The Burden of Jonah BlondelA Story by Bradley G. Patterson This is the first few chapters of this story, I have not yet completed this rewrite of an earlier work. Prologue
Prologue The server clicked and a window opened on the computers screen. Zeblon Murray waited patiently as the cursor swirled slowly in the centre of the window. Then there was a light ping as the connection was made. The WorldChat screen was suddenly filled with the hard, glaring face of Herr Oberst. His cold steely blue eyes staring straight ahead with no visible sign of emotion. “We have found it!” Young Wolfgang Geiger said in a thick German accent as he stepped toward the screen. The young, blonde man struggled to catch his breath, and buckled over with his hands resting on his knees. He had run flat out across the encampment when he heard that Zeb had finally managed to connect. Stand up straight, and don’t compress your lungs. He thought to himself as he remembered what his sister had told him years before. He stood bolt upright and faced the monitor. “We found it two days ago, Sir, but have not been able to connect until now. We have cleared the site of all ice and rubble, and the team is preparing to breach the seal and enter as we speak.” “No!” Herr Oberst stiffened only slightly as he spoke. “Do not attempt to enter the tomb until I arrive.” Wolfgang stiffened and stared at the monitor. The face he saw on its screen regarded him coldly. Herr Oberst did not so much as blink as he processed what he had just heard, and his expression remained frozen on his hard face. After a moment, he sighed and clenched his jaw. His eyes flickered to his left as though he had noticed something off-screen. “Extraction team will arrive in two days.” He said, leaning ever so slightly toward the screen. “Do not attempt to open that chamber.” He paused for a fraction of a moment before continuing, “If you do, you will not live to regret it.” He cut the communication, and the window closed leaving only the ExCom logo floating ominously in the centre of the screen. Wolfgang turned and looked at the faces of his team. All of them were as confused as he was. They stood in silence as the sound of the arctic wind beating at the tent filled the air. Outside, the wind had picked up and was growing stronger. There had been reports of a massive snowstorm further up north, but thus far the weather at Tordvastnet had held up. “Is he like a robot, or something?” Tracey asked as she followed Wolfgang out of the tent. “I half expect to get some lecture about living tissue over metal endoskeleton or some s**t.” The American girl’s movie reference brought a brief smile to Wolfgang’s face, and then it was gone. “Do you think he is for real?” “I don’t know Trace. All I know is that he scares the crap out of me. Let’s just get this job done and leave this all behind us.” Thirty metres away from his ‘office’ was the internal communications hub, which was more a tent full of radio equipment. He had to get hold of Olivia Holden, the team’s excavations manager onsite. The radio crackled on Olivia’s desk in the excavation office. “Olivia, do you copy?” Wolfgang’s voice came through. Mika started. The young Serbian had been dozing at the desk. “Olivia, do you copy?” Wolfgang repeated. “Wolfgang, Mika here. How can I assist? Over.” He said in his best ‘radio voice’. Mika was a glorified porter in his own mind, since we was simply there to carry stuff around, so this opportunity to answer the radio perked his confidence a little. “Mika, is Olivia...?” The radio crackled as Mika listened. “Please repeat?” “Is Olivia nearby?” This time it was clear. “She is at site, sir.” “Doing what? She is supposed to be in her office...” The radio fuzzed for a bit. “... she doing?” the last part sounded like a question, but Mika was unsure. “Please repeat, sir.” The wind was picking up and he was quickly losing signal. “What is she doing at the site?” Wolfgang’s voice suddenly came through loud and clear. “They are preparing to break the seal, sir.” “No! They must not open it. Go to her now and tell her not to open it.” “But Sir...” “Go! Now!” Wolfgang cut him off, and leaped out of the chair he had been sitting in. “We have to get over there. Now!” He stormed out of the tent. Olivia was moving ahead of schedule as she always had. She was the best archaeological excavator in the world. So good in fact that she never followed a schedule, her dig time set the schedules. “S**t!” he swore as he ran across the encampment toward the lot. As he neared the lot, Mikael arrived on a snowmobile. “Mikael, I need your snowmobile!” He jumped on and started the engine. “There is no time to explain, sorry.” He called as he sped off across the snow. The icy air stung his eyes as he pushed the mobile as hard as he could manage. He could smell the engine overheating, but he held the throttle hard. Up ahead Tordvastnet was approaching fast. Wolfgang knew that he would have to circumnavigate the frozen lake, but he had ceased to give a damn by the time he arrived on the shore. There was a brief screech as the underbelly of the vehicle scraped along the rock that lined the shore. The vehicle lifted into the air for a second before crashing down on to the ice. As he landed, the rear of the snowmobile swung out. He swiftly yanked it back in line and continued across the lake. On the other side of the lake he could see the excavation camp, but there was no movement. No signs of activity at all. The vehicle lurched left as a portion of ice gave way beneath it. The momentum launched the snowmobile over the edge of the broken ice, and Wolfgang gave a sigh of relief. If he had fallen in the ice with the snowmobile it would not have ended well. When he reached the edge of the lake he drove the snowmobile into the camp and slowed down. “Olivia!” he called, and listened. “Olivia!” he called again, louder this time. When he received no reply he drove through the camp and headed for the dig site, which was a kilometre away from the western banks of Tordsvatnet Lake. The camp was empty. When he arrived, his blood ran cold. Everywhere he looked he saw wreckage, pieces of snowmobiles, tools and equipment, interspersed with dark red patches in the snow. He stopped the snowmobile at the nearest patch and stared blindly at the carnage that lay before him. In the distance he beheld the great doors of Emilheim, with their ominous runes that held promise of doom for all mankind. “Wolfgang!” a voice called in a whimper. He turned and saw someone lying beside an overturned snowmobile, half concealed by snow. It was Olivia. Wolfgang ran over to where she lay and began digging her out of the snow. She shivered violently as he gently lifted her out of the snow. “Libby! What the hell happened here? Where is everyone?” he asked as he set her on the snowmobile. She stared up at him as he brushed the snow from her face. “Dead.” She said weakly. She was severe in shock and breathing irregularly, and Wolfgang knew he had to get her to a doctor. Then suddenly she screamed, and began to shake violently, frantically trying to grab the handlebars of the snowmobile with her snow-numbed hands. In her panic she lost her balance and fell onto the ground. Wolfgang rushed around to help her up, and as he set her back onto the seat his blood ran cold. Chapter One �" The Tango at the Diner “Will that be all, Sir?” The young waitress asked, as she set the coffee down on the table. The tall, dark-haired man smiled kindly at her in response. His clear blue eyes never blinking. He was a peculiar man. Always sat in the same place, at the same time and ordered the same thing. A double thick Latte and a toasted cheese and onion sandwich, with a dash of Cayenne pepper. Then he would sit for hours reading every paper on the rack. This had been going on for the last year since he had first visited Wiley’s Diner. “Yes, thank you Gail.” He smiled. “You know you can call me Jonah.” He said as he folded up the Sunday paper. It was Monday, but she had been keeping the Sunday papers at his request. That had been the only real request he had ever made, aside from the unusual sandwich selection. “I know. But being that this is my job and you are the customer, it is proper that I address you accordingly, Sir.” She smiled. They had played this game before. Occasionally he would flirt with her, and she with him but never any more than that. “Besides, my boss would have a cow if he heard me calling you by your first name. He’s a stickler for the ol’ propriety thing.” She turned away. “Gail.” He said prompting her to turn back to him. He knew that she could not ignore him, thanks to the ol’ propriety thing. “When are you going to let me take you for dinner? Then you can be served for a change.” She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow in mock disgust. “As soon as the first pig takes flight. Now drink your coffee, before it gets cold.” She smiled again. “I would love to play this game, but I have other people in need of my attention.” “Indeed you do.” Jonah grinned. “That fellow looks ready to devour the table he is sitting at.” The man glared at him. “And the chair it seems.” Jonah then reached for his mug and tipped it at the man and smiled. The upset patron huffed and looked the other direction.” “Are you antagonising my patrons?” She said as she slipped her notebook into her apron pocket. “No, not at all.” He smiled. “Run along.” He said, then took a sip of his Latte, which had by that time cooled to just right temperature. The morning passed much as it had always done. Noon came, and went. Mr Ciccone and Mrs Petherbridge had sat at their usual table, eaten and left. Many of the same faces appeared and disappeared throughout the