Zero II (3 page)

            “So,”
Danielle said as she paused to take sip from her straw. The ice cubes and lone cheery
swirled in her Shirley Temple. “Are you going to try and let me explain, or are
you going to dash out of here and leave me with the bill?”

            Alan
scanned the inside of the bar one more time before he settled into the booth’s
thick cushioned seat. “I’ll stay. Start from the beginning.”

            Danielle
smiled, “Okay, hear me out. This is the truth. It’s going to sound crazy but
I’ll be completely honest with you.”

            Alan
could feel his temper flair, “Okay, yes, just get on with it.”

            Danielle
took a long sip of her drink either enjoying the spotlight, or trying to mask
her nervousness, Alan couldn’t decide. “You’ve been given these powers, Alan.
You aren’t a mutant; you didn’t evolve; you’re not part of an experiment; your
parents aren’t members of an alien race.”

            Danielle
paused to let the information sink in. Alan’s mind was racing. If his mystery
visitor was telling the truth then all of his theories, all of his years of
research of what he could be was evaporating by the second. Then something
Danielle said made him stop mid-thought. “You said I’ve ‘been given these
powers? Powers? All I have is one, speed.”

            “All
you have is one power that you know of,” Danielle corrected. “This is just the
beginning.”

            Alan
was quiet. Half of him wanted to believe her. More than anything over the last
few years he wanted answers. Now that answers were being provided, they seemed
so hard to believe. “How?”

            “Excuse
me?”

            “How
did I get this—these powers?”

            “The
organization I work for gave them to you. You were chosen.”

            Images
of the CIA, the Illuminate; and even aliens occupied Alan’s thoughts. Alan
reached for the whiskey bottle on the table and filled the silence with a long
pour of the expensive liquor. He brought the glass to his lips and drained the
cup.

            “That’s
not going to help.”

            Alan
looked across with watering eyes, “How do you know?”

            “Because
I tried the same thing. I tried to dull the truth, the sense of responsibility.
Money, alcohol, drugs, it’s all only temporary relief. Fun, I’ll give you that
but still only temporary relief. You know what I mean; you’re going through
that now.”

            Alan
put his glass on the table and defiantly poured himself another glass. He knew
she was right. He had been at the drinking game long enough now to know that
the comfort alcohol brought was only a brief rest from the issues he carried. “So,
Danielle Turner, if that is your real name at all. Who is this organization
that has chosen me?”

            Danielle
sighed and shook her head. “They thought you were ready to know the truth, but
I’m not sure you are. Maybe you need more time.”

            Alan
took another swig from his glass, “Come on, don’t stop now. Who is this secret
organization: NSA, Black Ops, Hydra?”

            Danielle
looked him straight in the eyes and spoke clearly, “The term ‘angels’ would
best describe them. They are here to help and they need you just as much as you
need them.”

            Alan
choked on his next sip of whisky. Laughter erupted from his chest and he shook
his head from side to side. His long hair whipped against his face as he
thought of angels from heaven choosing him.

            Alan
opened his eyes even as tears filled them. Danielle was siting across from him,
her face once again red. This time there was no mistaking embarrassment for
anger. “Wait,” Alan said raising both hands in the air. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
You have to admit, though, this is crazy.”

            “Crazy?”
Danielle asked. “This coming from the man who can move as fast as light?”

            Alan
wiped away the tears from his eyes and took a deep breath. “You have a point
but come on. You expect me to believe that immortal beings from heaven, came
down and chose a weak kid who battles with depression, who was bullied his entire
life, who has more issues than he can count and chose him for something
special?”

            “Yes.”

            Alan’s
temporary fit of laughter completely subsided as he was sobered by Danielle’s
simple answer. He straightened out his hair and pushed it back out of his face.
“I don’t know. That’s a lot to take on faith. Trust isn’t something that comes
naturally for me.”

            “I
know it doesn’t. If it were up to me I would have given you more time to work
through your… issues. Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of time anymore. And
it doesn’t look like you’re making any headway on the personal development
department either.” Danielle lowered her voice as she spoke but Alan could
still hear her mutter the last part, “Between the stealing and the booze.”

            “Well,
I’m sorry but this is just too much for me to handle at the moment.”

            “Here,”
Danielle slid a slender white phone across the table. “Take some time. Just not
too much time. Call us when you’re ready.”

            She
rose from the booth as she reached inside her sweater pocket.

            Alan
waived a hand, “It’s okay, I’ve got the bill.”

