#
Shukor spoke true. They took me off the ventilator for ever longer periods of time, with ever shorter breaks between efforts. It was during one of those periods when I was off the ventilator that I received my first, and only visitor.
The man who entered the room, about five ten, rather wispy build, in a rumpled gray suit held out a hand to me. “Mr. Jaeger? I’m Jason Gillespie, DEA.”
I raised puzzled eyebrows. “DEA?”
“I know it sounds strange but it seems the argument is that these Shadows of yours, by altering the minds and bodies of those affected, combined with the, let’s call it “withdrawal effects” when their connection to their hosts is lost, put them into our jurisdiction. The politicians can argue it later, that’s where we are now.”
He sat on a stool next to the bed.
“I was wondering if you were up to giving me a statement.”
I hesitated. “Do I...need a lawyer?”
He smiled. “We can wait for one if you’d prefer, but I’ll be frank with you, you’re not a suspect. If anything, it looks like you were a victim. We’ve got too many independent videos of these Shadows emerging from their hosts for it to be a fake. And we have one of those hosts, Detective Conrad, in custody. We’re keeping it quiet at least until we know more but...” He shrugged. “There’s something uncanny out there and right now you’re the only one who knows anything about it.”
“I hope you’re treating Conrad with due care.”
“We’ve got him in a well-lit cell with nothing to cast a shadow, no dark spaces that creature can hide in.”
“Um...” I started to speak but Gillespie held up a hand.
“Yes, your friends told us that they can do something to electric lights. We’re using white gas lanterns for the light. Purely chemical, like your flares.”
I nodded. “So what would you like to know?”
“Everything you can tell me about these...Shadows.”
I took a deep breath. There were things I did not want to tell him, the Elixir of Life for one. I did not fancy being imprisoned somewhere, drained for the blood needed to restore some powerful politician to youth and vigor. Perhaps Gillespie was honest, but immortality, perfect health, and eternal youth would be enough to tempt any man. And not just for himself. He could name a price to sell it.
And the only source was my blood. How long before someone made a mistake and drained a bit too much.
The goose would be wise to keep secret those golden eggs.
“I come from a long line of alchemists,” I said. “Oh, not a family line. My parents were perfectly normal.” And my records, carefully inserted over the years, said they were dead so no one could question them. “No, it’s a line from master to apprentice, secrets and lore passed on through the ages.”
And I told Gillespie about my long experience with the Shadows, from the South River Club fire, to Portsmouth, later Sandusky, Ohio, to the encounters with Ata and his friends at college. I told it as lore, passed to me from my imaginary master, experienced by previous alchemists in my equally imaginary line.
I did not tell him about the Elixir of Life. I did not tell him about transmuting base metals to gold. Alchemy, I explained, was a spiritual art that sometimes connected to the physical, as with Tru-Magnesium. Much of the written lore was metaphorical. That was even true, so far as it went. Alchemical writings, after all, often had more than one meaning which only those who had the key could unlock.
I did not tell him the tale in a single sitting. He got it in pieces in between the various procedures inflicted on me by the doctors. Doctors removed the tubes from my chest. They removed the tracheal tube and stitched the opening stitched. I began the agonizing physical therapy to regain sufficient mobility to be able to simply walk across the room. But, in time, he got the whole, carefully edited story.
And I remained to complete my recovery, at least sufficient for discharge, on my own.
#
The day of my discharge came and I knew true despair. I had nothing. I did not know what became of the Menace. Probably sitting in a police impound lot, if not auctioned for scrap. That thought pained me more than the residual ache in my side.
I filled out the paperwork. Apparently I was Adrian Jaeger again. I started in surprise when I saw the bill. Apparently there was a crime victim’s fund that covered the cost of my care. I wondered about that. It seemed odd.
In the end I sat in the wheelchair at the exit from the hospital. The only clothes I had were a pair of donated hospital scrubs. I did not have money for a cab. But then, I had nowhere to go.
“This will be fine,” I told the orderly who had wheeled me out.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” I stepped out of the footrests on the chair and pushed myself to my feet. “I can use the exercise.”
“All right, man, take care.” The orderly held out a hand. He was a big man, with skin the color of polished teak. I took the hand.
I stared off in the distance as I considered my situation. Adrian Jaeger was broke. I had nothing more than the wallet in my hand, a wallet containing ID and not much else and what was in my pockets. And the scrubs didn’t have pockets.
I did not have my alchemical supplies. And even if I knew where the Menace was, I’d already expended all my emergency stash.
I needed to find work, I supposed. But to find work, I needed clothes that I could wear to work in. But to get clothes I needed money. To get money I needed...
I bent my head and squeezed my eyes tight. Maybe Gillespie had done me no favors in not arresting me.
