Messiah

by J. E. Taylor

  André slid by her side, scraping the skin off both his knees. “Are you ok?” he asked, his breath hitching in his chest.

  Katrina just stared at the wreckage. She didn’t respond to André’s voice or touch.

  André didn’t need to look. He already knew what he did, but killing Anna was the only way to save Katrina. “Kat!” he shouted and raw panic took hold.

  Katrina shifted her eyes to his. “You...” She pointed at the wreckage a few feet away.

  André nodded, his eyes filling with tears but he blinked them back.

  Katrina’s eyes followed suit, but she was unable to blink back the tears.

  André nodded and took her in his arms. “I didn’t mean to kill her,” he said and the shakes began. “I didn’t mean to...but I had to stop her.”

  Katrina wrapped her arms around André, still staring at what used to be a hovercraft. Sirens wailed in the distance. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Why?” André asked, pulling away.

  “Because you didn’t kill Anna.”

  André spun toward the wreckage.

  Anna sat in the driver’s seat with the pieces of the hovercraft scattered around her, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open; the only evidence of an explosion was the singed edges of her hair. She blinked, alternating between staring at the two of them and assessing the damaged pieces of her father’s hovercraft lying all around her.

  André slowly stood up, helping Katrina to her feet, without taking his eyes off the bizarre scene. “I told you not to fuck with me, Anna,” he said and escorted Katrina away from the wreckage. Just before they rounded the corner, André looked back. Anna was still sitting in the driver’s seat, which was the only recognizable piece of the craft. “I was so sure I killed her,” he whispered.

  Katrina kept her mouth shut but her thoughts reached André anyway. He would have killed Anna if she hadn’t projected a protective cocoon around her the moment before the craft blew up. She had been stunned when the debris cleared and Anna was sitting unharmed in the middle of the wreckage.

  André stopped walking and looked at his wife. “You did that?” He pointed over his shoulder.

  “You would have killed her.” She glanced over her shoulder in his direction. “I know you were just trying to protect me.” She stopped and turned toward him. “I also know you wouldn’t be able to live with that, especially since she’s just reacting to the vibe you’re sending off.”

  André nodded and resumed walking.

  “I’m still pissed at you,” Katrina said. “You nearly frying Anna to a crisp to protect me doesn’t wipe out the fact that you screwed around on me.” She kept stride with him back to the house.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Three strikes and you’re out.” She glared at him. “No matter how much I love you, you do this again and I’m out of here, and I’m taking Sam with me. I don’t give a damn that women are throwing themselves at you. If you so much as allow anyone but me to touch you...” She shook her head and sped up.

  André slowed his pace, feeling both her fury and his shame course through him. He followed like a scolded puppy, carrying his sneakers in one hand and his towel in the other.

  Katrina turned, swinging as her anger got the best of her. Her fist connected just above André’s left cheekbone, sending him back a couple of steps. She turned and stormed back on the path to their house, shaking her head and swearing under her breath.

  André watched her go, his cheek and eye burning where her fist connected. He reached up and touched the tender flesh, wincing at the flash of pain before following her into the empty house. He slowly climbed the stairs, entering their room in time to see her disappear into the bathroom.

  Regret burned his stomach and he swallowed, staring at the bathroom door and debating. Impulse won out and he crossed the hall, stepping into the bathroom, peeling his bathing suit off. When he opened the shower door, Katrina glared at him over her shoulder.

  “All I want is you, Kat. All I’ve ever wanted is you.”

  “Then why?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because I can’t have you right now and it’s driving me crazy.” He stepped closer. “I’m not getting any relief and I lie awake long after you’re asleep and I’m damn frustrated.” He reached out and touched her face. “So today, instead of saying no, I let it happen until Dad interrupted.” He stepped closer, into the spray of the shower, pulling Katrina to him.

