The Reapers were swarming the docks. Cole had his hands full trying to keep them away from the large, flashing crate labeled "First Aid."
Cole's clothes were soaked in blood. He was starting to wonder why he'd agreed to this suicide mission. He'd been shot full of bullets just like he'd predicted. Crouching behind another, larger crate, he was blasting bolts of electricity from his hands. Two Reapers tumbled from the docks and landed in the muddy water.
When Trish and two of her friends finally arrived at the scene, he could see the horror and disgust in her eyes. The bodies of the reapers were everywhere, in the water, on the docks, laying eagle spread on the sidewalk. Only Cole was left standing, covered in gore. To avoid looking at her, he limped over to the nearest street light and drained the power from it. Slowly, uncomfortably, his wounds began to close. Bullets worked their way out of his flesh.
"What did you do?" Trish said without preamble, having wandered over to him, letting her friends retrieve the box of supplies.
"I did what you asked me to do," Cole responded in a pained voice. "I stopped the Reapers from getting your stuff."
"And so to stop them, you massacred them all?" Trish said harshly.
"They didn't exactly give me much of a choice!" Cole snarled, ripping the jacket off one of the bodies and using it to sop up some of the blood on his clothes. "I'm not a saint, okay? I wasn't about to let them kill me."
Trish was looking at him like she was seeing him clearly for the first time.
"I don't believe you," she said finally.
"Look, you knew what you were asking for," Cole spat. "You ask a killer for help, and this is what you get." He gestured around at all the dead bodies. There was a twinge in his stomach as he thought of all the ghosts he'd just unleashed onto the streets to haunt him, and his anger faded, replaced with unease. He stared fixedly at the tiny waves in the bay, his imagination in overdrive as he thought of demons rising from the waves from the bodies of those Reapers.
Trish was never going to let him come home...
Cole almost immediately decided he didn't want to be here another minute. He didn't want to listen to a rant about how he was a monster or a killer or a freak. He couldn't stand seeing Trish's accusing gaze on him anymore.
He turned his back on Trish and ran.
I didn't want this, Trish!
Cole pushed his powers away. He didn't want them. Even if it killed him, he swore he'd never use them again. Cole passed under darkened streetlights. A few minutes later, he began to feel weak.
What the hell...
He glanced around. There were no lights on anywhere in this part of town, actually... oh, damn...
No power, there was no power. And he had nothing left in him, he'd used it to heal his wounds... Cole felt his footsteps slowing down. His thoughts were getting fuzzy... where was he going again?
I've got to get out of here...
Cole kept running. But in his heart he knew there would be no escape. Not from his pain, not from his power, not from all the things that haunted him...
/
Cole could barely believe what he was seeing. How the fuck could this have happened?
When Cole's phone had started ringing a few days later and he'd seen it was Trish calling, he could hardly believe his eyes. He should have known it was too good to be true. That madman's voice had oozed out of his phone, giving Cole an ultimatum... Come to this address or Trish would die. Trish's terrified pleading in the background had sealed the deal.
Cole had climbed the side of the building so fast, he'd left a trail of bloody hand prints on every windowsill.
"Let her go, asshole!" Cole shouted, hauling himself up onto the roof and charging towards Trish. She was dangling helplessly off the edge of the building, suspended by a single length of rope.
"Ah, there you are..." Kessler said, tilting his head to one side as he regarded the younger man. "How good to see you again."
"Get her down from there!" Cole demanded, trying to get closer, but Kessler held out his metal hand threateningly. "I showed up, now let her go!"
"I am most disappointed with your progress, Cole," Kessler said, ignoring Cole's demands. "You had been doing so well... and now you suppress your power. You hide it within you!" He shook his head as if he were genuinely sad for Cole. "This is unacceptable."
"Please!" Cole screamed over the wind. "Just leave her alone!"
"Ah, you are referring to our guest?" the older man said, gesturing to Trish as if he'd only just noticed she was there. "Well Cole I got down to thinking that perhaps all you need to express your powers more avidly is a little... incentive."
"Look, do what you want to me, just leave her alone!" Cole cried, his hands sparking randomly, completely out of his control. He tried to shake it off.
"You see?" Kessler pronounced triumphantly. "You hide it! You fear your own strength! I made you what you are, and this is how you thank me?"
"You didn't fucking ask me if I wanted this!" Cole roared at Kessler.
