Dusk Harbor 1999

Legends

The last thing he could remember was passing out in the hospital. Everything after that was all a blur. Fragments like the bits of broken glass he'd dug out of his hands. Now, as he sat with his back against a cool brick wall in an alleyway, he fought to recall what had happened. How he had ended up here. His mind swirled and his skull pounded the more he tried. The sun was just coming up beyond the buildings, the sky was cold grey. He could smell rain on the air.

One name was burned into his mind like someone had taken a branding iron to the inside of his brain. Lord Daemon. He couldn't get that name out of his brain, yet he didn't know where he had seen or heard it. Is it from a show? A movie? Who the heck is Lord Daemon?

Something like a sharp piece of metal pierced into him at the base of his skull and sliced it's way along the back of his head, up and over his forehead, and then stabbed into his eyes. Images flashed by so fast it was impossible to venture a guess as to what they were. A common theme seemed to be flashes of light, people, computer screens. And then there came the horrible, high pitched screech that filled his skull and made him want to curl up and die right there. It was worse than any dog whistle Mason had ever tortured him with.

A faint, raspy voice spoke to him out of nowhere.

"Jordan."

He looked around and tried to shake his head to clear away the images and the screeching.

"Wh- what's happening?" He asked through gritted teeth.

His temples pulsed hard. He squinted his eyes.

"You are being summoned," the voice responded calmly.

"For what?!" He demanded.

His arms locked up, so did his legs. His whole body went rigid and statue-like. Even his lungs felt like they were being constrained. He couldn't open his eyes, he couldn't pry his hands away from his face, he couldn't adjust his position against the wall. Every part of him was immovable.

"Stand up." It said.

There was no hesitation. His movements were not his own, and there was no thought to it at all. He shot up and stood straight and tall. I'm a prisoner inside my own body!

"Now climb up the building in front of you. To the rooftop," it said.

He couldn't stop himself. He ran over and leaped up into the air. Grasped onto the bottom of the cold metal platform of the fire escape. Climbed up onto the narrow railing, wrapped his legs around the outer metal support pole and used each platform and railing as a boost up, while using his legs to push himself further with almost endless strength and drive. It was easier than anything had ever been.

Even after nine stories, he had not broken a sweat. When he reached the top of the twelve-story building, he clambered up onto the roof, walked to the farthest edge and stood to look out at the view. He could see all the buildings around him, the streets below, the cars, the little people.

"Your precious city, how much does it mean to you?" The voice asked.

He was forced to be one hundred percent honest. Lying wasn't even possible.

"I'd give anything to protect it," he exhaled.

"You see, right now this city is like a game of chess. You're like a knight in this game. A piece that makes winning that much easier. In chess, you make risky moves to protect your king. Or in this case, your city. If all the other pieces fail, the king is put into checkmate. Game over. You don't want that, do you?"

Jordan looked into a single window in an apartment building across the street. A mother held her baby, rocking him back and forth, and even though they were complete strangers to him, he didn't want them or anyone else in his city getting hurt. He wanted to protect them. To be their tin roof in the rain.

"No. I guess not," he responded quietly.

"Then you see why I need you. I need to win."

"But what'll you gain from this? What's the point of this game?" Jordan asked.

"Jordan, did you know that the Egyptians believed that you not only die in the physical world but that you could die as a spirit as well? They believed that once everyone forgot who you were and stopped speaking your name you'd die for good. Your spirit would just fade away, and that would be it. If we took this world no one, I repeat no one would forget our names. We'd be in the history books forever. Talked about for all time just like Caesar and Cleopatra, Hamilton and Washington. You say those names, you know exactly who they are. That could be us. In that sense, we'd never die. We'd be immortal. Doesn't that sound great?"

"That's a stupid theory," he stated. He tried to shove the stupid voice out of his mind again but he just wasn't strong enough.

"Don't test my patience. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way, you get to move of your own free will and follow my orders. The hard way, well, you get the picture."

Jordan was able to clamp his teeth together and close his eyes. He focused hard on a pinpoint of light in his mind. Screamed for the voice to go away, built a brick wall. Screamed some more. Felt the presence begin to edge away. He could move his hands again. He curled them into fists.

"You want to play it that way? Fine. I was trying to be half decent, but you leave me no choice." The screeching returned, it felt like it was ripping his eardrums and his eyes felt loose in his skull.

Quickly, he tried one last time to put up a wall, but it was shattered in an instant.

Everything faded away, the cool breeze, the scent of a storm on the way, the sight of the mother and her baby. Even his own thoughts disappeared like dogwood blossoms in a late spring rain. And all ended for him right there.