by Nathan Wall
Next came a surge of blinding light, extending like a tidal wave from a spot on the ridge in the distance. Jarrod looked up, able to make out the gaps in the spinning rotor blade as it too seemed to be moving at an incredibly slow speed. His eyes shifted back to the tidal wave as it washed over his helicopter, and later over the two that followed.
A cold chill shot up his spine. His skin felt like it was being peeled off his muscles and bones. Everything around him became transparent and vanished into the morning skyline. Just as quickly as everything was pulled apart by the pink vapor, it was reassembled in the middle of a gigantic skyline. The rock-formed ridges were replaced by mountains of steel and glass as the helicopter barreled toward a massive skyscraper.
“Hard right, hard right,” the copilot yelled. The pilot jerked in a delayed reaction. The copilot shielded his face. “We're going to hit.”
“No, we're not,” the pilot murmured.
The feeling in Jarrod's limbs started to come back and the tingly sensation in his fingers subsided. The aircraft swiped to the right with the landing skids barely missing the ironclad mountainous structure. Sanderson's sweaty grip on his seat gave out, slipping through his fingers. He plunged out of the side of the aircraft.
Jarrod leapt out of the helicopter, holding his hands to his sides, and tore through the air. Sanderson saw him and spread his arms and legs as wide as possible, trying to create enough drag to allow Jarrod to catch up.
Jarrod crossed his arms over his chest, clenching his fists, and then flung his arms to his side, spreading his fingers. A white light rushed over his body, reflecting brighter than the morning sun off the windows of the building to his left. A billion slate-gray aurascales stretched across his body, changing colors and reforming the pale blue scaly skin and black chrome armor. He wrapped his right arm around Sanderson's torso and put him on his back.
“Hold on tight,” Jarrod yelled, trying to sturdy his body and control the rapid fall.
Sanderson buried his face into Jarrod's back and gripped tightly around Jarrod's waist. Jarrod spread his arms and the blue armor formed the wingsuit, forcing the air under his body and creating lift. The immense speed was uncontrollable as Jarrod dipped to his left on an unstoppable collision course with a skyscraper. He turned around and hugged Sanderson, forming the suit over the both of them as they smashed through the business center. They crashed through desks and walls, and over several workers, before finally skidding to a stop.
“I-I don't want to do that again,” Sanderson stuttered, trying to catch his breath. The suit retracted from over his body. He rolled off of Jarrod and slowly stood, examining himself to see he had no scratches or bruises. “How did you do that?”
“I just wanted to,” Jarrod gasped, shrugging his shoulders. He stood and the suit retracted from his face. He looked around and the people in the building that were all dressed in formal business attire walked through the large holes in the wall. They slowly gathered closer, getting a more detailed look at the people who just crashed through their office floor. They held up their phones and began taking pictures, uploading the images to every social media platform they could think of. “What are they saying to one another?”
“They're speaking Russian,” Sanderson replied. “They think you're an alien.”
“We're in Moscow? What the hell?” Jarrod looked at the tablet on his left wrist, pulling up the GPS data. “More specifically, the twelfth floor of the Mercury City Tower.”
“Well, this certainly isn't going to help diplomatic relations.” Sanderson scratched his head, walking over to the window. He looked out to the river which flowed under a large bridge. “Where are the other helicopters?”
Jarrod's suit reformed over his face as the sky shuttered, tearing open with pink light. Pushing through the fissure were thousands of Crill followed close behind by the two remaining aircrafts.
The swarm overran the first helicopter, breaking through the windshield and killing the men inside. It spun around and slammed into the sixty-second floor of the Mercury tower. The glass exploded, sending large shards outwards to rain down on the people below. Metal beams warped as an intense fire melted through several floors.
One of the Crill lodged inside the cockpit struggled to get out, wildly kicking and swiping in all directions. An errant swipe smashed into the weapons panel and discharged two missiles, shooting them into the building. Several floors of the colossal tower ruptured in a shockwave of fire. The blast of hellish fury vaulted out the other side of the tower. The pulsating force of the explosion rang out for miles. The entire building shook to the core as the windows splintered and crumbled all the way down to the fortieth floor.
