Chronicles of Jonathan Tibbs 1: The Never Hero (37 page)

“I don’t get it. What difference does it make if you tell me now or later?” Jonathan asked.

“There’s still some time to pass before that next Ferox breaches the gates,” Heyer said. “Between then and now, you and I may find we need to be able to trust each other.”

The word
trust
seemed to cause them both to pause. Jonathan hadn’t previously thought of trust as something Heyer would need of him. Reflecting on the notion, Jonathan wasn’t sure if he could ever trust the alien.

“I’m not sure how people in a situation like ours go about building trust,” he said bluntly.

“Nor I, in fact,” Heyer said, with a small grin, “but despite how difficult things may seem now, information is a heavier burden than you imagine. There may be a time when you think fondly of these days, when your only concern was killing a monster, when you may wish you could go back to being in the dark.”

Jonathan began to argue, but Heyer put his hand up to stop him. “It is not a point of debate, Jonathan. It is my responsibility, and I must decide the burden you are prepared to carry. I do not think it wise that you carry any more weight into your confrontation with the Ferox.”

They starred at each other as the alien’s decree sank in.

“Time is drawing near, Jonathan,” he said. “You have had some time to adapt to your situation, to think about the challenges ahead. I came to see if there was anything I could do to help you.”

Jonathan teetered back and forth like a rebellious teenager, not wanting to be told that the discussion was simply over, but seeing the necessity of changing topics. Finally, he quashed his rebellion and started asking other questions.

“Do the Ferox have any weaknesses?” Jonathan asked.

“No, at least not outside of what you already know. Drowning or blunt force trauma,” Heyer replied.

“Can’t you give me some kind of weapon to fight them?” Jonathan asked. “A space gun or something?”

Heyer looked like he was coming close to rolling his eyes at such a juvenile question.

“No, Jonathan, if things were that simple, there would be no need for our current arrangement. Outside of the device implanted in your chest, I cannot help you by any means that are not of this earth.” Heyer said.

“That sounds like,” Jonathan paused. “That sounds like a rule.”

“In fact it is,” Heyer replied. “But for the record, I do not possess an armory of the kind you are imagining.”

“If you can’t help outside of the device, can you make the device itself stronger?” Jonathan asked, pointing to his chest.

“No,” Heyer replied.

“Why not?” Jonathan asked.

“I did not build the device, I do not know how it works on an engineering level,” Heyer said.

“What do you mean you don’t know how it works?” Jonathan asked incredulously.

Heyer, looking slightly exasperated, glanced around the room until he noticed Jonathan’s cell phone on top of a cabinet. He walked over and picked it up, holding it before Jonathan.

“Jonathan do you know how to operate this cell phone?” he asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Do you know how to build one, or make this one any better?” Heyer asked.

“No,” Jonathan said, dejectedly seeing Heyer’s point.

“It’s the same with technology from my civilization,” he said. “I’m not an engineer. To give you better context, I once had to make a modification to your device. If an engineer of my people had seen that attempt, it would have been like watching a toddler trying to break the encryptions around the Pentagon.”

Jonathan found himself disarmed when the alien compared himself to a child. Heyer always seemed so grave in his explanations, it seemed inconsistent that the alien did not in fact take himself just as seriously.

“With the assistance of artificial intelligence, it took me over ten years to make that one adjustment,” Heyer explained.

“Well fine, fair enough,” Jonathan said. “Can you get an engineer from your species to help?”

Heyer sighed. Clearly these weren’t the sort of questions he had intended to be fielding.

“No,” he said. “It is not an option.”

“Why wouldn’t someone help you?” Jonathan asked.

Heyer shook his head. Apparently this information was off limits as well.

“Let’s try to stick with practical matters, Jonathan. Just accept that if there was some simple technological way for me to make your confrontation any easier, I would have already told you,” Heyer said.

Jonathan thought about that for a moment. Like most things Heyer told him, there was little more that he could do than accept them as truth, as skeptical as he might be. There was no way to fact check the alien.

“Heyer, what would you be doing if you were me?” Jonathan asked.

“I think you have the right idea, Jonathan. I’ve only seen a Ferox brought down by those who brought a superior offense; no small task, I know, but not impossible as you’ve proven. As you’ve surmised, our inability to plan beyond knowing the window of time it should appear in, and knowing roughly a ten mile radius of where, makes setting up a trap almost impossible,” Heyer said.

It was disappointing to Jonathan, the man who knew all the real details of what was happening and what he was up against had not been able to come up with a better solution than Jonathan had flying nearly blind, yet there was one piece of information that Jonathan realized he hadn’t known previously.

“Wait, a ten mile radius of where exactly?” Jonathan asked.

Heyer paused.

Had the alien slipped and told him something he hadn’t intended? He looked Jonathan in the eye now, as though he was carefully choosing his words.

“Let’s just say, roughly within ten miles of where we stand,” Heyer said.

“Why would my garage be the center of a ten mile bull’s-eye for these damn things?” Jonathan said hearing the anger creep into his voice. He felt this disclosure reeked of some betrayal on the alien’s part, but he already knew that Heyer wasn’t going to answer him. This detail, it seemed to be screaming something at him but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

“Jonathan, please. Let’s return to matters of utility,” Heyer said, and before Jonathan could argue he changed the subject. “What is your strategy? You don’t intend to face your enemy with nothing but your hands.”

Jonathan’s inner struggle was showing on his face again as he did not want to relinquish the pursuit of his previous question. In the end, if the alien wasn’t going to explain, there was nothing he could do to make him. So he dropped it for the moment and responded.

“No,” Jonathan said as he walked to the cabinet where he stored his practice staffs and opened the door.

“Yes,” Heyer said, “the bo staff; an ideal choice.”

