Chapter 1. Part 1
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“Are the restraints and blindfold too tight?”
“…”
“I would like to conduct our chats without them, but you made it clear that you cannot be trusted. We specifically cannot let you see because that is how you use your power, correct?”
“…”
“Are you in a better mood today after a nice sedative-induced nap?”
“…”
“Hmm, not very much?”
“…”
“Let me see, picking up from where we left off… Here we are. Why was it just you and your son?”
“…”
“Is there a missus in the picture?”
“…”
“Is your son’s mother like you?”
“…”
“Do you have any other children?”
“…”
“Do you have any siblings yourself?”
“…”
“This is getting quite old, but I am a persistent bastard, so we shall keep going. What of your parents? Are they alive?”
“…”
“You will have to cooperate if you ever want to see your child again, Mr. Lighthaven.”
“…”
“Can everyone in your bloodline do the things you can?”
“…No.”
“No to which question?”
“All of them.”
“‘No’ does not answer my ‘why’ question. And I am certain the answer to my second question today is a ‘yes’ due to your, shall we say, unscheduled demonstration the other day.”
“…”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake. You are being unreasonably stubborn.”
“Why don’t we stop wasting time and get straight to the point? What do you want me to do, exactly?”
“You could start by answering my questions.”
“I did.”
“Hardly. Plus, you did not give me details with your ‘no’ answer. Details are important. To continue, where is your wife at this time?”
“I don’t have a wife. I answered that earlier with my ‘no.’”
“Cheeky. Ex-wife then?”
“I’ve never been married.”
“Very well, let me ask in this way, where is your son’s mother?”
“…In Hell, I hope.”
“So, she is deceased?”
“Who knows?”
“I see. Moving on. Does your son possess the same remarkable ability you do?”
“He doesn’t—he’s normal. You can leave him out of this.”
“Is that right…?”
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Though the moon shone brightly, a thick blanket of clouds soon obscured its light, draping the landscape in a gentle darkness.
Perfect. I can go find something to eat. The teenager pulled on his old, ragged, oversized hoodie, then slung his makeshift cloak over himself. He tried his best to tuck in those eyesores jutting out from the middle of his back. The appendages came out from below and to the inside of his shoulder blades. He hoped, as always, to make it look like he simply had a back deformity.
To finish the coverup, he ran his hands through his dirty chestnut hair and brought some strands over his right eye to hide it as well. My eyes don’t match. People stare at me when they notice. The next thing was to stay in the shadows and avoid others as much as possible. He would blend into the background and become just another face in the night. It’s better not to attract attention to myself. I’m not exactly normal.
He began to walk with a deep sigh. The crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs marked his movement. “Damn it, that’s so loud,” he whispered, his breath visibly escaping into the air in a puff of white. “I still have to keep an eye out for those people I got away from.” Granted, it had been years now, and he hadn’t seen hide or hair of them, but it would just be his luck to run into a guard from his old home in a moment of carelessness. “I got far away, so they probably don’t know where to find me. I want to keep it that way.”
He narrowed his eyes as unbidden memories rose to the surface. Chief among these was the memory of the sterile white of his room, so mind-numbingly dull that he would often stare blankly at one of the white walls for hours on end. Sometimes for days. Only the need for water would shake him from his inaction, forcing him to seek the tap in the bathroom. Times like those… I learned they didn’t care if I went hungry. I had to beg for food sometimes. He grinded his teeth. No, a lot of times. He felt a small smile pull at the corners of his mouth, “At least I had Adam to talk to. I really liked it when I did well in my lessons so I could play with him.” His smile faded, replaced by a scowl which was followed by a quick sigh. He shook his head to scatter the memories. “I won’t go back.”
The teenager’s stomach growled angrily just then, prompting him to move faster toward the nearby town. He needed to look for food to sustain him for another day. A town meant people; however, avoiding notice caused other problems. He couldn’t scrounge for leftovers at the more high-end restaurants, since there were many other folks vying for food out of the trash there. Luckily, he had found a small place the other night and had eaten well enough for the first time in a while. He made a beeline directly for it now and passed by an old radio perched on a windowsill along his way.
“…And so, our country continues to be locked in the midst of a brutal civil war with no clear end to the hostilities. The identity of the person, or persons, responsible for the murders of Mr. Arenillas and Mrs. Lachnith six years ago is still unknown and suspicion remains on the Traditionalists, who in turn pin the blame on us. Some pundits now say these two representatives to the president were specifically targeted to ignite this conflict.”
The news anchor continued after the sound of shuffling papers. “Many communities awoke today to thick smoke, a result of enemy soldiers burning fields of crops to strain our coffers. Chief of Agriculture, Mrs. Cantu, has requested immediate minimization of food waste in an urgent message sent out earlier. Please be sure to follow the guidelines. They’ll be repeated in this broadcast later. Although there is talk of rationing, Mrs. Cantu assures that we are not in danger of famine.”
