by Jacob Whaler
“Stop him!” Little John yells, his voice in shreds. “Stop the man with the laser sword!”
CHAPTER 112
Matt closes his eyes. The air flashes white around him. The next instant, he’s standing at the side of Ryzaard, thrusting his arms out with the Stone in both hands. A jagged strand of neon white jumps out of its tip above the heads of Jessica and his dad.
Ryzaard’s blade comes down. As it slams into Matt’s light, it comes to an instant stop. Filaments of plasma explode at the point of contact. Shockwaves of pain surge up Matt’s arm.
Their faces are only inches apart.
The image of the Woman forms in Matt’s mind. Her words pulse through his body.
We are the Allehonen.
Pouring all his strength into his Stone, Matt raises his arms up and throws back Ryzaard’s blade.
His tweed jacket now just hanging threads, Ryzaard loses his balance and stumbles backward into the wall. Two black bodies rush at him, but he regains his footing, twists and swings his Stone like a baseball bat. Their heads part from their shoulders and thud to the floor like bowling balls. Their bodies drop into lifeless heaps.
A black figure lunges at Matt and rams into his side, pushing him off balance. Another black ninja swings a metal bar down on Matt’s right hand. He feels the bones crack, and shards of pain shoot up his arm. His fingers uncurl, and the Stone rolls away. As screams of pain shred his vocal cords, he drops to his knees and searches frantically for the Stone.
A tall shape looms over him and kicks the Stone away. It slides across the floor and lands on the blue carpet, where it stops glowing and turns black.
Matt looks up.
An ugly grimace stares down. “You will not escape me.” Ryzaard swings the Stone and its energy blade down.
All Matt can do is lift his arms in a useless attempt to block the blow.
A dark blur moves across Matt’s line of vision. He turns his head to see an old knife with a black wooden handle sinking deep into Ryzaard’s chest.
Ryzaard staggers back onto the blue carpet and drops his Stone next to the metallic cube. It fades to black. Clutching the handle of the embedded dagger, he stares at his own blood staining his hands.
Taking in great gulps of air, Matt feels the low hum of the cube. Blue telltale lights glow along its sides indicating that it’s engaged and working. He turns to see his dad with an outstretched arm and hand, still crouched in perfect knife-throwing form.
Black figures swarm over Ryzaard, holding him down as he struggles to stand. Matt can see him trying to use his Stone, but he’s on the blue carpet next to the cube. And the cube is on.
Jumping to his feet, Matt sees his Stone and rushes to scoop it up. The only thing he can think about is getting back to Jessica and his dad and jumping them out of the room before Ryzaard can follow. In a couple of bounds, he’s back at her side. She’s still unconscious, but breathing.
“I’m not going to lose you, Matt.” His dad kneels down and gives him a big hug. “I’m not going to lose you ever again.”
Shaking uncontrollably, Matt wraps his arms around his dad. “You never did. You never will.”
Kent’s eyes sweep across the room. “We have to get out of here before a full security detail walks through the door.”
Black figures surround the three of them. One of them slips off the cloth that covers his face. Kent recognizes the young man who has followed him around the City for several days.
“Come with us,” the young man says. “We’ll take you to safety.”
“Who are you?” Kent says.
“We are the Children. Little John sent us. To protect you.”
Kent looks at the forehead of the young man and sees a small lens no bigger than a drop of water. He stares at it for an instant, and then nods. “Thanks, Little John.”
The young man’s eyes drop to the huge swelling on Matt’s broken wrist and Jessica’s still body. “We can’t take anyone injured with us. We have to go back the same way we came. The elevator shaft. Ropes are waiting for us to repel down.”
“I’m not leaving them here.” Kent’s eyes go down to Matt and Jessica. “I’ll carry them both myself, if I have to.”
Matt smiles. “It’s OK, dad. I’ve got one of these.” He holds up the Stone in his good hand, glowing bright purple. “Go with them. I’ll take Jessica with me. We’ll find you.”
“But—”
“I’ll explain later,” Matt says. “We have to leave now.”
