Page 44 of Catching Camila

John

Thursday 8:52 p.m.

John sprinted back to the water tower as fast as his legs would take him. He'd disappointed Camila, but she'd forgive him when he found her tomorrow and told her everything. It was time to share it with her, share it all. He only hoped she would still want to be with him when she knew.

He scanned the darkened landscape from the base of the tower. Fireflies blinked across the field. Above, the moon was large and round, not a cloud in the sky. He tapped his hand on his thigh and willed Nomad into the clearing. He couldn’t wait a couple of hours to know who he was. What he was. Nomad might have some answers and no matter how strange or elusive he seemed, John had to know. Tonight he would unlock all the secrets inside him and finally feel…What? Whole? Alive? Sane?

At peace, he thought, finally. I’d feel at peace with myself.

And then what? Well, then he’d go after the beast and try to kill it if he could or, if he couldn’t, he'd get Camila and her mother far away from here. He could protect them; he knew that now.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” a voice said from behind him.

John spun around.

A shadow stepped out of the darkness. Nomad came into view, his face lifted into his patented smirk, his hands brushing the tops of the grass. He stopped a few feet away, tossed back a lock of curly black hair and regarded John.

“Look at you. Where’d you get those clothes, Jopari, the bottom of a dump? They don’t even fit you.” Nomad circled, running his eyes up and down.

John shrugged, feeling a blush rise up his neck. “Where should I have gotten clothes? I woke up naked.”

Nomad clapped a hand on John’s shoulder. John stiffened at the touch. “Buddy, what’s theirs is ours.” He leaned in close, his breath hissing against John's neck. “You just take.” Nomad dug in his pocket, pulled out a wrapped sandwich, and tossed it to John.

John caught it and stared. “Are you always eating?”

Nomad pulled another sandwich from his pocket and began unwrapping it, the paper crinkling beneath his fingers. “Always. It's the best part about this place. They have killer food.” Nomad took a giant bite and a smile stretched across his face. “I put on, like, twenty pounds each time we come here.”

John stared at the sandwich, the thick-crusted bread, the folds of sliced meat. His stomach growled at the smell, but he hated eating something given to him by this stranger who called him friend.

“Eat,” Nomad said, bits of lettuce falling from his mouth.

John couldn't help it; he tore off the paper and took a giant bite. The savory flavor of meat and mayo burst into his mouth. He groaned.

Nomad squinted at John, studying him. “Please tell me you've been using your powers to help you get food.”

John nodded. “Some.”

“Some?” Nomad stepped back, throwing his arms in the air. “Some? You've been using them some? Do you even remember what we can do?” John shrugged. Nomad circled John and swatted at the air. “Jopari, what do you remember?”

John stepped back. “Stop calling me Jopari. My name is John. And I remember nothing. That’s why I’m here, so stop the buddy-buddy act, and tell me what’s going on.”

Nomad’s face spread in a slow smile and he nodded slightly. “Okay, big man. At least now you’re sounding a little more like yourself and not some human.”

“I’m not human?” A jolt of shock rocked up John's spine. There it was, the confirmation of something he'd suspected, but never believed. Not until now.

Nomad laughed, tossing back his curls. “Oh gods. I’d die if I had to be like them. Can you imagine? Small, miserable, ignorant creatures.” Nomad stared out toward the road. Then he flashed his eyes back to John. “But by Gotharie's spear their food is so much better.”

“Stop talking about food and tell me who I am.” John fought the urge to shake Nomad. He was on the edge of a cliff and Nomad was nudging him closer.

Nomad's eyes burned with mischief as he shook his head. “I will. Come on.” With a wink, Nomad turned and rose into the sky. He was hovering ten feet off the ground.

“How…?” John said, unable to finish. He knew how. He just couldn't get his brain to believe it.

“John, you are still asking the wrong questions. Not how, little buddy.” Nomad dropped back to the ground. “What. What are we? Ask me that.”

“What are we?”

Nomad smiled. “You and I, we're the best of the best.” His eyes glistened with pride. “We are scouts, highly-trained agents, the top of our field.”

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