knew they were now Kyle’s.
He felt Kyle’s hatred, felt Kyle’s power, racing through him, through every ounce of his body, from his toes, through his legs, up his arms, all the way to his head. He felt Kyle’s need for destruction pulsing through every ounce of him, like a living thing, like something stuck in his body that he could not get out. He felt as if he were no longer in control of himself. A part of him missed the old Sam, missed who he was. But another part of him knew he would never be that person again.
Sam heard a hissing, rattling noise, and opened his eyes. His face lay flat on the rocks of the desert floor, and as he looked up, he saw a rattlesnake, just inches away, hissing at him. The rattlesnake’s eyes looked right into Sam’s, as if it were communing with a friend, sensing a similar energy. He could sense that the snake’s rage matched his—and that it was about to strike.
But Sam was not afraid. On the contrary—he found himself filled with a rage not only equal to the snake’s, but greater. And reflexes to match.
In the split second in which the snake geared up to strike, Sam beat him to it: he reached out with his own hand, grabbed the stake by the throat in mid-air area, and stopped it from biting him while just an inch away from his face. Sam held the snake’s eyes close to his, staring at it so close that he could smell its breath, its long fangs only an inch away, dying to enter Sam’s throat.
But Sam overpowered it. He squeezed harder and harder, and watched as he slowly drained the life from it. It went limp in his hand, crushed to death.
Sam leaned back and hurled it across the desert floor.
Sam jumped to his feet and took in his surroundings. All around him were dirt and rocks—an endless stretch of desert. He turned, and as he did, he noticed two things: first, there was a group of small children, dressed in rags, standing close, looking up at him curiously. As he spun towards them they scattered, hurrying back, watching warily, as if watching a wild animal rise from the grave. Sam felt Kyle’s rage rush through him, and felt like killing all of them.
But the second thing he noticed made him change his focus. A city wall. An immense, stone wall, soaring hundreds of feet into the air, and stretching forever. That was when Sam realized: he had awakened on the outskirts of an ancient city. Before him sat a huge, arched gate, in and out of which streamed dozens of people, dressed in primitive clothing. They looked like they were in Roman times, wearing simple robes or tunics. Livestock hurried in and out, too, and Sam could already sense the heat and noise of the crowds beyond its walls.
Sam took a few steps towards the gate, and as he did, the kids scattered in every direction, as if running from a monster. He wondered how scary he looked. But he didn’t really care. He felt the need to enter this city, to figure out why he had landed here. But unlike the old Sam, he didn’t feel the need to explore it: rather, he felt the need to destroy it. To smash this city to bits.
A part of him tried to shake it off, to bring back the old Sam. He forced himself to think of something that might bring him back. He forced himself to think of his sister, Caitlin. But it was hazy; he couldn’t really summon her face anymore, as much as he tried. He tried to summon his feelings for her, their shared mission, their father. He knew deep down that he still cared for her, that he still wanted to help her.
But that small part of him was soon overwhelmed by the new, vicious part. He could barely recognize himself anymore, and that part could barely recognize him. It was as if he were no longer in control of himself. And the new Sam forced him to stop his thoughts and to move on, right into the city.
Sam marched through the city gates, elbowing people out of the way as he went. An old woman, balancing a basket on her head, got too close, and he bumped her shoulder hard, sending her flying, knocking off her basket, sending fruit spilling everywhere.
“Hey!” yelled a man who witnessed it. “Look