Jumper: Books 1-6: Complete Saga

by Sean Platt

  She closes her eyes.

  Then Niko opens his.

  He steps forward, his body stuttering as it moves, partly here, partly not.

  Static envelops him.

  His mouth opens wider, a bright burning light from inside it, reminding me of when The Collectors tried to eat my soul in the grocery store before the assassin intervened by shooting me.

  “No!” I scream. “Take me!”

  Niko continues forward, now just two feet from Carla.

  Carla and Chelsea scream, but neither are moving their limbs, both of them frozen by Irina.

  “Stop it!” I scream again. “Grandfather, stop!”

  He says nothing, his eyes wide and bright, watching Niko move in for the kill.

  I need to do something.

  But what?

  I can’t move.

  I can’t Jump.

  Can I?

  I close my eyes, trying to Jump, but can’t.

  Suddenly, I hear a girl’s voice in my head.

  “In a moment, you’re going to have control. When you do, Jump into the guard on your right.”

  Who is this?

  “Alice. Anders’s sister.”

  I don’t know if I can Jump. I’ve never intentionally done it.

  “You’ll figure out a way. Get ready.”

  The guard on the left raises his rifle, aims it at Niko, and fires twin shots into his head.

  Niko’s head explodes in a red mist.

  Then the guard turns the gun on Irina.

  The gun flies from the guard’s hand before he can fire.

  Irina thrusts her arm outward, sending a wave that knocks the guard back into the door hard enough to make an audible CRUNCH.

  The guard slumps to the ground.

  I try to Jump into the other guard, but I can’t.

  Too late.

  She sends that guard into the wall, too, bashing his skull in.

  Irina screams, tears streaming down her eyes as she drops to Niko’s side, cradling his headless corpse.

  She looks up, screaming at Fairchild, “Why?”

  Fairchild, bug-eyed, grabs an assault rifle from the ground. “Which one of you is responsible?”

  Nobody speaks.

  Everyone is staring, scared to death.

  “Fine, then all of you can die!” Fairchild yells, firing rounds into Carla, then Chelsea, moving his way down the line.

  I scream, trying to will my body to move, or my soul to Jump, but Irina is somehow maintaining control even as she’s hunched over her brother, grieving his loss, sobbing as bullets fly from Fairchild’s gun just over her head.

  This is it.

  We’re all about to die.

  And there’s nothing I can do.

  I turn and see my father’s eyes, wide and wounded.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  The gunfire pulls my attention to Chelsea as bullets rip into her chest, riddling her body and splashing the wall with blood behind her.

  Then everything freezes.

  What the?

  A portal opens to my left, and a Collector steps through, its dark tendrils twisting around one another, around the bright blue light at its core.

  It’s come to collect the souls.

  I have no idea what will happen once we’re brought in. The only thing I know for certain is that I will no longer be me.

  I’ll no longer retain my memories.

  Maybe I’ll be reborn.

  Maybe I’ll fade into the ether, becoming one with the stardust.

  I have no idea, and that terrifies me more than the bullets about to rip me apart.

  I watch as Niko’s soul — bright pink and violet, mixed with blues and blacks — ascends from his body.

  The Collector reaches out to grab his hand.

  I look over to see Carla’s soul leaving her body.

  The Collector offers its hand.

  Chelsea’s soul is still clinging to her shell, even as her body dies.

  The Collector sprouts another two arms, its hands reaching out to the souls of the fallen guards.

  Fairchild is frozen, his mouth an angry maw, eyes bulging and face the ugliest shade of red. Bullets and flashes streak from his gun.

  I watch the bullets’ trajectory and see that I’m next. I’ll be followed by my father.

  But then I realize that I’m no longer in my body.

  Now I’m floating above.

  Jumping!

  And then The Collector looks up at me with its bright blue eyes, trails of light floating like tendrils around its sockets.

  It extends a fifth arm toward me.

  And my mind flashes back to the drawing that my mother had sketched in the book she gave to my father.

  The image of the little girl reaching up to the black star with its five points.

  But it wasn’t a star, was it?

  It was The Collector.

  Suddenly, we’re not alone in this decelerated time stream.

  Irina is looking up from her brother, staring at The Collector, then at me.

  She stands, glaring at us, her fingers twitching into claws.

  Another flash, this one a vision of her seizing its powers, then unleashing Fairchild’s terrible virus unto the world.

  I can’t let it happen.

  And I know in an instant that I have to do what was in my mother’s picture.

  I have to take The Collector’s hand.

  I may be giving up my life, or I may wind up in The Void forever, but I can’t allow Irina to take its power.

  She’s running toward it in slow motion, but still a hell of a lot faster than everything frozen around us.

  I thrust my hand forward and seize The Collector’s outstretched hand.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ella

  I’m inside The Collector.

  No time to marvel over the sensation or to be lost in the moment.

  I have to stop Irina.

  I spin around, instinct guiding me.

  I open my mouth and let all the rage and pain swell up and explode into a brilliant bright white light that leaves in a SCREAM.

  Irina’s body explodes into a million tiny fragments, all of which I inhale into The Collector’s maw.

