Violently.
More slabs of the building and other debris started to fall all around us. Bordeaux moved to cover Madrina, while Wang protected Titus.
Santino managed to look up in time to see a column from one of the floors above him break apart and head straight for him through a hole in the ceiling. He dove out of the way, dropping the orb when he hit the ground. I watched as it shed its cloth and rolled away from him, tracking it as it started moving to my left before shifting directions sharply, making its way directly towards me. I tried to justify it by convincing myself that it had met an impediment in its travel that knocked it towards me, but I hadn’t seen anything.
It rolled possessed, seemingly of its own volition.
I looked down at it while I remained nonchalantly seated on my concrete slab, Helena trying to protect us both. But the only thing I could focus on was the orb, the collapsing building not even on the backburner. It rolled up against my boot, bounced off, and hit it again, settling against my toe. The compulsion was there again, but it seemed controllable, like craving a food that I knew I could resist, albeit with some trouble.
Clouds swirled within, just as they always seemed to when it had something to say, but something was different this time. The clouds settled, revealing something I’d never see within the orb before, but something familiar.
I looked closer.
Revealed within was a room with a white ceiling and floor that almost seemed to glow. Two walls on the sides were also white, but the third wall was nothing but glass. The fourth was out of view. Behind the glass wall stood men in white lab coats, complete with pocket protectors and black rimmed glasses.
How odd.
But within the room was by far the oddest part of the scene. Dark forms stood patiently, while others sat on rectangular boxes. Men from the looks of it.
My hand moved on its own, reaching ever so slowly for the orb. I didn’t even try to fight it. Something about this one felt right. My bare fingers spread across the smooth surface, now as soft as a stress ball, but it did nothing. As I brought it closer to my face, I saw one of the figures, the smallest of them, holding the orb as well in a gloved hand. The figure spun the other, bare, hand in a circle, a motion that suggested someone should do something.
All I could think about at the moment was how much I wanted to go home but even so, nothing happened. I remained in the blown out building with Helena still wrapped around me. When the building finally stopped shaking seconds later, she slowly lifted her head. She saw I was holding the orb in my open hand and she looked between it and me.
“Jacob, what are you do…”
With her words came a flash of bright blue light and the hiss of a thick cloud of mist winking into existence. I felt an electricity discharge, like a static bubble building up all around me followed by the wash of cool air against my face and a gentle blast of pressure as it burst.
Thankfully, the building remained still, unless of course we weren’t in the building anymore.
The orb dimmed and went inert, still glowing its dull blue, but seemingly inactive.
Helena snatched it from my fingers and threw it back to Santino.
Nothing had happened. I hadn’t thought so. The figure within hadn’t been me.
Then I saw movement. Something clawing its way out of the mist. Figures. Dark ones. Six of them.
In that moment, I knew exactly how the Roman augers must have felt five years ago. The ones who’d intended to find nothing but treasure but instead found us.
As the mist cleared, the figures looked more and more familiar.
They were dressed in black clothing, simple BDUs from the look of it. They wore harness type rigs over their chests, somewhat akin to the ALICE webbing worn by grunts in the 20th century. They also carried weapons.
Rifles.
Most appeared to be M16s, even if certain details seemed… different.
I was speechless. Helena rose off my shoulder like a sloth trying to climb a tree. Her mouth was open and staring at them as well. The rest of our team was arrayed around them in a circle. Those who had found their weapons trained them on these new visitors, even me, despite the fact Penelope was empty. All we needed were Romans to show up before the standoff turned into a Mexican style one, but the lead figure in the group finally stepped forward, raising his rifle over his head.
Then he spoke.
In English.
“Stand down!” He bellowed — to everyone it seemed.
His men lowered their rifles, except for two, who already had their rifles slung and were tending to a small figure resting on his back. The one who held the orb.
Another fucking orb.
Those of us with weapons lowered them as well. The lead figure took a step forward in my direction. He was wearing a type of balaclava, revealing only his eyes. His entire appearance surprised me less than what I saw in those eyes.
Recognition and relief.
He took another step and reached up to pull off his mask, and my eyes grew as large as his own. The guy looked like a model, or an actor, or any number of those kinds of people who were too good looking for their own good. He had blond hair fashioned in a longer style crew cut, bright blue eyes, a chiseled jaw line, and shallow cheeks. The guy’s look screamed, “d-bag,” and I knew it was true.
He smiled a toothy grin and opened his arms wide in a friendly gesture.
“What’s wrong, Jacob?” He asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I stared at him.
“You know this clown?” Santino asked, still peering over his gun sights.
I did know this clown. I knew him very well, in fact.
I rose to my feet painfully, motioning for Helena to stay back and took two steps closer to the blond haired phantom. I knew he had to be a phantom because he was right. I was seeing a ghost. He was dead, after all. At least, he was assumed so. Two months before I’d activated the orb, this man had been sent on a mission, one he had not come back from. No one had seen him since, but his locator beacon had placed him deep in the North Korean mountains where it had continued to pulse for months, unmoving.
Since I knew he had to be dead. Therefore a phantom. Therefore not real. Therefore a ghost. I had absolutely no problem with what I was about to do.
Taking one last step forward, I reared back with my right arm and jacked him in the face with a very solid, Helena worthy, right hook. He went down hard and his troops raised their rifles again, but he motioned for them to stand down almost instantly. I stepped forward to loom over him and pointed down at his face, ignoring the blazing pain in my side.
“That’s for Artie, you backstabbing piece of shit!”
That felt good. Very good. Great, even. I’ve wanted to do that for over five years. Too bad he was just a figment of my imagination and the real man in which I could truly relieve my frustration on was stuck back in the 21st century, if he was even still alive.
The man sat up and spat out a glop of blood. He wiped his mouth and stared up at me.
“I deserved that, Hunter,” he admitted, “I really did. But I’ve made my peace with her.”
“Fuck that!” I shouted, our interchange seeming more and more unreal with every word.
“You can ask her yourself,” he said, pointing behind him towards the figure holding the orb.
I shifted my attention. The figure was smaller than the rest, but not overly so, but now I noticed more curves. The man was in fact a woman.
Once she pulled off her mask, my suspicion was confirmed. The blue eyed bastard had been right.
It was Artie.
I took a step forward, my heart beating faster than it had during Bordeaux’s charge and unable to believe what my mind was telling it. The shock of seeing both these people was completely drowned out by my excitement at seeing this particular woman. She wasn’t supposed to be dead, and seeing her told me these people were, in fact, real.