Abilities

The Crate always presented a rock and roll concert atmosphere. Drunken people banged into each other as their hands waved and fists pumped in the air. Their cheers started soft but grew louder. The crowd was full of businessmen in suits, their hair slicked back or combed over. Some wore sunglasses inside even though the lighting was dim and the moon was up outside. There was also a large portion of poor and middle-class people wearing jeans and t-shirts balancing out the upper class.

There are places in the world that are supposed to remain secret. Some of them are far underground, some are looking down at the world from high above in a skyscraper. A lot of them take place under the world’s nose, but no one ever knows they exist and thousands of dollars are spent to make sure it stays that way.

Under the streets of New York City, The Crate was a place for special people. No average person would walk into The Crate unless they were invited because nobody but invitees knew it existed. It was for Abilities, and only for Abilities.

There would always be a couple of stragglers who were there for drugs, but the majority of the people were there for a more violent, moneymaking purpose. The Crate was an underground, no holds barred cage-fighting spectacle. The poor paid money to get through the doors and watch the fighters, while the rich bet on the fighters to make more money. Most of the competitors had important corporate sponsors backing them. Fighters made more money that way. They controlled the more experienced fighters, but once in a while a lone stranger would walk through the doors wanting a fight. No representation, no backing; just fists, a special power, a hope to make some money, and a will to win.

While there was a fight going on inside the cage, the next competitor was sitting behind the audience preparing for his turn. He wasn’t wearing the normal gear like a boxer would. There were no red gloves, or shiny trunks. He wore blue jeans, brown Timberland boots, and a grey wife beater.

He taped his wrists and hands. Slowly and methodically like he knew exactly what part of his fingers needed to be taped up because he knew what he wanted to do in the ring. He didn’t look down at his hands, though. He stared into the ring watching the two men tearing into each other.

The Abilities in the ring were putting on a great show for the people watching. One of them, a large stereotypical Italian, had a head that was built like stone. It was his only weapon in the fight. He swung it back and forth like a battering ram. When his opponent got close, he would swing his head and crack it against his ribs. Each shot sent his opponent, who was much smaller, flying into the cage walls.

The smaller guy held his ribs and clenched his teeth as he stood up. They watched each other from the opposite sides of the ring. Then he spread his arms. Wide, as if measuring his wingspan, or being stretched out. The audience braced themselves. Everyone that was standing around the ring huddled together trying to get out of the line of sight. They had all seen this competitor before and knew what was coming. He brought his hands together with one loud clap that sent out a burst of energy. A sound wave exploded from his hands and knocked the Italian into the cage. As strong as his head was, it wasn’t strong enough. The blast smashed him into the cage at a force so heavy that it knocked him unconscious sounding the bell that the fight was over.

“You’re up next. What was your name?” asked the booker.

The guy watching the fight finished taping his wrists. He smiled as the two men were helped out of the ring after beating each other selfless with their abilities. “It’s Brick.”

The man nodded, made a note on his paper, and walked to the betting table. Brick was completely focused. People were loud, and excited, but Brick tuned them out. He ignored all the drunks and closed his eyes. Everyone was waiting for the next competitors to be announced, but Brick didn’t hear a thing. He listened to his own rhythmic breathing and relaxed his nerves.

“Mind if I sit down?” said a stray spectator.

Brick didn’t answer. It wasn’t time for any interviews or to sign any autographs. As far as he was concerned, he was the only one in the building. The five minutes leading up to a fight were the most crucial. He could prepare himself physically for months before a fight, but this was the time to mentally focus. If anything threw off his game, his opponent would eat him alive.

“My name is Karen Dunn,” she said.

“I know who you are,” Brick said with his eyes closed. Still breathing deeply, he continued, “You work for the TDAA.”

“Yeah.”

“I was wondering when you were going to come over to me. I saw you come walk in a half hour ago.”

“How’d you know I was here for you.”

“I didn’t. But trust me, everybody who saw you walk in probably thought you were here for them.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Karen finally sat down next to Brick even though she never got the ‘ok’ to do so. “Do you mind if I talk to you for a couple minutes?”

Brick flexed his fingers as straight as he could and, after holding them like that for a moment, then closed his hand into a tight fist. “Busy,” he said repeating his hand warm-up.

“Can I ask why you are doing this, Brick? Why are you fighting?”

“It’s a great way to earn some money, and to hide from people like you.”

“From my understanding, you don’t need to hide. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Yet, here you are.”

“Here I am. Ya know, if you wanted to hide you probably shouldn’t have come here. My people come to places like this all over the country. We know all about it,” she finally got Brick to open his eyes, but his face didn’t light up when he looked into hers. “These hideouts for Abilities,” she continued, “we know all about them.”

“And what do you think they would do if they knew you were here? If they knew you were watching them? If they knew that you weren’t an Ability? What if I stood up and told everyone in this place that you were the daughter of the man that ran the Tactical Defense Against Abilities? Yeah, I know all about you. Do you think that’d go over well with the group?”

