Wild-born

by Adrian Howell

  Steel was one of the most draining of metals. I don’t know if Cat knew that, but the frying pan saved her life. Probably mine too.

  When I woke, my nose had stopped bleeding, and it didn’t seem broken. Cat had removed the frying pan from my hands while I was asleep, and only after I woke did she hand me the wire.

  “I was afraid if I put it on you, you might not wake up,” said Cat.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have,” I replied wretchedly, wrapping the copper around my wrist.

  “Don’t say that, Adrian! Come on, you’re all bloody.”

  Wearing the wire wasn’t so bad since I had just slept. I felt dazed, and my legs were a bit wobbly, but otherwise I could walk. I wiped my face and changed my shirt. When I came back to the living room, Cat was waiting for me. She looked pleadingly into my eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but I already knew exactly what she was going to say.

  “I know, Cat,” I said. “I will.”

  “Today, Adrian.”

  “I will. Today. I promise.”

  Mom and Dad wouldn’t be back until past six. Cat sat beside me on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. Neither of us said anything for a while. We just sat there trying to restore some normalcy to our day.

  Cat broke the silence first. “Adrian, what are you going to say to them?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well, are you going to tell them everything, or…”

  “Wouldn’t be much point telling them at all if I didn’t tell them everything, don’t you think?”

  “I guess so. But Adrian, there’s just so much we don’t know.”

  I gaped at her. “You’re telling me!”

  Cat laughed, and suddenly so did I, though rather nervously. What exactly was I going to say to our parents? I had no idea. But it was just good to sit there and laugh a bit. For all the annoyances a little sister can often be, that was the one thing I really loved about Cat: She always had a smile tucked away somewhere. Even when her big brother had almost tried to kill her… again.

  After dinner that evening, we were all watching TV together. Actually, Dad might have been the only one watching. Dad, Cat and I were on the sofa while Mom sat in the easy chair knitting something purplish. Cat, who was sitting in her usual spot between Dad and me, had curled up into a ball and was resting her head on Dad’s arm. She kept throwing me furtive looks. I still had no idea how to go about this, but I had promised.

  “Dad,” I said hesitantly, “can I ask you a question?”

  Dad looked over at me, a little surprised. Usually, when I ask a question, I just ask it, so he probably knew it was something serious.

  “Sure, what is it, Adrian?” he asked.

  “Can you… I mean, do you think it’s possible… I mean, there’s something different about me, and…” my voice faltered.

  Dad gave me an understanding smile and said, “Adrian, you’re going on thirteen soon, and a lot of things are going to change in your life.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” I deadpanned. For a crazy instant, I thought he was going to say that he knew about my power and that every adult had it.

  “If there’s something worrying you, it’s okay, you can tell me. But maybe you want to talk about this privately?” asked Dad, nodding toward Cat. Mom stopped her knitting to listen in as well.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Cat knows.”

  “She does?” Dad looked surprised, but then he calmly asked again, “What is it, Adrian? If you told Cat, you can certainly tell me.”

  “It’s just… Well, I was wondering…”

  “Yes?”

  “Can you make things move without touching them?” I blurted out, and I knew it sounded utterly lame.

  Dad stared at me curiously for a moment, and then grinned, saying, “Why sure I can! Hey, Kitty, you want to be tickled?”

  Dad waggled his fingers near Cat’s neck. My sister jumped up out of the sofa, shrieking. Dad got up too and chased Cat around the living room until she took refuge behind Mom’s easy chair.

  “Nothing to it!” laughed Dad, sitting back down beside me. “I didn’t touch her even once, see?”

  I laughed too, but then I said, “Come on, Dad, you know that’s not what I mean.”

  “Well, what do you mean?” asked Dad, still chuckling. “Moving things without touching them… What, like magic?”

  “Well,” I said, knowing there really was no good way to explain it, “not exactly magic, but kind of like this.”

  I focused on a flowerpot, raising it up near the ceiling. I flew it once around the room before setting it down at Dad’s feet.