day. Such was the nature of a small town. In the early afternoon, Jonah had settled into the last paper on the rack. He opened it to find an intriguing story on page four about strange bear attacks in Norway. He read through the story, then he heard Gail beside him, with his next Latte. “How you are still alive after all that caffeine is beyond me.” She seemed exhausted, and from what he had sensed a little annoyed. She left him and headed back to the teller where a man was waiting to pay his bill. She rang up the man’s bill, smiled graciously and then hung her head as he walked away. She was definitely burnt out, and she still had nearly five hours of her shift left. A moment later a sullen faced young woman appeared at the door. Judging by the look on her face, it was pretty clear that she did not want to be there. She stared around at the people in the diner obviously unimpressed with having to be there. She stopped as her gaze fell on Jonah. Locking eyes with him she stepped back and bumped into the wall behind her. She clutched her chest a moment and a grey fear flashed across her face. Gail saw the girl and called her over. “Hi.” Gail greeted her, with a hug, which the girl barely reciprocated. “Come with me.” The girl followed Gail to a small table on the opposite end of the room and set her there with a cup of coffee and a cheese sandwich, before returning to her duties. The girl sat silently sipping her coffee, and eating her sandwich. By the T of her face, Jonah deduced that this must be Emily. Her resemblance to Gail was slight, but it was enough to link them as sisters. Jonah read his paper in silence. From across the room Emily watched him. With every single article having suffered his deepest scrutiny, Jonah closed the paper. Then he folded it and set onto the rack and leaned back in his seat. With his hands behind his head and yawned a long, deep yawn, and as he opened his eyes he started. Emily was no longer sitting at the table, but had moved to stand beside him as he yawned. She had moved swiftly, or he had yawned a great deal longer than he had realised. Suddenly he felt a distinct sensation in his chest. It was a kind of burning sensation in his heart. It was something he had not felt in years. “Hi.” He straightened in his chair and turned to face her directly. “What are you?” Her reply caught Jonah off guard. “What do you mean?” he asked, hoping that she would back off. He felt an unnerving shimmer in the air around her. He smiled, and tried to give the answer he thought would be the correct one. “Last time I checked, I was a guy.” “I can see that is what you want us to believe, but what are you really?” she spoke, but her mouth did not move. Jonah froze as he heard her voice in his head. “I am a man, Emily. What else should I be?” Jonah felt a feint pang of fear grown in the depths of his gut. He looked past Emily for Gail, but she was nowhere to be seen. Instead he saw an overweight patron arguing with the manager about cold spaghetti. Jonah turned back to Emily, her grey eyes locked onto his. “You are lying.” Emily said as she stepped toward him. As she drew closer the tension in the air doubled. “What are you doing here?” She demanded. “I was eating and reading the news, as I always do. What else do you want me to say?” by now all the patrons in the room had turned to see what the ruckus was about. Jonah stood and waved a hand, hoping to diffuse the curiousity of the onlookers. “Stop lying to me!” Emily screamed. The windows in the establishment exploded and the once quiet diner erupted into a din of screams and crashing tables and chairs. Emily’s eyes turned a bright purple, and her pupils shimmered. Suddenly a blinding flash of white-light energy erupted from her. That was the last thing Jonah saw that day. Chapter 2 �" Bed for One The air was cold and stale. The tang of industrial cleaner hung in the air. Jonah felt the inside of his mouth with his tongue. It was dry. He blinked his eyes a few times until his vision began to clear. His head throbbed and his body felt heavy. He had been very heavily sedated. The room around him seemed to list left then right, as though he were on a small yacht on the ocean. As the room slowly settled and came into focus, he found that he was in a hospital ward, but not like any he had seen before. Through eyes rimmed in a grey blur, Jonah inspected the room. Above the bed the curtain rail hung without a curtain, the emergency buzzer had been removed and on the far wall was a placard with an emergence evacuation procedure printed on it. The room was dully lit by a single functioning fluorescent tube and there were no windows. The door had a small reinforced glass window in it through which he could see the dull grey walls and the faces flicking by. There was no handle on the door, but there was a black square of glass on the wall beside it. Most likely a palm scanner. He shifted himself and found that beneath the bedding he could feel that he was now wearing a gurney, and his wrists were cuffed to the bedrails. This hospital, it seemed, was not your run-of-the-mill, everyday facility. By all counts it was most likely a prison hospital. “Charming place. But I really must get going now.” He said as he tried to sit up. His effort was suddenly hampered by a deep throbbing sensation that pulsed through his body. The throb was accompanied by a wild dizziness and blurred vision. As he collapsed backwards on to the bed, the door opened and a tall male nurse entered carrying a clipboard under his arm. The man stood at the foot of the bed a moment and stared at the medical charts, then he moved to the side of the bed where he stood a moment. Jonah looked up at him, feeling pretty helpless. “Could you raise this thing please, I am having trouble sitting up.” Jonah asked, half whimpering. “Sure thing.” The nurse said in a gentle voice and reached for the button just beneath the bed and pushed a button. The head of the bed raised slowly until Jonah was close to an upright sitting position. “Better?” the nurse asked. “Yes, much better. Thank you.” Jonah dared not lift his head again as he spoke. He watched the man busy about checking his restraints, and the rail and whatever else he could check. “Where am I?” Jonah asked finally. “Oh, I am afraid I can’t tell you that.” The man replied with a smile. By his accent and demeanour, Jonah was pretty sure that he was still in South Africa. “Secret?” Jonah asked, eyeing the fire hydrant on the opposite wall. “Something like that.” The man smiled again. The Nurse was finally satisfied that everything was in order and headed for the door. “Why am I here?” It seemed like a pointless question once the words had left his mouth. The guy wasn’t going to tell him where he was, so it seemed just as unlikely that he would divulge the reasons why Jonah was wherever the hell he was. The nurse stood for a moment, sigh and turned back to him. “Because he wants you to get better.” No smile this time. He pressed a buzzer on the door and the door opened, letting in the harsh light from the corridor. “So we best not disappoint him.” Then he left. “Who is he?” Jonah mumbled to himself as he shifted in the bed, sending a throb down his spine. He froze and forced his muscles to relax. Slowly the pain subsided. As he lay in the dullness of the ward, Jonah recalled the incident at the diner. He could only manage to gather fragments of what had happened. He remembered Emily. Her eyes were as clear then as they had been in the diner. He could still see her staring at him and hear her voice in his head. There were flashes of sky and road, some screaming and then nothing at all. When the nurse had left the room, Jonah had caught a glimpse of a soldier outside the door holding an R4 Assault rifle. The man was tall and well built and would not be easy to over power. That would be a problem to be solved later. The first order of business was to find a way out. Jonah would have to get the guards attention, which would prove a challenge, given the absence of the help button. After some thought, he reasoned that if he was to escape with minimal trouble, he would have to wait for the shift change and hope that the next guard was a bit smaller. He tried again to lift his head and managed to move it this time. The pain had dissipated somewhat but not entirely. He moved his arms about, and then lifted his legs one at a time. When he was satisfied that he was still fully functional, Jonah waited. After what seemed an eternity, the guard change eventually came as he had hoped. The new guard was somewhat smaller than the first. The first nodded to the second and left. The second man turned and entered the ward. He stepped into the room, and stood staring at his prisoner a moment too long. “Hi.” Jonah said with a broad smile, waving his hand like a coy tourist. The man did not respond. “Any chance of a trip to the loo?” He left the room again without as much as a sound. It seemed that the plan had failed, and Jonah would be forced to take much more drastic measures. He lifted himself off the back rest to sit fully upright and remained in that position until the throb subsided. The cold metal of the cuffs reminded him of his predicament. He would have to break those if he intended to escape. As he braced himself to break the cuffs, the door opened again and a stout woman stepped in. She was much smaller than the guard but looked much nastier. She was evil. “Ernst tells me you want take a piss.” She said in a thick Russian accent, disdain dripping from every word. Jonah nodded coyly and she pulled out a set of keys from her jacket pocket. He watched as she selected the key and undid the cuffs. It occurred to Jonah that he could