The Last Judges Nonlinear Redux: Flash Through Time And Space With This Account Of The Last Judges

By Jedi Gong

Eight diverse Americans displaced by apocalyptic events struggle to discern their unique destinies...
An inspirational action-adventure sci-fi epic from Jedi Gong, The Teller of Tales of Superhumans.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 4, 2012
• ISBN: 9781623094034

Book preview

1.1

March 23rd – 24th

Although the camp regained much of its shape, each day magnified their need for supplemental materials and their longing to replenish some luxury items.

When the last weekend of March arrived, all except the Woodsman eagerly mobilized for their shopping trip. Their list began with building materials such as chicken wire for repairing the turkey coops, barbed wire for reinforcing the resurrected fence line, and pipes and activated charcoal for constructing a new water purifier. Other practical supplies included salt, duct tape, batteries, sharpening stones, matches and lighters, new cups, bowls and utensils, seeds for replanting the garden, bottles for alcohol brewing, and peroxide and rubbing alcohol for first-aid. Comfort provisions consisted of tampons, lip balm, eye drops, new combs, fresh towels, some good books, moisturizer, toilet paper, ibuprofen pills, toothpaste and brushes, razors and shaving cream, and shampoo and conditioner.

That sunny morning, Jade, Natan, Dragon, and Anima departed on foot for the dilapidated farmhouse nearby.

Anima’s old pair of sunglasses hid Jade’s glowing white eyes and a black strip of cloth cloaked her ivory, antigravity hair in a bun.

Natan hung a gallon of drinking water on each of his shoulders.

When the others asked him why two bottles, he explained that they balanced each other.

They left the Woodsman the only remaining shotgun.

Anima took the last long-range rifle with an improvised satchel of ammo slung across her chest.

Dragon wore his hollow lead eighteen-inch Mini Bone Crusha, which doubled as a blowgun, on his back, with a thick leather pouch of venom-soaked, hickory-wood darts on the belt of his black gi. He also wore a sack of hickory throwing-stars on his waist and a hunting knife gifted to him by the Woodsman. In his hand, doubling as a lead walking staff, he toted the four-pound, four-foot-long, black-leather-wrapped Granddaddy Bone Crusha.

*

At the farmhouse, they found the farmer’s old rusted pickup-truck with a dead battery, barely an eighth of a tank of gas, and of course missing its license plates.

The keys, at least, hung patiently from the ignition.

While Anima gave the key a twist and pumped the gas, Natan pressed the butts of his fists against the positive and negative terminals.

The engine turned-over with a coughing, sputtering rumble.

The professor held his fists there for a minute, charging the battery and the alternator.

Afterward, he leaned into the passenger window and cranked the dial of the oldfashioned radio.

Static crackled though the meager dashboard speakers.

He turned the knob until he heard the faintest stutter of an underground station still broadcasting music. Watch this, he told Anima, touching his pointer finger to the radio.

Modern rock music burst through the speakers with crisp, loud clarity, and continued even after he pulled away.

She smirked, That’s a talent.

Standing outside of the passenger window, he explained, "I have to keep my mind focused on the music for a few seconds, basically like trying to hear it, but after that my body kind of instinctively takes over and acts like a booster antenna."

A search of the property uncovered no spare gasoline, but they did find a quart of oil and added it to the engine.

With less than twenty miles worth of gasoline at their disposal, Jade advised that they first backtrack to Elberton, thirteen miles north, the closest town with an operational gas station.

The others questioned if she intended them to take the gasoline by force since they had no Sign or goods for trading, but the psychic assured them that no violence would be necessary; she would handle everything.

Anima took the wheel with Jade beside her while the men rode in the bed of the truck.

*

After twenty minutes of puffy clouds and dark-green trees, the single lanes of Lexington Highway led them to signs of a small country town.

Before locating the gas station, they passed a substantial used-car lot packed with an impressive array of makes and models and Jade suddenly directed Anima to turn around.

Anima grinned and regarded the psychic curiously, but played along on pure faith.

She entered the lot and puttered through the isles of shiny vehicles, each with a florescent orange price painted on its windshield.

Dragon leaned forward over the edge of the truck bed and asked through the window, What’s going on?

Jade only stared ahead and spoke plainly, Trust me.

He sat back down, looked at Natan and shrugged.

There, pointed Jade, Pull up next to those trucks. The salesman is on his way.

