Titles also by Jonathan Yanez
The Elite Series
The Beast Within (Book 1)
The Trials (Book 2)
The Judge (Book 3)
Thrive
Bad Land
The Steampunk Files
Steam and Shadows (Book 1)
“The two most important days in your life
are the day you are born and the day you find out why.”
-Mark Twain
Alan Price
and the Colossus of Rhodes
By
Jonathan Yanez
Text copyright © 2014 Archimedes Books
All Rights Reserved
To my sister Cynthia, who has always been close to my heart.
Chapter 1
Four Years Ago
Just one step and it would all be over. Alan teetered on the ledge of the fifty-story building. The cold wind whipped around him at dangerous speeds harassing his tuxedo jacket’s lapels and short blond hair.
Well, you came here to do it. You came all this way.
Alan looked at the streetlights stretching out in every direction; at the trim landscape so far below him. He swayed as the power of the wind tried to pull him over the ledge too early. Alan winced as the cold breeze forced itself against his face.
An ache reminded him of his black eye as he squinted. Reaching a hand to his face, Alan felt the tender swollen area around his right eye.
That’s going to leave a mark. It’s going to have to be a closed-casket funeral. What are you talking about? Nobody is going to come to your funeral anyway.
Alan bit his lip at the harsh but true thought, immediately he regretted his action. Pain and fresh blood oozed from his recently spilt lip. Alan grunted to the foreboding night as the discomfort subsided.
The air was cold and dark. Fitting, Alan thought, for this night to be my last... The night he died would be just like the life he lived. He hadn’t asked to be born, but he was. He didn’t want to be depressed and angry all the time, but he was. It seemed as thought he didn’t have too many choices in the world except for this one. He did have the choice to end his own life.
One step; just one jump and it can all be over. No more pills, no more being alone, no more looks of disgust directed your way from kids at school or the adults you know. One step, Alan, come on you can do this.
Alan swayed once again in the wind. Goose bumps prickled at his hands and neck. A shiver ran down his spine. For all the many reasons Alan wanted to jump, there was only one holding him back. It was giving in to defeat. Alan hated losing. If he did jump, he knew he would be giving up, on everything.
You tried; you tried it all. This isn’t giving up. This is your last unexplored option. You did everything you could, especially today, and you still ended up looking like a loser. You still ended up alone.
Alan looked down at his fancy clothes. The tuxedo, the boutonnière, the clothes all the cool guys wore in the movies, the clothes that were supposed to make him feel better about himself. They hadn’t.
For a moment, Alan wondered how irritated the tuxedo rental store would be that he had died and ruined one of their suits. Then he wondered if they could, would they salvage the suit and re-rent it.
Alan shook his head as he inched closer to the edge of the building. Looking down made his head swim. The ground below him zoomed in and out like a high-powered camera lens trying to focus.
It’s not giving up. How can it be after today? You tried everything. You’ll always be a loser; you’ll always be angry and depressed. This has to be the way—doesn’t it?
As Alan once again debated whether or not he should take his life, the wind made the final decision for him. A violent gust came up behind him and before Alan could step back or try to regain his balance, it pushed him over the edge. Buildings all around him rushed by as he headed face first to the unforgiving cement floor below.
It was then that Alan knew he wanted to live. It was too late now but he knew that this was giving up. This was the easy way out. In that moment, as the earth rushed to meet him, he knew he wanted to see the next day. A burning desire heated him from the inside out, a desire that told him to survive.
The ground came closer and closer, only seconds away from embracing him. Alan’s life didn’t rush before his eyes in his final moments the way everyone says it does. Instead, the just events from that specific day did.
Chapter 2
“Alan, you’re going to miss the bus. Hurry up, you can’t afford to be late again.”
Alan ran down the creaking stairs grabbing his worn backpack in one hand and trying to wrestle his shoulder-length hair into place with his other. Tony waited for him by the open door with that same look on his face. It was a look Alan hated with every fiber in his being. It was a look that said, “I’m sorry you are like this. I wish you could be better.”
Alan flashed a practiced grin to Tony. A grin empty on Alan’s part but that seemed to satisfy most anyone else, “Thanks, sorry.”
Tony just wore that same look on his face as he nodded, “Up late again last night reading? Those fantasy books again?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I know.” Alan rushed past Tony and out into the front yard. The house he lived in with Tony and the two other boys wasn’t the worse to which Alan had been assigned over the years. He didn’t want to cause waves now, or do something that might get him kicked out. Running across the lawn towards the waiting bus, Alan turned around, “I’m sorry, Tony. I really am. I promise it won’t happen again.”
Tony just stood there. An awkward moment passed as Alan thought Tony might say something. Maybe give him some reassurance, or tell him that it was fine. He didn’t. Instead, Tony turned his back and walked into the house, letting the tired screen door close behind him with a sigh.
