The Key
By: Sydney Campbell
Prologue:
The hot water splashed my neck as I held up my hair. My fingers skimmed the scar at the back of my head. I hated that scar with a passion. It was old and bloodied with the blood of others. I would have dreams of it bleeding, and wake up feeling as sick and terrified as I normally did. My life is a nightmare. The scar was given to me by my parents but it doesn't matter now.
They're dead.
Pretty soon, they all would be. The present is a pest; the past is just a reminder of what you've lost; and the future…the future should remain unknown.
A Great Loss
I crossed the street to my apartment complex dodging the traffic. Downtown Manhattan, home to the craziest drivers in the United States. I could've easily ran to my apartment and been there by the time a normal human would've taken 5 steps. But I had a façade to keep up with; humans with special abilities were in hiding everywhere. Every since our president lost his mind, cause of paranoia, and decided to make it hunting season for metahumans. But no one knew where we were. We looked just like any other average Joe. You couldn't tell if your next door neighbor was a lawyer or a fire breather-that's what makes it so scary for them. They think since they have no leverage we'll come at them with a machete shooting from our hands. We're not X-men. As far as I know, I was an average Joe until I turned about six, and realized I could run faster than a cheetah. The next surprise came when I woke up and my bed was on fire. A car zoomed by, its wind ruffling my hair. I sighed. What it felt like to be fast. The thrill, the sensation.
My brother was a metahuman who could fly. I hated that about him. But then I learned to melt his most expensive tennis shoes and all was well-until he developed laser vision. I still haven't paid for my car to get fixed. Jokes on him-I don't need it.
I opened the outer gate to my apartment complex, and tried not to think about why they decided to put bars on every door and window. There had been a few break-ins. Thugs everywhere in the big apple want to prove themselves by doing the "badest" thing they can think of. Inside joke was that they thought I needed protection from them. My brother Nathan got a good laugh from the thought too.
The minute I closed my front door behind me, discarding the many locks that were designed to keep me "safe"; my cell phone rang, vibrating my entire left leg. I didn't recognize the number but flipped it open.
"Hello?"
"This is Samantha Ross, can I speak to Jake Nohls?" I didn't like her tone. She was trying to be professional but there was a morbid undertone to her voice; she was sad about something-and called me. Not good.
"This is he." She sucked in a breath.
"Mr. Nohls, Nathan Nohls was murdered on duty last night. We need you to come right away."
"Wait-What?"
"Mr. Nohls, we don't have time-"
"Make time," I demanded, my brain still trying to comprehend what she was telling me. Nathan was dead? He can't die! Metahumans are immortal! No…that's impossible.
"Mr. Nohls, we are a secret organization designed to protect Marie Pearson. Your brother was on watch when there was an attack. We were able to get Marie out of there-with your brother's help. He sacrificed himself to save her. You should be very proud." Proud? Proud to have a brother who sacrificed his life for some girl I've never heard of. God Nathan, what were you thinking?
"Who is Marie Pearson?" She sighed.
"That's classified-but I'd be happy to tell you, once we're on our way to headquarters. Please pack a suitcase, you have 5 minutes until we reach your apartment." The line went dead. My mind was still jumbled. Nathan was dead? I felt my hand spark and sting with an intensity of a knife stabbing through flesh. I shook my hand, to make the fire go away. Control your anger. Keep cool, I repeated to myself. I always had to watch my temper. Always.
Samantha wasn't as I had pictured her. Judging by her voice, I thought she would be gruffy, and all about work-an emotionless robot. But the reality version of Samantha Ross was transparent. She was completely invisible when I had first gotten in the car. She sat across from me. She had pale skin, faded straw colored long hair that brushed her shoulders, her eyes were gray and her lips were as pale as her skin. She looked ill. She handed me a picture of a girl's neck. At the back of her neck, at the top, was a scar that looked 10 years old. It was solid and very much there. Noticeable.
"That is the key to every person in the United States with a special ability." My eyes widened. "It is located on Marie's neck." No one knew where we were.
Except Marie Pearson.
For such a young girl to have so much coveted knowledge. Everyone was after her. She must be scared and alone. It was her against the president, making her the #1enemy of the United States.
