THE WOUNDED WORLD
A Story of Mantra

Written 2006 by Aladdin

Revised and Edited (with the permission of Aladdin) by Christopher Leeson, Aug 21, 2020
Revised Sept 6, 2020
Revised Sept 22, 2020

"Did -- Did he hurt you, darling?" I asked.

Evie shook her head. "No, but he chased me and he said he was gonna hurt me. Then Laddin came and Lauren helped them beat up on Gus and take him away to jail."

Somebody wake me! Gus tried to murder Lauren, and then she got the help of somebody named Ladin to take my son to jail? Who in hell was "Laddin?" Was he some friend of Lauren’s from school?

Suddenly, I got a horrendous idea!

“Was Laddin not just one person but a group of people?”

Evie nodded.

"Was their name more like ‘Aladdin'?"

"Yeah, that's it!"

Worse and worse! Aladdin was the government agency that I worked for. It was just about the dirtiest outfit in the Deep State. Once I’d been hired and found out some of the things they were involved in, I stuck with the job, but only to keep an eye on them. The Aladdin people never stopped! I’d managed to foil a treason plot of theirs earlier in the summer. In facing off with them every day, I felt so alone. I couldn't go to the Justice Department. The Attorney General had been turned into a figurehead. The shifty assistant A.G. held the real power!

When the name Aladdin comes up, it's always like a cold shadow has walked into the room. Where had Evie learned Aladdin’s name? I was always careful never to talk shop in front of Mom -- Barbara Freeman, I mean -- or the kids. I let them think that I worked for the C.I.A, whose rotten existence was at least publicly known.

"Is Lauren okay?" I asked.

Evie nodded again. "She visited Monday, remember? She wanted you to go back to being Mantra, but you said you couldn't. You told her that she had to be Mantra now."

What had been going on for the last few days? According to Evie, Lauren now knew I was Mantra, and somehow she had become a new version of Mantra? How could Evie have come up with such a bizarre idea -- unless it was true? I felt like I'd fallen down a rabbit hole.

"Pumpkin, where is Gus? What do you mean that he's in jail?"

Evie started to cry.

The little girl seemed so fragile, so afraid. Did Aladdin really have Gus? Was he charged with attempted murder? Who had he tried to kill, besides Lauren? And how could a little boy of twelve have become a public enemy?

And how how had Aladdin get involved? It existed to monitor ultras, not to enforce the law.

"M-Mommy," Evie stammered, "is Gus ever gonna get out of jail? He isn't gonna be a -- a lifer, is he?"

I held her close. "I don't know, darling. I don't know anything about what happened. I just can't remember."

"Did you stop remembering because Gus hurt you so bad? Does your head ache?"

"No, sweetie, my head feels fine. How did Gus hurt me, Evie?"

"He zapped you."

I kissed her wet cheek. She settled in against me and, holding her, I tried to reason things out. Gus had tried to kill me? Why? He was a heedless, lazy, and sometimes rebellious boy, but he'd never displayed a wantonly violent nature, not even against animals. And what did Evie mean by "zapped"?

I could hardly take it all in. I had lost my magic, apparently after an attack by Gus. I’d known for months that Lauren had dormant magical abilities, but now it seemed that they somehow had resurfaced. On top of that, why weren’t we at home in Canoga Park instead of occupying a motel room in San Francisco?

Nothing wasn't adding up. Would I have to get Lauren Sherwood to explain things?

But was I letting myself get worked up over nothing. After all, I only had the testimony of a second-grader.

"Evie," I asked, "did Lauren look like herself, or did she change to look like me, like she did last time?"

The tyke shook her head. "She didn't change. She just got magic. Mommy, why are so many people getting magic?"

"Gumdrop, who else got magic, besides Lauren, I mean?"

"Gus got magic, but it made him angry and mean. He hated everybody, even you. It was awful!"

Was any of this true? It made no sense. The Blakes were a magical family, but I’d never heard of a male of the bloodline inheriting sorcery. Was it possible that Evie was telling me about a nightmare that she'd had, confusing it with reality? But if so, that wouldn't explain how I had lost my ultra abilities, or why we had made this inexplicable relocation.

I needed more information – and I gladly would have taken it from anybody.

"Where's Lauren?" I murmured out loud.

"She must be in school," Evie replied. "That's where I wish I was. All my friends are there, Mommy. I also miss Grandma, Aunt Lila, and Mrs. Griswell."

I petted her hair. "Poor little thing. Can you tell me why we’re here in San Francisco?"

She bit her lip. "You said you wanted to work in Sanfrisco, so you could visit Gus at Laddin every day."

Could Aladdin really be keeping Gus in custody? If he’d turned into an ultra, they certainly would be motivated to. They’d lock him up for study. San Francisco was the Aladdin's Western Regional Headquarters, and also the location of a secret Aladdin prison. If Gus was a captured ultra, relocating him to San Francisco would make sense. The only good thing going for us was that I was a trusted Aladdin employee and could probably gain access to the boy on a regular basis.

A strange thought now came to me. What if Gus's powers had originally been mine? Could my magic have inexplicably been transferred from me to him? That would explain a lot. Maybe if I could take my Mantra abilities back from him, Aladdin would have no reason to keep him locked up.

What was I saying? How could I be speculating on fixing something that shouldn't have happened in the first place?

"Evie, darling, I'm going to talk to Lauren after she gets home from school. Maybe she and I can make everything okay."

Suddenly the seven year old was all eagerness. "Can you make all the bad things go away?"

"I'm not sure, but I promise to do my best. Tell me, was everything still good with our family after you and me and Gus visited the Kid's Club Thursday night?"

She looked confused. "You're forgetting again, Mommy."

"What am I forgetting?"

"Gus wasn't with us.”

I was incredulous. "I don't understand. I know we were all three there shopping for school supplies. Don't you remember how you two were talking about ultra ladies in the Target store?"

Evie shook her head. "It didn't happen that way, Mommy. Maybe you dreamed it."

Somebody had to be dreaming; I was willing to grant that much.

“And Gus didn’t need school supplies,” the little girl added.

“Why not?”

“The don’t want him at school, because he’s so ugly that he scares the kids.”

Eh?

"What are you saying about Gus being ugly, Button?"

That put the tyke over the edge. I let her cry against my shoulder. "There, there, honey,” I said at last. “If it's too awful, you don't have to talk about it."

"It was the bad fairies," she finally whispered.

"Fairies? "What bad fairies? When?"

"Last spring. They caught me and Gus in the garden and took us away to fairyland."

This just had to be a nightmare, either Evie's or mine. "What garden?"

"The big one that Mrs. Dimsdale has. I thought I saw fairies hiding under the flowers and I told Gus about them. He didn't believe me and I took him to show him. When we were looking through the leaves, the ugly fairies got us."

No! That hadn’t happened. Gus had been fit and fine all summer. And Mrs. Dimsdale had never once let on that her garden was infested with supernatural creatures.

"What happened after the fairies got you, Cupcake?" I coaxed.

"The good fairies saved me, but the bad ones took Gus away. You came into fairyland to get us, but you saved me first. By the time we found the bad fairies, they'd done some magic on Gus to make him look ugly like they were."

I grew calmer, but only because I no longer believed that Evie was telling the truth. Maybe she was ill. Maybe I had brought her to San Francisco for an appointment with a child psychologist.

"Why would the bad fairies do something so nasty to a little boy?" I asked softly.

She sniffed. "Gus said they wanted him to be the fairy king. We brought Gus back, but he still looked like the ugly fairies. He was so sad. He didn't think anybody could love him anymore -- not you, or me, or even Grandma." She shook her head. "I don't read fairy stories anymore, not since I found out how mean fairies are."

I held her cheek against mine. Before I let myself jump to any conclusions, I needed to get somebody else’s version of what was going on.

I looked around the room. "Evie, do you know where I put the cell phone?"

She hurried away and retrieved the missing device from the nightstand drawer. "Thanks," I said.

I wanted to talk to the children’s grandmother. When I punched in the memorized number, the screen told me that I was dialing a phone that didn't exist. Didn't exist?

"Evie, the operator says that Grandma's number is bad. Why should that be?"

"I dunno."

I brought up my phone's "friends" list. While I recognized many of the names, the numbers were all different. It was looking more and more that the person who was dreaming was me.

Barbara Freeman's name was opposite a number that I had never seen before, but I tried it anyway. The sound told me that I had reached a real phone. The ringing stopped and I waited with bated breath until Barbara's voice came on.

"Hello?"

"It's me, Mom. Are things okay there?"

"I'm fine. Is Evie all right?"

"Oh, yes, but, Mother, there's a new problem."

"What?" she asked edgily.

"This might sound strange, but all of a sudden I'm having some pretty bad memory-loss problems."

"Memory loss?" After a pause she said, "Well, I don't wonder, considering what you've been through. Do you need me to come up to San Francisco to help?"

"Maybe that's an idea," I said, wanting to humor her. "What bothers me most is that I'm beginning to wonder if some of the things that I still remember are actually wrong. Mom, didn't you used to have the number 818-346-8357?"

"For heaven's sake! I don't know how you could have come up with anything like that. I've had this same number since before you and big Gus were divorced."

I continued my cautious questioning. "Mom, Evie said something about Gus -- little Gus -- that I don't understand. It's about him becoming ugly last spring. The last I remember, he was looking just fine. Do you know why she would say such a thing?"

A deafening silence answered me.

"Mom?"

"Eden, you’re in a bad condition! Is there anyone in San Francisco that can take care of Evie while you're getting some help?"

"Mom, why do you say that? Is Gus all right?"

"Eden, you must be having a breakdown. Gus did change. We don’t know what happened, except that Evie and Gus said that some fairies had kidnapped them. Mantra got involved somehow, too. Eden, please stay indoors and try to rest. I'll fly in as soon as I can, but don't drive to the airport to meet me. You might lose control in the unfamiliar traffic. Give me your exact location. Until I get there, be very gentle with Evie; do not get impatient or excited around her. You're just not yourself!"

I obligingly told Mom that I was looking forward to her visit and that I'd be very careful with Evie. After we disconnected, I just sat there, trying to make sense of the senseless.

"Mommy, you look so funny," my daughter said.

I was getting another idea now, and I didn’t like it at all. What if this child was not really from my own family?

If I wasn't delusional, I could have been that I'd into an alternative reality. It wouldn’t be for the first time. I'd been temporarily trapped inside a parallel dimension a few weeks earlier. While there, I'd even met another version of Evie, one who looked and acted just like the girl I knew. Thankfully, in that dimension the girl's real mother had never died. I’d been able to talk to a living Eden Blake face to face.

Evie was looking oddly at me, probably alarmed by her mother's strange expression. She would have been horrified had she known that the most important person in her life had suddenly become a stranger.

On the good side, maybe the Eden Blake of this world was hail and hearty, and she would suddenly walk in our motel room door carrying boxes of food from the Jack-in-the-Box restaurant. If that happened, I’d be able to leave her daughter with her while I headed out and tried to get a handle on my own problems.

But wait! The situation might not be so simple. Evie had said that her mother had lost her powers, just as I had. If we were two different people, why should the same disaster have happened to both of us at the same time? Instead, could it be that my spirit had somehow possessed the body of my counterpart in some alternate dimension?

Considering the life I had lived, this guess wasn’t as crazy as it would have sounded to a stranger. I had lived in hundreds of different bodies over the last 1500 years through magical transmigration. But I'm not able to make such a thing happen on my own; my wizard master, Archimage, had run the body-switching operation. But he couldn’t be responsible for what had hit me today; he'd been dead for months, or at least he was dead in my home world.

I can’t image what my expression was just then, but Evie suddenly drew back, looking startled. With a forced a smile, I said "Easy, Pumpkin. "Life hasn't been nice to us Blakes lately, but we're tough people and we're going to get through this all right. Grandma said she’s coming to see us tonight. She'll help me take care of you until my memory comes back."

"She's coming? That's terrific!"

"Yes, isn't it?" I said with reservation. From the start, Barbara had been trying to figure out why I’d been acting so odd over the last couple years. So far, I had considered it best that she didn’t find out that her real daughter was dead.

Just then, Evie’s little arms encircled my waist. Despite all the tragedies of this version of my family, she was, in fact, very like my own daughter.

I gazed out the window. Why had this thing happen to me, and what was going on back in my home world? Was I the victim of some abnormal glitch of Nature, or had this situation been brought about by some malevolent mind? Who could have done such a thing, and why?

"Dumpling," I said, "did I mention earlier what was I going to do today? After breakfast, I mean."

"Uh-huh. We were going to talk to a man about getting us a new place."

"Do you know the name of the man?"

"Uh-uh, Mommy. You just called him a man."

"Did I talk to him on my phone?"

"Yeah."

I thought it best to call and postpone that appointment. If it should turn out that I needed a new apartment – heaven forbid – I’d get back into touch. Consulting my list of recent calls, I chose to ring an unlabeled number that was the next previous call that I had made.

"International Exports," came a receptionist-type voice on the other end.

This reply didn't throw me. I knew that "International Exports" was the dummy company that served as a front for Aladdin in San Francisco. It figured. If this world’s Mantra had transferred to Frisco so she could be near Gus Jr., she naturally would have been in contact with the local office.

"Ah, this is Eden Blake. I'm a new transfer. May I speak to my unit chief?"

"Oh, yes, Mrs. Blake," the woman responded. "Just one minute."

Very soon, a new voice came over the line; I recognized it. "Sarn here, Blake."

Dr. Sarn had been the hard-as-nails field division supervisor back in L.A. I didn't know what she was doing in San Francisco, so I chose my words carefully, trying to feel out the situation.

"I was wondering if there were any new developments. You can imagine how worried I am."

I hoped that such a question made sense. If Gus was being held at Aladdin, as Evie implied, Sarn would assume that I was talking about that. If she didn’t know what I was going on about, I could make up something.

"Your boy has been conscious periodically," the Aladdin official answered. "We’d like to have you here soon during one of his lucid episodes. How are you doing with your move?"

"It's going slowly. There's just so much on my plate right now. I was set up to talk to a real estate man today, but I'm not feeling well and I'll have to reschedule. I'll need some time off."

"More than the week you asked for?"

"I hope not." So, Eden was on leave. Well, that made sense.

"You really do sound stressed, Blake. You ought to see a company psychologist. Until then, be careful what you say to outsiders while you're so vulnerable. Your work is heavily classified."

Was everyone on this weird planet assuming that I’d gone nuts?

"I've never believed in psychology, Dr. Sarn. I'll only go that route if I have no other choice."

"Yeah, I know how tough you can be, Blake. Play this thing as you see best. But don't push yourself too hard. You're not a superwoman."

These days I certainly wasn't!

"If Gus wakes again you'll give me call, won't you?" I asked.

"Naturally, naturally," replied Sarn, her clipped tone telling me that her well of sympathy had run dry. "Be sure to file your report on Sunday's mall fiasco when you come in."

What mall fiasco?

How was I supposed to file a report on something that I knew absolutely nothing about? If this nutty situation was going to end well, it would take a miracle.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 3....

THE WOUNDED WORLD
A Story of Mantra

Written 2006 by Aladdin
Revision and Editing by Christopher Leeson
Posted Sep. 21, 2020
Additional revision, Sep. 24, 2020
Additional revision, July 24, 2021

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THE ULTRAMATE SOURCE

Mercy and pity threw the gravestone over me
And with lead and iron, bound it over me forever:
Life lives on my Consuming: 
And the Almighty hath made me his Contrary... 
 
William Blake

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"Uh, sure. Is there anything else, Doctor Sarn?"

"No, that's it, Blake." The Aladdin bureaucrat clicked off.

What in blazes had been going on? I didn't know which mall she was referring to. Did it have anything to do the weird experience I had over at the Kid's Club? No, that couldn't be. She'd mentioned Sunday, and my disaster occurred on Thursday.

That had been a weird conversation. Why was a data analyst being asked to make a mission report instead of a field agent? Why was Sarn getting me involved? 

I shifted toward Evie. "Scrumptious, did something happen at the Mall Sunday? I mean, did anything go on there that was important or scary?"

The child made a little moue. "You can't forget that! A bad robot came and started chasing people. Lauren had to fight with it."

A robot? “What sort of robot?"

“A big one!”

"Was it at the Mall at Topanga Plaza?"

"Yeah, it was scaring everybody!"

“Were you and I there?”

“You were, Mommy. I was at grandma’s house.”

“Why was I there?”

“I don't know.”

I had to think this out. These little details, as perplexing as they seemed to be, were pieces of a puzzle. I needed more pieces. What had Sarn said? She'd used the term fiasco. A fiasco at the Mall? Shouldn't she have called it an attack or a tragedy? A fiasco usually referred to a failed plan. Was the robotic attack somebody's failed plan? Whose plan?

I had a sinking feeling. Had Aladdin sent a battle robot into a minor suburban mall, intending to start a panic and make it look like some ultra was responsible? That would have been a heavy-handed move, even for Aladdin.

Momentarily stumped, I thought I should check the phone numbers that I had most recently called. I punched in a recent but unlabeled number and got a real estate office. That figured. It also figured that they told me I had an appointment with them this very afternoon. The local Mantra had been trying to find an apartment in the San Francisco area. I asked for a postponement of the meeting, using illness as an excuse. With that distraction taken care of, my first order of business was getting more information about this alternate world. I needed to stop reacting to all the weirdness like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Evie," I said, "do you feel like going out with me?"

"Sure! But you told the man you were sick."

"I fibbed. I have to go and carry out a secret mission."

"A secret mission? Can I be your sidekick?"

"You certainly can! We’ll go to the library first."

She looked dubious. "Are there robots or monsters at the library, Mommy?"

"I certainly hope not!" I said, not quite able to smile.

#

A sign at L.A. library that I'd stopped at directed its patrons to a parking ramp that was blocks away. After parking, we continued our trip on foot. Evie stayed close and I thought at first that she was clinging to me in fear. But her stern expression suggested something else. Was Evie protecting her mother from danger, now that she was no longer a super-powered ultra? I took her little hand and squeezed it. Whatever version of Evie that I met, she was always an easy child to love. 

But that raised another question. How should I react to a emergency while I was in such a weakened state? I could hardly think of anything to do, except to grab Evie and run. Depressing.

We passed in front of a paperback-and-news shop called the Readmore News and I impulsively led Evie inside. I went first to look at the newspaper headlines. Every story on the front pages were histrionic accounts of a recent catastrophe. I bought the Los Angles Times on the spot and also asked the clerk for a copy of The Ultra, but the young man replied that he'd never heard of the title. He recommended instead a newsprint tabloid called The Ultramate Source. I didn’t have much choice but to buy the unfamiliar weekly.

We left the news store and stopped to read at a coffee shop a couple buildings away. Evie was hungry, so I bought brunch for the two of us. While absently consuming my java, sausage, and eggs, I poured through the Times' lead story, the one describing a disaster in New York.

And it was a lulu! The paper was saying that more than a quarter of New York City had been blasted to rubble by a mysterious explosion. Millions were feared dead. A suitcase-sized nuclear weapon was at first suspected, but area testing had shown a low radiation count. The authorities were frantic to find a scapegoat to redirect blame away from what had been a muddled initial response. Some were latching on to Fake News standby idea that Russia had done it.

A civilian's smart phone video had come forward, showing ultras near the blast zone. One of them was a giant of a man in armor, and with him was some yo-yo swinging a scythe. A woman in a black cat suit was also to be seen. When an ill-trained National Guard unit confronted the mysterious group, the ranking officer apparently lost his cool and gave an attack order. A female ultra appeared overhead, distracting the panicky guardsmen with energy bolts. The soldiers started shooting at anything that moved -- including at each other.

In the aftermath, two members of the ultra gang could be tentatively identified. One matched the description of Amber Hunt, a name that was familiar to me – and not in any good way. But what floored me was the allegation that one of the ultras had been the crime-fighter known as Strike.

Back home, Strike had been the nom de guerre of Brandon Tark before he'd re-christened himself "Warstrike." Was Warstrike still called Strike in this reality? I searched my reading material to find the name "Warstrike," but couldn’t.

Had Brandon Tark been involved in a terrorist incident? Tark, I knew, had suffered a severe breakdown following the Godwheel incident. But it seemed like he had pulled out of it by summer. Was it possible that in this world he’d lost his marbles and gone rogue? I didn't want to believe it. Maybe Strike had been on the scene trying to apprehend Amber Hunt and hadn’t really been a member of her gang. A similar mix-up had wrongly implicated me – as Mantra – in a museum break-in case.

I kept reading, but didn’t find much of use. I couldn't let the magnitude of a disaster on the other side of the continent throw me. My focus had to be on Cangoa Park. The local news carried a story that apparently confirmed Evie's earlier testimony. It had a small picture of what the reporter was calling a "new Mantra." She was masked, but I could tell that it was Lauren Sheppard wearing a rather bland gray costume – and she was holding Mantra’s sword!

I showed the page to my little girl. "Have you seen this picture of Lauren yet?" I asked. “Do you know how she got the Sword of Fangs?”

She frowned. “No, Mommy."

“Do you know where my gold armor and cloak are?"

"Oh, they're in that box under the motel bed. The mask, too."

#

If truth be told, I had lately been one of the most powerful ultras in the world. It was true, too, that I’d been unconsciously been defining my personal worth in terms of my magical powers. If I couldn't restore that power, what would my life amount to from now on?”

Despite my abysmal mood, I continued the research. In The Ultramate Source I found references to a number of new ultras, none of whom sounded like heavy hitters. Who was the pathetic "Thorn Boy," or the crime-fighting acrobat named "Jack Dancer"?

Interestingly, there had been some armored goofball whose whole super career had consisted of coming out into the street and shouting “I'm the Chaotician.” He was immediately taken out by some mysterious back-shooter.

I also learned that the Strangers and the mercenary ultras of the Solution were still doing their thing, though the latter was in semi-retirement. That jived with what I knew from back home. On the other hand, this world’s UltraForce consisted Prime, Ghoul, Topaz, the Black Knight, Prototype, and a couple of ultras I’d never heard of. Oddly, their base was in Headless Cross, Arkansas, not in Miami, Florida.

More amazingly, Prototype was no longer Jimmy Ruiz, but Bob Campbell, who had been Prototype before Jimmy had come along. In my own reality, Hardcase had been the unofficial captain of the ultra team, but he wasn’t mentioned in the story. Neither was Contrary, the sexy-dressing ultra who had so impressed the fourth-graders at my daughter's school.

"Evie, have you ever heard of a couple of ultras named Hardcase and Contrary?"

Evie perked up. There was no subject that excited her more than ultras. "Everybody's heard of Hardcase. He used to be in the UltraForce. But who's Contrary?"

“You've never heard of Contrary?”

“Uh-uh. What can he do?”

“Why did Hardcase leave the Ultra Force?” I asked.

She frowned. “I don’t know.”

I went back to my reading. “Mommy,” Evie said in a sad voice.

"What is it, Sweetie?"

"Does God always answer prayers?"

"Why do you ask?"

"'Cuz my prayers didn't come true. I always ask Him to bless everybody, especially you and Gus. But He didn't. Why?”

This was a big bucks question and I had to answer carefully.

"Evie," I replied, "what you're asking is the same question that wise men have been asking each other for a very long time."

“Did they figure it out?”

“No.” I said.

The corners of her mouth turned down. "Those wise men don't sound too smart."

"Well, try not to worry. Whatever God does, it’s always for the best in the long run. Whatever their problems, people should keep on doing good deeds."

"But wouldn't doing good deeds be easier if you were still Mantra?"

I sighed. "Maybe. But if my magic doesn’t come back, I’ll just go on doing good deeds in little ways. That's what firemen, police, and nurses do."

Still sober, Evie asked, "Why doesn't God let you keep doing good in big ways? He could make your magic come back if He wanted to, couldn't He?"

I squeezed her hand. "Of course. God can do anything. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

All of a sudden, the hand I held started trembling again.

"Evie, what's wrong?"

"You f-forgot, Mommy. M-my hands shake sometimes. The doctor said it was because I got so scared."

I cupped both her little hands in mine and lifted them to my lips. I was relieved when the quaking stopped.

"This is very bad, Darling. Did -- did the doctor know how to help you?"

"No. He said we should see another doctor. You said we’d see one in Sanfrisco."

"We certainly will! My little girl has to be well and happy. That's the most important thing in the world."

She shook her head emphatically. "No. Helping Gus is most important."

I nodded. "You're right again. I'm going to do the best I can to fix things."

The tyke seemed to brighten a little. I urged her to finish her lunch, and while she was doing so, I paged to the science section of the L.A. Times.
 
Well now! The main article said that many strategic air defense stations and civilian observatories had monitored a series of world-wide energy spikes on Friday night. The unprecedented phenomenon was still under investigation.

Reading on, I learned that observers had seen the world's skie display a purplish glow. Green-colored bolts had struck the earth at random places on every continent. Oftentimes, these strikes correlated with bizarre events on the ground. Some individuals spontaneously gained ultra powers. Some people and animals underwent inexplicable deformations, death, and spells of madness. But a much more amazing thing had occurred in Oakland, California. Unburied corpses had allegedly come to life. The walking dead had ranged into the surrounding neighborhood, attacking several passersby and breaking into homes. Fortunately, the Strangers had arrived in time to get people to safety and to destroy the zombie marauders.

Next, something I found in the L.A.City section caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. Energy bolts had struck Canoga Park, also. A little after seven, local time, a hit had engulfed a home on Leadwell Street where a "special" boy was living with his family. Later, that same youngster was seen exercising ultra-type powers destructively. Also, a different energy bolt had struck another family's home in Canoga Park. It blasted out a wall and the members of a teenage Mantra fan club, who had been upstairs during the incident, were afterwards reported missing. They fortunately returned hours later, not remembering what had happened.

The "special" ultra boy in story had to be Gus. But Canoga Park wasn't all that large and it had only one Mantra fan club -- a clique consisting of Heather Parks and her friends Jessica, Samantha, and Trish.

"Evie," I asked, "did anything happen to Heather Parks last Friday?"

She looked up excitedly. "Are you remembering things now, Mommy?"

"I wish I were. But it says in the paper that some Mantra fans in Canoga Park were frightened by something. I know that Heather has a fan club."

"They all got turned into a monster with four heads. They’re okay now.”

For the love of Pete! No wonder Evie had been left a nervous wreck after Friday night!

"Four girls became one monster?" I asked.

She nodded. “She was really scary!”

I could imagine. "Did our house get hit by lightning about dinnertime?” I asked

Evie blinked. "No, Mommy. I saw a flash in the window, but there wasn't any thunder at all. When I was outside, sky looked awfully funny, sorta purple."

How could our house be hit by a totally silent energy bolt? Stranger and stranger. There had to be some underlying connection between all these baffling events, if only I could find the key.

When Evie had finished her lunch, the two of us went over to the library. After helping her find some good books to read in the children's section, I made for the Internet terminals.

A net search of various keywords turned up bits of intriguing information. Many sites were calling Friday evening the "Night of Terror.” News stories provided more information, but they didn’t add up to any bigger picture about the Night of Terror. When I at last put "Eden Blake" and "Canoga Park" into the search window, I hit pay dirt.

The Weird World blog reported that one Mrs. Eden Blake of Canoga Park, along with a young daughter, Eve, and her son, August Jr., were at home when a green bolt was observed striking their tract home on Leadwell Street at about 7:15 P.D.T.

According to the website, Eve had gone into her brother's room and found him practicing what she called “magic.” According to the girl's grandmother, Barbara Freeman, also of Canoga Park, Eve was forcibly detained by her brother for a short while, but managed to flee outside when a visitor distracted young August.

Mrs. Freeman reported that her daughter Eden had come back in the early morning accompanied by Evie, whom she had found safe at the home of a friend. Eden Blake herself was not available for comment, having been summoned out of town by her employer. At the time of the interview, Eve appeared to be in a somewhat stressed condition.

The article provided a few more details supplied by young Eve herself. Before the energy bolt struck, August Jr., a twelve year old who had previously suffered a disfiguring accident, had gained ultra powers. His father had just canceled a trip to a football game and, becoming incensed, Gus had attacked his mother physically. The boy reportedly went into the streets of the neighborhood after midnight, where he frightened passersby with threatening behavior.

A chill coursed through me. In my own reality, big and little Gus had been planning to attend the season's first Bearcat game. If the two worlds could share so minor a detail, might they not also have shared something major? Something catastrophic? Could the strange things that had come to pass in this alternate reality have also occurred back on my world? Could people I knew there have been injured or even killed?

How I wished that I could get back to where I belonged.

  TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 4....

THE WOUNDED WORLD
A Story of Mantra
Written 2006 by Aladdin
Revision and Editing by Christopher Leeson
Posted Oct.. 22, 2020
Revised July 24, 2021
Revised July 31, 2021

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PINNACLE

And thine is a face of sweet love in despair
And thine is a face of mild sorrow and care
And thine is a face of wild terror and fear
That shall never be quiet till laid on its bier.

William Blake

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CHAPTER 4

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From Internet news I learned that Gus – young August, as they called him – had gone on a destructive rampage on the evening of the 15th. It was hard to find out more. The events of that night across the face of the world were being heavily censored – not by the government, but by Big Tech -- or so said the truth-in-news people. Why international billionaires companies should want to hide the events of the Night of Terror I couldn’t guess. But I suppose there's no understanding people like that.

With my research frustrated in one direction, I switched focus and tried to find out about Gus's earlier – and equally tragic – encounter with the so-called fairies. A keyword search for “August Blake,” “Canoga Park,” and “fairies” drew in a scattering of stories – most of them frustratingly brief. I learned that August Blake, Jr. had been a normal boy until May 23. Then, inexplicably, he had suffered a spontaneous mutation, one that medical science was at a loss to explain.

Felicia Campbell, who was the wife of Bob Campbell (aka Prototype) and also a specialist in ultra-oriented medicine, was interviewed by FAUX News. The scientist thought that August Jr.'s physical changes generally followed a pattern observed in some new ultras, in which they occasionally underwent disfiguring mutations. In this instance, however, the boy had developed no observable ultra abilities.

Other authorities were passing off the youngster's claims as hallucinations stemming from trauma. The supporting testimony of his younger sister was likewise ignored. The case had swiftly passed out of the news cycle and there were no follow ups. The poor little guy! I could easily believe that events -- even those before the Night of Terror – had been bad enough to have driven Gus half out of his mind.

I checked my watch. Mother wouldn't be arriving in Frisco for hours yet and Lauren would be at school until 4:00 pm. I wasn’t sure what to do in the meantime. Gus’s condition was looming large in my mind, but Aladdin still hadn't called back to brief me on his condition.

The world had been lambasted by some mysterious force and my family had been devastated. I needed advice about what to do, but to whom could I turn? Not Aladdin. It was staffed by professional paranoids whose was to hide information, not circulate it.

What resources did the Mantra of this world have that I could draw upon? Did she and I have the same friends? My best bud was Warstrike, or – as he was called here, Strike. But he was currently a fugitive wanted for mass murder and terrorism. I had a good relationship with some other first-class ultras, including the Strangers, who operated out of San Francisco. I tried their highly-secure phone number but, as expected, it was an unknown number in this world.

Then it came to me. I did know another ultra in the Frisco area and even knew her address. Pinnacle had been the most powerful psionic I'd ever run into, and she was also a multi-discipline genius of science. Only, my memorize phone number for her failed, too.

An Internet search for "Pinnacle" brought nothing but trash listings. Well, I shouldn’t have been surprised; Pinnacle had never gone public as an ultra back on my world. It would probably be the same here. In fact, she could easily be using an entirely different code-name on this planet, like Warstrike/Strike was doing. Or, even worse, she might have become a “forgotten person,” like Contrary.

But the Pinnacle I’d known possessed a fully-equipped lab, using intermediaries and dummy companies to cover her traces. NuWare, the Big Tech company that had infused her with ultra powers, was probably still seeking her in this reality, too. They didn’t think of her as a human being, but as a company asset that they had a right to control absolutely. Penny had broken free of their mind-control and had gone to ground.

If I couldn’t phone her, I’d have to drive over to her address and see what was there.

On the other hand, Pinnacle, like a lot of other psychics, routinely formed enduring psychic links with anyone's mind once she'd read it, and Penny had read my mine more than once. That made me think that I might be able to link with her telepathically.

I braced myself and tried to initiate the psionic contact. "Penny...I need your help..." I mentally shouted, while simultaneously fixating on a thought-picture of her fashion-model face.

After several minutes, my optimism started to wane. I was not feeling her at all. But instead of accepting failure, I stubbornly persevered. Maybe it was that dogged determination that finally put my call through.

"Lukasz," spoke a ghost in my mind.

“Penny!” I psychically exclaimed. “I need your help!”

“And I need yours,” the voice answered.

“What, Pinnacle?”

"You can save my life."

#

That was all the communication that came through. Was Pinnacle in some sort of a spot? If she had a problem, it couldn’t be a small one, considering how individually powerful she was.

But what kind of help could I offer in my condition? Should I call the police to check on her? No. Pinnacle wouldn't appreciate a SWAT team breaking down her laboratory door and laying bare the possibly unethical experiments she might be carrying on. Pinnacle didn’t care much for following the rules and the role of a mad scientist came easy for her.

Any help I could give to my ally had to be delivered face to face. With a sense of urgency, I went to the children's’ section to fetch Evie and drove with her though the early afternoon traffic to Pinnacle's laboratory. When I stopped, I made sure that we were parked near an intersection where Evie would be able to read both names on the street signs, which were South Grand and Venice Blvd.

"Pumpkin," I said, handing Evie my cell phone, "there's a doctor in that building who might be able to fix Gus and me. But I have to check if she’s home. Watch the clock. If I don't come back in ten minutes, punch 911 on the phone. When someone answers, tell the person where you are and say that you're worried about your mom. Tell them that I’d told you to call for help if I didn't come back real soon. Okay?"

"Is somebody gonna shoot at you, Mommy?" she asked, anxious-eyed.

I gave her a hug. "I don't think so, Precious, but I need you to be my brave sidekick. Okay?"

"Okay," she said anxiously.

I felt the girl's stare like a warm spot on my back as I left the car. She was afraid for me and I had my own doubts, too. What if Pinnacle needed some heavy ultra-style help? Would I be doing her any good showing up as plain old Eden Blake?

Ready for the worst, I took off my treacherous pumps, stuffed them into my large purse, and confronted the building’s security door. Behind its glass pane I could see a camera. If Penny, or anyone else, was watching the monitor they’d know that I was here. I pushed the intercom buzzer with resignation.

"Penny, are you in there?" I spoke into the grid.

After a tense silence, the door buzzed, releasing the mechanism. Short of receiving a new telepathic message to warn me off, I didn't seem to have any choice except to go inside.

The front hall looked deserted. Several doors opened off it, but everything was stone quiet. I opted to go upstairs to Pinnacle's living quarters.

Wary of ambush, I walked past the elevator and took the stairs. The third floor landing was empty and I advanced to Penny's apartment door without mishap. It had a push-button doorbell and this I jabbed with my thumb. Then I waited, primed to dodge if I had to.

The door pivoted in. Pinnacle, at the threshold, was silhouetted against the large window across the room.

"Are you alone?" I asked in a low tone.

She shrugged. "I'm nothing else but alone. Come on in, if you're not too choosy about the company."

As she stood back, I cautiously stepped inside. The place was a housekeeping disaster, without light except for the window. There was a stale bouquet of assorted liquors in the air, gin being the most powerful. My friend's lounging outfit, I observed, looked slept-in. Her frowziness, her forlorn expression, and lack of makeup added to my sense of wrongness.

"Is it okay for me to bring Evie up?" I asked, observing Pinnacle's troubled face closely.

"Or else she'll call the law?" Pinnacle asked.

“Well, yes.” It still seemed uncanny howshe could easily mind-read, even while drunk.

Penny didn't look physically endangered, but her careless grooming, the general disorder about her, and her inebriation had me on my guard.

"You don't seem yourself, Penny. You look like you need someone to talk to."

She shook her head and went ungracefully to a liquor cabinet.

I stepped up behind her. "What's the problem? Is someone threatening you?" I asked. She still made no reply, but poured a good measure of Holland gin into a crystal glass.

"Want some?" she asked. "I’m down to my last bottle, but I’ll just call for another delivery. I can afford to drink myself to death in style."

I put a hand on her shoulder. "Penny, you're worrying me. You're incredible in so many ways. What can have gone so wrong that you can't handle it?”

"Sure, I'm like Ludwig Von Drake, the expert on everything. I'm Indiana Jane, the world's greatest seeker after lost knowledge. That last did me in. It's not smart to uncover all the secrets of the universe. Do you know why?"

“No. Why?”

“Because you just might wish you had kept them covered!”

I tried to smile. "I’d be glad to hear about it, but I've got to let Evie know I'm all right."

“Yeah, go get her.”

I excused myself, left the room, and took the lift to street level. I didn't have much time to waste, not if I wanted to spare Pinnacle an official visit.

The little girl bounced excitedly when she saw me returning. I took her hand and led her back to Pinnacle's apartment. "This is my friend Penny," I told Evie. "She's a doctor. You two met before. Penny, do you remember Evie?"

Our hostess nodded distractedly and then swallowed the rest of her drink. Before Pinnacle could refill it, I drew her to an ottoman. "Enough of this bender already, Pen. Sit down and tell me what's eating on you?"

The psionic slumped into the pillows. Then, drawing a deep breath, she said, "Wouldn't you rather talk about your problem? Your brain has been screaming since you walked in here that you've lost your powers. I'm sorry about that, but I’m not good at fixing other people’s problems. I can’t even fix my own.”

I regarded her. "You’re reading my mind, but you haven’t seemed to pick up on the fact that I'm not the Eden you know.”

She blinked. “Then who are you?”

“I'm a person who’s popped into the wrong universe and who wants to go home.”

“Wow!” the psionic said. “No wonder I couldn't make sense of what's rattling around inside your head. You really don’t have a clue about what happened?”

“No. I lost five days from my life. It’s like I’ve time-traveled."

Pinnacle frowned. "Maybe you're just not in your right mind."

I bridled slightly. “Are you sure that you're in yours?”

“Touche,” she said with a sleepy yawn.

"Let me fix some black coffee while you gather your thoughts," I suggested.

Pinnacle shook her head. "Caffeine just turns a sleepy drink into a wide-awake drunk."

"I’ll settle for having you wide-awake, even if you're still drunk."

Just then, I heard Evie sobbing and wheeled. "Precious, what is it?"

"I-I know where I saw Dr. Penny before," she mewed.

