by Bryan Cohen
The President tried to seem comfortable with the General's proximity. He wasn't very successful. "You're already replacing the dead. At the Summit, I want you to pick and choose the next people to die." Blake's voice became steadier. "With the new leaders loyal to us, we'll have all the control we'll ever need."
The General let Blake's words sit in the air for a few uncomfortable moments. He pulled away and held the leader's gaze. "Mr. President, I think we have a deal."
Later that afternoon, after ignoring half a dozen texts from Dhiraj and one phone call from Natalie, the General sat on the edge of Ted's bed. He never tired of his plans going so smoothly, but now came the hard part. He pulled the box out from under the mattress that was falsely labeled "yearbooks." When he cracked the top, five well-worn tomes stared up at him. He laid them out neatly on the bed with gloved hands. He removed the protection slowly and braced himself for the impact.
All power has to come from somewhere.
The General placed his full palm on the first page of the leftmost book. Unimaginable pain shot through his body. His eyes watered and his throat constricted so tight, it felt like he'd swallowed a dozen razor blades. He had no idea just how much time had passed when the sensation subsided. He caught a trickle of blood from his nose, just before it left on mark on his sheets. The General looked at the crimson droplets as they spread across the lines on his palm.
"Blood for blood, Ted Finley." He closed his fingers in a tight fist. "Blood for blood."
9
Natalie's shoes pounded against the hardwood as she ran around a screen and caught the ball at the top of the three-point line. Sweat trickled down her neck onto her jersey as she faked going inside with her shoulder. She watched all five players on the other team move in sync toward the rim. She laughed out loud and stepped back for the wide-open three-point shot. As the ball easily swished through the net, she looked back at her defender to see the girl's will snap. She high-fived her teammate Elle, and got a slap on the butt in return.
She'd nearly killed the freshman the first time the girl had done that during a game, but Natalie had come to realize that some people just can't change. For better or worse. Natalie retreated back to the other side of the court and got set in her defensive stance when she heard the loud explosion above. Even though the noise had set her heart beating like a jackhammer, she knew that it was best to ignore the hallucination. She'd had her sanity questioned enough this season, and every time she flinched, it gave her coach one more reason to take her out of the game.
It isn't real.
Natalie kept her eyes trained on her mark, a particularly gangly girl who'd been made the team's center because of her height, not her upper body strength. Natalie watched the girl's hips to tell which direction she was headed, when nearly all the lights seemed to go out in the building. A spotlight shined down from above. She let her eyes dart up for one second before returning to the center's hips. In one glance, she knew madness was still part of her life.
The hallucinatory explosion above had created a jagged skylight. And through the gaping wound in the ceiling, Natalie could see one of the light soul warplanes flying by, its floodlight trained upon her. As soon as her flat-footed target caught the ball, Natalie reached in and nearly stole it straight off. In the process she trapped the girl far in the corner of the court. Natalie could feel the fear emanating from the girl's pores. She ignored the fact that the girl's trepidation seemed just as real as the sound of the ship's engine overhead.
Natalie's opponent threw an ill-fated pass across the court, which Elle easily intercepted. She was far too fast to be caught, and easily went all the way to the basket for an uncontested layup. As Natalie pumped her fist, an illusionary bomb fell through the hole in the ceiling. Natalie kept her eyes away as the weapon detonated and seemingly took out an entire section of the bleachers. She knew the sounds of screaming and agony were only in her mind. She wished for once that the phrase "matter over mind" was a thing.
Natalie pulled her now sweat-drenched uniform away from her skin to give it some air. Dizziness came over her, but she wasn't about to tell her coach that. She clapped her hands together hard and moved back into position.
Pull it together, Dormer.
She shut her eyes tight, and when she opened them she saw that the bleachers were still intact. There was no ridiculous hole in the ceiling. There weren't any warships overhead. But there was one thing she saw that still upset her. While every other pair of eyes in the stadium were trained on the ball and the action, one set looked straight at her. It was Travis. He'd seen the entire mental episode, and he knew exactly what was going on in her head.
Despite a refreshingly cold shower, Natalie continued to sweat an hour after the victory. She took another gulp from her water bottle as she entered the nearly empty parking lot. Leaning against her vehicle was her boyfriend. Travis was as gorgeous as he was the day she'd fallen for him. Even with only the light from the nearby baseball field to illuminate him, she could still see the sharp jaw and the well-defined arms that brought her to him in the first place. But he wasn't there to hold her or to let her have her way with him. She could see the scolding in his eyes. She considered walking home, but decided to face the music.
Natalie stopped a few feet away from the vehicle. "You know when I blocked that ball into the second level of the bleachers?"
Travis looked like he didn't want to play this game, but he did anyway. "Yeah?"
"I was thinking of your head."
Travis flared his nostrils. "Funny."
They stood in silence for a few moments before Travis took a step toward her. "Is it getting worse?"
Natalie turned away from him and opened the trunk with her key fob. "Nothing I can't handle."
As she tossed her duffel into the car, Travis stepped up beside her. "I don't think you should white-knuckle this, Nat. It's not normal to see all that crap every waking second."
