Alan Price and the Colossus of Rhodes (The Nephilim Chronicles) (6 page)

Chapter 21

Present Day

“So,” Danielle said as she paused
to take a sip from her straw. The ice cubes and lone cheery swirled in her
Shirley Temple. “Are you going to try and let me explain, or are you going to
dash out of here and leave me with the bill?”

Alan scanned the inside of the bar
one more time before he settled into the booth’s thick cushioned seat. “I’ll
stay. Start from the beginning.”

Danielle smiled, “Okay, hear me
out. This is the truth. It’s going to sound crazy but I’ll be completely honest
with you.”

Alan could feel his temper flare,
“Okay, yes, just get on with it.”

Danielle took a long sip of her
drink either enjoying the spotlight or trying to mask her nervousness, Alan
couldn’t decide. “You’ve been given these powers, Alan. You aren’t a mutant;
you didn’t evolve; you’re not part of an experiment; your parents aren’t
members of an alien race.”

Danielle paused to let the
information sink in. Alan’s mind was racing. If his mystery visitor was telling
the truth then all of his theories, all of his years of research of what he
could be were evaporating by the second. Then something Danielle said made him
stop mid-thought. “You said I’ve ‘been given these powers’. Powers? All I have
is one, speed.”

“All you have is one power that you
know of,” Danielle corrected. “This is just the beginning.”

Alan was quiet. Half of him wanted
to believe her. Above all else, over the last few years, he wanted answers. Now
that he had them, they seemed so hard to believe. “How?”

“Excuse me?”

“How did I get this—these—powers?”

“The organization I work for gave
them to you. You were chosen.”

Images of the CIA, the Illuminati;
and even aliens occupied Alan’s thoughts. Alan reached for the whiskey bottle
on the table and filled the silence with a long pour of the expensive liquor.
He brought the glass to his lips and drained the cup.

“That’s not going to help.”

Alan looked across with watering
eyes, “How do you know?”

“Because I tried the same thing. I
tried to dull the truth, the sense of responsibility. Money, alcohol, drugs,
it’s all only temporary relief. Fun, I’ll give you that, but still only
temporary relief. You know what I mean; you’re going through that now.”

Alan put his glass on the table and
defiantly poured himself another serving. He knew she was right. He had been at
the drinking game long enough now to know that the comfort alcohol brought was
only a brief rest from the issues he carried. “So, Danielle Turner, if that is
your real name at all. Who is this organization that has chosen me?”

Danielle sighed and shook her head.
“They thought you were ready to know the truth, but I’m not sure you are. Maybe
you need more time.”

Alan took another swig from his
glass, “Come on, don’t stop now. Who is this secret organization: NSA, Black
Ops, Hydra?”

Danielle looked him straight in the
eyes and spoke clearly, “The term ‘Angels’ would best describe them. They are
here to help and they need you just as much as you need them.”

Alan choked on his next sip of
whisky. Laughter erupted from his chest and he shook his head from side to
side. His long hair whipped against his face as he thought of Angels from Heaven
choosing him.

Alan opened his eyes even as tears
filled them. Danielle was siting across from him, her face once again red. This
time there was no mistaking embarrassment for anger. “Wait,” Alan said raising
both hands in the air. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You have to admit, though, this
is crazy.”

“Crazy?” Danielle asked. “This
coming from the man who can move as fast as light?”

Alan wiped away tears from his eyes
and took a deep breath. “You have a point but come on. You expect me to believe
that immortal beings from Heaven, came down and chose a weak kid who battles
with depression, who was bullied his entire life, who has more issues than he
can count and chose him for something special?”

“Yes.”

Alan’s temporary fit of laughter
completely subsided as he was sobered by Danielle’s simple answer. He
straightened out his hair and pushed it back out of his face. “I don’t know.
That’s a lot to take on faith. Trust isn’t something that comes naturally for
me.”

“I know it doesn’t. If it were up
to me, I would have given you more time to work through your… issues.
Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of time anymore. And it doesn’t look like
you’re making any headway in the personal development department either.”
Danielle lowered her voice as she spoke but Alan could still hear her mutter
the last part, “Between the stealing and the booze.”

“Well, I’m sorry but this is just
too much for me to handle at the moment.”

“Here,” Danielle slid a slender
white phone across the table. “Take some time. Just not too much time. Call us
when you’re ready.”

She rose from the booth as she
reached inside her sweater pocket.

Alan waived a hand, “It’s okay,
I’ve got the bill.”

Danielle smiled, “How generous of
you, Mr. Price.”

