Quantum shift, p.7
Quantum Shift, page 7
part #1 of Phase Shift Series
The woman stared at him for several moments, the gun still pointed at his chest. “Annalise,” she finally said. “I’m Annalise. Robert…he died. He was screaming…everyone was screaming. They all died. I checked. It’s just me.”
“I’m sorry that he died, Annalise,” Troias said sincerely. “I really am. Too many people died. I was going to check the other cabins, but if you already did…”
“They’re dead,” she said firmly. “I broke in and looked. They all died, even the kids. Even the kids. They cried; I could hear them. I wanted to help them, but I couldn’t. Why would they kill the kids?”
“I don’t know,” he said softly. “Annalise, can you please put the gun down? I swear, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“He said that, too,” she said, shaking her head. “Robert said that sometimes. But he did, you know? He always swore it wouldn’t happen again, but it did. This trip was supposed to make it right. We were going to fix it. He was going to fix it. Now…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes started to glaze.
“I would never lay a hand on you,” Troias insisted, his eyes blazing as he processed what she said. “But if you want me to go, I’ll go. I’ll check back on you and make sure you’re okay, though. Is that okay?” He reached down and grabbed his weapons, and the gun barrel, which had been lowering, snapped back to point at his chest again. He took a step backward, toward the door, but the woman stepped forward.
“Wait,” she said sharply. “Wait. Don’t go. Don’t…don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me with this. Please.”
Troias stopped at once and nodded his head. “I can move him out of here, if you’d like,” he told her. “Or you can come with me, if you don’t want to stay here. My cabin has four beds, so there’s plenty of room for you.”
“Can…can we bury him?” she asked plaintively. “Or do something? For all these people? The kids…we shouldn’t leave the kids like that. Please.”
He stared at her for several moments. “I don’t think we have time to bury everyone,” he said slowly. “I didn’t even bring a shovel with me; I’d have to go to the store to get one. We might be able to build a pyre and cremate them, though. Would that be okay?”
She bit her lip but lowered the gun and nodded. “Okay,” she said softly. “I just…I need to do something. I need to say goodbye.”
Troias sighed. Now, I just have to figure out how to build a pyre, he thought with a hint of frustration. And how to light it.
Troias spent the next two hours trudging from cabin to cabin, gathering firewood and laying it out as Ren instructed. He started with a bed of kindling, then stacked the wood in perpendicular layers a solid three feet high, ten feet across, and twenty feet long. He found a can of gasoline next to the silent generator and poured it liberally across the wood. Afterward, he spent another hour loading corpses onto a luggage dolly he’d found in the main lodge area, a pair of polypropylene gloves and an apron he snagged from a cleaning cart the only things keeping what little was left in his stomach down as he did so. Even so, he wept as he lifted the tiny bodies of the children out; those, he carried by hand. He couldn’t bring himself to put them on the cart like luggage.
Once he had the pyre set, with the bodies laid carefully and reverently, he knelt by the pyre. Okay, now what? he asked Ren silently.
< When you want to use a Facet, it’s easier if you’re in the right mindset for it,> the kirin instructed.
That was much harder for Troias than it seemed like it should have been. His whole life, his entire career had been a battle for control. He had to control himself, control his opponents, control his emotions. Anger was his enemy; anyone who fought angry lost badly. They made foolish mistakes and were easy to manipulate. Control was key.
Now, surrendering that hard-won control was a battle in and of itself. Love was out of the question; he couldn’t think of anything or anyone he loved enough to motivate him, with his parents gone. Desire was just as hard for him; his only real desire – to compete and to prove himself – was forever out of his reach. That left anger, and at first, he simply couldn’t bring that anger out in himself.
That is, until he glanced at the motionless body of the five-year-old girl that had first broken his control. He saw her blood-smeared face, her wide and unseeing eyes, and her tiny body, frozen forever, all of her potential gone. And for what? He didn’t know; even Ren didn’t seem to know. There was no reason, no sense. It was pointless, a waste of a future, and that loss burned in Troias.
He’d never been married, never had kids, but he’d taught plenty of kids over the years at his school. He’d listened to them laugh, watched them crab walk across the room or chase each other around, giggling as they tried to snatch ribbons off the other kids’ belts. That was what kids were supposed to feel: laughter, and happiness, and pure joy in just living. Not pain, and terror, and agony as they died for no reason whatsoever. Anger ignited in him, anger at the loss, at the waste of it all, at the stupidity that had led to these deaths. The anger burned inside of him, and he felt the heat of it churning in his stomach.
