The Last Everything

by Frank Kennedy

  He hit the gas.

  The wheel felt natural to Jamie. He sensed an immediate and deep connection to the car, the power surging through his blood much as it had with the guns. He drove wildly through the park, short-cutting between trees and past abandoned picnic tables.

  He couldn’t believe what Sammie was doing alone in the middle of the parking lot. The instant she was hit, he sensed it.

  “Ready, Coop?” He yelled. “Start shooting before I hit the brakes.”

  Michael grabbed the door and held on, his pistol poised. As soon as the car screamed into the lot and became exposed along with Sammie, he opened fire. Jamie hit the brakes just as Sammie fell to her knees and dropped her rifle. He spread machine-gun fire on the Bidwells as he knelt then clutched Sammie.

  “Grab it,” he told Michael, pointing at Sammie’s rifle. “I’ll cover.”

  Bullets embedded into the Caddy as the trio leaped in. Jamie all but flung Sammie across the seat to the passenger side, where she lay barely conscious. He slammed the door and threw the car into drive in a simultaneous movement, again allowing the Jewel to assist.

  He crouched as he drove the car from the lot. Michael, cursing more than Jamie ever heard, said the Bidwells were coming after them on foot. Jamie didn’t think this would pose a problem – until he saw the very thing Sammie warned them about moments ago.

  An ASPD patrol car careened toward them, blue lights flashing.

  Jamie dropped the rifle and grabbed the wheel with both hands, swerving to avoid the patrol car. Sammie tossed about like a rag doll. Michael tumbled in the back. Jamie thought they were home-free.

  That’s when he heard more weapons fire and looked through the rear-view mirror. The Bidwells turned their attention to the newly-arrived officers and fired full-on into the vehicle, which slammed into the parked patrol car that a now-deceased boy had tried to wash.

  Jamie set his focus on two purposes. He drove not toward the park’s main entrance, but rather to a private service exit at the park’s northeastern corner, farthest from the police station. He had no prior knowledge of this way out, but he knew it was there; the Jewel pointed the way.

  Once there, Jamie smashed the car through a wooden gate.

  He laid one hand upon Sammie and felt the healing power of Caryllan energy surge into her. Her wound would be healed within minutes. For that, he was thankful.

  Jamie turned his focus to his ultimate destination, a world planted in his mind to show him the way home. He knew how this would end.

  Jamie saw it all. His mind’s eye opened to the land east of Austin Springs, which rose steadily as the forests grew thicker and the hills became steeper. He saw streams and small waterfalls, the bounty of wildlife that was safe until hunting season, the isolated cabins where a lucky few hid away from this insane world, and the tiny and winding dirt roads that led nowhere and everywhere. He saw this place, stretching for more than ten miles, as clearly as he saw a large, glistening city on this very same stretch of land but located across the interdimensional fold.

  He felt the history that built this land, from the fiery birth of the planet to the first seedlings that pushed through the hard-packed crust. He saw slaves passing through these woods as they escaped from life on the plantations. He felt the spirits of wild and reckless criminals who fled into these hills over the past century, only to be hunted down like dogs or to live a meager, desperate existence until dying of starvation or loneliness.

  As much as Jamie tried to fight it, the threads of the universe twisted his mind and tugged at the Jewel, which he knew was ready to be reborn. He felt the heartbeat of time and space itself.

  His hands steered as if they were independent contractors. The back entrance to the park soon gave way to a two-lane paved road, onto which he swerved without bothering to look for traffic. He pressed the gas.

  Among the many images and feelings bombarding his mind’s eye were five moments that seemed to lock into place as still pictures, but each of them carrying the odor of rage and filth.

  He saw himself shoot Walt Huggins twice in the gut, not because he had to but because he wanted to. He saw himself unload countless bullets into an attacker with an AK-47, and he was pleased with the outcome. He saw himself pound a police officer unconscious, take the deputy’s gun, and unload a full round into a man he once admired as his coach. He saw himself on the ground dispatching Jennifer Bowman.

