True Heroes (4 page)
“I didn’t feel anything.”
“Nothing at all? No feeling of something overwhelming you or of strength or anything?”
‘He already knows the answer?’ “It was weird…I felt so scared for her and knew I had to do something. Then…well, everything went away at once. It felt like someone had shut off my brain but I could still move. I thought of saving Carol, and I became fast enough and strong enough to do it. Next thing I know, she’s in my arms and there’s a car on my back. Then I get here, and the strongest feeling I felt was when I saw she was okay. That was a good feeling.”
Doctor Fink shook his head. “Well, son, that may be the only thing you have in common with other people. You see, there are some puzzle pieces in any human being that are all the same. Stuff like DNA, chromosomes, and things involving the basic structure of the human body. With you, though, a combination of changed pieces has made even those different from everyone else.” He reached into his desk drawer and began to read away from the contents of a manila folder. “Some of the observations our early tests uncovered were that your senses, strength, and stamina were vastly overdeveloped for even an adult subject, but it was only ever the case when you were under some emotional stress. Any other time, you were just a normal boy with a strong mind and flawed genetics.
“Medically speaking,” he looked up from the file into Caleb’s eyes, “well that’s even more of a surprise. You have five separate genetic defects, but they’re almost not defects at all. For every deficit you have, another mutation fills in the hole until you have all of your diseases working perfectly together. You still have a different physiology and biological make-up than everyday people, hence the periods of powerful, almost seizure-like episodes, but you still act normal, minus the few prevalent effects Asperger’s has had on you. Basically, this is a hereditary defect the likes of which has never been seen on the entire planet.”
A pane of glass in his mind covering all of the questions he’d never found answers to began to defog, almost becoming clear enough for him to see through. “Why can’t I use it all the time?”
“You do, Caleb. Every thought is fueled by your one-of-a-kind genes. It just becomes more intense when the situation calls for a more intense approach. I am confident that you’ll be able to control this state when you get older and learn more about it.”
Caleb shook his head. “Why do I need to know this? What could I do with this?”
A rustling sound came from his mother scrounging through her purse, her hand reemerging with a thin, brown bag. She pushed it across the desk to him. He slowly dragged out its contents, and stared down at the big, gold lettered title reading “SUPERMAN.” Both of the grown-ups exchanged a look as he gazed up and between them.
Chapter 2
A locker opened in a hallway full of yellow and purple copies of this wall-mounted container and a face that resembled Caleb’s appeared in the mirror within. ‘My old face. What did I even used to look like?’ His brown hair had darkened with the help of artificial black coloring, his oceanic eyes had been outlined in a black pencil-lining, and everything else about him had either paled beyond any form of color or darkened into a pure form of empty black. Here, the first month of his senior year in high school, people had already wondered about how all the color, except in his famous eyes, had run out of his life. ‘Drastic times call for drastic measures.’
The summer before had been drastic. ‘Why though? Where did I turn the corner? Everything my brain has pinpointed always has a trapdoor beneath it; leading to a deeper and darker place in my heart. The darkest cellar inside holds my father: the stranger to authority and responsibility. The recluse; walking into my room like he had the right—the privilege—to call anyone son, stinking of fireworks and alcohol that surrounded his chiseled features like a fog, speaking to me like…like his tongue was worth the metabolic reactions needed to move it. What gave him the right? Even if I sat there for twenty minutes, playing the good son and attentively listening to his hollow words, I hated every second of it. My fists tightened with every casual change in tone or wave of the hand, his left hand waving while his right surely holding a sickle as payment for my defenseless nature. What logic could’ve been going through his head? Something about that man, his clothes as rags compared to our new riches and his hair unkempt; his entire body a reminiscent cyst from the past, how could I contain myself? The broken lamp didn’t give me a single answer. I threw it across the room from his viewpoint, at least. The look on his face was of sheer shock, and I could’ve sworn I’d seen tears in the man’s eyes, enough to send him fumbling out the door again, not to return since. The normally imposing man looked hurt beyond repair. He doesn’t even have the right to show his tears to me! What kind of justice is the jailer crying over the prisoner?
‘That egg stuck to my face and eclipsed the light of my soul. I can’t be sure of what justice is now. Right and wrong are so blurred. Until my moral compass points me the right way, no light will touch my heart.’ He finally began walking to his classroom, already late, and recalled the aftermath of his father’s visit. ‘I decimated the Roman Coliseum of Legos and angrily flipped off the television in the middle of some anchor blathering on about a train wreck that had killed a few hundred people.’
The long hallway gave nothing to his asking mind as his black gym shoes squeaked across the shined surface. His blue eyes cataclysmically clashed with the eye shadow carefully covering his brows and lashes while his slightly tanned arms upset the meaning of his walking wardrobe. The careful tread moved through sliced air while something stirred the ground around his obscenely careless waltz; something that needed no vessel to carry it and only Caleb’s body to contain it. Within his heart was the key to many things he didn’t understand, chief among those was the single ray in his self-erected dungeon named Carol.