            Danielle
smiled, “How generous of you, Mr. Price.”

            Danielle
turned to go. Leaving Alan to sit and think about their conversation. He
couldn’t help but ask one last question. “I’m not saying I believe you, but if
I did—are you an…,” Alan couldn’t believe he was asking this question. It
sounded closer to a lame pick up line than any question he would seriously ask
a woman. “Are you an angel?”

            Danielle
smiled and shook her head. “No, I’m not. I’m just like you Alan. I was lost. I
was even more lost than you when they reached out and gave me my abilities. I
tried to fill the emptiness I felt with everything society told me I needed,
just like you’re doing now.”

            With
one last smile that spoke of a mixture of pity and hope, Danielle turned and
left.

            “You’d
need to sign a lease for a year with the first and last months rent payments
due as soon as you move in.”

            “That’s
fine,” Alan said as he stared out the window, slender arms folded across his
chest. Despite the incredible view that the penthouse provided, Alan couldn’t
help but feel the weight of his depression across his shoulders. He didn’t want
to tell the woman showing him the place that he had barely gotten out of bed
that morning. He didn’t know how to tell her that this was just how he was. Good
days came far and few between and bad days more often than he wanted.

            “I’m
so sorry, sir, is there something wrong?”

            Alan
jerked his eyes away from the view and did his best to act happy. Over the years
he had plenty of time to work on how to
act
happy. He was still a
horrible actor. “No, no, sorry, it’s everything I’ve been looking for. It’s
just been a rough day.”

            The
real estate associate’s eyebrows rose as she looked at her watch. Alan knew
what she was thinking. It was barely 10:00 AM. Instead of calling Alan out, she
motioned him to follow her through the penthouse one more time. “Remember, we
can change anything you don’t like.”

            Alan
followed the woman’s clacking high heels and scent of designer perfume through
the huge kitchen, four bedrooms, three bathrooms, family room, living room and
dinning area one last time.

            “It’s
great,” Alan said mustering a grin, “I’ll take it.”

            The
woman gave Alan a Cheshire cat smile, practically taking out her notepad and
doing the math on her portion of the commission right there. “Great, so glad to
hear it. I’ll be right back I need to run down to my car and grab a few items
for you to sign.”

            Alan
nodded as the woman turned with a twist of her long curly hair and hurried out
of the penthouse as if she were afraid he would change his mind.

            Alan
walked in and out of the rooms, wondering why he wasn’t happier. This was
something he always wanted. As far back as he could remember a place to call
his own had always been out of reach. Every time he left a group home or foster
parent he would imagine a place that he wouldn’t have to leave. A place just
like this, that belonged to him with him being the one to say when he was ready
to leave or not.

            Until
now the reality of owning a home, his home, was like a vapor that was grabbed at
but extinguished as soon as he opened his fist. He was here now: to an extent
happiness did exist, but it was the kind of happiness Alan was telling himself
he should experience rather than actually experiencing the feeling itself.

            He
walked through the large penthouse as he waited for the real estate agent to
return. His designer shoes echoed across the halls. Empty rooms caught his
every noise and amplified them back as if to remind him how alone he still was
and would always be. Alan made his way back to the large windows that looked
over the city.

            Past
all the high-rise buildings, past the glare of the bright sun, Alan caught a reflection
of himself, tall and slender. Money could only improve so much. Past the luxurious
clothes and haircut, Alan shook his head at his reflection.

           
Sure,
you have money and a place now but something is still missing. Apparently super
speed doesn’t come with any muscle tone. You’re still that skinny kid that
couldn’t stick up for himself. We need to fix that.

           
Why
are you even stressing over that? She was clearly crazy. Angels? Like flying
angels with wings, really?

           
Alan
shook his head and made an internal decision to stop thinking about the strange
conversation that night. However, as he rode the smooth elevator to the top of
the high rise, his hand fell inside his jacket pocket. His fingers made contact
with the phone Danielle left him. The lights to passing floors beeped by and
with every second Alan could feel anxiety build. “One look won’t hurt,” Alan
said to himself.

            The
phone was slender and compact. It was one of the newest models available on the
market. Alan remembered seeing an advertisement for it just the other day. The commercial
with the girl and the family with the pet smiling and laughing as they opened
apps for music and videos.

            The
phone lit up under Alan’s touch. A plain white background with an icon marked
“Messages” that jumped up and down on the screen. Alan swiped his thumb over
the icon and a single message read, “Danielle”
with a number that
followed after.

