Firestorm

by David Klass

  P.J., you’re lucky Eko didn’t enter that art contest back in Hadley.

  Makes me feel weird to think about P.J. right now.

  A finished painting hangs on a wall. Shocking. Exquisite. A couple making love standing up. A big man. A shorter woman. He’s holding her off the ground. She has her legs around his back. Her face is flushed.

  Eko notices where I’m staring. I look away quickly. “So you liked flying?” she asks, turning me so that she can get at the prickers on my back.

  “One of the best things I’ve ever tried.”

  “Almost as good as sex,” Eko says, extracting a thorn.

  “Uh, yeah,” I grunt noncommittally. “Sure. Ouch.”

  “I have to admit, you picked it up faster than I expected,” she says. Teasing chuckle in her voice. “You had good form. Superb stamina. Not much fear. You got a little too excited at the end, but that’s normal for a beginner. The important thing is to relax and enjoy it.”

  I’m not sure exactly what we’re talking about. I try to stay on a safe track. “You didn’t tell me how to land.”

  “Do I have to teach you everything?” Eko turns me again, so we’re facing each other. “Now I need to check your legs.”

  She bends. Cleans tiny cuts on my knees. Her light fingers brushing over my kneecap. Moving up my thigh.

  I’m breathing harder. Getting excited. The briefs don’t hide much. I’m embarrassed. Turn away. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s natural. You’re a healthy boy.”

  “Man.”

  “Young man,” Eko says. “It’s hot in here. Don’t move, I’m not done yet.” She tugs off her gray wet suit. Not wearing much under it. Sports bra and panties.

  I fight to stay calm. Think of baseball, Jack. Leading home run hitters. Hank Aaron. Babe Ruth. Barry Bonds.

  “You look kind of exposed,” Eko observes. “Here.”

  She takes off her bead necklace and drapes it over my neck. “A little gift. It looks good on you.” The red beads smell faintly of jasmine. “Men should wear more jewelry. It gives them a sensual dimension.”

  She bends back to her task. Disinfects cuts on my thigh. Each dab with the cotton stings. Concert of storm outside. Trombone slides of wind. Cymbal crashes of thunder. Violin pizzicato of rain.

  “Now let me check your buttocks,” she says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

  “Eko, that’s okay.”

  Too late. She’s turned me and tugged down my briefs.

  “Be a good patient. Just try to hold still.”

  She cleans and disinfects. My heart does NASCAR in my chest. I try to quiet the engines. Where was I? Oh yeah, Barry Bonds. But does he count, because of possible steroid use? Who’s next? Willie Mays. Then Frank Robinson.

  Can’t stop myself from glancing at Eko’s futon. At the sexy painting on the wall. My mind flashes again to P.J.

  Always thought she would be my first, and me hers. That I would be the initiator of the encounter. That we would discover this mysterious part of life together. In my car. Or in her bedroom. Used to fantasize about it all the time.

  This is pretty far from my fantasy. Of course, nothing may happen. A medical emergency brought us here, after all. First-aid kit was in Eko’s bedroom. She had to disinfect my cuts. This moment of intimacy could be just the end product of a coincidental chain of events. May lead nowhere.

  “So,” Eko says as she finishes extracting a thorn from my right buttock, “our time together is almost over. There’s one more thing I think I need to teach you, Jack.”

  I gulp air and tug my briefs back up. “Uh, yeah?”

  Eko stands. Looks at me. I remember her eyes as I first saw them, glinting coldly from inside the black Ninja death mask. Now they’re alive. Warm. Inviting.

  “I taught you how to fight,” she says. “To dive. And to fly. What does that leave?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admit, my mouth dry. “I don’t know the curriculum. Eko, maybe I’d better go.”

  She grabs the red bead necklace and pulls me closer with it. “Vulnerability is your enemy,” she whispers.

  “What does that mean?”

  “They’re chasing you. They’ll use every weakness you have to trip you up, to destroy you. You must be expert in every area. There must be no chink in your armor.” Her hot breath glazes my cheeks. “No dullness to your sword.”

  I need space. Stall for time. “Why are they chasing me?” I whisper back. “How do they know I can find Firestorm and change the future?”

