The Final Life of Nathaniel Moon

by Shawn Inmon

  “I take it back. You’re not so stupid, after all.”

  Nathaniel nodded, then looked to the west. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and he watched the final faint glow of the day fade away. He thought briefly of his small house, the peace and quiet, the friendships he had enjoyed there. Finally, he stared straight up into the sudden twilight, looking for an answer he could not find.

  “Too late to look for God, boy.”

  “Never too late for that.” Nathaniel drew a deep breath. “Okay, then.” Nathaniel stood up and dusted the grass off his jeans. “Nothing else for it, then.” He took three strides toward the man on the truck, whose eyes grew wide. He scrambled up and stood on the bumper, then stepped up onto the bed of the truck, so he could look down on Nathaniel. He pointed the gun at Nathaniel’s chest and pulled the trigger.

  The bullet struck him just below the breastbone and staggered him back a few steps.

  Nathaniel closed his eyes, and the hole healed itself.

  “Holy shit, what kind of cyborg-mutant-alien shit is that?

  Nathaniel took three more steps toward the man.

  The man on the truck, realizing the gun was no good, dropped it behind him. “You’re making me nervous, boy.” He held out the switch in his right hand and shook it threateningly.

  “It’s not me making you nervous. You’re nervous because you know you’re lost, and still hoping to be found, but it’s almost too late, at least for this life.”

  The man glared at Nathaniel. “Fuck you, smart guy.”

  He reached his right hand out toward Nathaniel and dropped the switch.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  For a frozen moment, all remained quiet.

  So quiet, in fact, that Nathaniel heard the switch nestle into the soft green grass.

  As it did, the dual-fuse igniter set off hundreds of pounds of Tovex Blastrite Gel, which in turn erupted a dozen barrels of ammonium nitrate and nitromethane.

  Hell came to earth.

  The blast eradicated the truck, and the man standing in it. They were both simply gone. The heat, the pure, destructive, power of the explosion, turned man, truck, and contents into minute bits of detritus.

  Nathaniel stood, only a few feet away, head bowed, arms extended toward the blast.

  He was not eradicated. He lifted his face into the force of the blast and accepted it, sought it out. He pulled everything, every bit of it, into himself. The heat, the energy, the hundreds of pounds of nails packed into the truck to inflict maximum damage, all poured into Nathaniel, but did not destroy him.

  Moments after the blast erupted, it was gone. The truck, the man, everything, was simply gone. Where it had once been, a single man stood, unwavering.

  Nathaniel once again lifted his face to the darkening sky and elevated his fists. When his hands were at their apex, he straightened his fingers out and a blast of pure, white light poured into the sky. It continued for what felt like an eternity. The thousands who had gathered could only watch, squinting and shielding their eyes from the brightness. The entire area had become brighter than noon on a clear summer day.

  When the light faded away, twilight returned. Almost instantly, frogs and crickets began to sing.

  Nathaniel turned and looked for Jon. You can go get Katie now, brother. She’s safe.

  Uniformed cops and men in dark suits ran toward him in a full sprint. Nathaniel stood and waited for them. A moment later, he was surrounded. The men were agitated, fighting over who was in charge, whether it was a federal or local crime scene, and, finally, whether it was a crime scene at all. These were men who were used to following a straight-line narrative through life, and everything they thought they knew had just gone up in a beam of light. They were also mindful that they had just seen a man—a single, unimpressive man—do what they all knew was impossible. If he could do that, what else was he capable of?

  Through the argument, Nathaniel stood patiently. He had no idea what was coming, but he knew that life as he had known it was over.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Finally, an older man in a black suit, white shirt, and red tie approached the group. He still had a full head of hair, but it was pure white. The men at the fringes of the small crowd moved aside to let him pass. The man approached Nathaniel, cocked his head at him with a squint, and said, “I’m Special Agent Tim Johnson, FBI, Portland field office.”

