The Temporal (23 page)

One Week Later...

“
Sam…”

It was a whisper, but loud enough to reach him in his dreams. He opened his heavy eyes to a darkened room. It may have been midday, but with the thick carpet drapes in his hotel room, it felt like it was night. The only light seeped in from around and under the mostly closed bathroom door.

After the encounter with Kaileen, Sam needed more sleep. Sam saw this as a setback, but he was feeling better every day. He seemed to be recovering from more than mere physical injury. Sam slept the entire first day. The next day, he required eight or nine hours. And now, a week later, that voice had interrupted him an hour into his sleep period.

He waited a few seconds and then, after hearing nothing more, closed his eyes again. His body needed more rest.

It had been a long week.

The day after the incident, McGregor
’s body was found in his hotel room. He had taken a bullet to his head at close range. The media was reporting it as a suicide and the public had mourned for him as they had President Franklin. But with Kaileen still at large, Sam wasn’t so sure it was that simple even after the suicide note was confirmed to have been written in McGregor’s own hand.

Sam
’s injuries had all but healed within a few hours of fleeing the hotel—the battlefield as Marcus called it. Sam’s accelerated healing had compressed what should have been a few months in the hospital to a few hours in the care of his friends. But the nightmares lingered and his need for sleep increased. If it hadn’t been for Marcus and Suteko...

Suteko.

They hadn’t spoken of their future together. Too much was going on and they were all focused on Sam’s recovery. It went far beyond a simple physical recovery. He had experienced the thoughts and intentions of pure evil. Cleansing would take time and effort. Her touch was his medicine, but not a complete cure.

Relaxing his arms and legs under the sheets, he saw Suteko
’s face in his mind and followed her deeper into a dream. It was a kind of waking dream where he felt fully aware of his surroundings and, for the most part, in control of his actions. He was about to relinquish control when his ears heard the voice again.

“
Sam…”

It was a female voice. Immediately, Suteko in the dream faded and then disappeared completely. He mourned losing her face in the dream
—an uncharacteristically good dream—but he soon became aware that it was the real Suteko calling him, waking him.

His heart beat a little faster at the thought. He wanted to sit down with her over a drink or two and just talk. It seemed like he had known her for years and yet their adventure had started only a few months before in a hot Japanese August. The stress of recovery and the incessant demands of both politicians and law enforcement had made quiet time all but impossible.

Sam opened his eyes.
It was her.
She was inches away, sitting on the side of his hotel bed. He had not even felt the movement of the mattress as it gave way to her weight. It was as if she had always been there. Sitting and watching him sleep.

Suteko.

A little light from the cracked-open bathroom gave the contours of her dark hair beautiful highlights. He could just make out her facial features, but the soft light was playing tricks on his eyes. He wasn’t sure if she was smiling or grimacing. He was still half-asleep. His mind warred with a body that was demanding more rest.

“
Sam, lay your head on my lap. Allow me to massage you—to touch you.”

Before he could respond, he felt his head being lifted and then placed on something soft. He closed his eyes as her fingers ran through his hair. Her fingers were cool, almost cold as if she had been handling ice. It was oddly soothing. She continued to massage his shoulders, driving him back deeper into dreamland.

“
Sam, look over there, in the corner.”

He opened his eyes and was surprised to realize he was now standing.
He was even more surprised when he figured out that he was not in DC in his hotel, but inside the old man’s apartment in Manhattan. Sam squinted his eyes and looked toward the corner. He saw the globe.

Suteko took his hand and gently pulled him forward.

“Come, my love.”

He followed, although he had no feeling below his waist. He simply could not feel his legs moving, he wasn
’t even sure he had legs. But in an instant, he had moved to the globe and was looking at Suteko across from it.

Suteko placed two fingers on the Atlantic Ocean
—Sam noticed her fingernails were long, much longer than he had remembered. In a flash, the fingers swiftly flicked the surface of the globe. Countries, oceans, and colors were all a blur. After a few seconds, her hand fell, stilling the globe’s rotation. Her index finger pointed to India.

“
Tell me, Sam. You can see them. Tell me.”

Sam understood and began speaking names and places as he saw them. The Temporal. She would move her finger north, south, west, or east and he would begin again.

But his mind often drifted and his dreams would take him elsewhere. Recent locations and events played heavily in his dreams. In one moment, he was in San Francisco and then, in the next, his mind replayed the bombing in New Orleans. Each time, Suteko’s face appeared and forcibly dragged him back to Marcus’ apartment and that globe. She was insistent that he continue and stay with her there in front of the globe.

