Run To Earth (Power of Four)

by Mazhar, S

  Power of Four

  Book One

  Run To Earth

  SF MAZHAR

  Dedicated to my family

  Copyright © 2014 SF Mazhar

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.

  ISBN-10:149529000X

  ISBN-13:9781495290008

  Run To Earth - to hunt or chase something to its lair and trap it there.

  - English Collins Dictionary

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  It is true what they say; that a book is never just the hard work of the author. There are so many people I must thank. First and foremost, I would like to say thank you to my family. To my mum, for her endless hours of babysitting. To my dad, for his words of encouragement. To my wonderful husband, for his love and support. To my sisters, for lending me their ears when I had to ramble on and on for hours about plot points and character arcs. And a big thank you to my M&Ms, for putting up with a mummy that was so often distracted on her laptop. A special thank you to Komil and her team at Shine for getting me the cover of my dreams. A big thank you to Ally and Melissa from The Book Specialist, who edited Run To Earth.

  1

  Birthday Surprises

  The heat was stifling, the darkness unforgiving. Still he ran, blindly following the sound of footsteps in front of him. His lungs seared with pain, begging for a respite he couldn’t give. Drops of sweat trickled down his back. Some fell from his brow into his eyes but he blinked them away, concentrating only on running – terrified a moment’s slip might cost him his guide. The footsteps ahead of him slowed. That’s when he saw the faint glow of a red spot illuminated against the black canvas of his surroundings. The mark grew, getting bigger and brighter until its light burst all around him. He came to a stop, gasping and grunting, doubled over with sweaty hands on trembling knees. Looking up, he found an underground cave and his path ahead blocked by a sea of lava.

  “This is it.”

  He turned to the source of the voice, meeting the blazing green eyes of the boy standing before him. The boy was just as out of breath, but he looked far more composed, even with the cut on his forehead trickling blood down the side of his face.

  The boy motioned to the fiery lava before them. “Do it.”

  His heart clenched painfully. “I-I can’t,” he said.

  “Come on,” the boy urged. “You have to hurry.”

  “I don’t know how!” he cried in panic.

  “Aaron.” The boy stepped closer. “Focus. You can do this. I know you can.”

  Aaron shook his head, then dropped it in exhausted defeat. “I can’t.”

  “Aaron?” the boy called again. “Aaron? Aaron?” The voice was changing, becoming higher. “Aaron? Are you up? Aaron?”

  Aaron opened his eyes to the familiar sight of his bedroom ceiling. He lay still, blinking as sleep ebbed away from his soft green eyes. Pushing himself up, Aaron rubbed a hand over his face before raking it through his dark hair. Squinting against the morning light, he looked to the door. It was still closed. While his mum kept her word and didn’t come in without permission, it didn’t mean her presence went unnoticed.

  “Aaron!” she snapped from behind the door.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’m up, I’m up.”

  “Your breakfast’s getting cold,” she said.

  Aaron groaned and fell back. He lay still, dwelling on the strange dream. It was the fourth time this week he’d had the same dream. Each time he got a little further, saw a few more seconds, but it still didn’t make any sense. It was always the same sequence of events: first the running, then the cave and then the lava. And today his reluctance to do...whatever it was the other boy wanted.

  Aaron rubbed at his head, eyes closed as the mental picture of the boy came to him: tall, dark haired, with the most vivid green eyes he had ever seen. The boy he had never met, yet dreamt about several times a week for almost two months now.

  At first the dreams had been different – disjointed, random moments with Aaron doing nothing more than just talking with the older, green-eyed stranger. In the dreams though, Aaron seemed to know him. There was a familiarity so strong it left him bewildered at awakening.

  “Aaron! Don’t make me come in there,” his mum called. His door rattled in warning, and creaked open a crack.

  “Alright, I’m up,” Aaron groaned.

  He forced all thoughts about the boy, and his recurring dream, to the back of his mind and climbed out of bed.

