Without further hesitation.
The Immortals.
###
Chapter One: The Ripple
What,
exactly, Jeremiah Crichton – the third richest man in America – was doing on
the corner of 9th and Fairbanks in the sleepy, none-too-interesting
Californian suburb called Samville was not readily obvious. There were no major
deals, no new corporations to check out (and purchase and gut) and Samville was
not exactly famous for anything save for its overabundance of orange trees –
trees that grew in small plots between the buildings in the main street and
cluttered up half the back yards of the suburb.
From
Kendra Watts’ perspective, Jeremiah Crichton wasn’t the third richest man in
America. He wasn’t famous. He wasn’t even all that noteworthy. For a girl who
was more interested in the upcoming prom – three days till she could unleash
her frilly pink and white striped dress on an unsuspecting and unprepared
school – the only thing that was noteworthy about Mr. Crichton was that he was
flipping a coin.
Kendra
was waiting at the traffic light at 9th, waiting to cross to get to
the next part of her walk to school, her fingers drumming on the cool metal
pole that held the crosswalk button. The button, stuffed with more modern
electronics than her cellphone, continued to chant the monotone warning that
most crosswalk buttons did in California these days: “Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.”
She
rolled her eyes. “I know. I am waiting.”
She
took a moment to sip from her cup of early morning hot chocolate – which she
had microwaved and dumped into her bright pink and purple unicorn thermos – the
unicorn horn made a straw, and the head had a small ring hanging from the front,
that she could hook her thumb into. But as she sipped the still-way-too-hot
liquid, she noticed something.
The
suited weirdo behind her, the one who was flipping the coin, was flipping said
coin…in time with the crosswalk button. Wait. Flip. Wait. Flip. Wait. Flip.
She
frowned slightly. He was…definitely giving her a major creeper vibe: Black
suit, sunglasses, a black tie that showed up starkly against his white
undershirt. He even had black gloves. He breathed in slow, steady, perfectly
even breaths – visible in the crisp morning of late December. Kendra looked
back at the crosswalk button and her thumb slipped down towards it.
She
pressed down and the button bleeped, then said: “Wait.”
Creepers
–as Kendra had called them ever since she was old enough to realize that
certain behavior wasn’t entirely pleasant for her to experience from others –
were a fact of life for a girl in high school. Most of the time, they were
nothing more than boys being boys – and thus, being completely unable to talk
to girls without sounding as if they were about to burst into flames. But
sometimes…
She
glanced back over her shoulder.
The
coin-flipper started to walk towards her.
“Walk.”
The
voice broke through her sudden spike of fear and Kendra walked. She hurried across
the street with more speed than she would have – since she was at least five
minutes away from school and had about ten to get there. But she wanted to
leave this coin-flipper behind. And so, she walked faster and harder.
And
behind her, she heard very expensive shoes clicking on the ground.
She got
to the far side of the street, turned around, saw that the coin flipper was
within an arm’s reach of her-
Opened
her mouth to speak-
And
then he spoke.
“There
can be only one.”
Kendra’s
eyes widened and she saw the man draw a sword from…nowhere. One instant, he had
nothing. The next, he had a scabbard at his hip and a blade in his hand. It was
a long, elegant blade, with a complex, curving handle that protected his
knuckles. The handle glittered and flashed in the crisp sunlight of the
morning.
Kendra
threw her hot chocolate in his face. The thermos’s horn jabbed into the man’s
eye, and the top burst off with the impact. He staggered backwards, and into
the cars that had started to pass now that the light had changed.
One
instant, Kendra saw that he was standing right in front of a large, bright red
Prius. The next instant, the Prius was one lane over – the rightmost turning
lane was blocked off by orange cones, and shocked looking workmen who were resurfacing
and repainting the road.
Workmen
that hadn’t been there five seconds ago.
Kendra could
have asked questions. But she had just lost her favorite thermos, and a
psychopath with a sword was trying to kill her. She decided to shelve the
questions, turn around, and run as fast as she could. Her shoes clattered on
the sidewalk and she heard the man – snarling in anger – chasing after her.
There can be only one, what!? She thought
to herself as she looked for some manner of escape, some possibility of help.
There were no pedestrians in sight of her – it was too early, too cold, and too
many people drove to school, the lazy-
She
heard a swish behind her and threw herself forward…
Onto a mattress.
A mattress that was set on the side of the walkway, with a small placard hung
around it that said: FREE MATTRESS! The mattress hadn’t been there, but right
now, Kendra was too busy being damn grateful as she rolled onto her back just
as the tip of the man’s sword plunged in after her. She scrambled backwards,
shouting: “HELP! SOMEONE HELP!”
The man
lashed out with a very fancy shoe, slamming it onto her chest, right between
her breasts. He pressed down, forcing her onto her back. His sword aimed at her
throat, then pressed against the soft flesh of her neck.
His
gloved hand wiped at his face and he scowled, then…
Another
blade flashed. It caught his sword, right in the middle, and there was a sudden
flare of sparks and a flash of blue-white light as the blades were caught
together, forced up and away from Kendra’s throat, which was nicked by the
quick contact.
“Run!”
The figure who had interposed herself between Kendra and the man was tall,
bald, and very very black. She had an angular, almost starved looking face, and
wore a very thick white coat, with two large scabbards across her back – one sword
was sheathed, the other – a curved Japanese style sword – was in her hand. “I’ll
explain later!”
Kendra
didn’t need to be told twice.
###
Like the story?
Support it with a donation!
###
Like the story?
Support it with a donation!
No comments:
Post a Comment