Watchers of the Night

by Matthew Keith

  * * *

  They worked for two hours, trying to find something, anything, that he could draw upon to get himself emotionally invested to a degree that would allow his ability to manifest. Knowing that anger had provoked it before, they used that as their focus, but no matter what they tried nothing happened. Paul even let Allen hit him a few times with his huge, hulking, ham-sized fists, but all it did was make him see stars for a minute or two. Once again, at the end of a two-hour period, they left the room no closer to a solution than they’d been the night before.

  As everyone filed out of the room, none of them looking him in the eye, Paul stayed, watching Steven.

  Steven was staring up at the clock. As the second hand ticked past the end of the training time, Paul saw his friend’s shoulders slump. Steven must have known how long Paul would be in the room. Knowing Steven would never rebuke him or lose faith in him only made Paul feel worse.

  He walked sullenly into the hallway to find James waiting for him. He hadn’t spent much time getting to know James the way he had with most of the others. James always sat at a table with Hodge, Lisa, and Allen for meals. Although James was never unfriendly to him, Paul was a little surprised to see him waiting.

  “So,” James said in his deep voice. “What you got planned for tonight?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “I was kind of waiting for someone to tell me. I’m not sure what’s on the docket for training.”

  “Oh, that. Well, as far as the training goes you’ll find that out here in just a few seconds.”

  “I will?”

  “Wait for it…” James said, leaning casually against the wall.

  Lydia’s all too feminine voice came over the loudspeaker. “Forgetfulness transforms every occurrence into a non-occurrence. How is it that we remember the least triviality that happens to us, and yet not remember how often we have recounted it to the same person? Memory, of all the powers of the mind, is the most delicate and frail.”

  Paul looked quizzically at James. “What was that all about?”

  “That,” James answered, “was your training. You heard her, right?”

  Paul nodded. “Yeah…”

  “Good. Don’t forget it. Tomorrow at breakfast you have to write it down. Exactly. So now that you’re done with your training for the night, how about you and me get some fresh air?”

  “Um. Okay. That was my training?”

  “Yup. It’s only about ten seconds of words, but it’s a lot of words.” He offered a thin-lipped smile. “Don’t worry, it ain’t no thing. No one ever remembers their first phrase, so don’t sweat it if you screw it up.” Turning, he led the way to the lobby, saying over his shoulder. “Just between you and me, though—I heard you got skills. My money’s on you remembering every word.”

  A little exasperated, Paul stopped, forcing James to stop too. “Now hold on just one second. Before we go out for a little male bonding or whatever it is you have in mind, let’s get one thing clear. Ever since I found out I’m a Walker everyone’s been telling me how much they expect of me and how well I’m going to do. I got to tell, you, James—I’m sick of it! I’m no different now than I was a month ago. And all that means is I’m a below-average high school student who sleeps too much at night. That’s it. It doesn’t make me a mastermind or a genius or … whatever. My friend is still in there and he hasn’t slept for two, going on three, days and the reason is because I can’t do what it is everyone is expecting me to do. So stop telling me how well I’m going to do or how well I have to do it!”

  Raising one eyebrow, still half-turned away from Paul, James asked, “That it?”

  Paul took a deep breath and let it out, a little deflated by James’ lack of response. “Yeah. I guess it is.” And without a word they made their way toward the front of the building.

  “So,” Paul asked as they walked out the open front door and into the parking lot, “where are we going?”

  “To get some fresh air. I figure you and me don’t know each other too well yet, so I asked Dittrich if he minded us spending some time. Since all you had was word retention tonight, I figured it was a good time to see if you wanted to blow off some steam. It can’t be easy leaving your buddy standing on that podium.”

  James was trying to do him a favor, possibly even be a friend. Certainly, a change of scenery might do him good. Giving James a nod, Paul said, “Okay. Lead on.”

  James turned and began jogging at a steady pace toward the road that led down the mountainside. Paul fell in next to him, keeping the same, even pace.

  Looking over, Paul saw a clear, serene look on James’ face.

  “You look happy,” Paul observed.

  “I am. At night, like this, it doesn’t matter if the wind’s blowing or if for some God-awful reason there’s traffic where I’m going or even if there’s people that need something from me. I’m free at night, especially on these runs. Ain’t nothing really like it.”

  James was right. They ran along, following the road as it wound its way down the mountain, the night quiet and peaceful around them. The only sound was the thud of their feet on the gravel and the wind blowing past their faces. There was none of the usual heavy breathing that came with running, it was effortless. Looking up into the black sky, Paul thought, this must be how birds feel when they find a current.

  They ran for at least an hour, neither of them saying a word, never reaching any destination. As far as Paul could tell, there was no plan to reach one. The run was therapeutic in a way that he could never have described to anyone who wasn’t a Walker. James had hit the nail on the head. It was freedom.

  “So you like it here?” James asked, breaking Paul’s reverie.

  “Here?” Paul looked around at the rocky area they were passing through.

  “No, not here, here. I mean at Astralis. You like it here?”

  Thinking before answering, Paul said, “Yes, I think I do. I’ve already made more friends than I ever had back home. I guess the way I was brought here still gets me a little angry when I stew on it too much, but now I understand the reason for it.”

  “You think so, huh?”

  Paul waited for some elaboration, but got none. “What do you mean?”

  Ignoring the question, James said, “Well I ain’t exactly happy here. I ain’t complaining, but I’m definitely not part of the booster club, either.”

  “How come?”

  “Paul, I been here going on thirteen years now. And I’m grateful and all for everything Abrams done for me, how he took me in and showed me how to cope with this thing we all do. But this ain’t a life.”

  “It sure is more of a life than I’ve ever had,” Paul said honestly.

  James stopped abruptly, almost angry, and faced Paul. “Yeah? Let me ask you something. Let’s say in thirteen years you and me are taking a run just like this one and we have this same conversation all over again. You think you’re still going to feel like you’re living your own life after spending that amount of time up here on this mountain?”

  “I… I don’t know. I just got here. I guess I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

  “Well, you need to. Otherwise the years are going to fly on by and before you know it, you’ll never have done most of the things you always thought you’d be doing.”

  It was something to consider. Paul thought about people like James, Dittrich, Kenneth and Parker. They were all older than him. They’d all been at Astralis for a lot of years. Until now, they’d seemed so friendly and happy, comfortable with where and who they were. James was putting a completely different spin on it. But as he just said, what if they’d all tried to make it on their own without the community and finances of Astralis to help them along?

  “What about everything they provide for us?” Paul reasoned. “We’re pretty well taken care of here. I can’t imagine very many places wanting to hire a guy like me who has to pretty much demand his own hours.”

  “That’s the point,” James replied, leaning in clo
ser. “They got us so well set up we got no reason to go looking for anything else. But think about how much money it takes to keep a place like this running without any interference from anyone. Helicopters, Sentinels, safe rooms, food, training—anything Astralis needs, it gets. Can you imagine the size of the checks that get sent our way?”

  “I’m sure it has to be a lot,” Paul said, not really knowing where James was going with his argument.

  “Think any of us ever seen a paycheck from this place? Where’s all that money go? Where’s it at? Who’s in control of it?”

  “Well it would have to be Dr. Abrams.”

  “Damn right it’s Abrams,” James said, looking him in the eye.

  Chewing on those words, Paul stared back, weighing what James had said and everything it implied. Dr. Abrams was a good man. Paul would bet his world on it. But James had a point. Where else could any of them go without the kind of support that Astralis had to offer?

  Turning on his heel, and as he set off again in a run, James said, “Come on, let’s soak us up some of this freedom.”