Okay, been gone a while, but from the looks of things, I'm not the only one. Big deep breath... Okay! New chapter comin' right up! I've tried to make some improvements in this chapter, so tell me how it went!
I rose myself up from where I had been asleep. My bedroom window was open and shining a morning glow on my face, dulling my perceptions. I was sitting upright on my own bed. Mattress, linen sheets, and plush quilt were all accounted for. I looked to my side, expecting to see my wife, Jewel, but her side of the bed was made up.
I looked through the open door of the room and past the hall where I saw a figure pass in and out of view. Slowly, for I was still weak with drowsiness, I slid my legs out until my feet dangled freely. Supporting myself with my arms, I placed both feet firmly on the floor and stood. Small, indistinguishable impressions were left in the soft carpet as I made my way out of the room and past the unadorned walls of the hallway. I could see her walk across the doorway from one side of the kitchen to the other, in sight and out again. Soon, I had stepped onto the tile flooring myself.
I looked about. Counters were lined with dirty pots and pans, flowers rested upon the table, and the figure of a woman with her back to me was pouring coffee into a yellow mug, auburn hair hanging loose. She turned, and a bright white smile lit up her face.
“Well, good morning, sleepyhead!” She walked over to where I was as I returned her smile. I wrapped my arms around her neck and kissed her gently on the lips. She lifted the drink. “Coffee?” My fingers closed around the mug, and she loosened her grip.
“Thank you,” I said gratefully as she turned back to the machine for her own cup. I sat in a chair and stared out the window into our garden. The smooth, brown wood felt good on my wrist as I set my arms on the table.
“You had quite a restless night,” she said, coming to join me. She took her seat across from me. “Have any bad dreams?” she asked.
Images flashed in my mind at once, though not as one would ordinarily think they would. They intruded upon my mind until they were all I could see. No more could I see Jewel. In her place, I saw a boxed room filled with an eerie white light, and there was darkness—terrible, unrelenting darkness—suspending cold, icy eyes. I stared at them, terrified. They suddenly swelled, and a roar pierced through the vision thoroughly shaking me. It melted away until the only thing left was my wife, staring at me as if in reminder to her unanswered question.
“Yeah,” I said uneasily, lifting the mug to my lips. “Bad dreams.”
“Well, in that case, I’m sorry I let you sleep so late,” she said in heartfelt apology. She grasped my hand affectionately. It felt so warm, so comfortable, and I squeezed it fondly.
I looked outside to try and see how high the sun was, but it was nowhere to be found. “What time is it?”
“Nearly ten,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink.
I nearly stood up, frantic. “Shouldn’t I be at work right now?!”
She squeezed my hand tighter and shook her head as she swallowed. “It’s your day off, remember?” She chuckled. "You're awfully jumpy this morning." At once I felt more at ease.
“Such strange dreams, they were,” I muttered to myself, trying to remember certain aspects as one often does after waking up. I couldn’t seem to recall anything though. However, one thought, or sound rather, that did well up in me was that of two terrified wails that seemed to come from far off. They seemed somehow... vaguely familiar. I felt as though I knew the people to whom those cries belonged, and needed to help them.
My mind clicked back. “Where are the kids?” I asked.
Jewel shot me an odd glance. “What?”
“Dianne’s kids, where are they?” I said anxiously. This time, I did stand up. I looked about myself confoundedly as though they should be walking into the room at any moment.
Her face did not show any comprehension of the question, but worry began crowding out curiosity. “Kyle, who are you talking about?”
The cries grew louder and I seemed to be able to locate their point of origin now. Ignoring Jewel, I scurried to the parlor. “They’re outside.” I hurried my pace and was soon wrenching open the doors to the patio.
“Kyle!” Jewel called after me, but I didn’t pay any heed to her. However, no sooner had my feet met grass than the voices subsided. Was I going insane?
I thought hard. Something wasn't right. Something was… missing. The Pokémon! I though. Where are they? Back in the house I went, all but forgetting the thoughts which had occupied me only a moment before. I looked around the room and back towards the kitchen.
Jewel grabbed my wrists and led me back towards the table. “Honey,” she said pleadingly, clearly shaken by my behavior. “What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
I was going to explain it to her, going to tell her what was wrong, how nothing was making sense. Didn't she see it herself? Shouldn't she sense it already? But then I remembered it. I broke free of her grasp and staggered backward, shaking my head. She was frightened, oh how she looked frightened.
I took a few moments to breathe.
“What!?” she begged of me.
I looked at her sorrowfully, not wanting to think of it any more, but it was too late.
“Jewel,” I said. “I'm not supposed to be here... that is to say… I'm… not.” I lost myself in a daze. “This isn’t… this can’t be…”
Instantaneously, the wails erupted again, but now they were in the room directly behind me. I turned, caught completely off guard, but the room was empty. The screaming continued, but a third voice had joined them. I whirled to face Jewel. I took a few steps back, for though it was still her, Jewel was almost unrecognizable. Her mouth was wide open, and her face contorted as if she were in great pain. She was screaming as I had heard her scream only once before.
I knew that face; I knew those sounds of panic. Rushing forward, the only thought going through my mind was that I would save her this time. I was at her side now and grabbed her hands in mine.
Those hands however, were jerked away from me the moment I touched them. Her whole body was flung backward through counter, cabinet, and wall into a void of black. It happened so suddenly that my mind at first rejected it altogether. The gaping whole she left looked bent at the edges as of metal when it is torn. As I stood motionless, the noises continued their haunted cry and the hole grew larger, enveloping more of the room. Appliances, wallpaper, and marble slabs were dented and rolled back into the blackness as if they were nothing more than tin foil, but they were not rolled back smoothly and quietly. Rather, they were viciously and jerkily ripped with the sound of creaking steel. Noise—it was coming from everywhere: screaming, ripping, shattering, creaking… I even heard a howling wind that pulled me towards the darkness.
