The Spiral Effect (3 page)

“We’ll hurt you.”

If the rock cage and lightning is your best,
then I doubt it.

TREMBLE AND FEEL THE WRATH OF TRUE
POWER.

The illusion of power felt in yelling.

A green dragon appears. It’s solid and
large, about the height of a giraffe and girth of an elephant, but
lacks those diamond hard scales. No horns either. Like a harmless
cartoon. Even the mind of a child would see it as nothing more. How
these men jumped from one body to another for so long, terrorizing
poor souls, is beyond my comprehension. I guess fear and despair
gives way to weak villains.

The beast opens its mouth and spits a stream
of bright, neon red fire. I allow the bright light to wash over me.
The five men expect the mental projection to induce the same affect
it has had on so many others—skin melting, crackling pain. This,
however, isn’t any more painful than the cool beam of a
flashlight.

They try to increase the intensity.

The light from a computer screen could do
more damage.

“Shut up!”

“Burn!”

“Scream!”

“Tremble!”

“Die!”

Not to this illusion.

The dragon disappears and in its place
appear five demons—red, spikey horns, vampire teeth, and crudely
made spears—who dance and jump around like silly cartoon
monkeys.

Those who stick to stereotypes are always
the least imaginative.

Their eyes flame with anger. I’m getting to
them.

“No you’re not.”

“Shut up, don’t let him hear you.”

As if you could control whether I hear you
or not.

The demons quit dancing and stand still,
unable to decide for themselves what course of action to take as
their puppeteers bicker.

“Focus and kill him already.”

“Leave me alone. You’re not doing
anything.”

“Sorry—just, everybody, focus.”

The demons face me again, hold their spears
steady, and rush. Two swipe their silver bladed tips across my
face. One jabs at my chest. The other two try to pierce my stomach.
All five spears safely pass through me.

“He’s too strong.”

“He’ll kill us.”

“Focus. We need those new bodies.”

I wonder if they’ve figured out how to
divide two new bodies between the five of them?

Poof! The demons disappear.

“Yeah, how are we going to—

“No. Stay together.”

“It’s a diversion.”

“Stick to the plan.”

“I—I—sorry.”

Look past their threats, their floating
faces, into each wrinkle of the brain. They’re scared. Want an end
to this disease that kills them quickly and painfully. One of them
is Tom Berger. He had a wife, three kids, and a good job—accountant
for a large hospital. Then he pulled his car from a ditch with the
flicker of a thought, his life changing forever. Brought him here,
already on his third body, ready to take another. And with this new
girl’s body, kill the other four.

“Tom.”

“Traitor.”

“I knew it.”

“How could you?”

“Lies—they’re lies.”

Brandon wishes they wouldn’t hurt anyone and
just die with dignity. Currently on his seventh body, he hates
himself and wishes someone would kill not just him but all of them.
Put an end to the suffering they inflict on others and themselves.
The strain is almost too much, having to hide this thought from
them every minute of every day. Why he goes through bodies so much
faster than the other four.

“Pussy.”

“You’d rather die?”

“Want someone to kill us.”

Justin, self-proclaimed leader of the group,
tricked William’s wife into thinking she was making love to her
husband. Then he killed her when she realized it wasn’t William.
Justin would have just erased her mind, deleted the memory, but he
wasn’t, and still isn’t, strong enough for such a mental
excursion.

William glared at Justin.

Justin’s eyes dart around.

“Is he telling the truth?
Justin—Justin?”

“Uh—, are you going to listen to this guy?
He’ll—he’ll say anything.”

“Answer the question.”

“Come on, Willy, you know me.”

William’s eyes flare. Seems Justin forgot
that Willy knows Justin’s tell.

Justin’s giant head disappears—

“Come back here.”

—followed by the disappearance of William’s
head.

Tom, Brandon, and the other one, David, look
at each other with confused and nervous glances. Who to trust—who
to believe—who to kill? No longer clear on who is the real enemy
and who is a friend. If Justin betrayed William, a dear friend of
twenty years, then how could the rest, just mere acquaintances of
four months, ever trust each other?

“Would you leave us—

“What about David? What’s he done?”

