Ordinary Hero

by Ellis Michaels

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  About Ellis Michaels

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  11.

  12.

  13.

  14.

  15.

  16.

  17.

  18.

  19.

  20.

  21.

  22.

  23.

  24.

  25.

  26.

  27.

  28.

  29.

  From The Author

  Other Books By Ellis Michaels

  Social Media

  Ordinary Hero

  By Ellis Michaels

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, digital copying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.

  Copyright 2018 © Ellis Michaels

  Ellis Michaels Website

  ellismichaelsauthor.com

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  1.

  Ordinary.

  Maybe Kasie was right. Maybe I was ordinary in every way. But of all the times she could've called me that over the years, she picked the night before the most extraordinary day of my life to do so.

  I woke up the next morning and everything was normal – at first. I was always up before Kasie, my roommate and best friend since grade school. My routine was pretty much the same every day: wake up, use the bathroom, make coffee, and try to muster up the energy to get through yet another grueling day of school. Energy and motivation, really.

  As soon as the coffee maker beeped, Kasie jumped right up, full of energy. She's more energetic in the minutes after waking up than I was at any point in the entire day. From the kitchen, I heard the same thing every morning.

  “Good morning, James!”

  “Mornin',” I replied.

  Kasie came in and gave me a hug before filling her favorite Harry Potter mug with coffee. We always started our day in the living room with a cup of coffee – or two or three. I flipped on the TV and put on the local news, as I always did. Very predictable. Very ordinary.

  “It's gonna be another hot one here in Boston,” the weatherwoman said.

  “Great,” I said, sarcastically.

  “Great!” Kasie said with enthusiasm.

  Kasie was sitting on the couch, bare feet up on the coffee table. The things she wore around our apartment would make just about any man drool. On that morning – if I remember correctly – she was wearing a tank top with a short pair of black yoga pants. You know, the kind that just barely go below the knee and start at the top of the butt crack – the kind that show the most skin. Oh, and she definitely wasn't wearing a bra. She never did when it was just me and her in our apartment.

  I don't think anyone would – or could – argue that Kasie was anything short of beautiful. Ask ten guys to rate her on a scale from one to ten, you're gonna get ten tens. For some, it might be the long, flowing blond hair and piercing blue eyes that did it for them. Others, her long legs and sun-kissed skin. But, for me, it's all about that smile. Kasie's smile was as warm and loving as her personality and that's why I loved her. But only as a friend, of course.

  “I don't know why you care about this stuff,” Kasie said, reading the back of an Albert Camus book of mine that she picked up off the coffee table. “So depressing. If everything is meaningless, then why do anything?”

  “Exactly,” I replied.

  She carelessly tossed the book back onto the table, took a sip of coffee, and said, “What's your first class today?”

  “Philosophy of Mind,” I replied, doing my best to not look at Kasie's nipples which were clearly visible through her tank top.

  “Is that the one with the weird professor?”

  “Yup. That's the one. How about you?”

  “I got a psych class a little later.”

  “No, really?” I asked, sarcastically. “You're a grad student. All your classes are psych classes.”

  “Psychopharmacology for Non-Medical Mental Health Professionals. Happy?”

  “I would be if you could get me some of those psychopharmaceuticals you're studying!”

  We both laughed, then went back to watching the news and drinking our coffees. My class started before Kasie's, so I showered and got ready first while she stayed in the living room on her phone.

  “I'm off to class,” I said, grabbing my bag and heading toward the door.

  “Have a wonderful day, James!” Kasie replied.

  I remember her putting a lot of emphasis on “wonder” for some reason. At the time, I thought it was just my imagination. Now, though, I'm not so sure. In fact, I'm pretty sure she did say it differently than usual. But it doesn't really matter.

  I hopped on the Green Line, taking the T down two stops to where my class was. With only four minutes until it began, I hopped off the T and walked hurriedly into my university's philosophy building. That's when strange things started happening.

  It all began as I was walking down the hall. Every morning on the way to that class, I would pass the same girl who was simply too cute to not look at. Usually, I looked her up and down, praying to a god who's existence I was highly suspicious of to let her talk to me. And usually – no, always – she was either looking down or at everyone else but me.

  Well, on that morning, she looked me right in the eyes, smiled, and said in a voice just a little higher than I was expecting, “Good morning.”

  I said it back to her but, by the time I did, she was already down the hall and around the corner. I was in such shock that it took me a while to get those two simple words out.

  Now, I know what you're thinking. Whoop dee doo! A girl said “Good morning.” Big deal. And, by itself, I'd agree with you – it wasn't a big deal. But that was just the beginning. When I got to class, that's when the real weirdness started.

  I reduced my fast walk to a casual stroll and sauntered into class at nine-o-clock on the dot. Much to my surprise, the classroom was empty. I looked around and immediately noticed two things: the professor's desk and the dry-erase board behind it.

