Ilyan (An Imdalind Story)

by Rebecca Ethington

  “I need you to answer me, Kaye.”

  “You’re alive,” she panted, taking a step closer as though she was going to rush into my arms. Luckily she thought better of it.

  “Yes.” I kept my voice calm. She was talking, and I wasn’t about to impede that. “But I need to know what happened Kaye. What happened to me? What is going on?”

  “You’re …” Her awe vanished in a snap, her focus twisting from me to the Vilỳ, and back again. “What happened?”

  I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Instead, the twisted humor came out in one crooked smile. I let my hands drop from her arms in the hope that she had calmed enough to at least talk to me.

  “That would be what I need to know…” I hunched my back so I could look her in the eye. It was only now, as I stood beside her, that I realized how tall I must be.

  Joclyn only came to my chest. Right to my heart.

  “Last I remember we were discussing how to track down Joclyn,” I continued, “Last I know they showed her picture on the television...”

  “You were in a coma...” Kaye’s deadpan voice smacked against me, sucking the wind out of my chest.

  “A coma?” I gasped. The response as unexpected as the war zone I had woken up in.

  “All of that…” She hesitated, looking away in obvious agitation. “The pictures. That was more than two years ago.”

  “Two years?”

  She stepped away from me then, careful not to trod on the things with her bare feet as she retrieved her pants.

  I knew how this scene would go. I would roar in shock over the time and she would retell a story of woe and triumph.

  None of that happened. I just stood, staring at the wilted bodies and twisted tubes that I had pulled from myself. Tubes that had kept me alive.

  “They thought you were brain dead…” She shook her head, as she threw a shirt over her shoulders, the threadbare shift stained with blood and dirt. “They kept you alive, kept you here…”

  She kept fading in and out, everything she said more of a half thought then information I could use to piece together the last two years that I had missed. It was more than that, I realized. It was more than unsurety. It was discomfort. It was protection.

  “What did they do to me?”

  She froze in place, a sock and shoe dangling from her fingers as she slowly uncoiled to face me, her jaw tight as she looked right into me.

  “They tried to figure out what you are, Jan.”

  What. Not who. It seemed fitting somehow.

  “What did they do, Kaye.” My voice was harder, the demand for information clear.

  Kaye looked away, turning back to the bodies, back to her strewn clothing, determined to look anywhere else.

  “They still think you are the man from the photo,” she kicked one of the Vilỳ, it’s corpse flopping over with limbs and wings twisting end over end. “They know you were there. They think they know what you can do. They want to figure it out. They aren’t wrong though. About what you can do.”

  Eyes wide, she faced me head on, standing half dressed amongst the corpses like an apparition. Her jaw tightened as she waited for a response, determined to get it.

  “You know they aren’t.” I refused to look away from her, I didn’t think I needed to say anything more after what happened. “Will you tell them?”

  Her eyes narrowed at my question, her focus still on the garden of corpses that we stood in the middle of. “What did you tell them, Kaye?”

  She shook her head, her lips pulling into a tight line before she finally turned to me.

  “I told them nothing and that will not be changing. The SSU doesn't know I exist and I plan to keep it that way. I’m not registered and that means death. But now that you are awake, and now that you can do…” she hesitated, gesturing around her as she struggled to find the right word. “What did you do, Jan?”

  “That’s not my name,” I bristled, a single brow raising as she turned away from me making her way over to the bed.

  Her question was clear, but I said nothing, I had nothing to replace it with. I still didn’t know who I really was. Not entirely.

  “It doesn’t matter what your name is. I’ll call you whatever you want.” She snapped as she pulled pants and socks back on. “All that matters is getting out of here. Can you do that again?”

  We faced off, the air heavy with the question, my body heavy with that same power that ignited the question, with the thick implication that lined it.

  “I…”

  “We need to get out of here,” Kaye said as she slipped her shoes back on, now freely stepping over carcasses as she retrieved her knife. “Can you get me out of here?”

  I didn’t understand what she was asking. I didn’t know anything that had happened. I stared at her, waiting for clarification, trying to focus on the energy, on the power. To know if I could do it again. The answer was only a weak hum somewhere in my soul, “I’m not sure.”

  Everything froze at my response, our breathing was loud in the silence, the sound the countdown to whatever end we were quickly hurtling toward. The two questions hung in the air until the silence exploded with a bang.

  The sound echoed through the hospital from somewhere in the distance, the loud thud followed by a stampede of footfalls.

  We both looked toward the sound, our faces lined with a different panic.

  “They are here,” she whispered as she began to look around, obviously desperate for somewhere to hide.

  “Who is here?” I rushed toward her, trying to pull her focus, but she didn’t stop her search, although I was sure she already knew it was hopeless.

  “The Cleaners,” she gasped as if that made sense to me. “The state police.”

  The clarification didn’t change much for me, but it didn’t need to. The look in her eyes told me everything.

  “Can we hide?” I asked, my eyes joining her in her search.

  “I can,” She spat, the words a growl “I don’t exist to them. You are supposed to be brain dead… and this…” she gestured around us, the panic in her growing. “What did you do?”

  “I used my magic.”

