The Immortal Coil (4 page)

“You should probably go to the hospital; you might have a concussion and broken nose,” I advised.

“Going to the hospital isn’t the best idea. Hospitals are usually one of the first places we check when canvassing an area, especially if the suspect might have sustained injuries,” he said. He climbed back into the driver’s seat dressed in blue jeans, an NYPD T-shirt, and a Yankees baseball hat. “We should get you checked out. Dispatch hasn’t mentioned anything about you over the radio, so there isn’t a warrant out for you yet.”

“I just want to go home. My dad is an emergency room doctor back in Boston. I doubt we’re infected; the CDC workers turned within a couple of hours of being there and it’s been longer than that for us.”

We got out of the car and began walking up the block. He left his phone behind so it couldn’t be traced and let me take the charger. I thought about all the people we passed and wished I were as ignorant as they were about everything going on. We stopped in a store so he could pick up a prepaid phone. He paid in cash, and we moved on.

“There’s something we still need to talk about,” he said.

Here it comes
, I thought. I guess this couldn’t be avoided any longer. The elephant in the room had finally had enough of being ignored.

“What was that thing you did with the swords in the apartment?”

“It’s just something I’m able to do. I don’t know how or why it works,” I answered truthfully. The full extent of my power remained a mystery to me.

“That’s a little more than a bar trick. I’m assuming the sergeant’s missing car door was your doing?”

“No, the guy with the
katana
I told you about did that. I didn’t think I’d even be able to lift something as heavy as the swords in the apartment.”

“He can move stuff with his mind too?”

“No, he did it with his hands.” I knew I must sound like a mental patient off of his meds. I contemplated lying about the whole thing.

“How long ago did you find out you could do this?”

“When I was fifteen.” This was already the most I had ever spoken about it with anyone, but I felt he deserved some explanation after everything.

Back when my power first manifested, I’d woken up in a cold sweat from a nightmare, staring into the mirror opposite my bed. I could hear the mirror start to crack before it completely shattered on my dresser. Not sure if I was still dreaming, I went to pick up the pieces. Once my hand was just over the shards, they began to float just slightly above the dresser. I inspected them in disbelief, not knowing I was the one causing this to happen. Whenever I would motion like I was picking them up, they would rise and then fall when I would stop.

I saved some of the broken pieces in my drawer for the next morning, so I could practice again. I wore the safety goggles we used in chemistry class just in case something went wrong. It wasn’t only those pieces I could move. Small objects around me would randomly start to move or float wherever I was. It took a few months, but I got better at controlling it a little at a time. The more I focused and the more clearly I could see the object, the easier it was to lift. Something across the room wasn’t as easy as an object right in front of my eyes.

In less than a year, I was able to balance multiple small objects in the air as long as I could keep my eyes on them. Fine manipulation was always a problem; stuff like folding a sheet of paper always ended in my tearing or crumpling it.

“Do your parents know about this?” I could sense the curiosity growing in his voice.

“No, nobody but you knows. They worry a lot to begin with. Being doctors themselves, they would want a million tests done to see what was wrong with me.

“I was always careful about practicing when no one was home or I was sure I couldn’t be seen. I didn’t mess around with it much anymore once I got it under control. I used to excuse myself to use the bathroom in class all the time when I noticed papers or pens start moving, or leave the dinner table when I would have to grab the salt shaker out of the air before my parents noticed. I would never hurt anyone though. I try to stay away from people as much as possible. Back there in the apartment was the first time anything violent happened.”

“Good to know. I’m trying to get a feeling for why the people at the dock would try and kidnap you and how the sergeant is involved if nobody knows what you can do,” he said.

“Kidnap?” The thought hadn’t crossed my mind until now, but it made sense. “The guy who killed them was acting like he did me a favor. He was trying to get me to go with him.”

“I know you want to go back to Boston. Hell, if this wasn’t my only home I’d want to be far away from this mess too. I don’t know what’s going on or how any of this can even be real.”