  “It was prophesied when you were born, a thousand years from now,” Eko whispers. “The last hope of a dying planet. That’s why you were sent back by your father and hidden by those he trusted. That’s why you were flushed out by the Dark Army. And that’s why you are now being chased.”

  “But how can I save a world I don’t even know? Where am I supposed to go and what exactly am I supposed to do?”

  “Find Firestorm,” Eko replies. “And use it to change the world. Halt the damage and prevent the Turning Point, and the long, awful decline into darkness.”

  “How will I use Firestorm? Where will I find it?”

  “No one knows,” she says. “The Dark Army are searching for it right now, to destroy it and protect the dark future they are close to owning. But even with all their energy and evil science, they will fail. The prophecy says that you and you alone can find it. I have prepared you as best I can. But you still have one great weakness.”

  “I’m actually feeling pretty strong,” I rasp, my throat suddenly as dry as a sand dune. “You did a great job training me. I’m in tip-top fighting shape now.”

  Eko reaches out gently with her right hand. Her warm fingertips descend the steps of my abs. “The male human animal, no matter how tough and fit, is made vulnerable by his sex drive,” she says, looking into my eyes. “This is especially true during his teenage years, when his hormones are strongest but he is not very good at satisfying his urges.”

  “Thanks for your concern—” I begin to interrupt.

  “This is an even more serious problem when the young man is a virgin,” Eko continues. “Lack of experience creates fantasies and misconceptions. It’s a grave weakness that can be easily exploited.”

  I think of Reilly in her New York apartment, and Jinny on the train. Maybe what Eko’s saying is true, but …

  She steps even closer. Our bodies touch. “When I first met you, Jack, I knew how much we had to accomplish, and how little time we had. Friendship would hold us back. I forced myself to be stern and demanding. Even cruel.”

  “You did a great job,” I tell her.

  “But I’ve learned to respect you,” Eko whispers. “You attacked a shark to save me. Now time is running out.”

  She leans forward. Our bodies are pressed together. We’re slow-dancing, except that we’re not really moving. Or maybe we are. Swaying very slightly.

  “Sexuality is like any other part of life,” Eko informs me softly. “Like fighting or diving. It can be a weakness or strength, a source of fear or of pleasure. You just need a good teacher—”

  I react without thinking. Push her away. Can’t believe I just did that. I really do like her. Do desire her.

  But not this way. I was willing to learn a lot of things from Eko, but not this. No matter what she says, this isn’t the same as learning to fight or dive. I don’t want basic training in this personal realm of attaining manhood.

  And then there’s P.J., wherever she is. I keep flashing to her. And all she represents.

  Not that it has to be her. But I want my first time to be with someone I love. Someone I choose. When I choose.

  “Sorry,” I tell Eko. “Don’t take this personally.”

  She looks back at me. Not quite a pout. But close. “I’m not attractive to you?”

  “You are. Truly. In many ways. You’re a very admirable person. Girl. Woman.”

  “But you don’t want me for a sexual partner?”

&nb
sp; “No,” I tell her. “Sorry, but I don’t. Let’s just be friends.”

  Eko turns away from me and walks to a closet. Pulls on a blue silk robe. When she turns back, she’s smiling. She chuckles. And then she bursts into a peal of laughter.

  Uh-oh. Women are at their most dangerous when you don’t understand them.

  “Did I miss something?” I ask. “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s just that most men find me attractive and very desirable,” she says.

  Wounded pride? I look back at her. Strong, athletic body, but built like a mailbox. Brilliant mind but quirky, moody, and often sadistic. “I’m sure that’s true.”

  “Of course, it might have something to do with the way I appear to you,” Eko suggests softly. “This is my fighting guise. As you’ve probably figured out, in the future there have been many advances in the ways we use our minds. Telepathy. Telekinesis. And shape-changing, too.”

  “Shape-changing?” I’m intrigued. “Can you really do that? Why didn’t you teach me how?”

  “Only women can do it,” Eko says, “and it takes years to learn. Here, Jack. This is the way I really look.”

