Regenesis (Book 1): Impact (70 page)

“But
I was taken by sleep. I only awoke at the sound of my son when he entered my
front door. My heart raced as I collected myself and rushed to meet him, to
shepherd him away from my precious secret. My boy, a man then, married with a
child even, still tended to me on a regular basis. It was Wednesday then and he
invited me to the store with his wife and child to purchase provisions for the
week. I was so worried he would notice something I may have left out of place,
a bloody handprint or the knife even, though I knew it was with me in my
pocket. But my mind, racked with worry, with panic, managed to convince my boy
that I was too weak then, too tired for what we had planned. He promised me he
would return later in the week, as he often did.

“Once
my son left, I returned to my trophy and I speedily began my experimentations.
Over the course of that day I came to find a rudimentary perfection and managed
to summon strength enough to begin my procedure. I had to use stolen medication
to numb the pain and elevate myself to another level to operate. When it was
over I slept for nearly three days. Famished, I joined my boy for a meal with
his family. The operation succeeded and so long as I could hide the scars and
the great difference in my flesh and that of the man I had killed, no one would
ever learn of my actions. I burnt the remains of my own accursed age in a
hearth.

“But
my procedure was imperfect. My body began to reject the addition and I grew
terrified that I had made a fatal error. I grew ill and knew I needed another
specimen so I could discard the rejected flesh in favor of something compatible
with my own body. And I knew my Lord needed another brought unto him. Yet
because of my condition I was frail and I shuddered to think I would fail at my
task. Friends and family came one after another to care for me, none of them
ever seeing my wounds though. I refused to see a doctor as well, which brought
suspicion, I fear. None could uncover my plot though, instead believing my mind
had begun to wander. Word spread throughout the town that I might even be on my
deathbed. People came with flowers and meals one after another, and I found
myself fixated on each one as I sorted through each of their inherent qualities
and benefits.

“And
yet, one thing troubled me most of all. Even if I found replacement parts, I
knew there wasn’t any guarantee my body would accept them. I couldn’t
understand why the idea was placed into my mind if I was damned to fail. It was
maddening until I found a reasonable hypothesis. I knew it was but a temporary
solution to my overall designs, but it would at the very least undo the mishap
of the decaying meat attached to me then. I outlined my plan and waited until
the time was right.

“One
night my son came to check on me. He came to ensure my condition hadn’t
worsened and to spend the evening with me. We talked about recent events, how
his child was, and about medicine, which was something my boy was fascinated
by. During the evening he made a supper consisting of a stew, bread, boiled
potatoes, and some ale. We ate and reminisced as the night deepened. Then,
after my boy consumed enough of our ale, he began to tell me of the strangeness
he suspected of me. He didn’t know anything concrete or defined, but he told me
he resented my lies. My child assumed I was dying, or ailed with some
unalterable disease, or even that I plotted to abandon my practice altogether
for another life, one filled with shadow and occult. I remember his smile as we
sat across from one another late that night. He smiled and whispered to me his
great notion that I knew about the details of the other man’s death. About the
man he did not know I killed. I denied it of course, as casually as I could. I
was calm though my heart was not. I watched as my boy slowly closed his eyes
and collapsed from his chair. A poison I had planted in his drink earlier in
the evening had worked.

“My
son’s wife suspected something after he failed to return home the next day from
my quarters. She went to the authorities but by the time she arrived all that
remained were the ragged and bloodied remains of my son. I performed my next
operation far from home and after a similar experience as the first procedure I
came out healthy again. The transplant was a success, the first of many. And
all I needed afterwards was to perfect my art, to slowly remove the remainder
of my decaying body, and to harvest the souls to my master while I kept the
bodies for myself.”

Jason
felt ill. He took a slight step away from the man and tried to maintain his
composure. The girl, Lily, sat paler than ever.
This isn’t helping her. I
need to think, what do I do?

“I
need you to help me Jason,” Joshua reminded him. “As you can see, it is very
difficult for me to find subjects for my Lord. Since I find and can take few
subjects I run the risk of encountering my own demise at the hands of simple
rejections from my own body. I learned that there are specific people–”

“Blood
types,” Jason filled in.

“Yes,
but even then conditions are never assured to grant me more life. It takes time
to find suitable replacements, especially ones who are in need of my Lord’s
redemption.”

Jason
stopped him, “You’re sick Joshua. I-I don’t even know where to begin.”
Do I
kill him? Do I have that right? What am I supposed to do?

Joshua
set the blade and the notepad he’d kept with him through his tale on the table
before him. “I have a list for you Jason.” He tapped the notepad twice, “Names
and addresses and sins. Find them and bring them to me–”

“Why
the hell would I help you?” Jason snapped.

Joshua
remained still and told him he too was chosen. “How is it you believe to be
alive? It is because our Lord willed it.”

“Your
God has nothing to do with me,” Jason told him. “You are delusional Joshua and
you need help.”

“I
need your help, Jason,” he tapped the notepad twice more, “You have been
selected for a unique task.”

“I
am not a butcher.”

“No,
you are a savior,” Joshua assured him. “And I need you to save these people.”

Jason
shook his head and denied Joshua. “You’re done. This stops here and now.”

Joshua
frowned and asked him if he truly refused to answer his master’s call. “You are
meant for greatness, my boy.”

Jason
felt his hair stand on end, “Please Joshua, stop this now.”

The
elderly man only shook his head and placed his hands on the edge of the table.
“I am very sorry for all of this then, Jason. As I said, you were meant for
great things, yet you too have squandered your gifts.”

