A Question of Will

by Alex Albrinck

  Will tried to look into the house where he’d seen the man with the bloodied sword, the man who’d tried and possibly succeeded in killing his wife and son. The flames were too intense, but he imagined the killer had probably been badly injured or killed in the explosion, and if not, the flames couldn’t be doing him any good. It was difficult to feel any sympathy for that monster, though. Will darted to the right side of his house, looking for any semblance of an opening in the flames or walls that would enable him to get inside. He saw nothing but towering sheets of fire. While he didn’t particularly care if he suffered additional injuries, it wouldn’t do Hope or Josh any good if he was so badly hurt when he got into the house that he couldn’t help them get out. If they were already gone...he’d just stay in the house until he joined them.

  For now, he’d search.

  Will worked his way steadily around the side of the house, spotting nothing resembling an opening in the walls of flame, until he reached the back. It looked as if the explosion had been focused here, perhaps in the kitchen area, for it had taken a large section of the back of the house out. The flames were, if possible, even more intense near the gaping hole than around the front and sides of the house. Will suspected that it was because there was more air and oxygen here to feed the flames. He could feel the fire touching his scorched skin, and he inhaled a touch of smoke.

  Gasping and choking, Will moved further into the back yard, falling to his knees and coughing as he worked to expel the smoke from his lungs. He knew what he needed to do now. He would plunge into his burning home through the now non-existent rear walls to continue his search. Fate would decide whether he emerged.

  His lungs finally seemed clear, and Will took deep breaths, trying to flood his lungs with oxygen, and in so doing keep his body from shutting down due to the extreme burns. He stood up, faced the house, and started walking, a look of grim determination on his face.

  Two sets of hands grabbed him from behind and hurled him twenty feet through the air towards the forest. Will landed in a heap, his glasses flying off his face well past him, and the just-inhaled air was expelled forcefully from his lungs. He tried to get to his feet, but his attackers began kicking him and punching him, the force doubly painful due to his burned skin. Forced to focus on his own survival, Will tried to pull himself into a fetal position, but the attackers seized his arms and legs and held him face down. The heavy blows continued, fists and boots smashing into him, and he heard loud cracks as bones snapped in his lower leg and rib cage.

  “Stand him up,” a voice rasped. Will was hauled to his feet, his legs unable to bear his weight. He saw before him a man dressed in black, with wavy black hair and a handsome face featuring green eyes that glowed with hatred. The man’s face was marred by a single scar across his right cheek. The man produced a large knife, more like a small sword, which glinted in the fading sunlight. “Let’s see how you like this, Stark,” the man snarled. Will felt the burnt skin of his face torn open as the attacker slashed him across both cheeks. One of his captors released him, and Will’s battered body slumped to the ground; the second man maintained contact as Will collapsed.

  Cold water was splashed on his face. “No sleeping now, Stark,” the man with the scar announced. “You can’t answer for your crimes if you’re taking a nap.” He laughed. “Aramis, it’s your show.”

  The man maintaining contact shifted around so that Will could see him. The man had blonde hair so light it looked almost white. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and a top hat. He looked like a dull literature professor, which suited Will fine as he desperately wanted to sleep. Forever.

  The man maintained contact with Will as he spoke. “I, Aramis, along with Athos—“ he nodded at the scar-faced man, “and Porthos—“ he nodded at a third man, who wore a dark cloak, “hereafter referred to as the Hunters, do hereby charge you, Will Stark, with many crimes, including, but not limited to, the following. That you did knowingly, and with extreme prejudice, provide to humans technological advances developed by and intended to be limited to use by the Aliomenti, and that in so doing you violated Aliomenti Oath number one. That to further this illegal activity you recruited others to your cause, and formed an organization known as the Alliance. And that you did marry the human woman known as Hope Stark, in violation of Aliomenti Oath number three, which carries the automatic penalty of fifty years imprisonment for you and the termination of the human woman, in order to ensure the ongoing privacy and secrecy of the existence of the Aliomenti from humans. How do you plead to these charges, for which we have amassed unassailable proof of guilt?”

