Zero II Read online

  Zero II

  By

  Jonathan Yanez

  Text copyright © 2014 Archimedes Books

  All Rights Reserved

  1

  Present Day

  “Another drink, sir?”

  “Yes. In fact, can you just bring the bottle over? I think that will be easier for both of us.”

  “I certainly can, sir—would you like to be informed of the price? I mean before I go get it?”

  He knew she was trying to be polite. Deep down he understood what was going through her head. She was doing the math on how much he already drank, adding that to the cost of the bottle. “No, I don’t need to know the price. Just bring the bottle please.”

  He caught the surprise in her eyes even as she tried to hide it from him, turning to go. The waitress bobbed with a bounce of her blond curls and was gone.

  He smirked to himself and brushed a dark blonde strand of his own hair behind his ear. He could feel the expensive fabric of his tailored shirt press against his muscular chest and arms as he reached across the table for the book that lay face up in front of him.

  Reading the book alone looked out of place in such a high-end bar, even he realized that. The book reminded him of how he had felt as he made his own transition from plain and ordinary to, something else entirely. Something he was still trying to understand.

  He could feel eyes on him from the female patrons in the bar and the staff. He witnessed his waitress murmuring to her coworkers while grabbing the requested bottle of 1939 Macallan.

  The pages in his book gently ruffled, his fingers touched familiar passages. The pages were like old friends. He couldn’t help but smile as he remembered exactly how many times he had read the book.

  The lighting in the bar was dim, which would have posed a problem to anyone else but him. He could see the words on the page as clearly as if he were sitting at a bench in the park with the sun on a cloudless sky.

  He heard her before he saw her. “Here you are, sir. The most expensive bottle we have. I had to convince my manager that this wasn’t a joke but when I told him who ordered, it he practically ran to fill the request.” She placed the newly dusted bottle of whisky on the table. “You come here often?”

  He put the book down, blue eyes making contact with her own. “From time to time. Usually there’s a different waitress working.”

  “Oh, I’m part of the day shift. I’m just picking up extra hours.” Her eyes fell from his, hesitated too long on his muscular torso and rested on the book that was placed on the table. “Spartans, huh?”

  He nodded, “Spartans.”

  An awkward silence filled the space between the two as the attractive young woman grasped for a follow up line. The line she never had to use before, men had always felt obligated to fill the silence in an attempt to please her. “Ummm… can I pour the whisky for you?”

  “No, that’s fine you can leave the bottle.”

  She cleared her throat, once again at a loss for words. “If you don’t mind me asking, who are you? I mean the entire night staff seems to know you and I think every woman in here has asked about you since you sat down.” Her face reddened even as she asked the question.

  He looked at her, he really looked at her. She was pretty, young and carried herself like a woman rather than a girl. High energy and a steady smile made her not only attractive but even approachable. He didn’t blame her for the question in all fairness it was one that he had been trying to answer for the past four years. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll ever know. The last few years have been a blur of temporary happiness.”

  This was clearly not the answer the waitress was expecting. “Oh, okay. Well, let me know if you need anything. My name is Sophia.”

  He nodded as she turned and left. Part of him wished he had been nicer, but it was the truth. Alan Price opened the costly bottle of whisky as nonchalantly as someone would open a water bottle. He poured himself a generous portion. As the glass traveled from the table top to his lips he thought back to the first night he realize that life would be more of a mystery than he ever thought possible.

  2

  Four Years Ago

  Alan’s whole body tingled. He felt warmth emanating from the very core of his being. Air leaked slowly, almost painfully into his lungs as his mind fought for an answer. The fall that should have killed him, the plummet from the business building dozens of stories up left him standing on his feet rather than a stain on the cold cement ground.

  Alan’s eyes darted around him, above him, everywhere, anywhere that would provide an answer to why he wasn’t dead. There was nothing that could have stopped him. Alan never felt so alone. No one would believe him even if he could explain what happened.

  He searched desperately for any pedestrians, anyone to confirm that he wasn’t crazy, that he had flown or at the very least hovered. There was no one. The business district that teemed with human traffic during the day was a desert of tall buildings and empty windows.

  Alan would have stayed there, stuck searching for an answer that seemed unexplainable if not for the wails of distant sirens. It came back to him in a second, the security guard on duty must have called the police.

  Waiting and trying to explain to the police what transpired seemed like a joke. Maybe they could have helped him but adrenaline was surging through Alan’s veins at a sickening pace. In that moment he decided to run.

  Tuxedo jacket trailing behind him Alan ran away from the sounds of the nearing sirens and to a future that seemed more bleak and alone than ever.

  3

  Four Years Ago

  Going home wasn’t an option. In a weird kind of way Alan felt like he was starting his life from the beginning. He had nothing. Any money he once owned was spent on the tuxedo and haircut that night for the school dance. He was alone, vulnerable and above all confused.

  The wind that pushed him over the top of the building reminded him of how alone and helpless he really was. Even now it buffeted him from side to side. Alan wrapped his slender arms around himself forcing his body not to shiver against the cold.

