by Jason Brant
"Hey! Comic-Con rocks. Suck my balls. My name is Nami! I might shoot you when this is over."
That was officially the first time a woman has ever threatened me with that.
The door to the bathroom opened behind me. Sammy took a tentative step out.
"Are they gone?" she asked.
"Yes, but they should be calling for me before too long. They left Short Round here to babysit us," I said.
"Going to shoot you until you die from it," Nami whispered.
"Ash, please tell me why they were saying those crazy things to you. Why do they think you're a psychic? What do they want from us?"
Putting my hands on her shoulders, I led her over to sit on one of the beds. As crazy as this day had been for me, I had to remember that she must have felt like she had a bad acid trip
"This is going to sound bonkers to you, but the information they had on me was right. I can do the things they said."
"Stop it! Just tell me the truth!"
"Think of a random number, right now. I'll tell you exactly what it is."
"Oh please, any stupid magician can do that trick."
"Then make it a huge number that no one could guess."
"Fine."
She tried to trick me – she didn't visualize any number at all.
"Blue. You're thinking of the color blue, the same shade as my eyes."
"That's impossible! No one could—"
"It's true," I interrupted. "I've been able to do this since my brain injury."
She pushed my hands away from her shoulders and stared at me with large round eyes.
"What am I thinking now?"
"Your first dog, a German Shepherd named Max—"
"Oh my God!" she yelled as she punched me in the face.
Getting hit is something I've become accustomed to from my boxing training, but being punched right in the nose is terrible. It always makes my sinuses stuff up and my eyes water.
She was in good shape too; she hit me damn hard.
"Ash, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that! You startled me so bad – it was a reflex," Sammy blurted out as she bent over me, putting a hand on my shoulder.
"That's a hell of a reflex."
Nami sat in the corner, laughing at me.
"Are those tears? Is the huge baby crying because a girl hit him? What a pussy."
"At least I can ride everything at the amusement park, Nadia." Letting go of my nose and not seeing any blood, I turned back to Samantha. "Don't worry about it. I deserve more than that for getting you into this mess."
Sitting back on the bed, she looked at me with distrust on her face. "How is this possible?"
That was a question I had often asked myself. Years of drowning the voices in alcohol and wallowing in depression never gave me an answer either.
"I wish I knew. It started after I was hurt. The impact must have jarred something loose in my head."
"That's why you've kept to yourself for so long?" she asked.
"It was the only way to keep myself sane."
Sharing this with someone made me feel completely exposed. All of a sudden the entire world seemed to know too much about me.
The sympathy on Samantha’s face changed to worry. The poor girl had gone through the entire gamut of emotions in the past two minutes.
"Do you always know what I'm thinking?"
"No, I'm in control of it now. You can feel safe around me – I'm not a monster."
Her body language indicated that she was dropping her guard a little bit at a time.
"Ash, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry. This is all so… far-fetched. I don't even believe in ghosts."
"We can discuss all of this later. First, we need to get you as far away from here as possible."
"You don't think I'm safe here?"
"I don't trust this Smith guy at all. He was way too forthcoming with information. Something isn't sitting right with me."
"Then why are you helping them? We should both get out of here!"
"What if he's telling the truth? I couldn't live with myself if something terrible happened and I could have helped stop it. That's the only reason I'm playing along for now."
"When you girls are done kissing, you need to see this," Nami said.
She moved over to the bistro table and positioned the laptop so we could see the screen as we huddled around it.
"The local news station is saying that your apartment blew from a gas leak."
"Hundreds of people must have seen those armed men. How can that be the story?"
"It gets worse: they're calling it arson. You and your little girlfriend here are the primary suspects. There are warrants out for your arrest."
This didn't make any sense. How could some guys shoot a bazooka into my house? And now I was being sought for arson? Why would Sammy be a suspect too?
"The police are after me?" Sammy asked.
"You guys are having a shitty day," Nami said.
"Is there any mention of the men who stormed the building at all?" I asked.
"They're saying that the police raided the building, but you escaped. That's it."
Murdock must have known he hadn't killed me. He was trying to stack the deck in his favor by getting the cops after us.
"I've never done anything illegal in my life," Sammy said as she slumped into a chair.
"The news story, is it based on a police report?" I asked Nami.
"Yeah, looks like a Detective Johnson issued a statement explaining everything." I could see her trying to put the pieces to together. "You think this Murdock dude got to him?"
"I can't even bring myself to pirate a song off the internet," Sammy said.
"It's the only thing that makes sense. He changed tactics when he found out I escaped. Why chase us around the city when he can have the police do it for him? That's what I would do."
Sammy bolted up. "Why don't we just turn ourselves in and tell them what really happened?"
"Jesus, you're a real rocket scientist, aren't you?" Nami said.
"He wants the police to arrest us. If we're locked in a cell we're as good as dead. Killing us would be like shooting fish in a barrel at that point," I said. "It looks like staying here might be the best thing for you after all. If you leave and the cops find you, it's game over."