  The blond man finished his recitation and looked at Will. In his dazed state, Will was only vaguely aware that he was expected to respond.

  Will answered truthfully. “What?”

  He had to focus to avoid slurring his words, as his brain was working overtime trying to deal with the massive injuries he’d suffered in the past fifteen minutes.

  Aramis frowned. “That is not an acceptable answer. How do you plead to the charges?”

  Will coughed, spitting out blood. “I don’t know what you mean.” His voice slurred.

  The man in the cloak snickered. “I think you kicked him too hard, Athos. He can’t even answer a question now.”

  “Shut it, Porthos,” Athos replied. “Acceptable answers to Aramis’ question are guilty or not guilty, Stark. Answer!”

  “I plead...” Will paused, as he noticed the three men tensed at his words, as though expecting something disastrous to happen. But they continued looking at him, and Will completed his thoughts. “No understanding.”

  Aramis groaned. “Surely, Stark, you are quite aware that you’ve done every single thing I charged you with, no? Why are you stalling? Answer for what you’ve done, like a man!”

  Will’s voice continued to slur. “I don’t remember any of the things you’re talking about because I don’t understand most of the stuff you said.”

  Aramis slapped Will’s face, and the pain nearly caused him to faint. “Wake up, Stark, and stop lying. You’ve never denied any of this before. Of course, usually you’ve managed to escape by now, too, but let’s not go there. Answer the questions!”

  “I am proud to be married to Hope. I don’t know what that group is you spoke of, so I don’t know what rules or oaths you’re talking about. I haven’t started any type of groups like what you described.” Will wasn’t sure how he managed to speak so many words at once in his condition.

  Porthos groaned. “Athos, just Read him and get this over with. Screw the stupid rules that seem only to exist to keep us from capturing him. We all know he’s guilty anyway.”

  Athos grabbed him, and Will thought he’d once again get throttled. But the man simply put his palm on Will’s forehead, closed his eyes, and concentrated. When he opened his eyes, Athos looked concerned. “He’s not lying. He truly has no memory of anything.”

  Aramis turned on Porthos. “You idiot! Did you actually track the wrong man?”

  Porthos shoved Aramis, dislodging the top hat, which Aramis stooped to retrieve. Athos and Porthos looked concerned until Aramis donned the hat and resumed his hold on Will.

  Porthos glared at Aramis. “I tracked nothing wrong. The Energy reading was off the charts. There’s only one registered fugitive with a reading like that, and that’s Will Stark. The Energy scent was his. Look at him! How can you consider the idea that that man is not Will Stark?”

  Athos spoke, his voice quiet and uncertain. “He has no memory in his mind of his past with the Aliomenti. That’s not to say that the memories have not, somehow, been erased. But he does seem...taller, though.”

  “Impossible. Nobody has that type of technology.” Porthos was adamant, but his face showed doubt.

  “There’s no way we can know that for certain,” Aramis said. “We do not have information on what the Alliance does when it’s not fleeing from us. It’s not impossible to believe that they’ve developed just such a technology. We have no one inside the Al
liance to report on such matters.” His eyes narrowed. “Or do we?”

  I wish I could move right now, Will thought. I could get away and find Hope and Josh and escape while they bicker.

  Athos held up his hand, seeming to recognize this as well. “Gentlemen, this is not something we can settle here today. It is, indeed, our assessment that this man is Will Stark in the flesh, if not quite the mind, and that for his past crimes he is at the minimum subject to arrest. Are we in agreement?”

  “Thoroughly,” Porthos said. Aramis nodded.

  “Then I would propose we detain the suspect and return him to Headquarters where he can be properly questioned to determine the extent of this apparent memory loss, and recommendation of final punishment,” Athos stated. Then, in a lower voice: “Though I’ve never been unable to unravel even a cellular level indication of memory before. This is truly bizarre.”

