COSMIC EGG INC. (eBook)

CHAPTER TWO

The pain was gone.

So were the psycho ninjas trying to kill him.

His surroundings—the beach, the sky, the water—had an orange tint.

He realized where he had to be; inside the light Martin had shown him.

Peter looked around at his back. No arrow. No blood. Same with his biceps.

He lifted himself and dusted off the sand, then stepped out of the light so his vision was no longer shaded. He scanned the bizarre glowing orange cylinder of light shooting up to the sky. It was about five or so feet in diameter, maybe a bit less. It had the same orange tint as the ninjas.

He bent down to get a better idea of where it was coming from, but there were no bulbs or wires, just sand. He kicked around the sand searching for something hard underneath, but there was just more sand. He went down on his knees and started to dig deeper, scooping out layer after layer. When he hit the hard stuff—the muddy bottom—he scooped out the muck. Still, he didn’t find anything. No hardware, no spotlight—nothing but the orange light that continued to shine from whatever new bottom he’d create.

Gazing up at the sky again to see if it was coming from something above, he saw nothing. He looked around the beach. There was no one. He headed back to the walkway, trying to sort out what the hell had just happened.

A voice yelled out after he reached the first few wooden planks.

“Up here, Pete,” Martin called from the backyard patio. “Great job.”

Peter eased up the path, looking around, wondering where the next attack would be coming from.

Martin was sitting at the patio table with an ear-to-ear smile. “Sit down.” He pointed to the chair across from him. “You can relax now.”

“What the hell is going on?”

Martin pointed at the chair again and said he’d explain. Peter didn’t know what to do. His mind was still in shock, his nerves frayed. What he’d just experienced was impossible.

“It’s okay,” Martin said, still with a wide grin. “No more ninjas. I promise.”

Peter slowly slipped into the chair. “Am I drugged? Is that it? Am I hallucinating?”

Martin shook his head. “That was real, Pete. You weren’t hallucinating.”

“How could any of that have been real? I just had an arrow sticking out of me—two, actually—and now I don’t have a scratch.”

Martin chuckled. “You know, I have to admit, I honestly didn’t think you had a prayer.” Martin quickly raised his palms. “Don’t get me wrong; that’s not a knock against you. Not at all. But even the best soldiers in the world wouldn’t be worth a damn if they weren’t convinced they needed to head for the light.” His smile widened. “But you pulled it off on the first go-around. Damn, did you pull it off. You should be proud of yourself.”

Peter just stared at him, trying to piece things together, trying to make some sense of what was happening. He couldn’t.

“I’ve been thinking about how to explain things to you, and trust me, it isn’t easy.” Martin eased back in his chair. “I mean, I was given some ideas, some stuff to work with, but . . . I don’t know; I’m thinking maybe it’s best if you just trust me.”

Trust him?

“And you should know from the start that this is all new and weird for me too. Hell,” Martin said, looking down at his own chest, “I’m not even used to this thing yet.”

“What thing?”

“This,” Martin said, pointing at himself. “What you see.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Watch the language, Pete.”

Language? “Are you fucking kidding me? I nearly just got killed. Or maybe I was killed. I don’t even know. And you’re worried about my language?”

“Okay, you’re right. Let’s just move on,” Martin said, then looked over to the side, like he was checking something. “Let me start by filling you in on that orange egg on your forearm.”

Peter turned his right hand over. On his wrist was an oval about two inches long with a slight orange glow. He touched it, feeling to see if the skin was raised like a scar. It wasn’t. It felt the same as if it wasn’t there. But the glow . . . It was like a light shining from underneath his skin.

“That’s what’ll keep you alive no matter what happens to you,” Martin said.

Peter looked up. None of what the man was saying made sense.

“You’ll still feel pain up until you actually die, but when you do die,” Martin said, “you’ll instantly appear over there as if nothing had happened.” He pointed over to the beach where the orange light was shining.

As he listened, Peter replayed the events from when he arrived at the house to when he “woke” from whatever hallucination he’d been having. He hadn’t drunk or eaten anything since leaving his aunt’s house. But could someone have slipped him something when he was out the night before? He’d gone out with his cousin but only had water because he was driving—and because he saw the bouncer’s doubting gaze when checking his fake ID.

“Now listen, because this is important. The reason you need to stay alive no matter what is because you, Peter Kane, need to save the world.”

Peter massaged his brow, trying to clear whatever cobwebs had to be clouding his thoughts. “This is ridiculous.”

“It is. It’s insane. And I’m under no delusion that I’ll be able to convince you otherwise,” Martin said. “I get that. But it’s also the truth.”

“The truth?” Peter scoffed. “You’re saying I can die and come back to life. How can that even be remotely possible? And why the hell would anyone need me to save the world? Who the hell am I?”

Martin folded his hands and leaned them over the table. “Why not you?”

“Because I’m nobody. Nobody special.” He rubbed his forehead again. “Jesus, I haven’t even picked a major yet.”

“You’re far from nobody, Pete,” Martin said. “I know who you are, and I know you—”

“How?” Peter interrupted. “How do you know me?”

Martin exhaled as he leaned back. “This is tougher than I thought.” He gazed at Peter. “I mean, look at you. You’re you. You’re really . . . you. And you’re right. You’re absolutely right. Why on earth are you going to believe anything I’m saying?”

Peter thought back to the intro psych class he’d taken, racking his brain to come up with some kind of explanation for what was happening. He wished he hadn’t just crammed for each exam the night before.

“Maybe you won’t believe me. Maybe you’ll just have to keep going through it,” Martin continued. “Just keep responding to what’s being thrown at you. Like you just did.”

Martin peered to his left again.

“Okay, so I thought it’d be best to have what I’ve been told is the only AI guide available for this thing that can actually be physically present. It’ll help you realize that all of this isn’t just in your head. But in order to access him, you’ll need to do one of these,” Martin said, still studying what appeared to be nothing but the air in front of him. “You’ve got a few options. Kobayashi challenge, ski slalom—”

“Options for what?”

Martin didn’t respond, just kept his gaze on whatever it was he could apparently see but Peter couldn’t. “That won’t work, though. You’ll never eat that many hot dogs so quickly. And that one won’t either. You’ve only skied a few times,” he said, more in a thinking-out-loud manner than a dialogue with Peter. “These are harder than I thought they’d be.” His eyes continued to scroll down some kind of invisible list. “I probably should’ve just picked one of the storyline guides and skipped these.” He turned back toward Peter. “But you need a guide. They’re the ones who do the tasks with you. I can only watch during those, I can’t interact. I also have time restrictions with you, so we need to get this going quickly.”

“You’re looking at me like I should have any clue as to what you’re talking about.”

Martin smiled. “Sorry. Just trying to make sure I get you set up.” He looked back at whatever he’d been looking at before. “This one seems doable. No real special skill needed.”

“Needed for what?”

“To get the guide,” Martin said, then slipped his hand inside his blazer’s inner pocket.

Peter froze when he saw what Martin pulled out.

A handgun.

“I know,” Martin said. “It’s disturbing. But for some reason, it’s the trigger they decided to use. I think it’s more of a symbolic gesture. And like I said before, as long as you have that orange egg on your wrist, you can’t die. Just don’t panic when you get there. I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen the movie, but all you have to—”

Peter didn’t wait to find out what Martin was going to say next. He grabbed the table’s edge and flipped it up. Martin was jolted back as Peter ran toward the sliding glass doors. He ignored Martin’s shouts for him to stop and kept running.

As he slowed to slide the door open, he tensed, waiting for a bullet to pierce right through him, but there were no shots. He yelled for Nelson as he ran through the...