“You’re dealing with this better than I am.” I shoved my hands in my pockets to stop them from trembling now that the adrenaline rush was over. “I bet you never thought you’d be involved in all of this when you became a cop. How long have you been on the force? I remember that fat cop calling you a rookie.”

“Three years. Three years and I already probably put an end to my career and my freedom. My father must be rolling in his grave.” I must have really struck a nerve. I was trying to cheer him up at how savvy he was for being new, but I guess as optimistic as he seemed, it was still bothering him. “I come from a family of cops, all NYPD,” he continued. “That’s all I wanted to be for as long as I can remember.”

“Innocent until proven guilty, right?” I tried consoling him. “I’m sure we’ll find something that will help.”

Lyle was quiet for the rest of the way. I felt bad for bringing it up to begin with, but I didn’t want to push it so I left him alone.

“If someone is after you it’s not safe to travel alone,” he said as we neared the hotel I was staying at. “You don’t want to lead anybody back to your family, either. Get some rest. I’m going to be staying locally, so call me if anything happens. Otherwise, I’ll get in touch in a few hours.”

Lyle and I went our separate ways once we reached the hotel. As I trudged to my room, my head was spinning from the night’s events. I had nowhere else to go if I couldn’t return to Boston. The thought of never seeing my family again scared me just as much as the mutants, the NYPD, and a serial killer chasing after me.

It was dusk by the time I woke up. My phone was working again, thanks to Lyle’s charger, and I had several messages. Two of the messages were from my parents but surprisingly had nothing to do with the hotel charge on the credit card. The other message was from Lyle about an hour ago. I sent my parents a generic text message to keep them satisfied and then called Lyle.

“I’m at the diner across the street. I’ll meet you outside,” was all he said before hanging up.

Lyle was in pretty rough shape when we regrouped on the street. He had gotten some medical attention, judging by the bandages on his nose and hands.

“Did you sleep at all?” I asked after greeting him.

“No, there wasn’t any time. I went to a clinic to get patched up and then picked this up for you.” He took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to me. Inside was a one-way plane ticket to Boston leaving from La Guardia airport in a couple of hours.

“I thought you said I couldn’t go back. How did you get this without the police finding out?”

“Don’t worry about it, I got it covered. I’ll take you to the airport to make sure it’s safe. I can’t get on the plane while there’s a warrant out for my arrest, but I’ll take the train to meet you.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“This isn’t a situation either of us can resolve by filing a report. I need to get out of the city and go off the grid anyway. I’m hoping that if I follow you it will give me some evidence to prove I’m innocent.”

It was clear that Lyle’s mind was already made up. There wasn’t much room for me to argue. I had nothing keeping me here and was all too happy to go home. The only problem would be explaining this to my parents. I decided not to tell them the whole story until I got there. They would probably think drugs were involved when I told them everything. I considered saying they were spraying for rats or whatever they do in apartment buildings, and then just acting surprised when it eventually made the news.

We took the subway into Queens. Everyone in our car got off after a few stops except for us and another man sleeping with his head down. He reminded me of the homeless man from my ride home the night before by the way he was dressed.

“Was any of this on the news?” I asked Lyle, remembering what the man had said about government conspiracies.

“No. I’m not surprised; there’s a lot that doesn’t make it to the news. If something can’t be explained immediately, it gets withheld so there isn’t a city or country-wide panic.” Lyle had his eye on the sleeping guy now too. “I’m not sure how they would break the news of a mutant outbreak. I didn’t hear anything else on the police scanner, so it’s most likely an isolated incident the federal government will come in to clean up.”

The subway reached its next stop, letting on a pregnant woman and little girl. A few minutes later, Lyle gave me a funny look and subtly motioned to the sleeping man. I checked, but I didn’t notice whatever he was trying to point out.

We had to get off at the next stop so we could transfer. I looked down at the man as we left the train and instantly saw what was wrong. Black veins were spreading along his hand at an alarming rate. The doors to the subway were just closing when we both heard the familiar death rattle. Lyle put his hand to block the door and grabbed the man, dragging him out of the subway car.

