Compass Call: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 3) (58 page)

The animals were hard to see because they were dark. They had managed to stay mostly hidden by standing very still under to the shadow of the parking overhang, as if they hoped to ambush a weary traveler. They were also different in appearance. One was a large wolf, mostly black, with speckled tufts of gray and white fur. The other creature was strange, alien looking, with a sleek, well-muscled, jet black hide. And it was bigger and stockier than the wolf, but it looked more feline than canine. John had never seen such a creature before.

As John was about to consider his options the wolf charged. In a flash it was upon him, leaping up to tear his throat out, so John froze time. The attack was so fast that John wondered if he had fallen asleep, and then he realized the wolf must have been able to control time as well. This time, instead of killing the wolf as it hung suspended in the air in front of him, John reset it back to its start position. There was no rewind to see, for one second the wolf was hanging in the air, and the next it was standing back where it started at the end of the parking overhang.

When John released the flow of time he was ready, and when the wolf charged him again he drew his pistol and shot it. The wolf dropped dead to the ground, but as soon as it fell the big, black, alien cat charged forward. Once again John tried to control time, but he realized the cat was also a time manipulator, and in a flash it stood before him. The creature hissed at John with a grotesque mouth that split four ways, a mouth that resembled a large plus-sign at the end of a black telephone pole. John saw many rows of small, shark-like, razor sharp teeth on the inside of each flap. Behind the creature’s mouth, set far back on the side of its trunk shaped head, were two protruding black-marble eyes. The eyes glinted with keen intelligence and awareness, and John knew this challenge would end much differently than the first.

John took aim with his pistol, but every time he raised his hand to shoot the big cat, it would flash move to stand on either side of him, or behind him. While trying to match time with the creature, John saw how the flashes of time created a strange strobe-like effect, and it was beginning to make him dizzy. He wondered if that was the creature’s intent, but he was getting tired of the game, and was about to pull away when the big cat knocked him down and stood over him. John tried to move, to roll away from the beast, but the creature managed to pin his shoulders to the ground by standing on his coat sleeves. With his left arm free, John prevented the creature from biting his face, but he didn’t know how long he could hold off the attack with only one arm.
He struggled frantically to free his right arm from within the pinned coat, and also to control the debilitating fear and panic that was trying to come to the surface of his mind. He gave up trying to reach for his gun, knowing that it was well out of reach, and instead began to feel for the handle of his knife.

As his left arm was beginning to give way to the strength and will of the alien animal, John’s fingers closed around the handle of a large hunting knife. Without delay, he drew the knife and thrust it upward, through his coat, and deep into the chest of the determined creature. John pushed hard and twisted the knife several times in an effort to find and end the creature’s source of life. Finally, and without a single howl of rage or pain, the big creature dropped dead on top of John.

John pushed it off and stood, breathing heavily from the stress and exertion of the fight. He brushed his coat and noticed the knife slit as he returned the knife to the scabbard at his hip. He saw his gun laying just out of arm’s reach and went to pick it up. After examining it for damage, he slipped it in his holster and looked around. It was then that he noticed two men watching him from the side of the alleyway.

John snorted when he saw Sarrif, but he didn’t recognize the older man who was dressed in what John would call Tyrolean hunting garb. John sighed and asked, “Did you enjoy the show?”

“Oh, very much so,” replied Sarrif.

“I bet you did, but I can’t say the same,” remarked John.

“Come now. You should be very happy with the outcome, both exercises were designed to evaluate and prepare you,” replied Sarrif. John watched as the hunter walked over to the black alien beast, and taking a thin knife of his own, he opened the creature’s belly and reached in to remove its heart. The man studied the heart for a moment before dropping it into a leather bag and pulling the drawstrings tight. He then turned to John and Sarrif, offered a casual salute to them both, and walked away.

“What was that all about?” asked John.

“Let’s talk about the exercise first . . . while it’s still fresh in your mind. So . . . what did the two exercises have in common?”

