by Aric Davis
“You got him killed. I hope you know that,” said Darryl, but Cynthia ignored him. She was well aware of the price of her failure. “I said no funny business, and then you make that poor guy, who was just minding his own business, get involved. Trust me, that guy was better off not interfering, especially with what’s going to come next.”
Darryl sighed, and Cynthia could tell he was mad enough to hit her. I don’t care, let him, thought Cynthia. Nothing could have mattered less.
“That’s the last time, your last chance. Do you understand?”
Cynthia ignored him, and she could see the fury in Darryl’s eyes. He might have swung on her then, but Terry interrupted their bickering.
“Do you guys hear that?”
“Yes,” said Darryl. “That’s a helicopter. If we’re lucky, it’s headed to the gas station.”
“What if we’re not lucky?”
“Just drive, Terry,” said Darryl.
CHAPTER 75
Katarina sat in leg restraints and handcuffs aboard the chopper. Next to her in the other rear seat was Jessica Hockstetter, and ahead of them were a pair of pilots dressed in the same headgear that the men in the van and trailer had worn.
Katarina felt worn to the bone, but this was good—they were going to find Cynthia and return her little darling to her. Katarina knew all too well the dangers of being imprisoned by the TRC, but she was also confident that with the girl she’d be able to escape all over again. It wouldn’t be as easy as the last time, but it would be worth the risk.
The helicopter was flying low to the trees, following the two-lane road south as it slowly meandered toward Indiana. Guessing that they would be going south had taken no special intuition. Jessica had already been sure that was where they would head, and the call from the gas station had only confirmed it. Now they were just minutes from getting a visual on the car, assuming they could get a look at the road for more than a few seconds at a time.
Katarina felt anxious. She hated being locked up like this, hated flying, and still had a bitter feeling in her stomach that, as soon as Katarina outweighed her usefulness, that bitch Jessica was going to send her off to be killed by the Israelites. Katarina had followed the cases of long-missing German officials, and the results were uniformly horrifying. First, a shameful parade for the cameras, next a sham of a trial, and finally the rope. Katarina had read the newspaper religiously following Eichmann’s capture, and even though he’d been killed nearly forty years ago, she still had chills at the memory.
I will find a way to live, thought Katarina. That she had once overseen death camps where so many had thought the same thing was not lost on her, but that did not alter the fact that she did not want to die.
The helicopter dipped in closer to the trees, and then Jessica’s voice came over the speakers. “Do you feel anything yet? Are they down there?”
Katarina shook her head in answer. She felt nothing. Jessica nodded and turned back to the window, the frustration clear in her eyes.
The helicopter rose and then dipped again as the forest broke into a clean stretch of road. There were three vehicles that could be seen immediately, and Jessica was speaking over their shared comm link, telling the radio operator, “I want cruisers a mile ahead of us and a mile behind us.” Katarina smiled to herself at this command. More men with guns weren’t going to be much help. They needed someone like her to bring this chase to an end. Katarina sighed to herself, content that the day was likely to end with them still in pursuit, and then in her peripheral vision she saw another helicopter closing on their flank.
The new chopper was unmarked, as was the one Katarina was riding in, and the pilot and radio operator wore helmets identical to those the men in her own ride were crowned with. Why the helmets, unless this new helicopter held another who must be guarded against? A queer thought crossed her mind: Could that be? No, she decided, such a thing simply cannot be possible. She frowned. There’s no way the old man is still around, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t more like him. Katarina grimaced. He could be, though, and if he is, he’ll be very happy to see you. This thought was a sickening one, and Katarina only felt worse yet when she turned to Jessica and glimpsed the wry smile crossing the woman’s lips.
The helicopter felt as though it was moving faster over the open road, the new perspective beyond the trees allowing them to see much farther than before. Katarina was searching for Cynthia in the three cars they’d spotted but was finding nothing. It was as if the girl had vanished, even though, for all she knew, Cynthia could have been in sight. Roving police cars were visible on the ground as well, some stopped at various crossroads, others patrolling the same stretch of highway they were overseeing.
There was a burst of static from the front of the cockpit, and then the radio operator said, “All right, visual confirmed. All units toward target.”
“What’s going on?” Jessica asked.
The radioman’s voice was clear over the headsets. “There was a suspect at the gas station who engaged in a firefight with police. He’s in custody now, shot up but conscious, and he confirmed make, model, and color for us.” The radioman pointed below them. “That red sedan right there is our vehicle.”
“I want them in custody now,” said Jessica, the wry smile replaced by one with a wolfish intensity. “No guns, no bullshit, I want them now. Tell Frank to shut them down immediately.”
Frank. Katarina nodded to herself. Frank was alive, they were about to apprehend the others without her help, and Israel was a mere flight away. When they’d taken them all where they were set on taking them, she’d have to make herself useful to them, and in a hurry.
CHAPTER 76
Darryl had been trying not to think about the helicopters ever since they’d first spotted them, but it was a battle he was losing. It was bad enough seeing all the cops, but the helicopters made him feel like he was in some spy movie, a movie he had never wanted to be a part of. They were going to need to get off of this chunk of road soon, head in any other direction, and try and find some more trees.
