High School Freak

by Aaron Grunn

and the world seemed to move in slow motion.

  He stared at his uncle's gun for several seconds before a thought transpired. "Do I get a gun?" John asked.

  "No. You don't need any more trouble than you have."

  "I'm already in trouble, I can't get in anymore trouble, can I?"

  Tom didn't reply; he rolled his eyes.

  "You can throw rocks far, can't you?"

  "What?"

  "Your old man could throw a rock over three hundred yards. Can you?"

  "Probably," John said.

  "Let's see."

  Tom handed him several fist-sized rocks. John took them and placed all but one beside his feet. He felt the rock's sharp edges in his hand and as he squeezed it, his body started to react. His face flushed, and his heart rate picked up. It was odd, as if his body was reacting without him telling it to become angry.

  He leaned back and threw the rock straight up.

  "Jesus," Tom said, his neck arched back, and he squinted to see the rock as it disappeared.

  They waited over a minute. Tom was sweating and glancing at John. "You see it?" Tom asked, his voice trembling.

  "It'll be here in a second," John said. He felt better now that Tom was scared of him.

  The whistling sound sent Tom running to his Impala.

  John laughed. "Don't worry. It'll land right there." He pointed in front of him.

  Tom stopped, edging towards his car. "I was just getting..."

  The rock landed more than fifty yards from where John pointed, with a final shriek and thud that shook the earth around John's feet. The vibrations tickled him and made him grin.

  "See?" John said, moving his finger to the point of impact.

  "You weren't even close," Tom said.

  They both walked to where it landed. When the dust settled back down, they could see a crater a foot deep.

  "Goddamn, John. You're a one man artillery unit." Tom tussled John's hair.

  "Could dad throw that high?"

  "Not even close," Tom said.

  John felt a joy erupt in his heart, and he smirked.

  Tom watched John as he made him practice throwing until his arm was somewhat sore. He threw until he knew exactly where the rock would land.

  Afterwards, Tom gave John a few rocks and a bat. "That should be more than enough for you."

  John wanted to tell him about the levitation, but since it was only something the size of a pebble that he could make float, he decided not to.

  "Let's go," Tom said as he walked into the woods.

  "We're walking?"

  "It's only a few miles through these woods."

  John felt his throat tighten, and he dutifully followed his uncle. The world seemed like a dream again. He didn't like that.

  It was dusk when, five hundred meters away from a house, they stopped.

  "Is that it?"

  "Watch," Tom said.

  As it grew dark John noticed two of the men he saw in the parking lot come out of the house laughing.

  Then he heard a scream. Of a woman. His heart in his mouth, John got up, but Tom tackled him and held him down.

  "I have to go get her," John said through his teeth.

  "Will you listen to me for once?"

  "What?"

  "Wait until dark. You'll have an advantage then."

  "What if they're hurting her?"

  "You can pay them back. But you do her no good if you get caught."

  John nodded. He trusted Tom when he sounded calm and reserved like this.

  As night fell John made out two more men standing on the front porch of the house. With the lights on inside, he saw another man appear on the roof, then yet another wash his hands in a bathroom.

  "I see at least six men, one on the roof."

  "Does the man on the roof have goggles on him?"

  "No. He only has a rifle."

  "That's good," said Tom. "If you see goggles, it means they have night vision. This means they don't really expect us. Or you at least."

  Another muffled scream pierced the air, louder now that it was traveling through the quiet of the night.

  "Easy, kid," Tom whispered.

  "When are we getting her?" John said, his voice cracking.

  "Soon. Can you hit that man with the rock?"

  "Of course."

  "Do it. Throw it high."

  John took out a rock the size of a baseball and leaned back and threw it as hard as he could. He botched it. He took out another one and threw it too.

  "Now," Tom said and they took off running towards the house. They approached the side of the house just when a large thump was heard somewhere in the grass that surrounded the house.

  "That wasn't even close," Tom said.

  John didn't have time to answer; the next sound was the rock smashing through something soft. The sound, like a rock dropped in cake mixed with glass, made John want to vomit. He managed to hold it in.

  "Easy," Tom said with a hand on John's shoulder. "For your mother, right?"