  35

  Saw this once before. Reilly in her bedroom on Central Park West. Except this time girl is not turning into Gorm. Mailbox seems to be tapering to hourglass. It’s impossible for me to tell if Eko is really transforming, or if it’s just my perception of her that’s changing.

  Legs seem to be lengthening. Hips curving. Ample, perky breasts nearly squirm out of blue silk robe. Luxurious jet black hair. A surpassingly lovely face, strong yet delicate, sexy but refined. Lips now red and soft as rose petals. Dancing, provocative black eyes.

  Forget about beauty pageants on TV. Forget about the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue. Eko seems far and away the most beautiful woman I’ve ever set eyes on.

  “You see?” she whispers. “Now, good night, Jack. Sleep well.” She extends her hand for a goodbye shake.

  Something tells me I won’t sleep well after this. “Wait a minute,” I whisper back. “You may be right. What I have to do is so crucially important I can’t afford to take any chances. We have to make sure I don’t have any weaknesses or vulnerabilities that could be exploited.”

  Eko smiles. “No, Jack,” she says. “If you changed your mind now, I would think you were only interested in me because of my shape-shift, and you’re so much deeper than that. So as you said, let’s just be friends.”

  She nods toward the door. I don’t go. Instead, I glance down at her futon. “I thought you were sent here to help me,” I remind her, a note of pleading in my voice. “That the fate of the world was at stake. That no one could deny the beacon of hope.”

  “Only in this area,” she responds with a smile. “Sorry, beacon …”

  Has she rejected me? Are we still flirting? I try to think of something playful to say …

  Suddenly her smile vanishes. “What was that?”

  “I didn’t hear anything.”

  She stands very still. Senses on full alert. “That.”

  I hear a distant thudding. It stops. “Just the wind. Probably blew something over outside. But if you’re scared, I think I should stay and comfort you—”

  “They’re coming!” Not joking anymore. Hourglass transforming quickly back into mailbox.

  “Are you sure?”

  Before Eko can answer, her bedroom door flies open and a seven-foot-tall man steps in and points a gun at me. Eko dives at my knees, knocking me out of the way of the laser beam. A section of her bedroom wall ignites.

  He re-aims quickly, before I can stand up. I dodge around on floor like a roach, desperately crawling for my life.

  The tall man’s focus is entirely on me. Trying to get the shot that will take me out. So he loses track of Eko.

  Big mistake.

  She flies through the air and kicks his head off. Literally. Right leg strikes with the full weight of her body behind it. Ball of her foot explodes into his chin. For a moment I think she has decapitated him.

  Then I see that it’s not a head. He’s part man, part machine. Head is still attached to body by cables. Eyes flashing the way the tall man’s eyes flashed at me back in the diner in Hadley-by-Hudson. Could even be the same tall man. Strike that. Not man. Cyborg! These eyes are not flashing to mark me. They’re short-circuiting!

  Footsteps climbing stairs. Eko leads me to hallway. Two bat creatures. She takes one out with open-hand strike to throat. I kick the other one back down the steps.

  But there are other dark forms on their way up. Slower but tougher-looking. Gleaming teeth, eyes strobing like searchlights, and long serpentine tongues.

  “No chance to go down. Up the stairs,” Eko shouts.

  I take her advice. Make it to the third floor before I realize she’s not coming up with me.

  She’s stayed behind to take them on. King Leonidas at Thermopylae. Holding the pass so that I can escape.

  I look down. Eko’s in the center of the hallway, blocking the stairs. To climb after me, they’ll have to go through her. That won’t be easy. Never seen anyone fight so desperately, savagely, and expertly. They’re swarming her, and she’s lashing out at them in all directions.

  I start to run back down, and she yells, “No. Get away!”

  This time it’s not one pissed-off shark. It’s a whole bloodthirsty army. She’s sacrificing herself so that I can escape. No choice, Jack. If you go down, you both die.

  So I go up. Third floor. But where can I hide? I run into kitchen. Look around for a weapon. Problem with vegan diet. No big cleavers or steak knives. Grab first thing that comes to hand. Big serving plate.