            Alan’s
thumb bent toward the number more out of instinct than will. The only thing
that stopped his thumb’s progress was the soft halt of the elevator and a
dinging sound as the elevator doors slid open.

            Alan
stuffed the phone back into his pocket and shook the idea that he should call
the number out of his head. When he raised his eyes to look down the hall to
his penthouse door, he stopped in his tracks.

            He
always left his door closed. Always. Living on the run at an early age and
having to look over his shoulder on a daily basis instilled the habit of
locking up after himself.

            His
door was cracked open. Alan made his way down the hall. He could hear music
coming from his penthouse.

           
Carmina
Burana: O Fortuna
played in the background. Alan only recognized the song
because he owned it. It was music that inspired him and one of the few things along
with reading and exercise that helped when his depression was at its worst.

The idea to run or report the break in
to the police crossed his mind but only for the briefest of moments. Any
contact with the police would be bad. There were too many questions that could
arise. Although he was assured that his purchased identities were solid, by the
less than upstanding citizen he bought them from, he didn’t want to test the
theory.

Alan wrapped his peacoat tighter
around him and prepared himself to take off at a sprint in a moment’s notice.

Alan’s hand made contact with his
thick wooden door. It swung open without a sound. He wasn’t sure what to
expect, nothing happened. His penthouse looked normal. Everything was in place.
No signs of break in, no items strewn across the floor or broken.

Smells of cooked meat and the sounds
of someone busy in the kitchen made Alan’s heart rate accelerate. Alan left the
door wide open in case he needed to bolt down the hall. He quietly tiptoed
through his family room, past his makeshift exercise and weight room and into
the kitchen.

Adrenaline pumped to every inch of his
body. Alan’s mouth was dry as he turned a corner and was met with the sight of
a slender man with his back toward him. Whoever he was, he was busy at work. A
towel draped over one shoulder, he was hunched over the stove.

“If I was going to hurt you, would I
be cooking you dinner? Mmmmm… let’s think here. No, probably not.”

Alan stopped and almost ran just
hearing the sound of the man’s voice. It sounded like a salesmen and dripped
past the man’s lips in a way that would put anyone on edge. Alan hadn’t made a
sound coming in, he was sure of that.

“What do you think of my music
selection?” He turned and winked at Alan. “It’s a personal favorite of mine, so
inspiring and uplifting. I would listen to more but you know how it is, all
work and no play.”

Alan stood tensed as he examined the
intruder. He was tall with an inviting smile and dark hair. His wardrobe would
have put any A-list celebrity to shame: button-up shirt with a light blue vest
and slacks. A spatula covered in red sauce that reminded Alan of blood, held
poised in his right hand. Alan’s eyes widened as he examine the man’s feet.
“Are those my slippers?”

“Oh, yes, my bad. My feet were killing
me. I’m going to have to murder the shoe sales associate that pointed them out.
By the way these things are like walking on clouds, pure orthopedic bliss. Do
you know if they come in Tiffany Blue?”

Alan’s face answered for him as the
man moved the conversation along. “Well, enough about me. I hope you’re hungry.
Dinner is about done. Let’s sit at the table like civilized folk.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is—well, you know all
about this, Alan. Known by one name here a different one there. But since we
are going to be such great friends, I’ll let you in on the secret and tell you.
My real name is Dominic Drencher. ”

Dominic was talking so fast it took
Alan a moment to realize what he said. “I need you to leave right now. Put my
spatula down and step away from my stove.”

Dominic ignored Alan and instead
turned back to the sizzling food. He opened cabinets and drawers as if he was
in his own home. He ignored Alan’s demand as he plated dinner for two. “I’m
going to overlook that rudeness and serve us instead.”

“If you don’t leave, I’m going to call
the police.”

“Empty words goldilocks. You want the
police here even less than I do.” Dominic picked up two plates loaded with food
and walked past Alan toward the dinning room. “Follow me. You know you have to.
I’m not leaving you much of an option. Once you’ve heard what I have to say, then
I’ll leave.”

Alan’s slippers disappeared into the
other room. Confusion more than anything festered in Alan’s mind. He wanted the
strange man to leave but not as much as he wanted answers.

Alan had a strong feeling that this
had something to do with Danielle and her crazy story about angels. Before he
could put more thought into his actions Alan found himself walking to join Dominic
at the table.

“There you are. I thought you’d come,”
Dominic said.

The table was set, wine poured. On
each plate was a generous helping of steak and spaghetti. His intruder wasted
no time in opening his napkin and shoving food into his mouth.

