by Brian Parker
Yeah, but are you really my sister?
“What did you say?” Reagan asked Ansley.
“Huh? I didn’t say anything.”
“Yes you did, you asked if you were still my sister,” Reagan said.
“Um, no I didn’t, crazy. I’ve been sitting here listening to you two talk. I should have gotten some popcorn before you started though.”
“You didn’t say anything?”
“No. Mom, maybe she’s not over being sick,” Ansley said.
“She’s right, honey,” her mother answered. “You’ve had a really rough few weeks with the death of your father and that strange fever. Your sister didn’t say anything. Maybe we should go home and let you get some rest.”
Reagan was sure that she’d heard Ansley ask if they were still sisters. Maybe her brain was just working overtime to try and process the information that she really was adopted and had a twin sister. She leaned forward and scooped a forkful of rice into her mouth. “I can’t wait until I can eat some real food,” she told her family with a smile after she swallowed the plain, unappetizing rice.
Over the next few minutes, the tension in the air seemed to disappear and they were able to chat throughout the remainder of the meal like they’d always done in the past. When it came time to pay, Ansley surprised everyone by picking up the tab and paying with her saved allowance. The family would work together for everything and be stronger because of what had happened.
They walked out to the parking lot where her mother’s simple four-door car sat under a light. They’d specifically chosen that spot to keep would-be thieves away, but it didn’t matter on this night. When they were a few feet from the car, three thugs detached themselves from the shadows brandishing knives.
“Hey lady, nice car. Give me the keys,” the leader of the group said as he licked his lips with a large, bloated tongue.
“Leave us alone,” Heather said as she unconsciously herded her children behind her like a mama bear protecting her cubs.
“It’s not a request. Give me your keys or I’m gonna butcher every one of you,” he held up his knife and licked his lips again, a telltale sign of an addict.
The lamplight glinted off the blade as it appeared to arc like lightning towards Reagan. She shuddered from the image and in her mind’s eye she saw that these three men wouldn’t be happy with just stealing their car. They would attack the girls and do unspeakable things to them, ending it all with slits across their throats. They’d done it before and wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.
Something snapped inside of her and she pushed her way past her mother. She stood strong in front of her family and saw red. “I’m giving you one warning. Leave now,” she said through gritted teeth.
“What the hell are you gonna do to stop us?” the leader asked while the other two laughed.
Behind him, one of his gang members said, “What’s under that coat of yours, baby?”
Reagan screamed for them to leave her and her family alone. She imagined that she saw those same ripples emanating from her body as the sound traveled into the drug addicts. She continued to scream as she saw their clothing billow from the force of her voice first, then bones began to snap and the men stood rooted in place as their bodies were transformed into gross, misshapen copies of what they used to be.
She felt her mother tugging on her arm, pleading for her to stop as the skin peeled away from their attackers’ bodies. Blood erupted outwards, but somehow hung suspended in the air around the men.
“Reagan, stop!” Heather Lockhart screamed at her. “They’re dead! They can’t hurt us anymore.”
She turned a switch in her mind and the waves that she’d seen disappeared. The blood fell from the air and splashed on the pavement like someone had dumped a bucket from an upper-story window and splattered outwards. The bodies of the three men twitched as the nerves continued to fire. One of the men mewled like a newborn kitten for a few seconds and then, thankfully, the awful noise stopped.
Reagan turned to her mother who stared wide-eyed at her. “We’re safe,” she stated and then collapsed.
NINETEEN
Paige’s eyes snapped open. She lay on her couch with a cool, damp washcloth on her forehead. Something big had just happened. She felt a massive shift in the atmosphere. Most people probably couldn’t feel it, but she knew that something important had happened and she had a feeling that she knew what it was.
“Are you alright?” Lillian asked her from the other end of the couch where she sat rubbing her feet.
“I’m feeling much better, thank you. Gavin is on his way. We’ll have some things to talk about that he won’t want you to hear, even though he fully expects me to tell you later.”
“Of course,” the technician replied. “I’ll come back in a couple of hours.” She stood up and kissed Paige deeply before exiting through the apartment’s front door.
Paige thought about the power shift that she’d felt a moment before. When she’d murdered that privileged little bitch’s father, she’d unleashed a raw, unrefined power that was enough to separate Paige from William’s mind. The sudden rending of her aura from the man likely left him either brain-dead or insane, both were sufficient to keep her presence hidden from the American authorities. She’d been left with massive headaches and had even developed a strange low-grade fever. Lillian had outright refused to allow her to use the Neuroactuator until the fever passed, so Phase Five was still on hold until she got better.
That was fine because she needed the break more than she realized. After Reagan did whatever it was that she did to Paige, she’d slept for two days off and on when the fever allowed her to pass into oblivion.
The telepath sighed and looked at her phone. Gavin would be here in a few minutes, so it was best that she get up and appear as if the illness had passed. Everyone was getting nervous about moving forward. Their hard-won gains were still precarious, at best. Millions of Americans were dead or dying, but Phase Five would send them over the edge that they wouldn’t be able to recover from. Once the phase was complete, they’d begin the systematic destruction of that hated society. Then, the only thing left to do would be for Canada to swoop in, annex what they wanted and leave the rest as a desolate wasteland.