“Brick, I didn’t come here to argue with you. I’m not here to arrest you or to stop you from doing anything. Fight. If you want to get inside that ring and get your ass handed to you on a silver platter, be my guest,” she leaned forward to see if Brick was smiling, and he was. “I’m here because I need your help.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I would need one hell of a good reason to help you,” replied Brick.

“Is burning the Tactical Defense to the ground a good enough reason for you?”

Brick laughed obnoxiously loud with the only reason being to get under Karen’s skin. He tested the padding on his hands by slamming his fist into his open palm. Hard. Then he switched hands. A couple more punches. Harder. He got to his feet and hopped around getting loose. He touched his chin to his chest and rolled his head back and forth. He let out a moan after each rotation.

“Brick, I’m serious. I want to destroy my father.”

“As much as I’d like to get rid of the TDAA forever, it’s not a backyard I want to go play in by choice. Sorry. It was nice to meet you, though.”

“What if it meant you’d be saving Gazet?”

“What are you talking about? Gazet’s not at the TDAA.”

“I can assure you that he is. He’s a prisoner, Brick. If you help me, I promise you that we will get him out of there,” Brick reached into his bag and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed Gazet’s number and waited for an answer as Karen continued, “I could make it a big deal that I’ve spent that last month trying to find you or tell you that if you don’t come with me then I’m screwed either way because I can’t go back to my father. Not after this. But I know you don’t care about any of that. You care about Gazet. You can get him out.”

Brick looked up at the moment his opponent entered the ring. The guy was big. Not Arnold Schwarzenegger big, but Jabba the Hut big. He had seven, maybe eight, fat rolls around his stomach. He managed to squeeze his thighs into a pair of tight athletic pants that were bulging at the seams. When he stepped into the cage, the ring floor sunk a couple inches like the mat of a trampoline.

Brick raised one eyebrow but wasn’t intimidated at all. The same couldn’t be said for Karen. Her mouth hung open and the guys size had her reexamining Brick. She looked him up and down and while he was a big guy himself, he passed for a human being. The other guy was out of this world…he was big enough to have eaten an entire planet in one sitting.

“Just wait here. I’ll be quick,” Brick set as he jogged down the bleachers and around the cage to the open door.

Karen knew what Brick’s ability was. She knew he was strong and had heard stories about his fight with Eric and that he had thrown a car over someone’s house before when he was seventeen-years-old. Even knowing that, though, she still was dumbfounded at Brick’s confidence that he could beat this guy in a fight.

Brick hopped into the ring, which did cause the floor to bounce but not at the same level as the other guy. The total weight alone could have been enough to collapse the ring. The referee told the guys to get ready to begin and then left the ring closing the cage door behind him. There was no need to have a referee inside the cage for a fight between two Abilities. Anything that could be done, would be done in the ring and no overseeing official was going to prohibit that. He was only needed to ring the bell at the start and end of the fight.

Brick manned a fighter’s stance and prepared to go to battle with his opponent. The guy quickly used his ability and it took everyone by surprise. He started to deflate like a balloon down to the size of a normal person. All of the noise escaped the room as well. Everyone in attendance was baffled by what they were seeing. The guy who entered the cage looking like he ate ten Big Macs a day began the fight looking like someone that hadn’t eaten a single carbohydrate in his entire lifetime. His abdominal muscles were protruding out of his stomach.

But that wasn’t his only ability. He was fast. He was very fast and had moved to Brick’s side of the cage in the blink of an eye and landed seven punches on top of multiple kicks, all while Brick was still in disbelief by what had happened.

The guys’ legs and hands moved at the speed of lightning and Brick couldn’t stop any of them. A kick to the stomach. A right hand to the side of his face. He kicked him in the shin and got around to his back before Brick could grab him.

After minutes of what seemed like an endless beating, Brick finally got a shot in. It happened when his opponent became predictable. He never stopped moving and hitting. He would hit and move, hit and move, hit and move, but at one-point Brick guessed that he would move to his left and he did. Brick connected with one stiff right hand to the guys jaw and that was the end of the fight. His knees buckled and the guy fell to the ground. His lights were out before his head hit the mat. Once his body came to a rest on the ground, he tripled in size again back to his normal, whale size.

CHAPTER 36

Brick walked away from the cage with blood on his clothes. He was bruised and had a couple of cuts on his face, but none of the damage he took was slowing him down. He walked up to his spot on the bleachers to grab his bag. Karen was still there applauding slowly with a smile on her face.

“Do you want me to drive?” she asked.

He walked by her without giving an answer, without even bothering to look in her direction. She let out a soft laugh, but it went away just as quick as it came. She took a deep breath and watched the people around her. The competitors for the next fight were taking their positions inside the cage. Karen rose to her feet but didn’t go anywhere. She put her hands on the back of her neck and tried to massage her own muscles moving down to her shoulders. She knew the risk she was taking. She knew there were going to be a lot of people coming after her for trying to take down the TDAA.

