1

            The Unholy reached out its hand and saved his life. 

            He was upside down, laying on his left shoulder, with his head cocked hard to the right.  The seat belt bit deeply into the trapezius muscle of his neck but while it was painful it wasn’t blindingly so.  Gingerly he took stock of his body, wiggled his fingers and toes, and with limited success, moved his limbs.  He was tightly wedged between the steering wheel and seat but other than a general pain throughout his body, he didn’t feel any localized agony that might indicate serious damage.

“Hey, mister, you hurt?”

            Mindful of a possible neck injury he carefully twisted his head until he could see out the narrowed gap between the car’s ceiling and the body of the door.  The glass was gone and the space had been reduced by half.  A pair of bare feet shifted, a bare knee appeared and came to rest amid the scattering of cubed safety glass.  His own knee reacted in sympathy as a number of the shards dug into the flesh.  He didn’t see the expected blood.  It should have been his first hint.

            “You okay?”

            He focused on the tanned face of a young boy in his mid to late teens with the most guileless blue eyes he’d ever seen.  There was no hint that it was a perfect mask for an abomination.

            “You okay?” 

Something wet and cold trickled down his chest, along his throat and into his ear.  Gasoline.

            “Crap.”  The boy’s nose wrinkled as he caught a whiff of the fumes.

            The face disappeared as the boy stood.

            ‘He’s going to leave me to burn.’

Metal groaned above him, the car trembled and a large hand appear where the face had been.  When the hand tensed, the car slid several inches before the wreckage of the door was ripped out of the frame.  The boy, now fully revealed, casually tossed what had to be a good forty pounds of twisted steel into the grass.  Even inverted and facing oblivion details imprinted on the man’s memory.

Tall, bronzed by the sun, the kid had the body of a god and the gentle face of an angel.  He wore only a pair of cut-off blue jeans and had a shock of pale blonde hair that appeared to glow like a halo in the lowering sun.  He blinked to clear the vision as the boy again knelt on the glass cubes.  Grabbing the steering wheel the boy pulled and the pressure against his chest eased.

“This might hurt but I gotta get you out of there,” the boy said, his mask of a face only a foot away.

The hand twisted in the seat belt and jerked, snapping it like a cobweb.  An arm forced its way under this shoulders and in one smooth move, he was out and cradled like a baby in arms that felt like they were made of steel. 

Traffic on the San Diego freeway had come to a stop, people had climbed out of their cars to gape but his rescuer ignored them as he jogged toward the emergency lane.  Half way across the four lanes, the car exploded.  The boy instantly released his legs and held him tightly against a massive chest.  Fire washed around them for an instant but in the shadow of the other’s body, the man felt nothing more than a brief flash of heat.  The pressure of the blast hadn’t even staggered the kid.  How could that be?

‘Metahuman.’  

            “Nat!  Are you okay?” An attractive blonde girl of perhaps fifteen, wearing a pink bikini, ran up to them, panic in her brown eyes.

            ‘Nat.’

            “I’m fine, Keri. Someone call the cops?”

            “Yeah, the guy in the truck that hit him.”

            The boy laid him down carefully and knelt over him.

            “Anything broke?”  The kid ran a hand over his leg starting at the ankle.

            “Get your hands off me you Unholy mons –“  He gritted teeth.

            “He just saved your life, mister,” the girl said.

            “Don’t matter, Keri,” the boy replied in a flat tone as he stood up.

            ’Sweet Jesus, he’s a big one.  Seven feet if he was an inch.’

            “I don’t need any help from your kind,” he said with all the venom he could muster.

            First thing he was going to need was a bath and not because of the gasoline.  He had been touched by one of Them and it made his skin crawl. 

            “Cops’ll be here in a minute,” the boy said.  Sirens could be heard in the distance. “I’d suggest you stay down.  No telling how bad hurt you might be.”

            The boy turned away but the girl caught his arm.

            ‘Does she know he’s one?  Does she even care?  Is she fornicating with him?’  The thought made him want to vomit.

            “We gotta wait for the cops, Nat,” she said.

            “No.  We don’t.” 

            The huge creature disguised as human that had just saved his life turned and started walking down the freeway off ramp, the girl clinging to his arm.

2

            “You were lucky, Mr. Abbot,” the doctor said as he scanned the clipboard.  “I hear someone pulled you out just before the car blew.”  He slid the pen back into his lab coat pocket and looked at his patient.  “You owe that guy your life.” 

Abbot felt his face tighten in a scowl.  He was anything but grateful and he knew it showed.  He didn’t care.  With a shrug, the doctor left the room. 

            His hand came down hard on the phone receiver and with a stiffened finger he stabbed out a long series of numbers.

            “Bishop Toran’s office,” came the female voice from the other side of the country.

            “Put him on,” he commanded.

            “Immediately, Your Holiness!”

            “Your Holiness!” the male voice was breathless.  “We were in a panic when you missed your flight!”

            “How soon can you get a car to Scripps Mercy Hospital?”

            “Thirty minutes, Holiness.”

