By the time they mustered the mental fortitude to return home, it was almost midnight and the three Legionnaires and Matt were utterly paralytic. It took Will three minutes with his eyes closed just to plot a bare trip back to Morningstar, and since they all had to join hands and no one seemed to be able to stand up straight for more than about ten seconds, that three minutes was filled with lots of stumbling, swearing and everyone collapsing in a heap as one person pulled the whole group over. When the four of them did finally reappear at the edge of the Academy grounds, they were all spat out from the crushing, nauseating black teleportation tunnel in different directions: Wally appearing in a tangle of limbs atop a pine tree, Matt dangling from a separate branch mid‑way up, Giselle popping in from nothingness twenty feet in the air and Will arriving with a heavy “oof” face down in the mud.
All immediately threw up.
“Oh God,” Will gurgled, pushing himself upright and wiping his mouth free of vomit and pine needles. Matt’s grip immediately gave out and he dropped the five or so feet to the ground, falling onto his butt while Giselle blurred around in an expert fall-breaking spiral, only to trip over as soon as her feet touched land. Wally’s voice echoed from atop the pine tree.
“It’s ‘oh Jane’ now darling,” he called. The next five minutes was spent with the other three trying to regain their bearings while Wally gingerly climbed down.
“Let’s leave out this part,” Giselle mumbled, as they staggered back up the hill towards Morningstar, arms linked together in a lurching human chain, “Let’s leave this – urp – out of the report.”
To no one’s real surprise, Azleena was there to meet them when they finally staggered through into the entrance hall, her hands on her tiny hips and looking for all intents and purposes like she was about to slap each of them with her shoe.
“With me,” she commanded, and without another word the furious little genius force‑marched the four stumbling Legionnaires up to the Infirmary. As they passed, Matt saw that the mansion’s hallways remained abuzz – students running, frantic talking, lots of people still in armour. Matt had difficulty following what anyone was saying, and instead focused resolutely on putting one foot in front of the other. The others seemed to experiencing the same struggle.
The moment they made it into the Infirmary Azleena led the four of them straight into an empty consult room, only to leave and return a minute later with both Editha and Delores in tow.
“Purge them,” the genius ordered, and for the next ten minutes the four inebriates sat in increasing shame and sobriety as the two healers supernaturally laid on hands and one by one flushed their bodies free of alcohol.
“Thank you,” Giselle said finally, once they were all clean and sober. She looked at the healers and the genius with an expression of not insubstantial shame. “Sorry.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t give you the hose,” scowled Azleena, “Is it all out of your system?”
“The booze?”
“The self-pity.”
“Oh. That.”
“Yes that.” The genius muttered a rapid flurry of something Matt could only assume was Bangla. “Everything’s crazy, boo-hoo. Harden up. The world continues to turn.”
“Worlds,” corrected Wally.
“Shut up,” corrected Azleena. Giselle sighed and with a begrudging nod leant forward in the doctor’s room chair she was sitting in and began rubbing her temples.
“Status report,” she said with another sigh.
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” the genius asked.
“Good news,” replied Giselle, at the same time as Wally said, “Bad news,” and Matt muttered “I literally don’t care.”
Azleena glanced between the lot of them. “Well, let’s start at most normal and work our way up. Bad news: lots of Acolytes MIA. Seems your reactions to death and supernatural crises are not particularly unique or original.”
“We get it, we were drunk!” complained Wally.
“Okay,” mumbled Giselle, distractedly waving the psychic to shush, “Go on.”
“Good news,” continued Azleena, “Farrington, Natalia and Enrique are tracking them down. They’ve found most of them. They’re trickling home.”
“Great. What else?”
“Bad news – there’s no sign of Jane.”
“I mean, there’s at least one sign,” said Wally, indicating vaguely skyward. Azleena rolled her eyes but ignored him.
“Good news,” she said, powering on, “We’ve taken into custody one Levi Eller, sixty-two years old, former adjutant of Philip Fredericks. Eller turned himself over to us once he saw Fredericks’ televised rampage. Seems he was the go between for a lot of his dealings.”
“And?”
“And he confirmed pretty much everything our dear disintegrated pastor told Matt. Fredericks was working alone.”
“That’s good at least,” said Will.
“How did he pay for it all?” asked Wally. Azleena fixed him with an incredulous stare.
