Third Power Page 3

  “You want something to drink?” Amy asked as they sat.

  “No thanks, I’m fine.” Then Steve added starting to get up, “Unless you--”

  “I’m fine, too,” she said taking his hand and pulling him back down to the couch.

  Steve did not speak for long moments, content instead to take in every line and curve of the young woman’s face. At last he asked, more to break the silence that was approaching awkward than anything, “So did you have fun?”

  She nodded and smiled warmly. Then, suddenly, she slapped his chest playfully. “I can’t believe that stunt you pulled on the way to the movies.”

  Steve reached over and took her hand in his. “Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I was just showing off.”

  Amy leaned back against the couch and inhaled deeply, her chest swelling and briefly catching Steve’s eye. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it’s written into a guy’s genetic code or something. A beautiful girl catches our eye and we go a little crazy every now and again.”

  “Oh, so that was all just to impress me?” she asked, her tone making it clear she remained thoroughly unconvinced. “Is that a part of what makes Steven Walker tick?”

  “Well,” he said sidling closer, “maybe something like that.” He always grew a little uncomfortable when she pried into his personal feelings, and he breathed a little easier when she didn’t push the matter further.

  “You’re silly,” she said with a shake of her head.

  Steve moved even closer; she let him. “Silly like a fox,” he said smiling.

  “That’s ‘crazy like a fox’.”

  “Yeah. Silly, crazy, whatever,” he continued to tease.

  Steve leaned toward her and she did the same. He felt his heartbeat quicken and his blood raced as they closed the last few inches. He absently wondered about this strange reaction, as he had kissed Amy many times before without such strong effect, but the soft, supple lips before him soon put such thoughts aside. He felt the oddest heat emanating from his chest then, spreading outward across his torso and down the length of his limbs like a rolling wave. He thought he heard Amy murmur something just before they both closed their eyes. Their lips met and he reveled in the feel of her body against his, his mouth against hers. The heat grew more intense and the pounding of Steve’s heart grew louder and louder. The sound grew like the thunder of an approaching storm, drowning out everything else. Was Amy hearing this? he thought suddenly self-conscious.

  Steve let the thought go; for what did it really matter? He was with her. His emotions blurred and chased each other around in his head, all centered on the warm mouth he kissed and the body he pressed close.

  The heat inside of him changed so abruptly his muscles convulsed and sent his thoughts reeling. A terrible roar like an approaching tornado rose in his ears and then exploded onto his senses from every direction. Gravity abandoned him then, and he felt the inexorable pull of some unseen force tear at his insides, tugging at his spirit as his flesh just seemed to melt away. Steve turned and saw his physical body behind him but the whispery essence he now commanded passed through his solid form as though he were grasping nothing but air. He then lost sight of Amy as all light and color began to blur and mix into a wild, maniacal kaleidoscope.

  And then he was rushing forward, a leaf on the wind of forces he could not control.

  Light and color streaked by him in long tendrils, like rivulets of various hues of paint under a gale force wind. Steve felt himself falling, forward rather than down, but to what he could not see for ahead was but a pinpoint from which the rays of color emanated in a steady stream, only to bend around him and resume their natural course once past.

  And then, as quickly as he started, he stopped.

  Steve was standing on solid ground. He staggered a little to his right as vertigo took hold, not understanding how he could go from the speed of light to zero in an instant and not be torn apart. He caught himself on a post, the wood square and smooth beneath his fingers. The last of his vertigo melted away and he straightened with a start, realizing his hand gripped the post of a stop sign. But what was that doing in...

  Steve looked around incredulous at his new surroundings. He recognized the street corner he now stood upon, part of an intersection not far from Amy’s home. The night sky, that had been cold and clear, was gone and the sun now replaced the moon’s pale face. All around him people continued their daily routines, a man waiting for a bus, a mother and young daughter walking to the drug store on the sidewalk further on, a man in a suit riding a ten speed bike to work, all heedless of the young man suddenly in their midst.