Anima raised her eyebrows and chuckled anxiously, Alright, sister…

By the time they all exited the battered old pickup, a short, balding, round-bellied man wearing a brown suit and red tie approached them with a toothy smile and outstretched hand, Howdy folks! My name’s Billy.

Natan shook his hand, Good morning sir. I’m Nate.

Lookin’ to replace this rust-bucket I assume?

The professor glanced at Jade, I guess so.

Tell me about these two trucks, requested Jade, signaling a matching pair directly behind her, different only in their colors, one painted black and the other a grayish-silver.

The orange paint on both windshields read: $11,000.

Oh, nodded the salesman, That’s a superior quality vehicle. Made in America. The General Motors full-size two-thousand-two Chevrolet Silverado twenty-five hundred with the extended cab. Tried and true engineering. Extremely reliable. Three hundred horsepower. Six liter, V-eight engine. Four speed automatic transmission. Can haul over three thousand pounds and tow over ten thousand. Thing’s are built like tanks. Wanna see the inside of ’em?

Yes, please, answered Jade.

Sure thing. Now I see that you don’t have any plates on your old beater here – not that it’ll be worth any more than scrap – but you do have the registration, right?

Jade exhaled her words in a soft, pacifying tone, Everything is in order.

Ah, one other thing, sorry to ask, but you know how it is these days – can’t take any risks – I’ve got a family, you know? So, before I get the keys, do you good folks have the Sign of the Emperor? The man held up his right hand and displayed a small black symbol tattooed on the back of it, Or, at least, the one of you I might be doing business with?

Jade spoke with a slow, metered monotone, Don’t worry about it, Billy. We don’t need the Sign. You can get the keys for us. Everything will be alright.

The pudgy, balding man seemed confused for a moment, disoriented, but then replied, You know, folks, I trust you guys. I’ll just go get the keys. Be back in a jiffy! He spun and hustled away to his office.

Dragon gawked, That’s a new one…

Yeah, Anima exclaimed, Nice work, Obi-Wan!

Actually, said the psychic, That’s an old trick of mine that I never use. I’ve always considered mind-control immoral. I never wanted to manipulate people. But our backs are in a corner and manipulating someone’s mind is much more humane than shooting them or electrocuting them or beating them with a metal staff.

Well put, agreed Natan, More humane, efficient, and inconspicuous. Good work.

Thanks. Jade walked between the trucks, squatted and picked up a rock the size of a large marble.

The others studied her quizzically as she returned to their side, but didn’t bother interrogating.

When they spotted the salesman already scurrying back, they took deep breaths and waited with their best expressions of jolly innocence.

He arrived with a sheen of sweat on his brow, Here we go. He handed Natan the sets of keys with one hand as he loosened his red tie and unbuttoned the top of his white dress-shirt with the other. You’ll see they’re in pristine condition. We pride ourselves on our technicians’ thorough refurbishing jobs. Reputation is everything in these parts. Feel free to pop the hoods. We have top-notch mechanics here. State-of-the-art equipment. These beauties are as good as new, at a used price.

They went though the motions of inspecting the immaculate cabs, testing the automatic windows and electronic seat adjustments, awaiting Jade’s next move.

Sweet! gushed Anima, CD players!

The salesman inquired, Did you folks wanna take a little test drive? I just need to photocopy the license of the driver.

Jade approached him and soothed with flat, measured words, No, thank you. We can see that these trucks are in perfect working order. In fact, we would like to purchase both of them right away.

Oh, my, the man smiled, Superb! Please, come on in to my office.

No, Billy, the psychic’s voice rang eerily hypnotizing, That won’t be necessary. We can make a quick trade, here and now, without any paperwork, and be on our way. Listen…

The salesman cocked his head sideways with a dazed, listless face and lost, captivated eyes.

Jade held out the gray, half-inch-round stone in her left palm, This is a very rare ten-carat diamond. It’s worth over three times as much as both of these trucks, so it’s your lucky day. We need these trucks right away, and we know that this is the best dealership in the county, so we’re willing to trade this diamond in exchange for these quality vehicles. The owner will be very pleased with you. We don’t have time for paperwork, but that’s okay. It’s no problem. We will simply shake on it, and part ways. Everyone will be very happy. Deal?

He blinked at her, then at the pebble, Wow, I’d be a fool to turn that down! He shoved his right hand toward her, Man, my boss is gonna be jazzed!

Jade shook his hand and gave him the rock, Yes, you’ll get the commission of a lifetime. Congratulations.