“That
isn’t really for you to determine.”

“You
may not believe it to be so, but you have forgotten something key boy,” the man
frowned, “I’ve studied you, I’ve dissected you, and I know how you work. And I
know your weakness.”

“Really?
You happen to have a diamond blade with you?”

Todd
shook his head, “I wasn’t talking about that Jason. I meant the radiation
coursing through your veins.” He cracked a smile and told Jason the radiation
was killing him. “And I believe I have made proper precautions in case you did
try to stop me. I am only sorry you have forced me to use them. Goodbye Jason.”

Jason
heard an extremely high pitched whine from above him and before he could react
the roof exploded and buried him in debris. A searing pain crippled him. Jason
struggled to remain conscious and failed to understand why he failed to
recover. Joshua inspected him as Jason’s mind fogged.
How? Why wasn’t I more
careful? How…
Jason slowly closed his eyes and blacked out.

---*---

4:27
PM

Kenmore,
Washington

Jessica
cleared the mess from the peanut butter and banana sandwich Michael requested.
He asked specifically for a peanut butter and banana sandwich, because he
feared bananas might become an endangered species and wanted as many of them as
he could possibly get before the dreaded extinction occurred. However, upon
being presented with the sandwich, Michael ate the crust and announced his plan
to save the middle of the snack for later.

The
little boy sat cross-legged in front of the family’s small television and
enjoyed the commercials before the five o-clock news began. Michael leaned
closer and listened intently to an ad for men’s shaving cream.

He
laughed suddenly and said to his sister, “Knock knock.”

She
looked at him with a perplexed expression, but played along with his game
rather than question him. “Who’s there?”

“Boo.”

“Boo
who?”

“Don’t
cry, it’s a joke!” he told her as he burst into a fit of giggles as the
doorbell rang.

Jessica
rolled her eyes as she left to answer the door. When she opened it, she was
surprised to find Nick on her doorstep, unannounced. She hadn’t seen him in
over a month, but she felt a definite change in the way he held himself, his
confidence, and even his physical stature.

He
started their conversation by asking for a favor. “I’ve got a friend in a…” he
paused to think of the appropriate word, but settled, “A situation, that I’m
not sure how to handle.”

“What
are you talking about Nick?”

“I’m
not really sure how to say it,” he sighed, “But a friend of mine is in a bit of
trouble.”

“Trouble
with the law?”

He
shook his head and said it wasn’t that simple.

 Jessica
agreed to help him as best she could and invited him in. They didn’t managed to
get very far, as her younger brother dashed up to Nick, stopped him, and asked
where his coat was.

Nick
smiled and told him his girlfriend had it. “Why do you ask?”

Michael
frowned and mumbled that he wanted to count the holes in it. He started to walk
away and hummed to himself.

Jessica
rolled her eyes and asked what Nick needed as they headed into her room so she
could access her laptop. “What’s all of this really about Nick?”

He
admitted that his friend Laruen was a target of the MP3 Assassin and that he
wanted to learn everything he could so he could save her. “Right now we’re
holed up in a secret base of sorts…” he looked at her, let out a breath, and
asked if she could keep a secret.

She
nodded, but stopped him before he could continue and told him she was already
aware of his ability.

“You
are?”

She
repeated that she was and mentioned the video of him with Ghost she saw through
REFOIA. Jessica hesitated to ask, but managed to find the words to inquire why
he was with an assassin in the first place.

Nick
told her it was a complex matter, and that he couldn’t get into it then.
“Basically, he’s the one who taught me how to use my ability the way I can
now.”

“Okay,
but weren’t you terrified just being near him?”

He
shook his head and asked why he would be. “Strom isn’t that different from
anyone else.”

“Nick,
he kills people for a living.”

He
reddened and admitted that Strom was guilty of that, but he stood by the belief
that Strom wasn’t as evil as she perceived him to be. “He’s not a bad guy.”

“But
Nick–”

“Jess,”
he stopped her, “Could we just move on?”

She
blinked and slowly agreed. “I’m not sure what you need from me Nick. We ran a
search for the assassin about a month ago and I doubt the information’s changed
at all.”

“I
know.” He scratched the back of his head and asked what she thought he could do
to protect Laruen. “She’s back in Seattle with Strom, and I think she’ll be
fine, but she can’t stay there forever. And even so, if Dalton–the assassin,
ever found us, I’m not sure if I could save her.”

“What
do you mean?”

He
told her about how the charlatan attacked and killed Lauren’s parents, how he
had an opportunity to kill him, but didn’t even try to stop him. “I don’t know
what I’ll do when he actually finds her.”

Jessica
looked away from him and asked whether Lauren had an ability, which Nick told
her she didn’t. “So there’s no way for her to really defend herself, is there?”

He
shook his head, “No, not really.”

“What
about Strom?”

Nick
asked if she heard about the Dáfù attack at the Seattle Art Museum, which she
had, and explained the part the media left out. “Strom was there, with this
group of people I am–well, a group I was associated with, but Dalton attacked
and wounded him.”

She
frowned and asked why it wasn’t in the news. Jessica ran a search for the
Dáfù’s attack of the Seattle Art Museum through REFOIA and it didn’t even have
the information Nick revealed to her. “But he’s injured?”

“Yes.”

“Badly?”

“I
doubt he could hold a gun if one was presented to him,” he admitted.

“Then
why do you think Lauren’s safe?”

He
mentioned that the hideout was well secluded, locked from both the inside and
outside, and that unless someone told Dalton about it, he’d never find it.