Two Cyclopes smashed through the wall and lumbered toward Jarrod. The building still swayed from side to side and moaned while the large giants punched at him. Jarrod flipped backwards, swiping a hard moon kick off a Cyclops’s chin as if his foot was a lead weight. In one fluid motion he landed, squatted down, and released the two blades from over his wrists. He lunged forward, swiping the blades through the throat of each Cyclops. They stumbled about for a few seconds, their blood spraying out, and then fell to the floor. Jarrod turned to see Sanderson covered in blood.
“Red is a good color on you,” Jarrod laughed.
“No time for jokes.” Sanderson wiped the blood from his face and flicked it to the floor. “This building is coming down.”
“Let's get you out of here.” Jarrod picked up a desk and finished smashing out the remaining jagged glass from the window of the office. He tossed it to the side and held his hand out for Sanderson. “Come on.”
“This is where our paths temporarily diverge.” Sanderson shook his head, pushing Jarrod's hand away. He pulled out his pistol and armed it. “These people need to be led to safety and you have some more killing to do. I'll be fine. If Lian and Austin were on that ridge when the rift formed, they’ll be here somewhere. Find them.”
“How will I find them?”
“I don't know, but I have faith that you will.” Sanderson briefly wrapped his arms around Jarrod as tight as he could, and then let go. “I hope she was right about you.”
“Who?”
“Your mother.” Sanderson nodded.
Another explosion erupted, once again shaking the building. The steel beams groaned as the top quarter of the tower tilted away from the river, shredded apart, and broke. It fell sideways, tearing off a large chunk of the building, and crashed into the streets. Smoke, dust, and ash swelled up, engulfing several blocks of the city streets. When the commotion settled, a quick pink flash whisked through the room. Jarrod turned and Sanderson had vanished.
* * *
“They're twenty minutes away from the rendezvous, sir,” a voice entered through the intercom. Hershiser nodded, leaning back in his chair with only the computer screen on the desk in front of him illuminating his face. He rolled the flash drive Sanderson gave him from finger to finger, deep in thought. The voice broke the silence once more. “I'll keep you updated on their progress.”
“Thank you.” Hershiser pressed the intercom, muting his side of the communication.
He looked at the flash drive once more, hesitating. He rubbed his hand along his heavy-stubble face and inserted the flash drive into the USB port. A little bubble popped up on the right hand corner of the screen. He slowly dragged the cursor over it. His index finger hovered over the mouse and then double-clicked.
Expecting to see a multitude of files, he was a bit taken aback when the folder revealed a single file. It had his name on it. He double-clicked on it and the screen went black.
“Damn it… a virus.” He lightly tapped the computer with the palm of his hand, cursing. “I knew I shouldn't have trusted him.”
The computer shut itself off and after nearly a minute, it came back on. This time, the screen was completely different. Symbols and graphics, hundreds of personal notes, audio files, and videos flashed before his eyes. After everything was done loading the screen sto
pped flashing and a 3-D graphic displayed on it, looking as if it were a digital representation of a library.
He could move the cursor up, down, and side-to-side, able to pick any note or audio file he wanted. Or he could hold the shift key down, scroll back and forth on the Z-axis, and select more files at once. Overwhelmed, he decided to start with the one that looked most prominent. It was a file highlighted in yellow named “Prometheus.”
Upon double-clicking the icon, several pages of notes popped up along with a few audio files and a single video. He clicked on the video. It was in black and white and dated ten years prior. Sanderson, Elliot, and a few other men and women sat in a room while a young boy was strapped to a table top. Two watermarks imprinted on the video read “Secret Recording.”
“Test subject AQ-261: vision enhancement,” an Asian man said, slowly approaching the boy who couldn't have been more than four or five. Hershiser moved the cursor over the man's face and another box popped up giving his bio while the video continued to play. His name was Dr. Dai Wu, a biochemist from Hong Kong. It said his specialization was in Genetic Engineering and Transgenics.
