The Pale: Volume One by Jacob Long (portable ebook reader txt) 📕

fingers from his flashlight hand to feel his partner’s neck because he didn’t want to otherwise occupy the gun in the other. If nothing else, the cop was cautious.

The cop directed the flashlight back up into Adam’s face. “What did you do to him?”

Adam should have run while the cop was even slightly distracted, but he didn’t. He needed to know what the cop discovered after checking on his partner. There was no grief or panic in the cop’s voice, but Adam asked, “Is he gonna be okay?”

The cop barely let Adam finish his sentence before repeating, “What did you do to him?” His posture was that of a man threatening another man with a gun.

Adam balked. “That would be hard to explain.”

“Then talk slow!” It was kind of touching to Adam how concerned the cop was for the welfare of his partner.

“Look, I just . . . can’t.” Adam grew agitated. “I can’t deal with this! I can’t have this! I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

“You got yourself into this,” the cop said. “You’re a criminal, and you’re . . . you’re some kind of monster.”

“No!” Adam stressed the word, exhausted. “I’m not! I’m not either of those!”

“No?” the officer mimicked rhetorically. “You think breaking into stores, stealing, and attacking police officers is—” The officer cut himself off, and for a few tense seconds, there was only silence on the dark side of the flashlight where Adam assumed the officer was talking himself out of riddling Adam with every bullet in his magazine. “Fine,” the cop said, at last. “Don’t tell me now. You can explain it down at the station.”

“I’m not going down—”

“You’re going down to the station so you can explain what you did to my partner, so the doctors can reverse it!”

“I am not—screw this!” Adam dropped his hands and lunged for the officer. Before another heartbeat passed, the cop pulled the trigger. Only there was no explosion of gunpowder. Instead, two coiled wires with barbs on the ends erupted from the barrel and stuck in Adam’s skin. He became the conduit that connected them, and an arc of electricity seized Adam in the space between. Adam shuddered and stumbled to the pavement, but he didn’t pratfall like he should have. The pain was incredible, and he could feel the muscles twitching from errant electrical signals, but whatever incredible power he’d gained from devouring just a portion of that man’s soul had held. He gritted his teeth and glared up at the silhouette of the second cop defiantly, not knowing that his eyes were glowing once again. Adam actually saw the officer’s stance waver uncertainly, probably strongly considering dropping his Taser and running for his life.

The standard seven-second burst of the Taser came to an end, and Adam had resisted. He braced a hand on one knee and started pushing himself to his feet. It was then that the officer retriggered the weapon and a second electrical surge wracked Adam’s body. This caused him to clench his teeth so mightily that it hurt, just to stifle his inevitable enraged cry of pain. He poured that iron will into his arm, gripped the wires and ripped them out in one clean jerk. It may have looked manly and heroic had Adam not yelped in a high-pitched voice when the barbs tore open a chunk of his flesh. He had to take another stretch of time to massage the violated muscle underneath.

“Ow,” he whined. “Dammit.”

When Adam refocused his attention on the silhouette of the horrified cop, he was quick to replace his scrunched-up pain expression to one of fury. His breaths became intimidating growls, and his heart sizzled with indignation. Adam’s muscles tensed to pounce on the officer. His body lurched forward in all the precursors of an attack, but then he stopped. He remained in place, knelt on the dark pavement.

The officer did want to run, but he could never abandon his partner, so he just stood, frozen with the same indecision becoming apparent on the face of the perpetrator on the ground in front of him. He watched Adam’s expression change from pain, to rage, then violence, but then suddenly to surprise, realization, indecision, contemplation, and then finally what looked to be . . . some kind of sadness.

Adam looked up at the officer, his eyes changed. They weren’t glowing, sure, but then there was the clarity. The officer recognized it. His perp looked peaceful. From there, Adam stood, unthreatening. He seemed to organize his thoughts, and then he spoke.

“I think we’re done here,” Adam sighed, his shoulders deflating. “You know that I’m not . . . normal. I don’t even know if you have a weapon that can hurt me. And . . . I won’t . . . hurt you.” Adam took another deep breath to get his heartbeat under control. “I’m not a bad guy. And I’m not a monster. So . . . I’m gonna leave now. You can take out a real gun and see if that works, but you’ll be shooting me in the back, and I don’t think you want to do that.”

The officer said nothing. He just kept his flashlight aimed at Adam’s face.

Adam continued, “Besides, you need to get him some help. I think he’ll be okay. I just . . . I just wish I had made a better impression . . .”

Adam tried to find more words that would maybe have a more positive impact, but there was nothing else to say. Even what he had already said probably landed on ears that were not interested in listening, so he just turned down the alley and walked away. Every step facing away from the officer, Adam suspected a bullet might just hit him in the back, but a dozen paces passed and nothing happened. Adam picked up speed. By the end of the alley, he was running at full, and he disappeared around the corner.

The officer he left behind waited like a statue until he was sure Adam was really gone. His sweat hung in beads on his bald head. Adam disappeared into the night, and still the officer waited. His mind reeled, wondering how he was even supposed to live after witnessing such a thing. But after a long while, he had to exhale, and it was released as a heavy sigh. His shoulders relaxed, and he dropped his firing stance. The spent Taser clattered to the pavement just a moment later.