have dropped her in an instant, but thought better of it. “Take him to the bathrooms, and do not let him out of your sight. We cannot afford to have him running amok.” She turned and stepped out into the corridor. “If you screw up, it’s your a*s on the line, and I am not explaining to Him, how his quarry escaped.” Then she was gone. Ernst turned to Jonah. “Come.” He said and motioned for Jonah to leave the room. Jonah did as he was commanded and stepped out into the dull grey corridor. As he followed the man down the corridor he took in the surroundings. The corridor was lined with dozens of heavy metal doors, much like that of his ward. In each door was a small window of reinforced glass set at eye level. The doorwells of these doors were set oddly deep however. At least a foot. At a brief glance it seemed that the rooms were sparsely furnished with just a single bed on the far end. They had passed about four doors when they came to a door that was open. Inside were three men, all dressed in cleaners uniforms. They were mopping up what looked like copious amounts of blood. On the floor beside them was a steel container filled with mangled body parts. What the hell was is this place. “Stop.” The guard halted at another relatively nondescript door. “Inside.” It had occurred to Jonah that this man was of few words. Either that or his dictionary was missing a few dozen pages. The room was kitted with all the standards, toilets, urinals and basins. Plus a rather large window above the urinals. This seemed a bit odd, given the high security in other parts of the establishment. That would be his avenue of escape. He stepped up to the urinal and induced a pee. As he peed he studied the window. There were no bars, and though it was misted glass, it was no more than five or six millimetres thick. There was the blurred shape of a window sill which would make life a little easier. He finished and turned to wash his hands in the basin. As he turned on the tap he saw that the guard had decided to take a leak himself, and his back was now towards Jonah. Now was the time to strike. Jonah curled his hand up into a solid fist and leapt at the man. He lashed out so viciously at the man that his fist crushed the back of his skull, snapped his neck and propelled him face first into the glass. The window shattered with the impact and the man crumpled to the floor. The impact sent a massive pulse of excruciating pain throughout Jonah’s body. He collapsed to the ground as his legs folded beneath him. He sat against the wall dazed for a moment as his nerves recovered. His body felt as though it were floating just above the surface of the floor, his skin felt numb, yet his heart raced and his nerves pounded with mind numbing pain. What the hell had they done to him? Jonah steeled his mind and slowly got up to his feet and rose to his haunches. He stayed like that a moment before rifling through the pockets of the fallen man. He found a wallet and fished out the cash that was in it and stuffed the wallet back into the man’s pocket. Next he grabbed the R4 and moved over to the window. He stepped up onto the urinal and climbed out of the window onto the sill. He was on the first floor, but still a good five meter drop to the ground. As he squatted silently, a guard passed by beneath him. In the silence, Jonah heard the crack as the guard stood on the broken glass on the ground. The man knelt down and picked up a shard. His last act on this earth. The man’s body folded beneath Jonah’s weight. He winced as he heard the crack of snapping bone and the feint pop of the man’s internal organs. Once again he was racked with the pain, though this time it was much less severe. A quick look around told him nobody had noticed the sound. The building was surrounded by a vast parking lot, lit up by spotlights. Judging by the dampness in the air, it was the early hours of the morning. The rumbling of thunder in the distance meant it was about to rain. Jonah pulled the body into the shadow of a Humvee that stood nearby. The man seemed to have been about his size, so he pulled off the man’s clothing and dressed himself as fast as he could. He slung the R4 over his shoulder and clipped on the ammo belt. When his boots were tied he stuck his head out and saw that there had been no alarm sounded. He dropped back to his haunches and focused his attention to the fencing in the distance. The perimeter fencing was a little over eighty meters away and vigilant spotlights sway back and forth across the empty blackness. He only had a few seconds, when they were only far enough apart that their ambient glow lit the space between the beams. That was his gap. It would not be easy to get out. The spotlights moved with extreme precision that could only mean that they were automated. That would play in his favour. As wonderful as the tech was, there was always a need for man to be present on the field of war, so it was a natural assumption that in the guard towers far above there would be armed guards. The R4 had a slot for a telescopic sight, so Jonah rifled through the pockets on his gear to find it. Hopefully he had not crushed it. Found it. It was not crushed, thank goodness. Along with the sight he found another useful item. A silencer with a flash inhibiter. That would be really handy. Jonah clipped the sight into place and screwed on the silencer. Through the sight, he could see two men on each station. Four dull thuds later and all four were dead. He wasted no time looking about again and made a run for it. He would only have a few seconds to slip out. The beams parted and he passed between them. And slammed into a barrier he had not seen. There was a second line of fencing, painted black to be invisible at night. He struck the fencing hard, and was thrown back a good few feet. Jonah leapt to his feet as he heard the sirens sound. It would be a matter of time before the area was swamped with armed men. Chapter 3 �" Filling In The Gaps Jonah watched silently from the cover of a bus stop shelter. Across the street was the diner had he had frequented every Friday like clockwork �" or what was left of it at least. There were workmen shuffling around in the parking lot, loading rubble onto the back of a large trailer while others broke down parts of the wall that remained standing. The front of the diner had been completely obliterated and what remained of it was littered across the street and on the opposite pavement. “What happened there?” he asked the man at the bus stop. His zulu was a bit rusty but the man understood his question, and replied that there had been some kind of explosion three days prior. When Jonah enquired of any injuries, the man shook his head and said that only one man was killed when he was thrown across the street and through the clothing store window. Jonah followed the man’s pointed finger to see another set of workers removing a large burglar bar from the clothing shop window. Apparently the man had flown through the bars. There had been chaos as injured people scuttled about. Before the police and emergency services arrived, a black panel van had arrived and some strange men in green plastic suits came and took the dead man away. Jonah thanked the man and stepped off the curb to cross the road. On the other side, he saw the manager of the diner having a heated discussion with a man in a black suit. Jonah did not see the man’s face, but the man said something in German and stormed off. The manager was a stout, older man called Stuart. He looked up in Jonah’s direction, and the colour bled from his face. His jaw flapped wordlessly as he stumbled backward into the door, fumbling for the handle. Jonah stopped a few feet away, and put his finger to his lips and smiled. “You!” the blubbering man finally managed to get a word out. “I saw you die!” he said as he slumped against the door, unable to open it. “What can I say? It’s a kinda magic.” Jonah smiled. “Relax Stuart. Take a deep breath, and sit down.” He said as he ushered Stuart toward a nearby concrete municipal bin. Stuart sat down on the rim of the bin and looked up at Jonah. His shock was beginning to subside, and his breathing steadied. He looked around, suddenly self-conscious to see if anyone else had witnessed his little performance. He gave a sigh of relief when he realised that the workmen were far too busy to notice his whimpering. “How is it possible?” Stuart asked, finally coming to his senses. He fiddled in his pocket until he pulled out a handkerchief, and swabbed his beaded forehead. “I don’t have time to explain, but there are things happening in this world that you don’t need to know about, Stuart.” He glanced around to see that no one was watching then grabbed the man firmly at the base of his skull. Stuart struggled a little at first, for a fleeting moment, and then he succumbed to the warm dreamlike sensation that was filling his consciousness. His arms fell to his side, and his eyes rolled about in his head as Jonah sifted through his mind like a librarian looking for a card in a locker drawer. Eventually he found what he was looking for. Gail’s home address and cell number. He slowly drew out of the man’s mind leaving a hole that was quickly filled as his consciousness resettled into place. When he was fully out, Stuart began to come to. He had passed out momentarily during the process due to the strain that Joining exerted on the minds of mortals. When he was sure that Stuart would be able to keep himself upright, Jonah let go of him and stepped back. The man’s eyes slowly came back into focus and he peered around like a hippie through the purple haze. The warm sensation in the back of his head had begun to dissipate and he was