Grave Intent

by G. K. Lund

  Or was it?

  A steady rhythmic sound shut most other noises out, roaring at me as I opened the eyes, looking down at a grassy landscape. Lush hills and shallow valleys went by down there as I flew above them. The sun was about to set in the west, already half hidden behind a hill that rose in a curve that flattened out on top. It was a beautiful sight, the streams of light breaking between the trees that covered the top of the hill. I was traveling north, and far ahead I could see the Ashdale River as it wound its way between other hills. Was I heading there? I realized I had no say in where I went. The thumping sound had a hard beat to it now, mixed with a whooshing noise. Certainly, the head would explode if this sound came from within it.

  That thought didn’t sit quite well with me. What if dying would trap me somewhere more abhorrent than the daily life of Ben Reed? What if that were to happen before I could free myself and leave on my own? To go back to whatever existence I’d had before?

  A jerking motion caught me off guard, and I almost stumbled were I stood. Stood? I realized I was not flying on my own accord. The feet were planted on a metal surface, a rubber layer put over it.

  I turned and saw what was the inside of a helicopter; the rhythmic noise the rotors moving outside and above. Four people sat strapped in, three men and a woman, in addition to a pilot up front. Not one of them reacted to my sudden appearance, but I wasn’t there was I? I knew I didn’t belong there, and yet, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember where I was supposed to be. And still… somehow I was there. I saw it all in front of me as clear as day. It was a weak sensation that made me think I knew what was going on – yet I didn’t. Not truly. The two men on the one side wore suits, one man graying and probably twenty years older than the other one. Across from them sat a woman, dressed in black, like the security guards that worked for WGI. I had met them once, before one had forcefully escorted me to the hospital, making sure Winter didn’t have to talk to me. The woman was armed, and she sat next to Ward Winter himself, dressed in a suit like the other two. They looked like they had business to tend to. There were even dark leather briefcases on the floor beside them.

  The jerking motion happened again, and this time, the men stopped talking through the headsets they were all wearing. Confused eyes met each other, wondering if it was right to be worried or if they would make fools of themselves. Even the woman, who had looked uninterested in their talk locked eyes with them.

  Except Winter. He had a crease between his brows, a look of concern, but far from what I saw on the others. Something was not right.

  The motion came again. It made the chopper’s front rear up a moment like the wind had caught it, but this was not turbulence.

  A scraping noise ripped through the steady rhythm of the rotors. Like metal being torn apart. It screeched, sounding like something otherworldly crying out in pure agony.

  There was genuine confusion and true fear among the passengers now. Tense bodies tried to hang on to their seats and nearby handles. The pilot said something to them through the headset, but then stopped talking as the machine he tried controlling began to shake violently.

  The people began shouting, the older man praying.

  But not Winter.

  I watched him carefully. I hadn’t been close enough to do so before. This was the man who knew who I was. He had recognized me that day at the Winter Fortress after his friend and colleague, Saphia, had tried and failed to kill me and Olivia. He had made sure I was sent away. Oh, he knew me alright. Me, not Ben, the old inhabitant of this body. Winter knew who I was and for some reason, he wanted to stay as far away as possible. That didn’t help me though. Not in the least. So I kept a close eye on him, now that I had the chance. Even if this was a memory of sorts. A memory I couldn’t truly remember. It was as if I was experiencing it for the first time.

  Winter held on like the others, but there was a lack of panic in his eyes. There was fear to be sure, but also a sort of resignation. Like he sighed at something he knew to be inevitable. Few people acted like that when faced with the end of their lives. Some did, but few. Usually, it came with advanced age. Old people, like the lady who surprised me with having a stroke in front of me, shortly after I came into this body, had been like that. No fear at all.

  But as I now stood and saw the erupting panic, as the chopper made a fall, not a dive, a short fall, that ended abruptly, I saw a little fear in him. His eyes traced the people around him. Lips set tight, eyes soft in their narrowing. He swallowed hard, as a ripping, short burst happened above them.

  And then there was nothing but falling. I saw them all being pushed upwards from their seats, the belts keeping them in place. They screamed now. The woman cursed as she saw past her boss, outside the small window. Her worst nightmare come true. It pivoted through the air out there. Long and slightly curved for its purpose. It still twirled, despite not being attached anymore. The rotors carried them no more.

  The screams filled the chopper as the steady noise that had come from above was now gone. Winter’s mouth was open, he looked straight down to the floor. He looked like he was trying to remember how to breathe.

  The only one still functioning was the pilot, desperately trying to steer the machinery, to remain in control. He had to know what had happened. It was curious. Perhaps he couldn’t accept the fact. Only seconds before they crashed to the ground did he let go, and stare blindly ahead.

  I was not hurt. How could I be? I wasn’t truly there. Dirt and metal sprayed and twisted around me, as the chopper hit the ground. Flames erupted almost before the tail end joined the rest of the crash. It had nearly been a straight hit. Only a fraction of a glide on the ground. The screams were killed almost immediately. A residual note of it hung back after they were gone. Except for the fall, it had been a quick transition from this existence. Around me, there was only darkness. In that metal-twisted and smoky blindness, I stepped back, the flames rose high in what had been the front of the chopper. I glanced around. Nothing but lush and verdant scenery as far as the eyes could see. Except this marring scar in the landscape.