While I was lost in brooding, someone sat next to me.
“Hey.”
I looked up at that familiar voice.
“Hey, yourself.”
“You look like you could use a lift.” Becki looked me up and down. “I’ve got the Menace parked over in Blackford.” She stood up. “Think you can make it?”
I stood and faced her. She was dressed as she was when I first met her, same cargo shorts and T-shirt tied under her breasts, leaving her midriff bare. Same garish purple sneakers. Same dark brown hair falling in gentle waves to frame her olive face. The one difference was the copper dragon broach pinned over her left breast.
“I’ll manage.” I took a step and almost fell as my right knee buckled.
Becki caught my arm with hers, offering quiet support while I regained my balance.
"Police wouldn't let us in to see you. Wouldn't even tell us where you were."
"And yet...here you are."
Becki grinned. "One of the volunteers in the hospital had his account hacked. Fortunately, he got a call from IT to get his account straightened out."
"Oh, my." I shook my head. "It seems I've corrupted you."
The light changed and we stepped off the curb into the street. Becki had her hand on my arm.
“So. You got a place to stay?”
I shrugged. “I’ll manage.”
“Well—” Becki stepped up onto the sidewalk on the other side of the street and turned to face me. “It just so happens that my roommate has moved out. There’s a space available...if you want it.” Her voice softened. “If you need incentive, I’m told I’m a good enough lay.”
I stared at her dumbfounded. “Becki...no.”
She held up a finger. “Chuck said I was a good enough lay. You took a bullet for me. I know which one I choose.”
And then she leaned down and kissed me.
About the Author
David L. Burkhead is an Indiana writer of Science Fiction and Fantasy. He has also written on technical topics for The World & I magazine and High Technology Careers.
In addition to his writing, he works in a consulting laboratory in Atomic Force Microscopy and Nanotechnology. His work ranges from measuring samples in the Atomic Force Micros
cope (AFM) to refurbishing used AFM's for resale to writing software for measurement of AFM images. More than half the DVD production in the world, and the development of Blu-Ray, is supported using measurement software he wrote.
David L. Burkhead is one of the originators of the SpaceCub concept. In 1994 David and Geoffrey Landis proposed SpaceCub, a reusable manned suborbital rocket that would carry human passengers into space and back again. SpaceCub was intended for tourism and "thrill rides." In this way SpaceCub provided a model for private businesses to make money in suborbital flight, an approach that could, with incremental improvements, lead to private manned orbital flight.
David and Geoff presented the SpaceCub concept at the 1994 Northeast Space Development Conference, the 1995 International Space Development Conference, and other venues. Short articles appeared in Popular Mechanics and the Brazilian magazine Istoé and David was interviewed about SpaceCub for an AAAS radio broadcast. Shortly after these events, other people started talking about reusable, suborbital rockets to carry humans into space. As a direct consequence, Peter Diamandis created the X—Prize foundation and the original Ansari X—Prize. The prize goal could have been taken directly from SpaceCub's proposed specifications: a reusable rocket carrying passengers to an altitude of 100 km. This prize lead directly to the development and successful flight of Dick Rutan's SpaceShip One and to the ongoing work by the Rutan's and Richard Branson's Virgin Galactic. Rutan and Branson, in offering private suborbital tourist flights, continues the model originated with SpaceCub.
Other works by David L. Burkhead
"Jilka and the Evil Wizard", Marion Zimmer Bradley's Fantasy Magazine, Winter '91
"The Future is Now", Analog Science Fiction & Fact, April '91
"Match Point", Analog Science Fiction & Fact, February '93
"EMT", originally published in Analog Science Fiction & Fact, December '93
"Splitting Seconds", Analog Science Fiction & Fact, January '99
"Her World Exploded", Analog Science Fiction & Fact, April '05
"Time for Tears", Marion Zimmer Bradley's Sword & Sorceress (anthology), pub Norilana books, 2011
Also Available on Kindle from Amazon:
Live to Tell, 2014.
EMT 2014
FTI: Beginnings 2014 containing "The Future is Now" and "Match Point"
The Kinmar 2014
Plague Station 2014
Survival Test 2014
The Spaewife, 2014
Treva's Children, 2015
The Hordes of Chanakra, 2016
Big Blue, 2016
Rainy Days and Moon Days, 2017
Oruk Means Hard Work, 2017
The Thunderer, 2017
You can find an updated list at my blog: http://thewriterinblack.blogspot.com/p/blog-page.html
Contact the Author
David L. Burkhead can be reached at his blog The Writer in Black.
CONTENTS
Frontispiece
About this Work
ALCHEMY OF SHADOWS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Other works by David L. Burkhead
Contact the Author
CONTENTS