  ***

  Aaron had his teeth brushed, face washed and clothes changed all in under ten minutes. Combing his hair with his fingers, Aaron was turning to go downstairs when he heard a familiar sound outside: feet crunching on gravel, and a deep thrum of several voices. He hurried to the window and swung it open. Leaning over, Aaron grinned at the familiar sight. A crowd of kids, backpacks swung across their shoulders, trudged their way to school. He spotted his friends in their midst.

  “Alright, Sammy? Rose?” he called.

  On the path below, the Mason twins stopped in their tracks and tilted their heads up to meet Aaron’s gaze.

  “Morning,” Sam replied, his brown eyes narrowed against the sharp glare of the sun.

  “Your classes not started yet?” Rose asked. She lifted up a hand to check her watch. “It’s almost half eight.”

  “Running late today,” Aaron replied.

  “Didn’t think you’d get late starts,” Sam said.

  “Home-schooling has its perks,” Aaron returned, but his forced smile didn’t fool anyone.

  “We’re all going to the Blaze after school,” Rose said. “Think you can manage to come for an hour or two?”

  “Going trick or treating?” Aaron asked.

  “No time for tricks. It’ll be only treats.” Rose grinned. “You in?”

  Aaron looked behind his shoulder at the door, hiding the look of despair from his friends. He knew he wouldn’t be allowed to go. When he turned round, though, he nodded with a tight smile. “I’ll try.”

  “Hey,” Rose called, just as Aaron began ducking back inside. “What’s the score for tomorrow?”

  Aaron paused before shaking his head. “The usual.”

  “Aww, again?” Rose frowned. “You said your parents promised a party when you turn fourteen.”

  “No, I said I was going to ask for a party,” Aaron corrected.

  “And did you?” Sam asked.

  “Sort of. I got halfway through my speech and saw the vein about to pop in Mum’s forehead.” Aaron shrugged at the looks of sympathy. “I weighed my options and decided not to push it.”

  “That sucks.” Rose pouted. “I was looking forward to it.”

  “Sorry,” Aaron said. “I’d better go. Mum’s waiting.”

  He waved goodbye, pulled himself inside and closed the window. As he latched it shut, his hand lingered on the clasp. Aaron wondered, not for the first time, why he couldn’t be like everyone else and go to school.

  ***

  “You’re not concentrating. Pay attention.”

  Aaron nodded, but the pencil in his hand continued to tap lightly against the open book. Aaron glanced at his mum. At this time of the day she was his tutor, but even her annoyed expression didn’t stop his rhythmic beat. After a few more minutes, she’d had enough.

  “Alright.” She reached across and closed the book, ceasing the tapping at once. “What’s up?”

  Aaron shrugged. “Nothing.”

  She tilted her head to the side, sleek blond hair brushing against her shoulder.
“Aaron?”

  He looked up at her. He knew talking to her was useless – she would give him the same answer she always did – but she was staring intently at him, waiting for a response. So, taking in a breath, Aaron went for it.

  “I want to go to school.”

  As he’d expected, his mum’s expression hardened. She closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “How many times do we have to discuss this?” she asked.

  Discuss? We never discuss. You talk, I listen. Aaron was close to saying it out loud, but decided against it.

  His mum got up and walked over to the other side of the living room. She reached the side table and poured herself a cup of tea, the silver teaspoon clinking against the china as she stirred lazily. Aaron watched her, wondering how a women as petite and delicate-looking as his mum still managed to terrify him with nothing more than a sharp look.

  “I thought you understood by now that you don’t need a school,” she said. “I’m more than capable of teaching you everything you need to know. Under my instructions, you’re completing work far past the level you would be at school.”

  “It’s not that,” Aaron mumbled. “School’s more than just classes and lessons.”

  Her blue eyes narrowed and her mouth thinned to a sharp line. “Hmm, yes.” She clinked the teaspoon for the last time and placed it on the saucer. “You want to run around with hooligans, spreading graffiti on walls and raiding cars, is that it?” She lifted the cup and took a sip.

