The Last Everything

by Frank Kennedy

  40

  H ERE’S HOW IT might happen,” Ben said. “There’ll be an instant when your will to survive is so strong that you stop thinking and give yourself over to the universe. If you somehow disconnected yourself from the limitations up here,” he said, pointing to Jamie’s head, “I believe you could literally will the Jewel’s program to end the re-sequencing. Perhaps destroy it altogether. The possibilities are …”

  “Crazy.”

  “Thousand-to-one shot, at best. This is where it becomes difficult.”

  Jamie laughed. “Did I miss something? Was there an easy part?”

  “Jamie, to give yourself to your soul is to say goodbye to the flesh. To control the Jewel, you’ll have to separate yourself from your body.” Jamie’s hope slipped away like the yellow leaves of a birch in autumn. He heard Ben’s words but couldn’t digest them. “There’s an instant between life and death. It’s as brief as the blink of an eye or as infinite as the universe itself. In that instant, people put life behind and make the transition to whatever is next. Some face a white light. Others are drawn back by forces they can’t control. Most give in and accept what is to come. They do this because they don’t understand there’s an alternative.”

  The gun in Jamie’s hand felt warm, necessary. His anger spiked.

  “You’re saying I’m gonna die anyway.”

  Ben sniffled. “Yes, Jamie. I am. But life doesn’t have to end at death. The Jewel is changing you. If you can give yourself over to death, I believe you can use the power of your soul to end that program. You will see inside your body without the burden of a rational, limited mind.”

  Jamie walked to the door, keeping his back to his brother, certain that if he turned around, he would pull the trigger.

  “You always do this to me, Ben. You come along and get my hopes up. So, I die, take control of my soul, order the Jewel to go away and then what? I wake up feeling great? Like it’s the first day of summer vacation?”

  Jamie saw the world through a narrow, focused tunnel. As his anger perpetuated a sensation of utter defeat, he felt the rage of blame being funneled into the pistol.

  “You have a chance, J. It’s a small one, granted. Don’t give up.”

  Jamie snarled. “I just gotta believe, right?”

  “Yes, J. That’s what you gotta do.”

  “Here’s what I believe,” Jamie said as he swung about, the pistol raised chest high, both hands firmly gripping it, his aim true. “You could’ve told me the truth anytime. Mom and Dad, too. I mean, what was I gonna do about it? I was screwed fifty ways to Sunday.”

  “Jamie, the Mentor was supposed …”

  “Yeah, yeah. What say I let you shoot me in the head? I’ll be out of my misery, and those other people – those great friends of yours from another Earth – can put down their guns and go home. How about it, dude?”

  “Jamie, please. I’m trying to offer you a way out, but it’s going to take some preparation. We need to sit down and …”

  “Preparation? Like what all you people been doing the past fifteen years? Must have been a game to you Chancellors. Why wait until now? You try to save me at the last minute, the others are trying to kill me at the last minute. Why wait? Any one of you sorry bastards could’ve put a bullet in my skull years ago. I never would’ve seen it coming.”

  “How we got here is complicated, but …”

  “Not complicated. You needed this thing inside me to finish sequencing so you could find the location of the fold and go home. You people didn’t kill me because you needed me. You were cowards. The whole sorry damn mess of you.”

  “I can’t dispute that, J. But I’m here now. I need you to …”

  “Trust you.”

  Ben smiled. “Yes. In spite of all I did, I’m asking for your trust.”

  Jamie didn’t understand how it happened, but the anger cooled. The tunnel disappeared, restoring the light of day all around him. The knot in his belly dissolved as he lowered the gun. He wobbled as he held his place, putting up no resistance as Ben wrapped arms around him.

  “I don’t want to die,” he whispered. “Please, Ben. Don’t let me die.”

  “I can’t make any promises. But you have to believe in yourself, Jamie. When the moment comes, have faith that you can change the ending. Accept that you have a soul, that it can be your guide as you cross over, and that you can use it to fight back.”

  Seconds after Jamie wrapped his arms around his big brother, energy drained from him as if a vampire drank his blood. His legs bore the brunt of this weariness, and his feet seemed ready to slip from beneath him. Jamie knew the sensation. He felt it before, along the shore of Lake Vernon.

