A Mission Remembered

by Tanner Froreich

  The video ended. I was shocked – not at what I said, that was fine, but the way I said it. There was not an ounce of Christian humility. I was brash and rude. “Was I aware of this problem?”

  Simon shrugged. “Yes and no. You did try to be less arrogant, and there are some other great speeches that you give, but pride was a besetting sin of yours.”

  I looked back onto what I could remember, and I could see that. I did have a predisposition to pride. Apparently Mindsweeper wasn’t able to rid me of my sin nature… My thoughts side tracked as we merged onto the highway. There was something all too familiar about this area. The tree line up ahead on the side of the road showed startling signs of mayhem not too far in the past. One tree stump had been broken from it’s trunk like a pencil.

  “What are you thinking Arf?” Simon said from the back seat.

  I mumbled the words, “I don’t…know. What’s this place coming up?”

  Simon sighed. “That was where it happened. That is where the semi flipped over, Rebekah became trapped in the car and… you can picture the rest.”

  I leaned my head against the window as the crash site passed by. For Simon and Paul, it was just a second, but for me it was an eternity. Some things didn’t make sense. The trees were far too damaged to have been the result of anything ordinary. I couldn’t imagine any vehicle aside from a large tank capable of snapping the one tree, and even then, maybe not. The tree was an easy three feet in diameter.

  My head hurt. I thought I knew what was happening, so I prepared myself. I didn’t have a vision, but my ears almost exploded as I heard the sound of animalistic roaring laughter. The sound of it rekindled some deep fear and anger. Simon and Paul didn’t even stir; they hadn’t heard it. I looked around desperately but saw nothing. I kept my thoughts and feelings secret. My ears must have been hallucinating, if that was a thing. My head stopped hurting, but I couldn’t forget that roar.

  Chapter 29

  A Memory

  We continued down the highway. As we took an onramp to an interstate, I saw the Tyrannosaurus statue that was the icon of my father’s museum. When we passed the exit to the museum, I asked Paul, “Why didn’t we exit?”

  “We’re taking you somewhere that should spark some memories,” Simon said as Paul kept his eyes on the road.

  For a moment, I almost panicked. I didn’t like being taken somewhere unexpected. I worried that Simon, Paul, and everyone else were IODINE agents, and I was being played for a fool. I slowly reached for the belt buckle.

  “We are going to the cemetery Arf,” Paul said as we exited the interstate. I relaxed. It didn’t take much thought to understand where we were going. When we pulled into the churchyard I was reminded of Greg and how we hadn’t given him a proper burial. Somewhere, his body lay in a shallow grave in the middle of the woods. His family would never know what happened to him, if even he had family.

  We stopped by a section of the cemetery that was lined with Daffodils. “Well,” Simon started, “we don’t want to ruin this for you. She’s over there.” He pointed to a Weeping Willow that shaded a single grave.

  I stepped out of the car and slowly wandered toward the head stone. I briefly looked at some of the other stones. All the graves in this section belonged to people under twenty-five. I walked up to the stone that read “Rebekah E. Crown 2015-2035 For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. Isaiah 55:9. Though we are separated by death, our hearts are still bound. I, as others, will never forget you. ~A. Fredrick.”

  I didn’t remember writing those words. I didn’t remember this girl. I was so confused about the emotions I was feeling. I was filled with rage and anguish, but yet I also felt vague sympathy and at ease. I tried and tried to remember who Rebekah was. The strain on my mind and heart brought me to my knees. I felt as if all the moisture from my throat had been removed, and I found it hard to breath. Slowly but surely the tears started to fall one by one.

  I muttered a prayer, “P-please, God. Hel-help me. I…” Gasping for breath, I managed to continue. “I can’t re-remember. Who is this girl who permeates my past? I am learning who I am, but who is she? I have to know. These alien emotions torment me. Please, I’m begging you Lord, give me these memories. Break the laws of physics if you have to! Do this miracle, please!”