I ran from the room as it began to shrink into nothingness and tried to escape through the open parlor doors. These swung shut of their own accord before I reached them, effectively trapping me. I pounded my fists against the glass, hoping to break through, but I could not even crack it. Before I knew what was happening, the ground beneath my feet gave way and I clung to the door handle for dear life. I watched, horrified as my world melted back. The handle bent one way, then another, and wrenched itself free from me. My last glimpse was of the blue sky outside the window, but that too folded back until there was nothing more to see.
All disappeared from sight, thought, and consciousness, but the screams stayed on in a horrid echo. A rugged substance seemed to press into my side and face as the rest of me was suddenly chilled.
The hollow feeling of falling filled my chest as I was swept into a state of exposure and vulnerability.
My body lurched upward with a gasping cry, and I bolted up, legs wobbling. Gravity swayed between that of my dream and that of this world and steadily was brought to a still. John and Heath looked up at me for a moment, but returned to whatever was occupying them upon finding I was in no real need of assistance.
My body ached with the feeling one has after sleeping on the ground, and I shook my numb arm in an attempt to wake it up. It didn’t take long for my senses to get a grip once more. One of the first things to hit me was a small pang in my stomach telling me I was hungry. I glanced at the two men, thought about it, and looked elsewhere, deciding that any contact with them that could be avoided ought to be.
To my left was a small area of the room filled with two metal cabinets, a wooden cabinet, and a miniature refrigerator. I wrapped myself in my blanket for warmth and trod over. I decided to look through the cabinets first and see what each contained before taking something for myself.
I grabbed the handle of the metal one to the far right and pulled it open. I shut it almost immediately, eyes wide. Inside was a massive arsenal of guns, small and large, many orb-shaped objects, and one wall even held an assortment of knives. Had I known more at the time about these things, I might have recognized them as military grade weaponry. I decided in a hurry not to look through the second metal case, but I did have the courage to search the wooden one. The result was and apple, a bag of miniature muffins, and a bottle of water. With this scavenging victory, I retreated to the couch on which I had slept without looking through the fridge.
The muffins were sweet and sticky, but not at all in a good way, and I only ate two out of the three, washing it down with the water. I looked down to my side. Both of my Pokéballs sat there, glaring at me, willing themselves to be set free. At that point, I decided that there was no more putting it off. I picked one up and pressed the button.
Persian materialized in a beam of red. This, unlike all of my previous morning activity, got the attention of the other two men. The cat materialized, and I prepared for the worst.
Unfortunately, this is exactly what I received.
The first thing she did upon emerging was lash out with great swipes of her paws. I guessed at once that she had been let out at some point during my imprisonment. She bared her teeth and let loose a blood-curdling cat-scream. I fell back at once into the couch, and John and Heath both dropped what they were doing to come to my aid. Since she missed with her first strikes, she ended up nearly on top of me, one forearm on ear side, and hissed to try and intimidate me. I was horrified, for never in all her years had I seen Persian act this way, but her eyes are what really got to me. They were angry, fierce, and even wild. I was afraid that she wouldn't know who I was, and that would be the end of me then and there. Fortunately, her eyes softened once she got a good look at me. Her mouth closed, and she cocked her head to one side.
"Persian?" I asked, tentatively. She licked my face, and the tension loosed its hold on my body. "Yeah," I said quietly, rubbing her back. "I missed you too."
"You alright?" John asked.
"Yeah," I replied, not as though I thought he cared.
In a matter of hours, both of the Pokémon were out and seemed to have their wits back about them. I particularly thought that Persian, who was never comfortable around strangers or strange places, was doing well. She was a bundle of nerves, to be sure, but a contained bundle of nerves. She would walk slowly around the room, sniffing each piece of furniture, every wire—at least I’d trained her not to bite them, and both the new people. She’d cautiously approach Heath or John and then leap back the moment they made the slightest movement.
Porygon, however, was not so shy, or if it was, it was far more curious. Each new inch was something to examine, learn about, or bash into repeatedly with its head—an odd habit; we never quite figured out why it did it. It seemed most satisfied watching the two men who were working diligently at their mess of wires and screens.
John owned two Pokémon, a Magnezone and a Pidgeot. I learned that the two would spend most of their time topside unless it rained. Pidgeot would come in through the opening in the roof when that happened, but Magnezone preferred the helicopter hangar. I hadn't seen either of them yet, but John had told me all about them. Whatever kind of man he was, his Pokemon were his companions, and he cared for them very much.
Heath didn’t have any Pokémon, unless one counted his “understanding” with Lugia. It was still amazing to me. How could he look at that creature without seeing the same thing everyone else sees? But then, Heath gave no indication of being any kind of normal. I wasn't quite sure what the situation was with Lugia, but I was going to find out.
As strange as it might seem, I wanted to see her again. As long as I knew she wasn’t going to kill me (supposing Heath was telling the truth, and supposing he knew as much as he thought he did), my fear was somewhat dissipated. After all, how often does one get to live in close proximity with an avian legend?
By midday, Heath was sitting at a desk inputting what I recognized to be a code for some sort of tracing signal on one of their computers. They had probably stolen the lot of them. John has messing with the computer’s wires cutting and splicing to a set against the wall that ran along it all the way to the hole in the ceiling.
“What are you doing?” I asked. Aside from what I could make out on the screens, I hadn't a clue as to what they'd been so busy about this morning—I'd always been more of a software person than a hardware one.
“Just setting up for a meeting,” John replied cheerfully. His strong back arched as he leaned down to closer inspect his work.
A wide eyed Persian walked to my side, and I scratched her lovingly between the ears. “With who?”
