Erika edged closer and peered between a squat woman on her left and a tall, thin woman on her right. They were staring too, their eyes riveted on the young man that had been in the hogan with their kin for three days. One of the women whispered, “Bodaway,” and the other repeated the word.
Soon, a low chant rose in the crowd: “Bodaway, Bodaway, Bodaway,” they repeated.
Behind them, men poured out of the cars and trucks. Their boots crunched on the gravel around the house. The dogs barked, but at the policemen and Makers, not at Tex.
Tex’s eyes were open, and they were still large but no longer black mirrors. Like the others, she could not help but stare into his eyes like two glacial pools. His lips were pulled up into a small, relaxed smile. His face was entirely smooth, without a wrinkle or frown line. His body was erect but not taut. Despite the din of the dogs and crunching gravel and people shouting, Tex stood as calmly as though he was alone in a peaceful forest.
A middle-aged clean-shaven man with dark, closely cut hair stepped forward. He was tall, probably just over six feet, with wide shoulders and a trim waist. He was dressed in a desert-tan sheriff’s uniform and held a rifle across his body. He pushed past women a few yards away from Erika. Three men in all-black Makers uniforms were right behind him. Aunt Dana was directly behind them.
Erika glared at Dana, but her aunt didn’t seem to notice. Dana avoided Niyol’s eyes as well and stared at Tex.
“Niyol, we don’t want to make trouble. But there’s a warrant for that one behind you. Hand him over, and we’ll be on our way,” the sheriff said.
Niyol did not yield. “He is dighin, Sheriff Armijo. We will not let you take him.”
Sheriff Armijo stepped closer. “Come on, Niyol. He’s not dighin. He’s a felon. Mr. Smith here is with the feds, and they’ve got multiple warrants for him.” The sheriff indicated the lead man in the Makers uniform with a slight nod of his head.
The mention of warrants made Erika’s stomach lurch again. She pulled herself behind the large woman standing beside her. If warrants were really out for Tex, then warrants were likely out for her as well. She had, after all, shot a man during their escape from the school.
“You are on Apache land, Sheriff, and this man seeks asylum. Our tribe grants it to him. We don’t acknowledge your federal warrants, sir.”
A low murmur rose from the police officers that had mingled into the crowd and effectively surrounded Niyol, Tex, and the other men circled around Tex. Erika wished she had a pistol. Her eyes roamed the ground immediately around her, and she grabbed a long, thick stick that someone had used to stir the fire. It wasn’t much, but it felt good to have something in her hand.
“You’re respected in the community, Niyol, but you don’t have the authority of the tribal government to grant asylum to that… thing.”
“No,” a woman said, “but we do.”
Six men and women stepped forward out of the crowd of onlookers. They stood between Niyol and the police, their arms across their chests, their faces set and stern.
“The stranger has been named. He is Bodaway, and he is dighin. Under the US Constitution, international law, federal treaties, and tribal law, you cannot take him,” the woman said.
Sheriff Armijo wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and shook his head. “Now, they have a warrant. You can’t use treaties and such to give haven to someone wanted for murder.”
The men surrounding Tex drew toward each other even more tightly. Tex could hardly be seen behind them.
Mr. Smith let out a sigh loud enough for all to hear. “I don’t have time for this. Use the cannons!” he yelled.
Sheriff Armijo’s voice rose to protest, but it was no use. In a flurry of activity, the three men clad in all black and some in blue police uniforms, armed with what looked like small rocket launchers, opened fire and let loose a torrent of water. Their intended target was Tex, but the tribal elders took the brunt of the water attack.
Erika screamed, “No!”
The powerful jets of water knocked the tribal government officials down, then Niyol went down as well. Erika and the women near her surged forward, acting on a unified instinct to help. Kai was among them, and she ran to help Niyol.
Erika had made it a few steps, intent on wrapping herself around Tex to prevent him from being drowned, but he didn’t need help.
Tex stood tall, unharmed, and as dry as the desert in summer. His face was serene. His arms were outstretched, the muscles taut. He had gathered the water sprayed at him into a large, luminous ball that hovered in the air above him.