Just outside of New York City, the sky was almost pitch black besides a couple of street lamps that lit up the roads. a couple of street lamps lit up an almost pitch-black sky. It was a strange change of pace from being in the heart of the city. The skyscrapers and the constant city lights made it impossible to see any stars. Karen drove safely. She drove well which was surprising because she had her eyes on Brick as much as she had them on the road. She waited for Brick to say something. Anything. She waited for him to change his mind and get out of the car. She waited for him to throw her from the car.

“Can I ask you something?” asked Karen. She waited but never got an answer. “How did…how did you and Gazet become so close?”

“How long have you had him?” interrupted Brick.

“What?”

“You said that you had Gazet inside the TDAA. How long has he been a prisoner there? If you lied to me about him being there, I swear to go-”

“No, he’s there. It’s been almost four months.”

Brick nodded. Not comprehending her answer, but nodded out of frustration. In Anger, his jaw tightened, as did his lips. He started pulling the tape off of his wrists that he had used in his fight. He gnawed at his wrists like a dog. After he bit a piece of the tape up, he pulled the rest off with his hands. He crumbled it up and threw it on the floor of the car. Karen saw him throw the trash on the floor but didn’t say anything. She knew to pick her battles with Brick, and asking him not to throw trash on the floor of her clean car was a battle she could forego.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” asked Karen. “Like you said earlier, this isn’t exactly a backyard you want to be playing in.”

“A little piece of advice, girl. When you’ve already made the sale, you need to stop selling.”

Karen laughed under her breath. He was right. If she asked him too many times, he might change his mind and leave and she needed his help. He was the only one she could count on…almost the only one.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Brick asked back. He continued to look out his window when he assured her of one more thing, “because I think it’s only fair for me to tell you if you walk me through the doors of the TDAA and I find Gazet, I’m going to kill your father.”

Karen knew exactly what kind of man her father was. He had enemies and had done wrong by the people that loved him. As soon as she was old enough to work with him, she witnessed first-hand the kind of person he was. She always knew there were people who were craving the opportunity to get their hands-on Paul. She just never imagined she’d be leading one to his doorstep.

“I understand,” she said with no emotion.

“Huh?”

“What?” again she removed her eyes on the road to look at him.

“Paul must have been a terrible father if you’re ok with someone killing him just like that.”

She looked at the road again and stared into the night like she was looking into her past, “I don’t know what kind of father he is, but I know he’s a terrible person. I know one of these days he’s going to get what’s coming to him.”

They rode in silence for the next ten miles. Karen was dying to get the answer to her question. It’s all she could think about while driving. How do Brick and Gazet know each other? She knew that they weren’t related. TDAA files have a lifetime’s worth of information on Abilities, but Brick’s folder was very thin. Compared to the rest of the files it was practically empty. For some reason it had no information about parents or siblings. It had no information about Gazet.

“What’s your plan?” Brick broke the silence.

“Well…it’s about a thirteen-hour drive to Chicago, but I figured that we would make a stop in Ohio.”

“What’s in Ohio?”

“Mitchel Wehde.”

“Mitchel Wehde?” he asked. His question was rhetorical.

“Mitchel Wehde.”

“Mitchel…”

“Wehde,” she again showed little emotion in her face when she looked at Brick.

“Why do you want to find Mitchel?” Brick turn his upper body towards Karen. It was the most attention he’d given her all night.

“We’re going to need more help. No offense, Brick, but Mitchel is an incredible Ability.”

“Yea…I’ve heard. What makes you think he’s going to help us?”

“I don’t know. Faith.”

“Faith? So, if the legends are all true— “

“I know about ‘The Brothers of the Sky,’ Brick.”

“Good. And even with that information, you want to go ask him for help?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Great. Pardon my French, but you are out of your damn mind? You can let me out at the next Chinese Buffet, please. You’re out of your mind.”

Karen pulled the car over to the side of the road and abruptly pressed on the brakes. Brick wobbled in his seat from the sudden stop and kept true to his word and opened his door.

“Mitchel and I used to be involved.”

Brick didn’t get out of the car. He turned back towards Karen, but still didn’t look sold on going on what he considered a suicide trip. But when he saw the soft, desperate look she gave him, he decided to listen.

“He and I were together for a long time before I worked for my dad. Before he had any idea of what he was. For a long time, it was just Mitchel and I and I loved him, Brick. I loved him with all of my heart. But my dad tore us apart and doesn’t even care.”

“Is that why you’re doing this?”

“Yeah…it is,” her eyes filled up until a couple of tears dropped to her cheek.

“It’s funny. I heard you’re a tough kid.”

“I’ve been through a lot.”

“I’m sure you have,” Brick looked out the window and, as if it were an omen, he looked at the next exit sign on the road. It read ‘Chicago’, and he closed the door. “Let’s hope he feel the same way about you.”

“Thank you.”

She put the car into drive and pulled back onto the road. Brick repositioned himself in his seat and went back to staring out the window in silence while Karen continued to look at him with so many questions running through her mind. She wiped the tears from her eyes and, as the moment passed, was back to her old self. Because she was tough but realized she was still in love with someone was playing with her emotions. Especially since the man she loved had tried to kill her once or twice.

