The Gift Issue 4

He had been at it for several hours already. No progress to speak of. It was just past 2:30 in the morning. He was tired, sore, and utterly frustrated.

Athan stared down into his hands at the Piranha he’d dusted off from a long forgotten corner of his closet. Athan had doubt that the weapon would even fire. His recent suspension kept him from acquiring any standard issue equipment. But that didn’t stop him from using his father’s old gear. The carapace armor was particularly uncomfortable—nothing like what he was used to. It occasionally pinched him under his sword arm. “How did they ever get used to this crap?” he thought. Although he stuck out like a sore thumb, in his father’s decade’s-old uniform, he was comforted in the fact that no one would recognize him.

The young Mortificator had to start from square one. It meant returning to the original place that he picked up his first clue in finding Elise. The heretic Jeremiah, that he killed a fortnight ago, was the last of six that had any info on his niece’s whereabouts. A return trip to the same building where he located the first ring of heretics couldn’t hurt. Maybe he’d find something he overlooked a few months ago.

Locating the same structure in the myriad of abandoned buildings; however, would prove to be a more difficult goal than Athan imagined. He stood in the darkness of a boarded doorway in a nondescript alley and wracked his brain for an answer. The area looked decidedly different compared to a month ago. It’s as if the building themselves had put on disguises in anticipation of his arrival. They were mocking him—Athan could sense it. This problem was compounded by the lack of streetlights and light drizzle that speckled the night air. It was a strain on his eyes to see more than 50 feet in front of him. Athan silently cursed his luck.

The smell of wet, oil-soaked concrete permeated his nostrils. It was a constant reminder of the vast concrete jungle that Luna City had become. Athan wasn’t getting anywhere… he knew it. The magnitude of the situation was overwhelming him and blurring his thoughts.

Athan needed to focus. He slowly sat on the wet concrete with his back to the door, just out of reach of the wet air around him. He crossed his legs and sat up straight but comfortable. He slowed his respiration to long drawn out breaths… in through the nose and out through the mouth… in through the nose and out through the mouth. Moments turned into minutes as he gradually quieted his mind. As he was trained to do, Athan was able to open his mind like a file cabinet and retrieve memories selectively. This process was often aided by a man or woman versed in the art to extradite detective work. But this time Athan was alone, with no one to help guide his efforts.

Snapshots. Glimpses. A strobe light of memories began to appear in Athan’s mind’s-eye. Jumbled at first, then slowly as he focused he put them in order, like a stack of photographs, he viewed his own mental slide show and searched for what he needed.

What had he missed? What had he overlooked? Don’t look for the obvious he thought to himself. Look for the subtle. Look for the… there… that’s it!

Athan replayed a memory of locating the first safe house. When he came to the door of the room he heard voices and halted to listen. He counted four voices. When he burst into the room, he suddenly recalled that only three men were there. There was a seventh member.

Athan roused himself from the trance and slowly oriented himself. He cursed under his breath. How could I have forgotten that glaring detail? How? Athan scolded himself repeatedly.

Where Athan was once lost hours ago, he was lost no more. He had a new, unknown target. It wasn’t much to go on but it was something. He was determined to uncover the identity of the fourth voice even if he had to turn over every brick in this god-forsaken slum. Tonight, however, was not the night for it. Daylight was soon to arrive and he needed to return home if he wanted to keep a lid on his vigilante activities.

Athan made his way through city, darting from one dark place to another. Finally home and exhausted, Athan stowed the gear and collapsed on his bed.