  I feel her power coursing through The Collector, pure energy driving me.

  Then I turn my rage onto Fairchild.

  Time catches up with itself.

  And he looks up, seeing The Collector standing a full two feet taller than him.

  He raises the rifle, firing into The Collector’s body.

  I feel all of the bullets, but no pain as they go through my body and hit the wall behind me.

  I grow two more arms and thrust them forward, grabbing him by the skull and squeezing tight.

  I feel the seething rage for all the people he’s killed. All the lives he was about to take.

  I squeeze tighter.

  He stares at me, somehow fighting back, bringing his hands and knocking mine down.

  Not just knocking them down, severing them.

  He plunges his hand into my chest and pulls at something.

  A splintering pain rips through my body.

  How is he fighting back?

  Can he kill a Collector?

  I scream, opening my mouth, trying to annihilate him like I ended Irina.

  But my mouth is glued shut.

  I can feel him in my brain, seizing control.

  A flaming ball rips past me, and right into Fairchild’s chest.

  He lets go of whatever he was grabbing inside me and then falls back, patting out the fire.

  My father is up, his eyes filled with rage as he focuses a sonic blast on Fairchild.

  Fairchild’s eardrums rupture, blood spurting from them.

  As he flails, I regain control.

  I seize the moment, opening my mouth again, and unleashing everything I have into a piercing white-hot scream.

  His eyes widen as he looks straight into the face of oblivion. And t
hen like Irina, Fairchild explodes.

  I inhale the specks of matter into The Collector’s maw until there’s nothing left.

  And then I collapse to the ground.

  Epilogue

  I wake up in bed.

  My heart races as I sit up, wondering whose body I’m in.

  Oh, God, I’m Jumping again.

  Where am I?

  Who am I?

  But then I realize that I’m in a AD dorm room, in my own body.

  I sigh.

  “You’re awake?” says a girl’s voice.

  I turn to see a dark-haired young woman, about my age, sitting on a couch listening to a TV show. She has skin where her eyes should be.

  “Alice?”

  “Yes,” she says, looking toward me.

  “What happened? Where is everyone?”

  “They’re okay,” she says, standing up then coming over to me.

  “What about Chelsea and Carla?”

  “I’m sorry, Carla passed away. We couldn’t heal her. But Chelsea is on the mend.”

  My lips quiver, tears welling in my eyes.

  “After everything, I couldn’t save Carla. Oh my God, Chelsea must be so devastated.”

  Alice pulls me into a warm hug. “I’m sorry. We tried, but her soul was already gone.”

  I sit back on the bed.

  Alice sits beside me, an arm rubbing my back. “I’ve been waiting so long to meet you in the flesh. Anders told me so much about you. He was so keen on you.”

  “Keen?” I smile. “That’s definitely an Anders word!”

  “And it’s great to meet you as you, rather than in all those other bodies.”

  “What other … oh, wait. Was that you I kept running into? Are you the assassin?”

  She smiles. “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me who I was? You could’ve ended this a whole lot sooner.”

  “Because I wasn’t sure what you were. I knew you had died. And yet, Mr. Fairchild kept having us look for you. So I knew something wasn’t right. And then when I found you, I was already starting to piece things together, how Mr. Fairchild and Eden are up to no good. I’m pretty certain that he killed Anders, even though he claimed it was an ‘accident.’”

  “He did,” I say softly, now putting my hand on her back.

  It’s hard to tell if Alice is upset because she doesn’t have eyes. I wonder what it’s like to go through life unable to cry. What do you do with all those emotions?

  Her lip trembles. “Anyway, the more I dug into what was happening, the less inclined I was to tell them that I’d found you. And then one day you vanished. I thought you were lost. But when you showed up here, I knew I had to do something to help.”

  “Thanks so much,” I say, hugging her again, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I’m not sure if you know just how much good you’ve done today. You didn’t just save us, but you may have saved the world. Anders would be so proud of you.”

  She smiles.

  “Thank you again,” I say, hugging her harder. “So where is everyone? Is my father okay? How about Rich and Darius?”

  “Yes, they’re all okay. Mr. Wellner took today off.”

  “Today? How long have I been out?”

  “Three days.”

  “Three days? What about Eden? And AD? How are we still here? I thought for sure we’d all be shipped off to some black site by now.”

  “Mr. Wellner explained Mr. Fairchild’s plans. So they sent in a temporary supervisor. She’s been taking statements and assessing the situation. Eden has been decommissioned, shipped off, though I don’t know where.”

  “Can I see my father?”

  “Yes, after you talk to Ms. Aoki.”

  “Who?”

  The door slides open and a thin, young Japanese woman in a red dress steps in.

  “Hi, I’m Acting Director of AD, Ms. Jen Aoki. I’d like to get some statements from you.”

  “Can they wait? I’d like to see my father and friends.”

  “I’m sorry, but they can’t. I promise I’ll be brief.”

  I hug Alice again and thank her for saving both us and the world.

  She blushes.

  Ms. Aoki takes me down the elevator and into an office where she questions me for more than three hours.

