* * *
Paul knew it was his fault. If he hadn’t jumped from the balcony to reach Dr. Abrams, Kenneth would have never seen him there. No one would have wondered what he was doing and, consequently, no one would have been looking for him the next morning. Kenneth would never have had words with Hodge. Paul was the reason that Kenneth was on that balcony.
“Oh my God,” Hodge said in a deadpan monotone. “I killed Kenny.”
Turning his head to look up at Hodge, Paul grew more furious than he’d ever been in his life. “You psychopath!”
Lunging shoulder-first into Hodge, Paul rammed him back into Dr. Abrams’ bed, landing them both in a heap on the mattress. Flailing with fists, knees and feet, anything he could use, he struck Hodge again and again in unbridled rage. Hodge laughed, rising up on his knees and deflecting most of the blows that Paul rained down on him.
As he lunged and struck Hodge, the canopy to the bed became entangled in his fists as his ability kicked in full-throttle through his anger. The two of them continued to trade punches and gouges, and eventually Paul pulled down the entire canopy over top of the bed, covering both them and Dr. Abrams in the sheer, white fabric.
Abrams didn’t budge. His body was still and lifeless. Paul knew it probably meant that Abrams had already succumbed to the toxic gas, but he couldn’t stop to consider the implications. If he did, he might lose himself in sorrow, and he couldn’t afford to do that right now. Not with Hodge trying to beat him into oblivion.
He needed to get upstairs, to where the others were. Kenneth had already died—had anyone else? He might be able to stop it, which, he was sure, was another reason why Hodge had lured him down into Dr. Abrams’ suite.
Scrambling to the end of the bed, Paul barely got his feet onto floor in time to feel his collar being yanked from behind.
“Oh no you don’t!” Hodge exclaimed.
Paul flew backward, slamming the back of his head against the foot board of the bed.
Once again numb with pain, he rolled sideways to try and get to his feet, but Hodge was there and ready with an uppercut to the jaw that landed him right back on the bed. Dazed, he rocked himself to the right and left, trying to finding something to grab on to, but his outstretched hands only found empty mattress.
Immediately, he realized something wasn’t right.
Empty mattress?
He searched the pillows at the front of the bed and looked all around. The bed was empty. Scrambling up onto all fours, energized, he scanned the room.
Hodge, confused by the change in Paul’s demeanor and lessening of intensity, demanded, “What the hell you think you’re going to find? A way out? There’s only one way out and you ain‘t getting there!”
Paul knew with sudden clarity what had happened. What was it that Parker had said? ‘Abrams has always seemed one step ahead of everything that goes on around here.’ Apparently, he still was.
Dr. Abrams had known as soon as Paul had brought the little black device down into his room what it was and what it was for.
Laughing, Paul clambered to the far side of the bed and climbed out, facing Hodge.
Hodge’s eyes narrowed.
“Look around, Hodge!” Paul mocked him. “Notice anything missing?”
Paul looked pointedly at the bed when Hodge failed to understand.
Dr. Abrams had been in the bed, present in the room as a Walker the entire time, but his sleeping body had been somewhere else—obviously somewhere near Natasha. He had played possum the entire time they’d been in the room and somehow alerted Natasha to pull him back to the Waking world at just the right moment. If Paul had to guess, they probably used the same device that delivered the deadly fumes to send a signal of some sort.
Realization hit Hodge like a sledgehammer, his eyes growing wide with anger. “What the hell did you do, New Guy? Where is he?”
“I couldn’t tell you,” Paul answered truthfully. “But I can tell you this—you and your hero Dittrich have failed. You’ve failed, Hodge. No matter what’s already happened upstairs, I can guarantee that by the time you find your way out of this room it’ll all be over and you’ll be out on your ass. Or maybe even worse—locked up.”
“You’re full of crap…” Hodge replied vehemently.
“Hmmm…” Paul said. “I wonder what that would be like; locked in a jail cell all day long only to fall into the dream at night and wake up… still locked in the same jail cell. I’m thinking that might be enough to drive a Walker insane.”
Hodge roared and leapt across the bed, slamming a right hook into Paul’s temple. Paul fell back, momentarily blinded by pain, but he managed to stay on his feet and bring up his fists.