  Jamie ignored the reality of self-defense, or that through his actions, Sammie and Michael were still alive. All he knew was that he had killed. Again and again and again.

  And the Jewel wanted more. So much more. He heard it.

  Fury. Unbridled, limitless fury.

  Jamie understood. He knew what was coming, and he was thankful to Lydia for showing him beyond the physical world; it was a mistake he would make her regret. As the images of blood and murder wiped away the last of his best childhood memories, Jamie turned the wheel hard onto an unmarked side road.

  Shadows fell beneath a canopy as the land continued to rise.

  58

  A GATHA MOCKED THE irony of the moment. The patrol car they commandeered after tossing out two wounded policemen would not be roadworthy for long. Steam poured from the hood; tires screeched against metal. She thought it fitting their journey finish inside scrap. In many ways, it was the perfect symbol of the last fifteen years of her life.

  She saw the endgame and was pleased to have Christian with her at the conclusion. They were more than half a mile behind their quarry, but close enough to see the Jewel’s convertible take a sudden right turn far ahead, ducking off into the deep forest.

  “Would you like to offer any regrets, Christian?” She asked.

  Christian smiled as he took out a cigarette. “To die next to the mother who taught me everything? I’m good.”

  They sat on a mix of glass shards and the blood of their latest victims. Christian slowed as they neared the turn-off. The patrol car moaned as he tapped the brakes.

  “Die?” Agatha asked. “No, Christian. You and I are invincible. We hold the moral imperative. That superiority will triumph.”

  Christian turned the wheel onto the forest road. Agatha held on.

  “Our lives are not our own, Christian. They never were. Walter knew this is exactly where the road would lead us.”

  59

  9:27 a.m.

  M ILES STRETCHED into light-years. The roads, though laden with bumps, washouts, potholes, and mud holes, provided a strange comfort for Jamie. They kept him focused on controlling the wheel. Each bounce and swerve reminded Jamie he was still alive and at some level, still in charge of his life. The aroma of the forest was deep and spicy, the air fresh and perhaps a tad cooler.

  After driving more than four miles into this forest, after ignoring the questions and pleas of his friends, Jamie pulled the Caddy to the side of the road, threw open the door, and started walking.

  He stopped at the edge of the forest and told himself not to be afraid. He stamped down the tall grass and made his way into the shadows of the deep forest. In his mind’s eye, Jamie saw the place his heart desired to be, and the image gave him peace. After two hundred yards, he gathered his emotions together, decided what he would tell his friends, and turned around.

  Almost at once, he felt the tears arriving en masse. They were already plastered over Sammie’s cheeks, and he couldn’t bear Michael’s stern glare of confusion.

  “I got no choice,” Jamie whispered. “I made my decision. I hope you understand.”

  His gentle words satisfied no one. Sammie said he didn’t need to do this, that she read Ben’s flash drive and knew what he told Jamie. She insisted Ben’s revelation changed everything – even her own view of life – and Jamie could still be saved. As Michael screwed his eyes in confusion, Jamie insisted Sammie was wrong. Only when Sammie said Jamie didn’t “have to die,” did Michael’s eyes bulge. Jamie couldn’t look his No. 1 in the face. He despised keeping this secret from Michael, but now he sa
w no way out.

  “I wanted to tell you,” Jamie said. “I knew you’d be even more stubborn than she is.”

  Michael’s eyes filled with water as he shook his head.

  “J. I ain’t the brightest bulb, but I ain’t a dimwit either.” Michael looked to both. “I knew. I just couldn’t admit it until I heard somebody say the words. She’s right. You got the power to beat this. You healed both of us. We were goners. Why can’t you heal yourself? Do some of that hoodoo-voodoo thing with your hands.”

  Jamie wanted to hear their pleas. He wanted to believe in Ben, in the idea of trusting in himself “when the time comes.” Reality, however, overcame any temptation for escape.

