Awake Page 21

  She wasn't taking me up on my offer; the pain was returning, and I could sense she was giving me everything she had.

  While she did, I pushed my mind out at her, and found that she had no defenses up at all. It seemed to me to be a situation I should take advantage of.

  “Now listen, Steph,” I grunted (it was very difficult to talk), “you're going to get out of my head, and then you're going to head back home, or I'm going to send you there, but either way you'll be leaving my home with no memories of having been here and no memories of who I am.”

  She was resisting; even with no mental blocks up, she could resist. If she was this powerful, I had to shudder at the thought of the last agent I'd be facing.

  I bore in and pushed through. “Steph, like I said, you'll be returning home, and you'll not recall having come here and will have no memories of who I am.”

  Finally, I could feel that I was getting through; after a moment, she said, “Yes, I will head back home, and I'll not remember this, or you.”

  She backed out of my mind.

  “Good,” I said. “Why don't you go home, now?”

  “I think I will,” she said.

  And vanished.

  I collapsed back, sweating, my head pounding (I was attempting to do something about the headache, but it wasn't working), hands trembling. I felt like I had just ran a marathon and was exhausted.

  Would my suggestions that she not remember anything work? I wasn't sure, with her, as powerful as she was. She might forget for a period of time, but it was possible she'd suddenly remember again. I'd have to act quick to alleviate that possibility.

  Not only was I exhausted, but I was having a difficult time keeping straight in my mind the passage of time. How long ago was it that I took that stroll through the woods and first discovered that portal? It seemed like years, and I couldn't pinpoint when it had actually happened. When had I last slept? I couldn't remember that, either.

  So much had happened, it was hard to deal with, and I really hadn't taken any time to consider everything. All of those years of insomnia, was it just my mind's subconscious way of getting me prepared for this? Would I even be able to sleep normally whenever I was done dealing with Jeff and his agents? I had no idea.

  And that first portal I found...how did it get there? Ever since I first went through it, I'd not seen anything else like it. It seemed unlikely that one had just sprung up on its own, given what I knew about how they were created.

  The only logical conclusion was, someone had created it for me to find. But why? And who?

  I had no answer for that.

  So many questions, and no answers.

  I decided I would try and rest. I had one more agent to deal with before moving on to Thomas, and I had to be at my best before trying.

  Was it possible this whole nightmare was going to come to an end? That I could even return to my life?

  I wasn't sure, but I was going to try.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Finding the final agent wasn't going to be as easy as the others.

  Although I was able to locate this agent, when I arrived at the place where he or she was supposed to be, I wasn't finding anyone.

  I had arrived at some sort of amusement park, one that appeared to be closed for the season, or maybe even for good.

  I wandered the grounds, thinking in my mind that I was getting close to my target, but only to discover that no one was there.

  I assumed the person I was looking for was hiding out in some level of perception that I couldn't see, and so I attempted to travel through those levels myself, with no luck.

  Where was the agent?

  I had a clear sense that they were here; maybe I was wrong? I hadn't been wrong yet.

  As I wandered the amusement park, I suddenly heard a voice cry out, “Oh looks, it's Charles Matheson!”

  I stopped. Glancing around, all I could see was the empty park grounds.

  It was a man's voice. He continued: “Did you really think I'd let you find me?”

  I was trying to focus on that voice, but still couldn't pinpoint an exact location.

  Then, without warning, a flash of pain as something bashed into my head; I was flung backwards, against a chain-link fence.

  “Show yourself!” I cried out, and immediately regretted it. I picked myself up.

  Silence.

  If he could hide out in a place where I couldn't find him, maybe I could do the same. I concentrated, and this time decided to use an old-fashioned portal, the kind that had worked so well before in disguising myself. Maybe he wouldn't be expecting me to do something like that. Plus, in that portal, I'd avoid being smashed into fences.

  Once in the portal, I could still sense his presence, but felt a little better about trying to track him down.

  I continued to wander the grounds as his location seemed to constantly shift; he was teleporting himself around, and I did the same, but always seemed to be one step behind.

  After a few minutes, I suddenly could sense that he was in the portal with me, and before I had a chance to reach I was picked up and thrown, crashing painfully into the side of a building; the portal I had been in collapsed a fraction of a second before impact.

  The wind had been knocked out of me; I lay on the ground, trying to catch my breath.

  “Why don't you just stay right there? I'm going to grab you and take you to Jeff Thomas. No sense getting yourself hurt any further.”

  I had caught my breath; instead of reacting, I closed my eyes, focusing in on the agent. Suddenly, in my mind, I could see him; he was older, in his 60s, but well-kept, with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, dark blue eyes, and a hateful sneer on his face as he got closer.

  As he was bending down to me, I pictured in my mind reaching out and grabbing him by the shoulders.

  I opened my eyes.

  I was now standing, although I couldn't remember actually getting up, and I now had the agent in a headlock.

  Needless to say, he was a bit surprised by this turn of events.

  “There you are,” I said. “You didn't have to make things so hard.”

  His reaction was an inarticulate cry.

