The Lives of Tao Page 8

  “Screw you! I didn’t ask for this, and I don’t need this,” Roen screamed over the noise of the passing cars underneath. “You asshole! Just get out!” Several runners passing glanced his way, and then pretended he didn’t exist. A few apparently decided to stay clear of him and crossed the street.

  “What are you looking at,” he yelled at them. “Never saw a fat guy run before?”

  Get a hold of yourself.

  “You know what? You go find yourself a new pet project. I’m going home.” Roen was so angry that he could barely see through the stinging tears in his eyes. He turned and began to walk back toward his apartment. “You don’t know what it’s like being me.”

  But I do, Roen. I know what you are feeling. I know about your childhood, about being the awkward boy that always got picked on. How you always feel like you are being judged for your weight. Why you look at the ground so much when you walk down the street, ashamed to make eye contact.

  Roen kept up his angry gait which was almost as fast as his jogging pace. Perhaps if he ignored this so-called alien’s presence, it would just go away. Maybe he should find a priest and get an exorcism. But then, that would bring back the argument about whether he was sane or not. No matter what he tried, however, he could not keep Tao’s voice out of his head. His frustration mounted.

  “I bet you’re like everyone else out there. You probably just possess rich or good-looking people or someone with six-pack abs or some football player. I’m nothing. You probably think you got shafted with such a crappy host.”

  That is not true. You have potential. I know it. Tao chuckled, or what amounted to a chuckle from a Quasing. You are really no different from several of my early hosts. Their situations were a bit different than yours, but all three of you share similar angst.

  “You mean they were fat with a dead-end job?”

  No, they came from wealthy, noble families, but all of you were big babies. The difference is that they learned to overcome their insecurities and grew to be powerful men.

  “That’s the stupidest comparison I’ve ever heard.” Roen stopped walking and collapsed on a wooden bench. His chest was throbbing, though he wasn’t sure whether it was from physical exertion or boiling anger.

  You underestimate yourself, as always. As I was saying, Vercingetorix was once very much like you are now.

  “What? Vercinge... is that a person or a medical disorder?”

  Have a little respect for a past host. It is their combined experiences and memories that can make you great. Many of my hosts were great figures in history that changed the course of mankind. The very least you could do is be respectful.

  “Whatever,” Roen grumbled as he leaned back and looked up at the sky. It was getting brighter as the sun appeared on the horizon, bathing the city with a soft yellow glow. He took a few minutes to admire the pretty hues. It wasn’t often he got the chance to see the sun rise. After several moments, he finally calmed down, being too tired to stay angry. “So what does this Vercing guy have to do with me?”

  He was much like you when I first transitioned with him. He had much but was not satisfied. He had principles, but was not strong enough to follow them, at least at first.

  “So what happened? Did you convince him to listen to you, and he discovered a cure for the bubonic plague or something?”

  A cure for the Black Death was not discovered until the 1930s. Vercingetorix was a Gaul who united his people and became king at the age of seventeen. He rallied them together and was able to give Caesar one of his rare defeats.

  “Hmm, he does sound an awful lot like me,” Roen replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “A kid who becomes king and defeats the greatest Roman general of all time is so me. And I suppose he was a coward and a fat-ass as well?”

  Vercingetorix was a fine young man and an inspirational leader, but he was not born that way. No one is. Great men are forged, not born. I am not going to insult your intelligence, Roen. You are not great, but you can be if you try. Is that not worth some sacrifice?

  Roen grimaced. There was no good way to answer that question. “Fine,” he said grudgingly and paused. “What did this guy do, anyway?”

  He led the last great Gaul rebellion against the Roman Empire.

  “Why didn’t one of your kind just enter Caesar?”

  It is a bit more complicated than that, Roen. We did have someone in Caesar.

  Roen looked back down at the ground, puzzled. “I don’t get it. Why would you want a host to fight another one of your own? Was it a Genjix?”