Chapter 3
The bus had been rough at first. High school politics were just as brutal as any grasp for power on Capitol Hill. Alan used to try to find a spot next to someone who then would usually give him a dirty look or tell him that the seat was taken. Now Alan went straight to the back of the bus where everyone left a seat open so they wouldn’t have to sit next to him.
Eyes directed to the floor now, Alan made his way to the rear of the bus. With any luck, he could avoid eye contact with the already sitting passengers he knew were looking him up and down with disgust.
Studying the bus’ black floorboards Alan walked to the back. A snicker met his ears, “Well, the freak decided to show up for the ride. What were you up to last night, weirdo? Playing World of Warcraft on your Xbox?”
Alan’s mouth opened before he could stop himself, “They don’t make World of Warcraft for Xbox; it’s a PC only game. And, no, I was reading.” Alan looked up shocked at his own words. Brent Carson was your typical jock—the letterman jacket, the offensive line position for the school football team and boyfriend to the prettiest girl in school, Jennifer Richardson.
Brent’s face looked just as surprised as Alan’s did at the response. “Whatever, nerd. Get to your seat in the back of the bus before you have an accident.” With a disgusted look he turned to Jennifer, “Don’t worry, I’ll have my license in a few weeks and then we can skip this whole bus thing. We can leave the minions to their public ways of travel.”
Jennifer nodded not saying a word; instead, she gave Alan a look like Tony had. With one look she said she was sorry; not for her boyfriend’s actions, but that she was sorry Alan was such a loser. It was a look that made Alan’s stomach turn.
Alan made it the rest of the way to the rear of the bus without inciden
t, passing cliques of hipsters, jocks and Goths. Slumping into the familiar black seat, Alan let out a sigh. He was facing another day: another day of being alone, of school and of avoiding eye contact. Depression sank deeper, the water soaking into a thirsty sponge. Alan looked out the window at the passing homes left to his own thoughts.
Chapter 4
“Alan, how is the medication working?”
Alan was sitting in Dr. Larson’s office in a dark brown leather chair. His hands were in his lap and he was looking around the room in awe. Although he had visited his psychiatrist’s office for months now, Alan still got a sense of joy and wonder when surrounded by so many books. Shelves lined each wall making the doctor’s office look more like a library than a doctor’s office.
“Alan?”
“Oh, sorry. The meds aren’t working. I don’t feel any better.”
“Still depressed?”
Alan let out a sigh, “Yeah, depressed and angry now, too.”
The doctor cocked her head to the side, “Angry? What’s making you angry, Alan?”
“Life. That I can’t kick this feeling of sadness; that it will never go away. I hate not being able to do anything to feel better.”
The doctor nodded scribbling notes on a pad she held just close enough to keep Alan from seeing. “These feelings of depression, are they rooted anywhere specifically?”
“Everywhere. The only time I feel like I can get away is when I lose myself in a book.”
The doctor grinned, “Which book are you reading now?”
Alan leaned down to reach into his shabby backpack lying by his feet. He pulled out a red covered paperback and handed it to the doctor.
She took the book and flipped through a few pages. “I should have guessed: another book about ancient Greece, gods and mortals, Spartans and legendary creatures.”
Alan nodded with a smile. Even the mention of those words brought images to his mind that allowed him to forget his own reality for a few seconds and escape into a world he knew well.
“Alan,” the doctor handed the book back to him. “There isn’t anything wrong with having a healthy appetite for fantastical books, especially at your age. But you have to try to balance that with living your life in the present. Living here and now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you need to take small steps to better yourself each day. I know it’s hard but start small and I promise that getting outside of your shell will be easier and easier. Start by talking to someone you don’t know at school. Maybe just saying a hello.”
Alan didn’t say anything aloud but inside he was thinking, Yeah, okay, that’s going to happen. I’m depressed enough, even having suicidal thoughts, without being blown off by someone I actually try to talk to.
“Isn’t there a dance tonight?”
Alan looked at the doctor as if she had recently escaped a mental institute and he had just found her eating grass in a field. “Yeah, there is a dance but I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
“Are you kidding me? There isn’t enough time in our hour session for me to explain all the reasons why not.”
“Try me. And stop looking at me like I’m an alien.”
Despite himself, Alan had to grin at her response. “Well, I don’t have a date. I don’t have clothes. I don’t have a way to get there and I have no desire to be there. And even if I was there, I would be alone anyway, so what’s the point?”
Dr. Larson nodded, her glasses reflecting the sun from the open window. “There will always be excuses, Alan. There will always be reasons it would be easier to not try at all. I’m sure you’ve read about plenty of heroes that would have had a more comfortable life if they made excuses and took the easier route. I would consider the idea that it is better to try and fail, than to not try at all.”
Alan bit back a sarcastic comment but he knew she was right.
“Alan, you said you were frustrated about not being able to do anything about your depression, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, here is something you can actively do. Try it. For one day, one day, Alan get outside of your comfort zone and you may be surprised at what happens next.”