“Yeah. What about you, David?”

“Guys, he’s just doing this to—

A scream from the physical realm shatters
into the psionic. Justin’s floating head reappears. Guilty and
flustered, as if he doesn’t know what to do next.

“What’d you do, Justin?”

“Where’s William?”

“Uh…”

I think it’s pretty clear guys.

“Where the hell is he?”

Justin looks at me and then back at his
accomplices. I don’t think he can consider them friends any
longer.

“Would you shut up? Why haven’t you killed
him yet?”

“Why won’t you answer the question?”

“Where’s William?”

Justin knows he can’t get rid of me without
them. What he doesn’t realize is that even with William alive,
together they didn’t stand a chance of stopping me.

“No—NO—the woman—the woman grabbed the gun
while we were fighting him.”

Bad liar Justin.

“Justin?”

“What’d you—

Justin disappears. A scream follows in sync
with the disappearance of David’s head. Desperation and guilt can
force a man to do the dumbest things. Surprised that Tom and
Brandon are still wasting time watching me while Justin kills their
bodies.

“He wouldn’t.”

“Shit.”

Both heads disappear. Time to head outside
before the entire collective is dead. Not a moment too soon
either.

Tom holds his hands in the air as Justin,
standing a few feet away, aims the gun.

“Put down the gun, Justin. Put it—f

BLAM!

The bullet scorches Tom’s right eye and
exits with a crunch through the back of the head. Tom’s body drops,
adding a fourth to the pile.

No more help. What are you going to do
now?

Justin swings the gun around the deserted
office, looking for me.

“Where are you? Show yourself.”

You can’t shoot a mental projection.

“Oh yeah? Fine, if you don’t show yourself
then I’ll shoot them.” Justin turns to point the gun at Mary and
Taylor, but they’re no longer there.

“Where—where are they? What’d you do with
them? I need her body—I’m—I’m—

Dying. You were dead a long time ago. Now
you’re just a ghost stealing what isn’t his.

“Big talk. Pushing that much power, you’d
have to jump bodies once a week. I know they’re still here,
probably right where I left them, just making it look like they’re
not there. How about I fire and we find out?”

Justin points the gun where Mary and Taylor
still sit and pulls the trigger. Nothing happens.

“Huh?”

The idiot actually looks into the
barrel.

I could have released the bullet just
now.

Justin’s eyes widen as he pulls the gun from
his face. He swings it around, trying to find my presence.

Go and die in dignity Justin. Repent for
what you’ve done. Ask for forgiveness. Retain some semblance of the
man you used to be.

“I—I—no, I need them. I need a new body.
Please, we can share. You need one too, right? What are you going
to do, keep one around for later? Why? We can find more, together.
The world is ripe, so many young, healthy bodies—just for us. You
and me.”

No. Leave.

“Please.”

I said go.

Justin muffles his ears and screams. His
eyes blaze as he points the gun back to the same spot he figures
Mary and Taylor to be—

Stop.

Justin freezes.

I’m sorry.

The gun slowly moves to his temple. Justin
tries to resist, but his mind is too weak—degraded—diseased.

“No, no, please don’t do this.”

I warned you.

“I’ll leave. I’ll go. I promise. I’ll die
with—with dignity.”

You’re lying. You’ll try again, hoping to
catch me off guard. I’m sorry for this. Truly.”

“Please, don’t—

Blam!

Justin’s lifeless body drops to the floor in
a crumpled heap among his dead friends. Wasted, but I had no
choice. He would have killed both mother and daughter. They all
would have. Still, rationale doesn’t make this any easier.

Kneel next to their bodies. Sign of the
Cross—Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Lord please find mercy on the souls
of these dead men. May they find peace and forgiveness in the next
life. And may others like them stop before they find a similar
fate. Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Amen.

Now to check on—

A glass cage forms around me.

Hello?

An invisible lock clicks.

One of the Jumpers playing possum? Just walk
through—ouch. Definitely not one of the Jumpers. This is too
intricate, too detailed and strong.

Child’s laughter rings around the cage.

I look for Mary and Taylor, but they are no
longer there. Neither is in the motel office. Only my mental image,
the class cage, and white emptiness.