  No, it was one of ours. This was before the split. Times were different then. Our goals and strategies were different as well. The Roman Empire had grown overly stagnant with its dominance. It was our belief back then that conflict bred evolution.

  “And then what happened?”

  Well, Vercingetorix lost the Siege of Gergovia, and was locked up for a few years until Caesar had him strangled in public during the Festival of Jupiter.

  “What!”

  I never said it was a happy ending. It rarely is. But for a brief instant in time, he burned like the sun and changed the world, and is still remembered to this day. Look to your right, Roen. It is the path back home. If you choose, you can take it. It is safe, easy, and comfortable. You do not have to work out or fight or do anything else you do not want to.

  Roen looked down the street. By now, the sun was higher and the streets were alive with activity. The streets were filling up with the morning rush hour, and commuter trains passed along the elevated tracks. The sounds of cars honking and people bustling about filled the air. In the distance, a helicopter overhead was most likely reporting the morning traffic.

  Or you can keep moving forward. I will not lie to you. I cannot predict what may become of you. It will require a lot of training, hard work, study, and danger. But in the very end, you will know strength. I swear it. You might just become someone who will make a difference in the world.

  “You’re not much of a salesman, are you, Tao?” Roen chuckled sardonically.

  I say it like it is.

  “What about that other host you said was a big baby like me?”

  Ah... my greatest achievement and failure as a host, Genghis Khan.

  “No kidding! The Genghis Khan?”

  There is more than one?

  “That’s awesome. Why do you say he was your greatest failure?”

  That is a long story for another time. But I see that potential in you, Roen. I do.

  Roen stood up and sighed. “Honestly, I think you’re full of crap. But I’m going to give you the chance to prove me wrong. I guess I’d better get started then.”

  He began to walk toward the lake, slowly picking up speed as he moved deeper and deeper into the city. His face burned as he felt the snickering and judging eyes as he lumbered down the busy streets.

  Make it drive you.

  Roen huffed and puffed, but kept his face looking forward as he navigated past the stark buildings and down busy walkways. All around him, men and women in suits rushed to work. Cars and buses sat bumper to bumper at intersections, exhaling fumes and noise. Like the blood vessels of the city, the streets pumped them through at a frantic pace. He felt very out of place.

  Remember the difference between them and the person you wish to be.

  Roen gritted his teeth and pushed forward. The sun was beating down on him by the time he reached Buckingham Fountain. He plopped on one of the benches, gasping for breath. The mist from the water shooting high into the air felt cool to the touch. He rolled unceremoniously off the bench to the grass and lay there for several moments and closed his eyes, feeling the heavy thumping in his chest.

  “I think I’m going to have a heart attack. I... I can’t breathe.”

  Well, Roen, would you like to ask the seventy year-old man next to you to give you CPR?

  Roen started to laugh, which aggravated his condition. It was another ten minutes before he felt well enough to sit up without feel
ing faint. He picked himself up and walked to the fountain, scooping water onto his face.

  How do you feel?

  “Like I want to throw up.”

  Vomiting is a positive sign for this situation. It will only be a matter of time before this becomes routine to you.

  “What? I have to do this again?”

  Of course. Tomorrow – in fact, every single day.

  “This is going to hurt tomorrow. Shoot, I still have to run back home. I don’t think I can make it.”

  You will be in a lot of pain tomorrow, but that is part of the progress. Do not worry about running back. The jog was enough. You have that cash?

  Roen nodded.

  Good, go hail a cab. You are late for work.

  That night, Roen lay in bed exhausted, but unable to sleep. His body was still throwing a fit about the workout and his knees wobbled every time he walked up stairs. There was just so much to process. What would all this mean for him, and how would his life change? Obviously, it had already changed considering he worked out today. Was he really sure he was sane? He had an imaginary friend as a kid after all, though this new guy definitely was not as nice. Tao was actually kind of a jerk.

  Roen?