  Under the table, Aaron’s hands curled into fists. “Not everyone’s a hooligan,” he argued.

  “Is that right?” she asked, an elegant eyebrow raised in mockery. “Have you watched the news lately? It seems the youth of today know less about civil conduct and more about breaking heads and looting.” She took another sip. “Perhaps you should listen to the stories your dad brings to the dinner table.”

  “Just ’cause Dad’s in the police doesn’t mean he knows everything.”

  “I beg to differ, Aaron.” Her voice cooled. “Your dad knows what’s best. You should always remember that.”

  Aaron’s gaze dropped to the table. “I just...I wanna hang out with my friends.”

  “I don’t want you mixing with the wrong kind of company,” she said, coming to sit at the table again and setting her cup in front of her. “You’re a good boy. I want it to stay that way.”

  Aaron fell quiet, knowing there was no point in arguing. To his parents, it didn’t matter if his friends weren’t thugs. It didn’t matter if Sam and Rose were neighbours and all they were going to do was hang out. Nothing he wanted mattered.

  His mum ran a hand over his hair, ruffling it. She smiled warmly before gesturing to his work. With an inward sigh, Aaron opened his book and picked up his pencil again, reading the question she had printed across the top.

  A parent organism of unknown genotype is mated in a test cross. Half of the offspring have the same phenotype as the parent. What can be concluded from this result?

  Aaron started his answer, his pencil scratching at the paper.

  The parent is heterozygous for the trait...

  His fingers tapped the table as he wrote, thrumming loudly against the wooden surface. He allowed the hint of a smile to curve his lips at his mum’s annoyed sigh.

  ***

  “I’m telling you, she’s in a right mood,” Aaron said, speaking into the phone held between his ear and shoulder. Going down the steps into his garden, he carried two bags of rubbish to the bins. “Well, I can’t ask her now. ’Cause she’d bite my head off, that’s why.” Aaron let out a frustrated sigh as he awkwardly flipped the bin lid open and dropped one of the bags inside. “Sam, you know what she’s like,” he said, finally taking the phone in hand and straightening up to relieve the cramp in his neck. “She won’t let me. I don’t know, maybe she’s scared a five year old dressed as a fairy will attack me or something.” He dropped the other bag into the bin but stayed where he was. “I wish I could; it sounds like fun.” He rolled his eyes at Sam’s offered advice. “Yeah, right! Sneaking out under my mum’s ever-watchful gaze? I’d have to be freaking Superman!”

  “Superman? Really?” a voice asked from behind him.

  Aaron turned to find Rebecca Wanton, his fourteen-year-old next-door neighbour, smiling at him from her garden. She began walking over.

  “Uh, Sammy? Call you later, yeah?” Aaron pulled the phone away and quickly pocketed it. “Rebecca, hi.” Aaron mentally cursed. It had come out loud and way too excited. He wanted to play it cool and calm, but whenever he saw Rebecca Wanton his brain refused to fully function. It had something to do with her twinkling blue eyes and the way her blond hair framed her face.

  “Hi, Aaron.” Rebecca smiled, coming to stop at the fence that separated their gardens. “You’re dressing up as Superman?”

  “No, no...I...” Aaron cleared his throat to get rid of the unusually high pitch. “I just...I was talking to Sam...He wanted to meet at the Blaze.”

  Rebecca’s eyes lit up with delight. “Yeah? You coming this year?”

  Aaron shook his head. “No, I’m...I’m busy.” He gestured to the house behind him. “Family stuff.”

  Rebecca looked disappointed. “Oh, right.”

  Aaron nodded in awkward silence. “I...uh...I love your costume,” he said. His eyes lingered on the form-fitting black cat outfit, unashamedly showcasing every curve of her lithe body. Pink-faced, he snapped his gaze back up to her face.

