Man Without Power

 

My name was never important to me. I can't even remember it now. There was a time, however, when it was the most important word to someone else.

When I was a young boy, living in the country, I didn't really have that many friends. It was mainly acres of farmland and the nearest school was twenty kilometres away. My family had moved here before I was born, but even I felt alien having been raised here. But at school, I became close friends with a girl.

As hard as I try, I can't even remember her name. It's not because I've lost the memory, it's because it's too painful too.

She was fantastic and we bonded together over our love of the imagination world we created around us. Our toys became real live people and we were the governors of their fate. Every day, our secret world was born anew. It shielded us when our other friends left with their parents to live in the cities. They didn't exist in the fantasy, so we weren't as sad.

One day, while chasing each other over a field, we found an old, stuffed teddy bear doll lying under a tree. It looked at least a few years old, but for the most part, undamaged. Do you know what the chances of us finding him there must have been? We didn't know either, we were only about ten at the time, but we knew that it was big. That bear became our most prized possession, and in every universe we created, he was the one constant.

Then, finally, the day we had been dreading arrived…

My family had decided to leave and take me with them. I didn't want to leave her, but I had no choice. Before I left, I found the bear on my pillow and saw her running away from my window. My friend wanted me to keep the bear as a reminder of what we shared. Our friendship was more important than anything else in our lives.

It was many years before we met up again, and when we did, well…everything was as it had been! It was great seeing her again, and our relationship flowered into more than it had been. We still had our companionship, our imagination and our love. And the bear, we still had him. Everything was going so well until that one day.

It was chaotic. The whole centre of the city had been decimated by an unprovoked attack. People were dying everywhere, and in the fear and fire, I was struck down. When I woke up, they told me I was lucky to survive. Almost no one had made it out alive. Except for me and a few others, a large chunk of the population had been vaporised. And with my survival came a new element; a superpower.

My power was no secret, and it was similar to that which had caused the mass event in the first place. People panicked, they wanted me dead or gone. They thought I was responsible. Governments, agencies and cells came after me, all wanting a piece of what I had, eager for the profit I could bring them or wanting to bury it. Only she helped me. My girlfriend, she stood by my side.

Eventually, I was able to prove my allegiance and it was proved that I had nothing to do with the attack, although the ones responsible were never found. I had to help with that. Joining with an agency group, we found that an enemy cell had created a creature of pure energy which had transferred some of its powers into slightly genetically advanced people during the attack, such as myself.

My time with the agency meant less time with my girlfriend which put a strain on our relationship. But I had to focus on the needs of the many, and there would be plenty of time to spend with her once the world was safe.

Unfortunately, we discovered that the cell had planted itself so far within our government's structure that it would be almost impossible taking down the whole operation without severely crippling our society. She and I argued over the matter, but in the end, we both went our separate ways. I wasn't about to let them tear this world apart, and the good of the many rested upon my decision.

And so, with one decision I became the architect of our new society; broken and battered, but a shadow of what it had been. And the destruction of the monster created within the conspiracy's bowels came with the price of everyone who could contract it's powers. All except for me. I still don't understand why, and nobody thought it was fair. Hell, I didn't even think it was fair. Why should I live while families were slaughtered, parents lost their children and orphans were made around the globe?

I wouldn't want to be in a relationship with me either, if those were the decisions I had to make.

During this short reprieve where society attempted to rebuild what it had lost out of the ruins, I wondered around, trying to help out those who needed it or whom I had wronged. The most profound was a small girl living in an orphanage. She reminded me so much of a young…Well, it hurt to think about it. But when I discovered that her parents had died because they carried the genetic code I had and died for the safety of others, I knew that she was my responsibility.

Every month, I would bring a new toy to the orphanage, anonymously of course. I watched her grow happier with every new one and I too felt proud whenever she shared with the other kids. One by one, though, the gifts were taken and she became even lonelier than before.

But I couldn't help, because fate is a bitch.

A plague had become airborne and everyone in the immediate vicinity was being infected. Everyone, except me. I hated it as much as the rest of them, but there was no time to throw accusations. The virus was randomly triggered and had a mismatched infection time. Some people could last months without showing any signs while others were dead within the day. It ate people from the inside out; killing their mind and then their body. Fatality was inevitable.

We barely had enough resources in the agency to mount a defence against it, that we sought out several members of the cell to help us. They accepted, and it was quite obvious that they were spying on us. On me. They still wanted what I had, and more importantly, they wanted the virus.