  “How, Ben? How do I make that happen?”

  “The power of your will. In life, we can will ourselves to do things the flesh is not capable of on its own. If we believe strongly …”

  “Like now.” Jamie pulled out of the hug. For the first time, he understood. “I’m healing you. Before long, that bullet hole will be gone and your knee will be better.”

  “What?”

  “They shot Coop in the back.”

  “Who? When?”

  “We found him by the lake. He was almost dead. I didn’t even know I was doing it; but all the time I was carrying him, this thing inside me was somehow going into Coop. It cured him. Just now, I felt the power leaving me again. I think … I think you’re right. If my will is strong enough, I can make things happen. Impossible things.”

  Ben’s jaw dangled. Then a smile crossed his tired, beaten face.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? This is proof. So, you weren’t conscious of what you were doing when you were carrying Coop?”

  “No. I just wanted him to live more than anything.”

  Ben ran his dirty, bloody hands through his hair. “You’re a good man, Jamie Sheridan. This is more than I imagined. There are ways to do this, J. If we plan it carefully, maybe …”

  The cabin door flung open, hitting Jamie in the back. Michael stepped through, his rifle lowered but his eyes wide.

  “Sorry, dudes. We got trouble.”

  Ben yanked his pistol out from behind his belt, and Jamie once again sensed that a moment of hope was about to be dashed.

  41

  M ICHAEL SAID HE heard a car door slam. Jamie panicked as they raced onto the porch. Ben grabbed the AK-47 from Michael, exchanging it for a pistol. Jamie locked his eyes onto the weapon of death and felt a newfound dread. He was not reassured when Sammie emerged from behind an ancient oak, her rifle in a defensive posture. She ran to them with cat-quick silence.

  “I couldn’t see anything,” she said. “We heard one car door northwest. There’s an old hunting road a couple hundred yards in that general direction, but this was closer. That’s rough terrain for anything, even with four-wheel drive. I don’t like it.”

  “I agree,” Ben said.

  “We should head back south.”

  “Yep, but not to the boat. We tapped out that option. C’mon.”

  Ben wasn’t off the porch before he said his limp was better and shared a smile with Jamie. He didn’t take his eyes off Jamie as he dropped the flash drive into his own shirt pocket. He patted Jamie on the back.

  “We’ll finish this. I promise.”

  Jamie shared awkward glances with his oldest friends, but he couldn’t smile. He couldn’t begin to tell Michael or Sammie what went on in the cabin, for he had a hard enough time facing the task ahead. Just when he wondered whether he’d ever know peace before he died, Jamie jerked.

  A sharp thunderclap shattered the morning stillness. Yet this one did not linger, gone in a splinter of a second. Jamie did not have time to wonder where it came from, only that Sammie yelled for them to take cover. He plunged to the ground on his belly. Within seconds, he looked around and saw Sammie and Michael huddled close by. He turned to his side, feeling another presence beside him.

  Jamie saw a red splatter against the base of a birch tree. Then he caugh
t Ben’s vacant stare, which was almost hidden beneath the blood trickling from the hole in his forehead. Jamie reached for Ben’s closest arm, which was bent backward in an unnatural pose. He pulled the arm out from underneath his brother’s chest, wrapped his hands around it and huddled close. He rubbed the arm feverishly, muttering as he went.

  “C’mon, Ben. C’mon, Ben. Don’t worry. I can save you. I did it before. Did it before.”

  He spewed the words in a continuing cycle, oblivious to the danger. He heard Sammie’s pleas to stay down and Michael’s whispered curses, but they were background noise. Between chattering teeth and newfound panic, Jamie reached down into his gut, cleared his thoughts of all distractions, and focused on a single command: Ben can’t die; make him live.

  But he knew the truth, even as all his mental energy poured into saving his brother.

  Jamie knew because no matter how hard he willed it, his body gave up nothing. That life-draining sensation was gone, as if the Jewel revealed a single flaw: Even it could not bring back the dead. He would not allow himself to accept the reality of what lay before him – until he heard one particular word fall from Sammie’s lips.

  “Daddy,” she said.