Kai helped Niyol to his feet and threw a woolen blanket around him. He was sopping wet but uninjured. All stepped away from Tex, and he stood alone on the small hill, the water above him shimmering like a jewel in the morning’s first light.
While the others backed away from him, Erika moved forward. Her eyes were locked on his. He was the same man that she had held, kissed, and caressed her in her dream, yet she did not know him. Her Tex had eyes that were devoid of light and revealed no emotion.
This man’s eyes blazed with feeling, though. He gazed at her, and she felt, from only his look, a depth of love for her that she had never felt before, not even from her parents. His entire countenance emitted peace, contentment, and love.
Her Tex had always looked like a string strung too tightly and likely to break if yanked on too hard, but this man’s body was anything but fragile. His outstretched arms revealed taut, muscular biceps, and his naked stomach was rippled and toned. His skin had turned the color of burnished alabaster and so smooth it seemed molded from plastic.
His head and eyes were still overly large, but with the rest of him filled out, his unusually large eyes were strikingly beautiful, no longer bordering on monstrous. He had the air of a Raphaelite angel.
“Bodaway,” she whispered.
Tex’s attention was entirely on her for a moment, and in that brief time, she felt as though they were alone. The sounds of dogs barking, people yelling, and water pouring from the water cannons disappeared. He smiled at her. Always before, Tex’s attempts to smile had made his face look forced into an unnatural position, but that smile was genuine and beautiful. His face shone with feeling that made him look as though he was lit from within. Though his lips didn’t move, she heard his voice plainly.
“It will be okay,” he said. “I will be okay.”
The surreal beauty and serenity of the moment was broken by Aunt Dana’s voice rising high and shrill. “Erika! Step away from him. They don’t want you, only that one.” She stood beside Sheriff Armijo, one hand on the pistol in the holster at her waist.
“How could you?” Erika yelled. Bitter, hot tears played at her eyes.
She and her aunt had spatted, and yes, both sides had hurt feelings. She had been angry with Dana for her harsh words about Tex, but Erika had figured that when Dana came back, they’d work it out. Family sticks together, no matter how asinine you think the other person has been. But some betrayals are unforgiveable.
“I had no choice,” Dana said. Her voice cracked and trembled with unspent tears. “They tracked you to me. Showed up at my work. You’re on the FBI’s wanted list, Erika. And they promised to exonerate you if I showed them where it was.”
Erika shook her head and sighed loudly. She had not figured on her Aunt Dana being so naïve. “I thought I could trust you. I guess I was wrong.”
Erika ignored her aunt’s plea and walked the few steps more to stand beside Tex, still gripping the large stick in her right hand. Her voice rang out loud and true in the crisp morning air. “These men in black uniforms are not what—who—they say they are. They do not work for the US government. They’re part of a corrupt organization that has infiltrated our democracy and uses government resources for its own purposes. If you let them take us, we will not get a trial. They will not let Bodaway or I live. In fact, they’ll probably kill all of you too, simply because you’ve seen too much.”
Another ri
pple of murmurs ran through the crowd, and many people nodded. They didn’t need much convincing that people descending on them in uniforms would go badly for them.
Mr. Smith’s voice rose above Erika’s. “Do not be fooled by its parlor tricks. This… thing… is a cop killer, plain and simple.” He raised a shaky finger and pointed at Tex as though he needed to clarify who he was talking about. “He pointed at Erika too. “As is she. Both are fugitives of the law.”
Smith took a few more steps toward Tex and Erika. “Young lady, the Makers have no beef with you. But you have aided and abetted a murderer. Now, step aside, and I promise that you will be dealt with fairly by the law.”
“Wait,” Aunt Dana said. “Mr. Smith, you promised she’d go free if I brought you to the creature.” She tried to push toward Erika, but two men in Makers uniforms held her back.
Only seconds before, bile had risen in her throat at the idea of Dana’s betrayal, but now the urge to protect Dana came on strong. She was made at Dana, but that didn’t mean she wanted anything bad to happen to her aunt. Erika took a step and raised her stick, ready to defend Dana.
Tex gently grabbed her wrist. “Do not worry for her,” he whispered. “I will not let them harm her.”