"Your brother spent a great deal of his life, training and protecting her. He was one of then best." Until he died.
She handed me another picture. This one was of the girl's face. She wasn't smiling. Her emerald green eyes were somber, her long curly black hair surrounded her heart shaped face, she had a brown sugar complexion. Easily beautiful, but sad. Her expression was almost morbid.
"How old is she?"
"16." Wow. She was young. I had a good 3 years on her. I looked away from the picture and straight into Samantha's eyes.
"So what are you asking me?"
"We want you to help us keep meta humans safe, protect her. Take your brother's place." And die like him too?
Nathan always was ambitious. He always was the most outgoing, less argumentative, more caring. Me on the other hand, I do my own thing.
"When's my brother's funeral? Are you going to tell me how he died? Who attacked?" Her eyes tensed as she became uneasy.
"That's confidential-but if you help us, at least until we can train someone to be a suitable replacement, I'll tell you everything. I'm breaking at least 6 rules here." I glanced back at the picture.
Marie's face screamed help. She was young and alone. Something in me felt sorry for her. I blew out a breath. She was my only shot at finding Nathan's killer, and barbequing him. I owed Nate that much.
"Fine. I accept."
Headquarters was a two story house in the middle of nowhere. I judged we were in the desert, though it was close to 2 in the morning and the sun wasn't up. I wish I could sleep. All this was too overwhelming. Nathan is dead. But there will be no funeral, no information, and no details on how he died. My only hope for anything is a teenage girl who has been through her share of trauma.
I feel cheated.
Samantha led me towards the house, and unlocked the door without so much as a backward glance until we were inside. The huge living room was bare. The walls were painfully white, and the room was empty save a couch and a plasma screen. I grinned at myself. There were hallways sprouting from the living room where I judged the rest of the house was. Samantha led me down a long hallway, a flight a stairs, and up to the attic.
It struck me as depressing. The attic was more fairly decorated than the living room, but not much. Just add paint and a bed. One the bed was a girl sitting with her back to us, gazing out the window. I assumed this was Marie. Her hair resembled the girl's luscious locks from the picture. Samantha's eyes flashed caution as she urged me on.
"Uh…Marie? I'm Jake-"
"I know who you are, why you're here, and what you're missing." She hadn't looked away from the window. Her voice was flat and emotionless. The mood around her was morbid and dreadful. She was truly depressed about something.
"Are you okay?" She didn't answer me. I was off to a great start.
"Look uh, I can tell you want your privacy so-"
"Where are we going next?" I sighed. She was not making this easy. But could I blame her? She'd been through what anybody could only dream of. So have such coveted knowledge, and to live in a constant state of fear and uncertainty. Plus her ability doesn't help her all that much either. It just reminds her of what's she's been through, and what's to come.
"Chicago." She made no movement or acknowledgment that she heard me. She was still facing the window. I caught a dense expression from the reflection off the glass. Her eyes were clear. They stabbed me with such agony, such pain.
"I'm going to leave now…"
"When are we leaving?"
"3 hours."
"I'm sorry." I was dumbfounded, and at a loss for words. It was the first time her voice hinted to an emotion. Remorse. But what was she sorry for?
"For what?" She didn't answer me. I could've sworn I saw a tear running down her reflection's cheek, but as soon as I blinked, it was wiped away, no trace it was even there. Now I was questioning my sanity.
I didn't bother to announce my leaving this time. She was rock solid. A whole conversation where she had completely avoided the personals. She didn't want to get close. That I understood…partially. But she had said she was sorry. Sorry for what? Samantha was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Something in her eyes told me she knew that was going to happen.
"What's her problem?" She sighed softly.
"Marie has been through many guardians…many fights and battles and explosions. Pounds of blood have been shed to keep her safe. Put yourself in her position, how would you feel?" Samantha's professional composure broke into sympathy. She cared about Marie, she felt sorry for her. She eyed me.
"You're not going to quit on me are you?" I shook my head. Something about Marie made me want to get to know her more and more.
"I'm on board." She smiled and nodded.
"Good. Now we need to get you ready for your flight-and your escape."