glass is falling out on its own.”

  Luther suddenly slams on the brakes. “But it shouldn’t be healing. We’re still inside the Veil.” He starts driving again.

  “I guess we don’t need to get him to Scotland now,” Nicci says, dropping more glass into the mug.

  Veil… Scotland.

  I keep breathing slowly, just in case the rage returns. I’ve never felt that kind of intense anger before. It scares me. If it wasn’t for Amber’s terrified face making me stop, I don’t know what would have happened.

  I flick through the journal pages. As well as the one I just primed, there’s one for Luther and Nicci. I can’t find a page for Am—

  “You won’t find a page for Amber,” Nicci says, peering over my shoulder. “For some reason, it just won’t connect to her mind.” She lowers her voice. “Good job too. I’m starting to hate that fricking thing.” More glass splashes into the mug.

  Amber twirls her silver locket around her finger while she watches my every move.

  The locket.

  I lean forward. “Kathy told me about your locket. Can I see it?”

  Amber glances at Nicci and then lifts the locket over her head. “It’s a picture of my stepmum and dad at their wedding.”

  There’s another photo inside, on the opposite side, sitting behind a teardrop shaped amber pendant — probably another keepsake of her lost parents. I carefully remove the pendant so I can see the other photo. It’s shows Amber, her stepmum, and a dark-haired woman. “Is this —”

  “Keep still,” Nicci says. “And yes, that’s me in the photo.”

  “So, all your memories came back when you touched this?” I ask.