Dark Divide (Shadow and Shine Book 2)

by Danial Hooper

  “I’m so sorry guys.”

  Jenna recognized the voice. It wasn’t Mickey. It wasn’t Asher.

  Greg?

  *******

  Mickey

  Unknown

  Union Matis, WV

  No one was in the position to question Greg. They were too depressed to ask any questions. It was good to know he was alive, but learning how could wait until they were done mourning. Mickey didn’t care about forgiving Greg for being a psycho that one night in Salt Lake. Anyone who survived that place was family.

  But for now, none of them wanted to talk to Greg. He knew better than to approach Tink, the poor guy was sobbing. Mickey loved how much he loved his little sister, and it broke his heart to see Tink suffer like this. She was his everything even before Salt Lake. The rest of the group loved her for like a week, Tink did her whole life.

  Jenna was the second closest. She watched Mona and tried to emulate everything she did. Jenna tried to act like one part Mona, the other part Shelly. Seeing Mona dead had to have opened up the wounds of Shelly’s terrible death too. Scars don’t heal in a few days. It takes time. Jenna cried silent tears and held on to the only part Tink wasn’t holding onto.

  The only one not close to her body was Asher. He stood in the doorway and watched as the others poured out themselves. Greg must have thought this was a good cue to try to spark up a conversation, but Asher cut him off before he got started. Mickey didn’t hear the words, but he understood Asher’s tone. It was basically, Not now. Glad you’re alive, but don’t want to talk right now.

  Mickey was glad Greg didn’t try to chat with him. They would have their time. Mickey could ask his questions and pass his judgement about the night in the pharmacy. But not now. Now it was time to cry.

  And that’s what they did.

  After a few minutes, even Greg started to cry.

  *******

  Harry

  Evening

  Union Matis, WV

  He was late. Her little eyes were closed and her little lips were grey. Mona never knew how much everyone loved her. She would’ve cried if she could have seen everyone circling around her, weeping like children. Harry didn’t know what to do. He was too slow to make an impact. At least with Asher, Harry was there when he was stabbed, but now, Mona was dead.

  Then again, Harry refused to give up hope. His redemption story was her survival. Mona saved Harry when he was bleeding out on the street after Ben’s hammer attack. Harry refused to give her any less.

  Asher walked over to Harry, cleaning the tears from his eyes. “Come on, bud, let me help ya,” he said as he offered his shoulder to lean on. Harry put his weight into Asher’s thin frame as he walked over to her.

  “May I see her?” Harry asked.

  Tink shook his head, he wasn’t letting go. Harry understood his feelings and wasn’t interested in pushing him. Instead, Harry knelt down beside Jenna and held his hands over her wound. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The poison colored her little veins dark black through her body.

  Asher put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and whispered, “What do you see?”

  It was hard not to find his question annoying. Harry saw the same thing as everyone else, an innocent girl dead. There was nothing else to see. “I don’t know.”

  “Harry, what do you see?”

  He shrugged. “I see her.”

  “Who did this!?” Tink yelled. His eyes were a fiery bright blue.

  “Calm down, big fella. You’re going to hurt her,” Harry said.

  “She’s dead! Are you blind? Greene! Who did this to my sister?” there was fire inside his mouth. Harry wanted to tell him to chill out again, but it didn’t work the first time, so he wasn’t going to try again.

  “He’s not going to know, bro. You know that.”

  Greg chimed in, “I can’t believe she’s dead. I never got a chance to say I’m sorry.” Harry half-forgot Greg was actually there. He raised his eyebrows at the scrawny scumbag as he continued, “I wish there was something we could do. A doctor, maybe?” His face was healed, but his voice still made him sound like a phony. Harry didn’t like him. Not since the first day he met him. He might be a good guy, but he wasn’t the kind of guy Harry wanted to be around.

  Again, Asher asked, “What do you see, Harry? Are you looking?”

