Purpose

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  Quietly, they waited on the semi-crowded platform. A couple hours before midnight, and the crowds were starting to head north to the city’s nightlife. Mostly young professionals, but Gar noted the thugs mixed in. They were not going for the music and booze, but to prey on those who indulged too much in both.

  The Red Line arrived. Almost full, now that the small crowd got on with them. Fortune smiled on them, as they found an empty pair of seats.

  “At the risk of being rude…,” the kid started, but his confidence faded. When Gar nodded, he continued. “What’s your name?”

  “Gar.” It wasn’t his real name. Who named their kid Gar?

  “Gar?” His confused look quickly switched to embarrassment.

  “Family name,” Gar said. His predecessors were his only family, in a twisted way. The last dozen or so “hosts” used it, so when he abandoned his old life, he started to use it too. “Yours?”

  “Ryan.”

  Gar detected a note of hesitancy. His words weren’t a lie, but something more was there. When Ryan’s hand crept closer to Gar’s leg, he understood.

  Rather than let things go where it seemed they might, Gar changed topics. “Are you hungry?” He knew Ryan was, but would he admit it? “I need to get something to eat. I could use the company. My treat for keeping someone as scary-looking as me company.”

  This time, Ryan laughed a real laugh. It made him less broken. “Um… well….”

  Ryan was hungry and scared. No doubt, if Gar read his mind he would find he had almost no money. He was desperate enough that he was going to that part of town to find “work.” A flash of anger filled him. Anger? When he bit down on it, he realized it felt like David was sitting there talking about it.

  “Seriously, no strings. Order what you want. I’ll pay.” Checking to see if anyone could see, Gar pulled out a thick wad of bills he had taken from the guilty. “I just got paid.”

  At the sight of the money, Ryan’s eyes got slightly wider. Whether he knew it or not, Ryan licked his lips. The small reaction made Gar laugh, enough for Ryan to realize what he’d done.

  “I’m sorry,” he stammered, refusing to look over. “Thanks, I’m fine.”

  Cursing his lack of social skills, Gar grabbed the first bundle of bills he found in his coat pocket. “Here.” He took Ryan’s hand and shoved the money into his palm. “Don’t sell yourself tonight.”

  Shock, then shame flashed across Ryan’s face. Alternating his gaze between the money and Gar, he couldn’t speak. It was more money than Ryan could make in a week on the street, with none of the risk.

  Using the silence, Gar got up and stood near the door.

  What the hell was he thinking? There was a reason he was alone. He was bad for people. He had no business making the kid’s life worse.

  The one time Ryan looked back, the look of shame for what he’d tried to do stung Gar. At least he kept the money.

  The second stop was his, or it would be if he was really going there. When he got up, Gar’s stomach twisted. Was he still going to sell himself? The urge to read Ryan’s mind almost overpowered his ethics, but he abstained.

  Ryan peered back, gave Gar a small smile, and walked out of his life. Watching him head for the escalators, Gar hoped he was wrong. His face showed gratitude, not triumph. Poor kid. Gar hoped he found some peace.

  The chime rang, telling everyone the doors were closing. Gar was still watching Ryan walk away when he nearly doubled over. A sensation similar to what he felt when an innocent died struck him so hard, he gagged. Only this time it wasn’t the same. No one had died. Last time he felt this….

  “Ryan!” The scream was blocked by the doors. The entire car turned, stared, then went back to what they were doing. Another raving idiot on the Metro.

  Last time he felt this, felt it this intense, someone was about to die. Now, after decades, he understood. It was not a call for vengeance. It was a warning.

  When the train lurched forward, panic gripped him. He needed to get off the train. Now! Pressed against the window, he saw four thugs walking behind an oblivious Ryan.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He was such an idiot! Ryan had let his guard down because Gar gave him that money.

  The train started to pick up speed, forcing him to focus. By now, most everyone was ignoring him. Some watched, but he “suggested” they look away, and they did. Using the moment of pseudo-invisibility, Gar ran to the door between cars. Two from the end. Damn!

