CHAPTER 12

Don't Wake Up

            During a span of what seemed like forty years, Pete had woken several times. On each occasion, he was too weary to stay awake, but there was always an item of food waiting for him on his bedside table—an apple, a piece of toast, tea that was comfortably warm. He stayed conscious long enough to fill his stomach, then he drifted off back to sleep where nightmares of dark caves and abyssal plains greeted him.

            Finally, he woke to a glistening sun shining in through his bedroom window, but when he turned over and looked at his bedside table, it was foodless.

            Pete groaned. He must’ve been accustomed to waking and eating, because when he tried to fall back asleep, his grumbling stomach refused to give him rest. So he decided to sit up. Bleary eyed and sore from head to toe, Pete struggled into an upright position while adding pressure to the tender area on his left side as if in fear that his fresh scars would break open.

          The wounds still throbbed. It was tormenting and made the emptiness inside him increase tenfold, but they did their duty by reminding him of the sin he’d committed and how even through death, he’d never escape his past.

            I actually killed him, Pete thought. I killed Stile Cortez, and then my father’s imposter nearly killed me. He should’ve let me die. I don’t deserve to live, but this suffering…. Perhaps I deserve it more than death.

            Pete was certain now that the man who called himself Gallaway wasn’t his true father. Sure, he was kind and amiable, and Pete could even say he liked him, but he wasn’t the same man from his childhood. He wasn’t his father, and each time Pete thought of his familiar face, it tortured him.

            Maybe they’re brothers, Pete thought. Maybe this Gallaway is really my crazy older uncle, and my father’s still trapped on Ecual.

            Pete sighed. He was starving, and sitting around moping about his miserable life wouldn’t fill his aching stomach. He slid his legs over the side of the bed and used the nightstand to help keep his balance. His legs were weak, and his knees trembled when he stood.

            The reality of his situation terrified him.

            How long has it been? How much of my body has atrophied as it laid motionless on a bed healing from a surgery I never wanted?

            Pete stood there for a moment trying to find strength in his frail body. When his stomach twisted into a painful knot, he scooted his left foot forward and took slow, careful steps towards the door.

            Pete frowned when he grew closer. What was that sound? A television? He pulled open the door, and on the other side was a short hallway with two doors, old wood flooring and water-stained walls.

            Pete was confused. Wasn’t he in his condo on Third Avenue? He turned around, certain that he’d been sleeping in his own bedroom, and cringed when he saw the atrocity it truly was. The room was incredibly tiny, the bed was like something he’d see in a horror movie and the condition of the room itself was pitiful. There were cracks everywhere, multiple water stains and only half of one wall had wallpaper. There were even cobwebs on the ceiling, and a scuffling sound in the walls made him imagine filthy rats.

            Pete backed into the hallway, terrified of the new nightmare he’d stepped into, and then hurried down the hall towards the sound of the television. Walking quickly made his heart speed up. His breathing strained, and he was panting by the time he reached what looked like a living room. It was dark inside, the room was in just as terrible of a condition as the bedroom, and each of the windows were covered by old blankets.

            Holding himself upright against the wall, Pete surveyed the area.

            There was an old couch in the center of the room, a stairway to the left and an ancient television pushed back against the far wall. Gallaway was sitting on the couch watching what looked like a soap opera, a box of cereal in hand, while beside him sat a girl with thick black hair.

            Pete gasped. “Kaia,” he breathed. His voice was quiet and slightly hoarse. Pete took a deep breath. “Kaia, what are you doing here?”

            Kaia seemed to hear him the first time. She turned around with a frown. “Pete?” When she saw him, her eyes widened and she quickly turned towards the stranger beside her. “Gal, he can actually walk!”

            Pete was confused. What was Kaia doing with Gallaway, and why were they just sitting there as if they had nothing better to do? That damn hobo had stabbed Pete in the chest and then removed his lung without his permission. Obviously he wanted Pete alive, but apparently he was too busy stuffing his face to take care of his crippled prisoner.

