The Impossible Future: Complete set

by Frank Kennedy

  Jamie wiped away a tear as he turned from the portrait.

  “He was trying to warn me, even back then.”

  “Possibly,” Lydia said from the opposite end of the table, her fingers knocking wood.

  He glared. “I want the truth. Was Ben right? Is the human soul made of the same energy as the Jewel?”

  Lydia smirked. “I must confess his theories did intrigue me. I cannot rule out the possibility of a connection, however remote. But you must understand, my dearest boy: Even if the Jewel were nothing more than a weaponized version of the same raw energy that comprises the human soul, you cannot stop the re-sequencing. It is, as they say, a moot point.”

  “Why?” He asked Lydia. “I’ve already done the impossible once today. How do you know it can’t happen again?”

  “Because the Jewel will never allow an intrusion into its matrix. It was designed with a fully impregnable – and, I must add, aggressive – self-preservation program. Do you believe you alone killed Walter Huggins and Reginald Fortis? Or did you receive help?”

  “I’m in charge,” he whispered. “I’m in charge. You hear me, Lydia? I’m still a human being, and I can make my own decisions.”

  She vanished without replying.

  Jamie heard dangling keys. Seconds later, FBI Agent Hedgecock entered, telling a young deputy to wait outside. “Give me five.” The agent nodded to Jamie and placed a laptop on the table. He swiveled it about until Jamie could see the screen.

  “First, John, I want to tell you we’re sorry for everything,” Hedgecock said. “We treated you unfairly after your arrest. You must understand we were in the middle of a difficult and violent situation. We couldn’t be certain whom to trust.”

  Jamie saw an electronic file with a variety of information – including a photo – of someone named John Huggins. That someone was Jamie. Sammie did not explain how far his “second identity” went. He wondered whether she would have preferred that name over his third identity – his birth name, James Bouchet.

  “It’s a good thing your cousin Samantha came along when she did,” Hedgecock said. “I wanted to show you this, so you know we trust you. It’s your case file from the Department of Children’s Affairs. Do you remember Leslie Bowden, your case officer?”

  Jamie brushed aside his confusion and tried to respond to the question with the same slow, indecisive confusion he mastered in the van under Sammie’s watchful eye. He shrugged.

  “Why am I in here, sir? You said you trust me now.”

  “Yes, John, we do. But we still have more questions.” Hedgecock took a seat and asked ‘John’ to do the same, but Jamie refused. “I realize the past few hours have been difficult for you, but we think you might be able to help us in our investigation. Your aunt and uncle were very kind in caring for you all these years. I’m sure this is difficult to take in.”

  Jamie never heard the Hugginses referred to that way.

  He shrugged. “Can I see Sammie now?”

  “John, we have questions about your aunt and uncle’s activities.”

  Jamie didn’t like the way this was going. “I don’t wanna talk about them. I wanna go.”

  “You and Samantha have no other adult relations, as far we can tell. Since you are minors, you’ll have to go with DCA until they can find a suitable new home. First, I need to clear up some confusion we’re having.”

  Jamie felt a familiar, icy tug. Lydia whispered into his ear.

  “This has to end, my sweet boy.”

  He tried to ignore her, focusing instead on Hedgecock.

  “The sheriff in Albion is investigating the fire that burned down your home last night. He claims to know the Hugginses, but he isn’t familiar with a young cousin living in their home. We’re sending him your case file now. Perhaps your photo will jog his memory. Can you explain why he didn’t know you? Albion is a very small town, John.”

  A wave of panic rolled over Jamie. Apparently, the Chancellors couldn’t plan for every contingency. He grabbed the edge of the table and rubbed his hands against the thick, dark wood. He looked for clues in the agent’s eyes, but Hedgecock seemed neither threatening nor friendly – the poker face Jamie never mastered.

  “This is a trap,” Lydia whispered. “I have observed humans for too long. This man is after something. If you give him the wrong answer, he will never let you go.”

  “Shut up,” Jamie blurted. The agent was taken aback.

