Chronicles of Jonathan Tibbs 1: The Never Hero (19 page)

Jonathan was having trouble. This was a lot to take on trust, even if what the alien was saying did seem to align with what he had experienced.

“So,” Jonathan began, trying to make sure he understood what he was being told, “I have memories of something that never happened. Well, didn’t happen to anyone else but me.”

His mind reeled with the implications of this. What would have happened if he hadn’t succeeded, if he’d died? What if he hadn’t shown up at all? More important than all of that though, w
hy bother at all, with any of it, if all that resulted was Jonathan inherited a pile of terrible false memories?

“Yes, you probably noticed, for instance, that you were quite emotionally disoriented at the time of transition. Your memory told you that you had just survived a horrible life-threatening episode, yet it only inherited the memories from that experience. The information that is downloaded into your mind at the point of return modifies the structure of your brain, but it does not bring with it the physical state you were in when that stone was destroyed. Hence, you had the memories of a man who had just endured a gruesome fight, likely sustaining a number of injuries, but your body was in whatever state it had been in before being activated. The experience is jarring on the mind,” Heyer said. “Frankly, I’m surprised the human body can allow it, but I am by no means a neurological expert.”

“I couldn’t understand my own calm,” Jonathan said out loud.

More and more of what the alien was saying was matching up with what he’d experienced. The irritation he’d felt in his mind made sense now. The memories telling him to be on high alert had been contradictory to his body’s state upon returning, which was that of sitting at a table, calmly doing homework.

Jonathan nodded, and then looked at Heyer with needy, questioning eyes.

“I don’t understand why this needed to happen. If I’m the only one who remembers it, what was the point?”

Heyer sighed again, Jonathan couldn’t tell if his questions seemed boring or childish to the alien, or if it was the answers that seemed to make him tired.

“You acted as a shield that repelled that monster. It came here through gates targeted to Earth. These gates exist in that creature’s reality. The portal stone, in essence, allowed the beast access through those gates and permitted the creature to exist here. However, it was tied to you upon entering this reality. That monster is dead; there is one less of them to come here. Its corpse now lies in front of the very gate it used to trespass here. Its body was returned to its reality in the state it was in when you destroyed the stone…”

Heyer stopped explaining then.

“Jonathan, I don’t want to get too deeply into this now. This information will not serve you well yet. Just know this,” Heyer paused to make sure Jonathan could see his grave face, “It matters. If you were not here to do what you did, a very different scenario would eventually be playing out, and it wouldn’t make you happy. It wouldn’t make anyone on this planet happy. For now, the status quo has been maintained. The human race remains ignorant of the breach.”

Jonathan didn’t like the sound of anything the alien was telling him, but his mind came to rest on another question.

“That thing,” Jonathan asked, “what was it?”

Heyer drew in another of his long breaths.

“They don’t have a proper human name. They are not categorized in your evolutionary trees as they evolved elsewhere. However, I have given them a name based on the human method of categorization,” Heyer said. “I refer to them as the
Ferox intrusus,
but generally just Ferox for short.”

“Why did this, Ferox,” Jonathan tested out the word, “why did it come here?”

“Why does any sentient being start a war, Jonathan?” Heyer asked.

“It wants something it can’t get peacefully?” Jonathan guessed.

Heyer nodded.

“You didn’t answer my question. What did it want?” Jonathan asked.

“It is a rather long story. For now, just know it was here to kill people. You stopped it. Knowing ‘why’ only makes you a risk to me and will not improve your survival chances.”

Jonathan locked up with fear. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but Heyer kept referring to his survival as though it was still in peril; but this was over, he’d survived. What was there to endanger him now except Heyer himself?

“What do you mean? It’s dead; you just said I repelled it.” Jonathan said.

The light in Heyer’s eyes seemed to dim. It was as though he‘d expected Jonathan to have grasped something already and he hadn’t.

“Yes, Jonathan, that one is dead,” Heyer said. “Unfortunately, it is the first of an onslaught. This is, in fact, the calm before the storm. I am tracking a number of others inbound. The next one should arrive approximately three months from now, early September. Following that they will come as often as weekly for a short period. After that, I will not be able to give you much warning at all, if any. Their assault on this plane will be increasing. You are facing down an army, one at a time.”

Jonathan felt heavy. His shoulders slumped and something seemed to drain out of him. Call it optimism or hope, the very energy inside him that made him want to live questioned itself. It wasn’t shock, he realized. The way Heyer had been speaking, he’d known but not wanted it confirmed. Three and a half months and another of those things would be killing in the streets. It would lure him out again, and he would go, he knew he would, and he could never hope to get so lucky again. It was a staring contest with death.

He began to feel sick again.

“Perhaps it would be best if you took a few breaths, Jonathan,” Heyer said sympathetically.

He nodded, not fully hearing what the alien had said to him. He felt as though he were plummeting. He wanted more than ever to wake up from this nightmare.

“I know this news is unpleasant, Jonathan. I hate to tell you this and leave, but I am scheduled for a destination quite far away in a matter of minutes; which is why we need to focus on the things that can help you,” Heyer said.

He heard the words but he wasn’t listening. He was thinking about how Sickens the Fever had threatened him, pounding him into walls and pavement, staring him down with those eyes that sought to do him such violence. He’d be forced to endure not being strong enough yet again, the panic of defeat, powerless to the whims of the monster and unable to save himself. He’d be waiting to have his throat torn out. And for what exactly? He didn’t even get to know.

“Please,” he whimpered finally, “I don’t want to do this again. I’ll die. You know I’m going to die. You have to stop this, please.”

Jonathan knew as the words left his mouth that his requests could not be granted. He slumped over as he spoke and his head fell into his hands.

“I can’t stop this, Jonathan, I didn’t put it into motion,” Heyer said.

