Nathan spoke confidently, “I am the hero”
“And I am the villain.” Clinton Sage replied, mindless and awaiting orders.
Nathan Hollinger felt his stomach tighten up instantly, and if anyone else could have felt what he felt, they would have had trouble keeping their legs underneath for support. That slimy piece of shit Dr. Lionel Ernst had said he also inserted the program into Clinton Sage’s mind…but Nathan didn’t know whether or not to trust him.
The guy gave Nathan the creeps. The confidence, arrogance, and power oozing out of such a small, fat bastard was disturbing enough, but the fact that he could control the lives of those around him gave Nathan a shudder whenever he thought about it.
But here stood Clinton Sage. And Nathan could think of only one thing – the only thing – that immediately came to mind. He heard his own voice quiver slightly, emotion wracking ever syllable, “Did you kill my wife?”
Mindless and forced to ask by the nature of the hypnotic programming, Clinton Sage responded, “Yes.”
Sage’s eyes twitched slightly at the edge, as if the memory has crept back before his obsidian eyes.
At that moment, Nathan Hollinger felt nothing but wrath. Pure hatred, testing the limits of his own self-control. Teetering on the edge, ready to fall. Every muscle in his body swelled with anger and disdain towards Clinton Sage. Towards the man who had murdered his beloved Isis.
No more laying in bed, watching DVD’s during the cold Colorado nights.
She wouldn’t be able to burn the Rice-a-roni and place the blame on the pan.
No more loving embraces on Christmas, or kisses when the New Year rang in.
The hollow void that had formed in Nathan’s heart after Isis’ passing was instantly filled with a blood boiling rage, and he took one step towards Clinton Sage, his fists clenched tight enough that he could feel his own fingernails digging into the meat of his palms. No more memories to be created, only happy ones to relive.
No more.
No more.
All because of Clinton Sage.
It all happened in a fraction of a second, the explosion of rage surging through his mind and body. After taking a step closer to Clinton Sage, with Sage’s own girlfriend mindlessly watching and awaiting orders of her own, Nathan’s next question was simple.
“Why?”
Clinton Sage turned his head towards Nathan Hollinger, unresponsive. He looked curious.
“WELL?” Nathan screamed, not realizing the construction of the hypnosis required direction questions without any ambiguity.
Clinton Sage continued to stare, no fear in his eyes. No hatred. Nothing but the curiosity of someone who doesn’t know how to answer the question asked.
“Why’d you kill Isis? It doesn’t make any sense, she played NO part in whatever blood-feud we had going on…so why did you kill her! WHY?” Nathan screamed and stammered out the words like a drunken buffoon, and he could feel the anger starting to become uncontrollable.
He wanted to rip Clinton Sage’s hair out. He wanted to break every one of his fingers backwards, and then twist them until they tore from his hands. Nathan wanted to make sure that every ounce of pain that Sage had inflicted on himself, and then onto Isis was repaid ten-fold.
But Clinton Sage’s response stopped all the rage and anger cold in it’s tracks.
“I was trying to save her.” He said, the corners of his mouth starting to tremble. Sage’s eyes glazed over slightly, with tears ready to fall.
Nathan Hollinger stood silent for a moment, unable to remove his gaze from that of his mortal enemies. He knew that the program in Sage’s mind would prevent him from lying. He KNEW it…and what Sage had just told him wasn’t what he had expected.
Nathan closed his eyes, and was greeted with a flash from the past. A single image of Isis’ fractured skull, her eyeball bulging slightly out of its socket. The green of her eye was pink, and slightly red with blood. Her cheek and the skull around her ear was caved in, the overall shape of her face distended by the blunt force of a baseball bat.
Nathan shot his eyes open, and fell to the ground. His legs had finally given out, as if rage and payback towards Clinton Sage had been his sole support for the last few weeks since his wife’s death.
“Michele, please go back into the mansion. Watch television.” Nathan ordered, his mind equally as numb as the two he had under hypnosis.
Michele Thornton turned away from her boyfriend and Nathan, and entered the Sage mansion, finally disappearing from view.
Clinton Sage stood, his eyes clearing with each moment, the remorseful glaze drying with time. He was waiting for his next command, and it took Nathan a full minute of staring up at his enemy before he could even wrap his mind around it.