Danielle turned to go. Leaving Alan
to sit and think about their conversation. He couldn’t help but ask one last
question. “I’m not saying I believe you, but if I did—are you an…” Alan
couldn’t believe he was asking this question. It sounded closer to a lame pick
up line than any question he would seriously ask a woman. “Are you an Angel?”

Danielle smiled and shook her head.
“No, I’m not. I’m just like you, Alan. I was lost. I was even more lost than
you when they reached out and gave me my abilities. I tried to fill the
emptiness I felt with everything society told me I needed, just like you’re
doing now.”

With one last smile that communicated
of a mixture of pity and hope, Danielle turned and left.

Chapter 22

Two Years Ago

“You’d need to sign a lease for a
year with the first and last month’s rent payments due as soon as you move in.”

“That’s fine,” Alan said as he
stared out the window, slender arms folded across his chest. Despite the
incredible view that the penthouse provided, Alan couldn’t help but feel the
weight of his depression across his shoulders. He didn’t want to tell the woman
showing him the place that he had barely gotten out of bed that morning. He
didn’t know how to tell her that this was just how he was. Good days came far
and few between and bad days more often than he wanted.

“I’m so sorry, sir, is there
something wrong?”

Alan jerked his eyes away from the
view and did his best to act happy. Over the years, he had plenty of time to
work on how to act
happy. Yet, he was still a horrible actor. “No, no,
sorry. It’s everything I’ve been looking for. It’s just been a rough day.”

The real estate associate’s
eyebrows rose as she looked at her watch. Alan knew what she was thinking. The
clock’s hands had only just reached 10:00 AM. Instead of calling Alan out, she
motioned him to follow her through the penthouse one more time. “Remember, we
can change anything you don’t like.”

Alan followed the woman’s clacking
high heels and scent of designer perfume through the huge kitchen, four
bedrooms, three bathrooms, family room, living room and dinning area one last time.

“It’s great,” Alan said mustering a
grin, “I’ll take it.”

The woman gave Alan a Cheshire cat
smile, practically taking out her notepad and doing the math on her portion of
the commission right there. “Great, so glad to hear it. I’ll be right back I need
to run down to my car and grab a few items for you to sign.”

Alan nodded as the woman turned
with a twist of her long straight hair and hurried out of the penthouse as if
she were afraid he would change his mind.

Alan walked in and out of the
rooms, wondering why he wasn’t happier. This was something he always wanted. As
far back as he could remember a place to call his own had always been out of
reach. Every time he left a group home or foster parent, he would imagine a
place that he wouldn’t have to leave. A place just like this, that belonged to
him with him as the one to say when he was ready to leave or not.

Until now the reality of owning a
home, his home, was like a vapor that was grabbed at but vanished as soon as he
opened his fist. He was here now: to an extent happiness did exist. Still this
idea of joy was the kind of happiness Alan was telling himself he should
experience rather than actually experiencing the feeling itself.

He walked through the large
penthouse as he waited for the real estate agent to return. His designer shoes
echoed across the halls. Empty rooms caught his every noise and amplified them
back as if to remind him how alone he still was and would always be. Alan made
his way back to the large windows that overlooked the city.

Past all the high-rise buildings,
past the glare of the bright sun, Alan caught a reflection of himself, tall and
slender. Money could only improve so much. Past the luxurious clothes and
haircut, Alan shook his head at his reflection.

Sure, you have money and a place
now but something is still missing. Apparently, super speed doesn’t come with
any muscle tone. You’re still that skinny kid that couldn’t stick up for
himself. We need to fix that.

Chapter 23

Present Day

Why are you even stressing over
that? She was clearly crazy. Angels? Like flying Angels with wings, really?

Alan shook his head and made an
internal decision to stop thinking about the strange conversation that night.
However, as he rode the smooth elevator to the top of the high-rise, his hand
fell inside his jacket pocket. His fingers made contact with the phone Danielle
left him. The lights to passing floors beeped by and with every second Alan
could feel anxiety build. “One look won’t hurt,” Alan said to himself.

The phone was slender and compact.
It was one of the newest models available on the market. Alan remembered seeing
an advertisement for it just the other day, the commercial with the girl and
the family with the pet smiling and laughing as they opened apps for music and
videos.

The phone lit up under Alan’s
touch. It had a plain white background with an icon marked “Messages” that
jumped up and down on the screen. Alan swiped his thumb over the icon and a
single message read, “Danielle”
with a number that followed after.

