My stop was one of the last, and I hopped off the bus with only a few others, who quickly scattered in different directions. I hoisted my backpack higher on one shoulder, then set off. I had to walk farther than the others, as no one else going where I was. There were still several blocks to go, and I broke into a light jog.
This neighborhood was pleasant enough. There were actually trees, and a good many of them, and not a lot of litter cluttered up the sidewalks. Many flowers were opening their buds now in the spring, and the occasional car drove past, though not enough to be a nuisance. It wasn’t the most expensive part of town, but most people were grateful to live there.
I was not one of those people. Every time I got off at this stop, I cursed the fate that had led me here, to this nice, almost perfect, boring little town. Someday, when I was ready, would escape, and never look back. Someday, but not today.
I had made it barely half a block when I tripped and went sprawling, hitting my head on the sidewalk. I scrambled up quickly, dropping the backpack and spinning around. Mentally, I berated myself for not paying better attention. I shouldn’t have let this occur, and now I would pay for it.
There were five of them, all seniors. They surrounded me, hemming me in. I had seen them around school, and I recalled them easily. They were troublemakers often in detention or simply not. I had seen them tormenting younger kids after school, and now apparently it was my turn. Or maybe they’d staked out this spot, and I’d gotten lucky. Whatever the reason, they were here now, and I was going to have to fight.
I could recall my dad’s instructions as easily, as they’d been told to me time and time again. Don’t start fights, don’t be confrontational, but don’t back down or run away. If it does come to blows, strike first, go for grabs and throws, and above all do not let them hit you.
“Now, you can make this easy.” The biggest boy, Greg, spoke slowly and clearly, like he was talking to a toddler. I could see them all smirking. This was just another runt, more easy prey. “Just give us all your money and phone and whatever else you got, and we will walk away from here without touching you. Simple as that.”
“And what if I told you I had nothing that you wanted.”
“Why then, we wouldn’t believe you, and would have to beat some truthfulness into you. Can’t expect to lie and get away with the consequences.”
That was about what I expected. They wanted money or fun, but I wasn’t willing to give them either. They were holding back, waiting for me to break, but that wouldn’t last long.
Strike first. They wouldn’t be expecting that.
I began surreptitiously inching closer to Greg, rambling on to put them off their guard.
“I’m afraid I don’t possess any article like you gentleman mentioned. I do however, have so-
Midsentence, I struck, a straight right jab to Greg’s head that broke his nose and sent him reeling backward. While the others were gaping, I darted left, punching one guy in the nose while sweeping out his legs. He fell as I turned away and tried to sense the others.
The shock was wearing off, and the others got angry. This made them forget sense and charge me, instead of running away. Dumber and dumber.
“Hey, you can’t do that!” One of the bright ones shouted, lunging at me.
“How incredible. I just did.” I stepped to the left, grabbed the guy by his throat and pulled our heads together. They collided and the guy screamed in pain. For good measure, I jabbed my right hand into his solar plexus and let him go, stepping toward the last two opponents.
Both attacked at the same time, swing clumsy, roundhouse punches. I sidestepped the first, caught the second with my left hand and brought it crosswise over my body, taking my opponent with it. This threw off his balance and left him open for the well-placed kick that sent him sprawling.
The last guy charged at me, trying to tackle me and drive me to the ground. I dodged him again, then jumped on his back and brought us down, only I was on top, knee pressing into his back, his right arm pulled behind him. The cement dug into the side of his face as I leaned down, putting a little more pressure on him. I brought my head just a few centimeters from his ear, whisper to make the words more forceful.
“I was merciful this time.” I made sure to keep my words quiet and steady, to have maximum force. “If any of you try anything like this again, I will do worse, understand?”
The guy nodded. His face was glistening with either sweat or tears, and his breath was coming in ragged gasps.
“Furthermore, if I hear or see you doing this to anyone else, no matter who they are, you will answer to me. Is that clear?” I fairly hissed the last words.
“Y – Yes. Very clear.”