“I’m sorry, Brick but— “

“It’s not something I like talking about. That’s all,” he interrupted her but she was persistent. She didn’t take no for an answer. She was tough.

“How did you and Gazet meet, Brick?

Brick stared out the window. He refused to look at Karen because her persistence was getting to him. As annoyed as he was by her asking the one question he refused to answer, he sat staring out the window…smirking.

CHAPTER 37

A lanky fifteen-year-old boy in the latter years of his puberty, sat on the edge of his twin sized bed that was much too short for a teenager his height. But no kid was given special attention, and this boy didn’t want any. He had red hair that crept over his eyes to hide the cold look in his pupils.

The room was large. There were twelve beds, all the same size as his, covered with plain white sheets. They all lined the walls like in the sleeping quarters of an army base. But this place was more kid friendly. Toys covered the back wall, the front corner, and were scattered all over the floor of the room. Posters hung over some of the beds. The colorful characters and written material on each poster varied from bed to bed. There were a couple of Magi-Nation posters, two Transformers, and even a Lil Wayne poster.

The redhead boy sat on his bed looking at a picture of his parents. However, even with a smile on his face, he cried. Tears slid down his face and dropped off his chin. He tried his best to sniff them back but when that didn’t work, he wiped his nose with his sleeve.

“Are you crying again? You are such a baby,” said a boy of the same age, if not a year or two younger. He walked in with two other boys who had no leadership skills at all. They stayed a couple of steps behind and laughed at what he said even though it wasn’t funny. It wasn’t funny at all, but they laughed. “You’re worse than the small girls in this place. Why don’t you do us all a favor and run away.”

The boy didn’t turn around. He held his picture tighter pressing it to his lips. The boys came closer to him and the lead boy stole the picture out before he could kiss it goodbye. He held it up in the air and teased the redhead.

“Give it back. Stop,” yelled the skinny by. “Please. Don’t do this.”

“Are you gonna cry some more? You want the picture back? Get on your knees and cry. If you won’t get on your knees, I guess it’s not important to you. I’ll just have to rip it,” he put the picture between his index fingers and thumbs. He rotated his wrists acting like he was about to tear the picture in two halves.

The red head, although he was taller, wasn’t into physical contact. He didn’t push or shove to get the picture that he wanted so badly back into his hands. He simply was trying to reach for it. His voice was cutting out because he was weeping. Crying still, loudly. Every second these kids held his parent’s picture the more the tears fell.

The red head felt a warm sensation come over his body. Like sinking into a hot tub. He felt a rush come over him and for the first time in his life realized that if he wanted something bad enough, getting physical was the only way to get it back. He grabbed the kid by the collar and slammed him into the wall. The look in his eyes instantly became stiff and sharp like they were filled with a fierce hatred. Any moment, by the look in his eyes, he was going to snap the boy’s neck to get his picture back.

“Enough,” yelled a woman who came running up the stairs. “Brick, that’s enough. Drop him.”

The red headed boy let go of the kid. His body slowly dropped down the wall until his feet came back to the floor. Brick, the red headed boy, stared at the lady who barked out the orders at him. He went from sad to angry so quickly that his eyes were pink from emotion. He stopped crying, and he tucked his rage away as best as he could. He was still tense because he had never felt like that.

“Give him back the picture,” she said and watched until the boy handed Brick the picture of his parents. “Brick, what has gotten into you? Huh?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Walford. I didn’t mean to hurt him,” he said like a little boy with absolutely no confidence.

“Now there is a man downstairs who is looking to adopt and he has asked for you personally so go wash up and put on a nice shirt.”

Once Brick was in a nice shirt, the same shirt Miss Walford always makes him wear when a family comes to see him, he went down the stairs into the living room. That was the room where most of the families relaxed with their potential adoptive children. It seemed to help the children if everything seemed as unofficial as possible. A small man came into his line of sight. He had been looking outside at the autumn leaves. It produced a mixture of red, yellow, orange, and brown art on the canvas of the green grass. He turned and smiled at Brick as the shy boy entered the room.

“Hello, Brick. How are you doing?” he greeted.

“I’m good…how are you?” Brick responded as if reading a speech that was memorized and over practiced.

“I’m fine…doing just fine. My name is Gazet. I’m so excited to finally meet you,” Gazet didn’t make the mistake of talking to the boy like he was a young puppy, most of the parents that visit do. He spoke to him like a human being.

“You are?” Brick showed little emotion. He had heard that before from a lot of people…a lot.

“I truly am. Because I have reason to believe that you are quite special. Do you think you’re special, Brick?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“You don’t? Well, that can’t be. Let me ask you something. Do you have any special abilities?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like superman. Superman has special talents, doesn’t he?”

“He flies.”

“Yes. He flies…do you do anything like that, Brick?”

“Fly? No, I don’t fly. That’s impossible.”

“Let’s forget about flying for a second. Do you do anything else?”

“No,” the confidence that Brick did have in himself was disappearing.

“Ok. We’ll let me ask this first, have you had any feeling of a warm sensation throughout your body? It kind of starts in your neck and moves down. A really hot feeling. It's a little uncomfortable at first.”

