"I didn't realize I was so jumpy," she said laughing. "How did things go with Alice?"
I didn't feel like talking about it in front of Dustin or Sam, so I shrugged. "Fine," I answered vaguely. She frowned, but Dustin came over before she could respond.
"Hey, Jason. You want to join in this round?" my new friend asked, clapping his hand on my shoulder. I tried to hide my flash of discomfort at the contact and be happy he hadn't chosen my left shoulder that still had pain issues, but from the way he pulled back, I obviously hadn't succeeded.
"Sure," I said, wanting to move on. I didn't want Dustin to start acting uncomfortable around me, like he had to walk on eggshells or something. So for now we'd move past this awkward moment. There were enough people treading lightly around me already, and I knew it was my fault. After what had happened last fall, I’d pushed them away. Even after telling Hannah it was the last thing I wanted, I couldn’t help it. Running was my response to pain. Always had been. But it didn’t always have to be.
We spent the afternoon playing ball and having fun, eventually convincing Hannah to join in. It was the first time in… well; I didn’t know how long, that I allowed myself a day to be normal. Despite that, I was unable to shake the feeling that something was about to go very wrong. Strangely, it was Dustin who picked up on my mood. Hannah and Sam were seemingly oblivious as they shot around while Dustin and I took a break on the sidelines.
I watched Sam and Hannah laughing and playing, but I could feel Dustin's concerned gaze on me. "What?" I asked softly, finally looking at him.
"What's going on, man?" he asked, his brow furrowed in concern. "It's like you're a million miles away all the time, but you seem scared again today. You haven't been scared lately, so what happened?"
After Dustin had discovered my powers, Alice and Hannah had told him what they knew about the case, so I simply said, "Kindred's back."
His eyes widened, and he opened and closed his mouth several times without speaking. He swallowed a couple times and asked, “Who?”
He wasn't asking who Kindred was, but rather who the man had killed. “A friend of my father's. Same M.O. as my father.” He'd been tied to a chair and his throat had been cut just as deeply as dear old dad. “Not that he didn't deserve it, but I'd rather not have some psycho killing people for me.”
Dustin seemed thoughtful for a moment. “You said he was doing this to thank you, right?” I nodded. “Maybe he's done now,” he said hopefully. “I assume this ‘friend’ was the one who knocked you out when your father tried to grab you?”
“Yeah,” I rubbed my hand over my face wearily.
“Then maybe he's done.”
I shrugged. “Hopefully. Or maybe he starts going to the less obvious threats, or Mason's men who avoided the police but knew about me. Who knows?”
I tensed suddenly. Going to the ground in a crouch, I pressed my right hand in the dirt. “Speaking of… we need to get out of here,” I said, standing up and wiping the dirt off on my pants.
“Hannah, Sam, let's go.” Sam came immediately, used to following my orders without question. Hannah came more slowly, grabbing the ball before joining us.
“What's wrong, Jase?” Sam asked as we nearly sprinted to Hannah's car. He was getting taller, and was more easily able to keep up as we ran.
“One of Mason's men, along with some other footsteps I don't recognize. They were heading in our direction.”
“From where?” Dustin asked looking around quickly, trying to spot the threat.
“A few blocks east,” I answered, gesturing in the general direction while still running to the car.
Once we'd reached the car and climbed in, Dustin asked, "Are you sure they were coming to us? How would they even know where we are?"
I shrugged. "I don't know for sure, but it seemed like a bad risk to take. I killed their boss. They probably don't like me very much."
"All right. So I guess we go back to Hannah's and study," Dustin said mildly.
Sam pouted. "That's boring. I don't wanna study." Pouting and whining was not normally something I would put up with now that Sam was nearly a teenager, but today I just couldn’t bring myself to reprimand him.
"You don't have to, bud," I said glancing back at him from my spot in the front seat. "You can watch TV or a movie, or play on the computer." He shrugged and watched out the window as we got closer to Hannah and Alice's house.
