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The Warden... Part 4 "Reward & Punishment"
John Kinnison was kneeling on the cold stone floor in the basement of the sisters of mercy refuge. In his arms he held the dead body of Mary Shaw. Her lifeless eyes were open, their empty vacant stare screamed his guilt at him, he had brought this upon Mary, he was a broken man. The shock had numbed his mind to a stand still, an emptyness that didn't waver, a blankness that was the end of all thought and in that moment his mind jumped into a greater awareness, it was expanding beyond limits.
He was disembodied and staring down at the whole of creation. He saw the infinite vastness of it all. It's design was beautiful, It's complexity was it's simplicity. He saw one life connecting to all life, individuals in the oneness of existence. The wholeness of it all. The balance, the beauty, the eternal potential, limitless and divine. It's begining was an end, it's end was a begining. It was an infinite spiral form forever advancing and ever changing. The potential was beyond measure. His understanding expanded further and still further. He came back altered.
He looked down at the fat bullet lodged in Mary's spine he didn't want it there so it moved. His awareness focused totally upon it, the bullet travelled towards his hand placed on her chest above the gaping hole. The bone, cartillege and tendons reformed behind the bullet as it advanced inch by inch through torn muscle, arteries and viscera that reconnected and repaired in it's path. He drew the fat bullet out of her chest, it rolled away to land with a clink on the stone floor by her head. The bloody hole had sealed.
Kinnison sent his awareness deep into the Earth drawing up the magnetic energy. He sensed the air above him and pulled in the blue sparkling force there. Drawing out the essence of these two elements he pulled them into his body and mixed them at his centre. He sent the element of fire from his heart to blend with earth and air. He sent the element of water from his kidneys to blend with earth, air and fire. He mixed them into a sparking ball of energy which, with an outward breath, he sent spiraling down his arm and into his hand where it arced in a flash into Mary's heart.
Mary's heart beat again. He saw the beautiful light fill his vision and Mary gasped for air just as the passage way door burst open. The other police men in the building had heard the gunshot and had rushed into the basement. The doorway was blocked by the three unconscious bodies of the peelers lying there. As the first person stepped over their bodies Kinnison leaped straight out of the back door.
He landed on the flagstones of a small courtyard surrounded by high walls, a thin moon shone in the early morning sky. As he leaped high over the nearest wall he heard glass shatter behind him and saw Hathaway land in the yard. Kinnison dropped into St. Paul's Road, sensed the direction of the Hill and jumped at a passing Hansome Cab just as Hathaway landed on the pavement. The coachman of the Hansome Cab leapt from his rear mounted perch in a panic, his long coat flapping around him as he saw Kinnison flying toward him. Kinnison grabbed his whip and spurred the horse into a gallop, a voice from inside the cab swore an oath and banged on the roof as they were thrown about, horses hooves clattered on the cobbles as they sped away.
Hathaway jumped onto the driver's bench of an elegant open topped carriage pulled by a team of two black ponies. He sent his elbow crashing into the temple of the coachman who fell forwards into the harnesses and slipped away beneath the carriage, he was crushed by the wheels as Hathaway whipped the horses into pursuit of Kinnison, they whinnied and darted forward at a gallop.
Kinnison sped on down St. Paul's Road avoiding the sparse early morning traffic, he weaved from side to side in the road. The lightweight and manouverable two wheeled Hansom Cab handled this easily. He could see the crossroads ahead but whipped his horse on regardless of crossing traffic. He dashed through the junction safely and hurtled on into the Balls Pond Road. Hathaway did the same barely missing a horse drawn tram crossing the junction. Pedestrians leapt out of the road as they clattered down the cobbled streets horses and carriages a blur of motion.
Kinnison heard the piercing whistle of a Peeler on the pavement as he flashed past and the echoed responses from other police men's whistles in the streets near by. He looked back and saw that Hathaway was gaining on him, his team of two easily out pacing Kinnison's one elderly mare. He saw Hathaway leap from the driver's bench and land onto the lead horse of the team. He was drawing closer with every pace.
Kinnison projected his mind forward and sought out that of his horse he found it's simple thoughts and sent into them the universal symbol... "Fire!"
The horse bolted in fear, wild eyed and braying, desperate in it's flight to escape from the flames that only existed in it's mind. Kinnison's Hansome Cab accelerated rapidly away from Hathaway. Kinnison's horse was beyond control and hurtled straight through the Kingsland crossroads regardless of danger, closely followed by Hathaway who was urging his horses to greater speed, again he made it through the crossroads safely. He was steadilly catching up with Kinnison and he was preparing to jump from his horse onto kinnison's Cab.
Kinnison saw the big bend in the road ahead leading into Dalston Lane. He pulled on the left reign and his horse reacted immediately. The horse was clearing the bend dragging the Hansome Cab in a great skid behind it. The metal rimmed wheels threw up a long stream of sparks from the cobbled road as it screeched around the bend. The wheels hit a raised cobble in the road and the cab went up on one wheel. A female voice screamed from within the cab and was joined by more oaths from the male passenger.
