Fractured

By Jared Weppelman

Why would a girl be trapped in a burning building with her baby brother? Why would a student be tempted to burn his classmate to death? In the silence that separates this world from any other, a crack has appeared. And it is that crack that calls together a fighter, a tactician, a swordsman, a magician and an expert. Together, they must face impossible odds if anyone is to survive. But beneath the issues, another problem burns. The allure of power is sometimes to great even for the strongest of heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781463438289

Jared Weppelman

Jared is a writer who spends his time looking at the deeper meaning of life with his sense of humor running in high gear. After much trial and error of what makes a good story and reading some of the best authors, he has developed a style of writing that leads to the insight of human nature. He evokes the emotion of the words on the page and the feelings that give way to the epic story that awaits.

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© 2011 by Jared Weppelman. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse   07/23/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4634-3829-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-3828-9 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Introduction

Part One

The Gathering

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Part Two

The Trials

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Part Three

The Turning

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Part Four

The Resistance

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Part Five

Meaning

Epilogue

Introduction

Fractured

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The skies of Earth blaze with war.

From the outside, blazing white lights mix with flashes of red and orange to make an impromptu fireworks display. Light melds with sound in such a way that they overlap, neither slower or faster than the other. The clouds shout their delight at the chaos by adding bolts of lightning into the mix. People on the outside can find the mixture beautiful.

But to the inside, it’s entirely different.

To the inside, the white light is the super charged blast of power that can obliterate small buildings. The red and orange flashes are fireballs as F-16 fighter jets explode and unmanned aircraft are wiped from existence with a thought. The destruction is so all consuming that it’s impossible to tell where the sound of one explosion begins and another ends. To the inside, the fireworks display is panic and fear and the stomach clenching certainty that the entire fabric of reality itself is trying to kill you.

The feeling is not too far from the truth.

Human beings across the globe, either at the center of the destruction or watching it from afar, simply stare in horror. This couldn’t be possible. It was as if a demon from a horror movie had pushed the bounds and crossed over into the real world. And true to form, it was intent on laying waste to everything foolish enough to cross its path.

Then the news gets worse.

Not only has every single thing that was sent to fight this terror been destroyed, but the monster isn’t satisfied. Its power is spreading from its castle to infect the whole of the planet with no intention of stopping. Soon, it would consume all.

And there’s no stopping it. Standing a quarter of a mile in the air, it walks almost carelessly through the sky, destroying whatever it fancies on its way through. Suddenly, it appears to get bored and descends to the earth, where it can personally tear apart anything—and anyone—that is unfortunate enough to cross its path.

For the parents watching at home, they are sure that what they’re seeing is the end of the world itself. The Apocalypse has come, and in its wake is nothing but destruction and death. This monster has, in the space of an hour, torn their hearts to shreds, burned the pieces, and then fed them the smoking ashes. All around the world, the same thought transfers from person to person like a virus.

We are going to die.

The parents try not to think about it. They try not to admit that this has happened. They try not to think that their children are about to leave the earth after such a small time of being on it.

The children . . .

With tears in their eyes, parents turn to children and try to comfort them. They try to feed them empty words that will satisfy their hearts and give them a modicum of hope that the day might be saved.

But to their complete shock, they find that their children don’t need their comfort.

On the contrary, it’s the children who are comforting them.

Across cities, countries, continents and hemispheres, the message from the children to the parents are all the same. Don’t worry mom, a little girl tells her tear-strewn mother. Don’t worry dad, another tells his father happily.

The Four will be there any minute.

The Four. The name is said as if it can conjure miracles. Just the thought of them, for one single second, cause hope to flare in the burned out hearts of the human populace. The Four had appeared as heroes do at the beginning of this insanity. They were justly famous throughout the world as battlers for the light and destroyers of evil. Like all heroes, they had not been around very long but their sudden arrival at the moment of danger has spread their legend like wildfire. Curiously, they were the same four. Four of the same faces plastered across four of the same types of bodies.

Four heroes who acted like they were one.

It’s rumored that the Four fear nothing. That as long as they have each other, they are capable of anything.

So far, these reports are accurate.

More than accurate; they are under exaggerated.

The Four have smashed any threat that has come in the short weeks of their arrival, whether together or apart. So the children feel they are quite right in assuming that once the Four get there, that big baddie was going to wish he had stayed home today.

The parents merely smile and nod, but in their hearts they think they know the truth. They know that the Four may have a stroke of the amazing about them, but that doesn’t mean much. They may be heroes, but in their eyes the age of heroes has burned with their hearts. They are just Four identical men, with gifts and abilities that meant next to nothing when compared to the coming destruction. They could be lost or captured; beaten or dead.

They could already have fallen to the dark.

So with these thoughts the parents stare off into the night as their kids smile patiently. The parents don’t have the heart to tell their children what they perceive as the truth.