Going to the tyke, I drew her into my arms. Pinnacle had been with us when Evie had seen her mother, Eden, murdered at the hands of Necromantra. The renewed meeting with my friend had brought back that awful memory.

As I comforted the weeping youngster, Pinnacle pushed herself up from the ottoman and crossed over to join us. "May I?" she asked. I nodded and Penny touched Evie's left temples. The latter blinked and her sobbing ceased.

I looked askance at the doctor.

"I've blocked the flow of her emotions into her memory centers," she explained. "She'll feel better while the effect lasts."

I grimaced. If the psionic ultra was able to do something like that, why was she guzzling gin instead of giving herself the same treatment?

"Because," Pinnacle said, replying to my unvoiced thought, "I’ve gone past my denial phase. I have to face the truth, and the truth stinks."

"So boozing yourself red-eyed is the cure?" I asked. "Since when?"

The blonde threw up her hands. "Look at us! We're really three basket cases, aren't we?" And then I saw her tears start to flow. At the same time, however, Evie's own were starting to dry.

#

Bringing Pinnacle out of her funk was going to be a major undertaking. I had a lot of work to do before I'd have to go back to the motel and meet my mother coming in.

To sober up Penny, I had to help her get all the toxins out of her body. She also needed a good shot of self-respect. I took my hostess into the bathroom and stripped her down for a cold shower. She didn't object at first, but the cascade gave her goose pimples in seconds. Shouting, the woman tried to get out, but I held her in place. She couldn't have been too upset, though. Otherwise, as an ultra, she could have slammed me against the wall with a mind-blast.

I drew her out, her teeth chattering, and quickly patted her dry with a thick towel. Then put a larger towel around her for warmth and let her flop down on the bed while I rummaged through her dressers for fresh underwear. This I shoved them into her trembling hands. Afterwards, I assisted Pinnacle in donning a clean blouse and pantsuit.

If she was going to go out, it was absolutely necessary to bring her snarled hair into order. I did my best and, as a finishing touch, applied some makeup, which put back a little of the color she was missing. Through all this, Penny hadn't said much, but her demeanor suggested that she was grateful enough to be with someone trying to be helpful.

Once I had Pinnacle looking like a real lady doctor, I heated some instant coffee in the kitchen microwave. Penny, on the sofa, received the mug into both her hands, as if afraid she might drop it -- as she easily could have done. The effects of alcohol would be a drag on her system for the next few hours.

I left her briefly to fix Evie a snack from the refrigerator. The appliance needed a serious restock, but there still remained a little juice and some cheese and crackers.

Behind me, Penny resumed talking. "I suppose you want to get your lost magic back.”

“Yes? Do you have any ideas?”

“Where were did you last put them?”

"Very funny. By the way, when were you and the Mantra of this world last together?"

She blinked thoughtfully. "In January, after Lukasz and Eden came back from the Godwheel.” Pinnacle paused. “Are you absolutely sure that you're not the same person I know? You talk and act a lot like her!"

"Not so loud,” I said, casting a backward glance toward Evie. “From what you’re saying, your past history here sounds like the one that I know.”

Pinnacle frowned. “Why are you so convinced that you're not from this planet?”

“The history here is different. How much do you know about alternate dimensions?"

"I haven't had any reason to study them. Do you often slip into other realities?"

"Happily, no. The last time was last month.”

The blonde eyed me carefully. "Yes, I can see that in your mind. Did you steal somebody else's body there, too?"

"No, I didn't. I went over to that plane physically. I don't know why it’s different this time.”

“What sort of world was it?”

I shook my head. “It was a gut-wrencher. I met Eden Blake; she's still alive there, still married, and has a happy family. When I realized my being there could only cause her problems, I went home as soon as I could figure out how to do that.”

“Couldn’t you do that again, here?”

“No, I’d need Mantra powers to bring it off.”

“Of course. Sorry.”

I checked the clock. "Around six I'll have to meet with my – with Eden's – mother. You'd better come with us.”

“Why?”

“For your own safety. A little while ago you seemed suicidal."

Pinnacle shrugged. I took that to mean that she was willing to go along with my suggestion.

"Just be careful not to say too much when I introduce you to Barbara. If she realizes that you’re falling-down drunk, she'll start nagging me about my terrible choice in shrinks."

"And your mother agrees that you need a 'shrink' because you've lost your memory, right?"

"Right. That’s the cover story I gave her this morning. But Barbara’s thought that that I've been off my rocker since last year. I didn’t want to tell her that I’m a totally different person living inside her dead daughter’s body. As things stand, she'll be glad to have me checked out.”

"Mothers are wonderful."

"Yeah! They are!" Evie piped in.

Pinnacle smiled. "It looks like you've made a big hit with at least one member of your family, Lu."

I shook my head. "Not me. I only just got here. By the way, when you meet my Mom, what name are you going to give her?”

"Lammars. Penelope Lammars," the doctor replied.

"Is that for real?"

"Not by a long shot. The last name comes from a movie character I like."

"I guess you'd need to use a false name with Nu-Ware still looking for you."

"Who ever said that I had a real name?"

"Is this something we ought to be discussing in front of Evie?"

Pinnacle glanced away. "I wish I didn't have to discuss it at all. But I'll explode if I don'’t talk to somebody.”

“I'm listening."

“Not yet,” she said. “It's complex, it’s crazy, and I’m way, way too fuzzy-mined. I wouldn't want to make you run away from me screaming."

"It's not easy to make me scream," I assured her.

"Well, I feel like screaming. I’d also like to get some rest before we have to go. You can put a DVD on for Evie. I've got a few titles that she’d probably like.”

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 5

THE WOUNDED WORLD
A Story of Mantra
Written 2006 by Aladdin
Revision and Editing by Christopher Leeson
Posted Nov.. 21, 2020
Revised Nov. 22, 2020
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THE ANGEL AND THE APE

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears
Did he smile, his work to see;
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

William Blake

With Penelope Lammars away getting some shut-eye, Evie and I watched The Miracle on 34th Street. Being restless, I could hardly follow the story. But there wasn’t much else for me to do, not until Barbara Freeman arrived in town. Another thing that bothered me was my feeling of responsibility for the Evie and Gus of this world. On top of everything else, I couldn't get my mind off Penny’s condition. Something had gone wrong in her life, something so bad that it had driven her to drink.

When the movie ended, I shook Pinnacle awake and put both her and my daughter into the car. The drive to Budget Inn took us through some bad traffic, but I’d dealt with a lot worse since the automobile had been invented. We were only at the motel for a short time before Barbara Freeman showed up.

After brief introductions and a few pleasant words, the still-tipsy Penny excused herself and retired to the car. Evie and stayed behind to help “Mom” register and settle in to a room of her own. Whatever she’d thought of Pinnacle, she didn't say a word. She simply told me that she was glad that I’d I'd found a psychiatrist so quickly. I felt obligated to give her a cover story about Penny, claiming that she and I had been friends in college. I elaborated that she’d done great work in a psychiatric clinic back East before coming to California to start her own practice. As soon as I could, I took my leave on the excuse that Penny and I were going to get re-acquainted over dinner and, later, would discuss of my memory problems.

I took Penelope back to her own place; my watch was reading seven by then. That reminded me that contacting Lauren was crucial. I selected her number from my phone list and her father picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Sherwood? This is Eden Blake. May I speak to Lauren?"

"Oh, of course, Mrs. Blake,” he answered cordially. “Lauren’s told me that you've moved away from Canoga Park. I guess nobody could really blame you. Hopefully, we aren't going to lose a good neighbor like you permanently."

"I hope not either. But I left town in too much of a rush to get everything done. I think Lauren might be able to help me with that, if she has the time."

"Sure. I’ll call her. Just a minute!"

I waited tensely. After a minute, Lauren's voice came on.

"M-- Eden?"

Embarrassing moment. Her stumble reminded me that, unlike the Lauren I knew, this Lauren was aware that I was -- or used to be -- Mantra. I would have to speak to her guardedly.

“Where are you?” the girl asked.

"San Francisco. We can't talk over any public line. I’m in a bad situation and you’re one of the few people I can talk to about it."

"Yeah, okay."

“Just a minute, Lauren,” I said, looking back at Pinnacle.

"Penny, I need to ask Lauren to call me back on some secure line. Can you recommend one?"

The melancholy blonde nodded. "My line here is heavy-duty secure.” She jotted down a number on a pad and me handed the page. I took the sheet.

"Lauren,” I said, “I can't say too much just now. Can you find a public phone, maybe -- without your dad becoming suspicious?"

"Fortunately, there’s at least one public phone left in the neighborhood. When should I ring you up?" she whispered.

"Maybe after your Dad’s in bed. Would you feel safe going out that late?" I asked.

"Are you kidding?"

Silly me; she was the "new Mantra" after all, and sounded as cocky as all hell.

"Sorry, this arrangement takes a little getting used to." I read Penny’s number to her. “When can I expect your call?”

“Is eleven o’clock too late?”

"Not at all. Great. You're super."

"Funnnn-ny."

We said goodbye.

I sat there, reflecting that Lauren had sounded normal and levelheaded, at least for a teenager. That was definitely a big improvement over the way she had flipped out when she’d gotten powers the first time. Back then, she had come at me with intent to kill.

#

I had brought over some evening clothes back from the motel. By the time I was dressed for dinner, Penny was likewise ready. She suggested a cafe that she liked and, upon arrival, we requested a private spot. The attendant escorted us to a candlelit table behind a row of potted fronds.

Left alone, I kicked off the conversation with: "It's unbelievable how much you look and talk like the Pinnacle I know."

"Well, I just hope that she’s in better shape than I am."

“How did that happen? What put you over the deep end?”

She glanced away. "It's a hard subject to talk about it, Lukasz. I've found out some really disgusting things."

“About what?”

“About myself.”

“I’ve never found anything disgusting about you, except for your sense of humor. What’s happened?"

She met my glance this time, the candlelight dancing in her cerulean eyes. "You of all people should know what's wrong! You saw it the day we met!” Then she paused. “I mean, it was right in front of the other Mantra."

I frowned. "I'm here to listen. Give me the straight scoop.”

She laughed, but with a shrill edge. "I don't know where to start. I always try to come off as cool and wise. But I do have emotions, and they always trip me up. When they click in, they can switch off my sense of reason."

"So I've noticed!"

She shook her head. "It's about all I can do to keep myself from running and screaming right now, so be on guard."

"I will,” I promised.

Pinnacle started out with a non sequitur: "What's the world going to do, without Mantra to look after it?"

"The world is going to be all right," I advised. "It already has a new Mantra. Or haven't you heard?"

She narrowed her eyes. "From what I’ve gathered from your thoughts, Lauren is the ‘New Mantra' now. Did that girl steal your powers? Or did they somehow transfer to her on their own?”

I shook my head. "All I know is that the Lauren back home is a natural-born ultra. Evie tells me that I lost my magic after being injured in a fight."

“How powerful is this Lauren?”

“It’s creepy. She came out of the gate as a powerhouse. When I went toe to toe with her the first time, she packed an incredible wallop, even though I had my magic armor boosting me, and she didn’t. She almost took me down, and I don’t think it was only because I was trying not to hurt her.”

“Can a child be trusted to control so much sorcery?”

“She's sixteen, and a thousand things can go wrong whenever a kid tries to play ultra. But let’s talk about you instead. You're saying that you have a problem. What is it?”

Pinnacle glanced down. “Do you remember the first time we met?"

"Who could forget it? Your boss sent you at me like a guard dog. But what does that have to do with anything?"

She swallowed hard. "It has everything to do with everything. Remember how I used my mind to evolve into a woman of the far future?”

I certainly did. "That was weird. How much control over your own body do you actually have?"

"I have a lot of control. But think back to when you used your magic to flip my control switch, to throw my evolution into fast-reverse. What did I look like then?"

"Ahh, well, you looked a lot like a...gorilla."

"Bingo!"

"Is that what's upsetting you? A bad hair day?"

She dropped her voice. "Don't you get it? Why should a Homo sapiens devolve into a -- great ape? You may come from the Dark Ages, Lu, but sometime since then you must have heard that humans didn't descend from gorillas."

I shrugged. "I’ve seen a ton-load of strangeness; I’ve learned to just go with the flow."

"I should have realized the truth at that minute, but I think NuWare had played with my mind, to keep me from asking myself hard questions. Once I was out of their influence, I started removing elements of their conditioning, one piece at a time. It's been like picking boot-jacks out of a pair of jogging pants."

“What is it that NuWare doesn’t want you to remember?”

Her lips tightened into a thin line; I could hardly hear her next whisper: "They didn't want me to realize that I'm not, and never have been, a human being."

#

Now that the ice was broken, Pinnacle seemed to be in a rush to tell me everything. I just listened.

According to my friend, she had remained clueless until she’d developed an interest in human genome studies. She began with an analysis of the available research, mostly by hacking into university and private laboratory data banks.

Most of these studies affirmed that all the other mammals on Earth appeared to have been better built than was humankind. The modern human genome seemingly held thousands of unused pieces. These are popularly called “junk DNA.” In late days, there have arisen theories that that ultra powers might actually be supported by portions of this material, and also some diseases, both great and small.

Her preliminary readings encouraged Pinnacle to start a serious independent genetic study. She learned that homo sapiens didn’t fit in well with every other form of life on the planet. He had fewer chromosomal pairs than other hominids, including the most advanced of them, Neanderthal. Also, about 98.8 percent of what Homo sapiens did have in his genetic makeup was junk DNA. It didn't make any sense. How could the most intellectually advanced animal upon the face of the earth function even survive, much less thrive, if he was built out of bits and pieces, like a scrap-metal sculpture? The accumulating data eventually made Penny realize that mankind couldn’t have evolved naturally. It seemed more like it had been built rapidly, and not very well. If it hadn’t been Nature that put the planet's dominant species together, who or what pulled it off?

Penny had found that available research literature was very flawed. University and corporate scientists are by nature afraid to ask the hard questions. They simply ignored things that didn’t fit in with accepted ideas from the ivory tower. Their bosses didn’t complain; they were all in on the game and they were all playing it together.

According to a few honest researchers – usually labeled “controversial” – the human race, by the weight of the evidence, had to have descended from a very small population that existed as little as 5000 years ago. The “ancient aliens” people ran with the idea and gained the scorn of the establishment by speculating that a population so tiny could conceivably have been produced inside a genetics lab. But in plain fact, whatever his means of origin, modern man gave every sign of having been put together using the organic equivalent of robber bands and chewing gum.

“If any of this is supposed to make sense,” my companion said, “it would seem that mankind was created for a narrow purpose – to have brain power and a creative imagination. The builders apparently stuffed all the leftover pieces into the box and closed it."

So, Pinnacle was left with a mystery and went after the truth like a bloodhound. She started out with a study of her own genetics, letting herself stand in for a typical human specimen. She was looking for human genetic patterns that were inconsistent with those of the higher mammals and fossil hominids.

The trouble was, there was nothing in her own genetic makeup that wasn’t an anomaly. Pinnacle, without wanting to, had discovered a completely new paradox – the mystery of her own being. Having found out that she was a “freak,” she forgot about the human genome business and tried to discover what sort of creature she actually was.

She wondered if her parents had been strange, too. But her whole life story was a mystery to her. She had no living family connections. Although she had eidetic memory covering thousands of topics, she inexplicably retained only sketchy impressions concerning her own younger years. She began to realize that these bits were not real memories, but “recordings” that had been artificially imposed onto a blank mind, probably by the scientists of NuWare.

It figured. Science had gotten dirty as of World War II. Penny had learned about the black ops experiments back then, aimed at implanting false memories as a means of controlling mass populations once they conquered them. The big-nation intelligence agencies, proliferating like locus after the war, had carried on the same evil work, mainly aiming at controlling their own populations. She inevitably came to doubt everything that she’d thought she had known about herself. For her peace of mind, this was very disorienting.

To start filling in the blank spaces in her past, Penny searched the records of the schools and places of employment that she remembered attending, albeit in a sketchy way. She found out that she could verify almost nothing from her memories. Her schools and universities had preserved no records about her studies or even her attendance. Basically, she could find no evidence to prove that she had ever lived at all.

The implications of these discoveries obsessed her. Pinnacle went so far as to get a court order to take samples of genetic material from the graves of her deceased parents. A thorough testing proved that she was not related to the buried couple at all!

Delving further, Pinnacle discovered that the only known daughter ever born to her so-called parents had actually died in infancy, leaving nothing behind except a birth certificate. That was the very birth certificate found in her NuWare files. Someone had used the document to built a false identity for her. But if Penny was not whom she was supposed to be, it begged the question: who was she, really?

Having reached a dead end, she checked and rechecked her DNA. What was apparent from the first proved out. Penelope Lammars could not deny that she did not fit anywhere inside the human race. Her body, presumably, had been grown from the heavily-edited chromosomes of a...gorilla. She had had no real parents and, probably, had been born to a human surrogate mother as part of the experiment. When the facts could no longer be denied, Pinnacle had stopped working and started drinking.

My friend gave a weary laugh. "Lu, do you know what I’m really afraid of?"

"Penny..." I began.

“I’m afraid of having a child that’s made of the same garbage as I am!” she declared. “I won't have children. I'd have a tubal ligation before I’d ever let that happen. Whatever I am, it has to die with me."

Her tears had started to flow copiously. I was sure that she wanted me to say something, say anything to make her feel better, but I couldn’t utter a word except, “Why?"

She looked up. "What do you mean, why?! Don't you understand? I'm a species of livestock! I have no rights, not even under the law. If I were killed, it wouldn't even be murder. No wonder NuWare looks at me like I’m escaped lab rat. That’s what I am!”

Penny seemed to be losing it. I placed my hands over her balled fists. "I mean, why do such a terrible thing to yourself? If you didn't start out human, it doesn't mean that you're not human now. Didn’t you say that the whole rest of the human race might have come out of an experiment? Your origin might not be of the usual kind, but the results have been pretty damned good. NuWare, even if it’s only acted from selfish motives, did something positive by bringing you into the world."

Pinnacle stood up, angry. "I was hoping that you, of all people, could understand, especially since you’re pretty damned freakish yourself! Don't patronize me! I can't bear it." She shoved her chair back and stomped toward the exit. I rose, wanting to say something, wanting to call her back, but I didn't know how to relieve so much anguish and despair.

Suddenly, all on her own, the young woman – for I still saw her as such -- turned back my way, her expression incredulous.

"Good God, Lu!”

“What?”

“I heard you thinking.”

“What was I thinking?”

“That you actually meant what you were saying."

#

I thought Penny needed a glass of wine, and so signaled to the waiter and asked for a bottle of the good stuff. "Wherever your body comes from," I told my companion over drinks, "the spirit inside you is human in every way. That kind of spirit has to come from the same place that every other human spirit does."

She shifted uncomfortably. "I've never been into religion," she said.

"Good grief, Penny! Last winter you put my consciousness into the body of a clone! When you were doing that, didn’t you realize that you were proving the existence of the soul?"

She was silent for a moment, avoiding my glance and attentively stirring her wine glass with a swizzle stick, "I call the thing a life-entity,” she sighed. “What you’d call the 'soul' is probably only a natural, bio-imprinted recording of sensory impressions that allows for coherent thought and patterned behavior."

"Soul, ‘life-entity,’ you're only playing with words."

"I just find it hard to believe in the ---" she trailed off.

"In what, the paranormal? That's a damned funny thing to say to Mantra, the Golden Sorceress."

She cleared her throat. "I can't help it. I'm hard-wired to be rational. If I can't see something under a microscope, if it doesn't produce a wave pattern on an oscilloscope, if it won’t grow in a culture, we shouldn’t assume that it’s real."

"You modern people! You think you’re respecting reality, but you’re really searching for ways to avoid it! You assume that ancient people were backwards but, from everything I see, we understood the world a lot better than your generation seems to. It was plain to us from the start that religion and science were only two sides of the same coin. Why else were all the best minds of the Renaissance both scientists and theologians at the same time? They'd be stumped to understand how people today can suppose that religion and science are in any way at odds. They both seek to understand the laws of Nature.”

"So what are you trying to say, Lulu?"

I ignored the annoying nickname. "You're a genius, Penny. Can't you figure it out? A human being isn’t just a machine made of meat. Your own body is whatever your body happens to be, but you have a spirit of the highest order. You're brilliant, funny, brave, generous, and compassionate. You're devoted to your friends and...and..."

"You’re not saying anything that can’t be said about a pet poodle," she broke in.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call a poodle 'brilliant.'"

That got a laugh out of her, her first of the evening. "You’re making the same mistake I did; you're being blinded by emotion. You want to see me the way you want to, but I’m something else. I don’t know what I should be called, but I'm not human, not by any objective standard."

"Well, you're a pretty good approximation," I said. "You're easy on the eyes and you come across as human in spirit."

"If I'm so wonderful, would you like to marry me?"

"Now who's not being serious?"

"You're so old fashioned, Lukasz!"

I regarded her levelly. "I was born in the year 430 A.D. before it was called 430 A.D. Who has a better right to be old fashioned?"

"Well, whatever you say, you can’t change my whole world outlook in just the time it takes to down a glass of Moccagatta.”

“No, I can’t. But you’re smart enough to figure things out for yourself one of these days.”

“Never mind me. I’ve been sitting here thinking that I can do something super-great for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can rustle you up a male body just like I did before. The way I see it, it wouldn't be an improvement, but if it would make you feel a little better...."

I shook my head. "That's something I've thought about a lot, but my life has gotten a lot messier than it was before.”

“Messier? How?”

“Eden Blake saved my life by offering me this body, and she asked only one thing in return – to protect the children. I take my promises seriously. The kids are still so young. They need parenting and their father isn’t offering them much of that. If I became a new version of the old Lukasz, I’d have to get out of the children’s lives. How could I possibly keep their custody? Gus still thinks I am his mother, and Evie loves me for being Mantra. If I can’t pass muster as Eden Blake, I don’t think either one of them would be happy with me. And another thing, I’d like to get my – Eden’s – powers back. There's at lot wrong with the world and I want to go back to straightening things out.”

“Are you saying you'd rather live someone else's life instead of going back to your own?”

“My real life ended before Rome fell. The life I’ve been living since then has been insane,” I told her. “And if I got a new body it wouldn’t fit in with the present-day needs of the Blake family. It could have been different if I’d been able to marry Eden, as I wanted to. But without her I’m out of the clan. In that case, the kindest thing I could do for Gus and Evie would be to disappear."

"It seems to me that Gus is a very big part of your problem. Why haven't you said more about him so far?" she asked.

I sighed. "Because what's happened is so painful that a large part of me is trying to forget about it. Everything that's happened to Gus wrenches my guts just to think about. Even though he’s not my own Gus, I can’t help but care."

"So, none of this wild stuff is happening back in your own world, I take it."

"No. It was a perfectly normal summer for both of the kids. As for me, well, nothing is ever normal."

“I heard about what happened to the Blake family last summer and tried to contact you. I found out that you were in Europe, whereabouts unknown.”

"I don’t know where your Mantra was at the time, but I was in Britain on a mission for Aladdin.”

She frowned thoughtfully. "Why is it that your world seems to be so much like ours in some ways, and so different in others?"

“I’m sure I don’t know,” I said. “Did you ever hear of an ultra hero named Contrary?"

"Is he in the comic books?"

"No, she was -- is -- famous in my world. She's an original member of our UltraForce.”

“I’ve never heard of her.”

“I wonder if Contrary was even born into this reality. And how many other people are missing? Was there an Adolf Hitler here?”

“Unfortunately, yes," she said with a grimace, "but that’s old news. I have to wonder whether you're invested enough in helping the Gus of this world to be willing do try something really extreme?”

"I can be pretty extreme when I have to be. What do you have in mind?"

"Here's what. I have the know-how for cloning bodies, even if I don't have the specialized equipment just yet. When I was at NuWare, I was curious enough about the subject to hack into the company's research database. I downloaded quite a few gigabytes of company secrets. What I'm trying to say is that if we grew a new body for Gus, I could transfer his -- soul -- into it, like I did for you."

I regarded her keenly. "Would that get rid of his magic and his disfigurement?"

"It should. But we have to find out whether his DNA has been been mutated by what happened. If that’s the case, a clone would be just like the Gus who exists now.”

“That wouldn't get us anywhere,” I said.

But her face remained optimistic. “No, it wouldn’t. But even in the worst case scenario, we wouldn't be totally beaten. Like, can we recover a bit of his pre-mutation DNA?. Do you think that there could be some saved tissue from a past medical procedure?”

I shook my head. “All I know is that he hasn't needed any serious medical attention since I've been with him.”

“Well, there's still another option. You once told me that he’s the spitting image of his father. If Gus, Sr. contributed a cell sample, I could develop a little-boy version of him and incarnate Gus, Jr. into it."

"You could?"

"Sure. Everything about human cloning is illegal, of course," Penny confided, “but we all know the sort of crap that government people are involved in. Their hypocrisy aside, what Big Brother doesn't know can't hurt us. If the transplant worked, I might also be able to wipe away young Gus's memories of the last few months. That would protect him from the psychological trauma that he’s been sustaining."

I regarded the lady scientist. If ever there were angels in real life, Penny would be one of those flying at the front of the flock.

"Please, Lukasz," the blonde ultra chided me, "you'll make me blush."

I sat back and sighed. Mind readers! Love 'em or leave 'em.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 6

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
Originally written 2006
Posted Dec. 21, 2020 
Revised Dec. 22, 2020
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WHAT ARE LITTLE GIRLS MADE OF?

"Every house a den, every man bound;
The shadows are filled with specters,
And the windows wove over with curses of iron..." 

William Blake
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As soon as we got back to Penny's digs, I stretched out on the couch. Such a day!

Pinnacle had crossed into the kitchen and now reappeared with coffee cups on a tray. She offered me one, "From what you’re saying, Lu, you're carrying quite a load of trouble. What do you need fixed first?"

I sat up and took a cup. “If I'm ever going to get back to my real home, I'll first need to recover my Mantra powers."

She set the tray aside and occupied the easy chair across from me. "Okay. But you’ve been vague about how you lost them in the first place."

I shrugged. "I wasn't the one who lost them. I’m from another universe, remember? All I know is what Evie told me. Lauren probably knows something, too, and I’ll need to talk to her before we go off on a wrong track. Right now, my working theory is that Mantra got hurt fighting Gus."

"What kind of an attack did Gus make?"

"Search me. Evie used the word 'zapped.' The boy probably let loose some sort of magical blast. That was the first thing I learned to do. On my first night in Eden Blake's body, I incinerated a street creep who came at me. When I saw him as a danger, it triggered itself automatically, like a self-defense mechanism.”

Penny took a sip of coffee and nodded, satisfied with its flavor. “That strongly suggests that your emotions and your abilities are tied together.”

“I guess so. They get stronger when I'm made furious. Where do ultra powers arise from anyway?”

"Nobody knows for sure. We've talked about some of this before. Remember how I said that the most compelling theory is that ultra powers come out of the so-called 'junk DNA' that everyone possesses. I've already mentioned now it makes up about ninety-eight point eight percent of the whole of a person’s DNA.”

I cocked my eye. "I was wondering about t hat. How does DNA fit in with the sky blast that hit that San Francisco trolley? Aladdin’s research says that most of the fifty-nine people inside the vehicle developed ultra powers afterwards. I know that the source of that surge originated on the Moon, sent out by an A.I. brain from outer space."

Pinnacle nodded. "That’s a very well studied case. Ironically, one of the people on that same trolley ride was my old boss – my old slave master -- J.D. Hunt.”

“A billionaire riding on a public trolley?”

“That's J.D. for you. He likes to go slumming incognito, like the kings of old. I never saw him use any ultra power, though. Still, when he was near me, I could sometimes sense an odd energy emanation from him. Maybe ultra abilities will eventually be manifesting in him. Or maybe they already have and he’s keeping it secret. After all, only a handful of the people on that trolley have so far stood up and gone public with their ultra powers.”

"Does everyone have the potential to become an ultra? If so, what, exactly, is an ultra?"

“Nothing on that score’s been proven. Most of what’s said, even by scientists, is crap that shouldn’t be listened to. It’s like that grandstanding that Carl Sagan used to do about his belief in life on other planets. It was all a lot of double talk just to make headlines and sell books."

"Well, I happen to know that there is life on other planets."

"Sure, but Sagan would always step up and try to deny the real proof, so that nobody could pin him down on anything. Fortunately, there’s still a few real scientists left out there. The most active theory is that an ultra is a person who can tap into unsuspected, genetically-enabled capabilities. From what you’ve told me before, Eden Blake must have been born into a bloodline of already-activated ultras. But, just as that streetcar incident shows, ultra potentials are carried dormant in most people until activated. Certain phenomena, both natural and artificial, can stimulate them. I'm wondering if the ancient gods weren't actually...."

"Ultras?"

She gave me a “not quite” look. "I can see Hercules as some sort of B.C. Hardcase, but god-like beings seem to be on a whole different level. But it is possible that gods started out like everyone else, except that their DNA potential was somehow activated to nearly 100%. It’s logical, isn’t it? If we took an ultra and kept adding to him more and more powers and abilities, he’d progressively become more and more godlike.”

"I've met a few gods in my day, so I know that they’re more than just mythology. The Godwheel, especially, used to be crawling with them.”

“The Godwheel is that super-sized artificial solar system in deep space that you’ve talked about before?”

I nodded. “The toughest so-called god I’ve ever run into was Loki. He could do almost anything! I'm still not sure why a nut-case like that let Primeval and me get away with our lives.”

“Any ideas?”

“Maybe it was because we'd shown off enough power to amuse him, but not enough to be a threat.”

"Okay, but let’s get back to the jump-start idea. If something can turn on ultra powers, couldn’t something else turn them off?"

“I can’t say. You’re the scientist.”

“I think a study like that would take years and I’m sure that you don’t want to wait that long.”

“You’ve got that right! I’d like to get my condition cleared up with just an office call.”

“Well, that’s a tall order. But I have an alternate idea.”

“Since when?”

“Since we were driving back from your mother’s room.”

“That’s fast work. What’s the idea?”

“Lauren is a witch who's extremely similar to Mantra, isn't she?"

"Yes, as far as I know."

"Well, studying her physical and genetic makeup might allow me to map out the genome for a healthy witch. Where your makeup differs from hers, that could point to the source of your problem. I hope she hero-worships you enough to put up with what could turn into a long series of tests."

I shrugged. "I think she might. She's quite a fan."

"That would be a break. But what about Strike -- ah, Warstrike, as you call him? You said today that you helped him when his precognitive abilities started to fail."

“I tried transferring a little healing energy into him. It worked like a charm. Afterwards, he got back into form.”

She regarded me with narrowed eyes. “Could his problem have been psychosomatic?”

“I don't know. Maybe.”

“Is it possible that Mantra could be suffering from psychosomatic symptoms herself?”

“The other one? How can I know that? Speaking for myself, I think I've got my head on pretty straight."

Pinnacle stroked her chin. "I’m not saying that your problem is merely psychological. A physical abnormality can come out of a mental problem. Like, have you heard of hysterical paralysis? The shock of what happened to Mantra on Friday might have traumatized her. Think of it like this. The mind is sort of like software and the body is hardware. The software can activate a switch that affects the operation of the hardware."

"Hell! Where does that leave us?"

"If the problem started with the other Mantra being traumatized, your powers might eventually reset on their own. But that may take some time. After all, you haven't been in that body for very long.”

"Are you saying that Mantra may have lost her powers because something clicked in her mind telling her that they were doing her more harm than good?”

"I didn't say that, but it’s possible. The hysterically blind don't set out wanting to be sightless. But if their subconscious sees a problem, it may act on the physical senses in strange ways."

"So, are you saying that we should wait and see what happens? That’s not very far from saying, “take two aspirins and call back in six months.'”

Penny's sighed. "If your problem fixes itself, we're home free. But it could be that you need a fresh jump-start. The Entity is no more, but people are getting ultra powers from the Theta Virus. What if Theta is not a natural disease? What if its infecting microbes are really artificial nanites constructed to create ultras? Those who have worked on it have been very secretive about what they found.”

“Yes, like that Aladdin project that Warstrike and I smashed. They were using hired mercenaries as guinea pigs to form an army of ultras to help the Deep State take over the United States.”

“You got it! For now, though, I we should look at another fix that I've been thinking about."

“Yeah? What?”

“You said that you restored Strike's power by squirting a little energy into him. What if we persuaded someone – someone like Lauren – to give you the same treatment?"

"It won't work."

"Why would you suppose that?"

"It's too simple. Too fast. Too painless. I never get a break.”

"Tsk, tsk. You're just loaded with negativity, Lu. Please remember that thoughts will act like things. The best vitamin shot in the world is a positive attitude. But I'm only throwing out ideas right now. We'll know more about what’s ailing you once we've recorded your molecular profile."

"I hope you won’t just end up telling me that I’m crazy. I get plenty of that from Mother."

“The poor lady. Life hasn’t been fair to her, has it? She doesn't know yet that she has a complete stranger for a daughter. But on the subject of mothers, do you remember your real mother after fifteen-hundred years?”

“How could I forget? She was a Polish tribal princess. When the Huns moved in, she was sent West for safety. In Gaul she learned about Christianity and converted. I was named after one of the Gospel writers.”

Penny smiled. "You’ve been living like an ultra for centuries, without really having been one until lately. After you became an ultra, how did you feel about it? What are the drawbacks to being a super-witch?"

“Are you figuring to write a book?”

“A case study maybe. We certainly can't rule out that there's a psychological component to your condition.”

I shook my head. "I have the same problems that most ultras do. I have to juggle a private life with a secret one. The tension is bone-crushing. I have to neglect important responsibilities and cut corners on things, things that I’d prefer to deal with straight up. One of the worst things is having to lie to people that I care about. Living a false life is damned lonely. Being a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma is no fun.”

“Don’t I know it! But, even so, you seem to have a few devoted friends. Evie loves you, for one.”

“She's too little and too innocent to give me what I need – a confidant. Warstrike – pardon me – Strike knows a lot about the real me, too, but his idea of handling a problem, especially one of mine, is to make a joke of it."

“I've been wondering. Does Evie know that her mother used to be a man?”

I winced. “I'm not sure. I told her who I really was on the day that Eden died, but for some reason she's been acting like she can’t remember what I said.”

"I see. Is there anything else that you'd like to get off your chest? No double entendre intended."

I shook my head. "I always feel under pressure. Being an ultra seems to attract enemies and danger. And I’m not just being paranoid. A lot of ultras have lost loved ones from sudden attacks. I lost Eden that way. Warstrike lost his family. Hardcase's Squad was wiped out by a mechanical assassin called NM-E.”

"That's good.”

“Good?”

“It’s good that you’ve stopped clowning around with my questions. You're baring your soul. The more I know about your inner workings, the easier it will be to construct a cure."

“So you think there’s a cure?”

“I don’t know that for a fact, but we have more than one option. For now anyway, just try to share as much pain as can bear.”

I nodded resignedly. "If you want to hear about pain, I've got plenty. I'm haunted by a fear that my secret life is going to get the kids harmed. And my life is so dangerous. I know how much it would hurt them if they suddenly lost me. I watched Evie suffering after her mother died. It made her angry against the whole world;for a while she even acted like she hated me. Luckily, I behave, sound, and look like her mother, so much so that I think she stops her hurting by telling herself that she really hasn't lost her mom. But loving me has a downside, too. She almost saw me die last Friday."

"From the sound of things, maybe part of you actually would like to stop being an ultra.”

“But it wasn't me who lost power. It was the other Mantra.”

“Yes, but the two of you may have been so much alike on the mental plain that you would both have the same mental configuration.”

“Isn't that a piece of luck?”

“And we can’t forget certain other issues, especially the ones that come from the elephant in the room.”

“What elephant?”

“I’m not sure that I’ve ever met anyone who has taken the kind of psychic body-blows that you’ve been taking. Like, you’ve had plenty of life experience as a man, then suddenly you have to live as a woman. You had to take responsibility for a family without any family experience. And you had to make the big transition look seamless -- even to the point of denying that your original life even happened. That’s a load that could destroy the mental health of most normal people.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing that I’ve never had so much as a waving acquaintance with normality.”

“I get it how stressed you are, Lu. You’re living three lives, not just two. You have a fragmented personality and each fragment has its own needs. Which one of those lives could you most easily give up?"

I thought about that. "I can't let go of Lukasz," I said at last. "He’s not old news; he's actually my core. I'd be a basket case if I lost my basic identity. Lukasz is what makes me different from Eden. When she tried to be Mantra, she couldn't pull it off. To be Mantra, a person has to be an instinctual fighter. Eden wasn’t a fighter and so she lost a battle when she could have won it. But going against the odds to win makes up the whole bedrock of Lukasz’s psychology."

"And Eden?"

"Me trying to be Eden is like existing as a fish out of water. But living this life depends on me bringing it off. For one thing, everything I have was passed on to me from her. I didn’t have to build a new life because I could step into hers. On top of that, becoming Eden has given me a completely different view of the world. I suddenly had a home, a family, and friends of a kind that I’ve never had before. I thought I had BFFs with the knights of Archimage, but when the chips were down, they turned out to be only some guys who happened to be in the same foxhole with me. When I watched the last of them die, it didn't hit me. I just shrugged and walked away. It was then that I found out that I was emotionally dead on the inside, something that I didn't realize until that moment.

“It started me thinking and I figured out that Lukasz’s thought processes were a mess. Looking at the world through his eyes for so long was actually keeping me from really connecting with it. He had gotten too hard over the centuries. I came to realize that I'd lost something, somewhere back in time. But making the effort to see things through Eden's eyes has shown me a new perspective. I mean that things that had always seemed important before suddenly became unimportant; what had always seemed unimportant, like family life, has given me a whole new foundation. To Lukasz, blood vengeance was a great motivator; but by standing in Eden’s shoes I’m finding out how much a child's hug can mean. I’m also realizing that that there's a world of difference in being a protector instead of a simple hitman.”

"And Mantra?"

I scowled. "Mantra is important, too. This is a rotten world. Every day is a battle. It’s not just the out and out criminals that make all the problems. It’s the system. Governments, far from helping, keep everything in chaos. Whenever the world pushes too hard on Eden, or on the people that she cares about, Mantra can charge in and start kicking ass. In a funny way, she actually has more to do with Lukasz than she does with Eden, I think. Eden was courageous in some ways, but as fragile as porcelain in others. Being an ultra is different. There’s an exhilaration in letting the world know that Mantra's on the scene to make things good. She has what it takes to stand up to anything. The hard part is that if you keep helping people, they start looking up to you. Because they think of you as more than human, an ultra has to act in ways to keep them from being let down." I looked at Penny, surprised that I was opening up so much. "Are you getting anything?"