  I looked at the crushed machine in front of me. This technical instrument that moments ago had been an elegant thing. Now it lay twisted and broken, a means to its passengers’ end.

  But that couldn’t be.

  Winter was not dead. I knew that. This was not something that had happened after I had taken over Ben’s body. It had happened before. But how could he make it out of this twisted thing? Like the others, he had to be trapped inside, embraced by the burning metal.

  Not so much.

  I heard a banging noise from the other side of the fuselage and walked around the wreck. I could feel the heat, like I could feel the breeze that ran through the little valley I was in, but none of it could hurt or affect me with great force. How I knew this was as great a mystery to me as who I was, but I didn’t dwell on it. Sometimes one simply has to trust oneself.

  As I came around the tail end, I heard a cry of pain, and moments later saw Winter trying to drag himself out between an opening in the fuselage. It was tight and jagged as the metal had been ripped apart by the impact. There was smoke all around him. He coughed and wheezed as his body fought for air. His legs were still trapped in the wreck, and the smoke seemed to disorientate him. Pain forced a cry out from his throat as his body wanted to keep coughing the toxic smoke out. His fists turned white as he clenched them to the jagged ends of the metal that surrounded him. Then his body went limp.

  That was puzzling. I watched this in silence. Not taking my eyes off him. For how long I don’t know. And besides, I was outside anything real. In the end, though, he began moving again. He groaned and managed to pull himself out as the smoke and fire subsided somewhat. He mumbled something I couldn’t hear as he dragged himself forward on the ground. His immaculate suit was filthy, ragged, and burned around his legs, patches of black and some holes as well. The tips of his hair on one side of his head were singed from the fire, the light color of it contrastin
g with the now blackened ends.

  As he wheezed and coughed, his body fighting to get fresh air into the lungs, I saw him bang his fist into the ground. An action that struck me as odd under the circumstances. Should he not be relieved?

  As his lungs slowly won the battle, he turned over on his back, still heaving for breath. For a moment I thought he saw me. I narrowed the eyes as I looked back, but then he turned over and crawled to a nearby stream. There was hardly any water at all, but it was moving, and he gulped it down using his palm as a cup.

  I watched this a while, as I saw the still burning chopper mere yards from him. I didn’t know why, but the fists were clenched together as the chest breathed heavily. I felt the lips press together. None of this was done on purpose.

  “You fucking bastards,” I heard Winter curse as he grabbed the nearest rock and threw it sideways into the river. Oh, he might be angry, but at that moment I felt an anger I had never experienced before. At least not in that form. A seething fury at what had happened here. The why escaped me though. The anger, real as it felt, was a pounding echo of something that had passed. It was not me in the here and now. Which I could also not remember where was. As if the mere thought had conjured it, the head began thumping again, this dull ache on the right side of it. I saw Winter pull his cell phone out of his jacket. The thing had melted somewhat. The sight made the man curse again before he seemed to settle for waiting. Someone would come sooner or later. A desperate calm fell over the scene, and it engulfed me at the same time, as the sight melded into darkness.

  Chapter 4

  The eyes fluttered open, but there was only chaos to see. Dust and smoke, the sound of pure fear being screamed out into the world.

  A face hovered over me, unknown, pleasing to look at, chestnut hair reaching down for me.

  “Nah – he’s okay. Halfway passed out.”

  I blinked so hard I squeezed the eyes shut a moment.

  “You sure?” That was Peter’s voice somewhere to my left. I opened the eyes again. The head hurt, but I had managed to get acquainted enough with pain by now to know it was on the level of a normal headache.

  “Yeah,” the woman said as she gave me a quizzical look, lips pursed to the side a moment. “He’s coming to.”

  “I’m fine,” I croaked, trying to sit up.

  “You should follow your own advice,” the woman said as she put her hands on the shoulders and pushed me back. I noticed her wrist then, as I took hold of her hand. I gently traced red marks with the fingers, marks that had imprinted all the way around. She didn’t yank her hand away, but she pulled the cuff of her jacket down to conceal it. I tried looking around. Next to us was Peter, still staving off the blood from the wounded man’s throat. He looked oddly calm, the help he was providing keeping panic at bay at the moment. Around us, I saw shades of a few people still trying to run. I couldn’t have been out long. I could hear the screams of pain from those who had been close to the last explosion. Intermingled with these keening noises were the highs and lows of the sirens telling us help was on its way. And yet the head vibrated with a mix of pain and that alien sensation.

  Then—

  Another loud boom that broke through all other sounds. I had no way to see where it came from, and the woman instinctively put her arms in front of her head as she bent over me, protecting us both from the falling debris that came moments later when the sound of the blast was still echoing through the square. We were lucky it was mostly plaster and small bits of brick.

  “What the hell is going on?” the woman hissed, probably more to herself than me.

  “Grenades,” I said because the stupid body let the word escape without my say-so.

  She turned her head and looked at me. “What? How do you know?”