“How did he pay for it?” she repeated, “The man who could create molecularly perfect diamonds out of thin air, who could rewrite the atomic foundations of reality, how did he fund the purchase of sensitive information and his overall illicit affairs? How do you think?”
“Alright, sorry, jeez,” muttered the psychic, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. Azleena shook her head and muttered under her breath a steady stream of profanity before returning her attention back to Giselle.
“Most of the work went through Eller,” she continued, “Who then parcelled jobs out to individual contractors, one hand never knowing what the other was doing, yada-yada-yada. Eller himself has a long and sordid history, but I think seeing his boss disintegrate policemen on national TV might’ve tipped him off that it was time to throw in the towel. That and the new moon.” She paused. “Small comfort, but at least it wasn’t all a government conspiracy.”
“Yes,” Giselle replied heavily, “And on that topic – where do we stand with the military?”
“Well,” replied Azleena, her lips tightly pursed, “This is where ‘good-news-bad-news’ sort of blends.”
“Blends?” said Giselle, her voice steeped in concern.
Azleena took a deep breath. “Jane killed a lot of people,” the genius said bluntly, “And while one could argue all day about whether anyone’s truly innocent in the military industrial complex, these people were at least completely innocent of the crime she was purportedly killing them for.”
Nobody had any answer for that. Matt held his head in his hands. Despite the weight of her initial statement however, Azleena’s words did not remain macabre for long.
“Conversely however, they are now all back alive.”
“What?” yelped Giselle, sitting bolt upright. Wally swore, Will’s eyes widened, and Matt peered up through his fingers. The two healers just looked grim.
“Yep,” Azleena confirmed, “As of… oh about four hours ago. Everyone’s back alive actually, our dead Acolytes, all the people Fredericks killed. Disaster recovery teams were just hanging around and then poof! All of a sudden, one by one, people just start popping back into existence on the old Eastborough front lawn.”
“Poof?” said Wally, crossing his arms and levelling Azleena a withering gaze, “Is that the technical term?”
“I’m sorry, is there a better word for it, some term of art only pale ginger drunkards know?”
“Jane,” Matt murmured under his breath, ignoring the sudden surge of argument.
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“I just think, maybe, it would be more professional if-”
“Well I think it’d be more professional if you didn’t smell like a Mexican whorehouse, so-”
“Christ, enough, you’re both pretty!” Giselle cried. She glared at Wally and Azleena, and the psychic and the genius fell into reluctant silence, though they continued to simmer and scowl at one another. “Can we please just… focus on the matters at hand.”
“Fine.” Azleena glowered and she turned back to their leader, though she continued to shoot Wally the odd stinkeye. “As I said. Everyone’s back into existence again. So on balance, good for them.” She worked her jaw. “Minus some lingering existential dread and confusion of course, and who can say what it means long term for humanity, but I imagine at the very least there’ll be several families tonight that are substantially less distraught.”
“Holy hell,” Will murmured. Like Matt he was hunched over, hands clenched in front of his lips.
“Well, nobody I’ve heard interviewed so far has reported that,” Azleena replied, very nonchalant, “So, you know, the great questions remain unanswered.”
“How’s the government taking it?” Giselle asked.
“Similarly to the rest of us,” the genius answered, “Shaken and confused. No longer on the warpath now their soldiers have been un-killed, but I don’t know if they’re quite elated about the whole thing just yet. For now though they’re more focused on the new planet."
“Right,” muttered Giselle, “Understandable.” She kneaded her fists into her lap, rubbing mid-thigh where her protective leggings abruptly ended in exposed flesh. “Where do we stand on that?”
Azleena shrugged. “It’s big. It’s a ball. It looks like white stone. Most people on the news are calling it ‘The White World’, because apparently originality died with Philip Fredericks. I’m calling it ‘absolute bullcrap’ because it’s doing my goddamn head in. It’s impossible.”
Across from her Wally muttered something inaudible and derisive.
“Wally,” Giselle warned, fixing him another icy glare. The telepath rolled his eyes but held up his hands in apology. Beside him, Will’s brows furrowed, and he continued as if deaf to his partner’s backbiting.