"I think so. But before we can start rebuilding you, we need to inspect your foundations. What I most need to know is what, exactly, happened last Friday, in every detail.”

"I don't have every detail. I wasn't there. Whenever Evie tries to remember those events, they terrify her. Remember those trembling hands of hers?" Then, suddenly, I got an idea. "Say, Penny, you were able to turn off Evie's grief before. Could you possibly do the same thing again, long enough for us to question her about what she saw on Friday?"

Pinnacle’s brows knitted. "Possibly. Just be warned that there's always a risk in putting pressure on children's minds. They're so...breakable."

I squared my shoulders. “Here we are, talking about how my life. You’re hurting too. How are you gong to deal with it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how are you going to reconcile yourself abut that – that certain matter that you’ve told me about?”

She smiled, grimly perhaps. “Talking to you has been good therapy. When you look at me the same way you used to, talk to me the same way you used to, when you give me a problem to solve -- something that's so huge that it takes my mind off of myself -- I feel human again.”

Just then the phone rang.

#

"Hi, Eden, what's up?" Lauren asked.

"Laurie, I've been chomping at the bit to talk to you. This is going to sound nutzo, but I've somehow lost my memory – of the recent stuff, I mean. I’m hoping that you can help me fill in the missing gaps.”

“Wow! What do you need to remember?”

The first thing I need to know is...is whether you've found out something -- important -- about me."

"Do you mean me the fact that you're...” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You're the greatest hero ever? Or are you afraid that I've figured out those sneaky hints that Necromantra was dropping about you?"

I chilled. "Did you say Necromantra? You met her?"

"Yeah, I did. And she was one bitch of a witch, too! But honestly, Eden, how can you forget fighting with her? She tried to kill the both of us!"

Necromantra was alive! This was one of the worst things that I’d heard in months. Of all the enemies I’ve had, she was most dangerous. I was able to hide even from Boneyard in my Eden Blake identity, but Necromantra knew exactly who I was and where to find me. If she came after me again, it would be like a tabby cat squared off against a god!

"Eden? Are you still there?"

"I'm sorry.

"What else do you need to know?"

"A thousand things! I've spent the whole day trying to find out about what happened Friday evening."

"I get you, lady. How did this happen? When we last met on Monday, you seemed fine, except that you'd lost your magic."

"Well, my memory loss only hit me this morning. Here’s what I heard this morning. Evie said that you fought with a robot at the mall, the one on Sherman Way."

"You were there yourself. Have you blanked out on that, too?"

“It’s all white space for me.”

“Well, maybe you're lucky. There’s things I wish I could forget. Those first two days after getting ultra powers have been giving me nightmares. Do you remember what the robot’s name was? It was called NM-E.” 

NM-E? That was the "big robot" that Evie had mentioned? Aye-yi-yi! It was big, all right – and bad to the nth degree! Aladdin had a file on the thing and believed that it had been created by some super genius for the expressed purpose of killing off ultras."Fighting that thing isn't for kids," I said, aghast. "What happened?"

"I won, naturally, or else we wouldn't be talking, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. It’s not easy to wrap my mind around this."

Unbelievable! An inexperienced ultra kid had beaten NM-E! How? I wouldn't have wanted to take on that killing machine without a dozen other ultras backing me up. Either Lauren was incredibly powerful, or else she was incredibly lucky. I hoped that surviving a fight with NM-E hadn’t made her too cocky. One reckless move in her next ultra battle could put an end to both her luck and her life.

"Eden, can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"Why is it that ever since these powers switched on, I've become a marked woman.”

“In what way?”

“I mean, even when I’m acting like myself, the weirdest things keep coming at me. Gus, the Coven, Necromantra, all on the same night. And then NM-E blindsides me on Sunday. It's crazy. And it hasn't stopped yet. Last night I ran into an ultra-powered thief. What's going to be hitting on me next and will I survive it?"

"I know the feeling," I commiserated. "I was just talking about the same phenomenon. If you want my advice, get out of the ultra business.”

"That doesn’t click, Eden. What good will hiding do? It isn’t like I’ve been walking around with a 'Hi, I'm an ultra. Attack me,' sign on my back.”

"I'm sorry, Lauren. I don't know why these things happen. I'd be glad to become Mantra again, along with all the problems, so you could go back to your old life.”

“Now wait a minute! I never liked that life. Nobody respected me. I could never understand why I wasn’t able to make really solid friends. People called me a nerd and wouldn’t take me seriously. I felt invisible. I like the idea of being an ultra; it’s just that I don't want live every day like a clay pipe inside a shooting gallery.”

“I'll give you all the advice I can, Lauren, once this craziness settles down. But for now, can you tell me, step by step, what's been going on – to me especially – since Thursday?"

"As far as I know, nothing much happened on Thursday," the teen replied. "On Friday, I called you up about getting paid for my last babysitting job. You told me to come right over.”

“Did I sound normal?”

“Yeah! But by the time I got to your house, all hell had broken loose. I found out that Gus’d attacked you, shrunk you down to the size of a figurine, and put you inside a cracker box.”

“Shrunk me?”

How had he done that? I'd been Mantra for two years and had no idea how to pull of such a trick. How had Gus learned to do the impossible in about two minutes?

“When did your powers kick in?” I asked. “Did anything strange happen to you?”

“Plenty of strange things happened, but not until Gus let me into your house.”

“Did he look – unusual?” I asked.

“He looked even scarier than usual! He was glowing green, and levitating!”

“Lauren, do you remember what happened to his...appearance... last spring?

“Of course! Have you forgotten that, too?”

“Yes, I have.”

“But it happened long before last Thursday!”

“It's too complex to explain right now. Did Gus attack you?”

“Not at first. He was acting kind of shy and smiley, until he made a little-boy type pass at me. When I reminded him about the differences in our ages, he went berserk!

Lauren then related an amazing story, about her captivity, about finding magical armor, and realizing that her body had suddenly become a living battery of preternatural power. I couldn’t understand what had made her flame on as an ultra, unless being touched by Gus's magical aura could have given her a jump-start.

“Does it make any sense?” the girl asked.

“I’ll have to think about it. When you came back into the house, what happened next?”

“I knew I had to fight back. All I could think of was imitating what I've seen you do, I tried to hit him with a magical shot. I wasn’t sure that it would come just because I wanted it to, but it did! It was a real sizzler, but he shook it right off, as if he’d only been doused by a water sprinkler. That's when you shouted something to him from that cracker box. What you said made him so angry that he killed you.”

Killed me?

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 7

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
Originally written 2006
Posted Jan. 21, 2021

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THE KILLING MACHINE

My mother groaned, my father wept;
Into the dangerous world I leapt.

William Blake
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“It sure seemed like you were dead,” the teenager insisted.

“If you say so,” I said. “What happened next?”

“The things Gus could do were incredible; he turned your house into a holodeck full of monsters and warriors.”

She had a lot more to say, but what surprised me the most was her encounter with the phantom of Eden Blake.

This “ghost” showed up almost immediately after Lauren’s powers manifested, but before Eden was killed. All I could think was that the living Mantra was making a telepathic communication with Lauren from the cracker box on the living room table.

“You need more magic than you have,” the specter told Lauren. “Find it before it's too late.” The girl admitted that she didn’t have a clue how to do such a thing. Before Mantra could tell her anything, Gus pulled the girl back to the living room to complete their battle. When the boy attacked, Lauren managed to fend him off, if barely. When Mantra called for calm, Gus sent a sizzling bolt at his mother and apparently killed her. Then, either by luck or by inspiration, Lauren took aim and blasted the plastic joystick that the boy was holding, seemingly using it like a magic wand. Startled, the boy vanished.

Lauren was now left alone; even Evie had used the distraction to run away and take her mother’s dead body with her. Oh, my God, I thought. No wonder the tyke had been traumatized!

Confused by the crush of events, Lauren dashed outside the house. But she'd no sooner looked at the door than a police squad started to bawl orders that she drop her sword. The startled teen hesitated only for a moment and that was enough to start the panicky police shooting. Somehow, without thinking about it, the girl ghosted, turning herself into a living hologram that bullets could pass right though. This was a reflexive defense move that I’d used myself many times.

Lauren was experiencing a police riot, plain and simple. It must have been a terrifying night for them, but they seemed not to have conducted themselves at all well. The officers decided to rush at Lauren and try to beat her down with their sticks. The teen surged with power and tossed them away like leaves on the wind. She used that same gust carry her away, taking to the air with the same technique that she had used months before, when she had briefly gained Mantra powers. Once again, Lauren found herself sailing through the moon-lit night like a paper airplane. But, as soon as the girl started thinking about the mechanics of landing, she gained density and dropped precipitously to earth. Her forward momentum threw her into a bumpy roll across the grass.

Shaken but unhurt, Lauren pondered the question of how to get more magic, like Mantra wanted her to do. Just then, she became aware of the bizarre phenomenon that had been going on in the sky over Canoga Park. The full moon was bright and the sky was glowing violet. Even more amazingly, green zig-zags were sizzling overhead. But these weren’t forks of normal lightning; they came across as a whole different form of energy, writhing in place like sparks from a Jacob’s Ladder. While staring at this amazing tableau, she started to pick up an odor, not exactly with her nose, but one that touched her psyche in a way that registered a smell. She realized, correctly, that magic gave off a fragrance on the spiritual plane. She reasoned that if those bolts were magical, and if she was seeking magic, the best thing to do was to go to where these sorcerous discharges were touching down.

Lauren took to flight again, following a magical streak that touched down at the home of a person she knew from school, Heather Parks. Two squad cars were already parked in front of it, probably checking out heavy damage that the house had sustained. There were inspecting a gaping hole in one wall,one large enough to exit to a buffalo. While the green-as-grass heroine was looking things over, these jumpy police tried to shoot her down.

I sensed a pattern. The Canoga Park cops that night had been scared out of their wits and their actions were inexcusable. It sounded to me that they needed retraining, but they weren't likely to get it -- not as long as media-pandering mayors kept insisting on cutting police budgets.

Lauren got herself out of there as swiftly as possible and ended up airborne over the Mall at Sherman Way. For some reason, there was a lot of frightened shouting going on there, and so she flew through the Mall's glass doors, trying to find out what the excitement was all about. To her amazement, she saw a monstrous armored being tearing things up for no apparent reason. Coming closer, Lauren saw that the creature had four faces, the faces of Heather Parks and her three mean-girl friends!

Tho startled, she kept her wits, realizing that the girls must have been affected by wild magic abroad that night, just like Gus had been. Not wanting to use force, she started to shout, hoping to lure the weird mutant out of the mall. She got its attention, all right. As fast as a speeding bullet, the magical creature sprang off the ground and slammed a fist into the teen's face.

They fought, clawing and slapping, like two girls in a cat fight. The abomination, the stronger, threw Lauren into the decorative fountain. The monster then held Lauren down and almost drowned her but, of a sudden, she heard Mantra’s voice again, telling her that she had to fight back, that she had the power to save herself. This reminded Lauren that she controlled the elements, including water. Desperately she focused, turning the fountain water into a powerful surge that flushed the armored creature away from her. Lauren needed a breather, and so flew away, taking refuge atop an empty rooftop. Her mind was spinning. So many things were coming at her. It was like she had stepped into a whole different world. Every which way she turned, she was being forced to fight for her life.

The fledgling ultra tried to calm down and think. Her priority had to be the bringing Eden Blake back from the dead – somehow. And she had to corral Gus quickly, before his incredible bellicosity provoked him to start killing his neighbors. She also needed to stop the four-faced abomination’s rampage. The latter seemed to be the most urgent, but she knew she wasn’t strong enough to fight it toe to toe. That would take a much more powerful sorcerer than she was, someone as powerful as Gus himself. That was it! What an inspiration!

Lauren sniffed the air. She already knew that Gus’s magic, for some reason, stank like spoiled apple juice, only it was a lot more unpleasant. And she could smell him now, on a bearing leading back to the west. Buoyed up by new confidence, she flew back to the Mall to look for “Coven,” a name that she had spontaneously come up with due to the fact that Heather's group called themselves “Mantra’s Coven.” But the monster was no longer there, so Lauren chased after its rank magical scent. This led her to the nearest landfill, where Coven was, digging through the trash, probably moved by hunger. The young ultra came close enough to allow her foe to hear her mocking and jeering.

With a cry of rage, the thing sprang into the air and pursued Lauren as she fled. The teen, having summoned up a swift tailwind, sped back in Gus’s direction, all the while carrying on a running fight with her horrendous pursuer. Very soon, the two of them were over a strip mall, looking down at a squad of heavily-armed men skirmishing with the power-packing Blake boy. Whoever these military types were, Lauren thought that they were wearing suits of armor slick enough to make Star Wars stormtroopers envious.

Coven spotted Gus, too, and gave out an awful cry. Gus looked up, saw the monster, and felt like killing her. He threw green power-bolts her way but Coven wouldn’t stop. They clashed and fought close in, but in less than a minute the skirmish was over, both of them having been knocked cold. Coven, having hit the ground, broke up into four teenage bodies. The armed men, whom Gus had been holding at bay, now saw their chance take the pint-sized sorcerer. They discharged knock-out gas at the boy, and when slowed him but didn't stop him, they used some sort of launcher to snag him with what looked like electrically-charged tendrils. When he was rendered only semi-conscious, the tactical team bum-rushed the lad into a portable booth. It sounded like a tech device I knew of, one that was rigged to sap an ultra of his power.

Though Lauren didn’t know who these people were just then, I'd earlier learned from Evie that they were from Aladdin.

Fortunately, the Aladdin guys were pretty much ignoring Heather and her friends. The girls were starting to bestir themselves, confused about what was going on. Frightened by the excitement, they decided to go home and nobody stopped them.

Meanwhile, the soldiers had successfully manhandled Gus’s capsule into their van and sped away with it. To Lauren's surprise, my daughter Evie came rushed out from the shadows just then, overjoyed that her babysitter friend had showed up. The youngster explained things quickly and handed over Mantra's diminutive and inert body to Lauren, pleading with her to save her mother's life.

Lauren didn’t really know how to work that kind of miracle, but she promised to try. Not trusting the Aladdin people, having had enough of uniformed men with guns, she took flight with Mrs. Blake's body clutched in her right hand. The teen was still following Mantra’s last request, that she find magic. The Shepherd girl was glad enough that she could no longer sense either Gus or Coven, but there was something else in the air that she couldn’t ignore. Whatever it was, it was potent enough to make her gasp. She described it to me as the scent of hot cinnamon. I winced. I knew that smell, too. I couldn’t forget it and didn’t like the idea of that fragrance being so close to my home.

The spicy odor led Lauren to a junky warehouse on Hollywood Boulevard. Eager, but clueless, the girl ghosted inside to check things out. She found one big room, dusty but in use. Its shelves and cabinets were cluttered with things, mostly bottles and jars, some of them giving off powerful magical odors of their own. But there was still that dominant cinnamon smell, and it was coming from the only occupant inside that room. It was a woman who had – wouldn’t you know it – cinnamon-colored hair. Otherwise, she was wearing a cape and a creepy costume that was on the skimpy side. The stranger gave Lauren a smile that chilled her blood, and tried to engage her a conversation. She called herself “Marinna” and claimed to be Mantra’s daughter.

Well, that was true – but only in a sick, twisted way.

In actuality, Lauren was meeting my most dangerous personal enemy. Once she had been the male knight Thanasi, and the two of us had been the best of friends. But Thanasi had been turning bad unbeknownst to the rest of us knights. Worse than that, she – he – was becoming murderous and psychotic. His betrayal of Archimage's knights left him and me the only survivor. I thought that she was dead; the last time I’d seen her, my enemy was being sucked into a dimensional vortex. I’d thought she was going into deep space or something and that that was going to be the end of her. But maybe history had been different in the world where I’d found myself. That was to Lauren’s bad luck.

“Marinna” tried to play it semi-sane for a little while and pump the teen who seemed to have powers like mind, but when Lauren wouldn’t open up, Necromantra went homicidal. Their ensuing free-for-all carried them outside, where passersby distracted the redhead long enough to let Lauren slip away and dart back to the warehouse, where she had left Mantra’s body. But she only had a moment of respite before Necromantra came ghosting in through the wall, wanting to take up where they had left off.

“Just then, I heard your voice again,” said Lauren. “You were telling me to use that mantra of yours – “Change, growth, power.”

Lauren, in a fight for her life, used the magical chant and they helped, but Marinna still had the momentum. “I guess she knocked me out; don't remember anything until I came to with you kneeling over me, telling me what had happened.”

“So what had happened?” I pressed.

“You said you’d been inside something called the “Soul Walk.” From there you’d been able to summon the Sword of Fangs that I’d brought to the warehouse with me. You used it to slash your way out of the spirit world. You said that your spirit had gone back into your own little dead body and broke the spell, making it come back to life at full size. I guess the Sword was all the magic that we had ever needed, but I hadn’t realized it. I felt so dumb!”

“Don’t sweat it,” I told her. “Magic is subtle and complicated. But what happened to Necromantra?”

“You told me that when you tried to use Mantra magic against Necromantra, you couldn't. When the witch realized your were no match for her, she tried to play it malicious and taunted you, wanting you to beg for mercy. But instead, you told her that the reason your power had drained was because you'd just used a huge slug of it to summon the 'Tradesmen' to Earth. Well, that really shook the witch and she took off like a bat out of hell.”

Yes, that trick sounded like one of mine. The Tradesmen were an alien race that, under their law, had a valid claim upon Necromantra as their slave. She had actually been their captive for a while, apparently, and was absolutely terrified of them.

But Lauren’s story had added some perplexing details to what I thought I knew. From what she’d been saying, Mantra's spirit gone to the Soul Walk, which was a halfway house between life and death, something created by my old master Archimage. Up to now, I’d been supposing that Mantra had lost her powers when she was hit by a power blast from Gus. But it was now starting to look like she only lost them after she left the Soul Walk and reentered her own dead body, restoring it to life. Was it the power needed to bring off that resurrection that had drained her, or had even burnt out her completely? That possibility made some sense, but I sure hoped that the effects weren’t going to be permanent!

Lauren was still talking. “You were wearing a black outfit that I'd never seen before. It looked super-cool.”

I knew that costume very well. “Yeah, I only use that suit when my better costume isn’t in reach." That little mishap is something that's happened to me twice now – once in my world and, apparently, at least once in this new world.

“Maybe you should let your fans know about it!” she suggested. “There could be posters and models to show it off, and it would be great for a Halloween costume.”

“No, I don’t think so. I want to keep that little number secret, to use as a sort of disguise when I don’t want to be recognized as Mantra. Please don’t tell anyone about it.”

“Uh, sure. You can count on me.”

I actually believed her. To be honest, Lauren’s story had really showed me what a great friend she was, and also what potential she has as an ultra in her own right. But her catalog of battles was absolutely insane! She had escaped death narrowly several times just since Friday. And then there was what I knew had happened on Sunday!

#

“I've got so many questions I want to ask you,” the schoolgirl told me.

“I'll explain everything, later,” I replied, “but I'm in an awful crunch right now. Let's talk about the Mall fight on Sunday. How did you get involved with NM-E, and how did I end up there?"

"You'd come in with an armed group from Aladdin. You were wearing a gun on your hip and calling yourself 'Agent Eden Blake,'” answered the girl. “Does that mean that I've not only been Mantra's personal babysitter, but the local La Femme Nikita's, too?"

"I wouldn't say that I’m the La Femme Nikita type. I have no memory of that little adventure. I’m just a data analyst at my regular job.”

“So, how did you get that uniform and holster?”

“I don’t know. Sunday is part of my blackout. The problem is, I have to write a report about the fight at the mall. I really need you help to find out what exactly happened there before I can write it.”

“Too bad you're not still working in Canoga Park. I'm really sorry that you had to leave town.”

I chuckled. “Is that because I was so generous with the milk and cookies?”

“You know what I mean! You’re the best ultra in the world! And if I'm a kind of Mantra now, I could learn from you. Are you ever coming back?"

“I want to, really. Unfortunately, as long as Aladdin has Gus, I have to stay with him and protect him. But, please, tell me everything about NM-E and what went on at the mall.”

“Well, okay,” she sighed. “Once I took you back to Evie, I went home. I was dead tired. My dad was so wrapped up in his home office that he didn't seemed to realize how late at night it was. I slept like a log. On Sunday morning, tried to get all those awful things off my mind by catching up on my homework. In the afternoon, I went to meet my mom at the Mall. That was a mistake! All of a sudden, NM-E dropped down out of the sky, like a one-unit bomber squadron!”

“How did you stay alive fighting that thing?”

“It wasn't easy! I slipped away from Mom and flashed into my Mantra armor. The robot was just standing around, looking tough, but not doing much of anything. I gave it a shot of my power, hoping to drive it back outside, but it attacked me instead. We fought a little, but because it was a robot, I got the feeling that someone else was controlling it. So I zipped myself out of there and went looking for whoever was in control. I found a van and inside could see that it looked like the one that Gus away Gus. When I looked inside, I saw on of the same guys that had been in on the kidnapping. He had to be up to no good, so I fried his equipment, hoping that it would deactivate the 'bot.

“Unfortunately, without its controller, NM-E went absolutely crazy. It plowed into a crowd and almost killed my mom! I decided to try to phantomize it, just like I can do with myself. The trick worked, and once it wasn't able to hurt anyone, I dragged Mom to safety, without letting her realize who I was.”

She "phantomized" it? What an idea! I probably could have done something like that, too, but I’d frankly never thought of it. I was beginning to suspect that Lauren was an instinctive ultra. I could learn a trick or two from her..

“As soon as I was able to leave Mom by herself,” the girl said, “I checked in on the robot. It was crouching there passively where I'd left it, like a computer working on a problem.”

Just then, the new Wrath burst into the room where Lauren was, as mad as hell. He accused her of destroying the control center and allowing the automaton to run wild. The pair of them didn't have much time to argue before a crowd of television reporters mobbed them. They started jabbering questions, seemingly more interested in the man wearing red than they were in NM-E, or even in Lauren, whose armor was showing off a lot of leg. She seemed slightly miffed at being ignored.

But NM-E wasn’t down for the count. It suddenly solidified and came back at Lauren with a slashing attack. Somehow, NM-E’s A.I. had solved the problem of controlling its own density. The Aladdin file says that the metal monster has been in and out of history since ancient times. Who back then could have designed a machine so incredible? Had it been dropped off by a flying saucer?

Lauren went on to say that she'd tried to "ghost" the robot again, but NM-E had become immune to that gambit. As a fall-back plan, she pretended retreat. Unfortunately, the robot could fly faster and they had a battle in midair. The newby ultra hacked at the mechanism with the Sword of Fangs, but to no good effect. NM-E was able to repair itself almost as quickly as it took damage. Lauren next phased into the ghost plane herself as a place of refuge, NM-E changed its density likewise and kept after her. While fending off the killing machine, Lauren was struck a glancing blow, whereupon she dropped toward ground level like a stone.

I didn’t like what I was hearing. Lauren had made a bad mistake! She had done a good trick, but on the wrong enemy! As dangerous as NM-E had been before, in the future it would know how to move through walls, avoid crushing blows, and be harder than ever to defeat.

“I fell through the mall roof and crashed onto a pile of boxed toys,” the teenager went on. “They had a lot of air packed inside them, so I lucked out.” Then she suddenly quieted. Maybe she had started to grasp that without her amazing luck, she would already be dead!

“Do you need a minute?” I asked.

She took a deep breath. “No. I'm okay. After I landed on the toy boxes, I was alive, but bruised, scraped, and aching. NM-E just wouldn't give me any peace. It was coming in through the hold I had made in the roof! That's when that Wrath guy charged in to attack the robot. He was trying to save my life, I guess. Because I've started to heal so fast, I picked myself up fast and I went to back him up. But he was already hurt. That’s when I got the idea to do with the earth what I could already do with water. I brought up some of the pavement of the parking area to envelope NM-E and try to crush the thing. When it looked like it was slipping away, I started punching at it with cement fists. The Robo must have been taking a lot of damage, because it suddenly broke off and shot out there like a rocket. I guess it hasn't been programmed to fight to the death.”

She had actually figured out how to command the rocks and the soil while in the middle of a fight? Wow! If I ever got my powers back, I’d have a hard time keeping up with her!

“The newspapers didn't say that anyone was killed. Is that right?” I asked.

“As far as I known. I think guy in red came the closest to chalking out”

“Good job, gal,” I told her. I could have said a lot more, but the last thing she needed was a swollen head. Overconfidence might lure her into taking foolish chances and get her killed in the next battle. The girl could easily have been slain already during her short ultra careen.

"Right after NM-E took off, you showed up, Eden," Lauren said.

"Yeah? Where had I been before that?"

"I'm not sure. You were pretending not to know me, making like you were trying to arrest me. I took off and ghosted myself when when the Aladdin gang coming up behind you started shooting. Gees, how many trigger-happy psychos are wearing government issue these days? Why don't they shoot at bad guys instead? Anyhow, once out of sight, I switched back into my street clothes and joined Mom outside of the mall."

I shook my head. “Lauren, I have to warn you. Even with magic powers, you're going to get yourself killed if you go on this way.”

“Danger goes with being an ultra, doesn't it? Is it any worse than the risks you've been taking?”

“Maybe not, but I had years of practice before I started."

“Weren't you learning on the job, just like I’m trying to do?”

Oops, I’d slipped. I didn’t want anyone to know that I had lived for centuries before I ever became Eden Blake. Also, I didn't want to share my male history with anyone. So I fibbed. “No. I got my powers years before I ever let anyone see me in public as Mantra. I made contact with experienced ultras who taught me how to fight and to use magic. Sure, it was frustrating, because I wanted to go out right away and help people. But I knew I had a lot to learn about being an ultra first. Anyway, even if you’re not using powers, a life like yours is never going to be without worth, no matter how you choose to live it.”

“Oh, Eden, that's sounds like the corny esteem-building stuff that grownups are always telling to kids.”

“That doesn't make it untrue.”

I let the matter drop and went on to grill Lauren about every detail I could think of regarding the Mall action. By the time the interview wound down, I was was satisfied that Aladdin had brought the robot to the Mall and deliberately set it lose. But what, exactly, had they been trying to accomplish?

I thought I could guess. Odds-on, their plan was to draw in some upstanding ultra who would try to protect innocent people. When that ultra, whoever it was, showed up, the agents would be prepared to use high-tech gadgets to snare him, just like they had overcome Gus. I knew that they had more than one prison to keep such people locked up. They wanted two things from them: to learn how to duplicate ultra powers, and to brainwash captured ultras into becoming Aladdin assets. Aladdin always played dirty, and rarely did it for the good of the American people. I knew for certain that it had worked with a syndicate of subversives -- crooked politicians, bureaucrats, trillionaires, Big Tech, and Chinese spies -- to take over the government of the United States earlier in the same year. What kind of treasonous scheme would they be getting involved in next?

Deep State, thy name is Aladdin.

TO BE CONTINUED in Chapter 8

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Revised Feb. 24, 2021
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MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS

Edited by Christopher Leeson

Chapter 8

I see the past, present, and future existing all at once before me.

William Blake

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"When do I get to do the glamorous stuff" my young friend asked me suddenly.

"What are you talking about? There isn’t anything glamorous in being an ultra hero."

“Aren’t you being cynical? Look how people lionize Hardcase.”

“Yes, they do. But from what I’ve heard and read, he's a man who carries around a lot of hurt. Believe me, getting praised by a lot of people you don’t even know never means much. It's a meal of straw. The happiest person I ever met was a fisherman.”

“I don’t think I’m the fisherman type.”

“Well, if you don’t like getting your pants legs wet, start a flower shop. But if you want an over-the-top miserable life, being an ultra hero is the best way to have one.”

“How can you say that? I love what ultras do, except for the pain and fear part. Want’s wrong with making a career out of protecting people?”

"It isn’t wrong. In fact, I respect people willing to do that. I’m just saying, don’t expect crime-fighting and monster-chasing to give you a fun life. Look before you leap. Like, weren't you at the mall just to meet your mom, but ended up in a fight for your life? Reality really hits you in the face when you’re an ultra. You already know how easily innocents can get hurt by being caught in the crossfire. When that happens, you blame yourself. Friends are going to die right before your eyes, and you’ll feel rotten about that, too. Ultras get killed trying to do the right thing, and even more of them end up crippled. You were lucky last weekend. A lot of ultras haven't been so lucky. Because of NM-E, Starfire has been lying in a coma for years. And what reward does an ultra gain? His picture in a series of trading cards? His action figure at the shopping mall?”

“If you can help people, why can't I?” she asked.

“You can help people, if that’s what you really want to do. But there are so many safer ways to help people. Like, wouldn’t it be great to start a campaign for shaming internet trolls enough to make them hide in their mother's basement?”

She didn’t sound convinced. “I think a lot of folks could have died at the Mall if I hadn't been there. If I hadn't been willing to fight last Friday night, you'd be dead, too. And the Mantra fan club would still be doing the wandering-monster thing. Think of what harm could Gus have caused if he’d taken over the entire town?”

Okay, I could grant that she'd saved the life of the local Mantra. But also it sounded like she had managed to take a stupid situation set up by Aladdin and turn it into something really dangerous. Also, by my reading, it was Aladdin that stopped Gus, not her. But I didn’t want to hurt the feelings of a girl who was so sweetly earnest.

“If you’re serious about being an ultra hero, at least never make the mistake of thinking that you’re important or irreplaceable. I last month I visited a parallel dimension. It was just like ours in most ways, except that it had never had a Mantra. And you know what? That world was solving its problems very nicely without her. That experience has cued me in on the fact that we’re all less important than we think we are.”

When she didn't make a reply, I continued. “Listen, Lauren, we'd better finish this off quickly. I have a few more questions about Friday night, and I don't want to keep you up too late."

"Yeah, you're right, Eden. I have school tomorrow."

#

After Lauren and I had signed off, I looked back at Pinnacle, who was lounging on the couch. "I got a few more details about when Mantra lost her powers," I told her.

The blonde nodded. “I know. I was following the whole conversation psionically. But there were things that your protégé didn't know. We should still learn the details that Evie might have."

"So, are we done for tonight?"

"Yeah. You can sleep over if you want to."

"I suppose. But this thing seems to be getting more confusing than ever. Like, how was it that Mantra’s powers disappeared only exactly when she returned to her own body?"

"That will take some analysis. But maybe I can cheer you up. I've gotten another idea about a way to restore your abilities."

“How?”

"Well, you know how some people think that ultras are ultras because they have nanites that allow them to access untapped powers inherent in their DNA. It’s just possible that Gus subjected you to some sort of energy pulse that destroyed the nanites in your tissue. Think of it like an EMP electrical circuits. If that’s the case, cloning of your present body might not successfully produce a new body that will be able to channel the magical forces like before."

"So we're talking about cloning again?"

"That’s not my preferred recourse but, if all else fails, it's our last best hope. If, instead, get you a cloned body that’s derived from a vital and functioning witch – such as Necromantra or Lauren – you might be home free. Or would you prefer to be a male sorcerer the next time around?"

I looked away. This was something heavy to think about. “I have a good reason to want to stay with Eden Blake's body,” I finally told her. “She asked me to take care of her family. How could do that if I lost her identity? If I have to give up being a member of my family, I might do a ‘hard reboot’ and go male again. Sure, I'd have to restart a whole new life and identity, but I’m pretty sure that it would be easy to go back to what I’m most used to.

"I see your point."

“But why make a whole body?” I asked. “Why not just grow a culture of a living nanites, the way a medical lab cultures antibodies?"

Her eyes narrowed with thought. “A worthwhile suggestion. It's something to experiment with. In the meantime, I’m going to put a watch on your nanite count, to see if they are on the increase. That could mean natural healing that could bring your abilities back within a reasonable time. We also have to check you out psychologically. I’ve overheard you're negative attitudes toward the ultra life. When the other Mantra was traumatized on Friday, her own subconscious might have switched off her nanites. Did you notice that Mantra kept her powers until she was safe?”

“Safe? Mantra ended powerless in the same room as Necromantra!”

“Well, it’s likely that there’s not a one-to-one correspondence between the conscious and the unconscious mind.”

“Has anyone actually proven that nanites are actually key to an ultra's power?”

“Not conclusively. The most convincing study I know of involves Hardcase. Either he was born with nanites, or that pulse from the Entity on the moon materialized them into his blood and tissue, don’t you think?”

“You're asking me?”

She shrugged. “I thought you might know something. Doesn’t Aladdin have files on all the known ultras?”

"Yeah, but I don’t have clearance to everything. Anyway, a person can't trust any information out of Aladdin. But on another score, how long would a nanite study take? I can't be waiting for the grass to grow, not with Necromantra out there gunning for me."

 #

Over breakfast, I tried to make conversation, but Penny wasn't registering.

"You seem preoccupied, Pin."

The blonde sighed. "Cloning facilities are expensive. I built this lab using my Las Vegas winnings. When they couldn’t figure out how I was fleecing them, they just started banning me on sight because I was “too lucky.” The industry gets away with blacklisting not only cheats, but lucky gamblers, too. It’s as unconstitutional as all hell, but since when have politicians and judges cared about the Constitution?”

“Is you medical practice on a good financial basis?” I asked.

“What medical practice? I don't have the big-school credentials to treat patients legally. I'm self-taught. I could invent some lucrative new medical technology that could make millions, but the required testing, production, and marketing would take years – and a lot of start-up money.

“Why not play the market? Isn’t it just a form of gambling? Manipulators have been making tens of millions overnight forever, and nobody even notices anymore.”

“The way I see it, the market is a casino, but a crooked one. The winners and losers are all picked before the game even begins. The regulators don’t exist to stop the real lawbreaking. Their backroom orders are to make sure that the people who are supposed to lose actually do lose. I’d have to get insider credentials to have a chance at keeping the FBI and Securities and Exchange Commission off my back. The quickest way to do that would be to set up a hedge fund and load up its board with long-established Wall Street sharks. But I don’t happen to like playing ball with people so corrupt that they make my own psyonic dodges seem honest. What about you, Lu? Do you have any resources?"

"Back home, I live from check to check. I've got about $42.00 in my Christmas club account. Back home, I could get help from the only billionaire I know, Brandon Tark, but not here."

“I see. Our Brandon Tark is an international fugitive these days.”

“Oh, no! You've read my mind to get a fellow ultra's secret identity!”

“Sorry. I always find out so much more than I really intend to.” Pinnacle stared down into her bacon and eggs, as if reading logarithms. "If I put my mind to it, I could probably hack into some human trafficker’s Cayman Island bank account and suck out a few billion for my own use. If you target dirty money, someone without connections won't be able to report his losses openly.”

I shook my head. "The trouble is, I know that lots of human traffickers have high-end connections. It’ barely even a secret anymore. Hell, there’s open talk about bigshots and big crimes like that in Aladdin’s lunchrooms. And nobody that I’ve heard discussing even thinks that it’s even a problem. Remember that Haitian orphans scandal, and who was profiting from it?”

“Touché."

“Listen, whatever you do, I don't want you getting into trouble just for helping me.” When she didn’t reply to that, I changed the subject. “We haven't talked much about those celestial energy surges so far. I can't get them out of my mind. They might be behind whatever happened to Gus, and maybe to me and Lauren, too."

"I haven't been looking into that event. I was pretty much out of things last Friday night, you know. Do you suppose that these energy waves could have had some sort of trans-dimensional effect, sweeping you out of one universe and into this one?"

I shook my head. “The timing seems wrong. Whatever hit me, it hit me on Thursday, not Friday. But maybe calendar dates in one world doesn't sync with the dates in the other."

"I wouldn’t dare to start speculating on the fabric of time and space without some serious study. Time is a lot trickier than most people think."

"I only know enough science to get along," I admitted. "I just hope that our two worlds are very different. I'd hate to think of my Gus ever suffering the same fate as the Gus Blake of this planet."

The scientist shook her head. "Well, first things first. We need to get the full story about Friday night from Evie. You ought to bring her over as soon as possible.”

"She's awfully fragile, Pin. You'll be asking her to remember the most terrifying night of her life."

Pinnacle grimaced. "I know how to take precautions. And it can actually be good for a child to talk things out. A trauma that’s held inside for too long at that age can twist a youngster’s psyche into knots."

We discussed that subject until she assuaged my misgivings. But I immediately felt selfish? Would I be giving in so easily if the tyke in question had been my true daughter, and not just her doppelganger?

"I think you'd always try to do the right thing, no matter which world you found yourself on," my companion reassured me.

I looked hard at Penny. “Are my thoughts always that easy to read?"

"Not always, but please don’t try to hold things back. I need to know your psychology in-depth. I wouldn't blame you, though, if you didn’t trust a nutty professor."

"Aren't you getting past that insecurity shtick?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Twelve hours ago, the only thing I had on my mind was my next liquor delivery. I appreciate you coming here; it's made a difference. Helping people with their misery gets my mind off of my own."

#

I didn't want Mother and Evie to worry, but calling them at that time of night would wake them both up. Instead, I slept in Penny's guest room and made the family call-in a little after 8:00 A.M. When Evie came on the line, I told her that I would be seeing her and her grandma soon.

We each used our own car. I left Penny with hers, killing time at a nearby mall. Meanwhile, I drove back to the motel and let Mother know that Dr. Lammars might be a good choice to treat Evie for fear trauma. Naturally, my ever-loving mom launched into a counter-argument.

"Are you sure that your friend isn't just angling to collect two fees, instead of just one?" she asked pointedly.

"Mom," I said, "do you distrust Penny just because she’s my personal friend? Whatever doctor we pick, we can't leave Evie the way she is. I’ve only delayed taking her to a psychologist so far because we’ve been forced to do this relocation. It’s time to reprioritize. My federal health insurance at the C.I.A covers psychiatric care for dependent minors, so money won’t be a factor."

Her lips puckered. "I wasn't thinking about the money, Eden, but I'm glad that you're paying attention to practical matters. By the way, how did your talk go last night? Did that Penny person help you remember anything?"

"No, not really. There'll be a lot of tests, hypnotism sessions, and psychological profiles to construct. The doctor says that my memories could even come back, little by little, by themselves. Or they could return all at once."

"Hmm. She's got herself covered every which way from Sunday."

"Mother, what’s this argument about? Is it that you know of some other psychiatrist that you trust more than Penny Lammars?"