Nami clicked away at her computer. "Looks like CNN just picked up on the story. You guys are in deep shit."
"CNN? My mom is going to kill me!"
Murdock was trying to take me out of the equation. Smith seemed to be right about that. But why was he after Sammy? Did he hope she would be captured so he could use her as bait? He had me backed into a corner. I had to help Smith take him out.
Chapter 10
The ride from the hotel gave me some time to think. The hits kept coming at a rapid fire pace, so I needed a little time to process everything.
Smith had called and said there was a cab waiting outside for me. It would take me to the Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Washington D.C., which was only a few miles away. During my drug induced stupor they had taken us all the way from Baltimore to a crappy hotel off of Route 50.
Why they thought Murdock would be at a cemetery hadn't been explained to me. After getting an assurance from Sammy that she wouldn't call anyone or leave the room, I took a radio earpiece from Nami and left in the cab.
So much information had been dumped on me that I was still trying to sort it. Smith said that when I got close to another telepath that I would be aware of their presence. Who knew what that meant?
Murdock's mind control capability made me nervous as hell. Judging by the footage I watched, he could make people do anything he wanted. Did that apply to me as well? Whether or not my own abilities would protect me was the big mystery. Either Smith really didn't know, or he wasn't telling me what would happen.
Smith also concerned me. Why did he tell Sammy and me so much classified information? When I was in the Army I only had a secret level clearance, which is the equivalent of having
an asshole: everyone has one. There is no way we were cleared to hear everything he told us. This was an atypical situation, but it still seemed way out of bounds for a man who ran an unnamed spy agency.
Nami was the other wild card. All of Smith's tech heads had been killed, so he needed some help, but Nami seemed an odd choice. She knew nothing about the operation before today, and was too young to have any extensive experience in espionage. Smith seemed too calculated to pick someone at random, so what was her role in this? It could be her lack of access to classified information that made him pick her. After all, having a telepath around a person with privileged information isn't a good idea. Even so, something bothered me about her involvement.
Dealing with the police was a problem I didn't want to think about for the time being. After taking care of Murdock I hoped Smith would be able to clear up that mess. Poor Sammy seemed more distraught over having the cops after her than knowing someone could read and control her mind.
She was so sweet and kind, I hated seeing her in this position. No one deserved anything like this, let alone someone who had never even downloaded a song illegally.
The cab stopped in the parking lot of Dave's Automotive Services, where two mechanics in oil stained coveralls pushed a tan Buick into the garage. The cemetery, visible on the other side of the shop, had dark, rain heavy clouds drifting behind it.
Though it was nice to have a few minutes of downtime, I was glad to be out of the car. I don't know what a coked up prostitute smelled like, but if I had to guess I would say it's similar to the back seat of that taxi.
"Where exactly do I need to go?" I had to push the button on my earpiece so Smith and Nami could hear me.
"Walk south-west and look for a burial service," Smith said. A slight amount of static distorted his voice.
"Whose service is it?"
"One of our agents’."
"An agent that Murdock killed? One of the telepaths?"
"Affirmative."
"Why would he go to a funeral for someone he murdered?"
"That information is classified."
If he didn't have a problem revealing all the other information to me, why draw the line here? The desire to sprint in the opposite direction almost made me turn around, but I had to do this for Sammy if nothing else.
The further I walked, the more nervous I became. I needed to keep talking.
"Are there any other paranormal abilities that I don't know about? Like telekinesis?"
"Negative. There has never been any evidence as to the existence of psychokinesis."
"That isn't very comforting, considering you didn't know mind control was possible before three days ago."
His non-response told me to shut up, but I couldn't help myself.
"What's the deal with him spouting nursery rhymes when he kills people?"
"We don't know. That is under investigation."
"Maybe he's just crazy," Nami said.
Three or four hundred yards into the cemetery I spotted the funeral. There were at least twenty people standing in a circle around the grave. My heart beat so fast I thought it might burst from my chest. I found myself hunching over, almost sneaking from headstone to headstone, and forced my back to straighten out as I got closer.
Then I felt him. It felt as if a tunnel had appeared in my mind, pushing all of the other thoughts out of the way. His fury was pure and complete. It enveloped me. Caught off-guard, I staggered sideways, clutching at a large stone cross to steady myself. The power of his mind was unbelievable. I stood still for several moments, waiting for him to take control of me. Nothing happened.
A clap of thunder made me flinch. I was wound too tight for espionage.
Who are you? he bellowed inside my head.
I didn't bother to answer; he was Smith's problem now. The group of people were still too far out for me to tell which person he might be.
I put my finger to my ear. "Smith, he's here. I don't know which one he is, but he's at the grave site."
"Roger that, E.T.A. two minutes. Ms. Williams, continue to survey the civilians with the sat feed. Watch for unusual behavior."