In order to make sure that Phase Five went as the prime minister desired, Paige still had to start a border clash between Russia and China. It was a late addition to the Protocol, but she believed that it was probably the right call. If those two super-powers were at each other’s throats, they’d stay uninvolved on the North American continent. The Europeans would likely be on high alert in their own countries with a major conflict on the Asian continent and would leave the American’s to their own fate, allowing Canada the opportunity that she needed.
There was a quick knock on the apartment’s front door and she walked slowly over to answer it. She made a quick mental adjustment to the man on the other side of the door and opened it. While she didn’t alter any of the inner circle’s thinking or take over their minds, she always hid her true appearance from them. There was no reason for them to see that she was wasting away from the almost nonstop use of her powers. “Hello, Gavin. Come in.”
“Paige,” he replied with a quick hug. “Lillian tells me that your fever has passed. How are you feeling?”
“I’m good. Ready to carry out Phase Four Bravo,” she replied. That’s what they’d started calling the branch plan to start the war in Asia. Few outside of the inner circle knew of its existence and none of the Protocol’s field agents knew about it, so in order to keep things simple and not accidentally send a mixed message, they left the remaining phases names the same as the original plan.
“Let’s have a seat,” Gavin suggested. “You may be feeling better, but you’re still a little pale.”
“I… I am? Hmpf, hadn’t noticed,” she lied. How the hell was he able to tell that she was still a little under the weather? She’d made certain to alter his perceptions of her. She couldn’t hide it from t
he facility’s medical devices, but she’d been certain that everything on the tests were normal. That run-in with Reagan must have left her more damaged than she thought.
They sat on her couch and Gavin made small talk about the political aspects of his job as the appointed head of the Mounties while Paige listened. Finally, the unspoken timeframe for niceties had passed and he shifted on the couch to look directly at her.
“Are you up to the task?” Gavin asked bluntly.
“Of course I am. I only needed that short break after we annihilated the American military, but then I got sick and your cronies refused to let me use the machine.”
“We did that for your health, dear girl. You may not realize it, but you are this nation’s greatest treasure. We would do anything to safeguard you.”
“What about once this is all over? What will Canada expect of me then?” she knew that there would always be another task for her. Before the Protocol became a reality, she’d used her powers to help elevate Gavin to his current position as the Commissioner and then she helped shore up the nation’s financial status by getting inside the minds of the greatest traders on Wall Street. What would they expect of her next, after their enemy was washed away like trash in a gutter?
“You will forever be taken care of, given whatever you want in life, but we could never publicly acknowledge your existence.”
“No more projects?” she asked.
“I can’t guarantee that Canada won’t need you again in the future, but it wouldn’t be for massive undertakings like the Protocol. We may possibly need you to help us alter world leader’s perceptions about the strength of the Canadian economy without the U.S. to our south.”
“That’s a simple enough undertaking.”
“I believe so. You’ll have earned your retirement a hundredfold once the Protocol is complete.”
“Alright, I’m ready to go start a war,” she said with a grin.
“Remember, absolutely no nukes!”
“Of course not. I’d be a poor Canadian if I allowed that type of environmental disaster.”
*****
Halfway across the globe in the Chinese city of Heihe several border guards fired directly at their counterparts across the Amur River in the much larger Russian city of Blagoveshchensk. The attack was an unprovoked act of aggression between the two nations. The garrison commander called his superiors in Moscow to report the incident and then smashed his radio.
While the city itself was smaller, the population of Heihe was easily triple that of the northern Russian city. For inexplicable reasons, the Chinese commander ordered his entire garrison to their boats and they attacked across the river in a full frontal assault. It was reminiscent of the Chinese attacks on the city in July 1900 during the Boxer Rebellion when Russians and Chinese fought in the Siberian tundra.
The Chinese attack was suicide against the better armed and superior Russian troops stationed in the city. The attack broke against the strong river defenses and sent the survivors fleeing downriver. The Russian commander took advantage of his easy victory over Heihe’s security forces and crossed the river with his army.
By the end of the day, several hundred thousand Chinese civilians lay dead in the overcrowded streets of Heihe. The Russians posted victory photographs and messages to social media websites across the world. At dawn the next morning, the sky above Blagoveshchensk opened and sent thousands of bombs into the city as Chinese bombers flattened the landscape.
With the control of only a few minds, Paige was able to begin the war between Russia and China. By the end of the conflict several years in the future, nearly one hundred and ninety million people would be dead as the two nations’ hatred of each other fueled the fighting long after the telepath stopped interfering in that region of the world.
For the time being, no one paid any attention to the Canadian designs against their much larger neighbor to the south.
TWENTY
The constant beeping noise finally woke Reagan from her slumber. What the hell is that noise? she thought as she rubbed her hand against her face. She was rewarded with a rough scratch against her cheek. What?