Thank you, ma’am. A real pleasure doing business with you folks. Well, I’ll let you be on your way, then, before you change your mind, he laughed, Enjoy your trucks! I know you’ll love them!

She affirmed, We will, then told the others, Let’s go.

Anima smirked, Dibs on the black one! Come on, Dragon baby.

Natan smiled back, I like silver anyway.

*

The professor drove ahead of the teenage couple with the psychic beside him scanning for danger from law enforcement, local militias and highway marauders.

A tranquil hour of dense blossoming rich-green countryside flanked their smooth passage fifty miles south along State Highway Seventeen.

Meeting Interstate Twenty, they swung directly east toward Augusta.

Twenty-five miles of moderate traffic brought them to the outskirts of the city where the seemingly endless trees abruptly gave way to buildings and billboards. There they discovered a vast shopping center called the Augusta Exchange which spanned a half-mile-diameter expanse of parking lots, restaurants, and department stores.

They settled in a remote section of a central parking lot and convened between the trucks to strategize.

Jade advised, I think the four of us may attract too much attention and possibly complicate things. She suggested to Dragon and Anima, I think that you guys should watch the trucks while Natan and I do the shopping. While we’re gone, maybe you could find a couple sets of license plates to borrow.

Natan agreed, Sounds wise.

The teens considered for a moment.

Alright, allowed Anima, but you better get me a ton of CD’s for my ride. There’s not shit on the radio anymore. I’ll take any kinda rock – punk, grunge, industrial, alternative – just nothing from before the nineties.

The professor nodded, Done.

I’m serious. You bring me some eighties shit with dudes on the cover with giant perms wearing makeup and spandex, and I swear we’re gonna scrap.

He promised with a broad smile, Okay, I got it.

Yeah, yo, added Dragon, "And you know I want some rap. And no west coast shit, either. New York rap only. Well, at least, east coast only. But New York is best. And when I say ‘east coast’ I mean east coast – cities near the ocean – not Detroit or Chicago or whatever. Word?"

No problem, nodded the senior, New York, good. West and midwest, bad. I’m sure Jade knows what’s what.

Good, the boy brainstormed, And I want some swords. I’ve been dyin’ for a samurai sword.

Uh, Natan furrowed his brow, I’m pretty sure they’re illegal, but I’ll keep my eyes peeled.

Dope. Thanks man.

*

An hour later, Jade sent a radiocast to the teens, asking them to retrieve the first pair of shopping carts.

With freshly stolen license plates on the trucks, they felt comfortable leaving them for a few minutes, and went to fetch the goods.

As they unpacked the overloaded carts into the truck-beds, the teens took inventory and accounted for everything on the shopping list except for the personal-care products. Apparently Jade and Natan had cleaned the shelves of items such as salt, duct tape, batteries, brewing bottles, and seeds for the garden. The woodsman would be thrilled to see the pile of various-diameter PVC pipes, two forty-pound bulk boxes of activated carbon, three eighty-foot-long rolls of six-foot-tall chicken wire, and the five fifteen-hundred-foot spools of black barbed wire.

After another hour, Jade and Natan appeared with two additional carts brimming with enough toiletries to easily last the whole camp an entire year.

Dragon noticed immediately, No swords?

The professor shook his head, Sorry bud.

Transferring the bounty into the trucks, Dragon and Anima uncovered their new music collections.

Forgetting about the swords, his face lit as he thumbed rapidly through the discs with escalating excitement, No way! Nas… Jeru… Onyx… Biggie… Jay Z… Fugees… Wu Tang… Jadakiss… Talib Kweli… MF Doom… Holy shit you scored, man! You shoulda been a deejay! Damn! You even got Canibus… Vinnie Paz… Immortal Technique…

Actually, corrected Natan, Jade’s the one from New York. She knew exactly what you wanted.

Good lookin’ out, sis.

Anima displayed equal ecstasy as she perused her prolific assortment, a series of towering stacks that totaled more than ten of Dragon’s batch. Thanks guys, she chuckled, What, did you get one of everything?

Well, Natan explained, There was a lot more rock than rap. And you weren’t nearly as specific, so…

Oh, she beamed, I’m not complaining. Let’s see what kinda system these Chevys have!

With a frown, Jade rested a hand on Anima’s shoulder and spoke morosely from behind her sunglasses, I’m sorry to ruin the mood, but the first half our mission is finished, and it’s time for the second half.

Right, the young gunslinger fell instantly somber, Do you know where they are?

Yes. And I have good news for you, if you can call revenge ‘good’. The man who has all of your guns is the same man who killed Suzy. And he’ll be getting home from work in less than an hour, at four o’clock.

