Tether

by Jeremy Robinson

  The door swings open all the way, and then bounces back, closing in our faces.

  All of my anxiety bursts out as hysterical laughter, cutting through my tension and the group’s. We pile into the car, afraid for our lives, but still smiling.

  “What happened to her?” Reggie asks, looking down at Rain’s unconscious body lying between us in the back seat.

  “This isn’t Rain,” I say, looking back at the ongoing battle…and then up. “That is Rain.”

  47

  Brute is flung up and away, stumbling back and then toppling into the Colorado as the sidewall gives way. A wave of water rolls up the river, enveloping the bridge Garcia was about to drive across. She hits the brakes, and then forgets all about fleeing. She looks back with the rest of us, watching our friend-turned-Riesegeist rise into the sky.

  Rain stands up, body shimmering like the other kaiju, but also burning with an inner light, the way she did in life. The way her daughter’s face does in death. Rising to a six-hundred-foot height, she stretches her arms back, lifts her face to the flashing, stormy sky, and lets out a battle-cry. It’s more human than the other kaiju roars, but there is still something haunting about it.

  Arms outstretched, fingers hooked, the part of her that once was Wisp stretches out as well, spreading wing-like to the sides.

  She is beautiful, even in death. A true force of nature. But is she still her? Is she still Rain? Or is she lost like the others, twisted by death into something confused, angry, and guided by misunderstood desires?

  Drawn to the light still radiating from Rain’s body, Dragonfish swoops down, sharp-toothed mouth stretched wide and rushing toward the back of Rain’s head.

  “Look out!” I shout, though I’m sure she can’t hear me.

  Rain’s eyes open wide, blue light burning out.

  She knows.

  In life, she had the situational awareness of someone with actual eyes in the back of her head. In death…hell, maybe there are eyes in the back of her head?

  Either way, she knows Dragonfish is coming.

  She hasn’t moved because she’s waiting. She’s planning.

  I think.

  Please be waiting.

  I do not want my dead friend to be hurt—which is an insane sentiment. I’m pretty certain that she’s the only one who can deal with the Riesegeists.

  If she can’t stop them…

  Rain twists to the side. Ribbons explode up from her back, entangling Dragonfish’s body. She reaches out with her massive hands, catching the open jaws and prying them apart.

  She braces her legs.

  The earth beneath her feet compresses.

  Rain’s arms lock, shoving up and down, forcing the already wide jaws farther open, to the point of breaking. For a moment, I see the shake of exertion in her arms and legs, and then Dragonfish’s momentum is transformed into pressure on the gaping mouth.

  To say Dragonfish’s jaw breaks is an understatement in the extreme. Before its entire mass comes to a stop, the creature’s head splits in two horizontally. Carried forward, the body comes apart like two halves of a banana peel.

  I cringe, expecting to see an explosion of bone, blood, and guts, but the only thing that emerges from the undone kaiju is light…and then swirling wisps that soar up into the storm—spirits escaping to wherever they were meant to go upon separation from the body.

  Dragonfish’s body comes apart in Rain’s hands, disintegrating into sparkling dust.

  Dead again.

  Or perhaps set free—along with all the souls it had trapped.

  A blur of motion catches me off guard. Rain, too. The sharp end of Dalí’s leg juts out, piercing her chest.

  I’m no assassin, but I’ve seen enough gunshot and stabbing victims to know it’s a kill shot.

  Rain takes hold of the leg with both hands, and then in a show of impressive strength, withdraws it from her chest. It hurts. The pain etched onto her giant face can be seen from miles away.

  A flash of white light blooms from the open wound when she withdraws the limb. There’s no blood. No gore. Just light, and then nothing at all. The wound is healed. Or perhaps it never really existed.

  With a quick twist of her hand, Rain snaps Dalí’s long leg.

  The beast wails and attempts to scramble away, but like a wounded spider, the attempt is somewhat pitiful.

  But Rain takes no pity on the kaiju. She reaches down, taking both broken limbs in her hands.

  Behind her, Brute rises from the water, as enraged as ever, thrashing about before leaping back on shore.

