by Darren Swart
Marty scowled. He was starting to miss his cushy nine to five desk job. He wondered when he would wake up in the mental ward, with a Thorazine drip. He quietly contemplated before asking, “What is my role in all this?”
“You are the guardian of the Twelfth Stone. Your destiny foretells restoration of order to this realm.”
This sounded way bigger than anything his High School Guidance Counselor had told him. In fact, he couldn’t remember his Guidance Counselor’s face at the moment. He phrased his next question, carefully. “So, am I supposed to save Rachel from this maniac?”
“I suppose. In a manner of speaking, you could call it that. You must return her to the Sacred Place; to where she came from when she first entered this realm. That is where she will be the most powerful, the place where she can defend herself.”
He looked at the tall man. “I don’t suppose you could give me any hints on how I’m going to do that?”
“You will know what to do when the time is right. You must be ready to rely on your friends when the time comes.”
Marty drew a blank on the idea of friends helping him. “What friends would that be, exactly?”
The old man smiled. “Those you travel with, of course.”
“You mean Gillian and Digger? I’m not so sure I trust them.”
“Trust your instincts. Your heart should be your true guide, not your eyes.”
Marty considered this briefly and responded, “So what do I call you?”
“Peter will do.”
“So what will happen in the end?”
“No one can say, really.”
“Does that mean you can’t, or that you won’t say?”
Peter smiled. “It means that you’re thinking in terms of the universe as being a system of absolutes. I’m afraid the cosmos doesn’t work that way. Martin, I assure you that there are limitations even in my realm. Please be patient and realize there is a bigger picture here.”
He hated it when people called him Martin. “Funny, that’s what my boss said right before he fired me. I guess we both know how that turned out for me.”
Peter responded, patiently, “All turning points test your mettle. While they are painful at times, they happen for a reason. It was the starting point for you and all that has happened. Would you have left everything behind so easily had it not been for that?”
Marty pondered the statement.
Peter pressed on. “You must include your friends. Have faith they will not abandon you.”
“So, what do I tell them? That my pet rock told me of a quest. They’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Convince them to hold the gem. It will help them understand.”
“When should I do this?”
“Gillian will be entering the room any moment. I would not delay in telling her. She is a far stronger ally than you think. One other thing, Martin, the Sappir affects everyone differently. The experience will be different with all three of you.”
“Affects?” His voice was an octave higher than he would have liked.
“Calm yourself. No harm will come of it. You have dormant energy locked within you. The Sappir is the key.”
“Care to give me a hint as to what they will be?”
“Your mind’s eye will be awakened.”
Marty raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”
“There is no time to explain. Be patient and you will understand. Follow your dreams and visions. It will feel odd at first, but you will adapt. One final thing…”
“Yes?”
“Gillian is in the room with you. It’s time you explain to her.”
Chapter 17
They moved to the other room. She looked at him, alarmed. “Please say you’re kidding?”
Marty tried to look convincing. “I know this is strange, but you’re going to have to trust me.” He didn’t even try to explain about Rachel. She was having enough difficulty believing that the stone had spoken to him.
She eyed him, skeptically. “You know if you had told me that two days ago, I would have cuffed you and stuffed you in the trunk.”
Marty looked at her, patiently. “I know. I didn’t believe it myself at first. He said I needed to let both of you hold the Sappir.”
She shook her head. Emphatically, she said, “Absolutely not.”
Marty gave her an imploring look. “Why?”
She sighed. “I’m not going to endanger his life. He’s trained to do surveillance. He’s not trained to adapt in the field. Besides that, he’s my friend. I can’t risk putting him in harm’s way.”
The response stung. He was an outsider. He pleaded, “Look, I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I promise that I am sincere and I’m pretty sure I’m not crazy. I really questioned whether I should tell you. I decided to trust you. All I’m asking is that you return that. Is that so much to ask?”
She looked at him hard and long. It was clear that he was serious. He confided in her when he knew she would not believe him. He did it on faith that she would see the truth in what he said. She bit her lip, as she considered their situation. She considered what had happened in the church. This was beyond anything she had ever experienced. There was a twinge of guilt about being so stubborn, which made her realize that she was a different person now. If she had changed, then maybe there was some truth to what he was telling her. She was conflicted because of her wanting to protect both of them. Now, she faced a decision of having to protect Digger from the uncertainty of the situation they were in. It was both confusing and aggravating. She wished she could go back to not trusting anyone and shooting people she didn’t like.
Marty could see her struggling with the conflict. He tried to give her an easy out. “Look, I’ll put the stone on the dresser and leave the room. You can lock the doors behind me.” He could almost see her mind working. “You can do this on your own terms. When you’re ready, just pick it up and relax. It doesn’t hurt. If it works, you’ll know I’m telling the truth. If it doesn’t work, you can fall back on plan A and drop me off at the closest psyche ward with a note around my neck and take the rock to your boss. You can’t lose.”
Stoically, she considered him. Marty readied himself for cuffs and a gag. She hated to admit it, but she knew he was right. She sighed and let the angst of trying to fight it go. “All right, you go into my room. I’ll lock this door.”
