Regenesis (Book 1): Impact (34 page)

Audrey
looked crossly at him and demanded to know what he would do in any case. “Why
would you want to track him down Jason? Revenge isn’t the answer.”

“What
if he tries to kill you Audrey? How could I live with that? And what if he
tries to burn another building to the ground?”

“Jason
he didn’t–”

“Don’t
start that again,” he snapped.

Audrey
stopped herself for a moment before she told him she was leaving. “I don’t want
to stay here and listen to this Jason.” She gathered her purse and started out
of the restaurant. Jason didn’t voice a word of protest.

She
was nearly a block away before Jason caught up with her and apologized.
“Audrey, I’m sorry.” Jason took a breath and admitted he was fixated on the
circumstances of his near death experience and couldn’t get it out of his head.
“I don’t know what came over me; I shouldn’t have yelled and caused a racket. I
shouldn’t yell at you to begin with and I’m sorry.”

Audrey
stood with her arms crossed and asked why he was angry with her.

“I’m
not, I swear.”

“Then
why are you yelling at me?”

“I
honestly don’t know.” He let his arms fall to his sides and he admitted he felt
stressed from everything that happened to him. “It’s a lot to take in Audrey.”

“And
how the hell do you think I feel?” she asked with hot tears in her eyes. “You
died Jason. I had to battle with the thought of never seeing you again and
living alone without you. It crushed me, and when I saw that you were actually
alive and recovering I was relieved, elated even. Yet your paranoia has only
burdened me further and you’ve hardly paid me any mind since your return. I
can’t have that Jason, I can’t.”

She
trembled and started to cry when he walked over and kissed her. They remained
still together for a moment before Jason apologized again. “I don’t know how I
could have missed that Audrey. I’m sorry, about everything.”

Audrey
still trembled but she asked, “Now do you understand why I want to leave? I
want to be with you Jason and this opportunity won’t come along again for quite
some time. I need this vacation to recover from everything myself and I want
you to come with me. I need you to relax and forget about what has happened. We
need to be together and celebrate all of the good that’s come our way. Please,
please come with me.”

Jason
took only an instant to reply. “Of course, of course Audrey, anything you want.
I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you and that you had to endure all of this
without me.”

Audrey
wrapped her arms around Jason and held him there on the sidewalk. She ignored
the people who passed them by and only thanked her husband for his small
sacrifice.

---*---

1:15 PM

Bothell, Washington

Jordan
followed Rachel through the forest and hills at Blythe Park. She never said why
she wanted to go there, but Jordan assumed it was either to smoke or fool
around. They finally reached the littered opening where Jordan often brought
Rachel. He took a seat in one of the plastic lawn chairs without so much as
batting an eye at any memory of the place. “Did you bring anything with you?
Because I haven’t really had a chance to meet up with anyone to buy anything.”

Rachel
shook her head and told him that it wasn’t the reason she brought him up there.
“I need to show you something.” Rachel took a seat next to him, took a small
exacto-knife out of her pocket, and looked into Jordan’s eyes. “Do you trust
me?”

He
nodded, hesitantly, “Sure.”

“I
know what happened last Friday at the party.”

“What
are you talking about?”

“I
know how you were saved.”

He
stared at her, but told her to go on.

Rachel
flicked the blade out and quickly cut Jordan on the hand. He recoiled and
snapped, “Shit Rachel, what the hell are you doing?”

She
tossed the knife away and tried to calm him down. “Trust me. Just show me your
hand.”

He
reluctantly agreed and gave her his hand. She examined it, saw how deep the cut
was, how it bled, and how long the cut was before she closed her eyes and tried
to focus. Rachel hadn’t ever tried it on someone else before but she believed
in what the armored stranger had told her. She’d cut herself a few times and
learned how to heal herself, but as for another person’s injury, she had yet to
consciously mend someone.

A
small beam of light shot out of his hand and sealed the wound. Jordan wiped the
blood that remained on his hand away and examined the space where the wound
once was. There wasn’t a mark or bruise at all.

Jordan
looked back at her, alarmed and taken aback. But he finally smiled and told her
what she did was astounding.

“You
aren’t going to freak or anything are you?”

“Yeah
right, that was amazing. Almost as cool as Ian’s pow…” he stopped himself.

“Ian’s
what?”

“Huh?
Oh nothing, nothing…”

“What?
Jordan what about Ian?”

“His…power.”
he said slowly.

“His
power? Wait, Ian has powers too?”

Jordan
nodded, “Yeah, he does. He can control electronics and can shoot lightning out
of his hands and everything.”

“Does
anyone else have powers?” she asked.

“Not
anyone that I know of…”

She
paused, “Do you?”

“Me?
I wish.” He sighed, “If I did I wouldn’t have such a crappy job and a crappy
manager…”

“Are
you talking about your new boss?”

“Huh?
Yeah, he’s always watching me; it’s really annoying…But whatever.”

“Where
do you work now?”

“Some
stupid burger flipping job,” he said with as much distain as he could inflect.
Jordan changed the subject and asked if she wanted to get something to eat,
which she agreed to. They walked the trails back to the roads, but once they made
it out of the woods Jordan noticed her bracelet and asked where she’d found it.

“Oh,”
her hand slid to it. “I…It was just on my bed, I guess I did just forget about
it last week,” she lied.

“See,
I told you that you just left it at home.”

“Yeah…”
She looked away from him and mentioned that he’d need to pay for them.

Jordan
only scoffed and muttered that he wouldn’t mind. “It’s only money after all.”

---*---

10:43 PM

Las Vegas, Nevada

“Desert
Eagle.”