After many minutes, the finger was positioned over the Washington DC area. Sam stumbled.

“Too many.”

“
What, my love?”

“
I see you, me, the old man, and...”

Sam blinked and shot up from bed. He was back in the hotel room in DC, sitting up in a sweat-soaked bed. Suteko was on the bed next to him with a curious look on her face. He saw a flash of anger steal across her eyes.

“
And you...”

“
What do you mean, my love?”

“
You—are not Suteko.”

The woman smiled and placed her right hand on his thigh.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you do not love me—that you do not desire me.”

Sam was lost. Her eyes were beautiful
—strange, but beautiful.

“
Samuel, you know I love you,” she said, licking her lips. “Say it.”

It was Suteko
’s appearance, but those were not Suteko’s eyes. Suteko’s eyes were kinder; these were burning and yet utterly compelling. Sam looked deeper. Her eyes were magnificent. Not Suteko’s but magnificent and somehow familiar.

“
You... not Suteko.”

“
Who I am is of no importance. It is only that we are here now. Drink deeply, my love. Today, we fulfill our destiny. I was wrong to have sought your hurt. Together, we can remake the world in our image. Together, we will.”

Sam saw stars appear. A memory suddenly came to his mind. He knew why her eyes had seemed familiar
—not the same, but similar. Stars... He had seen stars at McGregor’s apartment. The stars in the Nephloc’s eyes. The globe. The other one in DC was... Kaileen.

“
No!”

Sam pushed Suteko off the bed and, rolling off the other side, he leaped for the door. In an instant, Kaileen was on him. The two fell to the lightly carpeted floor. She no longer pretended, her red hair tickling Sam
’s cheeks. She had him pinned down. Her small frame was deceptive; she had the strength to keep him and several other grown men in place. She was smiling, her eyes bulging.

“
Oh, Samuel. How much pain could have been avoided had you just chosen me instead of her. I could have given you far more than she is worth. Far more!”

“
What do you want?”

“
Your head.”

She arched her neck and moved close enough for their noses to almost touch. Her eyes bore down on him. Sam weakened and looked back into her eyes. He saw desire and, for an instant, his whole being wanted to give that desire what it wanted, no matter the cost.

Sam shook his head, breaking the trance. His mind was freed, but Kaileen was still on top of him, holding his body prisoner. He had personal knowledge of the demon woman’s strength and especially with his weakened state, he knew he could not prevail physically. He closed his eyes tightly and turned to the side.

“
Suteko.” It was a whisper, but was quickly followed by a shout. “Suteko! Marcus!”

Her right hand, palm flat, hit his chest with a force that knocked the breath out of Sam. He had to struggle to refill his lungs with enough air. There would be no more shouting for help.

“Don’t struggle. This won’t hurt, love.”

He felt his arms still pinned, but somehow she had both hands on his cheeks, turning his head toward her again. Her thumbs dug into his eye sockets and then released quickly. The sudden pain and then relief caused Sam to open his eyes wide. It was enough to make eye contact, enough to convince him to stare.

As her right hand moved to his forehead, he began to melt into her eyes again. Her fingers, spread wide and bent, touched his forehead and upper cheeks. He felt a rush of uncontrollable thoughts fly into and out of his head. Images and sounds and tastes and feelings began a motion that was impossible to track.

Just as he felt he could no longer maintain consciousness, he heard a loud noise. Unlike the other noises and sights, this noise was from outside and not a product of his mind.

He felt his forehead instantly loosed from her grip. His eyes were also clear. He saw that she was no longer on top of him. He was free from her bewitching gaze and her hold.

He was even more surprised to see his arms straight out in front of him. In his arms, he saw strength and determination that had not failed him
—even if his eyes had strayed, his deep-seated will prevailed. The red-headed woman was thrown through the wall and partially into the bathroom across the room. He had managed to not only break from her eyes but to strike back as well.

“
What’s going on?”

It was Suteko
—the real Suteko—and she was standing in the doorway.

“
Watch out!” shouted Sam.

Kaileen turned the corner and then lurched out the door and into the hall, knocking over Suteko before she could process what Sam had said.

“Kaileen,” said Suteko with more than a hint of anger in her voice. She was helped up by Marcus and the two rushed to Sam’s side.

“
My boy, did she hurt you?”

“
No… My chest hurts, but I’ll be fine.”