A medical team was brought in to study the contagion, and my ex and I met up once again. We were frosty at first, but things soon melted as we searched for the source. When the news reached our ears that the virus could only continue if it were being repeatedly bombarded at targets, it became apparent that someone was behind this and that they were pumping it into the air. This only made the cell agent happier; they had something to look for.

The cell tried everything in their power to slow us down, make us struggle so that more and more of us dropped like flies. There would be few of us to deal with by the time we found the source, but I wasn't going to let the cell get their hands on the virus. Just when things looked like they couldn't get any worse, well…

When I woke up that morning, she looked so peaceful. I thought she was sleeping. But when I realised she wasn't breathing, that's when it dawned on me. My friend, my partner, my other half was gone. It destroyed me right down to the core. With my abilities, I could do nothing to help her, to bring her back. I would have given everything, but not even I could control life and death.

What hurt me more was when the cell spy wandered in and I had to lie over my girlfriend's corpse. I swore that she meant nothing, swore that there were more important things, but there weren't. Not to me. I had to push on, we were so close. But I died then and there. I was no longer the boy I had once been; my fantasy had been torn away and the real world dawned on me.

It hurt. I love you. I always have.

That's when I found myself standing outside of the orphanage. I was staring up at the window where I knew the little girl would be inside. She was crying, silently weeping over the gifts she had lost. They had meant a lot to her, but now they were all gone. Life was horrible and it had left her with nothing.

She jumped with a start when a noise came from her window. Carefully, she hurried over and found a doll sitting on the sill, looking in at her. It was quite old with its fair share of tears and holes. Stuffing was seeping through the loose thread and one of the arms was barely clinging to the body. But the face, it was smiling up at her warmly. The face of a bear, happy amongst the fear and the depression filled her with all its hope and dreams. It gave her reason to live.

I saw her embrace it, like she would never let it go again. No one would be able to steal him away from her. From her happiness, I felt sad. I knew that whatever may befall me from here on in, whether my fate be to live or to die, I would never feel like she does now ever again.

"Keep him safe." I said. "Find someone to share him with…and be happy."

With one final tearful glance at my only link with her, I walked back down the street, choosing to face whatever doom waited for me.

2: Veil

Veil

 

The cold Winter night bit at my cheeks and steamed my breath in a whirl of visible air, but I'd had over seventy years to get used to such things. I was more worried about Andrew alongside me. My grandson of eight years and what proud years they were. He was shaping to be an academic, just like me. His father had joined the army and served in the war of 'thirty-nine against the Nazis, but our victory was only...short lived. Now my son was travelling across Europe in search of answers and a reason to live. Forever dutiful, forever the soldier. I know he thinks me senile and a bit eccentric, bit even I was surprised when he left Andrew in my care. Perhaps he didn't have any other choice. After all, I was the only one here along with my wife and a few other villagers and farmers. All in all, Andrew was coping quite well being without his father, and as for his mother...well, that is where we were going.

I told Daniel this shouldn't be put off and that he owed it to his boy and Michelle to see her, but he shook his head and simply refused. He didn't have the strength or the will to deal with her now. The only reason he could keep on going, he told me, was the thought that she was out there right now as safe as she could be. But this was no way for her to live. If only it weren't for Andrew, Daniel might've gone through with it, but Andrew was probably the only real reason he continued to live. Wherever Daniel's spirit was, it had left him the moment Michelle did. I cannot blame him. If anything were to happen to my Daedre, then I'd not want to venture amongst the living myself. For all the sadness, all the horrors undergone, this simple Russian town could almost snatch your fears away if you were not being too careful.

The name of where we are doesn't matter anymore. Known or unknown, there were few enough people as it was to bother telling it to and we were all at risk of leaving in a moment's notice. I was born here before the turn of the century and moved to America with my parents to find a better life for ourselves. We wanted more than to till the soil and milk cows. My father might've been hands-on, but he wasn't that kind of worker. My mother barely managed getting many patients being a nurse, but she'd delivered a few babies and sewn a few lacerations together in her time, so making the transition to American doctoring techniques was easier. She didn't enjoy the fact she couldn't become a doctor in her own right, unnatural for her gender, but praised the fact that I was a boy and didn't need to worry about such nonsense. I myself found being a man no more gratifying than a woman and became curious as to why such a mindset existed, which is probably the most likely reason that drove me to become a psychologist.