  I sat at the grave waiting, but nothing happened. I was discouraged, but I knew that God isn’t a puppy that I can call whenever I need Him to do tricks. I stood back up on my feet as Simon came up from behind.

  “How are you doing?”

  “I’m not sure. Why do I feel so much emotion for someone I never met, but can’t feel anything when I’m watching my own mother die of cancer?”

  He hid his thumbs in his pockets. “I don’t know, man. Rebekah and you had this special connection. From the outside, it seemed perfect. When she died it…” He remained silent for a moment to consider what he was going to say. “Shattered doesn’t do it justice. Even after you accepted her death, you still were never the same.”

  I wiped the tears from my face and nodded. I couldn’t change the facts of my situation and at that moment I felt as if I wouldn’t be able to stand under the weight of my trial. I took a breath. This fight would be no different than a fist fight and I would have to just roll with the punches.

  As I turned to leave, a memory flashed in front of me. It lasted for only a moment, but I saw Mr. Bordeaux and Derek standing among the headstones. For a moment I almost attacked the air. I thought I had hallucinated, but then I understood – I remembered! They had come to me in the graveyard as I was visiting Rebekah’s grave. I can’t remember the events after, but I knew that I had met them before Mindsweeper!

  ∆∆∆

  I was so excited to remember that I barely cared that we were running late to meet my dad at the museum. We were stopped at a light when our radio program was cut out by an announcement.

  “Breaking News! A School shooting is currently taking place in a High School in Oakhurst. Authorities are preparing to enter Johnson High School. Casualties are still unknown at this time. We will be updating you as more information is released.”

  The program resumed and Paul said, “Do you think we should pray? For the school?”

  Simon nodded, but I sat and thought. I was worried that if I was to go and stop this, IODINE would know where to find me. I knew I couldn’t let people die if I could stop it. IODINE probably knew where I was already anyway. I took a breath. “You guys pray for the school and for me.” I pulled my bag from the back seat. “Um… which way is Oakhurst.”

  “North-West,” Simon replied.

  I didn’t waste any time as I stepped out of the car and threw the speedster suit on over my clothes. I bolted off as I placed the mask on my face and ran at top speed to Oakhurst. I slipped through the city and followed the sounds of sirens until I found the school.

  The police didn’t give me any trouble as I entered the building, mainly because I was moving as fast as a race car. The first classroom I came to was a grim sight. Two students and a teacher were dead. I paused as I thought about Greg again. I found another victim, a young woman, and my mind immediately thought about Rebekah. I could break down. I suppressed my emotions and prepared to search the school, but then I heard a loud thud and a scream from a second level.

  I bolted to a stairway and shot up them. On the second story, I paused to gather my bearings and saw a masculine figure entering a classroom far down the hallway. I ran into the room from another door nearer to where I was. The man, who couldn’t have been much younger than myself, had fired a shotgun at the crowd of students with the teacher in-between them.

  The shot was gliding through the air as I approached. There were too many pellets to catch or redirect. I thought through multiple different ways to save these people, but the longer I thought, the closer the shot got to the civilians. I saw a student trying to hide behind a book, and that gave me an idea. I grabbed ahold
of the teacher’s desk and wiped everything off it. With a heave, I lifted the heavy oak desk onto its side and pushed it in between the students and the shooter.

  Though the desk caught the majority of the shot, I hadn’t considered how it would spread out with distance. My side was sprinkled by multiple pellets, my head jerked as one struck my temple, and a student shouted in pain. I looked in the direction of the shout, and a young teen was holding her arm, which was bleeding from a single pellet. My suit had caught the pellets that hit me, but the side of my face hurt from the one that hit my head. I reached up to touch my face, and the fresh blood stained my skin.

  The sight of my blood took me back to that torture chamber of a lab. My heart rate escalated and I resisted the urge to panic. The shooter was just as surprised as I was. He fumbled with his weapon, trying to get another shot off. The civilians had escaped by now, leaving me alone with him. This man had murdered, and a righteous desire to protect life overcame my panic and revived me with new strength.