  “Nice trick,” I said. “Keeping yourself out of sight. I'm going to have to learn that one. Maybe you can teach me?”

  “Let me go, you bastard,” he cried out. I reached out with my mind and was able to pull out his name.

  “Jim Thomas? You're Jeff's brother?” I asked.

  “I don't have to tell you anything,” he panted. He was struggling, but applying pressure to the headlock stopped it.

  “I never knew Jeff had a brother, he certainly never told me. Jeff must have been pretty upset that he hadn't been gifted with your abilities.”

  “He's going to make sure you die,” Jim Thomas said, still struggling.

  “He's not going to do anything,” I said. “You're going to make sure he doesn't.”

  “I don't have to do anything,” he said, and I could feel in my head all the effort he was putting into freeing himself; he was trying to teleport us away, and it was taking every ounce of my concentration to keep him from doing so.

  It was proving to be incredibly difficult; a headache was building, growing stronger, and as he struggled my nose started to bleed.

  I had no idea how to stop him.

  I could feel my consciousness beginning to slip, and if I couldn't put a stop to this in a few moments, I was going to pass out.

  The sensation was building as well of us about to teleport to wherever Thomas had in mind – probably right into his brother's hands.

  My mind was reeling, trying to figure out a way to stop this; I could visualize his approaching mental forces, a huge infantry, getting closer.

  My tired mind then added to this mental picture the image of the ground suddenly opening under the feet of this approaching army; they all disappeared, and suddenly the sensation in my head of passing out faded, and the headache lessened.

  Thomas' struggl
es stopped as well – at least for a moment.

  I knew I had only seconds to reinforce my own mental barricades, which I did, picturing in my mind an impenetrable bank vault, protected by dozens of armed guards.

  I could feel him attempting to regain control, but my defenses were holding up.

  “Time to just stop,” I said. “You're not going to get in my way, and I'm going to make sure your brother stops bothering me, and stops bothering people like me, you understand?”

  “Ow!” Thomas cried out. “Stop that, you bastard, it hurts!”

  Unmindful, I continued, digging into his mind: “You will forget we had this chat, and you will forget everything you know about me. That information is gone.”

  He stopped struggling.

  “When I leave, you will return to your home as if nothing had happened here. Watch TV, go to a movie, do whatever you do when you're home after work.”

  I let go; he just stood there. I turned him so I could look at his face; his eyes were blank.

  “Do you understand?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Good,” I said. “Go home.”

  He did, vanishing from the amusement park grounds.

  I did the same thing.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Once again I returned home, head throbbing (but not as much as it had been), ready to lay down and make sense of everything.

  The special ops agents were no longer a threat – or at least I hoped they were no longer a threat. I had no idea how long my mental blocks and suggestions they forget everything would hold, but there wasn't much I could do about it now.

  Could there be other agents out there that I wasn't aware of?

  That was a possibility of course, and a frightening one at that. I sent my mind out to try and get an answer, but came away with nothing; I couldn't get a sense of it, even after probing the minds of several of Thomas' more junior, or less-powerful agents.

  Even if there were a completely different group of special ops agents, I thought I'd be ready for them.

  I was anxious to end this, to put an end to Jeff Thomas and all of his efforts to destroy my life.

  I ached to have my old life back, a life of tending to my garden, enjoying a walk through the park; I wouldn't even have minded the occasional bout of insomnia.

  Being exposed to the Melissa of Thomas' world re-awakened the ache in my heart I had for my Melissa. How I missed her!

  You could have her back, my mind whispered.

  Oh, sure, I could just travel back in time and change everything. That seemed like a really bad idea. And as bad an idea as it was, it still held a certain appeal for me. I realized just how easy it would be to go back to her, prevent her “accident” and, armed with the knowledge I had now, re-gain her trust and build the relationship back up.

  Ridiculous.

  Ridiculous, and selfish; what kind of changes to the present would I be making if I did go back and change what had happened? And wouldn't it just happen anyway? Even if I prevented her death, wouldn't it just happen anyway?

  It doesn't have to, my mind responded.

  Oh, sure, like I could bypass the laws of physics?

  You already have, my mind said.

  I stopped and caught my breath.

  I had, hadn't I?

  Over and over, I bent and twisted the laws of physics to my liking.

  Maybe I could set things right with Melissa; after all, her death wasn't some random accident or act of God; it was Jeff Thomas up to his usual tricks.

  A deeper part of my mind spoke up: don't go down this path.

  I sighed. This kind of thinking wasn't helpful; aside from a few people like me, who else in the world could just go back in time and change things that had happened? Could go and stop some painful event from happening?

  No one could. People had to deal with grief and loss on a daily basis. Who was I to think I could be...exempt from that?

  I was getting distracted from the task at hand. My only goal for the moment was to stop Jeff Thomas.

  But once I was done with that...assuming I could stop him, and I was pretty well convinced that I could stop him.

  I recognized that, after all of these years, I was still grieving the loss of Melissa, and wanted her back in my life more than anything.