Brick tucked his head into his shoulders. He couldn’t explain what had just happened to him because he didn’t want to be any more of a freak than he already thought he was. The other children already teased him and made fun of him for the way he looked.

“It’s ok. You can tell me,” assured Gazet.

“Once.”

“Really. When?”

“Honestly?” Gazet nodded enthusiastically. “About five minutes ago.”

“Brick,” Gazet moved closer and sat on the table in front of the child. “I’ve had the same feeling. You want to know why? I’m special…just like you.”

“Do you fly?”

“No. But I’ll tell you a secret. I see the future. That’s why I’m here, Brick. I’ve seen you in my visions. We were together. You leave this place today and come home with me.”

“Really? You want to take me out of here?”

“Yes. I do. And together I will help you discover your true ability. You are going to do wonderful things. We’ll do them together. I promise.”

“I don’t belong here.”

“So, come with me and I promise you no one will ever make fun of you again,” assured Gazet.

“You’re weird like me.”

“We aren’t weird, Brick. We are Abilities.”

“Abilities?” asked Brick. Gazet’s hand reached out to Brick. After a smile, their hands met. Gazet laughed because Brick’s grip was firm. It was strong. It hurt Gazet’s hand, but it was ok because Gazet finally found the right boy. “Do you like being an Ability?”

“I do, Brick. I do.”

“I think I’m going to like it, too. When do we leave?”

"As soon as you're all packed, we can leave."

Gazet patted Brick on the knee, which, to Brick, was his cue to pop up, run upstairs, and pack as fast as he could. He never wanted out of that place more and never wanted to come back again. No matter how hard the employees worked to make an orphanage a comfortable home, it would never be home to those kids. A growing kid needs a family and Brick was thrilled to be getting a new one.

Brick barely had his foot removed from the carpeted living area before he stopped and turned to Gazet. They stared at each other for a moment with no words. Gazet had a smile on his face but it slowly was erased by his worry that Brick was having second thoughts. He didn't see any of this in his vision but was hoping that it was going to continue playing out as easily as it had been.

"Mr. Gazet," Brick spoke.

"Please, Brick, drop the 'Mr.' It's just Gazet."

"Ok. Umm, can I ask you a question?"

"You ask me anything you want…at any time. No need being shy around me anymore."

"Where do I know you from?"

"I'm sorry?" Gazet didn’t need to push himself off the table because he didn't have his bad limp at that time. He stood up and got closer to Brick.

"I know you from somewhere. I think we met before."

"No, I don't think so. I'm usually good with faces. I'd remember you, Brick."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now go hurry up and pack," Gazet playfully gave Brick a boost to get him moving up the stairs.

Once Brick was up the stairs, Gazet smiled. He looked around the building and it was truly a nice establishment taking in the number of kids that it did, but Gazet was so happy that he was going to be able to take Brick home.

CHAPTER 38

By the time noon rolled around, only a thin layer of snow remained on the grass. So thin that there were actually transparent patches of snow with blades of grass peeking out instead of being covered. The tops of the mountains and the hills were showing their leaves of green as well.

The lake was still frozen by a thin sheet of ice. A couple of deer touched their noses to the ice hoping to get some water, but instead walked away with a frost bitten nose. Some of the families living on the lakeside were going to be very frustrated come springtime because they left their boats in the water as it froze over. Anybody who owns a boat knows to take it out of the water and put it into storage by late October.

Mitchel stood by a green car parked in the driveway of his home. He had been in Italy, and Ireland, and all over the place during the last couple months and never had a car of his own, so he rented one before he left the airport.

He took in the Ohio smell and t. That cool scent feeling of the crisp air on his skin. The trees were all but crackling as they shook off their frozen layers. He hadn’t been home in so long that he almost forgot what it looked like. He wondered what his father was doing.

He and William hadn’t talked in some time. It wasn’t anything new for them; sometimes they went a month without talking for any particular reason. They always had a decent relationship, though. William was always there when Mitchel was growing up, but they could never seem to stay connected to each other for very long. They weren’t much of a hugging duo, either. They rarely said I love you. A lot of older kids have a distant relationship with their step-parent when their parents remarry, and that’s how it was between William and Mitchel. It never felt like a relationship bonded by blood. They both knew it was there, but never did anything to solve it. And secretly neither one had the desire to change the way things were.

Mitchel walked up the front porch steps and rang the doorbell three times. He didn’t know why he had to do it three times. It was obnoxious. Maybe it was a way to joke with his father, maybe he was entertaining himself, or maybe he was trying to warn anyone in the house that he was coming in.

After waiting a half minute, Mitchel zapped the door lock. A quick shot of that black electricity dislodged the entire lock from the door. It clanked on the ground and rolled off the porch. Mitchel looked around the yard. From what he could tell, He was alone.