“Um, fighting . . . but that wasn’t the purpose. I guess it was some kind of time control exercise,” said John.

“Very good. Yes, that was the purpose, to see if you could manage the flow of time, and the flow of time from others,” said Sarrif, as he walked over to examine the creature more closely. “Marvelous,” he said, as he stooped to stroke its firm sleek haunch. “You did it once when you comforted Jenna and Pete, back when you were in the roadhouse. You surprised us then, so we wanted to see if you could do it again. Everyone is greatly impressed. Many never master control of time.”

John snorted and said, “I think I need some work on that last part. So, who was the old guy, and why’d he take the heart?”

“He’s the Hunter, the Game Warden, the Park Ranger . . . any one of those titles will work if it’s a title you seek,” said Sarrif.

John shrugged and said, “No. No, problem. I just wondered why he wanted the heart.”

“I think it’s more of a trophy than anything,” replied Sarrif, “But he was very interested in the creature. I don’t think he has seen anything quite like it . . . she was quite beautiful. I wonder where you found her.”

“What? What do you mean . . . didn’t you guys arrange this . . . this little exercise?” asked John

“No . . . you did.”

“Me?” asked John, very much taken aback by the direction of the conversation.

“Yes. You arranged this test for yourself long ago . . . as part of your awakening. If you search your feelings you will find this to be true,” said Sarrif. He walked up to John and said, “You’re ability to manage time was extensive . . . is extensive, in fact . . . will be extensive . . . with time,” finished Sarrif with a smile.

“Very funny, Sarrif. I swear, if I’m responsible for that test . . . I’m gonna kick my butt the first chance I get. I thought that thing would be the death of me,” said John.

Sarrif laughed. “That will be the first of many exercises designed to prepare you for the future, but you’ve earned a break for now, don’t you think? But do you think you’ll give yourself one?” teased Sarrif.

“I seriously doubt it,” said John.

“Doubt what?” asked Sarrif, but it was strange because he sounded like Pete. Then he remembered where he was and opened his eyes. John looked up and saw Pete staring at him from his spot behind the cab. “I can’t believe you can sleep in this truck . . . not when we’re bouncing all over the road like this,” said Pete.

John sat up and repositioned the pack behind his back. “I wasn’t sleeping . . . at least not the kind of sleep I like to have,” said John. “Where are we?”

“What do you mean . . . you were knocked out, my friend. We’re very close to the neighborhood . . . about to pass through the fence by your house, so it’s good timing on your part.”

John rubbed his eyes and took a long drink from his water bottle. He didn’t fully understand what just happened, especially the part about controlling the flow of time, but he was intrigued and wanted to write it down. He was still lost in thought when the truck passed through the fence and into the neighborhood.

Tom stopped the truck in front of John’s house and everyone climbed out. Pete approached the window to say goodbye, but John and Adam simply waved farewell from the walkway. The guys in the van didn’t even stop, they just kept driving by, which was fine with John. He just hoped they’d remember to relieve Jeff in the morning.

Just as Pete turned away from the truck, a lite rain began to fall. John looked up but couldn’t tell what the sky was doing when it was so dark. Adam smacked Pete on the shoulder and said, “See, I told you it would rain before we got home.”

“You don’t have to be a meteorologist to see that, tard,” quipped Pete.

“Hey? That’s not nice!” yelled Adam.

“Please, you two, you’re giving me a headache,” said John. “You guys fight like brothers.”

“If Adam was my brother, I would have pushed him from the nest and eaten all the bugs myself,” said Pete.

“What? I don’t get it,” replied Adam.

“Forget about it,” replied Pete, “but all this talk about eating bugs is making me hungry. I hope Marissa saved us some dinner.”

Adam saw Paul standing at the front door and yelled, “Hey, Paul!” “Hey, guys, welcome back. I was starting to worry.”

“It took longer than expected, but everything’s fine. How’s everything been here?” asked John.

“Quiet. Passing out water all afternoon. I’ve been getting a lot of questions about the train. Did it pan out?” asked Paul.