nearly fully conscious. “What happened?” he asked wearily, slurring a little. “You feinted.” Jonah lied. He was thankful that Stuart was a Forgetter, and could not recall what had just happened. “It’s the stress, I think.” He said with a sheepish grin. “Yeah, perhaps. Maybe you should go home and get some rest.” “Yes, I think so too.” Jonah left him there in his daze and headed across the street to his car. He looked around briefly then climbed in and drove away. Chapter 4 - Hit and Run Like Hell 14 Lincoln Drive came into view as he rounded the bend. The house had a plain wire fence and a small yard, a simple driveway and an old electric gate. He glanced into his mirrors, before turning the VW into driveway. From the car he could see the front yard. It was neatly cut, and tidy. The front of the house was lined by an open verandah furnished with old metal table and chairs, nothing fancy. Jonah climbed out of the car, closed the door and crossed his arms on the roof of the vehicle. He watched the stillness for a moment then, pulled his cellular phone from his pocket and dialled Gail’s number. He listened to the ringtone until she answered. “Hi Gail.” He spoke quickly. “Who is this?” She sounded different, scared. “Gail, It’s Jonah.” He tried to be tender, but his delivery was less than convincing. “He is dead! Who are you? What kind of a sick joke is this?” She hissed into the phone. “Gail, I promise you, I am very much alive. Take a look out the window and see for yourself.” He glanced up toward the window, and smiled as he saw the curtains split and a face appear between them. He raised a hand to wave, and the face quickly vanished. “Can I come in? We need to talk.” She said nothing, and hung up. As expected, she was still very shaken. It’s not every day your sister blows up your workplace and kills the man you flirt with. The gate began to slide open and Jonah headed for it. When there was enough space he slipped through and the gate closed again behind him. He crossed the yard and walked up the steps to the verandah. The door opened. Gail gasped and stepped back as she saw Jonah standing before of her. Her expression was one of fear, and shock, and a quiet relief. She had been crying. Under all of these emotions was the keen sense of confusion. Jonah smiled at her as she looked at him. After a moment she calmed and stepped aside to allow him inside. As he stepped past her, Gail reached out and grabbed his arm. He stopped and turned to her. Her eyes were moist as she looked up into his eyes, and she smiled. “I had to be sure,” her eyes flicked to the ground and back up to his, “that you are really here, and I’m not losing my mind.” A tear tipped over the lid of her eye and ran down her cheek as she turned away to conceal it. Jonah reached up, turned her face back to himself and gently wiped the tear from her cheek. As he did she laid her hand over his and smiled. They stood like that a moment, lost in time. Then suddenly there was a smash of glass that broke the silence. Jonah wheeled around to see Emily standing over the smashed remains of a dinner plate on the floor. She was staring at him, eyes wide with shock and fear. That’s when he noticed that sensation in his chest again. “My holy f...” she started, and lost her words as fear gripped her. Gail ran over to her and held her tight, and reassuring her that everything was alright. Jonah though it best to step outside and wait on the bench. Inside he could hear a muffled conversation. He did not try to listen in and focused rather on the children playing in the yard across the road, remembering his own childhood, a long, long time ago. After some time, Gail joined him on the verandah carrying a tray of Orange juice and three glasses. “I am sorry about that. We are both very scared and horribly confused, Jonah.” Gail said as she handed him a glass. Just then, Emily appeared from inside the house and sat down beside her sister. “Of everything running through my mind at this point, the one thing I just can’t get a hold on, is how are you alive. We saw you die.” Gail’s voice trembled as she spoke. Jonah sat back in his chair, and heaved a sigh. He looked into the eyes of the women who sat opposite him, totally unaware of the peril they were now in. He ran his fingers through his hair as he considered how best to approach this situation. “Emily, please do not be afraid of me.” He smiled. In truth he was a little afraid of her, but evidently not as afraid as she was of him. “I need to know exactly what happened the other morning at the Diner. My memory is a little hazy at best. So, I need you to help me fill in the blanks.” “What am I?” Emily demanded. She sat upright in her seat and looked straight into Jonah’s eyes. Her fear was still very much there, yet it was thinly masked in anger. “I am sorry Emily, but I do not have all the answers that you need right now, but if you help me fill in the blanks so that I can understand what happened, then we can find the answers together.” This did little to satiate the girl. “Emily, please. Just answer the question honey.” Gail said gently, trying to urge her to comply. “How does he get to live, when Mom and Dad...” she cut off and sniffed as she wiped away a tear. Jonah cast an enquiring glance toward Gail, who shook her head lightly. He understood that she would speak with him later about her parents. They sat in silence a while longer, until Jonah poured himself another glass of Orange juice. Emily had been staring at the children across the road playing with their father in the yard. They had a makeshift goal set up at one end of the yard, with the father standing in as goal keeper, whilst the children took turns to shoot at goals with one of those cheap, black and white, plastic soccer balls. Each time the ball passed into the goals the children would screech and run around the yard waving their hands in the air. Jonah saw the corner of Emily’s mouth turn up for a moment in an echo of a smile. She watched a little longer, then turned to Jonah. “Okay.” She said suddenly. “Where do we start?” Jonah sat up in his chair and smiled at her. Finally she had come to the party it seemed. “Thank you Emily.” He waited a moment, considering his next words carefully. “Walk me through what happened at the diner from when you arrived.” “When I got there, I saw you and there was a feeling in my chest like my heart was heating up.” She said, glancing at Gail as she spoke. “Have you felt this before?” Jonah asked, as he adjusted his cushion. “Only when I was very small, it’s unclear now. But, I remember the feeling.” She took a sip of her juice and waited for Jonah to continue. “What happened after that?” “I could feel that you were like me.” She looked down at her glass, “so I asked you what you were.” She looked up again. “You denied any knowledge of what I was talking about and I freaked out. I thought that you would think I had lost my mind, and I panicked. I have this curse where people around me get hurt when I panic.” She turned away again to wipe a tear, then continued. “Something happens and I kinda explode, and if you’re close enough you die. Like you did.” The fearful expression suddenly returned to her face. “You were dead! There was blood everywhere!” Gail reached out and held her as she sobbed. Jonah, sat for a moment and considered her story. It matched what little he remembered. “Emily. I do not have all the answers. But, I promise I will help you find them.” He contemplated his next words cautiously, then continued. “What I can tell you is that I am not like other men.” “How exactly. Besides the fact that you seem to come back from the dead.” Emily pushed. “Okay. I have been around a very long time. A very, very long time.” “How long?” “Not certain exactly. Around two and a half thousand years. Give or take.” Both Gail and Emily gasped this time, exchanging disbelieving glances. “You asked.” Jonah smiled. But the shock did not fade. Apparently it was easier to believe that he had returned from the dead than to believe that he was really old. “Are you even human?” the question came from Gail this time. “Yes, and no.” Jonah watched them lean in closer as he prepared to reveal his nature to them. “I am V’lanyar.” He took a sip of his juice then continued. “We have been around a long time.” “How long?” Emily asked. She was beginning to settle now. “Around the beginning. The details of that era are a bit fuzzy since we lost all our ancient history records in a flood. She stopped crying and stared at him. “What?” “It’s a little tricky to explain. But, we are descendents of what your biblical literature calls the Nephilum.” Jonah sat back in his seat to take a sip of his juice before continuing. “At one point in time we were the dominant species on the planet, while the infant race of man squabbled over animal skins. We build vast kingdoms in lands that humans would never see. We thrived. But then, like all times of prosperity, our time came to an abrupt end, and we faded away into the night.” “Where do I fit into all of this?” Emily’s eyes were fixed on his as she spoke. “Quite honestly Emily, I have no clue.” He sighed. “But I know someone who I hope can help us.” “Can you at least tell me why I am like I am?” Her eyes betrayed a deep desperation. “Emily, as far as I can tell, you are like me. But at the same time different. You and I can not die. Though we are not indestructible, while others around us will grow old and wilt away, you and I will simply live on.” “Are you saying that you and Emily are Immortals?” Gail spoke for the first time since they had begun the conversation. “Yes.” Jonah replied. “In a way.” Gail gave a small laugh of disbelief and shook her head. “Is this the part