  This time, it was Dad’s turn to jump up from the sofa.

  “What the… How in… What?!” he sputtered.

  Mom was speechless. Her knitting needles fell silently from her hands.

  “There’s more,” I said quietly.

  I had to take them out to the backyard to show them the blasting thing. This time I demonstrated it on Dad’s beer cans. Even I was surprised at how easy blasting was, considering how little experience I had with it. In the dark backyard, we could clearly see the shimmering streaks of light as they hit the cans, knocking them over and rupturing them, pouring beer all over the picnic table. Cat couldn’t stop laughing, watching our parents’ eyes widen with surprise, amazement, fright, what-have-you.

  But if it weren’t for Cat, I couldn’t have put on my show. Her support was the only thing that gave me the courage to tell Mom and Dad the next part of my story: the part about the headaches, and the rage. It was a lot for them to take in, but they handled it well.

  “So it’s happened twice?” asked Dad.

  “Yeah,” I said quietly, “and it was a lot worse the second time.”

  Dad picked up one of the ruptured beer cans and examined the hole in its side. “This – this power of yours is what’s causing it?”

  “No! It wasn’t me!”

  “How can you be so sure, Addy?” asked Mom.

  “Because I am! It was from outside. I just know!”

  My voice must have had more than a touch of panic in it. But they had to understand, whatever I was, I wasn’t that monster.

  Dad put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Adrian,” he said. “We’ll believe you. Just give us time. We’ve never seen anything like this before, you know. Maybe nobody has. When you said you had a question, I thought we were going to talk about girls.”

  Cat giggled.

  “Addy,” Mom said in a concerned tone, “your father and I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but we’re on your side. You know that, don’t you, dear?”

  “Yes,” I answered glumly. I knew Mom was trying to cheer me up, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something in my life was about to be lost, or had already been lost, forever.

  “And we’re going to find out, Adrian,” said Dad, smiling encouragingly. “Tomorrow. We’ll take you to the hospital. Don’t worry. They’re not going to lock you up. I won’t let them. They’ll just take a look at you, okay?”

  “Okay,” I mumbled.

  “Cheer up! You’ll probably be famous!” said Dad. “They’ll find a way to take care of the headaches. I’m sure of it.”

  That was the last real conversation I ever had with my parents.

  Later, past midnight, I lay awake on my bed in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. Mom and Dad must have either been asleep or pretending. Either way, the house was silent. Tomorrow, I was going to the hospital. Despite what Dad had said, I felt deep down that I wasn’t coming back home.

  This might be my last night here, I thought.

  I didn’t even notice my door open, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard Cat whisper, “Adrian?”

  “Cat?!” I said, rounding on her. “Don’t do that! What if I hurt you again?”

  “You didn’t hurt me, Adrian,” said Cat. “And you won’t. I’m not afraid.”

  “What are you doing in here, Cat?” I asked, annoyed.

&n
bsp; “Same as you. Staying awake because I can’t sleep.”

  “Go do it in your own room!”

  Cat looked at me defiantly. “Addy-baby.”

  “Go away! I’m in no mood to chase you around.”

  “Feeling sorry for yourself?” asked Cat.

  “Wondering if I’ll ever be normal again.”

  I got up and turned on the light. Cat sat on my bed, and I slumped down in my desk chair. I looked at Cat, who sat expressionless and silent, staring back at me.

  Maybe she was right. Maybe I was feeling a little sorry for myself. But more than that, I was scared. I was scared of so many things now that it was difficult just keeping them organized. What if my powers overwhelmed me? What if I hurt my family or my friends? What if I had another headache? What if the doctors locked me up? What if I never saw Mom or Dad or Cat ever again?

  “Adrian, what do you think is going to happen tomorrow?” asked Cat.

  I shrugged. “Dad said they’ll probably do some tests.” I forced a smile and added, “Then maybe they’ll put me in a big frying pan for the rest of my life.”