Natalie slammed the trunk and once again spun away from her boyfriend. "If I wanted a lecture, I would've gone to first period."
As she turned back to face Travis, she noticed something in his eyes. She felt herself beginning to sweat harder.
Travis held up his hands. "Okay. Okay. You don't want a lecture, so maybe, since you never returned my call, I should finally tell you the good news."
Natalie didn't know there could be such a thing as good news in the midst of such crap.
She did her best to light her eyes and smile. "You're finally getting those pectoral implants?"
Travis crossed the gap between them and put his hand around her back. "Nat, I got into SOU. I'm going to be on the team."
He leaned in to kiss her, and the guilt flooded through her.
She hid it well. "Oh my gosh, Travis. That's amazing!"
Travis pulled her in tight for a hug. "I couldn't have done it without you. I can't believe we get to go to the same school."
Over Travis' shoulder, Natalie let her face relax into its true form. She didn't know how much longer she could keep up the lie.
She pulled her face into shape. "You did it yourself. I didn't make your legs run that 40."
Travis raised his eyebrows like he was about to make a dirty joke, but he must've learned his lesson from the last time she slapped him. "There's nothing more I want to do than celebrate with you. Burger and a movie?"
Natalie let her shoulders slump. "I'm drained, Travis. I'm gonna fall asleep the second I get out of this car."
Travis lifted her in the air and spun her. "Come on. You've been blowing me off all week. And I know you could go another two games, crazy war hallucinations or not."
Natalie attempted to look even more tired. "I swear, on my hallucinatory grave, that we'll celebrate this weekend."
Travis tried on puppy dog eyes, but he only exceeded in looking like a sniveling bulldog. "But we're young and stupid. Shouldn't we be youthful and crazy?"
Natalie patted him twice on the shoulder. "You can be as youthful and
crazy as you want. I'm going to bed." She put her hand under his chin. "I'll let you listen to the dumb classic rock station all the way to your house."
Travis frowned one last time and walked around to the passenger side door.
Hours after Travis said goodnight, Natalie padded along the familiar grassy backyard. She didn't know what it was that held her there, but every time she reached the back of the house, she thought a little bit less of herself. Before she could put her leg into the first foothold of the aluminum siding, Natalie felt herself float into the air. Her body relaxed as she completely gave up control.
She closed her eyes until her feet were firmly planted on Ted's blue carpet. When she opened them, she didn't see the same old Ted: the nerd who had won her heart several years earlier. Now he was a warrior like she was. She didn't know why she wanted him so badly. He placed his hands in the exact same spot where Travis had earlier that night.
His fingers reached the lower part of her back and he pulled her closer. "Nobody can hear your thoughts like I can, and nobody understands what we've been through. Not Erica. Not Travis. It's perfectly natural."
Natalie turned her head away. "Then why does being here make me feel so bad?"
As Ted pressed his lips into her neck, she felt a shiver all the way down to her toes. She put her hand around his shoulders pulled him closer. "How do I stop feeling like the worst person alive?"
Ted pulled his mouth away from her skin. "Let go. Let everything go, and let me give you what you deserve."
Natalie let out a breath as Ted went back to kissing her neck and lower ear. Natalie threw her head back and tried to concentrate on nothing but his lips against her body. She felt great and horrible. Full and empty the same time.
10
Sheriff Norris smelled the thick, stale, greasy air of the pizza parlor two towns over. He tapped his fingers on the tarp tablecloth until they became coated in leftover Parmesan and oregano. He wiped his hand on his pants. It seemed like just yesterday that his previous inhabitant was sitting in a stupor across from Erica LaPlante in that very same restaurant. There was no question this was a dive: a rundown place of refuge for truckers and Jersey Shore vacationers on their way elsewhere. Compared to the places he ate in the Realm of Souls, however, this restaurant was a palace.
And here I am. Alone.
Sheriff Norris had been told his new life on Earth would be incredible. He could be a loving father again. Only, he didn't know his daughter would reject him outright. He might've made it work if Erica hadn't been in the picture, but now he was covertly meeting her without his daughter's knowledge. He didn't have many other options.
As the bells on the top of the front door rang, Sheriff Norris looked to his left to see Erica enter. A khaki baseball cap obscured most of her hair, aside from a medium-length ponytail leading out the back. A hoodie two sizes too large obscured her figure. While he watched her place an order at the counter and head his way, he couldn't help but flash back to a memory of his prior inhabitant driving his truck through the front of the school toward the dark soul as Erica leapt high above the impact. He recalled her rescue attempt of Ted and Natalie from a portal as he took a bullet from the mind-controlled DHS agent. He even flashed back to the long-ago day when he held Erica's hair back after she'd had far too much to drink. The sheriff knew that none of it had happened to him directly, but his heart ached just the same.
Erica sat across from him, placing a translucent paper plate and a slice of pepperoni pizza on the table. She looked up at him. Erica still eyed the sheriff like an enemy. Like a person who had taken all the good away from her. It took everything within the sheriff not to cower. If she wanted him dead, it probably wouldn't take long to accomplish.
Erica's lip curled into a near-snarl. "Stop looking at me like a dad."