By the time I'd finished my doctorate and earned my title, the First World War had already begun. While America did not become immediately involved in the conflict, my parents were both caught up in war-time training; my father, working in a metal-press factory, was taught how to make shells and ammunition while my mother was prepared to become a field nurse. I seemed to be the only one who had no part in any of it but felt it was my duty. Not to America, they were late for everything so I owed nothing. My home was under threat, my birth home and I felt a connection there that was stronger than...it's inexplicable. I guess you just have that tie with your origins that you cannot let go. I still feel it today, which is why I came back. But at the time, all I could do to become involved was to counsel the grieving and the impatient. Being in the small firm I was, working under Dr. Breen who didn't see me yet fit enough to truly conduct sessions on my own, it was a difficult road to travel, but none the less intriguing.

 

 

Andrew and I stopped for a moment in the snow. The thin trees stood around us, some dead but most had leaves that clung to them for warmth. Luckily, they were far apart and easy to see into the distant dark of night.

"Here," I said, taking a flask from my overcoat; "drink this."

Andrew took it gingerly with his gloved hands and sniffed the rim. His face contorted in disgust.

"What is it?" he asked, holding the flask a little further away.

I bent down close to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Something you should not tell your father I let you drink, but it'll warm you up and...may help."

Andrew nodded innocently. Poor child, he knew it would be tonight. He awkwardly lifted the flask and took a sip that turned into a gulp. I relieved him of it as he coughed at the strong liquid that burned down his throat. I remembered my first drink of absinthe. Luckily, I was not so young. I took a nip drink myself as Andrew regained control over his oesophagus.

"Feeling better?" I asked, putting an arm around him.

"No." he choked.

"Give it a little time...lightweight." I smiled and he punched me softly in the arm. We continued our trek under the moon and the bright stars. Such a beautiful night to appear brighter than the day. A few clouds overhead merely softened the perfect image. It was like a dream, a nice little slice of heaven. I almost felt I didn't need the shotgun with me, weighing me down. But I must. No question about it.

 

 

While working at the firm, I was always part of the group, but more of an observer of their lifestyle; the drinking, smoking and topics of conversation and taste. That's where I began my alcoholic sweet-tooth but not as excessive and where my love for the pipe emerged. I, personally, am disgusted by the pastime of smoking. The feel of the draw, the burning and the inhalation problems are not for me. Although, the act of it made me feel important, made me more than I was. So I sat and fooled the old dogs sitting around me, only sucking the air into my mouth, not breathing into the lungs, then exhaling the smoke calmly. I felt on top of the world, as though I'd actually accomplished something without lifting a finger. Some of those nights by the fire in the joint study became highlights in a lifetime of memory, despite the others' long-winded conversations and bigoted, prejudiced views. It wasn't until a few months into the war that I began to notice something unusual.

After each session, I had to file away the paperwork and notes taken down by my colleagues. The dictation, I had to type up which I didn't mind because it gave me a chance to analyse these patients privately, on my own. Plus, I'd always had a soft spot for typewriters, magnificent machines. One evening, I was pouring over what had been jotted down and copying it into print when I had the odd sensation that I'd written these notes before. The next session's worth of notes was when I spotted it; that these two different patients, both of whom had no contact with the other and lived in completely different neighbourhoods apparently sensed that their loved ones would or had already died. They had both received letters that their husband or brother had been killed overseas in the war in the exact way they had envisioned it in their dreams or hallucinations. I went back over everything else that was there and found that, over the interviews between my three colleagues, at least a dozen or more reported these exact same happenings. One person predicted that great harm would befall their son in battle and the boy had been sent home a week later after his legs had been blown clean off by a mortar shell. Another claimed to have seen his mother falling from the third floor of their apartment block two days before the incident occurred. There was a woman who saw her whole family die in a car accident and begged them not to leave the house. The next day, a truck lost control in a pothole and swerved into the front door at the very time the family would usually be leaving their house to go to church.

These cases amazed me, really caught my eye. Of course, the others, the 'professionals' as they liked to be called, were adamant that these were just symptoms of guilt that manifest themselves in a fake premonition of the horrible event. They believed that these people who had suffered a loss merely thought they'd seen the disaster in a dream or vision and could have saved them. But what about the wife and her family? She'd managed to stop the deaths of her husband and two children. Against their wishes, I approached the family in order to find out more about the incident and if it had been the first time such a thing had happened. As it turned out, the wife claimed to have held a connection with her husband from an early age, and even he stated to have felt such a thing between them but obviously not as strongly. Needless to say, upon my return to the firm, I was threatened with a forced resignation and discrediting if I so much as breathed a word while working under that roof. That didn't bother me; I was already earning enough to be able to move away and start my own private firm. But it all got me thinking about how we perceive the world and that our sciences are not at all refined.

