by Jared Teer
“I just lost it, man,” said Darion. “I lost it, and I just got all this strength from nowhere.”
“Yeah, that tyrannosaur looked pretty surprised too,” said Sky.
“What was that place?” Darion asked.
“That twisted place was Ray’s imagination on the Oneiric Plane,” said Sky. “It’s called Oneiric Gaming. We can use the Oneiric Plane to set up all kinds of scenarios—from football games to battles with giant, plasma-spewing dinosaurs.”
“Were we in danger?” Darion asked.
“Not molecular dispersal danger,” said Ray, “but our Essence could be exhausted battling those things.”
“But our powers work the same?” Darion asked. “Like if we were battling the Enemy in someone’s dream?”
“Pretty much.”
Good, Darion thought. “Well, it’s been fun,” he said. “I gotta get going.”
“Where you goin’ man?” asked Sky.
“I’m supposed to be meeting an old friend somewhere,” said Darion. “Thanks for showing me those techniques.”
“It’s cool,” said Ray and Sky.
Darion gave the peace sign and vanished in a flash of light.
CHAPTER 6
Confrontation
Darion materialized beside Jacob’s bed in the burn unit at Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio. He couldn’t recognize his friend for the dressing covering his face. Tears welled in his eyes as he stood there fixated, taking in the extent of Jacob’s injuries. Darion was startled back to awareness as a nurse walked through his ethereal body and began to check Jacob’s vitals.
Hang on, Jarvis, Darion thought as he rubbed his eyes. I’m coming to help you.
Darion took a deep breath and placed his hand on Jacob’s head. Unite in consciousness. Unite in consciousness.
Darion’s vision went golden, and he felt himself becoming translucent. In a flash, he appeared in a horrible place, a scene from a nightmare—literally.
It was the streets of Mosul, but completely desolate. There was no sun in the sky, yet there was light—an eerie red glow. The sky was red and the clouds were dark and flashed with sporadic bursts of crimson lightning. There was a constant whistle of wind. Debris was being blown all about. The streets were dark, with every visible thing showing red.
A blood-curdling scream erupted from somewhere in the distance.
Jarvis! thought Darion, and he took off in that direction.
Inside a Stryker sat Oklahoma, Darion, and the rest of the team, just as they had been on that fateful day.
“It appears that the driver of the car lost sight of the road and had to stop. The duct tape that was holding his hood down gave way, and the hood flew up and blocked his view.”
Darion didn’t laugh. He shook his head and sighed.
“I’m so sick of this crap man,” he said to Oklahoma. “I’m sick of this crappy place and these crappy people. I’m sick of putting my life in danger for them.”
“I hear you,” said Jarvis. “Two weeks man. In two weeks we’ll be out of this crap hole.”
“Ten days, man,” said Darion. “If we don’t get killed by these murderous dogs first. That’s all they know, all of them. Every last one of them is the same. Bloodthirsty savages.”
Jarvis nodded his head in agreement.
At that moment, the Stryker was rocked by an explosion and flipped on its side. Jarvis was in complete disarray. He was trapped inside the Stryker.
“They killed us! They killed us!” shouted the other team members trapped inside as well. “We’re burning alive! We’re burning alive!”
Jarvis struggled to get free, but it was no use. It was as if he was being restrained—he couldn’t move a muscle. Outside the Stryker, he could hear Darion.
“They’re killing me! They’re killing me!” said Darion.
“Noooo!” shouted Jarvis, and at that moment the roof of the Stryker was suddenly peeled away, as if ripped off by the wind, revealing the street and Darion to Jacob.
Darion was lying in the street, writhing in agony and clutching at the bullet wounds that riddled his body.
“You see what they did to me!” said Darion. “They’re murderers! The sand monkeys are murderers!”
Jarvis struggled to get to his friend, but it was useless. The clatter of an AK-47 rang out, and Darion’s body was tacked in a hail of bullets. In the distance, behind Darion, Jarvis could see a figure approaching. It was a man in dark fatigues with a black turban around his head, revealing only his eyes—red, glowing eyes.