  Thoroughly confused, Steve glanced across the street to the electronic bank marquee. In bright lettering it flashed, “76 degrees”. The board went blank and then, “Saturday, March 2”. Blank for a third time, ”9:26 A.M.”

  This doesn’t make any sense, he thought. Feeling exhausted, his thoughts a muddled mess, Steve put his back against the signpost and slowly slid down until he sat upon the ground.

  Only to realize he couldn’t see himself. Steve looked to his arms, legs, and chest frantically—at least where they should have been; the whole of his body was invisible to his eyes but, comfortingly, remained solid to his touch. Scared and confused, Steve let his head fall into his hands muttering quietly, “It’s all right. This is all a dream and very soon you’re going to wake up. I just have to wake up. I just have to--”

  Steve’s head snapped up at the cracking pops echoing in the air. Across the street and on the opposite corner, a man wearing a ski mask backed out of the convenience store with his left arm around the neck of a young woman he used as a shield. At the end of the arm encircling the woman’s neck he clenched a paper bag while his right hand maintained a grip on the gun he pointed in the direction of the store.

  Behind them, a brown two-door Pinto jumped the curb and screeched to a halt in the parking lot not forty feet from them. The driver’s side door opened and another masked man brandishing a second pistol shouted, “Hurry your ass up!”

  Before Steve knew it, he was on his feet, all thoughts of himself flown from his mind. He did not know how but he knew he had to help that young woman. His mind raced with possibilities but he did not know what he could do against two armed men when he stood alone with no weapon of his own to engage them with. He frantically looked around, hoping to spot a police car and alert them to the scene unfolding before him but to no avail.

  Though the young woman sobbed, she fought against the thief. Her captor made his way to the car as fast as his struggling hostage would allow. Then, without warning, she twisted around and kneed him in the groin. The thief fell to his knees, clutching himself with both hands, dropping both the gun and the bag as he did so. Free of his chokehold, the girl turned back toward the store and ran as fast as her legs would carry her.

  Steve shifted his gaze then and saw the driver of the Pinto partially exit the vehicle and level his own weapon.

  “Hey!” Steve screamed, “hey, over here!” He shouted for all he was worth, trying to distract the second thief as he bellowed and waved his arms, forgetting he was inexplicably invisible, but if the driver of the Pinto heard him he gave no outward sign. A single gunshot split the air and the young woman’s back arched mid-stride as the bullet tore through her spine. Like viewing a movie in slow motion, Steve watched her stagger to the pavement and go still.

  How long Steve stared he was not sure, but when he looked back again the gunman was beside his fallen accomplice, helping him to his feet. Pausing long enough to retrieve the bag, the two climbed back into the car and drove away, leaving the girl in a widening pool of her own blood.

  Time resumed its normal speed and Steve leaped into the street behind a passing car. It seemed unlikely but if there was even the slightest chance to save her he would have to move fast. He hurtled the line of hedges on the opposite side, and in mid-leap the scene blurred at the edges of his vision
like a kaleidoscopic tunnel overtaking him from behind. Steve knew instinctively, somehow, the forces that had brought him to this place and time were reclaiming their prize and he sprinted to outrun it.

  The swirling kaleidoscope easily outpaced him and swallowed up the young man and his frustrated scream of defiance.

  Amy’s eyes remained closed as she pulled her lips away and rested her head in the hollow of Steve’s shoulder. She remained there for long moments, the smile on her face illustrating her contentment. In contrast, Steve stared wide-eyed and unmoving as ice. The pounding in his chest told him his heart still beat like a frightened rabbit’s, but everything else confirmed he had indeed returned.

  “I’m back,” he whispered in disbelief.

  Amy sat up and ran her fingers through the soft curls of his hair. “What did you say?”

  Steve held up his hand and breathed a deep sigh of relief when, instead of empty air, he saw five fingers flex and close into a fist.