  Aramis nodded. “I’m in agreement that we are within the rules to detain him. At this point, we’ve said enough that he’s a danger to our anonymity even if by chance this is not our Will Stark.”

  Porthos snorted. “You basically just said that we broke Oath Number 1. Shall we have someone hunt us down and bring us in for questioning?”

  Aramis’ face reddened. “The Oath specifically states that you must knowingly expose the Aliomenti. We had, and have, reasonable suspicion that this man is our main fugitive from justice. Will Stark. He knows more about the Aliomenti than anyone, no? It’s impossible that we could expose our existence to him. He was Aliomenti before any of us!”

  Porthos patted Aramis on the arm. “Ease up. I agree with you. But this is very strange. Very strange indeed. It’s almost as if...” He paused, looking thoughtful.

  “Out with it, man,” Athos snapped. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m wondering if this could be a trap set by the Alliance,” Porthos said, frowning. “They know we’re desperate to capture Will Stark. They erase or hide his memories and plant him here. Or they just find someone with a similar likeness. Then they sneak into this back yard, and shoot off Energy like fireworks. We show up, and while we’re sitting here trying to figure out why Will Stark seems so, well, so human...”

  “...the Alliance swoops in and captures us,” Athos said. He glanced around. “I don’t think that’s true, but...any Energy readings now?”

  Porthos closed his eyes, deep in concentration. When he opened them, he frowned. “You mean, outside of the three of us? There is one person.” He turned toward the woods. “You can come out now, sir.”

  The Leader of the Aliomenti, a short man with thinning blond hair brushed straight back, emerged from the woods and walked toward the three Hunters and Will Stark. Will noted an odd symbol of gold stitched on the lapel of his expensive suit. The symbol seemed to show a dashed circle inside a solid one, with an upside-down V overshadowing both. There were other symbols, but Will’s eyes weren’t functioning well enough between the beating and his lost glasses to make them out. “What, precisely, is the delay here?” he demanded. “Why are we not leaving with Stark immediately? Eventually, the human police and fire professionals will get through The Assassin’s mess out there and come this way. We cannot risk exposure.” He glared at the Hunters. “Well?”

  “Sir, we have reason to believe that this may not be the true Will Stark,” Athos admitted. “Porthos detected strong Energy here consistent with our favorite fugitive, but he has no memory of anything related to the Aliomenti...and no discernible Energy readings at this range either. Aramis’ Damper shouldn’t completely eradicate any semblance of Energy from Will Stark, but it has.” He took a deep breath. “I’m concerned that this man may be part of a trap set by the Alliance.”

  The Leader frowned, and turned to the man wearing the cloak. “I thought you could distinguish between Energy given off by different people, and thereby know who you were Tracking? Why did you not sense something different here?”

  Porthos shrugged. “There are remnants of Stark’s Energy here, and quite a bit of it. Perhaps he simply emptied himself of it, leaving himself without Energy or memories. But there is no Energy coming from him now, and I don’t know for sure that that’s not because of what he demonstrated in our last encounter.” He glanced at Aramis and Athos. “He could hide his Energy then, and he could be doing the same thing here. I fully believe this is our man; whether he’s faking humanness, or had his memory erased, or is employing some other deception, I can’t say. But the readings I picked up from far away? Nobody else can crank out that much. This is our guy.” He hesitated. “It has to be.” His face betrayed his doubt, though.

  Will’s face seared with anger at this. Now, after they’d murdered his family and beaten him and burned down his house...now they think they might have the wrong person? “You murderers,” he snarled, as best he could in his battered condition. “You killed them and beat me up because you thought I was somebody else?”

  “Shut up, Stark,” Athos said, kicking him in the ribs. He didn’t put as much into it as before, but Will’s body had suffered so much abuse that it was agony. “Nobody’s going to lose sleep over a handful of human deaths.”

  “If you were concerned, you shouldn’t have broken the rules and Oaths,” Aramis said, as if this resolved all concerns. “You have only yourself to blame.”