Alan pushed his plate away from him as
he took a seat on the opposite side of the table. Despite Dominic’s elegant
appearance his table manners were anything but appropriate. Fork load after
fork load was stuffed into his mouth and what was worse, Dominic didn’t stop
talking while he ate.

With a deep sigh and a mouth full of
food he started. “So listen, I know you were visited tonight by that hot little
number, Danielle. She’s cute right? Has that whole mousy nerdy girl thing
working for her. Anyway. she’s offering you answers and I’m sure she seems all
sunshine and flowers but believe me, you don’t want to trust her.”

“Why not?”

Dominic let out a deep burp. “First
off, her organization’s benefits are horrible. Practically no sick days and you
can forget about holiday pay. I’m offering you a chance at real freedom. I have
all the answers you’ve been looking for and an opportunity to join my
organization.”

“I’m listening.”

“Are you going to eat that?” Dominic
was pointing a dinner knife at the plate of food that sat in front of Alan.

“No, be my guest.”

Dominic licked his lips and accepted
the plate from Alan. “Let’s see, where was I?”

“You said you had answers.”

“Oh, yes. Well, what did the doe-eyed beauty
tell you?”

Alan thought back to the conversation
with Danielle just hours before. Even as he spoke the words, it dawned on him
for the dozenth time how ridiculous the whole thing sounded. “She said—she
said that I’ve been chosen, that I’ve been given my power for a reason. She
said that… angels gave it to me.”

Dominic practically choked on his
food. He reached for the glass of red wine in front of him and downed the entire
serving before he shrugged. “Well, I guess they are in fact angels in a sense.
Although I wasn’t aware they were going by that name again.”

“Again?”

“Yes, ready for story time Mr. Price?”
Dominic didn’t wait for a response but instead wiped his mouth with a napkin
and stood from his chair. “On second thought, I’ve been at this long enough to
know when someone is going to join me and when someone won’t. You’re not going
to side with my organization no matter what I say. I should just kill you now.”

Alan was nervous and wary the entire
dinner, now his muscles tensed again. Panic gripped his heart. He knew he
should have gone as soon as he saw Dominic. Something inside, some moral
compass warned him but like all the times before, he chose not to listen.

Alan’s heart was pounding in his ears.
His hand made contact with the phone still in his pocket. Alan said a silent
prayer as his right thumb blindly maneuvered around the face of the phone.

Alan stood trying to buy himself time.
“You need to leave now.”

Dominic lifted his eyes to the ceiling
and tilted his head side to side as he spoke out loud to himself. “But you did
provide dinner and these ever so comfortable slippers. So, in all fairness I
should probably let you off with a warning and beating. What do you say? That’s
a fair trade, right? Your life for dinner and slippers.”

Alan had heard enough. With a twist of
his hips he was off. Sprinting out of the dining room he called on his speed to
deliver him from his intruder’s sadistic plan.

No one had ever been as fast as Alan.
Nobody was capable of traveling at the speed his legs carried him. When Alan
felt the grip on his shoulder, when Dominic’s hand twirled him around in a half
circle, Alan couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

“Don’t tell me you thought you were
the only one. Oh, you did?” Dominic laughed. “Let’s see if along with all those
muscles you know how to fight.”

It was clear Alan didn’t, as fists
connected with his face and torso. Alan tried putting up his hands, he tried
holding Dominic back, but his attacker was too strong. Along with extraordinary
speed, Dominic was stronger than anyone Alan had ever come across.

Alan’s mind flashed back to the night
he fell from the building. The beating he took at the hands of Brent Carson and
his lackeys at the school dance. Even now with all of his money and speed
history was repeating itself.

In the span of a few seconds the fight
was already over. Blood ran down Alan’s forehead and mouth. He could taste the
bitter metallic tang as his own blood hit his taste buds. His ribs ached with
pain indicating they were either severely bruised or broken. Alan was
struggling to make it to his feet when another vicious strike connected with
his left temple.

“Apparently, you still have a lot of
growing to do,” Dominic said stepping away from his victim. Alan looked up
through blue eyes and strands of his long hair to see Dominic cleaning his own
blood off his hands. “When Danielle comes and tries to make everything better, tell
her I said, ‘hello’.”

Already on his knees, Alan couldn’t
hold himself up. His vision was blurring and Dominic’s voice came in and out.
Without any control over his body, he fell face first onto the kitchen tile.
The last thing Alan remembered seeing was a pair of feet wearing slippers
walking away.