A moment passed and the alien spoke again.

“All I could do is give the responsibility to someone else. Activate another device and another candidate. He, like you, would be forced to bear this responsibility, though. You would have to live with that knowledge.”

“You could create another, a partner?” Jonathan asked.

“No, Jonathan, that isn’t what I meant. One portal stone activates one device. I can give the responsibility to someone else, but I can’t divide it,” Heyer said.

The thoughts in Jonathan’s head seemed to collide with the alien’s admission, the desire to tell the alien to make it so, but right along with it came the fierce guilt of what it would mean. It would be so easy, he wouldn’t know the victim, wouldn’t have to see the life he’d be helping destroy.

He couldn’t do that, he could never do that. Not even to some stranger. It was the same guilt that had driven him to face the monster in the first place. Something deeper down inside, deeper than his own self-preservation, couldn’t bear the thought of having been given the choice, and sacrificing someone else in his place. Even if he was the only one to remember it; he’d learned that lesson tonight. He knew the weight of it.

“Why don’t you fight them then?” Jonathan said. “You’re strong enough, and you certainly didn’t let guilt stop you from letting a stranger take the responsibility?”

He didn’t look Heyer in the eye when he said it. He hadn’t thought of it as an accusation until it escaped his lips. It seemed silly to bother filtering his words for the one person in the universe who knew this was the moment his life had collapsed around him, been stolen from him. Jonathan just stared off into the park, waiting to hear what the alien had to say for himself.

Heyer picked up his ridiculous fedora and held it in his hands before he spoke.

“I would, Jonathan, believe me in that. I would not burden any human with this responsibility, as this is no man’s fault. The simple truth is, if I were to perish, there would be no one to replace me; there would be no one else to activate another individual such as yourself,” Heyer said. “Sometimes, we are not expendable, and with that comes the horrible burden of making choices like the one I had to make for you.”

Jonathan closed his eyes. After a moment he nodded that he understood. Why had he asked this? The answer only seemed to make things worse. To tighten the chains that seemed to be forming around him.

“If I fail, someone else will be forced into this?” he asked.

There was a long pause and neither said anything. Heyer just seemed to watch him thoughtfully.

“Hmmm,” Heyer said.

“What?” Jonathan said.

“I just find you interesting, Jonathan,” he said. “I tell you that you could give the burden to some individual you don’t even know, and your first thought is to wonder how
I
could have ever given this burden to anyone. You find out someone else will gain this burden if you perish, and your first thought is that you must not perish. You make sacrifices for people who will never know to thank you. What does that tell you?”

Jonathan couldn’t be pondering this now and he knew it, so he ignored the question. Every fiber of his being wanted to sit on that bench and feel sorry for himself, draw in deep and hide from the world. Yet, time wasn’t going to give him what he wanted; there was no breather for self-pity. He was wasting time looking for who or what was to blame. It no longer mattered. He had to focus on staying alive, and the only person who could help him might leave any second. He had to start asking the questions that mattered.

“Help me,” Jonathan said.

Heyer noticed the change in Jonathan’s voice, and his tone adjusted with it.

“Yes, Jonathan, I can help you. Start with what happened during the incident tonight. What were your weaknesses?”

“This thing you put in me,” Jonathan said, pointing to his chest. “It isn’t enough! I don’t know how to fight. That Ferox seemed like it lived to fight, and it was stronger, so much stronger and faster than me. I was afraid, but it didn’t fear combat with me; it reveled in it. It found me so nonthreatening that it let its guard down and I got lucky, so damn
lucky
. I almost had my throat torn out. I’m not some badass. I have no idea how to deal with a thing like that.”

Heyer thought for a moment.

“Jonathan, that hardware inside of you, though an antiquated relic from my species’ history, is still powerful. The only limit to its ability to increase your strength is you. Well, more specifically, your body. When you become activated, the cells that make up the device become powered by the presence of the portal stone. The device then releases molecules, unlike anything your planet has ever known, into your body. These molecules change and adhere to all the tissues that they find. Your muscle, your skin, your bones are all altered, replaced or coated with the materials released by the device, but it can only enhance what it has to work with.” Heyer paused to see if Jonathan understood what he was getting at.

“I understand, I think, but I don’t see how this helps,” Jonathan said.

“The more muscle mass you have before you are activated, the more the device has to work with. The stronger you are naturally, the exponentially stronger you are when triggered,” Heyer said.

“So there needs to be more of me?” Jonathan said. “You want me to go to the gym?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes, but it’s not just strength. Endurance, flexibility, balance, all of these play a role in how effective you are once activated.”

“I’m not an athlete, Heyer. I don’t know anything about muscle building,” Jonathan said gloomily.

“Well, I’d recommend you look into the matter. Which brings me to your other concerns, Jonathan, one of my main fears in selecting you.” Heyer paused as if unsure how to proceed.

“Most men of your time in history have a somewhat universal draw to parts of human culture, Jonathan. Yet you seem utterly lacking in that pull. Your bookcase did not hold a single story of a heroic male role model. No action heroes, no spy novels, no comic books. Maybe you described it best; you don’t seem to idolize any
badasses
.”

“I’m well aware of my bookshelf contents, Heyer, I need instructions. Not observations about myself,” Jonathan said.

“Your world’s culture is designed to tell men a story about who they should be. That story is of heroics, the making of champions, the defeating of monsters, saving the innocent, stopping the villains. The entire fantasy that most men don’t even realize they are engaging in becomes their expectation of their roles. From my outside perspective, most of what men in your world are told seems remarkably useless. I sometimes wonder why these stories of heroism are propagated so much; you would think that if something was irrelevant it would die off. Yet with humans, relevance often has no bearing on what is retained or thrown on the scrap heaps of your history.”