The man drew closer and stopped right beside Darion. The man addressed Jarvis and spoke with a Middle Eastern accent.
“Do you see what happens when you try to help people,” said the man. “You thought you were doing something good, you thought you were helping us, my country. Do you see now, fool! Your help is not wanted. You wanted to help, but we only want to kill.”
The man raised his foot high and brought it crashing down into the small of Darion’s back. Darion let out a horrible scream as the man grinded his foot into his back.
“Jarvis! Jarvis!” cried Darion. “You’re letting him kill me! You’re letting him kill me!”
To Jarvis’s horror, the other team members in the wreckage began to join in.
“You let them kill us,” they chanted. “We just wanted to help them, and you let them kill us.”
“No, noooo!” Jarvis yelled. He struggled fiercely, but it was no use. His body wouldn’t respond.
There was a burst of another volley of AK fire—the man riddled Darion once again.
“He killed me, Jarvis. You let me die. He killed me, Jarvis. You let me die,” repeated Darion.
The man stood with his boot in Darion’s back, laughing at the top of his lungs as Jarvis stared at him hopelessly.
Then, in the corner of his eye, Jarvis saw a brilliant golden light. The man in the turban turned his head toward the light and then shielded his eyes with his free arm.
Darion—the real Darion—let out a primal roar as his punch connected with the man’s face. The force of the blow sent the man sailing down the street, out of Jarvis’s view. The man skidded on the street, ripping up the pavement as he slid, and finally slowed to a halt in a mound of asphalt a few blocks up.
“Jacob, he didn’t kill me,” said the illuminated Darion.
The Darion on the ground looked up at the real one. “What authority have you, you stupid monkey?” he said. “He is ours! You have no right to … ”
In his anger, Darion let out another yell as he brought his foot down on his double’s head. The force of the stomp drove the demon’s head several inches into the pavement.
Darion ran over to the wreckage and pulled Jarvis from the Stryker.
“Elmore?” said Jarvis. “Is it really you?”
“It’s me, man,” said Darion. “I’m here. I’m here to help.”
Darion put Jarvis’s arm over his shoulder and carried him to the sidewalk, away from the Stryker.
“What’s going on man?” asked Jarvis. “What is this?”
“Don’t worry,” said Darion. “You’re okay now. I’m here.”
At that moment, a chorus of haughty laughter came from the wrecked Stryker.
“Don’t worry?” said a deep, sinister voice. “Don’t worry, indeed: Despair!”
The Stryker exploded in a flash of crimson light and electricity. The dust settled to reveal the dark figures of seven individuals standing side by side, all of their eyes glowing a menacing red. The beings were dark, as if composed of shadow, yet their faces were angular and handsome. Their flaming eyes were like miniature crimson stars. They wore robes similar to Darion’s, but they were black, their waistbands and boots as well.
The being in the middle spoke. “Come to destroy us before the time?”
The others around him laughed.
“Get up,” said the one in the middle.
The being whose head Darion had stomped into the pavement began to stir, and, s
uddenly, it sprang into a handstand and pushed up, wrenching its head from the ground. Darion attempted to hide his awe as the being transformed. As the demon stood in a handstand, its arms changed to legs, its legs to arms, and it sprouted a head, assuming a normal humanoid form. The demon gave Darion a smile and joined the others in line.
The man in the black fatigues returned as well, having lost his turban in the onslaught, holding his jaw as he approached. His face was a shadow as well and his black hair was spiked to resemble two horns. He assumed a spot ahead of the others and addressed Darion.
“Good, very good,” he said. “Come to save your friend. Commendable.”
“Who are you?” Darion asked through gritted teeth.
“You needn’t know my name, primate. Just know that you stand no chance. Your friend is ours. We find his agony … exquisite. It was quite rude of you to interrupt our fun. When we’re done with you, we’ll continue our game.”
Darion spoke quietly to Jarvis. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you. Don’t fall for their lies. Do the right thing.” He tapped Jarvis on the shoulder and stood to face the beings.