A heavy Dray, hauling barrels and stacked high with coal sacks, pulled by a team of four was approaching the Dalston Lane bend from the right out of Queensbridge Road, its lead horses reared in panic as Kinnison's Cab crashed back onto two wheels in front of them. The horses pulling the dray bolted forward straight into the path of Hathaway and his ride. Hathaway saw it at the last moment as Kinnison's carriage cleared the bend and Hathaway, horses and carriage ploughed straight into the heavy dray unable to turn in time.
The terrible noise of the carriage crashing into the laden dray and the horse's screams as they were crushed was followed by the shattering of glass as Hathaway jumped at the last moment. He was thrown through the air and into the window of a haberdashers on the opposite pavement. Kinnison galloped away following the bend down Dalston Lane as Hathaway ran back into the street.
"You have no where to Hide Kinnison." He shouted after him. "No where!"
At the end of Dalston Lane, half a mile from Hathaway, Kinnison unharnessed the horse and rode it away bareback leaving the Hansome Cab behind with it's passengers complaining loudly after him. He cantered off to the east towards the Hill.
Mary was at the refuge, her clothes were covered in her blood. She was being comforted by the staff there who were horrified by the state of her. The police men who had questioned her thought the blood was from a wounded Kinnison but Mary knew the truth. She knew she had been shot, it was her last memory. She knew what Kinnison had done though she never told any one but she wondered what kind of man John Kinnison really was.
Kinnison had rode off to the east for a few more miles but his appearance riding bareback, on a horse with it's harness rattling along the road, was causing too much attention. He dismounted and turned the horse around stroking it's neck to calm the beast. he slapped its croup and it trotted off back the way it had come. Making sure no body was looking Kinnison vanished into an alley way and entered the window of a derelict building. He sank on to the floor and gave a great sigh.
Hathaway was back at Police headquarters pacing the floor of his office. He was in an uncontrolable rage. He had had Kinnison trapped and let him slip away, he was beyond furious. The police men in the building were keeping well out of his way fearing his rage. On his desk was that days London Chronicle, Kinnison's face was on the front page the word 'wanted' in bold black type above it and below it the offer of a reward of Five hundred pounds, a phenomenal sum of money that Hathaway knew would keep all of London's eyes looking out for him. There was a knock on the door.
"What!" He barked.
The door swung open and in walked Father Le Chero, Deacon of the diocese, his hands were joined in front of him. His pious demeanor was transparent to Hathaway.
"Bless you Cylus."
Hathaway stared with fury in his eyes. The Priest hesitated momentarily but pressed on secure in the protection of his status as a Priest.
"I have come to collect the reward you promised for directing you to the escaped convict that was hiding at the Sisters of Mercy Refuge."
Hathaway continued to stare in deathly silence.
"You understand... er ... this money will go a long way in helping the Refuge's charitable work."
Hathaway knew the money would not be used for charity and that it was destined for this man's own pocket. That didn't trouble Hathaway but this attempted deception was the final straw that broke his rage.
"You want your reward? Then you shall have it."
Hathaway vented all his fury in one viscious mental assault on the flawed Priest. The Priest froze as Hathaway smashed into his mind. He tore open the thin garment of respectability that the Priest presented to the world exposing the naked truth beneath. Hathaway probed for an access, found it and penetrated deep within slashing at every nerve ending in there. The Priest screamed in agony as searing pain shot through every inch of his body. He fell to the floor writhing in agony his hands clawing the air as his screams grew ever louder and ever higher. Several Police men dashed into the room. Shocked by the sight before them, they tried to hold on to the writhing Le Chero as he rolled on the floor screaming in unbearable agony.
Hathaway stood by neither moved nor apalled, watching, but his anger was not yet assuaged so he crashed deeper into the Priest's mind. He found the tool he needed... the demons of this corrupt Priests religious guilt. He unleashed them on him with the vengeance of satan. The priest's screams rose to a new pitch of insane agony. The demons were as real to him as the floor beneath him. His screams were joined by the words repeated over and over:
"Forgive me! Forgive me! Mercy! Please Forgive me!"
In his tortured mind these demons were flaying him alive. They were ripping the skin from his body, strip by bloody strip. The Police men trying to restrain him recoiled in horror releasing him and jumping clear, shocked by what they saw. The demented Priest had started tearing at the skin of his own face tearing at the flesh and ripping it away, strip by bloody strip. He didn't stop until his whole face was just a bloody skull with lidless insane eyes rotating in his head. He gave one ultimate high pitched scream that rose to an incredible crescendo and only then did Hathaway let him die. He fell to the floor as the silence echoed his last scream of "Forgive me!"