  I looked at the shooter and frowned distastefully.

  Something didn’t feel right, so I reached up to my face again. The bleeding had already stopped but my mask was badly damaged. It was cracked across the side, and as I touched it, it fell off. Whatever tech that had held it in place must have been damaged by that unlucky shot.

  “Put the gun down. You are not going to hurt anyone else,” I said.

  He had a look of despair on his face. Whoever he was, he was in a lot of pain. To my surprise, there was no evidence of hate in his eyes. He was scared. He looked as if he knew he wasn’t going to leave here alive. A tear formed in his eye as he dropped his gun. “It’s not my fault. They made me. Tell my mother I’m sorry, I had no choice.”

  He pulled a handgun from behind him and aimed it at his head. I raced up and pulled the gun away from his head as it went off and left a hole in the ceiling. “There is always a choice. Why are you doing this?”

  He shook his head. “They told me to tell you, ‘We never lost you.’”

  I was about to ask him more, but a man dressed in police clothing stepped through the door I had and shot the shooter in the head. I was shocked. “Why did you do that?”

  The officer was gone. I raced out of the room to pursue him, but he had just disappeared. A S.W.A.T team came up the stairway, saw me, and paused. I gestured to the room behind me and they entered. Once they confirmed he was dead, the squad leader asked me, “What happened?”

  “He was scared. I had him subdued, but someone, he looked like one of you guys, shot him and disappeared.”

  The man looked surprised. “He got away from you? Wow, quick bugger.”

  “Yeah, quick or smart.”

  Chapter 30

  Hope

  My mask was far too damaged to be of any use, so a S.W.A.T officer was kind enough to give me a pair of large sunglasses to provide at least some coverage. Apparently I had saved his daughter from a fire a year ago.

  I didn’t realize how popular my alter-ego was until I experienced the officer’s treatment of me. It seemed as if some personally knew me as the Blue Blur, but I couldn’t remember anyone. I pretended to know as many as I could, but I felt like a celebrity, and they treated me as one.

  I walked out of the school to a crowd of students, teachers, and parents who were the would-be victims of this crime. The group cheered as I left, but there was no cheerfulness in me. Behind me, the three victims were rolled out in body bags along with the man responsible. Though I had witnessed the shooter using birdshot, the police found his gun was loaded with a variety of different shot sizes, and it was these larger slugs that took these lives.

  There was a small group of people who I instinctively could tell were the families of the victims. I first stopped by the ambulance where the girl who had been hit was being prepared to be transported to the hospital. I apologized to her for her injury, but she didn’t blame me. She only had strong anger towards the shooter.

  I approached the families of the deceased. Their pain could’ve been felt from a distance. “I’m so sorry,” I said softly. “I wasn’t fast enough.”

  Some accepted my apology, but one family was hardened by the event and were angry at me. I didn’t, couldn’t, argue with them. There was one last family I had to speak to – the family of the shooter.

  I approached. “Hello I am…”

  “We know,” replied the sobbing mother. Her husband tried to comfort her, but he too was struggling with the idea of what their son had done. “Thank-you for stopping him from hurting anyone else. Did he take his own life?”

  “I’ll let the police answer that question.” I wasn’t sure how to ask my next question. “Do you know what could have caused him to do this?”

  The mother shook her head and the father said, “No, Wayne’s life was just fine – good grades, good friends. He seemed very happy.”

  “Was he ever predisposed to violence?”

  “No, he never even liked action movies. That’s why we don’t understand this. Wayne wouldn’t hurt anyone.” I wasn’t shocked by this at all, since the eyes of the boy weren’t that of a murderer.

  Someone had made him say, “We never lost you.” IODINE must have blackmailed this boy into doing this just to deliver me this message. I couldn’t let my frustration show. It wouldn’t help if these parents knew it was my fault that their son and these other people were dead.

