by Dan Kemp
James pressed two fingers to his temple, where an artery was pulsing painfully. "Okay, listen. Please. I've heard about what you do. Fighting the so-called Church. Protecting innocent people from bandits, delivering them somewhere safe. The world needs people like you. That is what I want you to do."
The gathered Disciples were all smiles. "But," James added. "I don’t want to be worshiped. I am not your god. I've already destroyed the Church and soon, I'm going to finally destroy Martin, and then I’ll be gone from this world. If you want to honor my memory, do it by doing as I would have done. But do it for the sake of your fellow man. Not for me. I command it," he finished, hoping that would add some impact.
The hall was filled with a dull roar of conversation. He could see what all this had done to them. They needed him, someone to look for, someone to aspire to. Each and every one of them probably had good reason for needing him, good reason for burying their true selves beneath a false persona. He could imagine how it must feel for them, to suddenly have their world torn down for a second time. But he didn't care.
The five robed men and women were talking amongst themselves, then turned to face him.
"Yes," one said. "If this is what you ask of us, we will do it. For you."
“Not for me. What I'm really asking of you is to forget me. Let me leave in peace."
***
"Do you think it worked?" James asked.
They had driven in silence most of the way east, back across the Maryland border and were now approaching Black Creek once again.
"I think it did," Skye said.
"I hope so." James drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
"If it helps, I'll make sure they listen. When you're gone."
James glanced over at her, but she was leaning back with her eyes closed and didn't notice. "Thanks."
The gates came into view at the end of the road ahead, and they were open by the time he arrived. Sunset was approaching already, and James couldn't believe how quickly the day had passed. There wasn't much time left now. The very thought of it made his chest ache.
He left the van door open for one of Dorian's men, who climbed in and took the vehicle away to wherever they stored them. James was surprised to see Dorian himself descending the ladder on the wall.
"How'd it go?" Dorian asked.
"Well, I think. They seemed genuine, like you said. But time will tell."
"I'll keep an eye on them for you."
"Thank you. Skye said the same."
Dorian glared at her. "Anyway, can you help me out? Our crane is busted and I want to get the new gates up tonight."
"Sure, man. I'll meet you there."
"Thanks," Dorian said. He turned away, but hesitated and turned back, fishing in his pocket for something. He tossed something small and metallic at Skye, who caught it. A pair of keys. "There you go. Address and apartment number is written on there." Then he walked away.
James chuckled. "Congrats." Skye was looking at the keys in disbelief, then she slipped them into her back pocket.
"Thank you, James," she said. "For everything."
"I had nothing to do with that," James said, and it was true. He hadn't spoken a word to Dorian about Skye since their meeting that night at the town hall.
"Well, still. Thank you."
"You're welcome." She hugged him, suddenly taking the breath out of him a bit. James hugged her back. "Go on," he said. "Good luck."
Skye walked off down the sidewalk, wiping the corner of her eye and waving at him as she went.
I'll be home soon, Hope.
James was quite certain Dorian didn't actually need his help lifting the gates. The man hadn't come to terms with James's coming departure. He couldn't blame him, as James himself hadn't fully accepted it yet. But in all his many years of life, there were only a few people he could truly count as friends. He owed this small favor to him, at least.
He found Dorian at the site of the formerly-broken wall, which had now been completely rebuilt around a new metal frame. Once the doors were in place, the town would be sealed in once again. The massive metal gates lay in the middle of the street. Dorian sat atop them.
"Guess you better move," James said.
"What, you can lift a ton and a half of solid metal but you can't do it with me sitting on top?"
"Not with the way your fat ass has ballooned up."
Dorian laughed, but the way he smoothed his shirt down over the tiniest bit of flab at his midsection as he stood up told James the jab had hit home. From anyone else, the comment would have inspired rage, James knew. But that had always been their way.
James stooped down and lifted the first door, hanging it in the frame with little effort. As he moved the second, Dorian scaled the ladder, then tested the gate once he was done. The doors opened, then closed again, much more smoothly than the main gates operated. Finally, Dorian slid down the ladder and joined him.
"Thanks." Dorian stuck a hand out, and James shook it.
"No problem."
"Does it really have to be tomorrow?" Dorian asked, his face looking pained.
James shook his head. "What difference will another day make? You said it yourself. I can't keep running from this."
"Shit fucking sucks man." Dorian’s voice cracked slightly, before he covered it with a cough.
"Yeah. Look, I need you to do something for me."
"Anything," Dorian said, and James knew he meant that.