  “John, please. I’m not your enemy. Samantha already told us you stayed indoors most of the time because your aunt was concerned you might hurt yourself outside. Is that why the sheriff doesn’t remember you?”

  “Sure. I reckon. Can I see Sammie now? Please?”

  Jamie tightened, the impatience heating his blood. Lydia stood behind Agent Hedgecock, her arms crossed over her chest and lips turned down. Hedgecock again asked ‘John’ to sit, but Jamie refused. He wanted to dash for the door even though he knew it was locked. He tried not to look at Lydia, and he refused to believe the Jewel was controlling his will.

  “You cannot stay,” Lydia said. “He is an obstacle.”

  “John, I think you know more about your aunt and uncle than you realize. If we could sit for a while and talk …”

  “Give him one wrong answer, Jamie, and you will die here. It will be a disaster for them all. You have already been told what will happen. No talk. Action, my boy.”

  Jamie tightened his grip on the table corners. He felt as if the wood was about to cut open his hand. The pain turned into rage. Shadows crept into the room, and the gray fluorescence from the ceiling now dimmed.

  Jamie caught a glimpse of Lydia trying to smile. Agent Hedgecock rose from his chair and started toward Jamie, who saw the butt of a gun holstered behind the agent’s jacket.

  Time stopped.

  He saw the Jewel pushing him. Self-preservation program, Lydia called it. Jamie felt the new skin eating away the last of his old, and somehow he knew: He was going to kill an FBI agent.

  52

  S AMMIE NEVER FORGOT what her parents taught her about grief. They said tears lost for departed flesh were a waste of the living.

  Sammie tried her best to follow their guide, keeping her emotions in balance as she looked for ways to secure Michael’s safety and find a miracle cure for Jamie. She tried to manipulate as best she could during the initial interviews in the van on the way to Austin Springs. She stayed close to Jamie, proud of the way he played along with her cover story. She knew the ruse of John Huggins would be destroyed as soon as the FBI circulated Jamie’s picture in Albion, but she figured that would be enough time to give her one last chance at saving Jamie – even if he didn’t believe saving was possible.

  Her mind searched for answers in feverish chaos as they entered town, but her frustration mounted as they were led from the van. Sammie looked up and down the familiar street of this bright white, early 20th-century town as they headed to the front glass doors. She spent many summer afternoons in Austin Springs with her mother and always found it to be a fun town in an odd sort of way. It was always overrun by tourists – an eclectic blend of the blue-hair set and aging artists – but Sammie loved the garish pots of flowers everywhere, the brick-lined streets, and especially the ice cream shop a half-block away at the end of Flanders Street.

  She used to walk past the police station many times but never really noticed it until now. It was hardly distinctive, its white adobe walls melding into the scenery with about ten yards of gently sloping grass separating the building from the street. The building’s nameplate, above the front entry, could easily have been missed by passersby.

  Sammie calmed herself as she was led inside along with Michael and Jamie, but she was stunned by what she saw. She couldn’t tell the difference between this and the lobby of a dentist’s office: Generic landscapes on the walls, padded chairs and small lamps, coffee table complete with magazines, and a welcome counter.

  A large black woman in a blue uniform and badge provided a realit
y check. The woman attached herself to the threesome, offering sympathy for their losses, providing Michael and Jamie with t-shirts, and promising to mother them as long as they were “guests.” After Jamie was taken to a back room for interrogation, the woman showed Sammie and Michael into a small waiting room adjacent to the lobby.

  The room, about the size of a small office, had every creature comfort: A sofa with end tables and a lamp, an 18-inch television with DVD player, soda machine, a coffee maker next to a basket of muffins and donuts, and most amazing to Sammie: a desktop computer with a sign taped above saying, ‘Free Wi-Fi.’

  “I’m gonna bet you’re hungry,” said the deputy, Martha Lynn. “Plenty here to start. What say I call down to Eddy’s and order up some eggs and bacon?”

  Michael dug in while Sammie thanked her hostess. As he filled his mouth with blueberry muffin, he appeared to have forgotten what Agent Hedgecock told him before arrival. His parents, tracked down in Starkville, Mississippi, were on their way. Michael was told he must remain at the station until they arrived, a few hours at best.