  André leaned over and kissed her hard, burying his free hand in her hair, creating more steam than just from the shower. When he pulled away, he reached for the temperature controls, turning it into the cold territory, cooling off the heat coursing through his veins.

  Katrina turned the dial back to hot and pushed him against the back wall.

  “You can’t,” André whispered just before her lips pressed against his. Yes, I can. Her voice echoed in his mind. André pulled away for a moment. “The doctor gave the go-ahead?”

  “It’s been five weeks.” Katrina looked into his eyes, her hands already stroking him.

  André leaned his head back against the shower stall. “Katrina,” he groaned and closed his eyes as she trailed kisses up his chest and neck. “Is it really okay?” he asked, trying to control himself.

  “Yes,” she said. “And your mother won’t be back for another hour or so.” Before she finished the sentence, André had her in his arms, carrying her dripping body into the bedroom.

  Spent and nuzzling her neck, he whispered, “I love you, Katrina Robbins. You own my heart and always have.” Closing his eyes, he was faintly aware that the side of his face leaning on her shoulder hurt where she had punched him earlier. Her fingers lightly traced his back, lulling him to sleep.

  “André,” she whispered, bringing him back to consciousness.

  “Mmm?” He leaned up on his elbows.

  “I think Mom’s home,” she said, pushing gently away from him. She rolled off the bed and headed to the bathroom to clean up.

  André lay on his stomach for a few minutes, listening to the shower, content to just relax in bed until he heard his son fussing downstairs. He sighed and climbed out of bed, grabbing a pair of shorts. He caught a glance in the mirror and hand combed his hair back into place before wandering downstairs toward the sound of Sammy crying.

  “Hi, Mom,” he said, entering the kitchen. Sammy was in the portable crib, just starting to get that worked-up cry of discontent when André reached in and plucked him from the mattress.

  “What are you doing home?” Linda asked.

  “Dad fired me,” André answered and turned toward her.

  Concern flashed on her face and she stepped toward him. “What happened to your eye?” she asked, touching the black-and-blue skin just below his left eye. She blinked and a crease of puzzlement appeared between her eyes. Her hand dropped to her side and she met his gaze. “Did you say your father fired you?”

  “Yes and I deserved it,” he said, referring to both being fired and the black-and-blue mark on his face, but he didn’t go into any more detail about either. Instead, he shrugged and glanced at his son.

  “What did you do, André?” Linda asked, annoyance creeping into her voice and transitioning her features into the disappointed look she usually reserved for when he brought home a less than stellar test grade from school.

  André expected the transition into the world of X-rated thoughts at any second and when it didn’t come, he raised his eyebrows in surprise and stepped back. There was no hunger in her eyes or lewd thoughts in her mind and he offered a smile of gratitude, thankful for the small interlude.

  “Well?” she asked as if the last five weeks never happened and she was back to herself.

  “Let’s just say I screwed up and leave it at that.” He looked down at his son and smiled. “Hey there, Sammy,” he said, tracing his son’s nose with his fingertip. “Did you have a fun day with Nana?”

  Sam cooed and smiled at his father, his arms an
d legs in perpetual motion.

  “You are so good with him,” Linda said.

  “Thanks, Mom.” It was the first real observation of his parental skills his mother had shared since Sam’s birth.

  Katrina came bounding down the stairs, refreshed from her shower. “Thank you so much, Mom. I desperately needed a break today.” She reached for Sam.

  “Not yet.” André glanced at her hands. “You get him all day, every day,” he added, wandering into the living room, thrilled to have some quiet time with his son. He sat in the rocking chair and began telling Sam about his day at the beach.

  KATRINA LEANED AGAINST the doorjamb, taking in André and Sam. She looked back at Linda, who was watching the same scene over her shoulder.

  “Something is different,” Linda said.

  Katrina half turned toward her. “What do you mean?”

  “André,” Linda said. “Something is different with him now.” She looked at Katrina. “Besides the black-and-blue eye,” she added, eliminating the obvious.