“This is just a game to you?” Darion said to the demon. There’s nine of them and one of me. Good job, Darion, he thought. If I can take out the leader, maybe the rest will give up. “But you’re wrong.”
“Am I?” said the leader. “Surely you know that your entire species was created by us. We can do with you as we please.”
“You sound pretty stupid for such an ancient being,” said Darion. Way to go Darion, he thought. Making him angry might not be the best approach … Ah, oh well. “This primate has the sense to realize that you didn’t create anything, moron. The Creator gave you a role in his plans, and you betrayed him. Pretty stupid, if you ask me. Plus, aren’t you guys kinda lame?”
The demon’s eyes narrowed.
“I mean,” Darion continued, “isn’t it kind of pathetic for beings as powerful and ancient as yourselves to pick on defenseless primates? Basically, you guys are like loser kids who get their kicks from hurting kittens. It’s pathetic, really.”
“Insolent!” shouted the leader as he charged at Darion.
“Solar cannon!” The ball of golden plasma exploded from Darion’s extended palm toward the charging demon. Just as it seemed that it would hit its mark, a black hole appeared and swallowed it as the being continued his charge. Suddenly, a black hole appeared behind Darion, and from it emerged the golden orb. The light behind him alerted Darion, but it was too late. The ball of plasma exploded on his back and thrust him forward, right into the fist of his attacker.
The punch sent Darion sailing backward through buildings and over streets for many blocks, finally depositing him in the concrete face of a home. Darion squirmed free and fell to the ground. As he sat there on his hands and knees, a black hole appeared beneath him and he was pulled in.
He emerged freefalling in the red expanse of the sky. Before he thought to fly, he looked down to see one of the robed beings charging upward toward him with its fist extended. The blow caught Darion underneath the chin and sent him hurtling upward. As he rapidly ascended, Darion managed to look up, only to see another black hole emerge. He passed through the black hole and realized that his momentum was the same, but his direction had changed. Instead of rocketing up, he was going down: the street just yards away. All he could do was cover his face as he crashed into the pavement.
Darion’s impact caused a wide, circular crater in the ground. His nine pursuers touched down on the street and stood around the hole looking down at him. Battered, bruised, and on hands and knees, Darion looked up at them. They were all smiling.
The leader in fatigues spoke. “Valiant effort,” he said. “Foolish and pathetic—but valiant nonetheless. You came to send us to the Lake of Fire, but it is you who will catch hell.”
The demon inclined his hand to an area above the crater and a black hole appeared there; as if gushing from a faucet, molten lava poured from the circular void. Darion screamed in agony as the lava washed over him and filled the crater. The demon dissipated the black hole, ceasing the lava flow. Darion floated motionless, facedown in the lava, shrouded in flames.
“Darion? Oh, Darion?” the leader said smugly. Darion didn’t move. “Raise him!” he ordered the others.
The eyes of the other eight erupted with crimson flame. Darion’s arms and legs extended rigidly, and he couldn’t move. He began to float upward, out of the lava, hovering a few yards above the street as his tormentors looked up at him.
“I told you that we can do with your kind as we wish,” said the leader. “You Ascended primates are no exception. Do you think me a liar? Hmph … of course you do. Let me prove it.”
His eyes widened and red beams shot from them, hitting Darion in the chest and moving about his body. Darion yelled in agony as the beams seared him.
“Do you want me to stop?” asked the demon. “Just say the word, and we’ll let you go. Besides, your friend is probably getting lonely. He’s much more fun anyway.”
“Nooo!” shouted Darion, and the demon intensified the beam.
“I just had a brilliant idea,” said the leader. “What if we let Darion here play along with his friend?”
The others laughed and the leader ceased his beams. The leader’s eyes flamed and the surroundings faded to black. All that Darion could see in the darkness were the reds of the demons’ eyes. He struggled, but his body was still immobilized. A new scene began to emerge from the darkness. It was the same street, the same neighborhood in Mosul, but it was no longer as dismal. The sky was blue, the sun was out, and the crater, lava, and devastation were gone. For all purposes, the scene was the normal Mosul.