"Thankfully, no. I've never needed one; you and your brothers turned out just fine. But I do watch Dr. Rasmussen's TV show every now and then...."

"Mom" had a contrary streak -- that was for sure. Was it because sensed that that there had been something not right with me for the last couple years? Or had she treated the real Eden exactly the same way that she was treating me?

When Evie was dressed for going out, I phoned Penny to hop over and pick us up. Hopefully, Barbara Freeman would appreciate having the family vehicle to make a personal exploration of the city. Dr. Lammars, when she arrived, greeted the little girl with professional charm that quickly elicited grins from the little girl.

Then we took off for Pinnacle's apartment and, when we got there, Evie and I sat side by side on a love seat. Our hostess drew up a chair in front of us and said, "Evie, let's hold hands. While we do so, I want you to look right into my eyes."

"Are you gonna hippytize me?" the tyke asked warily.

"Something like that," Penny replied, holding back a smile. "You're not nervous, are you, not with your mommy sitting right beside you?"

"I guess not."

"That's a good girl. Okay Evie, take a deep breath, relax, and let me look into those pretty blue eyes of yours."

Though not myself the target, I thought I felt the backwash of the ultra’s powerful brainwaves projecting into Evie's mind, soothing and calming her. I sensed the tension going out of the tyke. Penny started speaking, softly and slowly: "Evie, you're drifting off to sleep, but you'll be able to hear your mommy and me asking you questions. You'll be able to talk just as if you were still awake. What you’re having is a good kind of sleep. You won't be afraid of anything at all. You'll be able to think about the most ugly Halloween mask or the creepiest monster movie that you ever saw without being scared. Relax, relax, relax. You're completely asleep now, Evie. Tell me how you feel."

"I feel good."

"Excellent. First, tell me, do you know that your mom has lost some of her memories?"

"Yeah. I know," answered Evie, her voice clear and soft.

"If you could help her remember some of what she's forgotten, wouldn't that be nice?"

"Uh-huh."

Pinnacle glanced aside to me. "Okay, Eden. I think she's ready. It will be for the best if you did most of the talking."

I nodded and kissed the youngster on the top of her head before beginning my interview.

"Evie, I want you to tell me all about what happened last Friday night. Begin the story just before any of the bad things started to happen. You don't feel scared about doing that, do you?"

Her glance were soft and dreamy. "No, Mommy. I don't feel scared."

"That's my brave little pumpkin. Okay, tell us what happened. You don't have to be in a hurry. Just do the best you can. What do you remember happening after I got home from work?"

Evie took a deep breath. "When you got home I was playing Mantra with Mr. Paws."

Mr. Paws, I knew, was Evie's favorite toy, her teddy bear. I had seen it in our motel room. How odd it was that such a small detail as the name of a toy could be duplicated in another reality, while so many other factors were different.

"I was being Mantra, an' Mr. Paws was pretending to be me," the little girl explained. "I was telling him about how I'd turned into Mantra right after breakfast so I could go out and spend the whole day saving people. Mr. Paws got really excited and wanted to hear all about it. That's when you came in. I told you that Grandma had to leave a little early 'cuz she was having dinner with some nice old man."

I bit my lip. Back on my own world, Barbara Freeman had, indeed, told me on Wednesday evening that she'd only be able to baby-sit until six-thirty on Friday night because a retired gent from her genealogical club had asked her out. Maybe the two worlds weren't very different -- and that worried me. A lot.

"That's when we heard Gus yelling and throwing things at the wall," continued Evie. "You an' me went to his room to see what was wrong. Gus's face was red, he was so mad. He said that Daddy'd called to say that he couldn't take him to the ball game, even though he'd promised. Gus started using naughty language about Daddy and you said he shouldn't say such bad things. That made him even madder and so... so he did something really awful!"

She had emphasized the word “awful,” I squeezed her hand. "What did he do, Button? I quietly braced myself, prepared to hear something appalling.

Evie was glancing down at her knees, biting her lower lip. The memory was clearly a disturbing one. I squeezed the little girl's hand and asked, "What did he do, Sweetie? Can you talk about it?"

She nodded and whispered, "Yeah, I can talk, Mommy. Gus grabbed Mr. Paws and tore his head off! He shouldn'ta done that. I didn't say anything bad, and Mr. Paws didn't say anything either. We both felt sorry that Daddy wasn't gonna keep his promise. When Gus did that awful thing, I started to cry. You got so mad that you slapped him and told him to stay in his room until he 'pologized to me and Mr. Paws. He told us to go away, that he hated everybody.

"I was feeling just awful 'cuz Mr. Paws was dead. I couldn't stop crying. I asked if you couldn’t fix him and you said maybe you could. That's when Lauren called."

"What did Lauren say, Honey?"

"I didn't hear, but you said she could come right over. Then you and me talked some more about Gus. You felt bad about slapping him and said you were gonna tell him how sorry you were.

"After that, you heated up soup for Gus and put it on a tray with some other things. I asked if I could take it in to him. You said okay and Mr. Paws and me carried it to. I figgered that when Gus saw how hurt Paws was he might say he was sorry. But when me and Mr. Paws went in to see Gus we couldn't believe it! There was fire and smoke all over, and Gus was glowing green! He was floating up in the air, like those bad-guy wizard guys do in the cartoons. I was scared and asked him how he could do that. He said he could do anything. That's when he saw how sick Mr. Paws looked and used his magic to fix him, just like – magic."

“Did I heat the soup in the kettle or in the microwave?” I asked.

The question took Evie by surprise and she blinked. “In the microwave, Mommy.”

“Was it thundering outside?” I pressed.

Again bemused, Evie shook her head, “No.”

“Were there any kind of noises outside at all?”

“Jes’ cars going by.”

From her answers, I reasoned that would have taken only a few minutes to have opened a can of soup and heated it in the microwave. That meant that between the time that Mantra and Evie had left Gus's room and the time that Evie returned to it, only minutes could have passed. In that very short space of time, the energy from space must have struck. The newspapers had said that it happened at about 7:12 P.M. Evie had heard no atmospheric noise, so the event apparently occurred with silence. But how was it that Mantra, who was sensitive to magical manifestations, had also been taken unawares? All I could think of was that if the energy had had anything to do with magic, it must have been a very strange form of sorcery.

Evie started talking again: "I was so afraid that I yelled for you to come, but when you got there, Gus made a big octopus monster jump out and grab you. Gus tied you up and put a gag on your mouth. A minute later, you turned into Mantra and got loose, but then Gus made a couple of big giants 'pear and they started punching you. You cut off their hands with your sword and then shot some magic at Gus, but his magic stopped yours. Then he zapped you so hard that you fell down into a big pit full of monsters."

I had heard about monsters in our home before. They materialized at Gus's command! Had he really taken out Mantra out with one “zap”? How could a novice magician have overwhelmed Mantra, who must have already assumed full battle mode? The protective shield that I habitually kept around myself during a magical duel could protect me from all but the most powerful forms of magical attack. The local Mantra must have fought the same way I did, or else she would never have survived as long as she had. Evie's description of Gus's attack would have been hard for even one like Boneyard to match. And that necromancer had been studying and practicing black sorcery for centuries. How could Gus have fought so effectively “right out of the cradle”? It had to be that his use of magic was tied into, and instantly responsive to, his imagination. In that sense, he was like an Olympian god.

“It was horrible!" Evie exclaimed. "Gus'd never acted so mean before. He wanted the monsters to eat you up! I begged him to stop hurting our Mommy, but he yelled that he had to kill you, udderwise you wouldn't let him use magic anymore. I said real quick that if he took away your mask and other stuff you'd be weak and wouldn’t be able to tell him what to do. He said okay to that. Suddenly, he made you disappear and all your armor fell down on the floor.”

It sounded like he had teleported me with mere concentrated thought. What tyro wizard could have done that? Unbelievable!

"I didn't know where you went and I was afraid that he'd disinnerated you. But then Gus went to the cracker box on the table and talked into it. I heard your squeaky little voice yelling back at him. You were inside the box, and you were even smaller than Mr. Paws!"

I couldn't suppress a shudder. So far, Lauren's account had been dead-on true.
.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 9

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Revised Mar. 26, 2021
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ALL ABOUT EVE

Edited by Christopher Leeson

Chapter 9

 
"Thy fear has made me tremble,
Thy terrors have surrounded me.
All love is lost. Terror succeeds,
And [there is] hatred instead of love." 
 
William Blake
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"This talk isn't too frightening for you, it is, Precious?" I asked.

"No, Mommy. I'm jes' sorry that Gus hurt you. He was bad! You were nice to him, except when he did naughty things."

"So, what happened next?" I coaxed.

"Lauren knocked from outside. I wanted her to keep away, but she came in real fast, an' Gus wouldn’t let her leave after he came up floating in the air. He said he was glad to see her, an’ he always liked her. He also said he wanted to be her boyfriend, but Lauren said she didn’t want that. Gus got angry then an' made her float in the air.

"That’s when you started yelling at Gus from the cracker box, telling him not to hurt Lauren. You warned him that it would be too awful if he put her into Mantra's cloak.” She smiled. "I think you wanted him to put her in there, an’ you were jes' fooling."

According to both Evie and Lauren, Lauren would vanish into the cloak for only a few minutes, before Gus brought her back. The little girl was surprised to see her babysitter return dressed in armor and looking like some sort of ultra. Evie begged Gus not to harm Lauren, but he seemed to hate everyone -- except, for some reason, his little sister.

Gus and Lauren started fighting and Lauren’s magic hit him hard, more so than had Mantra’s. I could only suppose that the inexperienced Lauren had been instinctively fighting in the kill mode and Gus hadn't been prepared to receive such a strong attack from his babysitter. Or was it possible that Gus had been tired out from all the other super-sorcery that he’d been flinging around?

"Then,” said Evie, "you yelled for Gus to stop hurting people and be nice. But 'stead of saying he was sorry, he zapped you again, super-hard. You fell out of the box an' I thought you were dead. I started telling Gus that I hated him. When he was looking at me, Lauren tried to sneak up from behind, but Gus was quick an’ knocked her down into the monster pit."

"I told him to stop, but he said that everybody’d been mean to him an’ he was gonna get even. He promised not to hurt me, but I knew that was jes' talk.

"When he looked back at Lauren, he could see that she’d already beaten up on all his monsters. So Gus jumped into the pit to sock her himself. That's when I grabbed Mr. Paws an’ you an’ all three of us ran outside to hide!”

I took her into my arms and rested her cheek upon my shoulder. "Where did you go, darling?" I asked.

"We hid in the flower bushes next door, but I got worried that you'd be dead forever if I didn’t find some grownup to make you all better. I ran to Mrs. Walker's magic shop ‘cuz I thought she could do some really good magic to fix you."

I knew that shop. It was all herbs, trinkets, tourist items, and New Age books. There was no real magic in the place.

"I banged on Mrs. Walker's door," said Evie. "'Cuz she lived upstairs she heard me. I showed her how sick you were an' asked her to use magic to help. She called me a 'poor baby' an' told me that she didn't know any magic that big. Jes' then, Gus showed up, like a ghost on a TV show. He told me that if I didn't let you be dead he'd break his promise an’ hurt me, too. He said he was gonna smash your little body so you could never get better. Mrs. Walker was really, really afraid an' told me to do what he wanted, but I said I wasn’t going to.”

I didn’t want Evie to see my tears, but it was too late. She put her arms about my neck and said, "Don't cry, Mommy.”

I also felt Pinnacle's hand take mine right after. I didn't want people feeling sorry for me so I tried to buck up.

"Gus doesn't really hate you, Mommy,” urged Evie. "Mrs. Walker says no kid really hates his mom. Gus jes' went crazy, like lots of people do in the movies. He can stop from being crazy, can't he?"

I gazed into her blue, hopeful eyes. "Of course he can, Evie,” I told her, and then asked what happened next.

"Jes’ when Gus was gonna put the zap on me, you made some kinda ultra lightning come out of my eyes an' it knocked him out. That’s when Mrs. Walker pushed me ouside, saying that we had to run away before he woke up.”

This was more confirmation of something that I didn’t understand. Why had Mantra been able to use magic, both from the cracker box and from the spirit plane, but became unable to use it once she had gotten back into her own body? It had always been my understanding that the magic power she possessed had been passed down through Eden’s family line. I’d always thought that Eden’s physical body had been the focus for bringing in and utilizing magic. After all, hadn’t my own ultra powers come from Eden Blake’s physical body? The spirit part of her hadn’t been a factor; it had vanished into the Otherworld.

Evie was still talking hurriedly. "Mrs. Walker an’ me ran into the street. There was this big green car parked out there next to a man in a red suite. Mrs. Walker asked if he was a policeman. He said he was there to help people, an’ so Mrs. Walker started telling him about Gus. Jes' then, Gus came out of the shop, looking really sore that he’d been hit. The policeman wasn't afraid of Gus an’ walked straight at him, like he was going to give him a good scolding.

"Gus told the policeman that he looked jes' like an action figure. The policeman didn't let Gus come up close, but zapped him with a flash of light. Then more policemen ran at Gus an’ they started squirting him with smelly gas. They also had a funny kind of gun that shot out wires an’ made a crackly noise. The wires got all over Gus, an' I could see that they were hurting him. That's when Lauren flew out of the sky. I saw a big, ugly ultra chasing her." Evie leaned closer and whispered, "It was really Heather and her friends, after some bad magic’d turned them into a monster."

Evie's description of Gus getting loose and fighting with Coven coincided with Lauren's. It of course ended with Gus getting captured and Heather and her friends returning to normal.

The little girl in my arms made a sad throat noise. "I was scared that Gus'd be in trouble 'cuz he’d let the police see him misbehaving. I asked the red policeman if he was gonna to punish my brother, but he said he wouldn't. He was jes' gonna Gus stop hurting other people. I figgered he meant he was gonna put Gus in jail.

"Oh, Mommy, Gus looked so beat-up! He was sleeping, but I said goodbye anyway an’ said I hoped he’d get better soon. Then I put Mr. Paws on top of the box that Gus in, so when he woke up he would have Mr. Paws keeping him company. That was all right, wasn't it, Mommy?"

"It is, if it was Mr. Paws who asked permission to go along with Gus."

"I think he did. But when I saw Lauren talking to the red policeman, I ran over an’ gave her your little body. I told Lauren that she had to find a way to make you alive again 'cuz she was an ultra. Then I started to cry. I couldn't understand why so many bad things were happening. Lauren hugged me an' said that I'd been good and brave."

I drew the tyke closer. "Honey, you did the right thing. When Lauren took me away, she pretty soon found some really big magic to make me better. How could you have been so smart to know just exactly what you had to do?"

She sniffed. "I don’t know."

I dabbed her tears away with my handkerchief. "What did Lauren do next?"

Evie took a deep breath. "She flew away. Then the red policeman asked me who Lauren was an' I fibbed and said that she was Mantra. At night I stayed with Mrs. Walker. I couldn't sleep much, so I prayed a lot. An’ my prayer really worked! In the morning, you and Lauren came back to the shop!"

I was guessing that Mrs. Walker must have gotten an eyeful at that reunion, seeing Evie's mother wearing a strange black costume. But the shopkeeper promised Mrs. Blake not to start spreading stories. After we left and went back to the Blake home, Evie described the house as looking a mess, especially Gus's room. Fortunately, the monster pit was nowhere to be seen.

"What happened then?" I pressed.

"A message boy knocked on the door,” said Evie. "You went to talk to him, but Lauren didn't want a stranger seeing her, so she flew off through the ceiling. You came back an’ said you had to go to Sanfrisco. I asked if you knew where Gus was an’ you said you didn't, but that maybe the people in Sanfrisco might know."

"Did I find anything out there?" I asked.

Evie's little mouth pursed. "You didn't come back till it was dark on Sunday. You said then that somebody called 'Laddin' had put Gus in jail. I started crying 'cuz Gus couldn't come home. That’s when you said we should go and live in Sanfrisco, so we could visit him lots and lots of times."

I held on to Evie while thinking about Gus's miserable condition. Fate had cruelly victimized the boy and, just as bad, Aladdin had used it as an excuse to snatch him into their clutches. Ruthless people were running Aladdin back on my world, and their local counterparts were probably no better. Somehow, I had to get Evie's brother freed, legally or illegally, but I didn’t know how to control him once I did. It seemed like I had to totally count on Pinnacle, who I knew had some promising-sounding ideas about fixing his disfigurement and removing his dangerous powers.

Just then, Penny put on a chagrined expression. My earnest and hopeful thoughts must have sounded cringy to her.

#

We had more questions to ask the little girl as we checked and rechecked the details of her story, up until the point when Evie's tone became sleepy.

"She needs to rest,” I told Penny.

"Evie," Pinnacle said, "when I clap my hands you'll fall asleep. When you next wake up, you won't feel sad and you won't be afraid. You'll remember how nice it feels to talk things over with your mommy when you're afraid or unhappy. Wouldn’t you like to keep on doing that whenever you need to?"

"Yeah, I will," the little girl affirmed with a weary nod.

Clap!

Evie dozed off and I got up to arrange her comfortably on the love seat. Then I stretched my muscles and looked at the clock. It was lunchtime already.

Penny and I snacked and talked about the interview while Evie slept. A little later, when my daughter opened her eyes and yawned, we drove her back to the Budget Motel. Mrs. Freeman was out, unfortunately, so I gave her a call and she said that she could get back in a half hour. The three of us passed the waiting time at the nearby Jack-in-the-Box, letting the tyke fill up on burgers and fries.

Soon, I spotted my car turning into the motel driveway. Once Evie was once more under her grandma's care, Penny and I went back to her apartment. Pinnacle returned to the subject of conducting a deep probe into my subconscious mind. She claimed to want some confirmation that I really was from a different plane of reality. While I could understand her need to avoid taking important information for granted, it struck me as irksome that she still had doubts that I knew what I was talking about.

Also, I couldn’t help but be uneasy about entering into a deep trance. I didn’t like being so completely in another person’s power.

Suddenly I was taken aback by a slap in the face!

"Hey, what's that for?" I demanded, touching my stung cheek. The smack had been light and playful, though, and my hostess didn't look angry.

"That was for imagining that I would use my mind-probe to make you fall passionately in love with me," she explained.

I frowned. "So what if the idea crossed my mind? I don't need a romance. What I need is a friend."

"Even with my mind-reading ability, I still can't figure you out, Lulu! You don't seem to be hot for the girls -- at least not were I’m concerned -- but you don't seem to have the hots for the boys, either.”

"Why do I need to be hot for anyone?”

"Can you blame me for being curious about how you see yourself after two years of womanhood? Sexually I mean."

I replied testily. "Sex has nothing to do with our problems. And why are you so committed to asking grotesquely personal questions?"

"I like being a psychiatrist especially because it lets me ask rude and prying questions. Anyway, your sexual anxieties aren’t hard to discover; they sit at the very top of your mind. But to give you credit, I honestly can’t understand why you haven't gotten even crazier than you are."

"Maybe you’re only hearing what you want to hear. What I remember thinking about was finding a way to keep from breaking a little girl's heart, in the event that I’m not able to bring her brother home."

"I picked up on that train of thought, too. Explain to me how a hard-headed commando and barroom brawler like Lukasz Theodoricson can simultaneously be carrying around so much compassion and tenderness?”

"Can’t we just drop this sexual curiosity and get on with that testing of yours?”

She nudged me toward a soft chair. "All right, we'll come back to the fun emotional stuff later. For now, I'm going to put you under, just like I did Evie. I’ll have to go much deeper with you than I did with her, though. It can get rough, but you're a tough guy. What you really have to worry about is how effectively I can seduce you."

"Are you still harping on that?” I asked.

"Hush. We’re going to start. Concentrate on my thumb...”

I glanced at the thumb and, the next thing I knew, she was on the other side of the room.

"What happened?" I asked sleepily. "Aren’t you going to start?”

"Can’t you remember anything? I found out something important."

"What was that?"

"I found out that even though you're as gentle as a lamb around kids, you can be a real tiger in bed!”

"Quit clowning, Pin. Did you really finish? What did you find out?"

"You almost made me believe that you actually do come from another world.”

"What did I say?"

"A lot. We talked for more than an hour."

"You say 'almost believe.' Are you saying you don't totally believe it?"

Dr. Lammars shook her head. "No, I'm not saying that. I'm convinced that everything you're telling me is something that you believe to be true. At certain points, though, it did seem like you were remembering certain other details that don’t fit in.”

"What kind of other details?”

"Details that only the Mantra of this world should have known.”

"What things?”

"Like things about the Night of Terror, as you call it. Those memories are very deep ones. It’s like they’re come out of your personal experiences, and are not something that you've merely heard about."

"Do you suppose that I might be picking stored memories from the local Mantra's physical brain?"

"Possibly. Or maybe it's something else."

Oh, great! Now I had 'something else' to worry about!
.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 10

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Revised Apr. 21, 2021
Revised Apr. 24, 2021
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THE BOY IN THE GRAY COCOON

Edited by Christopher Leeson

Chapter 10

And this he always kept in mind
And formed a crooked knife
And ran about with bloody hands
To seek his mother's life.

William Blake
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“I sympathize,” Pinnacle said, “but there is always something else to worry about.”

“You’re reading my mind again?” I said.

“I’m your doctor. I get to do things like that. But as for problems, I’d say that they’re part and parcel for living. Or is my double back on your home world so much more optimistic than I am?”

“Not at all. You two are so much alike that it’s scary. But there's one important difference between you and your double.”

“What's that?”

“She's never opens up to me, especially about how much she's hurting -- not the way you have."

“I hope it means that she hurts a lot less than I do. But, that aside, this whole idea of the multiverse is fascinating. Oh, sure, I know the theory that goes with it, but meeting a person from another reality has really nailed things down for me. I wish I had time to research the phenomenon right now,” Penny said.

“I hope you make a study. But until then, I have a more urgent question. Why did Mantra have magical abilities as a disembodied spirit on the Soul Walk, but lost them as soon as she got back into her physical body?”

Pinnacle rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "The subject of magic is Greek to me; I’ve got only guesswork to go on. Like, maybe Mantra strained her magical potential by doing spells outside of her body. On the other hand -- Well, I’m not sure what, exactly, is on the other hand.

"It would be nice if you figured it out. Necromantra wouldn’t be so close to Canoga Park unless she intends to murder me and capture Evie. If draining my daughter of her potential for magic kills her, that bitch won’t give a damn."

“And that is the person who you used to think of as your best friend?”

“Thanasi has become a homicidal paranoid. I don’t understand it, but something made him snap."

"Well, how do we fortify you against a witch so powerful as that? You already know about those companies that specialize in turning big spenders into ultras. And I know that the science has been getting better and better. As I understand it, your own friend Wrath started out as an ordinary man until he was enhanced by Aladdin."

“Yes. They did it with nanites and serums. Wrath was made tougher, stronger, and faster. But I don’t think he’d be up to taking on Necromantra, not unless he knocked her silly with his first blow.”

That reminded me of the fact that Aladdin had recruited a new Wrath. I was able to get along with Thomas Hunter because he wasn’t a good company man. But if Aladdin had turned some amoral scoundrel into the "new Wrath," the odds were heavy that he’d be a piece of work that I'd have to be wary of.

Just then, my cell phone ran. The screen told me Dr. Sarn was calling. I didn’t trust the doctor just because she was a real company person, but I very much wanted to find out whether she had anything new to say about Gus.

"Blake," said Sarn, "your boy is awake again. He's.... Well, he's crying. The child psychologist hasn’t been able to settle him down. I’d think that a visit from his mother would do Gus a world of good right now. I recommend that you to come over immediately."

She then told me where my transportation to Alcatraz would be waiting.

"I'm on my way!" I said.

I turned to Pinnacle. “I got a call from the office.”

“I overheard.”

“Is this going to cause any problem -- for our planning, I mean?”

“Not really. I have enough to do for the next couple days. If you hear more about that recent power-surge from outer space, let me know.”

“Yeah, I’d like to learn about that, too. Maybe Aladdin has updated information. Whatever I find out, I'll pass on.”

“It's always great having a spy on the inside,” she said.

“Say, would you give me a lift to where my helicopter ride will be waiting?”

“No problem,” Pinnacle answered, “but I’m not going to let those bastards see me. They’ve got a thing for turning people into mind-controlled slaves, and I've already done enough slave-time over at NuWare.”

Just before she led me down to her car, I called my “mom,” letting her know that I’d been summoned into work to see Gus again. She said, “Fine. That’s one good thing about having someone with CIA clearance in the family, I suppose.”

I had never been free to tell her that I actually served with an outfit that was even worse than the CIA.

#

With dusk coming on, I arrived at my helicopter rendezvous. Pinnacle’s car was parked out of sight and I walked in alone. Our destination, as my officious pilot confirmed, was Alcatraz Island.

That name has made me wince ever since the Thirties. Archimage had put me into the body of a career criminal. In the course of things, I was arrested and judged guilty of breaking “my” parole. That meant doing time in Alcatraz. The wizard nixed the messy idea of a making a prison-break attempt and had his lawyer bring me a coded message. I was supposed to get myself out by committing suicide! God, I hated orders like that. No matter how many times I’ve died in the last 1500 years, the pain of it is always a bummer. I carried out my order in a stereotyped way, by hanging myself inside my lock up.

The guards working on “the Rock” were actually encouraged to be brutal. They were allowed to shoot to kill every real or suspected escapee at their own discretion. Besides the penitentiary's actual physical torture, Alcatraz was also custom-made for psychological torture. Many inmates were driven insane.

The prison was finally shut down by the Kennedy administration, in 1963, as a failed experiment and a national disgrace. That must have upset a lot of the Deep Staters in the Swamp. JFK was assassinated that same year. A coincidence?

After 1963, the island prison was kept as a tourist attraction. Then, suddenly, it was declared off-limits again. The media gave vague reasons why that was done and quickly dropped the subject. But the simple truth was that Alcatraz had been converted to be an Aladdin black site for the internment of ultras, some of them illegally kidnapped.

Eden Blake had visited Alcatraz on Saturday the 16th, shortly after her son had been incarcerated, but I didn’t know what she had learned. I would have to bluff my way along. If I did or said something wrong, I’d try to excuse my cluelessness by pretending to be distracted and distraught. Sarn knew that Blake was on medical leave, but I didn't want to act like a basket case unless I absolutely had to.

As we hovered over one of the most evil sites on Earth, my pilot called in our arrival. A voice “welcomed” us to the “Alactraz Ultra Confinement Center.” Upon setting down, I recognized Sarn on the tarmac. Tall, Teutonic, blonde, and hard-bodied, Sarn had quite a rack, too. Though pushing forty, she looked to be in excellent physical shape. Rumor had it that she’d started out as a sizzling “honey-trap” agent during her early intelligence days. That was before she’d been recruited into Aladdin. I wondered how Sarn could have convincingly pulled off the seductress role. I always saw here as cold and calculating – all business, all the time.

I stepped outside the whirlybird and she came up close, curtly instructing me to follow her. I looked about. Things had changed a lot in the look of the place since my lock-up days. As Sarn led me along, I did my utmost to memorize everything I was seeing. If I couldn’t get Gus out of there peacefully, I might very well need to to mastermind a prison-break from Alcatraz Island.

The doctor led me along, until we paused before a sealed portal as formidable as a bank vault. Gaining entry required Sarn to provide both a thumb-print and an eye scan. Once we got into Aladdin’s inner sanctum, we proceeded down a corridor past a long row of cells. I saw prisoners, captive ultras, probably. Then I recognized a face I knew.

The sight of Blythe Ashwin as an inmate of Alcatraz slammed me with memories, some of them guilty. We were coincidental doubles, and due to her disappearance on assignment, I’d been drafted into a scam that involved impersonating her. While living her life, I’d learned that she had been involved in some illegal dealings. I had felt justified in exposing the woman, while doing myself a bonus favor by leaving false evidence that she was me – that is, that she was Mantra.

Ashwin was looking overwhelmed and beaten up. She didn’t seem to have energy enough even to get angry at the sight of me, the person who had done so much to ruin her life. Clearly, the woman was being driven to her breaking point, which bothered me, since she had seemed as hard as nails when I'd known her. I had already been having second thoughts about what I had done and now felt sorry for her. Also, her fate gave me an appalling preview of my own would be if I were ever found out to be an enemy of Aladdin.

My supervisor continued leading along bleak corridors, until we at last paused at a heavily barred door. Sarn moved aside, allowing me to peer within. I saw armed guards and a medical team that was directing its attention toward a large cocoon-like capsule. It looked partially metallic and partially organic. Sarn swiped a key-card in the security lock and punched in a short code, causing the door to swing open. Several faces turned our way.

"Doctor, how's the prisoner been?" my top-brass guide addressed one of the medics.

"He was awake and very distraught a half hour ago," answered a white-clad middle-aged man. "Then he lapsed back into sleep."

“Go to your boy,” Dr. Sarn told me.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped through the cluster of people until I stood next to the machine, looking down at the patient's face.

It was hard not to react to Gus's changed appearance. His radically different look jolted me.

He was utterly unrecognizable, not just as August Blake, Jr., but not even as a little boy. Only his head and shoulders were left unhidden by the capsule, but the prisoner looked like a hardened adult criminal. His brow was overdeveloped, his nose and chin angular, making him more resemble a movie dwarf’s than a child. Corded muscles made his neck thick and his hair was a blue-black shag. If on a street, his look would have caused people to move aside. It must have been hell for a child to have to be so repulsive in public. No wonder Gus doubted that even his own family still loved him. He must have been riding on the edge of an emotional breakdown for months by now.

I knew that Aladdin had ultra power-draining technology and, clearly, this capsule was part of that. The boy had was forced to wear some sort of helmet with a conduit extending into the ceiling. What was its purpose? To read his thoughts? To place new thoughts into his mind?

This was hard sight for a parent to take in, but it was logical from Aladdin's POV. Gus had gone toe to toe with a prepared tactical team in Canoga Park and only failed to rout them due to his lack of combat experience.

Suddenly, the lad stirred.

Gus was trying to move, but his straps only allowed him to turn his head from side to side. My quiet indignation was at the explosion point, but I knew that Aladdin had secured him excessively because they didn't dare do less. Gus was, if truth be told, a frightening being. He had god-like powers, powers that he’d abused with thoughtless malevolence. He had attempted murder, too, and had nearly succeeded.

But, despite all, this was still Gus, a twelve year old boy.

"I think I should talk to him alone," I told Sarn flatly.

"Are you sure?" asked the spy chief.

"I won't try to free him, if that's what you're worried about. It's safe to touch the capsule, isn't it?"

Sarn glanced at her chief physician. The doctor shrugged. Sarn said to me, “Go ahead, Blake, try to perk him up. We'll be waiting outside."

The doctors, medics, and guards all followed her out. Even with the door shut and the staff out of sight, I still felt spied-upon. And of course I was. Aladdin’s surveillance protocols were over the top. I'd have to be careful about every move I made and every word that I said. My emotions just then were as tight as a bowstring. Why, I asked Heaven, had all these terrible things happened? Why should the Blake family have to endure so much tragedy?

The boy pivoted his head to looked squarely at me.

"No..." he murmured. "It's not you!" Tears filled his eyes.

I leaned closer, resting my hands on his gray capsule. "Are you in pain, Gus?"

"Go away! You're not real!"

That voice sounded deep and harsh, but also weak and rasping.

I swallowed hard. "I'm here to visit you, Gus. Why don't you believe that I'm real?"

"I k-killed you!" he replied.

His flowing tears were large ones.

Was the boy weeping in remorse? But if so, was it for what he'd tried to do, or was it only for having been caught and punished?

“You're dead!" he said.

"Gus! Stop thinking like that! I am alive. You didn't hurt me. You've never hurt anyone. You've been having terrible nightmares, that's all. I'm here because I love you!"

He shook his head. "No, you're part of the nightmare!"

He was right about that much. I was part of this nightmare.

.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 11

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Revised May. 20, 2021
Revised May, 21, 2021
Revised May, 22, 2021
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ALL OUR YESTERDAYS

Edited by Christopher Leeson
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Chapter 11

In the universe, there are things that are known,
And things that are unknown,
And in between, there are doors.

William Blake
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I touched the boy’s shoulder. "Gus, it really is me."

Like a light switching on inside his skull, his eyes gave a verdant flicker. Both Evie and Lauren had described seeing something like that when Gus channeled magic.

"Why do you think that I’m dead, Gus?" I asked softly. "Did you dream it?"

"Y-You are dead," he insisted. "I shrunk Mantra and shot her -- you - - with ultra power!"

"So, Mantra was in your dream?" I was trying to sound innocent.

"You're Mantra. I hate her! She promised to change me back, but she never did!"

“Mantra is a wonderful magician," I explained, "but she can't do everything. I'm sure she never realized how difficult it is to break spells cast by fairies."

"She always liked Evie better than me!" he declared bitterly. "She saved Evie, but didn’t save me! Evie wasn't even in any bad trouble!"

All I knew about the fairy affair was what Evie had said. “Gus, Mantra didn't know what sort of trouble you and Evie were in. Mantra must have chosen to protect Evie first, because she's so little and weak. As soon as Mantra found Evie, she came to help you, didn't she?”

He twisted his glance away, his hard-looking lips tightly shut.

"I also hate you because you hit me!"

"What?"

"You slapped me for no reason!"

"Oh, that," I said with a head-shake.

This was a bum rap. The local Mantra had struck him, not me.

"Grownups sometimes get angry,” I told the boy, “just like children do. I’m sorry, but what would you have done if some bully at school had grabbed Mr. Paws from Evie, tore his head off, and made her cry?"

Just then, my foot touched something soft; I glanced down. Evie’s favorite toy, her teddy bear, was lying there. I picked up the little fellow, thinking how inappropriate was the bland smile on his face.

I showed the stuffed animal to Gus. "Look, here's Mr. Paws. Evie couldn't come herself, so she sent her best friend to stay with you."

"Is Evie okay?" Gus asked.

I regarded him, glad to hear the lad say something that didn't sound angry. "Evie is fine. You didn't hurt her at all. She hopes that you get better soon and can come home with Mr. Paws."

He changed the subject. “I hit you hard. How come you didn't die? Is it because you're Mantra?"

I tried not to wince. Aladdin was surely running a video recording of our entire conversation. If they took what Gus was saying seriously, I'd soon end up in a cell next to Blythe Ashwin!

“I’m not Mantr, Gus.”

“I tied you up with magic, then you suddenly turned into Mantra!”

"Mantra was only a part of your nightmare. How could a little boy like you beat up on someone as powerful as Mantra? Did you dream that Evie was an ultra hero, too?"

"Yes! She hit me with a shot of magic once. I don’t know how she did it. But Lauren was an even tougher ultra than either one of you!"

"So you dreamed Lauren Sherwood was an ultra, too?" I asked.

“She was wearing a costume and zapping me with magic that hurt a lot!"

"Wow, Gus! Me in a cracker box? Lauren an ultra hero? Evie using magic? Darling, Evie and I are only your family. And Lauren is your babysitter. I know for a fact that she was at home with her dad all Friday evening."

"It happened!" he insisted.

"Yes," I said, "some of it is true. You did get magic. It was just like when Hardcase and the Strangers got -- zapped – by ultra lightning and got super powers! That same lightning made you into an ultra, just like them. When Evie went to your room and saw you using sorcery, she was so surprised that she called me in. You used magic to tie me up and then stood there shouting angry things. That was very naughty of you, Gus."

"You turned into Mantra! Your clothes changed!"

"Gus, being full of bad magic is like being full of bad drugs. While you were standing there, I saw you get a funny look on your face and start to talk to people who weren’t really there. As soon as that happened, all those magical ropes you'd put on me fell off and I got loose. Then I took Evie and the two of us ran away. We were afraid to go home until the police sent us a message saying that you'd gone out into the neighborhood and started a fight with a patrolman. Because of that, you were arrested and put into jail."

"Mantra was there!" he exclaimed.

I was still thinking about the Aladdin's eavesdropping when I said, “I have a super secret to tell you, Gus. Mantra couldn't have been at our house Friday night. She was arrested and locked up last month. People said that she robbed a museum and now she's in jail because of it. That's how the world is, Gus. No matter how good and famous an ultra is, he has to obey the law like everybody else, or else he gets into a lot of trouble."

"It wasn’t just a dream!" the boy said.

I stroked the lad's hard, sunken cheek and kissed his beetling brow. The more the two of us spoke, the more he seemed like the old Gus. "I know how good you usually are," I told him, "but when that magic zapped you, it made you angry and wild. I’m so sorry, because if you had behaved well Friday night and used your magic to help people, maybe the UltraForce would have already come by to ask you to join them. According to what they wrote in the Ultramate Source, they’ve been wanting to find a powerful wizard for their team."

The look he flashed rended my heart. "Do you think they'll still ask me?"

I squeezed the lad's hard shoulder. "Oh, honey, UltraForce has a rule not to recruit any ultra who get angry easily or get into trouble. You were an ultra for only a little while before you misbehaved and got arrested. Now all those heroes are going to think you’re a bad guy and you’ll have to be good for a very long time before they’ll ever trust you enough to let you on their team.

“What were you thinking, Gus? No matter how powerful a little-boy ultra is, a grownup officer is always going to get the better of him. There's lots of bad ultras in jail right now because they weren’t friendly and respectful around the police.”

"Is this a jail? They said it was a hospital."

"It's both. I'm sorry, Gus."

"When can I go home?"

I made a needed effort to control of my voice. "I wish I knew, precious, but the police have rules. You either have to stop being bad, or else you’ll have to stop being an ultra. Otherwise, people are going to keep saying that you’re a bad ultra."

"No! I don’t want to stop being an ultra! I always wanted to be one!"

I blinked, my burning eyes. "Gus, there's still a chance that things can be fixed, but it’s going to take time. We’ll have to talk to a lot of lawyers and see what they tell us.”

Gus now began to cry. He had asked his mother to get him out of trouble, only to be told that there was nothing she could do except see a lawyer. For a boy his age, that would be a giant step toward understanding how the world worked.

"I'm going to visit you just as often as I can," I promised. I didn't dare hold out the hope that Evie, his grandma, or his dad could come, too. Aladdin would only allow what it felt like allowing.

"Gus, is there anything I can do to help you feel better?"

He didn't answer.

The cell door rolled open and Dr. Sarn came back in. Standing over the capsule, she studied the face of the child who scarcely still looked like a child.

"I think that's about all you can do for the little guy today," Sarn said. "If the psychoanalysts decide that your visit has had a positive effect, we'll have you come and talk to him again soon."