            The patient lowered his voice.  “I found one, Joseph.  Get a Contact Team ready.”

            “Yes, Holiness.”

3

            It was easy to pick out the target, just look for the head above the crowd.  Blonde, something over seven feet, a kid of maybe fifteen was headed away from the beach wearing only blue jean cut-offs and carrying a long surf board under one arm.  The two-man team moved with military precision to intercept him.  Both men, in their late twenties, had been trained by Special Forces, one with the U.S. Army Rangers, and the other with the British Special Boat Service.  They had killed many times but this was to be the first time for their Pope.

            “Hey, you!”  The Ranger called to the kid.  “Your mom owes me another blow job!”

            The giant stopped and glared down.  “What did you say?”

            “I said your mom owes me another blow job!” He closed on the target, his hand going to the small of his back and finding the butt of H&K 45 Compact.  His partner closed in from the side.

4

            The long board tucked under his arm seemed to groan as Nat fought to maintain control.  Losing his temper was not an option for him but he was having a hard time remembering it at that moment.

            “She was down on her knees beggin’” the man said as he stepped closer.  “So I told her, while she was down there, she could take care of me.  Next thing I know, she’s unzipping my pants!”

            Nat clinched his fist.

            “Man, you should’ve seen her!” the second said drawing Nat’s attention.  “She’s got a hell of a talent there.”

            Reaching up with his free hand, Nat gripped the top edge of the board and prepared to swing it like a fly swatter.

            “Nathaniel Ryan!” 

The authority in the voice stopped him.  A man of about thirty, dressed in a light grey summer weight suit sans tie stepped up to grip the edge of Nat’s board.  Jade green eyes locked on Nat’s blue.

“If either of you pull that toy at the small of your back, I’ll have to haul you in,” the newcomer said conversationally.  In his free hand a leather wallet dropped open to reveal the gold and blue star of a U.S. Marshal.  Releasing his hold on Nat’s board, he turned to face the pair.  “Shall I start asking questions?”

Something in the newcomer’s demeanor had the two seasoned killers exchanging looks.  Without a word they turned in unison and headed for the parking lot.  Half a minute later a late model Crown Vic roared out onto the street.

“Who are you?”

“Where can we talk?” the man in grey said.

A few minutes later Nat pushed open the back door of a repurposed two-car garage and led the man down a hall to small kitchen.

“I gotta fix my mom some dinner,” Nat said as he moved around the breakfast bar.

The man pulled out one of the stools and sat.

“Don’t let me stop you.”

Nat pulled a pot from under the counter and set if carefully into the sink then with great care turned on the tap to fill it.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I want to offer you a scholarship to a private school.”

Nat turned the faucet off with one finger then set the pot on the stove.  He eyed his guest.

“What kinda private school?”

“One that will teach you how to avoid snapping the handle off of the sink.”

Turning his back on the man he pulled two boxes of macaroni and cheese down from the door-less cabinet over the stove.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re smarter than that, Nat, you know what I mean.”

The box in Nat’s hand exploded, sending macaroni everywhere.

“I break everything,” Nat said without turning around.  “I killed a cat accidentally.  I’m afraid of what or who I’ll kill next time.”  He looked at his guest.

“Who are you?”

“Most people just call me Archer,” he said.

“You a meta?”

“Yeah, I’ve been called that.”

“You one of those vigilante-types?”

“No, the badge is real,” Archer said.  “Nat, you have to know a few ‘truths’.”

Frown lines appeared between Nat’s pale eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“This world is on the edge of momentous events, all brought about by ‘meta humans’,” Archer said.  “My task is to help guide you.”

“’Truths’, ‘this world’, ‘my task’?”  Nat’s eyes narrowed. 

“Very good,” Archer said.  There was something of satisfaction in the way he said it.  “Okay, the big ‘truth’ … I am not from your world.”  He paused, watching Nat’s face.

“So you’re an alien …”

“Technically, but it is far more complex than that.  I am actually from an alternate dimension.”

“That would explain ‘this world’.  Who gave you ‘my task’?”

“That is even more complex …”

“So, an extra-dimensional meta is here to help…?  Your people going to come here and take over?”

Archer shook his head with a hint of a smile.  “My abilities are almost unique,” he said.  “So no one will be invading.”

The whole idea of another dimension was ludicrous but something in the man’s voice, his direct gaze, made Nat want to trust him. 

“Our world is almost identical to yours except we have tens of thousands of meta humans.  Your world has less than a hundred.”

Nat absently dumped the macaroni he’d recovered into the pot of boiling water along with the contents of the other box.

“What’s that mean?” He asked.

“From what I deduce, your world is on the brink of a meta human emergence that will see a marked increase in your kind.”

“So?”

“So, Adolph Hitler with meta powers … say your strength.”

Nat froze and closed his eyes.  “That would be bad.”

“July 4^th, 2001.  That was one meta.”  Archer’s words brought back the events Nat had watch on TV.