where you stab yourself in the heart and tell us what clan you’re from?” She quipped bitterly. Jonah chuckled at the Hollywood reference and shook his head. “Funny, but no. That would just be stupid.” He looked back at Emily. “As I said, we are Immortal because our bodies simply continue to live, but our souls will age and mature as they normally would.” Emily cried out suddenly and jerked back in her seat. Her glass crashed to the ground and shattered. Gail reached out to catch her before she toppled of the chair. Jonah felt it too, like a stab from a hot, jagged blade into his heart. “Gail, get Emily inside now, and hide! We will have to continue this discussion later.” As the girls scurried inside, Jonah moved to the steps and watched as a silver SUV drew to a halt beside the curb. The door opened and a tall hulking figure climbed out. He stood a moment with his back to Jonah, and watched the children playing in the yard. His long white hair was tied up neatly at the back of his head. He wore a long, red leather trench coat that hung down to his ankles. As he turned, Jonah saw his face, and stepped back involuntarily. It was Herryn. Herryn had been his commander millennia before and a legend amongst his own people. In his time Herryn was feared both by the enemies of their clan and by those who knew him best. For the longest time, Jonah had believed him lost with the others. Jonah studied him as he walked, searching for any sign of a weapon. In his experience, Herryn never went anywhere unarmed. He lived for the taste of war. Jonah stepped down onto the grass as Herryn approached. The man locked eyes on Jonah and hesitated for the briefest moment. He had not expected to see him. It was as though he had be surprised by Jonah’s presence and quickly recovered. He quickened his step. As he did so Jonah’s heart sank, he could see the unmistakeable bulge of a sword beneath Herryn’s coat. He himself had come unarmed. Jonah stepped back involuntarily, his heel found the bottom step and he fell backward on to the verandah. Herryn charged at him paying no heed to the electric gate that stood between him and his quarry. The gate tore from its frame and clattered on the driveway as he struck it. Jonah regained his footing, moved back to the grass and positioned himself to tackle Herryn before he had a chance to draw his sword. For most part he succeeded. He managed to land an elbow in the long man’s chest slowing him down a little, but Herryn was too powerful. The force of the impact threw Jonah to the floor. Herryn stopped moving and turned to tower over his former brother in arms. “You still have not learned.” His town was that of a condescending bully. He reached down and took hold of Jonah by the collar and pulled him up until their eyes met, and Jonah’s feet were a foot off the ground. “Now there is a face that I have not seen in a millennium!” Jonah quipped, as he hung from the man’s steel grip. “You haven’t changed much.” “But you have.” He gave Jonah a broad toothy grin. “You have grown weak. This pitiful human life you insist on living has made you soft.” He shook his head in mock pity. “But that is no concern of mine.” Herryn flung Jonah across the yard. He landed with a painful thud on the concrete verandah and smashed through the front door. While the wooden doorway shattered and gave no resistance, the door frame stood firm and Jonahs shin cracked against it. “I see you’re still holding a grudge.” Jonah remarked as he drew himself up onto his feet. His left shin was shattered and he winced at the pain. He watched as the big man stepped up onto the verandah and approached the door. Herryn was more right that he knew. Jonah had indeed become unbelievably weak. He sighed a long sigh and tried to focus on his leg. His mind was split between the approaching danger and the broken limb. Jonah felt the warm sensation in his leg and a flood of relief that he was still able to heal himself. He looked up to see Herryn standing in the doorway. “Where have you been all these years?” Jonah tried to distract Herryn, and buy time. “You know very well of that hell you condemned me too, Jenwah. Do not play coy with me.” Herryn’s eyes surveyed the room briefly, then he turned back to Jonah. “I have not come here to play games with you Jenwah, I have come for the girl. Turn away now and I will overlook your sins.” Herryn stepped toward Jonah and the floor boards creaked under his weight. “I’m afraid that is not an option.” Jonah stepped toward Herryn. Jonah had only one card left to play. Herryn’s pride was unmatched. Any challenge toward him would be met, regardless how small and insignificant the challenger. “You dare challenge me?” Herryn balked in disbelief. “I have no time for petty games boy. Get out of my way.” Jonah was stunned. Herryn had sidestepped a direct challenge. What was it about Emily that had him so driven to achieve his goal that he had set his pride aside. “I will not.” Sweat dribbled down his forehead. Jonah knew beyond a doubt that he had no chance against Herryn. It was a foregone conclusion that Herryn would kill him, and take Emily. There really was nothing he could do to stop him. He could only fight and hope to get lucky. Herryn stared at Jonah in disgust. Then reached into his coat and drew his sword. Jonah felt a chill of fear as he watched the long curve of the blade. Chapter 5 �" Escape from the Facility “Kurt, have you seen the score?” James exclaimed as he sat down beside his colleague. Kurtis Hendriks was reading an article about the Large Hedron Collider when James burst in. “No, I have not.” He said as he closed the rag, slipping in his thumb to hold his place, then turned wearily toward James. “What was it?” “We won.” The ginger man said through a line of teeth. He was clearly more excited about the game of cricket than Kurt had ever been. “That’s great!” Blonde man said with what little excitement he could muster. He opened up his magazine again and turned away from the cricket junky. “Keep an eye on the screens for a bit, will you. I am in the middle of the first decent article this mag has had in years.” Kurt leaned back in his chair and settled into the article, leaving James to admire the views on the screens. James had only been stationed at the Midlands Facility for a little over four months and already Kurt was wishing he had never come. The lanky, freckled ginger was just too damned happy for his liking, and in Kurt’s experience of the job, that was a bad thing. He had long ago decided that this kind of personality in this kind of job only meant that James was one of two things �" naive or unstable. Kurt was hoping the kid was the former, which would only take a little experience to solve. The door in the guard room opened behind the men and a tall dark-haired man entered. He crossed the room swiftly and picked his badge from its place on the wall. William Tolby, greeted them as he slipped in card through the digital clock machine. A moment later he was gone. “Shift change came early.” James chirped as he watched the outer video feed and saw Tolby exit the building and begin doing his patrol on the North side of the complex. “Kebbler got the s***s, so the doc sent him back to base.” Kurt replied, without so much as looking up from his magazine. “and if you don’t give me a little bit of quiet to read my magazine, you may land up in the same boat.” James raised his eyebrows as he took in the threat. He was quite taken aback by it, but didn’t venture to query it. It just seemed a better idea to sit quietly and watch the televisions that showed the same show every night for what seemed to him an eternity. The black and white image shifted as the camera scanned its field of view. When it had turned left as far as it could, it looked parallel with the side of the building and he could see Tolby turn around at the end of his patrol route and head back along the walk way. Something caught James’ eyes as the camera began to swivel back around. It looked to him like a window had opened in the upstairs bathroom. He watched it intently as it finished it oscillation and began turning back. When it had returned to it previous position, Tolby was gone. “Kurt, look at this.” He said as reached out a hand to tap his senior colleague on the shoulder. Kurt grunted and looked up. On the screen Tolby was absent from his post. “He probably passed under the camera as it turned, there is a blind spot underneath it.” As he spoke, the camera swivelled around, and as the opposite end of the walkway came into view, the men sat bolt upright. Tolby was gone. Kurt grabbed the cordless telephone from its holder on the wall and hurriedly dialled the extension of his patrol manager Simian. “Simian, Tolby is off the park. Send somebody out to investigate.” He barked an order into the receiver and listened as the man accepted the order and hung up. Kurt turned back to James, “what did you see?” his face was red as he spoke. James told Kurt everything that he had seen and done. “Take the radio and go find that window.” He turned to James as he spoke. “Channel twenty-one.” James jumped up from his seat and took a radio from the charge port on the shelf and rushed out the door into the corridor. In the corridor everything was calm and quiet like nothing was going on. This facility had always made him uneasy. He was to date still unsure if it was meant to be a prison or a hospital, or a prison-hospital. Every grey corridor looked the same �" the same deep door well set with heavy steel doors. Every one of these cold doors had a small armour glass window. He had only ventured a peek into one of these windows once. The cell had been empty, but on the back was was a large unmistakeable