I nodded dully. What did Aladdin’s top brass know about broken and suffering families?

"Can the boy's sister visit him, too?” I asked. “She's four years younger than he is -- just a tyke."

"This is a high-security installation..." Sarn began. Then the hard-as-nails director stopped sounding like a brass wind-up toy for an instant. "Well, if she's really that small, we'll consider it."

As a departing gesture, I placed Mr. Paws atop the capsule. I hoped that the stuffed toy would remind Gus that he had a family waiting for him and they still loved him very much.

“Please don't throw away this bear,” I asked Sarn. “It's my daughter's favorite pet. If you can’t permit her brother to keep it, I'd like to take it back to her.”

“Are you up to turning in your report now, Blake?" she asked without addressing my request.

"Report? Ah, no. Sorry, Doctor. My mother came in last evening. Then a friend called, wanting to be filled in on what happened Friday. She took me out to lunch, and then I got your call. It's all too much."

Dr. Sarn nodded. "Stay a while, until you settle down. Get the report written as long as you’re here. You can sleep over and we’ll line you up with a helicopter ride back to the city in the morning. This place has plenty of beds, at least."

"Sure, why not?" I replied resignedly.

But my insides were in a roil. I wanted to pound my fists against the walls and yell. A family was getting hammered by grief and Sarn was obsessing over some meaningless bureaucratic report!

We went out and the doctor had me linger near the cell until an aide came and led me across the complex. We went into an office in the administrative wing, where he left me alone with a word-processor. Wanting to get all the silly paperwork behind me, I sat down and stared at the interface, trying to concentrate my thoughts. Gradually, using Lauren's testimony as a guide, I managed to input a page of self-serving fiction before I lost my train of thought. How was a young boy expected to endure doing time in a place like Alcatraz? I wracked my brain trying to puzzle out some means of making this disaster a little less disastrous.

I didn't know it then, but I was only about ten seconds away from being lambasted by another disaster.

#

I suddenly saw two sets of hands in front of me. The one pair was striking the keyboard, causing everything that I had written up to then to disappear. I tried to rise from my swivel chair, but couldn't. In a flash, the office around me was filled with people moving at blurring speed, everyone running backwards. Then the whole scene blanked out.

The next thing I knew, though I was still sitting, something was cramping me. A man was speaking, but I could hardly hear him, so loud was the whirring noise around us.

"Mrs. Blake?" he was saying. "Are you feeling faint?"

I sat up and manged to make sense of what I was seeing. I was inside another helicopter and a seat-belt was holding me in place. Outside, I saw a sunlit harbor trimmed by a cityscape. Who had put me into another helicopter? Had I blacked out and was being taken back to the mainland -- for medical attention, perhaps?

"Mrs. Blake? You're as white as a ghost."

I looked the pilot’s way. He was a short-bearded man in his twenties, and definitely not the same pilot who'd escorted me to the island a couple hours earlier. My disorientation was like a smothering blanket. How much time had passed? Was this my morning ride back to the mainland? Had I passed a whole night on Alcatraz Island?

"Ah, I f-felt woozy for a moment," I stammered, playing for time while my mind raced. "Please, excuse me. I've -- I've gone through hell lately. It’s almost more than I can take."

The young man nodded. "Some pretty bad things went down last night, they say, and not just here in San Francisco. The only thing that I saw myself was that the sky had a crazy color to it. As usual, the brass isn't explaining anything.”

When I looked out the window again, the water and the city were still there. Why was my memory full of black spots? What bad things was the pilot talking about?

"Uh, excuse me -- what -- what day is this?"

"Ma'am?"

"What day is this? I'm a little confused."

"It's Saturday."

"Saturday? The 23rd?"

He blinked in surprise. "No, ma'am. It's the 16th."

The 16th? My head spun. I had gone out to the prison on Thursday the 21st. Now it was five days earlier! Had I experienced another time-shift! If the young serviceman was right, I had slipped five days back into the past -- sort of. As a matter of fact, I was still two days ahead of the date where this craziness had first begun, at the Mall on Thursday the 14th.

What had shoved me ahead in time, and then dragged me back --partway?

All I could think was that some kind of unknown force was still messing with me. What was it going to do next? I didn’t have a clue.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 12

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Revised June 21, 2021
Revised June 22, 2021
Revised June 23, 2021
Revised June 24, 2021
.Revised June 25, 2021
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.
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TERROR PLUS ONE

Edited by Christopher Leeson
.

Chapter 12

I see the Past, Present and Future, existing all at once Before me;
O Divine Spirit, sustain me on thy wings!

William Blake
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.

What's happened? Think, Lukasz, think! I told myself.

I tried to keep from shaking. I had shifted from Thursday back to Saturday. It was another leap of five days, but this time I’d gone into the past instead of the future. But had I returned to my own reality, or was I still in the gullet of the same strange alternate world? Even worse, was this a whole new parallel dimension filled with crazy inconsistencies that I would have to learn about one by one?

If it were option Number Two, this was the day when Eden returned home from Mrs. Walker's house, accompanied by Lauren and Evie. Gus had been arrested by Aladdin the night before. And today was also the day when Mantra had been rendered powerless, right after her escape from the Soul Walk.

Looking out over the Bay, I tried to get my mind around the information that I'd so far gleaned from living Wednesday and Thursday in the future. Basically, after Eden arrived home with Evie and Lauren, a messenger from Aladdin had brought Eden an airline ticket along with a message from Sarn -- an order to report to San Francisco’s HQ ASAP. I supposed that Mantra had flown on a commuter aircraft and was picked up at an airstrip by a helicopter pilot sent from Alcatraz Island. So, here I was now, on that Saturday the 16th helicopter ride, with my feet in the shoes of this world’s Mantra.

Across the dusky sky and water, I sighted the rocky prison isle dead ahead.

Physically, I felt dragged out in a big way. Unfortunately, I had to look sharp when I met with my supervisor. I especially couldn’t let her know that I was an involuntary time-traveler. I had to make it look as though this was the first time that I’d ever set foot on Alcatraz Island.

Focus, Lukasz! I knew that Dr. Sarn would take me to see Gus. But when I'd met Gus on Thursday, I found out that he didn’t remember anything about his mother’s Saturday visit. That told me that he must have been kept under sedation while it was happening.

I’m a hard case, but I’m not made of stone. I wasn't at my best. My mental strain and my body’s physical strain was a heavy load to carry. But the stakes were high. If I looked and sounded like a nervous wreck, it would be bad. Having Sarn rate me as unfit for duty could mess up everything. I would be able to learn a lot about what my crooked colleges were up to so long as I pretended to be as right as rain and raring to go.

But, Lord, my fatigue had me just about floored. As it happened, the body I was occupying had been dead less than twelve hours earlier. Okay, I’m used to being brought back from the corpse state, but its still not an easy row to hoe.

"You look uneasy,” my pilot said. “Lots of people get jumpy on their first 'copter ride. You'll be yourself once you plant your feet back on solid ground."

Yeah, and I bet you'll be glad to be rid of a flaky-acting dame, too, I thought.

We made the approach to the Alcatraz hanger just as I’d experienced before. I saw Dr. Sarn waiting on the tarmac, dressed in a lab coat and brown slacks -- different from what she’d worn on Thursday evening. I now realized that not only was Sarn dressed differently from before, but I was, too.

But clothes didn’t concern me so much as did the general situation. Was this my last stop in time, or had I become a floating bottle tossed from continent to continent by storms? Would I become like that dude in Quantum Leap, who never got home, but faced a lifetime of temporal shifting? I’m not the suicidal type, but an existence like that character’s would really put me to the test.

First and foremost, I was wondering what had happened to the borrowed body I'd just left behind in the future? Had the soul of the missing Eden automatically reclaimed it, or had it slumped dead across the keyboard where I was typing? What a sad thought! That would mean that the Gus and Evie of this world had lost their mother.

But I had an additional disquieting thought. Would I be kicked out of this body by a younger version of myself on Wednesday, coming across the dimensional barriers from the world of my origin, fresh from visiting the Kid’s Club at the Mall? Would being supplanted in that way kill me?

The ‘copter door was now opening. I tried to look steady as I descended the landing ladder to the pavement. Sarn strode up, her Teutonic features tightly set.

"Hello, Blake. Thank you for coming on such short notice. From reports, you’ve had one hell of an experience."

"I did, but I’m here to help," I answered noncommittally. My best bet for making it through this setup without a fumble would be to be a good listener and say as little as possible.

She motioned me to follow.

"How much does Aladdin know about what happened to the world last night?" I asked.

"Well, we're still gathering the details. By the way, I want you to know that your son is in the best possible hands."

I made no reply to that absurd statement and simply followed her to a cell occupied by Gus. It was a probably a temporary holding cell, not the large one that I’d already visited. There was no troop of medics on duty, only two muscular guards with electronic rifles. The boy lay in a similar capsule for containment and monitoring, though, looking catatonic.

"Can anyone explain what's made him this way?" I asked.

Sarn's brows knitted. "Many people were harmed or changed last night, at a rate that we've never seen before. But we’ve known for a long time that ordinary people can become ultras when struck by some unknown energy originating in outer space."

"Did -- Did you find out anything new at all?"

"I can’t say that we have. But lunatic things always happen when ultras are around."

"I don’t follow. Are you saying that the ultras were somehow involved in last night’s craziness?"

She shook her head. "I can’t say that, either. But wherever those people get into any picture, bizarre things happen. You’ll be glad to know that we're not just monitoring anymore. We’re well along in activating a program to proactively do something about the menace they present."

I didn’t care for the sound of that. "How so?"

"We’ve established protocols for capturing powerful ultras. We've been readying an operation with a certain target in mind, but we changed plans abruptly because of the chaos that happened last night.”

“Do you mean we have a new target? Who’s that?”

“Mantra.”

"I don’t understand,” I said. I had almost blurted: “You've already got Mantra," but my plan was to play things close to the vest while taking in as much information as possible.

"Blake!? Blake, is that you --?" a woman’s voice called out to me.

I turned to see Blythe Ashwin locked up, as before. I stepped tentatively toward her, only to have to dodge the hand that she’d shot out to throttle me with.

Taking in a deep breath, I regarded my erstwhile foe from a couple paces back. I had deliberately made the Company think she represented the secret identity of Mantra. The ugly truth, unfortunately, was that Blythe was suffering the punishment that had been intended for me.

Seeing Blythe’s bad treatment confirmed me in the idea that I should get her out of prison, while allowing Aladdin go on thinking that she was Mantra. Okay, I’m no paragon. If I ever let anyone read these memoirs, my best defense has to be that there are no lily-white people, not even among ultra heroes. But I honestly try hard not to be worse than light gray.

"You framed me, you slime!" Blythe starting yelling. "You trapped me here, ruined my career!"

In all fairness, that hadn't been me, but the other Mantra. But this was a distinction without a real difference. Before I could say a word to calm the prisoner, Sarn flashed a hand-held object and assured me, "Don't worry, Blake, she's not hurting anyone except herself!"

Ashwin started screaming to the crackle of electricity. It was like a sound effect from an old-style horror movie. The prisoner fell to the floor, moaning with pain. Because I'd learned a little about Aladdin prisoner-control technology, I knew that she'd been implanted with a pain goad, one that her keepers could turn on with a push-button remote. I hated even pretending that I was one of these Aladdin people. I only hoped that someday I could do something that would hurt them even worse than my actions had already hurt them.

In every way, Aladdin was over the top. In my world, I'd discovered their participation in a plot called "Operation Powerhouse." Until then, I’d known that Aladdin had some bad elements in it, but the Powerhouse experience started me wondering whether the whole outfit wasn’t corrupt. The information I had so far was leading me to think that the agency was a henchman organization for a dirty group of trillionaires and all-around moral degenerates called “the International Cabal.” Back in the Eighteenth Century, they had referred to themselves as the “Illuminati,” a name that still keeps appearing in popular fiction. And to think that it was these people whom I had to depend on to "help" Gus.

"I take it she's still denying that she's Mantra," I remarked in a neutral tone.

"Yes," the doctor affirmed. "She’s confessed to a lot of things, but when it comes to her work as Mantra, she gives up nothing. In one way, though, she’s telling the truth -- she's not Mantra."

“How can you say that?” I asked.

"She’s locked up, she’s old news. There's a new Mantra, one who might possibly be just as dangerous! One of our men took a video of her rampage last night."

I assumed that they were talking about Lauren. I knew that if she were captured by Aladdin, she’d be treated as badly as Ashwin. People with the totalitarian mindset seem to have a compulsion to torture.

Sarn led me into a meeting room containing an audio-video console. At the punch of a button, a slide lit up a wall screen. It wasn’t Lauren in the picture, but an image of Necromantra!

"So that’s the new Mantra?” I asked. “And does this person have anything to do with the reason I was called in to San Francisco, Dr. Sarn?"

"It's got everything to do with it, Blake," Sarn affirmed. "It can't be coincidence that this new Mantra has shown up so soon after we captured the old one. We don’t want a new version of that troublemaker remaining free for very long. I want you to be the Aladdin HQ liaisons with the task force that we're sending to corral this Mantra wannabe!"

"The headquarters contact? Who’ll be the field agents?" I was assuming that I was about to meet the new Wrath.

"The A-Team, along with two very powerful operatives," Doc Sarn replied. She jabbed another button and a sliding door glided into a recess, revealing a room occupied by an ill-matched pair.

"The new Wrath and --" Sarn began.

"NM-E!?" I broke in. "That thing murdered the Squad!" My incredulity wasn't a put-on. One reason that so few ultras have been known to history is because N-ME has been operating for centuries as an automated hunter-assassin, striking them down almost as quickly as they appeared. So far, it was still a mystery as to what group was controlling the metal monster. It had to be a group, since what individual mad genius could have stayed alive for so long?

My supervisor shrugged. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, Blake."

I shook my head. "That thing will kill anything in its path. It has absolutely no loyalty!"

"It does now, Mrs. Blake," "Wrath" chimed in -- though the word chime doesn't properly describe the powerful baritone resonating from the man’s deep barrel chest. He looked as Lauren had described him, right down to his mostly-red action suit.

The tinny voice of NM-E also clicked on. "Hello, Mrs. Blake...I'm glad we'll be colleagues."

I stared. Was this mechanical recitation coming from a super-weapon actually supposed to reassure me?

"We have to move swiftly," Sarn said, "before the new Mantra heads out. If she's really a novice, she'll be easier to catch now rather than later, after she's gotten seasoned. We have a transport waiting to take you three and the A-team to L.A. Your specific orders, and the equipment you'll need to support the mission, are waiting onboard."

I had read the basic copy that Aladdin made available to insiders about the A-Team. It was the best attack and capture squad in Aladdin’s box of toys. They had subdued and brought in numerous ultras. But their success record left me underwhelmed, since most of their arrests had been of innocent people who had just lately developed super powers. Gus was a good case in point.

"So what are you going to do?” I asked. “Use a false attack by NM-E to bring Mantra -- the new Mantra -- out of the shadows to combat it?"

"Very astute, Blake," nodded the doctor. "I’ve already told you that you were wasting yourself remaining for so long in the data-analysis department."

I ignored the compliment; I was too ticked off. On one hand, Aladdin knows that many ultras are good people willing to step up and unselfishly defend strangers, but they still broadcast the idea that super-powered beings were a “menace.” I think what the Cabal doesn’t like about ultras is the fact that they're wild cards. People aiming to enslave and impoverish the population of the entire globe don’t like wild cards getting in their way. I didn’t think that it was any coincidence that the Washington Swamp choked up a dedicated anti-ultra agency like Aladdin to help with their world-conquest plot.

I changed the subject. "Does Ashwin know anything about this red-headed babe who appeared last night? Can it be that she and Ashwin are sorority sisters in the same cult?"

Sarn frowned. "We interrogated the prisoner intensively to plumb her knowledge, but she’s as hard as nails. We’ll have to put our questions directly to the half-dressed bitch, once we have her locked up.” The doctor glanced toward Wrath. “Escort Mrs. Blake back to the hangar; there's no time to waste."

#

Our task-force was shuttled to the mainland by boat. A string of vans carried us to a corporate airfield. This collaboration between government and international corporatism was typical. The International Cabal -- often called the Deep State in the U.S. -- operated under a complex organization. A cadre of mostly-independent interests were colluding together in the manner of the Mafia. The central banks provided the brains, while the government kept the common people in order and fleeced them so that the super-rich wouldn't have to spend their own money. With control of the Justice Department, they could nullify the whole American law enforcement apparatus.But it was the international corporations that were proactive in the dirty deeds department, doing the things that were too risky for government bureaucrats to undertake. These included mass censorship, election fraud, organizing riots and insurrections. And backing up this dirty combo were the foreign despotisms. These wanted to take by force what the American people had built through honest labor. The worst of these foreign vultures was, to no one's surprise, China.

The transport assigned to our operation was ready and waiting by the time we arrived. With Wrath watching me, I had to carry on in a business-like manner, just as he was doing. But my fatigue was coming back; I could barely stay awake while reading the mission book. My own role in the operation, fortunately, turned out to be relatively simple. I would monitor the action and keep HQ appraised in detail. Wrath was the hotshot wrangler who would be ramroding the scam.

But had to keep on top of things if I was going to protect people I cared about. This mission was supposed to be aimed at Necromantra, but I knew that it was going to veer off target and go after the wrong person. I needed to warn Lauren and get her out of danger. Sure, my interference would change “future history.” But if I could keep her out of a fight with N-ME, it had to be a positive thing.

Naturally I couldn't call Lauren by phone, not as long as I was in a beehive of Aladdin agents. Instead, I had to try to contact her by means of a telepathic link-up, the same way I had reached Pinnacle. Because she and the local Mantra -- whose body I possessed -- had been in mental contact previously, and because her Mantra powers were so strong, I thought the mind to mind linkup would work with her. I'd only began to enter the necessary trance state when Wrath came over with a cup of hot coffee.

"Nervous about flying?" he asked.

I glanced up and accepted the java. "No, it's not the flying. The fact is, I've gone too many hours without sleep and some terrible things happened to me last night."

"I met your daughter while things were at their hottest. She's a cute girl."

"Yeah, I think so, too. But what has me most on edge is riding with that machine. I jabbed my thumb toward N-ME. It feels like I'm on a tour buss with a ticking bomb. How do you control him, Wrath?"

"Wrath is my working handle, Mrs. Blake. My name's Tunney, Greg Tunney. I feel privileged to be working with you."

"I guess you're referring to that European operation I did. I'm only glad I got back alive. In the interest of staying alive, I hope your method of controlling N-ME is fool-proof."

He answered my question affably enough and actually hung around for chit-chat. Wrath had a down to earth charm that might or might not have been genuine. I had to remain wary, though, lest his conversation was really an interrogation. He mentioned that his dad had been one of Aladdin's earliest recruits after its founding. As for Tunney himself, he had served with the Marines right out of high school.Once out, Aladdin recruited him, probably on the basis of his father's repressive record with the Company. Greg's sounding so gung-ho on all things Aladdin creeped me out. In fact, he said that if he ever had a son, he'd want him to join Aladdin, too. Well, I just hope my own kids can do better than that. A lot better.

When I fell into a yawning jag, Tunney left me to my rest. I lay back, mulling over the many possible scenarios that could lead to disaster during the next twenty-four hours. And then I fell asleep.

I just couldn’t help it.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 13

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Posted July 21, 2021
Revised July 22, 2021
Revised July 28, 2021
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DATING THE N-ME

Edited by Christopher Leeson
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Chapter 13

Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings
To his strong bones, strides o'er the groaning rocks:
He withers all in silence, and his hand
Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.

William Blake

Our party made landing at a restricted field next to L.A. and were taken elsewhere by van. It conveyed us to a corporate site, basically a Deep State safe house. There we conspirators would organize and ready ourselves for the day ahead.

With Wrath directing the A-Team in every detail, there wasn’t much for me to do. I was among the first who were authorized to go get some sleep. My assigned quarters were Spartan, offering fewer amenities than a cheap motel. Again, I couldn’t make use of my cell phone since the premises were protected by energy-field dampeners, making calling out impossible. To use a land line required permission from above, but I didn’t want to ask. The house phones would absolutely be monitored.

Lying back on my bunk, I tried to establish mental contact with Lauren. My concentrated effort seemed to get me close to Lauren's mind, but that consciousness of hers was like a ringing phone that just wouldn’t pick up.

So, I turned my attention to my friend Strike instead. Tomorrow was Sunday. The future history I knew told me that some catastrophe would turn New York City into the new Hiroshima and Strike would be blamed. But my contact attempt never got close. It was as if he were nowhere to be found on the entire planet. Why? Was he dead? Maybe.

Blocked in every direction, I did my best to relax. I’d been dealing with fatigue all day and by now it was shutting down my higher brain functions. I closed my eyes, intending to try to reach Lauren again, but the next thing I knew it was morning.

Wrath wakened me with a tap on the door, calling that I should come down for breakfast. I yelled back, “Okay” and took my Aladdin action suit out of its plastic bag. It was very like what the A-team wore and I didn’t doubt that this was the same outfit that Lauren had seen me sporting at the Mall. Or, maybe I should say, would see me sporting at the Mall.

The morning meal would have been bested by hospital food in any foot race. It’s like government can’t do anything right, nothing at all, except when it comes to causing trouble. The whole A-Team was chowing down and Wrath briefed me on my specific orders. He emphasized that I would not be coming with him and the others to the Mall, but would deploy in a safe area and keep in contact via a com link.

That didn’t sit well. I wanted to get into the action right out of the gate and urged Wrath to upgrade my role, specifically asking permission to go with the team to the Mall. He shook his shaven head. "Can't do that, Ma'am. Protocol says that we've all got to follow the plan. Bad things happen when a plan is laid aside."

So, I was transported to an empty lot near the Mall along with a few others who composed my monitoring team. Then Wrath and the A-Team moved out, with N-ME in the back of a truck box. The thing really filled up the available space. I supervised the work of my helpers readying the equipment. When everything was shipshape, all I had to do was sit quietly in a folding chair, waiting for something to happen.

In fact, I was a pathetically minor piece on the a game board, like the pawn or rook that doesn’t move at all before the checkmate. From what I could tell, the more I tried to change the future, the less traction I was gaining. I wasn’t even sure that history could be altered, but until I knew for sure I wasn’t going to give up. To try to reach Lauren again I needed privacy, something I didn’t have where I was. So I went to the portable toilet that had been dropped off for us and, once alone inside, made another effort at nailing down a psychic link.

"Wha---?!" I heard the teen’s thoughts exclaiming. "Eden, is that you?"

"Yes," I said, projecting as forcefully as I could. "Didn't you hear me trying to reach you last night?"

"Oh, I was having trouble sleeping, after what I’d gone through with Gus, Coven, and Necromantra. So, I took a full dose of Unisom and it clicked me off like a light, until Dad got me up for breakfast."

"Well, I’m calling to warn you. Aladdin is back. They’ve set up a sting operation trying to capture any ultra who takes the bait. They’ll be at the Sherman Way Mall this morning. That guy Wrath is already there with a hit team. Don’t go anywhere near the Mall today."

"You’re talking about the big bald dude in the funky red spandex?"

"Yes. Take it from me, these guys are deadly. Remember how easily they took out Gus? And this group is even better trained than that one was. If you hear news about a giant robot endangering people, don’t try to help. It’s only a government false flag. I mean, it's just a buff to draw in unsuspecting ultras and capture them. The robot is programmed not to hurt anyone."

"You mean Aladdin and a robot are at the Mall now?"

"Yes. Stay home!"

"But I'm almost there -- at the Mall, I mean. Mom and I are meeting at the bookstore. If she sees a giant robot clanking around the place she might have a heart attack! I have to get her out, and quick! Maybe I can breeze in and breeze out with her before the dirty dozen barges in."

"No! Lauren, you can't risk it. You'll be in the middle of a hurricane. Your mom will be all right. If anyone attacks NM-E -- the robot, I mean – it will shift into combat mode. The Aladdin people think they can control the thing, but I know they can't."

"I can’t take chances with Mom. She has a really low melting point. Look, if the robot shows up, all we have to do is play it cool and head out the back door. Right?"

"Wrong. Getting close to that monster is like juggling lightning bolts!"

"Bye, Eden. Gotta go! Every second counts!"

"Lauren, no!"

She was gone.

Teenagers! They're all idiots!

#

Again I wondered if it was possible to change history. Maybe I was worrying about nothing. Possibly, the fight between Lauren and NM-E, along with its successful conclusion, was foreordained. But I wasn’t sure.

It’s not in my nature to sit around hoping that things would turn out for the best. I’d already meddled with Lauren’s encounter with N-ME by contacting her ahead of time. There's a theory that should a person move even one pebble on a beach, all of future history is going to be changed, not just here on Earth, but all over the universe. It was just possible that merely by being on a planet where I didn't belong had randomized all of its future events. That would include any fight that would be waged between Lauren and N-ME.

The trouble was, I lacked freedom of action while inside this nest of Aladdin agents. It also bothered me that I didn't have a plan. I wasn't sure what I could do at the Mall even if I went there. If Wrath was no match for N-ME, I was only a straw in the wind. Feeling rotten, I went back to my team and asked for an update report on Greg Tunney’s operation.

Tunney had, in fact, been sending in play-by-play reports via his remote. He had just released NM-E and the robot was advancing across the mall tarmac. Already hundreds of panicked shoppers were fleeing by car or on foot.

I wondered if the killing machine had been programmed to say, “I’m from the government. I’m here to help you.”

According to plan, the robot would roam about looking scary and Tunney was under orders to recall it as soon as local authorities started to arrive. If Necromantra or some other ultra got into the mix before that, the A-Team would rush in with nets, gas grenades, and stun guns. If captured, the hero would be spirited away for interrogation and brainwashing, à la Blythe Ashwin.

Whomever they caught, I knew it wouldn’t be Necromantra. A bitch like that couldn’t care less if innocent people were being terrorized just a mile away from her!

If forced to leave the Mall without a capture, the team would move the operation to an alternate site – a multiplex movie theater in an adjacent suburb. I kept my fingers crossed, hoping that Lauren had already gotten in and gotten out.

But I was almost equally worried about Warstrike – or Strike, as he was called in this twisted world. I’d already verified that his phone numbers were not duplicated on this planet. It was like I was walking around in a dream; I knew something awful was coming, but couldn't do a damned thing about it.

And then there was the problem of New York. It was useless to give anyone in authority advanced warning about the coming disaster. Government functionaries don't pay attention to concerned citizens claiming to see the future. Worse, after 911 the USA had become a surveillance state. If I sent in a call and something happened, law-enforcement bureaucrats would hunt me down, thinking I had to be part of the plot. If the FBI found out who I was, they would tip off their buddies at Aladdin, too. Both agencies would slam me with questions that I wouldn’t be able to answer. As much as I hated it to admit it, Fun City was on its own, and so was Brandon. I only hoped that he could survive being smeared as a mass-murdering international terrorist fugitive.

An electronic voice interrupted my dismal thinking. It was Tunney, saying that NM-E had made contact with an ultra opponent! I closed my eyes and clenched my fists, hoping that – this time – that the robot had run into someone other than Lauren Sherwood.

"What does the opponent look like, Wrath?" I asked, my throat tight.

"It's not the red-headed chick from the picture," he replied. “I'm seeing that same bouncy cheerleader-type I ran into Saturday night -- the one that your little girl called 'Mantra.' She's coming on strong! That kid's got real power!"

Worst-case scenario! Why was Lauren doing this? But that was a dumb question. Why did kids her age do anything?

“Ah! The little blonde just got a good haymaker on NM-E..." Tunney was saying. "He's staggering. I'm checking his damage readouts...No, it's good! Old Nuts and Bolts must have the constitution of an Abrams tank.” Then I heard Wrath give the order: “NM-E -- intercept and detain....”

Then he yelled "No!" and went silent.

I sucked in a breath. That outcry could very mean that Lauren had trashed the equipment van – the very van that Aladdin depended on to keep control of the situation. NM-E's hard drive would now be rebooting to its original program -- a psychotic algorithm that had somehow been written ages ago, long before the human race had conceived of software. It was a program that had been telling the robot to hunt down and kill ultras for thousands of years.

Wrath would intervene to help Lauren, I knew, which would result in getting himself seriously injured to no good purpose.

I turned to my subordinate officer. "Try to pick up Tunney's lieutenant on the A-Team,"

A moment later, he'd raised a woman's voice.

"Smoke is coming from Wrath's van," she reported. "Tunney doesn't respond. There's an ultra-battle going on in front of us; we can’t head in directly. I'm sending a squad to circle around and get a visual!"

The situation had already spun out of control. Plainly, I had to let Aladdin know that we had a disaster on our hands. I sent in my message and the far-end monitor answered, “We hear you, Agent Blake.”

"We think that Mantra has attacked the mobile mission van," I said. "There's a good possibility that Wrath has lost control of NM-E. This could turn into a civilian massacre. The A-Team has to be ordered to put the robot down. And I recommend that additional heavy support be dropped in ASAP."

“Measures will be taken, Agent Blake,” a different voice answered back. “Maintain your position.”

I sat for a few minutes with no further contact.

Even though I didn't know how I could make a difference by intervening, I couldn’t stand the idea of Lauren fighting alone against a monster that had already made mincemeat out of squads of ultras. I was on the edge of going AWOL and heading for the Mall when a headquarters colonel came on the air. I knew him only slightly, a hard case called Colonel Smekes. "Agent Blake. Move your monitoring operation closer in. We need better information.”

I didn’t give a damn about the monitoring, but I could use Smeke’s words as an excuse to go to the Mall personally. I took about five seconds to tell my communications team to move our station to within sight of the A-Team's activity focus and I’d join them there. Then I took off for the shopping center at a sprint.

#

I actually made better time on foot than I could have in a vehicle. Every car at the Mall was trying to get out at the same time. But swarms of other motorists were going toward the lot -- thrill-seekers alerted by broadcast news that they could go witness a first-class ultra brawl. Horns blared as the opposing streams of traffic ran afoul of each other, bringing everybody to a halt.

I had to weave between a hundred mostly-stationary autos. Upon reaching the parking lot, I saw something jetting into the sky like a giant bottle rocket. It was NM-E, making his escape by air -- just as future history had foretold.

I’d already known that Lauren's fight with NM-E was fated to climax inside the Toy World store, a location I knew well. I set out and, when it was just ahead, Wrath came staggering from of the wreckage, holding his shoulder and limping. I got goose-flesh. He should have been in a much worse condition than this. History had been changed! But if Tunney had lucked out by being hurt less than he should have been, could Lauren have been even more hurt?

"Wrath," I yelled. "Where's L -- Mantra?"

"B-Back in there," he gasped.

I scrambled through a gaping hole in the Toy World wall. Inside, it looked like a herd of buffaloes had rumbled through its aisles using flamethrowers. Broken and scorched toys were strewn everywhere. A headless action figure of Mantra lay at my feet. The poor thing looked about as ruined as I felt.

With my eyes burning and tearing from the stinging smoke, I scanned what was a chaos of ruination. Tunney touched my shoulder.

"She's -- she's over there, M-Mrs. Blake. B-Behind those boxes," he stammered.

I went where he pointed and, amid a pile of crumpled cartons, I saw Lauren. Blood covered much of her slim body and her peaches-and-cream flesh was torn in many places. The gray magic armor she had on had been heavily scarred. Even if the girl could have survived such a battering, her open throat wound made all the rest of her injuries look irrelevant.

I dashed to the teenager and gripped her bloody arm, feeling for a pulse. I detected not hint of life. She was still warm, but....

But she was dead.

Lauren was dead.

The fatal injury of a young person would have been hard to deal with under any circumstances, but in a fiasco like this I had very good reason to suppose that I was responsible.

CONTINUED IN 14

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Posted 08-21-21
Revised 08-22-21

Edited by Christopher Leeson
.

Chapter 14

THE EDGE OF DESTRUCTION

“Excessive sorrow laughs.
Excessive joy weeps.”

William Blake
.
.
.
.

"It -- It got outta hand," Tunney was yammering. "She trashed the controls. The thing went wild. The harder she fought, the faster the robot attacked. She was just a kid -- no match for that kind of monster. I tried to kick in my berserker thing and take the pressure off her, but NM-E knocked me head over heels with one swipe. By the time the world stopped spinning, it was too late."

I nodded morosely, emotion having taken my voice away. Lauren had been more than a younger friend; she had loved Mantra in an endearing fannish way. Two nights earlier, she had risked everything to save her. With time and seasoning, she could have been one of the world's greatest ultras.

So why had the girl pitched into an insane fight after I’d told her it wasn’t necessary? Was it just bravado? The thought of Lauren’s parents visiting her graveside sliced through my breast. How could they -- how could any parent -- bear the sudden, violent death of an only child?

And then there was Evie. She would soon be finding out that her friend, the same friend who had rescued her mother, had been killed in a terrible way.

I shook my head. I didn't want to see Evie cry. Not again. Not so soon.

Tunney put his arm around me. I swallowed hard, struggling to get a grip on myself.

"I know. This is bad," he said. "I feel like crying myself."

I looked away from Lauren’s corpse. What was I supposed to do now?

I squared my shoulders and raised my head. What I needed to do was to channel the old Luskasz. I needed his toughness, his calloused acceptance of the world’s brutalities. Though his eyes I'd seen countless people die over the centuries. I had seen many children die, too. The loss of friends, even lovers, was no new experience for Lukasz. I had to accept what life was, a messy and confusing thing whose flip side was death. Here, in a wrecked toy store, I didn't have the luxury of giving in and falling apart -- not with Aladdin standing there looking at me.

I stood up; Tunney backed off a step. My first duty as an Aladdin agent was to make a report to HQ. My emotions were screaming "to hell with headquarters," but I had to follow the plan. I needed to show them that Eden Blake was a strong and steady agent. I wanted to be seen as a dependable operative who could be phased by nothing. I needed to con the leadership into trusting me with more and more crucial projects, so I'd be in a better position to screw them up. Also, being able to help Gus later on might depend on the impression I made with them on this terrible day.

Okay, what next? The perimeter had to be controlled, of course. The girl's body had to be gotten out of sight; as long as it lay out out in the open it would serve to define the narrative. Aladdin wouldn’t like that. They would appreciate a quick thinker who kept their options open. What they most wanted to avoid was being boxed in and facing the music for their own incompetence.

And through it all I had to remember that I was in a personal battle for survival. Sarn and Smekes were soon going to learn who this new Mantra had been. And Lauren Sherwood had been Eden Blake’s babysitter. How could they ever think that such a glaring fact was no big deal? How was I going to wriggle out of such an incredibly incriminating situation? How was I going to stay outside of a prison cell?

But what else? Tunney. He needed medical attention.

I looked up. By now some of the A-Team were barging in. The squad was loaded down with more weaponry than G.I. Joe. I turned and faced them, my chin high, my fists clenched. They were my audience of the moment and I had a role to play. I had to present myself as the kind of leader they expected, a leader who treated death and destruction as part of a good day’s work. Higher ups would soon be questioning them about how I had carried myself while working in the disaster mode. I had to make sure they gave the bosses the right answers.

"Send for an ambulance," I told the squad. "P-Put up a cordon. Keep every one out – police, too -- until a forensic team has taken over. Don't give statements to reporters. Don't add anything to what the public can't already see for themselves. And don’t admit who you really are. Any lie is better than the truth, but be evasive until you know the exact lies that HQ wants you to tell. You’ll be briefed on that soon. Standard procedure."

"Yes, ma'am," one of the faceless agents responded smartly.

#

It was full dark before I got back to HQ. In a crazy coincidence, Aladdin’s embarrassment was already being blotted out by a much bigger crisis. The MSM stations were all going crazy about the destruction of New York City. Usually the media clowns had it easy; they simply read whatever cover story Operation Mockingbird sends them. But New York had hit them out of left field. Television’s propagandist reporters had to fall back on their own resources, a situation which is never easy when one is an empty suit.

At first they put out a garble of pure incoherence. Seven-figure news readers and reporters were losing it right before the eyes of the nation. What made it even harder for them was the fact that so many of their network communications centers had been wiped -- including the New York Times building. They had to had to answer huge questions with no information and so gave the country wild-eyed speculation. The dumbest of them were already babbling about Russia having done it.

The situation, as bad as it was, was perfect for Aladdin. Nobody would be thinking about the fiasco in Canoga Park. The news would be about New York and nothing else except New York. The death of a new and unknown young ultra at a suburban mall would be local news. Only the ultra’s friends and family would notice her empty chair and remember who used to sit in it.

At first I dared to hope that the mass confusion would botch our mission debriefing and make me less of a target. But no such luck. The acting L.A. division boss, Colonel Smekes was, like most A-holes, an anal retentive. He’d hit the ground running, already seeing the greater L.A. district as his own turf and wanting to maximize his control of Aladdin's affairs inside it. Mass death occurring on the other side of the continent wasn’t enough to stop him from crossing every "T" and dotting every "I". All the senior personnel on the A-team, along with the ranking members of its support staff, were ordered to stay over. Smekes had to know what had happened -- so he could cover it up properly.

Wrath was the first agent to be called to the hot seat.

On the other hand, our team’s mission security level had been downgraded and I was finally at leave to call out. Evie would be with her grandma, I knew, and so I dialed Mrs. Freeman’s house.

"Hello, M-Mom," I said when Barbara Freeman answered.

"You sound awful, Eden. Where on earth have you been?"

I took a deep breath and steadied my voice. "I'm at the downtown office. I was able to...to look in on Gus in San Francisco. The authorities had him in sedation, so we couldn't talk. But a work-related crisis came up and I didn't have any choice but to pitch in. The CIA was under a communications shutdown until just now."

"Is your crisis about what happened in New York? Eden, what's going on? Are there going to be more attacks?"

Fortunately, I knew that this was going to be a one-off incident. "No, I don't think so. We don't know much yet. The New York blast came totally without warning."

“CCN is saying that the Russians did it. Is there going to be war?”

“No, there’s no proof that the Russians did anything at all. I don’t think there’s going to be war.”

She switched the topic to Gus, but I fended her off.

"It’s very complex. I’m finding out that a lot of people suffered strange effects on Friday night," I said. "Some unknown energy from outer space seems to be to blame. We've been trying to get the facts. Maybe the blast in New York was some sort of an aftershock to that event, or maybe not. I'll be home soon and tell you everything that the CIA lets me tell you."

"You should have found some way to talk to Evie before this. You know what a fright she's had and this awful stuff isn’t helping. She needs her mother more than ever."