“Good.” I rose, reliving the pressure on the guy’s spine. He started to get up, but I jerked his arm up and stopped him. I had a few last instructions.
“You will take your friends and go. Tell no one any version of the events here. I don’t care what lie you tell, but lie to everyone. Make sure your fellow thugs understand this as well.” “Of course. We won’t tell anyone.”
“I bet you won’t.”
I stood up, dusted off my jeans, picked up my backpack, and walked calmly away. I wasn’t watching the bullies, but I was paying more attention now. I doubted they would attack after such a thorough beating, but I couldn’t read minds or see the future, so caution came above all.
After two more blocks, I let up a little on my awareness and started analyzing the fight. Yet another thing dad had taught me. Everyone makes mistakes. You will make mistakes. You can’t prevent that, but if you can recognize and acknowledge past failures, you’ll be less likely to make them again.
As I walked, I reviewed the fight step by step, realized I had indeed made one big mistake. Thanks to my eidetic memory, I was able to perfectly recall everything I’d done, even all that I’d felt, and I found a spot where emotion had taken over and led to an error in judgement. I angrily kicked a rock, giving vent to some of my emotions. The rock sailed about ten yards through the air and gouged a large piece of bark from a tree.
Knocking that guy’s forehead with my own, that was incredibly dumb. If I’d thought about it just a half-second more, I would have realized that it was far too obvious that something was off. I should have acted like I was in pain as well, or stumbled or something! Those kids probably wouldn’t think much about it, but there were camera’s everywhere nowadays, and all it took was one person taking to close a look.
Ordinarily, I would have told my dad about this fight, and he would have told me what I had done wrong. But he was gone, and I had only myself. There was no one else who knew what I knew, no one else to keep me in line and tell me when I went wrong.
That was why I had to be so hard, replaying every action and beating myself up after every mistake. I could afford such blunders now, but not later, so I had to make sure I knew enough not to repeat them.
Grumbling and stomping along, I trudged up to Beautiful House Orphanage. As much as I hated living here, the name wasn’t entirely a misnomer. We weren’t sleeping on silk mattresses, but the food was good, and one never found spiders under their bed. The main problem was the people who ran the place.
They didn’t beat us or punish us, but that was just it. They never really interacted with the children. We had a number of chores we had to do, which were reasonable, but after that we were on our own. They were supposedly open whenever someone wanted to talk, but I found that prospect almost more appalling that being ignored.
I got that when you have a building full of about fifty kids, some of whom are very young, and there are only ten of you, you can’t make time for the older, moody teenagers who live in their own world anyways.
But still after having spent most of my life with a father who was with me constantly, always at my side with a steady stream of encouragement, having no adult contact felt, lonely. It sounds weird, but that’s the way it was.
Maybe this was something all orphans went through, maybe it was just one more way I was strange. I didn’t know and didn’t really care. It was just another problem I had to work through or banish.
I didn’t talk to the others. That’s why I didn’t know if my problem was common. I didn’t try to make friends with anyone, because if people hung around me more, listened to what I said and watched the way I moved through life, they would realize I was more than a little different.
I walked through the door, mumbled something like ‘hi’ to the woman at the front desk, who was busy entertaining a two-year-old, then then turned left down a hallway and crossed over to the far door. Opening that door led to more stairs, which I also climbed. The stairs led to the bedroom for boys in high-school, and it was where I slept.
I pushed open to door to find that the room was empty. No surprise, I was the first one back. I didn’t even glance at the name cards on each bed (there were fifteen total, with three empty) as I would have known them all by now even if I didn’t possess eidetic memory.
Despite my introvert personality, my bed wasn’t off in the corner. It was off to the side, yet in the middle of the room, under the window. I threw my bag on it and sat down, unable to stop myself from glancing at the place card at the foot of the bed. It was always there, and always read the same thing: Joshua Sparks.
Joshua Sparks. My name, written in that same format, had been on too many documents to count when father died, and seeing that card always brought the memories back.