Darryl watched in frustration as they passed another parked cop blocking a side road, and then frustration turned to fear as three marked cars behind them turned on lights and sirens. The cop car that had been blocking the side road pulled out after them as well. Four then. Gaining on them. Time to get to work.
Looking through the Buick’s back window, Darryl locked eyes with the cop driving the first cruiser and began to bend him. / Throw on your brakes / Ram them / Shoot them / Kill them / Darryl shoved hard. The cop should have immediately reacted, but nothing happened. Darryl shoved him again, harder this time, and then Cynthia began to scream. Darryl turned to her in confusion, and then a head-splitting pain tore through him. Darryl heard his own voice added to the wind, and then the car was driving into the median. Darryl caught flickers of Terry trying to maintain control, but he could barely keep his eyes open against the pain.
Darryl felt the world passing by in flashes, the car first bouncing over the lawn, then rolling as the sky became the earth and back again, and finally the car coming to a stop. Terry was working to free himself, right hand on the seat belt release just like Darryl, but Cynthia wasn’t moving. Is she dead? Darryl had neither the time nor ability to check. Strong arms dragged him from the ruined car and tossed him to the ground like a piece of trash. Darryl tried to push them, but there was nothing there, just a dull spot that felt like a missing tooth.
Darryl screamed as he was cuffed, screamed as they muzzled him, and then someone stuck a needle into his arm. He felt his legs go numb even though he was lying on his belly, and then they were carrying him, then tossing him into the back of a van, where he was strapped to a gurney. Darryl blinked as the last of his consciousness ebbed away. The final thing he saw as his eyes fluttered shut was a man wearing a bizarre helmet leaning over him. Darryl tried one more time to push, to command the man to free him an
d begin killing, but there was nothing there.
CHAPTER 77
Two Months Later
Jessica Hockstetter walked from one observation room to the next. Frank was having a rough day, but that could be expected for a man of his age. She’d forced herself to check in on him, but what she wanted to see were the newest acquisitions of the TRC, not some dinosaur. Still, Frank had proven his usefulness once again, even if using him felt like asking an elephant to kill a fly.
Jessica took a seat and watched the two men behind the mirror interact with one another. All of the rooms were recorded twenty-four hours a day, but she preferred the simplicity of watching her subjects through one-way glass whenever possible.
Jessica turned as the door behind her slid open and her boss, Howard Thompson, entered the room and sat down next to her.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Jessica said, and Howard nodded. He’d been with the Telekinetic Research Center since just after the war, but even Howard had to agree that these new acquisitions were special.
Darryl was pacing on the other side of the glass, while Terry sat on the bottom bunk of a bunk bed. Both of the men looked perturbed, but Jessica knew that what she was seeing were just the shared emotions of Darryl. Terry, as physically real as he might look, was actually the fantastically corporeal astral projection of a man with multiple personalities who just happened to be a TK. Because he often did bad things, Darryl needed a scapegoat—so he made one for himself. Terry might look, sound, and even feel human to other people, but he was only as real as Darryl allowed him to be.
“Astounding as this trick of his is,” explained Jessica, “part of his therapy is going to be convincing him to let go of the ghost. It hampers his abilities and makes it difficult for him to do many of the things that should come to him easily.”
“As long as we must keep him, is there no way to retain this ghost of his in some manner? At least, long enough to study it, see if any use can be made—”
Jessica was shaking her head. “That’s not a luxury we can afford. We need to be assured of our control of Darryl, and that’s going to be challenging enough with just one of him.”
Howard sighed. Jessica knew she hadn’t told him anything he didn’t know but didn’t begrudge him making her repeat it, or grieving the loss of this research opportunity. Thinking of the tactical advantages of harnessing the ability to create soldiers or assassins—or, hell, legions of worker bees—Jessica couldn’t help but marvel at the possibilities.
“The man needed another set of hands,” marveled Howard, “so he created one.”
“It’s incredible,” said Jessica.
“It is that,” agreed Howard. “I’m sure you’ve been over the file every which way. Did the projection do all of the killing?”
“All that we can find, save for the death at the gas station that was caught on the dash cam,” said Jessica. “Of course, that doesn’t count all of the people that Darryl killed with his mind. He is a very dangerous man.”
“You don’t say,” grumbled Howard.
Even after the intriguing introduction of Darryl’s wonder twin to the equation, Howard had continued to argue vehemently for Darryl’s immediate termination, but Jessica’s argument had managed to overrule him. Howard still felt that a man like Darryl Livingston would be easier to kill than fix, regardless of the little tricks he could pull.
“He has a low probability of success,” said Jessica, “but you can you imagine how powerful he’ll be if we can get him to cooperate.”
“He has nothing on the girl,” said Howard. “Even Katarina in her youth has nothing on the girl, not even Frank.” Howard’s brow furrowed. “How is Frank, by the way?”
“Well enough all things considered,” said Jessica. “The fact of the matter is that Frank is very old, and regardless of his mental strength, his body is breaking down.”