  “It’s kinda hard to look, ain’t it? What do you want me to say? I see her. I see the poison. I see how I failed her.”

  “Stop using your eyes and look harder. What is your story?”

  “Redemption.”

  “Then save her, old man! Save her like you saved me.”

  Harry huffed and looked down to Mona. Even in such a terrible death, she was beautiful. There was just something about her that Harry found to be captivating. She was the best thing to ever happen to him. Those black lines didn’t belong on her perfect skin. Poison had no place in her. She was good, she was pure, and she was vibrant. This was a cheap conclusion to a wonderful life. Asher wanted him to save her, but this was beyond his control.

  Of course, the reality was, Harry never controlled his Pulse to begin with.

  Harry moved his hand from her wound and caressed her cheek. If nothing else, she looked peaceful. Her cheek was cold, but he could feel her blood circulating. It was barely moving, but it was moving. And then he felt it. It was faint. Far down in the depths of her. But Harry could see something there.

  “I can’t stand to see this, I’m going to step out guys,” Greg said.

  *******

  Greg/Seth

  Evening

  Union Matis, WV

  Greg approached Conrad in the dark hallway shaking his head. Another man was crying over spilled milk. Or, in this case, spilled blood. At least Tink possessed the familial connection to Mona, Greg struggled to respect a grown man crying over the death of another man. Just yesterday, President Watt ordered a psychotic soldier to murder Conrad. Simply put, it was silly.

  He couldn’t just explain this to Conrad, though. Someone consumed by emotions wasn’t interested in rational explanation as to why his emotions were wrong. Greg needed to explain himself before the others stopped their own pity party and came out. Conrad may be emotional, but he certainly is going to notice when Greg starts answering to his real name.

  There was nothing wrong with creating a fake name. Greg didn’t do it to protect himself or to hide some grand scheming lie. In truth, it was a foolish decision made only because Greg was constantly his own worst enemy. He was constantly undermining his own survival. Yet, this was no cause of guilt. Basic stupidity didn’t create an enemy.

  Other than in Chapman’s case.

  Greg rested his hand on Conrad’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss, sir. I didn’t see eye to eye with him, but this is truly sad.” Lying was an honest pleasure for Greg. There was a thrill in the blatant manipulation over someone whom the Old World would have labeled as superior to Greg. It was an added challenge to appear compassionate while a man’s head was split apart right in front of him.

  “It’s all fallen apart, Seth. It should have never come to this. Every decision has led to a landslide. I don’t know what to do now. He was my friend, my rock, and my leader. Our country has lost it’s greatest leader.”

  “Our country believed he was already gone.” His voice echoed down the hall.

  There were countless dead bodies filling the floor and yet these people chose to mourn over two of them. The parents and wives and husbands and whoever else would be disappointed to see the duo gathering preferential treatment over them. Watt wasn’t even the President anymore. Mona was an African American child from the dredges of society in Chicago. They were not valuable, they were warm bodies who were now cold bodies.

  Conrad didn’t answer him. Greg thought his lack of acknowledgment was concerning, so he decided to continue, “I know it’s no consolation, but we’ve got to consider our next steps. Please take your time, but I owe you an apology.”

  “What’
s your real name, kid?”

  “Greg.”

  “Okay. I don’t know why you lied, but I know you had a good reason. Another time, another place, I would like to hear it. But for right now, I would rather have a few moments to myself. I hold nothing against you for your decision, and I don’t need an explanation.”

  Before Greg could answer, Jenna walked up the stairs, glowing with her airhead smile. Mickey’s face matched hers, and Greg felt a tight pit in his stomach. They had nothing to smile over, their leader was dead and they were in exile from the land of their purpose.

  Tink carried her up the stairs, his smile wasn’t as grand, but a light smirk crept through his lips. He was attempting to be calm. but Greg could see the fireworks growing inside him as Harry used Asher as his crutch. Harry was crying as well, which Greg found to be infuriating. The drunken waste of life was constantly believing he had a purpose despite previously wanting to jump off a roof. Suicide was his end. Greg made a silent promise to himself, someday he would load the gun in which Harry used on himself.