“What do you mean?” the teleporter asked, “When you say impossible, what-”
“I mean it’s impossible,” said Azleena, cutting him off with a scowl, “Something that big, that close should be having a gravitational impact on the tides, let alone everything else, let alone being pulled in on a collision course with the Earth. But it’s not. And with the proximity – I mean you can see it, it’s right there – you should be able to get clear readings, or bounce light off or see it with a telescope or something. You can’t. You can’t land anything on it, you can’t teleport to it, I think Russia even tried shooting a missile, but nothing gets through. Nothing. We have broken directional consistency.”
“Broken what?” asked Matt.
“Objects existing in fixed relation,” replied Azleena, “Used to be a universal constant, you could go between two places, A to B, straight line, or I mean sometimes space curves but-” she waved a hand around distractedly, clearly forcing herself not to get sidetracked, “-basically, forget about it, point is, a direction is a direction, you could go places, except now we can forget that supposedly universal law because if your A to B goes through the White World, screw you, you’re going to point C.”
“Okay, so that’s weird,” said Giselle, chewing her knuckle, “But I mean weird’s good right? Weird’s not damaging?”
“It is damaging,” the genius protested, “It is damaging my calm.” She paused and glanced between all of them. “I have nothing to support this,” Azleena said, and she bit her lip as she said it, “But I suspect we’re being somewhat deceived. I don’t think whatever it is that’s up there is actually made of rock.”
“What do you mean?” said Will, frowning.
“The White World. I don’t think it’s a world. I don’t think we’re actually seeing white stone. I think we’re looking at some sort of quantum barrier surrounding… something. Maybe a planet. Maybe… who knows what. Nothing. Jane. A great cosmic baby. A hole in the fabric of the time and space and a seething horde of eldritch horrors preparing to descend and consume us.”
“Why would Jane make eldritch horrors?” sighed Matt, exasperated.
“I don’t know!” cried Azleena, throwing her hands up and rounding on him, “She’s your girlfriend! Why does she do anything?”
“We think she’s trying to make a better world,” Giselle said, sounding tired.
“Yes I heard that theory, amidst your drunken ramblings.”
“Excuse me,” Wally frowned, “That’s eavesdropping.”
“Turn your earpieces off then,” Azleena scowled back. Giselle pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Okay,” she repeated, “Okay. Lots to do, little to no information. Okay.” She sucked in a deep breath and sat up straighter in the doctor’s chair. “Az. Good work. Really well done. Good job holding down the fort. I am sorry we-” she gestured at the four of them, “‑handled this suboptimally. We are good, it is out of our system.” She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself as much as anyone. Nevertheless, Giselle squared her shoulders and continued.
“Get on the horn,” the speedster ordered, “Let’s do what we can. Let everyone know I’m back on board and I want all hands on deck. Natalia, Farrington and Enrique can stay on stray duty, that’s good, that’s a good fit for them, good tracking skills, sufficient gravitas. Everyone else, I want everybody mobile, I want teams, I want quarantine established around everybody who’s resurrected and I want them monitored round the clock. Let’s get them here, if we can, if that’s not practical let’s have them buddy up, power counterweighing powers. We do not know if coming back to life has side effects, and I have seen enough undead surprises to last me the rest of my life.”
“Amen,” said Wally.
“You weren’t even there!” complained Azleena, incredulous.
“Azleena,” Giselle continued, powering through before the psychic could dive back in with a rebuttal, “I want your full attention on that moon. Planet, egg, quantum ball of nonsense – I don’t care, I want you to study it, I want to know about it, I want to understand if it poses a threat. Wally,” she said, turning to the telepath, “Assemble a team, get whoever you need, liaise with the Pentagon, see if they’re willing to quarantine their resurrected men. Hopefully they’re still willing to listen. I don’t think Jane would deliberately bring back anyone messed up, but if we’re talking about being reassembled from atomic dust it just feels like we’re working with a very low margin of error. Matt.” She turned to face the human and her gaze, though sympathetic, was firm. “I’m afraid that means you.”
“It’s fine,” Matt said with a sigh.
“I’ve looked him over,” said Editha, piping up.
“I’m not saying anything,” replied Giselle, holding up her hands, “I’m just saying, you were recently disintegrated. We don’t know what the means long term for your… everything.”
“I mean even if you factor in an error of like, one percent,” agreed Wally, “Forget undeath, what if you get like… cancer? Aneurysms.”
