by Rashaad Bell
“Have a nice little conversation did you?” I looked up and saw Connor standing in front of the car.
“You heard?” I asked.
He pointed to his ear. “Of course I heard.”
I got out the car. “Got anything to say about what she said?”
“Believe it.” He replied. “Believe every word of it.”
“You can’t be serious Connor?”
“I don’t have anything to prove to you Madison.” Connor walked towards the house. “Your Cousin is here by the way.”
“He is?”
“Yup.” He was almost at the door. “And guess what?”
“He doesn’t like you.” I answered.
He raised one finger in the air. “You got it.”
I followed after him, finding everyone in the living room. Frankie was there, on the couch, next to Aiden. Frankie had some timeworn, beat up photo album resting on his lap opened to about the midway point. They were all photographs of my parents and him when they were young.
Aiden saw me come in. “Hey Madison, come check these out. Its mom and dad.” He pointed to one picture of dad. “What’s going on with his hair?”
Frankie burst out laughing. “That’s what we used to call a mullet.”
He looked pretty good for his age, which if I had to guess was some around his mid-fifties. His hair was cut short, but was still black and all there. He had on a pair a jeans and a black tee shirt, with black cowboy boots on. Next to the couch was a green military C-bag, which I assumed belonged to him with a motorcycle helmet on top.
Frankie got up and gave me a hug. “How you doing Madison?”
He smelled like cider wood and old spice, which I found oddly comforting. “I’m doing okay, all things considered.”
“Sorry it took me so long to get down here.” He said. “Soon as I got the word, I hopped on the Harley and headed out. Got a flat in Georgia and had to wait till I could get it repaired.”
“Georgia?” I asked.
“Yeah, I came down from Connecticut.” He explained.
“Connecticut?” Something was off. “Is that where you were in the hospital at?”
“I wasn’t in the hospital.” He said. “I don’t even have health insurance, I’d need to be at deaths door for me to even get close to a hospital. Besides…” He tapped his stomach. “…I’m as fit as a fiddle.”
Aiden closed the photo album. “But my parents said that you were sick.”
“When did they say that?” Frankie asked.
“Just a few days ago.” Aiden said. “They told me they spoke to you and that you were sick and that’s why they left, to come see you.”
Frankie shook his head. “I haven’t talked to your folks in over a month. I drive trucks for a living.” He explained. “I’ve been on the road.”
“Well if they weren’t coming to see you then where were they going?” Aiden asked.
Frankie shrugged his shoulders. “Beats the hell out of me kid.”
I headed towards the bathroom, examining myself in the mirror. Even though it was my reflection that stared back, it was like a different woman altogether, someone much harder, colder. Someone who had literally gone through trail by fire and requested for a second helping when it was over.
I had so many questions that needed resolution. My parents received a phone call in the middle of the night, then disappear and are never seen alive again. Who called them? Where did they go? Is their death really a coincidence? Then there were my suspicions about Connor. I couldn’t get what Girard said about him out of my mind. Somehow, she was able to plant the seed of self-doubt in my head and now it’s starting to blossom into full blown paranoia. Is this what Connor was talking about? Was this the knife in the back he predicted?
Is Connor responsible for the death of my parents?
I needed to take a bath. I think better when I’m soaking in blistering hot water. I passed the bathroom window and pulled the shower curtain back, about to turn the faucet on when I paused, looking back out the bathroom window, which overlooked our back yard. There was a man there standing motionless, staring directly at me. I didn’t recognize him, he wasn’t from the neighborhood and he wasn’t somebody just cutting through the back yard as a short cut either. He just stood there, silently looking up at me.
From the shadows, three more figures immerged.
I ran from the bathroom, back into the hallway, opening my parent's bedroom door. Connor was on the bed, with nothing on but his jeans, looking up at the ceiling.
“Sex or imminent disaster?” He didn’t bother to look at me.
“There are people in the backyard I don’t recognize.” I said.
Gradually he sat up. “Imminent disaster it is then.”
There was a knock on the door.
Connor was alongside me, shirt on, heading towards the stairs when the front door to the house was bashed in. There were screams of panic from everyone downstairs as shards of splintered wood hurtled everywhere. Connor was midway down the steps, as Abigail and Dakota passed him, followed by Girard and Frankie.
A man entered and when Connor saw him clearly, it caused him to decelerate his descent down the steps. The very aura of the man was awe-inspiring and commanded a respect even the most diligent of men could only dream. Jet-black hair was pulled tight to his skull in a ponytail that hung down past his massively broad shoulders. He was bare chested, his sun-drenched physic was toned well beyond human definition, or even mortally possible, his hulking frame, thick and muscular, built for war rather than athletics, was visually imposing. Bands of faded, weatherworn leather armbands laced around his forearms down to his wrist.
“Heracles…” Connor had come to a complete stop and wouldn’t go any further. I’ve never seen Connor intimated before, but this man, whoever he was, seemed to put fear into his heart.
I grabbed Dakota, signaling for the book bag she was carrying, the one with the gun in it, pulling her along with the others into Aiden’s room. I took the gun out, released the safety, cocked it and then handed it back to Dakota.