            Pete scowled and approached them. “What do you mean I can actually walk? What’s going on, Kai? What the hell are you doing with this freak?”

            He came between them and the television with his arms folded across his chest.

            Kaia looked nervous. Guilt shone in her expression, and she looked away, refusing to speak.

            Gallaway’s dark eyes reflected the light from the television, his pale face completely impassive. “Mind your manners, child,” he quietly said. His voice was soft, but hidden beneath the surface was a threat that could only be detected in the twitch of his black aura. “Kaia is here with me because she cares for you. Would there be any other reason?”

            Pete gritted his teeth. He wanted to argue back, to at least ask him why they never expected him to be able to walk, when his body quickly provided the answer. His knees had been struggling to keep himself aloft for a while now. With a painful throb emerging from his left side, Pete grasped his aching chest and bent over.

            Kaia was there to catch him right before his knees gave out. She guided him to the couch where the comfort of the shabby cushions coerced him to the edge of consciousness.

            The world around him went black, and Pete fell asleep.

            When he woke, his stomach was writhing and a buttery scent greeted his wanting nose. He opened his eyes to find a TV dinner tray resting on a portable table extended over his lap. The main course was a baked potato with green beans and a brownie on the side. Pete didn’t hesitate. Without a second thought, he grabbed the spoon and began pouring the cheap food into his mouth.

            Finally, he thought. Real food I actually like!

            The taste was brilliant, and even though it was only a small course, it was filling. When Pete finished eating, he chugged the glass of water and leaned back with a sigh. He was satisfied, and already he was feeling like a healthier, stronger man.

            Now all I need is a cigarette, he thought, then I’ll feel perfect.

            Across from him, Gallaway stood watching him with a small smile. His fluffy green sweater looked especially posh. “I hope you'll forgive me for forgetting to feed you earlier,” he said, his voice as comforting as ever. “Roberto’s evil triplet was about to have an affair with a woman who’s later going to be revealed as his long lost sister. Scandalous, isn’t it? It’s especially enjoyable watching it the second time.”

            Pete glowered. “You really enjoy those shows?”

            Gallaway nodded. “Of course! I like watching them and comparing the affairs with real life events. I’ve met a lot of people in my time, and many of these stories have actually happened before.”

            Pete wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. He was a little more cognitive now that he’d eaten real food, but he didn’t exactly want to discuss soap operas, let alone anything complex or shameful that’d recently happened. He would’ve preferred that everything was forgotten, but he knew that somebody would eventually mention the crimes of his past.

            Pete’s scars began to ache again. He massaged them with his knuckles, his gaze drifting to the floor.

            “Anyways,” Gallaway quietly went on, “I am very sorry for forgetting to feed you, but I’m glad that your strength has returned. We would’ve never known that you were able to walk if I hadn’t neglected you. I’m sure you would’ve continued falling asleep, which, well, isn’t exactly what’s best for you.”

            Pete half smiled. “It’s alright. You saved me from my nightmares. How long was I asleep, anyways?”

            Gallaway took a moment to think. “Hmm… I believe it was—”

            “Eight days!” a voice called from somewhere up above them. It was Kaia.

            Pete’s fake smile disappeared. Eight days? Would the man hunt still be going? Was it safe to walk the streets? He thought of Allen and how he’d disappeared after Pete murdered Stile. If it was true that Allen had controlled him at Bryant Park, then an emotionless madman Kinetic was on the loose somewhere in the city. Pete needed to find him, and if it was possible, restrain him.

            There was the sound of light feet quickly falling down the stairs. Kaia emerged from the left, her wide eyes glowing with unease. “I could only find some of your old clothes from whenever you… whenever you were Leone Gallaway.” Kaia briefly glanced at Pete, then she looked at the Kinetic stranger. “Do you think they’ll fit him?”

            Past tense? he thought. What the hell is she talking about? This guy is still Leone Gallaway, isn’t he?

            Kaia held a pile of clothes in her hands. She approached the couch, glanced at Pete, then she dropped them in the spot beside him. Pete pushed aside the portable table and watched as she held up a fairly large black shirt.