“A friend of ours who’s been helping us find the System sent us a wave with a message to meet him,” Heath said without turning. “He wouldn’t have done so if it wasn’t urgent.”
“Why not?” As much as I didn’t like being caught up in it, I was curious about this whole line of work.
Heath continued typing as he spoke. “One thing you always need to keep in mind is that when you are a hacker, someone is usually trying to hack you."
Clang!
The monitor rustled, and I shot a glance at Porygon. It lowered its head and hit the desk again.
Clang!
"Hey! Stop it, you… duck… thing!" Heath said, very annoyed and at a loss for description.
"Polly," I said. "Over here." The Pokemon gave the desk one last smack before reluctantly hovering over.
John chuckled. "Little menace," Heath said under his breath. "So, as I was saying, making contact is very risky. What we’re doing here,” he motioned to all the equipment, “we have to redo every time we power up. It’s so that we never use the exact same method twice; makes it nearly impossible to track.”
“You ready?” John said, looking at Heath.
“Just about.” He typed in a final line. “Okay, hit it!”
The wires John had been working with ran through an upright lever before continuing up the wall. As soon as he got the green light, he switched it down, and Heath pressed the execute button.
The screen went black; at first, only a single line of text appeared at its top.
SEARCHING FOR SIGNAL… … … … … … … …
We waited for it to do something. Heath started tapping his knuckles on the desk.
SEARCHING FOR SIGNAL… … … … … … …
… … … … … … … … … … … SIGNAL FOUND!
LOCATING SOURCE… … … … … … …
… … … … … … … … SOURCE LOCATED!
RESULT…
ID: RICHARDPOE3488902CORNERSTONEHARDWARE
LOCATION: 34893 IVORY LANE, CIANWOOD
“That’s him!” Heath said triumphantly. He scribbled the address onto a slip of paper and in seconds told John, “Shut it down.”
John switched the lever back and unplugged the wires from the main computer, including the battery, so it powered off. Heath grabbed his pack and a pistol which I eyed warily.
“Come on, we don’t want to be late,” John said as he passed me, grabbing a long bag.
I watched the two of them as they headed for the second exit. “I’m…” I started to say.
“Oh,” Heath shouted back as he screwed on a silencer. “Bring your Pokémon. You never know what may happen.”
Not even bothering to protest (for what point could there possibly have been in it), I grabbed my Pokéballs , withdrew Persian and Polly, and sighed. Here we go.
It wasn’t my first time in the tunnel, but the previous venture had been made in haste without a second glance at the passage itself. It was circular in shape and craggy in texture. I was no expert and didn’t know if that meant it had been dug out or worn away by erosion; I could care less. Everything was black, the most foreboding black I had ever seen. Even the water looked the same dark shade, because there was nothing but more of the same underneath and above it.
All was still except for the hushed ping of water droplets, the steady of running of water beside us, and the distant roar of far away waterfalls. The awe-striking song that I'd heard the night before—Lugia’s song— from far off in the labyrinth would often fill you to the top with sound and then pierce your every conscious nerve when the beast broke the surface of the water. Luckily, this sensation only occurred in short intervals. The only other Pokémon to be found were the occasional Dewgong or curious Seel playfully splashing each other or a Zubat or Golbat drifting overhead, invisible in the unlit abyss. The two told me it would be a bad idea to point a light up there; they didn’t take kindly to being disturbed.
After about ten minutes of steady walking, our path became illuminated, not by more florescent glows or yellow glares, but by real light—sunlight! As we approached the exit, I could see that a fairly high, but not impassable, wall of rock separated the fresh water current inside the island from the waves on the other side.
The sun, which first promised to be a welcome relief, instantly turned to glaring nuisance. My eyes simply refused to adjust, and the rhythmic waves, tossing its light every which way it willed, didn’t help matters in the slightest. Through squinting eyes, I could catch glimpses of a small motorboat, held in a pocket of the now very familiar rock formations and chained to the island. I managed to block most of the light with a cupped hand and clambered into it. Within moments, the boat was maneuvering out of reach of the island and into the cantankerous arms of the waves.
Though I couldn’t look up, a bird’s cry told me that John’s Pidgeot was following overhead.
We closed in on the shore and docked in Cianwood harbor along many other privately owned sea craft of varying shapes and sizes. Heath began to tie The Flicker, for that was the boat’s name, to the small wooden walkway.
"This is one of the reserved docks," John told me, "for private boats. In the harbor's books, this station is owned by Dr. Joseph Burgam. We wire the money from his account to the harbor whenever payments need to be made, then we erase the transfer from the good doctor’s computer and tack on a few dollars to a few of his other purchases to make up for the money loss. Since we set his PC to filter the notification messages as junk mail, he'll never know."
“And we get this choice piece of bound planks and wooden stakes,” Heath pitched in dryly.
There was a small pad on a stand sitting at the end of the dock with a long cable running out of it. Heath took the end of the cable and plugged it into a slot on the nose of the boat. He then typed in a few digits on a numeric keypad. The responsive musical note told him it was locked.
Heath saw me eyeing him curiously. "It's a security system used on nearly all docks nowadays." He explained. "The station creates a connection to the boat through the wire. If the connection is cut or the engine is started, it sets off the alarm."
“Now then, Gentlemen,” Heath’s eyes began to sparkle with anticipation, “let’s go pay Mr. Poe a visit.”
Mr. Poe’s house—or it may not have been his house, I never knew—was some ways off from the main town. Since we first had to find out where it was and then travel the whole way on foot because “we couldn’t risk a car,” it was a very long and dull trip. The sun was already melting on the tops of the mountains beyond Cianwood by the time we were there. You even had to follow a long gravel path past a circle of trees that hid it from the main road. It was, in every possible way, remote.