  Amy’s look turned to one of concern. “Are you all right?” she asked. Touching the back of her hand to his forehead she exclaimed, “Oh my gosh, you’re burning up!” Grabbing a tissue from the coffee table, she delicately dabbed at the sweat on his brow. And then… “Don’t go anywhere. I’m going to get you something cold to drink.” As quick as that she was around the corner and up the stairs.

  Steve sat back on the couch and breathed deeply. His head began to clear, which helped the shakiness subside, and very soon he heard Amy’s light footsteps padding back down the carpeted stairway. She sped around the corner so fast she nearly spilled the glass of juice and ice she rushed to bring him.

  “Thanks, but I can manage this part,” he said, smiling when she tried to help him lift the glass. He took a sip, thankful for the cool liquid, and put it down again. “Really, I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, looking as though she would have remained dubious no matter his answer.

  Steve nodded despite his actual concern. “I’m fine. I just spaced out for a minute, that’s all.”

  Amy studied his face, as though appraising whether it was truth or his pride that answered. After a moment, apparently satisfied, she visibly relaxed. “Good, I’d hate for you to be coming down with something. Not tonight.”

  Steve didn’t hear her, his thoughts running over the scene he felt certain had to be some kind of a waking dream. But something about that girl had seemed hauntingly familiar. Almost like—

  “Hello? Are we awake?”

  Steve snapped out of his reverie with a start. “Hmm? Oh, sorry.”

  Amy looked away and bit her lip, a gesture Steve knew was always preceded by something she did not want to say. “I hope you won’t be mad or anything but my mom was in the kitchen and I mentioned you weren’t feeling so hot. She doesn’t think it such a good idea for you to be driving home tonight.”

  “Gee, I don’t know,” he said pretending to think hard about it, “drive home alone or spend the night in my girlfriend’s house.” His open palms rose and fell in opposition to each other as though he were physically weighing the options. “Yeah, that’s a tough one all right.”

  Amy gave him a playful swat, clearly relieved he was not cross for informing ‘the worrier’. “You get to stay down here on the couch, Romeo. It’s a hide-a-bed.” More seriously, she added, “I know she can be a bit over-anxious about things but I was just worried about you.”

  This last made Steve feel warm all over—but this time, thankfully, it came only from himself. He reached over and pulled her to him in a passionate kiss.

  When their lips parted Amy’s eyes hinted at slight surprise. “Mmm, you are feeling better, aren’t you?”

  “Very much so,” Steve replied.

  Chapter III

  Steve lie awake staring at the ceiling, unable to stop his thoughts rolling over the events of the evening. Amy had gone upstairs to bed at her mother’s request just before 3:00 A.M. He was honestly surprised she had been allowed to stay with him as long as she had. After helping him set up the hide-a-bed, he kissed her goodnight and she trotted upstairs to bed. That had been over two hours ago and still he remained awake.

  Not knowing what else to do to settle his rambunctious mind, he stole quietly up the stairs and then proceeded down the hall to get a drink from the kitchen. He could not see very well in the dim light, but felt his way along the wall and counted doors until finding the kitchen. Steve flipped the light switch then helped himself to a glass of water. Not yet ready to go back to bed, he seated himself at the table and looked out the window at the star-dotted sky.

  Deep inside, Steve knew the day he waited and planned for was a long way off. He desperately wanted to become an astronaut and explore new worlds, and he did not kid himself about the difficulty of achieving his goal. First, he needed a four-year degree so he could become an officer in the military. That in turn would allow him to become a pilot and, after achieving the proper amount of flight time, he could apply to NASA to train as a shuttle pilot.

  He sighed as he pondered the enormity of the road ahead, for he was sure there were far more unknown obstacles in his path than there were known. But more so than anyone he knew, Steve had determination aplenty. He would find his rightful place in the world even if it killed him.

  Steve’s thoughts strayed and, for the hundredth time that night, he heard a familiar gunshot echo in his head. His jaw tightened. Why did this bother him so much? After all, what was the big deal? It had only been a dream. He shook his head once and chastised himself silently for letting it bother him so.

  “Steve?”