  Sammie asked the deputy for some time alone in the waiting room. The instant the door shut, Sammie turned to Michael.

  “Keep watch,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “Anybody. There’s something I have to do.”

  She retrieved the flash drive Jamie gave her before he dashed off into the woods. She had to know what information Ben thought was so important he would risk everything to get to his little brother. She found the USB port and plugged in the drive.

  “What you up to?” Michael asked as he filled his mouth with a glazed donut. “Aren’t we supposed to figure how to rescue Jamie?”

  “Yes, Coop. That’s what I’m trying to do. Just keep watch, OK?”

  Sammie didn’t apologize for her callous behavior. She couldn’t afford to be interrupted. Her heart sank when she opened a folder to discover three subfolders, each containing more than fifty files, many of them hundreds even thousands of kilobytes long.

  “Oh, no. Where do I start?” She glanced at the wall clock and took a deep breath. She was a fast reader, but this was overwhelming.

  She took a second, closer look and saw a pattern emerging in the titles of the files. The words ‘death,’ ‘soul,’ ‘spirit,’ ‘tunnel,’ and ‘white light’ appeared frequently. She found text documents, image-heavy files, collections of downloaded Internet material, sound files, video files, a database, and spreadsheets. She opened files as quickly as the computer allowed, skimmed the opening page and determined she was looking at a random collection of research which focused on various theories about the human soul, religious context, beliefs related to reincarnation, and on and on.

  The clock seemed to accelerate, and Sammie was getting nowhere. She deduced the nature of Ben’s obsession but couldn’t figure out why he so cared about these often arcane theories.

  The second subfolder proved intriguing, as the word ‘Jewel’ appeared in a few titles. She skimmed, looking for hints of a broader picture but found only technical details about the program now re-sequencing Jamie’s DNA or stories that Ignatius told him about Caryllan Wave energy’s history. Other files in the folder included what appeared to be personal journals and reflections upon his life before and after crossing the fold.

  “Sure you don’t want some breakfast?” Michael asked. “You been running around like a crazy person all morning, too, if you get my speed.”

  Sammie asked for water, and he obliged with an eight-ounce bottle but also a donut. He stood over her shoulder as she worked, until she reminded him of his responsibility at the window. Three minutes later, she opened a file called ‘Jewel/soul.’ It read like a research paper, opening with a formal, introductory paragraph that lowered Sammie’s jaw as she reached the thesis sentence. This is it, she told herself.

  Every sentence boggled her mind and brought tears to her eyes. It wasn’t written by the drunk Ben became in his final months. Rather, the words were carefully prepared, the product of vast research, with each powerful sentence building a meticulous case for a concept Sammie knew could change the future. The summary report was twenty-seven pages long. Sammie had no intention of reading it all; she didn’t have to. The first five pages, when skimmed, presented more than enough hard science and anecdotal evidence melded with theory and religious doctrine.

  Her mind raced through the past hours, focusing on Jamie’s miraculous cure of Michael and how Jamie’s body repaired itself. She understood the basic science behind the Jewel’s program – her father spent many weeks outlining it – so Sammie knew the program by itself could not have saved Michael. Ben’s conclusions provided a missing link.

  “We never considered this,” she said, loud enough for Michael.

  She closed the file and removed the flash drive. She took a swig of water, braced herself, and turned to Michael.

  “Everything makes sense now. We have to get Jamie out of here.”

  “Sure. That was pretty much the plan all along. Got any ideas?”

  She peered through the blinds and saw a lobby that was empty, save for one deputy.

  “So far as we know, Coop, there are only three here. Two deputies and Agent Hedgecock. All the other officers are out dealing with the mess that was left behind. You seen anybody else here?”

  “Uh. No. Not that I recollect. Sammie, what are you thinking?”

  “What I’m thinking is that it’s 9:01, and Jamie doesn’t have much time. There’s only three.”