The tension I'd felt when I noticed the footsteps refused to lessen as we reached home. So as soon as I got out of the car, I dropped to a knee and sent streams of my consciousness into the ground, searching for any signs of a threat. There were multiple echoes around the house, none of them familiar. None of them had entered the house either. "I think we're clear," I said, standing up and brushing the dirt off my hands and onto my jeans.
My three companions trusted me to know when the house was clear, so they piled out of the car and headed in.
"Jason, there's an envelope here for you," Hannah said after opening the screen door.
"Another one? In the same day?" I said incredulously, taking the envelope from her. We went into the living room and sat down, Hannah and I on the couch, and Dustin and Sam in the chairs.
"Sammy, go play on the computer, please," I said.
"But…"
"Go. Now. If it's something important I'll tell you later," I promised. It was a lie. The only thing I would tell my brother about this new note was if it said that he was in danger.
"Fine," he said shortly, probably sensing my lie. I waited until he was out of the room, and then opened the plain white envelope. I stared down at the single sheet of paper, unable to believe what I was reading.
"What? Jason, what does it say?" Hannah asked. I handed it to her silently, and she read it out loud. "'We need your help. Mason's assassin has turned on us and is hunting us down. We worked with Mason, but had nothing to do with what he did to you. Please help us'." Hannah stopped reading and looked at me in shock, which quickly turned to anger. "Why ask you? Why not just go to the police?"
I shrugged. "In a way they kind of are," I said. "They'd have to know that I'm still working with the police and will tell them about this note. The thing I'm not sure of is what they think I can, or will, do to protect them."
"They're desperate," Dustin pitched in. "They know you have no reason to help them, but they have no real way to fight Kindred. From what you've said, the man's a ghost. They know you took out Mason, who apparently controlled Kindred, so they think you might be able to beat Kindred too." I stared at him for a moment, not knowing where he'd come up with that. He shrugged in response. "I'm pretty sure it's how I'd think, if I were them."
"Besides, just because they worked for Mason doesn’t mean they deserve a death sentence. They’re coming to you probably because they know about your abilities," Dustin continued. I snorted. Yeah, them and every other dirt bag in the city thanks to Mason. Dustin had found out about them shortly after the incident with Mason. He hadn't known that he was supposed to announce himself before coming down to the basement, and the sudden footsteps in my sanctuary had startled me. My lack of control showed once again as I nearly tore through the basement floor in an attempt to protect myself.
It was a good thing Alice and Hannah's house was very solidly built. That hadn't been the first or last time I'd lost control. I still haven't reached the last time. At least I don't think so. That I hadn't lost control when I'd felt the footsteps of people who worked closely with Mason was a good sign. I'd felt my control slipping when the note had arrived…
"JASON!" Hannah yelled, dragging me out of my thoughts. I blinked and jerked backwards when I noticed her face only inches from mine. "You back?" she asked; her voice back to normal. "You were a million miles away again." Her tone was light, but her concern was obvious.
"I'm sorry. I was just thinking."
Dustin spoke up. "Your 'just thinking' looks a bit like you going catatonic. You're slipping more, Jase. You need to talk to someon
e."
Talking. How could talking solve my problems? Yet my friends kept urging me to do so. I looked up at Hannah and saw the worry all over her face. Regardless of my original response, I was beginning to think they may be right.
FOUR
Hannah
Why do people do what they do? I look at Jason and see him acting normal, doing his day-to-day activities, but he's clearly hiding a deep pain. He needs to talk to someone, yet he goes to no one. We are his friends, and we can see the pain he's still in after what that Monster put him through. Jason had not uttered a word of complaint through his entire ordeal, and had only broken down once.
