by David Yates
"Did I get you, kid?” Silas’ voice rang out across the yard from the direction of the house. “I'm betting I did. You see, I have a .30-06 rifle here with a night-vision scope, and I'm a damn good shot if I may say so myself. I'm looking through the scope now and I can't see you, but I know you're there."
Braden gripped his guns tightly in his hand. He moved slightly and another shot immediately rang out. Braden felt something like a sharp sting in his left upper arm. He both felt and heard his left humerus break. His gun dropped from his left hand and his arm flopped to the ground. The dizziness was back with full force. He knew that if he passed out this time, he was dead. He fought the dizziness and the accompanying nausea, and lost to the nausea again. This time he was dry-heaving, and with every heave his arm cried out anew.
He quickly reassessed his situation. Now he had been shot twice, his left arm was broken, he was pinned down by a professional assassin, and he was totally alone. Custer's Seventh Cavalry wasn't going to be riding over the hill to save the day in this movie. If he was to be saved, he would have to save himself.
It's time to get out of Dodge, Braden, he said to himself as he lay amid the leaves and the twigs and the searing pain. Part of him, the part that wanted him to prove himself, rose up in protest. You're going to let him go? this part of him said frantically. But Braden knew the answer to that riddle. It wasn't a matter of letting him go. Whether Silas got away or not was no longer a part of the discussion. If Braden didn't travel out of here right now, he would die.
Still, that stubborn part of him didn't want to let it go. Despite his injuries, despite the enormous pain, he still wanted to see it through. His body was torn to pieces, but his heart was still intact. His purpose was still alive and uninjured inside of him. He lay there on the ground, trying to clear his head of the pain so that he could think logically.
What would Kendra do if she were here? he suddenly thought. The answer came immediately. She would get out. She would live to fight another day.
This thought, along with the rationalization that he was now far too gone physically to be any match for Silas, finally decided him. He lowered his head to the ground and closed his eyes. He would have to live to fight another day. He traveled.
He opened his eyes and was shocked to see the same tree cover over him. He glanced around and confirmed that he was still in the treeline just outside Silas’ house. He tried again, with the same negative result. What's this? he thought. Maybe the pain was hindering his ability to travel. Or maybe it was the stress. Or a combination of the two.
Gotta relax, Braden, he thought, and tried to force the pain from his head. He closed his eyes again and began to breathe deeply in an attempt to relax and clear his mind. If he could only control the pain. He was becoming more certain that it was the pain causing the interference in his internal wiring.
He heard a twig snap just before Silas stepped on his right wrist, pinning his only good gun hand to the ground. He opened his eyes and stared up into the muzzle of Silas’ pistol.
"You should have accepted my offer, kid."
Silas was looking down at him, the hard smile Braden remembered painted on his face. He had a large knot just above his left eye where the log had struck him. At least I did that much, Braden thought.
Silas was shaking his head regrettably. “Unfortunately, that offer is no longer on the table. You see, I know now if I let you go, you would just go off somewhere and lie up until you were better. After that, you'd just come after me again. So I'm gonna have to end it now."
"Then go ahead and do it,” Braden rasped.
Silas shook his head again. “It's a real shame having to kill someone with your talent. You would have been great at my profession. Anson's team did a fantastic job on you.” He cocked his head to the side. “Did anyone ever tell you about your past? I mean, when you were a baby? Where you came from and all that?"
Braden didn't answer, and so Silas continued. “Your real name is Tyler. Tyler Atcherson. Your parents were Tim and Mary Atcherson. Your hometown is Sedalia, Missouri."
Braden couldn't help it. He asked, “Are my parents still alive?"
"No, unfortunately they're not."
Braden looked up into Silas’ cool killer's eyes. “You murdered them, didn't you?"
"Me? No, kid, not me. It was that idiot Bullard. Him and his boyfriend Parker did your parents, Espinoza's mother, Colonel Bemis’ wife...you don't know this, but I served with Joe Bemis in the Army."