Alan’s thumb bent towards the
number more out of instinct than will. The only thing that stopped his thumb’s
progress was the soft halt of the elevator and a dinging sound as the elevator
doors slid open.

Alan stuffed the phone back into
his pocket and shook the notion of calling the number out of his head. When he
raised his eyes to look down the hall to his penthouse door, he stopped in his
tracks.

He always left his door closed.
Always. Living on the run at an early age and having to look over his shoulder
on a daily basis instilled the habit of locking up after himself.

His door was cracked open. Alan
made his way down the hall. He could hear music coming from his penthouse.

Carmina Burana: O Fortuna
played in the background. Alan only recognized the song because he owned it. It
was music that inspired him and one of the few things, along with reading and
exercise, that helped when his depression was at its worst.

The inkling to run or report the
break in to the police crossed his mind but only for the briefest of moments.
Any contact with the police would be bad. Too many questions could arise. Although
the less than upstanding citizen whom he bought them from assured him that his
purchased identities were solid, he didn’t want to test the theory.

Alan wrapped his pea coat tighter
around him and prepared himself to take off at a sprint in a moment’s notice.

Alan’s hand made contact with his
thick wooden door. It swung open without a sound. He wasn’t sure what to
expect, nothing happened. His penthouse looked normal. Everything was in place.
No signs of break in; no items strewn across the floor or broken.

Aromas of cooked meat and the
sounds of someone busy in the kitchen made Alan’s heart rate accelerate. Alan
left the door wide open in case he needed to bolt down the hall. He quietly
tiptoed through his family room, past his makeshift exercise and weight room
and into the kitchen.

Adrenaline pumped to every inch of
his body. Alan’s mouth was dry as he turned a corner and was met with the sight
of a slender man with his back towards him. Whoever he was, he was busy at
work. A towel draped over one shoulder; he was hunched over the stove.

“If I was going to hurt you, would
I be cooking you dinner? Mmmmm… let’s think here. No, probably not.”

Alan stopped and almost ran just
hearing the sound of the man’s voice. It sounded like a snake slithering and
dripped past the man’s lips in a way that would put anyone on edge. Alan hadn’t
made a sound coming in, he was sure of that.

“What do you think of my music selection?”
He turned and winked at Alan. “It’s a personal favorite of mine, so inspiring
and uplifting. I would listen to more but you know how it is, all work and no
play.”

Alan stood tensed as he examined
the intruder. He was tall with an inviting smile and dark hair. His wardrobe’s
elitist nature would have put any A-list celebrity to shame: a tailored buttoned-up
shirt with a light blue vest and tight fitting slacks. A spatula covered in red
sauce that reminded Alan of blood held poised in his right hand. Alan’s eyes
widened as he examine the man’s feet. “Are those my slippers?”

“Oh, yes, my bad. My feet were
killing me. I’m going to have to murder the shoe sales associate that pointed
them out. By the way, these things are like walking on clouds, pure orthopedic
bliss. Do you know if they come in Tiffany Blue?”

Alan’s face answered for him as the
man moved the conversation along. “Well, enough about me. I hope you’re hungry.
Dinner is about done. Let’s sit at the table like civilized folk.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is—well, you know
all about this, Alan. Known by one name here a different one there. But since
we are going to be such great friends, I’ll let you in on the secret and tell
you. My real name is Dominic Drencher. ”

Dominic was talking so fast it took
Alan a moment to realize what he said. “I need you to leave right now. Put my
spatula down and step away from my stove.”

Dominic ignored Alan and instead
turned back to the sizzling food. He opened cabinets and drawers as if he was
in his own home. He ignored Alan’s demand as he plated dinner for two. “I’m
going to overlook that rudeness and serve us instead.”

“If you don’t leave, I’m going to
call the police.”

“Empty words, Goldilocks. You want
the police here even less than I do.” Dominic picked up two plates loaded with
food and walked past Alan towards the dinning room. “Follow me. You know you
have to. I’m not leaving you much of an option. Once you’ve heard what I have
to say, then I’ll leave.”

Alan’s slippers disappeared into
the other room. Confusion more than anything festered in Alan’s mind. He wanted
the strange man to leave but not as much as he wanted answers.

Alan had a strong feeling that this
had something to do with Danielle and her crazy story about Angels. Before he
could give it a second thought, Alan found himself walking to join Dominic at
the table.

“There you are. I thought you’d
come,” Dominic said.

The table was set, wine poured. On
each plate was a generous helping of steak and spaghetti. His intruder wasted
no time in opening his napkin and shoving food into his mouth.