  “She’s alive. Not by much. But she’s alive. With enough time, I think we can save her.”

  “What?” Greg asked. He didn’t intend on the question to be made out loud, but the words jumped out of his mouth. He felt the urge to cover his mouth, but no one seemed affected by his question.

  Instead, Asher answered, “Harry can save her. I hear her heartbeat. It’s low. Barely audible, but it’s there. We believe after enough time, she’ll come back.”

  Greg fought the urge to question the validity of this claim. How could only one person hear a heartbeat while no one else could feel it? What is keeping her alive? Since when was Asher an expert in the human anatomy and its reaction to poison?

  Any amount of doubt would be met with an inflammatory reaction. Greg chose to leave himself out of the equation and wait to learn the details as the others continued to explain themselves.

  “We should go outside,” Jenna said. “I could use the fresh air, and I’m sure Mr. Greene could use some peace and quiet.”

  No one disagreed. Greg was happy to see them go. Hopefully another of the UN’s bombs dropped on Union Matis Field and would kill them all.

  “That’s you too, bro,” Mickey said, looking at Greg.

  Greg clenched his jaw, this would be a long track of biting his tongue. Greg wondered if Adam realized these survivors were going to be involved or not. They were diligent, they were resourceful, and they were united.

  But they weren’t Adam. As long as he is the alpha, they will feel his presence until his hands are wrapped around their necks.

  *******

  Asher

  Evening

  Union Matis Field, WV

  It was bad timing. Asher knew the group would be upset, most notably Tink, about his decision, but he didn’t want to drag anything out. They were back together, they were stronger than before, and Mona was eventually going to be okay. Asher’s job was done here. Harry brought him back from the dead because Asher needed to save Mona. In a better world, this would have resulted in her walking out of the underground lab, but this wasn’t the world Asher lived in. Things would get harder for everyone and Mona’s life was far from saved. However, the decision was made and awaited Asher’s announcement. There were graves to dig, but not here, and not with these people. Asher wouldn’t wait any longer.

  They looked at one another with hopeful exuberance. Even Greg carried a coy smile of optimism. Asher didn’t like the way he looked at people, but he wasn’t dangerous. Greg was just a weird kid.

  Asher raised his voice over the others, “I’m leaving.”

  Silence.

  Eyebrows bent as they looked at him with a collective confusion. He continued, “I have to go west. There’s someone there, I need to…” He didn’t want to say it. “I need to bury someone. I can’t live with it hanging over my head. Mona will heal. Conrad Greene is a good man. I’ll be back when I’m finished.”

  No one fought back. No one argued. They were disappointed, but not outraged. It made the decision easier. Asher felt validated. The group was strong without him. He would be stronger when he was finished.

  He needed to find her. He needed to kill her. And he needed to bury the love of his life, a second time.

  *******

  Jenna

  Almost sunset

  Union Matis, WV

  You don’t have to like it, for it to make sense.

  If Jenna had the chance to save Robert, or even kill an evil Robert, she would try. Even if that meant leaving the rest of the group. Closure was important. The world was being torn apart from the inside, by good and bad people, and Asher deserved a chance to heal. He wasn’t going to waste time pitter pattering around before he left. No one asked him to stay as he walked through the open grass and into the forest.

  “Where’s he going?” Mickey asked.

  Jenna shrugged.

  “Pickup just out of the tree line.”

  Jenna turned to the old man, it was a relief to hear his voice. “Where’d you find a truck?”

  “Long story.”

  “Sounds like you have a lot to talk about,” Mickey said, turning his focus to Mona. She was still unconscious, but some of her color was back. A thin, clear mucus oozed from the cut on her little hand. Jenna wanted to wipe it away, but figured Tink wold have freaked out.