  John nodded with a tremor.

  "You can get to the roof?"

  "Yeah," John said. He certainly hoped that all his powers allowed him to do something so simple.

  "Go, and start your way down. I'll work my way up. Got it?"

  "Got it."

  John watched as his uncle disappeared around the corner. There were shouts and yells from inside the house. The men were getting ready.

  Tensing up his muscles, John jumped with all his might. It was higher than he'd ever jumped before, but his head only got to the second story. He tried again and his fingertips grazed the gutters on the roof.

  A gunshot cracked the air, then another. His uncle was in the house and he needed to get up there. He jumped and managed to grab a hold of the gutters with his fingers.

  Another shot rang out, more yells. Was his uncle all right?

  John felt the gutter creak and bend under his weight. He twisted his body and lifted his legs onto the roof just as the piece of gutter he was holding broke off. He turned and his heart stopped when he saw a man still up there.

  "Uh... I was just," John tried to think of something as he got to his feet.

  The man didn't answer.

  John raised his hands and took a step towards him. "I..." he said, still not able to think about what to say.

  Another step forward and he saw that the man wasn't saying anything because, in fact, he couldn't say anything. His head was knocked clean off and the rest of his body was leaning on the roof like nothing had happened. There was no blood, and when John looked closely he saw that the man's neck was sealed off with burns. Was his throw that fast?

  Screams shouted out, and this time it sounded like a woman. The rock had left a gaping hole in the roof. John charged down the hole with a rock in his hand and landed in an empty room with stripped wallpaper and wooden floors. The door was open, and he could see railings that framed the view of the first floor. A flash and bang went off. John stepped forward. He didn't know what to do.

  Look for mom.

  He took another look at the empty room and stepped outside. All the light came from downstairs, while the second floor was completely dark. He glanced down and saw a man shooting on the stairs. John threw a rock as hard as he could at the man's head.

  The crunching sound made John nauseous again. Another man stepped on the now half-a-head man next to the stairs and looked up. John whipped another rock. The man was hit square in the chest and went flying back.

  "Don't move kid," a voice behind John said.

  John froze. He had more rocks, but they were in his pockets.

  "Take a step back and don't turn around."

  It was kind of dark here, thought John. If only he could make out where the man was, then he could use the darkness to his advantage. He made sure he stepped back far enough that the light from downstairs didn't touch him.

  "That's enough," the man said. "Turn."

  John pretended to stumble and flipped through the air as
fast as he could. It was more than enough. He found himself next to the man, who was only then reacting and turning his head towards John.

  The man jerked his gun at John, but to John it seemed like slow motion. John grabbed the gun, yanked it out of the man's hands. As the man was reaching for something else in his pocket, John grabbed the man by the collar and flung him over the railing and down the stairs as hard as he could. Another thud sounded off with another shot.

  Mom.

  There were two other doors to the second floor. John kicked down the door of one, a rock in each hand. A man was on a radio, with his back to John.

  "We are under attack. We need backup now! I repeat: we are under attack. Possibly twenty men. We have reason to believe the football is here as well."

  Was that what he was called? The man's voice was coming out like a slowed-down tape. John looked around the room. There were pictures of him and his mother everywhere. There was one of Tom and his Impala. These men knew everything. John felt anger coursing faster through his veins.

  The man slowly turned to him. John threw the rock as hard as he could. It went clean through the man. He collapsed on the desk in front of him, knocking the radio down.

  He turned. There was no sound coming from downstairs. He kicked the final door down and was met with another empty room.

  Downstairs.

  John flew down the stairs and turned into the living room. There were three bodies, the ones he had dealt with, in a pile and jumped over them.

  "Joohhhnn."

  John turned and saw his uncle staring at him. A large man with a sloped forehead and a wide car-lifting back held a gun to Tom's face. The man didn't face John, his back was to him, and was turning to see John, while keeping Tom in his view.

  John ran as fast as he could. He pushed the gun up, and as the man's small glassy eyes saw him, he reached for John. John swung at his head as hard as he could.

  The man fell, hard, his eyes rolling into his head.

  Suddenly John felt exhausted,