Perfect, she glowered, Let’s roll out.

*

Twenty minutes later, after taking the Bobby Jones Expressway to Gordon Highway, they circled into the central-Augusta neighborhood of Albion Acres.

Mature pines shadowed the serene, spacious blocks of large, clean, grassy plots divided by chainlink fences, most hosting only a small white single-story home.

They parked two houses down from their target.

Anima jumped out and walked to Jade’s window, What’s it look like?

No one’s home, assured the psychic.

Cool. This time, you guys wait with the trucks, okay? But give me a heads-up when he pulls in, would ya?

Will do.

Anima waved Dragon out.

Before they proceeded, since they had been fingerprinted the last time they visited the town, the teens wrapped duct tape around their fingertips.

Actually, Anima asked Dragon, Will you hold onto this for me?

Sure. He pressed his hand through the center of the tape-roll and wore it on his wrist.

They strolled with interlaced fingers to the little white house and marched casually into the yard as if they owned it.

In the back yard, Dragon broke a bedroom window, reached through and unlocked it, then slid it open.

Seconds after climbing inside and initiating their exploration, Anima saw her pistols on a shelf in the neighboring spare bedroom. She hurried to them like a mother reunited with her missing children.

Dragon observed her with an adoring smile.

She intuitively strapped and clipped each holster in its familiar position, then lovingly inserted each piece of hardware into its home, inspecting the contents of each backup-magazine and checking each sidearm for a loaded clip, chambered bullet, and engaged safety.

Other shelves displayed more guns, various knives, and an impressive collection of ammo. The military policeman had also stocked a few five-gallon water jugs in the spare room and a respectable cache of canned goods and other dry groceries.

The teenagers shared a grin and a nod.

Anima doubled-back to the officer’s bedroom, rummaged through his dresser for a pair of socks, and stuck them in her back pocket.

Dragon shook his head, What’s that for?

She winked and teased, Precaution.

He laughed, confused.

As they moved through the central kitchen, the home struck them as the drab, sanitary bachelor-pad of a true career soldier.

In the living room at the front of the house, Dragon nearly fainted with joy.

A wall-mounted rack exhibited three unique sword-sets, each including a katana and shorter, complementary wakizashi. The top duo glistened, all gold and silver, almost gaudy. In opposition, the middle pair posed with subtle elegance, presenting classic black-lacquered scabbards and handles laced with functional black braiding. In a perfect visual balance to those, perhaps as a sublime white yang to the black yin, the bottom set featured gloss-white scabbards and bleach-white braided handles.

Anima pinched his butt, Merry Christmas, baby.

He swooned, mesmerized, I’m so happy.

Come on, we’ll get ’em on the way out. You gotta see the pantry. Mister Jim is gonna flip.

With a permanent smirk, he followed her back to the kitchen.

Check it out. She swung open a walk-in-closet door exposing a few shelves of canned and boxed dry foods as well as two shelves dedicated solely to alcohol.

Whoa, giggled Dragon, Party at camp tonight!

Four thirty-packs of cheap canned beer sat below a diverse line of liquor bottles.

Anima snickered, Party at camp all summer!

What’s in the fridge? Dragon pulled the door open and found an array of condiments, a half-eaten supreme pizza, and a cold cluster of the same cheap beer, Wanna brew?

Hell yeah, hit me.

First he snatched the pizza box and dropped it on the kitchen table, Sorry, I’m starving. Then he grabbed two cans, popped the tabs, and handed one to Anima. He lifted his can toward her, Here’s to Suzy, a straight-up Viking Queen. May this mothafuckin’ cop regret the day he crossed her path and remember it every minute he burns in hell.

Anima nodded, To Suzy. She chugged half of the beer, then poured the other half on the kitchen floor in honor of the fallen. Toss me another, sweet lips.

You got it, mama. He retrieved two more, gave her one and set the other on the table beside his supper, then planted himself on the edge of a chair in front of it, flipped open the box and went to work, still wearing the duct tape roll on his wrist.

She cracked her second beer and returned to the livingroom.

A simple couch and old recliner, each appointed a plain wooden coffee table, bare except for two remote controls, encircled a massive flat-screen television on a beige rug surrounded by white walls.

She paced for a minute, then placed her drink on one of the tables and abruptly left it, passing back through the kitchen.

As she did, Dragon asked with a full mouth, Whatcha doin’?

Getting pillows.