            Pete’s eyes widened. So this man really was my father, he thought. He remembered this shirt from one of his childhood memories, and it even smelled like him, too. Pete glanced at Gallaway. But what happened? Why did he change?

            Gallaway pursed his lips. “No, that won’t do. It’s far too—”

            “I’ll wear it,” Pete said. He snatched the shirt from Kaia’s grasp and was about to hold it up to his nose, but then he stopped. Both of them were staring at him with scrutinous eyes.

            You’re not a child anymore, Pete, he thought. Even if this man really is your father.

            But Pete couldn’t help himself. All his life, despite whatever truth laid hidden beneath the surface, he’d longed to reunite with the only man that could’ve possibly understood him. Now he didn’t know what to think. Gallaway had tried to kill him, and he wasn’t even sure if this Kinetic stranger was his true biological father. 

            He looked at each of them, searching for the answer, but found nothing but distant stares. He wondered why, then he remembered the shirt. “Why am I wearing it, by the way?” he asked.

            “I was just about to explain that,” Gallaway said. “We need your brother, and only you can find him.”

            Pete frowned. “But why would only I be able to…?” He trailed off.

            “Allen controlled you with his mind, didn’t he? He forced you to kill Stile Cortez. Somehow the two of you have a mental connection, and I can guarantee that your subconscious mind has already tracked his location.”

            Pete wanted to smile, he wanted to embrace his father for understanding him without having to utter a single plea, but regardless of whether or not Allen had mentally forced Pete to kill Stile, it was still Pete who had killed him. His hands were permanently stained with red, and they itched and smelled of blood.

            And I liked it, he thought. And now a human’s energy seems that much more pleasing.

            He shook his head. “I can’t leave here, especially not like this. If I was detected…” He felt his scars again, and when he breathed, his right lung struggled to make up for its missing partner. Pete would never be able to run again, and he could say goodbye to his place in the state finals.

            “Don’t worry, Pete,” Kaia softly said. “We can give you a disguise, like how Gallaway looked like the Kinetic war hero.” She gestured to Gallaway, and he beamed, pretending to adjust his invisible tie. “Even you could perform biokinesis if you tried hard enough.”

            Pete frowned. Mention of his father made his mind wander again. He disregarded Kaia’s supportive comment and turned to the supposed Leone Gallaway. “So who are you, then? Are we related or what? You’re confusing the hell out of me right now.”

             Gallaway’s beam slowly faded. A moment passed in silence. He pursed his lips, scratched his chin in thought, then he stepped forward and held out his hand with a kind smile. “My name is Gal, god of empathy and council, and I am neither a Kinetic nor your father. How do you do?”

            Pete was bewildered. For a moment, he wasn’t sure why Gal had introduced himself, but then he remembered that this was the first time they’d formally met. Eight days ago, Pete was too exhausted to understand what he was saying. Now he knew. Gal was a god, an Atlasian from Ecual, and they had no biological relation at all.

            Then what does that make me?

            Pete felt lost, and once again his chest was light and hollow. Energy could fix this, but he wouldn’t reduce himself to a monster. Instead, he stood from the couch and unconsciously took Gal’s hand. He was dazed. “I feel terrified and alone,” he calmly replied. “I’m glad to have your company. My name is Mona.”

            He looked up from their hands and Gal quickly smiled. From his left, Kaia was gawking.

            “P-Pete?” she stuttered.

            Pete frowned. Had he done something wrong? But he'd only.... That was when he recalled the exact words he’d spoken. They were strange, an automatic response that emerged from the depthless pit inside him. Was he being controlled again? He didn’t understand. Immediately, Pete tried to correct himself.

            He maintained his dead expression and met Kaia’s gaze. “That was a joke,” he said, then he grinned and turned to Gal with a faint smile. “It’s nice to meet you, oh father I never had. Would you mind explaining where he is and what you did with him?”