  Cat didn’t laugh.

  I asked, “How do you think it’s going to end, Cat?”

  “I don’t know…” Cat paused, and then she looked at me and smiled. “How about, ‘And they all lived happily ever after’?”

  “I’d like that, Cat,” I said quietly. “That’d be great.”

  Cat reached down the front of her shirt and pulled out her pendant. It was a cut and polished amethyst on a delicate silver chain, and had been a birthday gift from our uncle who was a rare stones dealer. The amethyst was Cat’s birthstone, and she wore it almost every day, calling it her lucky pendant.

  But Cat didn’t usually wear her pendant inside her clothes or at night. I wondered why she had it now, but I soon found out. Reaching behind her neck and unlocking the chain, Cat took the pendant off and held it out to me.

  “Adrian, I want you to have this,” she said. “For luck.”

  “Cat, I can’t.”

  “Please, Adrian. If they take you away… If I never see you again…”

  “You know I can’t wear that,” I said. “The chain is silver.”

  “Oh yeah,” said Cat, and slid the chain out of the hole in the stone. She placed the amethyst in my hand, saying, “Just keep the stone, then.”

  I slowly closed my hand around it and smiled. “Thanks, Cat. When things get back to normal, I’ll give it back, okay?”

  Cat smiled. “Deal!”

  I pocketed the stone, and we gazed at each other in silence for a minute.

  “Adrian…” Cat’s voice was barely audible.

  “Yeah, Cat?”

  “I love you.”

  I looked at her, startled. In all our years together, I don’t think either of us ever said those three words to the other. And suddenly I knew what Cat had meant when she accused me of feeling sorry for myself. She was just as scared as I was. Mom and Dad too, no doubt.

  “I love you too, Cat,” I mumbled awkwardly.

  “I am here.”

  The deep growling thought hit my head like a gong, reverberating through my skull. This time, I was ready.

  Grabbing the copper wire, I shouted to Cat, “It’s happening again! Get out, Cat! Get out of here now!”

  The ceiling lights flickered a few times, and then the room was plunged into darkness. The windowpane, replaced only three days ago, exploded inwards, showering us with glass fragments. A powerful gust of wind swept around the room, making papers and bits of trash fly around.

  Weakened by my contact with the wire, I could hardly stand up in the whirlwind that my room had become. Cat started to scream. I heard a loud crashing noise from what I thought was the living room.

  Someone was in the house!

  I dropped the wire. The headache wasn’t coming. This was different.

  “Cat! Addy!” Over the sound of the wind, I could just barely hear Mom frantically calling to us from somewhere in the house.

  Then I heard screaming. It was Dad. It lasted a few seconds, and then stopped. The wind had stopped too, and for a brief moment, the house was dead silent.

  “Richard! Are you okay?” cried Mom’s distant voice, full of fear.

  I had to stop Dad. I dashed out of my room and down the corridor. The wind started to pick up again. Soon it was whipping through the house, rattling windows and knocking over houseplants and even bookshelves. I was almost to my parents’ bedroom when I heard Mom scream.

  I opened the door and saw them.

  I’m not going to tell you how my mother died. If you really want to know, you can go dig up the newspaper articles on them about what the police found the next day. There are records of all of this, but I’m not going to point you to it. In short, Dad killed her.

  Then he came after me.

  I tripped backwards over something soft, and realized that Cat had followed me. I grabbed her arm and pulled her back into my room. I could hear Dad roaring in fury. Like a rampaging bull, he came bearing down on my room door as I was trying to shut it.

  The door clicked in place a moment before Dad crashed into it with a loud thud. There wasn’t a lock. All Dad had to do was turn the knob. But by the sound of it, he was clawing at the door like a wild animal. Even so, I felt it was only a matter of seconds before he either opened it or broke it down.

  I turned to Cat and shouted, “Out the window!”

  Cat shook her head, her eyes wide with fright.

  “Jump, Cat!” I said again. “I’ll break the fall.”