They think this because they can’t see the lightning over the monster’s path of destruction suddenly bend in on itself. They can’t see that it wasn’t celebrating; it was warning. They can’t see, though they soon will, the lighting suddenly explode into a ball of flame the size of a small island. They can’t see four men in freefall, all bearing the same expression of cool confidence, descend to earth at roughly the speed of sound.

The parents can’t see that they are wrong, and their children are right.

The age of heroes has not ended, for it has saved its best for last.

And the best were coming to fight.

Part One

The Gathering

Power is contagious in its practicality. As it spreads in the heart and the mind, it leaks a level of darkness into the soul. There is a measure of corruption that even the most steadfast of hearts has to overcome. Sometimes it can’t be done. There are times when the evil on the inside is fed from the evil without. Those are the times that power takes the soul, transforms it, and looses itself onto the rest of the world. Because sometimes what a powerful being wants most is simply more power and they are willing to do anything to achieve their goals. It is in that desire that darkness pours itself into every endeavor and spreads itself through all of reality. Indestructible and immortal, when fed by a lust for power the darkness is unstoppable.

Chapter 1

Terra

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Whistler, will you pay attention?

As the shrill voice rent the air, Jack Whistler nearly jumped out of his skin. He had been happily gazing off into space, not even pretending that he was paying attention to the world around him. He had finished his work and even his homework, and there was roughly a minute left in class.

Now that Whistler has kindly decided to act like an adult, I require your attention, the teacher, Mrs. Kramer, said to the class. She took a deep breath, apparently on the verge of telling whatever was on her mind, when suddenly the bell rang.

But I guess it can wait until tomorrow.

Jack stared at her for a long moment, lost in what he had just heard. She had just told him off for not paying attention when nothing was going on, but now she had decided that it could be postponed?

This woman’s mental. I swear, he thought.

Jack! A female voice reached his ears from right behind him.

Huh? Jack responded simply.

Are you going to leave the Chemistry lab, or are you going to set your hair on fire again? Jack’s best friend, Rebecca Silmore, asked him with a smirk. Rebecca was slim, roughly 5'7 with shoulder length brown hair and the prettiest smile imaginable.

First of all, I don’t even know how those things correlate. Secondly, I did not set my hair on fire! Jack argued, trying to keep the smile off his face, she did. He pointed at Mrs. Kramer, who unfortunately caught him.

I’m sorry, which one of us leaned back into a Bunsen burner?

I leaned into the Bunsen burner because you were about to stick your hand in it for the fourth time! Jack yelled.

It was only the third time, don’t exaggerate, Mrs. Kramer replied with a smile. Jack smacked his forehead with his palm so hard it sounded like a gunshot.

I’m . . . I’m going to lunch now. I’m going to go eat, and then I’m going to crawl into a ball and die. Yep. That’s the plan.

Well, Rebecca said, smiling, I’m going to come and watch. It’s always so funny seeing you in the fetal position.

Mrs. Kramer raised an eyebrow and said, how many times have you seen him like that?

The better question is, how many times has he been like that period. Whether I’d have seen him or not, replied Rebecca.

I hate you all, Jack said with a kind smile, and I hope you die.

And without another word, he turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Rebecca and Mrs. Kramer to laugh themselves silly if they wanted to.

I did not set my hair on fire, Jack thought savagely, making his way to the crowded cafeteria. I may have had a small burn in my hair follicles, but I did not set in on fire.

A small, truthful voice in the back of his head said quite simply, yes you did.

Jack’s head bowed ruefully. Well . . . shoot, he said aloud to no one in particular.

Then he collected his lunch and sat down with his other friends, who were laughing at something that was apparently hysterical; half of them had tears in their eyes.

What’s the joke, gents? Jack said to the table.

We’re just reliving you setting your hair on fire, Jack’s best male friend, Kevin Dyxstra, replied with a smile. Kevin was about Jack’s height, about six feet even, and while Jack had a more toned build to him, Kevin was built more like a brick wall. In contrast to Jack’s shoulder length curly brown hair that he always had in a ponytail, Kevin’s hair was short and blond.

Besides that, there were no differences in the two boys. People called them twins without hesitation. What Jack considered sad was that there was no contradiction.

Yeah, you and everyone else, Jack replied, his usual smile starting to slip, why’s that the conversation of the day?

Because it’s funny, Kevin said simply, as if that settled the matter.

Jack however, wasn’t satisfied. Well yeah, but that was a month and a half ago. I’ve done a whole bunch of stupid things since then. Wait . . . Jack said, thinking about what he just said, that didn’t come out right.

Kevin just kept smiling. That’s true though. There was the time you cut your wrists on the test tubes cause you didn’t believe Kramer when she said they were sharp.

Or, Ben, another friend said, the time you ate that sodium thing cause you wanted to know if it tasted like salt.

Jack smiled. Yeah, that was a good one. Horrible idea, but Kramer’s face after I did that . . . all worth it. Still, why are we stuck on the hair thing today? No fights? No crazy sex scandals? Sportscenter run out of things to talk about for the American populace?