            And do you know why I introduced myself as Mona? he thought, but he didn’t dare say this aloud. It must only be Allen. That has to be it. He’s controlling me.

            Gal looked uneasy, but Pete could see that he was determined to remain positive. He smiled and nervously gestured with his hands. “Well, that depends on which father you’re referring to. Pete’s father was only me in disguise, but Mona’s father… Mona never mentioned his parents to me. I can only assume that he’s forgotten them, just like the rest of us.”

            Pete’s eyes widened. What was he saying? Mona was a real person? Was Pete possessed?

            And then he remembered. Just like before when he saw the vision of Allen being murdered, Pete looked into the past and saw a world he’d long since forgotten.

            The ground was made of glittering opal and the sky was black like the sea at night, its many stars glistening across space while a brilliant blue sun gleamed in the distance. They lived at the edge of the universe, and their buildings were made of compressed stardust. Their floating island had no atmosphere. They breathed in pure life, the air glittering with a multitude of shions, and they lived in their unchanging bodies for three thousand years.

            Monaxia was eight years old for twenty generations, but the ages did not change him. He remained a carefree child for as long as time stood still, happy and beloved by his beautiful parents. Then one day strange ships appeared in the distance. Several people thought they were friendly relatives from the planet of Tyruleah, but there were those like Monaxia’s parents who became paranoid and afraid. They joined a caravan that would take them to a strange planet called Earth, but just as Monaxia was entering the first stages of cryosleep, the ground quaked and their ship broke free from the island while the gates were still open for boarding. Monaxia watched from his oxygenated pod as his parents suffocated, their eyes rolling back and their blood spilling from every orifice.

            Pete felt tears in his eyes. His heart was heavy with a vast void of emptiness, but a large piece of it had just been returned. It was his identity, who he was, his distant past as an orphan child named Monaxia. But he was still lost. Pete tried to remember more, to figure out what happened next and why he was here in this strange world as Peter Glass, but nothing came to him. The only way he could figure this out was to ask, but he was afraid to speak.

            Something soft took hold of his left hand and gentle fingers brushed across his cheek. Kaia wiped away the tears.

            “Monaxia was always burdened with sorrow and solitude,” she quietly said. “But you're not Monaxia. You're Pete, remember?"

            Pete had barely processed her words, his mind submersed in a new realization. Kaia, he thought. You're a god, too. I remember. You're the goddess of truth and youthfulness. At one time you were praised as Veritas, and in the ancient Chinese legends you were the first disciple of Laozi.

            “Yin Xi,” he whispered, and Kaia gasped. Pete looked down and took her hands with both of his. He returned her gaze with a sad smile. “How could I ever forget the comely goddess of the west?”

            Kaia looked taken aback.

            Gal came up behind her and subtly pulled her away. There was darkness in his eyes. “So you truly were the immortal Li Er. People worshipped you. You created a religion based on secrets that should’ve never been told.”

            Pete’s head began to ache. He tried to remember, but all he saw were the names and dark images from a past he barely knew. What religion? Who was Li Er, or even Laozi? Were they the same person? Had Pete truly met Kaia when she was a disciple called Yin Xi?

            His head was throbbing now. He lifted his hand and took a step back until the couch behind him caused him to lose his balance. He fell down into the cushions and held his head in his hands, trying to make sense of his scarred memories.

            “I…” he breathed. He struggled to overcome the pain and speak. “I never intended…”

            Kaia fell down before him and very softy touched her hands to his cheeks. “It’s okay, don’t force yourself to remember. You’re Pete, not Monaxia or Li Er. And I’m… I’m Kaia. I’ve always been Kaia, nobody else. We grew up together, remember? We went to daycare together, then I had to move because we didn’t have any money, but we were still friends, and we’re friends now.” She squeezed his hands. “You’re Pete. I’ve only ever known Pete.”

            He shook his head. Her words were comforting, and they seemed to make the pain in his head lessen, but he couldn’t shake the reality from his mind. The more he considered the strange truth he’d learned, the quicker his heart raced and the more his body