He placed his hand on the handle and pushed down with his thumb. He pushed the door open and walked into what could have very well been mistaken for a junkyard. Everything was turned upside down. The couch was flipped over and the cushions were thrown over to the wall. The drawers were pulled out. All of them were pulled out. They were spread out on the floor and all the items that were inside were scattered on top. The TV was still upright on the stand, but whoever did this thought it was necessary to put a crack in the screen. A bat or club must’ve hit it, but in this world, it could have been anything.

Mitchel walked around the rest of the living room. He poked his head into the kitchen when he came to it. It resembled the living room. Drawers, cabinets, both emptied and everything else flipped upside down. There was nothing for him in there.

He walked back through the living room and headed towards the bedroom. As he walked, he slowly snapped his fingers. Each snap caused a spark to pop from between his thumb and finger. He walked a little bit. Snap. Spark. He turned the corner and headed down the hallway to the bedrooms. Snap. Spark. He passed the bathroom, not stopping to look through the rubble that was once a medicine cabinet. Snap. Spark. Expecting something bad, but prepared for something worse than that.

It was painfully obvious that William was no longer in the house. One of the many questions Mitchel had was had William been in the house when this happened? He couldn’t help but wonder if William was hurt or possibly dead. He wondered if there had been a struggle or a fight. Something bad had to have happened here, but he would never learn the truth. He didn’t know what happened to his father or where he was, but deep down inside Mitchel knew that there was something more important than his father that he needed to find.

He passed by his own bedroom and went into William’s. It was no different from the rest of the house. A mess. Whoever came snooping around was looking for something, but Mitchel was sure that they didn’t know what they looking for. They searched every which way and from the looks of it they didn’t find what they were looking for until the very last place they checked or else they wouldn’t have had to tear the whole house apart.

Mitchel started flipping through the mess tossing most of it aside without even looking at it. Occasionally, he would glance at something but it turned out to be useless so he tossed it. He couldn’t help but feel a little like the guys who tore this place apart looking through all the stuff but not knowing what he was looking for.

He pulled a sheet of paper underneath a tossed drawer and thought nothing of it, at first, but stopped before he could let go of it. He read the top line. “Dear William.”,” was what it read. He began skimming the rest of the note. He sat back onto William’s bed and quickly finished the letter.

Dear William,

As you promised, this will be the last time that I ever say your name, and the last time you ever hear mine. My wife and I can’t thank you enough for giving us the greatest gift in the world, the chance to have a family. Although I will never understand it, I respect your wishes and will never tell our son about you or Mitchel. William, if you ever change your mind and would like to contact us, our address is 3251 Hawthorne Dr. Carmel, Indiana.

Thank you,

John Vernor

P.S. We decided to name him Michael William Vernor.

Finally, it was true. When John…John’s spirit told him about Michael at the airport, he didn’t believe it was true but the proof was in his hands now. Mitchel folded up the paper and put it in his back pocket. He kicked some of the mess gently to the side on his way out of the bedroom. It wasn’t in his way, but maybe if he gave it a light kick something important would catch his eye from the bottom of the pile.

As he approached the front door, he looked around the house and did one last quick scan of the area. Besides furniture everywhere, there didn’t seem to be any signs of struggle. No blood or torn clothing. The mess could have been a sign that there was a fight, but Mitchel was more convinced that they, whoever they were, had been looking for something in an empty house.

Mitchel stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. He couldn’t let go of the handle right away because some unresolved feelings kept him there. He stared at the wood trim around the door. He was, in his own way, saying goodbye to the house in which he had grown up. unsure if he would ever be back. He never took care of it, and never really gave it the respect that it deserved. Mitchel found this confession easier to make to a house rather than to a father. A growl coming from the woods behind him stopped any additional internal apology.

Mitchel turned slowly to see a rare Hidden Valley Lake sighting. A tiger walked out of the trees into plain sight. A real life, sharp toothed tiger. A thick coat of orange and white with black striped fur covering its body. It had eyes of bronze gold. Its pupils were sharply staring straight at Mitchel. Angry. From a distance it was one of the most beautiful looking animals on the planet, but this tiger crept with a purpose. It was stalking its prey.

Mitchel still couldn’t move. He didn’t think about going back into the house, because as strange as it was to see a tiger walking around Ohio woods, he knew he wasn’t in any trouble. Mitchel could obliterate that animal as soon as it made a move. The tiger looked back into the woods as if it were going to retreat. It had to be protecting its family or urging more hunters to come help. It looked back at Mitchel and growled loudly.

Out of the forest came twenty, maybe thirty, people. All of them wearing black coats. The same kind of people that he had once used his powers against in a back alley in Ireland. These people weren’t real. Mitchel knew exactly what was going on. It was the same guy who worked for the TDAA. He finally came out of the forest. The real guy. Mitchel didn’t know him by name, no one did, but everyone who knew him referred to him as the Marine. He looked around at all the people he had created then glanced down at the tiger that was by his side and smirked. He looked at Mitchel and his eyebrows raised to the middle of his forehead like he was bragging and impressed with his own ability.

Mitchel noticed the tiger getting taller. His body was widening and the fur was thinning out. It hopped on to its back feet and as it stood up it fully morphed into a human being. He was a grizzly looking man with a long beard. He was dirty like a homeless man or some guy that was dared to grow a disgusting beard.