The teen tried to recall if he had heard this before. I don’t know what ‘rationing’ means, but it sounds like they’re saying people shouldn’t waste food.
“Our Reformation Party’s commander-in-chief pointed out a bright side to the continuing conflict. Mr. Zavala specifically expressed his optimism about our troop numbers, to the relief of many. He claimed that the newest enlistment policy has been working admirably to both bolster our army and help the unfortunate…” The news anchor’s voice faded as the teen picked up the pace to get to his chosen location.
This part sounds like more of the same things I’ve already heard. He had little interest in the rest of the news and moved on. As the back of the small eatery he liked came into view, he enthusiastically walked faster, almost breaking into a run. There it is! Unfortunately, as he got closer, he noticed a large, older man already there, picking through the trash receptacle near the back door.
His presence annoyed the teenager, forcing him to wait until the man left. I could just get rid of him. Ah, but the screaming might bring others. He let out a quiet sigh and hung back in the shadows. It’s better not to attract attention.
After a few minutes, a commotion some streets away drew the older man’s attention and seemed to elicit fear in him as he looked around. The older man mumbled something about the army and then hurried away down the street in the opposite direction.
This was the teen’s chance.
He made sure the cloak was still firmly in place and then struck out of the shadows toward the lighted area housing the restaurant’s trash. As he approached it, however, the back door of the eatery suddenly opened. A quick gasp preceded his hasty retreat, such that he almost jumped to the safety of the darkness. I saw her last night. He recognized the diminutive older woman because she looked as if she were permanently blushing.
She sluggishly exited the small restaurant and heaved a black bag of food waste into the trash receptacle.
Score! It must be fresh! The teen anxiously waited for the staff member to get back inside and close the door. Come on, come on, you’re so slow! The moment the door clicked closed, he raced to the recently deposited bag. He grabbed it, then another bag, and returned to the safety of the dark part of the back wall where he sat and opened the bags he had acquired.
The new trash bag indeed held many tasty treasures, half-eaten though they may have been. He didn’t know the names of most of the foods, but he recognized a few. Pizza slices, some pasta, and bread. There was also spinach, potatoes, rice, and even chicken. He felt like a feast was before him, and he thoroughly enjoyed the discarded leftovers.
When he was done eating, he patted his slightly bulging stomach. Aah, that was amazing! He looked fondly at the rear door from which this banquet had come. Whenever I get hungry, this is definitely the place to be. Your food is the best! He promised the door that he would be back the next night, although he recalled the warning about not wasting food. Maybe it won’t be so easy to eat from places like this. It was worrisome, but he would see what the next night brought and deal with it then.
Having thus gorged himself, he quickly returned the now-empty trash bags into the receptacle and decided to make his way back to the nearby woods where he had been staying. The walk back was uneventful, and he soon found himself passing by the same house with the old radio, which was still blaring away on a windowsill.
“…Elected Speaker Mrs. Catori of the Americas expressed her dismay at the continued violence in the western half of our Joint Euro-Middle Eastern Nations, with some officials from the Southerns even saying the civil war is simply a case of ego at this point. It is now 11:30 on this chilly night of November 22, 3021. The temperature currently…”
He halted at the mention of the date. It’s my birthday? It was November 22, his birthday. I’m…seventeen now. A derisive scoff, thick with contempt, escaped his lips. “Ha. Happy birthday to me.” He felt no joy at this revelation as he looked down at his hands. They were filthy, positively caked with food particles, as well as dirt, under the chipped and broken nails. This makes it five years. November 22 was also the day his father had died. The teenager clenched one of his dirty hands into a fist and swallowed the lump in his throat. I used to talk to you whenever I wanted. I used to feel you all the time. It was comforting. He pressed his fist to his one visible eye. “Father, the hole in my heart isn’t going away.” He swiftly lowered his hand and breathed deeply.
He had to keep moving. His desperate loneliness threatened to surface again, and he didn’t want to deal with that. Ever since his father’s death severed his only such connection, he had often tried, and always failed, to speak telepathically with everyone he saw. To have such a strong link to another person, and then suddenly, painfully, lose it, left a profound hollowness inside. He blinked away the tears threatening to form, shook his head, and anchored himself back to his current reality. I can’t think about Father right now. I’m really thirsty, so I’ll get to the river for water and wash up too.
He had been standing near the same windowsill for the last few minutes with the radio continuing to spout news in which he had no interest. He lifted his head and continued toward the tree line at the border of the nondescript town, his strides swift and short, leaving the painful thoughts behind.
Up to this point, he had been lucky not to pass by anyone. Unfortunately, his luck had deserted him. He noticed a woman walking in his direction. Out of habit, he eagerly sent a telepathic ‘hello’ to her, hoping for a reply, but he was disappointed when she didn’t acknowledge him, much less return a greeting. Worse still, he noticed that the wind was now blowing in his direction, and it wafted a pleasant scent from the woman to him.