  He was in the heart of the city. The business district was only a few short blocks from downtown. Alan made his way down the street. So wrapped up in how he managed to escape death only minutes before, his current destination seemed the least of his worries.

  This is crazy. You’re going crazy. There is no way you should have survived that, no way. How… But…

  Alan felt as though his mind was tearing. Synapsis were firing at a frenzied speed and theories ranging anywhere from some kind of cable or net he couldn’t see hindering his fall to an alien being catching him out of some kind of intergalactic pact with humanity filled his head.

  Alan shivered despite his best efforts as cars drove by and lights passed him. The downtown district of the city played to its rough reputation with harsh brick buildings and cement walls. Hotel and motel lights blinked off and on, welcoming any visitor with signs of vacancy. Hot dog stands and all night diners reminded Alan of the last time he ate and at the same time his current lack of money.

  “Hey, hey, kid. Where ’ya going?”

  Alan looked to his left. In a dark alley between two closed buildings stood two men. The one that had addressed him was easily twice as wide as he was. A hooked nose and deep scar on his left cheek told Alan all he needed to know. Alan knew what a bully sounded and looked like even if he wasn’t at school.

  Instead of trying to reason with the man or engage him in conversation, Alan put his head down and quickened his pace. His eyes searched up and down the block for anyone that could help, but much like his fall from the building, there was no one around.

  “Hey, did you hear me!? I’m talking to you clown.”

  Alan refused to l
ook back yet he could hear the footsteps of the two men as they started to follow.

  “Stop walking!”

  The footsteps behind him quickened, turning into a run. Alan felt panic seize his heart yet again. Before any thought could be put behind his action, he too began to run. As if fueled by some primitive instinct his legs shot into action underneath him. An image of an antelope being chased by lions flittered though his thoughts.

  Even as he ran he knew he couldn’t outpace his pursuers. Not only was he wearing rented tuxedo shoes, Alan was anything but athletic. His body was built for events more along the lines of spelling bees and chess tournaments, not sprints.

  Alan gritted his teeth. The cold wind blew across his face. The sound of pursuit was growing and he only had seconds before they were on top of him.

  Just get to the next block. You can duck inside that motel. Don’t stop, run!

  Alan didn’t make it: the motel was within shouting distance now but even as he filled his lungs to yell for help, he felt a firm hand grab his left shoulder.

  Then it happened again. Fear, panic, adrenaline, and the will to live surged from someplace deep within—someplace only recently discovered. Alan felt warm as he ran forward trying his best to shrug off his pursuer and make it to the next block.

  Alan ran as though the very dogs of hell were behind him. In what seemed a second, the grip on his shoulder released, the pounding sounds of pursuit faded and the scenery around him blurred for the briefest second. He stopped, forgetting about his pursuers and wondering why his vision had been distorted. Alan found himself well passed the motel that had just before only been a single block ahead of him.

  Alan shook, his chest heaving as he sucked in cold air that stung on the way down to quivering lungs. He turned in a circle. The motel he was desperately trying to reach was now a block behind him. He had to squint to see the men chasing him. They stood barely visible in the dark, two blocks down.

  Alan couldn’t see their facial expressions but the men weren’t moving. They looked like they were talking to each other, just as confused as he was. Alan was shaking, not from the cold, but from what had just occurred.

  He looked down at his hands that vibrated with the fear of what was happening. His heart was still racing, the answers he so desperately needed still not coming.

  Breathe, relax, you’re safe. You’ll figure this out. Can you really move that fast?

  Alan took a deep breath. There was another motel on this block. Apparently he passed it while he ran. Alan took a step toward it now, a step toward the two men that had chased him.

  They watched him approach. From two blocks away Alan could hear them scream as they turned and ran.

  4

  Four Years Ago

  A bell attached to the shabby motel clanked as Alan entered. The entire waiting room stank of stale food and sweat. A bulletproof glass booth to his left half obscured a pale elderly woman who looked him up and down without hesitation.

  Alan swallowed hard as he made his best attempt at a smile. “Hi, I uh—I need a room for the night.”

  The woman, clearly judging Alan, put down her gossip tabloid. The magazine she placed on the counter showed a blurry picture of a fight scene, taking place on a crowded street in upstate New York. The woman squinted through her thick glasses. “Only one night? Need a deposit homeboy.”

  “Oh well, you see I’m kinda short on money right now bu—“

  “No money, no stay at momma’s palace homeboy.”

  “Wait, what? Did you just call this place a palace?”

  The woman raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean of course it is. It’s an amazing palace. Listen, I don’t want a handout, I’ll work or…” Alan groped through his jacket and pant pockets searching for anything that would allow him to convince the woman to let him stay. His right hand felt the form of his empty wallet, his left hand closed on the hard steel keys of the stolen car and his cell phone. “Look! Look, I have this cell phone; it has to be worth one night. Please I just need one night.”