Kessler simply sighed. He glanced exasperatedly at Trish like he was saying, Goodness, he's being uncooperative, isn't he?
"If that's how you feel..." he said, a cruel gleam in his eyes.
Cole just stared, frozen in terror. This couldn't be happening... this isn't happening...
"Care to say goodbye, Cole?" Kessler said, giving a mocking little wave in Trish's direction. His metal hand snapped the rope supporting Trish as if it were made of tissue paper.
Cole watched with terrified eyes as his girlfriend fell to her death.
"Trish!"
But it was too late. Trish had fallen out of sight. Completely ignoring the villain, he raced to the edge of the building and threw himself off after her. His hands scrabbled at the side of the building as he dropped from windowsill to windowsill as fast as he could go. As he neared the bottom, he slipped. He came down hard, legs buckling beneath him as he hit the ground. Cole groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, channeling power into legs, enough to numb the pain.
Trish was laying eagle spread on the ground, just a few feet away. Cole crawled over to her and gathered her up in his arms.
"Trish," he said urgently. She wasn't moving. He had to try to heal her. Focusing his power, he pushed it away from himself and let the healing energy flow into her. And it wasn't good enough. It was only enough to rouse her. Her eyelids fluttered.
"Cole..." she said, her voice weak. She grimaced in pain.
"You'll be okay," Cole choked. She was all he had. He couldn't lose her.
Trish blinked and then lay still in his arms. Her eyes stared at him. It took Cole a minute to realize that Trish was no longer looking out of them.
"No," he whispered to himself. How could that be the end, just like that? It seemed like there would be no closure for him. If Trish had had any last words, they were now lost. Cole's stomach felt like it was filling with lead. That was it. Just like that, his life was over.
Trish had died hating him.
"You're going to pay for, this Kessler!" Cole howled, clutching Trish's body to his chest. "You hear me! You're dead!"
A little incentive...
/
He buried her in the park, alongside other poor souls that had expired during the last few days. He dug the grave, counting every shovelful of dirt. He tried not to focus on what it felt like to place her body in the hole in the ground. His mind wasn't able to process any part of the grisly scene as he shoveled dirt on top of her. Her face disappeared from view. He shoveled faster, unwilling to give in to his despair just yet. Finally it was done. All that was left to remind him of Trish was a small photo he had tacked to the rough wooden cross he had made to mark the spot.
He knelt down by the grave, his strength finally giving out. Hot tears stung his eyes. He hadn't allowed it to sink in while he was burying her. But now it was hitting him full force. Trish was really gone. Her body was decaying in the ground beneath him. He plunged his hands into the dirt.
The life he had planned for them would never be. He had nobody now. He was alone. His hands clutched at the loose earth like it was his life line. His whole life was collapsing around him. Everything he knew was falling apart. He wanted to collapse here on the cold uncaring ground that had just swallowed up his dead girlfriend. Part of him knew she hadn't just left him, she'd been gone for a while now. She'd turned her back on him, and now she was gone beyond where he could reach her. The leaves rustled in the trees nearby.
"I'm sorry," a voice whispered so quietly by him he barely heard it. Cole shuddered and pushed his hands farther into the dirt, as if he could reach Trish even now.
"Stop," he growled, trying to sound stronger than he felt even as he sensed a few tears escaping from his eyes and getting lost in his beard. The full moon glowed bone white overhead. A few leaves broke free from their branches and were swept into his lap.
The girl's voice didn't say anything more. He was glad for that. The last thing he needed right now was to be hallucinating. He pulled himself together enough to remove his hands from the ground, dust them off on his filthy pants, and wipe the tears from his eyes. But he couldn't move from the spot. He stayed there, kneeling, staring at the picture of Trish and crushing the leaves in his lap inside his fist.
That was when he felt it. A presence. If he closed his eyes, he could feel it. Hands touching his face. He opened his eyes, as if that would reveal the presence, but he was still alone. The unseen hands slipped around his shoulders, and he felt a gentle pressure on his chest. If he concentrated, he could feel the embrace. And then just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Someone had just hugged him. Or he'd imagined the whole thing.
"Don't give up," the voice said softly.
/
Miles away on the other side of town was an alley, deserted except for a feral cat that was sniffing around a dumpster. A single dim street light illuminated the tight, dingy space. Quite suddenly a cold wind swept through the alley, blowing trash and dust every which way. A garbage can was knocked over and rolled away. The feral cat fled in alarm. When the wind died down and the dust cleared, a thin, pale woman was standing in the alley. The street lamp shed its yellowish light on her burnt, tattered, and bloody clothes, her ragged and charred hair, her torn bare feet. The girl stood there for a moment, blinking in the dim light.
