Different Paths

by Nat Kozinn

  “I used to get flies with a zapper on my porch. Thanks to you freaks, I’d have to be a millionaire to run that now,” he spits.

  “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I turned myself in. I want to meet you. I want to help you,” I protest.

  “I’m not sure if you think we’re that stupid, or you’re the moron but stop selling boy, we aren’t buying,’ he says and heads towards the door. I don’t think anyone is about to hear me out.

  “Lawyer! I want a lawyer!” I yell.

  “Get in here boys!”

  Eight men struggle to file into the tiny office and surround me. Their massive machine guns knock into each other, slowing them down. The two bravest grab me and try to pin my arms behind me. I do it myself or they couldn’t move me. They lead me out of the office and into the police precinct bullpen. Most of the police officers smile and a few jeer at me, but I make out a couple of frowns and concerned looks. There are still a few who believe in me. Then I lock eyes with Maria.

  The look on her face is the one I would expect to see if I was about to be executed. Her level of concern raises anxiety in my own mind. Maybe this was all a big mistake. Maybe Nita knew I’d have a crisis of conscience and turn myself in and it would be the perfect way to eliminate me from the fight. Of course she knew, she’s the smartest person on earth. She knew I’d turn myself in and she knew the government wouldn’t want my help and they’d just lock me up and throw away the key. I’m an idiot for imagining I could outthink her. Even my unpredictability is predictable.

  I feel my emotional centers of fear and anger going off, asking me why I should submit to their justice, if I’m going to be treated so unjustly. I could run out of this building right now and they couldn’t stop me. If I was careful I could manage to do it without hurting anyone, which would be more than they deserve.

  Maybe this is what Nita wanted, to show me the absurdity of trying to fit into regular human society. People are too afraid of Differents to allow them to integrate; there will always be an “us” and a “them.” It doesn’t matter how many examples people have of me acting like a hero and risking my life to save others. All they needed was one little excuse to think I was evil and they were more than happy to believe it. They want all Differents to be the enemy because it’s simplest to see it that way. Maybe it’d be simpler for me to see normal humans that way too.

  There’s a boom that interrupts my moral dilemma before it can reach its conclusion. Then another boom. It’s isn’t from anything natural. The police spring to attention, trying to contact people on their radios and checking their side arms to make sure they’re in working order.

  “Stay loose boys,” the lead solider says and the men around me ready their rifles.

  Then everyone freezes in place, like someone hit the pause button. Mid-step, mid-ammo clip check, mid-sentence, they all just freeze. It is eerie to an extreme.

  I should go to sleep. I should go outside and lay down on the ground. I should just stop moving and stay where I am. I think something bad is happening, Telepaths. I should go find a big rifle and put it under my jaw, and pull the trigger. I should find that Maceo Steel cell and let The Beast out and put myself in it. I’ve never felt so many thoughts try to push into my head at once, it’s like my inner voice is being overwhelmed. I should find where they keep the Tranq, maybe enough of it could help me sleep.

  I need to focus. My voice is still in here, I know what it sounds like. I can pick it out within the din. I should run out of the Metro Area as fast as I can. I need to ignore thoughts like that and follow my own thoughts. There is only one voice, the others aren’t mine. I should put my hands over my head, but I’m not going to do that. I won’t listen to any voice but my own.

  The front wall of the police station crumbles like sand. A Strong-Man swipes aside the few remaining bits of B-Crete like he’s sweeping away cobwebs.

  He’s the largest human being I’ve ever seen, or the largest that can stand at least. I think its Reggie Crane, one of the strongest people alive. He must be twelve feet tall, and he’s built like made of granite. He belongs in front of a pyramid, a statue guarding some Ancient Pharaoh, but he’s a living breathing man standing before me, and one I have to fight.

  Behind him, which isn’t easy to see, there’s a group of six people. Three men and three women of various ages, but their shaved heads make them all look alike. They walk eerily in unison, and all but the woman in the front are staring off in the think.Net stare. It’s a group in the Merge, the Telepath Big Brain mix that Ben and Linda use. These six are enough to freeze a hundred police officers in place.