  I gave my condolences to the family and walked away. The crowd was taking countless photos and videos. I was about to run off when a news crew pushed through the police line. The woman reporting asked, “Blur, where have you been? What are your thoughts on the shooting?”

  The police escorted the reporter back behind the caution tape, but I followed. I stated simply, “Where I’ve been is of no concern, only that God has brought me back…” Thinking about her second question caused me to shake my head and say solemnly. “It’s horrible, all this death, and for what? I saw the man. In his eyes there was the look of innocence. He hadn’t planned this attack, I’m sure of it…”

  I looked off into the crowd. Across the street stood two men. I don’t know how, but I knew they were IODINE. For a moment I didn’t say anything, but then I raised my voice. “And I will not rest until I find out who is really behind these murders. I owe that to the families of the victims.”

  She brushed her hair out of face. “Are you saying there’s a conspiracy here? Is there anything that would have stopped this shooting?”

  “Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying.” I didn’t anticipate the words that were flowing from my mouth. “As to what could have stopped this, it is the Gospel of Christ that saves men from their sins, and it is the Gospel that will stop shootings like this.”

  I sighed as I remembered the video of myself. “I would also like to publicly apologize for my brash and arrogant behavior I have demonstrated in the past. ‘Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal.’ 1 Corinthians 13:1. I can’t apologize for the Gospel, nor will I ever, but I must confess my lack of love. Thank-you.”

  The news reporter shifted her stance as she turned around to the camera. “Well, we seem to have a humbler Blue Blur following his disappearance…”

  I didn’t hear the rest of what she said. I made a beeline for the two agents. As I approached, I could tell they were uncomfortable with all the eyes being placed upon them. I walked up so close I could see their eyes behind their glasses, and them, mine.

  “I know you never lost me. But go tell Mr. Bordeaux and your cowardice Director that I am not scared of them, and I will prove how you are behind this shooting,” I threatened with all the disdain I had built up. As the words left my mouth, I mentally bit my tongue. I had just apologized for my rudeness, but immediately went back to my boldness and arrogance.

  I turned to leave as one agent mustered the courage to say, “He plans on it.”

  That remark scared me, and I mean really
scared me, but I didn’t show it. I bolted off back to Greenleaf. IODINE was most definitely behind this, I just needed to find out how. How did they blackmail this kid? Why would they go through all that trouble just to get to me? Perhaps they did all this to dishearten me in this fight. I felt utterly responsible for what happened. If IODINE wasn’t trying to catch me, those people would still have been alive.

  I had to remind myself that IODINE was truly responsible. I had no idea what their motives were. They saved me from Mindsweeper just to try to brainwash my vulnerable mind. They also put my speed and loyalty to the test in Korea, where I met Phineas and ignited a war. I still don’t know why they tortured me, or Ravenhouse, who I abandoned. What if they are trying to make more of us?

  The thought terrified me more than any previous thought or memory. What would IODINE do with someone with our powers? IODINE claims to be dedicated to peace, but it seemed to be a peace that only has room for people like them. I realized I needed to stop worrying so much about me and my memories. I wasn’t important, and I had to save the man I left behind and expose IODINE for the monster it is – before IODINE learns how to make more trolls.

  ∆∆∆

  The next day, I spent hours thinking about how I was going to get back to IODINE and how I was going to escape again. I sat in my room at my desk staring at the wall trying to remember every detail of that place. The living quarters, the mess hall, the infirmary, and the prison section. From what I knew, the best way to get into the cell block was through the hospital, since it was the most straightforward path. However, they surely must have beefed up security since I escaped.

  I couldn’t help thinking about the fragment of a memory I had found at the cemetery. IODINE had been contacting me prior to the incident with Mindsweeper, but I don’t know for how long. I started to wonder if I really was an IODINE agent, but that didn’t add up with the facts my family had given me.