“Protect them.” I said.
I was back on the steps. Connor still hadn’t moved, he just stood there as he and this Heracles stared each other down.
Heracles turned away, but not because he was timid. He made his way over to the shattered doorframe. “You may enter.”
A woman with fiery roseate irises stepped into the living room, her caramel complexion was vexing and her features, the almond shaped eyes and distinct nose, the way her eye shadow played off the roundness of her lips and extremely curly hair, cut short, hardly pass her ears, could spellbound a man in seconds.
She wore a formfitting cashmere turtleneck, dark blue, with swirls of crimson thrown in for good measure. Her jeans were low cut, revealing an azure diamond teardrop ceremoniously placed within the center of her naval.
“Her name is Salome.” All the bravado that I was used to hearing from Connor was gone; to the point that one would be hard pressed to believe it ever existed at all.
The next to enter was a tall, dark haired man, with an insanely expensive tailor made clothing of white silk and Egyptian cotton, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His hair was cut short, as low as one can get before being bald; a thin shadow of a beard playfully making its way across his Latin features, which only enhanced his already evident, ruggedly handsome appeal. The top portion of his elegant face was overcast in shadow, yet his eyes burned a violet so intense that it was terrifying.
“That is Enoch.” Connor glanced back at me. “CEO of CornerStone Development.”
That was the corporation the President was working with to open its Registry Offices for Post Humans across the country. But he’s a Vampire. Why would the government be inclusion with him?
Last to enter was a woman who looked simply stunning, playing the part of artificial beauty queen with nothing artificial having to be added to the mix. Her stark white hair was curled about her lavishly, white locks interweaving themselv
es with one another, all about her a mass of curls, though not as curly as Salomé. Multihued grey eyes sat underneath perfectly arched white eyebrows, her skin flushed pink around her checks, soft lips, almost wet in appearance, begged to be kissed. Her attire was casual, nothing extravagant, jeans and a white tank top, both hugging her frame, the latter more tightly so, the faint shadow of her nipples somewhat visible through the thin material.
Connor took one more step down the stairs. “Megan, the Impeccable Princess as she is sometimes called, though the term is hardly meant as a compliment.”
“I know her.” Hers was a face that was easily recognized. “I just saw her in a movie last week. She’s like a megastar actress.”
“She could kill everyone in this house, including us, before we made it the rest of the way down the steps.” Connor cautioned.
“Who are these people?” They were just standing there, not moving.
Connor grasped my hand and walked the rest of the way down the steps and into the living room. “Madison, I’d like to introduce you to the Coven of the Disillusioned.”
I gave them a noncommittal wave.
Megan made her way over to me, standing closer then I desired. She was scrutinizing me, absorbing every element of my being. “She’s prettier than I expected.”
She moved towards Connor, standing even closer to him then she was to me. He refused to avert his eyes, meeting her glare head on.
“You’ve been a very naughty boy Connor.” Her head snapped back towards me. “We explicitly informed you that the Rose girl was off limits.”
What did she mean by that? Off limits?
“I can explain.” Connor said.
“And so you shall.” Megan affirmed. “But not here.”
“The existence of a Post Human species was not intended for public knowledge for at least another century.” Enoch walked towards us, just a slight hint of an accent in his voice.
“I didn’t know that.” Connor admitted.
Salomé came forward. “The recklessness of your exploits has drawn unnecessary Celestial attention.”
“Celestial?” Her words echoed the message I was given on the dreamscape. “What do you mean by that?”
They all turned their heads in unison towards my direction.
“Heracles, gather up all the others, we are leaving.” Instructed Megan.
He made towards the stairs, but I was in front him before he could take his first step.
“She’s fast.” Salomé noted to Enoch.
“I’m not letting you anywhere near my family.” My muscles were tight, my fists clenched.
“Relocate yourself or be relocated.” Heracles advised.
“Violence ain’t nothing but rock and roll to me.” I challenged. “I don’t care who you are. If you go near those steps I’ll kill you.”
Enoch leaned close to Salomé. “Courageous as well.”
“The fire in you burns bright.” Heracles said. “Do not force me to extinguish it.”
“Rock and roll.” Connor smiled at me. “I love rock and roll.” He raised both of his hands and a continuous stream of fire spewed forth from them, engulfing Heracles in their unyielding mercy.
“I grow impatient.” Hercules announced.
His hand burst out of the wall of flame that engulfed him, seizing me by the throat, hoisting me off the ground with a speed I thought impossible for one his size. His fingers wrapped about my neck with strength that I had never witnessed. Connor was on him, a column of flame flowing from his hands consuming the chest and head of Heracles.
I watched as this man, immersed in flame as he was, did not burn, not even the hair on his head caught fire and with one swift motion he flung me directly at Connor, my body colliding into his, sending us both smashing into the TV. I was struggling to stand, but pain flared up in back, yet I attempted to fight my way through it.