  “You got to understand something,” he told them. “Healing ain’t part of the Jewel’s program. It’s more like a side-effect. I got this energy running through me – Caryllan energy, Ben called it. It’s the damnedest thing. Turns me into a miracle-worker right before it kills me.” He cleared his throat. “I reckon Ben was right about one thing. I do have a soul, and it’s been a pretty good one … for the most part. I mean, I love you guys and I don’t want anything to happen to you. I did what I could to keep you safe.”

  “And that’s why you can’t give up on us,” Sammie said.

  Jamie grabbed her hand.

  “I can feel what’s happening to me. I can see so many things. This Jewel is turning me into something else. It’s like some dude opened the curtain and showed me the whole damn universe. It’s all coming to me … all the answers. But … but all these wild things, incredible things – they’re gonna be taken away. I can’t keep them.”

  His knees trembled as a great wave of despair rose from deep in his gut. The words crossing his lips brought a stark finality tried to avoid. At last, he collapsed without letting go of Sammie’s hands. Sitting on his knees, Jamie convulsed in sobs, the incredible injustice of what lay ahead torturing him through his tears.

  Sammie and Michael bent down to hug him. His eyes, blurred by water and salt, looked beyond the world of the present and took him through the shadows of the past until finally, he felt the security of big, warm arms and soft, comforting words. He looked into Mommy’s eyes and saw the one who always made everything OK. He smelled her rose-petal perfume and liked it when she kissed him on the cheek, leaving an imprint of her lipstick.

  Just like that, the past vanished with the breeze, and Jamie remembered the truth: His parents were the monsters who made sure he was doomed from the start. Even the imitators who raised him had no interest in watching him grow into a man. He was nothing more than the instrument at the heart of their mission.

  Jamie made no effort to resist the sobs, and he allowed his belly to convulse until he was in pain. Only when he felt the well of misery drying up did Jamie run his hands across his face.

  “I can see everything,” he finally said, his voice raspy, coughs interrupting the words. “I can see the world where we were conceived, Sammie. I can feel all those people. There’s so much hatred. The Chancellors holding down billions of people. There’s a war. It’s coming soon. Billions of souls, so angry. And the Jewel … it knows something the rest of them don’t. It’s …” His eyes bulged. “It’s just gonna kill. It’s gonna wipe out everything. All those people. The Chancellors were seeking immortality, but they created an army of monsters.”

  “Jamie, c’mon,” Michael whispered. “You’re seeing things because you’re delirious.”

  Jamie grabbed each of them by the hand.

  “Nobody should have this. Gotta be stopped. They were right.”

  Sammie coughed out her words. “Who was right?”

  “The Bidwells. Everybody that’s been trying to kill me. If I’d just let them waste me back on Main Street, everything would be OK now. Everybody else would be alive. Ben. Your parents.” He looked at Sammie. “All the others. That kid back at the police station. He was just washing the car. Probably got a summer job, maybe saving up for his own car. This Jewel … it’s worse than evil. It’s not just a program. It’s alive. Understand?”

  Lydia whispered in his ear. “Kill them,” she said. “Put them out of their misery. They have nothing left. They will be blamed for everything. We have seen to that.”

  For a mere instant, his anger spiked and his temptation to kill returned like a thirst he felt in the corridors of the police station.

  No. Jamie rose to his feet, wiped the last remnant of tears away, and stared into Sammie’s eyes. He saw the frail innocence that seemed ever present before the deadly soldier emerged. He ran his hand over her cheeks, caught droplets of water and smudged them away. He thought of what might have been if he’d been given a few more months with her.

  He wrapped his arms around Sammie and kissed her as he thought a man in love might do. He gave her all the warmth and hope he could muster, and he felt the gift returned in her sweet, soft lips. When he pulled away, Jamie nodded, but he had nothing more to say to her.

  He turned to Michael and reached out his hand.

  “Give me the pistol.”

  Michael swung it around his back, but Jamie grabbed him.

  “No, dude. This ain’t the way.”

  Jamie took the pistol. He offered his right hand again, and this time the best friends shook with a firm grip. Michael wouldn’t let go as he wrapped Jamie in a hug.

  “I’m gonna wake up from this,” Michael whispered. “I’m gonna call you first thing, and we’ll hook up. Do some fishing. Got that?”

