The Traveler

by Melissa Delport

  “You’re going to leave me,” I whispered into the night. My only answer was the sound of distant thunder.

  “Rachel?” Jason jostles me, snapping me back to the present and I glance up to catch Dex watching me intently in the rear-view mirror. I look away, rubbing at my face.

  “Hang on, I need to ask him something,” I say, clambering back to sit beside Dex. We are nearing the end of the tunnel.

  “Do you think there are any more Venites waiting out there?” I incline my head in the direction of the small patch of sunlight ahead. Dex smiles at me quizzically.

  “Venites?”

  “Venic, Venonians, whatever. Your soldiers.” The words drip from my mouth contemptuously.

  “I don’t know,” he answers. “They’re attacking the cities mostly and they probably won’t be expecting anyone to be coming out of the tunnel. We were supposed to deal with that...” he breaks off and then seems to visibly shake himself. “With a little luck we may make it to the subway without any confrontation.”

  “They control the elements?”

  “Yes. Each soldier can manipulate one of your elements.” Although I am surprised that he answered, I don’t show it.

  “Just one?”

  “Just one,” he repeats.

  “You turned the water to ice, back at the lake,” I try not to sound accusing and fail dismally. It’s hard to forgive someone who so recently tried to kill you.

  “I would never have trapped you in that ice, Rachel.” I think back to how quickly the ice had spread across the lake in all directions, far faster than it had taken to reach me and I have to admit that he might be telling the truth. Also, had he wanted me dead he could have simply have sent his lightning after me.

  “You trapped Peter,” I point out angrily.

  “Voka would have killed you. I gave her an easier target.” Again I sense that distance, the calculated, clinical detachment that he seems to have for the lives being lost in this attack.

  “You killed him,” I iterate, biting out the words.

  “I don’t care,” he answers coldly, “you are the only one I want to save. The only one. The rest can die; you need to understand that. I-don’t-care,” he repeats, turning his attention back to the road as we emerge out of the tunnel and into the sunshine. It’s hard to believe that this whole nightmare started only a few short hours ago. I scan the street around us which is unsurprisingly deserted. I can see no signs of life. There is also no sign yet of the destruction that is devastating New York and I can only imagine that people are hiding, and, having heard the emergency broadcasts are taking refuge in their homes. I take a deep breath and keep talking. I need answers.

  “How did you turn the water to ice?”

  “We can control all phases of the matter we manipulate. Water, steam, ice, it’s all essentially the same element.”

  “You said your soldiers can only control one element. You froze the lake - the water. But you also fought back with the wind. I saw you,” I add quickly, as if he might argue.

  “Yes. I’m different. I can control all of them. Earth, fire, water, wind....” he trails off, his face closing up and once again, I get the feeling he is not being entirely truthful; that he is keeping something from me.

  “Why are you different?” I ask, but he stays silent. “How many of you can do that,” I change tack, “control all four elements?”

  “Five,” he replies, “only five of us.” I process this for a minute wondering what it means, but I don’t push the issue any further.

  “And you control the storms,” I say suddenly and he nods; we have already established this. “None of the others can do that?” This occurred to me during the altercation just outside of the tunnel.

  “Only two others,” he answers enigmatically, and I know he won’t give me any more information. His loyalty is too torn.

  I turn to catch Darren’s eye and he nods that he has heard. Darren seems to be uncannily intuitive and exceptionally smart. He may be able to figure things out that we can’t. I fall silent, determined to get more information out of Dex as soon as possible, but deciding to leave him be for now. I keep my eyes peeled for any sign of danger, but I do take a minute to retrieve the first-aid kit from underneath my seat. Dex stiffens as I lean over him, gently wiping an antiseptic cream over his wound.

  “Don’t,” he grabs my hand suddenly, pushing me away from him and I fly back into my own seat. I gaze at him, bewildered. “Take care of your own hand, Rachel,” he instructs, and I do as he says, applying the antiseptic and wrapping a bandage around my burnt left hand.

