Regenesis (Book 1): Impact (9 page)

“This
is the Jacobs residence?”

“Yeah,
what are you here for?” Paul asked.

The
man at the door hesitated, but finally came out and said, “Your son Victor’s
been killed.”

Nick
froze. His hands shook and tears flooded his eyes. He tried to remain standing
but fell to the ground and wept quietly as Paul continued to talk with the
police officer about the details of the incident.

The
officer explained, “He was shot twice at Bothell High School, as was the
school’s principal.”

Paul
cursed and asked, “Do you know who killed him?”

“No,
unfortunately we don’t have many leads or ideas as no one witnessed the
incident.” There was a pause though Nick didn’t hear it over his sobs, but the
officer continued, “I have to ask, do you know of anyone who would have wanted
to kill your son?”

Paul
shook his head, “Who the hell would want to? He was an English teacher. Unless
it was some bastard kid he taught who he gave a shitty grade to, otherwise I
don’t know who killed him.”

The
officer apologized. He mentioned that the body was at their morgue and that
they wanted his permission to perform an autopsy. Paul told the officer it
would be fine. The officer nodded and told him that they would be in touch
shortly.

Paul
shut the door after the man left. He remained silent for a moment before he
finally yelled, “Get in here!”

Nick
hastily wiped his tears away and walked into the room. He tried to control
himself but knew Paul could see the redness in his eyes. Paul told him to walk
with him as he headed to the kitchen for the beer Paul failed to get earlier.
He offered Nick one but Nick refused.

Paul
drank the first one quickly, opened the second bottle, drank half of it and
stopped. He looked at Nick, who stood trembling. He muttered, “You heard then?”

Nick
only nodded.

Paul
glanced away and cursed to himself. He wiped off the lip of the bottle and
offered it to his stepson, though Nick didn’t move. Paul set it on their faded
canary countertop while he took another beer from the fridge and helped
himself.

“It’s
shit,” he continued. “Just shit…”

Nick
watched his stepfather finish another bottle and dash it on their laminate
floor.

“Paul,
wh-what the–”

“Who
the–what kind of bastard off’s a damn English teacher?”

“I-I
don’t kn-kn-know P-Paul. I’m s-sorry.”

Paul
took the rest of the drink he set aside for Nick while he pressed his wide back
against the yellowed refrigerator door and slid to the floor. He wouldn’t stop
shaking his head and he stared despondently at the floor. “What the hell are we
supposed to do now? What in the hell…” he muttered quietly. “No money. No damn
money kid. What are we gonna do kid?”

Nick
stood halted. Paul murmured the words over and over and over with what Nick
thought were diminutive tears in his eyes. Paul shook and spilled his drink
across the shattered amber fragments on the ground.

---*---

4:03 PM

Bothell, Washington

Ian
sat out on the front steps of Drake’s house. He trembled and hardly noticed
Drake drive back up and into the driveway.  The storm whipped rain into his
face, but Ian hardly cared at that point since he was soaked to the bone.
Thunder boomed overhead as Drake got out of his car and ran up to Ian.

He
shouted through the storm, “Ian, what’s wrong?” He walked over to him and
looked at his friend. “You’re soaked,” he said, “Come on, let’s get inside
and–”

“Victor’s
dead.”

Drake
stopped. He looked at Ian, “What are you talking about?”

He
took a wavering breath and repeated his words. “Victor’s dead.”

Drake
took a seat on the steps with him. “What happened?”

Ian
slowly shook his head, “I’m not sure…We were talking, everything was normal,
and then Nick…” he shook his head, “It looked like Nick, I’m sure it was…”

Drake
questioned him, “What about Nick?”

“He
shot him.”

“Nick
shot Victor?” Ian nodded. Drake looked away from him. He gave the situation a
moment of thought and asked, “He looked like Nick?”

“Yes.”

“Did
he stutter?”

Ian
shook his head, “He never said a word.”

“Did
he have his helmet or jacket?”

“No.”

Drake
let out a breath and said, “It wasn’t Nick then.”

Ian
looked at him, “I saw him there Drake, I know–”

“You
don’t know anything,” Drake stopped him. “You’re in shock Ian, you need to calm
down.”

“I
know what I saw Drake,” Ian barked, “He shot Victor and killed principal
Summers as well.”

“Then
why are you alive?”

“I
ran,” he shouted. Ian stood up and took a few steps away from Drake, “I was
terrified I mean Nick had a gun with him and killed two people!”

Lightning
followed immediately by thunder shook both Drake and Ian. Ian nearly screamed,
but maintained what little control he had over himself. Drake remained on the
steps and tried to calm Ian down. “Ian, whatever you think you saw is wrong.
Nick wouldn’t kill his brother; he wouldn’t kill anyone for that matter. He
isn’t capable of something like that.”

Ian
scowled, “How do you know that? What if he’s been–”

“Ian!”
he yelled, “Nick didn’t kill them.”

“Why
are you defending him?”

“Because
I’ve known him almost as long as we’ve known each other and even though Nick’s
got a boat load of troubles, he’d never take it out on his brother.”

“Why
not?”

“Victor
was the only thing in Nick’s life that was able to help him deal with life at
home,” Drake explained. “Killing Victor wouldn’t make sense. If Nick was going
to kill anyone, which he wouldn’t, he would have killed his stepfather Paul.”

Ian
glared at him, “How do you know that?”

“I’ve
seen the way Paul treats Nick,” Drake told him. “If my own father treated me
that way I’d harbor ill will as well, but Nick somehow bears with all of the
constant grief Paul gives him. Besides,  I truly don’t believe Nick is capable
of killing anyone.” Drake wiped the hair out of his face and continued,
“Remember all the times we’d go out camping? He wouldn’t even fish with us
because he didn’t want to have to kill the fish he’d catch. It was the same
reason he’d never go hunting with us. Nick isn’t capable of that level of harm
on any living thing.”