“This guy is sick, call an ambulance!” Lyle shouted to a couple of cops on the platform to get their attention before disappearing into the crowd. I stood there by myself now with the man at my feet until my phone vibrated in my pocket; it was Lyle calling. “Meet me up on the street. I couldn’t let them see me.”

Lyle wasn’t wasting any time getting out of the area. He had already hailed a taxi when I caught up to him and was waving me over to hurry up. “This is either spreading really fast, or we’re being targeted,” he whispered to me after telling our driver where to go.

“You know, if you want to blend in when we get to Boston, you should trade that Yankees hat for the Red Sox. I’m just saying.”

“I’d rather be thrown in jail for life,” he laughed. “Are you a baseball fan?”

“In spirit, I guess. I used to go to the games all the time with my dad until recently. I follow mixed martial arts now. I tried going to a match with him, but all he kept talking about was how he couldn’t understand why people would put their bodies through that pain on purpose.”

“Yeah, I kind of agree with him there. I grew up the same way. My dad practically raised me at Yankee Stadium and I still go every chance I get.”

There was a pause in the conversation. I wanted to ask how his father died, but wasn’t sure if he would be comfortable talking about it. He did mention it on his own last night so maybe he wouldn’t mind.

“You said your dad was a cop too?” I asked.

“Yup. Eighteen years on the force.” There was a strong sense of pride in his voice followed by another pause. I was about to drop the subject when he continued on his own. “He died a hero. I was only eleven, but I remember it like it was yesterday.”

“How did it happen?” I asked.

“Some scumbag had held up a liquor store in Hamilton Heights and was fleeing the scene in a stolen car. The officers chasing him said the guy was suspected to be high on something. He was driving against traffic to escape when my dad heard the APB over the radio.

“My dad prevented the guy from plowing through a playground full of children. He intercepted the car with his own, but was killed when the scumbag T-boned him. He gave his life to save all those kids and their families. They say he died instantly, so at least he didn’t suffer. If I turn out to be even half the man he was, half the hero, I’d consider my life fulfilled.”

“What happened to the other guy?”

“He got sentenced to life in prison, but walked away from the wreck with only a few broken ribs, whiplash and a concussion.”

“Wow. That’s not fair.”

“Nah, justice was served. I know my dad is up in heaven with an unlimited supply of cold beer and free access to any game he wants to watch.”

“That’s a good way of putting it. I don’t know, I think I’d hold more animosity if I were in your position.”

“Trust me, I did for a long time, but killing a person because you’re angry isn’t justice. My dad always told me, ‘treat others how you’d want to be treated.’ That’s the philosophy I still live by today. It took a lot for me to get over losing him, but I’m stronger for it and I’d like to think I make him proud.”

“I bet you do. He would’ve been impressed seeing you in action last night.”

“I didn’t think of it that way,” he laughed. “Just so we’re clear — what happened last night was real, right? I’ve played the whole thing over a million times in my mind.”

“I’m pretty sure it was. I wouldn’t be here talking with you otherwise.”

We got to the airport just in time. I didn’t have any baggage to check, so we went right to the security gate with only a few minutes to spare.

“I’m going to leave you here. They won’t let me through unless I have a ticket or show my badge. If you see anything, tell the flight staff immediately.” His words weren’t exactly encouraging but there wasn’t much else we could do. “You’ll be fine; the flight’s only a couple of hours. I’m going to meet you there as soon as I can. Have your parents pick you up from the airport and let me know when you arrive.”

The entire time I was walking to my plane, I had the feeling I was being watched. I kept looking around expecting to see someone staring at me, but I couldn’t pinpoint where the feeling was coming from.

When I got to the gate, everyone was already boarding. I stood there watching the line dwindle as people pushed past me. I should have been getting on this flight, but something inside my head was pulling me away. They were announcing the last boarding call now. I started to move, but instead of going toward my terminal, I walked to the next, and then the next.

I didn’t know where I was going, but I kept walking until I got to another security checkpoint. I wasn’t sure if the guards would stop me, but I went through anyway. The more I wandered, the more the feeling of being watched grew, until my head started pounding. I crossed over to an empty waiting area. There was nobody at the ticket-checking booth, but the doors were open to enter the plane. My vision began to fade in and out, but I was still moving forward. I could make out the word “private” on one of the signs in the terminal.