Erika stood down, but her heart was still racing. Sweat covered her forehead despite the chilly air.
Smith ignored Aunt Dana. He wore a smirk as he spoke to Tex. “You’re wasting time, 9. Come with us peacefully, and they can go back to their lives.”
Tex didn’t budge from his spot, but the large ball of shimmering water exploded in a fierce torrent that rained down on the men surrounding him. It wasn’t enough to knock them over, but it disoriented them for a moment.
“Fire,” Smith said.
The acrid smell and thunder of gunfire filled the air. Uniformed men shot pistols and rifles at Erika and Tex.
Chaos surrounded them. Niyol and the others that had nursed Tex screamed and ran, seeking shelter from the bullets. Dana lunged forward and yelled, “No!” Her face was twisted in pain and shock.
Erika’s body reacted before her mind comprehended what was happening. Her instinct was to run and hide from the bullets being fired at her, but Tex again closed a hand around her wrist, this time more forcefully. He glanced at her, and his face was still serene. She closed her eyes and braced for the ripping heat of pain to tear through her as she tried to figure out why Tex would force her to remain in the line of fire. He could heal a gunshot wound, maybe even two, but she doubted he could save her if she was filled with bullet holes. He definitely couldn’t save her if he was dead.
Pain did not come, though. The loud thunder of gunfire dwindled then subsided entirely. She opened a slit in one eye. She was alive. Tex was standing as still as a mannequin. Neither of them had a scratch on them.
The bullets—every last one of them—hung in the air as if someone had pressed the pause button.
The crowded makeshift camp turned battlefield was wholly still. Erika wasn’t sure anyone even breathed in that moment. Despite the men having emptied their magazines of bullets, not a single person had been injured. Tex and Erika still stood.
Mr. Smith reached to his gun belt and was in the middle of loading a new magazine when he fell to the ground, his face contorted in pain. He cried a high-pitched scream as his eyes rolled back in his head, his face red and the veins in his neck bulging.
Tex’s voice was low and calm. It boomed in the morning air. “As you can see, I am not like you.” He walked toward Smith, and as he did, the crowd collectively drew back from him a few steps.
Tex continued. “I can take the life of this man if I wish to. I can take the lives of all of you simultaneously if I so desire it.” The bullets that had hung in the air plinked to the ground. Several people gasped. He stood over Smith, the man’s black uniform now covered in mud as he writhed on the ground.
Tex released his telekinetic hold on the man, and Smith lay in a heap as he gasped for air, sweat beading on his forehead, his face still red.
Tex’s voice was low. “It is true that I have killed men.”
Murmurs rose from the crowd.
Smith rubbed at his throat. When he spoke, his voice was raspy. “As I said. A murderer.”
“Is it murder if done in self-defense? Or defense of another?” Tex threw a glance over his shoulder at Erika. Though spoken as a question, his voice carried an authority that left no doubt what the answer should be. “Niyol, Kai—the dine—took me in. They helped me find my way. To see the truth that has been kept from me.”
Smith snickered. “How wonderful. The teenage mutant went on a vision quest.” Smith rose and dusted himself off the best he could. “He’s nothing more than a rogue soldier. And he needs to be put down.” Smith had apparently gotten that magazine loaded. He fired his pistol.
Smith had not shot at Tex, though. His bullet landed in Niyol’s chest. The old man slumped to the muddy soil, his hand over his heart, where a stain of red bloomed.
Kai and a few others screamed. Erika ran to Niyol’s side. Kai knelt beside him, and Erika pushed her hand to his chest to try to slow the loss of blood.
Smith shouted for all to hear. “You can end this, 9. I’ll shoot one after the other of these people until you come with me.”
“No, you won’t.” The sound of a bullet entering the chamber of a gun clicked behind Smith’s head. Aunt Dana held her pistol to his skull. “Tell them to stand down, or—”
“Hedges, kill her.” Smith did not lower his weapon.
Erika’s hand was covered in Niyol’s hot, sticky blood. Tears welled in her eyes as she shouted, “No!”