  I had no idea. I simply knew. Had heard the sound before many, many times. Both the blast and the screams that came after. The woman looked at me with suspicion now and I felt her tense as thoughts raced through her head. Was I in on this?

  “I…” I began, grasping for words. “I know the sound.” Well, at least that was as close to the truth as I could get. Especially since I didn’t know the truth myself. Still, she relaxed a bit.

  “I’m Evy,” she said. “Thanks for stopping me. I was headed right for that explosion.”

  “Uh…Ben. No problem.”

  “Well, you got hit in the head by a piece of brick, so…”

  The stupid body kept getting hit by things. Brick, green lightning, the ground… was I a walking accident waiting to happen? Then I remembered the sensation when Evy had touched the hand.

  “Yeah…” I said as I eased up on the elbows. Evy had noticed, as I had, that the square seemed oddly calm. No one was moving unless they twisted in pain. The few screams were muted by the loud sirens coming from all sides of the square. Few of the vehicles would manage to get all the way in though. Other than that, everyone kept still. No one wanted to trigger another explosion.

  “You alright?” Evy said as she got up on her knees, hazel eyes scanning the square for something. Or someone.

  “Yeah, but what was that? With your hand?”

  She glanced back down at me, almost surprised to see me there. A nervous smile escaped her a brief moment. Then she got up, plaster and brick falling off her at the movement.

  “Thanks for your help, Ben,” she said. Before I could react, she took off again, sprinting away from us toward the only proper wide passageway leading into the square. The blue lights blinked, strong and visible even in daylight, so many emergency responders there at the same time.

  The police entered the square first, needing to clear it before any more explosions went off. They looked like dark shadows floating through the crowds of the terrified and wounded. The dead paid them no heed.

  “Ben? Are you okay?” I heard a familiar voice say as I got to my feet. With no warning buzzing through the head I didn’t fear for any more blasts at the moment. I turned to see Olivia looking at me with concern. That was in a way strange since she’d wanted to arrest me for murder a few weeks ago. Now, she was the only friend I had managed to make that hadn’t been one of Old Ben’s friends. A bulletproof vest hugged her slight frame tightly, her long dark hair was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and her gun was in her hands, currently pointed at the ground. Her amber eyes scanned the square, despite stopping to check on me.

  “Yeah. Be careful though. There are tripwires. That’s how they detonated.”

  “What?” she said and took a step closer. “What are you saying?”

  “It was grenades.” This time I said it on purpose. I didn’t want her ending up killed if there turned out to be more of them out there.

  “How do you know?”

  “I don’t know how. You know that.”

  She chewed her lip a moment as she considered what I’d said, but gave a short nod. “Okay. Stay out of trouble until we have this under control.” Besides Winter, who I knew had more information than any of us, Olivia was the only one who knew anything true about me. I barely had time to nod my answer as she grabbed her radio from her belt and ran on while talking rapidly into it.

  I turned back to Peter and the wounded man who was still awake. “Not long now,” I said and nodded toward the approaching ambulances behind the police cars.

  Peter nodded silently as a familiar sound made itself known above. The rhythmic noise of a chopper flying above the square.

  The memory came flooding back to me. A memory of a memory to be precise. What was happening to me? Why was I seeing these things? I knew I was connected to the sights. Maybe the feeble brain – muscle and fat really – maybe it was too weak to understand? Or too traumatized?

  I sat down heavily on the ground again, leaning back against a similar brick flower bed as the one that had been caught in the first explosion. “Too confusing,” I mumbled to myself and rubbed the dusty hands on the thighs of the jeans I was wearing. It left streaks of gray in the fabric. The head ached in a dull pain
on the right side, but for once I didn’t let it get to me. Looking at the pain around me, how could I?

  “Yeah,” I heard Peter concur, as he eyed me. “Too confusing.”

  Moments later paramedics flooded the square, making a collective feeling of relief run through the crowd. Only the screams of pain took longer to still.

  Chapter 5

  Peter rapped on the front door with his knuckles as he let himself inside. It was open, as they were expecting him. The house that Rose and Walter had bought after their engagement was nice and had the feel of a proper home. Outside it screamed suburbia, like all of the neighborhood out there. Nice front lawns, garages on the right side of the houses, yards in the back, trampolines and the occasional pool. There was no trampoline outside his sister’s home yet, but that would come sooner or later.

  “Hey, Peter,” Walter said as he came walking down the hall, a bottle of vinegar in his hand.

  “Hey,” Peter nodded at the glass bottle. “You keep food outside the kitchen?”

  “It was in one of the boxes in the garage. The unpacking is going a bit slow.”

  Peter smiled and followed Walter into the living room. With their busy jobs, he could see how some boxes from the move were not a priority. The house was furnished and ready as such, light and spacious, far nicer than Walter would have done on his own. Peter had seen his apartment before Rose became a romantic part of his life.

  “Oh, she fell asleep,” Walter said as they entered the living room. Peter saw his sister laying on the couch, legs still on the floor, like she had tipped over without noticing. The remote lay in her hand, arm outstretched toward the flat screen hanging on the opposite wall. Her black hair had fallen over her eyes, though he could see them slowly opening at the sound of Walter and himself.