  Rain leans back, twists her body. She yanks.

  Ribbons shoot out, taking hold of Dalí, adding their strength to Rain’s arms. The wounded kaiju dredges what’s left of the arts center away, and then lifts off the ground.

  Rain spins, swinging Dalí like she’s a hammer-throw champion, leaning back as she comes around.

  Brute sees it coming, but there’s nothing to be done when a skyscraper-sized bat is swung in your direction.

  The impact of the two kaiju creates a shockwave strong enough to lift our vehicle onto two wheels for a moment. As I recover from the blow, I watch the energy slide through the city, kicking up an expanding circle of dust and burst window glass.

  Brute is once again thrown backward, rolling to a stop at the base of Storm’s many tendrils. The giant, girl-faced kaiju stares down, a look of concern on her face, but unmoving. The long limbs bend and twist, but the many mouths covering its strange body remain clamped shut.

  Dalí returns to earth with a crash that shakes the world and sloshes the river about. The bridge we were going to cross shakes, cracks, and falls away. No one else in the car notices, and I don’t bother pointing it out. We’re watching this show until the credits run.

  Rain steps over Dalí, and without a moment’s hesitation, she shoots her many ribbons into Dalí’s bulbous head-body. Her hands go in next, and then all at once, she pulls.

  The head stretches for just a moment, and then tears like a rotten orange.

  Light spills out, followed by thousands of freed souls.

  This isn’t just a brawl, I realize. She’s setting those people free, and she knows it.

  “Yes!” I cheer, now standing in the backseat.

  A bellowing roar announces Brute’s return to the fold, but there’s no time to react to it.

  Twin forearms swing up and into Rain’s torso.

  She’s lifted up off the ground and flung.

  Toward us.

  “Uhh,” Garcia says, looking forward and seeing the bridge. “Guys…”

  Even if she’d hit the gas, escaping would be impossible. We’re too close, and they’re too big.

  Everyone still conscious in the car ducks down, fully expecting to be crushed.

  Everyone but me.

  I just watch, a smile on my face. Because I know her. Because there is no doubt in my mind. Rain won’t allow me to be harmed.

  Ribbons stab into the pavement all around us. They flex as her massive weight follows. Her body slows to a stop, the bulk of her head misses us by just twenty feet. She glances in our direction for a moment, and I swear I see her glowing eyes roll in a ‘You moron’ kind of way.

  Then the ribbons thrust her back up onto her feet, and then beyond. She’s airborne when she meets the charging Brute head on, driving her knee up under his head of eyeballs.

  Long glowing hair billows around the gnarly head, the eyes wide and bulging. The vertical mouth on its torso shouts in pain before eating the ground.

  The kaiju slides to a stop just short of us. For a moment, its many eyes stare out, blankly, like the creature is stunned or unconscious, but it has no eyelids to close. Then the eyes dart around, looking in all directions, many of them landing on me, still standing in the back seat.

  A muffled growl shakes the ground, but it turns into a surprised bark as the Riesegeist is dragged away.

  Brute flips over and kicks out with both legs, catching Rain off guard
again. The beast is faster than he looks and absolutely fearless. Rain falls back, landing in front of Storm.

  For the first time since Rain became a Riesegeist, mother and daughter look into each other’s eyes.

  Then Brute arrives, leaping through the air and landing atop Rain.

  His meaty, two-fingered fists rise up and pound down, again and again. It’s like watching the final round of a Rocky movie, only Rain isn’t ducking and weaving, shouting, ‘C’mon!’ and welcoming the abuse. Caught off guard by her daughter’s face, she’s stuck beneath Brute, arms and ribbons pinned by his long body.

  “We have to do something,” I say, but I know there’s nothing to be done. Even if I could get my hands glowing again, even if I could make contact with Brute, without having my soul sucked away, what could I do? Tell him to use his words?

  But I’m desperate to help.

  And I’m not alone.

  White hot spears pierce Brute’s body, striking from all directions. The giant is helpless against them.

  Then he’s lifted up, suspended like a marionette with too many strings.

  Storm hoists him up in front of her face, brow furrowed, mouth downturned.

