Chapter 3
THREE
ALEX
Moss-covered stones were cool and plush beneath my bare feet.
Rushing water filled my ears, and towering conifer trees cast a shadow over the Triberg Waterfalls. I’d only been to Germany once on a mission, but I’d made sure to visit the Black Forest before I left. I was glad now that I did.
Elaine splashed beside me, holding her skirt as she danced in the water.
She was ninety-two-years-old, and hadn’t been to her homeland in forty years.
It was her dying wish—to visit the forest her father used to hike in.
I was told that she’d been battling congestive heart failure for six years; she was a trooper, stronger than I could ever hope to be.
But Elaine had a burst of energy after spending weeks in bed—she’d been talking more, even asking if she could go for a walk. Her care team had called me in immediately; it was her time. She would be gone soon.
“How are you feeling, Elaine?” I asked, slapping a smile on my face, as if her body hadn’t begun to blur.
That was the thing about my daydreams. I could pull anyone in as long as I had a clear picture of them; what they looked like, their voice, even their smell helped.
But when they started to die, when their consciousness was slipping away, they faded out of the scene.
That was my job—keep them in until they disappeared.
It would be painless; pulling them into my mind meant they were temporarily detached from their bodies, a sort of disconnect that protected them from the worst of it.
To Elaine, she was home.
She would pass away here, and I would watch it happen.
“Oh,” she cooed, “like a girl again. I could stay here forever.”
I nodded. “We’ll stay as long as you’d like; we have all the time in the world.”
Sometimes they were aware of what was happening — the ones that had been going slowly, the ones who were still lucid. Others had no idea, they really believed in my daydream; they took it as reality.
Elaine paused, staring up at the sun that shone beneath conifer leaves, and smiled. “You don’t have to lie to me. My time is up, I know. I’ve lived a long life—I have no regrets. It’s quite beautiful if you think about it.”
“Good,” my lips trembled. “That’s good.”
Her body flickered, her wrinkled skin growing transparent as her blue eyes began to dull. “This task must be a heavy one; I doubt everyone you see is as ready.”
The waterfall went silent as I lost my focus, my chest squeezing. “It depends on the day, I guess.”
She placed her hands on her hips and turned to me, a grin spreading across her face. “Thank you, Miss Graham. I couldn’t think of a better end.”
Before I could respond, her form flickered again, and she was gone.
I sat alone in the Black Forest, all the sounds quiet, the moss and water beneath my feet now nothing but an image.
It was a strange, lonely feeling. Every time they left, I had to wait for someone to wake me back up.
Once the nurses saw her vitals, once they pronounced her time of death, they’d bring me back.
Until then, I was stuck, sitting in a dream that wasn’t my own.
A solitary wake, to honor the ones I helped pass on.
“Good work today, Alex,” Doctor B smiled.
Steven Buenrostro was one of the best doctors at Nightmyre Hospital and had one of the longest last names I’d ever had to pronounce. The first time we met, he mercifully told me to call him ‘Doctor B’, and I nearly keeled over from the relief. I hated getting names wrong.
He was the lead in creating a program where Variants helped terminal patients with their pain, or passing on.
Doctor B was the entire reason I could survive without the VIA; most of my paychecks came straight from contract work with the hospital, and he was always the one to request me.
He was twenty years my senior and had the demeanor of a cool dad that never actually had kids.
“It was the usual,” I sighed and forced a smile onto my face. “No biggie.”
After my appointment with Minnie, I took her advice to heart, and Joon’s silent words, and hit the ground running.
I’d called the hospital back and started filling up every empty space in my schedule with work.
Elaine was the sixth patient I’d watched die today, but I’d spent the most time with her.
Sometimes, it was quick—I’d happen to be in the hospital while someone coded in the ER, and the doctors knew there was no saving them.
Other times, it was like Elaine, where the signs were there but no time frame for when it would happen.
But they died happy; they died in peace.
On soft, sandy beaches, or in the mountains hunting even though they hadn’t walked for years, or my favorite of the day—gorging themselves on authentic ramen, right in the middle of Japan.
