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Free Fall (Pyramid of Gold)

Wraiths are genetically altered people who possess special abilities. However, ability doesn't always mean power: more often than not, it just makes you a target. This is especially true for Matthew, who might just be one of the most powerful wraiths in the world - and therefore, has to hide his power and use cunning in order to survive. And then there is that girl who wants him to join her rock band...

Guiltythree · Sci-fi
Not enough ratings
62 Chs

Invitations

Ted blinked and looked at me, a confused smile on his lips.

'What?'

'That's bullshit. Everything you said. About us being better than our violent ancestors.'

He frowned.

'What do you mean? We live in the most peaceful and enlightened time in human history.'

'You do. But not everyone does. The cover might be prettier, but human nature doesn't change. Like, do you know what happened to me last night? Some junkies tried to bash my brains out, just because I didn't look like I belonged in their part of town. Those junkies? They were ready to hurt me, just for the fun of it. And it happened just a few miles from here. And then... how long was it since the Cartel War in South America? Five years? We all saw the news reports about the massacres. Africa? Mass shootings every month. Russia? I hear they hang people for a blog post down there. So we didn't become more enlightened. We just learned to hide the ugliness in the darker corners.'

Ted shook his head.

'I didn't say that we're perfect. But we did become better. We don't discriminate against each other based on superficial traits anymore.'

Right. Because why humiliate and kill and torture each other if you can kill and torture a wraith. That's what it means to be a better human, isn't it? I breathed in deeply, trying to strangle the anger, and chastising myself for speaking up.

Claire looked at me, a little pale.

'Wait... you were attacked last night? Are you okay?'

I forced a smile.

'Yeah, I'm fine. Me and my buddy, we both run really fast. Sorry, I'll go get myself some coffee.'

I stood up, a little bit too fast, and went to the coffee machine.

What the fuck was wrong with me? What happened to keeping my mouth shut? With everything that was happening, I was in over my head as it was, and allowing myself the stupidity of being sensitive was not on the menu. And why start now? I spent all my life smiling through conversations like this one, and far worse. If anything, Ted was on the better side of humanity. At least he made an effort to understand the topic of conversation, even if his perspective was lopsided. Other humans mostly just regurgitated all the ignorant shit they were taught to believe in.

Maybe it was because I liked Ted and the others. Despite how little I knew them, I was starting to care for these people. I wanted so bad to be one of them. I had not wanted to be a part of a human collective since I was a little kid, trying to make friends in kindergarten. I have learned better since then.

A voice inside me said: if you want to, you can be one of them. If anyone can pull this off, it's you. You've been conning the PA for more than a decade. Surely you can fool a bunch of students.

And the other voice said: but why would you want to?

I returned to the table, a little bit calmer, but also much more confused. Still, there was no time for soul-searching now. I had to do what I came here to do.

The guys were discussing something in quiet voices. As I approached, they glanced at me. I sighed.

'I'm sorry, Ted.' I said. 'For, you know, hulking out on you. I guess I'm more on edge over this whole mugging thing than I thought I was.'

There was a clear expression of relief on Ted's face.

'Oh, no worries, man. I'd be a little bit fucked up too, if I was in your place. If anything, I should thank you. I have a tendency to carry off, and if someone doesn't put me in my place, I get too full of myself.'

He smiled and raised his hand for a high five. I obliged and sat down on my chair. Then I said, as though it just crossed my mind:

'By the way, what are doing tomorrow, guys? How about we hang out, drink some beer?'

Dylan smiled.

'Great idea, Matt. I'm dying to see that seedy bar you're working at.'

Nelly grinned and nodded.

Ted suddenly got a guilty look on his face.

'Oh, shit. I'm sorry, but I can't. I have to go to this party tomorrow...'

I was silent for the exact amount of time to make the situation awkward, then slouched my shoulders a little.

'Oh. Oh, okay. Maybe some other time then.'

Ted looked like he was about to fall through the floor. Then he smiled like he just got a great idea.

'Hey! Why don't you guys come to the party too? It'll be fun!'

Exactly what I needed him to say.

I felt a strong wave of self-disgust wash over me and continued.

'I don't know, man. It's...'

'No, no! You all have to come! Especially you, Matt. I owe you a beer!'

#

There was a fire in the hospital that hid the PA cell. I saw it on the news after I got home from the rehearsal. Apparently, it happened two days ago, while I was playing with the Bandits for the first time. I remembered Claire walking me to the edge of the campus and the fire truck that rolled by.

