by R J Johnson
Note to self, Collier thought, make sure he retires in shame. He imagined the short, portly professor being escorted out by security with a sad collection of his things. The thought made him smile on the inside, as it always did.
“Thank you Professor,” Collier allowed a certain amount of arrogance to enter his voice. “I imagine you’ve been looking forward to this presentation, since you’ve always considered my projects a waste of time."
“And money,” Professor Porter agreed. “However, I’m afraid this meeting is no longer about your expedition.”
“I’m sorry?” Collier didn’t allow the smile to drop from his face, but his stomach suddenly felt like he had swallowed a handful of Styrofoam.
“I’m afraid Ms. Murphy has leveled some rather serious accusations against you, and her evidence is quite compelling, if not a little confusing.”
“What are you talking about? What evidence?” Collier felt his throat dry up. This couldn’t be good.
“We’re hoping you could explain,” Porter replied, and motioned to the rest of the people in the room.
Collier heard the room's side door open. He whirled around to see who dared interrupt his meeting. It was Rachel, storming in with a furious look on her face. Beside her were two uniformed officers and a man in a cheap department store suit.
Collier scowled at his former student. “Just what the hell is going on here?”
“Why don’t you tell them?” Rachel said, barely able to hold back the tears.
Professor Porter turned to Collier. “You see, Ms. Murphy here was so taken aback by your behavior, she attempted to get in contact with Mr. Breynard with the satellite phone. However, she found that it was impossible to reach young Mr. Breynard. Fearing the worst, she called a friend of hers in the nearby village and asked him to check out the dig site. He said that the entire place was a wreck, with everything burned to the ground.”
Collier swallowed, and his mind raced. They’d discovered Kevin’s body much sooner than he thought they would. No matter; as long as he played his cards right, he might still be able to pull off his plan.
Porter stared at him, looking over the top of his glasses again. “What happened out there, Professor?”
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re referring to.” Collier felt his voice catch. He’d never had to lie on the spot like this before. His skills lay in discovery, not deception. He was supposed to have more time to prepare his story. They were supposed to be worshipping at his feet, not accusing him of murder.
“It seems that Mr. Breynard was killed in a fire at your camp,” Porter said slowly.
Collier glanced over at the detective in the suit. The detective eyed him up and down, as if sizing him up as someone who could burn a man to death in cold blood.
“That’s… tragic,” Collier stammered, “I always tried to stress the importance of fire safety.”
“You son of a bitch!” Rachel nearly shouted. One of the police officers grabbed her elbow and held her back.
“You see, we were wondering about that…” Porter began slowly.
Collier grimaced. He's enjoying this, that son of a bitch.
“Did you know Kevin had a video blog?” Porter asked him. “It was something he uploaded on a daily basis as part of his grad project."
“So?” Collier challenged.
“Let’s just say that the footage from the other day was interesting, if not confusing.” Porter’s eyes registered disgust.
Collier felt the ground drop out from underneath him. He forgot about the cameras recording everything. He had figured the fire he set would have destroyed the servers, but if Kevin had carried around a laptop that he hadn't known about…
Professor Porter allowed a big smile to spread over his chubby face as he watched Collier’s expression change.
“So, I think you’d understand why we’d like an explanation as to why the video shows you lighting the whole campsite on fire.”
Porter turned and picked up a remote off the conference table next to him. Collier’s blood went ice cold and was frozen in place. He wasn’t sure if he should flee or loudly challenge them for wasting everyone’s time. Before he could do either, Porter turned back to meet Collier's eye, then clicked the remote. A TV extended out of the ceiling and began playing a video.
Collier didn’t need to look at it. It was exactly what he thought it would be. Footage of the drill exploding and Kevin being mortally wounded. Everyone watched as Collier burned the camp with fire summoned from his hands.
“This is especially horrifying,” Porter said as the Collier onscreen threw Kevin’s body on the pile of burning equipment.
Collier’s mouth dried up. He swallowed several times as he glanced at each face in the room. They were all judging him. All of them thinking he was an animal. And for what? Protecting the University’s reputation?
Fools, the lot of them, Collier thought to himself, furious. His mind raced to come up with a new explanation in light of the new evidence, but even his considerable intellect couldn’t think of a lie that explained the damning video.
“You’re under arrest,” the detective began in a monotone. He looked thrilled. Collier couldn't blame him; he was sure most cases weren't this air-tight, and all the legal questions about jurisdiction and prosecution were above his pay grade.
“You have the right to remain silent," the detective continued. "You have the right to an attorney to be present at your questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you?”
Collier didn’t, couldn’t say anything. He was watching himself summon fire to scorch the camp.
“Do you understand your rights?” the detective asked again.
Collier only nodded in stunned silence as one of the uniformed officers made a move to cuff him.
“What I don’t get,” Rachel asked in a cold fury, “is why. Why would you kill poor Kevin? He worshipped you!”
“And how?” Porter added, ignoring Rachel’s outburst. “You lit the man on fire by throwing gas at him with your hands?”
