Goodbye

 Hey! Alice again! Jillian has relinquished all control over this blog, which was her mistake. It's to focus on creating the podcast and Scribbler website, but still. 

Jack has a story for you this week, one that he promised to Jillian before I took over the blog.

He calls it 'Goodbye.' 

Meleya stared into my eyes, her face completely serious. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "But I'm leaving. I can't bear the reminder of you being swept away, but I'll never forget what we had and I promise to visit."

I tried to reach for her, but my wrists were chained to the hospital bed. "Meleya," I begged, reaching for her with my mind. "Please. Don't leave me."

She shook her head, turning away. "I'm really sorry, James. But I can't stay. It hurts too much."

If I'd had even a shred of my former abilities, I would've stopped her. I could've broken her neck with a nod. But the doctors had removed my implants, leaving me weak as any human. Tears gathered at my helplessness. "Did I ever matter to you?"

My best friend sighed, turning back. "Of course you did, James. But the old you. Not the one who was selected for implants, who destroyed his own life. And until you find that person back, I can't be around you. I'm sorry."

The doctor came into the room before she could say anything else, before I could reply. "Mr. Alastair. There are some people who'd like to have a word with you."

"I don't want to talk to them," I replied, straining against the handcuffs. "Please. I need to talk to Meleya."

"Who?" the doctor asked. 

She was gone.

"No!" I screamed. "Where is she? What did you do with her?"

"With who, James? Who are you looking for?"

"My best friend, Meleya. She was here a moment ago."

"James, you are the only one here. There wasn't anyone else."

My tired brain couldn't quite figure out what was going on. I leaned back in the bed, giving up. "Who wants to talk to me?"

"I think you know that. But first..." He pressed a few buttons on his tablet, and the needle in my arm shivered. Sedative. I knew even before the effects hit. 

"Please," I whispered, before the world went completely black. Just the one word. Not even a glimmer of a sentence to go with it.

****

When I came to, I was in a different room. Still strapped to the chair, but it was a different chair. A harder, colder chair. The light was harsher, bright. Almost too bright. It was like waking up on an operating table.

"Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Alistair."

I knew that voice. There was no memory for how I knew, but it was familiar. "Who are you?" I asked.

"You don't remember me? We've never met, true, but have certainly spoken enough that you should at least know my voice."

I managed to shake my head. 

The man leaned over me, pulling at the restraints. Testing them. "Well, seeing as you don't have the decency to remember my voice, I guess that gives me the advantage of a second chance at a first impression. That's really something that everyone wishes for, at some point or another."

Uncomprehending, I stared at him. 

His fist slammed into my stomach hard enough to make me double over, gasping and coughing. My lungs burned with the effort. It wasn't recommended to strain them this soon after they were regrown.

"Detective!" Someone else snapped at the man, someone I couldn't see.

"Sorry sir," the first man, the detective, replied. "Won't happen again."

"Are you going to actually interrogate the boy, or just beat him up for no reason?"

"Heaven forbid I beat this one for no reason," the detective muttered, but composed himself. "All right. Seeing as you don't remember me, I'll introduce myself again. My name is Detective Max Hunter. I'm Meleya's..."

"You're Meleya's brother," I whispered, recognizing him in a moment. 

"Give the man a prize!" Max leaned back, smiling.

"Where is she?"

"Excuse me?"

"Where is Meleya?"

He stared at me. It was nice to feel the tables turn, to surprise him. "You are asking me where my sister is?"

"Yes?" Now I wasn't so sure.

"That's funny, James, considering that we both know exactly where my sister is."

"We do?"

"Yes. Think back. What is the last thing you remember before your capture?"

As I concentrated, flashes of memory went through my head. Debris, flying, nearly crushing me. Meleya saved my life. Then I was turning to her, hating her. And then... "No, it's not true," I whispered, my eyes squeezed shut.

"Ah, you remember. It is true. You are the last person who saw my sister alive, and you are the reason she's lying on a slab of plastic downstairs, getting scanned for anything that would explain why she turned on us. Of course, we both know that won't be found in her body."

"No," I said again. "No, it can't be. I would never hurt her."

"Empty words, James."

"She's not dead," I replied, opening my eyes. "She's not. I spoke to her, in the hospital. Just before the doctor brought me here."

"You're delusional."

"No! She said that she had to leave, but that she would visit! She is coming back!"

His face darkened, and he leaned forward. There were cybernetic enhancements in his arms, one of which was a holoscreen projector. "Look," Max ordered. A few touches on his arm, and a picture appeared. Meleya. But something was wrong. Her skin was white, too white. Her eyes were missing the sparkle of joy that made me love her. Most importantly, her head was almost completely torn from her body.

"No," I whispered. "No! This isn't her!"

"You did this!" Max shouted. "You destroyed my sister! At least own up to your actions!"

"Detective." It was that other man again, a hint of warning in his voice. "Remember why this boy is here. Yes, he murdered your sister, and he will pay for that crime. But he has some information that we need."

"Sorry, sir," Max said, leaning back and covering the projector. "All right, James. Time for some honesty. Who created the implants that we found in your head?"

"What do you mean?"

He stared at me, then said again, slower, "Who created the implants we found in your head? Where did they come from, and who put them in you?"

"I don't know." 

Max jumped to his feet, sending the chair crashing to the floor. "Wrong answer! Who made them?"

"I don't know!"

"How? You were with them for three months. We estimate the surgeries took at least that long, probably longer. Are you saying that you never saw a guy who experimented on you for months?"

"I didn't. His assistants would sedate me before he came close, and they wore masks."

Max looked like he wanted to hit me again, but his boss stepped forward. "What do you remember about the room you were kept in, Mr. Alistair?"

It took me a moment to remember. Even then, it wasn't much. "The room was white. Like a hospital room, I guess. Monitors and stuff. After the first surgery, they kept my eyes covered. I think there was someone else in the room, though. I'd hear crying after the third meal of the day, sometimes arguing and begging."

The two men glanced at each other. They knew something, something that I didn't. "What?" I finally asked. "Who was in the room?"

"We think Miss Hunter was held with you, Mr. Alistair. That she was threatened in some way to make you cooperate. A message that you sent to Detective Hunter before you disappeared hints at that."

"I sent a message?"

"Yes. Detective?"

Max touched his arm a few times, then read, "Detective, I know you don't know who I am, but I care deeply about your sister. She is my best friend. My name is James Alistair, and Meleya is in trouble. If you don't hear from her soon, launch an investigation."

"That was five months before you appeared on B-3160 and almost destroyed a city."

All I could do was stare. I couldn't remember sending the message. More importantly, I couldn't remember destroying a city. "H-how many did I hurt?" I whispered, not wanting the answer.

"You killed seventeen, including Meleya. Injuries from each of your attacks numbers close to one thousand."

"How many attacks?"

"Seven."

Seven. Seven times, I'd lost control of the power that consumed me, of the power he had given me. I still didn't know who he was, but I would find out. And when I did, I would use the power that I still felt in my veins to keep him from doing this to anyone else. To end him.

The End.

I think this might be an origin story for one of Jack's characters. Not sure, though, because he likes to play things close to his chest. This would make a good novel, though. 

Have a good week and see you next Friday!