Troias imagined the burning in his stomach as a tendril of fire, crawling up his sternum and down into his right arm. He felt the heat of it passing through his bones, pouring through his blood and pooling in his hand. There, though, it stopped; no matter how he tried, Troias couldn’t get the fire to leave his hand and jump to the waiting pyre. He strained and pushed, but it was as if nothing existed beyond his hand, and the fire had nowhere else to go.
Won’t that burn me when it ignites, though? Troias asked dubiously. My hand will be in the fire, after all.
Troias took a deep breath and gingerly placed his hand on one of the logs that made up the lowest layer of the pyre. He concentrated again on the burning energy in his hand, willing it to flow into the log, and to his surprise, he felt the energy drain away from him into the wood. The gasoline fumes ignited almost instantly with a whoosh, spreading the fire all along the pyre. As the flames erupted beneath his palm, Troias snatched his hand back, inspecting it carefully. Fortunately, it looked like he’d either managed to dodge the heat or, as Ren had suggested, it hadn’t been enough to overwhelm his natural protections.
He and Annalise stood well back from the pyre, trying to stay clear of the clouds of black smoke roiling up as the bodies were slowly consumed. Annalise stood quietly, her clear, blue eyes shimmering, and her fists clenched at her sides. Her entire body radiated tension, and Troias stayed silent, giving her the image of solitude and space.
“I loved him,” Annalise finally spoke, her voice quiet and her jaw set. “Sometimes, I hated him so much that it hurt, but I still loved him. I wanted it to work so badly. And now, he’s gone, and I don’t know how to feel.”
Troias stood silently for several moments, processing. “How long were you married?” he asked quietly at last.
“Four years,” she responded. “Not that long, I know, but they were mostly good years. Mostly. He was a good man, really…but he was a terrible one, too. Does that make sense?”
Troias nodded. “I think that people are complicated,” he opined slowly. “We’re all good and bad, and we’re all capable of doing great and terrible things.”
“Great and terrible,” she echoed, nodding her head. “I like that. That’s how it was: great and terrible.” She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “Do you hate me, now?”
Troias turned his had to face her, his eyes wide. “No,” he said, confused. “Why would I hate you?”
“My sister did, when she found out,” Annalise answered, her voice almost clinical. “She didn’t understand why I wouldn’t leave, why I couldn’t. She hated me for it, said I was weak. Am I weak?”
“I don’t know,” Troias admitted honestly. “I’ve never been in your situation; how can I judge you when I don’t know anything?”
She nodded. “She’s probably dead, too, isn’t she?” the woman asked softly. “My sister, my mom, my niece and nephew…they’re probably all dead. I wonder who will do this for them?”
Troias stayed silent, watching the woman carefully. He didn’t know what to say, but the direction of the conversation was disturbing. Some part of him knew that everyone he knew back in Chicago was likely dead, too – Oscar, Liz, his students – but he wouldn’t let himself think about that. That was beyond his control, beyond this moment, and he held himself firmly in the moment.
“Why did this happen?” she asked, her voice a little desperate. “Why did they die? Do you know?”
“No,” he said quietly. “I don’t know why they died, or why we lived. None of it makes sense.”
“It’s not fair,” she continued, a hitch in her voice. “All these people; they’re just gone. All those families…all those kids…” Her voice broke, and suddenly she began sobbing, her face in her hands, her entire body shaking.
Troias reached out and enfolded her gently in one arm, pulling her to his shoulder. She grasped his shirt and clung to him frantically, her entire body shaking as she wept. Great, heaving sobs burst from her as her grief finally erupted, and Troias simply stood quietly, not trying to soothe her, just letting her get it all out.
They stood that way for several minutes as Troias watched the fire raging and felt the small body shaking against his shoulder. She was right; it wasn’t really fair. There was no reason that some people survived while everyone else died, that he could see; no logic to it. He felt like there should be logic, some sort of pattern to who lived and who perished, and his inability to see it frustrated him.
That doesn’t make sense, Troias objected. I didn’t do anything special; I was just breathing.
Troias remained silent, thinking quietly. He didn’t want to accept the totem’s words. He didn’t want to think that he lived because there was something special about him, because that implied that everyone else died because there wasn’t anything special about them. Even so, he forced himself to consider what Ren had said. The kirin was right: he had endured the Phase Shift through meditation, even if he hadn’t been seated in a lotus position somewhere. He hoped that meant more of his students had survived – meditation was a big part of what he taught them, after all – but he refused to think about that. Instead, he focused on what that meant for the survivors.
Ren’s words implied that anyone who lived was going to have at least one Facet that was higher than normal; if they didn’t, they would have died. But, since so many died, the real implication is that survivors probably had one Facet that was much higher than normal. That seemed to follow, since if most people had a magnitude of around 1 in all Facets, probably a huge chunk of people had at least one Facet that was slightly higher than that. For only 2% of people to survive, the requirement would have to be a much higher magnitude than normal, maybe as high as 3.