  Chapter 10

  As we drive through the streets of Weehawken I see curtains twitching in a few of the houses we pass.

  “Will they be safe,” I ask Dex, “inside their houses, I mean?”

  “No,” he answers bluntly. “Once the major cities have been dealt with we will move on to the smaller towns.” I cringe at the way he says ‘we’, a brutal reminder that he is still our enemy. “Most buildings will be destroyed; we have no use for your infrastructure. They will die in their homes.”

  “Stop the car,” I shout, opening my door, “we need to warn them!”

  “They are not my concern,” he sighs, as if the conversation is becoming tedious. “Besides,” he adds as I open my door, intending to jump out of the moving van, “where would you tell them to go? You can’t save everybody Rachel, and the time that you waste here could get your friends killed.” He gestures at the others in the back of the van.

  I bite my lip to keep from crying.

  “We need to get to the subway,” Darren’s calm, soothing voice comes from behind me. “He’s right, there are too many people, we can’t start going door-to-door.” I turn to voice my disgust at leaving these people here to die but he continues before I can speak. “We’ll warn who we can. We can help a few, just not everyone.”

  “Smart boy,” Dex mutters, although Darren is technically probably only a year younger than he is.

  “Why do you look the same?” I ask, the thought I had earlier suddenly reoccurring to me. “You haven’t aged a day in seven years.”

  “Time is not the same where I come from,” he answers, which is not an explanation, but is clearly the only answer I’m going to get.

  “We need a plan,” Jason says, “a concrete plan. How long until they get here, to Weehawken?” he demands and Dex’s eyes flash angrily.

  “We need to know how long we have,” I interject softly. Dex speaks directly to me.

  “They’ll decimate New York first. Jersey City too. It’ll take some time.”

  “So, how long?” Jason’s voice oozes derision and I shake my head at him discreetly. Jason seems to think that his connection to me makes Dex less dangerous than he really is.

  “A day, maybe more.”

  “Right, then I say we find somewhere to rest. Get some supplies, food, clothes. Come up with a plan.”

  “I thought we were headed for the subway?” Darren interjects but Jason shakes his head.

  “What’s the point? We need to get out of here; he said so,” he jerks his head at Dex. “I’d rather spend what little time we have gathering supplies than hiding out unnecessarily in the subway.”

  “Okay,” I concur, “let’s just find a house that we can use.”

  The abandoned home that we secure as a temporary base is a sweet two-storey semi. No doubt the owners have fled, searching for somewhere safer to hide. They must have left in a hurry as a half-eaten breakfast remains on the dining-room table. The television is still on in the living room, looping the same broadcast we recorded just before we finally abandoned the studio. The picture shifts in and out of focus and the screen goes grey every few seconds so I switch it off. I am surprised there is any feed at all considering the massive damage to infrastructure and the severity of the storm we just witnessed. I have no doubt that soon enough all communications will stop working, but I am grateful that our broadcast seems to have warned people. Jason was
right to go back.

  I return briefly to the van and retrieve my bag, rooting around in its depths for my mobile phone. I very seldom use it, being somewhat of a loner and more than a little technologically challenged, but it is a necessary evil in my profession - the news doesn’t wait. I stow the phone in the same pocket as my inhaler.

  We search the house, gathering as much as we can. I find a few backpacks in a bedroom upstairs, no doubt belonging to a teenage boy, judging by the laundry piled up in the corner and the Grand Theft Auto paraphernalia lying around. Rummaging through the cupboards, I shove a few items of clothing into the first satchel. The boy who this room belongs to is tall, I note, and I grab a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt from the closet, draping them over my arm.

  Kate is in another room adorned with Justin Bieber and Twilight posters. I hand her one of the satchels as I pass.