By the war's end, my father was retiring and mother had returned from overseas medical camps. I had married Daedre and were well on our way to making a family. We moved to Chicago where I set up my own practice and helped many, many people. Daniel was born in nineteen-nineteen, forty years after his dad, and I wanted nothing more than for him to grow up in a world without war, or at least only have the memories of one. I cannot explain how thankful I was when I heard of at the war's end. At least he would be too young to remember the aftermath, eventually. We went on strong, even through the Great Depression. Luckily, I'd managed to land myself a few wealthy clients who had very bad psychological issues. It's a good thing that the rich are always mostly the nutters of society. I won't deny that there were times where we'd have to go a day without food or warmth and Daedre worked her caboose off, but in the end we still had each other. The hardest hit wasn't financial, but when my parents passed. It was a peaceful, quiet death on the same night while they slept. I suppose, in a way, I'm glad it had not been foretold in my mind. It seemed only the horrible, tragic ends occurred through premonitions and neither my mother nor father deserved that. Everything was so-so for the next decade, but that's when it happened again. That's when the next war started.

And, despite my protests, Daniel decided to enlist overseas. He was twenty. He could make his own decisions. I understood...but I didn't have to be happy about it.

I prayed to any god who would listen to protect him. It didn't help that I had more and more patients coming back with future-sight encounters, and I hoped that I never had one about Daniel. As it turned out, Daedre saved me from being trampled by a runaway carriage being pulled by two startled horses. She'd seen it in a dream, and I knew that this was an important natural phenomenon, in no certain terms, that had to be documented. It pained me, however, when she'd seen a vision of our son. My heart almost stopped when he walked through the door coming back home. Daniel had taken a bullet to the leg and had a permanent limp. I was thankful that someone heard my prayer and didn't take more from him, nor did they bring him back in a bag. At least, he was home and able to start a family of his own.

Over years of research, I realised the true extent of this unusual mental occurrence; everyone held it. There was not a soul on this planet that didn't have a link to someone else in some small form or another. The strongest connections were with family members while others had bonds that spanned the globe, touching individuals who had no discernible relation. But, theoretically, no matter how the origins of human life are interpreted, we all emerged together. At the beginning, we were all one being, a collective. Perhaps we still possessed a mental umbilical left over from such a time to keep us all as one. And somehow, with such a vast amount of information generated from all human life on Earth, a part of our minds is able to interpret it and predict the future resulting in the premonitions and déjà vu.

Mind you, I never printed such wild theories. At the time, there was no way to discover if this was true or valid under any form of understanding. We were in the middle of a war, and it seemed to me that an underlying, unnoticed telepathic connection was not as important.

It's almost funny now, but this wasn't so for Hitler. We'd heard that he was seeking new methods to defeat his enemies, more-so after the Americans joined the war. They ranged from expanding technology to the unnatural or supernatural. It seemed that he'd discovered a similar theory and perhaps a way to exploit it.

 

 

"You mustn't be afraid, Andrew." I whispered into the boy's ear. We were hidden by one of the slender trees standing beside a wooden cabin. He nodded shakily.

"I know." Andrew whimpered. He was crying softly, wiping away the tears before I could notice, but I had. I didn't wish for him to undergo this trial, but Daniel wouldn't move on so it was up to his son. At least let it be done by family. I hugged him warmly and he clung to me tight. "Do I have to?" he asked desperately. "Can't you do it? Please?"

"I'm sorry, Andrew, but I neither have the strength nor the right." I knelt down to his height and looked him straight in the eyes. "But you do." I held out the shotgun, tiny snowflakes melting as they landed on its surface. "It's what she would want."

He took the weapon and held it just like I had taught him to, his tears dripping onto the polished handle. I held out my hand which he took and we approached the cabin. In truth, Michelle probably wouldn't have wanted it this way but it was the best that could be done under such extreme circumstances. My only hope was that it could be done quickly and without lingering. But there was nothing that could be done; Andrew had predicted this himself and while one should see to it that such a vision does not take place, Michelle's fate was different.