“Leave? How?” Kent says.
Matt kneels beside Jessica and strokes her face. “I’m taking you away.”
She opens her eyes slightly and looks up, managing a painful smile. “Where are we going this time?”
“Away. Far away.”
Matt leans down, cradles Jessica in his arms, and looks back at his dad. “Soon, Dad. I’ll see you soon.”
Kent’s forehead turns into deep lines. “I don’t understand. Where are you going? And how are you going to get there?”
“There’s no time. But don’t worry. It’ll all make sense later.”
“But Matt—”
“I love you, dad. You saved me. Again.”
Matt breathes deeply, in once and out once. He grins at his dad, raises the Stone in the palm of his left hand and closes his eyes.
There’s a brilliant flash, and Matt and Jessica vanish from the room.
Kent stares at the empty spot in near disbelief. “My son,” he whispers. “My beautiful son.”
The black figures pull him to his feet and toward the door. Kent scans the confusion and mess in the room, his eyes wide with amazement.
Ryzaard is on the floor, eyes closed, in a pool of blood.
Near the door, the toe of Kent’s shoe hits against something hard, knocking it against the wall with a loud thud. It disappears into a mass of debris from the broken sofas and table.
One of the black-clad men looks down. “What’s that?” he says.
“Just a rock,” one of the other men says.
Kent turns. “It’s not just a rock. Didn’t you see what they were doing with those? I have to get it.” He starts to go back to find it.
“Little John’s orders are to deliver you back to him alive.” One of the men grabs Kent and pushes him forward. “He didn’t say anything about rocks.”
Pushing back, Kent breaks free and runs to the pile of debris, dropping down to his knees. “We have to find it.”
Ryzaard stirs a few meters away. “Send security,” he says, staring at the pool of blood around him. “And a medic. I’m injured.”
“On the way.” An unseen female voice yells from speakers somewhere in the room. “A full squad of jarheads will be there in less than a minute.”
“I need them now!” Ryzaard turns and quickly scans the room, eyes sweeping past Kent. His fingers wrap around the knife still protruding from his chest. There’s a sucking sound as he slowly pulls it out. Hand trembling uncontrollably, the blade slips to the floor. He struggles to push himself up to his elbows, but falters. His body twists as he drops down onto his back, staring at the ceiling for an instant with a glassy eyed look. Head falling loosely to the side, his cheek drops into the pool of blood beneath him.
The lights flicker and go dark.
Four men surround Kent. “No time to find anything,” one of them says.
Stealing a glance at Ryzaard, Kent looks up and nods. “Lead the way.”
Together, they run from the room.
CHAPTER 113
It’s a perfect day for skiing.
Of course, on Matt’s world, it’s always a perfect day for skiing.
Wearing khaki shorts and a muscle shirt, he stands at the top of the slope, the tips of his skis hanging out over the edge. He steps onto the boards and wiggles his toes. Transparent liquid bindings rise up out of the skis and cradle his tanned bare feet.
“Ready?” he says, looking to his left.
Without a word, Jessica flies off the edge in a
crouched position and shoots down the slope, her skis biting into the velvet snow and making a long smooth arc.
“Hey, wait for me.” Matt launches himself into a tuck and comes down onto the white cream without a sound. He bolts straight down the slope on an intercept course with Jessica’s arc.
She looks back to see him. With a gentle laugh and a shake of her head, she straightens her line, bends her body forward and lets the skis run on their own.
Two lines shoot down the mountain, one slightly in front of the other.
They stop at the bottom in a spray of snow that covers the trunks of the palm trees marking the border of the jungle. The liquid bindings fall away onto the grass underfoot, and they step off their skis, out of breath, warm air filling their lungs.
Jessica turns and looks up at the mountain towering behind them.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, sliding an arm around Matt’s waist.
“Just like I always dreamed,” Matt says.
“Another run?” Jessica looks up into Matt’s face. “And then a swim in the ocean before dinner and a fire for two on the beach?”