A woman slipped on some thick gloves, opened the cryochamber, and removed a tube. She snapped the tube into a gun-shaped syringe and handed it to Dr. Wu. Hershiser hovered the cursor over the syringe and more information popped up. The serum was called “PVH300.” Hershiser paused the video as he quickly read up on the product. It was an earlier version of a serum now widely used in the Agency.
“Serum activates dormant genes in subjects, granting them certain ‘spiritual gifts.’ Most subjects begin to reject treatment after six dosages. Gifted results: healing, visions, interpretation...” Hershiser mumbled to himself as he continued to list the results. “They're not born with it?”
He continued to read on, getting to a few lines which shocked him the most. His heart stopped beating. His eyes widened and sweat dripped from his palms. He came across the lines: Can lead to severe illness and often death.
He clicked on the video and it started to play again. Dr. Wu walked over to the boy and calmly stroked his head as he stuck the needle into the boy's neck. The entire vial emptied into the child’s system, causing him to scream and cry. After a few seconds in whom none of the scientist and doctors on the video showed an ounce of remorse for the suffering they were inflicting on the child, the boy stopped moving.
Dr. Wu rushed to the boy's side, pressed his stethoscope to the child's chest, and checked for a pulse. He removed the earplugs and leaned over the dead body, shaking his head. Hershiser turned his face away from the monitor, letting the video play, and spat up his breakfast into a trash bin.
“Results: inconclusive,” Dr. Wu said as the sounds of the other scientists pushing up from their chairs drowned out most of the audio.
“Far from inconclusive, Dai,” Elliot said. Hershiser lifted his eyes back to the video. Elliot stormed over to Dr. Wu and grabbed him by the arm, pulled him away from the table, and slammed him into a cabinet. “Do you think these little shits just grow on trees?”
“Their bodies aren't strong enough to handle the PVH—”
“—I don't care,” Elliot screamed, slapping Dr. Wu. “I don't know what it is I have to do in order to properly motivate you to figure this out. I know that bastard, Sanderson, can get this done. We have to be better.”
“Maybe we're not better than him.” Dr. Wu covered his face as Elliot raised his hand. When it was evident he wasn't going to get struck again, he stood straight. “If I could see his notes...”
“There are none.” Elliot pressed his hands onto the table and leaned over the dead boy. “But I know he's done it.”
“How do you?” Dr. Wu asked, slowly walking up to Elliot. “We've had mixed results with numerous subjects and the effects never last long. Exactly how are we supposed to make this permanent when the host bodies aren't fully mature?”
“Dai, let me just tell you that this can be done and it will be done.” Elliot shook his head. He looked at Dr. Wu. “How old are your kids now? Your daughter has to be what, seven?”
“She's six.” Dr. Wu stepped back and Elliot pursued him. “My son just turned three.”
“Six and three.” Elliot nodded, smiling. “I bet you think they're real gifts, don't you?”
“I understand you loud and clear, sir.” Dr. Wu nodded, his voice shuddering. “I'll double my efforts, post haste. Just... please.”
“Honestly, my good man, I don't know what's got you so worried.” Elliot smiled, lightly tapping Dr. Wu on the cheek before sliding his hand around the back of Wu's head and pulling him in for a hug. “We're like a family, aren't we? I'm just saying that we look out for one another. Right? I have every bit of confidence in you to figure out a more sustainable and stable solution.”
Elliot released Wu and walked out of the room. Wu looked up at the camera and pulled a remote out of his pocket. He pressed a button and the feed cut out.
“They're not already gifted?” Hershiser shook his head, leaning back in his chair as he rubbed his forehead.