  Nathaniel nodded, but didn’t speak.

  “Can you tell me what just happened here? Because I saw it with my own eyes, and I still don’t have any idea.”

  “Sure, I can tell you. I tried to talk to him, but it was no use. He was absolutely intent on blowing up the school, and doing as much damage as he could. Once I saw I couldn’t stop him, I baited him into detonating the bomb. I was worried that he might shoot me before he did that, and if he did, I wouldn’t have been able to absorb the blast.”

  “Absorb the blast.”

  “Yes. I sought out all the energy of the bomb, all the damage it was going to do, then pulled it inside myself. I converted it to energy and released it in a way that wouldn’t harm anyone.”

  “The damndest thing is, that’s exactly what I saw with my own eyes, but I still can’t accept that. Until we get this straightened out, we’re going to keep you with us as our guest.” Johnson looked around at the uniformed officers. “I don’t want to take him back to Portland right now. Mind if we use your station until I figure out what I’m going to do with him?”

  A Middle Falls police officer stepped forward and said, “That’ll be fine. I’ll let the chief know to expect us.”

  Johnson looked at Nathaniel like he was a bug under a microscope. “We’d like you to accompany us, and one way or another, you’re going to. You’re not under arrest, but we are going to handcuff you for everyone’s safety on the way to the station.”

  Behind Johnson, an officer murmured, “Like a pair of cuffs is gonna hold a guy who just did that.”

  Nathaniel shrugged, and put his hands behind his back. Another man in a dark suit stepped forward and put the cuffs on him.

  The rest of the crowd was still being held behind the barricades, but Jon had managed to break through again and ran up to the crowd of law enforcement officers. “Nathaniel! What the hell are they doing to you? You just saved everyone! Now they’re putting you in cuffs?”

  Nathaniel smiled, shrugged, and said, “I guess I’m going downtown. Tell Mom I’m okay, there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “I will. I’ll get a lawyer and get him down there ASAP. Don’t worry.”

  “Will someone get this guy out of here? What kind of crowd control do you have going on?”

  Two police officers grabbed Jon by the arm, but couldn’t move him.

  “Nathaniel,” Jon said, and tears glistened in his eyes. “I’m sorry you had to do this, but thank you. For Katie. I’ll never forget it.”

  A third policeman joined the other two and managed to drag Jon away. Before he was out of earshot, Nathaniel yelled, “Grab Brutus for me, will you?”

  Jon lifted an arm in acknowledgement.

  A Chevy Tahoe with darkened windows pulled up where the rental truck had been just a few minutes earlier. There was no sign of an explosion where it had been, just the tire tracks. Two more men in suits jumped out of it and held the back door open.

  Johnson touched Nathaniel on the shoulder lightly. “Here’s our ride.”

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Nathaniel sat at a table in a small room inside the Middle Falls police station. It wasn’t nearly as big or fancy as similar rooms he had seen in movies. There was no wall with a big mirror on it that he would know was really a two-way window. Just a small table, two chairs, and a cup of coffee in a plastic cup. They had removed the cuffs, so he was unencumbered. Nathaniel took a small sip of the coffee and winced.

  Mental note: don’t do that again.

  Nathaniel was left cooling his heels for an unknown time.

  Don’t know if that is because they don
’t know what to do with me, or because they want to give me time to get nervous.

  Nathaniel straightened his spine, closed his eyes, and meditated. He was in the same position an hour later when Johnson came in, also carrying a cup of coffee. He sat down opposite Nathaniel, who opened his eyes and looked at him calmly.

  Johnson took a sip of coffee and winced. “Oh, my God.”

  Nathaniel grinned. “See, common ground already. I thought about warning you, but figured you wouldn’t believe me until you tasted it.”

  Johnson looked down at the cup in his hand. “How do you even do that to coffee?” He shook his head and pushed the cup away. “Look, Moon, I’m going to be completely upfront with you. We have no idea what we’re dealing with here. None of us have ever seen anything like what happened, and we don’t have a playbook for that. I thought we had a playbook for everything.”

