Winter's Edge

Chapter 56 - Searching

Ian

MY search continued into the evening, and I'd nearly run out of monasteries to check. No one had heard of Elian. Hope was slipping away.

I couldn't find the last monastery, so I stopped in at a local pool hall to ask directions. The bartender was a muscled, middle-aged man with a five-o'clock shadow and an affinity for drinking his own products.

"Oh, the monastery. Right." His speech slurred ever so slightly. "You're three blocks off, kid. Take a right out the door. Can't miss it."

The map of Denver I had in my mind was accurate, but it wasn't always easy to figure out where the addresses fell on each street. And somehow, I'd botched this one pretty badly.

"Thanks." I threw a five in the empty tip jar. Slow night, I guessed.

A fifty-dollar bill attached to a suited arm slammed down on the bar beside me. "My friend here will have a Coke, and I'll take whatever your favorite drink is."

My body tensed. That voice was unmistakable. My gaze inched to the right.

Rawlins.

I drew in a slow breath, trying not to appear shocked.

"You know, it's funny"-Rawlins sat on the barstool beside me-"We work so hard to keep this country safe, and people still reject our job offers. I just don't get it."

I started to walk away but thought better of it. Instead, I eased down onto a barstool, then looked around the place to see if anyone looked suspicious. "What are you gonna do here with all these people around?"

"Oh, I'm not here to bring you in, Ian." Rawlins waved a dismissive hand. "I'm just here to talk."

"Not interested."

The bartender slid my Coke in front of me, then began making Rawlins' drink.

"Oh, come on. I'm not as bad as you think."

"Really," I said.

"You don't understand, Ian. Have you ever watched someone with powers go mad?"

I hesitated, not answering him.

The bartender finished Rawlins' drink and pushed the martini glass to him. It looked like a girlie drink with its red hue and pink umbrella. Rawlins hadn't looked at it yet.

"They start hearing voices. Wicked voices. They tell them to do horrible things to people. That's fairly common for people with powers." Rawlins took a drink and looked at his glass with a frown then up at the bartender.

The bartender shrugged. Now I understood why his tip jar was empty.

Rawlins rolled his eyes at the man, then looked back to me. "Eventually, they start listening to the voices. They have no regard for human life. They'll kill anything and anyone." Rawlins sighed. "It's not their fault, though. They're slaves to their chemical make-up. Slaves to the voices. Slaves to their powers. They can't help it."

"If it's not their fault, then why do you kill them?"

"I don't want to kill them." Rawlins took another drink and raised an eyebrow at the bartender again. "I sincerely hope they'll come work for me. I hope I can train them so their powers won't drive them mad. I hope I can give them a job to be proud of."

"Proud of killing people with powers who've done nothing wrong?" I didn't try to hide the disgust in my tone.

He shook his head. "Imagine what people with powers would do to the world if they were left to their own devices. There would be far more of them out there if we didn't thin the herd and far more going mad, killing innocent victims. Not to mention the infrastructure damage they could cause. What if one decided to take down a power plant in the heat of the summer? How many babies and geriatrics would die of heatstroke? How much money would be lost? How long would it be before the entire world economy came crashing down? Or better yet, how long would it be before terrorists started taking advantage of our weakened defenses...or before they started recruiting people with powers to do their dirty work? Who's the real evil here, Ian? You or me?"