  The girl screams.

  The sound of her voice drives me down, hands to my ears, but I don’t look away.

  Brute’s body vibrates between the real and the unreal, patterns of energy rippling across his body.

  And then, all at once, he explodes into supernatural glitter.

  Souls cascade up and away, fleeing into the sky. Storm pays them no attention. Instead, she looks down at her mother, whose body is consumed in light.

  Be okay, I will, which again, is an admittedly odd thing to think about someone who is now dead. At least in as much as we understand it. Please, be okay.

  The brilliance fades and flickers away.

  Rain rises from the ground, leaving a divot in the shape of her body behind. She stands, dwarfed by the thing that is her daughter. She looks up into the massive face, and then reaches up a hand.

  The touch is gentle. Affectionate. A mother’s reassurance. The light inside Storm dulls to a soft glow. Her long, slender arms snake out and wrap Rain in an embrace. Her massive body lowers down once more, forehead tilting forward. Mother and daughter rest their heads together, and for a moment, they just stand there.

  Rain’s shoulders sag. The ribbons flowing out from her back retract.

  I can’t tell if they’re talking, or communicating in some way we can’t comprehend, but the fight is over. Rain poses no threat to the world, and with mother providing direction, neither does Storm.

  I smile when I realize that their names together are RainStorm. Fitting, I suppose. A force of nature, potentially deadly and world-shaping, but at the same time, a source of life and relief. I can’t say for sure which one they’ll be, but I have a pretty good idea, and…honestly, I don’t have much say in the matter.

  Rain turns her head back. I feel her stare in my gut.

  I wave my hand furiously.

  She gives me a cool nod in reply.

  And then mother and daughter vanish.

  The actual storm above us stalls and dissipates.

  Two fighter jets rocket past overhead, twisting as they seek out unreal enemies no longer to be found. I can feel the pilots’ relief from here.

  Below me, the new Morgan, stirs. “Saul?”

  She pushes herself up in the back seat, blinking awake.

  I take her hand. “Morgan…”

  “M-Morgan?” Reggie is shaking when she looks at my wife. “Is it you? Really you? Impossible. There’s no way. Quiet.”

  “Reggie?” Morgan says. “What…”

  “Quickly,” Reggie says. “Who do I think is the sexiest man alive?”

  Morgan’s brow furrows, and I’m unnerved by the sight of my wife’s eyes. I mean, they’re still Rain’s eyes—what Rain’s eyes looked like before I met her—but Morgan’s soul is shining through them.

  “David Hasselhoff,” Morgan says.

  Reggie barks a laugh and wraps her arms around Morgan, while Bjorn lets out a somewhat dejected, “Heeey.”

  “So, ahh,” Garcia says from the front seat, looking back. “Mrs. Signalman. Nice to meet you. I’m sure you’re lovely. But…”

  To the right, a building crumbles. Dust billows toward us, chemical and choking. All around, the fringe of the city surrounding the park is in a similar state. It’s all coming apart. If we don’t leave now, we might be stuck here for a long time.

  “Where are we headed, boss?” Garcia asks me.

  I’m torn like a kid about to leave summer camp. I don’t want to leave, but I know I have to. Rain is gone. I still feel her nearby, but I’m worried that if I leave, that lingering connection will be lost.

  What if she needs me?

  What if she’s stuck?

  We’re fine, I hear her say in my head. Take care of yourself.

  I smile. “We passed an IHOP on our way here.”

  “Oh my God, yes,” Garcia says, putting the car in drive.

  Bjorn objects. “We can’t just break in and cook our own food.”

  “Look around, Love” Reggie says. “No one’s going to care if we help ourselves to a Grand Slam.”

  “Grand Slams are at Denny’s,” Morgan says.

  Reggie smiles at her. “Back from the dead and already a pain in my ass.”

  Tires squeal, as Garcia swings us around and then reenacts the Death Star trench run scene, as we flee between crumbling skyscrapers.

  I lean back, holding Morgan in my arms, calm despite the lingering danger. Like my wife, I’ve been reborn.