Alan was about to open his mouth to tell her again the reasons he couldn’t do that when a knock on the door interrupted their meeting.
“Come in,” Dr. Larson said glancing at the watch that hung off her slender wrist.
The door cracked open just an inch and the elderly female secretary’s voice could be heard from the other side. “Oh, I’m sorry to disturb you, Doctor, but your next appointment is here.”
“Thank you. We are just finishing.”
The door closed in response. Dr. Larson stood up handing Alan back his book. Alan had to stop himself from looking the doctor up and down.
Eye contact, keep eye contact.
Dr. Lisa Larson was a recent college graduate and couldn’t be more than seven or eight years Alan’s senior. She was tall and slender with a slight muscular touch that hinted at a few trips to the gym every week.
“I know you, Alan. You won’t give up. Have faith that with more effort and time we’ll figure this out. And think about what I said; get out of your shell for one day. I’ll also look into another prescription for you. Stay positive, Alan.”
Alan slung his backpack over his shoulder. He nodded at the doctor’s comment as he exited her office. It was an interesting idea, Alan admitted. It seemed he had tried everything over the last few years, but he hadn’t gone so far out on a limb to attend a school dance on his own. Maybe Dr. Larson was right. Maybe this is what he needed.
The school halls were jammed full as Alan made his way to his last period class: history. Kids, freshman through senior, ran or walked along the hallways all accompanied by their cliques. Individual groups of friends wadded upstream through the constant flow of human traffic. As usual, Alan did his best to avoid eye contact with anyone and made a beeline for the history classroom.
He was staring along a wall to avoid a group of cheerleaders when his eye caught sight of a large yellow sign that read: School Dance Tonight! Alan’s eyes skimmed over the rest of the information as a plan started to form in his mind.
No, that would be crazy. Even if you did go, you would be no better off than you are right now. You would be trying to avoid people the whole night. You might as well be invisible.
“You’re not thinking of going to the dance tonight, are you?”
Alan felt his body clench as he recognized Brent’s voice. He forced himself to turn. The jock was there with a smirk on his face. One arm slung over Jennifer’s shoulder he chuckled.
“I—well, I was thinking—“
“Better not to think, dude. You might end up getting hurt.”
Alan felt blood rush to his face as students began to notice the conversation between the two. Eager eyes soon began to stop, waiting to see if there would be a physical confrontation.
Alan looked down at the floor remaining quiet.
“Leave him alone, Brent,” Jennifer said. “If he wants to go, he can go. Come on, we’re going to be late for class.”
Alan still didn’t look up.
“Yeah okay,” Brent said as he turned his attention away from Alan. “I was just trying to give the loser some advice. Let’s face it, he needs all the help he can get.”
A sigh escaped from the crowd that had begun to gather. All anticipation for a fight was lost. Now with their hopes crushed, they broke into their groups heading to their next classes.
High school could be just as brutal as the Coliseum. Outrage warmed Alan’s chest, anger not at Brent or the other bullies that made him feel like nothing every day, but anger at being too weak and helpless to do anything.
Chapter 5
“The ancient Spartans were a warrior civilization. They met whatever came their way head on. They were fearless. Most notably, they were the group of Greeks that impeded the Persian invasion of Greece. Although the first c
ontingent that was sent to hold off the Persian army all died at the battle of Thermopile, their sacrifice bought Greece time to gather and mount a counter attack that would push back the invading Persian legion.”
Alan stared wide-eyed at the slides that changed along with the history teacher’s lecture. Pictures of muscular men with bronze armor embodied everything Alan wished he could be. These men were afraid of nothing. Men who made Brent Carson look like a spoiled kindergartener.
Alan felt a smile spread across his lips as he continued to look at the pictures on the slideshow from his front seat in his favorite class. These men, these Spartans, wouldn’t hesitate to look death in the face, let alone go to a high school dance.
If his heroes could die for their cause then Alan knew what he had to do. He had to take Dr. Larson’s advice and go to the dance, no matter how scared he might be. Besides, this could be it. Maybe this was the moment things would start looking up.
For the first time in a very long time, Alan felt something more than the gaping hole of misery. Hope had been planted. Alan was beginning to feel better all ready.
Chapter 6
“Nope, you can’t take the car.”
“I know you have rules but I’m eighteen now and I have my license. I would only need it to go to the tuxedo shop and to the dance tonight, that’s it.”
Tony raised his eyebrows and looked at him as though he had heard him but didn’t believe him. “You’re going where?”
Alan agreed that it did sound out of the ordinary for him. “I’m going to the dance tonight.” An idea popped into Alan’s mind like a coiled spring being released. “Technically, it’s my psychiatrist’s orders. She thought it would be good for me to get out of my shell.”
Alan Price and the Colossus of Rhodes (The Nephilim Chronicles) Page 1