  Forming a mental image of a Metro Transit cop, he touched the small box on his belt. When he emerged into the next car, he could tell from the reaction on people’s faces, they saw an officer, not him.

  Thankfully, this car was nearly empty, so no one stood in the aisles. Running as fast as he could, weaving around the poles, he quickly covered the seventy-five feet to the back door. Watching the platform disappear, he tried the door. Locked!

  Of course it was locked. What had he expected? Too bad. His need was too great. Gar bunched his muscles, yanked with all his strength, and tore the door from its hinges.

  Tossing the twisted metal aside, he ignored the screams of shock from those watching. The clarion ring of the alarm sounded throughout the car as the smell of brake pads filled the air. Not waiting for the train to stop, he leapt down, rolling once to break his momentum.

  Behind him, he heard the car grind to a halt. Had he stuck around, he would have heard the angry shouts of people who realized their trip home had just gotten complicated. He didn’t care. Something bad was about to happen to an innocent kid. A little discomfort on their part was acceptable.

  Sprinting, he covered the distance to the platform in less time than the train took to leave. Still too long. Ryan and the others were gone. He startled the few people milling about when he ran the length of the tracks, back to the escalator Ryan had used. The press of bodies was too thick. Too many would get hurt if he forced his way past them.

  He leaped up from the tracks and ran faster toward the moving stairs. Bypassing the crowd, he used his momentum to leap toward the railing, fifteen feet above. Clutching the black metal tube, he swung himself over, nearly knocking over a half dozen people.

  “Police, move aside!” His shout took a moment to register, but people quickly moved from his path. After vaulting the fare gates, he made for the escalators leading out. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be too late. These were among the longest in the system, and if Ryan hadn’t walked up, he just might catch up.

  Two escalators went up, one down. Both were packed.

  “Fuck!” Moving toward the center stairs, he decided on his plan. “Police! Out of the way!”

  As people answered his command, he spared a second to scan the two up escalators. If Ryan was on one of them, he couldn’t see him.

  People quickly moved to the right. Most were already there, preferring not to make the overly long walk. Running up the stairs, the muted voices commenting on his burst of speed washed away against the only thought he gave attention to: find Ryan before they do.

  Twice more, he shouted for people to move right before he made it to the top. Dozens, even hundreds of people milled about the entrance. He cursed himself for not trying to read Ryan’s thoughts. If he knew what Ryan’s mind felt like, he could have used it to locate the kid.

  Drawing a deep breath to settle himself, he extended his senses. Maybe he could find his scent, hear his voice, something. Another new emotion struck him: fear. He found nothing. Not possible. How could he lose that ability now?

  Nothing made sense. A night that had started out so simple was now turning his world inside out.

  “Officer?”

  He stared blankly at the woman who spoke to him. When he made eye contact, she turned south. “These four young black guys were chasing some kid that way. I think he might be in trouble.”

  Before she turned back, he’d already sprinted away. If she was wrong, Ryan was dead. He didn’t believe in luck, and this was too much of a coincidence. Having no other le
ads, he trusted his instinct. Something wanted him to find Ryan, so he went in that direction.

  Whatever was happening, whoever was manipulating him, it was a mystery for another day. Right now he knew he had to save Ryan. For both their sakes.

  3

  PEOPLE lined the sidewalk, forcing Gar into the street. Most were staring in the direction the woman had pointed. Something was in that direction, but he couldn’t spare the time to ask anyone. Moving fast, his mind cleared enough for him to focus on his mission. Sounds erupted from all directions, nearly overwhelming him.

  The influx of voices, car engines, dogs barking, feet pounding, told him his senses were not impaired. Still running, he tuned his hearing to footsteps, specifically those of people running. In the span of a heartbeat, he found his target. Ahead and to the right.

  Good, they were still chasing him. He would make it yet. Ignoring the stares his passing caused, Gar ran even faster. Sloppy. People were going to talk. No one could run that fast, but he didn’t have time to hide his passing.

  His illusion of a police officer did nothing to change his clothing. The long coat threatened to twist around his legs, but he dismissed any thought of tossing it aside. He untied the belt and let the fabric flow behind him, allowing him to increase his pace even more.