  He opened a file folder and looked at the scant few sheets of paper. He held them up. “Typically, I have a lot more to go on than this. I can’t even find a birth certificate for you. First record I have that you exist was when you started school at Middle Falls Elementary in 1984. You’re almost invisible beyond your school and work records. No social media accounts, no cell phone, no anything. It looks like you don’t even have a debit card, let alone a credit card.”

  “I like to live a quiet life. It’s just me and my dog, Brutus. When my friends want to talk to me, they come see me. It’s a good life.”

  Johnson looked a little wistful for just a moment. He turned over another sheet of paper. “Absolutely no police record. Not even a speeding ticket.”

  “I don’t speed.”

  “You don’t speed,” Johnson said, distractedly. “Right. What do you do?”

  “I’m a janitor at the hospital, but I’m sure you know that. I have a recording studio in my basement and I make music there. Based on the reaction of everyone who has listened before you, you probably wouldn’t like it. I hike with my dog. I read. I tend to my garden and try to grow as much of my own food as I can.”

  Johnson wiped a hand across his face, then twisted his head left, then right. “What I need to know is, how were you able to do what you did today. Human beings can’t stand a few feet away from a blast like that and live to tell about it. I’ve watched the film of it more than a dozen times, and from four different angles. I still have no idea how you did it, and I don’t know if I should arrest you, hug you, or nominate you for the Presidential Medal of Freedom.”

  “How did I do it? Does it matter? You saw it with your own eyes. A dozen cameras recorded it.” He put a finger through the bullet hole in the middle of his shirt, then lifted the shirt to show nothing but smooth skin underneath.

  Johnson closed the file folder, glared at Nathaniel.

  “Son, it’s about to not be my problem anymore, because every damn television network in the world is playing that tape over and over in heavy rotation. CNN brought in a magician to explain how the optical illusion worked. Fox News brought in the Right Reverend Billy Halsteen to explain that it was God’s miracle. I have a hunch that this whole incident is about to get blown up above my pay grade. That’s why I wanted to talk to you now, while I have the chance.”

  Johnson shook his head and grimaced. Without realizing it, he reached down and rubbed his lower back.

  “Your back bother you?”

  “You a doctor?”

  “Definitely not. What’s wrong?”

  “Ah, I don’t think they have any idea. I hurt it about five years back, climbing over a fence, apprehending a suspect who was a lot younger and a little faster than me. They’ve done two surgeries on it so far, but nothing has helped.”

  “How often does it bother you?”

  “Every damned minute of every damned day.”

  “Listen. You asked me how I did what I did at the school. I can’t explain it, I can show you, if you want. First, I’ve got to ask you a couple of questions.”

  “Asking questions is my job.”

  “Humor me, and I’ll be able to show you some of the answers.”

  Johnson paused, then finally nodded and said, “I’m game.”

  “How’s your life? If I told you that what I was about to do would make you live a lot longer, would that be a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “Live longer?” Johnson mused on that, letting it roll around in his mind. “More time to be out on the boat, enjoying retirement? Yeah, that’s not a bad thing.”

  “Are you married?”

  “Just to the FBI.”

  “Okay. I can fix your back for you if you want.”

  “Call me a cynic, but sometimes I don’t even believe what I see with my own eyes, because I’ve experienced enough to know I can be fooled.”

  “I understand. You might believe what you actually feel, though. Hold out your hand like we’re going to shake.”

  Hesitantly, Johnson did. Nathaniel grasped it gently. He closed his eyes for only a few seconds, then released him.

  Johnson jumped like he had been shocked. He pushed his chair back and jumped straight up. He stretched his back like he had just woken up from a long nap. Then he shook his head, dazed.

  Nathaniel leaned back in his chair.

