Forging Truth (The Truth Saga)

by Raymond Masters

  I was dazed. I had not expected this. Still battling my conscience, I noticed Gwen running toward the dugout. Apparently, she had heard the screaming, too. I couldn’t not act any longer; I had to do something. I put away my staff, taking off in a sprint. I yelled for her to stop, to wait for me; but it was too late. She was already moving down the ramp and into the dugout. Gwen’s screams picked up where Josh’s had fallen silent.

  “What have you done?” She issued a deafening shriek as she did a three-sixty, flying back up the ramp.

  At the top of the ramp, she swooned and fell to the ground. I picked up speed. Despite her hateful demeanor, I would not let my inaction cost another life. When I reached her, I stopped long enough to scoop her into my arms. I slung her into a fireman’s carry and took off toward the press conference and its massive security presence.

  18

  I could hear the presidents still taking questions, as we got closer to the stage. At the perimeter, I ran into the chief of Statue Security. He had been talking with one of his guards at the back of the crowd. He spotted me sprinting toward him, with the girl in my arms, and motioned for the other guard to help me. They eased her to the ground, checking for a pulse. “She is okay, I think. She just fainted.” I was panting harshly, but I continued. “Listen, you’ve got to get a team to the dugout vending area at the docks. I’m afraid there has been a murder.”

  “A murder? Are you sure,” the chief asked. His badge identified him as Stephen Marks.

  “Yes! Of course, I’m bloody sure. Get out there, now, and you might stand a chance of actually catching him at the scene!”

  “Catching who? Did you happen to see the murderer?”

  “Richard Van Parson.”

  “Richard Van Parson? Then, who the hell is that up there?” He motioned to where President Perry was just relinquishing the lectern to Van Parson.

  “How did he … how did he get here so quickly?” I wondered again about teleportation.

  “Mister, I don’t know what you’re pulling, but you’re going to have to come with me. I’m taking you into custody until this is all sorted out.” And turning to the other guard, he added, “Byers, I need you to get a team down to that dugout, now! And radio for a medic to come for the woman.”

  As he led me away, I looked back over my shoulder at the lectern where Van Parson was thanking the men for their candid answers. As he spoke, he didn’t look at the presidents or even the assembled cameras. He stared directly at me. To drive the final nail home, he winked and fell silent after his closing comments. The smug look told me he knew he’d gotten away with it.

  19

  “Who’s she,” I asked as Chief Marks ushered me past the double doors and led me into his office. We were in one of the modular units on the outskirts of the island. Sitting on his couch, was an attractive blonde woman in a striped pantsuit. She was reading a magazines from the stack on the table before her.

  “She’s a friend of mine; she … lost someone … Look, let’s just get down to what you know about this murder?”

  “Murder,” asked the woman.

  “Jessica, please, can you just give us a little bit of space. Sorry, look, something’s happened. This man says there’s been a murder down by the docks and, supposedly, Van Parson’s involved.”

  “Van Parson, but I thought you said he was going to be the moderator today.”

  “I did, and he was. He never left the stage. Look, Jess, I seriously need just a second here. I don’t even know what’s going on, myself.”

  “Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt, guys. I’m telling you, I know what I saw. Richard Van Parson was there at the dugout, where a man was violently murdered. Radio your man, Briars, or whatever his name was. He can tell you.”

  “Byers,” corrected Marks. Deciding to take my advice, he picked up his radio from off of his desk. Pressing the button, he asked, “Byers, you there? Got anything?”

  Byers voice crackled through. “Uh, sir, I don’t want to say too much over the radio, but first impressions would indicate the man was correct about what happened. The who, though, is where his story needs some work. I just hung up with the medics. I thought you’d probably want a status report on the girl. She’s regained consciousness, and, well, she’s talking, sir,” Byers trailed off.

  “Well,” prompted Marks, nervous about whatever Byers wasn’t telling him.

