A loud horn blared from behind her. She rolled to the side as a black van barreled down the alley at full speed, tinted windows reflecting the shocked faces of the men it rumbled toward. Dylan flattened herself against the alley wall as the van whipped past. It met a hail of bullets before striking the armed duo head-on with a sound like raw meat slung against asphalt. More bullets whined as someone inside the van exchanged fire with the second team. Men grunted and cried out as they died.
Dylan steadied her hand and aimed at the rear doors of the van as they opened. A black-clad man emerged, critically studying the steaming, bullet-perforated vehicle. He turned, revealing his face. He was the most nondescript person she had ever come across. Just like the last time she saw him.
“No need for the gun,” Guy Mann said. “I’m not here to harm you. But I do think we need to leave quickly. Both of us will want to avoid unnecessary questions. I understand you’ve been looking for me. The irony is I’ve been looking for you as well. For a very long time.”
III
The smell of redwood giants lingered, perfuming the afternoon air. Dylan sat at a bench in the midst of their majesty, just another insignificant speck loitering in their imposing shadows. The ramshackle cottage behind her was deep in the forest, far enough from the city to make civilization irrelevant. She saw no technology other than solar receptors, placing the abode completely off the grid. She wondered who, if anyone knew of its existence. It had taken a drive in a stolen car, a ride on ATVs, and then a three-day hike just to get to the place.
The Blurred Man served ginger green tea in china mugs that were almost certainly thousands of years old. He sat on the opposite side of the weathered bench, his form seemingly morphing with the shadows until it was hard to determine if he was physically there. Steam from the tea obscured his face when he lifted the mug for a sip.
“You heal remarkably well,” he said.
Dylan did not respond, recognizing the ages-old casual approach to prod her into talking about herself. She gazed at the forest behind him. For some reason the ancient trees were full of ravens, in far greater numbers than she had ever seen before. They peppered the branches high as she could see, silently peering down as though waiting to pronounce judgment. Of what, Dylan could not fathom. The fall of man, perhaps.
Guy carefully set his mug down. “Your partner, Agent Lee. Nothing you could have done about that. An unfortunate side effect of exposure to an Aberration is residual mental instability. Everyone within a five-mile radius is affected to one extreme or another, from terrible dreams to full-blown insanity. Fortunately these side effects are not contagious to others. Not that you were in any danger, of course. Being…who you are.”
Dylan toyed with the handle of her mug. “And who am I?”
“You’re not human,” Guy said. “Your body might be made of similar DNA, your appearance might be spot on, but you do not originate from this planet. You’ve been here a long time. How long I don’t know, but almost certainly longer than I have. I don’t believe you are from another dimension. And if so, I don’t believe you’re a threat to humanity.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because if you were, I would have surely been ordered to kill you by now.” He took another sip, expressionless. Dylan realized that like her, time was not a hindrance to Guy. He would wait patiently for her response, whether it took seconds or months.
“Why the last name Mann?” she asked. “At first I thought you had a sly sense of humor, but you don’t seem to be the type.”
“Antenor was the one with the sense of humor. He was my handler, the one who created the many aliases I’ve used over the years.”
“And where is he now?”
“Dead.” The word hung in the air, the echo almost audible from a thousand raven minds.
“You say you’re from another dimension.” She sipped her tea. It was quite good, sweetened with honey she was sure was from the neighboring forest. “That agrees with the information I’ve gathered.”
“That you gathered? Or Nathan Ryder gathered?” Guy smiled at her expression. “I try to keep track of all of my potential allies, Ms. Plumm. Or did you truly believe Mr. Ryder simply stumbled on information about the Blurred Man on his own?”
Dylan hesitated at the revelation. “Regardless, it explains why you can’t be captured on film. There’s something lost in the translation of imaging a being from another dimension.” She studied him over the rim of her tea mug. “Your task is grueling. The exhaustion has taken its toll on you. You have lost your sense of humanity, alienated and alone to the point that emotion is a foreign concept to you. Human lives become mere numbers, statistics you tally up as either acceptable losses or not.”
He seemed to smile. “That last part. Were you talking about me…or were you talking about yourself?”
She didn’t respond. Her analytics of the outcome of the conversation surprised her with their inconclusiveness. The algorithms were off the charts, unable to decisively chart what Guy’s intentions were. It was as if his motives were as blurred as the photographs of his face.
He leaned back and inhaled deeply. “Ah, do you smell that air? So…clean. And this forest: a marvel beyond description. You can take a million photographs, paint a billion pictures, and it would never be enough. They would never convey the awe and humility of actually being here. It’s amazing to think despite the population overload on this planet, there are still so many places where most humans simply avoid. So many places one can live an entire lifetime with little or no interaction, should they so desire.”
“Is that what you desire?” she asked.
“More than anything.” His nondescript face was clearly visible when he leaned forward, yet somehow still hard to focus on. “You might have the luxury of living through the ages, but things play out differently for me. I don’t live through time, I basically flow across it. I am taken from one potential catastrophe to the next, never having time to recover or find a moment’s peace. I exist for a singular purpose, and it is not to smell the roses.”
“I don’t understand.” Dylan set her empty mug down. “How are you able to travel across time? What type of place is this dimension you come from?”
His expression darkened. “A ruined one. And as far as how I do it…” He glanced above. “I go wherever the ravens take me.”
“The ravens?” She looked up.
Intelligence sparkled from their inky eyes as they perched like obsidian statues. Their feathers gleamed in the patches of sunlight that streamed through the canopy of branches.
Guy smiled. “It’s hard to explain. More tea?”
The forest darkened as the sun lowered into its depths. The wind swayed raven-laden branches, stirring the aroma of ancient bark and evergreen needles. Steam wafted from the freshly-poured tea and dissipated into the air. Guy closed his eyes, rocking slightly as if concentrating on absorbing it all.
“Have you ever planted a tree, Ms. Plumm?”
Dylan slowly nodded. “Yes.”
“Tell me about it.” He was a shadow among shadows, eyes gleaming as he stared more intently than the ravens.
“I planted a giant sequoia once.” Memories emerged from her data banks, as palpable as the moments when they happened. “From seed to sapling to fully grown tree, I kept watch. I checked in, studied its growth as the years passed and I went through several manifestations. I watched as it towered toward the sky, forming an ecosystem of its own which supported a diverse amount of insect and animal species. I came back time after time, until a millennium passed. The entire world changed, but the tree was still there, a king among kings, pressing on to eternity.”