As we approached the building, Hike remained perfectly calm, but if you could look beyond his face, deeper, there was unmistakable excitement. He truly believed that behind this door was something that would be crucial in finding the System. Every piece of information found is like a treasure in and of itself, no one part less important than the whole.
I can’t imagine that what we found was what he expected, but, if I ever learned anything about Heath Vice, it is that what he expects and what he prepares for do not have to resemble one another in the slightest.
The hinges of the door let us past without a whine of greeting. The lights were off, everything was still. The room was finely furnished in all the modern fixings… but untouched. It was as if we were in a museum, and the ghostly stillness whispered warnings from the walls.
We walked into the kitchen, just as still as the entryway. Tiles gleamed with gold from the window. A half-consumed glass of milk lay on the table next to a folded newspaper open to the crossword page. They were signs of life, but still not comforting. It appeared hastily abandoned.
The kitchen had a door leading to a small office. As the door swung open, the sight I took in is one I shall always remember, because that is where I began to see how much danger all of us were truly in.
The light was on, and a man—bound, gagged, and blindfolded—was sitting upright in a chair. Another man was standing a few feet from him clad in white and sporting a head of silky black hair. His face was calm but held a nearly smirking disposition.
“Welcome,” he said casually. “It took you so long to get here after I heard the door shut that I began thinking you had attempted to run off.” The three of us stood silently, just through the door. He raised an eyebrow playfully. “Didn’t you know we were here?”
Heath answered. “Once we entered, yes, but I figured you would have rigged the door with explosives if you had meant to kill us.”
“Ah,” He said, smiling (needless to say, a smile never came close to touching my face). “Spoken like the man I was hoping to meet. You are correct, and, as you can see, I am not even armed. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. Not very fair, as I already know who you are.”
“I think it’s a fair bet you don’t know me as well as you think,” Heath replied, unflinching.
The man ignored him. “I am Legion; that is all you ever need know. And you are Heath Vice, John York, and …ah! I can only assume that this is Kyle Wade.” His eyes met mine and I shivered. “How delightful!” He addressed us as a group again, “You three are probably wondering where you slipped, no doubt.”
“It teased us a bit,” John replied straight-faced, as Heath had. I was doing my best not to get lost.
“It was your relation to our dear Richard Poe,” he said motioning to the unmoving man. “We have been monitoring him for some time now, but as soon as he set up this meeting with you…” he chuckled gleefully. ”Tell me, how could you expect us to pass that up?"
"We have been looking for you everywhere, and—at last—here you are!” He looked at me again. I must have been shaking, for he next asked, “Are you afraid?”
“Aren’t you?” Heath replied quickly, possibly afraid I'd open my mouth. “Afraid that we’ll kill you, I mean?”
He shook his head. “I have already told you: I’m unarmed. We mean to take you in peacefully. You must have realized that there are men surrounding this building as we speak. I know that you aren’t foolish enough to…”
The man never finished his sentence. With a short click, a perfectly round hole sat between his eyes where skin had been an instant before. It quickly spat out blood as the lifeless body fell backward with impact. He crashed into a potted plant and lay on the floor.
Heath lowered his gun and slipped it back into a holster hidden by his jacket. “Like I said, sir," he told the dead man on the ground. "You don’t know me.” Immediately, he bent over and began searching him. “John,” he said softly over his shoulder, “get Mr. Poe’s hard drive. Kyle, untie our friend.” I was still shell-shocked, and stared into the gaping wound that continued supplying a steady flow of red to the carpet. Heath turned his head and repeated sternly, “Kyle!”
I jumped back to my senses and walked to the bound man. I took off the blindfold. His eyes frightened me when I first saw them. They were hazy, but still moved with some sort of force behind them.
I removed the gag, exposing bloodstained lips. A raspy voice cried out to me, “Pa- a- per!” At first I didn’t understand. I thought he wanted me to help him write something down, but I couldn't be sure.
“What do you…“ I stated to say.
“NO!” the voice wheezed. “Th- the c- c- cr-“ blood spurted onto his chin. “Crossw-“ He gasped and his eyes widened.
I tried to think. Crossw- Crossw- Crossword! Paper! The newspaper! I turned and looked at the kitchen, then back at the dying man.
“Quick,” I told Heath, who had just gotten up, “Help me get him upright.” I reached behind him and quickly drew back my hand. It was coated in blood! Heath bent him over exposing a scarlet-soaked back. He had been bleeding to death the entire time! A final breath of air spilled from his lips as the man became limp. I drew back, my gag reflex taking hold of me. I spun into the hall and leaned over.
John saw what we were looking at. “Hurry,” he told us with urgency. “He’s already dead. If we have everything, then we have to get out of here. We’re already going to have a tough time getting out as it is, and we don’t want to have to get past any more armed agents than we have to.”
I knew he was right, but found it hard to move. “Crossword,” I said, straightening up. “He wants us to get the crossword.”
“We’ll grab it on the way out,” Heath said. He leaned the body back against the chair, taking in the dull emptiness emitting from the eyes. He slid his fingers across the face, pulling the eyelids down. Without any final word or nod in reverence, the three of us departed as quickly as possible from the room leaving the two corpses once known as Legion and Richard Poe.
So there you go. I'm not sure how quickly chapters will be coming, as I'm starting work on a rewrite of my origional fic to be posted here at some point. However, I'm still planning on finishing this, so not to worry. Please read and review, and I'll try and respond to your comments!
Good Fortune! ;206;
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File 03: Contact
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File 03: Contact
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I rose myself up from where I had been asleep. My bedroom window was open and shining a morning glow on my face, dulling my perceptions. I was sitting upright on my own bed. Mattress, linen sheets, and plush quilt were all accounted for. I looked to my side, expecting to see my wife, Jewel, but her side of the bed was made up.