  Two blurs come flying into the bullpen, generating wind that knocks papers around like a tornado. They blow right by me and head back towards the cells. The blurs reappear seconds later holding up The Beast, who is still sedated by Tranq.

  The blurs come to a stop and take the form of two identical men; they are twins and Speedsters. They strain to hold The Beast up, but still, they’re strong if they can do it at all. These are not your average fast movers.

  The twins bring him to the massive Strong-Man, who takes The Beast, lifting what I once considered a large creature with one arm like he’s carrying a napping toddler.

  “Do you people know what you’re doing? The Beast is a monster! He eats people!” I scream. I’ve been ignored for long enough.

  “He’s a tool for which there are still appropriate tasks,” the Telepath with focused eyes says. I know who talks that way.

  “Nita, is that you?”

  “Betsy is being kind enough to let me take over the speech functions of her brain,” the woman says.

  “Don’t you ever get out of wherever it is you live? You should worry about agoraphobia.”

  “Thank you for your concern but it is not my wellbeing that is at issue, it is your own. I thought you would see the error of your ways after the military turned on you, but your stubbornness knows no bounds. You will help the humans even if you must dodge their bullets to do so. Unfortunately, I have plans that involve you so I require your presence in our new city.”

  “So you came here for weapons. The Beast, his knife, and me. But I won’t be your instrument. I’m not coming back with you.”

  “I was not making a request Gavin. You will come with these individuals, one way or another.”

  “You should have sent more than three fighters,” I say and start getting my blood and adrenaline pumping.

  “I sent the right three,” she says.

  A blur slams into me with the force of a freight train, smashing me through one of the few remaining chunks of the outer wall of the police station, I bounce and skid into the building across the street, connecting with enough forced to crack the B-Crete and a few of my ribs. I push myself to my knees.

  Then my jaw breaks, nearly tearing off the side of my face. I think the other Speedster hit me. I jump into the air, dodging a blow I just assumed was coming. I look down and see a small crater where the Speedster struck again. I’m glad I wasn’t there. I reach out and grab the building, sinking my hand into the B-Crete. I hang up five stories in the air, buying myself a second to take stock, heal my injuries, and get my Manna supplies flowing. I forgot about that. I need to add it to my normal pre-fight procedure.

  The massive Strong-Man comes out of the police station, hurling a desk at me like a wicked fastball. I jump higher up the building and out of the way, the wood mashes into pieces, leaving a massive splinter in my side. His next projectile is a giant chunk of B-Crete from the police station wall. I dodge that one too, but it crashes through the building I’m balancing on like a wrecking ball. I catch a glimpse of an exposed apartment. I hope no one was home.

  I climb up to the roof of the building to cut off the Reggie’s angle on me. Right as I’m about to make it to the top, I hear a rustle. One of the Speedster’s appears on the roof. He puts his hand on mine.

  “Nita says she needs you alive, but that you can heal so we can hit as hard as we
want,” he says with a grin.

  Then he pulls my hand off the edge of the roof, but, before I fall, I plunge my other hand into the side of the building, punching into the B-Crete and a making a hand hold, I use that to push myself the rest of the way up the building.

  I grab the stunned Speedster as I come up over the edge onto the roof. I jump on him and start hammering away, landing punch after punch directly in his face. He seems like he’s tough enough to take a pounding, but then there’s another rustle coming, and suddenly I’m sailing through the air.

  His twin brother threw me off the side of the building. I try to angle myself so I can grab something, but my momentum is carrying me away from the structure. I’m going all thirty stories down. I twist myself so I land on my feet, but I still land with enough force to break bones in both of my ankles. At least one of the Speedsters is down.

  I climb out of the small crater I made when I landed and try to scramble away so I can hide for a few seconds and wait for my ankles to heal, but no such luck, Reggie Crane closes in on me.