  I was aware of the absurdity of the word. It grated on me, it twisted in my stomach. But not because I didn’t believe it because I knew that she wouldn’t.

  “Excuse me?” She froze in place, all thought of searching for a weapon gone as she stared at me. “I’m going to pretend that made any kind of sense…”

  “I used my magic, Kaye,” I interrupted her, the same heat rising to consume me as I walked toward the corner of the room, pulling the computer table toward me.

  The metal feet scraped loudly against the linoleum, the sound sure to lead them right to us.

  “No, Jan.” she stuttered, at a loss for words. “That’s not possible. You may think that… but magic isn’t real.”

  “But Aliens are?” I didn’t even try to hide the smile from my face. “You have seen the images. You saw the one… of The Oheň, of Joclyn. What did you think it was?”

  Her jaw hinged in shock, but I just smiled, shoving the computer off of the table with such noise that if they hadn’t tracked us yet, they had now.

  “Look, you don’t exist and I am supposed to be dead, right?” She only nodded in response. “I can fix one of those things, but we don’t have time for this. We can argue the reality of magic and aliens later. You need to hide.”

  “How do you suggest…”

  She didn’t get to finish before I lifted my hand above my head, that same electric buzz seeping from me as the ceiling tile shifted, revealing a large open cavern.

  “The ceiling will be reinforced along the walls and near the televisions. Stay along those lines and you won’t fall through.”

  I could tell she wanted to fight me on it. I could see the disgust mixing with fear for one split second, but it vanished as the sound of footsteps began echoing toward us, the clear voices of military orders echoing right behind.

  W
ith one last look toward the door, she rushed toward the desk, only giving me a single sidelong glance before she was gone, lifting herself up into the rafters.

  The ceiling tile replaced as I dragged the desk toward the bed, collapsing on the ground between them.

  The floor began to shake as the footsteps grew louder, the bodies of the dozens of Vilỳ I was surrounded by shaking and flopping around at the vibration. I sat still, the buzzing of my magic growing as the sound of their stampede did.

  I restrained it. As much as it wanted to explode, I did not know what would happen if it did. I did not know if I could control it or how long it would last. Even then, I now had a reason to wait. I needed to get Kaye out of here.

  I needed to know what ‘here’ was first. I needed to know more of me. Know what they thought of me.

  Coma patient.

  Possibly from Prague.

  No memory.

  I would give them that.

  I slumped against the bed just as the door opened with a bang, the rhythmic sound of combat boots coming to a quick and sudden stop as the expletives began.

  Their shock was quickly followed by fear, many rushing to get someone as a few ventured further into the room, their heavy footfalls rippling through me in a countdown to an inevitable end.

  To me.

  To them.

  I looked up to the first soldier as he saw me, the man shrouded in heavy riot gear, a smear of yellow paint on his chest.

  The Cleaners.

  I didn’t know what they were, but judging by the anger in his eyes, he was expecting fear.

  Forcing my eyes wide as I put all the wide-eyed panic into my face that I could, I reached toward him, letting my hand freely shake as I locked the tiny sparks of magic inside.

  “You have to help me,” I said clearly in Czech before I collapsed to the ground in a heap, very much alive.

  7

  The restraints were more comfortable than the handcuffs, but that was where the benefits stopped.

  The straps were tight against my wrists and ankles as they held me against the bed in a tight spread eagle. The soft padding on the bands were only giving me the illusion of comfort, for the more they tightened them, the more they pulled. The more my joints ached, and the more the heat under my skin rumbled.

  My muscles tensed as yet another needle was plunged into my skin, the short sheer on my scalp prickling as I twisted toward the nurse who stood beside me, filling vial after vial.

  I watched her, recognizing her at once as the nurse from that very first day. Although her hair was streaked in grey and her face lined with wrinkles, the color of her eyes was the same as her daughter’s. Katenka. The name on the badge was the same.

  No wonder Kaye was Kaye.

  I was desperate to ask. Desperate to know if Kaye was okay and what had happened. The woman didn’t look at me, however, and I didn’t dare say anything with so many people in the room.

  Detective Bondar and his companion stood anxiously at the foot of my bed, their feet shuffling as they stood closer to the wall than to me. For all that I had heard them yell about cases and propriety and a dozen other things that I couldn’t place, they had been pretty happy about being here until a few minutes prior, when the man that now hovered over me had entered.

  He wore a suit so dark it made his blonde hair appear platinum, both colors emphasizing his eyes so that they appeared to be little green sparks of danger. He glowered at everyone with those eyes, his expensive shoes crunching on bits of glass and metal that had been missed when they had put the room back together.

  Although the bodies of the Vilỳ had been swept from the room by a few blood covered nurses, you could still smell the blood, even through the strong aroma of the antiseptic. You could still hear the workers as they scoured the blood from the halls, talking of the way all the monsters had dropped dead around me.

  Of the mystery of it.

  Of the miracle.

  The tapping of the man’s shoes stopped as he bent over me, the low rumble of the television behind him making it clear it was turned to the news again.

  “What is your name?”

  The tone of the interrogators' voice was ice. It soaked the room with a shiver that ran down my spine, the same fear present even though he had asked the question before.

