Brian O'Grady - Hybrid

Phil stood up. “If that’s your decision.” Clumsily, just as Reisch had done to Phil, he reached into Izhan’s mind and sifted through every thought, emotion, and memory. The young man passed out almost immediately and with his loss of consciousness all resistance disappeared. For the first time in Phil’s life, he experienced the joys of childhood, the beauty of innocence, and the wonder of limitless potential. He felt the contentment of being a part of a family, of truly loving, and being loved by another in return. The fulfillment of being a part of something greater than one’s self.

He could relate to Reisch’s need to feed on the emotions of others; they were a powerful elixir, both intoxicating and revolting at the same time. The sensations and passions that defined Izhan Ahmed flowed into Phil, filling a void that until this moment, he didn’t know existed. Even the negative emotions, the pain and suffering, satisfied Phil’s sudden need. He pressed into the young man’s mind, trying to drain it faster; an alien desire to completely consume the life of Ahmed began to overwhelm Phil. The Monsters had finally gained control; it was this realization, and it could only have been this specific threat that stopped Phil from killing Izhan.

He broke the connection, and both Phil and an unconscious Ahmed fell to the gravel. He stared at the prostrate terrorist with his breath coming in gasps. He had come close to killing this man, and in the process, surrendering himself to his monsters. A fear as old as Phil rose in his chest; he imagined a small windowless room, and tall steel doors.

“What happened?” said a muffled voice.

Phil jumped in alarm at the unexpected appearance of the nun. Her face was covered in blood, and her nose was misshapen. She stood unsteadily and staggered towards Phil.

“Stop, Sister,” Phil ordered as he quickly climbed to his feet. The echoes of his greatest fear still resonated through his mind, and he staggered a little as he caught Sister Mary Francis a moment before she lost her balance. “He’s unconscious, “he said, supporting the nun with his arm.

“He shot Sister Ellen,” she started to cry and had to breathe in spasms because of her blood-clogged nose.

“I know,” he said, and both of them turned towards the roof’s metal door as the SWAT team behind it had started to use a battering ram. “Can you go and wait by the door, Sister? I just need a moment more with Mr. Ahmed.” Her head swiveled back to the fallen terrorist who was just beginning to stir, and then back to Phil. “Are you with the police?”

“No ma’am, but they’re with me,” he said cryptically. She stared a moment longer and hobbled across the roof. A helicopter buzzed overhead and Phil gently pushed it away; he still hadn’t finished with Ahmed.

“Did you get what you needed?” He was awake and still defiant. Phil had released him, and he quickly reached for the pieces of infected paper.

“Please don’t provoke me,” Phil said, and then not so gently pushed him into the metal frame that housed the air conditioning coolers. “Sister Mary Francis believes that you are evil incarnate, but I know that you’re not.” He stared into the dark, hate-filled eyes of Ahmed. “You’re just a man, and we don’t have the luxury of dismissing you as the devil.” Phil sat in the shadow that a nearby building cast across the roof so that he could see Ahmed better. “I have to admit that I am somewhat disappointed; I was hoping that you had had some type of religious or personal epiphany that would drive you to this extreme. But you’re more complex than that, and once again, I can’t discount you.”

“Are you going to be my shrink now, and tell. .”

Phil cut him off. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have a lot of time, and I have no patience to listen to your vitriol.” He stared back at Ahmed and a desire to make the terrorist writhe in agony welled up in Phil’s chest.

“Go ahead,” he read the desire that was building inside of Phil. “You can break my body, but never my soul.”

“I have more control than that,” Phil answered, suppressing the sadistic craving. “At the moment, I want to understand you more than hurt you; I suggest you take advantage of that.” They stared at each other until Ahmed’s expression softened an iota.

“You can never understand me,” he scoffed, with less sincerity than earlier.

“I understand that you are not a religious zealot, and that most of your compatriots are not zealots either. You are devout, I will grant you that, but you are also a group of educated men. To some degree, I can understand the refugees, who have known only squalor, suffering, and hopelessness, strapping explosives to their bodies, but that hardly describes you or any of the others. You were chosen because of your education, because of your ability to adapt and function independent of a group. So why would you subordinate those abilities; why would you blindly follow those who espouse hate?” Phil paused for effect; Ahmed wanted to answer, but Phil didn’t want to hear more of his derision. “Part of the answer lies in human nature, and in that respect, you are not much different from the man downstairs who wants to kill you. But that only gets you part of the way; your sin is not questioning the culture of hate that surrounded you. Instead of examining it, you ignored the responsibility of an educated man and accepted it. You allowed yourself to believe the lies because to challenge them would be to challenge those who spread them, and you were too weak to do that. You are going to die because of that weakness.”

“My death is inconsequential compared to the devastation we have brought to your country.” He smiled smugly.

Phil slowly nodded his head, and Izhan saw the utter failure of all their work and sacrifices in Phil’s mind. “The truth is that you are dying for nothing. No one will visit your father and tell him of the momentous things you achieved in the name of God.” Phil listened as the will and heart of Izhan Ahmed broke. A small part of him rejoiced at the young man’s agony, and for the first time in his life, Phil forced the Monsters from his mind. There was only silence in their absence, and he smiled. Maybe he did have the strength to survive.

The pounding from the other side of the door became more insistent, and now there were two helicopters circling the rooftop. Tears began to flow down Izhan’s face, and Phil listened to him pray. He prayed for a righteous death, one that would bring honor to His Holy Name.

Phil reached down and retrieved the small pistol that Izhan had used to shoot Sister Ellen. He turned towards Sister Mary Frances as she let out a scream. “It’s all right,” he yelled to her over the sound of the helicopters, and then turned back to Ahmed whose prayers had become more desperate. “I haven’t learned to hate yet,” Phil said and tossed the gun to the terrorist.

Sister Mary Frances stared dumbfounded at Phil. He walked towards the nun and guided her away from the door. “It’s going to be all right. He’s not going to hurt anyone.”

Phil let the door go and three men dressed in black body armor tumbled onto the rooftop. It took them only a moment to assess the situation, and in that moment, Izhan raised his gun. Both of the marksmen in the circling helicopters insured that Phil was correct.

“Father Oliver died,” Greg told Lisa over the phone.

Lisa suddenly felt empty. Amanda had come home with the news that Reisch had disappeared, and now this. “How?” She asked.

“One of the SOBs was posing as a cop,” Greg paused, and Lisa could hear him try to stifle a sob. “The guy shot Oliver. He was out by himself; if I had been there, I could have done something.” His voice was breaking. “We found him in a hospital all shot up, and do you know what he did? He goes out and finds the other bastard and kills him right before the guy shoots me. He saved me with his. .” Lisa let her husband suffer quietly. “Honey, I have to go. I’ll call you later. There are arrangements that have to be made.”