Regenesis (Book 1): Impact (80 page)

“I
found out who killed my father and Victor,” Drake told him as he opened his
soda.

“Who
was it?”

“Jordan.”

Ian
looked at him and asked if he was joking. Drake didn’t make eye contact with
him, repeated that Jordan killed them, and took a sip of his drink.

“How
did you find out?” Ian asked him.

“Nick
told me.” He revealed Nick’s confrontation with both Jeremy Dalton and Jordan.
“Nick knocked on my door, soaked in blood, and told me everything.” Drake
stared down at the street beside Ian’s apartment building and recounted how
Nick cried for hours as he told him everything. “His girlfriend Amy’s dead
too.”

“Jordan
killed her?”

Drake
nodded.

Ian
took an apprehensive breath and asked if Jordan was incarcerated, which he
assumed to be the case until Drake told him Nick didn’t incapacitate him very
well. “By the time the police arrive at the scene of the crime Jordan was
conscious and bore the appearance of a young woman. He claimed a sex predator
abducted both he and Amy and raped them, though he was long gone by the time
any examination could have started.”

“Are
they looking for the girl he posed as?”

He
said they probably were. “I told Nick to stay with me for a while, seeing as he
won’t go and live with Paul again and doesn’t have any money to live off of.”

“I
thought he was still living with Paul, even after that fight you mentioned.”

Drake
said it was a lie. “Apparently Nick’s been staying with this French girl he met
through work, though they’ve parted company since the incident.” Drake
mentioned how the young woman was a target of the two assassins and how Nick
felt vulnerable being anywhere near her. “He told her he couldn’t protect her
any longer and told me he wanted out of his old life.”

“What
‘old life?’”

He
appraised Ian of Nick’s unseen lifestyle, how he joined a group bent on
stopping the Dáfù, Nick’s obsession with hunting down his brother’s murderer,
and how sick it all made him. “He told me he never liked it to begin with and
felt that it’s what pulled him and Amy apart.” Drake took another swig of his
grape soda and added how guilt stricken Nick was. “Her funeral’s today
actually.”

“Is
he going?”

Drake
nodded and said he would be there as well. “The overall story is that Nick
showed up for dinner with her in Seattle but she never showed herself.” Drake
sipped his soda once more before he added how he removed all traces of Nick’s
blood, hair, and fingerprints from the crime scene and from the police’s
possession.

“Why
would you do that?”

He
looked at Ian and asked how Nick was supposed to clear his name if they
approached him. “Nick’s innocent and doesn’t need to deal with this; all I did
was save him further grief and the police some wasted time.”

Ian
looked back out toward the city and let out a breath before he asked, “So no
one knows the truth but the few of us?”

Drake
said that was the case. “How the hell was Nick supposed to explain that entire
disaster and convince everyone that it was true? They’d think he was insane…or
the killer himself.”

Ian
frowned and admitted that Drake was probably right. “So what’s next?”

Drake
finished his soda and asked what he meant. “I have no clue how to find Jordan,
assuming he’s still in the state. All I want to do is help Nick recover from
all of this crap he’s had to deal with in the past few months.”

Ian
lowered his eyes and asked how so many terrible things could spring up in such
a short period of time. “Things were so simple last year. What happened to
that?”

Drake
shrugged, “Maybe we just couldn’t see how horrible things really are. It is
startling though,” Drake added. “One of our best friends is a killer and we
hardly knew it.”

Ian
muttered something about seeing the trees among the forest. Although Ian failed
to quote the saying, Drake knew what he meant.

“I
heard about your heroics,” Drake started. “Did you ever find the guy who
kidnapped her?”

“No.
I looked through the tunnels for a few hours the next night but he was long
gone I guess.”

“Any
idea who he was?”

Ian
shook his head, “It’s not like I can really identify anyone from here though.
Everyone’s anonymous to me right now.”

“Then
I guess you’ll just have to wait and see if he resurfaces.”

“I
guess so…hey, do you want to grab lunch?” Ian asked him once he realized how
famished he was.

Drake
declined the offer and promised to join him some other time. “I’m planning on
heading to the People’s Republic of China to look at buying a sword or
something.”