  “Yes, Tao?”

  You should sleep. I am going to wake you up very early tomorrow.

  “I can’t sleep, Tao. Tell me a story.”

  Once upon a time, there were three bears...

  “No, I mean about all those past lives you had. Can you tell me about all those people you inhabited?”

  You really want to know?

  “Yes. Do you mind?”

  Of course not. I am flattered. I can do better than tell you. I can show you while you sleep.

  “Is it like when you put those images into my head? They come and go so fast they’re almost subliminal. Can you show it to me for longer than a millisecond?”

  I could, but you would receive a debilitating headache and get sick. That is why I only flash them momentarily.

  “Forget it then. I have a low enough pain threshold as it is. I’d rather you just tell me.”

  The effect will not be painful while you sleep. You will experience it like a dream.

  “Really? That’s great. Wait, but if you can do that, why don’t you just show me something useful like how to drive a tank or how to build a rocket?”

  Chances are, you will never have to drive a tank regardless. The scenes I show you will feel like a dream. You will not grasp everything and they will not be detailed enough for you to learn something technical. However, they will be sufficient for you to learn about my past. It is your past as well, now.

  “That’s fine. Where are you going to start?”

  I am not sure. Maybe the best place to start is with the host that I had my greatest triumphs and failures, a young man named Temujin. Do you know who he is? Roen?

  Roen was already sound asleep, his loud snoring echoing through the room.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SONYA

  I traveled in a golden wolf from the savannah of Africa far to the Mongol steppes. I went in the hopes of leaving the chaos of the Roman Empire behind to build a new civilization, one without constant conflict. In this new and beautiful land, I planned a grand experiment, to birth a culture based on peace and enlightenment, to deviate from the Quasing idea that humans can only innovate through war. I placed my hope in a young boy named Temujin, son of a chieftain.

  Ray yawned as he sat in the tinted car in the Grant Park North garage. He checked his watch; three more hours until the café upstairs on Michigan Avenue opened. He could get a bagel then.

  They’d been sitting in this damn spot for three days now. That new vessel had to come back one of these days for his car. Marc said it was a possibility the mark might return, though Ray was pretty sure the Prophus couldn’t possibly be that stupid. But then – if the vessel wasn’t aware of the Holy One in him yet – he might. And it was an opportunity the team wasn’t going to pass up.

  Still, he and Chako had been in this same spot for almost seventy hours now, only switching off to stretch and get food. Ray was sure the car was getting rather pungent with two unwashed men practically living in it. Another day though and their replacements would come. He’d had similar assignments in the past; uncomfortable, but it was the life he led. A lifetime ago, when he used to work for the DEA, Ray had spent nearly a week observing a Mexican freighter until the drug deal went down. This job at least was close to fresh coffee. In any case, it was better than sleeping on his ex-wife’s couch in Detroit.

  The garage was mostly empty of cars, except for a dozen or so scattered around the lot. Ray had a direct view of the vessel’s car. Ray rubbed his eyes and shook his head, trying to ward off sleep. He’d give Chako another hour before waking him to change shifts. If he was lucky, the vessel would appear and he’d be the one to capture him. Then his ascension to a Holy One would almost be assured. After six years with the Genjix, he might actually become one of them. His life would change then. Ray shifted again in his seat, massaging his numb legs, trying to work some circulation back into them.

  A figure wearing a parka came down the stairs and walked toward the vessel’s car. Ray took out his binoculars and studied him. He couldn’t make out his face, but he was the right size. Ray nudged Chako. “We got a hit.”

  Chako was instantly alert, peering out the windshield. “A little warm this time of year for a parka, would you say?” he said.

  “To the point of it being unusual,” Ray replied. “Looks like he’s trying to hide his face. We might have our vessel here. Go check it out. I’ll cover you.” Ray touched his earpiece and reported in. “We have a possible hit moving toward the vehicle. Verifying now. Stand by.”