“Awesome plan. Sushi?” Matt’s eyebrows lift.
“Fine with me,” Jessica says.
An hour later, their toes are buried in the sand, backs against a log, stomachs full, watching the sun slip below the ocean’s waterline. A light chill blows through the fire at their feet stirring up a cloud of glowing sparks.
Matt pulls Jessica closer to his warm body. Their heads come together like two crystal glasses touching in a toast. Neither of them speaks as they take in the sunset, streaks of brilliant crimson bursting from an orange center.
“How did you make it so incredible?” Jessica asks.
“The sky?” Matt leans back. “Easy. I just jumped a few thousand clicks to the east and made a volcano erupt. Filled the sky with ash. No big deal. All for you.”
Jessica’s feet dig into the warm sand. “It must be nice to have your own world.” Her fingers trace a line down Matt’s profile.
“I’m not complaining.” Matt turns to find Jessica’s lips already waiting for him.
They come together until the last sliver of the sun sinks below the horizon. When they pull apart, their eyes find each other.
“What about your dad?” Jessica says. “Any idea where he might have gone?”
“Something tells me Dad will be all right. It looked like he had some very capable friends to take care of him.” Matt lays his head back against the log and lets his eyelids drop down. “He’s an amazing guy. I have no idea how he found us. We never would have made it without him. He was right all along. After all I’ve been through, I didn’t realize what a dangerous place the world is. But my dad did.” His arm wraps tighter around Jessica.
She pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, deliberately. “When are we going back?”
“Home?” Matt chews on his lower lip. “To be honest, I don’t want to think about it right now.” He shifts his body into a more comfortable position for sleep.
“He’ll be waiting for us.”
“I know,” Matt says. “Naganuma warned me.”
“What else did he say?”
“That Ryzaard would destroy the world.”
Jessica pulls herself up into a sitting position. “Are you going to let that happen?”
Matt’s hand slips into the side pocket of his utility pants. Without any conscious effort, his fingers find the Stone and wrap around it. His eyes still closed, a grin snakes across his face.
“Never.”
END OF BOOK ONE
Keep reading for a preview of
STONES
(HYPOTHESIS)
BOOK TWO OF THE STONES SERIES
by
Jacob Whaler
CHAPTER 1
Ryzaard snaps his eyes open to see the face of Jing-wei staring down at him.
“Where the hell am I?”
The face jumps back, trailing long black hair, to reveal a white ceiling and a blue IV drip line. The smell of alcohol and dying bodies floats in the air.
“Lennox Hill Hospital.” Jing-wei’s face comes back into view, eyes wide open. “They’re about to take your clothes off and move you to surgery. I’ve stalled them as long as I can. Why has it taken you so long to wake up?”
Ryzaard ignores the question and thrusts his right hand into the outer pocket of what’s left of his tweed jacket, searching frantically for a hard object. His fingers find it and relax, allowing his eyes to close for a few seconds. Then they shoot open again.
“The other Stone,” he says. “The one that belonged to Naganuma. Where is it?” He inhales sharply and looks directly into Jing-wei’s dark pupils. Deep folds form on his forehead.
Her voice trembles. “In your other pocket.”
His left hand digs into his jacket and folds around the Stone. A long breath of air escapes from his lips, and he relaxes again, shoulders falling down to the bed. “Did you follow my instructions?”
“Yes.”
“To the letter?”
She looks around the room and speaks in a whisper. “To the letter. I was the first one to your side and found the other Stone near the wall, a few meters from Naganuma, under some debris. I picked it up with the tool and put it into your pocket. Then I put your own hand into the pocket and made sure your skin was in direct contact with the Stone before allowing anyone to touch you.”
“Did you touch it? Even for a second?” Ryzaard draws in another quick breath of air, and his chest rises. He studies her face, searching for the truth.
“No, absolutely not. I had nano-gloves on the whole time. As per your instructions.”
“Good girl.” Ryzaard’s chest relaxes, and he tries to raise himself up.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood. They say you should be dead. They say you’ll need multiple transfusions and extensive reconstructive surgery. The knife went in deep and did a lot of damage.”
