The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Posted 10-21-21
Revised 10-23-21
Revised 10-25-21

Edited by Christopher Leeson
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Chapter 16

THE NIGHT OF TERROR

"Alas for woe, alas for woe, alas for woe,
They cry and tears forever flow."

William Blake
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Smekes lowered his voice. "We’re entering into dangerous days. The ultras infiltrated Aladdin with Blake Ashwin, but none of us believe that that she was working alone. There are still spies among us who have to be found out."

"What do we know that’s both solid and operable?” I asked. “What other information points to Prime being an espionage ringleader?"

"The circumstantial evidence is very good."

"If it's helpful, sir, I don't believe that either Lauren or Kelly could have found actionable intelligence inside my home. I've always been scrupulous about not taking compromising material away from the office. And I’ve been working assiduously to make my family and family believe that I’m a data analyst for the CIA."

The military man shook his head. "This is the Twenty-First Century. The old precautions aren't good enough anymore, Blake. We’re up against advanced listening devices, cameras, and computer hacking. Your house is going to need a forensic examination. Think back. Might you have let anything classified slip to your son, daughter, or mother?"

I pretended to think that over before shaking my head. "I don’t think there’s been anything. I've always refused to answer family questions that even remotely involved the workplace."

"And what about your broader social contacts?"

"I'm confident about those, too, sir. I'm good at keeping secrets."

"Very commendable." If he intended to be reassuring, his skeptical tone spoiled the effect.

All at once, Smekes fixed a hard, cold glance on me. Though surprised, I recognized the old interrogator's trick -- having confronted plenty of old interrogators. He wanted to spook me, to make me think that I had aroused his suspicions and then watch my reaction. The poor fellow. I'd been played at the espionage game many centuries longer than he had.

The colonel maintained his odd expression until, presumably, he started to feel silly. Then Smekes said, "I'm putting some additional people into Canoga Park to get to the bottom of things. You could be of great assistance, considering it's your own backyard."

"Ahh, sir," I said hesitantly, "working on the Sherwood matter would create a problem for me. I’m seriously thinking about closing my house and putting in for a transfer to San Francisco. My son is being held at Alcatraz Island and I want to be able to visit him as often as possible."

He frowned. "Have you talked this over with Sarn?"

"Not yet. When I was last with her, neither of us knew exactly what the situation was. We spent most of our time planning the deployment of NM-E."

He nodded. "I see. Well, your wish is understandable. I know that you and Sarn worked well together on the Spear of Destiny operation. If the doctor signs off on your transfer, well and good." He stood up and extended his hand.

Also rising, I accepted the shake.

"I was wondering, sir."

"Yes?"

"What will the public be told? Will Lauren Sherwood be buried as an ultra, or as some local girl who became a chance victim during the Mall violence?"

"That hasn't been decided," he replied. "Myself, I would prefer the latter. What the public doesn't know can't hurt the Company. But whatever we decide, we can count on the press and media to back us up. That's their job."

"Yes, sir. And may I also say that making the death appear to be accidental might be easier on Lauren's parents, too?"

Smekes nodded absently. "We certainly mustn't make things hard for members of America's bedrock – not until we can prove something against them."

The interview seemed to be over, but I wasn’t buying into the notion that I was off the hook. My long association with Lauren Sherwood had to look pretty bad and a man like Colonel Smekes wasn’t going to just shrug it off. When his team went into my house, I could expect them to load it up with cameras and recorders. Now I really needed to close the house and get away to Frisco. And I'd have to be careful that they didn't plant new bugs in the place I moved into. Under surveillance, it would hard to keep working against Aladdin's scheming. I couldn’t see a good way to fix this, not unless a miracle happened.

And, wouldn’t you know it, a miracle was about to happen.

And it would be a nasty one.