  “Thanks.” She smiled. “I...I better go.” She gave Aaron a last warm smile. “I’ll...I’ll see you around, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Aaron muttered, watching her walk to the gate and slip through it. “Hopefully,” he added.

  He turned and dejectedly walked back to the house. The back door was slightly ajar, and he was about to push it right open when he caught sight of his uncle sitting at the kitchen table with his dad. Both men were already in uniform, owing to their night shift starting after dinner. Their black and white police ensemble showcased the height of their physical fitness. His dad, Christopher Adams, was taller and broader than Aaron’s uncle, Michael Williams, but both radiated an aura of power.

  Aaron had inherited his father’s dark hair and green eyes, but his physique was nowhere like his dad’s yet, something Aaron wanted rectified desperately. Just looking at his dad made him straighten up and stand tall with his chest pushed out. Strong and proud, just like his dad.

  Seeing his uncle, a smile spread across Aaron’s face. With Michael here, Aaron had a fighting chance to go to the Blaze, even if it was only for an hour. Aaron was about to push open the door and step in when he heard his name mentioned.

  “...turning fourteen tomorrow,” Michael was saying rather solemnly. “Have you thought about talking to him?”

  “You know I want to, Mike, but Kate doesn’t agree,” Chris replied.

  Aaron moved, standing against the wall as he listened in to the conversation.

  “You’re being unreasonable, Kate,” Michael warned. “It’s not like you can hide this from him forever.”

  “I don’t need your advice.” His mum’s strict tone cut through the air. “I’m doing what’s best for my son.”

  “By keeping him in the dark?” Michael asked.

  Something clanged loudly, as if his mum had slammed something into a steel pot.

  “It’s been a year!” Kate hissed furiously. “And nothing! He’s done nothing, not even in the slightest.”

  Aaron pulled a face. How could his mum say that? He had done plenty in the last year. His studies were non-stop. In the last three months alone he had completed seven projects.

  “Do you know why?” she continued. “Because we’ve been keeping him away. Aaron’s not reacted because he’s not been near anything that might provoke him.”

  “You can’t do that forever,” Michael argued. “He is what he is. He will react – you can’t prevent it.” There was a pause before he continued in a quieter voice. “It’s not right, Kate. You can
’t keep him locked up. He didn’t ask for this.”

  “No one asked for this,” she replied. Her voice was quiet, but Aaron could hear the underlying anger.

  “Aaron’s a good boy,” Michael said. “He listens to you, does what you ask, but even good boys rebel if you push them too far. The harder you suppress him, the further he’ll jump to free himself.”

  A long, strained pause filled the room, then Aaron heard the metallic clang that proved his mum was mixing something vigorously in a pot.

  “I disagree. The longer I can hold him back, the better,” she said in a tight and cold voice that suggested the end of discussion. “I can’t change who we are, not forever, but I’ll take as long as I can.”

  “Kate–” Chris started.

  “No,” she cut him off and Aaron could hear the growl in her voice. “Don’t. Don’t you dare tell me it’ll be alright. You know damn well it won’t!”

  They quietened after that. The only sound Aaron could hear was the faint bubbling of whatever it was his mum was cooking, and his own thudding heartbeat.

  ***

  Aaron jolted awake, blinking in the darkness. It took him a moment to realise he was in his bed, drenched in sweat. Had he been dreaming? Possibly. But the dream was escaping his memory, like water from a cupped hand. No matter how hard he tried to grasp it, the dream faded until nothing was left, nothing but a faint suspicion that he had been dreaming about the boy with the vivid green eyes again.

  That in itself was no longer unusual, but when Aaron awoke tonight, he knew with sickening certainty that something was different. Something was wrong. He felt strange, jittery, with a racing heart but his body was heavy and sore. Every part of him was tender and burning, like he had a fever. His fingertips felt weird, tingly, like they were suffering from pins and needles. He clenched both hands into fists and then opened them again, repeating the action, pumping blood back to his hands. He was always getting pins and needles in his fingers, especially over the last year.