I looked through the open door of the room and past the hall where I saw a figure pass in and out of view. Slowly, for I was still weak with drowsiness, I slid my legs out until my feet dangled freely. Supporting myself with my arms, I placed both feet firmly on the floor and stood. Small, indistinguishable impressions were left in the soft carpet as I made my way out of the room and past the unadorned walls of the hallway. I could see her walk across the doorway from one side of the kitchen to the other, in sight and out again. Soon, I had stepped onto the tile flooring myself.
I looked about. Counters were lined with dirty pots and pans, flowers rested upon the table, and the figure of a woman with her back to me was pouring coffee into a yellow mug, auburn hair hanging loose. She turned, and a bright white smile lit up her face.
“Well, good morning, sleepyhead!” She walked over to where I was as I returned her smile. I wrapped my arms around her neck and kissed her gently on the lips. She lifted the drink. “Coffee?” My fingers closed around the mug, and she loosened her grip.
“Thank you,” I said gratefully as she turned back to the machine for her own cup. I sat in a chair and stared out the window into our garden. The smooth, brown wood felt good on my wrist as I set my arms on the table.
“You had quite a restless night,” she said, coming to join me. She took her seat across from me. “Have any bad dreams?” she asked.
Images flashed in my mind at once, though not as one would ordinarily think they would. They intruded upon my mind until they were all I could see. No more could I see Jewel. In her place, I saw a boxed room filled with an eerie white light, and there was darkness—terrible, unrelenting darkness—suspending cold, icy eyes. I stared at them, terrified. They suddenly swelled, and a roar pierced through the vision thoroughly shaking me. It melted away until the only thing left was my wife, staring at me as if in reminder to her unanswered question.
“Yeah,” I said uneasily, lifting the mug to my lips. “Bad dreams.”
“Well, in that case, I’m sorry I let you sleep so late,” she said in heartfelt apology. She grasped my hand affectionately. It felt so warm, so comfortable, and I squeezed it fondly.
I looked outside to try and see how high the sun was, but it was nowhere to be found. “What time is it?”
“Nearly ten,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink.
I nearly stood up, frantic. “Shouldn’t I be at work right now?!”
She squeezed my hand tighter and shook her head as she swallowed. “It’s your day off, remember?” She chuckled. "You're awfully jumpy this morning." At once I felt more at ease.
“Such strange dreams, they were,” I muttered to myself, trying to remember certain aspects as one often does after waking up. I couldn’t seem to recall anything though. However, one thought, or sound rather, that did well up in me was that of two terrified wails that seemed to come from far off. They seemed somehow... vaguely familiar. I felt as though I knew the people to whom those cries belonged, and needed to help them.
My mind clicked back. “Where are the kids?” I asked.
Jewel shot me an odd glance. “What?”
“Dianne’s kids, where are they?” I said anxiously. This time, I did stand up. I looked about myself confoundedly as though they should be walking into the room at any moment.
Her face did not show any comprehension of the question, but worry began crowding out curiosity. “Kyle, who are you talking about?”
The cries grew louder and I seemed to be able to locate their point of origin now. Ignoring Jewel, I scurried to the parlor. “They’re outside.” I hurried my pace and was soon wrenching open the doors to the patio.
“Kyle!” Jewel called after me, but I didn’t pay any heed to her. However, no sooner had my feet met grass than the voices subsided. Was I going insane?
I thought hard. Something wasn't right. Something was… missing. The Pokémon! I though. Where are they? Back in the house I went, all but forgetting the thoughts which had occupied me only a moment before. I looked around the room and back towards the kitchen.
Jewel grabbed my wrists and led me back towards the table. “Honey,” she said pleadingly, clearly shaken by my behavior. “What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
I was going to explain it to her, going to tell her what was wrong, how nothing was making sense. Didn't she see it herself? Shouldn't she sense it already? But then I remembered it. I broke free of her grasp and staggered backward, shaking my head. She was frightened, oh how she looked frightened.
I took a few moments to breathe.
“What!?” she begged of me.
I looked at her sorrowfully, not wanting to think of it any more, but it was too late.
“Jewel,” I said. “I'm not supposed to be here... that is to say… I'm… not.” I lost myself in a daze. “This isn’t… this can’t be…”
Instantaneously, the wails erupted again, but now they were in the room directly behind me. I turned, caught completely off guard, but the room was empty. The screaming continued, but a third voice had joined them. I whirled to face Jewel. I took a few steps back, for though it was still her, Jewel was almost unrecognizable. Her mouth was wide open, and her face contorted as if she were in great pain. She was screaming as I had heard her scream only once before.
I knew that face; I knew those sounds of panic. Rushing forward, the only thought going through my mind was that I would save her this time. I was at her side now and grabbed her hands in mine.
Those hands however, were jerked away from me the moment I touched them. Her whole body was flung backward through counter, cabinet, and wall into a void of black. It happened so suddenly that my mind at first rejected it altogether. The gaping whole she left looked bent at the edges as of metal when it is torn. As I stood motionless, the noises continued their haunted cry and the hole grew larger, enveloping more of the room. Appliances, wallpaper, and marble slabs were dented and rolled back into the blackness as if they were nothing more than tin foil, but they were not rolled back smoothly and quietly. Rather, they were viciously and jerkily ripped with the sound of creaking steel. Noise—it was coming from everywhere: screaming, ripping, shattering, creaking… I even heard a howling wind that pulled me towards the darkness.
I ran from the room as it began to shrink into nothingness and tried to escape through the open parlor doors. These swung shut of their own accord before I reached them, effectively trapping me. I pounded my fists against the glass, hoping to break through, but I could not even crack it. Before I knew what was happening, the ground beneath my feet gave way and I clung to the door handle for dear life. I watched, horrified as my world melted back. The handle bent one way, then another, and wrenched itself free from me. My last glimpse was of the blue sky outside the window, but that too folded back until there was nothing more to see.