“Nonsense,” Ryzaard says. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll put myself back together. Make sure we are alone.”
Before Jing-wei can move to the door, a middle-aged nurse with a crisp white uniform and bright red hair in a bun enters, silent as a snake.
“I thought I told you to leave.” The nurse shoots a glance at Jing-wei. “This man is about to die. He must be prepped for surgery immediately.”
Ryzaard looks up at Jing-wei and makes no attempt to whisper. “Get her the hell out of here. I am not having surgery. This is nothing more than a flesh wound. I can heal it myself.”
“The patient is experiencing a hallucinatory reaction to massive blood loss.” The nurse approaches the bed. Her face thrusts itself into Ryzaard’s view and looks directly at Jing-wei. “I’m sorry,” she says in an obvious attempt to speak in a gentle tone. “The knife went in deep and opened up a major artery. The internal hemorrhaging will eventually result in hypovolemic shock, which I don’t expect you to understand. Long story short, he’s in danger of immediate cardiovascular collapse.” She reaches across Ryzaard and clamps down on Jing-wei’s arm, her voice shedding any attempt at civility. “You are going to leave now.”
“But—”
“If you don’t comply, I’ll have security here in thirty seconds.” The nurse reaches into her pocket and pulls out a stainless steel jax that looks more like a scalpel than a communications device.
Ryzaard reaches up and grabs Jing-wei’s other arm. “Don’t let this butcher touch me.”
Jing-wei looks down at Ryzaard and winks. She turns back to the nurse and forces a smile. “I was just on my way out.” Moving away, she picks her purse up off a nearby table and walks around the nurse to the door, heels clicking on the hard floor.”
“Do not leave me,” Ryzaard says.
The nurse’s eyes follow Jing-wei with a cold stare all the way to the door.
When Jing-wei reaches out for the handle, the nurse turns her attention back to Ryzaard.
Dropping her fingers into her
purse, Jing-wei pulls out a short silver tube with a protruding needle. She pivots, swinging her hand. The needle rams into the back of the nurse’s neck.
She immediately collapses to the floor.
Jing-wei shuts the door. “We don’t have much time, maybe ten minutes before she wakes up.”
“I only need five,” Ryzaard says. “Now help me get my hands on this wound.”
Four minutes later, he opens his eyes and pulls back his hands. “That should do it. Good as new.” Still dressed in the remnants of his tweed jacket, he raises himself up into a sitting position and wipes the blood off his palms onto the bed sheet. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” He bounds off the bed and walks to the door, followed by a wide-eyed Jing-wei. Then he stops, as if he had just remembered something important. “Where’s my Boker?”
“Your what?”
“My Boker. The dagger. I always carry it with me.”
Jing-wei looks frantically around the room, overturning chairs and knocking over a lamp. Her eyes fall on a crimson stained towel wrapped around a long skinny object lying on a tray by the sink. “Here it is.” She picks up the towel. The blade falls out onto her bare hands, leaving a red smear. Drawing her hand back, the dagger drops to the floor with a clang.
Ryzaard rushes to her side and picks it up, wiping it on the towel. “Let’s go,” he says, gripping the dagger as if he’s about to turn and thrust it into the nearest person.
Outside the door, another nurse walks briskly down the hall toward them. Her eyes move across Ryzaard’s body, and come to rest on the knife in his hand. Eyebrows rise high on her forehead. “Dr. Ryzaard, where are you going? They’re waiting for you in surg—”
“As you can see, I am fully recovered.” He parts his dirty jacket and pulls up the blood-soaked shirt, exposing a belly devoid of wounds, and shoots a glance at Jing-wei. “Buddhist faith healing. I thank you for what you have done. Now, with all due respect, I must leave now. Urgent business calls me away.” He walks a few paces down the hall and then turns back to the nurse, still standing open-mouthed in the corridor. “I believe your colleague is experiencing a bit of light-headedness. She is resting in the room. You may want to check on her.”