Nick
and Strom sat on two separate beds in one moderately sized hotel room. There
were two beds, a small bathroom, a television neither of them used, a small
nightstand littered with empty beer bottles Strom consumed, some chairs, and an
air conditioner neither of them were sure could actually turn off. The only
belonging Nick had with him was his jacket which he kept draped over one of the
chairs. Strom had his duffle bag, which only contained weapons, and a second
black duffel bag with his clothes and a few other personal belongings.

Nick
concentrated on the type of gun Strom rattled off. He remembered firing the
weapon a day earlier, he knew what it looked like, what each of the pieces were
(as Strom showed him how to take apart each of the weapons as well as how to
put them together again), and all of the details he needed to know about the
weapon to form it.

A
small cloud of smoke burst from around his right hand and after it cleared a
silver bodied pistol with a black grip and bronze barrel. Nick recited, “Desert
Eagle XIX. American patent, Israeli made. Semi-automatic, gas powered, with a
nine round magazine.”

“TT-33.”

Nick
quickly tossed the weapon over his shoulder, which erupted into another smoke
cloud before it hit the bed, though before it vanished, Nick created the next
gun which was a silver handgun with a black grip. “TT-33. Soviet, semi-auto,
eight round mag.”

“Alex.”

Nick
then disposed of the previous weapon and produced a large army green rifle.
“Alex, Polish, ten round magazine, and has roughly an eight-hundred meter
range.”

“Kimber
Eclipse.”

He
let the sniper vanish in a dark cloud and out of the same smoke came a black
steel pistol with a black grip. “Kimber Eclipse, American, semi-automatic, and
an eight round magazine.”

Strom
grinned and congratulated him. “I think you’ve got the hang of it.” He told
Nick to relax and after the final firearm was gone Strom rested against the
back of his bed and told him they were done.

“We’re
done?”

He
nodded. “I think Mizuno’ll be pleased with the results. I mean, you’re a much
better shot, you can withstand the recoil of most firearms, you can utilize
your ability well enough to defend yourself in a fight, and from here on out as
long as you continue to practice you’ll continue to grow.”

“So
we’re done?”

“Yes.”

Nick
let out a breath and eased up. Strom got off of his bed and walked over to
their room phone, called room service, ordered two different wines Nick wasn’t
familiar with, a whiskey, some beer, and only paused once to ask Nick if he
wanted anything.

He
shook his head, “I’m fine.”

“Are
you sure? I’ll pay.”

“I’m
okay.”

Strom
finished his order by adding a turkey sandwich and hung up.

The
two had only spent a very short period of time together, but what Nick hated
the most were the moments when they weren’t training. He felt out of place in
the company of an assassin (as he expected anyone would be), yet Strom seemed
completely sane, calm, and aware of who he was in relation to the world.

“Is
something wrong?”

Nick
looked at him and lied.

Strom
accepted the answer, grabbed his duffle bag, unzipped the front pocket, and
retrieved a small paperback novel. Nick glanced at the title and asked, “Why
are you reading that?”

Strom
opened to a certain page and continued from where he’d left off while he
answered Nick, “Because the novel interests me. If it didn’t I wouldn’t keep
it.”

“No,
I mean, why are you reading it?”

“Because
it’s an American novel?”

Nick
nodded.

Strom
only turned a page. “There was a German invention by a man named Johannes
Gutenberg in the fifteenth century called the printing press. Since its
creation books are easily available for anyone with money or something called a
library card to get. And another amazing concept was the idea of translating
written material into other languages, so anyone could get books written in
languages other than their own.”

Nick
wished he hadn’t asked such a stupid question. “Why aren’t you reading it in
German though?”

“Because
I can speak and read English and German copies of
The Catcher in the Rye
are not typically sold at American airports.” He mentioned that he could also
speak Arabic, Spanish, French, and Russian before continuing, “Besides, reading
materials in languages other than your own helps you from getting rusty.”

“Is
it good?”

Strom
nodded, “It sort of reminds me of my childhood.”

“Why?”

“The
reason I ended up in the military is because I wasn’t very good at school or
getting along with the other kids.”

“Why
is that?”

“I
hated school because I always had to learn about things that didn’t interest
me, couple that with all of the fights I got into and I was a regular Holden
Caulfield,” he said with a grin.

“What
do you mean?”

Strom
looked at him and laughed, “You ask too many questions.”

“Well
I’m curious.”

He
sat up and faced Nick. “How about I ask you a question for a change? Why the
hell did you join up with Mizuno?”

Nick
shied away. He winced as he told him of his brother’s murder and how he wanted
to find the man responsible.

Strom
nodded. “What if I killed him? What would you do if I was the killer and I was
right here?”

Nick
couldn’t answer.

Strom
rolled his eyes and reclined on the bed. “I entered the German military when I
was seventeen and though there wasn’t really any actual combat I managed to
prove that I held some skill in the whole run-and-gun thing and they asked me
to join another program within the military. They told me it would be far more
challenging and as I was a stupid kid I naturally said yes without any
hesitation.”

Strom’s
order came to the door and brought their conversation to a pause. Strom got his
alcohol and sandwich, tipped the server who brought it up, and left the items
on the shelf where their unused television sat.

He
reclaimed his seat and continued, “It was the German Hostile Operative program,
or at least that’s what a close translation is. Germany basically wanted
soldiers who were the top of the line in every way.” He paused, got up from the
bed, grabbed one of the bottles of wine, uncapped it, and drank straight from
the bottle. “They basically wanted assassins on leashes, which obviously didn’t
take.”