smear of blood. It had been dark and almost burnt sienna, which meant that it had been there over a day. The scene was still deeply etched into his memory, regularly inducing horrid nightmares. At last he came to the elevator that would take him up to the upper floor. When the doors opened on the upper floor, he was met by a senior guard who requested his ID badge. James presented him with his ID badge and when the guard was satisfied that he was who he said that he was, he let James continue on his way. The nurses turned to watch him rushing down the corridor, then turned back to their work, puzzles and games. He had recognised the window as the lavatory window, as the lavatories were the only room on the upper level that had windows. The reason for this was the patients were unstable and could throw themselves out of windows if left unattended in their wards. The windows in the toilets were smaller and the patients were never allowed to leave their wards unattended. James reached the toilets and pushed open the door. He gasped when he saw the man lying prostrate on the floor, with blood seeping from his head and forming a pool on the ground. He pulled the radio from his pocket, turned the dial to twenty-one and pressed the transmitter. “Kurt, I have a man down.” He waited for Kurts response. “Copy.” There was a brief pause, then Kurt continued. “They found Tolby. We have a situation. Let the Med Staff clean up there, and get back here now.” “Copy! I’m on my way.” He turned and exited the lavatory and headed for the nursing station. Once he had informed them of the situation James headed back to the monitoring station. In the station, Kurt had dialled the senior security manager to seek orders as to how they would proceed. The line crackled a moment until the deep, raspy voice of Nardus Volskenk answered. Kurt filled him in on everything that had happened, and awaited an order. “Do nothing, dispose of the bodies and go about your business as usual.” Volskenk cut the line, leaving Kurt Jenkins dumbfounded. As he set the telephone back on its holder, James came through the door. He had been running, by the sweat that had beaded on his brow. He stopped to catch his breath as he leaned against the wall, it crossed his mind that it may be time to utilise the gym. It was that he noticed the quizzical expression on Kurt’s face. “What do we do?” he asked. “Nothing, apparently.” Kurt said as he sat down on his seat and stared blankly at the wall. “What?” James asked perplexed. His brow furrowed as he tried to fathom why they would be doing nothing. “Comes from upstairs it seems.” Kurt rubbed his tired eyes. He was clearly annoyed by the decision of inaction by those in power. “Why are we doing nothing about it?” “How the hell should I know James? Go and ask The Colonel if you really want to know. I’m just as pissed off as you are that good men died tonight. I am also upset that they are just too comfortable dusting this under the carpet like it never happened.” Kurt turned away from the young man and threw his magazine into the bin. “I suppose I will.” James left the room and headed back to the upper room. He needed to know who was missing, and what it was that warranted his escape. “Then clearly you have not yet met The Colonel my boy. I pray you never do.” Kurt mumbled as he continued to watch the monitors. Chapter 6 �" All Heart and Ice Sister Grayson gasped. The young man before her smiled. He had been watching her attempts to solve a Sudoku puzzle for some time, until he cleared his throat to announce his presence. The portly woman looked up with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry James! I didn’t even see you arrive!” She blathered. “I need to know who it was that escaped.” He said. His eyes never left hers as he spoke. She stammered silently as she began to answer, “Did somebody escape?” The colour ran from her face. “That it is not your concern, young man.” A hard, accented voice behind him said. James spun around to find himself face to face with The Colonel. He was a tall, lean man with closely cropped pure white hair, and strong jaw. He appeared to be no more than fifty years of age. The Colonel regarded him silently for a moment. “But then, perhaps it is. Come with me. I want to show you something.” The Colonel turned away from him and headed down the corridor. James watched as the man walked away. Every move he made was made with precision, like a machine. This precision made him all the more frightening. As he followed closely behind the Colonel, a question plagued his mind. Why had he invited James to join him? The Colonel suddenly halted and turned to glance over his shoulder at the young man following him. “Do you expect me to keep turning around? Walk here beside me. I do not enjoy the presence of eyes behind me.” He continued walking and James stepped in beside him. The Colonel moved with a brisk pace and James struggled to maintain the pace. The end of the corridor came at last when they reached a dark red elevator door. James had seen the door every day on his routes, but never had he seen it open. There had long been rumours amongst the staff as to what lay beyond the red door. “You have seen this door before, yes?” The Colonel asked as he slipped the white cotton glove from his right hand. James nodded. “I am to believe that there some pretty fantastical stories as to what lies behind this door.” He smiled. The Colonel smiled! He blinked and when he opened his eyes he saw the Colonel’s hard face. His cold, unblinking eyes locked on James’ eyes. The smile was gone. Had it been there to begin with? “Well? What do you think of these wilds tales?” The Colonel lifted his hand and pressed it against the hand print scanner on the wall beside the door. “Ludicrous.” James said suddenly. “What?” The Colonel turned toward James and squinted. “What did you say?” The Colonel turned from him and punched in a code on the digital keypad. “I am sorry, Sir. I was simply answering your question.” “I asked you no question boy.” The door of the elevator slid open and the Colonel stepped inside. “Now come with me.” For a fleeting moment it crossed James’ mind to reply that he had indeed asked a question, but that moment passed immediately. James stepped into the elevator and the door closed behind him. In the elevator James blinked as a droplet of sweat landed on his eyelid. The temperature in there was stifling. He turned to see that the Colonel appeared to be perfectly comfortable. The men stood in silence as the elevator descended. Finally it came to a halt and the door slid open to reveal a broad passageway. The duo stepped out of the elevator into a long bending, thickly carpeted corridor. James cocked his head slightly as he eyed the opposite wall. The opposite was not a wall at all, but a vast window of four inch thick armour glass. <note:incomplete> Chapter 7 �" Hit and Run Like Hell Herryn stepped in through the damaged doorway, pushing a piece of the shattered door aside. He stopped and looked down at Jonah, who was sprawled across the floor, fighting to regain his breath. The blow had caught him offguard and had snapped four ribs, turning them back and into his lungs and causing it to collapse. Jonah clutched at his chest as he reached up and took hold of the arm of the chair nearest him. The pain was like nothing he had felt before, a deep tearing sensation mingled with the sting of an acid burn. “You have grown weak, Blondel.” Herryn jeered, as he lightly kicked Jonah’s boot. “This is not like you.” He mused as he circled Jonah. “I knew that you had changed when you found that cursed woman. But, I did not think that you would have changed this much.” “She showed me what you are, old friend.” Jonah replied with such venom that Herryn winced a little. “She gave me the peace that you long promised, but never delivered.” Jonah brought himself up to his feet and stood, leaning on the chair. He grimaced as a new burn filled his chest. This one was more of a throb. His body was beginning to heal itself. All he had to do was keep Herryn distracted long enough, and then he would engage him. This would give the girls enough time to run. Herryn struck out again, this time only landing a glancing blow as Jonah sidestepped his lunge. While Herryn was in mid-lunge Jonah took the gap and landed a solid right on his cheek. The air flashed as his fist slammed into Herryn’s flesh. Herryn toppled onto the floor and lay stunned for a moment, before shaking his head and quickly getting back to his feet again. “That’s more like it.” His face smiled, but his eyes were filled with fury. Herryn did not enjoy being bested, by anyone. The men circled each other like a pair of angry lions, each ready to pounce at any moment. This continued for a few minutes until neither could stand it anymore, and they each lunged toward the other. Herryn lashed out at Jonah, who saw his blow coming and ducked beneath it. As he did so he saw an opening and drove his fist into Herryn’s side. The heavy flesh gave way and Jonah felt the ribs snap with the force. Herryn stumbled against the wall, and turned just in time to dodge a wild right hook from Jonah. Jonah’s blow missed its mark and found the wall instead. It landed with such force that the plaster on the wall shattered and fell to the ground. The shock of the impact shot up his arm as his hand collapsed. Herryn saw the pain and took full advantage of it. He took hold of Jonah by his collar and flung him across the room so that he slammed into the bookshelf. He fell heavily to the ground and lay there a moment, surrounded by scattered books. He was momentarily stunned. Herryn, sighed and straightened his coat. As he looked down at Jonah, he