Alex in Wunderstrande: The Clairvoyance Clock [BOOK ONE]

Chapter XXIX: The Decision

The scene was all too familiar. Standing amid the Garganoias, I looked upon the very flashback I thought I'd left behind on Lucian's devastated airship. My younger self huddled in the underbrush, watching as a group of Wunderstrandian guards tore through the forest. Every weapon aimed at a menacing figure draped in an emerald cloak.

"State your business!" demanded one of my accompanying guard.

A chilling laugh emanated from beneath the hood, sending waves of terror down my spine.

"I believe it is I who should be asking," came the smooth voice of a woman, "especially since you're not supposed to be here, Wunderstrandians."

The leader of the guard released the lock on his gun and pulled the trigger. My eyes doubled in size when the mysterious woman held up a dainty hand and stopped the bullet in its trajectory, causing it to fall harmlessly to the forest floor.

Gunfire erupted. Five-year-old Alex gasped and dove deeper into the underbrush.

The air bristled with electricity as the woman reached her fingers toward the sky. Every bullet zooming in her direction fell to the ground on command. Blue-green bolts radiated from her fingertips, effectively electrocuting the Wunderstrandian guardsmen, one by one. Their voices, screaming in agony, immediately made me sick to my stomach.

"Stop!" cried young Alex. "Please!"

But I could barely hear anything other than the screams of dying men and wicked laughter echoing throughout the forest.

"Alexander, run! Get out of here!" ordered a guard before a bolt ripped through his chest like a knife through a bag of flour.

The woman stepped over his smoking corpse and closed in on the hidden location of the five-year-old version of myself.

"Not so fast, little Alistair," she said, aiming a dagger of electricity in his direction.

I held back a cry as the current slammed against the tree behind young Alex. He lay quiet, frozen in the ferns.

It was all over in a matter of minutes. Satisfied, the woman grinned, slipped on a pair of leather gloves, and disappeared into nothingness with a swirl of her cloak.

And then, silence. Unnerving stillness. Devastating emptiness.

Five-year-old Alex could not stifle the tears any longer. Heartbroken, I watched as he covered his eyes with his small hands and rocked back and forth in the ferns, weeping in confusion.

I desperately wanted to abandon the memory. Why would my subconscious subject me to it a second time? Why was this moment so important?

"Hello?" called a familiar voice, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Hello, is someone there?"

Brody.

As he came into view, I watched curiously as he stepped amongst the deceased sprawled across the five-meter radius. Dressed in a military uniform and toting an army-issued blaster over his shoulder, young Brody surveyed the scene in astonishment. He stared at the bodies of the Wunderstrandian guardsmen for a moment before unhooking a radio transmitter from his belt.

"Ether Base, Ether Base, this is Ether Seven checking in from the Northern Woodlands," he spoke authoritatively into the device.

"Go for Ether Base," came the radio's immediate reply.

"Reporting an attack site several kilometers south of Chatham," Brody said, kneeling to lift an eyelid of one of the bodies. "Four, no, five Wunderstrandian casualties in view."

"Acknowledged, Ether Seven," said the voice over the radio. "Is the scene secure?"

"Affirmative," Brody responded as he slowly approached the ferns. Parting the foliage, his breath visibly caught in his chest when he saw young Alex and quickly knelt to the ground.

"Are there any survivors?" asked Ether Base.

"What happened? What are you doing out here?" Brody asked, completely ignoring the communication console.

Young Alex covered his entire head as if that action alone would expel his surroundings into nothingness. "I'm-Alex-please-don't-hurt-me," he squealed in fright.

"Ether Seven, do you copy?" the radio squawked.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you," Brody promised, clipping his radio back on his belt. "What happened?"

Young Alex wiped his cheeks with the back of his tiny hand. "A bad lady made them die. She killed them with magic."

"With magic?" Brody whispered in terror. He glanced behind him at the lifeless men and then snapped his attention back to face my younger self. "What's your last name, Alex?"

"Alistair."

Brody put a hand over his mouth in disbelief. "Oh, lord," he whispered to himself. "What are you doing here, Alex?"

Young Alex's bottom lip trembled. "Finding Art's special Clock."

Recognition sparkled in Brody's eyes, but it was outdone by the deepest compassion I had ever witnessed in a man, especially one his age. Thoroughly burdened by some internal debate, he ran a hand across his forehead and paced back and forth for a time before returning back to ground level.

"Ether Seven, do you read?" repeated Ether Base.

Brody unclipped the console and coughed. "Affirmative, Ether Base. No survivors. No need to secure the area, just a request for removal of the deceased. Either Seven out."

"I want mommy," young Alex cried. "I want to go home."

"Your mother will never stop forcing you to find that wretched thing," Brody said softly, not necessarily for my benefit, but almost as if he were audibly sorting out his thoughts. "It's a shame you had to put up with that at such a young age."

The cogs in his brain were turning; I could see them pick up pace just beyond his shining eyes. One glance of genuine sympathy was all it took to realize what he had decided. My seventeen-year-old self knew all too well.

"Come with me. No one will hurt you now."

Wordlessly, I stood petrified in emotion as Brody lifted young Alex into his arms and protectively carried him through the dark wood away from the remnants of the tragic scene.