  I’m a new person, whole, bold, and unafraid of what the future might hold.

  Epilogue

  “How’s this?” Morgan asks.

  We’re cloaked in darkness so absolute that my eyes are starting to play tricks on me, blue-green phosphenes ebbing and flowing like tidal waters.

  “Dark,” I say. “But…it might work.”

  It’s been three months since Austin. In that time, Morgan and I have reconnected, despite the lingering sting of her secrecy. NDA be damned, she should have told me about what SpecTek was doing. Should have revealed her struggle and allowed me to share the burden.

  But we have yet to be…intimate.

  When I look at her, I still see Rain. She has Morgan’s eyes—somehow—but the rest of her is Rain. Then again, the Rain I knew was a luminous, albino version of her half-American Indian self. And now, that self is gone into the ether, replaced by the spirit of a woman who was equal parts British, Scottish and Irish…which feels wrong.

  But here we are, reunited through impossible means, alone in the dark.

  And I don’t find it as welcoming as I once did.

  My imagination once wandered in the darkness, conjuring stories and fantasies, free from the world. Now… Now I know that there is life after death, and sometimes it hides in the dark. Or, at least, that’s the way it feels. The truth is that the dead are all around us, all the time. The position of the sun or the heat of a lightbulb have no effect on lingering spirits.

  I try to put the dead out of my mind. The best way to honor Rain’s sacrifice is to live my life, as best as I can. And that means accepting that she knew I might eventually be intimate with my wife, living in her body.

  I shake my head in the dark. This is so freaking weird.

  “Hey,” Morgan says. Her hand finds my arm in the dark. Squeezes. “We don’t need to do this. Maybe this was a bad idea? The first time was spontaneous. Maybe it can’t be recreated?”

  “I’d be the first guy in history to pass up sex with his hot wife.” I feel guilty the moment I say it. “Sorry.”

  “For what?” she asks.

  “For…you know. She’s not you… I mean…”

  “Saul,” she says, hand rising to my cheek. “This is me now. And just so you know, my new body is way more flexible than my old body.”

  My barked laugh echoes in t
he pitch black, stone tunnel. When I picture people standing by the tunnel’s end, somewhere else in the rambling underground maze that is George’s Island, I laugh harder. They’re going to think I’m the ghost.

  If there was light to see by, I know my face would be bright red. The heat on my cheeks feels like I’ve been downhill skiing without a mask. “Oh, man. You…”

  “We’ll try again later,” she says, patient as ever.

  “I think, maybe, we just need some light.”

  “I left my phone in the car,” she says.

  I did, too. Taking a break from the world was part of the deal today. Things have calmed down as of late, but constant reminders of our ordeal are unavoidable. Boston is being rebuilt, as are Chicago and Austin. The world is starting to relax since a Riesegeist hasn’t been seen since Austin, and multiple witnesses saw, and recorded, the destruction of Dalí, Brute, and Dragonfish, as well as the non-threatening behavior of Rain and Storm. Wild theories abound about what they were—aliens, interdimensional beings, devils and angels—and about what they wanted, but none have been close to the truth.

  But, like Fox Mulder’s poster said, The truth is out there. Or rather, it’s being suppressed. Supported by overwhelming evidence, Garcia blew the lid off SpecTek and their involvement. But the government and DARPA denied any knowledge of the black operation, its laboratories, and experiments—despite the money and resources that had been given to the shadow organization. The official word is, ‘It didn’t happen.’ The truth, which has been relayed to us via Garcia is, ‘Thanks for what you did, but don’t talk about it.’ There was never an ‘Or else,’ but I think it was implied. Garcia was ready to talk about it, but I convinced her to stay quiet.

  SpecTek is gone. The Riesegeists are gone. Revealing the truth to the world would not only destabilize the U.S. government, it would also let every nation and scientist lacking scruples know that weaponizing the dead was possible. I’m sure DARPA won’t forget, but SpecTek’s labs and research have all been destroyed. And they don’t know that Morgan is alive. Reggie’s involvement wasn’t insignificant, but all record of her and Morgan’s participation has been destroyed, and Garcia didn’t give them up.