  It was time to move on.

  Easy to say, hard to do.

  I was exhausted and my mind was wandering down a path it had no right to wander down.

  Melissa had left me, had grown tired of the burden I was putting on her; even if I did have her back, how could I rebuild that trust? And what made me think she'd want to have me back?

  Of course, I could jump back to the past, prior to her leaving me, and, armed with the knowledge I had now about myself, work on creating a relationship where she wouldn't want to leave.

  Right.

  I tried to push these thoughts out of my mind. I needed to rest, to get myself ready for what was to come next.

  Taking off my shoes, I stretched out on the couch; I was too tired to go to the bedroom.

  I quickly fell asleep, troubled thoughts running through my mind, with dreams of a happily ever after with Melissa.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I awoke to a stiff back; my couch was comfortable, but not as comfortable as my bed. Fleeting images of my dreams danced in my mind, but I couldn't remember anything specific.

  I checked the clock on the wall and was amazed to see that I had slept for 14 hours. I wasn't even sure what day it was. Or what year, for that matter.

  Heading into the kitchen I put on a pot of coffee, and tried to think about what would happen next.

  It didn't seem like a great idea to just confront Thomas directly, but then again, I couldn't think of a better way of doing it.

  I had to assume Thomas had some sort of backup to aid him, perhaps a cadre of agents even more covert than the special ops people – possibly even more powerful.

  With the coffee done, I poured a cup and grabbed an apple and headed to the living room. I should have had my guard up, but I didn't; I wasn't expecting anything to go down here. Looking back, it would have been wise.

  Sometimes things end with a whimper; in my case, things ended with a bang.

  * * *

  I had sat down to take a sip of my coffee when suddenly a wave of disorientation flooded over me; in the blink of an eye later I was standing in some kind of empty parking structure.

  It was daylight but dim; sunlight was coming through, but not much.

  I couldn't move. It felt like I was being restrained, but I couldn't see anyone, and more importantly, I couldn't sense anyone, either.

  I closed my eyes and tried to clear my thoughts, but I found I couldn't do that; there seemed to be this white noise in my head preventing me from doing so.

  There was someone more powerful, apparently.

  I stood there, helpless; there didn't seem to be much point in my crying out into this empty parking garage. I had a pretty good idea as to what was going to happen next.

  After a few minutes the sound of a car engine enveloped the silence, and a familiar vehicle entered the parking structure: a large, Humvee type of car.

  It pulled to a stop in front of me; the doors opened, and several people stepped out: five men in uniform, brandishing automatic weapons, and a sixth man: Jeff Thomas. Thomas was dressed for work, apparently, in a nice Navy-blue suit with white shirt and red tie. He was smiling. In one hand he held a pistol.

  The men in uniform circled around me; Thomas approached and stopped a few feet in front of me.

  “Charles, you have caused a lot of problems,” he said. “I have a bunch of agents in hospital right now who can't seem to form memories, and they can't remember their past, either. Your doing, right? Of course it is.”

  I was going to remain silent, but an invisible hand punched me in the kidney. I groaned and said, “Yes, Jeff, it was my doing. I didn't want them in the way.”

  “A lot of good th
at did,” he replied. “I see you're...detained. I had an ace up my sleeve. Did you think I was just going to let you take out my top agents?”

  “I thought we'd deal with this situation on our own, without anyone else. That seemed best.”

  “You're wrong,” he replied. “Why would I agree to that? Why would I give you the advantage?”

  “Whatever,” I muttered. “So now what, Jeff? What happens next? Are you going to take me in? Lock me away for the rest of my life?”

  He barked a laugh. “Hardly. Letting you rot in a jail cell would be too good for you. I have something more...final in mind for you.” He pointed his pistol at me.

  “Just like that, right Jeff?” I said. I was starting to panic. “Just another murder to add to your collection.”

  “This isn't a murder, you idiot,” he said. “As far as this government is concerned, you're already dead.”

  “But what about the bounty on me...the reward to bring me back? That wasn't government sanctioned?”

  He laughed again. “Hardly. I sanctioned it. You may have some kind of power in your head,” he said, pointing to my head, “but my power is greater. And I'm going to use it.”

  “What do you need all of these guys for?” I asked, indicating the guards.

  “Them? They're here to make sure if anything happens to me, they finish the job. Enough talk, Charles.”

  He pointed the gun at my head, and in that moment I could feel the unseen hands release me; I could sense that I had control of my thoughts again.

  Before I could act, Thomas pulled the trigger. Once, twice, a third time.

  Invisible hammers of pain tore into me; I fell to the ground, could feel the blood pouring out of me.

  The light was growing dim; I was able to look up at Thomas, just in time to see him shoot me a fourth time.

  * * *

  Back at home again.

  Part of me knew that I was bleeding to death – possibly on the ground in that parking garage, but most likely bundled up in that Humvee to be disposed of.

  It sure felt real.

  I wandered around my house, pausing at the bookcase to take a look at my wedding portrait.

  I headed outside; the sun was shining brightly and I could feel its warmth.