Joshua Sparks. Son of Matthew and Helen Sparks. Mother died during childbirth, orphaned when father died in chemical explosion. There had been more after that, more about my lack of extended family, orphanage options, and pages and pages of legal wording. But I always fixated on those first lines, unable to stop myself from blaming myself.
I was the reason my parents had died. I was sure of it. With my mother, there had been no question. She had died just minutes after giving birth to me. As for the lab; the police had never found a definite cause, but I was certain it was sabotage. My parents were always brilliant, and there were to many out in the world who would covet that brilliance. They probably would have wanted me as well, but my father incredibly thorough even after his death, making sure I was hidden and sent to a place far from home.
Still, even if I hadn’t died or been captured, it was too coincidental. And one of the many things my father had taught me was that there was no such thing as coincidences. They had been trying to find either me or my father, and without me he never would have been on their radar in the first place.
I didn’t know who they were. Not yet. But someday I would. I would track down his killers and see justice finally dealt. He had trained me to never give up, always follow leads, protect the innocent, and this was no different. My father was dead, but he would be avenged. I was powerful, and would be even more so eventually. And then I would stop hiding and come out of the shadows.
But not yet. Not until I was old enough to actually do something about it.
You will be a powerful piece in the game. Maybe even a mover of pieces one day. But until then, to stay hidden is to stay safe. Once your secret is out, it can never be brought back, so be sure the time is exactly right to reveal it.
Now wasn’t the right time. In the eyes of the world, I was still just a kid, and that meant they saw me as weak and vulnerable and stupid. If I tried to make waves or tell the truth, the only ones who’d take any notice were those who would want me dead. And I wasn’t strong enough.
Not yet, not yet, but someday. That was the mantra that kept me going, day after mindless, boring, unchanging day. Someday, after I had gone through high school, gone through college, and the world would respect me. Then I could stand up and change things, use my differences instead of hiding them. Someday in the future, I’d be ready.
But until then, all I could do was keep trudging forward.
The rest of the day passed in the same dreary blur. I rushed through my chores, (this week I was sweeping) then made a pretense of studying for about half an hour. It wasn’t very long, but I didn’t actually need to review anything and could only force myself to do meaningless work for so long. Besides, it’s not the like the other guys would care. Most of them actually studied less than I pretended to.
They came home and did their own work around the orphanage as well. They weren’t all incredibly dedicated laborers or anything, but one thing we all learned was that it was better to do work in the beginning, as opposed to putting it off, forgetting about it, and facing the consequences later. After that they played video games until it was time for dinner.
Dinner was one of the few times everyone in the orphanage was together. Boys, girls, and adults, all sat down at three long table in the dining hall, while another table piled high with food sat in the middle. The food was good, but I always disliked this portion of the day. It was another time when my inbred nature showed itself, despite everything I had tried to stop it.
I filled up my plate, sat down at the very end of the table, and ate steadily, but quickly. Then I got up and repeated the process before most others were halfway finished. While others were just starting on seconds, I was at the buffet table again getting thirds. And then fourths.
I needed to eat. I honestly need to eat more than I did, but I couldn’t go that far. I already caught more than a few sideways glances when I loaded my plate for the fourth time, and the part of me that always screamed to stay in the background had prevailed over my body’s demands for basic sustenance. While my enhancement did a lot of good for me, this was a downside for which I was had nothing to compensate it with. The increased amount of energy my body used meant that it needed an increased amount of energy to keep it going. This meant, at its most basic, I needed much more food than the average person. It was a constant problem, and being forced to hide meant I was always hungry.
But I had learned to mostly ignore that and get on with my day.
After dinner, some of the boys stayed in the downstairs common room or went back upstairs to watch some movie I barely paid attention to. l was getting restless for everyone to turn the lights out and go to bed. But I couldn’t force them, so I was forced to rely on the many lessons in patience I had received over the years.
They hadn’t been my favorite lessons.
Those older kids didn’t have to go to bed at any certain hour, but they did have to keep things quiet after nine, as that was when the littler kids were supposed to go to sleep. Those in my room usually stayed awake till anywhere between ten to twelve, depending on how woundup they were.
