Green Light to Paradise

By J. R. Dwornik

What do you call a group of super-powered people trying to save the world?

Not heroes, that's for sure...

It's been over 20 years since mysterious impact points opened up, bringing forth frightening creatures and infecting certain people with strange and terrible powers. Fortunately, normal people can rest easy thanks to

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brain Lag
• Release date: Jun 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781928011187

J. R. Dwornik

Born on a Groundhog Day a few decades ago, and raised with repeated viewings of the original Star Wars movies, the author developed a taste for fantastical stories and worlds. He had a healthy appetite for science fiction stories which soon led to other genres and a large collection of paperbacks on the shelf. His day job remains a more monotonous world of numbers, paper and procedures but it has allowed the author to travel through many different countries and cultures including Chile, Australia and into the Arctic Circle for extended periods of time. When not travelling, the author makes his home in southern Ontario, Canada, where he lives happily with his wife and daughter. He spends much of his free time studying vintage aircraft and playing tabletop games.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, events, and organizations portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Brain Lag Publishing

Milton, Ontario

http://www.brain-lag.com/

Copyright © 2016 J. R. Dwornik. All rights reserved. This material may not be reproduced, displayed, modified or distributed without the express prior written permission of the copyright holder. For permission, contact [e-mail].

Cover artwork and interior illustrations by Catherine Fitzsimmons unless otherwise marked

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Dwornik, J. R., 1978-, author

          Green light to paradise / J.R. Dwornik.

Issued in print and electronic formats.

ISBN 978-1-928011-16-3 (paperback).--ISBN 978-1-928011-17-0

(kindle).--ISBN 978-1-928011-18-7 (epub)

          I. Title.

PS8607.W67G74 2016                   C813'.6               C2016-903992-7

                                                                                 C2016-903993-5

Acknowledgements

My thanks to Andre, Simon and Tamara for your time reading the early draft and pointing out the problems which were all too obvious once I could see them with fresh eyes. Some of the changes had a large impact on time and story, but the final product is better for it. To the artists Ben Steamroller and Kevin Briones I wish to extend my thanks as well. Ben’s drawing of Kali was requested at a convention during the winter and I found it quite inspiring. I actually set it as my wallpaper as a reminder to keep editing. Kevin’s sketch of Amelia came much later, but it captured the personality of the character nicely and was a great push on the final stretch. I’m pleased that both drawings have been included with this book.

It started in a club filled with smoke, thumping music and flashing lights. Kali had never been overly fond of clubs to begin with. She enjoyed the music, and there was something magical about being in a room so filled with moving bodies that they pressed in on each other regularly in time to the music, but she would always have some kind of accident that would ruin the evening for her and often many of the other patrons. She was a jinx.

She turned away from the dancing people, her long ponytail swaying behind her head before it settled between her shoulder blades while she glanced up at the TV. A flashy music video was playing with scantily-dressed dancers showing off more body than any vocal proficiency. The song was terrible, but to the delight of the crowd it had a good dance beat.

Hey, great song, eh?

Kali registered that the voice was talking to her distantly. She turned and looked at the man who had settled into the bar stool next to her, unsurprised by his tousled brown hair or his red-rimmed eyes. The drink in his hand was nearly full, but it clearly wasn’t his first one.

Not bad, she yelled back over the noise. I prefer something with more depth of sound.

Yeah, great sound!

Communication in such places was understandably sacrificed for the thrill of pounding dance beats.

We should hang out together. At least she hoped that was what he said to her. She was trying not to look at the idiot and she missed the key word of the sentence. He may have just told her ‘we should get take-out together’ or ‘we should make out together.’ He may have even suggested ‘we should suicide together’ but she somehow doubted the happy moron would suggest something as morose as joint suicide.

Uh-huh, Kali answered unenthusiastically. She looked about the moving crowd of dancers for familiar faces in the crowd but failed to see anybody she knew. What she saw were happy people, all so carefree and letting everything go. It was frustrating that she couldn’t feel so free. This was no more her world than the one she spent the daylight hours in.

Do you want to go back to my place later?

Kali rolled her eyes. This one thought highly of himself, she thought with some amusement. She didn’t bother to respond to him and instead took another sip of her drink. It wasn’t particularly good beer, being that it was slightly watered down, but it was available and it made it impossible to answer for a few moments longer.