All disappeared from sight, thought, and consciousness, but the screams stayed on in a horrid echo. A rugged substance seemed to press into my side and face as the rest of me was suddenly chilled.
All vanished…
All was meaningless…
All was meaningless…
The hollow feeling of falling filled my chest as I was swept into a state of exposure and vulnerability.
But the screams stayed…
Those screams…
I landed.
Those screams…
I landed.
My body lurched upward with a gasping cry, and I bolted up, legs wobbling. Gravity swayed between that of my dream and that of this world and steadily was brought to a still. John and Heath looked up at me for a moment, but returned to whatever was occupying them upon finding I was in no real need of assistance.
My body ached with the feeling one has after sleeping on the ground, and I shook my numb arm in an attempt to wake it up. It didn’t take long for my senses to get a grip once more. One of the first things to hit me was a small pang in my stomach telling me I was hungry. I glanced at the two men, thought about it, and looked elsewhere, deciding that any contact with them that could be avoided ought to be.
To my left was a small area of the room filled with two metal cabinets, a wooden cabinet, and a miniature refrigerator. I wrapped myself in my blanket for warmth and trod over. I decided to look through the cabinets first and see what each contained before taking something for myself.
I grabbed the handle of the metal one to the far right and pulled it open. I shut it almost immediately, eyes wide. Inside was a massive arsenal of guns, small and large, many orb-shaped objects, and one wall even held an assortment of knives. Had I known more at the time about these things, I might have recognized them as military grade weaponry. I decided in a hurry not to look through the second metal case, but I did have the courage to search the wooden one. The result was and apple, a bag of miniature muffins, and a bottle of water. With this scavenging victory, I retreated to the couch on which I had slept without looking through the fridge.
The muffins were sweet and sticky, but not at all in a good way, and I only ate two out of the three, washing it down with the water. I looked down to my side. Both of my Pokéballs sat there, glaring at me, willing themselves to be set free. At that point, I decided that there was no more putting it off. I picked one up and pressed the button.
Persian materialized in a beam of red. This, unlike all of my previous morning activity, got the attention of the other two men. The cat materialized, and I prepared for the worst.
Unfortunately, this is exactly what I received.
The first thing she did upon emerging was lash out with great swipes of her paws. I guessed at once that she had been let out at some point during my imprisonment. She bared her teeth and let loose a blood-curdling cat-scream. I fell back at once into the couch, and John and Heath both dropped what they were doing to come to my aid. Since she missed with her first strikes, she ended up nearly on top of me, one forearm on ear side, and hissed to try and intimidate me. I was horrified, for never in all her years had I seen Persian act this way, but her eyes are what really got to me. They were angry, fierce, and even wild. I was afraid that she wouldn't know who I was, and that would be the end of me then and there. Fortunately, her eyes softened once she got a good look at me. Her mouth closed, and she cocked her head to one side.
"Persian?" I asked, tentatively. She licked my face, and the tension loosed its hold on my body. "Yeah," I said quietly, rubbing her back. "I missed you too."
"You alright?" John asked.
"Yeah," I replied, not as though I thought he cared.
In a matter of hours, both of the Pokémon were out and seemed to have their wits back about them. I particularly thought that Persian, who was never comfortable around strangers or strange places, was doing well. She was a bundle of nerves, to be sure, but a contained bundle of nerves. She would walk slowly around the room, sniffing each piece of furniture, every wire—at least I’d trained her not to bite them, and both the new people. She’d cautiously approach Heath or John and then leap back the moment they made the slightest movement.
Porygon, however, was not so shy, or if it was, it was far more curious. Each new inch was something to examine, learn about, or bash into repeatedly with its head—an odd habit; we never quite figured out why it did it. It seemed most satisfied watching the two men who were working diligently at their mess of wires and screens.
John owned two Pokémon, a Magnezone and a Pidgeot. I learned that the two would spend most of their time topside unless it rained. Pidgeot would come in through the opening in the roof when that happened, but Magnezone preferred the helicopter hangar. I hadn't seen either of them yet, but John had told me all about them. Whatever kind of man he was, his Pokemon were his companions, and he cared for them very much.
Heath didn’t have any Pokémon, unless one counted his “understanding” with Lugia. It was still amazing to me. How could he look at that creature without seeing the same thing everyone else sees? But then, Heath gave no indication of being any kind of normal. I wasn't quite sure what the situation was with Lugia, but I was going to find out.
As strange as it might seem, I wanted to see her again. As long as I knew she wasn’t going to kill me (supposing Heath was telling the truth, and supposing he knew as much as he thought he did), my fear was somewhat dissipated. After all, how often does one get to live in close proximity with an avian legend?
By midday, Heath was sitting at a desk inputting what I recognized to be a code for some sort of tracing signal on one of their computers. They had probably stolen the lot of them. John has messing with the computer’s wires cutting and splicing to a set against the wall that ran along it all the way to the hole in the ceiling.
“What are you doing?” I asked. Aside from what I could make out on the screens, I hadn't a clue as to what they'd been so busy about this morning—I'd always been more of a software person than a hardware one.
“Just setting up for a meeting,” John replied cheerfully. His strong back arched as he leaned down to closer inspect his work.
A wide eyed Persian walked to my side, and I scratched her lovingly between the ears. “With who?”
“A friend of ours who’s been helping us find the System sent us a wave with a message to meet him,” Heath said without turning. “He wouldn’t have done so if it wasn’t urgent.”
“Why not?” As much as I didn’t like being caught up in it, I was curious about this whole line of work.
Heath continued typing as he spoke. “One thing you always need to keep in mind is that when you are a hacker, someone is usually trying to hack you."
Clang!
The monitor rustled, and I shot a glance at Porygon. It lowered its head and hit the desk again.