"I don't know what's going to happen to Hope, once I'm gone. She's strong, even more than me in some ways. But she's not hard like you, and she's not like me either. If she survives, please just look after her."
"You've got it."
"Alright man. Come here." James put his arms out and pulled his friend close.
"See you," Dorian said.
"Until next time."
***
"I'm home," James said, closing the door behind him, but the lights in the house were off. He slipped off his shoes and let his belt and gun fall around his ankles. "Hope?" he called, walking through the living room. There was a light on out back, and the patio door in the kitchen was slightly ajar.
He found her sitting out back. "Hey," she said, smiling when she saw him. James settled in on the bench next to her, slipping an arm around her shoulder. She laid her head against his chest.
"How did it go?"
"It went well. They were much more reasonable."
She giggled. "Didn't seem likely they could be any worse. Oh, where's Skye?"
"Dorian gave her an apartment."
"That was good of him," she said, and he mumbled his agreement. "What about that other girl, the police chief I told you about?"
"Oh, right," he said.
In truth, he had nearly forgotten. His mind had been so preoccupied lately that he hadn't even noticed until Hope pointed it out. Once she had, it was unmistakable. The same mental link he felt with Martin, and with Hope, no matter where they were, was there with that girl as well. It was much weaker, but it was still there. One more thing to do.
"That can wait for morning."
They were quiet for a little while, watching the last of the sun finally disappear beyond the horizon and listening to the trees swaying in the breeze.
"I'm sorry," he said, though those two simple words couldn’t even come close to conveying what he wanted to say to her.
Hope slung an arm around his chest, hanging on tight. "Let's just not talk about it, okay?"
"Alright."
"I love you," Hope said, pulling herself closer to him.
"I love you too."
Jess
"Hey, time to wake up."
Jess started, nearly falling out of the bed.
"Whoa," Rachel, who was just a laughing blur in her vision, said. "Slept in, huh?" Jess sat up against the headboard, rubbing her eyes.
"What time is it?" Jess answered her own question by glancing at the clock on the wall. 10:22. "Man. I'm exhausted."
"Yeah, you w
ere out pretty cold. Everybody needs it once in a while. But, hey, I brought breakfast back from the mess hall."
Jess's stomach rumbled painfully at the mention of food. "Be right there," she said, and Rachel left for the kitchen. The carpet was cool underfoot as she stood up and stretched, first bending to touch her toes then twisting her back in both directions, which elicited a series of satisfying pops and cracks.
She pulled open the dresser drawer, grabbing a pair of yellow pajama pants, which she slipped on over her underwear. This and the tank top she had slept in would do for now.
Their apartment here in Black Creek was really not much smaller than the one they’d shared in Pittsburgh a few years back. Dorian mentioned at one point that her position as chief of police would entitle her to a nicer place eventually, but she was perfectly content for now.
Anything was better than sleeping in her car on the road, or trapped in her father's cabin up in the mountains.
Rachel was sitting at the raised bar in the kitchen. Jess took the stool on the other side, where a breakfast tray already awaited her with scrambled eggs, diced potatoes, and a misshapen wheat roll. Jess tucked in without delay.
"How was yesterday?" Jess asked between bites.
"A bit better," she replied with a slight sigh. "I'm making some progress with Michael and Maria. I think. The others, not so much. I really wish we had somebody with more pediatric experience. Some of those kids really need more than I can offer."
Jess laid her hand over Rachel's. "Well until then, you're all they've got. I'm sure they appreciate it."
"Yeah. I just can't believe what they've gone through." Jess didn't want to know the details, and Rachel knew that. "What's going on with you? Late night last night. Catch Dorian's window breaker yet?"
Jess laughed. "Not quite. Couple of Dorian's men had too much to drink at the bar, got into it. Had to go deal with that, since he's out in the field."
"Feels like people are a little tense at the moment."
"Yeah, you could say that."
As of yesterday morning, Black Creek had officially been sealed off from the outside world once again. Rather than celebratory, the general feeling within the town was like a pipe ready to burst.
Amid whatever strange business was going on with James, the constant broadcasts from the reforming US government, and their leader taking his men out raiding once again, there seemed to be a distinct sense among the residents that there was something major going on to which they weren’t privy.
"There's been a lot of change lately," Jess added. "I think people want more attention on what's best for them here. Less worrying about what's going on out there."
Rachel smirked, having just finished the last of her meal. "Sounds like a campaign speech."
"It is," Jess admitted.
Rachel stood and kissed Jess on the cheek. "I'm gonna shower, then I'll run the trays back to the fire hall. Maybe we can go for a walk later?"
"Sounds good."