Collier didn’t respond. He felt helpless, but for only a moment. It was then that he remembered the warm heat of the artifact sitting snugly against his thigh.
The officer snapped one of the cuffs on his wrist, and that’s when he made a decision.
He whirled, using his weight as a fulcrum to toss the uniformed officer over his hip, throwing him into the other policeman and the detective. Porter cried out a warning when Collier withdrew his stone.
He stared with utter disdain at his longtime professional rival and whispered one word with all the hate he could muster.
“Burn.”
Porter screamed as flames rapidly erupted around his feet and engulfed him. The sickeningly sweet smell of burning flesh filled the room. Rachel screamed and threw herself behind the conference table to hide away from the heat.
Collier whirled around and threw a massive fireball at the police officer who'd laid hands on him. The man’s face melted, skin hanging off his cheek bones as his uniform and body caught fire. He didn’t even have time to scream.
The second officer drew his firearm, aimed it at Collier and pulled the trigger.
Collier couldn’t describe what he felt, other than feeling the beginnings of ignition inside the bullet primer. He could feel the power of the black gunpowder within the bullet casing and the potential energy contained within. Time slowed down to a crawl. In his mind’s eye, he found himself transported to the flame within the shell casing.
He felt the chemical reaction begin to run away when he lifted his hand.
“No.”
The gunpowder failed to ignite, stopping the reaction within the officer’s gun. The officer cried out in surprise and pulled the trigger again and again, clearly hoping that the first round had only been a dud.
Nothing.
Collier smiled at the young officer and waved his hand. Another enormou
s fireball emanated from his fingers and enveloped the kid, burning him to the ground.
Behind him, he heard the wheezing of Professor Porter trying to crawl away. Collier walked deliberately behind the struggling professor as he reached up a badly burned arm for the handle to the hallway outside. Collier laughed.
“You’re pathetic,” Collier hissed. He felt his temper take control, and all the anger and hate he struggled to hide from decent society surfaced.
He summoned a long thin filament of flame and allowed it to lick playfully over Porter’s back, stopping the man’s struggle to get away. Porter turned painfully and looked up at Collier, his eyes pleading for mercy.
“Are you aware of what you’ve done, Porter? If only you’d recognized my brilliance. If only you’d seen my potential to lead this department into the future. If only you’d allowed me to explain my discovery and tell you why sacrifices like Kevin’s are necessary for progress. If only you had allowed me a chance…”
Collier sighed and grinned. “But then I suppose I wouldn’t get to do this.”
Porter screamed as he watched the flames engulf him.
And then, thankfully, he could feel the pain no longer.
Collier spat on his former rival’s corpse and breathed deeply, inhaling the smoky air of the burning conference room. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever smelled in his life.
He looked closely at his artifact and grinned. Why had he thought so small? Why bother settling with a chair at a University? Now he realized the true power of the stone in his hand. With it, he could become unstoppable. No weapon on the planet would be able to stop him – especially after that neat little trick he’d experienced with the officer’s gun.
He considered his options as he looked around the burning conference room for the bitch who’d turned him in and ruined everything. Unfortunately, she was nowhere to be found. Rachel must have escaped while he was busy with Porter. No matter; she was irrelevant to his plans now.
He moved out of the conference room and thought about what to do next. He smiled. Nothing in life got done without money, so his first stop should be at a bank to make a withdrawal.
He walked out of the room, his mind already forming plans for his next step.
Chapter Thirteen
Alex never really needed a reason to stay out of trouble. His whole motivation to join the army was to impress Emily and demonstrate that he was actually trying to make a difference in the world. Ever since their fight and breakup, her words about him living off his trust fund and settlement had been ringing in his ears. He knew that he needed to start taking himself seriously if the world (and Emily) ever would.
His training hadn’t been easy, but he’d stayed in good shape through college (avoiding the dreaded “freshmen fifteen”), which made basic about as easy as it got for a newbie. Alex found that he didn’t particularly like the idea of killing people, despite his apparent skill at it.
Fortunately, he did have quite a knack for keeping the army’s records honest. It was those skills that had turned him into the best administrator Baghdad's Green Zone Outpost had ever seen. Alex hadn’t liked the idea when he heard the Army was sending him to a warzone, but what did he expect? Freedom and democracy wasn’t gonna spread itself.
He was reviewing the night’s requisitions in his office when he heard his door open. Most likely, it would be one officer or another complaining about a piece of equipment missing or shipped off elsewhere in favor of different hot spots. The decision-making process rarely made sense when Alex got his orders, but he did his level best to keep everyone happy, which of course meant that no one ever was.
Alex figured that was about as close to a win as he could get.
“If you’re looking for another box of rations, you’re gonna be disappointed, chief,” Alex called over his shoulder, “I actually gave the last one to…”
He turned to see Colonel Nathaniel Ash standing in front of him with a huge grin on his face.
“Colonel!” Alex said saluting happily, “I had no idea you were back in the sandbox.”
“Assholes can’t keep me away,” Colonel Ash returned the salute and nodded at Alex’s office. “Looks like you’ve settled in nicely.”
