IN YOUR DREAMS (Mark Appleton #3)

by Patterson, Aaron

  A mob of people came from doorways and held flashlights and torches. Broken chair legs wrapped in rags and lit up gave the mob a Middle Ages feel. “Time to go.” Big B moved down the ramp as the sound of approaching vehicles roared down the empty street. That would be the Army, or the National Guard.

  Kirk hurried after Big B, and they ducked into the alley and ran two blocks with the ring of gunfire to their backs. Kirk cursed and wondered why the people were rioting. Food, fuel, fear? Maybe all three.

  Kirk stopped just before they entered a main street. He looked around the corner and didn’t see anyone, but just as they stepped from the shadow of the alley, a shout rang out.

  “Hey, you! Stop!” Kirk and Big B glanced at each other and ran across the street and into the alley on the other side. Shouts and angry voices followed them, and the smack of boots on pavement made Kirk pick up the pace.

  “Stop, or I’ll shoot!” The order came from a different voice. Kirk dove behind a large blue dumpster and pulled his .45 free. Big B was across the way, hiding behind a crate.

  The boots stopped, and the click of buckles against metal was the only sound. “Come on, come out, and we won’t shoot. We just want to talk.” They didn’t sound military. But they didn’t sound like white-collar bankers either.

  Kirk waited and willed his heart to calm down. He swore that it could be heard by their little friends. Leaning down as quietly as he could, Kirk looked under the dumpster and saw black combat boots not three feet away. Two sets, one for each of them.

  Kirk held up two fingers and Big B nodded. Big B had a gun in his hand. Kirk didn’t have time to wonder where he got it or how he carried it without him noticing. Kirk held up three fingers and counted down.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  CHAPTER 17

  KREIOS STAYED UNDER COVER and watched the exchange between Mark and himself. He could not hear what they were saying, and he dared not open up his mind to read Mark’s thoughts for fear that he would hear himself and something terrible would happen.

  It took years of training to learn to close off his mind, and not only that but shut it down to the point that he was invisible to anyone who might have the mind reading ability. Most who could do it could sense the person even if they could not read thoughts. Kreios could wall off his thoughts and keep from detection, but he had to concentrate.

  Mark took the book from Kreios and looked down at the page. His body tensed and as Kreios watched. He knew that this was the right book. They exchanged a few words, and Mark stood up and held out his hand. The two shook hands, and Mark walked off heading to the last spot he and Kreios had parted ways.

  Kreios looked at himself and wondered what he was going to do. The strange part was the new memory of the meeting with Mark and how he now did know what he was thinking.

  He knew that this book was now in the hands of its owner, and he wondered if Mark really knew who he was. He doubted it; the poor man seemed to be confused and not sure what he was doing.

  Kreios moved from his hiding spot and slowly and silently made his way toward where Mark would be waiting. He looked back and saw that his other self was sitting down, had pulled out a pipe, and began to pack it with tobacco. That was one thing he missed, that pipe. In this age, smoking was looked down upon, so he trained himself not to do it, but it took some doing.

  Mark stood looking around, and when he saw Kreios, a smile spread across his face. “Got it.” He held up the book, and Kreios nodded.

  “Good, now let’s see if this will work.”

  ***

  I held onto the book and felt the warmth it produced. Not only was it warm, but it felt as if it were alive somehow. I was still in shock as to this book’s existence and to the power it held. I always knew something like this had to be real, but to see it with my own eyes, to hold it and read the words just as they were written, was something different.

  I had to find out what was going on. I knew now that I was mixed up in something more than just a secret group that fought injustice. I was more than a crime-fighting assassin. This was something supernatural.

  Kreios said that people, humans—that was the word he used—humans could not see their books, that they was under lock and key. However, non-humans could… things that were not all human could see their books, and others could steal them and use them as a weapon against their owners.

  “So now what?” I handed the book to Kreios. He took it and touched the cover with gentle fingers, as if the book were made of glass and could be broken.

  “We do nothing. You will do what we need in order to protect your book. You cannot keep it or take it with you through time so we must entrust it to me and hope I do not fail in protecting it from the Brotherhood.”

  “Who is this ‘Brotherhood’ you keep talking about? Are they the ones who were chasing that… er… you?”

  Kreios nodded. “Yes, they are demonic powers that are on the earth to eradicate our kind. Their only mission is to kill all of us, and once they are done, we will be no more.” Kreios handed me the book back and said, “We do not have much time here. It is dangerous, and we can talk of these things another time.”

  I flashed him a frown, but even from the short time that I had known this man, I knew that it would be pointless to argue with him. The man had no sense of humor and took everything so seriously.

  “Okay, tell me what to do so we can get out of here. This time travel thing is not for me. Too much can go wrong.”

  “Open the book to the first page,”

  “But you said not to read any of it… I mean not you, but the other you.”

  “Kreios nodded. “ As long as you do not read into the future, you will be fine. The danger is that, by reading the book, you will see things you might want to change. This, for most, is a temptation that is too strong to resist.”

  “How can I read into the future? I saw how it worked—it was writing as things happened, so everything I do or think is written down, but nothing was on the page before.”