Heracles was walking over to us, slowly, methodically and once he reached Connor he grabbed him up by the front of his shirt and struck him in the face over and over again. I forced myself to my feet and yet Heracles turned and caught me with a brutal back handed blow that sent me careening through the living room, smashing through the kitchen counter and slamming into the refrigerator. I tried to stand, to get back into the fight, but my back had given out and I found that I couldn’t move.
Megan held up her hand. “Stop.”
Heracles paused mid swing, then dropped Connors still body to the ground.
“What is it?” Salome asked.
Ethan was coming down the steps. I wanted to warn him, but I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. I looked over at Connor hoping he was still alive. His face was a bloody mass, crushed and brutalized to the point that nothing of it even appeared distinctly human anymore.
“We have a wolf in our midst.” Megan announced.
“Hey guys, girls.” Ethan said. “Whatcha got going on here?”
“Nothing that is of your concern.” Enoch asserted.
“I’d kinda disagree with you there.” Replied Ethan.
“Just kill him and be done with it.” Salome
To my horror, Ethan’s body began to change, the bones splitting apart then reforming as his frame grew, his mass increasing. Hair began to grow out of his skin and his face lengthened into a snout, rows of predator like teeth supplanting his own. His transformation was quick and brutal and almost in an instant, Ethan was gone and in his place was a Werewolf of considerable design, dense black fur coating his powerful frame and when he howled out into the air, his talon claws flexing, I no longer could believe my own eyes. Heracles made a move towards him and the Werewolf bellowed out in challenge.
“Don’t.” Instructed Megan. “Not yet.”
Heracles held his ground.
“Well if it isn’t the literal wolf in sheep’s clothing.” Megan professed.
“You have it, don’t you?” Growled Ethan, his voice a monstrous thing now. “All this time now and you’ve had it all along.”
How could I have not known? I was pulling myself across the floor with my fingers and even that was impossible to commit too. My back was broken again and a paralyzing effect was spreading further and further throughout my body, my Vampiric healing unable to keep pace. I looked up at the thing that used to be Ethan, at the Werewolf that stood in his stead and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had been playing me the whole time.
“No.” Megan exclaimed realizing her mistake. “He’s a Marauder for the Translucent Man.”
“He knew.” Ethan continued. “He knew that whoever had it would eventually make a play for the girl. All we needed to do was set the dominoes in motion then wait for everything to come to us.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Ethan how could you?
“But I’ve got your scent now.” Ethan howled out. “And the girl’s. I can track you anywhere. There’s no place you can run, no place you can hide.”
“He can’t be allowed to leave.” Megan yelled.
Heracles lunged for him, but the Werewolf dived out the way, crashing up the steps. There was screaming upstairs, then gunshots….
The Vampires were rushing after him. I tried to stand but my body was almost completely paralyzed now. I wanted to cry in pain and yet I didn’t. I refused to admit weakness. Ethan betrayed me, was working with the Translucent Man this whole time, undoubtedly reporting everything we did back to him. I cursed myself for being so stupid. Goodwin and Ethan. They were both at the beach that day. They were both spying on me. One from afar and the other in plain sight. I heard someone walking towards me, their heels clicking on the kitchen floor. I managed to turn my head towards the sound just in time to see Salome kick me in the face and everything turn black.
Chapter 7
The time is now…
“I think she’s waking up.” A voice said.
It was the pain that brought me back from unconsciousness.
“Well it’s about time.” Replied another one.
I wanted to
open my eyes, but a part of me refused.
“Give her some space.” Came a third voice.
I knew that once I opened my eyes I had to deal with whatever came next. I sat up, light flooding my vision, eradicating any lethargy I had left. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. It was something spectacular, a dream or a movie become reality. I found myself inside of some type of research laboratory, yet it was nothing I’ve ever really seen before. Supercomputers seemed as if they…shuddered ever so slightly on the desk that held them. Contraptions composed of gears and steam were everywhere, Victorian in design, yet futuristic as well. There were exoskeletons of what appeared to be automatons in various stages of construction; some appearing so lifelike one would be hard pressed to distinguish them from human, while others took the configuration of arachnids or insects. Still some, I couldn’t even fathom what shape they were meant to be.
The focal point of the room was some type of hovering contraption that altered shape, triangle to tetragonal to orbicular and emanating from it was an energy configuration that surged up into a cylindrical excavated tunnel in roof and disappeared. Yet what was more enigmatic was who was standing before me, or should I say whom.
It was John Rogers.
And John Rogers.
Along with a female who looked remarkably like, John Rogers.
Three distinctive varieties of the same man, all of whom give the impression that they originated from different points in the time stream. The first was young, I would gather no more than seventeen, while the following one could have been no older then forty. The woman, who could have been an exceptionally attractive version of him in drag, was around twenty-two.
“She looks a lot healthier now.” The younger version announced.
“I told you I knew what I was doing.” Exclaimed the female.
“Can you speak?” Asked the third one.
“Why are there three of you?” I asked, getting up from the couch I was resting on. There was some type of Intravenous fluid being pumped into my arm which I immediately pulled out.