  Then he understood. Jamie groped the soil around him for the .45 and found it at his feet. He didn’t need to hear where Sammie’s voice came from, only to hear the crunching of leaves from behind. He swung about, throwing himself to his feet, lifting the weapon with a firm grip and allowing full-on rage to take him prisoner. The world dissolved into that narrow tunnel of despair from which Ben briefly saved him. The .45 felt more than warm; it was a part of him. No more flashes of what was possible, only a release of what he needed to become.

  Jamie took two steps forward, stopped, cocked the pistol, and pulled the trigger twice.

  When the bullets hit their target, Jamie saw a pair of small, dark rosettes open against a white background. The screams within him were drowned out by the terrified shrill of the girl he almost loved.

  “No! Jamie, no. Daddy!”

  The tunnel widened, especially as Michael came to his side, grabbed Jamie’s trigger hand and brought down the weapon. He thought Michael was shaking him, demanding Jamie wake up. Indeed, Jamie thought himself lost in a dream from hell. Yet Michael’s words became clear.

  Jamie saw Ben’s lifeless body, looked up into the trees, and swallowed the sunlight filtering through the thick, late spring foliage. And then he knew, with certainty, where he was. Jamie dropped the gun.

  Walt Huggins fell to his knees. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth, but that was nothing compared to the massive red-black stain along the right side of the behemoth, or the two expanding blotches on the man’s belly. Walt dropped an AK to the dirt from one hand and a portable GPS device with flashing beacon from the other. His daughter rushed to his side, but Walt pasted his eyes on Jamie.

  Walt whispered to his daughter, and she shook her head violently as she backed away. Walt motioned the boy closer. Jamie was only beginning to realize what he’d done, the memory of firing the pistol already a blur. He swiped hair from his face and started toward Walt.

  “You’re not as weak as I believed,” Walt said, his voice slurred. He coughed twice, bringing up deep red saliva. The imposing man sat on his knees, his hands flat on his thighs, as if to support his upper body. He could have been a lumberjack upon a yoga mat. However, even as blood trickled from the corner of his closed lips, Walt maintained a smile.

  “Not as weak as your brother,” he continued. “He should have known better than to leave me alive with means of tracking you. He did not have the spine of a Chancellor.”

  “Daddy, please,” Sammie said. “We have to get you help.” She faced Jamie. “Save him, just like you did Michael.”

  His emotions on overload and rational thought all but fried, he offered Sammie a frown.

  “Why? He killed my brother.”

  “Ben is gone. Daddy is still alive. You won’t stand here and watch him die, Jamie. You’re too good a person to do that.”

  Jamie said nothing, but Walt did not hesitate.

  “Ah. Newfound powers? We always wondered how the re-sequencing would affect the human body. Good to see you, Mr. Cooper. So, James, what will it be? Heal my wounds?”

  “He killed Ben,” Jamie repeated to Sammie. “Didn’t even give him a chance. If I heal your dad, he’ll try to keep me prisoner until time runs out. He won’t be grateful or nothing.”

  “Of course he will,” she said. “You’ve got my promise, Jamie.”

  “No,” Walt interrupted. “No, no, Pumpkin. I’m afraid James understands me too well. A surprise, given his mental ineptitude over the years. Granted, Tom and Marlena tried their best, but you never were the apple of their eye, for understandable reasons.”

  “You got no idea what you’re talking about,” Jamie said.

  “More than you’ll ever know. When you shot me, James, what did you feel?” He tilted his head in curiosity, but Jamie couldn’t answer. “Fury. That’s what it is. Caryllan energy. Weaponized fury.” He focused on his daughter. “Samantha, you’ve done an outstanding job in keeping the Jewel close. Now I need for you to finish the mission.”

  Jamie snapped left, a familiar sense of betrayal chilling his blood.

  “No, Jamie,” Sammie stumbled over her words. “Daddy, this isn’t what you think. I thought you were dead. I’m with Jamie because …”

  “Listen to me, Pumpkin. You are the last, and you have to finish this. You need to secure the Jewel and leave this area quickly.” He coughed up more blood. “The police are close. Kill Mr. Cooper. Shoot James in the leg and secure him until the end of re-sequencing.”