  “I’ve been in chronic pain for five years. There’s never a time that it’s not hurting, at least a little, and usually a lot. Except, right now, it doesn’t. I can’t even remember what it feels like to not hurt.” Johnson twisted at the waist, side to side, up and down. He bent over and touched his toes. “I’ll be goddamned.”

  “Good.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I fixed it.”

  “Can you do that for anything?”

  Nathaniel shrugged his shoulders. “As far as I know.”

  “Cancer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Holy shit, man.” Johnson glanced up at the video camera in the corner of the room, red light steady, recording everything.

  “If you can do that, you’ve got to share it with the world!”

  “Do I?” Nathaniel ran his fingers around the top of the cup of terrible coffee in front of him. “I help who I can, in the ways I think I can do the most good. I have always known that if the world knew what I could do, any chance of just living my life would be gone. Maybe now you understand why I live a quiet life. I’ve never wanted to attract attention, because I knew what would happen. I knew I would end up in a room like this. I knew that someone or something, some person, some organization, or some government agency, would want to take me apart to see what made me tick.” He glanced around at the industrial green walls and slightly wobbly table. “I always thought it would be a slightly nicer room than this, though.”

  Chapter Thirty

  There was a knock on the only door that led into the interrogation room.

  “Yes?” Johnson said, annoyance obvious in his voice.

  A younger man, also dressed in the de facto FBI uniform—dark suit, white shirt, tie—poked his head in. “Sorry, sorry, but we’ve got something brewing out here. There’s a man who says he is this man’s attorney, and he says that if we don’t let him in to talk to his client, he’s going to hold a press conference out on the front steps of the courthouse, questioning why we are holding him. Oh, and there’s about a hundred reporters out there, and more arriving every minute.”

  “Damn it. Any word from Washington, yet?”

  “Just that we’re in a holding pattern. Keep him here, try to keep a lid on it. I think they’re flying someone out, but they won’t be here for hours yet.”

  “I didn’t hear anything in there about suspending an individual’s rights for the good of the nation. Mr. Moon, you have an attorney wishing to speak to you. Do you wish to speak to him?”

  “I think I would. Yes.”

  “Surely they’ve got a bigger conference room in this place than this?” Johnson said to the junior agent.

  The younger agent poked his head back out and had a muffled conversation with someon
e Nathaniel couldn’t see. “Yessir, they do.”

  “Have someone fetch his attorney there, and someone to show us where the conference room is.”

  Johnson stood, stretched, and said, “Probably not much more I can do for you than that.”

  “Understood. Thank you.”

  “I’m likely to lose control of what’s going on here. Some heavy hitter from Washington will be showing up soon, and I’ll be shuffled back up to Portland. In case I don’t see you again, I appreciate what you just did for me. I am a new man.”

  NATHANIEL WAS LEFT alone in a much bigger conference room, sitting at a long table with nearly a dozen chairs around it.

  Still no two way mirror, though. Maybe Middle Falls just isn’t big enough to spring for that kind of budget.

  A young Middle Falls officer opened the door and escorted in an older man carrying a briefcase. He was just a few pounds on the wrong side of the scale, but had an open, pleasant face and distinguished gray hair.

  He walked to Nathaniel, set the briefcase on the table, and offered his hand. “Nathaniel?”

  Nathaniel nodded and shook his hand.

  Interesting vibe. Not an ordinary man. Same thing I felt when I first met Andi, and Jon. Which means—

  “Pleased to meet you,” the man said, interrupting Nathaniel’s thoughts. “I’m Thomas Weaver. I’m an attorney here in town. Your friend Jon West called me at home this evening and asked me to come down and possibly represent you. He thought you might need the kind of help I can provide.”

  “I’ve seen your office downtown. Right across from the library, right?”

  “Exactly.” Weaver took a yellow pad out of the briefcase and asked, “Mind if I sit?”

  “I appear to have dragged you away from hearth and home late on a Wednesday evening, so I think you’re entitled to a chair.”