She slid a gleaming .45 caliber pistol from under her pillow. Marty’s eyes grew large. That was not something he had considered. There was a smooth click, as she dropped the magazine into her hand. In one fluid motion, she ratcheted the slide, ejected the unspent round and caught it before it hit the mattress. Marty didn’t try to hide that he was impressed by her skill. “Wow.”
She looked at him drolly, as she thumbed the round into the magazine and handed it to Marty. “If this is some drug-induced hallucination, I don’t want any accidents.”
He nodded. Inwardly, he wondered what kind of an experience would lead her to think that way. He quickly decided that some things were better left unknown. He tried to smile, bravely. “I’ll be right here, if you need me.”
She arched an eyebrow at him, but said nothing as she closed and latched the door behind him. As he went through the door, she slid a chair over and wedged it under the knob. She still wasn’t sure if she liked the idea of this. If nothing happened, they could move on. She walked to the dresser and opened the wooden cover. She inspected the gem closely, to see whether there were microscopic spores evident. It shown brightly in the box and looked ordinary enough. Perhaps it was a bit larger than ones she had seen in the past? It was the size of her thumbnail and shaped like a pecan.
She grabbed a towel from the bathroom and gingerly picked up the case, like the stone had just come from an oven. She eased the box into the bathroom and placed it on the counter next to the sink. She placed her finger along the drain and inspected the opening to see how wide it was. Satisfied that the opening was smaller than the stone, she turned on the water and
waited for it to get hot. If there were some pharmacological or biological agent on the stone, it would be gone shortly. Cradling it carefully in the towel, she washed it for a full minute with soap and running water. The water was so hot that it made her wince. As she turned the water off, she was confident that any nerve agents were washed away. She toweled it dry and carried it back to the bed. She sat in the center of the bed, cross-legged. If there was any chance she was going to fall under some magic spell she didn’t want to fall physically.
She placed it in front of her. It glittered in the dim light. Carefully, she reached into the towel. Her hand hovered over the glittering jewel for a moment, while she weighed the sanity of this. She shook her head at the absurdity of the moment, reached down, tossed the gem up and deftly caught it. It was warm from its bath and didn’t feel particularly amazing at first touch. She sat for a moment with it, while nothing happened. She sighed, feeling a little silly. Just as she had suspected, an overactive imagination had been exacerbated by some real-life drama. It was going to be difficult to tell Marty. He had seemed so convinced.
Cupped in the palm of her hand, she climbed off the bed to return the stone to the dresser. The sensation was as palpable as an electric shock. As her foot touched the floor, the coolness of the tile floor passed through her like a wave. Slowly, her gaze traveled to the floor. The familiar gleam of polished white tile loomed as never before. A smell rose up from nowhere. The tang of boot polish and mothballs suddenly filled her nostriles. A chill edged its way up her spine, as she looked up to find the expanse of her old Fort Bragg barracks. The familiar long rows of steel bunk beds spread out, each with a neatly rolled mattress centered precisely in the middle. Strangely, calm washed over her.
The door latch at one end of the barracks clicked hollowly through the open room. It creaked, as it opened. The Master Sergeant strode briskly through the door, walking straight up to her. Without thinking, she was locked at attention by the time he reached her. He returned her salute and walked past her, without saying a word. He snatched a nearby chair and draggedit toward her. Swinging it around, he sat with the chair back toward her, his arms folded over the top. His first words rang out like a hymn. “As you were, Kelly.”
She dropped into a parade stance and relaxed, but only slightly. This part she understood.
He began a little less formally this time. “So Gillian, what are your thoughts about all this?”
“Permission to speak freely, Sir?”
The Sergeant smiled. “Permission granted.”
“It’s a cluster, Sir. We have insufficient ground troops, unreliable Intel and inadequate equipment for this mission.”
He nodded in agreement. “Would it be safe to say your mission objective has been compromised, given your current situation?”
“Yes, Sir. I would.” She responded, without drama or pretense.
He smiled at her. “Let’s see if we can undo some of the damage a bit, shall we?”
Gillian quit play acting and sat back on the bed, cross-legged. This wasn’t her unit. He wasn’t her sergeant. He was tall and white headed, his hair tightly cropped. His stripes were three up and three down, with the gunnery symbol in the center. It was odd. She didn’t recognize any of the ribbons on his chest. She thought she knew them all. The name on the uniform was PETER.
She quietly asked, “So, am I to assume that I am now part of the lunatic fringe?”
His smile was unexpectedly radiant. “Not quite, my dear. You’re quite sane.”
The epiphany struck her that this was what Marty had been experiencing. She began to understand his reluctance to explain. It was only at this moment that she appreciated his odd statements and peculiar behaviors were due to something far more unusual than she could have imagined. A twinge of regret crossed her mind. She had clearly been too hard on him.
The Sergeant smiled at her. “He doesn’t blame you, you know. He was hesitant to bring you into this. I had to convince him that this was necessary.”
Her eyes slanted at Peter. “Pardon me?”
“You’re feeling regret about being so hard on Wood?”