Her companion put his hand on her leg. She nearly jumped at the unexpected and unwanted physical contact. She met his glassy-eyed stare with a dark glare of her own. Perhaps she needed to be less subtle with this one. Take your hand off my leg before I break your arm.

The hand was removed, but he slid it down off her knee rather than remove it cleanly. Relax, relax! I’m not that kind of guy.

Kali was going to respond as to what kind of guy she thought he was, but her beer exploded into a wet mass of amber fluid and broken glass even as she opened her mouth to let him have it. She sat still for a moment, looking at her hand accusingly.

Whoa! was all the guy could respond. Kali studied his startled features and then those of the crowd nearest her, who were suddenly interested in her quiet seat. She noted that an employee was already trying to get to her with a broom in hand and a scowl on his face.

Well, I think I’ve had enough fun for one night, she said to no one in particular. It was always best to leave before the bouncers saw reason to escort you to the door. A broken glass was nothing to get worked up over, but if she already lost control once tonight, it might happen again. It was a sign that she was already too tense and needed to go home and decompress. Besides, her pants were wet and she smelled of that beer she had been pretending to enjoy.

Kali passed by her companion without another word or look. She was aware that he was watching her. She wondered if he understood what he had just witnessed. So far she’d been lucky enough to escape notice. Humankind had a rather dim view of those with curses like her.

Kali nodded to the bouncer on the way out, aware that he was watching her carefully, but not with the look of intimidation he would reserve for a known troublemaker. This was the look of confusion and concern. Hey Tails, did he cause you any trouble? the big guy asked. His calm disposition and smooth accent were unexpected of a man that large.

Shaking her head, she answered, No, it’s okay. I’d just like to go home. She didn’t much care for his nickname for her, but this bouncer had seen her and her long hair before. He clearly created mental names to help him remember people.

Do you want me to call you a cab?

I think I’d like to walk for a bit, Kali answered. The bouncer put his arm in front of her, blocking her path. She looked up into his eyes, tilting her head upward to the man clearly more than a foot taller than her more average size. Despite the tattoos and tough appearance, there was a look of concern on his face that was strangely comforting.

Miss, this is hardly the part of town you want to wander through alone.

I’ll be okay, thanks.

She had to stare into his eyes a moment longer before he accepted her response. He nodded reluctantly and let his arm fall to his side. You be careful.

She only nodded in answer. What more could she say anyway? No words would make him believe her. So she stepped by him into the street. If he knew who she really was, he would never have let her past.

The city was a depressing place consisting of towering buildings of ancient brick, concrete and glass, surrounded by gardens of asphalt and streetlights. It had rained while she was inside. Now everything had that damp sheen of moisture that reflected a slight shine yet swallowed much of the light. The dampness also gave the cooling evening air a bite that made Kali shudder.

This part of the city was on the edge of the old quarter. Here the decay that infected the city was evident, but civilization still maintained its tenuous hold. The lights still worked, the buildings still seemed maintained, but if one looked closely the signs were clear. There were boarded-up windows in the building across the street. The one next to it had a new door, but chunks of the brickwork around the main entrance were missing. There were a few people in the streets, although they spoke in hushed tones and hurried past the homeless who huddled beneath the streetlights.

Even the homeless stayed out of the true darkness of the alleyways. Sometimes the monsters from the old city ventured this far.

Despite the dangers, Kali chose this area for her escape for a reason. Here nobody cared who she was. Here she would not darken her father’s name further and she needn’t worry about the media.

Here she was anonymous.

Sighing, Kali began walking down the street toward the main intersection. It would be easier to get a cab there that would return her to reality. It would not be as easy as finding one from the city core to take her this far out, but then it never was.

She thought back to the club and wondered again if the young man had seen her secret. She watched her hand as she squeezed it into a fist, noting one knuckle that sparked a greenish light as it popped. Some monsters, she thought darkly, could live uptown with the rich folk.

She was learning to contain monsters and magic, and yet she was infected by the very powers that threatened the city. She really was a jinx.