Tonight, I was relatively lucky. The other eleven were all in bed by ten-thirty, and were all snoring about twenty minutes later. This was the moment I had been waiting for.
I carefully sat up in bed, senses alert for any change inside or outside the room. I pushed back the covers and swung my feet over the edge, slipping them into my shoes. I was wearing socks under the covers, as well as sweat pants and a blank T-shirt. I quietly bent over and tied my shoes, then folded my legs under me to crouch on the bed.
The window latch was about a foot above my bed. I reached for it and softly unlocked it, pausing again to make sure nothing else had changed. Nothing had, so I gently slid the window up, just enough for me to squeeze through. I had begun to hoist myself up when the guy across from me snorted and rolled over.
I froze, not even breathing as I strained all my senses to reassure myself, he wasn’t awake. After a long minute passed and there wasn’t a cry, I allowed myself a few shallow breaths.
I slid through the window then, balanced on the ledge, slid it down behind me. I examined the ground sixteen feet below to make sure there weren’t any troublesome toys the kids left, then jumped, bracing my knees for the shock.
Now that I was out, things got a little easier. The adults never did bed check-ins for us, and if one of the other guys woke up and saw my bed empty, they wouldn’t say anything. A couple of times, I had come back to see one or two vacant sleeping berths myself.
I ghosted through the streets, doing my best to move quickly while still moving fast. I wanted to get at least a couple hours sleep tonight, and my destination was out at the edge of town, several miles away.
I had been walking this route every other night for years, ever since I was dropped off at the orphanage and left to my own devices. It was undoubtedly risky, but I had to train, and at a place where nobody would find me.
There were a few miles where there were no cameras or people, and I could sprint, hurtling at incredible speeds, my feet pounding the pavement. It was an exhilarating rush, a great feeling of euphoria to just be able to let loose and give even a simple task everything you had.
I wished I could do it more often.
Sometimes, when I was forced to plod along and keep my head down, my mind wandered to what it would be like to be normal, to not have to constantly hide myself, be able to reach out and try to make friends, maybe even have two parents who loved me. I would close my eyes and imagine such a fantasy for just a few seconds.
Ultimately, though, I wouldn’t go for it. Even if I was given the opportunity to have an ordinary life, I wouldn’t choose it. There were just too many reasons to keep my condition.
Tragic things happened to ordinary people as well, and there was no guarantee I would have a happy family forever. In addition, not knowing about the evils in the world didn’t make them go away. I would much rather fight them with some advantage, no matter how small. Also, after reading so many books describing the rest of humanity’s physical condition, I definitely would keep my abilities. After having had them my entire life, losing them would feel like I was smothering.
Finally, I reached my destination. I looked up to see the six-foot wall encircling the scrapyard, keeping out any thieves or unwanted vagabonds. They were a perfectly smooth metal, and there were even a few cameras dotted along it. It had taken me almost a day to figure out where exactly they were pointing, but after that it had been easy to find a blind spot.
Without thought, I jumped over the wall and landed lightly on the other side. The hard part was over now. Nobody came out here at night, and the one security guard stayed inside watching the cameras. All I had to do now was keep quiet, and I was safe.
I made my way to an old shed at the corner of the lot, one which had been left undisturbed for almost a decade before I unofficially claimed it as my own. On the outside, nothing had changed. It still leaned slightly to the left, battered and chipped with fading paint that had practically been replaced by rust. I wasn’t quite sure why they didn’t just tear it down, but was thankful every night that they hadn’t.
The door was locked, but it had been simple for me to feel the lock and mold a key for it. I hid the key under a different random rock every night when I left. It would be almost impossible to find if you weren’t looking for it, and I could always remember exactly what rock it was under.
I unlocked the door, slipped inside, and carefully checked around to make sure nothing had been disturbed. The moonlight streaming in revealed everything exactly as it had been last night.
In one corner hung an old beat up but sturdy punching bag. I had trained with it for years, hammering countless punches and kicks into it, practicing the moves my teachers had instructed me in until they were instinctive. In another corner were (Insert some kind of contraption meant to exercise legs and arms). In an out of way place where they wouldn’t get touched by the sun, several containers full of plastic water bottles were clustered together.