"I'm sorry. I work for the government. Remember all those restrictions that Daddy used to be under? I’ve got to put up with those rules, too."

I doubt that satisfied her, but she changed her tone. "Eden, the A.P. was here yesterday, asking about what happened Friday. You hardly told me anything before rushing off, and Evie can't talk about it without starting to cry. But she did say that you two were separated for most of the night. What happened?"

"I couldn’t help what happened," I evaded. "I’ll give you the full explanation soon." Hopefully, I thought I could get away with telling Mrs. Freeman the same I'd told Tunney -- that I'd lain unconscious in an empty lot until morning. "Is Evie there?" I asked, wanting to change the subject.

Mother summoned the little girl to the phone.

"Mommy!"

It felt good to hear her voice. It had taking me a little while to start thinking and feeling like a real parent, but tonight I was a parent full bore. Evie’s voice was like balm for my frayed nerves. "Darling, I want you to know that I’m all right and that I'm going to see you soon."

"Are you still in San Frisco, Mommy?"

"No, Button. I'm back in the city, at the office downtown. I’m less than an hour away from you. Right now I'm just standing around, waiting to talk to my boss. When that’s done with, I think I’ll be able to get over to Grandma’s house and see you."

"You're really okay?"

"I'm very tired, but I'm perfectly okay."

"Did you get your ---?"

"I thought she wanted to ask about my powers coming back, so I quickly interrupted. "Shhh, honey. No, that didn't happen. But, please, remember that we never talk about important family subjects over the phone."

"Okay. I'm sorry, Mommy. Did you hear how a super bomb landed on New York and killed everybody? That's on the right side of the map, isn't it?"

"Yes, Pumpkin. It's terrible news. Try not to think about it."

"And TV also said that a monster attacked the mall where we always shop. Mommy, what's happening? Is the world coming to an end?"

"No, I don't think so, Evie. I think it’s one of those funny weeks when everything bad seems to happen all at once."

Apparently Aladdin hadn't released public information that "Mantra" was dead, or else Evie would have brought it up. I didn't want to give her the news before I absolutely had to. She'd be needing lots of on-the-scene hugs and kisses to pull her through.

"Did you find out where Gus is?" she asked eagerly.

"Yes, I did. The doctors gave him something to make him sleep. I'll have to go back later after he wakes up."

"Are you're going to go away again so soon? It's such a long way!"

"I know, Button. I think we'll both have to go to San Francisco and stay there for a while. Then we'll be able to visit Gus every day."

"Me, too?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure yet."

“It must be awful to be in jail.”

She didn't know the half of it. "I'll tell you all about Gus when I get home. Just don't watch TV tonight. You’ll get scared and not be able to sleep. If you’re well rested in the morning we'll see if you’re well enough to go to school."

"I had nightmares last night, Mommy. I had to sleep with Grandma ‘cause I was so afraid. My hands shake sometimes, too. When they do, I can't make them stop."

"My poor baby. You were frightened more than any little girl should ever be. I know a good doctor. I'm sure she can fix that nasty shaking. I'll see you soon, Pumpkin. All my kisses. Please put Grandma back on the line."

"Eden?" came Barbara's voice.

"I'm worried about Evie. I’m going to have to take her to a child psychologist."

"I was going to suggest that."

"I know one from college. She's working in Frisco now. She's the best."

"Okay." Mom sounded just about as drained as I felt.

"Just do whatever you can to keep Evie calm," I said. "Turn off the news for the rest of the night. She doesn't need any more bad dreams.” Most of all, I didn't want her to hear about "Mantra" being dead -- not yet. "Play her some cartoon videos until bedtime."

"I will," she said distractedly, and then added, "The news is making it sound like the whole of New York's been destroyed and millions are dead."

"No, it’s not that bad. The main business district was hardest hit. It was the heart of the corporate office district. About a quarter of the metropolitan area was scorched. We'll know more after the search and rescue teams go in. Luckily, there wouldn't have been many people working at their offices late on a Sunday night. The toll is going to be terrible, but not nearly as bad as those guys on television are making it sound."

"If you say so. But do you think L.A. could be next? Somebody on television was saying the ultras did it -- and there's more ultras around here than anywhere else."

"It’s like I said. Nobody knows anything for certain, but I don't think it was the ultras. The way I see it, for the next several days TV news is going to be a mish-mash of rumor reporting. If you want better information, check the alt-right news sites on the net. If anyone knows anything factual, they’ll have it."

"I will, darling. Just get home soon. Evie needs you."

"I'll try. Bye."

"So you don't think that ultras are involved?" broke in the strained but mellow voice that I knew to be Wrath's.

I put down the receiver and turned. He was in civilian attire and had a snowy sling supported his right arm. The man’s expression was tight and consternated.

"Just an opinion," I said with a sigh.

"A couple days ago, I wouldn't have been so quick to agree. Now I'm not so sure."

I forced a smile. "Hey, you you don’t look so bad, now that the blood's been washed off. How do you feel?"

"I'm so high on painkillers that my head's spinning. I got some abrasions and torn ligaments, they say, but over-all I lucked out. Things could’ve been a lot worse."

I knew for a fact that they would have been a lot worse if I hadn't blundered into this timeline.

“Was Colonel Smekes angry?” I asked.

“No. But that gent has ice water in his veins. Watch out.”

"What did he want to know?" I asked.

"He grilled me on everything I saw and everything I did. He's hammering on Coburn now."

I nodded sympathetically and motioned him to a chair. "Is there anything new breaking about New York?"

He shook his head. "Smekes says there's a possible ID on Strike as one of the perpetrators. He and some other ultra-looking types were spotted on the south edge of Central Park. Of what's left of Central Park."

"Is the source reliable?"

The news and pictures came from a National Guard battalion that's been on duty since the Terrordyne attack on the Statue of Liberty. They reached the edge of the destruction zone before anyone else did."

So the Strike shoe had finally been dropped, I thought.

The poor guy. I was at a loss to think how I could possibly say or do anything to help him.

CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 15

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Posted 09-21-21
Revised 09-22-21
Revised 09-23-21

Edited by Christopher Leeson
.

Chapter 15

CHAOS AND CONSPIRACY

"The villain at the gallows tree
When he is doomed to die
To assuage his misery
In Virtue's praise does cry."

William Blake
.
.
.
.

"It's hard to believe that Strike could be involved," I said slowly. "He's always been wild, but never a criminal or terrorist. And what’s up with Strike anyway? There hasn’t been any report citing him in quite a while. The last confirmed incident was something about a fight inside a church."

"Yes, it was a cathedral, a little before Christmas," said Wrath. "Now he suddenly turns up running with a bad outfit -- mass murderers."

I knew more about Strike than I was pretending.

Back on my own Earth, Warstrike had been mixing things up with an ultra called Blind Faith, in the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels. After that fight, he was whisked off to the Godwheel where he, me, and a lot of others were forced into a grueling adventure involving godlike beings. It was a damned hard experience for all of us, but Warstrike had an actual emotional breakdown at the end of it.

When returned to Earth, he’d taken a long ocean cruise to recuperate. He'd remained inactive around his home until the end of June, when I got in touch with him. That’s when we discovered an Aladdin treason plot and worked together to smash it. Naturally, “the Company” made sure that the operation didn’t get into the official records.

"Do I have this straight?” I asked. “Have we got anything against Strike except a single sighting putting him in the wrong place at the wrong time? Can we be sure that the National Guard didn’t see an impersonator? Or, maybe he just showed up to check things out, just as the soldiers were doing. The Company has to investigate, but we can’t go jumping to conclusions."

"I tell you, lady, the more I learn about what ultras do, the less I understand them."

I thought it best to drop the subject, but Tunney wasn't finished.

"Mrs. -- Eden, did you ever notice how many of the ultras are just kids?"

That was an odd question. I regarded the man keenly. "Yes. An awful lot of them seem to be surprisingly young. Some are actual children."

"How are grade schoolers supposed to figure into the 'vast ultra conspiracy,' like they’re always talking about on CCN and MSDNC?"

I grimaced. "It’s not very likely. My son was no conspirator. When he got disfigured, he went into an emotional shell, thinking himself as too ugly to ever be loved again. Then he suddenly got ultra powers and started taking his anger out on everyone around him."

"Anyone with too much power is dangerous, and I guess that would include me."

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"Aladdin’s science division took me beyond the level that they’d taken Thomas Hunter,” Wrath explained. “I can work myself up into a kind of 'berserker' mode.' It multiplies my strength and my toughness, but I always go nuttier than I want to. My emotions get hyper-charged and I can veer off track and demolish more than just the target."

"'Wrath' is the perfect code name for you, then," I lamely jested.

Tunney’s return smile seemed forced. "That may be. You know, Eden, there's always been this theory in high places that the ultras are all part of some master plan. Maybe the Illuminati are behind them, maybe it's the neo-Nazis. The trouble is, whenever I’ve met an ultra ‘in the wild,' it’s never been any kind of Nazis-type.”

“Yes, that’s how I’ve seen things, too.” I agreed. Well, not really, but I wanted to encourage the new kid on the block to start thinking for himself, and not be a sucker for the Deep State's party line.

“There are a lot of youngsters out there,” he said. “What am I supposed to do? Kill wet-behind-the-ears kids or lock them up because they've started to take the comic books they read too seriously?" He shook his head. "It'll be a long time before I can stop thinking about that dead girl. I spoke to her a little and she didn't seem bad. She talked like any kid would on her way to a Halloween party. A girl her age should be grounded for pulling bone-headed, dangerous stunts, not --"

"I can't argue with that!" I put in abruptly. The less I needed to think about Lauren's death, the better. "It's going to be hard sleeping for the next few nights, I'm afraid. I should have stayed behind my CRT. Data analysis is dull but it doesn't put blood on a person's hands."

Wrath shook his head. "At least you've got a few technical skills to fall back on. I'm just a fighter. That's all I'm good at. I never minded picking off those ISIS killers, but this! I was better off chasing around the sand dunes than I am in L.A."

At that moment, a female staffer poked her head into the lounge and called my name. "Mrs. Blake, Colonel Smekes is ready to see you now."

Well, this was it. Whatever the newly-promoted Aladdin grand poobah was going to throw at me, I had to face it. I muttered a goodbye to Wrath and followed her out.

#

For more than a quarter of an hour, I was required to recount everything I saw, heard, and did at the Mall. I tried to make it seem like I wasn’t holding anything back, when I was actually dodging around the truth like a circus tumbler.

"There's something you're not saying," Smekes suddenly remarked.

Oops, I thought. Maybe I’ve been underestimating this professional paranoid.

I nodded. "I know. It's that girl's death. I've got children of my own; that young ultra must have had parents, too. Kids grow up accepting that someday they're going to have to bury their mom and dad. But when a parent has to bury a child...." I shook my head. "Well, that's...that's something else."

"Yes, Mrs. Blake, I understand," he commiserated without letting any sincerity creep in. "Both your son and daughter were placed in grave danger only recently."

I just looked soulful, not wanting to encourage him to continue on with the topic.

"We discovered less than an hour ago that you had a personal connection with this short-lived new Mantra."

Oh, God! Here comes the body blow.

I feigned incomprehension. The next few minutes would be pivotal. I could almost see myself in a cell next to Blythe Ashwin, with Sarn asking nut ball questions and laying it on hard with the pain button.

Step One. Feign ignorance.

"I don't understand, Colonel Smekes. Personal?"

"We've identified her as Lauren Sherwood, a sixteen year old neighbor of yours. She was also your most frequently used baby sitter. That's very suspicious, wouldn’t you agree?"

Step Two is incredulity. Make it good, Lukasz

"Lauren? Are you m--? Are you serious? An ultra?"

“I’m serious. When you saw her at the mall, didn’t you recognize her?”

“Well, no. That girl was battered, bloody. And she was wearing that crazy costume, and a mask, too.”

"Well, I don't think it's any coincidence that she's been a frequent visitor at your home."

You don't, huh? I wish to hell you did!

"What do you mean, sir?" I saw no use in panicking. Panache serves as grease in a tight spot; panic is like sand.

"You're an Aladdin agent. Because of your interest in ultras, you have to expect that ultras are going to be interested in you, too. If the ultras had a chance to plant one of their own people inside your home, don't you think they’d take it?"

I blinked. So far he wasn’t making any direct accusation. Was he on the level with his theory, or was he setting me up?

Step Three: Encourage an interrogator to go down the wrong road.

Any road he took would be fine, so long as it didn’t leave me as road kill.

"Lauren was a spy? Are you sure?"

"Maybe you can help us become more sure, Mrs. Blake. How did you first meet Lauren Sherwood?"

I took a deep breath. "Well, sir, back about two years ago, I was engaging Kelly Cantrell, a neighborhood girl, to sit with the kids. After she found a new job at one of the strip malls, she introduced me to a friend of hers from high school. It was Lauren Sherwood, who had just begun babysitting and needed more work."

"And this girl did not appear suspicious?"

"Not really. She gave me a list of families that she was already sitting for and they seemed to agree that she was a sensible and responsible young person. Her family had been living in our neighborhood all along, though I only knew them slightly. When I gave Lauren a tryout, both of the kids liked her. She followed instructions and didn't cause any problems."

Actually, as I’ve said, the young lady once went seriously Dark Side and nearly killed me, but Smekes didn't need to know that.

The officer frowned thoughtfully. "I’ve already asked some people to check out the Sherwoods."

Sheesh! Lauren's body probably hadn't even reached room temperature as yet and Aladdin was already treating her folks as criminals.

"Do you expect a report soon?" I asked.

"One strange thing shows up almost immediately. Pictures from her school show that she has changed remarkably in just a single year. She hardly looks like the same girl. Didn't you think that such an extreme transformation happening before your eyes seemed strange?"

"Well, of course I did, to a degree. But kids grow up and fill out fast. Anyway, I've was seeing her quite often and any gradual change wouldn't come off as noteworthy."

In fact, I had previously given some serious thought to her metamorphosis. Lauren was flat-chested, plain-faced, and skinny when I'd met her. By age sixteen, she'd filled out strikingly.

But I also knew that Lauren had Mantra potential. Eden Freeman Blake had herself not been a particularly attractive grade-schooler and yet she had blossomed into a stunner. It had crossed my mind that magic might have been involved in both cases. Maybe having a Mantra potential can gradually change a person, evolving her into some sort of idealized self image, even before their more active powers kicked in.

Smekes was still talking. "What you say disappoints me, Mrs. Blake. Your work demands that you be more observant than most people. But I will grant that you didn’t undergo agent training until this year. But, that aside, it’s possible that Miss Sherwood made a deal with the devil."

"The devil, sir?" That sounded crazy, even coming from an Aladdin bigwig.

"Figuratively speaking, of course. It may be that there is an ultra out there who is able to bestow beauty. It's the opposite of turning a princess into a frog. Ultras can do so many different things, why can’t they do that, too? To offer an ugly duckling like Lauren Sherwood the chance to be beautiful might have encouraged her to fall in with their sinister plans."

"I guess anything is possible,” I remarked.

"Small levers move huge objects, Mrs. Blake. Think how well-placed a babysitter can be for spying. She's very often in her target's home – and she’s alone much of the time with the children asleep."

"And you're supposing that she could have been working with a conspiracy of ultras, sir?"

He didn't really answer. "What do you know about the girl's parents?" the soldier asked instead.

"Not very much, I'm afraid. I think her father is in accounting. He and his wife separated last year. Lauren hasn’t said much about why their marriage got into trouble."

“What connections does her mother have?” he asked.

"I think her mom is in advertising. Lauren lives with her father but, as far as I could see, her relations with her mother are very good."

Then I had an idea. I could tell Smekes a thing that he would soon be finding out anyway, but by bringing it out early I could make myself seem helpful. "There does seem to be a Mantra connection involved, sir."

"What’s that?"

"Lauren was a tremendous fan of Mantra. She said that she’d even met Mantra once!"

He chewed on that crumb for a few seconds. "It fits. Miss Sherwood was calling herself 'Mantra' at the Mall Friday night and, according to Tunney, she also told your daughter that she was Mantra. The ultras might have been preparing her as a back-up for Mantra for some while.”

“What could their bigger plan be?” I asked.

“It can't be a coincidence that Lauren Sherwood stepped into the original Mantra's shoes only a month after we captured the real item. Someone must be controlling her. And I'd even speculate that the Sherwoods might not be her real parents. It’s possible that Lauren is actually related to Blythe Ashwin -- maybe even her daughter."

"I wouldn't know about that," I said. He was really on the wrong track now and I wanted to keep him there. "But I do know a little about Mantra fan activity in Canoga Park. There's one registered group and it has four steady members."

"Was Lauren a member?"

"No. I got the idea that she didn't get along with the other fan girls."

"An alienated loner? A troubled, anti-social type?"

"I can’t say that for sure. She just seemed to be more reserved and studious than the average girl her age."

I was prettying up the picture. When I first met Lauren, she was a low-self-esteem, bookish nerd with hardly any friends other than Kelly.

Smekes typed a couple words into his adjacent desktop. Then he looked up, smirking with satisfaction.

"I just searched our data base for the name 'Kelly Cantrell.' It came up with some very suspicious facts. She's had the distinction of being observed in multiple contacts with the ultra Prime. I'll have to order that the entire Cantrell family be put under observation and have their phone records checked. The young lady’s movements and communications might lead us to a nest of ultra conspirators."

What next? This country had gone so wrong! A nice, ordinary teen like Kelly had no justifiable place in any black-ops database. It seemed inconceivable that this kind of investigative abuse should be permitted in any free country.

If I could have avoided it, I never would have brought up Kelly's name. Unfortunately, they would have found out about it regardless. Everyone in the neighborhood knew about the Blake-Cantrell-Sherwood connection. The worst part of it was that Aladdin could play rough even with children, Gus being a case in point. Now I had to worry about Kelly being taken into custody for questioning. She could potentially compromise Prime, infatuated teenage boys being so indiscreet.

Smekes’ imagination was only just getting into high gear. "Mantra has known associations with Strike and Prime also. Strike was at the site of the disaster, and it’s noteworthy that Prime had been frequently seen in New York City before that. Might Prime not have been studying the area to do the early preparatory work for the New York disaster? It seems to me that we can’t just be looking at Strike; we need to look at Prime, too. But Mantra has been close to both of these rogues. Why couldn't she have been in on the early planning stages before we caught her? Miss Ashwin absolutely has to be interrogated on the subject!"

For pity’s sake! Blythe Ashwin was going to be tortured again, all because she wouldn’t be able answer a lot of stupid new questions!

"But let's stick to the matter at hand," the director hurried on. "It's possible that Kelly was the original spy whom the ultras planted in your home, with Prime acted as her controller. When Miss Cantrell gained sufficient information about your links to the Company, she was nudged aside and a more capable agent, young Sherwood -- an actual ultra -- was assigned to take her place. Whether Kelly Cantrell is still associated with a conspiracy group is a definite possibility that we have to investigate. Who knows? She might turn out to be a secret ultra herself."

Ohhh, Lord. This whole thing was spiraling out of control.

TO BE CONTINUED in CHAPTER 16

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
.

Chapter 16

THE NIGHT OF TERROR

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

William Blake
.
.
.

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

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Posted 11-21-21
Revised 11-22-21
Revised 11-28-21
Revised 12-08-21

Edited by Christopher Leeson
.

Chapter 17

THE HOUSE OF THE COVEN

Why art thou Terrible
And yet I love thee in thy Terror
Till I am almost Extinct

William Blake
.
.
.

I couldn’t rest for a moment. Heather Parks and her friends would very soon have a terrible encounter with the supernatural, but rescuing Evie had to be my top priority. Unfortunately, I needed major help to stand up to Gus. Even Lauren’s success had depended on her starting a fight between Gus and Coven to bring about their downfall.

But I would rather bring in some of the battle-tested ultras I knew. I had met many, but had established close relationships only a few. There was Pinnacle, but on this day of the month she would still be a helpless emotional wreck. To make matters worse, she was also over five-hundred miles away.

So, who was closer in? Warstrike – or, rather, Strike, as the locals knew him? He was cunning, fearless and had high tech-savvy. On top of that, Strike was psychic, possessing an ability that forewarned him of danger.

But I’d need more than just Strike to go up against a powerhouse like Gus.

I would have liked to call in the original Wrath, a.k.a. Thomas Hunter.He was a specialist in combating and defeating ultras, having been well trained by Aladdin. But he’d vanished into private life after a row with the Aladdin command and his present whereabouts were unknown even to them.

I could usually make mental contact with two types of people. First, there were those persons with natural psychic talent, and that included Pinnacle, Lauren, and Strike. Secondly, I could mind-link with people with whom I have previously exchanged bio-energy, such as Prime, Evie, and, again, Strike.Wrath fitted into neither category and so I had no means to reach him telepathically.

But just then all my attention was fixed on getting into contact with Evie. The tyke wouldn’t know where I had disappeared to and had become now Gus's prisoner – a terrifying situation. I banked in flight and rode the wind back toward the Blake house, touching down a few blocks away on the roof of the Canoga Park Elementary School. Ensconced there, I began to tune into my daughter’s bio-electrical aura. A moment later, I felt her mind touch mine:

"Mommy? Where are you?"

"Evie, darling, I'm -- I'm near your school. Are you all right?"

"How can you be talking inside my head?"

"It's on of my secret ultra powers, Button. But shhh! We don’t want Gus to hear. Does it look like he knows what we’re doing?"

"I don't think so. He's been yelling about how he wants to smash everybody. He's even mad at you, Daddy, and Mantra --"

"Hush, Evie, don't think about Mantra, not until we're sure that Gus isn't listening."

"Mommy, I'm afraid that Gus might wanna smash me, too, if he remembers all the jokes I played on him and gets mad."

“You have to be very brave, Pumpkin. Some bad magic zapped Gus and it’s making him wild. He’s even stronger than I am, so I have to call in some ultra friends to help me calm him down. Maybe we can get him to surrender without starting a fight."

"What should I do?”

"Try to smile and talk friendly to your brother. He's not thinking clearly and if he gets excited he might hurt you before he knows what he's doing."

"Mommy, when are you coming?"

"I’ll be there as soon as my help makes it in from out of town."

"Mommy! Don't talk!"

And then our mind-link broke off.

#

What had happened? Had Gus tuned into our conversation? If so, what would he retaliate against Evie? I needed help and I needed it quickly. Touching my gloved fingers to my brow, I concentrated.

"Brandon, this is Mantra. Can you hear me?"

I repeated this call several times.

"What? Mantra?" A familiar voice was being picked up by my ethereal walkie-talkie.

"Brandon? That's you, isn't it?"

"Sure it is, Eden. Sorry. You woke me. Jet lag.

“Something important has come up!"

"Something always does. Well, lay it on me, beautiful. What sort of sexy stuff have you gotten mixed up in this time?"

"A total disaster! I need your help."

“How bad is it?”

"It’s a megaton of trouble, Tark. Both my kids are in danger. Listen! Do you have tech good enough to cage a magician who's at least twice as powerful as I am, and do it without causing him any real injury?"

"What magician? Is Boneyard back?"

“Boneyard is dead!” I said, wondering whether this version of Brandon Tark was unaware that Boneyard had died in the Godwheel solar system.

“I realize that, but lately death has been losing a lot of its sting.”

Well, I had to give Strike that one. He was one of the few people who knew that I'd died hundreds of times myself. He’d even be aware that Eden Blake had once made a return trip from the Great Beyond herself.

"No, I'm up against someone much, much stronger than old Tall-Gray-And-Ugly."

"Who, and where exactly are you?"

"Canoga Park, a couple blocks from my house. I’m up against something that's even more powerful than I am."

"Has some enemy come after you in your own home?

“In a way, yes. I'll explain everything if we can get together!”

“And you say the kids are in danger?”

“Definitely!” I said.

“I’ll be there at hyper speed. What kind of weapons do we need to tackle this emergency?"

"Bring something powerful but non-lethal. I’d like to suppress the enemy without harming him. When we click off, I'll be contacting the Strangers, too. Do you know of any magicians who'd be available at short notice?"

"Unfortunately, I don’t have any sorcerer friends other than you. But Hardcase made contact last week. Since quitting the UltraForce, he’s been busy forming up a new super team, one that won’t let Aladdin pull the wool over their eyes -- like they managed to do with UltraForce.”

"Great! Hardcase is one of the best.”

"Your enemy has to be a bag of crap if he's threatening kids. Why do you want to be non-lethal with him?"

"It's a convoluted affair, Brandon. The bad guy is Gus."

"Gus?"

"Dark magic has a hold on him. His sorcery can do almost anything and he can't control himself."

"You're up against your own ex-husband – Eden's ex-husband – for the third time?"

"No. It's worse than that. I'm up against.. my own son."

#

After Strike signed off, I hurriedly sent out to one of the magic-users I knew, Shadowmage. I assumed she had psychic powers and I tried to attune to them, but I could get back no response at all. That could mean she was no longer on Earth, or some other matter that interfered, such as the fact that we belonged to two very different species.

So,I next tried to contact a different witch, one who was part of the Strangers team, an ultra group that I had worked with very well the year before.

"Yrial! This is Mantra. Are you reading me?"

After about thirty seconds of continuous appeals, I heard back,"Mantra? Is it you? I didn't know you could soul-speak!"

"I only got the knack of it lately," I explained hastily. "It’s really bad here in Canoga Park. Can you rally the rest of the Strangers and give me some backup? There's a possessed boy using powerful magic and holding his little sister hostage. Their mother seems to be -- missing," I added belatedly.

"A child? Can one so young be any match for you, Mantra?"

"He’s more than a match for me. I found that out the hard way.”

“Our team is already deployed for a different emergency. There is a mortuary in Oakland where the dead are rising and assailing all they encounter."

“That’s terrible,” I said, not mentioning that happened to know about the zombie peril. “But I'm desperate to put together a battle-hardened ultra squad that can overwhelm the boy quickly without really hurting him."

"Mantra, there are strange reports coming in from all over the world. Do you have any idea what is happening? None of us understand it.”

"I don't either, but it’s really bad where I am. Can't you split off and come down here solo? I'll owe you big time."

After a brief pause, the shamaness replied, “No.” Before my heart had time to sink, she added: “If children are in danger, you will owe me nothing. Canoga Park is near Los Angeles, isn't it?"

"It's a suburb on the north side of L.A,” I told her. “Send me a thought message when you get close and I'll be able to guide you in."

"I shall travel with all haste."

"Just one more thing, Yrial. Have you heard whether or not Shadowmage is still on Earth? I’d like to reach her, too."

"I haven’t, but I shall do all that I can to contact our sister, even while I am hastening to your aid."

"Fantastic. Strike's agreed to come in, too. He thinks he can bring along Hardcase. See you soon."

After Yrial broke off, I tried to summon Prime, the only member of the UltraForce with whom I had a close connection. But for some reason I couldn’t make contact with him. It was a crazy night.

#

While waiting for my comrades to arrive, I turned my attention to the rescue of Heather Parks and her fan club. If I didn't act swiftly, the monster Coven would appear at her home and add to the night’s chaos. I now made haste to the address, fearing that I might already be too late.

The Parks' two-story clapboard house seemed quiet when it came into view. Ether I had arrived earlier than Coven could, or else I was in a slightly different parallel world. I hoped that the latter was not the case. There was only so much confusion I could stand.

Sighting Heather's lighted window, I flew close enough to peer inside. Through the diaphanous curtains, I saw all four of the Mantra fans gathered, each wearing their cosplay gear – mock-up pieces of my action costume. The teens looked at ease and totally normal. I had to act fast if I was to keep them that way.

The girls squealed when I came ghosting in through the closed window, but the instant they recognized me their yelling transmogrified to ahh's and gasps.

"Mantra!" exclaimed Heather, "You scared us."

"Sorry, but we don't have a second to waste. I'm -- I'm here to rescue you."

"Heather!" a man called from downstairs. "What's all that screaming about?"

"Nothing, Dad," Heather yelled back. "W-We're just watching a spooky video on TV!"

I shook my head. Teens were always quick with plausible excuses. Sometimes – as now – that could be a good thing.

The girls, though excited by my arrival, were quietly waiting for me to explain my visit. I glanced at the clock. Not much time had passed since I'd fled from my own home, though it already felt like at least an hour. Apparently, the green bolt spoken of by Lauren hadn't struck the Parks’ home so far. But it’s impact was imminent and I didn't want the girls to be cursed by it.

Only then did I notice something on Heather's small table, half-covered by a magazine that lying open to a Mantra-themed article.

"Have you girls been playing with a Ouija board?" I asked sternly.

"We were just about to," Miss Parks replied with a wince. She was probably remembering my past admonitions against kids getting involved with mysticism. "It's only a game," the tenth grader protested weakly.

"No, it's not!” I told her. “Ouija boards are tools for necromancy. And necromancy is something that only bad wizards want to have anything to do with.”

"But we've read the instruction sheet," the girl protested. "Anyway, they sell them in all the hobby stores. I got mine at Mrs. Fisher's magic shop."

I shook my head. "I like Mrs. Fisher, but she doesn’t realize how risky this New Age stuff really is. She once gave a magical charm to a little girl who made a foolish wish with it. The wish started some nasty trouble that almost killed her mother.

“Worst of all, some kind of wild magic is loose tonight. This room might draw it in like a magnet because you girls once summoned a demon here. Traces of black magic can hang around for a very long time! I want all of you to get out of this house and stay away for the rest of the night. It'ld be best to separate, too; people who use dark sorcery can attract evil magic if they stay grouped together. Do any of you need help getting home? Who lives the farthest away?"

"Me!" said Trisha. She recited the address.

It was east of Canoga Park, in Winnetka. "How do you usually get home?" I asked.

"My parents'll pick me up at nine."

I shook my head. “That’s not soon enough.”

"They can al come to my place. It's a short trip," put in Jessica.

“Good. Samantha, Trish -- when you get there, you should call for rides home right away. But, Heather, it won't be safe for you to come back to this house until morning. The danger should be over by then. Uh, Jessica – you youngsters haven't been casting spells at your home, have you?

The schoolgirl threw up her hands. “Are you kidding? My folks won't even let me bring The Lord of the Rings into our house. I had to argue and pout for weeks before they'd even let me join your fan club."

I nodded, satisfied. “Heather, do you suppose that Jessica's folks would let you overnight with her?”

“I think so; they've let me stay before. But we'll need a good excuse as to why I should want to on such short notice.”

“Well...think hard,” I said.

"But will my folks be all right staying here?"

According to what Lauren had said, Heather's parents had suffered no effects from the magic bolt. "I'm sure they will be," I said. "So far only persons strongly touched by magic have been affected."

I sure hoped that I was right on that score.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 18

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Posted 12-20-21

Edited by Christopher Leeson
.

Chapter 18

THE MAGIC SHOP

[I] soon shall be in a shadow in Oblivion,
Unless some way can be found
That I may look upon thee and live....

William Blake
.
.
.
To Heather I said, “When you’re talking to your folks, don't say a word about sorcery. They just wouldn't understand.”

"Okay, Mantra," Heather nodded. "I'll say that Jess forgot to bring over her newest CD and we want to go to her place and listen to it."

"Fine,” I said. “I'll wait in the yard until I see you come out. While you’re going to Jessie’s, I'll ride shotgun overhead. But remember, once you're at Jessica's, go your separate ways. To have four witches in the same house could be enough to draw in bad magic."

Without further elaboration, I phantomed away through the wall.

Out of sight among the boughs of a backyard maple tree, I waited, hoping that my precautions would prevent Coven from being created. Without that bothersome monster getting in the way, I could concentrate solely on helping Gus and Evie.

After a few minutes, the four girls came outside. "Mantra?" Heather whispered, looking around.

"I'm up here," I said. "Let’s get on to Jessica's house. How soon do your folks want you to come back, Heather?"

"I can stay all night with Jess -- to study late for a test, I told them. But Sam and Trish are going to call home for rides."

"Just be sure that they waste no time,” I cautioned. “It could be dangerous if they hang around. Okay, move on out!”

The four of them took off at a fast trot, Jessica leading the way. The kids couldn’t help but steal uneasy glances, left, right, and skyward. The trip, fortunately, was only a couple of blocks.

Just before crossing into Jessica's home, Heather waved up at me. I returned the wave. Now, having done all I knew to protect the members of my fan club, I made an aerial U-turn and put myself on course to the Blake house.

#

Again I came down to roost on the rooftop of the schoolhouse. The neighborhood looked deceptively normal, except for the strange color of the sky. My wizard sense could read Gus’s aura from inside the house. He didn’t seem to be doing anything special, so I directed a cautious telepathic whisper toward my endangered daughter.

"Shhh. Evie. Can we talk?"

To my relief, she replied, "I think so. Oh, Mommy, Gus is scaring me. It's almost like he's a whole different person."

"I know, baby. But why did you end our talk so suddenly before? Did your brother hear us?"

"He started to. He said, 'Mom's around here somewhere!'"

"Listen, Button, I’ve sent out for some powerful ultras to help us. But if Gus starts acting like he's about to hurt you, just think the magic word Hogwarts really hard and I'll come save you, no matter what."

"Is Gus tougher than you, Mommy?"

"I think he may be. He's probably the toughest sorcerer in the world right now."

“Like Voldemort?”

“Yeah, a lot like him.”

"How did he get that way?"

"I think he was hit by some bad magic from outer space."

"Oh, no! Be careful, Mommy. I don' t want you and Gus to get into a fight and hurt each other."

"I’m going to try to avoid that, Pumpkin.”

Suddenly, a green jet of light came shooting up through the Blake rooftop like a miniature comet with a green tail.

"Mom! I know you're hiding somewhere out here," Gus yowled mentally. "You hit me and I'm going to get even! Then I'll fix Evie for talking to you on the sneak."

To draw his thoughts away from Evie, I leaped into the air with a great flare of light.

"Your mother's not here," I informed him. "I've been tricking Evie, making her think her mom was talking to her. I knew you'd overhear us and come outside. This way we can speak privately." This explanation didn't make a whole lot of sense, not even to me, but maybe a twelve year old would swallow it.

"Mantra! I hate you even more than I hate Mom and Dad!" the boy hollered, verbally this time.

What a battery of magic his body was! I could feel the prickle of his power despite the distance between us. Not having done any fighting so far, the lad’s strength would still be near its peak. When the first Mantra had taken him head-on, he had shut her down in seconds with a blast of power.

If a combat started, I’d be done for, unless I hit him with as much power as I would have hit a major wizard like Boneyard. The trouble was that Gus was a tyro in magic, and if he fumbled his defenses it could kill him. Rather than risk that, I created another dazzling, luminescent burst and sped away.

I didn’t care if he thought I was afraid of him. In fact, I wanted him to be bold and to chase me. While jetting away on the late summer wind, I called out, "Evie! I'm keeping Gus busy. Run and hide with that nice Mrs. Fisher at the magic shop!"

Amateur or not, the boy gaining was on me, leaving a tail of verdant fire in his wake. Unwilling to be overtaken, I assumed my phantom form and made like a killdeer, skating through the air erratically, trying to look wounded while at the same time creating an erratic target for a novice marksman.

But the barrage of magical bolts coming my way were stabbing close. I had a lot more experience using magic, but Lauren had mentioned how quick Gus was at learning to use his new powers.

Just then, another of my son's mega-bolts brushed by, this one stinging me, despite my being ghost-like. If he had already realized that he could adjust his bolt-density and hit me in phantom form, I’d be in a bad way.

So I used a little more power to throw up a protective force field. Then, still striving to look erratic and injured, I dropped into an ungainly corkscrew descent. By a stroke of luck, Gus ceased firing at me, maybe in hopes of watching me be pasted against the solid ground like a real-life Daffy Duck.

To cover my escape, I evaded of his line of sight by plunging into a dark mass of trees and hedges. Still in ghost-mode, I fell harmlessly through the branches and sank into the subsoil. Once in total darkness, I checked my plummet. Then, getting a bearing on a neighborhood electrical transformer to give myself something to aim for, I hurried away using magical propulsion – this tactic being a necessary one in the airless underground.

After what seemed like a journey of goodly length, I came to the surface near the transformer. At once I stopped channeling sorcery,considering that continuing to use magic would allow Gus to trace me. I hoped that the boy would not guess that I was his mother, since he could easily find me by simply homing on Eden Blake’s familiar bio-signature.

Through not using active magic, I could passively keep track of the boy’s movements by means of my wizard sense. Interestingly, instead of pressing his search for Mantra, Gus instead seemed to be drawing off. What new mischief was he concocting now? I wondered. Was he bent on rejoining Evie? I needed to get the girl to safety as soon as possible.

As I stepped out into the light of the street lamps, someone remarked, "A nice Mantra outfit." I looked back to see a couple of teenage boys sauntering up, oblivious to the chaos of the night. Apparently, most people were unaware that anything unnatural was occurring, except for the strange colors in the sky.

“Is there a costume party?” asked the other one.

“How do you know I’m not the real Mantra?!” I asked in return.

“Don't give us that! We know there's a Mantra fan club near here. But we didn’t know there were any adults in it.”

Ignoring the hormonal juveniles, I again projected my preternatural senses to get a new bearing on Gus. To my consternation, I felt not one but two sources of bad magic, their "flavors" distinctly different, even though both were very foul. One manifestation I knew was Gus’s, and the other, I feared, was Necromantra.

Lauren had found the latter hunkered down inside a warehouse east of Canoga Park. Out of caution, the death-witch was probably staying indoors so long as wild magic crackled in the atmosphere. If left undisturbed, Necromantra might actually remain sheltered all through the night. That would be good for me, since I had more important fish to fry than her.

Another worry I had was that Gus might be zeroing in on his dad, bent on revenge for missing the football game. The result could be heartbreaking, since the death of the senior Gus would devastate Evie and Gus might never forgive himself, once he regained his reason. But I was only guessing about Big Gus's danger. It made more sense that I made sure that Evie was safe before I did anything else. She was too young to face this sort of danger alone. My mind made up, I evoked a whirlwind gust to take me on a beeline to the magic shop.

The strip mall lay only seconds away. Mrs. Fisher's "closed" sign was already lit, but I knew she would still be there at this hour. Observing lights through the building’s rear windows, I alighted at the back door. Such was my state of mind that I almost knocked without pausing to think that I was dressed as Mantra. I reflexively flashed back into the clothing that I'd only lately shed -- a black dress suit.

Then, hopefully presentable, I beat on the shop’s back door with my fist.

#

An instant later, a worried face peered through the lace door-window curtain. Mrs. Fisher’s expression brightened upon recognizing me. The middle-aged business woman hurriedly fumbled open the lock.