The cop’s whole body felt numb as he moved to his partner and knelt beside him. “Gray!” he called, saliva catching in his throat. He shook his partner. “Gray!” The young officer on the pavement didn’t stir so his partner checked his pulse and his temperature. His pulse was good, but he felt a little cold. A nasty bruise was purpling on the side of his head. “Come on, man, don’t do this to me,” the attending officer said. “Don’t give up. Gray!”

The young Officer Gray flinched suddenly, having been roused from unconsciousness by the noise. He squinted his eyes against the harsh light and moved his arms weakly, groaning in irritation and disorientation. “Ughhh. Yeah? What? Ugh, what? Sergeant Fisher? Is that you?”

His partner sighed in relief. “Oh my god. You gave me a fright there for a minute.”

“What happened?” Gray asked.

His partner struggled to find the words. “I . . . I didn’t see much. Just don’t worry about that now. All right? Rest. I think you got hit on the head pretty hard. Just don’t stress yourself. I’m gonna call this in.” The officer stood. “And don’t fall asleep. You don’t know, you could have a concussion.”

Sergeant Fisher keyed the radio on his shoulder. “Dispatch, this is Unit 91.”

The reply over the radio was swift. “Go ahead, 91.”

“The B & E at Tracey’s went south. We have one officer injured, possible concussion from blunt force trauma. I request immediate emergency assistance.”

“Roger, Sergeant. An EMT is on the way. Keep him awake and hang tight.”

“Roger, Unit 91 out.” Sergeant Fisher crouched down beside his partner. “Still awake?”

“Hanging in there,” Gray replied tiredly. “Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you get him?”

Fisher hesitated, considering how much was worth telling. “Nah, man. He gave me the slip. Don’t know what happened. Too old, probably.”

“Yeah, that’d be my guess,” Gray jibed.

Fisher smiled and chuckled lightly. “Yeah, right, right.”

“We can just find him later,” Gray added. “Everyone stops running sometime.”

Fisher nodded in solemn agreement. “Yeah, I guess,” he said, but he wondered if that thing he saw ever did need to stop running someplace. Even if it did, what then?

8

Adam was still running. He ran miles without cease, without tiring. He didn’t know how fast he was moving, but the wind whooshed past his ears in a constant cacophony that drowned out all other sounds. His new superhuman abilities, after having been recharged by that cop, were back to being amazing. The power of the human soul was more potent than Adam would have guessed.

However fast he was moving, Adam knew he still wasn’t going to outrun a police cruiser. He needed a place to duck into and hide. He needed a place to rest. It felt like he had been in a constant state of rage or anxiety or mortal terror ever since he jumped off the truck in Afghanistan. Luckily, salvation came in the form of a dance club. As Adam ran, cars began to line the street on either side. People had parked their cars blocks away from some destination they wanted to reach and walked the rest of the way. Adam followed the trail and arrived at a metal club called Shredded. He could hear the music all the way down the street. People in artfully torn black clothing, band shirts, studded belts, piercings, and funny hair stood outside the doors. The eye shadow budget was prolific.

Adam shook his head in amusement. He knew Téa would have liked the place. She might have even gotten Adam to enjoy it himself. Adam looked over his clothes, and he knew he was not dressed for the occasion, yet he had to go inside. There was no other place to go, and sometimes fate doesn’t hand you what you want; it hands you what you need. Adam needed to go inside to hide from the police.

There was no bouncer at the door or anyone checking IDs. It was only necessary for the bar, and Adam doubted they checked for IDs there, either. It was perfect seeing as how Adam would have had no identification to present. As he crossed the street and approached the door, the other patrons standing outside became increasingly aware of Adam. Almost all the dozen or so metalheads smoking in the night breeze turned to observe this new character, who was not dressed the part at all. However, Adam was not a small man, and the look of grim determination on his face saw that no one bothered him as he made his way past.

Inside the club was crowded. Men and women danced, banging their heads within inches of each other, some to the beat and some not. With all the tall, sharp Mohawks, Adam mused at the safety implications. All of the dyed hair created an interesting medley of colors, and many of their outfits were bondage inspired fashions that bordered on costume-like. Some even wore creepy masks. The intensity of the music could be felt in the floor, being fed from large speakers at every corner of the ceiling. Bizarre lighting dyed the entire scene in a fiery orange with some of the more dynamic light fixtures sweeping the length of the floor. The building itself looked like it used to be an old factory. The walls were more functional than fashionable, and a railed iron stairwell led up to an overseer’s office at the far end of the “dance floor.”

Adam started bouncing his heels to the sound as he moved into the crowd, his head nodding with increasing intensity. In his effort to blend in, he released the top two buttons on his shirt. If he had more hair, he would have tousled it so as not to look so clean, but the Army life had always had a way of ruining Adam’s plans.

Away from the tables and the bar at the entrance, the dance floor was crowded with people. Adam head-banged his way