  His head turned at the sound of his name and he saw Amy standing in the doorway, her hair mussed, wearing a green bathrobe tied around the waist.

  “Sorry,” Steve said with a grimace, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  She yawned as she padded barefoot across the floor and then seated herself opposite him. “It wasn’t you. I don’t know why I’m up; I just get this way sometimes. What about you?”

  “Couldn’t sleep either. I’ve had a little too much on my mind lately, I guess.”

  Amy brushed back an auburn lock that had fallen in front her eyes. “I know how you feel.” Before Steve could ask what she meant she asked, “So why don’t you tell me about it?

  Steve exhaled long and slow; there was that prying again. He knew she meant it innocently enough, but he was anything but comfortable talking with her—or anyone—about his innermost feelings. Steve avoided looking her in the eyes. “I’d rather not.”

  “Yes, you would. I know that because you never look me in the face when you have something important you want to get off your chest but think you can’t—or shouldn’t. And if you try to lock it away somewhere deep down it’s just going to eat at you until you do talk to someone. So you may as well save yourself all the heartburn and tell me now.”

  Steve was silent for a long time as he considered. She could be right, after all; but he ultimately shook his head. “No, not this time.”

  Amy let out an exasperated sigh. “Come on, Steve,” she persisted. “Whatever it is, if it bothers you that much then talk to me.”

  He knew she wasn’t about to give this up, and yet explaining would only make him sound just this side of insane. Then again, he felt he needed to tell someone and if he couldn’t trust his own girlfriend...

  “All right, fine,” he said at last. He took a deep, steadying breath and proceeded to pour out the story of his strange dream; retelling everything he saw and heard on a street corner not far away.

  “And then when I tried to help her,” he said in conclusion, “something pulled me back.”

  Amy listened with rapt attention and then asked, “And all of this happened when you kissed me?”

  Steve nodded, watching for any sign of disbelief or ridicule in her expression.

  Amy, however, straightened up and replied matter-of-factly, “Then it had to have been a dream. How long did you say you were there?”

 
“Maybe six or seven minutes,” he replied with a shrug.

  “You see? We hadn’t been kissing for more than ten seconds or so. Granted, it was a good kiss,” she added with a tilt of her head, “but we certainly hadn’t crossed into tomorrow until the stroke of midnight tonight.”

  Steve arched his brow in mild surprise. She didn’t laugh, or roll her eyes; just shrugged it off with the only logical explanation there could be.

  Amy pushed away from the table and rose to her feet. “Come on, we both need to at least try and get some sleep.” He agreed and she stood aside as he proceeded past her and retraced his steps. When he had reached the bottom of the stairs, he was already unbuttoning the fly to his jeans.

  “Ahem.”

  Steve froze in place and then slowly turned, only then realizing Amy had trailed him down the steps. Rebuttoning his pants, slightly flushed, he proceeded to remove his shirt instead.

  “Bashful?” Amy asked. Steve only smiled as he crawled under the covers.

  She seated herself on the corner of the bed and pat her thighs twice. Steve’s brows rose briefly at the suggestion, then he shifted under the covers so he could place his head in her lap. She stroked the soft strands of his hair with one hand while holding his in the other. “Big, strong boy like you needs his beauty rest.”

  Softly, she hummed a love song they had heard on the radio earlier that evening. Her voice was sweet and gentle, and soon Steve could feel sleep creeping over him. His eyes strained to stay open against the soothing sound of her voice but it was a battle lost before it began. The smooth tones of her voice, the softness of her touch; it was too overpowering to resist. Steve’s gentle grip on her hand slowly faded as he slipped into slumber. Soon his chest was rising and falling rhythmically, lost in a deep sleep.

  Steve woke to the smell of hot chocolate drifting lazily through the house. He stretched, thankful to have made it through the rest of the night dreamlessly, then slid out of the covers, stood, and stretched. Pausing just long enough to fold the bed back up into a couch, he hastily made for the downstairs shower. In twenty minutes, he was clean, dry, and ready to go.