Rachel disappeared into the bedroom, and Jess rinsed the trays in the sink. She was just about to flop onto the sofa when there were two sharp knocks on the door. Jess slipped on a light jacket from the closet before opening the door.
It was James. He wore a plain white shirt and brown pants, with a revolver holstered at his hip. His shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a bun, with his bangs hanging down freely on either side of his face. And there were his bright green eyes, looking at her with an unsettling sort of disconnectedness.
"Jess?" he said. "I believe we met."
"Yeah," she answered. "I know who you are."
He gave a half chuckle. "We need to talk. Come on." He turned and walked away as though there were no question about whether she would follow. Jess did, closing the door behind her.
He led her silently down the stairs and out of the apartment building, then around back, where a few empty benches sat in the shade of some trees. He sat, then gestured for her to do the same when she hesitated.
"You know everything about who I am. What I may or may not have mentioned the other night is that I have a deep mental... link with Martin. I can sense when he’s near, and when he’s far away. Perhaps because he shares my blood, or because of the abilities we both possess, or both. In all my millions of years on this earth, I never encountered anyone else like us. So imagine my surprise when I met you." Previously staring off into the distance, he fixed her with a piercing gaze as he finished speaking.
Jess's heart sank. Somehow, he knew. She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat.
James went on. "What's really confusing me though, is that we've met before. Years ago, in Pittsburgh. So I asked myself: was I just so preoccupied with finding Martin at the time that I didn't notice? After all, it took my wife pointing it out for me to even notice you this time. But once she did, I couldn't miss it. Surely I couldn't be so stupid. There had to be a reason I didn't see you the first time. So tell me. Who are you?"
Jess found her voice once again, though it was stammering and hesitant at first. "Martin is my father." James grimaced at this. "When we first met, I had no idea. I can't explain it, but I was just a normal person. I had a job, and a girlfriend, and an apartment. But then Martin... he did something to me. He told me I was his daughter, that he thought I was dead. When he gave his victory speech that day, he brought me on stage and made me watch as he killed all those people. And he just laughed and laughed."
James's eyes went a bit wide. "That was you on stage, who he called his daughter? I thought that was just bullshit."
Jess shook her head. "After, he kept me in a cabin in the mountains. He was messing with my mind, I guess he wanted me to fight with him against you. But I didn't have the powers he thought I did. All he did was erase my mind, and replace it with a new one that was just as confused as the last. Eventually, he killed me. He shot me in the head, and when I woke up he was gone and I remembered everything."
"What did you remember?"
"Hundreds, thousands of lifetimes, stretching back through all of history. There's so much that it makes my head hurt just to think about it, so I've tried not to. As far as I can tell, every fifteen or twenty years my mind just reset itself. I'd pass out one day and wake up the next in a new place with a new set of false memories. I can only remember one childhood, though. And it's true; Martin was there. He's my father."
"Which makes me your grandfather."
"Yeah."
James exhaled sharply, leaning back against the bench. "You said you didn't have the powers he thought you did? What do you have?"
"They're pretty weak. Nothing like either of you can do."
"Go ahead," James said.
Jess looked all around, but they were the only people in sight. She raised her hand, palm outstretched ahead of her. She focused hard, trying to take hold of the earth's power and funnel it through her body. After a moment, a spout of flame shot out of her hand. Jess shook her hand and put it between her thighs, as if to hide what she'd done.
"That's about it. Well, that and I don't die, apparently."
"Can you be hurt? It's an important distinction," he added, responding to what must have been a confused expression on her face.
"I mean... I've had bad cuts, broken bones. Maybe I heal a little faster than normal. I remember one time I cut myself trying to cook. When I went back to get the stitches out, the skin had grown completely over them. They basically had to cut me open again to get them out."
James didn't answer, and appeared to be thinking. "I don't know what all this means," Jess said, her voice strained.
"Me either," he said. "My guess? Whatever it is inside me that makes me what I am was passed to Martin, intact but twisted and corrupt. By passing it on to you, its strength was diluted even more. You don't die, but you could probably be killed. I can only assume Martin healed you after he shot you. I'm sure his hope was that confronting your brain with its own immortality would unlock all of your potential. Once he saw that you wouldn't heal
on your own, he did it for you, hoping the effect would be the same. Which I guess it was. In the past, I suspect that your brain reset itself whenever your immortality became confusing, as a way of coping."
"What do you mean?" Jess asked.
"Well, if you haven't realized it yet, the problem with living forever is eventually all your friends realize you haven't aged a day in decades. Rather than figure out how to deal with that, your mind short-circuited and tricked itself. That's just my guess."