  “This is true. The book is a real-time record of the owner’s life and thoughts. Yet some things are set in time and space, some things we cannot change and are a part of our future no matter what we do. These things are written by the Creator and cannot be altered. These are the words you must not read.”

  I pondered his words for a minute. I was under the impression that I had free will. Wasn’t that something all humans had—a free will to choose their own path, their own future?

  Kreios answered my thoughts. That was getting annoying.

  “Yes, every human has a free will. You are not all human, so some of the rules do not apply to you.”

  “Again with the ‘not all human’! What am I then? You keep alluding to my lack of humanity, so what am I? Alien? Demon? Half ape?” I was getting angry, but at the same time, I knew that this was not the time or the place to be having this conversation. We had a limited time, and I knew that every minute here was one more minute we were in danger of being discovered or killed.

  “Never mind. Forget I said anything!” I sat down and placed the book in my lap. “What do I do?”

  Kreios sat next to me and said, “Open it to the first page.”

  I opened the book and saw my name written at the top in some strange language, yet I understood it. I saw it, and knew it was not English, but could still read it.

  “Now, all you have to do is write in the book, and whatever you write will happen.” Kreios looked down at the page with a calm expression on his face.

  I patted my pockets and found a sharpie attached to my keychain. It was one of those little ones. I never used it but it was something K gave me, and I kept it there just in case. I guess this was a “just in case.”

  “Is this okay?” I held up the mini sharpie. Kreios nodded. “Good, because that’s all I got. Now, what do I write?”

  Kreios thought a minute. “Write the exact words I tell you. Do not alter it in any way. Do you under
stand?”

  “Yes.”

  I took the cap off and waited.

  “At the top of the page, write this under your name: This book is to be protected and secured from all unauthorized alterations. The owner of the book is to be the only one with the ability to tamper or alter in any way the contents of this book. Any and all writing is to be stricken and rendered useless unless authorized by the owner. This decree is irreversible even by the owner of this book.”

  Kreios rubbed his chin and nodded. “That should do. That way no one can force you to reverse this rule. Although you can still be forced to write in the book if someone were to capture you.”

  “I’m not worried about that. I just don’t want anyone to use it without my knowing it. That could get ugly in a hurry.”

  “Now, take it back to me, and tell me to protect it at all costs or put it in a safe place.”

  “Not that it will do any good. You don’t have it now and don’t know where it is, so what good will it do?”

  Kreios sighed… “Because I remember you telling me these words. I know it will do no good, but you still tell me.”

  “Ah.” This was weird, way too weird—even for me.

  I closed the book and stood up. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

  Kreios didn’t say anything, and he stood up fast, he still didn’t make a sound. I was amazed by how light on his feet he was. This was not over; I had to know what was going on even if it meant I took the information by force. As soon as we got back, I was going to have a talk with Kreios.

  CHAPTER 18

  THE CLIP OF A heel hitting the pavement sounded at the exact moment Kirk and Big B sprang from their temporary hiding places. The two men held small submachine guns low at their hips, telling Kirk in an instant that these men knew how to hold them and thus knew how to use them.

  This fact was not relevant, but it still made killing the two men feel better. Kirk didn’t want to kill an innocent civilian who just wanted to protect his family. These men were hired guns, probably some militia group that, up until now was working underground, but with the crisis, they decided this was a good time to run wild.

  The first shot was not from Kirk, and later, Kirk would look at this as a failure on his part. He prided himself in his skill in battle, his wit, and quick reactions. To have a big, slow black man beat him on the draw (not to mention that B was sick and not feeling his best) just made matters worse. But, the job got done, so in the end it was just his feelings that were hurt, or pride, whichever—

  Kirk loved the way, in situations like this, the world seemed to slow down, as if everything were in slow motion. He saw a small red dot form on the forehead of the man to Kirk’s right. The back of his skull exploded like a watermelon as his finger squeezed down on the trigger and a flash of fire escaped the muzzle of his weapon.

  Bullets sprayed outward and up in an arching blaze of orange light as the man fell backward. Kirk saw all this, and at the same time, double tapped the man to the left just as he was trained. Never one shot, always two. You might miss and the second was to seal the deal. Big B, on the other hand, was not a cop; he was a trained assassin and didn’t fear a miss.

  Kirk didn’t miss either. He took the safe shot one inch high but still through the heart. The advancing man wore black cargo pants, a black twill sweater, and a black ball cap. He staggered to a stop and sank to his knees. His eyes were wide in shock, and Kirk looked past him toward the street to see if more were on the way.

  The empty streets echoed with footfalls. Kirk snatched up the submachine gun, and Big B did the same. They might need these later, but for now they had to get out of this alley.

  “Three more coming…” Big B said in a gasping voice.

  “How do you know?”

  “Counted their steps. Three… one is lighter, maybe a kid or a woman.”

  Kirk didn’t ask. He took off down the alley, and Big B followed. They came to the corner and made a left. It was a side alley, and trashcans were tipped over, laundry hung above on lines of twine, and a few rats scurried when they rounded the corner.

