The Return of the Titans

by James Thompson

  The Return of the Titans

  Published by J.J.Thompson at Smashwords

  Copyright © 2013 J.J.Thompson

  All Rights Reserved

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 1

  Justin slammed the door of the lobby and stomped into the small entry way. Rain water was dripping from his soaked clothing but he hardly noticed. A single weak bulb hung naked from a wire dangling in the middle of the cracked and stained ceiling, and he took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom.

  His nostrils stung a bit from the musty smell in the air but Justin was used to it. He began to walk toward the stairs across from the door, when a voice stopped him.

  “Wipe your feet, lad.” It was Wilson, the janitor. He stood in the doorway to the first floor hallway and the dim light reflected dully off of his balding head.

  Justin just stared at him. He had been so deep in his own thoughts that he hadn't recognized the old man for a moment.

  “You heard me. You're soaked through and leaking all over my lobby. Now wipe your feet.”

  Justin shuffled his feet on the thread-bare mat that stretched to the stairs and started walking again.

  “Oh fine, don't say hello then,” Wilson turned and limped back toward the first apartment door in the hallway. Justin took two more steps then he turned to apologize. Wilson was an okay guy, he thought. He shouldn't let his bad mood hurt the man's feelings.

  But the apartment door slammed before he could say anything. He waited a moment then shrugged and started up the stairs. I'll apologize later, he told himself.

  He walked up the three flights of stairs to the top floor.

  When he got to his apartment, Justin opened the door as quietly as possible. No one in the building ever locked their doors. For the first time, Justin wondered about that. It was natural for him to just come and go without worrying about house keys and yet he knew how much crime there was outside of the old building. Then he shrugged and concentrated on entering as noiselessly as possible.

  He knew it was a waste of time. His mother heard everything, even with the television playing so loudly that he could usually hear it from the door, just like he could now.

  Justin closed the door behind himself gently and took a step toward his room at the end of the long central hallway.

  “Hon, is that you?” The gentle voice could barely be heard over the noise of the television.

  He sighed. I knew it, he thought. “Yeah Mom, it's me,” Justin said loudly.

  He began to quickly walk down the hall. If he could slip by the living room doorway and into his bedroom, he could change before his mom could see him. He got halfway by the archway.

  “Hold on there, mister,” she said.

  Justin stopped abruptly and almost tripped on the carpet. He turned his head and looked across the room at his mother, who was lying on the couch facing the television as usual.

  “Yes, Mom? What's the problem?”

  “Turn right around and face me, Justin.”

  She's got me, he thought with a mental wince. He turned slowly and faced into the room.

  His mother sighed loudly and hit the mute button on the remote. “What was it this time, Just?”

  He looked down at his clothes. Besides dripping with water, his jacket and shirt had several grass stains streaked across them and the left knee of his jeans was ripped open. He was surprised. He hadn't actually noticed the damage until now.

  “It was Chris again, Mom. I don't get it. We hung out all summer and now that I'm in high school and he's one grade higher than me, he's always picking on me.” His mother just watched him. “It's not like I go out of my way to bug him. Since he made it clear that he doesn't want me around him and his friends, I never even talk to him. And now it's like he looks for me to pick on.” He shook his head. “I just don't get it.”

  His mother tucked her legs up and made room for him on the couch. “Sit down, sweetie,” she said gently.

  “Mom, I'm soaked. I think I should change first.”

  She smiled slightly. “Okay, hon. Just leave the clothes in the basket. Mrs. Petropoulos will mend the rips, as usual. Then come straight back after you change.”

  He nodded. “Yes ma'am,” he said and headed for his room.

  “And don't get on the Net either,” she called after him.

  Man, she knows me too well, he thought. He walked into his room and closed the door. He took off his clothes and tossed them into the wicker basket in the corner. Mrs. Petropoulos picked up the laundry twice a week. He had a feeling that he was in for another lecture about taking care of his clothes. But she was so good to his mother and took such good care of the apartment and both of them that he never said anything. Besides, he'd known her most of his life.

  He changed into sweat pants and a t shirt, then looked at his computer. Just a quick check of my email, he thought and tapped the keyboard to turn on the sleeping machine.

  A small screen popped up. Two emails. Listening for his mom's voice, he double-clicked on the mail icon. He checked the addresses. One was generic junk mail, an offer to share some lottery winnings. He just rolled his eyes and deleted it.

  The other one was a mystery. The title line said “Remember The Titans”. Titans? What are Titans? he wondered. And the address line was messed up. Just a bunch of weird random characters. He was about to open the email when he heard his mother from the living room.

  “Justin, are you surfing?”

  Damn, he thought. “Coming, Mom,” he called and headed for the door.