  It was all he had asked. I still wasn’t going to give him an answer.

  I lay still, as if I had another option, and stared him hard in the eye. Defiance spread through me as I met him head on, letting the warmth of my magic fill me as I once again tried to gauge my power and ability. My snarl faded when I caught sight of the embroidery on his lapel.

  It was a tiny flare, a sunburn star with one long spire that stretched almost double the width above and below. It balanced on the point of his lapel like a top. The man so close I could clearly see the long threads in yellow and the brightest red that made up the insignia, the symbol the same as I had seen on the breast of The Cleaner’s uniforms.

  Then, it had been an ugly yellow smear painted on body armor and helmets. Here it was worn with pride. Like a warning.

  A brand.

  Judging by the reaction of those in the room, by the way Kaye had shivered with the sound of their boots, this group was feared.

  This group was in control.

  “I don’t know.” Forcing myself to look away from the star, I gave the interrogator the same answer I had before, the monotone response obviously not what he had expected. “I would like to know who you are, however.”

  The question seemed to be one that was not allowed. For the moment I said it Kaye’s mother jumped, the motion sending the needle she was manipulating painfully through my arm.

  I restrained the yelp as I jerked against the restraints, all eyes turning from me to her as she stepped back, bloody needle held before her.

  She cowered under the look the man gave her, the same one he then turned to me, his warning relayed.

  “I am sure you would.” His eyes narrowed in warning before clicking his heels against the floor. “Enemies of the State don’t gain all of the information they want. That was how the old government operated. I am not part of them.”

  “So, you overthrew the government, then?” The interrogator smiled at my question, the look a dark smear of grease against my heart. The need to back down mixed dangerously with the need to plow ahead, to push buttons, to cause problems. If only the stubborn desire to challenge him wasn’t so loud if only it didn’t buzz under my skin.

  “Overthrew,” he laughed. The sound made my muscles tense. “This is not the word I would choose.”

  “Nor I.” The grumble came from the corner where Dr. Sirko sat perched behind the computer that had been brought in to replace the one I destroyed.

  The response to the two words was instantaneous. The Detective shifted his feet and moved closer to the wall, the soldiers stepped toward him, guns cocking as a few moved to aim. The guns were waved away by the dark-suited man. Not an interrogator, I realized, an Officer. The Officer turned toward my doctor with a scowl and a snap that even made me jump.

  “What word would you use Doctor?”

  The threat was clear. A shadow of fear crossed the doctor’s face, but he straightened his shoulders, his eyes unwavering as he faced the Officer. My magic sparked at the look in his eyes, that same protective need growing strong as my power rose up to meet it. I almost let it free, but it still felt out of control.

  And surrounded by so many guns I knew it wasn’t worth the risk. I didn’t know if I could do anything against guns.

  “I would call it murder.” There wasn’t a wave of fear in his voice, although I could sense it in the air around him.

  “Murder?” It was a word choked in a laugh and it grated on me, sending the same boiling need to battle raging through me. “Murder to protect the people that the former government would not?”

  The heat in my hands began to bubble as the Officer took a step toward Dr. Sirko. I tightened my hands into wh
ite-knuckled fists, determined to keep it under control.

  “Murder to remove those that would rather see you bitten and writhing…”

  Another step. The burn was moving up my arm now, the heat growing as the soldiers in the room began to re-aim their weapons, the motions deflating the elderly doctor’s confidence.

  The heat was a wave now, I could feel it wanting to explode. Was it worth it? One look at the guns that surrounded me told me no.

  I tensed in an attempt to stifle it, the motion sending the restraints rattling and the Officer turned, his green eyes narrowing as he reached to the large gun that swung on his hip.

  “It is murder to kill a family who would only…”

  The Officer swung toward Dr. Sirko, a hiss of expletives and warnings streaming from him in Czech. It was only noise, my focus had been dragged away by a sharp jab in my arm and the scornful eyes of nurse Katenka. The danger was clear. I stared at her, trying to ask a million questions and glean a thousand answers. But there was only fear, only a warning of danger in her eyes.

  “Is she…?” I began to ask, but even those two quiet words pulled the focus of the men, the bickering between Dr. and Overlord ending abruptly.

  “Am I what?” The officer snarled as he misheard me, pushing the hair that had come loose from the slicked style back into place.

  Katenka kept her head down, focusing on the new vial of blood she was taking and hastily grabbing gauze the moment she was done.

  “Are you part of a military?” I lied without hesitation, the scratchy burn in my throat making my words blur together.

  “I am here to assess you, sir.” He avoided the question artfully, and although I could see Dr. Sirko shift behind him, the man said nothing. He only began inputting numbers into his computer and scratching who knows what on a pad of paper, his back now curled and shivering in submission. “I am here to determine who you are, what you know, and how you took down a fleet of the Chrlič on your own.”

  “I didn’t...” I stalled, not knowing which lie I needed to give him first.

  “I have told you, Commander,” Dr. Sirko said, only faltering slightly when the tap of the commander’s shoes gave warning. “He remembers nothing, and he was in a coma when…”