“Hi, Mitchel. Do you mind if we come in?” asked Eric.

“Mind telling me who the hell you are?” Mitchel rebutted.

“Eric. My name is Eric…you know him,” he said pointing to the Marine. “You need to come with us.”

“Ah…see…I don’t do well with orders, Eric.”

“Well, we can take you by force if that makes you feel better,” Eric took a few steps toward the house.

Mitchel scratched the back of his neck and let out a laugh, “Sure. We can try that.” He could see the frustration in the eyes of the other two guys. “It’s kind of ironic that the company you work for arrests people just like you, isn’t it? And you’re completely fine with that. You’re just guinea pigs, ya know, just their pets on a short leash.”

“We’re doing the rest of the world a favor. We keep people safe. Some Abilities are dangerous,” the Marine spoke up.

“What happens when they think you’re dangerous too? You think they’re going to let you just walk away. Trust me, they’ll start to see you just like they see me.”

“No, they won’t,” Eric said. “You are a danger to the rest of the world and I think you’ve proved that. Nobody else has to die if you just come with us.”

“I don’t think so,” as Mitchel spoke his hands lit up. Electricity was being held in the palm of his hands. He looked from the left to the right, making sure to study each person. He checked each part of the lawn to see where they were standing, and who he would take out first.

Eric shook his head in disappointment. As his head moved left to right, his eyes focused on the ground where he stood. His lips pressed together. He looked back up at Mitchel who was ready for an all-out war. His ability fully ignited in his palms. The electricity shooting through his body, and even sparks emerged from his eyes. Eric nodded to his partner and then he walked out into the forest leaving the black trench coats and Mitchel ready to fight each other. The Marine watched Eric walk into the trees and once he was out of sight, he looked back at Mitchel.

Without having to give a verbal order, all the trench coats started walking toward the house and after a couple of steps they began sprinting. Mitchel raised his arms without hesitation, without fear, and started picking off the coats one by one. Some of his shots were aimed and precise. He needed to hit the quick moving targets before they got any closer. Some of his shots weren’t like that at all. Instead, he threw a burst of electricity out into the yard like it was a sound wave designed to hit anything that came his way.

As the numbers began dwindling, they grew back in seconds. As many as Mitchel was taking out, the Marine was creating twice as many from inside the forest and they ran out from the trees as if they were coming from a hidden village. They just kept running out with one goal in mind: to capture Mitchel.

Two of them leapt off the roof onto each side of Mitchel. They had been hiding up there since Mitchel searched the house. They were watching him, waiting for the right time to attack.

Before Mitchel could react, they drop kicked him with all their might. Each putting their two feet into his ribs and sent him flying through the front door. Broken chunks of wood flew out in all directions. Mitchel shot twenty-feet to the back wall of the house.

With his strength and resilience, Mitchel lifted his arm to fire off more energy but the two coats ran in after him and kicked his arm out of the way putting an electric blast through the side of the house. They began kicking him further into the ground breaking the foundation of the floor. Mitchel tried to fight back, but the pain from each kick was stopping him from using his ability.

One of the guys picked Mitchel up by the collar and threw him into the wall. The strength that the multiplied coats had was incredible. The picture behind him fell to the ground when Mitchel crashed into it. Mitchel’s hands lit up once again, but again the two guys jumped him with punches to the gut. The electricity went out and a hard punch to the face sent Mitchel to the floor.

Mitchel sprang to his feet to tackle one of the guys. He sat on top of him and punched as hard as he could. Once he got a free moment, Mitchel looked at the other guy and blasted him into thin air. He elbowed the guy on the ground and held his throat tightly.

He fingers tightened around his neck, but not to choke him. His hand started to get warm and in an instant fill with a dark glow as electricity shot through the guy’s head, blowing it up into a puff of smoke. Before Mitchel could catch his breath, he was punched in the face.

Now all the people in the black trench coats surrounded him. Some of them kicked him and punched him while others stood on the side as backup. Mitchel rolled into a ball to protect himself as best he could. His eyes began to burn. The bolts of electricity covered his eyes and then started sparking off of his face.

His body was being covered by an electrical force field. Everyone in the room began to back up slowly. Mitchel rolled to his knees. He placed one foot forward and slowly tried to rise to his feet, but there was a strange feeling shooting through his body.

Bolts jumped off him like fireworks exploding. He rose to his feet but hunched over in pain. The ball that formed around him was getting bigger. Expanding and then shrinking. Expanding and then shrinking. Each time it expanded it spread wider than before. One of the guys in a trench coat reached out to try and get through it but when he did, it forced his body into the ball and he vanished into smoke.

The ball shrunk into Mitchel's hands and then, it was gone. Everything for a quick second was calm, until Mitchel flexed every muscle in his body and screamed. The scream triggered the electric ball again.

The ball shot out of his body and engulfed the entire room. It covered every person wearing a black coat and killed every last one. Each one that came in contact disappeared before they could fall to the ground.