That one, unfortunately, was too fast. We’d only been under for twenty minutes before I’d been jolted awake by smelling salts, the faint taste of pork broth still on my tongue.
I made that happen, and it felt good. It made my body buzz with purpose and helped keep the thoughts of Joon at bay. Everyone passed with no pain or anguish in sight.
“You worked hard, make sure to take care of yourself when you get home,” Doctor B gave my shoulder a gentle pat. “And watch yourself on those roads. I saw that new ride—very cool, but I see too many bad results from those bikes. Take it easy for me.”
He lifted a device that looked like a phone to my neck and waited for the small chime to signal that it had registered.
All Variant chips reported back to the VIA; any use of our abilities that extended past forty percent of our individual threshold were flagged, and the shitstorm that came after was a headache and a half.
Being contracted through the hospital meant that my ability use was excused, as long as it was recorded and verified.
It was the same as punching in and out of work—except if I missed a punch; I ran the risk of being arrested.
Luckily, my daydreams only took about fifteen percent of my power.
Illusions, unfortunately, were an entirely different beast. I wasn’t willing to risk them, even on my worst wine nights, when I contemplated bringing Joon into my kitchen so I could stay conscious.
Wallowing wasn’t on the list of VIA excuses, and I was sure a prison uniform wasn’t my color.
So I stayed lost in my daydreams.
I rolled my eyes but nodded. “Yes, Sir. I’ll do my best.”
He waved me off, and I was almost giddy as I pulled the new keys from my backpack and made my way to the parking lot.
Minnie had said to try something out of my routine—I actually did my homework this time.
It had been years since I’d been on a bike, and when a flashy new Ducati caught my eye, I figured… why the fuck not.
Joon always got anxious when I used to ride; always sending me new information on gear and news articles about crashes. Eventually, I took mercy on him and gave it up. It was an expensive hobby anyway, and I didn’t see the point in the risk anymore.
But now…I needed a little risk, I needed adrenaline and the feeling of freedom.
I needed a change. My bike was waiting for me right where I’d left it, shining and black and perfect and dangerous.
On the side, I’d had the name ‘Hopper’ detailed in blue, my homage to Joon.
I slipped on the helmet, smiling at the little horn decals on the top.
It had taken a few days to get the inside altered to accommodate my own attachments, and the cost made me want to gag.
At least it was cute.
I revved the engine as I balanced myself, and my heart pounded with anticipation. There was an entire city to explore, and nothing to hold me back. I was tired of the grief, tired of feeling like a shell of myself, tired of guilt.
“Alright, Hopper. Let’s see what you can do.”
I wasn’t sure how long I drove . It was long enough to watch the sky turn from blue to orange and soft pink, and then to black.
Long enough to see the neon lights go on, and watch Nightmyre begin to sparkle.
Sometimes I thought about moving away, about secluding myself in some forest and living with a herd of cats in my house.
But then there were these moments where, even in a city of sin, beauty reigned supreme.
Hopper had definitely lived up to his name—I pushed it tonight, twisting the throttle every time the traffic gave me a straight, clear path forward.
I wasn’t reckless; not completely, anyway.
Just enough to make my heart skip a beat, enough that I knew Joon would reprimand me, but not lose his mind. For a moment, I was alive again.
But as the night went on, the city changed.
The streets got darker; pedestrians were far and few between.
It was the witching hour; or the hour of Villains, anyway.
The time that Heroes got the most calls, when danger was in the air.
I tried to ignore that first call for help, tried to pretend the music in my helmet was too loud to hear it.
Just keep it moving, Alex. You’re no use to anyone, anyway. A Hero will come, and it won’t be you.
The third call came clear in the air and filled with distress.
I grit my teeth and scowled at myself as I turned the bike, following the sound until I spotted it.
An old man sat on the ground, with a cut on his forehead that poured blood down his face.
He held his arms up defensively as two men stood over him.
I didn’t think as I stopped hard, my body lurching forward with the force. My kickstand was out and holding Hopper up before I leaped off the seat, sprinting over to the scene. The man on the ground gaped and shook his head at me, as if telling me to stay out of it.
Don’t risk yourself, he seemed to say.