  “Honestly, sir, I don’t think we should discuss it over the radio. I’m dialing you right now on our secure line.” No sooner was it spoken, than the receiver at the corner of his desk started to ring.

  “Okay, go ahead, Byers. Lay it on me.” There was a long pause while Byers gave Chief Marks the sensitive news. As he listened, his features first tensed, and then quickly slackened. Finally, he had to sit down next to his friend. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I understand. This is way too big for us to handle. Just come back here, and we’ll alert the service. One thing at a time, alright?”

  Stephen Marks hung up the phone, and, in a flash, he lunged across the room at me. Grabbing my work shirt, he swung me around so my face connected with the door. Had it not been so unexpected, the move never would have been successful. He was already at a size disadvantage, and despite his post, the man was not a skilled fighter. I allowed him to hold me there for a few seconds more before asking, “Would you mind telling me just what you think you’re doing, lad? What was all of that about on the phone, eh? What’s the news that’s got your dander up?”

  He released his hold and went back to the sofa. “You were adamant, before – Van Parson is the murderer – despite the fact he has a worldwide audience that watched him mediate between two world powers during one of the most important press conferences this country has ever seen.”

  “Yeah, so? I don’t know how he pulled it off, but there are ways you’d never imagine. I heard your boy on the radio say Gwen’s awake and talking. What’s she saying? Did she finger VP; is she validating my claim?”

  “No. Though, to be honest, I wish she were. According to Ms. Bates, it was France’s Ambassador Andres that murdered Mr. Sanders. The hell of it is the Ambassador has diplomatic immunity. He’ll never see charges. That’s the least of his problems, though. America is looking to lynch the French, and all this did was tie the noose.”

  “What! Why would she say that? What motivation would she possibly have?” I wondered. “That’s not what happened. I know it’s not. I don’t know how he pulled it off, but I swear to you Van Parson is behind this. The truth shall out.”

  “Look, Mr. …”

  “Caduceus, just Caduceus.”

  “Right, Caduceus. Look, I agree with you 100% on that one. The truth will out. When it does, I’m going to need to get to you for further questioning. I want you to stay at the island or campsite; don’t leave. Until then, you are free to go. I will ask you not to breath a word of this to anyone else. No one. Also, take some advice, and drop your delusions of Van Parson’s involvement. The guy’s all that’s holding this place together right now.”

  I couldn’t stay around these lies any longer. What had happened? It should have been cut and dry. Where had the ambassador’s involvement stemmed from? Why had the girl lied about such a thing? None of it made sense. I resolved to confront her, myself. “Thanks for the counsel,” I said, sarcastically, and reached for the leftmost door. As I opened mine, the other door swung inward, and in walked Richard Van Parson. He nodded at me as I passed, then he stopped and turned toward me.

  “Ah, yes, the Dickens fan. Good to see you, again. How did you like the conference, hmm? Some of those questions were murder, just gruesome, but that’s politics.” He gave me that same grin-and-wink combo that made him so loved by the masses. It only made me want to do him bodily harm.

  Just as quickly as I had snatched up the park bench on that first night, I grabbed him by the neck with both hands. Marks and his friend moved forward, but Van Parson halted their progress with a flap of his hand. “You do not fool me, sir. You might deceive those co
wed reporters and their fool viewers, but I know your secret. I know you killed that boy.”

  He could have met my violence with his own. He could have threatened me with charges. He did neither. Instead, he looked me square in the face and said, “Careful, healer. I would be careful of the fights you pick. After all, there isn’t, exactly, a shortage of witnesses that could speak to your dislike of the victim, now is there? Now, unhand me, and get the hell out of here, peasant.”

  20

  I left the security office feeling more alone than ever. Why did I have to follow my instincts with Josh? Why couldn’t I have stayed at the conference and let things be. But I had never been any good at that, really. No, it was my nature. I resolved, again, that I would go to Gwen and see what she had to say. Perhaps, if I could speak with her, face-to-face, having been there myself, I could make her see reason. There was absolutely no way she had seen the ambassador. Someone had gotten to her. Someone had something on her. Had to be the case.