  He comes in swinging, letting fly with a wild haymaker. I slow time to a crawl, and dive to the side, dropping under his punch. I try to shuffle away running on the sides of my feet, which takes a little something away from my agility. That’s why I can’t avoid the Strong-man’s backhanded slap. That’s all it is, a little swat, but I take off like a rocket heading into orbit.

  The force of the blow accelerates me from zero to light speed at an almost non-hyperbolic rate. The gravitational forces my body endures devastate my organs. They hemorrhage, splitting open and bleeding inside me like a leaking water-balloons. Broken bones in my ribs are forced deeper into my lungs, tearing more holes in any tissue that didn’t pop from the Gs.

  The only thing I can do is tighten every muscle in my back and neck to attempt to stabilize my brain. My organs will heal, not my head. Which right now seems like a pretty big vulnerability. Despite my best efforts, and all the extra-fluid I keep around to protect my brain, I still endure a couple small bruises from it rattling back and forth in my skull.

  Things are about to get even worse. I’m going to hit the apartment building I just fell from. I manage to spin around so that my legs take the brunt of impact, broken ankles and all. The first hit actually goes better than I expect, I crash through the outer wall of the building hard enough that I cut right through it like a fist through a board. The 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th impacts however, just get progressively worse and worse. Each wall I crash through takes more of my momentum away and transfers more of the force into my body. My femurs shatter, not just break, shatter. Shards of bone burst out of my legs, tearing through the skin. Not that the skin was intact to begin with, the edges of the B-Crete cut me to the core. The third wall I crash into has a mix of harder and softer spots, which puts a spin on my body when I make impact.

  I end up hitting the 4th wall back first, crushing a few vertebrae which in turn severs my spinal column in two places. When I hit the 5th wall, I’m limp as a rag doll, which actually helps keep any more bones from breaking. My path of destruction finally comes to a merciful end. All I can do is lay here upside down and wait for my spine to heal.

  I’m in an apartment, a relatively nice one. It’s not the Shimmering Tower but its far cry better than most. I think I landed in what was the kitchen. There’s shattered tile all around me, which only further cut my body apart. I must have busted the sink, I can hear the water flowing. I can’t crane my neck to see where it’s coming from because I can’t move any muscles in my back, the nerves are severed.

  A face appears in the doorway, looking me right in the eyes. It’s a small child, a little boy. His tiny little eyes are bugging out of his head; he can’t make any sense out of what he’s seeing.

  “David!” an adult voice yells. Then hands appear and whisk the boy away.

  The terror in that voice cuts me. Why shouldn’t they be afraid of me? I just blew a hole in their apartment. If that kid had been in this kitchen, he would be dead now. I could try to explain the situation and how it isn’t really my fault and I’m simply defending myself, but I don’t think David’s parents would care about my excuses if I killed their little boy.

  After a few seconds my spine grows back enough that and I can crawl around while I wait for my legs to heal. I look back on the path of destruction I tore on my way up here. It looks like I blasted through three other apartments on my way into this one. I’m sure they are filled with three more terrified families.

  I hear a buzz amongst the running water and slowly crumbling walls. The Speedster is in the building, and he’s coming for me. I won’t be hard to find. I slow down time to come up with a plan. I’m still a sitting duck while I wait to heal.

  I hear my salvation coming from behind me. The wall I slammed into didn’t break, but it did crack. I can hear the air flowing behind me. It sounds like an empty chamber, the elevator shaft.

  I crawl like I’m doing the butterfly stroke on land, using my arms to throw myself forward. I plough into the wall, using my massive frame to bust through the tile and the B-Crete behind it. I flop into the shaft, but before I fall too far, I grab a support beam on the side.

  Then I climb. Using just my arms ends up having another beneficial side effect. My leg bones can heal more easily with my weight completely off them.

  I get a few stories up, and then hold, waiting, dangling, and healing. I hear the buzz come to a stop near the hole I made. Then it quickly moves on, heading up the building. Where is he going?

  I hear a snap and then a whooshing sound. The elevator! The Speedster, he busted it loose. Guess the Strong-Man left it up when he went on strike. It makes me think of my dead friend Gary.