Marcus helped him sit up straight while Suteko went to get him some water.

“Sam, can you tell me where she is?” asked Marcus as Suteko arrived with the glass.

Sam closed his eyes. He now knew her pattern and what to look for. Why he didn
’t realize it earlier—he had been asleep and his dreams had betrayed him. He would learn to listen even in his sleep; he would learn to watch for Kaileen at all times.

“
Yes. She is near, but leaving fast. Two blocks from here. 92nd street intersection. Heading east.”

In a flash, the old man was gone.

Suteko sat next to him and began massaging his arms. In contrast to the fingers of Kaileen, Suteko’s hands were warm and therapeutic.

“
Is Marcus stronger than she is?” asked Sam.

“
Marcus may look old, but don’t let that fool you. He knows things she doesn’t. Don’t worry.”

She leaned over, giving him a kiss on the forehead. Then, she fell down next to Sam against the wall of the hotel room, placing her arm around him. They spent the next few minutes in silence, content to hear nothing more than their own breathing.

President Hollenbeck stayed true to his word and did not seek the office. His supporters were en masse encouraging him to run. They said, quite correctly, that not running would be handing the election to the other party. He played the noble statesman in media interviews, choosing the public good over his private ambitions.

Inwardly, however, he was seething.

The promises of that woman were nothing. McGregor was dead and so were Hollenbeck’s political aspirations. The FBI was quietly investigating what he knew and when. McGregor’s true nature and involvement were to be released to the media upon conclusion of the investigation. Hollenbeck knew there could be implications, even if only circumstantial.

The Speaker of the House, Brad Gardner who only a week before was
labeled the “zombie candidate” was sworn in as president the following January. He had no love for President Hollenbeck, but once it was clear Hollenbeck had done nothing illegal, President Gardner approached Hollenbeck and they co-authored an op-ed in the
Wall Street Journal
urging the nation to move on.

Suteko and Sam were pardoned by the outgoing Hollenbeck who knew good publicity when he saw it. The two quietly returned to Japan. There, Suteko received some unwanted attention when some enterprising newspaper reporter uncovered the name of the “unnamed Japanese national” who was believed to have helped Todd McGregor expose the terrorists.

From that, questions of her origins arose. She had documents proving her Japanese citizenship, but when
Yomiuri Newspaper
reporters searched for her parents—hoping for a scoop—it was discovered that they didn’t exist. Allegations of identity theft and increased attention from the press, made it clear that she could no longer stay in Japan.

The press in Japan had a field day, but without official charges and the validity of her citizenship not being in question, the government could not prevent Suteko and Sam from leaving.

After a long consultation with Marcus in New York City, it was decided that a meeting of the Temporal needed to be called. Suteko could hide and forever wander. Or the existence of the Temporal could be carefully revealed to the leaders of certain nations giving them protection and a way to live openly. One way or the other, in the internet and digital age, anonymity for the Temporal was increasingly becoming a lost cause.

In Marcus’ apartment, Sam sat down before a world map that Suteko had spread out on a table. Marcus, with a pen in hand, wrote each name and location in a different script and varying code as Sam spoke.

Once finished, the old man stood.

“For the two thousand years that I have walked this earth, I never thought this day would come. Our existence as a secret may no longer be possible. In order to protect Suteko, as well as us all, we may need to trust a few outsiders.” He paused, holding up the paper filled with the twenty-six coded names and addresses. “This simple piece of paper is worth more to the Nephloc than all the riches of Solomon.”

He carefully folded the paper and slipped it into an envelope. Sam half expected Marcus to seal the envelope with melted wax. He was slightly disappointed when Marcus instead used a small piece of tape.

“Our primary concern is protecting our Temporal brothers and sisters. We must instruct the president about a kind of reality that is unknown to him. This is no longer simply an internal affair, but a danger that could affect all of humanity.”

Sam began to think of the past few weeks, the past few days. The short-lived and tragic friendship of Cobbs; the pain of seeing a murderer adored by good people; the physical trauma his body had absorbed...
The threat—McGregor and his bombs—had been dealt with, but Sam knew Kaileen would not give up. Sam had something she wanted.

Suteko
’s hand slipped around Sam’s right arm, filling him with peace. It wasn’t the kind of peace to make him forget his troubles; it simply shored up the strength within him and allowed him to cope.

Sam looked at Suteko, smiled, and then turned
his attention back to Marcus’ speech.

“
Gather your things. We begin tomorrow.”