The Impossible Future: Complete set by Frank Kennedy (mini ebook reader .txt) 📕

hand toward a bullet hole, but he jerked back, pressing hard against the log.

“Who …. Who are you? C-can you help me?”

“Oh, I wish I could, my sweet child. You cannot know how much.”

“Look, lady. If you’re one of them, then just go ahead and do me, because I can’t take any more of this crap. But if you ain’t, please help me. They shot me, see …”

She studied the wounds, a gentle sheen bouncing off her, as if the director of this absurd play had cast a spotlight on her.

“I’m sure the creators never envisioned the end to be so sloppy,” she said. “Then again, they didn’t expect my program to take so long to boot.”

“What? What the …”

“Yes. Must have been the Caryllan pulse that shook me loose. Dear, dear. All these years. I should have had ample time to prepare you. Now I’ll have to improvise. This will be a sizable challenge.”

“Lady, what’s wrong with you? You some kind of nut that goes wandering round in the woods in the middle of the night?”

She laughed. “Any other time, I might suggest you get immediate help for your wounds. However, Jamie, they have become manageable.”

Jamie found strength in his legs and lifted himself.

“You … you know who I am? You are one of them.”

“If you’re referring to the assassins, no my child. Alas, I can offer you no means of escape. My assignment was to prepare you. To condition you for the end, for the event that always was and always will be.”

“I’m outta here, lady. You’re a whack-job.”

“Please, Jamie. Hear me out. You are part of something that extends far beyond your imagination. Far beyond this universe, truth be told.”

Jamie didn’t try to process her words. “Screw you.”

“Run if you must. But know this, my dear sweet child: Even if you can elude the assassins, in just a few hours from now the boy known as Jamie Sheridan will cease to exist. I am so very, very sorry.”

All at once, nature intervened with a shrill symphony. Jamie heard crickets, perhaps millions in unison, a chorus escalating to fever pitch. They seemed to be everywhere and closing in fast, screaming in his ears, their echoes bouncing off the tree tops like thunder. Just as Jamie raised his hands to cover his ears, the sound morphed into crackling, as if the land and the trees were covered in tin foil, all of it being crumpled by unseen, godlike hands. He looked to the sky, certain the loss of blood was sending him into shock. He saw a clear blanket of stars, his eyes fully adjusted to the natural light. And as the crackling turned into a scream, a shadow reached out and smudged the stars from existence.

“The final stage has begun,” the woman shouted. “I am sorry for your pain, my dear sweet Jamie. But you had a good life, for a while.”

Jamie stumbled into the woods, anything to get away from the scream. The shadow fell over the trees, slinking beyond the low brush and twisting into a horrid shape that seemed to have legs. He ran, the adrenaline rampaging through his blood once more. As the scream faded, Jamie heard the pounding of the forest floor, many legs scurrying at once, almost upon him. He had no sense of his bearings, no care for how much blood he lost or what was directly behind him. He forgot about the bullet holes in his gut.

 

4

10 miles west of Albion, Alabama

2:30 a.m.

B EN SHERIDAN FOUND pleasure in the sensation of warm liquor filling his belly and leaching into his bloodstream. He parked on an old hunting road a hundred yards off the highway. He sat on the hood of his blue Dodge pickup and toasted the moon, even though the moon wasn’t out.

“Wherever the hell you are,” he said, raising his bottle.

Ben tossed back the whiskey like someone chugging water on the hottest day of the year. Some of the whiskey missed its target and trickled onto his perpetual week-old beard.

Ben always worked through this sordid business far from the eyes of a boy who once idolized him. He didn’t want to explain why he needed the booze. Jamie wouldn’t understand all the sacrifices and the desperate gambles. They argued enough without adding on the whole truth. So he found a liquid escape in the nearest wet county.

He knew he had no business leaving Jamie alone. There was simply too much at stake, as Ignatius reminded him every day. He owed this much to Jamie: Be home, comfort him all the way to the end. Send him to his rest with peace and dignity. Even Tom and Marlena would have agreed.

“Bastards,” he said, toasting his parents like he did every night.

Ben shivered. As quickly as the ghostly image of his parents snuck in through the back door, he kicked them out.

“Get a grip, Sheridan,” he mumbled. “Iggy knows what he’s doing.”

He took out his phone, wondering why he received no texts.

“Damn it.” Somewhere along the way, he muted the phone.

That’s when he saw it.

Caryllan pulse confirmed. Walt triangulating. Rebirth beginning. I have him. You know where to find us. He will need you.

“Oh, hell. It’s too soon.”

Ben called Ignatius. No response. Sent a text. No response. He called Jamie. No response. Then he saw the second text.

traitors  rp ab ??

He took another swig and tossed the bottle aside. He fumbled for his keys and felt nauseous, but not because of the liquor.

“What have I done?”

He opened the driver’s door, braced himself against the side of the truck until the dizziness passed, and jumped in, dropping his keys between the seats. He cursed, wondering how to make the drive home. After taking a few deep breaths, Ben