Caleb’s attention drew back as he rounded the corner and happily began thinking of his best friend. Their fated encounter had caused a lot of uproar for the most immature reasons. ‘Her boyfriend freaked out, and the entire school was either laughing or gasping for weeks after. Was I quarantined that much prior to the accident by the popular groups? Probably should’ve paid attention to that, but every time I was around her, things kind of phased away. At least I kept her smiling somewhat over the years, and people realized I wasn’t a total leper. Even now they respect me enough to not make fun of me, all because of her. I want to text her now. Want to see her tonight…. Don’t ever seem desperate or needy or reveal the fact that you adore her every move, even if you do. God I’ve been selfish. She couldn’t have possibly had more than a few minutes of joy out of this whole friendship, and I’m just an excited pelican riding on her back. It was a stupid childhood promise. It’s time to do something selfless again. I just always wanted you to feel the same way about me….’ He reached into his wallet and drew out the senior picture of her sitting on a wooden swing; her pink bow matching wonderfully with her brown, neck-length hair, casting a symmetrical shadow across her steep neck and tanned skin, and he knew he had to let her go.
Walking into his progressing history lesson and taking a seat, he worked out the details. ‘She deserves so much better than me. Even as a friend I’ve been holding her back all these years. I gotta do something new and exciting, might as well go out with a bang.’ Genuine guilt plagued his entire body until the mundane lecture was interrupted by a slight vibration coming from his pocket. ‘Mrs. Transkety is a horribly boring teacher, but makes up for it with leniency and knowledge of anything having to do with history I suppose. Someone could just turn around and talk, softly, to their neighbor and she would never mind. She never cares when people text as long as it’s quiet. She claimed that this half-anarchy made the class more “college-ish.” I don’t really care either way.
‘Her stares though. I just can’t help but care. Everyone looks at me differently now. I’m not even that much different than everyone else, and they wouldn’t care a lick if I wasn’t the pride and joy here. Anyways, the Liberty Belle takes off sometime tonight and I know how much she loves boats….’ Even as he sat and thought about Carol he felt a few pairs of eyes searching him over like he was being sold to the highest bidder. A glance to his right saw two of his old friends talking in a whisper. ‘Like most of the old crowd, they’re showing many of the symptoms of nervousness every time I show up on their radar. People fear what they don’t know. If they’re so curious about my change, they could find out with one simple question.’ His curiosity got the better of him and he began to fall into his power.
‘Power: my name for the huge mistake. The complicated genetic tangle inside me that made Doctor Fink gasp eighteen years ago, and now makes him smile at the simplicity with which I treat it. Makes things short—makes them easier to explain, if the situation should ever arise.’ He just leaned back in his chair, keeping his eyes closed so nobody would see their slight glow, and listened to the whispers coming from the people eight feet to his right. ‘Keep the power clear. Don’t want any reports of blue ghosts.’ His power was layered and natural; ‘A slight exertion for clear enhancement, a little more for the phantom blue that moves little things, and everything I’ve got for the deepest ocean to unleash its fury in color and force.’ A few of the conversations he’d run across on the way had been interesting; one girl was actually whispering everything she liked to do sexually to her boyfriend and another couple of guys were seriously debating over which wizard would beat who in a
Lord of the Rings
/
Dungeons and Dragons
crossover story. Caleb smiled and made his way to Alex and Sasha’s voices. His senses reached them finally, and his suspicions were instantly confirmed by their argument over who was going to ask him about his summer first.
An internal scoff almost broke through his lips as his power receded into the warm nest of his body. He didn’t let his mind linger long as he pulled out his phone to check the waiting message. A few key clicks later, Carol’s name and message popped up. “Hey, I’m dun wit scool 2day. Ny plans 2nite?”
A small smile played across his face as her message was read through her voice in his head. ‘Her imaginary vocals playing like an omnipotent song in my head. Every time, it casts out every other kind of thought. Let the former friends have their vices...even if she sounded like a drunken angel because of how she texts; her butchering of the English language is such a travesty. I keep hoping that my usage of real words and proper sentences will change her, but apparently not yet.’ He shook his daze away and his fingers went about their quick pace to respond to her message. “Nope, how about you? I’ve got something kind of important to talk to you about.”
His phone slid away for a few minutes as the hum-drum lesson dragged on with an elephant in tow, uphill, until another message shook his leg. A quick movement of his hand later, her voice was sounding off again in his mind, “Alrite, gud cuz I was kinda hopin 2 c u 2nite. Cum 2 my plce after u get off scool k?”
‘Really? That’s a seldom used phrase between us…she needed me when her father left, and when her mom kicked her out of the house. Despite those little bumps, those were the best two days of my life. She was so close to me and…and open about everything. I can’t ever forget that feeling of being truly needed as much as I needed her. Those times, now that I’ve thought about them a thousand times, may turn out to be the worst days Carol has ever had. Those are the days my messed up brain hangs on to as a hope supplement. They keep me close to her when I should be gradually moving away. So many times I’ve seen faulty syllogisms from her actions because of those few days; they weren’t even days, just moments when her warm tears were entrusted to my careful hands or her angry fists banged against my dampening shoulders when they truly wanted to destroy someone else. Those moments come more and more often recently, and my mind is losing what little control I have over my feelings for her. It’s now or never.’