Kinnison was hunched against the wall below the window he had used to enter the derelict building. His arms were wrapped around his knees, the dusty floorboards he sat upon were burned and charred by a flame long forgoten.
"Kinnison!" a voice declared.
He jumped to his feet. The floor boards groaned their displeasure.
"Kinnison!"
"Who's there?" Kinnison asked wheeling around and staring into the corners of the room.
"Your mind has expanded enough for me to talk to you, you are now open to my thoughts."
Kinnison now recognised the voice talking to him, It was the Warden and he continued talking.
"You have seen the vision, the Grand Design. Your mind is still expanding towards total knowledge. I have things to tell you, listen and understand."
"There have always been gaurdians of Mankind, Wardens, Protectors, guiding Man from the earliest dawn of civilisation. The Wardens taught man agriculture, mathematics and astronomy. From simple apes we created humankind and helped them progress forward according to the great plan. We have been your teachers and prophets over the millenia and you know many of their names. We have been guiding humanity along the path towards enlightenment."
The understanding was plain to Kinnison, the vision he had seen when holding Mary's dead body was now clear and the great plan was obvious. The Warden's voice continued.
"I have sensed the Second One, a turbulence in the fabric of the design, his partial awareness is an abomination, a crime against nature, base and unholy, he was never meant to be. You alone were chosen to replace me, one of the few alive today able to become the next Warden, able to understand the vision, able to use the transformation for the benefit of all creation."
"The Second One must be stopped, he must never enter the Hill. If he succeeds and you fail he will dominate mankind forever. He will set humanity on a path to war, hatred and destruction. It would take a whole planet to stop him. He would enslave humanity in a hell of his own design. You must be made ready for the final battle, there are things you will need. Kinnison, you must step aside, I need your body, you must let me take control and make preparations. For now, your body shall be my vehicle. We have work to do."
Kinnison knew he had only one answer, "Yes." he stated.
Hathaway had received many reports of where Kinnison went after the crash and he had plotted his path across London on the big map in his office. He drew a line from the Fleet Debtor's Prison to the Sisters of Mercy Refuge, through the points along Balls Pond Road, Dalston Lane and through to the last sighting of Kinnison on his horse. From there the line extended east across Hackney Marshes on through Wanstead Flats and all the way to the East Coast. He had marshalled all his forces from the west, north and south and sent them out along this eastern route ahead of Kinnison's last sighting and sent Detectives on ahead to survey for hills along the route. He was now waiting for replies.
Hathaway was fed up with the slowness of communications between him and his men and was using his partial awareness to design equipment to speed things up. He had mustered many technicians to aid him and his designs were quickly being manufactured for use by his small army.
John Kinnison regained awareness and control of his body. He was standing in a darkened room, it was night time again, he had no idea how long the Warden had taken control of his body. He sent his mind out to sense for the Hill, it was still to the east and his awareness told him it was the night of the same day and thirty four hours had elapsed from the ninety six that he had to reach it.
He took in his surroundings. He was standing in what appeared to be a laboratory of some kind. Test tubes and flasks lined the long benches along the walls. Various instruments and mechanisms were spread around the room, he had no idea what he was doing there. He gazed at the strange contraptions around him and as he looked he seemed to understand, the more he focused on them the more they revealed about their functions, his awareness saw their crudeness of design and improvements came immediately to mind. He was holding a rucksack in his hands, he looked inside, it contained an array of metallic objects and wires. He realised this must be what the Warden had occupied his body to search for. As he stared at the assorted objects in the rucksack he began to see the potential, his mind penetrated deeper, he could see the elements they were composed of, the intricate structures that formed their being.
"I know you're in there! And I'm armed" A man's voice called from the corridor.
The light from a moving lantern was approaching the doors at the end of the room. Kinnison saw the open window to his side and made a dash for it just as a shot was fired from the doorway. Kinnison was leaping through the window as he heard the large ball of lead smash into the window frame, splinters of wood flew around him as he landed on the lawn outside. He ran towards the tall cast iron railings surrounding the garden and cleared them in one bound, he landed in the street and ran in the direction of the Hill securing the rucksack on his back. Kinnison used the dark moonless sky and empty streets to run hidden in shadows, the night was his cover as he ran for mile after mile, ignoring his hunger and tiredness the Hill drawing him on.
He had reached the end of the city buildings as dawn was breaking, ahead of him the sun was rising into a cloud covered sky. He was in Kingsland and the flooded wilderness of Hackney marshes stretched out before him, natural and untamed. A great storm brewed in the distance in the direction of the Hill. Dark clouds stretched from horizon to horizon darkening the sun rise. The black broiling clouds advanced on legs of lightning that marched in bolts of light across the forbiding landscape before him, he knew his path lay that way and he fearlessly headed into the wilderness of the marshes.
To be continued...
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I Jimi Kent hereby assert and give notice of my right under section 77 of the Copyright Designs and Patents act 1988, to be identified as the originator and exclusive author of the above work.