"Mommy!" yelped Evie from the interior shadows. The tyke ran around the lady and sprang into my arms. Her excited grip about my neck nearly cut off my breathing.

"Oh, Button, I was afraid for you," I gasped. "W-Were you awfully scared?"

"Yeah, I was! Is Gus...is Gus...?"

"Shhh, darling. We don't want to alarm Mrs. Fisher."

"I didn't 'larm her, Mommy,” the youngster whispered, “I just said that a bad person came into our house and I ran away!"

Now the proprietress spoke up. "Mrs. Blake, what's been happening? The child tried to tell me, but I she was hard to understand."

"E-Evie got frightened by a burglar," I said. "He was carrying something that he stole away when I caught sight of him. I ran into the house looking for Evie, but she wasn’t there. So I came down this way trying to find her."

"Where is...the bad person now?" the little girl asked.

I eased Evie to the floor. “He’s still loose," I said. “We’ll have to be careful.”

"This crime wave is all over the metro area,” Mrs. Fisher put in. “But there’s something worse going on tonight. Did you ever see a sky that looked so strange?”

"Never. Thank you for taking Evie in, Mrs. Fisher,” I said. “She was lucky to find your shop open."

The proprietress nodded. "I usually do the accounts after closing time. I heard your little girl rapping on the door."

The child was at that moment pressing her teddy bear against my waist. "See, Mommy, I saved Mr. Paws, too! I was afraid that -- that the bad person -- might hurt him if he caught him."

I touched her little nose. "That was quick thinking, darling!" Then I said to Mrs. Fisher, "I'm taking Evie to a motel. I'll call the police and report the break-in from there."

"You're welcome to stay here until the sky clears up. I could use the company. I can't get rid of the feeling that something unnatural is going on."

Mrs. Fisher must have been slightly psychic. I felt for her, but I needed to get away from all prying eyes before the arrival of my ultra team. "Thank you, but I'm so shook up that I won’t feel safe until Evie and I are surrounded by crowds of people,” I said.

"I understand," Mrs. Fisher sighed. "May the good Lord watch over you both." Then she added, "Evie has a brother, doesn't she? Will he be all right?"

I didn't want to admit the awful truth. "Gus went to a ball game with his father. He was going to spend the night at his dad's place."

"That's lucky," the shopkeeper murmured. She was looking out one of the windows, at a haloed moon set weirdly against the violet sky.

With quick goodbyes, Evie and I scurried out of the shop. Sinister shadows hung all around us and the youngster still seemed frightened. I led her around the corner at the far end of the strip and there, in the blackness of a dense moon shadow, I took a moment to calm down and think. I couldn’t take Evie into battle with me, so where could I find a safe place for her? To take her to a neighbor would place that person in danger, too. With his magical sensibilities, Gus could find Evie at will and if Evie called me, I'd have to challenge him straight out. For the sake of my own survival, I’d have to fight like a savage, but doing that could leave one of us dead. In the other timeline, Lauren had helped Mantra and Evie. This time the teen would be sleeping soundly in her own home.

I had made no definite plan before a van drove up -- a van that I recognized.

Running toward the vehicle, I shouted and waved my arms. The van skidded to a halt and a young, bearded black man leaned his shaven head out the window.

"What is it, lady?" Greg Tunney asked impatiently.

This was an unanticipated wrinkle. For better or worse, Aladdin had made its destined appearance in Canoga Park. I didn’t trust Company men, obviously, and the new Wrath wasn’t one of the ultras whom I would have most wanted to be with just then. Even so, I recognized how narrow my options were. As they say, any port in a storm!

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 19

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Posted 01-21-22
Revised 01-24-22
Revised 01-27-22

Edited by Christopher Leeson
.

Chapter 19

BLACKBIRD

"Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair."

William Blake
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.
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With effort, I calmed myself and inquired, "You're from Aladdin, right?"

"From where?" he answered.

"Please! I know what an Aladdin van looks like."

"Well, that’s more than I know," he gave back.

"Can the comedy, fella. We work for the same people. Maybe you've heard the name 'Eden Blake'."

He frowned. "Eden Blake?! Well, if that doesn't.... We were just heading for your house."

"Why?" I asked ingenuously.

"There was an energy spike – maybe something solar. Ground zero was Canoga Park. When Colonel Smekes found out that one of his people – y0u – lived close-in, he called for an on-site report. When neither your cell phone nor land line would pick up, he sent us out to check on you. What did the impact feel like?"

"I didn't feel a tickle. But an energy strike might explain what happened to my son Gus."

"What do you mean? What happened to your boy?"

"He turned violent, like he'd gone out of his mind. He was angry at everybody, even homicidal. When he started tossing around world-class magic, I grabbed Evie and ran. We were looking for a safe place when we saw your van."

“You should have called in for help!”

“I didn't have my cell on me, and where can you find a public phone in this day and age?”

"Well, if the lad has magic or not, I don't think we’ll have trouble taking him in."

I glanced to see who else was in the van. They were uniformed Aladdin field operative, but I didn’t see any familiar A-Team faces among them. The team was elite and was always held back until some heavy-hitting was needed. They wouldn’t have been sent on a minor errand like Tunney’s.

"Easy, Wrath," I admonished. "It's my son we're talking about, not some super-criminal. He's just a grade-schooler. Something took hold of him and now he can't help himself."

"I'm with you, ma'am. But how do you know my code name is Wrath?"

Sharpen up, Lukasz. You're making mistakes.

"Well, you've heard about me. I've heard about you, too."

Tunney glowered. "So there was a leak. I guess the suits aren't half as good at keeping secrets as they think they are."

I hurriedly changed the subject. If he asked me who had done the leaking I’d be in a tight spot. "I'm worried. Gus had a total personality change. With that much anger and that much power, even a police station wouldn't be a safe refuge. Remember that precinct-house that got trashed in the Terminator movie?"

He nodded. "Street cops aren't trained to face down ultras, but we are. You and the little girl can ride with us."

"Yes, by all means take Evie, but as for me...."

"Why not you? You can't go home; that's the first place the boy'll look."

"I know the risk, but maybe if I went to him alone he wouldn't feel so threatened. We might be able to talk reasonably." I didn't actually believe that, but I needed privacy if I was going to be meeting with Strike and the other ultras.

"We were sent to find you and we did. But that youngster of yours has to be made our new priority. For the little girl's sake, you have to accept our protection. When we meet up with your son, you’ll get your chance to talk him into surrendering quietly."

"What do you plan to do with Gus?" I asked, as if I didn't know.

"We’ll get him some medical attention, of course."

Yeah, by strapping him down and letting mad scientists experiment! But, under the circumstances, digging in my heels would have made me look suspicious.

"And if the lad does come looking for his family," Tunney went on, "that's good. It will save us the trouble of finding him."

That was a cold statement. I had to be very careful while handling these people. Bending and breaking laws means nothing to a good Company man. "So Evie and I will be your Judas goats?"

He opened the van door and stepped down to the pavement. "Mrs. Blake, you know how the Company works and you know what it expects of us. Besides, you have to think about the boy's own welfare. If he's got ultra powers and using them violently, he’s going to provoke someone to start shooting at him. We've got to act fast and take the little fellow out of harm’s way."

I knew he was right. The Canoga cops were going to be jumpy tonight. They had actually tried to gun down Lauren a couple times.

He went and opened the side door of the van, inviting us to take a passenger seat. "Come on now; you and the tyke should get inside. That's an order."

I raised my chin. "I'm not sure protocol lets your grade give my grade orders, mister."

He grinned. "Whatever the pecking order, we’ve got an important job to do, and you two are obviously in danger. This is one hell of a time to start arguing about protocol."

That was another piece of logic that I couldn't reasonably dispute with. If I was going to come off like someone who had nothing to hide, I needed to go with the flow, and then slip away from these Aladdin people as soon as possible.

The red-garbed ultra helped Evie and Mr. Paws to a seat. I followed them in. The vehicle held five agents besides Wrath. All of them, except the driver, were wearing body armor like a SWAT team. They were also toting an impressive array of weaponry in the vehicle’s carrying racks. The soldiers met us with discerning eyes and stony silence. The woman among them and one of the men gave us reserved nods of welcome, but neither let out a word.

Evie wriggled up against me, intimidated by the fiercely-caparisoned warriors. I put my arm around her and touched her cheek. It was so easy to forget that this appealing girl wasn't my own Evie.

The driver now spoke up. "Wrath, we've just intercepted a police call. There's a flying ultra burning down the Canoga Park Elementary School, and -- get this -- he's doing battle with Hardcase!"

My heart did a double-flip.

"Take us there fast!" the team leader ordered. Looking back at me, he said, "Elementary school? Does that sound like something your boy might want to do?"

"Maybe. I --"

Words failed. He would, indeed. This version of Gus had been lonely and ostracized, bitterly resentful of the way that the school -- and even the students – had treated him after his physical change.

"Ow, Mommy!" Evie blurted. "You're squeezing too hard!"

I let her go and stared off into the darkness beyond the headlights. Somewhere out in this haunted night, my son was locked in a duel against one of the world's most seasoned ultras. Would Hardcase realize in time that he was up against a mere boy of twelve?

Gus versus Hardcase?

What next?

The world really had gone insane.

#

Ironically, Hardcase had been one of Gus's -- my Gus's I mean -- favorite heroes. He’d boasted that he had all of the man's collector cards and was always nagging me to buy him every Hardcase action figure as it came out. But the boy now seemed to hate everyone -- especially those that he formerly loved -- and would probably murder Hardcase in cold blood if he got past the ultra’s guard.

How hard would Hardcase fight back? I hoped that he had gotten enough information from Strike to understand who he was up against.

Hardcase -- Tom Hawke – had an impressive reputation, but he and I were not well acquainted. One difference between this local Hardcase and the one back home was that the local boy had quit the UltraForce in anger, seemingly because the team wanted to work closely with Aladdin. Hawke was against it and I couldn’t blame him.

"If Gus burns down the school, where will I go on Monday?" Evie suddenly asked. "Will Gus hurt the people at school?"

I hugged her close. "Easy, Button. The school is closed at night. If there’s a janitor or somebody else inside it, we'll just have to pray that he’s able to get away in time."

She looked into my face. “I think I should pray now, Mommy.”

“That's a very good idea,” I said.

She placed her fingertips together, her head bowed. To set a good example, I did likewise, but it was hard for me to find prayer words with so many sirens sounding off. If Gus had been responsible for the arson, it was an act much worse than anything he had attempted to do in the other timeline. Back then, he had been kept busy, first fighting Mantra, then fighting Lauren, and then chasing after Evie, seeking to recapture my dead body and make sure it could never be revived. Then he had done battle with Coven and was knocked out. My intervention here, so far, had allowed an even darker tableau to play out.

#

The two-story school building was blazing furiously. Emergency crews were still deploying and the first-responders were breaking the windows with water jets. Sensation-seekers had crowed around and were pressing against the emergency cordons. Our van slowed to a roll and our driver started honking, warning the jostling crowd to get out of the way.

A policeman flagged us down and demanded identification. Wrath shoved some sort of document at him -- which had to be phony, seeing as how Aladdin was a secret agency. The ploy did the trick and the uniformed man backed off. Just then, a bolt of green energy from above hit the turf with a sizzle. Looking up, I made out a stubby, manlike shape outlined by an emerald luminescence.

My fists tensed. Now that we had found Gus, I needed to know where Hardcase was.

"Stop here," Tunney ordered our driver. The vehicle turned into the curb and its tires bumped it with a bounce. Wrath was the first out, with four of his heavily armed teammates clattering after him. I whispered to Evie, telling her to remain inside the van. “If I don't come right back, stay with the nice policeman and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Then I dashed off in the wake of the other Aladdin agents.

I knew that the anti-ultra hit squad was determined to capture my arsonist son. I hoped that Hardcase could evade them, too. They disliked the ultra as much as he disliked the Company. I doubted that Wrath would order an assassination, but how trigger-happy were his accompanying agents?

When no one was looking, I ducked and rolled under a television news van, flashing into my alternate hero garb before exiting on the other side. Hardly anyone on Earth had ever seen me wearing my black outfit and any local observers who saw me in it wouldn't know who I was -- as long as I avoided performing Mantra-type actions. I again made my escape by ghosted away through the subsoil, coming up a couple of blocks away. Without my magically-charged, burlesque-style golden armor being worn, I would be rendered less powerful than usual. But I needed to avoid appearing as Mantra in front of Aladdin agents, since the Company thought they had Mantra in lock-up. If they saw me tonight, I hoped they’d write me up as an unknown ultra. If anyone asked, I would call myself “Blackbird.”

Ignoring the noise, the flames, and rising smoke, I stayed on the alert for Gus’s reappearance. So long as I remained under-powered, the boy could probably crack Blackbird's best defenses like a chocolate Easter egg.

The air above the burning school was unbreathable and so I materialized a force capsule around myself, crafting it to serve as an air filter. Suddenly, I glimpsed the glowing outline of my deranged son. He was ignoring the excited firemen below and concentrating on something else, something below him.

"Look! Is that Mantra?!" someone shouted.

What I didn’t need was a blabbermouth! I cloaked myself under a dark mist to to foil the gawkers. It was then that I caught sight of Tom Hawke, darting around the hose-strewn ground, dodging from side to side like a ricocheting pinball. His fight with Gus was still in progress, but he looked like he was playing it defensively. The boy, all spleen and aggression, was shooting magical blasts at him, as if the world was no more than his private video game. I wondered how Hardcase could have stayed alive this long with no magic of his own. Could it be that the boy was going easy on his famous opponent because the thrill of fighting Hardcase was a dream of a lifetime and he didn't want the battle to end too quickly?

Nonetheless, Hardcase was formidable as a gladiator -- as strong as Hercules and able to jump about a mile. The ultra was on the ground, holding a four-foot-wide chunk of sidewalk over his head. My heart skipped a beat when he hurled it at Gus with all his strength. If I intervened, it might throw Hardcase off his game and let Gus take him out. What was a person supposed to do when he didn't want either of two combatants to be injured?

Fortunately, before the concrete weapon struck its mark, the youngster intercepted it with a flash of magic, pulverizing the concrete into a spray of sand and lime. The debris rained down on the fire-fighters below.

I had to stop underestimating Gus. My son had more than proven that he was appallingly good at being bad.

At that instant, while the lad's attention was fixed on Hardcase, I threw my mightiest burst of sorcery at his back – aiming to stun but not kill. It struck home and Gus tumbled earthward. On impulse, I dove in close, ready to do something if he couldn’t save himself.

Gus's changed his trajectory by sheer force of will and alighted feet-first. His wizard sight could see me through the mist and he raised his hands to strike. As quick as thought, incandescent bolts arced my way. They struck my force field a glancing blow.

#

That's when another cement projectile smashed into Gus's own protective shield, its impact startling the boy and spoiling his aim. "You're cheating!" Gus shouted at Hardcase. "Two on one isn't fair!" .

The peeved sixth grader launched himself into the sky, leaving behind a viridian trail of flame. Hardcase gave him chase with mighty leaps and I could have followed, but didn't want to force a decisive confrontation, not until my full backup of friends was with me. Anyway, the fire needed to be controlled. It posed a danger to our neighbors’ homes all around.

A bio-scan warned me that there were indeed living people inside the school building – firefighters, I thought, and maybe even trapped victims. I projected what amounted to large shells of force over the worst parts of the conflagration, aiming to strangle the blaze through loss of oxygen. Time was not on my side; to speed things along, I tapped the air inside the capsules to extinguish the flames more quickly. For a couple minutes, I maintained what was a mystical "death grip" on the combustion, until the fire started to go out.

But the effort had cost me a good part of the extra "umph" that I'd acquired through vampirizing Lauren. That would, unfortunately, make things harder down the road. My next move had to be to link up with Hardcase, and so I took off after his bio-trace – but warily. I didn't want one of the most formidable ultras on Planet Earth to mistake me for an enemy. As I drew close, I thinned my mist screen enough to let human eyes see “Blackbird.”

Alighting in front of the ex-movie star, I said, "I've been waiting for you, Hardcase." Aware that we were being looked at by bystanders, I added," We can't talk here. Can I carry you off to some place that's more private?"

"Okay," he said with caution – probably unsure of what to make of me.

The man let me take his hard mass into my arms. I negated enough gravity to make the two of us as light as helium balloons and then summoned in an air-stream to sweep us away from the smoke and steam.

Several blocks farther off, we alighted in some resident's backyard. When I released him, the ultra backed away. He was looking fit. Last winter, Hardcase had double-teamed with Prime to take on N-ME, and the latter had seared Hawke with flame. I had seen the man's whole body disfigured with burn scars – fire being the most effective weapon that one could use against him. Luckily, he possessed amazing healing abilities.

"T-Thanks," I panted, “for not swinging a hay-maker at me when I first dropped in."

He smiled tightly. "I always try to avoid hitting the prettier ladies. Anyway, I was guessing that you might be Mantra in disguise.”

“Good call,” I said. “I have to keep a low profile these days. While I'm dressed this way, you can call me Blackbird.”

He nodded. “A nice code name, Eden. Strike told me that this get-together was your idea.".

I did a double take. How in hell had he discovered my real name? My real inherited name, I mean. The Warstrike I knew would never have outed me -- not to anyone. Did this mean that Hardcase and Mantra were better friends in this world than we had been back home, to the point that we shared some kind of confidential history together?

Then the truth slammed me.

I’d almost forgotten one of the worst mistakes of my life. During the Godwheel incident, I had thoughtlessly blurted out the name of Eden Blake, both her first and last name, within other people's hearing. Too late, I found out that it hadn't only been good guys near me. Unknown to anyone, we had been infiltrated by a very evil being in disguise – the most dangerous foe whom I had ever dueled. I'm sure I only survived because I had had my friend Prime with me. Knowing what of knew of the foe, I'd be better off going up against Boneyard, or even N-ME! I’d seen the inhuman creature cross over into a different universe and, being an optimist, had so far been hoping that he’d be trapped there until he died.

But I knew that if he ever returned, he’d remember my slip. It was no secret that Mantra frequently defended the north Los Angeles suburbs and that would lead him into the vicinity of Canoga Park. The most basic metropolitan directory search would give him the address of Eden Blake! Worse, he had a very pressing reason to come after me. He wanted to claim the Sword of Fangs – preferably over my dead body!

"What, exactly, did War...? What did Strike tell you about what we're doing here?" I asked the ultra.

Hardcase shook his head. "Nothing much -- just that there was a grade-schooler running wild in Canoga Park and packing super magic. But the guy I fought with looked more like a circus dwarf than a kid."

"He's a kid all right," I said with a sigh. "Did you hear the story last spring about something that happened in Canoga Park, something that involved a local boy?"

He returned an uncertain glance.

"There was a sixth grader whose appearance had been inexplicably changed," I coaxed.

The blond man frowned. "Come to think of it, I did hear something about a youngster becoming disfigured. His name was, umm, August Blake.".

His face lit with comprehension.

"Oh, God! Is he your son?"

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 20

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Posted 02-21-22

Edited by Christopher Leeson
Revised 04-09-22
.

Chapter 20

THE GANG OF FOUR

Four Mighty Ones are in every man.
A perfect unity cannot exist
But from the Universal Brotherhood of Eden,
The Universal Man, to whom be Glory evermore...

William Blake
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.
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Oh, hell! Busted! I could dig in and deny everything, but it sat wrong with me to lie to a decent person, especially one to whom I’d just appealed for help.

I couldn't speak the words I needed, so I just I nodded.

"I’m terribly sorry,” Hardcase said. “I guess I don’t really know you at all. In the news, you come across as an introspective loner, not a family person."

"Can’t a person be both?” I asked.

"What happened to the boy? How long has he had ultra powers?"

"They came on him only tonight. It must have something to do with the crazy things that are happening all across the face of the world.”

“Did this happen because his mother is a sorceress?”

“I don’t know. But when magic took over, it affected his mind, too. He's been lashing out as if the whole world is his enemy."

Hardcase frowned. "And with powers like his, he can really make a career of getting even!"

"If he keeps destroying things, he’s bound to get destroyed himself," I said. "And we especially need to keep him from killing anyone. Becoming a murderer could ruin his entire life. But watch out! His power is fantastic. Even together, we aren't a match for him. Strike is coming, you already know. And Yrial of the Strangers must be getting close, too."

He rubbed his chin. "Yrial, huh? I met her along with all the other Strangers." Then, his brows knitted, he said, "You've come by yourself. Where's that excitable fellow who was with you on the Godwheel? Lukasz? He didn’t seem like the sort who’d let you go through this crisis alone."

I took a hard swallow. "He’s dead. Necromantra...killed him."

"But, you were Necromantra!"

“For a little while. When she was cast out of my body, she possessed another powerful witch.” I wanted to change the subject. "What's this I hear about you leaving UltraForce?"

He shook his head. "Aladdin came to the team talking themselves up as patriots and made a big impression on the rest of our group. I tried to explain to those novices that Aladdin was part of the Deep State and couldn't be trusted but, like most people, they don’t believe that a Deep State exists.” He trailed off, obviously not liking the subject. "You know, Mantra, I never understood why you didn't choose to join the UF. Magic has always been something we’ve been in great need of."

I shook my head. "Prime came to me with his invite at a bad time. I was within an ace of giving up my Mantra gig. I decided to stay with it, but since then I’ve been pinned down by one crisis after another. On top of it all, I’ve got a family and a secret life to protect. Every day I seem to be stretched to the limit."

"Well, if things change, we could sure use you in the Paladins."

"The Paladins?"

"That’s the code name we have for the new group. It was Choice’s suggestion."

"Ask me again after we clear up this current craziness. By the way, I see that Choice isn’t with you."

He looked off into the distance. "She’s going to be lying low for a while. Things are kind of delicate with her right now.”

There was surely some hidden subtext behind his comment, but didn't feel like prying.

“So, your boy suddenly got ultra powers and tried to burn down Canoga Park Elementary?” Hardcase continued. “Did he hate homework that much?"

"All I know is that he was spitting angry when the magic came on him and he got locked up into that emotion."

"What made him so angry?"

"I'd confined him to his room because he’d been mean to his sister."

"That’s it?”"

"Yeah. But for now, I should check in with Strike and Yrial. By the way, Tom, did you notice that Aladdin squad prowling around the school?"

"No, I didn't. I’m not surprised, though. Those guys seem to turn up everywhere."

"The leader of that particular squad is called Wrath."

He frowned. "I've heard that name before."

"The name is being recycled. This is a whole different man."

"If the new guy is Aladdin-issue, we have to assume that he can't be trusted."

"Probably true," I replied. “But I’ve seen him do at least couple decent things.”

“Good to know. If he and I clash, I’ll try not to break too many bones.”

"That’s up to you. Right now, I've got to do a little mind-to-mind communication."

With him looking on, I touched my fingertips to my temples and concentrated: "Mantra here, Strike. Whereabouts are you?"

I repeated the telepathic call twice more before an answer came:

"Mantra, I went over to one of my local hidey holes to pick up some equipment. I managed to contact Hardcase. He'll probably be showing up soon."

"He already has. He's standing beside me now. I don't know how to thank you for helping out."

"If I didn’t know you were going through hell right now, I could have some fun with a good straight line like that, Luke. But when a kid's in trouble, it's no time for joking. Where should I meet you guys?"

"Runnymede Park. That's several short blocks east of my house. We'll be waiting for you in the biggest grove. If there's a change of plans, I'll buzz you back.”

"Okay. Strike off."

I hurriedly sent out another mind-message, this one aimed at Yrial.

She “picked up” very quickly. “Mantra, I was just about to contact you. I am north of Malibu, in what is called Thousand Oaks. I wasn't able to reach Shadowmage."

“That’s bad luck.” I filled her in about the schoolhouse arson. "Try to get a fix on my aura," I said. "It'll guide you in. We'll be rendezvousing with Strike, too."

"The mercenary?"

"He's a more than just a mercenary. He's probably the best friend I have." That might have been an overstatement, at least as far as this world went. Back home, Warstrike and I were close allies, but I didn’t know about this local guy’s relationship with Mantra. What concerned me most was the technology he was bringing. I sure hoped that it was something we could use to bring Gus back from the brink safely.

#

Yrial descended from the sky a few minutes later. The magic-wielding Stranger was wearing a basic green costume, instead of the violet one I was used to. Different colors for different worlds, I supposed.

Her barbaric headdress looked the same, though, and so did the large gems attached to her belt, boots, and tiara. Gold gleamed from her wristlets and queen-sized earrings. Though dark-complected, she was more Amerind looking than African. The inhuman thing about her was her eyes – rosy blanks with no visible irises or pupils. They gave her attractive face a demonic cast. I could only wonder whether this ocular peculiarity was typical of her people, or something unique to Yrial herself.

The sorceress was, by the way, the only crime-fighting ultra I knew of who wielded dark magic. Like Necromantra, she drew magical power from dying persons or beasts. My history with dark sorcerers had not been a good gone, and necromancy had always made me uneasy. But I had never seen Yrial do anything cruel or evil, so I had gradually become more at ease around her. It so happened that she was one of the few on Earth who had already seen me in my Blackbird outfit, thus I didn’t need to explain why I was wearing it.

She and Hardcase briefly renewed their acquaintance and the three of us promptly took off across Topanga Canyon Boulevard, passing by the smoldering schoolhouse. Yrial and I flew side by side, while Hardcase came after us leaping a block at a time, by means of his incredibly powerful legs. We switched over to Sherman Way and followed it to Runnymede Park. I inwardly debated telling my allies about the disaster facing New York, but I kept mum, not wanting to distract them from the mission at hand. Besides, any ultras seen in that vicinity would probably be suspected of causing the disaster. What was going to cause it? As far as I knew, Nemesis had been destroyed before the NYC disaster. But if it wasn’t her, what would cause the blast? And without knowing the cause, how could it be prevented? Being unable to prevent the catastrophe, one would be wise to stay away from it. We ended our trip at the grove of maples near its center. "Guys,” I said, “do either of you have an idea about subduing a super-powered sorcerer without making him suffer too much?"

Hardcase’s face remained blank, but Yrial frowned and said, "I have a possible answer, Mantra, one gained at sad cost. Do you remember Atom Bob?"

I nodded. "Of course. He was the Stranger with some really fancy matter-changing tricks. Lady Killer’s press release said that he'd gone on a sabbatical for private study. Because gathering ultra data happened to be my business, I also knew that Bob had not been reported back thus far. The gravity in Yrial’s expression suggested that there was more to his disappearance than met the eye.

"Our group had to confront demons,” the sorceress said, “but their evil surrounding them was like a plague and Bob became infected. His powers increased to frightening proportions and he began working behind the scenes to destroy the Strangers. It took all of our ingenuity to subdue him."

"How, exactly, did you subdue him?"

"I placed him into a magical coma. He is now confined in a remote European clinic. It’s doctors are seeking to expunge his demonic drives, but have reported only failure as of yet."

"What befell Atom Bob sounds a lot like what happened to the boy, Gus," I said. "There’s a doctor who thinks she can cure him, and I hope she’s right. Is the coma spell teachable, or would you be willing to perform it yourself?"

"I prefer to do it, Mantra. It is drawn from very dark magic, but a necromancer can use it without doing additional harm to himself. My people once drew their power from life and light, just as you do, until our ancestors performed a rite of demonic sacrifice to meet a crisis. By so doing, they and their heirs became shackled to the forces of darkness. Every generation of ours has tried to climb up from the pit, but we cannot find the way."

Yrial's eyes, blank though they were, somehow conveyed anguish. This wasn’t the first time I had heard about magicians who used black sorcery could become entrapped by it. I had myself once taken a baby step into the dark spell casting but, as far as I knew, hadn’t suffered any consequences. My late master Archimage had been an S.O.B., but even he had been scrupulous in avoiding the necrotic arts -- in contrast to his brother Boneyard, who had wallowed in them.

"If you have any doubts for your own safety, Yrial, I am willing to take the risk upon myself,” I told her frankly.

Yrial meet my glance with interest. "Mantra, why do you care so much about this unfortunate boy, to risk the ruination of your own life?"

"I -- I know his family," I explained lamely. "They deserve better than this."

“As I say, it is best that I do the deed. But you can help me, Mantra. A moment ago you spoke of a doctor’s hopeful treatment for the boy. Can the same means be harnessed to deliver Atom Bob from his plight?"

I shrugged. "She'll be going into unknown territory. There's no way to prove in advance that her theory can save anyone at all."

Yrial gazed off into the darkness. "If it offers no more than a straw of hope, I would grasp at it."

Our conversation was interrupted by an engine’s roar. A custom-job was tearing up the turf across Runnymede Park. When the high-octane monster skidded to a halt under the lamplight, I saw an impressive, heavy-duty, souped-up motorcycle. But the figure in the saddle didn't look like the man I had been expecting.

Brandon Tark’s build was the same, not much smaller than Hardcase himself, but I'd never seen Warstrike wearing a costume like that one. His loopy hero suit looked like something out of the mind of a second rate comic-book artist. Beyond that, he had on red-colored chest-and-shoulder armor, along with a new-style mask with eye-holes filled by two-way lenses. I would have ribbed him about wearing a rig so trashy, except that I was in no mood for levity. At least I wouldn't mistake “Strike” for the Brandon Tark I knew. The difference would keep me on guard around a man whom I actually didn’t know well enough to trust.

Strike dismounted and my two other companions stepped up to meet him. The newcomer started questioning them about breaking events.

"Gus has already done his best to burn down his own school," I answered for the pair. "Just be on guard. He’s very powerful and shows no respect for life. I tested his strength earlier and couldn't stand up to him at all. Though he has very little experience using sorcery, he’s incredibly adaptable."

"Do you have a capture plan, Mantra?" Yrial asked.

I gave a grimace. "That depends. Strike, what equipment did you bring?"

"I've got knockout-gas and some gadgets that Gizmo designed," the masked man replied. "They’re intended to make it easier for me to bring the bad guys back alive -- instead of the way I usually do it."

I winced at his blunt jibe. The Warstrike whom I knew was a wild risk-taker, a rough and ready ex-special forces soldier, but despite the front he put up, he had been neither a brute nor a deliberate killer. I hoped that was true of his alter ego, too.

Seeing my reaction, Strike caught himself and said, “Sorry.”

He then described the salient points of his gadgets. To me, they seemed crude by the standards of Aladdin's ultra-subduing equipment. “Remember who the target is, Strike,” I said. “We’ll have to be very, very careful using them.” I pivoted and sized up the lay of the land. "This park will make as good a battlefield as any we can find around here. Here's how I think we should lure Gus in and take him on...."

#

A few minutes later, with everyone in his place, I stood up front alone, resolved to send out a telepathic call. The recipient would be myself.

"Mrs. Blake! Mrs. Blake, can you hear me?!" I said.

I answered my own question: "I hear you! But who are you, and how can you be speaking into my head?"

"I am Mantra, and I have many amazing powers!"

"Of course, Mantra, it had to be you. Have you found Gus yet? People say that he set fire to the school! Oh, Mantra! I didn't raise him to be such a bad boy. You have to bring him home before the police catch him and put him in jail."

"Don’t worry about that. I have with me the most effective kind of help. You can count on our team to carry out our mission," I responded. "But why has Gus been so angry and destructive?"

"It was just a silly little thing. I slapped him because he'd made his sister cry, and then told him he had to stay in his room until he apologized."

"It's sad. Children who can't control their tempers are always the ones who end up in reform school."

"Reform school? That would be terrible! Wouldn't it be enough punishment if I have him take the garbage regularly?”

"Well, yes, I suppose a severe punishment like that might be enough. If he minds his mother and does no more harm from now on, a judge might show him leniency. But for now, don't worry. My comrades and I will find your missing son and return him to you safely."

"I hope you can. Where are you now, Mantra?"

"I’m waiting alone in Runnymede Park, quite close to your own home. My ally, Hardcase, has gone ahead to gather up the rest of our team. We'll need them all if we're going to face down Gus. Don't worry, Mrs. Blake; we always get our man. If Gus surrenders peacefully, we will treat him well. The next time you see us, we will have the boy with us."

"That would be wonderful, Mantra. I so love him. I have this bad feeling that if he starts another fight, he’s going to get very badly hurt."

"It’s all in his own hands. If he's polite and respectful, nothing tragic will happen. Mantra out!"

My charade was calculated to make Gus angry enough to give up any other mischief he might be planning and come instead to “surprise” me at the park. I wasn't looking forward to the coming fight, but if we didn’t get the lad under control, it was only a matter of time before Aladdin would catch up with him and use their advanced weapons to defeat and imprison him. I wanted him placed in Pinnacle’s hands, not Aladdin’s.

A sheet of green light flashed overhead and I glanced up. The sky crawled with unnatural illumination, as if this were not the neighborhood park, but some kind of nightmare instead.

"How did it go, Blackbird?" asked Hardcase behind me.

"I projected my thoughts to Gus. I was trying to make him think that I was here alone and would make an easy target.” Taking a deep breath, I added, "Be alert and ready, everyone."

Suddenly, a mental challenge sounded – one that hit my mind strongly enough to make me lurch.

"Mom! I know you can hear me! I'm going to fix Mantra for wanting to take me to jail!

"And then I'll fix you, too!”

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 21

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Posted March 22, 2022

Edited by Christopher Leeson

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CHAPTER 21

THE ROAD TO HELL

Folly is an endless maze;
Tangled roots perplex her ways….

William Blake.
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A magical swap put me back inside my golden armor. I was willing to fight a fire in my black suit, but it wasn’t up to snuff for taking on a magician of Gus’ caliber. I don’t wear that ridiculously erotic golden armor to make a fashion statement, but rather it's because it magnifies my mystic power. In many of my past battles, I’d depended upon such magnification to save lives – including my own.

"Here I am, Gus!" I yelled telepathically. “Come over and we’re talk about a truce. You won’t be harmed!"

"I don't want to hit a girl,” came back his reply, “so I'll let my friends do that for me!"

What friends, I wondered? The only friends of his I’d met were those nerdy kids he did video gaming with. Did he intend to send against us some hapless people whom he’d mind-controlled?

Aided by my wizard sight, I discerned a distant shimmering. At the edge of the park, a troop was congealing out of thin air. The surreal mob looked like a costume party celebrating a low-budget Nintendo game. Gus was levitating at a height of about twenty feet, shouting orders and brandishing a joystick.

Lauren told me how the boy had created such beings before. The Tibetans called them "tulpas" – pseudo live forms manifested from mystical energy. In fact, the first ultra enemy Mantra had ever fought had been that type of creature -- a mock-fairy called Kismet.

“Get at them!” the lad bawled to his soldiers and started them on their way -- ninjas, thug knights, aliens, G.I.'s, golems, zombies, barbarians, fish-men, karate babes, and something that looked seafood gone bad.

I called out to my hidden allies: “They’re not really alive. Destroy them!”

My three compatriots burst from cover. Yrial joined me up front, while Hardcase and Strike assumed positions on either flank.

Wanting to find out how tough these constructs were, I took out a pair of them using magical bolts. As soon as they went down, they got right back up again. Gus was using his power to keep his playing pieces on the game board. But that gave me an idea. We could reduce his stock of power by attacking his soldiers. I preferred that than having us all attack him together.

The tulpas came on as a ragged mob. We advanced out to meet them, with Hardcase and Strike giving the host a right and left hook, while Yrial and I struck at them head-on with magical firepower. This was set up as a sort of Indian-wrestling competition to see who could last the longest. We really tore into the tulpas, incinerating limbs and blast torsos, but the missing body parts were rematerializing with amazing rapidity. So far, I couldn’t be sure that Gus was showing any sign of fatigue.

That didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Gus couldn't possibly be the repository of so much magic; he had to be refueling by means of some outside energy source, in the way that I’m nourished by the bio-fields of living things. Logically, his energy source was the unknown cosmic energy that shooting through the skies, manifesting itself in the green bolts now crisscrossing the sky.

If that was the source of his backup, there was a good chance that he could outlast us. What then? Running for our lives? But Lauren’s earlier adventures inspired me. I launched a spell at the tulpas intended to do the same thing Lauren had done to N-ME. I enveloped the entire troop with a ghosting spell and, all of a sudden, their fists, blades, zaps, and bludgeons started passing through us harmlessly, as if we were empty air.

"Good thinking, Mantra!" Yrial shouted, but on the inside I was feeling chagrin that my idea had been borrowed from a high-school kid. Overhead, Gus was visibly reacting with alarm. The boy, an inexperienced general, now seemed unsure what to do. His confusion caused his defenses sag and – once more inspired by Lauren -- I aimed a narrow bolt at the Nintendo stick in his fist. It stung his hand and the boy dropped the object with a yowl. As it had with Lauren, the loss of his security blanket put him off his game.

"Hardcase, the plan!" I yelled.

On cue, Tom Hawke charged in. Holding a gas grenade in each hand, he bounded up to Gus’s altitude and set the bombs off. The ultra’s nearly invulnerable fists were not harmed, but the force of expansion and the knockout gas sent the boy tumbling to earth. Yet, somehow, he got command of himself in time so as to land on his feet.

The novice wizard’s resiliency continual to surprise me. But the attack hadn’t been a total loss. The gas had started him coughing breathlessly.

“Hit it!” I yelled to Strike and the mercenary launched what was a rocket-propelled capture-net. It dragged over the grass and enveloped the boy, trapping him while inflicting to a series of electrical stun-pulses.

We hurried in to constrain him, but the lad’ magical bolts shot out in all directions, breaking up our rush. But what made me more afraid were his anguished cries like a wounded, trapped animal.

"Move, Mantra, now!" Yrial shouted. She was right. We had to overwhelm the boy so we could stop hurting him.

Between the gas and the electricity, Gus had lost the initiative. His tulpa army was fading as he diverted his power away from them and his shooting was unaimed and wild. To end the danger quickly, I sent a fainting spell against the lad. Strike stood by tensely, waiting for my signal to cut the current.

But as bad as Gus had it, he was throwing at us all he had! His green energy bolts kept coming, lashing around us like whips of lightning. One of these lashed my magical force-field, bleeding through with enough pizzazz to make me cry out in pain. I persevered with my sleepy-time spells nonetheless, wishing that they could be more swiftly effective. If this wild fight didn’t end speedily, someone would surely be killed.

Suddenly, Gus’ lightning storm blinked off, as if a kill switch were thrown. Hardcase bellowed: "Strike! He's out of it! Turn off the charge!"

Yrial dodged past me shouting: "Stand back, Mantra!"

"Quick, Yrial!" yelled Hardcase. "Do your thing!”