Mitchel fell to his knees. His breathing was fast. His face bruised and bloodied. He was the only one left in the room.

The Marine stood outside the house. His eyes wide and mouth open in awe. From the outside he could see the blast from the living room. Nobody knew that Mitchel was capable of something like that. Mitchel didn’t even know he could do it. Knowing that the stakes had just risen, the Marine decided the battle was over, and left. He walked up the driveway, got into a car parked at the end of it, and drove away.

Mitchel fell back onto the wall. It was like his last move had taken all the energy he had and left him weak. Unable to move. He pressed his hand up against his eye that was bruising over quickly from the punches he took. Each time his fingers touched his face it scrunched up in pain. He shut his eyes and lowered his head.

He tried to rise to his feet, but could only slide a couple inches up the wall before he fell onto his ass again. He touched his right ear to his shoulder. He stayed in that position for a couple of seconds and then moved to the other side. He let out deep, long breaths during each stretch, his eyes remaining closed the whole time.

He opened his eyes to the sounds of a tiger growling.

CHAPTER 39

Paul stood in the observation room. He watched through the glass window overlooking the procedure. A nurse hovered over the patient checking on the tubes that were in his nose and arms. One to give him oxygen and the other, anesthesia. She made sure that the EEG cords were placed correctly on his head. Another man sat in the corner. He wasn’t a doctor or a nurse, but was simply known as a diagnostician. He sat in front of a computer screen looking through the results that were coming from the tests.

Paul watched Gazet lying on the table. His eyes were a solid black. The color his eyes changed to when he was having a vision. But this time it looked forced. His eyelids twitched and his head jerked like he was shivering. The nurse leaned over the table and looked into his eyes. She held open each eyelid and looked into it. She couldn’t be looking at his pupils, because they were covered with black. She was checking to make sure he was still medicated.

The man behind the computer looked up at Paul who kept his gaze on Gazet. He was watching him with such commitment and hope. He was a student of his own research and that meant he was nervous whenever a test was in session. He had never done a procedure like this and he felt so many things watching it. He was worried that Gazet might be feeling pain. Even though Paul abandoned his own daughter, he still had a heart. Whether he had personal motives or was beginning to respect and like Gazet, he was worried about him. He was worried that the tests weren’t working, but he was also amazed at what he was seeing. That technology could collect the data from Gazet’s visions.

The head set placed around Gazet’s skull was the first of its kind. It was a machine that induced a type of coma using a medicine called Bladerlin. However, this procedure was different for an Ability. It caused an Abilities powers to take effect. It would have someone like Mitchel shoot electricity out of his hands without wanting to, it would have someone like Eric change into animal without being able to control it. For Gazet, it triggered his visions.

The nurse wasn’t startled when the black left Gazet’s eyes. She was expecting it. It slowly cleared and peeled over to a regular pupil. The tests were over.

“How are you feeling?” asked the nurse.

“Thirsty,” Gazet was groggy from the medicine.

“I’ll grab you some juice, but please remain lying down.”

Gazet had no intention of moving. Thanks to the medicine, the room was spinning and the only choice he needed to make was to lie down with eyes open or lie down with eyes closed. The nurse left the room as Paul entered it looking unamused. He had his arms crossed and his head tilted slightly to the side. He hadn’t even seen the results; he didn’t have to.

“We’ve done this test four times now and you’ve seen four memories.”

“I know,” the nurse helped him swing his legs over the side of the table and handed him a cup.

“Ok. We’ll try again in a couple hours,” Paul said as Gazet took sips of juice.

“I’m afraid I can’t do this anymore, Paul. I’m sorry, but I’m done.”

Paul was halfway out the door but stopped. He smirked, but not because anything was funny or amusing, but because he knew those words would come up at some point. He smirked hoping it would fight away his frustration. Paul stepped closer to Gazet. He nodded at the nurse and the computer guy and they knew it meat they were supposed to leave the room so they did just that.

“Gazet, I’d like you to reconsider that.”

“You said that I wasn’t a prisoner here. You said I was more like a guest and that I could come and go whenever I wanted.”

“You are. You can.”

“I’m not going through this procedure again.”

“Gazet, if we try again,” he was cut off.

“No, you don’t understand. I can’t control my ability. I’ve never been able to. I accept that. You can’t put medicine in my body, hook me up to these machines and expect to get the results you want. You can’t force it out of me. I’m seeing memories, Paul. Not visions of the future but memories of the past. Things that have already happened. Things that can’t be changed.”

“Gazet.”

“Paul, I’m not taking this test anymore. I’ll give you until tomorrow night to come up with a new test. A test that works. If you can’t, then I’m going home. I’ve survived sixty years without being able to control my powers. I was never doing this for me,” Gazet hopped off the patient table, snatched his walking cane, and walked slowly to the door to shake off the effects of the anesthesia.

“Who were you doing it for?” asked Paul.

“All the Abilities that can’t control their powers. So, they don’t have to live a life like the one I did. So, they don’t lose what I’ve lost.”

“Ok,” Paul nodded with compassion this time. He smiled and held up his finger. “One night. I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will.”