Ian
didn’t understand Drake’s seemingly random desire, but guessed it had to do
with his inability to manage all of the time he possessed. He watched as Drake
crushed his empty can in his hands, took aim at an open trash bin on the
sidewalk below, and effortlessly made the shot.

“I’ll
see you around Ian,” he said as he waived and fell off the edge of the building
backwards. Ian watched his friend fall, only to see him stop near the ground,
become a blur, and vanish entirely.

Ian
finished his drink, mimicked Drake’s shot into the trash, and flew off the
building in search of a good meal. He didn’t manage to go far before he noticed
a speeding car heading straight for a young woman who tried to jog across the
street and failed to see the car. Ian dove toward her, swept her off her feet,
and managed to save her easily before the car neared.

He
looked at the young woman and nearly forgot who he was when he saw her. She had
strawberry-blonde hair, a fine complexion, and hazel eyes. She looked back at
the place she stood only moments ago and breathlessly thanked him. “I’m so
sorry. I didn’t even see that car.”

“Uh…don’t
worry about it.” He couldn’t think of what to say next. His heart raced and he
felt numb too, but held her tight and tried to focus on the flight without
looking away from her.

“So
what do they call you?”

“Um…Voltage,”
he said while his ears reddened, suddenly realizing how childish it seemed to
have a super hero’s identity.

She
wrapped her arms around his neck after she glanced down. “Thanks again,” she
said. “I’m Emily by the way.”

---*---

1:10
PM

Bothell,
Washington

Vladimir
followed an employee into the Calming Wake. The employee held the door open for
him, Vladimir thanked him, and quickly found his seat at the table of a robust
young Russian.

A
cup of water stood on the table, which Pyotr indicated was for Vladimir. The
Romanian greeted his friend casually as the Russian took a drink from his own
cup of water.

“Where’s
Rachel?” Pyotr asked.

“School.
And she plans to spend the afternoon with her friends should that be
acceptable.” He locked eyes with his comrade and asked if they were needed.

Pyotr
shook his head and said it was only a question. “I feel that I must apologize
for the task I set upon you and Rachel last weekend.” He swirled his drink
counterclockwise for a moment before he said it was unfair to set them up for
such a task so prematurely. “I would have accompanied you had I been able to.”

“And
what you hindered Pyotr?”

Pyotr
kept his mouth shut. He left Vladimir to order a cocoa with cream which he
returned with in hand as well as a small black straw to stir it. He took a sip
and offered Vladimir some, who refused it. “You really should try this
sometime. They’re marvelous.”

“It
would be a waste as I could not taste it,” Vladimir reminded him.

“Yes,
of course…” Pyotr stirred his drink a bit before he spoke again, “Joshua is
dead.”

Vladimir
looked him in the eye and asked how it happened. “I thought you did not know
where he was?”

“I
didn’t but suddenly he was no longer cloaked from me.”

“Then
you killed him?”

Pyotr
shook his head. “He was burnt to death by a third party. But I was able to see
the ash and verify that it is true. He is dead.”

Vladimir
sat back in his seat and let out a small sigh of relief. He then continued,
“That leaves Raphael and Constantine.”

Pyotr
nodded and mentioned how they’d caught a stroke of luck.

Vladimir
let a smile come upon him, “I remember you saying there is no such thing as
luck.”

Pyotr
grinned, “There isn’t.”

Vladimir
finished his water while Pyotr drank his cocoa. Vladimir then asked, “Do you
know where Raphael might be?”

Pyotr
remained quiet and shook his head. “Not at the moment. I’ve heard whispers
about events that could very possibly lead us to him in Honduras; however none
of them feel substantial enough for me to ask you to investigate.”

Vladimir
frowned, “Then we are still in the dark about everything…”

“It
would seem so.”

Vladimir
set his plastic cup away from himself before he offered a sigh of relief, “Then
our journey is nearly complete.”

Pyotr
smiled, “It’s getting there.”

Vladimir
studied him and asked, “What are you plotting Pyotr?”

His
Russian companion took a sip of his water and shook his head. “I believe we’ve
been through this, old friend. None of this is my plan.”

“Well
then, what of it?”

Pyotr
grew solemn in an instant and regrettably denied Vladimir a concrete answer.
“Constantine’s journey, his tyranny is at an end, yes, but I fear there is much
more afterwards Vladimir.”

