Authors: M.A. KROPF
“What is your last name?” I asked the question, but just as the words left my mouth I knew the answer. I could see the young boy’s face in the weathered one before me.
“Steele,” he sputtered out. My grip had gotten a little tight and I loosened it ever so slightly. I gasped.
“Why do you care?” he asked.
“We went to high school together, and I remember what you did.” His eyes were wide with awareness and fear.
“That was a long time ago,” he struggled to say.
“Not so long that I could forget it,” I barely got the words out of my throat.
“That’s what this is about? You’re
avenging
them?” He had a slight smirk on his face.
“No.” Yes, them too, I thought. “I’m here because of the recent tragedies you have created.” Now his breathing was fast and uneven. He knew exactly what I meant. He struggled but, even though I had to adjust my grip, I was stronger than him. It felt amazing. His body was like an eggshell, and with one twist of my hand I could end his life. I felt powerful. Enough talking. It was clear what he had done, and the urge to end this was overwhelming.
I reached into my bag with my free hand and pulled out one of the two syringes that Aaron had brought for me. It was a paralytic, which I quickly injected into his vein. I felt the fight leave him and released my grip.
I stood and removed two latex gloves from the bag. I put them on, grabbed a roll of tape, and taped his eyes open. I looked down at him. “You know, John, it didn’t have to be this way. You had a choice to be something else… someone better… you had a choice.” In those words I realized that I, however, didn’t have a choice. I held the syringe in one hand, now gloved, and held my other hand up. I felt so strong… so different… changed in some way.
This is it… the resolve… this is who I am. I never asked for this. As I stood there viewing the surreal scene set in front of me, I struggled to fight the fear and the nausea… the excitement. I became acutely aware of every muscle in my body. One by one, flexing and extending as the blood pulsed hard to supply what my muscles needed to keep each one satisfied. My heart was pounding and racing… aching. A sudden chill vibrated through me as drops of sweat accumulated above my brow line. The back of my neck felt moist as a slow trickle slipped down my back. I took in a deep breath and, noticing my ragged breathing, I quickly steadied myself. I smelled the scene and the aroma of victory took me over, making me shudder as I felt the high. I could taste it on my tongue, which made my mouth water, and I had to swallow hard. I felt my saliva moving down my throat, feeling a bit cold in my overheated body, only to land in my now quivering stomach. I sighed, realizing that the nausea had finally passed.
I stood and looked at him… my victim, with contempt and just a hint of sadness. He never saw it coming. His limp body twisted into an unnatural position on the ground, still but not dead… not yet… and a smirk spread across my face.
But as the breeze of reality kissed my cheek, my face dropped just slightly with sadness.
The others
. . .
they were right
. . .
I have been created for this.
I closed my eyes for a moment as I felt a strange sensation. A feeling to do something, but what? Is this what they were talking about? I was drawn here and it felt right, but could I really finish it? As I took a deep breath, a sense of calm took over my body. It was at this moment that I understood who I was to be and how far I had come to get here. In front of me lay my past, present, and future.
He deserved this. His breathing was slow, shallow, clinging to life, lying motionless from the paralytic I had just injected. His eyes were wide with fear, taped open so that he could see me, see what was coming. I didn’t want him to miss a thing. I wanted him to see me doing this. I wanted him to feel the fear and pain that he had put his victims through, the pain that he would have inflicted again if he were allowed to live. Not today.
This was premeditated, I had searched him out. The syringe, still in my hand, was cold even through my latex glove, but comforting. I could almost smell the metallic taste of its contents and sighed. I walked slowly over to my bag. I retrieved the other syringe, already loaded. I checked it for air, silly, it wouldn’t matter. I knelt down next to him, looked into his eyes for a second, then spoke. “You will NEVER hurt anyone else again.” I felt his chest, his heart, beating as if I were holding it in my hand. I unsheathed the needle, it caught the light across the alley and sparkled. Slowly, methodically, I felt between his ribs and plunged the needle into his heart. He looked scared as I stared into his eyes. Then I emptied the contents of the syringe into his heart. Slowly drawing the needle back out through his skin with a last tug, I felt for his heartbeat on his right wrist. Was this what nursing school really trained me for? I was thankful for my ER nursing experience now as I waited… it slowed… then stopped. No movement, no shudder from him, just silence.