That also meant that everyone he met was going to be capable of things he would have considered impossible. That hadn’t occurred to him, before, but it suddenly hit him: this new world was probably much, much more dangerous than the old one had been, and his being bulletproof probably wasn’t as big a deal as he thought.
The woman’s sobs were quieting, and she slowly began extricating herself from his grasp. “Thank you,” she murmured quietly. “And…I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” he repeated, puzzled. “For what?”
“You did this for me,” she replied, answering his question. “You came looking for me, and you’ve been nothing but kind. I…haven’t been very nice, in return. I have food, and supplies...”
“I’m okay,” he chuckled. “Do you want to stay here, alone, though? It’s fine if you do; I can check on you every so often. We just need to make this place a fortification, is all.”
“A what?” she repeated, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter; I can’t stay here. This was where…no. I can’t stay. Can I come with you? I can help out, and I know how to hunt and shoot, so I won’t be useless.”
“You can come,” he nodded. “Where did you get food and supplies from, though? Did you bring that much with you?”
“There’s a general store next to the lodge,” she told him. “It’s small and doesn’t have much, but it’s better than being hungry.” She glanced past him at the flaming pyre. “Should we let this burn out?”
“It might spread if we don’t watch it,” Troias demurred. “Why don’t you go and start gathering your things? Take whatever you think you’ll need; I’ve got room in the truck. I’m going to see if I can turn this place into a fortification anyway; I’d rather have it and not use it, you know?”
“Not in the slightest,” she replied. “But you can explain later. I’ll go get my stuff. It’s mostly packed already; I tried to leave after I found…earlier today. My car wouldn’t start.” She looked at him, puzzled. “How did you get yours to work? I tried every one I could find keys for, and none of them would work.”
“Another explanation for later,” he hedged. “Let’s see what we can do about making this place safer, in case we need the space.”
He walked to the now-empty lodge building, trying to ignore the lingering reek, and thought about making it a fortification, but nothing happened. He tried again, placing his hand on the counter in case he needed to be touching something, but again, the mysterious notifications were silent. “Okay, what am I doing wrong?” he muttered, exasperated.
Troias sighed and trudged back to his truck, retrieving the weapons he’d stashed there while building the pyre. He’d checked all the rooms and cabins, but there was the general store, plus the area by the lake, and the forest nearby…
The search took thirty more minutes before he found what he was looking for. As he entered the general store, he heard a strange sound, one that sounded like crunching and crackling. Fortunately, the store had been closed during the Phase Shift, so he wasn’t greeted by the reek of death, but something had obviously gotten in here, and he guessed that something was what kept him from making this a fortification.
The moment he stepped inside, the crackling stopped, and silence filled the store. Troias stood for several moments, blinking, his vision slowly adjusting to the shadows inside the unlit building. He hefted his glaive and held it out before him, leaning the bow against the wall next to the door; thanks to the shelves, he probably wouldn’t have very good sight lines, so his polearm would be the better weapon. He waited for his vision to clear and moved slowly inside, his ears pricked and listening for the slightest sound.
He was rewarded with a faint clicking to his left, what sounded to him like toenails on the hard floor. At least it’s not another big cat, he thought optimistically. They walk with their claws in. Could be a wolf, though…
The creature let out a low growl as it stepped around the side of the shelf, and Troias almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was the large dog he’d spotted earlier. Almost, because now, the animal’s body language was unmistakable: its ears were back, its head was low, and its teeth were bared.
“Easy, boy,” he said calmly, lowering his glaive so that the point was between him and the animal. “Sit! Stay!”
The dog ignored him and stepped closer, a growl bubbling from its throat.
“Come on, boy, don’t do this,” Troias pleaded a bit desperately. “I don’t want to hurt you...”
The dog bounded forward so quickly that Troias had trouble following it, slipping past his glaive and slamming into his chest. The dog probably weighed a hundred pounds less than he did, but the speed of its impact knocked him off balance, and he fell back, the dog’s fangs snapping toward his throat. Desperately, he dropped his weapon and slammed his left elbow into the dog’s head, knocking it back for a moment. The animal recovered instantly, though, grabbing his forearm and shaking it viciously.
Troias growled as he saw the teeth sink deep into his arm, and blood ran freely from the wounds as the creature shook its head, tearing them open wider. He kept his arm in place, though, and lifted, pulling the creature’s muzzle up. His right fist flashed out, smashing into the dog’s exposed throat, and with a pained yelp, it dropped his arm and jumped back. Troias expected to see it gagging and choking – his punch had easily been hard enough to shatter its windpipe – but it only looked a bit shaken from the blow.