She opened her eyes and squinted in the bright light. Something was attached to the end of her finger and she raised her hand up so she could see it. It was one of those little clothespin-looking things that measured how much oxygen you had in your blood. What the heck is a pulse-ox doing on my hand?
“Oh, thank goodness you’re awake!” her mother cried from outside of her field of vision and threw herself across her daughter.
“Yeah, I’m awake. Why shouldn’t I be? What happened?”
“You don’t remember the restaurant parking lot?”
The image of the three men came crashing back to her. She’d murdered those men and the power had been intoxicating. Reagan didn’t know how she’d done those things, but she instinctively knew that she could have shut it off at any moment. Instead she chose to keep going until they were reduced to bloody hunks of twisted flesh.
“Um… Yeah, I remember the parking lot,” she replied haltingly.
“What happened?” her mother asked.
“I don’t know. I was just trying to defend you and Ansley and that happened. I don’t know where it came from; I just felt all this… rage that they were trying to take away our things. I had a vision of them kidnapping and murdering us after they did… other things and I knew that I had to stop them.”
Her mother nodded her head curtly in acceptance. “The police have told the hospital staff to notify them as soon as you wake up,” she warned her daughter. “Reagan, tell me truthfully, did you cause that accident at the club?”
“No, Mom!” she answered. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Okay. I believe you, honey. It’s been a rough couple of days with you being unconscious and no medical reason for it. They tried all sorts of things to wake you up, but you just disappeared inside your mind. I’m so… I’m so glad that you’re awake,” her mother choked.
“Me too, Mom. Where’s Ansley?”
“She’s at the hotel with Aunt Kendra. I’ve stayed here with you.”
“How long have I been out?” Reagan asked.
“Three days.”
“Wow, talk about really needing to sleep.”
“It’s not a joke, Reagan. I think the police may charge you with murder,” she said, fear evident in her voice.
“It was self-defense!” she exclaimed.
“We’ll see about that Miss Lockhart,” Detective Simms said from the doorway. “Glad to see that you’re awake.”
Reagan was startled by his sudden appearance and glared at him, “I thought we’d moved beyond me being a suspect for things.”
“For everything else, yes,” the detective replied as he walked into the room. “There’s video evidence that you did… something to those three gang bangers in that parking lot. We can’t charge you with anything since there weren’t any weapons used and the video clearly shows you standing your ground as they were shredded like they went through a meat processor, but I know you did it somehow.”
“Cool it, Alex. This is bigger than three useless drug addicts looking for a quick score,” another voice said from the same doorway that the detective had stood in a few seconds previous.
“I’m sure you remember Agent Quintana,” Detective Simms stated.
“Of course, the FBI agent,” Reagan replied.
“Do we need to call our lawyer?” Heather asked.
“No, Mrs. Lockhart. Reagan isn’t a suspect in anything except Alex Simms’ mind,” Quintana said.
“Agent Quintana, what—”
“Juan. Please call me Juan.”
“Juan, what do you want with my daughter if she’s not a suspect? Isn’t it a little strange for the FBI to be investigating a simple homicide?”
“It’s not a simple homicide. Did I ever tell you what department I work for, Reagan?”
“You said you worked for the FBI,” she answer
ed.
“Yes, but I work in a small section within the Criminal Investigative Division called Unorthodox Crimes. For decades, my small section has been the laughing stock of the Bureau where those of us who believed in the paranormal chased down every credible claim of alien abduction, satanic rituals and crimes involving anything that local police departments weren’t equipped to deal with.
“The reason I was on your case to begin with was because of the strange, unorthodox incident at the Razor’s Edge. That was quickly compounded by the mass animal attacks across the southern half of the nation. My section skyrocketed from obscurity into the presidential limelight as we tried to come to grips with what was happening.
“We haven’t gotten a break since October with all the investigations and strange occurrences happening everywhere at once. When Detective Simms called me with the details of this incident, I knew that I had to come and talk to you. On the way over here, he briefed me on all of the strange occurrences that have happened to you and your family since the nightclub; I’m convinced that it’s not all coincidental. You’re being targeted by someone or something. I think that you’re the key to stopping all of this.”
“Uh, wow. That’s a lot to take in, Agent… Juan. I’ve always had bad luck, it just follows me around.”
“Really? You’ve always had bad luck? How?”
“I don’t know, ever since I was a kid, anything that was a happy event in my life was almost always countered with something bad. I’ve never really thought about it like you just described it, but it is like someone waited in the shadows to destroy all of my good moments.”
They talked for several minutes about specific incidents that had happened to her over the years, starting with when she was ten and scored the winning goal in the junior soccer championship only to have a referee trip and land on her leg, breaking both her tibia and fibula bones as she was running off the field. As the list grew, it became apparent that there was some type of supernatural force conspiring against her. Reagan was generally a positive person and had never listed all the bad things that happened to her over the course of her life. She’d never seen a reason to do so before, but Agent Quintana had seen a lot of strange things in his job and he believed the list confirmed his assertion that something was going on with her.