A moment later, she passed him again with the pillows from the bedroom and piled them on the living room couch.

What for?

You’ll see.

Suddenly, Jade broadcast, He’s here, Ani.

Thanks, sis. I’m ready. He’s here.

Oh, Dragon tried to answer through another mouthful, Want me to do anything?

Yeah, finish your dinner while I execute this motherfucker.

He gave a thumbs-up.

Anima stood just out of sight of the front door.

Keys rattled, the deadlock rotated, then the knob.

She drew the black-polymer Beretta Neos from her right thigh, thumbed the safety off, racked the slide, and squeezed the blue-rubber-inlaid grip.

The MP stepped in sideways with his back to the living room as he shut and locked the door.

Anima scowled at the tall, middle-aged man with his despotic blonde mustache and cumbersome black utility belt buckled over his loose, faded-tan camouflage uniform.

He spun around and removed his cap, revealing a blonde, typical high-and-tight military buzzcut, then froze when he noticed the pillows on the couch and the open beer on the coffee table.

Hands up, barked the gunslinger as she showed herself.

He instinctively complied. What the hell is this?

Now move one hand real slow and unbuckle that gun belt, and drop it right there.

As he obeyed, recognition dawned on his face, Wait, I know you… About three weeks ago–

Shut the fuck up.

The utility belt thumped at his feet.

Go take a seat in your chair, she nodded at the recliner, And keep those hands as high as you can hold ’em. While he did, Anima shuffled cautiously to his belt and unsnapped the handcuff pouch. Put these on, nice and tight. She tossed them into his lap.

He protested as he slipped them on, What the hell do you want with me?

Apparently you have a problem keeping your jackass mouth shut. She took the white cotton socks from her back pocket, Drago, sweetie, I need a hand after all!

What’s up?

Anima pitched him the socks, Stuff these in this bitch’s mouth and duct tape the shit out of it.

Okay.

Please and thank you, she batted her eyes.

Dragon chuckled.

She aimed at the officer’s crotch, "If I even think you might try to touch him, I’ll castrate you in the worst kinda way."

Before the man could speak again, Dragon fed him the socks. Dragon slid the roll of tape from his wrist, extended a stretch of it and laid it across the sock gag, then wrapped it around the man’s head four times.

Anima seized her beer and gulped. Thanks, babe.

You got it. He retreated to the kitchen.

She pounded the rest of the can and threw it over her shoulder into the flat-screen, then picked a pillow from the couch. So… Corporal Ass-Munch… you like to tase and mace girls, and shoot their dogs?

He shook his head No, eyes pleading.

Let’s see. How many times did you shoot her? Four? Hm. Let me do the math. She was my right hand since I was twelve years old, for the last seven years. Seven times four is twenty eight. Wow. It’s gonna be hard not to hit any major organs or arteries before we get to twenty-eight. But I’m feelin’ lucky. Then again, these twenty-twos haves a tendency to bounce around inside a body. She grinned, I can tell you wanna try to run. You think your only chance might be to dive through that window, into your front yard, before I can gun you down. But in reality, you know you’d never make it out of that chair, because your ass is sunk down too low in it, and you’re too lanky. If you tried rolling out of it, you’d be done. Really, any effort to get on your feet would just take one second too many. Nonetheless, let me help you accept your fate. Anima folded the pillow in half, placed it against the muzzle of her Beretta, leaned forward and shot him in his left knee.

The pillow silenced the blast and the gag muffled his wails.

She moved the muzzle to a fresh spot on the pillow and blasted his other knee at close range.

With clenched eyes, he moaned through the sock and duct tape.

There we go, she smiled, No more silly thoughts about running, right? Hey, babe, hook me up with another frosty one, would ya please?

He hollered back, Yes ma’am! then appeared with another can, popping it for her.

Thanks. She drank some of it as Dragon left the room, then wiped her mouth on her sleeve and set it down, Man, that stuff grows on ya. Now what was I saying? Oh yeah, remember when you shot my dog? And I told you that you were dead?

The policeman didn’t try to respond.

Yeah, I remember it well. I said: Fuck you, pig, I swear to God you’re fucking dead, Anima retrieved the shot-up pillow and held it to her Beretta muzzle, And I’m not one to disappoint God. She shot the cop in his foot, repositioned and plugged his other foot. Time for a new pillow, me thinks.

In delirious shock, the man’s head tottered with glazed eyes.

You’re not gonna stay awake for this, are you? Anima huffed, Fine. She closed her eyes, Jade, we need you guys to pull the trucks up to the house. We have a lot of stuff to load.