  Their group, their little makeshift family at the end of the world, was becoming stronger and falling apart, at the same time. If Shelly were alive, she would love and take care of everyone. She would be a friend. She would be a rock.

  But you’re not Shelly.

  Jenna wouldn’t spend any more time trying to convince herself that she was, instead she would be a better version of herself. Jenna didn’t need to be Shelly, and she couldn’t be. It was more important to be real and admit her weakness, while also being strong. No one else here drove Marshall insane. That was all Jenna. She could be the rock for this group. She could be the rock for others.

  Jenna thought back to her vision, the time when Robert was driving a car and wrecked them. Of all the terrible things she saw, it was Jordan’s burning body that stood out to her. The rancid smell. The heat. Even his words were etched in her head. She could never forget it.

  Be the lighthouse, you have the Pulse.

  Exactly.

  *******

  Greg/Seth

  Nearing sunset

  Union Matis, WV

  The plan had certainly not gone as smoothly as it would have with a mindless drone fulfilling each obligation. Maybe Adam would have been better suited to recruit Asher and leave Greg to be eaten by a dog. Greg’s attempts at securing and fulfilling his objectives have succeeded with embarrassing fashion. He wouldn’t deny the victory, but he couldn’t deny the shame, either.

  Yet, Conrad was further wrapped around his finger, just as Adam requested. Taking control of the man who commands the American military was priority number one, obviously. Despite Greg’s incessant lying and childish manipulation tactics, Conrad wasn’t going anywhere. They have established a sound relationship with the investment in saving America. Greg knew how to manipulate him.

  Second was utilizing the Voice, especially Bryce Chapman’s voice. Sadly, Bryce Chapman was dead in one of the underground cells of Union Matis. It was ironic, Greg thought, the man who made a career off exposing the government for their disturbing violence against enemies and their absolute corruption was murdered at the central hub of the very evil he despised. Unfortunately, Greg needed his voice. His audience was the general public. With him alive, Greg could have recruited others with special abilities. Not for Mona’s movement, but to reshape the world in Adam’s image.

  It was never an explicit truth, but Greg began to believe proper chaos was leading him to a simple deduction.

  Chapman wasn’t as important as Chapman’s voice. The ridiculously poorly written website was far greater to the cause than an overweight, self-indulgent jester. He wasn’t ev
en a pawn on Adam’s table. His impact, though, couldn’t be denied, but it could be manufactured.

  Greg remembered noticing Chapman’s computer before he mistakenly posted an uninspiring article. There wasn’t a password, a lock, or any safety features. He just opened the computer and started typing. Then, when they were forced out of their cars and into Union Matis, Chapman erroneously left the laptop in the back of Conrad’s car. Someone who didn’t respect his influence didn’t deserve it, either. One man’s apathy for security becomes another man’s voice. The Chat could become another puppet.

  *******

  The Chat

  Bryce Chapman

  I felt compelled to write my readers a quick message in light of the dark times facing our country. An avalanche of tragedy has befallen us and we’re yet to orient ourselves upwards. As we feel overrun by pain, we must realize the importance of finding our way free. There is no victory without sacrifice.

  There is no victory without unity, either.

  Our country is surrounded by enemies. Ugo Ban will keep his distance after his harrowing decision to desecrate our land. Whatever his motivation, the rest of the world has supported him and left us isolated. Our history shows our ability to withstand foreign enemies and succeed despite overwhelming odds. President Watt has been murdered by Ugo Ban’s henchmen (yes, it was Ban, President Johnson was certainly not involved), but our fearless leader’s death will not be in vain.

  Our nation will overcome the UN behind the strong backs of President Johnson and Vice President Greene. Of this I have no doubt. Johnson is a savvy leader who trusts his military. One can argue Watt’s redacted war-time accomplishments actually belonged to Conrad Greene. He is honorable. He is a true American. If you’re going into war, you want a hero.