“It’s really fine,” Matt said again, with absolutely no objection to just staying in a room somewhere and lying down.
“Do you think she might’ve improved him?” asked Azleena, peering at Matt with fresh interest, “If she did, I wish she’d have consulted me. I have a lot of thoughts about the human knee.”
“I mean she clearly didn’t make him taller,” noted Wally.
“You’d think if you were remaking a human from scratch you’d tinker a little,” agreed Azleena.
“I wonder what it did to your gut flora?” Delores asked, staring at Matt and sounding legitimately enthused. Beside her, still sitting, Will tilted his head to fix the healer with an incredulous gaze. To her credit, Giselle didn’t even blink.
“We also need to keep you out of harm’s way,” the speedster continued, “Now more than ever. I hate making those gun-nuts right, but there’s a chance before this is all over we might need some permanent neutralisation.”
“I thought you weren’t sure whether you wanted to stop her,” said Will.
“I’m not,” Giselle replied, “But we’ve got to consider our options. Besides, putting aside his blood, Jane genuinely does care for him. That might mean something in the long run.” She fixed Matt with a sad look. “I’m sorry to say but if push comes to shove you might be our only leverage.”
“If we go down that path,” Wally added. Matt remained silent. Eventually Giselle shook her head.
“Forget it. For now let’s just hole up, take a breather, try to sort the other problems out. One thing at a time.”
“One thing at a time,” a few of the other Legionnaires echoed. Matt just nodded and drew a deep breath.
“She wouldn’t try and hurt any of you,” he tried to reassure them, “Jane. I know this is all completely crazy, but at the end of the day… she’s still the same person.” He swept his gaze around the consult room, moving one by one across the sea of blank faces. “She wants to do the right thing.”
“I know,” said Giselle. She sounded serious and sad. She flicked Matt a small, kind smile. “We’ll get through this,” their leader said, turning to the others, “One way or another, I promise. We can do this. The world’s faced impossible before. This is what the Legion is – this is what we do. I believe in you. I believe in us.” Giselle rose from her chair, standing to her full height. “Let’s go do good.”
There were murmurs of resolute agreement followed by the clatter of chairs scraping on linoleum as all together the Legionnaires got to their feet. The consultation room suddenly felt very crowded. Matt likewise stood, sticking his hands in his pockets and letting a long breath run out between his teeth.
“So do you just want me to hang in one of the dorm rooms?” he asked, turning back to Giselle as the group started filing out, “I mean I don’t mind, wherever really. Just give me like, a book or something. My Gameboy. Although I’d marry the first person who brings me some pancakes.”
“Yeah, god, I’m freaking famished,” Giselle agreed. Matt fell into step behind her as they filed out the door and into the greater Infirmary. “Twenty thousand calories a day normally and now I’m drinking on an empty stomach-”
Abruptly Giselle’s voice cut off. Matt frowned and glanced up from where he’d been unthinkingly staring at the floor.
Only to find that the girl was gone.
And he was surrounded by white.
*****
“-drinking on an empty stomach.” Giselle kept walking, waiting for Matt’s reply, but the next few moments brought only silence.
I wasn’t blaming you, she thought irritably, before she caught herself and sighed. She had been getting less and less tolerant lately. Or maybe it was just the last few days. After all this was over, Giselle promised herself, she was going to go to a full day spa, one of those ones where some tiny‑handed masseuse could put rocks on her back and massage her legs until she forgot they weren’t original.
She pulled her half-distracted mind away from thoughts of hot springs and saunas, trying to ignore in its place the constant nattering of Wally and Will, who’d gone out in front of her and struck back up again about strategy and the unenviable prospect of defeating a Divine. Not really thinking, Giselle glanced back over her shoulder to where Matt had been mere moments earlier, only to find the space behind her empty. That was odd. She frowned and came to a complete stop. Where’d he got to? Giselle turned, throwing quick looks to her left and right, then stood on her tiptoes and peered back into the consulting room. Empty.
“Matt?” she called. Giselle swept her gaze over the rest of the Infirmary, the rows of beds and high ceilings, the far-off entrances to the healer’s stations and washrooms. All the doors were closed. A lot of beds were occupied, but she couldn’t see Matt’s head anywhere among them. Neither did she see him hiding or sprinting off. The speedster turned on her heel, her frown deepening.
“Matt?”