  Katrina turned back to André, still feeling the overwhelming need to be in his arms, but it was different. It wasn’t that “tear off his clothes and jump him despite the crowd” urge that overtook her since Sam was born and she had almost tackled him on the raft earlier, but now it was as if the sex vibe was gone. Her eyes widened. We slept together for the first time since Sammy was born.

  André glanced in her direction. Don’t you dare say a word. He smiled at Katrina, making her blush, but it didn’t prompt a near orgasmic reaction like it would have this morning and a new theory surfaced in her mind. One she had to test out.

  Linda shrugged and wandered away.

  “I need to pick up some diapers. Feel like taking a walk with me and Sammy?”

  “Sure.” André nodded. He stood, handing Sammy to Katrina and grabbing the stroller. He set it up outside, helping Katrina strap in their son. “You think because we had sex, I’m not sending the signal to every female in the vicinity anymore?”

  “Actually, that is what I’m thinking.” She glanced sideways at him with a grin.

  “I don’t know, I kind of like the attention. It’s good for my ego.”

  Katrina’s smile disappeared. “It’s what got you in trouble, remember?”

  André hooked his thumbs in his back pockets, keeping stride with Katrina as she pushed the stroller down the street. “Yeah,” he said as they passed the area where Anna’s craft had been destroyed. They both tried to ignore the small pieces still glimmering on the edge of the grass.

  “What are you doing in space?” Katrina asked, returning to the dropped conversation from earlier.

  “Stopping a meteor from hitting Earth,” André replied. His cavalier attitude made Katrina stop short.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because if it hits, we’re all in trouble,” he said. “But I can make it miss.”

  “Like Anna’s hovercraft?”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s too big to explode.”

  Katrina resumed walking, thinking about what André was saying. “So what are you going to do?” She looked over at him.

  “If I can see it, I can push it off course.”

  Katrina steered the stroller across the street to the entrance of the lake, with André in tow. She could see her friends gathered on the beach and paused. “Is it dangerous?”

  André shrugged. “I don’t think so. I might need a week’s worth of sleep afterwards, but that’s it. Your friends,” he said, nodding in the direction of the small clan making a beeline to the baby.

  Katrina turned to the group with a smile, taking note that not one of them gave André a second glance. She smiled and picked up Sam, showing him off to the crowd of girls.

  ANDRÉ STOOD TO THE side, letting Sam take center stage. He glanced around the beach. None of the women turned to look at him like they had before. There were no more lewd thoughts emanating from the strangers on the beach, nor from any of Katrina’s friends. He sighed with a measure of disappointment mixed with relief.

  Katrina glanced back at him and smiled.

  He hated when she was right but he returned her smile anyway. “Do you want me to run to the store while you stay here with Sammy?”

  “Would you mind?”

  “Not at all,” he said and wandered away. André walked into the store and headed toward the baby supplies. He turned a corner and Anna stood next to her mother, looking at headache medicines.

  She glanced in his direction and her eyes widened with shock.

  André sent a nod in her direction, acknowledging her presence before disappearing around the corner.

  “André?” Anna asked, stepping into the diaper aisle and approaching him.

  “What?” He didn’t look at her.

  “I have no idea what got into me the last few times I saw you but I wanted to apologize.” She studied the pattern in the floor as she spoke.

  “Apology accepted,” André answered. He plucked a package of diapers off the shelf and slid by her.

  “Can I ask you a question?” she asked without turning.

  André stopped and sighed. “No. I didn’t mean what I said in the locker room,” he answered without her asking the question. He glanced back. “I cared, but I wasn’t in love with you, Anna.” He took the diapers to the checkout, paid, and left without another word. Katrina was right; he would have never forgiven himself if he had killed her.

  He arrived back at the beach a few minutes later. “Ready to go?”

  Katrina nodded and put Sam back in the stroller. She smiled and waved at her friends as she headed back home with André. “It’s all gone.” She grinned when they were halfway down the block.