reached behind his back and pulled out a Wakizashi. He whipped it around a few times and finally laid it to rest on Jonah’s shoulder. “This is my new friend, Jonah.” He turned it till the cutting edge rested on his shoulder. “Her name is is Wakizashi, she is a Japanese short sword. She is a fascinating creation �" a legend in its own time �" but now just a trinket in an age that is oblivious of its value.” His blue eyes locked with Jonah’s. “Much like you Jonah.” As he spoke he let the blade slide off Jonah’s shoulder. The blade cut nearly an inch into Jonah’s flesh. “Your time is up.” He grinned as he raised the sword. Jonah closed his eyes, took a breath and launched himself at Herryn driving his wounded shoulder into the man’s gut with such force that he was thrown off his feet. As the men fell to the ground, Herryn struck out blindly with his sword. The blade found the flesh of Jonah’s back and pierced it like a hot knife through butter. It passed through his rib cage and out through his chest. Jonah fell heavily to the floor, with the blade embedded in his abdomen. He lay motionless on the floor, with the blade protruding from his back as a large pool of dark red blood gathered around him. Herryn had landed on the couch and toppled over it. He rose quickly to his feet, ready for the next attack. He settled when he saw Jonah lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. “That was exciting, Blondel. But, I really must get going now. I have a prize to deliver.” He said as he drew the sword slowly from Jonah’s flesh. He smiled at the sound of steel and bone. As he slid his sword across his forearm guard to wipe of the blood, Herryn let out a yelp. The sound a child makes when and over-eagerly scoffed morsel lodges in his throat. Jonah lifted his eyes and looked up at Herryn. He was shaking violently. The sword was flung from his hand and it fell, wedging into the wooden floor. Jonah slowly rose to his feet and stood before Herryn. He was gargling as he shook. His face was struck with fear and pain and it sounded to Jonah like he was trying to say something, but his words were lost in the blood, saliva and bile that drooled out of his mouth. His arms flailed about as though trying to ward of some unseen force. With each second that passed he became more and more incoherent. He lashed out with his arms and legs, knocking over side tables and smashing the ornate glasses on the sideboard. Herryn convulsed more violently still until the sides of his head began to cave in. His eyes began to strain in their sockets until one by one they popped out and hung over his lids onto his cheeks. Jonah pulled himself up onto his feet as he watched Herryn’s head collapse before him, until it was completely compressed. Then with a loud belch, its contents spewed out through his mouth, onto the floor. His body fell limp, but still remained suspended in the air like an abandoned string marionette. As he stepped closer to the corpse, Jonah noticed that Emily was standing in the doorway. She stood staring blindly at him. Her eyes were complete glazed over and face was locked in a grimace. Jonah hurried over to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. He dared not shake her, lest he have a repeat of the Diner. “Emily!” he called as he snapped his fingers before her eyes. “Emily, please snap out of it.” He turned her face to himself and repeated the finger snapping. Slowly her eyes began to clear. “Gail!” He suddenly remembered that Gail was also in the room. “Gail, get your passports and pack, now.” Gail, didn’t waste any time arguing and hurried to her room to find their suitcases. Jonah then turned his attention back to Emily. “Em, look at me.” She looked up at him, with tears in her eyes. “You did nothing wrong, okay. You saved my life. You saved my life, okay!” She nodded her head and glanced back at the body, then back at Jonah. She stared at him in silence, then suddenly reached out and wrapped her arms around him, and sobbed heavily. Jonah winced as her arms drew tight around him. “HOLY S**T!” Gail screamed when she stepped into the hall and saw the body. “S**t, s**t, s**t!” she yelped as she stumbled backward over the luggage she had packed. Emily ran over to her and gripped her by the shoulders. “Gail, relax.” Emily held her sister in her arms and rocked her gently to calm her down. Gail was hyperventilating and had to relax or she would slip into shock. Leaned back against the wall in the hall and watched as the younger girl took control of the relationship and tried to calm her sister down. “What happened Em!? Gail blabbered. “There’s blood everywhere.” She began to sob again. Emily held her sister as she cried, till there were no tears left, just the occasional heave of a tearless sob. A loud thud broke the silence. The girls turned sharply to see that Jonah had slumped to the floor. For the first time Emily noticed that his clothing was soaked in blood. She raced over to him, still on her knees and caught him by his shoulders before his head hit the floor. He was unconscious and his dead weight took every ounce of strength she had to lift him up. As she did he came to and stared at her blindly for a moment. Then tried to speak, but no audible words came out. “What are you trying to say?” Emily said as she supported him, and wiped the blood from his chin. He tried again and the feint sound of “water”, came out. “I’ll get it.”Gail got up and ran to the ensuite bathroom and filled the glass on the counter with water and ran back to them. As she handed Emily the glass, she turned her head to hide the site of the body in the living room. When Jonah was finished drinking the water Emily handed the glass back to Gail to refill. Gail went back to the bathroom and Emily began to remove his shirt to get a better look at his wounds. “I hope to God you weren’t screwing with us about that immortality stuff.” She muttered as she tore off his shirt. It was of no good in its condition any way. When she had torn it off and his abdomen was bare, she gasped when she saw the gaping wound in his chest. The muscles had tensed up and pulled it open allowing her to see his heart beating slowly in his chest. She threw her hands up to her face and fell back onto her backside. Gail returned with the glass and hesitated when she saw the wound. No human being could still be alive in that state. She handed the glass to Emily, who set the glass to his lips and he slowly drank it. After a few glasses Jonah tried to speak again. “Keep bringing me water. My body will heal itself. Look.” Emily glanced down at his chest and low and behold, the wound had closed a little. “I don’t believe it!” She yelped. Gail rushed back from the bathroom with the next glass, “What?” “Look at this!” Emily pointed to the once gaping wound, and they watched in amazement as the sinew began to reattach and the muscle slowly regrew to fill the hole. It was like watching those time-lapse videos on National Geographic. Soon the wound was completely sealed and Jonah was perking up again as his body began to replace the blood lost. The trio sat on the floor awhile longer until Gail suddenly gasped. “Do you think that if you could do that, then...” she said under her breath. “No Gail. He is gone.” He reached out his hands the girls took them and pulled him up on to his feet. Jonah leaned unsteadily against the doorframe. Emily pulled a heavy blanket out of the passage cupboard and slung it over Jonah’s shoulders, while Gail kept the water coming. At some point, when he was able to hold himself up unsupported, Jonah glanced around the corner at the bloodied corpse. He had caught a glimpse of a gold medallion during the fight. It had a symbol on it that he recognised. The origins of the symbol eluded him but he knew he had seen it before, a long time ago. What did he want with Emily? Jonah moved closer and knelt beside the body. He carefully pulled the coat aside and found the blood-drenched medallion. He reached around the crushed head and matted hair to unclip it. He left the body where it lay and took the medallion to the kitchen sink and washed it off. It was beautiful and very intricately etched. On what he assumed was the front was the image of a beast part human and part wolf encircled by an series of knots that framed the beast. On the back was inscribed three words in a language he had not heard uttered in millennia. Chapter 8 �" The Colonel’s Very Bad Day The Colonel stood motionless as Tracey Gibson recounted the previous day’s events. There was no possible way that Wolfgang could have prevented the disaster, he knew that. Still, he was furious, but he could not lose his composure, nor could he take it out on his staff. It would take too much time to track down and train replacements. “Altogether, we have lost twenty-seven lives, sir.” Tracey watched his face for a response. He gave none. “They were mostly local diggers and a few hired hands, but still lives. Unfortunately our key excavation team did not survive either. We found Wolfgang and Olivia a few miles away from the site. They had attempted to flee across the lake on a snowmobile, but whatever it was, it was faster.” Her voice wavered as she recalled her lost friends, scattered across the ice in a mess of blood and entrails. Her blood ran cold at the memory. “Take me to the site.” “Sir, it’s not secure.” Tracey objected sharply. The Colonel assumed that her heritage had given her some degree of self importance that had misled her to think that she somehow had the authority to override his command. The truth was that she was simply too afraid to go back there. “Miss Gibson, did you see me disembark alone?” Tracey realised she had made a mistake. “No, sir. I did