Nathan felt defeated. Crushed. The sole intent of his life the last few weeks had been to locate Sage and take vengeance. His mission was amplified when he turned on the television and saw that Clinton Sage, the bastard of bastards, was actually IN LOVE. Why should Clinton Sage be able to love someone, and Nathan be stuck wandering through life without his soul mate?
Vengeance.
Why should Clinton Sage be able to come home to the loving embrace of Michele Thornton? The nights of passion, the slow-cooked meals, the drunken nights over wine? Why. Why should Clinton Sage have that, when Nathan HAD it, but it had been taken away?
Vengeance.
Nathan’s voice was brittle, “What do you mean you were trying to save her?”
The man that had caused Nathan so much pain, torture, even death, answered calm and collected. Every once and awhile, Nathan could see his eyes twitch at the memories. It appeared as if Clinton Sage was honestly remorseful of what happened, and hated the fact that he was reliving the memory through story, “Harlan Raines had…he had stabbed her in the abdomen with an ice-pick.”
Nathan winced, the thought of Harlan Raines' piercing stab ending the life of his unborn child. His hands trembled.
Sage continued, voice quaking, “He had dropped the baseball bat, and I had tried to hit him with it. But he managed to get the best of me and…and he took Isis into the cabin. Slammed her up against the wall, and was digging the ice pick into her belly, and she was screaming out in such pain. I couldn’t take it, because that wasn’t why I was there. So I got to my senses, and charged in towards Harlan with the baseball bat, ready to smash his skull and send him back into the grave.”
Much like Nathan, Harlan Raines had escaped death via the meteorites and their wish-granting abilities. He didn’t know how, he didn’t care how, but Pennsylvania’s most notorious serial killer had come back from the dead. That was the only connection Nathan Hollinger ever wanted to have with Harlan Raines.
“I came in with a full head of steam,” Sage started and then paused. He managed to look down at Nathan Hollinger, and Nathan could see nothing but pain in his eyes. The eyes that so many men look into and see hatred and disdain and not nary a soul, but Nathan saw pain. He might be the only person on earth to have ever seen this in that man’s eyes, “And right as I came down with the bat, Raines fell away to the side. I couldn’t stop it…I tried, but I couldn’t.”
Startled by the revelation, Nathan Hollinger hopped to his feet and shook Clinton Sage by the shoulders, “Why did he fall away?”
“She pulled the ice-pick out of her, and rammed it up through his throat and skull.”
Nathan Hollinger smiled for a moment, thinking about the defiance in Isis. That spirit that would never quit, even in the face of death. But the smile soon melted away, realizing how scared she must have been. To pull the same bloody ice pick that took the life of her child – their child – and then use it against the bastard that was trying to kill her.
And then the bat came crushing down, shattering her along with any future they might have together. No more Nathan and Isis, no more wondering what they’ll name the baby when it’s born.
Vengeance.
Looking at Clinton Sage, that feeling was gone. Long gone. For the first time in weeks – no months – Nathan Hollinger felt as if his life had no more meaning. No more purpose. The man who had killed Isis was trying to save her, and he shouldn’t be punished.
The man who was trying to kill Isis was dead, for the second time.
“Do you have any more of those wish-granting meteors?” Nathan asked Clinton.
“Just one.” Clinton responded, “The last one.”
Nathan missed her. His Isis, her green eyes and brown hair and blonde streaks. He missed her warmth, her touch, and her smile. He missed everything.
”How do you know it’s the last one?”
”The last wish I made, I made sure I had the last one. And now I have the last one. Forever.”
He needed her back. Nathan Hollinger felt as if his life was a blank canvas without Isis, and he needed her back by his side. They needed to live together, or do anything to get back with each other. Their love was stronger than life and death and the barriers between worlds.
”Go get the meteorite, Clinton. Make sure you don’t wish for anything when you touch it. And get the keys to your car, because we’re going to be driving to Colorado.”
Isis lay buried underneath six feet of dirt, next to a grave that bore Nathan’s own name.
Vengeance was gone. Acceptance and hope, instead.
As Clinton Sage entered his mansion, he stopped when Nathan barked his final order.
“Clinton, if you own a gun…grab that too. And make sure it’s loaded.”
You can never be too prepared around Clinton Sage, vengeance be damned.
Colorado was two day’s drive away, and then Nathan and Isis would be together again.
* * * * *