#

Outside the interview room, I couldn’t help but lean back against the hall wall, my eyes closed. It wouldn’t look good on the surveillance cameras, but I was only human and felt drained. The last few days had worn me down, put me at the end of my rope. Gus was suffering. Pinnacle was suffering. I had failed to protect Lauren Sherwood and her parents, and I’d been unable to prevent Prime, Kelly Cantrell, and Warstrike -- excuse me -- Strike -- from being investigated. Smekes' ideas were wrong in almost every particular, but an organization like Aladdin would believe what it wanted to, and even being proved wrong several times over wouldn't necessarily change their mind.

Suddenly someone rushed past me at hyper-speed -- traveling backwards.

This wasn’t my first rodeo; time was going unhinged again!

In a flash, the corridor became a beehive of activity, with dozens of people whizzing past at wild acceleration. I saw Coburn and then Wrath leaving and then entering Smekes' office. In a few more seconds things were happening too quickly for the eye to follow.

I covered my face, unable to bear it. The force that had me in its grip was moving me across the chessboard again. How had this started? Why did it keep happening?

And how long could I keep my sanity if I had to keep on living my life backwards...?

When the world finally stopped spinning, I found myself in a quiet place, leaning against a kitchen counter.

And it took only seconds to realize that this place was my own kitchen.

Unsteady, I braced my weight against the sink and stared out the window. It was sunset, but the sky appeared off-color, the trees and houses looking like they do with the heavens darkening with storm. I shook myself, trying to banish my bleariness. I knew where I was, but didn’t know when I was. I shifted towards the kitchen clock display that showed a digital date as well as the time of day. It read 7:12 p.m., September 15.

I frowned. The date seemed to mean something, but....

Then it hit me -- like a ballista bolt!

"Mommy!"

Evie's cry had echoed from across the living room but, after only two strides, I stumbled to a halt.

Idiot! This is the Night of Terror!

My heart leaped to my throat. I looked down the corridor to Gus’s door. Could the terrible thing have happened to Gus already? I automatically projected my wizard sense into his room and the impression it returned came at me like a hot puff of dragon breath. It was as bad as the nauseating miasma Boneyard used to give off, except that it was much stronger. The only equally powerful black magic aura I had ever encountered had come from Loki, the Norse god of evil.

Just a cotton-picking minute!

I had actually been using magic. That meant --

I tried something else, and in the wink of the eye I was wearing my golden armor! Whatever took away Mantra's magical power in this alternate future, it so far hadn’t occurred.

And I damned well wasn’t going to let it occur!

Move it, Lukasz! Lives are hanging on a thread!

My mind raced. Gus was lurking in his room, expecting me to come in. He'd be demented with hate and fury -- and wielding the power of a demigod to back up his temper tantrum.

I cursed under my breath. Why couldn't I have arrived just ten minutes earlier? Then I could have whisked both Gus and Evie away from our targeted house. Now Evie had become Gus's hostage, and Gus was predisposed to kill even friends and family members at the slightest provocation.

I had to stop the boy from raising havoc, but the direct approach wasn’t going to work. With his power at its peak, he could eat me for lunch. But neither did I dare to go passive. Gus's sorcery and state of mind presented a danger to the entire neighborhood. I needed a plan. I had changed history before, so why couldn't I change it again? True, I’d found out how tragic historical tampering could be, but this time I could be a damned side more careful!

I couldn't stay where I was! If Gus got tired of lying in wait and came after me, history might repeat itself. I didn’t want to fight him, not until I could do so on my own terms. This situation – not wanting to hurt either him or Evie -- didn’t favor me. I had to retreat and plan a comeback.

Turning phantom, I darted away through the ceiling and rooftop.

Forgive me, Evie.

#

In the open air, I hovered indecisively. Gus didn't hate his sister, I knew, which meant that she wasn't in immediate danger. I was tempted to teleport the little girl to my side, but such a heavy usage of manna would leave me depleted for hours. I had to conserve my magic for the crucial confrontation.

To keep track of events, I made for the closest church. It’s topmost ledge was narrow, but an ornamental angel afforded me something to hold on to. The Blake house, a few blocks away, remained quiet. The disorientation caused by my time-shift was fading and I could more easily focus.