The concern I feel as he hides his feelings is nothing compared to my near panic attacks when he becomes non-responsive. Each time it happens I worry that he's slipping further into himself… further away from me. That concern is what kept me from speaking up when Dustin pushed him into a corner. His urgent tone told me all he wanted was for Jason to get help, and I couldn't deny that I did too.
Jason's soft confession came after several minutes. "You might be right." I could hear the fear in his quiet acceptance. "I'm not trying to scare you," he said, "but I can't tell when it happens until it ends." He hid his face in his hands. "I slip away, but I can't stop it, and I don't know why it keeps happening."
Dustin spoke up again. "I'm no expert, but what you went through last fall was hugely traumatic. I would be surprised if this wasn't some form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder." He hesitated before continuing. He obviously didn't want to push Jason right now, but knew it was necessary. "Jason, it's only going to get worse if you don't get help. PTSD doesn't just go away."
"He's right," I pitched in. "Each time this has happened, it takes longer to pull you back." The desperation I tried to hide showed all too clearly, and Jason cringed.
"I'm sorry," Jason said. He seemed almost surprised by our concern, but didn't shy away from it as he'd done in the past. Instead he turned to Dustin and asked, "Can I come to you?"
That he asked for help was a wonderful first step. I was happy with it. But it didn’t stop me from feeling like he’d punched me in the gut. Why? Why did he feel he couldn’t come to me? He’d come to me before, and had seemed better, if only briefly. Dustin hesitated. "You know I want to, Jason. And I know I offered, but I'm not qualified…"
"I won't go to a shrink," Jason said firmly. "I will not talk about this stuff to a stranger."
Dustin shrugged. "All right." He'd been given little choice in the matter. Jason wouldn't go to someone else. I should have guessed that. My attention went back to Dustin when he added, "I'll just have to do more research and talk to some of my professors. Don't worry," he assured Jason when he noticed the worried look on his face. "I won't tell them who I'm talking about. Even though I'm not a doctor yet, I'll give you confidentiality. No one will know about this unless you tell them. I won't talk about our sessions to anybody."
I could see Jason relax at that, and realized he'd gotten very tense at the possibility of anyone else knowing about him. Dustin and I exchanged a look and he gave a small shrug and a half-smile. It looked like he was going to become an expert in Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, whether he wanted to or not.
I jumped when Jason clapped his hands together. "All right, that’s taken care of. Now, what should I do about this?" he asked, holding up the note.
"Talk to Alice," I said automatically. My sister would know what to do, or she'd figure something out. "Make it a problem for the police. You have enough to deal with."
Dustin was shaking his head. "Hate to say it, but I agree with her. As much as you want to help, right now you shouldn't get involved. Get yourself right, and then you can go back to being a superhero."
Superhero. With his power, I guess it was an appropriate term. But unlike other heroes, he had no superhuman strength or bulletproof skin. He was as human as the rest of us… more than some. Jason had power that scared even him, and he hesitated to use it even before Mason had gotten a hold of him. It was worse now, and the fact that he used it, even just to check for footsteps, surprised me.
I looked at Jason, expecting him to seem upset that we wanted him to sit this out, but he seemed… relieved. I frowned. He'd wanted to go after Kindred before, so what had changed?
FIVE
Kindred
Warm liquid splattered my face, and the last struggles of another violent man ended in futility. His wife would be pleased. Not that I did it for her pleasure, but if she was pleased, I would get paid. If she wasn't, well… let's just say I always get paid—one way or another. Blood payment may not spend well, but it was an acceptable option.
The camera snapped a picture of the man's face, wide-open eyes seemingly staring into me accusingly. I shrugged away any thought of guilt, surprised at the unfamiliar emotion. He'd been abusive. Plus he worked for Mason. Those were two strikes against him, the third being that he'd been part of Mason's inner circle that had kidnapped and tortured the Tracker. He had eluded the police, but I was much harder to avoid. The tiny flutter of guilt flitted away and I allowed myself to forget it as I washed the man's blood off my face. The rest I wouldn't worry about until I reached my apartment.