However, by far most of the room was taken up with hundreds of ten-, twenty-five-, and fifty-pound plates, stacked all around the shed’s walls. They were made of a metal called osmium, which was the densest of all metals. This meant fifty pounds of osmium was much smaller than the same amount of steel, so I could fit more weights onto the large rod in the center of the room.
The rod was made of tungsten, which wasn’t as dense as osmium, but a lot stronger, and with higher tensile and elastic strength. Even so, this rod was almost an inch thick, and very heavy on its own. It had to be strong though, as an ordinary weight-lifting bar wouldn’t have been either long or strong enough to hold up almost a ton of weight.
At the moment, I ignored all those and started doing warm-up stretches. I was pushing myself dangerously far with this type of training, on a scale no one else had ever before done. If I got injured doing this, it could be disastrous. Not only because it might hinder my ability, but the doctors would certainly notice the anomalies in my body, should they every examine it.
I finished with the stretches, the got up and stood over the tungsten rod, looking down on it.
In the beginning, more than a decade ago, I had barely been able to lift a hundred pounds. But I had been training constantly since then, even without my father to push me. I had grown much stronger, and not just in lifting weights. I spent every night I wasn’t here at the track, sprinting until I was nearly sick, then doing agility drills for several more hours. I read books on battle strategy and war history, as well as mathematics, biology, and every other subject that could be even remotely helpful to me.
But all that I would concentrate on later. For now, it was time to lift.
I squatted down and grasped the bar in front of me, then closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This was the hardest part.
In one smooth motion, I yanked the steel bar from the ground and brought it over my head, my arms screaming with the effort. Even for me, two thousand pounds was too much for my arms to hold for more than a couple seconds.
But that was all it took bring the bar down across my shoulders, where the rest of my body could support it. I exhaled, rising slowly as I did so. Then it was back into a crouch, inhaling on the way down. exhale, up; inhale, down; over and over again. I kept at it until my body started trembling with the effort, then forced myself on for another two minutes.
At last, I could bear it no longer, and once more brought the bar over my head and down. This time around it was a bit more of a struggle to keep the plates from slamming into the ground, but I managed.
I gave myself a five-minute break, downing an entire bottle of water in the interval. Other people couldn’t do this without throwing up, but I didn’t have to worry about such things. Then it was onto the barbells, crunches, (and other exercises). I did the heaver strength training this night, to make my muscles thicker and stronger, and then did hundreds of pushups, curls, pull-ups, squats, and other such drills on other nights to build up my muscle’s endurance and longevity.
Around three in the morning, I finally stood in front of the punching bag. I always saved the punching bag for last, because by that time I was feeling pretty beat. It took a lot to wear me out, and even my sprints over here were barely more than a light jog to me. But I was pushing myself to the limit, and it always showed by the time I stood in front of the bag.
But that was on purpose. In a fight, I might be fresh and ready to go, but it was far more likely I would face most of my opponents exhausted and completely drained. I had to be ready to fight at any moment, in any condition. So even though I wanted to bluff my way through this, stumbling through at half my speed and skill, I forced myself to make sure every blow was both fast and precise.
It was in these moments, when I most wanted to stop, that my father’s phrase floated to my mind. Longius ire. Go further. The Latin phrase had been both a motivator and a password between us when I was growing up. It had been included in his will, which was why I had followed the instructions therein and not fled immediately.
I beat up on the bag for another hour and a half before my body finally overcame my will and I slumped down against the wall, fighting for breath. I drained another water bottle, then tossed in the bin I kept solely for that purpose. In another week, it would have to be emptied into some recycle dumpster, but I didn’t have to worry about it for now.
I was still exhausted, but permitted myself only a minute break before finishing with stretches again. I then slumped back down against the wall.
I was hungry after training almost non-stop for five hours, but I didn’t have money on me, and I didn’t want to raid the orphanages’ food storage. So I sat alone in the dark and tried to focus on things other than my aching body and rumbling stomach.