Ian
looked away from Drake. He sighed, and asked, “Then who the hell was that?”

Ian
hardly spoke his last word when a bolt of lightning struck him in Drake’s front
yard. The incident happened in a fraction of a second, and once it was over,
Drake hardly believed it happened.

Ian
fell to the ground and Drake sprinted to his side. Drake tried to wake him but
after a few seconds realized he needed to get Ian to a hospital. He picked Ian
up and got him into his car. Drake didn’t buckle in, check as he rapidly backed
out of his driveway, or make a single stop as he drove to the nearest hospital
he could immediately think of.

---*---

7:10 PM

Kirkland, Washington

Drake
sat hunched forward in a chair in the lobby of the Evergreen Hospital. His
father brought Ian’s mother and sat with her on a sofa opposite Drake, who sat
alongside Jordan. Jordan had only arrived minutes earlier and he reeked of
something Drake recognized as marijuana. He was at the very least coherent,
which relieved Drake. Jordan was the only drug user of their circle of friends
and although none of them rejected him, Drake felt it didn’t reflect well among
their group or for them.

It’d
been hours since Drake brought Ian into the emergency room. Ian seemed hardly
alive at that point, but one of the doctors had informed them that he was
stable and that he was breathing, however the doctor also said that Ian had
slipped into a coma.

“He’s
going to be alright,” Jordan said. Drake looked at him and saw the slight smirk
on his face. “Ian’s gonna walk right out of here as if nothing ever happened,
like we always do whenever something bad happens. It’ll be just like old times,
nothing’s changed. He’ll be fine.”

Drake
nodded and tried to reassure himself of the same feeling. He clutched his phone
in his hand and prayed silently for the display to illuminate and for Nick to
call him. Drake couldn’t get a hold of him. Nick’s phone was off and a part of
Drake believed that he didn’t want to be reached. His brother was dead, and
discovering one of his good friends was comatose on the same day wouldn’t make
matters any better.

Tony
looked over at him and tried to ease his mind. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

Drake
shook his head, “No…no he won’t.”

Jordan
looked puzzled, “Why wouldn’t he?”

Drake
glared at him, “Why do you think?”

Jordan’s
smile faded. He apologized, “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting that he’s…that
Victor’s dead.”

Tony
took a breath and asked Drake if he’d left Nick any messages about what had
happened.

“Yes,
but that was about two hours ago after I called all of you.”

“He’s
most likely grieving Drake,” Tony told him. “We just need to give him some time
and I’m sure he’ll come in a few days.”

“I
know,” he muttered. Drake looked at the doors he felt Ian was beyond and
mumbled, “This all couldn’t have come at a worse time.”

Jordan
got up out of his seat and walked around the room a bit. He briefly glanced at
the magazines the hospital offered on the table, completely ignoring the
children’s magazines and the
People
and
Time
magazines, and
selected an outdated one about foreign cars. He reclaimed his seat and thumbed
through it. Ian’s mother sat a seat away from Tony with her set of scriptures
in hand. She read out of them to keep her mind off the incident and stopped
only to listen to the doctor when he did bring them news, or to pray. Drake’s
father sat with them and had his phone off, which was a rarity. Drake knew his
father needed to remain in contact with Jonathan Vane and others in his company
at a moment’s notice, but to see his dad completely remove himself from his
work and to focus and sacrifice his time for something so personal; it only
reminded Drake of how self-sacrificing his father could be.

Drake
couldn’t sit and wait anymore. He left his chair and walked out of the waiting
room and into the main foyer to call Nick once more.  He called him, let it
ring five times, and it went to voicemail again. Drake sighed. “Nick, it’s
Drake again,” he paused and let out a strained breath, “I’m sorry about your
brother.”

---*---

August 17
^th
,
2029

5:30 AM

Gaza, Palestine

The
morning never came easily for Hariz Shaheen. He lay in his bed alone, tired,
and parched. His stomach felt as if it rubbed against itself, as it had ever
since he was a much younger man, before he met the woman he eventually wed. She
always liked to jest with him about his morning sickness and now that he was
alone he missed those quips.

Hariz
rubbed his dry eyes and once he mustered what little strength he had he removed
the blanket and pulled himself to the edge of his small bed. He rubbed his
rough face with his equally worn and calloused hands. It was quiet through his
home as well as outside. None of his daughters were awake yet from what he
could tell.

He
stood and walked across the cold floor toward the front of his home. Once he
reached his kitchen he found his eldest daughter awake at their kitchen table.
Hariz claimed a drink from his refrigerator and after a moment asked his
daughter why she was awake.

“couldn’t sleep.>”

He
frowned and asked if it was her headaches again. “things?>”

His
daughter, Afifa, nodded, “”

Hariz
took a heavy breath and suggested she see a doctor. “anything like this before, have you?>”

She
shook her head. Hariz looked at her; she winced and beads of sweat perspired on
her forehead. Afifa was suddenly very pale and began to tremble.

“what is it?>”

Her
breathing raced and she kept her eyes shut tight. Hariz noticed sweat trickle
down her face and just as he moved to help her Afifa jumped up and backed away
from the table.

“What is it?>”

Afifa
cried out and was suddenly enveloped in a flash of light that permeated the
walls and fibers of their home. It lingered for a moment before it dissipated.
Hariz found his sight was lost, as was his daughter. He called out for her but
she never gave a reply.

---*---