  Uh-oh. Footsteps. On this floor. Someone was waiting here for me. Man runs into kitchen. Barely fits through door. Almost as wide as he is tall. And it’s not fat. Sheer muscle. Whatever he is, he’s a killer.

  He raises an enormous arm. Throws something at me. Red paralysis dart. Been hit by one of those before. Don’t want to try my luck twice.

  I vault over countertop. Hurl serving plate at him like discus. It spins into him and shatters. Buys me a second or two.

  But there’s no way out of this kitchen.

  More attackers thundering up stairs.

  Eko! They’ve gotten around her. Or through her. And now they’re coming for me.

  Blue firecracker explosion. Plasma net. Spreading out through kitchen. Only one place to go.

  I kick out window. Jump through.

  Dive-roll onto sloping roof. Dark outside. Cold rain splashing down in sheets. But I know this roof well. Three stories to ground. Much too far to jump.

  Big man squeezes through kitchen window after me.

  I clamber away across slanted roof. Heading for the spot above the nearest of the marsh channels.

  Roof surface wet. Slippery. Big man is gaining on me. Moves hunched over but fast, like a mountain gorilla. Ten feet behind me. Five. He grabs at me—

  I reach the roof’s edge and dive off! It’s thirty feet to the nearest marsh channel. Impossibly far.

  I open my arms to full wingspan. Steer with my whole body. Remember Eko’s lessons. How she jumped to the high tree branch. At a certain point it’s all mental and even spiritual. If I can move sand, I can glide thirty feet.

  Mountain gorilla of a man has leaped out after me. I can hear his desperate, blood-curdling bellow as he flies through the air.

  I force my mind clear. Disappear inside myself. I am a beam of light moving through darkness.

  My fingertips feel cold. Damp. Water! The marsh channel. I hit it hard, a shallow-water dive that knocks the air from my body. I lie in the channel, in fifteen inches of water, stunned.

  CRUNCH. Behind me. No, not a crunch. More of a thump. Sound revives me. I blink. Twist around to see.

  The big man has landed on mud and rocks five feet from the bank. Like an asteroid coming down in a parking lot. Visible crater. He groans and lies there.

  Tough luck, gorilla man. No more chasing Jack
for a while.

  That’s the good news. The bad news is a pack of shadows are streaming out of the beach house toward me.

  Bat creatures. Tall men. Something on four legs that looks like an overgrown jackal. Yellow eyes. Sharp, flashing canines. Genetically altered hounds from a hell a thousand years in the future. Boy, can they move fast.

  I get to my feet. If they catch me, they’ll rip me apart. I take off through the dark, storm-battered marsh, sprinting for my life.

  That was what my dad was trying to tell me. Not free. Flee.

  36

  Sprinting through marsh in pitch darkness. Lashed by rain. Whipped by wind. Lightning zapping overhead.

  Pursued by menagerie of horrors. I can hear them behind me. Every fifty feet or so I glance back and see them coming on.

  I head for wildest marsh channel. Bottom pocked by holes. Sharp rocks. Vines and branches overhang water.

  I couldn’t have even walked through this treacherous passage two weeks ago. But Eko has taught me well.

  Can hear bat creature gaining on me. I’ll have to turn and fight before I reach the bay. But then the rest of them will catch up, and I won’t have a prayer.

  Sense an overhanging branch. Duck just in time.

  Bat creature tries to pounce on me, and instead his head WHAPS into branch. He sinks beneath marsh water.

  Bend in channel. I round corner and they’re out of sight for just a second. My chance! I scamper up the steep bank.

  Plow through underbrush like a runaway tractor. Thorns rip at me, roots trip me, and branches grab at my arms. I forge my own trail, and then dive back down into …

  Another, deeper marsh channel. Swim underwater the other way, heading toward the dunes and the Atlantic Ocean.

  Stay under for two minutes. Pop up to reconnoiter.

  As soon as I surface I see a large bird circling. Bigger than the blue heron. Orange eyes glowing like searchlights. It wheels toward me. No doubt about it. Bird serves as spotter plane. Communicating with the shadowy creatures. Letting them know where I am.

  I find a round stone. Always had a good right arm. Center fielder for the Hadley Tigers. Once threw out two guys at the plate in one game.