“Let me guess, you thought all along that this whole supernatural world was just hiding behind a curtain for thousands of years and no one stumbled upon it?” Elliot laughed, walking into the room. Hershiser looked up and quickly pulled the flash drive out of the computer. “I guess it's okay when we do things to adults because grown-ass men should know better. But you try and mess with a kid... well, everyone gets all sour and calls you a monster. It really is funny. You can murder millions of men in a movie, but you harm a little old dog or a snot-nosed brat and suddenly you're sick.”
“It's just a lot to take in.” Hershiser stood, sliding the chair away from him. “I knew we were capable of some horrible things, but this...”
“You haven’t once said a thing to stop what we do here,” Elliot yelled, pointing his finger at the ground. “You're just as complicit as the rest of us. Don't deny that.”
“I never knew we took in young kids and made them like this.” Hershiser stepped toward Elliot, balling up his fists. “They didn't choose this life.”
“Nobody chooses anything in this existence. They just answer the call.” Elliot smirked, shaking his head. “What? You thought we were giving the hordes of kids we've got walking through these halls a free education? They're getting more than they ever deserved and all they have to do is obey.”
“It's not obedience if it's forced on you.”
“Finally, someone is starting to get it.” Elliot laughed, walking in a circle around Hershiser. “There once was a time when hearing someone say that meant they'd spend eternity cursed.”
“I'm not sure I understand...?”
“However, I've spent my years learning the value of having powerful slaves at your every beck and call. There's something exhilarating about having authority over the most powerful beings in all creation. There's also something ironically funny about those powerful beings having no authority to be powerful on their own. Don't you agree?”
“You're mad.”
“I'm enlightened,” Elliot yelled, his jaw trembling as his whole body shook from rage. “I don't expect you to understand because you're nothing more than a pawn on my chessboard, but this is all justice.”
“What is justice?” Hershiser let out a frustrated laugh, scratching the back of his head. “Killing and enslaving hordes of innocent children for what? Just so they can be your slaves?”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
“To get back at the Big Guy for loving these rats more than He loved my kind.” Elliot slammed his fist down on the desk and it splintered into dozens of fragments. “We'll see how funny it is when His most precious creations are turned into freakish abominations with limitless power and no will of their own.”
“You've officially gone off the deep end…” Hershiser looked at his obliterated desk and then at Elliot. He could no longer remain an obedient soldier and play his part in this twisted scheme. Not when he was no
longer ignorant. There was only one thing Hershiser could do. He pulled out his sidearm and pointed it at Elliot. “This rabbit hole has gone far enough. There's no exiting out on the other side.”
“I'm not planning on there being an exit,” Elliot laughed. With a wave of his hand, the gun flew out of Hershiser's grasp and landed into Elliot's grip. “First thing I learned when I was created was to never draw a weapon on someone and not immediately use it.”
Elliot pointed the gun at Hershiser's chest and pulled the trigger three times. He tossed the gun to the side and walked out of the room. When two men heard the shots and came running up to Elliot, he raised his hands and erased their memories. He continued to march through the halls and walked into the war room. Everyone was in a panic. He looked to a woman on his right and asked a question.
“What's going on?”
“There's been a rift,” she said. “They've been transported to Moscow, sir.”
“This is too great.” Elliot laughed, leaning over the railing. “Let's see if we can't pull up the news and see the commotion unfold.”
* * *
Loud thuds of machine guns rang out in sixteen-shot intervals from the stationary weapons on each side of the third helicopter. Jackson, having snuck his way onboard the last aircraft by wearing a ski mask, held tight on the grips of one of the guns, never releasing his index finger off the trigger. He tilted his body from side to side, rocking in unison with the helicopter and shooting down as many Crill as he could.
Each bullet tore through the wings, torsos, and heads of dozens of the flying bat-like creatures. Two Crill charged into the other side of the helicopter, ripping the other gunner away from his station. They tore his limbs apart and dropped the pieces of his body down to the streets.
“We're down a gunner,” the copilot yelled.
“Then get your ass back here and start shooting,” Jackson replied, unlocking the mechanism on his machine gun, quickly fixing a jam, and then pressing his finger back onto the trigger. “Where's the lead helicopter?”