We stopped at the door, locked since our last visit. I checked behind us in the small field in case we were being watched. This time, I wanted nothing to follow us back. With one last glance down at my poor, innocent grandchild, I unlatched the lock and turned the bolt with an old iron key. Moonlight flooded in, illuminating the interior of the cabin. All my old notes were shelved neatly on a bookcase with the odd file sitting atop the fine rows. A gas lantern waited for us on the desk along with month-old bread and other food. Pictures of my youth hung from the walls along with my doctorate...and of course, in the corner, sitting by the bed was Michelle.

She was sleeping, and for that, we were fortunate. Her head bobbled around as she dreamed unholy things. I opted not to wake her and began packing what important items I could find into the bag I'd been carrying. My notes, canned food, my doctorate; even though we live in bad times, none of us should forget who we really are. Every now and again, I looked back at Andrew. The boy kept his gaze on his mother. He wasn't crying now, just in utter disbelief by the monster before him who had transformed the vessel who had borne him. When all was packed, I allowed a little more light to show Andrew what the shadows hid. Once the lantern burned brightly, we beheld the creature tied to the bed's legs. Decayed, rotting, primeval in nature. Michelle jumped to her feet and bit and snarled at the air, trying to pull herself forward but for the bed, skin ripped and torn from a single, deep gouged bite that loomed open on her once elegant neck. It was a horrific sight to behold. How such a sweet young thing could be transformed into a carnivorous monstrosity was beyond the science of any doctor, yet to be so human still. Only true evil would force this upon the world as plague.

Andrew shuffled back slightly, afraid of his own mother. She lashed out at me but I was safely away. After being unable to reach, Michelle turned to her son and for but a moment, I sensed clarity in those dead eyes of hers. A connection the beast within could not remove or censor. But all too quickly it was gone and we were left with the monster again. I sighed, hoping that we were doing the right thing.

"Can't we save her?" asked Andrew. He wasn't desperate, angry or objective. Just disheartened.

"We are." I whispered back. It was the truth and Andrew was a remarkable boy for understanding it. "Just like I showed you." I added, stepping back. "Andrew, I love you...and so does she. We always will. Remember that."

Andrew stepped forward, breathing heavily, eyes transfixed. I worried he would not do this, but I had more faith in him than any God. She continued rounding on him, reaching out with bony, flesh-eaten fingers to strangle and kill. It made no matter he was her son. He was food to her now. When he raised the shotgun, the breath in his mouth caught and he was on the verge of hyperventilating. The poor thing. Michelle's arms pulled back slowly and her head turned to its side, eyes curious. Why was her son trying to kill her? Why was food fighting back? Both questions were caught in her head, I suspected, but in the end, the primitive urgings would win out. It was only a matter of time. The struggle was so much that I could swear I almost saw her cry, and I think Andrew did too. He let the barrel drop slightly and that's when she pounced, but not quick enough. The boy unloaded the shells into her head and she fell, finally dead.

 

 

The first I heard about it was on the radio. The Third Reich had unveiled a new super-weapon apparently capable of killing those who were caught in its path. What was not disclosed was how the weapon took its victims. It was used during the beach campaign on what came to be known as D-Day. As the allied soldiers left their landing craft to begin the assault, it was not enemy fire that struck them but black light. It shone through the sun's rays and plunged not just on those Normandy beaches but the world into momentary blackness. We were told at first that it was a solar eclipse to keep the public from panicking. The official report stated that Hitler's killing machine was a dud because the campaign went ahead without loss of life. Suddenly, all news on the war went down and the media refused to answer any questions because, quite simply, they had nothing. I assumed that this meant the war would be drawing to a close due to some new secret plan that the allies were trying not to get leaked into the public domain, so it was as good a time as any to publish my studies. Limited success overall, if you discount the latter events, not that anyone would call that a 'success' either.

They came for me in the middle of the night. Snatched me from my bed and detained my family. Daedre was kept separated from me while I was interrogated. Ridiculous that they should do this to a man of my age. Eventually, I was able to convince them of my intentions to help and my inability to do so unless they stopped asking me vague questions. It all related back to the weapon. I was told by the joint government and military leaders of America and Europe that there were no casualties on D-Day. I thought they were talking about the machine, but then they clarified that they meant the whole battle. Despite all the artillery, the firepower and overwhelming odds on either side, no one died in the truest sense of the word. Confused, I had to know what they meant by 'truest sense'. Undead, is a word they opted hesitantly. At first, I was sceptic that this was a badly executed ploy to divert my attention from the actual facts, but the more they went on about the injuries sustained...well, I may be no medical doctor, but I know a fatal wound when I see one. If I wasn't convinced by that point, then the clincher was how it all related back to me and my theory.