"Did you.” It was a statement rather than a question, and it was dripping with indifference.
"Yes. Colonel Bemis and I were in Iraq during Desert Storm. He was a major back then. We even had chow together a few times."
Braden was silent. “Anyway,” Silas said, “I just thought you should know those things. Professional courtesy and all, you know."
"I guess I'm supposed to thank you now,” Braden said.
Silas shrugged. “Wasn't looking for one. Like I said, I just wanted you to know."
They stared at each other from opposite ends of a pistol, the veteran mercenary and the fallen young gun. Finally Silas spoke.
"Well, kid, I'd like to hang out here chatting with you all night, but you know how it is. Places to go, people to do; you understand."
"Look, Silas, if you're going to do it, just do it and stop running your pie hole,” Braden said through a haze of pain.
"Right.” Silas aimed the pistol at Braden's head. “Well, so long, kid. See you on the other side."
Braden closed his eyes. He concentrated on a vision of Kendra's face in the final moment of his life. He heard the shots as Silas fired. He counted five shots and felt no pain as the bullets entered his body. The only pain he felt was the massive pain in his left arm and his right leg.
Wait a minute, he thought. If I'm dead, why am I still feeling the pain in my arm and leg? He opened his eyes. Silas was no longer standing on his wrist. He had backed up three or four steps from Braden and he had a wide-eyed, surprised look on his face. He wasn't looking down at Braden, but at something beyond Braden's head.
Braden craned his neck and looked behind him. Kendra stood there, a lazy curl of smoke drifting up from the barrel of Braden's .380. Her face was also shocked, but there was plenty of determination there as well. She looked down at Braden, tears beginning to form in her eyes. She began walking toward him, lowering the .380.
Braden saw movement from the bottom of his eyes. He looked down and saw Silas still standing, several bloody holes in his chest and abdomen. He was raising the pistol and aiming at Kendra.
Despite all the injuries and all the pain, Braden's training took over. He raised the gun in his right hand and fired once. From behind him, Kendra had begun firing again. He saw his one round open a black hole in Silas’ forehead. At the same time, his shirt jumped as Kendra's three rounds plowed into his torso. Silas toppled backward like a fallen tree and crashed to the ground, dead.
She was at his side at once. She dropped the .380 on the ground beside him and reached for him. Her hands stopped short of touching him. Braden was amused to see that she was afraid to touch him for fear that she would hurt him more.
She said, “Where are you hurt, baby?"
"Left arm and right leg,” he said weakly. “You were supposed to stay at the hotel."
Her tough-girl attitude exerted itself. “I think the proper response is, ‘Thank you for saving my sorry ass'."
He couldn't help but smile through the pain. “Thank you, Spunky."
She glared at him in mock anger. “My name's not Spunky,” she said.
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Epilogue
"So what do you want to do?” Kendra asked him, munching on a peanut. “Zip around the world like Superman, saving Little Nell?"
"That was Underdog,” Braden said, grinning. “Superman's girlfriend was..."
"I'm well aware of who Superman's girlfriend was, Smart Ass,” Kendra interrupted tartly. The corner of her mouth tw
itched as she tried and mostly succeeded in concealing a smile. “My point stands. If you're expecting me to knit you a pair of blue and red tights, think again."
It had been almost nine months since Silas’ death, and Braden had fully recovered from his injuries. They were sitting on the deck at Braden's island house in Florida with an enormous bag of roasted in-the-shell peanuts on the table between them. They had been cracking and eating them. A growing cone of peanut shells was on the table beside the bag.
Braden gave her a straight, serious look. “So does that mean a cape is out of the question?"
She fired a peanut at him. He threw up his arms and ran down the deck steps, Kendra hot on his tail. She was rapid-firing the peanuts as she ran, a large smile on her face. He was confident that he could outrun her until he glanced back and saw that she had gained on him. He raced down the white sand of the beach with Kendra steadily gaining ground. When he felt her fingertips brush his back, he traveled.