  Ray pulled out his pistol while Chako got out of the car and sauntered towards the figure. It had to be the mark. Who else would come at four in the morning? The figure by now had reached the Ford and was peeking through the driver’s side window. Ray got out of the car and knelt next to the front tires, his gun trained at the possible vessel’s shoulder. He had to be careful with his shot. Marc was explicit about taking him alive.

  Chako had reached the figure by now and they were exchanging words. Ray was too far away to make out what they were saying. Then suddenly, Chako reached into his pocket and fell. Ray heard the distinct sound of a silenced pistol go off in the otherwise quiet garage. Ray took careful aim and squeezed the trigger, hitting the vessel.

  The parka-clad figure collapsed out of view behind another parked car. Ray stayed low and moved to the next aisle, and found Chako lying face down on the floor. Lying next to him was a gray parka. Immediately, Ray ducked behind cover and scanned the area. This vessel was supposed to be new! The Prophus must have gotten to him. He moved behind the vessel’s car and looked for any signs of movement.

  After several minutes, Ray decided to get out of the open and retreated back to his car. Whoever was here was very quiet; obviously a trained agent. He’d have to drive the car up to Chako, get the body in, and get out of here. Otherwise, he was a sitting duck.

  Ray got to the driver’s side, opened the door, and slid in. Just as he sat down, a figure appeared from the back seat and slugged him in the side of the face. Ray fell out of the car and onto the floor. Immediately, he got up and reached for his gun. The figure knocked it out of his hand and gave him a sharp blow to the neck. Ray gasped for air as he slammed into the concrete wall.

  The dark figure approached. He was short and slim, and wore a hood shadowing his face.

  Ray blindly lashed out, swinging with his fists. The first blow caught his assailant in the forehead. He heard a woman’s voice as she grunted and blocked the second and third punch. Then she came forward with her right elbow and smashed his nose, breaking it. Blood flowed down his face as he fell back against the wall again. This definitely was not the new vessel. Ray swung a desperate right hook. She danced out of the way and connected with a kick to Ray’s midsection, followed by a leg sweep
that sent him crashing to the floor.

  The figure got on top of him and jammed a gun into his cheek. He could smell the aroma of mint gum as she spoke. “Weeks of surveillance, two agents sitting in a car, Homeland Security access. This is above and beyond your usual hunt orders. Why do the Genjix care so much about this host?” Ray tried to roll over and push her off, but she just pistol-whipped him twice on the face, the second swing cracking his cheek bone. “Unless you guys found a discount broker, Homeland network access can’t be cheap,” she said. “Answer me, Genjix.”

  “Go to hell, bitch,” Ray snarled, his vision obscured by the blood pouring from his broken nose.

  “You first.” She pistol-whipped him again. “This is for going against your own species.” The Prophus agent pulled the earpiece out of his ear and spoke in it. “You have two dead bodies and two hours before rush hour begins. Clean up your trash.” That was the last thing Ray heard before she pulled the trigger.

  Sonya drove up to the apartment building and parked on a side street. She took off the bloodstained outfit and changed into her workout clothes. It was some time until dawn and the streets were still quiet.

  She checked the mirror and wiped the blood off her face. There was a cut above her eyebrow where the Genjix agent’s ring had cut her. She frowned and shook her head in disgust; always the face. Getting caught like that by such an amateur was sloppy work. She went into her first aid kit and applied some hydrogen peroxide on it. Her hands trembled as she dabbed her cut.

  Though she’d been with the Prophus for four years, she was still new enough to fieldwork to get the shakes. The old-timers said that’d go away with time. Sonya clenched her fists and took a deep breath. When she felt calmer, she finished up her patch job. She probably wouldn’t need stitches. She checked her handiwork in the mirror, grabbed her laptop, and typed up a few notes.

  Relay the Homeland expenditures. The Genjix are spending a small fortune on this job. Maybe we can find the source on the inside and cut it off.