  The elderly woman motioned Alan to slide the phone under the dense glass window. She pursed her lips as she rummaged though apps on his phone. “This have internet access, homeboy? Wi-Fi? Bluetooth compatible?

  “Yes, yes, it has everything. Very top of the line.”

  “Hmph, okay, one night.”

  Alan nodded vigorously.

  Even as the woman reached behind her for a worn set of keys with a red tag that read #7, she hesitated. “You in some kind of trouble, homeboy? Momma don’t like having trouble at the palace.”

  “No,” Alan lied through his teeth, “I just need a place for the night. I won’t bring momma or the palace any problems.”

  “Okay,” the woman released her grasp on the room key and let it slide under the window.

  Alan grabbed the key before the woman could rethink her offer and left the office. The woman seemed anything but interested in Alan as he caught her looking down on her new phone.

  The walk from the motel office to his room was short. The entire complex was made up of only a dozen or so rooms. The furthest motel apartment was only a few yards away from the lobby.

  The motel formed a kind of horseshoe shape around a poorly maintained pool. There were weeds growing up the side of the fence that surrounded the water and its uninviting green tint.

  Alan wasted no time in finding his accommodations for the night and letting himself inside. The room was what he expected, small with a scent in the air that reminded him of must and mold.

  He flicked the lights and closed the door. Alan took in his new surroundings; lumpy bed to his right, a small dresser and TV that looked like they came from a different century and a door further back that Alan guessed led to the bathroom.

  What are you doing? What are you going to do? What’s happening to you?

  No answer came as he reluctantly sunk into the worn mattress. He knew he couldn’t go home. Not only after “borrowing” Tony’s car and being humiliated at school but especially now after experiencing whatever it was that was happening to him.

  Alan settled on the bed staring up into the ceiling. Still fully clothed, still with the light turned on, still with no answers. He forced his mind away from the thought of sleeping on a bed that had probably been part of a murder scene at one point or another. Staring at the white cottage cheese ceiling that practically screamed of asbestos, he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

  5

  Four Years Ago

  “You can do this. You did this before,” Alan paced back and forth at a park just a few blocks away from the motel where he spent the night. His stomach rumbled not for the first time as Alan pushed himself to be as fast as he had been the night before.

  “Come on!” he yelled in frustration. Pedestrians that bothered to look at him frowned or shook their head. Alan could only imagine what he looked like; a teenager in a rented tuxedo, yelling to himself in a public park.

  Think, in both cases you were afraid. You feared for your life. That has to be it. Whatever is happening is triggered by your will to live.

  Alan tried to remember that feeling now, he tried to remember the exact feeling as he fell. He imagined that same grip on his shoulder. The fear being chased had brought gradually spread though his veins.

  He felt himself quiver at the memory of being bullied for so many years. He thought back to his countless nights and days of depression, the feeling of loneliness and the panic that social events usually triggered. Alan felt perspiration start to bead across his brow as angst built up inside. Then Alan forced his eyes open and ran.

  Alan ran as fast as his legs would carry him. His feet yelled as they were forced to a dangerous pace, rubbing against his cheaply-made-nonetheless-expensive-to-rent tuxedo shoes. Grass blades crunched under foot as Alan streaked across the park.

  Eager to see how fast he was moving he turned his head from side to side. Alan felt his jaw drop as he witnessed life all around him taking place at a
speed much slower than his own.

  People stood still as he moved forward. Birds hung in the air, their wings stuck in place. There was no noise. Everything around Alan looked like a picture, lifelike but unmoving. Alan pulled to a halt, his mind trying to make sense of the impossible. As he stopped, everything around him began to move at a normal pace once again. People continued about their way both on the sidewalk and in the park; horns blew and birds ascended and descended in flight.

  No way. There’s no way you’re that fast.

  Alan crouched in a kneeling position as he tried to piece together the puzzle whose pieces were all around him. Thoughts of superheroes, mutants or evolved humans passed across his mind. In all honesty there was no telling what he was now. All he knew was that he could move and he could move fast.

  From that moment on Alan promised himself things would be different. Plans started to form in his mind of how he could put this gift of speed to use. His stomach rumbled again.

  Priorities, man; food first, money later. Now, what sounds good?

  Tingling and laughing out loud, Alan stood from his crouching position. Feet firmly underneath, he ran.

  6

  Present Day

  “Hi. Sorry I don’t want to disturb your reading time—Oh, Spartans, very cool. Hope you don’t mind me looking at your book. I’m not trying to be nosey or anything, just trying to make conversation and not let this get awkward.”

  Alan raised his eyes to see a dark haired woman about his own age. Large black-rimmed glasses framed her eyes. Jeans and boots marked her either as someone who had not anticipated or didn’t care she was going to a bar where Austin Martins and Ferraris were valeted on a regular basis. “I’m sorry do I know you?”

  “Nope, not yet. Do you mind if I sit down?”

  “Listen, I don’t want to be rude. I’m sure you a great person but tonight—“