She looked around the dingy alley like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. A strange, slightly insane smile spread across the girl's face. She took a few shuddering breaths, holding up her shaking hands as if inspecting them. Then the girl took a single clumsy, awkward step forward, as if she'd forgotten how to walk, then another step, and another step. The girl let out a tremulous laugh as she lurched off into the night.
/
Finally, the government was delivering food. People were starving, the food in the city was almost gone. Cole was feeling weak. He hadn't eaten more than water and a bag of raw noodles in three days. A crowd had gathered to await the delivery of the barge being floated towards the dock, but Cole wasn't among them. Showing his face in the middle of this crowd would not be smart.
Hanging high above them, Cole waited. The food barges hit the dock. Quick as lightning, Cole dove down on the highest crate and wrenched the lid off, flinging it into the bay. Digging his hands into the box, he retrieved three cans and shoved them in his pockets. Before anyone could do more than shout "Hey!", Cole had bolted down the nearest alley.
When Cole felt he had gotten far enough away, he climbed a building and collapsed against an air conditioning unit. He pulled out the cans of food he'd run off with. He heaved a sigh. Three cans of green beans. He hated green beans.
Oh well... it's better than starving.
He popped the top on the first can and shoveled its contents into his mouth, swallowing everything without even bothering to chew. He did the same to the second can. The third he stuffed into his pocket to save for later. With food in his stomach, Cole slumped further down against the metal unit. He ran his hand over his cheek. It was rough and unshaven, as was his scalp. A breeze brushed his hand.
"How are you doing, Cole?"
Cole groaned. The voice was back. Fantastic.
"I don't wanna talk, hallucination," Cole muttered, banging his head against the air conditioning unit.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Go away, voice, quit talking to me...
"You said the same thing last time," the voice remarked.
"Yeah because I'm talking to myself!" Cole growled angrily.
"No, you're talking to me," the voice sighed in a gust of wind.
"Right, talking to you," Cole said, resisting the urge to start grinding his teeth. He tilted his head back and stared at the gloomy gray clouds that were floating listlessly by. "And who exactly are you? Are you an angel or something?" he added, his mind jumping back to another hallucination. Maybe this was the same one.
"An angel? Seriously? Um, no."
So much for that theory.
"So who are you, really?"
"Nobody important," the voice said hastily. Cole rolled his eyes.
"You must be a voice in my head, because that's exactly what I'd call myself," the man muttered petulantly.
"Oh stop beating around the bush," the voice complained. "Are you going to tell me how you're doing or not?"
"Okay, fine, you wanna know how I am?" Cole snapped.
"Yes."
"I'm hungry, I have no place to go, and my girlfriend is dead!" Cole howled into the wind. His body shuddered. "I'm basically screwed."
The voice was silent. Cole thought it had left when it spoke up again.
"I could help you," the voice said eventually.
"I'm pretty sure I'm just talking to myself right now, so how does that help me?" Cole asked doubtfully.
"Just listen," the voice said anxiously. "Go to the historic section of town, on Knights Bridge Road. There's somebody who could help you there."
"And who would that be, exactly?" Cole said sarcastically. There was another long pause from the voice.
"Somebody you can trust," the voice whispered, quietly as leaves rustling in the breeze.
"I can't trust anyone," Cole grumbled obstinately. "This whole city wants me dead."
"You can trust this person, Cole," the voice said firmly. "Just go to the historic section, Knights Bridge Road... they'll find you."
"They'll find me?" Cole questioned uncertainly. But the voice it seemed had gone again.
Cole pulled his knees up into his chest and let his head rest on them. He was crazy. He knew he'd absolutely lost his mind. In all this time in quarantine, he hadn't been able to change a thing. All he'd done was kill people. He had no plan and nobody to help him.
Except the voice. The voice had offered to help him...
But this was completely insane. He was actually considering listening to what this hallucination had to say. But really, what other options did he have? Well, he reasoned with himself, he could go to Knights Bridge Road and see if he found anybody. And if he didn't, no harm done, right? Then that would be proof the voice wasn't real. Nobody else had heard the voice since that one time Trish had heard it... there was still a chance he was nuts. Time to get to the bottom of this. Cole stood up and began his descent.