  “Three. Right. Carrying them little doohickeys called guns.”

  “I can’t do this without you, Coop. OK? Are you with me on this?”

  He sighed. “I dunno what you got, but we can’t do a jailbreak.”

  “Yes, we can. Think about it. It’s three against three, and they don’t believe we’re a threat. I lost my parents, you’re stewing about your folks coming, and my cousin in there can barely think for himself. Right?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Element of surprise. I got it. But may I again call your attention to them guns? Just because we’ve been dodging bullets all morning don’t mean our luck is permanent.”

  “Daddy said luck is a side-effect of creative thinking. Time to get creative. We’re walking out of here with Jamie. I don’t care how we do it.”

  Michael tossed a half-eaten donut into the trash and groaned.

  53

  T HIS ISN’T ME, Jamie convinced himself as he prepared to jump Agent Hedgecock and go for the pistol.

  “But it is.” Lydia’s kiss melded to his cheek like an ice cube. “You are a Jewel of Eternity. He stands in your way. Leave now.”

  Jamie jumped to his feet with the effortless balance of a butterfly, his mouth filled with murderous, drooling saliva. Somewhere deep within, in a place he wanted to grab hold of, a voice cried out, “This is not me.” Jamie fought back against the Jewel’s bloodlust. He succeeded in delaying the attack by a couple of critical seconds, just enough time for failure.

  The agent backed away, his hands in a defensive posture.

  “John, I am not trying to hurt you or put you in jail. We need to know about your aunt and uncle. Very nasty things have happened this morning. Many people have been killed. Don’t you want to help prevent other people from being killed, too?”

  Rage bubbled underneath, his skin roiled with an electric zeal to attack. Shadows crept through the room, slithering up walls and across the ceiling. He heard a million crickets and crackling glass.

  “Please leave me alone. I don’t know anything.”

  “I think you do.”

  The agent’s jacket rang, and Hedgecock reached inside, grabbing a cell from his shirt pocket. Again, Jamie glimpsed the holstered pistol, realized the agent was distracted, and allowed his mind to drink from a poisoned pool. He prepared to pounce.

  Yet Hedgecock grabbed the laptop and rushed to the door without acknowledging Jamie. An Austin Springs deputy shut the door behind the agent and locked it again. Jamie pound
ed on the door and begged to be released, but he heard no response.

  In seconds, Jamie saw clearly again. He turned to Lydia.

  “I didn’t do it,” he said. “I’m stronger than you.”

  Lydia’s smug, confident smile faded.

  “You misunderstand. I never implied the Jewel controlled your conscious will. On the contrary, you have always had a partnership. Sometimes, this arrangement has manifested itself without your knowledge or consent.”

  “Now you’re just making stuff up. I’m in charge of who I am.”

  At once, the confident smile returned. “Are you sure? Did you act on your own devices when you heard your parents’ killer was in jail? Were you in the habit of running through the streets screaming bloody murder while carrying a baseball bat, determined to kill out of vengeance? Would you consider such rage normal behavior? No, I think not, my dearest boy.”

  The fragments of that day two years ago returned on occasion, but most of what he knew came from the stories told by witnesses; the rest was pure anger clouded in a blanket of blinding white light.

  Lydia did not let up. “Fury is a remarkable concept, my sweet child. You see, fury in its most raw, unvarnished form is perfection. It holds within its hand the fire from which the universes were created and in which they will eventually destroy themselves. Creation and destruction are founded upon the ideals of fury. As is the ethereal matter that ties the universes together. As is the program which, in less than one hour, will shed its skin and take its true form.”

  “You’re crazy,” he whispered. “You’re talking nonsense.”

  “Or perhaps only now am I telling you the entire truth.”

  Lydia closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep, measured breath. When she opened them again, they were black as the deepest abyss.

  “Where do you believe the shadows came from?” She asked. “What of the things you heard? The crickets? The cracking of glass? The screams that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere? The blackness that enveloped the night sky and blotted out the stars? Were these part of your imagination, your delirium, your fears made manifest? Oh, Jamie.”