Alan pushed his plate away as he
took a seat on the opposite side of the table. Despite Dominic’s elegant appearance,
his table manners were anything but proper. He stuffed fork load after fork
load into his greedy mouth; what was worse, Dominic didn’t stop talking while
he ate.

With a deep sigh and a mouth full
of food he started. “So listen, I know you were visited tonight by that hot
little number. She’s cute, right? Has that whole mousy, nerdy girl thing working
for her. Anyway, she’s offering you answers and I’m sure she seems all sunshine
and flowers but believe me, you don’t want to trust her.”

“Why not?”

Dominic let out a deep burp. “First
off, her organization’s benefits are horrible. Practically no sick days and you
can forget about holiday pay. I’m offering you a chance at real freedom. I have
all the answers you’ve been looking for and an opportunity to join my
organization.”

“I’m listening.”

“Are you going to eat that?”
Dominic was pointing a dinner knife at the plate of food that sat in front of
Alan.

“No, be my guest.”

Dominic licked his lips and
accepted the plate from Alan. “Let’s see, where was I?”

“You said you had answers.”

“Oh, yes. Well, what did the
doe-eyed beauty tell you?”

Alan thought back to the
conversation with Danielle just hours before. Even as he spoke the words, it
dawned on him for the dozenth time how ridiculous the whole thing sounded. “She
said—she said that I’ve been chosen, that I’ve been given my power for a
reason. She said that… Angels gave it to me.”

Dominic practically choked on his
food. He reached for the glass of red wine in front of him and downed the
entire serving before he shrugged. “Well, I guess they are in fact Angels.
Although I wasn’t aware they were going by that name again and so freely
telling others.”

“Again?”

“Yes, ready for story time, Mr.
Price?” Dominic didn’t wait for a response, instead wiped his mouth with a
napkin and stood from his chair. “On second thought, I’ve been at this long
enough to know when someone is going to join me and when someone won’t. You’re
not going to side with my organization no matter what I say. I should just kill
you now.”

Alan was nervous and wary the
entire dinner, now his muscles tensed again. Panic gripped his heart. He knew
he should have gone as soon as he saw Dominic. Something inside, some moral
compass warned him but like all the times before, he chose not to listen.

Alan’s heart was pounding in his
ears. His hand made contact with the phone still in his pocket. Alan said a
silent prayer as his right thumb blindly maneuvered around the face of the
phone.

Alan stood trying to buy himself
time. “You need to leave now.”

Dominic lifted his eyes to the
ceiling and tilted his head side to side as he spoke aloud to himself. “But you
did provide dinner and these ever so comfortable slippers. So, in all fairness
I should probably let you off with a warning and beating. What do you say?
That’s a fair trade, right? Your life for dinner and slippers.”

Alan had heard enough. With a twist
of his hips, he was off. Sprinting out of the dining room, he called on his
speed to deliver him from his intruder’s sadistic plan.

No one had ever been as fast as
Alan. Nobody was capable of traveling at the speed his legs carried him. When
Alan felt the grip on his shoulder, when Dominic’s hand twirled him around in a
half circle, Alan couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

“Don’t tell me you thought you were
the only one. Oh, you did?” Dominic laughed. “Let’s see if along with all those
muscles you know how to fight.”

It was clear Alan didn’t, as fists
connected with his face and torso. Alan tried putting up his hands. He tried
holding Dominic back, it was useless: his attacker was too strong. Along with
extraordinary speed, Dominic was stronger than anyone Alan had ever encountered.

Alan’s mind flashed back to the
night he fell from the building. The beating he took at the hands of Brent
Carson and his lackeys at the school dance. Even now with all of his money and speed,
history was repeating itself.

In the span of a few seconds, the
fight was over. Blood ran down Alan’s forehead and mouth. He could taste the
bitter metallic tang as his own blood hit his taste buds. His ribs ached with
pain indicating they were either severely bruised or broken. Alan was
struggling to make it to his feet when another vicious strike connected with
his left temple.

“Apparently, you still have a lot
of growing to do,” Dominic said stepping away from his victim. Alan looked up
through blue eyes and strands of his long hair to see Dominic cleaning his own
blood off his hands. “When she comes and tries to make everything better, tell
her I said, ‘Hello’.”

Already on his knees, Alan couldn’t
hold himself up. His vision was blurring and Dominic’s voice came in and out.
Without any control over his body, he fell face first onto the kitchen tile.
The last thing Alan remembered seeing was a pair of slipper-clad feet walking
away.