“It’s better than sitting out there with one hand on my rifle and the other jerking off, waiting for Haji to make a move.” When he first came to Iraq, Alex swore to himself that he wasn’t going to give into the casual racism and dehumanization of the enemy like most of the people around him did, but that didn’t last that long. Besides, if he was being honest, it made it a little bit easier to be so far away from home, even though he knew it was wrong.
Besides, only two more months and he’d rotate back to the states with his commitment over. There’d been threats of being stop-lossed, but Alex was trying to avoid thinking about the things he couldn’t control. His adventure in the army had been fun, but it was only temporary while he straightened his head out over Emily.
Too bad it hadn’t worked so far.
“You’d better believe that,” Ash slumped down in an office chair opposite Alex. He’d never looked so war weary as he did right at that moment.
“You been busy?” Alex asked, sitting down at his desk. He reached into the drawer and withdrew a particularly nice bottle of scotch along with a pair of paper cups. The scotch was supposed to be for a visiting head of state who had stopped by for a surprise tour, but he’d left the gift behind after leaving. Alex had liberated it, thinking he’d know how to drink it better than the old codger would.
“You could say that,” Ash replied, rubbing his face. “Spent the last six weeks cleaning out roadside bombs and digging up intel on insurgents. Lost a lot of really good men in the process. This fucking war is a lot more bullshit than its worth.”
Alex poured out two fingers each and handed a glass to Ash, saluting him with his tumbler.
“To the lost,” Ash said.
“The lost…” They clinked their cups together and sat in silence for a moment. Alex decided to move the conversation in a more positive direction.
“It’s tough out there, but at least we’re helping people…”
“Oh, hooray for the people,” the colonel said sarcastically, waving his drink. “Can’t you just let your friend bitch? You’re the only one I can complain to without getting written up.”
Alex refilled his mentor’s glass, “Helping people is a damn fine reason to be out here.” He poured another for himself and sat back in his chair, “Besides, it’s about the only thing they’ve got left to rationalize this war now.”
“WMD’s my ass,” Ash muttered and took his glass back from Alex. “You know the people we supposedly ‘liberated’ are shooting at us. It’s just a civil war at this point. Shia or Sunni. Pick a side, they’re all assholes.”
“Shia?” Alex hadn’t heard that one before.
Ash rolled his eyes and sighed, “Two flavors of Islam, Shia and Sunni, neither of which like each other very much. The Muj’s sign up with one or the other and we get to fight ‘em all. When we came in and took out the government, we upset the whole balance of things…” He took another drink. “And now we all get to pay for that.”
Alex didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what Ash was talking about and decided to just concentrate on the scotch instead. It was good stuff.
Ash swirled the liquid around in his glass, “Getting to the point where I’m wondering what retirement is gonna look like.”
Alex continued to nod without really listening. While he had never had to worry about money in the past, that didn’t mean he didn’t understand what it was like to be dirt poor. Money might not buy happiness, but it sure did give you a head start on misery.
Ash muttered something to himself that Alex didn’t quite catch.
“What was that, sir?”
“How many times have I told you to knock that ‘sir’ shit off when it’s just you and me?” Ash asked, looking irritated. “I told you, you and I are equals
when we’re alone. Privileges for saving my life.”
“Sorry si… Ash, you know how basic drills that into ya.”
“That and that and the idea that you’re fighting for something,” Ash said, again looking miserable. Alex decided he needed to help turn his friend’s attitude around.
“I think you could use a good night out. You know? Maybe blow off some steam?” Alex began. “I got a case of whiskey that I was saving for a special occasion. How about you, me, and a few of the boys head out and try and see if we can get into a little trouble?”
Ash laughed politely, and Alex sighed. Apparently his friend wasn’t interested.
“All right, I’ve never known you to pass up a chance to get stupid drunk,” Alex said. “What’s wrong? What happened out there?”
Ash leaned forward and set his glass down on the desk, an ugly glint in his eye. “You ever wonder why we’re out here?”
Alex shook his head and finished his drink. “To be honest, I don’t really care anymore. I’ve got two months left, and I'm only interested in what I’m gonna do after that.”
“You wanna know what happens after that?” Ash asked, clearly frustrated. “You go back to a country that barely knows we’re at war. You’re welcomed back by a bunch of people who thank you for your service and tell you what a hero you are for fighting ‘dem turrists’ over here so they don’t have to do it over there.
“They feed you all this bullshit about God, Country and deposing tin pot dictators, while setting you up for failure in each and every mission with not enough equipment to do it right. They’re acting all surprised that there’s no armor for our vehicles and we’re driving around Frankensteins just to survive. Might as well give us a bunch of rocks and slingshots for all the good we’ll do.
“Not to mention when you get back, if you’re LUCKY, you might be able to get a job at a big box store that barely covers rent. And Lord help if you’re injured by anything or anyone over here. The VA is so disgusting and backlogged they can barely help people who filed claims three months ago. I can’t even imagine the kind of clusterfuck it’s gonna turn into if we’re here for much longer.