I stood over him, watching him. I waited. Then it came. I felt oddly aroused. The need that I had denied for so long, the daily obsessive thoughts, clouding my own thoughts, rendering me completely helpless.
What am I doing
. . .
my husband
. . .
my children
. . .
what am I doing?
I dropped to my knees, beaten by the need, the obsession, all my strength to fight this off was gone. But, I needed… and wanted more. A new strength began to build in me. I could do this, I could be this, I needed to be this. I could feel my heart pick up, beat with the strength I had been craving. A warmth started in my gut, like fire I felt it start to burn each organ as it spread throughout my body. Images flashed in my head, images of would-be victims of this man, now safe. I started to shake, a tremor that shuddered through my body. I was breathing hard and fast. It surpassed any feeling of ecstasy I had ever experienced. I tried to calm my mind, my body, my heart, my breathing. Slowly, the sensation receded along the same path it had climbed through my body. It was over. I had been preparing for this moment my whole life.
I walked to my car, reviewing all of the night’s events. Had I cleaned everything up? Were there any DNA left? I couldn’t worry about that, nor did I feel I needed to. I needed to sit and think. As I walked up to my car, I saw two figures in the dark standing next to my car door. I could feel my muscles tightening, but they relaxed when I noticed the red auras.
“Max… Aaron,” I said matter-of-factly… almost calmly.
“Megan,” they both replied.
I squinted at both of them, “How did you know where to find me?”
Max glanced toward Aaron who suddenly looked uneasy. “I followed you. Wow, you still look great.” His face then put on a boyish grin and I rolled my eyes and looked toward Max.
“Well, how are you?” Max asked clearing his throat.
“Other than feeling I’m still in the middle of a dream… or nightmare, I’m great. You?”
Close enough now to see their faces clearly, I noticed Max frowning. “You’re not sick?”
I opened the trunk and placed the bag into it. “No. What do you mean sick?”
Max and Aaron looked at each other.
“You completed your purpose?” Aaron questioned.
“Yes, why?”
Max interrupted, “I’m curious, did you get his name?”
I took a long breath in and out and nodded, “Yes, it was John Steele from high school.”
“Fascinating,” Max stated in an awed response.
Aaron continued, “Megan, it is difficult after our first purpose… and the transformation… to be, well, okay.”
Max moved toward Aaron and put his arm around him. “What do you say we treat Megan to a coffee and talk about this somewhere else.”
Aaron nodded in agreement, and we each drove off in our respective cars.
Transformation,
Aaron had called it.
Is that what happened?
I took a moment to survey myself in the rearview mirror. I looked the same. My body felt the same, although I had to admit that something was different, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
We stopped at one of my favorite coffee shops and all went in to sit down.
This time I started the questioning, “Max, what does transformation mean for me? How am I different?”
“I can’t believe she’s okay,” Aaron again remarked, looking at Max.
“Agreed, Aaron, agreed. But there is a lot that is going to be different when it comes to her.” Turning toward me, “So first tell me, tell me everything.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise, but then retold the events. They both sat across from me and nodded in agreement to much of what I said. When I was done, it was Max who spoke first.
“So, this dream you had, it showed you where to find him and what to do?”
“Yes.”
“And was the dream correct?”
I had to think about this for a moment because once I was in the heat of doing what I had to do I hadn’t connected it to the dream anymore. But, yes, it was… exact… except for the knife. “Yes,” I finally responded, “it was mostly right on.”
“You can see certain futures. Fascinating. I wonder what it means,” he responded.
“Max?” Aaron interrupted, “The transformation?”
“Right, right. So tell me Megan, did you feel any pain after you completed your purpose?”
I had to think about that. There was no pain, just a feeling of heat and, well, arousal. I looked at both men and didn’t believe I could share this detail so I just answered, “No.” They looked at me a little bewildered. Aaron’s expression even held a hint of jealousy. I felt a heat and tensing all over my body but no pain. “Was I supposed to?”