  Using the crowd as an indicator, he knew he was on the right path. The pounding feet were closer. He was gaining. Ahead, he caught a glimpse of black-clad bodies turning a corner.

  Locked into his target, he abandoned any doubt and ran as fast as his enhanced body would move. A scream so loud that everyone on the street turned cut through the night air. Ryan’s voice was nothing but fear.

  Other voices, interrupted by gasps for air, reached him, but Gar didn’t listen. Didn’t matter what they said, he’d be there in a moment.

  He turned where he saw the others disappear and understood why they had stopped: dead-end alley. Ryan stood with his back to the brick wall, wide-eyed and pale. Gar noted the uncontrollable shake in Ryan’s body as the four jackals slowly inched closer. White knuckles surrounded the small bag he carried off the train.

  The one closest to Ryan inched closer. “You know what time it is.”

  “Police!” Gar didn’t wait for them to react to his command. He tightened his leg muscles and moved the moment everyone turned toward the front of the alley. Using the split second before they could focus on him, he leapt over them, twisting in the process.

  The space between them and Ryan wasn’t much, but he managed to avoid contact with the kid, landing a foot to the left. He reached into his coat and removed a collapsible metal baton with his right hand and a pair of brass knuckles with the left.

  One step right, and he completely covered Ryan’s shaking form. Not risking a glance back, he kept his eyes on the startled thieves in front of him.

  “Stay behind me, Ryan.”

  A muffled grunt, barely audible, told Gar the kid heard him. He dropped the police officer illusion, staring calmly at his prey. Assessing his adversaries, he ignored the hint of a thought that said they were not the guilty. Too late for that—they would have been had he not stopped them.

  “I know what time it is,” he hissed, tossing the slang for street robberies back in their face. “Time for vengeance to collect its fee.”

  In the recent past, Gar had taken to finding a way to take out the guilty without doing it himself. This time he couldn’t risk it; Ryan was too close. One of them had a gun. He could smell it now. He definitely didn’t have time to make it look like an accident.

  Spinning on his left foot, he kicked the kid with the gun so hard his skullcap flew off when his head hit the wall. Allowing his movement to carry him around, he brought the metal baton down on the arm of a robber with a knife. Metal on flesh and bone was no contest. Gar saw Ryan flinch when the kid let out a scream of agony and fell to the ground.

  At least he would live, Gar noted. The first kid was probably dead already. The other two were rooted in place, stunned into inaction. Two seconds ago, they were about to rob a defenseless kid. Now they were being taken apart. Before they could run away, Gar lashed out.

  Using the palm of his left hand, he struck the one closest to him. Even using the inner part of his hand, he heard the brass knuckles crack the kid’s sternum when he connected. The last kid finally moved and made it three steps before Gar swept his feet out from under him with the baton.

  The face looking up in terror was that of a kid, a juvenile. They were all kids. Reaching toward the kid’s head, he heard movement behind him.

  “Gar.” Ryan’s timid, urgent tone caused him to turn. “Don’t kill him.”

  “I won’t.” His voice was a cold hiss. Instead, he touched the sweaty forehead, inserting confused thoughts. He quickly repeated the process with the others. The first kid still lived, but probably not for long. The other two, he left sobbing out their pain.

  “Come on.” He grabbed Ryan’s left arm. “We need to go.”

  Ryan resisted the pull, but Gar was prepared for this. “Either you come with me or I leave you to explain this.”

  Ready to carry him if need be, Gar breathed a silent sigh when his second tug proved more successful. Walking quickly, he tapped the device on his belt again, this time imprinting two images: an old man and his wife.

  They’d just cleared the alley when two young men reached the entrance. “You don’t see us,” he whispered, pushing the thought into their minds. Ignoring Gar and Ryan, they moved a few steps into the alley.

  “Call 911.” Gar barely heard the words in his haste to get away.

  Keeping a firm grip on Ryan’s arm, Gar led them up 22nd Street.

  “Gar, stop.” Ryan punctuated his request with a tug of his arm.