Feeling a wave of revulsion of her curse, Kali vented. She let the power within her burn brightly before she formed a small green ball of shifting light no bigger than a gum ball within the palm of her hand. It wasn’t even a pretty shade of green. She threw it, hard, aiming for the trash bin on the far side of the street.

Unfortunately, she missed. Kali winced as the green light struck the side of a three-storey building that still had a few glass windows left. She tensed as the light was absorbed into the concrete, but only the sounds of the night followed.

She allowed herself a moment of relief at the magic misfire.

A hand slapped down on her shoulder and tightened with a firm grip. Hey Tails, said the familiar voice of the bouncer from the club. Kali turned and looked up once more. This time he wasn’t so friendly-looking. What the hell was that?

At that moment Kali learned that she had not misfired at all. There was a creaking sound, a strange crack and the sound of glass breaking. Kali and the bouncer both looked to the building together, just in time to see the three-storey structure collapse in on itself. Brickwork fell, support members toppled and surrounding homes disappeared into a rising dust cloud. A few bricks even landed in the street near where they stood, one sliding to a stop at her feet.

And then silence. The building had collapsed in on itself, leaving nothing more than a pile of rubble at the side of the street. It looked like a wrecking ball had targeted one building amidst the city block and had knocked it down.

Strangely, there were no shouts of panic or pain. Aside from the sound of an angry car alarm, the city seemed to accept the collapse of the building.

Oops, she offered meekly.

I think, the bouncer said in a business-like manner, that you should sit down and wait with me for a little bit. Not that he was giving her much of a choice with that tight grip on her shoulder. With his free hand he drew a cell phone. Apparently he had the police on speed dial.

Yeah, better send somebody to 15th and Celebrity Way. I’ve got an arsonist here you’ll want to meet. You might want to get Sentinel involved.

Kali winced. So much for anonymity.

7 DAYS TO PARADISE

Do you believe in religion, Miss Bennett? His dark-haired security chief looked stunned by the question. In all the years they had known each other, he never had asked her about her beliefs. She tapped her pen on the side of her grey pant leg while she stared blankly at him through her steel-rimmed glasses. She hated him. If she were not dedicated to the mission, he had no doubt that Bennett would have left long ago.

Religion is a pretty blanket statement, Mister Zakorra.

He leaned back within his executive chair and opened his arms wide, indicating his large collection of religious artifacts around his office. At first glance it would appear to be a very eclectic collection.

As you can see, I don’t restrict myself to any one belief. I find a variety of sources to be most valuable. Do you believe in divinity, angels, demons or anything of the sort, Miss Bennett?

She looked pensive to him, almost unwilling to answer. Then, with an impatient sigh she relented only far enough to shake her head in answer.

A pity, he commented. But unsurprising. Do you know the significance of my collection?

Religious objects, she responded, taking only a cursory glance at half the room. She met his eyes again, looking both bored and annoyed. She had a knack of making everything seem beneath her.

You’re not even trying. I admit I have developed an interest in the study of the end of all things.

His security chief looked again at the objects, her head tilting slightly in comprehension as she took in the artifacts with a bit more discerning thought. She didn’t even spend a polite length of time looking at his collection before her bored expression returned to him.

Did you know, for instance, that both Hinduism and Islam have a passage that a figure would ride forth on a white stallion to signal the end? At least, he was pretty certain that’s what those passages meant. He wasn’t really a religious man.

No, Mister Zakorra. She looked at him, a hard glare that he had come to know well. I assume there is a purpose to your explanation into your hobbies?

He smiled back at her. I wonder perhaps if we are in the early stages of the final days. What do you think, Miss Bennett?

She considered him for the briefest of moments. Then she moved forward and deposited the papers she had been holding under her arm on his desk and began methodically spreading them out over his desk. The sun is up and we’re still breathing, Mister Zakorra. So I need you to sign here, and here. You have an appointment at two with the oversight committee, assuming we all live that long, and you have a dinner tonight at seven with the police chief.

Ah, Miss Bennett, you really do like to keep me working.

And your daughter is being transferred here this morning to be secured. The statement was made in the same business-professional manner as she had dictated his scheduled activities.

Oh, he answered. The end of days.

None of my business of course, but I thought you would like to know.

Kali and I don’t necessarily see things in the same way, he responded. I tried. She doesn’t share my passion. He motioned to his collection. She just seems to want to spend her days escaping reality.