Still lacking a specific plan, I gazed toward the anomalous sky. It looked worse than before, having taken on a faintly glowing, raw-liver hue. Here and there I saw rippling patches that reminded me of the Aurora Borealis. Even as I stared, a humongous green streak began to congeal like a materializing ghost. Under my wizard-sight, the energy band gave every appearance of having a magical component. Well, no surprise there. It had to be the same phenomenon that Lauren had mentioned.

Wait a minute! Lauren wasn't dead. She couldn't be. My slipping back into time would have brought her back to life -- at least from my personal perspective. I would have to make it my business to keep her alive!

I knew that she would be approaching the Blake house. If she did, anything she said might make Gus fall into an angry snit and kill her!

I sprang into the air, scanning the sidewalk approaches around my Canoga Park home.

For once, Fate smiled. I spotted Lauren's tow-haired figure strolling along Wyandotte Street, the only pedestrian in view. The babysitter must have heard my cloak fluttering as I descended from above, for she suddenly looked up, wide-eyed.

"Mantra!" the girl exclaimed.

Still lightly disoriented, my heels struck the pavement hard. Struggling for balance, I breathlessly muttered: "Lauren, you shouldn't be out tonight! Some kind of wild magic has invaded the town. Go home. You'll be safer there."

"Whoa!" the girl objected. "The Blake house is just a couple of blocks ahead. Can't I pick up my wages first?"

"Your life is at stake! Now, vamoose!"

"But Mrs. Blake is expecting me. Maybe I could help her protect the kids."

"Eden doesn’t need a third kid to worry about!” I countered sternly. “Do her a favor and go home! Your own dad might need protecting." I didn't think that was true but, hopefully, a jolt of fear might make her more cooperative.

"Okay," she grimaced, "I'll go home, but I'll call Eden up right away and tell her what you said. I'll tell her to lock up and hunker down."

I couldn't let her do that. Gus would probably answer the phone and urge her to come over. If I tried to stop her, she'd start arguing again.

"Listen, Lauren, you shouldn't be on the phone tonight. Ah...the evil energy might infect the radio frequencies. You and Mrs. Blake could get cursed!"

Oh, Lordy, did that sound as dumb to her as it did to me?

Apparently so. Lauren returned a funny look. "Uh, Mantra, I've got a feeling that there's more, or maybe less, going on tonight than you're telling me."

"No more haggling, young lady. I’ll take you home myself!" I scooped Lauren up into my arms and sprang into the air with her. The girl's surprise stifled her questions. But even firmer measures were called for. I had to make sure that this excessively adventurous and inquisitive adolescent would stay out of harm's way.

While cradling the teen close, I started siphoning away her surplus of bio-energy. And I got more than I bargained for! The mana being generated inside of her was unnaturally high and building to a crisis, probably stimulated by the night's magic-rich atmosphere. But I refused to let her go ultra. There were terrible dangers abroad and she didn't have the experience needed to address them safely. Oh, she had done well in the other timeline, but the way she had gone about things sounded too much like beginner’s luck.

By the time we'd alighted beside the Sherwoods' welcome mat, the girl, her energy brought down to a low level, was nodding off. She would probably sleep for a dozen hours. I rang the doorbell and then took to the air, not wanting anyone see Mantra at a time when she was supposed to be in jail. A backward glance assured me that Mr. Sherwood was helping his rubbery-legged daughter across the threshold. From her weak and sleepy condition, he'd probably surmise that she was coming down with the flu.

Hopefully, I had changed history enough to save Lauren's life. Part of me regretted it. She had exhibited the caring heart and audacious courage that makes for a fine ultra, but it was too soon for her to go airborne; a few more years of maturing would do her a world of good. One rash mistake could send her to an early grave -- as had actually happened when she’d clashed with N-ME.

So Lauren's situation was one box that I could check off from my list of problems. But I guessed that I'd already changed the history of Friday night so much that the series of events I knew about would be seriously altered. As things stood, I was on my own now against the Night of Terror.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 17