Vladimir
studied his eyes and frowned. “Pyotr, what is it?”

He
shook his head and sighed, “I truly wish I could tell you, but there are
matters beyond my control. I am, as you know limited in what I can do here, as
impossible as that might seem.” Pyotr took a deep breath to compose himself and
continued on another note, “But Constantine’s demise is ever so close; it is
all we need to focus on for now.”

“And
what of these events you have mentioned Pyotr?” Vladimir stopped him. “Our
agreement–”

“I
know Vladimir, I know. And this very well may not concern you in the end, but
not all of our party will be exempt.”

“Rachel?”

He
nodded. “Her story is not going to end once Constantine is felled my friend.”

Vladimir
rubbed his eyes and pushed his water away from him. “Can you tell me anything
Pyotr?”

The
angel smiled and simply said, “We’re almost done Vladimir. Let that be enough
for now.”

---*---

Author’s
note:

I started this novel near the
tail end of my senior year of high school back in 2007. I had a creative
writing teacher who mentioned one day that if someone ever wanted to be a
writer that the best time to start was in high school, as high school students
are generally unproductive with their massive amounts of free time. What my
teacher said resonated with me and I started to examine just how much time I
had that I failed to utilize, and I realized he was right. I went home, bought
a notebook, and started writing.

But this book hasn’t been
easy for me to write. Writing itself comes easy enough, but I can spend an
entire day writing something wonderful, something I’m genuinely proud of, and
the very next day I’ll reread it and want to tear it to shreds.
Regenesis
has always been a source of anguish and melancholy for me. I have high hopes
for it and I have great fears that this book is absolutely terrible. And after
five years of writing, editing, rewriting, rearranging, and even more
rewriting, I sincerely worry that this book is pure garbage. So if it is, I
apologize.

But anyway, I wanted to make
a bit of a note as to what spurred this book. I was fascinated by super heroes
and the supernatural throughout my adolescence (and I admit I’m still
enthralled to this day) and originally I wanted nothing more than a super hero
novel that was simply something fun and interesting. But as I wrote, the
characters I thought were the main characters stepped aside for others, and one
in particular (Mizuno) went from having nothing more than a single page in my
book to transforming into one of the most important figures in the novel (if
not the most important one). Pretty soon I realized that
Regenesis
wasn’t a joke anymore, at least not in my eyes.

I’ve done my best to focus on
the people in the book rather than the super heroes, mainly because as I’ve
finished this book and begun my work on the sequel, I’ve regretted using super
heroes as a literary tool because a lot of people don’t believe super heroes
can be a serious thing. And I don’t think they are either, but
Regenesis
is supposed to be.

Let me take a moment to add
that I take this book seriously and I believe it’s translated into the text and
it can be seen therein. But if not, I never intended to make these characters a
laughing matter.

Regenesis
is really about melancholy and isolation and
abandonment (intentional or otherwise) and I didn’t realize what that meant to
me until I was married and I wasn’t depressed or alone anymore. This novel is
basically a compilation of the emotions of a downtrodden and socially awkward
young man who only had this one outlet to expunge his rage, frustration,
melancholy, and hatred. I know a good portion of the readers are going to be
from my high school and college days and they may have even known me fairly well
back then, and I just want to apologize for failing to open myself up more. I
didn’t know how and I doubt I could have then even if I had tried. Social
settings were a painful and an eternal nightmare, which is why I never attended
social events outside of hanging around with my absolutely closest friends. In
retrospect, I’m not sure why I was so neurotic, but I was (and I imagine I
still am to some extent). It ruined my primary education years as well as some
of my years though college, but at the same time I might have never written
this novel without that constant need to remain distant from others. So if you
knew me at all in high school and were put off by me, or if I seemed distant or
short or curt or rude, I’m sorry.

In any case,
Regenesis
was also a personal aid that managed to help slowly break me out of my own
little world by creating another one. I’ve only ever shared this book with a
select few people, mainly out of fear that others would not receive it well
(and also that I have always felt the book is incomplete or unpolished), but
now I’m tired and I know I need to move on to the next work. So finally this
book is available to anyone interested in it, or interested in what I’ve spent
about a fourth of my life on.