Anyone who saw me wouldn't see the blood soaked into my clothes. The illusion I had broadcast would make sure of that. I walked back into the living room and thought for a moment. He had helped hurt the Tracker. The kid would want to know that another of his tormentor's was off the streets. Besides, it had been a couple days since I'd checked on him. I took an envelope and note card from the shelf near my victim's phone and snapped a second picture with my Polaroid camera. I watched it develop, unconcerned when a neighbor knocked on the door and peered through the window. The woman was looking right at me, but would see nothing amiss in the house until after I left. Before I'd entered I'd set up a field of my energy that held the illusion of a quiet, empty house. Anyone who came near it would have that image in their head.
It had been a trick Mason had made use of on several occasions. It still surprised me that he hadn't made sure I'd set it up at the Farm after he caught the Tracker. Even then, there had been something about the kid that told me to help him. So, I had. When the undercover cop had requested a visit, I had allowed it, knowing full well that he'd be bringing a couple dozen of his closest friends.
I wrote a note on the card, and slipped it into the envelope, and in block letters wrote: TRACKER on the envelope. After receiving a couple notes from me already, he would know who it was from. Perhaps at some point, he would begin responding to my notes. I hoped he'd get the note after I returned to my apartment, so I could see his reaction. If not, I'd just have to watch the recording.
Without another look, I walked out of my prey's house and got into my car. I felt my illusion dissipate as I drove away, taking a deep breath through the slight discomfort. I'd always preferred my illusions to be one on one. It took less of my concentration and energy. But the mass illusion was definitely useful.
As I pulled closer to the Lady Cop's house, I could feel something was off with the Tracker. He seemed agitated and scared, but I sensed no direct threat. He was in the house, and the only other people there were his brother and his friends… I felt my lips turn down as I thought. Whatever they were doing, his friends were causing him pain. I couldn't allow that to continue. I would deliver my note, and then go back to my apartment. I had some planning to do.
SIX
Jason
Deciding to talk out my issues and actually talking out my issues are two completely different things. It had been pretty easy to tell Hannah and Dustin that I would talk to Dustin, but doing it—especially with a delay so Dustin could do some research—was much more difficult. We retreated to my basement room two days after I'd agreed. Hannah had decided we should start right away, probably afraid that if we waited I'd change my mind. But Dustin had requested a couple days to get prepared before we began. She had remained anxious for those days even though nothing happened, so whe
n Dustin came again, she had practically ordered us to my room.
"So…" I started, looking around my room, pacing until I annoyed myself into sitting down. I forced myself to look at my friend… my therapist. "How do we do this? I start talking and you nod and go 'hmm…' like you understand exactly what I mean?" Okay, so I got a bit defensive right off the bat… so sue me.
Dustin shook his head, keeping quiet and calm. "No. We talk, I admit that I can't know how you feel because I haven't been through it, and then we talk more so you can make me understand."
The corner of my mouth went up in a quick half-smile. "Sorry. I just… I don't really know where to start."
"I honestly don't know either," he admitted with a shrug. "But how about we just start talking, and see where the conversation takes us," he suggested.
"Sure." I looked around from my perch at the edge of my bed. What could I start with? I could tiptoe around my issues for ages and Dustin wouldn't say a word, but that wasn't the point. I looked up at my friend who was patiently watching me think. "Did I ever tell you how I discovered my powers?" I asked absently.
"No, and from what the others have said, you haven't told them either," he said. His voice was more curious than accusing, so I nodded in agreement.
"That's true. I found out shortly before I ran away, after I got out of the hospital. My father was… unhappy about my recent hospital stay, and wasn't afraid to make his displeasure known. While he yelled and… did other things, I could hear the ground under our house rumbling. He was too distracted to notice, and I put the incident out of my mind until the next week when I was mowing the lawn and I felt him coming up behind me."
Kindred Page 2