Experts had no idea what was going on and how Hitler's weapon affected the battle, but the results appeared worldwide. People were suffering horrendous injuries before turning into mindless creatures and slaying thousands. None who had suffered minor injuries and had physical encounters with those transformed had experienced any changes in their metabolism, so it couldn't have been a pathogen. No evidence of injections or strange chemicals were found and even those who had no contact with the creatures had become one. These people were usually close to death in some form or another, but it was still a mystery until my papers on the subject of a subtle mental link had been found. So far, it was one of the only remaining theories that seemed to present them with a reason behind this catastrophe. All that was known was that Hitler's army had no resistance to such a weapon either and the effects had swept straight through his Third Reich. One enemy down only to be replaced by something that seemed so much more terrifying. To study the creatures in detail, a safe-zone had been set up in Moscow where I was to be moved to.

I only had one request: that my wife accompany me.

Daniel didn't want Daedre and I to go alone, so he came along to guard us. It's strange that through all this bloody business and danger that he should find love in the form of a French resistance fighter by the name of Michelle. She'd fled to Russia after the chaos began. I was so proud the day they told Daedre and I that their first child was on the way. Andrew was born in nineteen-forty-five. I felt it was a good tiding, hope that humanity might survive this yet. They had a second child three years later, but by then my hopes had begun to dwindle. Still, I was no closer to discovering how to reverse the process or at least prevent it from happening. Our sciences of the mind, both physical and mental, had only come so far and there was just nothing I could do. Eventually, I knew, I would become one. As would my wife and son and his wife...but what about the children? They were conceived after the events. Was it possible that they had avoided it?

As Andrew grew, we all noticed how in-tune to life he was. He could see the destinies and fates of those around him in dreams and visions that appeared so real to him that they almost pulled him from time. We were marvelled, but that's when I noticed that he was the only one. We were unsure as to whether his brother, Sam, had that same extreme level of perception because he was still but a baby, but everyone else who had claimed to have strong precognition before D-Day hadn't experienced one since then. I finally had something to go on, something to use. Of course, Daniel didn't take too kindly to me working with his boy, but he was my blood too and he understood the stakes. As close as I came to understanding our predicament; the mental connections had to be like umbilical cords feeding and excreting information back and forth between human beings. These cords must be linked via a main hub or consciousness that acts as a hive-mind, keeping us bound together. Whatever happened on D-Day changed the way the Hive-Mind operates. It is as if it wills us to stay alive by shutting down our higher brain functions and running on automatic controls. Our personality is stripped down to the bone, natural regenerative abilities are negated, the very ideas of ethics and morality disappear and we are left with the most instinctual, dilapidated, corrupted life form on the face of the Earth acting as much a virus than a species.

I lost what little faith upon reaching that conclusion. I only hoped that others had more strength than me.

Our only salvation was a future generation, clean of any mental degradation. My relief that my grandsons should go on and rebuild this world anew, better than before. All we needed to do was to survive. Moscow was overrun mere weeks later and we fled, the city burning behind us. And so, eventually, after many hardships and heartbreaks, we ended up here in the town with no name.

The year is nineteen-fifty-three and the only faith I have left is in Andrew.

 

 

"Are you cold?" I managed to ask after a few minutes walking back home, retracing our faded footsteps.

"Numb." he answered, but it was not the Winter. "How long does it hurt? Killing someone."

"I wouldn't know." I took my pipe from my breast pocket and tapped out the ashes. It was too freezing to not be without a smoke. "I've not committed to such an act."

"Then how do you know that it was the right thing to do?" His question was shot at me through the eyes. They were worse than the cold. Stone and angry. I sighed and took a short drag.

"It's never the right thing to do." I replied. "But it was what was needed. Understand that and know that you should never want to take a life. Otherwise, there is no limit to who you might turn on."

"Will we ever see Sam again?"

The question took me back. So much so that I had to pause from our walk and face the boy.

"Keep hope that he will be found, Andrew. A boy lost is still a boy alive." I smiled down at him. For the first time since the cabin, Andrew seemed warm.

Snap!