  On the board, written in Professor Amundsen's unmistakable handwriting read, Class Canceled. I was happy that class was canceled, knowing that I wouldn't have to spend the next ninety minutes sitting at a desk. But, at the same time, I wished that he would've told us ahead of time so I could've stayed home and played video games all morning.

  After reading the board, my attention immediately shifted to the professor's desk. Sitting on top of it was a single item: a scroll. Not a piece of paper, not a note written on a napkin – a scroll. It's hard not to notice a scroll in these here modern times. We don't see a lot of scrolls lying around. In fact, I think it was the first scroll I'd ever seen – in real life, anyway.

  Naturally, I walked over to the desk to check it out. I carefully unrolled the scroll, which was written on something that definitely wasn't normal paper. Parchment, maybe? Whatever it was, I opened the long scroll and looked it up and down.

  Immediately, I recognized what it was. It was a copy of something I'd signed for Professor Amundsen a few weeks earlier. He was involved in all kinds of research and asked the class if any of us would be willing to participate in
his research. The professor told us that we'd get extra credit, something I'd almost definitely need by the end of the semester. So, naturally, I volunteered.

  At the top of the scroll read, Consent and NDA. Then, there was tons of fine print, something I didn't read, just like with the paper copy I'd signed for the professor. At the bottom was what made me realize that something really strange was going on.

  At the bottom of the scroll was my signature. It wasn't a scroll with a blank copy of the legal document Professor Amundsen had us sign. It was a copy of the copy that I'd signed.

  I didn't understand why the professor would leave a copy of the legal document I'd signed or why he'd leave it in the form of a scroll. But, at the time, I didn't really care. I had an extra hour-and-a-half to go back home and chill.

  I wantonly tossed the scroll back on the desk and headed out the door. Only a few steps down the hallway, I ran into a classmate of mine. His name was Carter Livingston and I couldn't stand him.

  “Hey James,” he said with a shit-eating grin, stopping right in front of me. “I'm mad late for class. Wait a minute... Why aren't you in class?”

  “Class is canceled today,” I replied.

  “Get outta here! Really? That's awesome!” Carter said, turning to walk back the way he came.

  “But,” I said loud enough to get him to turn around, “you might want to go into the classroom before you leave. The professor left something on the desk, though I'm not really sure why.”

  Carter blew past me, bumping into my arm, and walked directly into the classroom. He stopped for a moment and looked from the board to the desk, back to the board, then back to the desk. I couldn't see his face, but I assumed he was as confused as I was when I walked in. He approached the desk and picked up the scroll. Carter unrolled it and looked it up and down.

  “Weird, isn't it?” I asked, standing in the doorway.

  “It sure is,” Carter replied. “Why would Professor Amundsen leave a copy of the NDA research thing I signed on his desk?”

  “That you signed?” I asked, walking over to him to see for myself. “A minute ago, it was my signature on there.”

  Sure enough, the scroll that Carter was holding had his signature at the bottom. Even his signature irked me. He made the L in Livingston way too big and swooped G's tail so it circled halfway around the whole name. I didn't care about that at the time, though. I was busy trying to figure out how Professor Amundsen could've switched the scrolls so fast. Or how he knew who was coming into the classroom.

  “I don't care if it's John Hancock's signature on there,” Carter replied, dropping the scroll. “This was my only class for the day so I'm gonna go have some fun. Later!”

  Once again, he brushed past me on his way out the door. Carter rushed down the hallway, disappearing around a corner. I started walking down the hall, too, but stopped after a few steps. I couldn't stop thinking about the scroll. After pausing in the middle of the hallway for a moment, I turned around and walked back into the classroom. I wanted to look at the scroll again to see who's signature would be on it now.

  I wouldn't get the chance, though. When I returned to the classroom, the scroll was gone. The board still said, Class Canceled, but there was nothing on the desk. I walked around it and even looked in the drawers to make sure it hadn't fallen off the desk. Nope. It definitely wasn't there.

  “So weird,” I mumbled to myself.

  I shrugged my shoulders and left the classroom. As much as I didn't like Carter, he had the right attitude. He didn't care about the scroll, only that class had been canceled. I tried to forget about the strange scroll and just be happy that I had an extra hour-and-a-half to do whatever I wanted to.

  What I wanted to do was go home and play video games, but life had other plans for me that morning. Instead of taking the T home, I decided to walk. It was only a few blocks and it was a nice, warm summer day. Boston's a beautiful city to walk around in the summer. In the winter, however, it can be a brutal city to live in. Everyone's miserable and angry from the moment they walk out the door into the blistering cold. People are still rude in the summertime but there's something about getting yelled at by a guy in shorts that takes some of the sting out of it.