  Jamie pulled out of the hug determined to fend off more sobs.

  He stepped away. “Listen, you take the car about another half mile, OK? There’s a hard left. You stay on that for about three miles, then take the first right. You’ll be back on the highway soon.”

  His throat dried, but he managed a few final words for Michael.

  “Look after Sammie. OK? She needs somebody now.”

  He took a mental snapshot of the two best friends a nobody from a nowhere town could ever have before he said, “Goodbye.”

  Jamie felt like an empty vessel as he turned and ran.

  60

  9:33 a.m.

  A GATHA NEVER IMAGINED such an inglorious end for her son. From the day Christian was born to Lt. Commander Agatha Perrone and Rear Admiral Augustus Perrone, his parents expected great things for their only child. When the opportunity to cross the fold and protect the second Jewel came her way, Agatha debated sending Christian off-world to visit his father at Earth’s most distant colony. Fifteen years later, that choice haunted her.

  They drove through the back roads of rural Alabama in a stolen patrol car that was badly shot-up, stopping at frequent intersections to inspect the roads for fresh tire tracks. She did not burden Christian with a truth that might distract him and reduce their already-slim chance for victory. She did the calculations based upon prior knowledge: The Shock Units would be arriving within fifteen minutes – twenty at the outside. Nothing would come between them and the Jewel.

  Agatha rose in her seat and stiffened as they rounded a bend. She smiled at the sight of an empty convertible less than fifty yards ahead. They stopped well back of the convertible, exited slowly with their rifles extended, and started toward the car.

  “Gotta be close,” Christian said. “We could wait for them to appear.”

  “No. The Jewel has almost finished re-sequencing. They’re preparing. We have to go in.”

  Christian showed his tracking prowess by discovering bent grass along the edge of the woods fronting scrub brush. Agatha smiled, and they gave chase. They jogged in a crouch with their weapons extended. They stayed within ten yards of each other, and Agatha ordered Christian to establish clear aim at a target before shooting.

  Five minutes into their search, Agatha heard young voices. She saw them first. Agatha checked her weapon and prepared for the last purposeful moments of her life.

  She saw the teens huddled together surrounded by a healthy cluster of tall, thick pines. Beyond them the land rose steadily, cha
nging into a tangled mass of knotted trees with bright green leaves fluttering in a gentle breeze. She saw a few rays of sunlight beyond the pines trying to cut through to the forest floor.

  Agatha found Jamie in the crosshairs. She crimped her finger back against the trigger and settled her breathing.

  At that instant, Jamie turned and ran uphill, a pistol in hand. Agatha’s instinct was to fire anyway, but she resisted then waved off Christian, who also was ready to fire.

  “Do as I say,” she told him when reunited. “We have to act quickly.”

  61

  S AMMIE AND MICHAEL stared at each other through their tears, the shock beginning to set in. Michael smacked his fists together.

  “Everything we been through, and he’s just gonna …”

  “It’s what he wants, Coop.”

  “No. It’s the Jewel. Got him brainwashed. If we go after him, can’t we talk him out of this? Try something different? Anything.”

  She chose her words carefully. “Coop, there’s only twenty minutes left. Jamie wouldn’t give up unless he knew he couldn’t win. He’s been fighting so hard since this started.”

  The sound of footsteps from the wrong direction stopped Sammie in mid-sentence, and she reached for the M16, which was slung over her shoulder. Before she could swing about and bring the weapon into firing position, a purposeful voice intervened.

  “I shot you once,” Christian told her. “Smack in the belly. Don’t know how you’re still standing, but you won’t be if I shoot again. Raise your weapon and die. Otherwise, drop it, Sweet Bread.”

  The rifle shook in Sammie’s right hand. The nickname Sweet Bread made her skin crawl. Her gave it to her on their first joint-training mission in Louisiana – right before he announced he would take her virginity within a year. A flicker of Chancellor heroism within her said that even if she sacrificed herself, she would rid the world of Christian Bidwell – and maybe buy Jamie all the time he needed to finish his journey in peace.