  “I know,” André answered. “But not with you, I hope.” He glanced sideways.

  Katrina smiled back at him. “I don’t think it’ll ever be gone with me.”

  “Good,” André replied as they rounded onto the driveway of the house.

  Linda came out on the front porch. “André, your father’s been looking for you.”

  “Why?” André asked.

  “I don’t know, but he wants you at the office as soon as possible.”

  André nodded, assuming his father wanted to talk about the mission. He ran upstairs and changed back into more appropriate clothing and Katrina dropped him off at the base, collecting a kiss before heading back home.

  He headed straight to his father’s office, catching Georgia’s eye as he walked by. A small, embarrassed smile appeared on her lips for a moment before André looked away. He slipped into his father’s office. “You called?” he asked, startling Matthew.

  “I didn’t hear you coming,” Matthew replied, looking up. “What the hell happened to your eye?”

  “It’s apparently gone,” he said in reference to his father’s unspoken commentary about the lack of the female office staff’s lewd thoughts and completely ignored his question.

  “How?”

  André shrugged. “Not quite sure,” he lied, but he came to the same conclusion as Katrina. Sleeping with his wife had somehow stopped the vibe from affecting the remainder of the female population. “So why did you want me back in the office?” André slid into the seat.

  “The president is on his way,” Matthew answered. “He wants to hold a press conference about you.”

  André raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

  “President Foster wants America to know exactly who is saving us. He wants to give them a hero, someone to believe in.”

  “I’m not a hero, Dad,” André answered. “I’m saving my ass, too.”

  Matthew chuckled. “Yes, but the president is going to make you one whether you like it or not.”

  “I’m not comfortable with that,” André said.

  “You don’t have a choice, son. When we step out into the press room in a couple hours, you are going to become the most talked about person on the planet.”

  André leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. “Why
do I have to be there?”

  “Because, I want the public to know you aren’t a threat,” he said. “Otherwise, our family’s safety could be in jeopardy.”

  André sat up straight in the chair. “Why would our family be in jeopardy?”

  Matthew sighed. “Sometimes you can be so naïve.”

  André slowly sank back into the chair. “You’re talking about Zyclon all over again, aren’t you?”

  “No, not like what happened to you as a child. You will become more like a celebrity than an outcast, but there are still nutcases out there who will view you as a threat no matter how we spin this. There will be fewer issues if you are seen and heard than if we keep you hidden.”

  André looked out the window at the sky. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to let this out before we deal with the meteor?” He nodded toward the window.

  “You told me you could move the meteor, and I believe you,” Matthew replied.

  President Foster walked in the room unannounced. “Are we about ready?”

  André shook his head without turning. “No I’m not.” He stood up, turning toward the president. “I’d rather wait.”

  The president studied him and André looked down at his hands. He didn’t want to be categorized as a freak again, not here.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not comfortable with the attention.”

  “Son, you’re the star quarterback on your high school football team. This will be easy in comparison. Trust me.” President Foster smiled. “Besides the press is already set up.”

  President Foster led the procession to the podium. André squinted into the bright camera lights and cringed at the roar their entry spawned. The room quieted down to a low murmur and he swallowed the bundle of nerves caught in his throat.

  Relax, Matthew told his son without glancing in his direction.

  This is a really bad idea, André thought and surveyed the crowd, forcing himself to stand still like his father.

  “Ladies and gentleman, thank you for coming on such short notice,” President Foster said. “In the last few hours, I’ve been briefed on a new situation that I am compelled to report to the American public.” He paused, glancing back at André and Matthew. “The astronomers at the Houston observatory advised the government that a meteor, larger than the one that caused the eastern hemisphere to flood, is on a direct collision course with Earth. By their calculation, this rock will hit somewhere in the north Atlantic in ten days.” He paused and glanced across the quiet room.