“All of us do… well, all of us except you,” Aaron chimed in curtly.
“What does the transformation mean?” I asked, getting back to my original question.
Max looked at me for a long minute and then smiled. “Your eyes are a little lighter, and your skin looks a little darker.”
“What?”
“A transformation,” he began, “is just that… we transform. Our DNA actually change ever so slightly. Usually so slightly that unless you’re really looking for it you wouldn’t know anything had happened.”
“Why does this happen?”
Max smiled, “It’s funny how we seem to be genetically equipped to handle the ever-changing technology in the world. How long do you think we’d last with the new police forensic science? Do you really think you didn’t leave DNA at the scene?”
My eyes were wide. I had thought about it as I was walking away but did not consider being caught, maybe because I couldn’t be. “I thought about it, yes, but something just let me abandon the worry.”
“So, what is it? What let you forget about it?” But somehow I thought this question was rhetorical so I waited. Max continued, “Instinct… genetics… a higher power? Maybe all three? Maybe someday we’ll know for sure, but right now we just have our faith that it is something bigger than us. We change each time, just after the last heartbeat. Is it our own DNA that changes or something in our purpose that triggers us? A lot of questions, but not a lot of answers.”
I pondered this while Aaron asked Max what kind of coffee he wanted, then went to get us all coffee. I did feel different, but I couldn’t exactly say how. I was very aware of my surroundings, my body, others. Wow… I looked around and the whole cafe was lit up. I had never seen so many auras so bright and big in my life. “Am I supposed to be seeing more of each aura now?”
Max’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion, “What do you mean more?”
I looked around and found one person who had an almost white light around him. It was huge, but I could still see through it, expanding out almost six feet from his body. He was walking past Aaron, whose red aura was solid, strong looking, also expanding out six feet but as their auras passed each other the white aura buckled and bent around Aaron’s. I tried to explain what I was seeing to Max.
He said, “I see the red and white of their auras but do not see their interactions. Hmmm.”
“Hmmm what?”
“Your skills are getting stronger. We already know from your purpose that somehow you have the ability to see some futures, although we don’t know how much yet. You can also sense auras stronger than anyone I’ve known of. They will be interested to hear this.” He trailed off in thought and I barely caught the last words. Aaron walked back to the table with three coffees. I guess he remembered what I drank from meeting for breakfast. Taking a drink confirmed this, coffee, half and half, and sugar.
“Thanks, Aaron.”
“You’re welcome.”
Then turning, I said “Max?”
“Yes?” Still not looking at me, he was lost in thought.
“Who are “they,” and why will they be interested in this?”
Aaron looked up from his coffee at Max and asked, “Are they coming?”
“Yes.”
Aaron sat back in his chair. Then looking at me. “Wow, they haven’t come over here for at least one hundred years. You sure know how to draw a crowd.”
I looked again at Max. “Max please, who?”
He sighed, “The Seniors from Greece.”
“Which ones?” asked Aaron.
“Aleck, Nicholai… and Tomas.”
Aaron’s mouth fell open. He got up from the table and walked outside.
“What’s going on?” I felt as if there was a secret being thrown back and forth in front of me.
“These men,” started Max, “are the Senior Aurators in the world. As we said, no one’s been to this country for over a hundred years. But of course no one has needed to come. Until you.” Max turned his coffee cup around in front of him and looked a little uneasy.
I guess I could understand why they would come. According to Max and Aaron, I was the prophecy and descendant of Hippocrates, although I thought this was crazy. What I couldn’t understand was why these two suddenly felt uncomfortable. I placed my hand on Max’s arm, “Okay, I’ll bite… what’s the problem with this?”
He cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”
“I can see you’re uncomfortable. Why?”
Then a voice behind me started, “We don’t want them here.”
I turned to face Aaron, who had come back in and was standing behind me, fists clenched.
“Why not? If they are the leaders, isn’t that good? Aren’t all of you… us… good? Isn’t this what you keep trying to tell me?”