“I’ve trained every day with this. The problem is,” Jonathan said, “there’s no way to practice fighting a monster.”

Heyer nodded, understanding the complication.

“Yes, I imagine it would be odd to persistently request your sparring partner’s fight you unarmed,” he said.

Heyer removed his trench coat and laid it over the weight bench, then checked his watch. “This I can help you with, Jonathan. You will attempt to strike me.”

The alien went about removing his shoes as though he’d not said anything out of the ordinary. He placed them neatly under his coat.

It made a sort of sense. Jonathan remembered hitting the alien with the baseball bat. It was unlikely that he could hurt Heyer without the aid of the device in his chest. He paused a moment mulling over if he could truly attack the alien now, but quickly embraced the opportunity. It was the best practice he could hope for, unless he could talk Hayden or Collin into running around the garage in hockey pads while he tried to take their head off. This was considerably less dangerous.

Jonathan nodded slowly and picked up the training staff. They faced one another in the center of the room. He noticed then, that there was a glow from beneath Heyer’s shirt. It was not unlike the glow Jonathan had seen on his own chest when he’d been activated. Heyer’s glow was yellow though and less pronounced. The lines were smaller, not reaching around his entire torso but centered into the place where his chest and stomach met. None of the yellow lines crossed, they ran parallel, one on top of the other.

Heyer, seeing Jonathan distracted by the light, addressed his unspoken question.

“Yes, it is not unlike the device in your chest, Jonathan. Its power source is not tied to the presence of a portal stone. Do not let it distract you. Focus on striking me.”

Jonathan nodded, and readied himself. He started with a display of skill, whipping the staff around him in a manner that demonstrated his aptitude with the weapon.

Heyer raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure if a display of pointless maneuvers will intimidate a Ferox,” he said. “Strike me. Do not hesitate should you succeed. Follow through with any combinations you initiate. The enemy will not stop to applaud you at each success. Nor will I.”

Jonathan stood, unsure of himself after Heyer’s instruction. The way the alien spoke indicated to him that he was familiar with the weapon. He would not likely be engaging a clumsy opponent.

He began to circle the alien. Heyer matched his movements. Finally he let loose with a series of strikes. Most swiped air, some the alien was forced to block with his forearm. Occasionally it appeared he purposely let a blow land on his back to gain better footing. The maneuvering ceased when Heyer’s hand found Jonathan’s throat.

Jonathan stopped and made eye contact with the alien, afraid of the strength he knew the hand on his neck was capable of, acutely aware of how the moment reflected their first encounter.

If Heyer made the connection, he didn’t let on.

“Do not stop because your defense failed, Jonathan,” said Heyer. “React like you would to a Ferox with a claw on your throat.”

Jonathan felt his jaw clenching as aggression rose up inside, pulled forth by Heyer’s challenge. He sensed the rage there, more and more often, observing him as he trained, growing stronger as it watched him become a weapon. He still felt a distrust of it, a fear of letting it take control, and yet, as he looked into the alien’s eyes, its presence dulled his fear, overshadowed it with a resolve, a focus, a predatory gaze.

Fight-This-Guy-Hard.

He brought the staff up into Heyer’s wrist, simultaneously kicking the man in the chest, propelling them apart. He landed in a ready stance and refused to let the alien have a moment to think, moving back in with a new combination.

He held back nothing now that the rules seemed clear. They sparred like this for over an hour. Heyer, obviously the better fighter, never let Jonathan land a real strike. That was fine by Jonathan, although frustrating. He wanted to know that when he succeeded, he’d done so because he had outwitted his opponent, not because the man had let him get a shot in to boost his ego. The alien wasn’t a paid instructor giving him praise; he understood the necessity of the training.

Heyer never broke a sweat. Meanwhile, Jonathan’s clothes clung to him. He never hit back, only tapped Jonathan when he’d left himself open. They both knew they couldn’t risk an accidental injury. Jonathan getting hurt before being activated would be too devastating to their efforts. Jonathan wished it would be possible to train like this every night. He already felt deadlier than ever, even if he’d never succeeded in landing a single strike. The sparring revealed countless flaws in his technique, things his imagination couldn’t have predicted. It was the best experience he could have to prepare for the Ferox.

When Heyer noticed Jonathan was visibly exhausted, he put his hand up as to indicate that they were done. Jonathan accepted the offer and resisted the urge to drop down on a knee and divulge the true level of his fatigue.

“Jonathan, that you have achieved this level of skill in such a short time shows a true understanding of what you face.”

Jonathan shook his head, gasping for air.

“Heyer, I didn’t land a single strike,” he said.

“I am no Ferox,” he said. “I’ve trained in your species’ various martial arts longer than you have been alive. I never had any real expectation that you would hit me, but a Ferox does not fight like a man. Their sense of strategy is different. They rely on their formidable strength and speed, their senses and instincts, their armor. They do not train like you. I watched you adapt as we sparred. You learned quickly, corrected your flaws almost immediately. I believe you will outwit them.”

Jonathan nodded. At least this compliment came from someone who actually knew what he faced.

“I need to leave,” Heyer said checking his watch again. “I will come by again soon.”

“Wait,” Jonathan said, his sudden concern obvious. “Is there a way I can reach you? A cell phone number, an address, something?” Jonathan asked.

Heyer put his coat on and slipped back into his shoes.

“I will consider this Jonathan. Right now I do not have a good means for you to contact me. I know how it sounds, but you have to understand that typical human communication methods are easily traced,” Heyer said.

Jonathan found the statement as odd as when the alien had compared himself to a child. When did a being, who could teleport around the globe, start worrying about being traced by someone? It hadn’t even occurred to Jonathan that Heyer might have such a concern. He didn’t have long to consider it before the alien spoke again.