  I was about halfway to the medic tents when I thought I sensed something out of the ordinary. I kept thinking someone (or a few someones) was following me. They were pretty well trained, I’ll give them that; they knew how to keep their distance. They also knew how to flank their prey. I tried to sense out my pursuers, and reckoned there must have been four or five of them. I went on, pretending not to notice. I wanted them to make the first move.

  I didn’t have to wait too long as it turned out. Two heavily armored men in VPI uniforms converged on me from my right and left sides. Tweedledee and Tweedledum. They each brandished semi-automatic machine guns with more bells and whistles than your standard number. I had no intentions of finding out what any of their functions were. “Good day, gentlemen, may I help you?”

  “Stay right where you are, sir. We have orders to detain you, at all costs,” said the one to the right.

  “Detain me,” I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Is that why he’s sent you? To detain me, like he detained Josh Sanders? I will have no part of that, thank you very much.” Just then, two more came over the rise in front of me, also training weapons on me. “Ah, good, now we’ve got just enough for a good game of poker. Who brought the cards, then?” Using my flippancy as a distraction, I squared my frame, and summoned my staff. “Right, then, I’ll deal. Everyone ante up.” I used one of the more common blast patterned I knew to hit them all at once with a blinding flash of searing heat. While they were down, I turned to run, and ran smack into a hambone of a fist.

  The sneaky S.O.B’s punch knocked me to the ground and loosened a number of teeth. I’d love to say my face was responsible for at least some damage dealt to the offending fist, but I’m sure that’s just a dream. In my surprise, I lost my grip on my staff, and it went bouncing end over end, landing several feet away. Thankfully, ol’ Caduceus was a brawler from way back and trained to use the body as a weapon when no others were at hand. I kicked my feet out hard into both of my attacker’s beefy knees. He gave out a cry and fell atop me.

  “Talmage, right?” I said, rolling him over so I was riding him now. “Can I tell you a secret, sir? I’ve been wondering if you were as tough as you look.” I slammed my head down hard into the bridge of his nose. It exploded, and his blood ran over both of us. “Guess not, then.”

  Enraged, he threw me off of him. Grabbing at his destroyed face, he said, “By Dose! You broke by dose!” Why did they always have to say the same thing, every time? It used to be comical, actually, but once you’ve broken as many as I have, it’s just downright annoying. He lashed out, clipping my temple. I swayed, but remained standing. Now that I was aware of my attacker, I was able to take my stance. I lowered my center of gravity and mentally played out the next moves my opponent would make.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t him I had to worry about. The other guards had come to and were once again pointing their guns at me.

  I had run out of options. I lowered my hands, unclenching my fists at my sides. I was at their mercy, unless I could think of something quickly. “No hard feelings, eh, Talmage?” Stupid mouth. He kneed me in the gut and down I went for a second time. He followed the knee by lacing his hands together and bringing them down full force on my exposed back. “Guess so.” I croaked.

  He was raring back to deliver a healthy kick to my ribcage when, all of a sudden, it all went white and everything froze. It lasted less than a second. I tried to focus, but all I could see were those little dots you get by putting too much pressure on your eyes far too long. When my vision cleared, I noticed my attackers were out for the count. Then, I turned my attention to the light source and found myself kneeling there, looking up into the face of our much-heralded guardian angel.

  What a sight, indeed. He had this bright and skin-tight patina of light around him. He didn’t look to me like he was on fire, like some of the other witnesses had reported. At times, though, his aura did flicker like flame. The wings he wore were of a golden-white hue, which were just a shade darker than the rest of his aura. Through all of that, I could just make out the clothes and muted features of the man underneath. These were the plain clothes of a workingman. Some form of uniform, from the looks of it.