  Gar felt the tug but ignored the request. They needed to put some distance between them and the alley. He knew he’d been careless, but he had barely arrived in time. Making sure to hide his passing might have cost Ryan his life.

  Another pull back met with similar results. “Gar! I said stop!”

  “Not here.” Still too close. He wasn’t sure if anyone else saw them leave. If they had, Gar didn’t get the chance to suggest they forget. “We’re too close.”

  He pulled his unwilling guest up the mostly empty sidewalk. Powerful streetlights cast an eerie glow as they made their way between the row houses to their left and the unbroken line of parked cars to their right. Ahead, he could see and hear the traffic on R Street, zipping through the intersection. His place was still a fifteen-minute walk. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need to drag Ryan the whole way.

  Without knowing when he’d decided it, he realized he was taking Ryan to his apartment. How could that be? Who was this kid that he’d so upended Gar’s existence?

  Lost in his thoughts, Gar wasn’t expecting Ryan to suddenly stop walking. Unprepared, he yanked the younger man forward, barely noticing the resistance.

  “Stop, you’re hurting me.”

  Hearing the pain in his voice, Gar released Ryan’s arm like it had burned him. “Sorry, but we need to keep moving.”

  “Not until you tell me what happened back there.”

  Defiant, his voice demanding information like it was his right, Ryan faced Gar, bag still clutched in his hand. Gar blinked twice, then turned away.

  “Suit yourself.” Much as the kid intrigued him, he wouldn’t change his plans. Probably better this way. Something about Ryan felt different, and Gar didn’t like mysteries.

  He made it two steps before he heard Ryan come closer.

  “That’s it?”

  Gar stared at the young man he barely knew. He heard anger in Ryan’s voice, but there was something more. Something that impelled Ryan to chase him. The slight tremble of the lip, the nervous eye movement, the tense body language. Ryan was afraid.

  “Yes. I won’t drag you where you don’t want to go.” He watched Ryan’s reaction for verification.

  “Wait!” The desperation in his voice confirmed Gar’s assessment.


  Having made no attempt to leave, the plea was without effect. “I wasn’t leaving you.”

  “Oh.” His eyes still darted about, but he seemed a bit less tense to Gar. “So what happened back there?”

  Gar shook his head. “Not here.” Definitely not here. Even though his need had been great, he’d been careless. Too many people had seen him. People who would ask questions and demand answers.

  He motioned with his head. “C’mon.”

  “Where are we going?” Despite his visible concern, Ryan started moving in the direction Gar indicated.

  “I’m going home. We can stop along the way if you like.”

  “Oh.”

  “Where are you staying, Ryan?” He already knew the answer.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Of course he didn’t. Until thirty minutes ago, Ryan didn’t have any idea what he was going to do next. What confused Gar was what he was about to do.

  “You can stay with me if you like. I can sleep on the couch.”

  Ryan stopped walking for a brief moment. “Ex… ex… excuse me?”

  Gar turned around, pausing to stare at his companion. The eyes were called the window to the soul, but to him, they were a mask that had a thousand different faces. Gar still saw fear in Ryan’s eyes, only not as desperate. Now he could see doubt, indecision, and a hint of gratitude.

  “If you have no place to stay, you’re welcome to stay with me. You can have my bed. I don’t sleep very much.”

  Ryan stared at him, unfocused, as if lost in his own thoughts. Gar knew he was conflicted. On the one hand, he didn’t know Gar from Adam. Even though he’d been good to the kid, saved his life even, he was still a stranger. Then again, if he hadn’t done it already, Ryan had been prepared to go home with worse for the right price. Gar’s generosity ensured for a few nights at least Ryan didn’t need to make that choice.

  Suddenly, Gar felt Ryan’s fear again. Nodding at the kid, Gar let him know he understood. While Gar was better than most of the johns Ryan might encounter, none of them were capable of violence on the scale Gar had displayed moments ago. Ryan had good reason to be scared of Gar. But Ryan wouldn’t survive on the streets, and for some inexplicable reason, that bothered Gar.