  “Fill this up with anything we can use,” I say gently and she nods. I am about to stop, to try and comfort her – it’s obvious that she is struggling emotionally to deal with everything going on - but, as I take a seat on the edge of the fuchsia pink bedspread, Darren strides into the room. He looks awkwardly between me and Kate for a minute and I am only too happy to let him take over. I smile up at him as I pass and he flashes me a small grateful smile in return.

  Downstairs Dex is sitting calmly at the dining-room table. The front of his black tunic is burned through from our recent encounter with his fire-wielding Venite. With a start I notice that the skin showing through is only slightly reddened.

  “You’re healing,” I gesture at his chest and he glances down, rubbing the raw area. I remember the Venites that we shot back in Manhattan and I give a gasp of horror. “Do you all heal like that?”

  “No,” he answers, and I sigh in relief but I don’t question him any further, sensing his irritation.

  “I got you these.” I toss the jeans and T-shirt over to him and without a word he gets up and heads for the small bathroom down the hall. Jason is ransacking the garage, collecting tools, rope and anything else he can find that will be useful to take with us.

  Dex returns quickly looking far less menacing and far more human. This is the first time I have ever seen him in anything but black, and it suits him, his tanned skin in sharp contrast to the white material. Tearing my eyes away I notice a set of keys on the kitchen counter. I pick them up and make my way to the front window, eyeing the dark blue Toyota sedan that is parked just outside the open garage. I hold up the keys and press the remote. The car’s lights flash and I hear the faint bleep as the alarm deactivates. I press the button again and I hear Jason’s bellow from the garage.

  “For the love of God, Rachel would you stop that!” I turn to see him glaring at me through the inter-leading door and I shrug apologetically. The car is parked right near where he is standing. The noise probably scared the crap out of him.

  I walk around the table deliberately staying as far away from Dex as possible and peer into the living room. I open a door that leads to the den and peek inside but it’s empty.

  “What are you doing?” Dex’s voice is low and curious.

  “I don’t know,” I murmur, tossing the keys in the air and catching them in my right hand. My left is aching as a result of the burn and I scratch around in the kitchen cupboards for some painkillers. Swallowing two Tylenol I stick my head under the faucet and take a few gulps of water to wash them down. I shove the rest into my jacket pocket.

  “You should eat something,” Dex gestures at the table and I suddenly remember that I haven’t eaten since last night's Chinese take-away. The joys of living alone and working crazy hours. It’s already well past noon and my stomach growls at the mere thought of food. I take a seat across from Dex, eyeing him warily, and pick up a piece of cold buttered toast. I take a bite, chewing slowly.

  “What happens now?” I ask, and he raises his eyes from the floor.

  “We try to get you to safety.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then I return to finish what I started,” he replies and my heart sinks.

  “You’re not a murderer, Dex,” my voice is pleading. Despite everything, I still want to believe the best of him. I want proof that the man I thought I knew really exists. Looking into his flint-hard eyes it’s hard to imagine. “How can you do this? How can you kill all these people without even hesitating? Do you really have no heart?”

  “I have a heart, Rachel. My biological make-up is practically identical to your own.” I roll my eyes in annoyance at the sarcasm in his tone.

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

  “Stop questioning me, then,” he retorts. “I don’t owe you anything.”

  “I disagree. I think you owe me big time. You used me, made me feel things... you used me,” I repeat sadly.

  “So what now, are you looking for an apology?”

  “That would be a start.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “No,” he agrees, his eyes boring into my own, “I’m not.”

  Flustered, I cast around for a change of subject.

  “Why?” I persist. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I told you,” he sighs, sounding bored, “we want your resources.”

  “Why? Was Venon destroyed or something? Did you run out of your own?”

  “No.” The answer is not what I expect.

  “Then why are you after ours?”

  “Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. There’s no immediate reason – none that would make sense to you, anyway. Think of it as colonizing. Only a very small number of our people will remain here on earth once we have conquered it. We simply wish to secure it, to ensure that it is in our possession if ever the need arises. Every planet has its own version of over-population.”