  I’m exhausted and starving by the time we finish, despite the plate of veggies and crackers I devoured during the interview.

  “Thank you,” Ms. Aoki says when we finish. “Your father and friends are downstairs waiting in a limo which will take you to a safe house while we figure out where to go from here.”

  Downstairs, my father, Darius, and Chelsea are standing outside the limo, waiting for me.

  Chelsea runs up to me, hugging me tightly, tears in her eyes.

  “I’m so, so sorry,” I say.

  “No, I’m sorry. I never should’ve sold you out.”

  “Shut up. You did what you had to do. I don’t blame you.”

  “Yeah, but she might be alive if I hadn’t.”

  “Or maybe we’d all be dead. We can play What-If? all day and we’ll never know for certain. But we’re alive now. And I think Carla would want you to find peace.”

  “You’re right,” Chelsea says, wiping tears from her face. “I don’t know how, but I guess I’ll take it day-by-day.”

  “I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere, girl.”

  She smiles.

  I see my father staring at me, tears welling up in his eyes.

  “Are you crying, Benjamin Shepherd?”

  “No, I got some sand in my eye is all,” he teases.

  He pulls me into what might be the biggest hug of my life. Then into my ear, he whispers, “I thought I’d never see you again. I’m so sorry about everything. About saying you’re not … not my daughter.”

  He squeezes me even tighter. I think he might break a rib.

  “It’s okay …” I pat him on the back. “But you’re going to crush me!”

  He laughs, then finally lets me go.

  But he’s still staring at me, with that glimmer in his eyes that tells me that no matter what he may have thought before, he now sees me, and truly loves me, as his Ella.

  And I love him like a father.

  “Okay,” says our driver, a man in a black suit — surely CIA, “we need to head out.”

  We climb into the back of his car, with all of our fears, joys, hopes, and dreams for this next chapter of our lives.

  On the drive, we discuss what might be next, what will happen to AD or us. But we keep the conversation less frank than we would if a CIA agent wasn’t in the front seat. Because the truth is we’re in uncertain times, and while things seem momentarily calm, the government can’t afford for any of this to get out.

  Wherever we go next, it’s unlikely that we’ll have the freedom to live normal lives ever again. And as we talk around that, a somber silence fills the car.

  An hour into the drive, we ask the driver to put on some music to lift our spirits. He finds a station playing classic nineties music.

  We’re laughing at a ridiculous boy band song when we enter a tunnel, and the music cuts out intermittently.

  The driver screeches to a halt.

  I look up to see a black van parked in the middle of the tunnel.

  The van door rolls open to a pair of men wearing all black, including their ski masks.

  The men open fire on us.

  “Get down!” my father yells.

  Darius’s hands light up, ready to fight.

  The CIA agent is dead in an instant, chunks of brain and skull have spattered the divider.

  Suddenly, a movement to my right.

  I look up, planning my move to evade or fight, when I see that one of the men has removed his mask.

  It’s Rich Wellner. “Get out!” he yells. “We don’t have much time!”

  We all look at one another, confused.

  Darius yells through the window, “If you’re fucking with us man, I’m gonna fr
y your ass.”

  “I’m not fucking with you. I’m saving you.”

  My father opens the car door, and we get out.

  “Quick, get in the van,” Rich says. “We’ll take you somewhere safe.”

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  The other man is still in his mask. It doesn’t inspire confidence.

  “They were planning to kill you all.”

  “What?” my father says, “How do you know that?”

  “Because I got the order to ‘clean up the mess.’ I refused, so they gave it to someone else. He was going to drive you to a place where there are other Deviants waiting. You weren’t going to walk out of it alive. You may have killed Fairchild, but there are others higher up who want the same thing: a war against Deviants.”

  I look back at the dead agent and feel sick to my stomach.

  “So, what now?” Darius says. “Who are these guys?”

  The other man removes his mask, followed by the driver. My father and Darius recognize the men immediately — members of The First Front that had been caught, and apparently liberated.

  Rich looks dead sober. “I say we re-organize, expose these bastards, and fight.”

  “But you have a wife and child,” I say. “You can’t throw it all away to fight the government! Are you crazy?”

  “I’ve been a coward too long. And the only way I can make sure my daughter lives in safety is to secure it for her.”

  “But this isn’t your war. You’re not a Deviant.”

  “But Brooke was. And you are. And your father, and Darius. And so many more. And if I can’t fight for the freedom of my brothers and sisters, what’s the point in being free?”

  I look at Darius, Chelsea, and my father.

  “What do you all wanna do?”

  “Fight,” they all say in unison.

  We get in the van and drive deeper into the tunnel.

  We’re hurtling toward an unknown fate, but at least now I know who I was, who I am, and who I want to be.

  With my friends and family beside me, I feel like we’re no longer on a collision course with an unavoidable future of paranoia and fear. No longer controlled by men who seek to turn us against each other.

  There are two roads we can choose. One leads to fear and paranoia, controlled by little men with tiny hearts who conquer or kill all that they don’t understand or can’t control.