  “I have you to blame!” Will said, raising his voice as much as he could. “You think I’m somebody that your group says broke some rules, and for that you beat me up, kill two good men, and murder my wife and son?”

  “Look, I don’t...” Athos froze. “What did you just say?”

  “You killed those guards and my wife and son over a case of mistaken identity, and you think that’s nothing? What kind of monsters are you people?” His voice was breaking as he realized he was recognizing the obvious, that Hope and Josh were dead, and that he would die as well. He accepted his fate, and felt a strange sensation moving over his body, a sensation that was oddly ticklish. He wondered if that meant his body was giving up.

  “Oath-breaker!” Aramis screamed. “How could you?” The others’ faces had paled, though none had fallen to the ground in convulsions as had the odd man in the top hat, who was writhing on the ground several feet away from Will.

  Athos looked at the Leader, and pulled a long knife from a sheath on his belt. “Sir, you have heard the confession. Stark has somehow reversed the procedure and managed to father a child. Even Porthos knows the prescribed punishment for that Oath violation.”

  Porthos didn’t even respond to the verbal jab. He simply nodded, and drew his own knife.

  The Leader nodded as well. “I had always hoped to reclaim you to our cause, Will Stark.” His voice was solemn. “You were the epitome of what our kind could be. But your misguided ideals have been your downfall. And now this. Fathering a child? Violation of the Fourth Oath? You know the penalty for that.”

  He glanced at Athos and Porthos, who stood ready with their knives, and nodded, turning back to face Will. He looked Stark squarely in the eye. “I, Leader of the Aliomenti, hereby sentence Will Stark to death for violating the Fourth Oath, the Oath forbidding having children. The child we can assume destroyed by our Assassin and his fire, which is the lawful punishment for the offspring.”

  The Leader breathed a deep sigh, and glanced at the Hunters. “Kill him.”

  Athos and Porthos, on opposite sides of Will’s prone, battered body, plunged their knives straight down at Will’s chest, aiming directly for his heart.

  The knives clanged off an invisible barrier, sliding off Will’s body, leaving him winded but otherwise free of further injury.

  Both Hunters stood up instantly, looking around with suspicion.

  “The Damper is off!” Porthos shouted, looking at Aramis’ figure rocking on the ground.

  “It’s a trap!” Athos screamed. “Aramis, on your feet!”

  The man did not stand; rather, he rolled back to Stark’s still-prone figure, drew his knife and pounded it repeate
dly at Will, shrieking, “Die, cretin!” His stabs were no more successful than the others, sliding off the invisible shield protecting Will.

  “Where are they?” The Leader shouted. “Porthos, where are they?”

  “I’m not detecting anything, sir! There’s no indication that there’s anybody using Energy nearby!”

  Will felt the tickling sensations on his body suddenly solidify and grip him in a tight cocoon, and then the cocoon pulled him feet-first into the ground. His last vision before the dirt filled in overhead was the look of absolute shock on the faces of the four men left above.

  VI

  Rescue

  The silver-colored vehicle shimmered in the faint light of the Stark family’s basement. The craft looked similar to a small car without wheels, suggesting an alternative form of transport. The top dissolved away, revealing occupants inside filling three of the four seats. All three moved from the vehicle without speaking, their faces showing determination and focus.

  A young woman with shocking red hair and violet eyes, wearing a one piece body suit of deep green, walked several steps toward the back of the house, where Will Stark was being kicked and battered by three assailants. She stared at the finished wall, and a giant hole suddenly appeared, as if an invisible drill were being operated. Dirt, roots, and bits of rock flowed into the basement, covering the carpet with debris.

  A man with short brown hair and brown eyes, wearing a similar bodysuit of pale green, examined the exterior of the craft, looking for any sign of damage. Satisfied that the craft was sound, he attached a small device to the ceiling above him; the device looked somewhat like a mobile phone. Once the device was planted, he climbed back into the vehicle and began adjusting a series of dials.