  “Whoa, dude,” Michael interrupted, his pistol aimed alternately at Walt and Sammie. “I near about got wasted once. I ain’t going down again.”

  Jamie wished he hadn’t dropped his own weapon. He knew he wasn’t fast enough to charge Sammie and snare the M16. Yet he realized such desperate measures wouldn’t be needed. All he had to do was look in her eyes, which glistened with water.

  “No, Daddy. I’m sorry, but I won’t do this. I love Jamie. I always have.” She turned to Jamie. “And I swear I always will.”

  Walt coughed. “You will not … betray … me. Am I clear?”

  Sammie did not hesitate. “I did everything you ever asked, but you want me to cross the line. I might be a soldier, but I won’t be an executioner, Daddy. Can’t you understand that?”

  Walt slid his fingers toward the AK. Jamie raced forward and snatched up the weapon, swooping around until he had a clear shot at both Walt and his daughter.

  “What a beautiful picture,” Walt snarled. “Three children with their guns trained on a dying man. Afraid to the last, aren’t you?” He faced Michael. “A circus clown who’s never said a truly humorous thing in his life.” He looked over his shoulder to Jamie. “A weak, emotional twit who caused everyone endless annoyance.” Then to Sammie: “The greatest disappointment a father could ever have.”

  Jamie lowered his weapon, and he saw Michael follow suit. He had no doubt where the four of them stood, especially when he saw the silent tears stream down Sammie’s cheeks.

  “Daddy, how could you? I’ve done everything you ever asked.”

  “Before today, yes.” He coughed more blood and looked away from his daughter. “Understand this, children. Chancellors do not surrender. I long ago secured additional help.” He offered a curt smile. “Shock Units.” His voice faded. “Nasty. Effective. Unstoppable.”

  This new information tightened Jamie’s gut.

  “What?” He asked. “You mean troops?”

  Walt laughed. “Never doubt the genius or persistence of a Chancellor. Especially if you are his daughter.”

  “Dude,” Michael said. “This does not sound good. I say we get the heck out of Dodge.”

  As if on cue, the roar of a helicopter echoed through the trees from the east. In seconds, the chopper flew past perhaps a quarter-mile away,
not visible through the dense forest.

  “Daddy, tell me you’re lying. They wouldn’t really send …”

  Sammie stopped mid-sentence. Jamie saw why. Walt held a stiff, Buddha-like pose, his smug smile locked, his eyes open and unblinking.

  Sammie dropped to one knee and stared. She knew. They all did.

  “Oh, Daddy,” she muttered through her tears. “Why?”

  Jamie left her there to mourn. He walked past Michael without a word and returned to Ben’s side. He tried to remember what Ben told him inside the cabin. Jamie had nothing to offer. He couldn’t pull together the words for a prayer, and he didn’t think Ben would consider it fitting anyway. Instead, he grabbed one of his brother’s hands and whispered.

  He closed his eyes. “Goodbye, Ben.”

  Jamie refused to allow his feelings to overwhelm him. He understood what the Jewel was doing to him, how the re-sequencing was playing havoc with his emotions and changing his priorities to that of someone he didn’t know.

  He killed a man. Until the moment when he pulled the trigger, Jamie did not believe murder was part of his makeup. He wanted to resist the anger that drove him to kill, but the program was too strong. As he stared at Ben’s lifeless shell, Jamie knew he couldn’t go back.

  His thoughts unscrambled when a ringing phone broke the silence. He saw Sammie and Michael stepping toward Walt. The phone continued to ring. Michael pulled it out of Walt’s shirt pocket.

  “Dude, what do you think?”

  Jamie grabbed the phone and opened it.

  He stared at the caller ID but did not feel the usual fear associated with this woman.

  “Hello?”

  “I wish to speak with … James? Is that you, James? Oh, you dear child. Ms. Bidwell here. I am so very sorry we couldn’t have ended your school year on a more pleasant basis. Perhaps you and I need to engage in a very different manner of final exam. Yes?”

  42

  J AMIE TURNED TO his friends, then looked again at the bodies of two men whose obsession with Jamie got them killed. He tucked the phone against his chest.