On that day just over two years ago a meta had destroyed the Washington Monument and killed 1506 people.  The police had been unable to stop him as he had rampaged down the length of the Mall smashing cars and people.  Nine of those deaths had been caused by gunfire from the police but the hail of bullets hadn’t even slowed the guy down.  Then, after crashing through the Capital building, he vanished.

“Your world needs someone to stop that kind of thing,” Archer said.

“Me.”

Archer nodded.  “I am offering to teach you how to do that.”

“What are you, some kind of superhero?”

“Yeah, that’s what they tell me … but I’m just someone with the power to help people, to protect people against someone like me.”

“Yeah … that’s what I wanna be.  Someone who helps people.”

“Nat?” his mother said from the door.    

She was only thirty-two but looked a haggard forty-five and the fatigue in her face made Nat’s heart ache.  Blonde, her hair in a self-cut page boy, she stared at their guest through the same ocean blue eyes as her son.  She wore a pink and white one piece dress with a little apron that ended just above her knees.  Over her breast was a plastic badge with ‘Mary’ written in permanent marker.  It was the standard uniform of the diner waitress.

The man came to his feet and actually bowed to her.  “Ms. Ryan, my name is Archer and I have come about Nat.”

“Nat?  What happened?”

“Nothing happened, mom.”

“No, Ms. Ryan, there’s no trouble.  In fact, I have come to offer some help and perhaps ask a little of Nat in return.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mom, sit down, you’re tired.”

Mary Ryan sat beside her son on the worn-out couch as the man called Archer began.

“It is called the Hunt Academy and is a privately funded non-profit school for young people like Nat.” 

He appeared to be totally at ease in the recliner Nat had rescued from a trash pile.  Nothing in the man’s bearing or his occasional glances around the room hinted to Nat that this man was making any judgments about the way they lived.

“But I can’t afford ...”

“Ms. Ryan, this is a free school,” he told her.  “The only real requirement is that it is also a boarding school.  Nat would have to live there during the week but could come home anytime he wished.”

“How far away is it?” Nat asked.

A strange smile touched Archer’s lips.  “Not so far as to make a visit out of the question.”

“What do you mean ‘young people like Nat’?”

Nat knew exactly what Archer meant and he also knew his mother didn’t want to admit the truth. 

“Your son has a talent that has been brought to my attention,” the man prevaricated smoothly.  “The Academy specializes in the training of young people with such special talents.”

“Mom, I think I should go.  It’s a boarding school so I’ll be gone most of the time and you won’t have to worry about feeding me.”

“Ms. Ryan,” the man said.  “My own children have many special talents and the two eldest will be Nat’s classmates.  We treat every one of our students like family.  Nat has been drifting through school as you know and unless his grades improve dramatically very soon, he will never be able to get into a college.  I guarantee that not only will his grades improve but that he will be going to college.”

“Mom, maybe we should go see the campus, see what it’s like?” Nat suggested.

She looked at Archer for a long time then with a sigh said “If you want, go ahead but I’ve been on my feet for fifteen hours.  Can we do this on Thursday?  I’m off that day.”

“It doesn’t take long to get there,” Archer said.  “I could take Nat for a quick visit and have him back in a couple of hours.  Of course if you decide to stay,” he continued looking at Nat.  “You would be welcome now.”

“How do I need to dress?”

The man gestured to Nat’s cuff offs.  “That’s fine, but you might want to put on a shirt.”

Nat rose and heading down the hall.

“Be right back,” he said.

Mary Ryan leaned forward.

“I know my son,” she said quietly.  “He’s already decided to stay.  He doesn’t want to be a burden to me.”  She paused and stared at Archer.  “You’re one too, aren’t you?”

The man nodded.

“We will take very good care of him, Ms. Ryan,” he assured her.

“Who are you,” she whispered.

“No one you would have heard of,” he replied, handing her a gold embossed card with the words ‘The Wild Hunt’ and a phone number.  “You may call at any time, day or night and if you’d like to visit the campus that will be arranged without delay.”  His hand touched hers.  “Ms. Ryan, your son is more special than you can possibly imagine and more important.  What he is facing, even with help and training, will be very difficult.  I am here to help him discover a greatness that lies within him.”

“Can you tell me?” she whispered.  “Why is he a meta?”

Archer smiled.  “Fate, nature, whimsy.”  He shrugged.  “No one really knows.”

“It’s all so hard to believe,” she said.   “My son is a meta.”

“It’s not a bad thing, mom,” Nat said from the hall.  He moved to kneel beside her.  “I have to help people.  I feel like all my life has been leading up to me realizing that.  I can save people, like Keri and that guy in the car the other day, but I need to understand what I can do and learn to control it.”

Mary Ryan buried her face in her son’s chest.  He could feel the warm tears through his tee shirt.

“I’ve never been able to give you anything,” she said.

“You gave me everything.  You gave me life and love, that’s all ever I need.”

Both hands gripping his tee shirt she pushed back to look up at him.

“You aren’t going to get hurt, are you?” she asked.

Nat half smiled.  “I am not sure that’s possible,” he said.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.

“Be careful anyway,” she said.