not.” Her hands dropped limply to her sides. “I did not mean to ...” He raised a finger to his lips as he stepped nearer and she fell silent. “Miss Gibson. Take solace in the fact that I did not bring with me any replacements.” Tracey’s blood ran cold as she took heed of his warning. She and her crew were expendable and only worth keeping around because he did not have time to recruit replacements. Another more startling revelation came to her as he she glanced up into his eyes. “Yes.” He answered her unspoken question, and turned away from her. “Now, take me to the site.” A hundred metres away in the landing zone, a platoon of soldiers was disembarking a massive There was a rumble and a C-14 Ice Rover rolled up to them. It had arrived a little after the first Mi-26. The large vehicle ran on a quartet of tracks much like tank tracks, and consisted of a drivers cab and a passengers cab big enough to house a family SUV. At the rear of the vehicle a steel step ladder descended and a door opened above it. Briefly a soldier appeared in the doorway dressed in snow camo, then disappeared inside. The Colonel reached up and took hold of the ladder, then hopped up onto the lowermost rung. He began to climb steadily until he reached the top and stepped inside. Tracey turned to see that nobody else was in a hurry to follow him. D****t. She reached up and grabbed a rung to follow the Colonel. The cab was warm. The Colonel sat in a single butterfly chair on the far left of the cab, while the remaining seats were simple padded benches. Tracey selected a seat she felt was the furthest from him, and sat down. She sat in stilted silence as the remaining passengers boarded. She didn’t dare meet his gaze again and chose rather to cast her gaze out the window. Her window looked out across the frozen lake, and in the distance she could make out the feint shape of the mountainside near the opposite shore. The last passenger, a short Russian man called Vladimir pulled the door closed with a dull thud, turned the latch and sat down. Tracey watched him shift in his seat until he was comfortable. The cab lurched, groaned and settled. The driver had started the vehicle in gear. A moment later it lurched again, but much less harshly and settled into a steady groan and shudder. The groan was deep and soon turned into a low grumble as the machine began to move. The mechanical behemoth trundled along in a long, shuddering line until it reached the edge of the lake. The cab tilted to the right as the vehicle turned left and proceeded to trace the shoreline of the lake. Behind them Tracey watched as a smaller vehicle moved onto the surface of the lake, carrying with it the Compact. Why were they going that way? “You seem uncomfortable Miss Gibson.” Vladimir called across the cabin. He smiled a friendly smile. She bit. “What gave it away?” she said through a dry smile. Her attempt at humour would have seemed sarcastic to anyone else, but Vladimir smiled back at her. She had met him some months before when they had arrived together at the base camp. He had come as a technical advisor from Moscow. At the time she had regarded him as a token rusky, sent along by the company to let Russia think the financiers gave a damn about their contribution to anything. But she had since learned by experience that he was so much more. He was small in stature but his intellect was larger than life. “Coffee?” he said, holding out a flask. The soldier on board looked alarmed, and moved to take it from him. Clearly Vladimir had not cleared it with captain itchy pants. The Colonel cleared his throat and the soldier stood down. Tracey took the flask and thanked Vladimir. She twisted the cup off the base of the flask and flicked open the pressure seal at the top. Her eyes flicked up to see Vladimir smiling, then back at her cup as she filled it with hot coffee. She then pressed the pressure cap closed with her thumb and slid the cylinder between her thighs and sat back in her seat. Over the rim of her cup she watched as the other passengers in the cab rocked side to side and stared blankly out the windows. “Where did they go?” she asked, looking directly at the Colonel. “Preparations.” He answered flatly. “For what?” “You will see soon enough.” Before she could press the matter, the satellite telephone rang and Captain Itchy-Pants answered it. “Blake.” He said. So that was his name. Blake who, or who Blake? Someone spoke on the other end of the line, and his expression changed. As he listened, his eyes flickered toward the Colonel, and then to the floor. “Understood. I will tell him.” He cut the call and sighed. “What is it, Captain?” The Colonel said, straightening up in his seat. “Sir, Herryn is dead.” The soldier said quietly. The Colonel’s face flushed with anger, and his eyes shifted to a deep purple. Tracey gasped and backed into her seat, as the others did the same. A single tear welled in the Colonel’s eye, but did not fall. He closed his eyes and took in a long, deep breath. His colour returned and he opened his eyes again. “How?” “They do not know exactly, but it seems he was killed in a suburban house. His head was crushed like an egg.” The soldier looked up at the Colonel. “They say the girl was not there, and there appears to be some manner of altercation.” The Captain swallowed hard and continued, “Could she have done this? Does she know?” “That, Captain, is none of your concern.” His eyes flicked to Tracey and back to the Captain, “We will proceed as planned. I will deal with the girl when the time comes.” “Yes, Sir.” Tracey sat rigid in her chair as it suddenly became painfully clear that this was not going to end well for her. This was not just some rich guy throwing his weight around, but, it was something much worse. What scared her the most was that she had no idea just what the hell was going on. Tracey drained the last drop of coffee from the cup and screwed it back to the bottom of the flask, then handed the flask back to Vladimir. She nodded her thanks and he smiled in return. He slipped the flask back into the small backpack he always carried with him. Tracey returned her gaze to the cold, unfeeling landscape. Chapter 9 �" A Sort of Homecoming Jonah manoeuvred the little Volkswagen into the driveway as Gail pulled the gate closed behind him. The winter air was bitterly cold and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself as soon as the latch clicked into place. Jonah had given her the house keys, so she ran up the stairs to open the door while he parked the car. She glanced down the street as she turned the key. The streets of Lairg seemed no different from the streets in Empangeni, save for the children that were now running around hurling snowballs at each other. The drive from Heathrow had been adventurous with the rental breaking down and the only restroom nearby out of order. The house was comfortably furnished, and sported a large fireplace in the far corner of the sitting room, something that was lost on most South Africans, since very few places in South Africa ever got cold enough to warrant the use of a fire place. Jonah watched quietly as the girls settled into the couches in the living room. “Welcome to my home.” He said, smiling. Gail regarded him coldly for a moment then turned her attention to her sister, who since leaving South Africa had not said a word. The shock of the revelation of her abilities had set in. Jonah knew that he had to tread carefully from here on. Until Emily learned to control her emotions she would be a grave danger to everyone around her. The real trick would be figuring out how she came to have these powers. Jonah had heard rumour of such powers a long, long time ago. This could not be those same powers. It wasn’t possible. “Are you okay?” a voice shook him back to the waking world. Gail had left Emily asleep on the couch and had come to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. She had found Jonah staring off into the distance. “Yes, I think I am.” He turned to her and smiled. “Are you?” “I think so. It’s just been a lot to process, that’s all.” She glanced down and back to his eyes again. “Where do you keep your coffee?” “In the cupboard above the kettle. There is fresh milk in the fridge. I have a housekeeper who looks after the place while I’m not around.” He smiled. “Okay. Thanks.” Gail opened the cupboard and took out two cups, then turned back to Jonah. “Do you want any?” “Uhm, yes please.” He said. She turned away from him and turned the kettle on, and started preparing the coffee. “Everything is going to be alright, you know.” Jonah said softly. “You just need to trust me.” Gail stopped what she was doing and sighed. “I want to, I really do. But I don’t know what to think or believe anymore.” She turned back to him again, “Everything I have is gone and after what I saw yesterday, I don’t know what to believe anymore. My mom always used to tell us that all we needed was love and faith and that everything would be okay.” “She sounds like a great woman.” Jonah stepped closer to her. “Yeah, well this isn’t quite what I expected ‘being okay’ to look like.” The kettle clicked. Gail turned away from Jonah again to finish making his coffee. © 2014 Bradley G. PattersonAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on October 9, 2014 Last Updated on October 9, 2014 Tags: urban fantasy, immortal, norse, myths Author
Bradley G. PattersonEmpangeni, KwaZulu-Natal, South AfricaAboutI am a fun-loving man from Empangeni, South Africa. I have had a passion for telling stories great and small since I first learnt to put them to paper. It has long been a personal dream to one day.. more..Writing
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