  “Yeah, and we earthlings have a solution, its called contraception. Although in your species' case, I would strongly recommend permanent sterilization.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he resumes his dead-pan expression. “Will you stay here on earth?” I ask.

  “No,” he scoffs, as if the very thought is contemptible. “Venon is my home.” I hear the pride in his voice and I keep my thoughts to myself. “It is a tragedy that humans will soon be extinct,” he offers, something almost like sympathy shining in his green eyes, “because you do not lack the brain power to protect yourselves, you simply lacked the foresight. You should have seen this coming. Surely you realized a more dominant species would come – would challenge you?”

  “I’m sorry if humanity is not quite as jaded as your people. We never assumed that discovering that we are not alone in the universe would be tantamount to annihilation. And as to our supposed extinction,” I sneer, “in case you haven’t noticed, we’re fighting back.”

  “Trying to,” he corrects, “but you won’t succeed. There are thousands of my kind on earth. Genocide is imminent. Stop that!” he suddenly snaps, glaring at me and I blanch.

  “Stop what?” I wasn’t doing anything, just eating my toast in silence and staring hatefully at him. “Nothing,” he shakes his head, trying to brush it off, but I am not convinced. Again I have that nagging feeling that he is keeping something from me. I stand suddenly, grabbing the two rucksacks I brought with me downstairs, one of which is filled with clothing. I stride across the kitchen and yank open the pantry.

  “Why are you bothering with me, Dex?” I bite out through clenched teeth as I begin shoving tinned food and packets of pasta into the open bag. He doesn’t reply and I grab a few packets of biscuits, throwing them on top of the rest. “You obviously believe in Venon’s cause, enough to murder seven billion people, so what difference does one human girl make? One pathetic, weak human?” I pull open a drawer so hard that it crashes to the ground, utensils scattering all over the floor. I bend down and retrieve a can-opener that landed near my feet. He still hasn’t answered and I turn back to the pantry, but as my hand closes a
round a bottle of long life milk I feel his hand on my shoulder and he jerks me around, so quickly that the backpack clatters to the floor, tinned goods rolling in all directions.

  “Stop it!” he growls, grabbing my chin and forcing my face upwards. Before I can even prepare myself his mouth comes crashing down on mine. I let out an involuntary gasp as his lips touch mine and he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth.

  I kiss him back for only a second and then I jerk my head away. My hand flies forward of its own accord and I slap him hard across the face.

  “Don’t touch me, you evil son-of-a-bitch!” I hiss, striding out of the room and through the back door. I step out into the yard trying to slow my breathing and to ignore the frantic thudding of my heart. It means nothing, I tell myself, hating that I responded to his kiss even if only for a moment. Nothing. He just caught you by surprise. I stand that way for some time, staring at the leaves of the trees and the pansies adorning the sweet garden, providing bright splashes of color.

  I am in such a state that it takes a while for me to notice the wooden trapdoor in the ground only a few feet from where I am standing. It could only lead to a storm shelter. And I know, instinctively, that they’re in there. I suspected as much when I realized their car was still parked in the drive. Glancing back at the house, I hesitate. If Dex figures out that the family belonging to the house are still here he may well kill them, but if I leave them here they are as good as dead. The Venite soldiers will be here by this time tomorrow if Dex’s calculations are accurate, and I have no doubt that the innocent family hiding underground will be found and killed eventually. We’ll warn who we can, Darren’s words echo in my mind and I make my decision. I cannot just leave them here to die.

  Chapter 11

  I creep forward, trying to ignore how suddenly every move I make sounds amplified. I stop only a few feet from the trapdoor, peering over it and trying to decide on my best course of action. As I open my mouth to whisper to the occupants, I feel two strong hands grab me around the waist and jerk me backwards, and at the same moment there is a deafening boom as someone fires a shot up through the trapdoor. Dex spins me around, his eyes wide. He takes only a moment to assess that I am uninjured and then he whirls back towards the trapdoor, both his arms raised.