I wheeled behind me and was met by the grizzly face of a decaying man, locks of hair patched across his scalp, tears in his cheeks and missing half his bottom jaw. Too quick, he knocked me back. I was barely able to keep my footing, but when I did, the creature was stalking Andrew. Quickly, I raised the shotgun and fired, the force sending me falling into a mound of snow. Dizzy and freezing, I felt for my pipe when I saw Andrew standing, staring, blank-faced at a pair of overarching trees. Peering nearer, I saw something, or at least felt the presence of someone hidden between them.

"Sam..." whispered Andrew. All of a sudden, a thin stinging sensation struck my mind. It hurt and made me grovel and pray for it to stop. It was painful, but what scared me more was the knowledge that others would have heard the shot and they were coming. By the time the feeling subsided, I looked around to find myself alone. Andrew's footprints lead through the trees and over a small hill. I had to follow. Standing, I tried to take a step but misjudged my footing and landed on my knees. Curiously, my hands seemed smaller than they had been. Even my height felt different. No, not smaller...younger. The weight on my mind that had plagued all of us since D-Day, it began to lessen. The world was becoming clearer, but I had no time to enjoy it. Already, I could hear the footfalls in the woods behind me and realised the pack was upon us. I had to find Andrew as fast as I could.

Charging between the trees, I followed the boy's trail, the backpack bouncing on my shoulders. I felt energised, vibrant. My clothes had changed and I remembered them to be the same garb I wore when we sailed across the sea to America. But it still fit perfectly. A glimpse of Andrew in the distance snapped me from my thoughts and I pressed on, not wanting to lose sight of him again. Daniel would never forgive me if I were to lose his remaining child. If Andrew had really seen Sam, it would be a miracle. They were in the middle of nowhere and Sam was but a youngster with little knowledge of the world around him. Looking ahead, I could not see Andrew's pursuit. There was no one, but he sped on with a purpose as though his life depended on it. His hallucinations always touched those around him, and I could tell it was affecting me, working inside my own head. Every now and again, I would glimpse a shadow ahead of Andrew, bolting through the snow, like his brother. What I really wanted to know was why, despite all this confusion and pain, was my mind feeling less overwhelmed.

My clothes had been replaced once more and become a fairly neat dress suit. My academic years, my firm years. I had regressed somehow and was now born anew, but what was the purpose of this? Only Andrew knew. But as the stars burned and the moon slowly moved across the sky, I began to feel the strength of youth drifting from my body. The bag was growing heavier and my legs ached. My hands were not just looking familiar now, they were almost the same. I had almost no time left.

I came across a frozen creek and caught a glimpse of myself a decade or two younger, but that was all. I knew, to my relief that this vein bordered the cottage we lived in, we were close to home. As I rose over the next crest, the snow gave way and I slid down the slope, face-first into the slush. Pulling my head up, my eyes caught an impossible sight; a young child and Andrew in a clearing, engulfed by a strange bright aurora. A dark mass bordered the rim of light like a force attempting to break an unyielding barrier. The snow shone an illuminating blue that lit up the clearing. While the boy near Andrew was almost lost in the brightness, I could make out his eyes and knew they were Sam's. Andrew was as astonished as I, but he had the courage to address his brother.

"Are you...alive?" he asked, breathless.

The figure shook his head, but nodded as well. An entity that had passed on from what we would call life, but was a bridge between that and death. I don't know how I understood, but something tells me that if it were to be explained further, I wouldn't even begin to.

"Will you come back?" Andrew cried.

Sam's eyes turned to dismay and his brother shook with tears and sobs. The youngest reached out for the eldest, one last touch before goodbye. As their hands met, a spark and a wave washed over the clearing and into the forest. It was not so strong as the Normandy blast, but it was a hopeful attempt at something better.

My age-old eyes glazed over the moonlit clearing. Sam was gone and Andrew lay unconscious in the snow, tears freezing on his cheeks. I rose and felt a new strength well up within. A strength of will and determination. It was as though the corruption that had come with the Normandy blast had been cleaned away by Sam's grace. As I picked up Andrew, I realised that he was not just the next generation, but the next evolution. While I may only have the good honour of facing death, he will join his brother in the succession of life beyond.

Now, I was free of the undying fate. I would not become a creature, I knew it. And as I saw the cottage where my wife awaited our return, an image passed before my eyes. Our passing; soft and sweet, she by my side and a smile on our faces. The sun setting on the world as it does on our lives.

Finally, a premonition worth having.