Even though I knew they had to keep everyone far away from Murdock to avoid detection, two minutes was an eternity when a mind controlling psychopath is less than a hundred yards from you. I didn't plan on waiting around to see who won. His voice came booming back as I turned to leave.
Smith sent you. It wasn't a question. Who are you? I took care of all the freaks being trampled under Smith's feet.
Relief set in as I realized he couldn't read my mind at all, let alone control it. I wasn't able to see his thoughts either, despite this odd connection we had. I could feel his emotions, which were almost overwhelming, but couldn't focus on specific thoughts or memories. It seemed that Smith's guess had been correct: telepaths weren't susceptible to Murdock.
You should have come for me yourself instead of sending those losers with the rocket launcher. Looks like using the cops didn't work out either. Payback's a bitch.
A large drop of rain plopped onto my hair. Several more landed around me as the pungent smell of earthworms began to seep through the ground.
Several seconds passed without a response. His anger abated as confusion took its place. He didn't seem to know what I was talking about.
Smith must have manipulated you like he does everyone. I have no idea who you are, but working for that monster has signed your death warrant.
I didn't expect this kind of reaction at all. Was Nami right about him? Was he so crazy that he didn't remember sending men to murder me only a few hours ago?
At the funeral ahead of me, a blonde woman wearing a black dress and veiled mourning hat looked around the cemetery with a sweeping gaze. Her eyes fixed on me. Was she Murdock? I knew he was good at disguising himself, but being able to pass for a woman was remarkable.
I had focused so much attention on her that I didn't see the suited man running toward me until he was less than five feet away. I tried to pivot to the side as he ran into me but his momentum was too great and we crashed into a large headstone. The block of granite didn't give an inch, though my shoulder wanted to.
I covered my head with my forearms as he began to rain down heavy blows at my face. His frantic punches were clumsy and unskilled, with little regard to his body positioning. This allowed me to put my feet on his hips and push him away. Jumping to my feet, I took a traditional boxing stance and closed the distance between us.
The mental bridge between Murdock and me kept me from focusing on the man's thoughts. What I did manage to discern seemed simple enough: he wanted to kill me. He was nothing more than an innocent bystander that Murdock used to do his dirty work. That made this fight even more difficult as I didn't want to cause him serious harm.
He bull rushed me with his head down, trying to tackle me like a linebacker. As he grabbed me I snuck my arm around his neck, clasped hands, and squeezed. This move cut off the blood supply to his brain. He thrashed around trying to get free, but his body fell limp a few seconds later. I placed him on the ground as gently as I could, his face resting on the muddy grass. He would wake up in a few minutes with a headache but he'd be fine otherwise.
I see you aren't unskilled. Unfortunately, I don't have time to deal with you personally.
Everyone at the funeral spun around and looked directly at me. Men, women, and children, most dressed in black, began to sprint forward. Even the priest had dropped his bible and ran as fast as his aged body would allow.
The rain turned into a torrential downpour.
Chapter 11
If this was an action movie from the eighties, I would have stood my ground and beat down everyone that Murdock sent. Instead I turned around and ran my ass off. Smith could take care of this mess. I had done my part. Most of the people attending the funeral were your average out of shape citizens. Outrunning them wouldn't be an issue.
At least, it wouldn't have been had I seen the caretaker hiding behind the mausol
eum before he hit me in the chest with a shovel.
Air erupted from my lungs as I stumbled backward, trying to stay on my feet. My mouth opened and closed like a landed fish. Panic set in while my lungs tried to remember how to function.
Pain exploded across the right side of my face. I fell sideways, arms pin-wheeling as I tripped over a low marble grave stone. A mourner had caught up faster than I expected. He punched hard, too.
The caretaker ran at me, the shovel raised above his head, as I staggered back to my feet. Instead of moving back, I stepped toward him, grabbing the front of his brown overcoat and swinging him at the funeral-goer. My toss and his momentum sent the two of them toppling over in a jumble of limbs.
Leaning against a huge headstone with a statue of Christ atop it, I tried to focus on breathing. Touching my tender sternum, I checked for broken ribs.
"Ash, are you okay?" Nami said.
"I've been better," I wheezed.
"You have some more people coming at you. Try not to get hit by anymore gardening tools."
I'm down here getting my ass kicked and she's making fun of me. Computer geeks have always annoyed the hell out of me.
"Thanks for the tip, Naomi."
"Nami!"
The rest of the funeral party closed in, two middle-aged men leading the pack. How many people could Murdock control at once? His mental powers were astonishing. Pushing myself up, I started circling left in an attempt to keep them both from reaching me at the same time.
The man in front slipped in mud as he tried to jump over the caretaker and landed on his side, his arm at an awkward angle when he attempted to lessen the impact of his fall with it. The lack of a reaction on his face disturbed the hell out of me.
When Murdock had control of you, did you not feel anything? This man had a completely different reaction than the senator, who seemed to have an internal struggle before shooting himself. Did Murdock decide if he wanted you to be aware of what you were doing?