Open.

The glass cage refuses to budge.

“Futile—futile—futile—futile.” The words
ring out with the singsong of cartoon animals.

Open.

The bottom of the cage barely budges a
centimeter.

“Bad boy—bad boy—bad boy.”

The white emptiness gives way to a green
field. Giant oaks sprout as cartoon crows pop in the air, singing,
“No way out—no way out—no way out.”

Two elephants materialize outside the cage.
They stand like men, wearing the green and red uniforms found on a
royal guard. Each one holds a rifle. Their breath fogs the outside
of the cage as their sharp tusks scrape against the glass.

BOING BOING BOING!

Five tigers, using their tails, bounce up
and down on top of the cage. The smile I’m used to seeing from this
cartoon replica is absent, replaced by sharp fangs.

They growl, “Eat you—eat you—eat your
mind—buddy boy. HOO HOO Ha HOO!”

The tigers’ friends join in; a waddling bear
in a t-shirt holds not jars of honey but bombs; a skinny pig
chanting,
“oh dear, oh dear,”
holds an AK-47; a donkey using
his teeth, slowly pulls a cannon; and an owl fluttering above,
clutches a missile between his talons. Two kangaroos, a mother and
son, hop into view, both shouldering a bazooka. I have the sinking
suspicion that their attack won’t feel like a cool flashlight
beam.

“Dare you to open—dare you to open—dare you
to open.” The tigers taunt.

The small patch of grass that makes up the
floor to my cage begins to move. Little blue people with mushroom
hats spring from the ground. Each one wields a tiny little ax.

A child’s laughter rings around the cage
again.

Taylor! I’m not here to hurt you.

“Liar—liar—liar.” The tigers change the
song.

A sharp sting in my ankle. The mushroom kids
are climbing my leg, swinging with ferocity. They make a small
incision in my calf and burrow into muscle tissue.

Taylor, I’m here to help.

“Liar, liar pants on fire.” A gnome behind
me shouts.

Is that a—

The little guy throws a Molotov cocktail at
my waist. The fire flares up and ignites my pants. The heat is all
too real, as is the pain.

Taylor, stop.

The gnome laughs and throws another, setting
my shirt ablaze. My belly button shrieks with pain as a blue man
rips through my stomach. Gentleness will get me killed. Be careful
not to damage her mind.

OFF ME!

The little blue people fly off and out of my
body, smashing into the glass and turning into blue smudge mixed
with pieces of tiny bones.

“That’s cheating.” The gnome holds up
another cocktail.

I snap my fingers and the cocktail explodes
in his hand. The gnome screams as he runs around in a circle before
his body fizzles into black ash.

EXTINGUISH!

The flames consuming my shirt and pants
disappear.

The tigers stop jumping. The crows grow
silent. Everything becomes deathly quiet.

Remember, she’s just a little girl.

LET ME OUT!

The cage explodes upward, sending the tigers
to burn in the sun. I twirl my finger, and now the animals face
each other.

FIGHT!

Each cartoon character unloads on the other
with his weapon. The pig shoots the bear, the bear’s bomb blows
both of the elephants into pieces, mamma kangaroo’s bazooka blasts
the little pig, baby kangaroo fires at the donkey, but not before
the donkey’s cannon decapitates the owl, whose missile falls on the
kangaroos.

“No fair.” Taylor says.

The grass is littered with mutilated
cartoons. A massacre best kept from Saturday mornings. I feel bad
that Taylor has to see such horrific images, especially of beloved
characters. It’s strange, even though they’re her own, there’s
something personally familiar about those cartoon animals and the
forest. As if—

“Can’t catch me—can’t catch me—can’t catch
me.”

The grassy forest disappears into a
labyrinth of giant dominoes. White dominoes with black dots make up
the floor while black dominoes with white dots make up the maze
wall. I make out the wisp of Taylor’s blonde hair and the blurred
streak of her blue and white checkered dress as she cuts past a
corner ahead of me.

Taylor, wait!

She only responds with laughter. For some
reason I can’t touch her mind. Can’t reach into her conscious or
subconscious to let her know I’m not a threat. Only option is to
give chase in the maze.