  I reached out to touch him, but he backed away. Then, nodding, he took my hand and helped me to my feet. The energy coursing through this man was astounding. It was like every good feeling you’ve ever felt, rolled into one. I tell you, I felt younger than I have in years. It was almost more than this ol’ ticker could process. I dusted myself off, leaned over to regain my staff, and stood to thank this stranger. I half expected him to be gone, like in the story of baby Carolina. Instead, I was startled to find the lights of the man fading and the wings already tucked away somewhere. He swayed lamely on his feet before the lights went out completely. Literally. The man fell to the ground. At my feet lay not an angel, but an unconscious security guard. Whatever that trick with the light had been, it had left this man’s endurance drained.

  Talmage and the rest of Van Parson’s men could regain their feet at any moment. I couldn’t leave him there unprotected. He had saved my life just moments before. They would, no doubt, tear the man apart, if they found him in this condition. Afterwards, they would be inclined to take him back to their master and any number of tests and experiments.

  I bent and scooped my new friend into my arms, much the way I had done Gwen, a short time ago. “Oh, I have got to be out of my bleedin’ mind, here. There’s no place like home.” With decidedly less effort than I had anticipated, I made the decision, and transported the first living beings I had ever teleported. It was amazing, truly a rush.

  Too bad you slept through it. And for days after. I was worried the porting might’ve scrambled you up a bit. Now, story time is over. Eat your food, it’s getting cold.”

  COMING TO TERMS

  1

  What had he said? Had I perhaps misjudged my host? I had convinced myself he was just some nice old man, some Good Samaritan. Granted, he’s a bit eccentric, but how many old men do you know that aren’t, at least a little, eccentric? Of course, it can be argued, there’s a razor’s difference between eccentricity and full-blown batshit. “Okay, C, I think I’ve heard enough.”

  “Yep. Knew you’d have that reaction. Who wouldn’t?”

  “Stop! Just stop it, all right?”

  “You said you wanted every detail of the – Oomph!” I pushed past him, heading for the door.

  “Wait! Don’t go through that door, yet, or you’ll miss the sunset.” He warned.

  Well, that was certainly the response I expected. “You’re something else, sir,” I said as I reached for the doorknob. As my hand found purchase, I stopped cold. The sunset? But we’ve been on the porch for hours; it’s got to be well into the night or possibly even early morning by now. So then, why was the reflection in the doorway that of a mocking rainbow sunset? “You slipped something into my drink.”

  “I most certainly did not. Even if I had, you’ve not even opened yer root beer, much less taken a
drink.”

  “My food, then,” I countered. Caduceus only shook his head, a knowing expression danced upon his face. I was fishing, and, unfortunately, I knew it. I had only attempted to take a small bite earlier, and it had been much too hot to eat. “Then … Then … Well, what then?”

  “My boy, I am no fibber. Had I not told you the sunset was special?” I did not respond; only looked on skeptically. “Well, I’ll answer for you: Yes, yes I did tell you that. And now that your eyes have been opened, you can see it, too. I wonder, do you recall just what else I had said was special, here?”

  I wanted to move. I wanted to run inside and not look back. I stayed where I was. “The …” I couldn’t think. I had been drugged, surely. But part of me didn’t believe that. It was that part that remembered for me. “It was the water, wasn’t it? The stream. You said the deer like to drink from this end of the stream, because the water’s a little special. How special? What special? Like the sunset, special?” Despite my desire to do otherwise, my body turned fully toward him. He smiled. That got me going, I moved in on him, excited now. “What, Caduceus, what are you not saying? Would you, please, quit grinning like that and just tell me.”

  “And have you call me a liar again? No. Thank. You. I think, ‘burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice, and I shame myself.’”

  “I never said you were a liar, per se. Just, please, I’m listening now.”

  “Fine. Fine, I’ll enlighten you a bit. But first, I need you to do something for me. I’m a wee bit sensitive when it comes to people not trying my cooking, could you just humor this old man, and eat some o’ the meal I prepared for you?”