  Cat still didn’t budge. I grabbed her and threw her out, doing my best to telekinetically slow her down before she hit the ground. It wasn’t easy because I was panicking and couldn’t concentrate, but Cat quickly stood and looked up at me, so I guessed she was okay.

  I called down to her from the window, “Run, Cat! I’ll hold him off!”

  Cat finally seemed to come out of whatever trance she was in. She sprinted out of the yard, into the semi-dark street and out of sight.

  Meanwhile, I heard Dad roar again, but suddenly the clawing noise stopped. He had turned around and gone after someone else. Instinct told me to jump out of my window and follow Cat, but something stopped me. I was sure that whoever had done this to us was still in the house. Maybe Dad had gone after that someone. I had to help Dad. Besides, after all that had happened, I couldn’t just run away without any answers.

  Or maybe I just wanted to see the monster.

  The wind was still whipping up a storm of papers and torn leaves, so there was no way anyone could hear me, but nevertheless I crept as quietly as I could down the hall to the stairs. I peered over the banister and looked down into the living room.

  There was glass everywhere. All the windows had shattered. The curtains had been torn off their rails. In the little moonlight that was shining through the living-room window, I saw him. He was a big, wide-shouldered man, though I couldn’t tell in the darkness whether he was fat or muscular. I could also make out the shape of my father’s body lying on the floor nearby, his arms and neck bent strangely. He wasn’t moving.

  The big man slowly turned his head and looked up at me. And he grinned, but his eyes were cold and fierce. Then he looked away, turning slowly on the spot as he searched the room for something else. I could only see the scene from above. What was he looking for?

  A blink later, his whole body twitched once, and I saw a glint of silver near his neck. Then I saw the metal shaft. An arrow had been shot through his throat. Clutching his neck, the man fell to his knees, and then flat on his face.

  “Come on out,” said a wheezy voice from below. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I realized that the house was silent again. The wind had stopped.

  “Who are you?” I called down. My voice was almost steady.

  “I’m a friend,” said the voice, coughing lightly once. “Come on out! He’s dead now. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  At the botto
m of the stairs, I was met by an old man who, in the dim light, looked a bit like a scarecrow. He was holding a heavy wooden crossbow in his hands. Weathered and gangly, he fidgeted constantly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he examined my face.

  “Adrian Havel?” he asked.

  “Howell,” I corrected. “Adrian Howell. Who are you?”

  “Of course… Adrian Howell,” the old man muttered to himself. Then he smiled and said, “I’m Ralph. So we meet at last, Adrian Howell.”

  “How did you know my name?” I asked suspiciously.

  Ralph looked into my eyes and said calmingly, “I’m a friend. Where is your sister, Adrian Howell? Where is Catherine?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “She’s outside somewhere, probably far away by now.”

  Ralph scowled for an instant as if he was conflicted over something, but then he said, “No matter. We need to get going.”

  “Who are you?” I asked again. I wasn’t afraid of him. I didn’t know why, but if anything I felt calm and at ease.

  “I’m the man that’s rescuing you, lad,” Ralph replied matter-of-factly. “Come with me.”

  I looked back at my father’s lifeless body on the floor. “My parents… I can’t just leave them.”

  “Yes you can,” Ralph said hurriedly. “You have to, anyway. There’s nothing you can do about your parents now. That’s a berserker I just killed for you, and there’s no guarantee he’s the only one after you. We have to go right now. I know you want answers, and I promise you’ll get them, but if you want to live, you’re going to have to trust me and come with me now. You can trust me, lad. I promise you that.”

  Things had gone from “weird” into a nightmare. My parents were lying dead in the house. Cat was gone. And I was standing in a room with an old, crossbow-wielding stranger telling me that he had just saved me from a “berserker,” and that I had to go with him to get my answers.

  I quickly followed him out of the house. Ralph had a car parked nearby. It was a small blue convertible, streamlined like a sports car, but in the light of the full moon, I could easily see that it was rusty and old. The top was up.