Okay, Ani. We’ll pull up right now.

Alright, Captain Cock-Gobbler, I’m gonna let you sit here and think about what a prick you are while we take all of your shit. Then I’m going to do what I promised.

*

With Natan’s help, they looted the house in fifteen minutes, commandeering all of the food, water, alcohol, ammunition and weapons, including the guns, knives, swords, and well-equipped military police utility belt.

Afterward, Anima told the others, Just give me a few minutes to wrap this up, and I’ll be out.

With the front door shut, alone in the living room with the cop, she pulled a lighter from her pocket and tested it. I’m bored with shooting you. So I decided to give you a nice personal introduction to hell before you get there.

First she went to his bedroom and sparked the clothes hanging in the closet, then lit his bed on fire.

As she headed to the front of the house, black smoke followed her. She stopped at the bathroom and swiped a full bottle of rubbing alcohol from the cabinet beneath the sink.

A smoke alarm blared its beeping siren.

She ran to it, jumped up and knocked it off the wall.

In the livingroom, she held the lighter to the couch until it caught.

The man whimpered his pleas through his gag.

She set his recliner ablaze.

The old furniture burned readily.

For her finishing strike, Anima stayed low and dashed back to the bedroom. She splashed one-third of the rubbing alcohol around the visible flames.

They instantly flared, spreading to the carpet.

Then she scurried under the toxic, accumulating smoke, returning to the living room.

The soldier had somehow managed to push himself up with his cuffed hands and roll his body over the arm of the chair. He now laid on the carpet beside it.

Too little, too late, asshole. She dumped another third of the bottle on the couch and recliner.

Immediately, each erupted into an inferno.

I never got your name, and I don’t care. But while your burning, I want your last thought to be the name of my baby girl that you murdered in front of me. Her name was Suzy, and you took her from me you fucking bastard. And now you get to die for it. Suzy, motherfucker. Remember the name. As a black cloud filled the house, Anima poured the rest of the rubbing alcohol over the cop, soaking him from his head to his feet. This is for Suzy, she squat down, sparked her lighter, and touched it to him.

With a whoosh, light-orange flames engulfed him.

He writhed as his clothes melted into his skin and his flesh seared, blistering. He spasmed and rolled, but the effort only served to coat him further in the long-burning liquid and spread the wildfire to the rug beneath him.

The gunslinger coughed, That should do it.

Hacking, she slipped out the front door and jogged to the passenger seat of the black truck with Dragon at the wheel.

*

That evening around the campfire, under an inky, overcast, new moon sky, all but Jade took shots of liquor chased with beer. They toasted to Pyro, and to the Twins, and to Suzy and other lost friends, and to the future, because the last weekend of March felt suddenly hopeful.

Man, those are some sweet trucks you got, delighted the Woodsman, You guys really kicked ass.

It was all Jade, admitted the professor, raising his beer to the psychic, And yeah, brother, you’ve gotta drive one of those bad boys. All-American Chevrolets. Six liter V-eights. Smooth.

Very groovy. The Woodsman prodded Jade, Are ya sure ya don’t wanna throw a few back with us to celebrate? You seem so gloomy… A few shots might cure that condition.

Trust me, I wish I could. But if I drink too much at all, it could be very dangerous. She hung her head, eyes glowing and white locks floating, I really wish I could. The fact is, every night I go to sleep I pray that I’ll wake up normal – like you guys – because for once I’d like to know what it feels like. I’ve always wished for freedom from being… whatever I am. It’s a curse I can’t explain. I’m so tired of being a freak.

Anima gulped, I’m sure none of us can understand. I mean, the grass always looks greener from a distance, you know? All those crazy abilities you have look so cool from the outside – like anyone would naturally want them – but we’ve never walked in your shoes. We can’t pretend to know what it’s like to live with those powers all the time. But you know that any of us would do anything in the world for you. If we can ever help in any way, you better let us know, because we all love you.

Yeah, Dragon seconded, We love you, sis. Hang in there.

The Woodsman sighed, I’ve always got yer back. I’m always here to talk. Try to keep yer chin up… and just take it easy.

Natan nodded along, taking a deep breath, Jade, you’ve been an unbelievable blessing to all of our lives. You’ve got our unconditional love forever.

I know. Thanks, guys. Small teardrops trickled from the psychic’s luminescent white eyes, "Listen, I’m sorry. I’ve had a headache for a few hours,