I shivered.

The news report said that no one was hurt. That the reason for the fire was some old wiring shorting out in the basement.

The test chamber was in the basement. In my mind, I saw Zero's hideout in the railroad museum. Scorched walls. Melted cement. Ashes of the burned papers.

Was it really the old wires that caught fire? Or was it him, burning up, feverish, with a mad look on his face? Was no one really hurt? Did he set the PA's offices on fire? I couldn't know for sure, but it changed everything. If he was there, they got him. And if they got Zero, our whole plan was meaningless now. I didn't have to manipulate Ted into inviting me to the party. It was all over.

For a second, I felt relieved.

Then I felt terror.

If they did indeed catch Zero, then what happened in the hospital? Did he escape? Or did they kill him? If he was alive, where was he? Did they have him still?

Was he talking to the Protector right now, telling her about our encounter? About how I lied to her?

Feeling adrenalin spread through my bloodstream, I picked up my phone. There was an unnamed app that Mickey installed on it after we decided to work together. He said that the PA might have been listening to our phones, so we should be extra careful about how we communicate.

I needed to talk to him, now.

'Need to meet you ASAP.'

I pressed "Send" and waited for an answer.

None came.

I waited a little bit more, nervous. Still no response.

He was probably asleep already. His phone could have run out of battery. Maybe he just hasn't noticed my message yet.

Or maybe they took him too, already.

No, that didn't make sense. Even if they knew that I was in contact with Zero and failed to report it, they had no way of connecting me to Mickey, and, therefore, Mickey to Zero. There was no reason to take him. But we needed to talk, as soon as possible.

Now.

I sat for a while, motionless, waiting. I played with a Rubik's cube, solving it one or two times. I played the new songs I had learned on the piano, practiced old pieces from memory. In the end, I crashed on the bed, restless. Claire said that I needed to take better care of myself. Like sleep more. But how could I fall asleep now?

I guess the exhaustion of the past few days affected me more than I thought because I did anyway. I slept like a dead man.

In the morning, I didn't even bother thinking about my dream journal. Instead, I reached for my phone and opened the app.

Empty.

The shower felt cold. The coffee was too hot.

I wasn't panicking. I was in battle mode, calm and calculating. Ready.

The air outside was crisp. The sun was rising, painting the sky and the snow-covered city in beautiful, soft pink. There weren't many cars on the roads, yet. I remembered Mickey's address, thought about how to get there, and turned to head for the bus stop.

There was a black SUV parked in front of the entrance to my building. As I walked past, the doors opened, and two men climbed out. Tall, muscular. Short hair, nondescript clothes. Cold, dangerous eyes of people ready for anything.

One approached me. The other stayed back, his hand in the pocket. Then the cold-eyed man said:

'Please come with us.'

I looked at him, faking surprise. Buying myself some time to think. He had a strange accent. Slight, but foreign. Like on TV.

'And you are?'

'Come with us, zero six eleven.'

They were PA, of course. But not local. What were two foreign PA operatives doing in front of my apartment?

'It would be better if you followed my instructions immediately.'

His tone was neutral, but I could hear the unmasked threat in his words.

I could have run. Use my Ability to disable the Protectors, maybe even kill them. Tear their car apart. It was what my first impulse was, but I let it die. I was smarter than that. Smarter than them. The best move was to let this play out, wait, and see.

'Okay.'

I walked to the car and climbed inside. The man who had talked to me got behind the wheel. The other slid into the backseat beside me, his hand still in the pocket of his jacket.

We drove, heading west, away from the city center.

'Where are we going?'

'You are scheduled for a test.'

Bullshit. I looked out of the window, at the buildings flowing by.

'I had a test just a few days ago.'

'So what?'

It was time to play the fool. The car turned south.

The was a GPS navigator on the dashboard, with a green line flowing through the web of streets and ending somewhere near the port. Nowhere near the hospital. It told me two things: first, that the PA cell in its basement was, indeed, gone. Second, that these guys didn't know the city. I needed them to talk, to give me some clues of who they were.

'Uh... you missed the turn to the hospital.'

'Shut your fucking mouth.'

That was the second man, the one with a gun in his pocket. He had an accent, too.

Were they going to shoot me in the head once we reached the destination, and then dump my body in the lake? Not likely, but I couldn't help but shiver. I remembered Mickey, grinning in the cozy warmth of his ancient Pontiac, saying: but I can stop a fucker from pulling the trigger. Could I?