This was how I ended all my workout routines, with an exercise in mental discipline. I hammered my mind into focus, deciding to forgo reliving the day for tonight. Instead, I focused on my sense.
Due to my enhancements, all my senses were elevated to a far higher degree than an ordinary human’s. My father had never let me go to an actual doctor, but in his own private testing, I had discovered that my eyesight was better than 20/1, even at night. I couldn’t see in pitch dark, but moonless night with cloud cover was bright enough to make out distinct figures. My hearing and smell were sharp as well, about on par with a cat’s senses. Touch could be a pain at times, as every piece of clothing I ever owned was rough and provided constant irritation. I was never comfortable, but I was more than grateful enough for everything else to ignore it.
But the sense I used the most was one that was almost entirely unique to me. The sixth sense, the sense of motion, was one few knew about. All my father’s research on the subject pointed to it being something only a handful of people were born with, and with them, it wasn’t very noticeable. Such people would likely spend their lives thinking they had only especially good intuition.
But I, like with so many other things, was different. The very same formula that had enhanced all other aspects of me had also greatly increased the power of this sixth sense, so much so that I was actually aware of it. Through many hours of practice, I had honed this gift, knowing it would be my biggest advantage when my time came.
The best way to describe the sense would be a combination of touch and hearing, but it didn’t rely on either. While I could sense the position of everything in close proximity to me with incredible clarity, that clarity faded the further away it was. Objects at rest were impossible to detect, but if I moved greatly, I could still feel their presence and my relation to it. By the same token, I could vaguely feel the things around me at all times, but concentrating on one thing helped make it more distinct.
I focused on this sense now, trying to shut off all the others senses and rely in it alone. It, of all my sense, could never be tricked, fooled, or bewitched. I had learned through trial and error that it could be relied upon when all my other senses failed. So I practiced. I had practiced until I could sense the ants crawling across the floor, until I could sense the spiderweb swaying slightly in the drafts.
I stayed in that position for another twenty minutes, not moving, barely breathing, trying to only exist. Such moments were perhaps the most peaceful in my life. The brief times I didn’t have to think about my parents, or my ability, or any of the multitude of things that weighed me down throughout the day. All I did was focus of the external, the movement of forces and actions not my own, those that I could not control.
Then, I opened my eyes, and the spell was broken. I tried not to feel disappointment, but instead focus on the more philosophical side of my experience. Such meditations were a reminder that, powerful as I might be, I was but one small fragment of the power that surrounded me. I would pass, eventually, and others would take my place.
I rose and left the shed, pausing just for a moment to lock the shed and stick the key under another rock, throwing a little dirt over it before I left. I vaulted the fence at the same place I did every night. Instead of turning right, towards the orphanage, I turned left and jogged out to the edge of the city. I needed to wash the sweat off me and my clothes before going back.
There was a small stream running by, clean and cold. I sat down on the bank and ripped off my shoes and socks, then took a deep breath and plunged into the water. I didn’t shiver, just sat there underwater and let the current flow around me. After only a couple minutes, however, was forced to resurface, gasping for breath.
While my body might have been more efficient and collecting and using oxygen and water, the increased demand for them meant that I was no better off than an ordinary person in such areas. I had the same problem with sleep, and it was an even bigger problem with food.
I ducked underwater again to scrub my hair, then clambered out and stood still, giving myself a minute to drip dry before I began running and let the wind finished the job.
I had just collected my shoes and was about to set off when I sensed something large moving behind me. I spun around to see a man stumbling out from behind a tree.
The man was odd. The first thing I noticed were his clothes. They weren’t like clothes I had seen before, looser and baggier but somehow firmer, denser. His shoes looked even more solid, yet he had no trouble walking. The next thing I noticed were his moments. They were quick and jerky, and the man kept flinching at every noise.
He didn’t seem to notice me at first, but then his eyes swept around again, and he started. He jumped back, just as I had. Then, as his gaze wandered over me, I saw fear slowly change into . . . something. I couldn’t tell what emotions were running across his face.