Clang!
"Hey! Stop it, you… duck… thing!" Heath said, very annoyed and at a loss for description.
"Polly," I said. "Over here." The Pokemon gave the desk one last smack before reluctantly hovering over.
John chuckled. "Little menace," Heath said under his breath. "So, as I was saying, making contact is very risky. What we’re doing here,” he motioned to all the equipment, “we have to redo every time we power up. It’s so that we never use the exact same method twice; makes it nearly impossible to track.”
“You ready?” John said, looking at Heath.
“Just about.” He typed in a final line. “Okay, hit it!”
The wires John had been working with ran through an upright lever before continuing up the wall. As soon as he got the green light, he switched it down, and Heath pressed the execute button.
The screen went black; at first, only a single line of text appeared at its top.
SEARCHING FOR SIGNAL… … … … … … … …
We waited for it to do something. Heath started tapping his knuckles on the desk.
SEARCHING FOR SIGNAL… … … … … … …
… … … … … … … … … … … SIGNAL FOUND!
LOCATING SOURCE… … … … … … …
… … … … … … … … SOURCE LOCATED!
RESULT…
ID: RICHARDPOE3488902CORNERSTONEHARDWARE
LOCATION: 34893 IVORY LANE, CIANWOOD
“That’s him!” Heath said triumphantly. He scribbled the address onto a slip of paper and in seconds told John, “Shut it down.”
John switched the lever back and unplugged the wires from the main computer, including the battery, so it powered off. Heath grabbed his pack and a pistol which I eyed warily.
“Come on, we don’t want to be late,” John said as he passed me, grabbing a long bag.
I watched the two of them as they headed for the second exit. “I’m…” I started to say.
“Oh,” Heath shouted back as he screwed on a silencer. “Bring your Pokémon. You never know what may happen.”
Not even bothering to protest (for what point could there possibly have been in it), I grabbed my Pokéballs , withdrew Persian and Polly, and sighed. Here we go.
---__-------__--___--__--_--_-------------------
----|__--\_/-|__---|--|__-|-\/-|---In the Tunnel----
------___|--|--___|--|--|__-|----|----------------------
----|__--\_/-|__---|--|__-|-\/-|---In the Tunnel----
------___|--|--___|--|--|__-|----|----------------------
It wasn’t my first time in the tunnel, but the previous venture had been made in haste without a second glance at the passage itself. It was circular in shape and craggy in texture. I was no expert and didn’t know if that meant it had been dug out or worn away by erosion; I could care less. Everything was black, the most foreboding black I had ever seen. Even the water looked the same dark shade, because there was nothing but more of the same underneath and above it.
All was still except for the hushed ping of water droplets, the steady of running of water beside us, and the distant roar of far away waterfalls. The awe-striking song that I'd heard the night before—Lugia’s song— from far off in the labyrinth would often fill you to the top with sound and then pierce your every conscious nerve when the beast broke the surface of the water. Luckily, this sensation only occurred in short intervals. The only other Pokémon to be found were the occasional Dewgong or curious Seel playfully splashing each other or a Zubat or Golbat drifting overhead, invisible in the unlit abyss. The two told me it would be a bad idea to point a light up there; they didn’t take kindly to being disturbed.
After about ten minutes of steady walking, our path became illuminated, not by more florescent glows or yellow glares, but by real light—sunlight! As we approached the exit, I could see that a fairly high, but not impassable, wall of rock separated the fresh water current inside the island from the waves on the other side.
The sun, which first promised to be a welcome relief, instantly turned to glaring nuisance. My eyes simply refused to adjust, and the rhythmic waves, tossing its light every which way it willed, didn’t help matters in the slightest. Through squinting eyes, I could catch glimpses of a small motorboat, held in a pocket of the now very familiar rock formations and chained to the island. I managed to block most of the light with a cupped hand and clambered into it. Within moments, the boat was maneuvering out of reach of the island and into the cantankerous arms of the waves.
Though I couldn’t look up, a bird’s cry told me that John’s Pidgeot was following overhead.
We closed in on the shore and docked in Cianwood harbor along many other privately owned sea craft of varying shapes and sizes. Heath began to tie The Flicker, for that was the boat’s name, to the small wooden walkway.
"This is one of the reserved docks," John told me, "for private boats. In the harbor's books, this station is owned by Dr. Joseph Burgam. We wire the money from his account to the harbor whenever payments need to be made, then we erase the transfer from the good doctor’s computer and tack on a few dollars to a few of his other purchases to make up for the money loss. Since we set his PC to filter the notification messages as junk mail, he'll never know."
“And we get this choice piece of bound planks and wooden stakes,” Heath pitched in dryly.
There was a small pad on a stand sitting at the end of the dock with a long cable running out of it. Heath took the end of the cable and plugged it into a slot on the nose of the boat. He then typed in a few digits on a numeric keypad. The responsive musical note told him it was locked.
Heath saw me eyeing him curiously. "It's a security system used on nearly all docks nowadays." He explained. "The station creates a connection to the boat through the wire. If the connection is cut or the engine is started, it sets off the alarm."
“Now then, Gentlemen,” Heath’s eyes began to sparkle with anticipation, “let’s go pay Mr. Poe a visit.”
---__-------__--___--__--_--_----------------------
----|__--\_/-|__---|--|__-|-\/-|---34893 Ivory Lane----
------___|--|--___|--|--|__-|----|-------------------------
----|__--\_/-|__---|--|__-|-\/-|---34893 Ivory Lane----
------___|--|--___|--|--|__-|----|-------------------------
Mr. Poe’s house—or it may not have been his house, I never knew—was some ways off from the main town. Since we first had to find out where it was and then travel the whole way on foot because “we couldn’t risk a car,” it was a very long and dull trip. The sun was already melting on the tops of the mountains beyond Cianwood by the time we were there. You even had to follow a long gravel path past a circle of trees that hid it from the main road. It was, in every possible way, remote.