The leader transformed into the personage of the Outlaw vehicle commander. Six of the others changed into the other Outlaw team members. One lay down and transformed into the bullet-riddled Darion from before. The remaining demon transformed into an army medic. They lowered Darion to the ground, forcing him to his knees, still unable to move. The medic walked over and placed his hands on Darion’s shoulders as if holding him down. Darion still couldn’t move and figured they were restraining him telepathically.
“Places, everyone … Excellent,” said the leader, now in the guise of the vehicle commander. “Now, for the star.”
Jacob materialized beside the commander. He looked confused.
“We got him, Jarvis,” said the commander. “We got the stinking hajji that killed Elmore!” The commander looked Darion directly in the eyes and winked at him. “Look at him, in that dirty black headscarf and second-rate black fatigues.”
Darion struggled, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything. Apparently, he appeared to Jacob to be the insurgent in the black turban who had shot Darion in the earlier vision.
“I don’t understand,” said Jacob.
“He shot Elmore in cold blood,” said the commander. “Don’t you remember? You must have hit your head. The Stryker got hit, and we had to scramble out when it caught on fire. It was an ambush. We took small arms fire. This piece of filth shot Elmore. I know you two were best friends. Here.” An M4 materialized in the commander’s hands. “You do the honors.”
Jacob took the M4 from the commander and looked at Darion—appearing to Jacob as the black turbaned insurgent—then back at the commander.
“You want me to kill him?” Jacob asked the commander.
“You should be the one to do it, Jarvis,” he said. “It’s your best friend lying there dead.” He gestured toward the bullet-riddled Darion.
Jarvis swallowed and looked back at the insurgent.
“Let’s go; I’m with you,” said the commander as he nudged Jarvis toward the insurgent.
They walked over to the kneeling insurgent and stopped just in front of him.
There was a smile on the commander’s face. “Your time’s up, you piece of crap,” he said. “We come here to liberate you savages, and this is how you repay us? By murdering go
od men?” He looked Jarvis in the eyes before he continued. “Men with friends and family that will never see them again. Finish him, Jarvis!”
Jarvis cocked the M4 and pointed it at the insurgent’s head.
Don’t fall for their lies. Do the right thing, Darion desperately thought.
Jarvis stared at him, and, after a moment, he lowered the gun.
“I don’t think I should do this,” said Jarvis.
“He executed your friend like a dog!” said the commander.
“It’s just … something’s not right,” responded Jarvis. “Darion wouldn’t want this. I’m no executioner.”
“Very well,” said the commander. “Darion, what do you think of Jarvis’s unwillingness to avenge your murder?”
The bullet-riddled Darion demon slowly rose to his feet and limped his way over to Jarvis and the commander.
“What the … ” said Jarvis.
“See what he did to me, Jarvis,” said the Darion demon. “Because of this scum, this worthless hajji, I will never see my family again. And you’re … okay with that?”
“No,” said Jarvis.
“Then what are you waiting for? Avenge me!” said the Darion demon.
Jarvis pointed the gun back at the insurgent’s head. Darion didn’t fear being shot, he knew he couldn’t be killed. What he feared was that his friend would give in to the demons.
Jarvis’s hand shook as he tried to steady the barrel at Darion’s forehead.
“Do it,” said the Darion demon.
After a moment, Jarvis spoke. “No,” he said, and lowered the weapon. “Something isn’t right.”
Darion gave an internal sigh of relief.
“No?” said the Darion demon.
He snatched the M4 away from Jarvis. Thunder rolled as the sun was blotted out by dark clouds and the sky turned red. A terrible wind began to blow, kicking up debris out of nowhere.
The commander laughed. “It seems you still have a lot to learn Jarvis,” he said. “Very well. Darion, show him how it’s done.”
“Yes, sir,” said the Darion demon, and he raised the gun to the real Darion’s head.