“You.” He called. “Are you Joshua Sparks?”
I wasn’t dumb. I’ve been told to never go with strangers, don’t talk to anyone suspicious, all the rules children were fed. But I was now far stronger and faster than even adults, and had several more advantages besides.
And the man didn’t look like a threat. He has a sallow face with shaggy brown hair, and slightly sickly look two him, like he had just gone a week without eating. I figured I could handle him easily enough. And if he led me into a trap, I could deal with it. My body had remarkable regeneration, so I was no longer exhausted, though not at full strength either.
Besides that, there was a panic in the man’s eyes. He wasn’t afraid, he was terrified. That look of total desperation would be hard to fake.
Slowly, every nerve in me poised for action, I nodded.
There was no sudden blast of gunfire from the trees. Only an intense look of relief that spread across the man’s face, followed instantly by desperation.
“Then please, come with me. Hurry, there is not much time!”
The man ran towards me and grabbed my arm, pulling me along.
“Hang on a moment,” I said, shaking him loose. “I might go, but don’t try and grab me. I don’t trust you yet. No matter how urgent this is, I need a bit more to go on.”
The man stopped, seeming to think about that for a few seconds. Then he turned to me. “Your family wanted to make the world a better place. Everything they worked for will be for nothing, unless you come with me now.”
“You know my parents?” I was thunderstruck. This was not even close to what I had expected.
“Not exactly. But if you come with me, it will put you on the path to answers.” The man took a few hesitant steps away from me, then turned and looked back.
I reluctantly followed. This guy could be lying through his teeth, but I couldn’t take the chance that he wasn’t.
The man blundered through the woods, tripping over branches and roots and swerving around trees.
It’s like he’s never been in a forest before. I thought trailing after him.
“By the way. What’s your name?”
The man didn’t even glance back at me. “There is no time. We must be quick!”
“Where exactly are you taking me?”
“You’ll see in a minute. It’s hard to describe. Just please hurry!” The man hesitated for a moment, then turned right and plunged ahead.
The more I heard him speak, the more confused I became. The words he spoke were English, but they were stilted and didn’t flow together like mine did. He also had a strange accent; one I couldn’t place.
We continued walking for tens of minutes, and I grew more relaxed and nervous at the same time. It seemed unlikely that people setting up a trap would have gone this far out of their way to find game, but at the same time, where could he be taking me? There was nothing but forest for miles in this direction.
The man had deflected all further questions, which made me more suspicious, but I ceased the useless interrogation, and we walked on in silence.
Then we came upon it.
It looked like a large circle floating a couple inches above the ground. It was opaque, but at the same time translucent, so you could only see the circle because you couldn’t see beyond it. I also realized I could hear a sound coming from it; a faint humming or buzzing. It flickered at the edges like smoke, at I could see the effect it had on its surroundings.
Everything that touched the circle was gone. I could see branches that would have extended into the circle, but they went right up to the edge and stopped, like whatever would have gone farther had been sheared away. I walked up to one of the branches and examined it. It had tiny scars where the flickers had touched it.
“What is this?” I asked, walking around the circle and observing it from all angles. It looked to be about three inches thick.
“I swear everything will be explained. Just please come with me while we still have time.” Without a word more, the man practically leaped through the portal.
I wasn’t quite so eager. Standing next to the circle, I cautiously reached out and touched it with a finger, then drew back. Nothing happened. I reached out and pressed my hand against it. There was no resistance, no tangible reaction. It was like I was pressing against air. The only sign it was anything else was a slight tingling in my hand, like it was waking up.
I jumped when the man’s head popped out from the circle. “Did you hear me? I said we didn’t have much time!”
Well, I had followed him this far, so it would be stupid to turn back now. Of course, it would also be stupid to follow a stranger though a circle that seemed to defy all the laws of reality, with no idea what was waiting on the other side.
But through this circle lay possible information about my parents. Maybe even a lead on who had murdered my father. I sighed, drew in what I hoped wouldn’t be my last breath, and stepped through the circle.