Sheriff Norris pushed the glass condiment shakers closer to Erica's plate. "I was a dad before anyone put me in this body."
Erica looked away and seemed to think of things far beyond the walls of a pizza joint. "I don't care."
Sheriff Norris pressed his lips together. "I lost one of them to starvation. The other was a soldier. He died in the air strike that rescued Ted a few months back."
Erica turned her attention ahead. She could've burned holes in the sheriff's skull. "I didn't ask for your sob story. I'm not auditioning you for a reality TV show."
The sheriff leaned back and looked at the ceiling. "You wanted to know why I was chosen." He looked back at the teenage protector. "It was a consolation. I'd lost my sons. I wasn't contributing enough. My farm could barely feed the foster kids I'd taken in, let alone myself."
Erica absently picked up her pizza and took a bite. Her eyes finally seemed to tell him to keep talking.
"It seemed random at the time. I assumed I was being put to death when they took me. It wasn't until we got on the ship that they told us."
Erica wiped some grease from the corner of her mouth. She crumpled the napkin and balled up her fist. "And what mission did they give you?"
The Sheriff thought back to the massive auditorium. Despite the size of the chamber, there was hardly any oxygen to be had. It was packed from wall to wall, and he heard they were only the second group out of five that day. He didn't have a good seat, but he could still feel the menace of Pluric, the General's second-in-command, even in the nosebleed section. He wondered what the mind-reading torturer would do with him if he saw him meeting with Erica LaPlante.
The Sheriff leaned on his elbows. "I need certain assurances. If I'm going to share information with you, I need to know you'll do everything in your power to get Jennifer to listen–"
Erica held up her hand. "I'm going to talk to her. It may take some time."
He nodded. "I know. I know. But I could get killed for talking to you."
Erica relaxed her face. "You could get killed for not talking."
Sheriff Norris felt his stomach tense. His enhanced strength and speed might get him out the front door, but he wasn't a fighter. He had the old sheriff's skills in his muscle memory, but farming didn't provide much training on hand-to-hand combat. He wouldn't make it out of the parking lot.
"They didn't say much before we went through the portal. They gave us some tips on blending in. Pretending we had amnesia until we got our bearings. I think you're familiar with that bit."
She almost cracked a smile but remained firm in her neutrality. "Mm-hmm."
He tapped absently on his pant leg. "After briefing us, they said to await further instructions."
Erica nodded slowly. "And what have the instructions been?"
The sheriff wiped some sweat from his brow. "There's been nothing. In three months, not a word from the other side. Maybe they forgot about us."
Erica rolled her eyes. "Sure. That's incredibly likely."
"Look, I told you everything I know. And if I get anything else, I'll definitely tell you." He blinked back a tear. "Now, will you promise that you'll get her to talk to me? I've already lost two children. I don't want to lose–"
"She's not your daughter."
The sheriff gritted his teeth. "Just like Ted Finley wasn't your childhood best friend."
Judging by the narrowing of her eyes, Erica didn't seem to appreciate his retort. "I'll do everything I can for you."
The sheriff pounded the table with a closed fist. "I want her to move in with me!"
Several restaurant patrons looked over at the display of anger.
Erica spoke in hushed tones. "She saw you die. I can't erase that memory."
The sheriff lifted his chin. "Actually, you can." He stood up. "And if you want any more information, you better start thinking about what you're willing to do to get it."
Sheriff Norris wasn't sure if she'd let him leave with the upper hand, but he walked out the front door anyway. When several seconds went by without an attack from behind, he knew he was in the clear. For now.
As he drove home, he knew that wiping Jennifer's memory wasn't what he truly wa
nted. He wanted her to look at him and see her father, but he didn't imagine there was much chance of that. Was it better to force someone to love you or to live your days out in loneliness? He wished he'd never gotten on that ship. Even farming dry, withered crops beat this inner torment.
When he returned home, Sheriff Norris noticed the familiar hum of the TV.
I never even watch that thing.
It took a few moments to find the remote, and once he did he hit the power button. Nothing changed, and the white noise grew louder. Several more attempts sent the sheriff looking for batteries, until the TV started speaking to him.
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen." A picture appeared on the screen. It was a face the sheriff would know anywhere. "This is your General speaking."
11
In the several days since the General had his slip-up with Vella, the world had been an on-and-off blur for the dark soul commander. As a servant poured him tea and Pluric droned on about something dry as sand, he wondered why he would say he missed Natalie Dormer. He tried to convince himself that he'd simply misheard the little girl, but that didn't change the fact that he was telling the truth. When he pictured the human who'd infiltrated his castle walls with a group of unfortunate rebels, he thought of her as someone he wanted to see. Someone he cared about. And it frightened him.
"So, you're in agreement. We should kill the little girl by sundown?"
The General nearly spit out his tea. "What?!"
Pluric let out a nasal laugh. "I knew that would get your attention. She's a blind spot for you, General. It really would be better if we dispensed with her before word gets around that you've lost your edge."
The General placed his mug safely on the table. "I'm an army commander during peacetime, Pluric. Won't the people get uppity if I don't lose my edge? Keeping Vella alive is a show of unity."
Pluric shook his head. "I think it's more like weakness."