  He walked back into the living room, sat at the end of the couch and watched his mother. She was staring at the still-muted television set. She seemed to do that more lately; just staring into space, lost in her thoughts. Justin grew nervous when she did this. She was so tiny now and the cancer that had ravaged her for two years was progressing rapidly. As he watched, a small tremor shook her tiny frame. She ignored it as she always did. Then she turn her head and looked at him with a smile.

  “Don't stare, sweetie. It's not polite.”

  He blushed. “Sorry, Mom,” he mumbled.

  Her smile widened and then she looked serious again. “Honey, let's talk about Chris.”

  Justin turned and looked out of the wide picture window to the building across the street. “Why bother, Mom? He's not going to change or go away, so I guess I just have to put up with it.” He glanced at her and was surprised to see her nod.

  “I know it's not easy, hon. Especially after you were friends with him. But people change sometimes and teenagers,” she grinned at him and he rolled his eyes at her, “often change a lot. I'm guessing that he wa
nts to feel more grown up and you being a year younger and a lot smaller might make him feel too much like a kid.” Justin frowned at the thought and his mother hurried on. “No, you're not a kid, sweetie. And it's not your fault that you're small. You get that from me, I'm afraid. And the blue eyes, you lucky guy.” They both laughed.

  “I don't mind being small, Mom. Not really. But it's frustrating that I have to act like such a wimp. Why can't I just stand up to him or anyone else that bullies me?”

  She sighed. “Just, we've had this conversation several times now. Ever since you were twelve and we realized that you were changing. You know how people feel about anyone who's different.” Justin looked at the floor. The smoldering anger that he always felt when he had to pretend to be a coward rose up in him again but he pushed it back.

  “I know you have the heart of a lion, hon. That's what you got from your Dad. But you can't let it get the better of you. What if someone reported a young man who couldn't be hurt? Who didn't feel pain? Don't you think that someone in the government might be curious enough to investigate?”

  Justin sighed. “Mom, um, don't you think you're being a bit, you know, paranoid?”

  His mother frowned slightly. “Maybe, Justin. But we never got a straight answer about what happened when your father went missing. Even though he was an important diplomat and the father of a two year old, they just swept it under the carpet.” She looked away and Justin saw the tender expression he knew meant his Mom was seeing his father's face. “He went into that country in the middle of a war to broker a peace deal and disappeared and all we got out of it was his pension.” She looked at him. “I will never trust the government again. They took away my husband. They won't take my son!”

  He reached out and took her hand. Her bones were so thin that it was like holding the hand of a child. “Mom, I'm not going anywhere. But I know you want me to be safe, so I'll keep pretending.” He shrugged. “At least, for as long as I can.”

  She patted his hand. “Good man. And I'm sure that Chris will get bored eventually and find another target. Just avoid him as much as possible. Okay?”

  “Okay Mom.” He stood up. “Do you want any dinner?” He already knew the answer but asked anyway.

  His mother clicked off the mute button on the remote. “No thanks, hon. I ate earlier. Mrs. Petropoulos left something in the oven. Just dig in when you get hungry.” She looked at his expression and laughed. “I know, I know. You're always hungry. Off you go, sweetie.”

  As he left the room she called after him “And don't forget to...”

  “Put the dishes in the dishwasher, I know, Mom.” He grinned as he heard her laugh again. She was so rarely happy anymore that the merest smile from her always cheered him up.

  After he had eaten, Justin went back to his room. The computer was still on and the email still open. Oh right, he thought. The mystery email.

  He doubled-clicked on it and the letter screen opened up. There were only a couple of lines. It just said Remember The Titans and some stuff about Greek mythology and Atlantis. Justin reread the letter and then just stared at the screen. Greek mythology? Who cared about that? He looked at the address again but it was still just a bunch of weird little pictographs and symbols that reminded him of some old Egyptian writing he'd seen in a history book once. He was about to delete the email when he noticed that the letter extended beyond the screen, even though it was just blank space. He scrolled down. At the very bottom of the screen were two short lines. It said “Learn this. Your life depends upon it.”

  He sat back and stared. What? My life depends on this? What the hell does that mean? He wondered if Chris or some other jerk at school had found his email address and was trying to play head games. No, that couldn't be it. One thing those guys weren't and that was subtle.

  Well, it couldn't hurt to look some of this stuff up, he thought and opened up his internet browser. He started searching. The Titans in Greek mythology. The fall of Atlantis. The war of the Titans and the Olympians. He began to get interested in spite of himself. There were a lot of legends, folk tales, epic poems, sagas and stories on the web. He didn't realize how deeply he was drawn into his search until he heard his mother calling from the living room.

  “Justin? Time for bed, sweetie.”

  He looked at the clock on the screen. Wow, twelve-thirty! Time had flown by. He didn't want to stop. “Mom,” he called out. “It's Friday night. Can't I stay up a bit?”