“Oh now that’s more like it,” Hodge said, bringing up his own fists, taking up a boxing stance.
Paul shook his head to clear it and Hodge took the opportunity to land two quick jabs just below his right eye, rocking his head back again.
Swaying on his feet now, Paul tried to form a plan but the pain was so intense he was having trouble with simple, rational thought. The door… he had to get out the door and save his friends. He turned toward the exit and Hodge took advantage of it, moving in to jab him twice more.
He wiped a hand across his face, fully expecting it would come away bloody, before he remembered he was still in the dream.
Pain. What was it about pain that he’d been told? It was just a feeling. Like anger. He could put it aside. He focused on the room, on Hodge, and tried to force the pain somewhere deep into the back of his consciousness.
He lunged at Hodge clumsily, his lack of fighting skill clearly evident with every move. Hodge laughed and swatted his arm aside, twisting to land three solid punches to Paul’s ribs, dropping him to knees.
“Paaauuul.”
Paul turned toward the sound of the voice. It sounded as if he was being called from very far away, like someone calling through a tunnel to reach him.
Am I hallucinating? He shook his head, looking around in confusion.
Hodge saw him looking blearily around the room and sneered, lifting him again by his shirt collar. “No one’s here, New Guy. You’re all mine until morning.”
As if from very far away, Paul heard it again.
It sounded like Stephanie’s voice calling his name, calling to him and telling him to wake up—wake up!
Was he losing his mind?
Shaking his head groggily, he looked into Hodge's eyes and got ready for another round of punishing blows, unsteadily moving forward on wobbly legs.
Raising his arms and clenching his fists, he heard Stephanie's voice again, but this time it was clear—as if she were getting closer. Looking around wildly, he tried to pinpoint where it came from, but every time he turned his head it seemed like her voice was somewhere else.
Disoriented, he tried to stop moving in an attempt to get a bead on what he was hearing, but couldn’t. All of a sudden, he felt himself pulled forward at such an intense rate of speed that the room zoomed past in a blur, left behind so quickly that even when he turned his head to look back toward Hodge, he instinctively knew that Hodge was now far behind him.
Everything moved past so fast, he had to close his eyes. It was nauseating to keep them open.
And then it all stopped.
He opened his eyes to find himself in Parker’s safe room, with Steven and Stephanie staring down at him.
“Wake up!” Stephanie yelled again.
Coming out of the fog of the dream, he asked, “You… can you hear me?”
“What?” She asked. “Yes! Of course I can hear you!”
“How is this...?” He looked wildly from Steven’s grinning face to Stephanie’s, trying to make sense of how he could be awake.
How could Stephanie be here?
And then it all came together. Staring into Stephanie’s dark eyes, those eyes that he knew he could trust with his life, he said, “Oh my God. You're my nullifier.”
Quickly, lunging past a confused Stephani
e and a grinning Steven, he grabbed the handset from the wall and speed-dialed Natasha. “We’re in trouble, Natasha! Big trouble! We need to find a way out of here and we need to do it quickly. I don’t have time to explain!”
“Hello, Paul,” Natasha’s calm, unhurried voice came from the other end. “I am pleased to hear that Stephanie found you. That is wonderful news.”
Paul gaped at the phone in disbelief. “Natasha, we’re under attack!”
“Dittrich and his group have fled,” Natasha answered calmly, “and the facility has been secured.” She paused briefly. “You’ll want to say a special thank-you to your Sentinel.”
There was a click, and the connection was broken. Paul held the receiver away from his ear, a look of confusion on his face.
“What did she say?” Steven asked. “She told you I’m the man, didn’t she?”
Paul looked dumbly back at his friends.
“Yeah,” Steven grinned and leaned back against the wall. “You know she did.”
###
Book Two: The Rise of Indicium, now available at all online retailers.
A Note from the Author-
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Matthew Keith
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About the Author
Matthew Keith is originally from Michigan and now lives in Kentucky with his wife, two children, and their dog Elvis.
In his lifetime, Matthew has been author and a restaurateur. He is an amateur musician, sings and plays bass (badly) in a garage band, and writes music in his spare time.
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