He reappeared on the beach directly behind his house. Their house, now. She had pretty much moved in by unspoken mutual consent to nurse him back to health. She knew next to nothing about physical rehabilitation, but that didn't stop her from being a taskmaster when it came to Braden's rehab. She had driven him mercilessly. There were days when he wanted to quit, but she wouldn't let him. He was ultimately glad that she hadn't.
She was about fifty yards down the beach now. She stopped and looked around, spying him standing with his hands on his knees and breathing hard. She began walking back toward the house. He waited for her, trying to catch his breath.
When she was within about thirty feet of him, she yelled, “Cheater!" and began sprinting at him again. He let out a surprised squawk and ran for the house. He climbed the stairs, and by the time he reached the top he could hear her starting up at the bottom.
He darted inside the house and ran for the bedroom. He rushed in and ran to the opposite side of the bed, flattening himself on the floor. He lay still and looked under the bed, watching the bedroom door for her feet.
He saw her feet cross the living room and heard her rummaging for something there. The kitchen faucet turned on, and the water ran for several seconds. Shortly thereafter, he saw her bare feet sneaking through the bedroom door. She was up on her tiptoes.
Braden watched, trying not to breathe too hard, grinning fiercely. She stepped to the side of the bed opposite him and faced away, apparently looking into the bathroom. Her feet suddenly left the floor as she fell backwards onto the bed, and a fraction of a second later he was being drenched with a Super Soaker water rifle.
He screamed and scrabbled at the floor, trying to get up. Then she was on top of him, straddling his back and firing the water rifle empty.
"That's for cheating,” she said, throwing the empty rifle aside. She raised up off of him just enough to allow him to turn over onto his back, then she pinned him to the floor again. She held his wrists to the floor and leaned in until their noses were almost touching. She whispered, “Don't you know enough by now to know not to mess with me?” She kissed him softly. “Now you've forced me to teach you a lesson."
"So how do you plan to go about it?” she asked him
They were still on the bedroom floor, both naked. After their lovemaking session, Braden had pulled the comforter from the bed. Now they both lay under it; him on his back, her lying with her head on his chest, her arm wrapped around him.
"I'm not sure yet,” he replied. “But what I told you before still stands. I have to use these gifts to help people. It would be selfish to keep them to myself."
Kendra was drifting toward sleep. “Well, you know I'll stand behind you, whatever you want to do.” Her voice was a bit mumbled as she drifted farther away.
Braden lay on his back and stroked her auburn hair as her breathing evened out and sleep took her. He stared up and out the window at the blue Florida sky.
He wasn't sure where his life would take him, and he wasn't sure how to go about using his gifts in a positive way. He knew he didn't want the government to know about him; he was certain that they would exploit him for their own means. In that way, the government was no better than Anson and Kobriger and the others.
He wouldn't allow himself to be exploited. He wanted to use his gifts and his talents to truly help. At the end of the day, he still had to look himself in the mirror, and he wanted to be proud of what he saw there. More importantly, he wanted Kendra to be proud of him.
Kendra had alluded to him as Superman. He had no interest in being a hero, although he knew he would be considered one by the people that he helped. He wanted to live a normal life, but he knew that wasn't to be, considering his talents. If he used them in the way that he wanted, the best he would be able to manage would be a semi-normal life. He thought he could live with that.
There's one thing, for sure, he thought as he followed Kendra down into slumber. He smiled sleepily. No matter how I decide to use my gifts, at least I'm really going to go places in my life.
Truer words were never spoken.
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About David Yates
Traveler is the debut novel for David Yates. He enjoys reading and baseball, and is an avid online poker player. He is a former police officer and a veteran of the United States Air Force. He currently resides in Georgia with his wife, Marla, and their three children.
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