“What am I doing? I need to go back,” I said out loud.

I was halfway down the wrong boarding tunnel when my head cleared. I could see the shadow of someone behind me, but when I turned to face whoever it was, they were gone. The sound of whistling came from down the tunnel. I turned back around to see the swordsman from last night standing there with his hands on his hips.

This is it. I’m going to die.

He vanished before I could say anything. Then came a sharp pain in the back of my head and everything went black.

I regained consciousness to the sound of several voices in the distance. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the dark room. A minimal source of light came from beyond the curtains of ceiling-high windows.

The king-sized bed under me was done up like one you would see in a museum exhibit of Old World European royalty. The fabric was intricately detailed in floral patterns that matched the many different-sized pillows on either side of me. Each pillow was adorned with gold thread and tassels, which made me think they were more for show than comfort.

There were similar ornate details in the furniture. A large mirror with a gold frame stood alongside an armoire of dark wood in the far corner of the room. Two antique-looking night tables adjacent to the bed displayed elaborate candelabras complete with fresh ivory-colored candles.

A conversation broke out on the other side of the door to my left.

“Welcome home, Noah,” said a woman with a French accent. “You were gone longer than expected. I had begun to miss you. It must have been nice to be abroad again.”

She seemed friendly, but something about her manner of speech was overly polite and formal.

I heard a familiar voice answer, “I was enjoying the freedom.” It was the swordsman.

“Well, where is it?” the woman asked.

“I dumped him in here.” There was a light tap on the door as he answered.

“
Him
? I thought it was —”

“Nope, it’s a person,” Noah said, with an aloof air.

Why did that woman refer to me as “it”? Just what was she expecting him to kidnap?

“And what of Monsieur Price?” she questioned further. “What did he know of this?”

“I got rid of Price and his lackeys. His job was to locate and deliver the kid.” Noah’s response made me even more curious. Was this Price guy one of the men he killed at the dock?

I heard the tinkling of piano keys as someone started to play.

“It’s too bad he didn’t work out,” the woman stated. “Now we will have to replace him to keep New York in our name. Finding someone who we can trust is clearly more of a problem than we first thought.
C’est la vie
, no?”

Maybe this was some organized crime syndicate like the Mafia. It would explain the kidnapping and expensive taste in decor.

The French woman spoke again. “So, what can he do?”

“Move stuff with his mind,” Noah answered in the same indifferent manner. “I haven’t found out anything else yet.”

My body tensed as I sat on the bed listening.

“Is that of any use?” The woman didn’t seem all that impressed or even interested that someone in the room right next to her could magically move objects. Then again, the man she was speaking to could move as fast as lightning.

“It kept him alive against those creatures I told you about. I saw him impale a couple.” He was there watching Lyle and me while we were being attacked and we never even noticed. Was Lyle in on this from the start? Did he bring me to the airport knowing this guy was there?

The sound of the door opening got my heart pounding again. The flick of a switch lit a chandelier overhead and two sconces above a fireplace across from me.

My kidnapper entered first with his usual swagger, followed by the most attractive woman I had ever seen. They both exuded an indescribable presence that made it difficult, if not impossible, to look away. The woman, however, was so particularly stunning I remained fixated on her beauty.

She appeared to be about Noah’s age. Her skin resembled fine china, white and pure, a distinct contrast to the man’s golden tan. I had always hated being so fair-skinned, but she pulled it off well. She wore barely any makeup; it didn’t look like she needed any help enhancing her natural beauty. Her eyes shimmered in the light like brilliant evergreen jewels.

“Oh my, Noah, you didn’t mention our guest was this cute.” I could feel myself blushing at the sound of her words. The French accent made everything she said sound so much more exotic and sultry.

She was dressed in a sleek black evening gown. The diamond necklace and earrings she wore looked like they could have afforded her a private island in the Caribbean. I couldn’t keep myself from staring at the thigh-high slit along the side of her dress. She had legs that went on for miles and the body of a lingerie model.