  A scream of anger sounded behind them and a shot rang out. The brick just behind Kirk shattered just as he left the line of sight of the three attackers.

  More footfall and yells.

  Kirk picked up the pace, and Big B seemed to be keeping up. The alley ended, and a chain link fence blocked the way. Kirk started to climb when Big B grabbed his shirt collar.

  “We can’t outrun them. We need to hide, make them think we ran.”

  Kirk grunted and cursed. “Where?”

  Big B looked around and motioned toward an archway and a large wooden door. It was partially blocked by trash and some electric transformer looking thing. The door did not look like it had been used in some time. Kirk and Big B ran to it and hunched down. The sound of breathing was all Kirk could hear.

  Kirk leaned against Big B and felt the heat coming from the big man’s body. His breath was hot on his neck as they waited. They didn’t have to wait long.

  Not fifty seconds after they hid, the three attackers rounded the corner at a dead run. The first to come into view was a tall man wearing the same black-on-black gear and holding the same brand of submachine gun.

  Then a stockier man and a woman came, all dressed the same and huffing from running or anger, Kirk didn’t know which.

  The tall man took hold of the chain link fence and began to climb. Big B made a hand gesture to let them go. Kirk figured he didn’t want to shoot a woman, and if they ran off they could escape some other way.

  Kirk nodded but didn’t share the same feelings. He had to restrain himself from mowing them all down even if it was in the back. They had tried to kill them, and if he died, that meant Isis would die, and he would not let that happen. He saw the three climb the fence and after some doing, they made it over.

  Kirk was a little disappointed that they got away, but he figured this would not be the first time something like this would happen. The world was going to hell in a hurry, and this was just the beginning.

  Kirk stood up and looked after the three black figures as they moved down the alley, turned onto the street, and disappeared. Kirk knew that the last thing he should have done was stand up and not make sure the alley was clear before he stood up. But it was too late now…

  He heard the sound of metal clicking on metal, and he knew they had missed one. Filled with anger at himself for being so stupid, Kirk turned as fast as he could. A burst of gunfire echoed through the small alley and he felt pain in his shoulder.

  Spinning as he fell, Kirk saw a boy not more than fourteen holding a snubnose machine gun at hip level. He did not smile, he did not blink; he just fired and watched Kirk fall.

  Big B put two bullets in the boy’s head, and at this range, the boy’s head did not explode out the back but caved in on itself. The body fell to the pavement, and Kirk saw bright flashing lights and the sound of more angry screams back down the alley.

  Blood leaked out around the boy and Kirk saw his shoe just before he blacked out. It was a Vans flat bottom shoe, white with tan trim. He was just a kid… a kid.

  ***

  Isis slept, and her breathing, even though labored, was soft and steady. Mooch watched her from a chair in the corner of the room. He studied the tubes running down her throat and the IV in her arm. Machines hummed and made beeping sounds, and her heartbeat made a jagged line jump up and down in a hypnotic rhythm on a screen to his right.

  Mooch sat for over an hour and listened to the voice in his head.

  “She is so beautiful. You deserve to have someone like that love you and take care of you. Kirk Weston should be alone, not you. Weston does not deserve her.”

  His need grew, and like a smoker giving in to have one more for old time’s sake, Mooch could not resist the temptation. He thought about how it must feel to be loved, how he once felt when he was loved by Emily.

  Emily—sweet Emily. She was the only one who understood him. And
she was also the one who shot him, tried to kill him! No—no, it was Kirk’s fault. She was trying to shoot Kirk, not him.

  Isis groaned and turned her head from side to side as if plagued by a nightmare. He wondered what she dreamed about—if it was of killing, or if the people she had killed haunted her in her dreams.

  Mooch could still feel the cab driver’s struggling hands reaching back to try to stop him. He still saw the imploring eyes of the woman as she died and the little light went out in her soul.

  He felt sick at the thought, but not because what he did made him feel bad. It was the need, the urge to kill again. It was like a deep hunger—one that would not let up, not let him be.

  “She will satisfy you. After her, you will never hunger again.”

  He could now feel the thing inside of his brain moving like a snake in and out of his thoughts. Mooch was not sure what thoughts were his anymore; they all seemed to run together in a tangle of voices. Was he even there anymore?

  “We are one. You are me, and I am you. This is the way life was meant to be lived. No rules, no restrictions, and no one telling us what to do.”

  The lights flickered overhead and went out. The machines kept on running on battery power, but in an hour or so, they would fail as well. Mooch let a smile cross his face, and he stood up and leaned over Isis, breathing in the scent of her hair.

  “I’m sorry. Kirk made me do this. He is the one responsible, not me. I’m sorry but we have to do this.” Mooch whispered, and in the glow of the monitor his face turned red. His eyes burned with hate, and he resembled a devil. Raising his right arm high above his head, a shaft of darkness swirled around and became solid in the shape of a jagged, black sword.

  Mooch felt the sword in his hand and the power that ran up his arm and into his brain. It was like a warm line of energy, and as it filtered through his body, he gnawed on his tongue and muttered something in an unknown language.

  “Set her free. Let us set her free, my brother!”