As we approached the building, Hike remained perfectly calm, but if you could look beyond his face, deeper, there was unmistakable excitement. He truly believed that behind this door was something that would be crucial in finding the System. Every piece of information found is like a treasure in and of itself, no one part less important than the whole.
I can’t imagine that what we found was what he expected, but, if I ever learned anything about Heath Vice, it is that what he expects and what he prepares for do not have to resemble one another in the slightest.
The hinges of the door let us past without a whine of greeting. The lights were off, everything was still. The room was finely furnished in all the modern fixings… but untouched. It was as if we were in a museum, and the ghostly stillness whispered warnings from the walls.
We should not be here.
We walked into the kitchen, just as still as the entryway. Tiles gleamed with gold from the window. A half-consumed glass of milk lay on the table next to a folded newspaper open to the crossword page. They were signs of life, but still not comforting. It appeared hastily abandoned.
The kitchen had a door leading to a small office. As the door swung open, the sight I took in is one I shall always remember, because that is where I began to see how much danger all of us were truly in.
The light was on, and a man—bound, gagged, and blindfolded—was sitting upright in a chair. Another man was standing a few feet from him clad in white and sporting a head of silky black hair. His face was calm but held a nearly smirking disposition.
“Welcome,” he said casually. “It took you so long to get here after I heard the door shut that I began thinking you had attempted to run off.” The three of us stood silently, just through the door. He raised an eyebrow playfully. “Didn’t you know we were here?”
Heath answered. “Once we entered, yes, but I figured you would have rigged the door with explosives if you had meant to kill us.”
“Ah,” He said, smiling (needless to say, a smile never came close to touching my face). “Spoken like the man I was hoping to meet. You are correct, and, as you can see, I am not even armed. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. Not very fair, as I already know who you are.”
“I think it’s a fair bet you don’t know me as well as you think,” Heath replied, unflinching.
The man ignored him. “I am Legion; that is all you ever need know. And you are Heath Vice, John York, and …ah! I can only assume that this is Kyle Wade.” His eyes met mine and I shivered. “How delightful!” He addressed us as a group again, “You three are probably wondering where you slipped, no doubt.”
“It teased us a bit,” John replied straight-faced, as Heath had. I was doing my best not to get lost.
“It was your relation to our dear Richard Poe,” he said motioning to the unmoving man. “We have been monitoring him for some time now, but as soon as he set up this meeting with you…” he chuckled gleefully. ”Tell me, how could you expect us to pass that up?"
"We have been looking for you everywhere, and—at last—here you are!” He looked at me again. I must have been shaking, for he next asked, “Are you afraid?”
“Aren’t you?” Heath replied quickly, possibly afraid I'd open my mouth. “Afraid that we’ll kill you, I mean?”
He shook his head. “I have already told you: I’m unarmed. We mean to take you in peacefully. You must have realized that there are men surrounding this building as we speak. I know that you aren’t foolish enough to…”
The man never finished his sentence. With a short click, a perfectly round hole sat between his eyes where skin had been an instant before. It quickly spat out blood as the lifeless body fell backward with impact. He crashed into a potted plant and lay on the floor.
Heath lowered his gun and slipped it back into a holster hidden by his jacket. “Like I said, sir," he told the dead man on the ground. "You don’t know me.” Immediately, he bent over and began searching him. “John,” he said softly over his shoulder, “get Mr. Poe’s hard drive. Kyle, untie our friend.” I was still shell-shocked, and stared into the gaping wound that continued supplying a steady flow of red to the carpet. Heath turned his head and repeated sternly, “Kyle!”
I jumped back to my senses and walked to the bound man. I took off the blindfold. His eyes frightened me when I first saw them. They were hazy, but still moved with some sort of force behind them.
I removed the gag, exposing bloodstained lips. A raspy voice cried out to me, “Pa- a- per!” At first I didn’t understand. I thought he wanted me to help him write something down, but I couldn't be sure.
“What do you…“ I stated to say.
“NO!” the voice wheezed. “Th- the c- c- cr-“ blood spurted onto his chin. “Crossw-“ He gasped and his eyes widened.
I tried to think. Crossw- Crossw- Crossword! Paper! The newspaper! I turned and looked at the kitchen, then back at the dying man.
“Quick,” I told Heath, who had just gotten up, “Help me get him upright.” I reached behind him and quickly drew back my hand. It was coated in blood! Heath bent him over exposing a scarlet-soaked back. He had been bleeding to death the entire time! A final breath of air spilled from his lips as the man became limp. I drew back, my gag reflex taking hold of me. I spun into the hall and leaned over.
John saw what we were looking at. “Hurry,” he told us with urgency. “He’s already dead. If we have everything, then we have to get out of here. We’re already going to have a tough time getting out as it is, and we don’t want to have to get past any more armed agents than we have to.”
I knew he was right, but found it hard to move. “Crossword,” I said, straightening up. “He wants us to get the crossword.”
“We’ll grab it on the way out,” Heath said. He leaned the body back against the chair, taking in the dull emptiness emitting from the eyes. He slid his fingers across the face, pulling the eyelids down. Without any final word or nod in reverence, the three of us departed as quickly as possible from the room leaving the two corpses once known as Legion and Richard Poe.
Both sides had shed blood. We were no longer merely a pest; we were the enemy. It had begun.
Dear God, why me?
Chapter End
Dear God, why me?
Chapter End
So there you go. I'm not sure how quickly chapters will be coming, as I'm starting work on a rewrite of my origional fic to be posted here at some point. However, I'm still planning on finishing this, so not to worry. Please read and review, and I'll try and respond to your comments!
Good Fortune! ;206;
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