  “You have stayed up a bit. And you know it. Get to bed. Or do I have to come in there?”

  He winced. He hated it when she used that tactic, knowing that he would never make her haul herself painfully into his room from the living room. “No Mom. I'm going to bed.”

  “Good. Night, sweetie.”

  “Night Mom.” He set the computer to sleep mode. His mother was right. It was late and he had all weekend to explore this fascinating new discovery.

  By Sunday night, his head was overflowing with descriptions and stories of mighty deeds and fantastic quests. Justin had never realized just how much of the modern legends and folktales had sprung from the old Greek legends. He had shared his new fascination with his mother and from time to time over the weekend had rushed into the living room to tell her about some new fact or tidbit. His mother had dutifully listened and he never noticed her occasionally biting her lip to keep from smiling at his new-found intensity.

  But for all the fascinating stories, Justin could find no practical use for any of it. My life depends on it? That thought played through his mind again and again. No, it did not make sense. Someone was definitely having fun at his expense. He would have been more resentful if he hadn't enjoyed learning about the myths so much.

  He was getting ready for bed at the end of the evening when he heard the faint chime that announced new email. He was tired and Monday morning came early. He was tempted to ignore it until the next day. He shrugged. It will only take a sec, he thought. He doubled-clicked on the icon.

  It was another message with that same weird address line. This time the subject line was empty. He hesitated a moment then clicked to open the email. There was only one line. “Watch your back,” it said. And that was all.

  Justin deleted the message, shut down his computer and got into bed. Watch your back, he thought. Watch your back. He fell asleep with that phrase still running through his mind.

  Every evening for the next week, Justin was surfing the net, reading stories about Greek myths and the ancient gods known as the Titans. He still had no idea why the mysterious e mailer had urged him to research them or what the “Watch your back” warning had been about, but he had discovered a new passion and was surprised at how excited the subject made him.

  His mother was surprised as well. By the middle of the week, she asked him why he was so into this new hobby and he couldn't really explain it to her. “It's cool, Mom,” he said and that was the best explanation he could come up with. She had just smiled, shrugged and said “Okay hon. As long as you're having fun.”

  When Justin got home on Friday, he met Wilson in the lobby. He had apologized earlier in the week for being rude and had explained why and the big man had just laughed and said he understood. As Justin entered the lobby, Wilson was twisting a new mop head onto his ever-present mop handle. He looked up at Justin and winked. “Nothing like a brand-new, pristine mop head, Justin.” He sighed and stared at it. “Makes you feel like washing some floors, just looking at it.”

  Justin looked at the mop and then back at Wilson. “Um, sure Wilson. If you say so.”

  The man just laughed. “Yeah, I know. Sounds weird, lad. But when you've been a janitor as long as I have, it's the little things that make it all worth while.”

  Justin just shrugged. “I suppose so.” He started toward the stairs. “See you later, Wilson.”

  As he was about to start climbing the staircase, he head Wilson behind him. “So, how do you like the Titans?” he asked quietly.

  The boy stopped abruptly a
nd turned around. “What?” he asked faintly.

  Wilson stood under the glow of the naked light bulb. “You heard me,” he said.

  Justin was confused. “How do you know about...”

  “Well, your Mom and I had tea yesterday. She happened to mention it.”

  “Oh. Right.” Justin knew that Wilson and his mother had tea a few times a week when he was at school. He was grateful that she wasn't always alone, lost in the daily soaps on TV.

  “Well, I don't know. It's kind of fascinating actually. But I've always liked stories about heroes and monsters and stuff. It's cool that they had those kinds of stories even thousands of years ago. Don't you think?”

  The man nodded. “Yep. I've read a few of those myths myself. Interesting, I guess.” He chuckled a bit. “A little heavy for a thick old guy like me though. But I'm glad you found something to take your mind off your problems at school.” He looked keenly at Justin. “How's that going anyway?”

  Justin shook his head. “Same old. I managed to avoid Chris most of the week. I passed him in the hall today but he just made a smart-ass remark to his little group of friends and walked by. I can live with that.”

  Wilson sighed. “I'm sorry you have to deal with that, lad. Grade nine is hard enough to handle without the added pressure from a jerk like that.”

  Justin smiled. “Thanks, Wilson. But it's okay. I think my new hobby is distracting me enough to put it behind me. Or else I'm just getting used to it. Either way, I'll be okay.”

  Wilson nodded, gave Justin a wave and turned back toward his apartment.

  Justin spent the rest of the evening reading through more of the old legends. He began to notice that he was re-reading a lot of the same material and had a sense of disappointment as he realized that he might have exhausted all of the resources that he could find about the Titans and their myths.

  He tried one more search. Page after page of results just showed sites that he had already visited and he was about to give up when he came to the last page of results. It was page fifty-three and the last line listed was a quote from a site. Remember the Titans, it said.