  I let go my handhold and drop, keeping the head start I have on the plummeting elevator. Time to test my just regrown legs out. I land on my feet, and the bones hold, finally some luck.

  I only have a few second lead on the plummeting room. I leap up to the first floor doors, jamming my fingers into the Pho-Plastic and pulling the doors apart to make my escape from the shaft. Then a blur comes, becoming a man when it stops. He’s faster than the falling elevator. He gives me a two handed shove. It’s not all that hard, but I didn’t have a very good grip. He waves as I fall back into the shaft.

  I’ve had about enough of this. As I fall, I push off from the side of the shaft with my foot, turning my fall into a graceful back flip. I align my muscles perfectly, in order to land softly on the balls of my feet. I put my hands up over my head and tighten my back stiff as a board.

  The elevator is coming, but I’m ready for it and my muscles are strong. As the Pho-Plastic room hits my hands, I bend my arms and back slightly, so as to slow down the object before I lock my elbows at the shoulder, stopping the elevator cold. It wasn’t really that heavy, Strong-Men have to lift them hundreds of times a day, they make it out of Pho-Plastic for a reason.

  I toss the elevator back up the shaft, hurling it far enough for me to escape back out of the first floor door, I land and roll, ready to absorb whatever blow the Speedster has waiting for me. But he isn’t here. After seeing me catch the elevator like a football he knows enough not to take me head on.

  He’s right to be scared of me. I’m going to win. Yes they are either bigger or faster than me, but I can heal. They’re just going to keep getting weaker, while I can produce enough Manna to keep coming back over and over again no matter how many bones they break or organs they rupture. It’s time to act like the one to be feared not the one who’s afraid.

  I let out a primal scream from deep in my lungs. Nita killed Gary, now it’s time to avenge him. The scream feels right. It helps me get my blood pumping. I read once that karate fighters scream when they hit because it helps you generate more power. I come barreling out of the front of the apartment building, feeling like a powerhouse. I trample over the door because people as strong as me don’t have to bother with convention.

  Reggie Crane is out there waiting for me. The Telep
aths behind him are trying to get back into my head, but they are easy to ignore. My thought process is clear, beat the tar out of that Strong-Man. I scream again and break into a charge.

  He has two massive chunks of B-Crete he pulled from the rubble. He lets the first one fly like a bowling ball, it bounces and skips down the street towards me. With time in slow motion, I can easily coordinate my movements to hurdle the massive boulder. I hear it continue on behind me and smash into another building.

  He tosses his next chunk overhand, trying to nail me on the move. The boulder flies faster than the last one, but still slow to my altered perspective. I drop down on all fours, taking a few quadrupedal steps, while the chunk passes harmlessly over my head. I turn back to bipedalism, still picking up speed. The chunk smashes into the same apartment building the first one hit. I hear a domino effect of smashing and collapsing behind me. I’m glad that didn’t hit me.

  As I close in on the Strong-Man, he tries to squash me like a bug, swinging down from overhead with both fists. I dart to the left, dodging the blow. The smash exposed his left side so I let fly with a right cross to his ribs. His body is the hardest thing I’ve ever hit outside of Maceo Steel. It actually has less give than regular iron. My punch takes some skin off my knuckle, which throws me through a loop. I barely manage to dodge his quick backhand swipe. But once again, he’s left himself open. I don’t think he’s ever bothered to learn any sort of technique, he never had to. This time I go to work, hammering hook after hook into his side. It feels like I’m pounding on a bank vault. I dodge another swipe, and go back to pounding, hitting as hard and as fast as I can. He keeps batting at me, but I’m so much more quick and agile than him, I feel like I’m playing dodgeball with a grade-schooler.

  I start screaming as I hit, he’s so tough I can really let myself go. I line up my fist to generate as much force over as short a distance as I can. I rabbit punch right where his kidney is, over and over, until finally after twenty seconds and hundreds of landed punches, he lets out a grunt. Success!