Nah, it just isn’t often we get to discuss people setting their hair on fire, Kevin said, laughing.

And that’s when it happened.

Without warning or preamble, Jack’s head felt like it was housing the loudest drill in all of existence. The sound ran through his brain, blocking out all thought. Jack wasn’t aware of falling on the floor; wasn’t aware of Kevin yelling at him to answer. He hadn’t the slightest idea that the whole room had erupted around him.

Nor did he know that everything had changed.

Without the slightest idea of what he was doing are why he was doing it, Jack suddenly vaulted to his feet and started running. He had made it to the cafeteria doors and was out on the street before he even fully registered getting up. He vaguely could make out people calling to him, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was what was in front of him.

The problem was that he didn’t have the slightest clue what was in front of him, or why he was drawn to it.

Or what he was going to do now.

*      *      *

This is Jack Whistler, from the Terra dimension.

Some say he’s the most caring person that doesn’t care about anything. He’s a mediator who’d rather sit alone and read. He’s a hard worker that would prefer to stare at the clouds. He’s a fighter from the streets that prefers to play video games.

He sometimes imagines what his life would be like if he hadn’t grown up in a neighborhood where violence was the rule more than the exception. He sometimes tries to remember what it was like when he was younger, when the world was young and free and full of light. He remembers it with joy, and realizes that the world has changed. He has changed with it. He knows the darkness that has consumed the hearts of people, and he has become determined to fight the darkness with his own personal brand of light.

He is always there; the consummate listener and advisor. He loves solving problems, and utilizes any means to do so. Though he’d rather talk than fight, when fighting is necessary few can match his power, or his skill.

He doesn’t care about rewards or reputation. He only wants to help whenever he can. He is modest, caring, and always willing to try to solve whatever problem comes his way.

And he is proud to be himself.

*      *      *

Jack Whistler. You are needed.

As Jack came to rest about twenty blocks from the school, his head started to lose some of the buzzing that was driving him crazy. Instead of a constant pounding, there was now a dull pain that was making his head feel like it had been hit with a baseball bat. But as soon as the strange voice sounded, he forgot the pain. He forgot, indeed, everything.

Standing in front of Jack was the strangest being that he had ever seen. He was about six feet tall with jet black hair and a matching handlebar mustache. A long black cloak was draped over his broad shoulders, and a red, skin tight garment covered his body.

You are needed, he said again.

A world of possibilities opened up to Jack as those words. Needed for what? I may be a snappy dancer, but . . .

Now is not the time for jokes, the voice intoned severely.

Oh come on, Jack answered good-naturedly, there’s always a good time for jokes. Except for when the President gets impeached. Then it’s an excellent time for jokes!

I need you to focus, the other said.

Okay, okay, Jack said, slightly miffed, no need to get your cape in a knot, yeesh.

Will you come with me? the other man said.

Something tells me that even if I say no, I’m coming with you anyway, Jack answered with a smirk.

Yes, you are. But I wanted to give the illusion that you had a choice, the other said.

Hey! Jack said indignantly, you just told a joke!

Yes, the other said, but sadly, that’s a sign that the world itself is ending.

Oh, Jack said in mild surprise, well than I’ll make the jokes. You just stand there and look imposing. Who are you, anyway?

I am Professor Mordo, the other answered.

Mordo . . . Jack repeated, raising his eyebrows slightly, well alright then Prof, how about you tell me what’s going on?

I will, but it will be much easier once everyone’s assembled.

Everyone? Who is . . . ? Jack began, but Mordo cut him off.

Also, Mordo said with warning in his eyes, you have other problems to take care of.

Jack stared at him a moment in total bemusement, lost as to what he could be referring to.

Then at the Professor’s request, Jack turned around.

Behind him, a building was in towering flames.

Jack’s jaw dropped as he whirled around to face the Professor, but Mordo was gone, leaving Jack to his panic and confusion.

What am I supposed to do? Jack wondered aloud. As if in answer, a scream punctured the air from the flames. On the third floor of the six story building, there was a woman holding her baby, trying desperately to shield the child from the harrowing flames. The firemen on scene saw her, but there was nothing they could do. Every entrance was blocked off by burning beams and flame. And as if on cue, the fire ladder controls short-circuited in a shower of sparks.

They were trapped outside while she was trapped within.

You want me to save her? Jack asked the air, how? How am I supposed to . . . His voice trailed off as the noticed that the building was made of brick. More importantly, every other row of the red bricks jutted out from the rows beneath it. So Jack immediately conceived a plan. Without hesitation, Jack ran forward and jumped onto the bricks. Then he started to scale the burning building.

The firemen saw him, but by the time they realized it he was out of reach. Jack didn’t figure there was any harm in what he was doing; the crane wasn’t responding, and by the time they got it to work the mother and child would be dead.

So with these thoughts chasing themselves aimlessly through his mind, he almost failed to notice that he was both right outside the right window and that his hands were bleeding and burned from the extreme heat.

For one moment, he almost lost his grip