The witch, intoning alien words, made air passes with her arms. Suddenly she cried out, "M-Mantra, something’s wrong!”

Both of us stopped spell-casing immediately and sprang toward Gus.

"Watch it, ladies!" Strike warned.

I didn’t listen. My hands went swiftly to the boy, feeling for life signs, but his bio-signs seemed as inert as clay.

The stricken child needed resuscitation! I clenched one of Gus’s arms and sent my own life-force surging into his little frame, trying to refuel his faltering life-spark. It did no good. His body was like an oil lamp that refused to draw. Like a lifeguard losing a drowning victim, I continued with my life-saving techniques beyond their point of usefulness.

My companions crowded up around me, none of us knowing what to do. At the last, the reality became so obvious that not even a mother could deny it.

The flame was out.

Gus was dead.

Dead.

#

Time hung in abeyance. My shoulders shook and my tears on my face felt cold. The landscape swung around like I was riding a kid-park roundabout. My mind in a fog, I felt Strike’s arm lifting me, with Yrial offering support from the other side. I tried to fight them off, not wanting to let go of Gus, refusing to accept the truth.

My plan had been a disaster.

Had I done the wrong thing?

What should I have done instead?

"What should I have done instead?!" I repeated out loud.

"Nothing, Mantra,” Strike told me.

“I hurt him!” I exclaimed.

“No,” said Tark. "It's no one's fault."

I wanted to get violent. I wanted to harm the people with me -- for helping me to harm Gus.

How could I have been so crazy as to bring a child into battle against heavy-hitting ultras? I should have done nothing at all. Even if Aladdin had snatched him away, it would not have been so bad as what I had made to happen.

"We can't leave the little fellow lying here," Yrial whispered. "S-Somebody has to call the police.”

In my state, I was hardly aware of Strike’s and Yrial’s continuing grip on me. Hardcase looked like he understood my loss and pitied me.

"S-Someone has to stay with him," I stammered.

"We'll all stay," said the world’s most seasoned ultra.

I shook the three away from me. "I can’t! I have something to do."

"Mantra...?" began Yrial.

“When a loved one dies in battle, an enemy warrior has to be killed upon his grave."

What I’d said surprised even me. I was suddenly thinking like a Dark Age warrior again. Strike understood, but Yrial couldn’t. She knew me only as a modern-day ultra. But my words must have sounded even more bizarre to Hardcase, who’d sized me up as a suburban homemaker. "Mantra, what are you saying?” he asked. “You're not thinking clearly."

I swatted his outreaching hands away. With my soul sliced to shreds, the last thing I wanted was comforting.

"Mantra," Hardcase urged, "you didn't cause this. Gus’s young body wasn’t strong enough to channel so much power. He kept fighting, kept drawing it into himself until he burned out like a fuse during an electrical surge. Don't damn yourself, and please don't do anything rash."

I shook my head. "His sister’s in danger, too. And enemy is waiting to feed off her. If that witch makes her move, Evie could follow her brother to the grave--"

Strike grasped my arms. "Easy, Mantra. This isn’t the right moment for revenge, not while you’re in such a state."

I fought free of his grip and staggered out of reach.

Tom Hawke came up again. "What enemy are you talking about, Mantra?"

"Necromantra!" I said.

Hardcase frowned. He already knew that Necromantra had killed my lover.

"Dear friend," spoke up Yrial, "the mercenary speaks sense. You will mourn, it will hurt, and it will be a bitter thing, but you will endure. You must endure. The worst possible result is to lose the person you truly are. No matter how evil Necromantra is, a good person must not use it as an excuse to commit intentional murder."

I rounded on her. "You never met the person I truly am. You’re yourself a death-witch. How do your people honor the slain?"

She shook her head. "My ancestors were unwise. They left us a terrible legacy that my people are still struggling to escape."

"I don’t understand, Mantra!” said Hardcase. "What does Necromantra have to do with anything that’s happened tonight?"

"Forget, it!" I declared. "I don't need anyone to understand. Killing her is something I should have done a long time ago."

"You already have my advice," said Strike, "but if you’re so determined, I'll go along to back you up. I only hope that you can think better of what you’re doing before it’s too late."

"Thanks," I replied. In the ghastly place I occupied, I wanted company -- as long as he didn’t try to stop me.

"I have a cell phone, Mantra," offered Tark. "Should I call an ambulance?"

I nodded. "Yrial, Hardcase, can one of you stay with the boy?" I couldn't bring myself to speak of Gus as a mere body.

The pair searched one another’s face and found accord. "We'll both wait for the medics to come," the man assured me.

"It will be most terrible for the child’s parents," Yrial remarked wistfully.

"Yes," I answered. “Losing a child is like dying inside.”

I should know.

"I need to go," I told them, "but please do one thing for me: Don't mention that you saw Mantra tonight."

Hardcase and Yrial traded glances again.

"I'm not dodging responsibility," I explained. "It’s that Aladdin was hounding me, up until they arrested the wrong person, thinking she was Mantra. She’s an international criminal, but Aladdin is torturing her to make her tell them things that she doesn’t know. If the world ever get sane again, I want to rescue her, but do it in a way that won’t put Aladdin back on my tracks again."

"It will be as you say," replied Yrial. Her tone suggested that she was humoring me. I fought down a flare of anger.

"Thank you," I said and then turned toward Strike. “Let’s get out of here,” I said.

"Where are we going?" he asked edgily.

"I'll guide you. Do you have passenger room on that hog of yours? I need a rest."

"There’s always room for a friend," he affirmed with a nod.

#

A quarter-hour later, Strike and I were stopped within a shadow along Hollywood Boulevard. Before us stood a decaying 1950's-style warehouse. According to Lauren, this was the lair of Necromantra. My passive senses affirmed so much; strong magic was leaking from within the weathered structure. What the nature of that magic might be I couldn’t ascertain.

"Are you sure about this, Eden?" my driver asked.

"I sense a wizard in there. It has to be Thanasi.”

“Thanasi?”

“Didn’t I tell you what her real name was? The two of us were best friends.”

"Best friends?"

He didn’t remember things he should have. Maybe the local Mantra and the local Tark hadn’t had all of the same conversations that I had had with Warstrike. “Forget it. I probably mentioned that to someone else.”

“I guess,” he replied. "Are you sure you’re up for a fight? You’ve been ground down tonight and Necromantra's no pushover – not if her new body is as powerful as yours when she had it.”

"It’s powerful, but I don’t intend to fight fair, Brandon. There isn't going to be any chivalry, no turn and fire. This is going to be simple pest control."

"If you were such friends, aren’t you afraid that you’ll choke at the wrong moment?"

"Don't worry about it. I'm past that."

Strike shook his head. “I know where you’re coming from. I ran into Necromantra just once and it left me wanting to kill her myself. I should do the dirty job. I don’t have your kind of baggage, Luke. Whenever you do something that you know is wrong, you carry a load of shame for a long time."

I balled my fists. "Yes, it’s a dirty job, but I’m the one who deserves to get muddy. If you're so worried about saving somebody’s soul, start with your own."

Strike blenched. "Actually,” he said, “I think I’m a Dead-End Kid. I won’t be getting much better than I am now."

I touched his arm and spoke as it these would be my last words to him. "Don’t think that way. You once told me that no matter how badly things have turned out for me, I was always doing the best I can."

He smiled. "I don’t remember that. Maybe you were told that by other guy you were talking to."

I shrugged and looked away.

"I've been wondering," Strike added, "who, exactly, is Thanasi's spirit possessing this time?"

He had the right to know, but I could hardly put the ugly truth into words: "My... my daughter’s."

That threw Tark for a loop. "What? Evie? You mean --?!"

"No, not Evie. Eden and I had another daughter. Marinna."

"So when did you two find time enough to make a daughter from scratch?"

"I can't talk about it now," I told him.

"If you say so. But if the witch is actually your daughter, how...how can you even consider --?"

“She’s not my daughter. She’s only using her body. My real child never had a chance to live. What Necromantra did is just another reason why I have to kill her."

Tark didn’t press the subject.

And I was glad that he didn’t. The loss of Eden Blake and my daughter on the same day has always been a thing too terrible for me to put my mind around.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 22

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Posted April 21, 2022

Edited by Christopher Leeson
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CHAPTER 21

FRENEMIES

Thy friendship oft has made my heart to ache:
Do be my enemy for friendship's sake.  

William Blake
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There was something that I had to tell Strike, something that I’d been putting off for too long.

"Brandon, there’s something you have to know, but I’m not sure how to say it right. As bad as things are, there are worse things coming."

"For you?"

"For me, too. But I’m what I’m saying is that things can get very bad for you."

"What things?"

"Life-destroying things. Maybe if I warn you, you can avoid disaster."

"So tell me."

"A good part of New York City is going to be blasted this coming Sunday evening. The effects are going to be like a small nuclear missile strike."

That opened his eyes. "Who's making the hit?"

"No one knows. But right after it happens, you and some – companions – are going to be seen near the blast zone and you’ll be blamed for causing it."

"What companions?"

"The only names I saw reported were yours – as Strike -- and Amber Hunt’s."

"Amber Hunt? The nutcase who almost destroyed the world last year?"

"The same."

"How do you know this? You‘ve never been a prognosticator before. Prediction is my job."

"I’ve been in the future – as late as next Thursday night."

"You’ve got quite a story to tell then."

"I do, but that has to wait until after we get this job done.

"Not so fast! You’ve just said that something horrific is going down. Shouldn’t we be figuring out how to stop it?"

"All I know is what I’ve read in the papers. Maybe you did try to stop it, but whatever you did, it failed. I’m just telling you that it’ll be lose-lose situation if you go blundering in there. You’ll save nobody, but you’ll be treated as a world-class terrorist."

"Grim," he muttered. "But how am I expected to take this time-travel story on faith?"

"I’ll tell you everything, but we don’t have the time for it right now."

"Are you sure that you have your priorities straight?"

"If you don’t like the job, I’ll do it alone,” I said, taking another glance at Necromantra’s lair.

"We definitely need to talk as soon as possible," Strike said.

"That’s for sure. But, for now, do you have anything in your pack that could soften up Necromantra? If I have to take her on in top form, the outcome will be like flipping a coin."

"I’ve got a knockout gas," he replied. "It’s dispensed by a hose and works best inside an enclosed space.

"That should do. Bring it along."

He went to get his gear from his cycle’s carrier. I went out ahead, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Tark, c0ming up behind, was surprisingly light on his feet for a man of his size and weight. We stopped under the dense shadow beside the brick warehouse. The windows were board-covered, but one sealed window had a knothole to see through. I took a peek, but the glass was too filthy dirty make out anything in the dark interior.

Still determined not to use magic, I started to pry off one of the boards. As usual, I Eden Blake’s muscle power proved to be pathetic. "Here, let me help," Brandon said and began tearing the nails out with little apparent effort.

"Do you have a glass cutter?" I asked.

"I never leave home without one." The mercenary took the tool out of his side-pack and cut a small disk from the windowpane. While he stood back with the tank, I manipulated the dispensing tube.

This I pushed through the perferated windowpane and then signaled Tark to open the valve. The gas came out hissing. Should the toxin knock Necromantra out, or at least reduce her capacity for self-defense, I intended to go in and slice off her head. In the eyes of the law, I would be committing murder. But I saw it as answering to a much older law than that of the United States of America.

The gassing had hardly begun before I sensed a magical surge, like a powerful generator switching on.

"Look out!" I warned Strike.

I sprang into the air and tossed a force field around myself. It was more than for my protection; I wanted to give my enemy something so strong to sense that she’d overlook Strike. The death-witch would be able to assassinate him with a single, magic-backed, concentrated thought.

I ascended with Necromantra’s sorcery sputtering behind me like an Independence Day sparkler. "You bitch!" she telepathically yelled, "You'd actually try to kill me with poison?"

"It wasn’t poison," I shouted back. "I was just softening you up."

"When did you turn into a back-shooter, Lukasz? You’re contemptible!"

"Look who’s talking," I said.

I deliberately made my ascent erratic, keeping Necromantra from drawing a clear bead on me. Once we were high enough to minimize possible damage to anything or anybody at ground level, I swung around to face her. I touched the magical ring on my belt, activated it to take the form of the Sword of Fangs.

Now I had a battle royal on my hands, but I was game for it! This feud had to be ended before the psychotic witch could do any more harm. Thanasi was a deadly foe, but a small part of me was glad that my fight would now be an honorable one.

Necromantra sent a rippling laugh through the air. "What do you expect to accomplish? You ran me through with that butter knife once already and the wound barely slowed me down."

I braced for action. I knew that Thanasi often hurled abuse at a foe, to get him off guard before his strike to kill.

True to form, that spiked whip of hers came whirring my way. My magical shield saved my life and I tossed a crackling bolt at her -- one energized by the incandescent power of my hatred. The rage of friends who fall out often rises to a psychotic degree. That’s why civil wars are so brutal.

The bolt I threw could have burned a hole through a stone wall, but – as Strike had warned -- Necromantra was no pushover. My missile flared uselessly against her concentrated force field.

My enemy – my false daughter – then came back strong, hurling a fireball like a pitcher throws a softball. I cast a sizzler right back at her. After that, the brawl devolved into a free-for-all with too much dodging, lunging and striking to remember. The kill-shots we were trading rattled the neighborhood windows with the fury of wind and storm. To any onlooker, our death-duel might have been mistaken for a fireworks display given on the Fourth of July.

I wasn't at my peak, but Necromantra didn’t seem to be either. Probably she had gotten a tiny whiff of Tark’s debilitating gas. A dirty trick, but a necessary one.

I heard yelling below. We must have looked a sight, two athletic-looking sorceresses with lots of skin showing and going at each other like a pair of foxy boxers. In the old days, the two of us would have resembled a pair of grunts from Wrestlemania. The existing situation was absolutely absurd, even to me.

Reflex and instinct guided me in my fight for life. Being evenly matched against my nemesis, a single wrong move could have ended the battle for one of us. My wild exertions were raising my fatigue off the charts. Some of the energy coming at me was bleeding through my force-shield like electrical shocks. I had no choice but to weaken my rear-side defense and reinforced my front against her attacks. Maybe she was doing the same thing.

Ours was a war of attrition, for sure. I think we both were determined to end feud here and now. It seemed like the outcome would depend on whose empowering rage was the stronger.

But I had one thing working against me. The woman I fought was the same person whom I had loved like a brother for hundreds of years. That was a fact that sapped away some of my rage and I couldn’t afford that. I wondered if it could possibly be the same for Necromantra.

Suddenly I was tossed by a jarring blast. Through my shock, I could see Thanasi free-falling toward the warehouse roof. She struck it like a sack of meal, to roll down its pitch and plummet over eve trough – to bounce upon the concrete walk below. I hung there in mid hair, too rattled to believe that the ordeal was so unexpectedly over. My deadly enemy been reduced to a pile of broken bones and I had had nothing to do with it. Was the shooter a friend or a foe?

#

I descended, wary of ambush. Strike was there on the ground, his rocket-launcher on his shoulder. Alighting alongside Necromantra's broken body, I saw blood running from her nose and mouth and shattered bones protruding through bruised and abraded skin. The woman looked too battered to live, but my magical receptors told me that Necromantra was still holding on to a flicker of life.

Strike’s boots clunked up behind me. "I didn't know if you'd want me to butt in," he huffed, breathless, "but like you said, we have to treat this as pest control."

I nodded, a response from the reptilian side of my brain. My feelings were entirely unfocused; everything around me felt unreal. My emotions, so overheated a moment before, now lay like a dead lump inside me. I wasn’t sure whether I was angry or grateful for what Strike had done.

Lukasz! You’re in danger! I suddenly realized.

I flashed into my Blackbird outfit. As soon as I'd done so, I felt a little weaker. People were running up. Had any of them recognized Mantra before I’d changed?

A low moan drew my attention. Aghast, I realized that Thanasi had always been able to repair what should be mortal wounds with breathtaking rapidity. Though reduced to pathetic human wreckage, she was going to be on her feet and at my throat again in a couple minutes -- if I permitted it.

"Let me finish this, Blackbird," the mercenary rumbled.

"No!" I said.

In a way, Brandon had become the friend that Thanasi could no longer be. I didn’t want to give him the cup of murder-guilt meant for me. But, at the same time, like a drowning person, I was seeing flashes from the past, images from before Thanasi had become my bitterest enemy. At that instant, it was hard to remember that those days were dead and gone. If she rose, this terrible ordeal was going to be renewed -- unless I took action.

That’s when I deliberately reached out to the barbarian that I still remained under the skin – the barbarian that I had been born to be.

I raised the Sword of Fangs, letting it hang there for a couple seconds, as if stuck to the sky. In that tiny space something told me that without Thanasi in my life there was going to be nothing left of the obscenely long life that I had already lived. His death would leave Lukasz absolutely alone in the universe, a sole survivor of a past of bewildering complexity. I didn’t want that but….

I don’t even remember striking the blow. The next thing I knew, Necromantra's head was rolling from her slim neck while her severed arteries pumped scalding gore over my thigh-high boots. My nerves crashed. I had just slain my daughter, my friend, as well as my bitterest enemy. The finality of what I had done, what I had given up left, me horrified. I shuddered to feel the splaxh of my child’s blood turning cold. I’d never felt so befouled. How I could ever feel clean again?

Thanasi, why? I mentally asked the corpse.

A collective gasp broke the stillness. The crowd had just witnessed a Dark-Age vengeance-killing and was shocked, as would be all soft modern people. Theirs was a place much different from mine. They couldn’t understand the terrible world into which I had been born, a world in which I had learned to fight at the utmost every day just to stay alive.

With dismay, I realized that these people were seeing that Blackbird was a murderer. She would always carry the foulness of my act. I had to make her disappear and create some new alter-ego and the thought of that made me sorrow for her as much as for Thanasi. I had killed a part of myself and I would mourn her, too.

I took one last look at my enemy, my former friend. What affected me even more was that I was looking down at the dead flesh of my own flesh.

Why did did it have to be this way, Marinna? I whispered.

#

Okay, I was in a bad state, but it wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t remember that Strike and I had to get away. We ran in a circle to avoid the crowd and made for our cycle. My shame kept me from looking at my comrade’s face. When we drew up on opposite sides of the vehicle, we kept silent for a few uncomfortable seconds.

"We’d better get out of here," he said.

He mounted his machine and I climbed on behind him like an automaton. He took us away, weaving through the residential streets behind Hollywood Boulevard. Before long, Strike braked in the shadow of cultivated dogwood trees.

"Feeling better?" he asked, his masked face looking over his shoulder.

"Don't be funny."

"What happens now?"

What indeed? I had vowed to put an enemy’s corpse on top of my son’s grave, but by doing that I done him any honor? I shut my eyes, trying not to see the red stains still flooding through my memory. Why couldn’t I stop remembering Thanasi as my friend? Why did he have to become my enemy? What she had told me about her motives didn’t jive and her words had made her sound mad. One thing that I did know was that Necromantra’s bloody head was going to haunt my nightmares for as long as I lived.

But even in that strait, I knew that nightmares for worse were coming down the tube.

Soon, so very soon, I would have to confront Evie and let her know how her brother had died. Would she hate me? Would that still be true even if I told her that I had taken revenge against her mother’s murderer? But what I feared worst was that it might make her smile. The last thing I ever wanted to see was that kind of smile on a child’s face.

If a child could be made to smile about something like that was one who could never be a child again.

Why was my life like this? Why did my every attempt to protect Eve Blake always go wrong?

"You really seem to be out of things, Mantra," Strike said. "Anything I can do?"

I shook my head. "I have to call in to Aladdin, but I told Wrath that I didn’t have a phone with me."

"For safety, you’d better not use mine, either. There’s a cafe. Maybe you can phone from there."

I flashed into my Eden Blake clothes in the next instant, something that Strike couldn’t do. He waited under the dogwoods while I went inside. You can’t find a place with a public phone anymore, but the manager on duty let use his personal cell phone because I said it was an emergency. Also, he must have thought that I looked like hell.

The Aladdin Outside Desk patched me through to Wrath.

"Where in hell did you disappear to?" demanded the A-Team commander.

"I-It's hard to explain," I croaked, fighting down a lump in my throat.

"Blake, are you all right?" asked Wrath.

"F-Fine," I said. "I’ve had a rough time of it."

"What happened?"

I had a lie ready to go. "After you left Evie and me in the van, I suddenly heard Gus's voice calling. He was ordering me to come to him. I couldn't hold myself back. I told Evie to stay with the driver, and then took off into the dark. I didn’t even know where I was supposed to be going. The next thing I knew, I was lying at a construction site bound and gagged. I don’t know how long it took; I kept blacking out. But suddenly I was loose. The bonds must have been magical because they’d dissolved suddenly. I got up and ran away as quickly as I could."

"What’s your location?"

"I don’t know. I’ll have to ask somebody."

Several seconds of silence followed. "I hate to be the one to tell you, Mrs. Blake," Tunney finally said. "But we've intercepted a police call. It’s very bad news."

"About Gus?" I asked, bracing myself.

"Yes." Then he told me what I already knew.

"W-Where's Evie?" I stammered.

"She's still with us. I thought it’ld be best if we kept her with the team."

"Y-Yes, thank you," I replied. "Does Evie know yet?"

"No. Telling a little girl that sort of thing is no job for a stranger. When we link up, I'll be willing to stand with you -- when you talk to her, I mean."

"How did Gus...die?" I asked.

"Two big-name ultras were waiting by his body. Hardcase and Yrial, that Indian girl from the Strangers."

"Did they attack the boy?" I asked, letting anguish seep into my tone.

"The exchanges we intercepted says that the two of them pursued the boy from the school, intending to apprehend him for arson. He’s supposed to have fought back when they were crossing Runnymede Park. Their contention is that they used no lethal force, but that the little guy passed out and died from some sort of seizure."

"D-Do you think that's how it really happened?"

"Damned if I know. For the time being, it’s in the hands of the city police. The body is being taken to the Woodland Hills Medical Center. I’ll notify the Company about what we know so far. What do you want me to do -- about your little girl, I mean?"

"Would you take her over to her grandmother's house? That’s where I intend to go next." I gave him the address.

"You don’t sound so good, Mrs. Blake. Should we come pick you up?"

"No," I said. "I can deal with this. I’ll summon a cab from here."

"What phone are you using?" he asked.

"I’m calling from a cafe." I next found myself listening to a mutter of voices in Wrath’s background. When Tunney’s voice returned, it was crisp with excitement:

"Something else has gone down."

"What?"

"There was a sighting of two Mantra-style babes fighting an aerial battle over West Hollywood. One of them fits the description of the flying woman we sighted near the school. The other one was a redhead with a snake tattoo on her leg."

"Two new Mantras? That doesn't make sense."

"There must be a whole sorority of them. Anyway, the gals were going at each other like lunatics. The snake girl was blasted out of the air by some sort of explosion. Then the one in black followed her down and cut off her head. Oh, and the killer had an accomplice, a heavily-armed male in a mask. One witness said that his outfit looked like Strike’s. We'll check that out. The suits will be glad to have an excuse to go after that guy."

"I-I’m sorry," I said. "I just can't talk anymore."

"I believe it. As soon as we can see clear, we’ll take the girl over to your grandma’s place."

"Good."

"See you soon. Out." Wrath disconnected.

I handed the phone back to the manager. I wouldn’t need a phone to contact Yrial.

I rejoined Tark outdoors, under the trees. "I need to contact Yrial," I told him.

I made a telepathic linkup with the Stranger and she brought me up to speed. She and Hardcase were still at the Canoga Park police department answering questions. Besides what I already knew, there wasn’t much more the sorceress could tell me.

I told Tark the little information that I’d learned.

He gave me a thoughtful frown. "Do you want a ride over to your mother’s place?"

I shook my head. "No, you should go to cover. One of the bystanders tipped off the police that Blackbird’s accomplice looked like Strike."

"Damn! More complications."

"But, like I’ve said, you’ve got worse problems."

I brought up New York again and told him to go inactive for the next couple days. My advice was to stay at home in his civilian identity and not go out for any reason, except to establish an alibi. And I emphasized that he shouldn’t be caught anywhere within five hundred miles of New York state.

"You still haven’t explained how you got to be time-traveling," he said.

"I’ll give you a call when I can afford the time, but right now I have to get Evie back from Aladdin. Whatever you do, be smart! I don’t have so many friends that I can afford to lose any more."

He nodded gravely, without agreeing to heed my advice. With a mumbled, “See you later,” Strike mounted and rode off. I stood watching him go, his pale exhaust darkening to invisibility within the September night.

TO BE CONCLUDED IN CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The Wounded World
A Story of Mantra
By Aladdin
Originally written 2006
Posted May 21, 2022

Edited by Christopher Leeson
.
Chapter 23

SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

In the universe,
There are things that are known
And things that are unknown,
And in between, there are doors.

William Blake
.
.
.
.
Up to this point, I’d been carried along by pure adrenaline, but now my reserves were running low. After Strike had been lost to view, I stood there shivering, not from cold but from emotional overload. I shouldn’t be feeling what I was feeling. I had lost thousands of comrades across the centuries, sometimes under terrible circumstances. But losing a child was something new to me. One who has never lost a child of his own doesn’t know the meaning of tragic death.

But I had to hold together; others were still depending on me. I clicked into automatic and mounted the air currents, gliding across them to Barbara Freeman's home. There, after switching into civilian garb, I entered via the front door.

With the first words out of her mouth Mom asked me who was taking care of the kids. That broke the dam and my cover story came out in a jumble. The flinty old lady, the leather-tough army wife, was shaken. But as bad as she was having it, I knew that the news would come even harder to Evie. And I was the one who would have to tell a second grader one of the worst tidings that she would ever hear for the rest of her life.

The grandmother, sobbing, sagged to the couch. With no words to comfort her, I drifted to the window. Along the street, I knew, I would soon see the lights of the Aladdin van. Part of me was hoping that they wouldn’t show up before the next calendar year.

What now?

I needed to go home. I didn’t belong here. As long as I stayed here I could support Evie in her grief. But there were other hearts that would be broken if I couldn't get back to them.

Dilemma!

The street outside looked so empty. The moon was casting its glow through a mask if green vapor, but for the first time I spotted a couple of e bright stars blinking through verdant occlusion.

Did that mean that the evil blanket of magic was ebbing away?

But the next thing I saw was myself backing away from myself.

Not again!

I was time-shifting again!

My last shift had come only a few hours earlier. Was my condition worsening? Was I totally losing my anchorage in time? Would I be a leaf in a hurricane, blown about helter skelter – a few minutes here, a few minutes there – until something – maybe even my own hand – would finally intervene to put an end to the madness?

#

The next thing I knew, the lights were bright. Everything changed. I was surrounded by a crowd of strangers. Startled, my lurching left arm struck something.

"Hey, Mom, be careful!" someone said.

I recognized the voice and glanced back.

I froze in place.

Gus was alive again.

I was seated across from my son. And Gus wasn’t a deformed dwarf anymore. He was simply Gus!

And he was scowling.

"You're looking spacey, Mom! You’ll make people think you're spooky."

Evie was there, too, to my right. Then it dawned on me. We were back in The Mall in Canoga Park. I had on the same shirt and jeans that I’d worn there on Thursday the 14th.

Had I really come home? I was afraid to let that hope escape – afraid that I’d jinx myself and make a perverse universe snatch me away again.

I extended shaking fingers to touch my little girl's arm, wanting tactile proof that she was really there. Her flesh felt soft and warm. Barely able to speak, I asked, "B-Button, what d-day is this?"

"Ahh... it's Thursday, Mommy."

"Thursday the fourteen?"

She looked to her brother. "It's the fourteenth, isn't it, Gus?"

"Yeah, it is," the boy said.

I was suddenly sensible of a cold, clammy spot on my lap. Coca Cola was dribbling off the table. I pushed my chair back, stood up, and attacked the wetness with a Kid’s Club napkin.

Evie let out a little coo of sympathy. How different she was from the totally different woebegone, tragedy-plagued tyke I’d left behind in that other world.

"Mommy, why are you looking that way? Are you mad about something?" Evie asked.

Shaking my head to clear it, I said, "No, Pumpkin. H-How could I be mad? Here I am with the girl and boy I love most."

She gave back an uncertain smile.

"Kids," I began slowly. "I think I must have blacked out for a few seconds. I'm still a little mixed up. We were just shopping for school supplies, weren’t we?"

"Yeah," replied Gus, looking at me like some odd amphibian specimen from his nature-studies class.

"And then we got into the lunch line, right?"

"Yeah! Mom,” said the boy. “Are you putting us on?"

"Have I been with you the whole time, or did I go off somewhere for a while?"

"You were with us, Mommy," replied Evie. "You said, 'Let's eat at this one,' and we all sat down. Then you looked around and spilled your drink."

For the two kids, no time at all had passed. But hadn’t I lived for days in an alternate world? What did it all mean? What did anything mean?

Whatever you do, Lukasz, keep calm. Don't scare the kids.

"Umm,” I began, “have I been acting funny at this table, or saying things that didn’t make sense?”

"Not until now," Gus opined.

I took a deep breath.

This was incomprehensible.

What, exactly, had happened?

#

"If you're going to get another Coke, Mommy, can I have one, too?" Evie asked hopefully.

Though still in a daze, I forced myself to answer. “I don’t know, Evie. You drank the first one so quickly. If you do the same with another one, you could get a tummy ache.”

“No I won’t!” she said emphatically.

“All right, but I’m only being lenient because this is a time for celebrating.”

"Celebrating what, Mom?” asked Gus. "Are you talking dopey because of PMS?"

Ignoring his question, I said, "Gus...you're so handsome. How do you stay so handsome?"

"Uh?"

Don’t lose it, Lukasz. Wake up. Act like nothing’s happened.

"Ah, how long have we been at this table?" I asked Evie.

"Not too long."

Suddenly, paranoia clutched at me.

"Evie, Gus," I said, "do you two know who Contrary is?"

Gus made a face of bemusement, but Evie answered politely. "Yes, Mommy. She's the UltraForce lady that all the fourth graders like so much. Don’t you remember when we talked about her before? Is that something you forgot?"

I exhaled with relief.

Then a chill coursed through my blood.

Tomorrow would be the Ides of September. I couldn’t give up the idea that what happened to me in that other world had really happened. What if I’d had a premonition of events that were soon to happen in the world I knew?

I glanced up. "Gus, are you and your Dad still going to go to the Sharks' game tomorrow?"

"Yeah! It's going to be great!"

I didn't like it. I didn't like it. I didn't like it.

In that other world, it had been Gus Sr.’s reneging that appointment that had sent the other Gus over the top. To keep that from happening, I had to prepare Gus for possible disappointment. "You know, Gus, it might be a waste to go to the first football game of the fall. The teams won't be in shape yet. Those kids’ll have a ton of summer fat to work off before they start playing well. Wouldn’t it be better if your dad took you to see the Sharks next month? That will leave tomorrow free for all of us to take a really fun trip over to the Universal theme park."

"Universal?" chirped Evie. "Yay! Can Daddy come with us?"

Gus frowned. "It'ld be nice, but let's do that Saturday morning instead. That’ll give us the whole day there. I really want to go somewhere with Dad. It’s been months since we‘ve done anything important together."

The boy was always desperate to have a closer relationship with his father. But my concern was that there might really be some sort of unknown energy sweeping in from outer space. If that happened, I didn't want the Blakes to be anywhere near Leadwell Street at a quarter after seven on Friday.

"Gus, I have to tell you’re something that I’ve been putting off. I called your father while you were at school today, to talk about our usual business." This was a fib, of course, but I was angling to prevent disaster." He mentioned how excited he was to be taking you to the game, but he was having a problem."

"What?" Gus looked like I'd just given him a hotfoot.

"An important client of his is giving him mixed signals. They'd been planning to visit a sale property on Saturday morning. But that was before the fellow got a call about an emergency back in Chicago. Now he doesn’t want to stay in California that long and wants to take a Friday night flight home. He’s asking your dad to show him the property tomorrow afternoon instead. It's a very important deal and a lot depends on your father bringing it off. But your dad is worried that if things don’t go smoothly, if delays happen, he might get tied up with the client for hours. That could make him too late to attend the Sharks game."

"No!" Gus declared. "He's not going to cop out again!"

I took his wrist and squeezed it. "It might not happen, precious. Your Father said he’s doing everything possible to make things work out, but he's just not sure if they will. He wanted me to warn you ahead of time. It would break his heart if you got mad at him for something that he simply couldn’t help."

Gus set his jaw resentfully. "There's probably no client at all," he muttered. "I bet he met some slut he wants to go out with."

"Gus, it's not nice to call strangers bad names. Anyway, I'm sure that there's no lady involved. Bad things just happen sometimes.”

The boy’s face, glowering down at his ketchup-smeared paper plate, was a mask of disgruntlement.

"Gus, you can't believe that your dad would fib about anything so important."

"If you think Dad's so great, why did you divorce him?" the boy suddenly challenged.

Always that question. In truth, the divorce had been Eden’s idea and it had happened a year before I’d ever come upon the scene. That was at least one guilt trip I didn’t have to bear.

"Grownup love is something hard to understand,” I explained. “I don't know why, but too often married people stop loving each other after a while."

"Dad didn't stop loving you!" Gus declared. "He says he wanted things to stay the same, but you made him go away."

I didn’t know a lot about that divorce, so I had to ad lib. "That's true. But a marriage isn't good if it doesn't make both people in it happy. Your dad and I were having grownup-type problems. We tried to fix them, but nothing we tried worked. I’m sorry that everybody ended up getting hurt."

"Were those problems about sex?" Gus asked.

"We'll talk about sex when you get older, darling," I punted. "But when moms and dads stop loving each other, they almost never stop loving their kids. The two of you mean as much to us both as you ever did."

"Then why doesn't he come see us every other Sunday? Did you tell him not to? Jeff said at school that his mother told his dad to keep away -- or else she'd lie to the judge and have him put in jail."

"I'd never do that, Gus," I assured him. "I want you and Evie to spend lots and lots of time with your dad. He loves you both hugely and I know how much you love him back."

"That’s what grownups always say," groused the younger Gus. I glanced to his sister to see how she was reacting. The tyke was wearing a serious expression and I felt sorry for her. Girls need a father at home just as much as boys do. Back in the Dark Ages, a terrible world outside made people stay together and family meant everything to them. Now people were ready to divorce for the pettiest of reasons.

I decided to mollify him with bribery.

"You know what, Gus? Your dad told me that if things don't work out tomorrow, he’ll pay for show tickets for me, you, and Evie. If I can get off early, we’ll all go over to the Van Nuys multiplex. We can take in two movies, if you feel like it. Your Dad made it very clear that he'd want to make it a really big night for you. Like, there'd be no limit to the candy, soft drinks, and popcorn that you and Evie can buy."

Fluttering eyelids told me that Gus was weakening. I gave him a coaxing smile and squeezed his hand. "Well, think about it -- just in case. And remember, the ball game might come off after all. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought up the subject at all.”

Fat chance of that! I was going to have to get in touch with Gus Sr. lickety-split and find out what exactly his intentions were.

The children, made somber by the topic of our conversation, resumed their dining in silence. The lull gave me time to think. It was a no-brainer that I had to get the two of them away from Canoga Park. In fact, even if Gus Sr. was still planning to come on Friday night, I thought it would be smart to get the kids out of the house as early as possible. I could take Gus and Evie to a restaurant near the ball field and have Blake Sr. pick Gus up there. Then I’d go to the movies with Evie and take her home to bed when I was sure it was safe.

But wait a minute! Gus wouldn’t be the only one in peril. I had to keep Heather's fan club from turning into the monster Coven. Nor could I forget about Lauren. If she got empowered at her excitable age, she might get herself killed fighting some ultra-villain – maybe even N-ME. On top of that, Necromantra might also be coming to town. Then, too, there was the threat hanging over New York City. Warstrike had to be warned not to get involved in that!

What a multiplicity of quandaries! How could I juggle so many threats while giving priority to Gus and Evie?

But hope springs eternal. There was still the possibility, even the probability, that there wasn’t going to be any worldwide catastrophe. But for safety's sake I had to be prepared.

What I needed more than anything just then was a drink. "Evie," I murmured, "I'm going to refill my cup. Do you still want more pop? "

"Yeah! Only, can I have Sprite this time?"

"You surely can, Dumpling!"

#

That night, with the kids abed, I lingered in the living room, still anxious and haunted. I stood over the phone, needing to call up Gus Blake Sr. Regardless of how the conversation went, I doubted that I’d be getting much sleep afterwards. How could I could breathe easily until the Ides of September had come and gone peacefully?

My perplexed glance fell on Mr. Paws, across from me on the easy chair. He had fallen forward onto his nose. Usually, Evie went to bed with her stuffed pet tucked in beside her. Tonight, unfortunately, she’d come home with a bellyache and so I’d put her to bed immediately with a spoonful of bicarbonate.

Contemplating the teddy bear, I remembered the wrenching events that the other Mr. Paws had undergone with his family. On a whim, I crossed over and transferred the little fellow to the couch in front of our smart TV. In the morning, Evie would find her friend sitting there and probably make up an imaginative story about how teddy bears like to watch secret bear-only streaming services that only play after midnight, the hour when all the teddies come alive.

It occurred to me then whether I shouldn’t first get in touch with Warstrike. With his psychic talents, he might be able to look ahead and see whether something wicked was coming our way. With all the federal phone surveillance, I would have to contact him telepathically. Both of us needed to be careful about keeping the feds off the trail of our secret identities.

But Warstrike wasn’t the only friend at risk. There was the matter of Penny. Had she emotionally crashed in this world the way she’d done in that other? Was she in a near-suicidal state? If she was in crisis, I’d I have to go up to San Francisco and give her some moral support before something tragic happened.

Suddenly the front doorbell rang.

I turned about and went to answer it, but my hand refused to touch the knob. It was as if some inner voice was warning me that if I opened this particular door something very, very significant was going to happen.

And that something wasn’t going to be anything good.

But when the bell chimed for a second time, I told myself that I was just being silly. My enemies certainly weren't of the type that came ringing doorbells. Nonetheless, I wrapped myself in a sturdy force field before peering through the door’s small security window.

An attentive figure stood on the welcome mat, a hopeful smile on his fleshy lips.

I gaped, goggle-eyed.

It was the Little Man Who Wasn't There.

Only, he was there.

I was looking at the same stranger who had jabbed me at the Kids’ Club before, inexplicably, disappearing.

I hate to say it, but we’ve come to the part of the story where things really get crazy.

The End