Erika was unclear on whom Smith was talking to, but no one shot Aunt Dana. Instead, Sheriff Armijo cracked the butt of his rifle into the back of the head of one of the Makers men, and several of the blue-clad officers turned their guns on the black-uniformed men rather than on Tex.
Sheriff Armijo turned his rifle on Smith. “Mr. Smith, I don’t care if your orders come from the President, we’re not going to stand by and watch you shoot civilians. Someone call for an ambulance and see what you can do for Niyol.”
Tex said calmly, “There is no need. I will heal him.” He walked serenely in his preternatural way to Niyol’s collapsed body and smiled warmly at Kai, who had cradled Niyol to her body. Tex gently took Erika’s shaking hand from Niyol’s chest, smiled reassuringly at her, and turned Niyol outward. Kai’s eyes were wide with fright, and she gripped Niyol to her.
Erika’s voice came out shaky. “I have seen him save a life before.” She wiped a tear with the back of her nonbloody hand. The new name they had given Tex felt strange to her, but she used it anyway. “Bodaway is the only one that can save him now. Do not be afraid.”
Erika’s words, coupled with Tex’s calm, peaceful countenance, must have reassured Kai. Her face relaxed, and she loosened her grip on Niyol’s limp body.
Tex closed his eyes and hovered his hands over the old man’s abdomen and chest. He placed one hand on Niyol’s chest and the other on the man’s forehead. The crowd stood quietly, guns still pointed at the men dressed in black, all eyes on Tex.
His thin fingers worked slowly in a circular pattern. They picked up speed and soon wound clockwise around Niyol’s body, knitting a tight circle around the red spot on Niyol’s chest. Tex’s fingers were a blur. Erika’s eyes were fixed on Niyol’s chest, her breath caught in her throat, as the glinting metal of the bullet appeared beneath Tex’s fingers. After a few more minutes, he held up the bullet that had been lodged in the man’s chest. He allowed it to plink to the ground and turned his attention back to his healing, his face the picture of concentration.
After a few minutes more, Niyol coughed and opened his eyes. He stared up into Tex’s face. At first, he blinked and looked confused, but after a few seconds, his lips curled into an easy smile, and he nodded slowly at Tex. “Dighin.”
The local people cried out his new name softly. “Bodaway.” A few knelt, and others made the s
ign of the cross. One man held a rosary in his hand and mumbled prayers. The word “dighin” was repeated.
Erika had implored Tex not to kill people—to search for a way other than being a weapon. She had never expected him to become a demigod.
Tex gently lifted Niyol to his feet, but Niyol and Kai too knelt before him, their hands clasped in a position of prayer at their chests. Their faces were wet with tears, their eyes bright with the light of love.
Sheriff Armijo did not kneel or pray, but he addressed Tex. “Who are you, really?”
“I am Bodaway, and I have come to save the human race.”
17
tEX
Tex put one hand gently to Niyol’s head and the other on Kai’s. “You do not need to kneel before me. I am no god.”
In the dream state of the sweat ceremony, Tex’s change in appearance had felt right. Erika seemed to like Jack’s appearance, so he altered his own features to be more like Jack’s. Once he had figured out how to grow a new lung, changes to his face and body were simple. Besides, a more human appearance would make traveling through their world easier.
Garnering human adulation had not been his goal. His new appearance and display of his abilities had them staring at him with reverence on their faces as though he was a demigod. Their looks of awe and their kneeling posture unnerved him.
Smith’s voice rang out. “Don’t be fools, people. He’s an alien, not a messiah. He admitted that he’s a killer. He’s responsible for at least a dozen deaths in two states.”
Tex had not counted how many people he had killed, but he thought Smith was exaggerating the numbers.
Erika strode toward him as Kai and Niyol rose. Her eyes were wide, and her heart beat wildly. The scent of her adrenaline permeated the air. Is she afraid of me now? If she was, he found it odd that she should be more fearful of him now that he was not killing people than before, when he had been a threat to the lives of so many.
Afraid of him or not, she stood by his side. “There isn’t enough time to tell the whole story of how he came to be here,” Erika said. “What Smith says is partly true. My friend here—who you now call Bodawa—is part alien. But he’s part human as well. And we came from the future.”
H.A.L.F.: ORIGINS Page 13