She frowned. “You know what I’m thinking?”
“Of course, my dear. This is all in your mind, my bailiwick.”
Peter could see the sudden chill of fear, as it passed over her. She tried unsuccessfully to control it. He opened his palms to her. “Rest easy, Child. You’re in no danger here. In fact, my purpose is to ensure your safety and success on this endeavor. I want you to have some faith in your mission here.”
“Faith? I’m afraid that faith is not something I tend to rely on.”
He smiled, slyly. “We hope to change that.”
Her response was non-committal. “So what are we doing here? You seem to have all the answers, so why do you need me?”
Peter considered her for a moment before continuing. “Events are transpiring as we speak that require your unique skills.”
She looked at him wryly. “I’m afraid the preacher robbed me of the whole skills aspect yesterday.”
Peter looked at her, sternly. “No, quite the contrary. He prepared you for the changes in your life. He just healed some old wounds to help you. Without that, you could not move past who you were to who you need to be.”
Bitingly, she replied, “I wasn’t aware that I needed to be anything other than what I was. Maybe I didn’t want to move on?”
He looked at her, patiently. “We both know that’s not true. For the first time in your life, you do not feel empty. It was painful, I know, but sometimes it is necessary. Gillian, I’ll get to the point. I realize you want a specific step-by-step plan that is precisely timed and sequential. I can’t give that to you. I can assure you, I will be with you every step of the way. But you will have to adapt as you go. Your objective now is to rescue Her.”
Gillian blinked. His statement caught her off guard. “Excuse me, who is Her?”
“That isn’t important at the moment. Martin will be able to explain that later. Our time here is short, so let’s focus on your ability to defend yourself.”
Finally, it was something she could relate to. She smiled. “Trust me, this is where I know what I’m capable of.”
Peter gave her a wicked smile, “No. I don’t believe you do.”
Peter reached across and touched her forehead. His hand glowed for a moment and he drew it away. She felt no different. From the doorway, a fly entered the room and angrily buzzed around them. It flew in slow circles before landing on Peter’s elbow.
He pointed to the fly for a moment. “This fly has an enormous power within it, which you can tap into. But you must learn the true nature of the power and how to harness it.”
She gave him a skeptical look and thought, Fly Power? Who are you trying to kid here? She tried to remain patient and listened.
He smiled, seeing her doubt. “I once knew someone long ago named Thomas. He was a lot like you. Now, focus on the energy of the wings of our little friend here. Watch him, as he takes flight.”
As the fly left Peter’s arm, it seemed to move in slow motion. Gillian blinked, involuntarily. She questioned herself, as a world of iridescent bands of light flowed through the room like the currents of a hundred streams. Bands of color intensified closer to the source of energy. It was like watching the insect fly into a wind tunnel. She watched as the bug changed color in front of her. Dabs of red turned to orange and finally yellow at the tips of the wings.
Peter’s voice seemed distant. “Focus on what you can see.”
Her fascination caused her to forget what she was doing. The fly seemed as though it were flying in slow motion, as it buzzed through the barracks. It maneuvered through the currents like a canoe on the rapids, avoiding the stronger air currents in the opposite direction and riding the winds to its destination. She began to sense when the motion would change so she could capture and redirect it at will.
Peter smiled, satisfied with her instincts. “Good, you’re a natural at thi
s. Now, see if you can borrow a small portion of that power and focus it on something you wish to move?”
She focused on a whisp of air in a tiny pink strand. She concentrated on balling the small string of air into a concentrated orb and moved it against the fly. Its tiny head disappeared inward and the insect fell to the floor. She blinked. “What happened?”
Peter sighed. “You must use the energy sensibly. You are not using a hammer. This is more like delicate surgery. Let’s try again.”
Another fly entered the room and landed on Peter’s arm. As it took flight, she followed the flow of energy as it created movement. Again, she concentrated on borrowing a small amount of energy. Slowly, she released it on the fly and it began to slow. A small strand of electricity flashed by, as a crooked blue line distracted her from the release of air current. Her momentary distraction caused the air ball to release all at once, hammering the small fly in one unchecked energy ram. It flew backward across the room, falling dead as though struck by a fly swatter.
He looked at her, dourly. “You killed it, again.”
She looked at Peter, determinedly. “I can do this. Besides, it was just a fly.”
He held his tongue. “Try again. This time, don’t let anything distract you. Release the energy slowly. Focus on controlling it.”
A third fly entered the room. This time she did not wait until it landed before she began to bank the power from the wings. Carefully, she released the energy back onto the fly. Its tiny wings beat furiously, and yet it did not move through the air. She held it motionless in mid-air. It buzzed angrily, as it tried to move forward. Yet, it remained in stasis. She continued to capture tiny bits of energy and redirect it on the insect. Suddenly, it fell to the floor dead.
She looked at Peter, defensively. “I didn’t do that.”
He smiled. “A fly has a very limited life span to begin with. With you using its own energy against it, essentially you doubled the rate at which it aged. It simply died of old age.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“You didn’t intentionally kill it. It simply expired.”