“It did . . . very much so,” said John. “The guys brought back a few supplies as evidence, but it will make a huge difference for the neighborhood.” The rain began to fall in a steady downpour, and Adam quickly ducked under the patio. John and Pete saw it more as a refreshing opportunity, and turned their faces skyward as the rain washed over them. John rubbed his hands over his face to wash away the accumulated dust and grime, and yawned long and hard.

“Come on, dad! I’ll get you a towel,” yelled Adam over the downpour, as he went inside.

“Get one for Pete, too!” yelled John, as he stepped onto the patio.

John turned to watch the rain. Pete was less than a few yards away, but he was almost lost in the downpour. “You’re gun’s gonna rust,” warned John.

“Not mine . . . it wouldn’t dare,” said Pete. “It’s too well loved to rust.”

Once everyone was fed and the kitchen cleaned, and the kids settled into their nighttime routine, the adults gathered around the kitchen
table to discuss the upcoming departure. The evening meetings were now a standard practice for them, but John noticed something different about this one. They were no longer a meeting of separate individuals or families, but rather a meeting of one family, or one unified company. John knew he changed, but he didn’t notice the change in the others until now. Fighting for survival bonded them together in a way the old world would have never provided. He saw such bonding in combat, but again, that was a reflection of the old world. Now everyone faced combat, regardless of age, sex or uniform. Their contact with the biker gang was certainly combat. It produced enough blood and death to rival any small unit contact in Iraq. John was just glad their side was victorious, and suffered no casualties. He knew who to attribute their luck, and hoped it would continue.

After a few pleasantries and playful comments, John cleared his throat and said, “I know you want to hear what happened to me yesterday, with Tony and the bikers. I wanted to tell you about it sooner, but as you know, things have been a little crazy with the train and all. Anyway, so here goes . . .”

John didn’t go into great detail, but he said enough to paint a picture about how his life had literally hung in the balance. He filled in a lot of blanks, blanks left out from the previous day’s brief report, and it left them speechless. When John ended by telling them how he came to the motorcycle roadblock, everyone just stared at him blankly, and he didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t surprised they were shocked to learn about his out-of-body experience, or how he eliminated the guards while he was out, but he didn’t think it would stun them into silence. Not wanting to dwell on the subject any longer, or linger on in silence, John asked Pete to report on what happened at the house while he was being held prisoner.

Pete jumped right in and reported everything that happened to them in a quick and concise manner that resembled a military after-action report. John thanked him when he finished, and looked around the table to gauge their response. It seemed everyone was comfortable
with Pete’s report, which didn’t surprise John because they lived through it. Even Paul looked more relaxed, which surprised John, so he asked, “Paul, tell me about your sword fight with Blackbeard? I’ve heard it from the boys, and Pete’s clinical account, but I’d really like hear your version of it.”

“It’s OK. I’d rather not talk about it,” said Paul. “Pete gave enough detail.”

“You call his report, ‘detail?’ All he said was that you ‘
neutralized
’ their leader. I wouldn’t call that detail,” said John.

“Pete can tell it,” said Paul.

“I can, but I really thought you wanted to tell the story,” said Pete.

“You go ahead,” replied Paul.

“Are you sure?” asked Pete.

“I’m sure,” replied Paul. Marissa leaned her head against his shoulder, and he tenderly kissed the top of her head.

“Very well then,” said Pete. “It was one of the bravest things I’ve seen in a very long time. He approached the giant . . .” Paul released an exaggerated exhale and bowed his head. “Hey! You said I could tell the story, so now you have to deal with it,” said Pete. “Now where was I? Oh yeah, Paul faced the giant with the sword you gave him,” said Pete, with a nod to John, “And one of Jenna’s silly pot lids. And boy did he take a load of crap from the bikers over that pot lid. But if I didn’t know better, I’d say that was his plan all along.” Pete stood and posed in a stance similar to the one Paul assumed before facing off against Blackbeard, and said, “He stood like this, and he insulted Blackbeard.”