“This lab is a time bomb if that man dies,” said Howard, and Jessica nodded. There was no arguing that. “Without Frank, even if every man and woman in here is wearing a Tesla Helmet we’d still have to worry about one of the TKs turning a guard. Even a temporary lack of control could see the lot of them freed.”
Jessica only nodded mildly. The old man never had been able to accept the inherent danger in what they did. What worth doing comes easily? There were great rewards to be had with the program—history had shown that time and time again—and those rewards were worth the potential risks.
“Why don’t we move on to the girl?” said Howard finally, hoisting himself to his feet.
Jessica stood and walked after him into the hall.
Jessica and Howard swiped key cards at the door to the observation area for Cynthia’s room and stepped inside. Even as they took their seats, their eyes were already locked onto the little wunderkind.
Cynthia was sitting with Katarina—still Mrs. Martin to her—and the two of them were talking about something inconsequential. The girl burst into laughter on the other side of the mirror, and Howard turned to Jessica.
“Do you really think that she could be who we’ve been looking for?”
“We’ve only done the most minimal testing,” said Jessica. “The fear is that we’ll push too hard and she’ll just shut down, maybe lose the gift entirely. After all, this girl has been through some significant trauma. I’d rather we take it slow and learn about what she can do at a reasonable pace, then drive to compile her full TK score now. She’s young, and we have all the time in the world to learn about her.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” said Howard.
“She’s the most talented TK we’ve ever had, including Frank,” said Jessica. “If she’s not the one, she’s the closest we’ve ever come to it. If we train her right, we’re going to have a hell of a thing.”
“But what do you think, Jessica?”
“I think this little girl is going to change the world,” said Jessica, letting the words slip out like she’d been holding her breath. “I think she might just be the second coming of Frank, but without the psychopathic tendencies. You worry about Darryl because he’s done dangerous things, but that little girl in there is going to grow up, and when she does she’s going to be unimaginably powerful.”
“Thank goodness we have her.”
“I cannot imagine what would happen if she were to walk around free in a few years with the power that she has,” said Jessica. “She’s a loaded gun, there’s no doubt about that, but she’ll be fine as long as she stays with us.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’m not sure that I believe in true love. At least, not in the traditional sense of seeing that perfect person across the room and just knowing right then that things are meant to be. I need guts, I guess, something which is no secret to my readers, and in 1998 I found guts by the bucketload.
I was playing a punk rock show in the basement of a music store in front of an audience of about a hundred people. As we finished our set, I did the splits, tearing the entire crotch of my camo shorts in half. No one seemed to notice my plight, except, that is, for the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Trust me, it wasn’t just the broken pants.
In any case, she fixed my shorts with safety pins that she took from a messenger bag she was using as a purse, and we introduced ourselves. Her name was Megan, and that seemed like all that was to come of it. The most wonderful girl in the world had fixed my pants, and I was going to let her slip away. Life is funny that way and even funnier in other ways. Six months later both of us were single and we decided to go on a date. As far as I can tell, that first date is still going.
Of course, things are never perfect. Despite jobs that we both liked, a burgeoning ability to write that I was desperately trying to nurture, and a wonderful daughter, we still had our trials. They were good trials, though—those of you who have done the dance know what I mean. The electric bill that could not be paid but somehow gets handled i
s a miracle like no other in this world. Finally getting published was another unexpected happening.
A common question that authors get is, “Where do your ideas come from?” Stephen King has written extensively on the subject, and to paraphrase him, basically an idea usually starts out like a little scrap of a bone and if uncovered right, there might just happen to be a T. rex down there underneath all of the dirt. Sometimes, however, ideas come faster, like a hockey puck to the face. Weavers is one of the latter.
September 23, 2013, was one of the worst days of my life. Everything felt like it was crashing down around me, and to top it off I was on a work trip in Albany, New York. Things were bleak, they felt like they were getting worse by the second, and after tossing and turning that night, I finally fell asleep. A few hours later I woke up covered in sweat and, in a moment of rare brilliance, grabbed my phone and opened the notes section. I’m not one to believe that authors get ideas from dreams—at least, this one doesn’t—but I had just gotten a doozy, and I knew I had to hold on to it. At the time it felt like maybe that idea was all I really had to hold on to.
The note I wrote was simple, and it said, “Carol can see things, p divorce.” Not much to go on, but I had just seen the first Cynthia chapter in my head while I was asleep. Hopefully it was just as vivid for you when you read it a few hundred pages ago. I vowed to myself that no matter what, I was going to get my head on straight, and I was going to write this book. I’m happy to say that right now both things have been accomplished, and neither of them would have been possible without the love and support of my wife.
A little over a year later, it all sort of hit me. I was waking up after having my hip replaced, and my wife was sitting next to me in the hospital. At once it all came crashing down—the book, the recovery, everything I could have lost. I don’t deserve someone so wonderful in my life. I’d come to realize that such things are earned—and only then if we’re very lucky—and yet there I was in a hospital with the love of my life. It was a hard year—it was a year we earned in a lot of different ways—but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Trust me, if you have surgery and wake up next to the person you love more than anything else in the world, you’re in a good place.