Max removed his other hand from his coffee cup and placed it on my hand, which was still on his arm. His hand looked a little weathered, touched by time, but his hand was so soft and comforting, much like a grandfather’s hand on a child would be. I took a breath and looked at his face. I could see doubt in his eyes… something troubling him.
“Megan, for some time now we have doubted the intentions of our newest Senior, Tomas.” he said. “His actions and decisions have not always been the best, in our opinion, for us.” He looked at Aaron, who nodded in agreement and then looked back to me. “Remember… while the sense of purpose you have is a genetic gift, with years of experience and exceptional control you can make different choices and turn the strength toward a different purpose. This is what Aaron and I think he has done.”
“So why hasn’t anyone tried to stop him?”
“It’s much more complicated than that.”
“Why?”
He pulled his hands away gently and sat back. Aaron sat down and both of them looked a little overwhelmed. “Right now,” Max began, “it’s just a theory, there is no proof. And to take on the Seniors would… well, challenge the hierarchy. There is a protocol, and to speak with them about this without proof could be a reason for them to ostracize us from the group. Since I have been given such a position to hold Hippocrates’s journal, I would not want to do anything to jeopardize this.”
I turned toward Aaron, “Why not you, then? What do you have to lose?”
“Those who have gone against the Seniors have never been heard from again,” Max explained. “We think they are disposed of for fear of Aurators going to the Caduceus. However, most who challenge are not trying to go to the other side, just to effect change. The Seniors have used this as an excuse. Not all of them mind you, just Tomas… we think.”
“How many are there?”
“How many what?”
“Seniors.”
“Twelve.” Max then leaned forward, “We’re not going to resolve this issue tonight. Can I change the subject back to your painless transformation?”
“Sure, I guess. What causes the transformation?”
“We think it’s something called your serpodus.”
“My what?”
“Your power, the reason you’re an Aurator. Broken down, serpodus simply means power of the serpent rod. Specifically the Rod of Asclepius. This is where the power emanates from and why it is our symbol.” He paused as his eyes squinted at me slightly. “Hmmm, have you ever read the Bible?”
I thought back again to my days at church. Short of gathering ammunition for spit balls, I don’t think I’d ever opened the book. “No.”
“Revelations tells us of the end of evil. It is written by John, a disciple of Jesus. Whether you believe the Bible is the word of God or a great fictional novel, it’s important to read and understand the contents of the Book of Revelations. A gift from God, an angel, comes down during an epic battle between good and evil and throws the evil serpent, which we know as the caduceus, into Hell. Some say this is Armageddon, the end of time. From our history we’ve learned that this interpretation is not true, it is just the end of the major evil in the world… as we know it… for one thousand years.” He chuckled at what appeared to be a private joke that only he knew. “I’ve come to view it as God’s reset button, a sort of… do-over.”
This was fascinating to me, and not like our earlier conversations where it felt like some far-fetched, make-believe story that had nothing to do with me. I
felt
this story, as if something deep inside was pushing me toward something. “So, this… battle… this has something to do with me? This is why I’m here?”
Max wrinkled his forehead, “We think so, yes. Obviously Hippocrates’s prophecy is interpreted. But yes we think you
are
part of it.”
“Do you… we… know what is to happen? What
kind
of battle?”
Max turned toward Aaron and motioned for him to continue. Aaron looked at me, clearing his throat. “Nostradamus, know the name?”
“Sure. Loose predictions that are hard to prove or disprove, right? What about him?”
“He is one of your ancestors,” Max broke in, unable to contain this bit of information. Aaron rolled his eyes and looked generally annoyed. I didn’t have the patience to be codependent around Aaron’s poor bruised ego and turned toward Max.
“What do you mean ancestor? Another relative? That can’t be right. Why haven’t my parents told me any of this?” My father was a name dropper—if he had known about Nostradamus being a relative, he definitely would have been boasting.
Max looked a little uncomfortable, shifted in his seat, and cleared his throat. “Well, let’s just say they don’t know about this.”