His security chief gave him a blank look. He shrugged and looked to the papers she had delivered to him.

I know you’re not interested, Miss Bennett. Trust me though, when I find something of interest that I can share with her, I will do so. He lifted the page he was to sign and stared at it from a full arm’s length away from his eyes. What’s this one? Dimensional Threshold Interfacer? Does R&D really have time to name things like this?

Miss Bennett removed her glasses and glared at him. You had them rename Project Hell’s Gate to something more ‘committee friendly’ after last month’s budget review.

Hell’s Gate? Oh yes, I see. That budget review was a disaster, Miss Bennett. The committee wanted me to cancel the project. He skimmed the first paragraph and noted the big words that had replaced the formerly arcane-sounding document they had tried to pass over his desk previously. Well, I guess it does sound a little less threatening. He preferred the old name. It can’t fall behind schedule, Miss Bennett. It must be ready, you understand?

Of course, Mister Zakorra.

He put the page back down on the desk and began to sign the required sections. You sound disappointed by the name change, Miss Bennett. Did you prefer Hell’s Gate?

I prefer more mundane methods of accomplishing things.

You were always a traditionalist, he replied. There’s nothing wrong with that, but such tactics are dated. When was the last time you were in the field?

It’s not me I’m concerned about, Miss Bennett responded. Eighty-Six was assigned to field status.

Is she dying her hair now? The white lock in the young field agent’s otherwise brown hair always fascinated him. He couldn’t decide whether it was bleached white, or if her hair was dyed brown. He supposed it could even be naturally occurring; it was rare but not unheard of. He of course never asked the newly instated field agent directly.

I object to her assignment. She isn’t ready for that type of work.

Were you? His question was automatic. The silence and sharp glare he received was answer enough. Your daughter is much more focused than mine. At least Eighty-Six shows interest in the importance of a career. No doubt she’ll take on her new position with professionalism and maturity. He thought about the comparison for a moment and then dismissed it without further comment.

He picked up the second set of forms his security chief had dropped off for him to sign and sighed. We lost another three vehicles in the field last month? You want money for additional armour plating? He looked up and shook his head sadly. The number of creature incursions from the old city are down, Miss Bennett. How bad can it be out there?

* * *

This is bad! the field agent yelled as she leapt over the burning garbage spilled out on the street next to the wrecked dumpster. She stopped behind it and tried to catch her breath while checking how much charge she had left in her stun pistol.

Dispatch to Agent Eighty-Six, status report. The woman’s voice that spoke through the headset sounded bored.

This is Eighty-Six, she answered, tucking away her pistol and pushing her white lock of hair off her sweating forehead before peeking around the corner again. She ducked back behind the dumpster before the fireball swept breathtakingly close by. Target identified as a class seven pyro. And he’s pissed.

Target identified as a class seven pyro, confirmed, the bored voice acknowledged. Proceed with apprehension of target.

I don’t think that’s a good idea, Agent Eighty-Six remarked. Twenty-Three is down. Send backup and an ambulance.

No backup available at this time, the voice answered. Medical aid standing by and will be dispatched when the threat is nullified.

Eighty-Six pulled her headset off and tossed it on the ground behind her. Day one in the field and I already hate this company, she muttered to herself as she pulled her stun pistol out of her holster. Breathe. Focus. She peeked around the dumpster again, only to find she was staring at a knee only inches from her face. She looked up slowly and met the glowing red eyes of her target. Oh, hello.

I believe we’ve met, the man with red eyes answered. She noted the sleeves of his shirt had been burned off to above his elbows. I’m the target, and you’re a Sentinel field agent. His hand burst into flames hot enough that the heat felt painful on her face. I know the medical plan at Sentinel sucks, so why work for a company that you hate?

The voice was so strangely calm that Eighty-Six actually sat still in her awkwardly kneeling position looking up into his face and not into the brilliantly burning ball of red-orange flame that he held in the palm of his hand.

She considered her answer. Well, she said, and then paused to reconsider her response. Hate was such a strong word and somehow she doubted he wanted to hear about her mother.

Conversation abandoned, the two combatants resumed their battle at the same moment. Eighty-Six threw herself back from the powerful