  I was walking down a side street on my way home from school when a guy came out of the shadows, blocking my route. He was easily over six-feet tall and muscular with more than one tattoo on his face – not the kind of guy you tell to get out of your way. I could tell by the look on his face that I wouldn't be getting past him so I turned around immediately. Before I was able to take even a single step, two other guys came out of nowhere, blocking me.

  “I don't want any trouble,” I said, my voice a bit shaky.

  “Oh no?” one of the men said with an evil grin. “You see, we like trouble. In fact, we go out of our way looking for trouble.”

  “That's right,” one of his associates continued. “We have to go out looking for trouble. But you... you just found it without even looking. You're a lucky guy.”

  “Please,” I begged, “don't hurt me. I'll give you whatever I have in my wallet.”

  “You don't have to give us any gifts,” the thug in the front with the face tattoos said. I turned around to face him. “We'll just take whatever you have in your wallet when we're done with you!”

  One of the guys behind me threw off my backpack and grabbed my arms, restraining me. Normally, I would've been overwhelmed by fear – which, if I'm being honest, I was. But I was also filled with a strong sense of courage – an unfiltered aggression I'd never experienced before. What happened next was all a blur. It happened so fast that I didn't have time to think about it until after it was over.

  With one of the guys holding my arms behind my back, I jumped up and kicked the guy in front of me in the middle of his chest. He went flying backwards several feet, landing on his back. My feet returned to the ground but not for very long. Again, I leapt into the air. This time, I jumped backwards, up and over the guy holding my arms. I landed right behind him and, before he had time to react, my arm was wrapped tightly around his neck.

  The evil smile that was on his face a moment earlier disappeared in an instant. I wrapped my arm around his neck like an anaconda squeezing the life out of its prey. After struggling for a couple seconds, his body went limp and I dropped him to the ground.

  The second I released him, a closed fist cracked me in the face. Normally, getting hit like that would've sent me cowering into a corner. That morning, it just made me even more angry and focused. I looked right into the eyes of the one who hit me and I don't know why I did it, but I smiled at him. Then I knocked him out.

  I swung at him wildly with my left hand and he leaned back just in time to avoid getting hit. He countered with a right jab which came so close that I could feel the wind against my face. Then, I took a step forward and came at him with a right-handed uppercut.

  Crack!

  Pain shot through my hand as it connected with his chin. I watched his eyes roll back into his head as his limp body fell to the ground. All I wanted was for the whole experience to be over, but the tattoo-faced thug I kicked in the chest had gotten up and came at me with a knife.

  “Who would've thought a skinny college boy would know how to fight?” he said.

  I couldn't speak for anyone else but I know I sure didn't. Never in my life had I taken even a single martial arts class. The only fighting experience I had was from playing Tekken.

  “Please, just let me go!” I begged.

  “After you beat up my guys? Not a chance.”

  He lunged at me with the knife. I jumped back, narrowly escaping the attack. My heart was beating like a hummingbird's, yet I felt more calm and focused than ever. Again, he swung at me with the knife and just barely missed slicing me wide open.

  “That's it,” he said. “I'm done playing games.”

  The man charged at me with fire in his eyes. He tried to stab me in the chest but, in one swi
ft movement, I grabbed his arm, spun him around and twisted it behind his back, and pulled it up until I heard a crunch sound. The knife dropped out of his hand, falling to the ground.

  “Arrrggghhh! My arm!” he screamed.

  I spun him back around and did a spin move myself – a spin kick to the face. My Adidas Superstar connected with the thug's jaw, knocking him out instantly. He dropped to the ground, joining his other friends.

  For a moment, I just stood there. I was so in shock by what had just happened that I couldn't move. How could a twenty-two year old college kid with no fighting experience have knocked out three hardened criminals? I wasn't unhappy about what had happened – I was thrilled. I'd never felt so alive and powerful in my entire life. But I didn't understand how it happened.

  I knew that they wouldn't stay knocked out forever and I didn't want to be around when they woke up. After taking one last look at the aftermath of the fight, I grabbed my backpack and continued home. I couldn't wait to tell Kasie all about my not-so-ordinary morning.

  2.

  “I'm not saying that I don't believe you,” Kasie said, handing me a bag of frozen peas to put on my hand. “I just think you might be exaggerating a little bit. That's all.”

  “I'm telling you, it all happened exactly as I described. I didn't embellish a single detail.”

  “Well, regardless of what did or didn't happen, I'm just glad you're okay.”

  I couldn't say I blamed Kasie for questioning my story. If I was her, I wouldn't have believed me either. I barely believed it myself and I was the one it happened to.

  My knuckles were still on fire from delivering the uppercut to that thug's chin. Surprisingly, my face didn't hurt where he'd hit me. It was just a little red. I held the bag of frozen peas that Kasie handed me on my knuckles and they started feeling better within minutes.

  “So, what are you doing with the rest of your morning?” Kasie asked.

  “Well, I was going to just chill out and play video games,” I replied. “But that probably won't feel too good right now with my knuckles all swollen.”