Sixth - Prequel to Oleander: One of Us Series

by Faulks, Kim

  Sixth - Prequel to Oleander

  One of Us Series

  Kim Faulks

  Cover Art by

  Jacqueline Sweet

  Edited by

  J.C. Hart

  Copyright © 2018 by Kim Faulks

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  For Anthony…

  Contents

  Newsletter

  Sixth - One of Us Series

  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

  Newsletter

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  Sixth - One of Us Series

  Book One - Prequel to Oleander

  There’s a place from my nightmares.

  A place where bad things hide.

  The memories kept me awake for most of my life. But it’s not what keeps me awake anymore.

  It’s her.

  She calls me, desperate and pleading. Like a shining star I can’t quite find. I feel those men from my nightmares coming for her. Only she can’t sense them—she can’t see.

  Not the past.

  Or the future…unlike me.

  Until one day as I stood in a doorway in the barren wasteland in Afghanistan with my squad at my back…my star dimmed, and sputtered out.

  I have two holes in my chest now. One which bears her name.

  I have to find her. I pray I’m not too late. First I have to find the others, two more guys like me.

  Together we seek a North Star.

  One we were born half in love with.

  Leading us back home.

  Without ever knowing we were lost at all.

  Chapter One

  Jackknife Bay 2005

  I want my mom. I want my mom!

  “Mom please don’t leave me. I’ll be a good boy. They hurt me in here Mom! MOM! THEY HURT ME IN HERE!”

  Fire in my throat, tasting like acid and fear.

  Get it off me…get it off…

  I swallowed the scream. Swallowed and swallowed and swallowed.

  Bare feet on the floor, steps sounded like thunder before a light flared bright…blinding.

  I clawed the black marks on the inside of my wrist.

  Get it off me…get it off…The numbers blurred as tears fell…two nine zero one…

  “I’m right here honey…right here.” She pulled my hand away. Gentle arms went around me with the groan of bedsprings underneath me. Soft cotton nightie against my face pulling me away from the nightmare.

  Two nine zero one…

  Two nine zero one…

  “It’s okay…” Mom’s voice was distant in my head, sharpening as the claws of my past slipped. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m right here, Mark.”

  Soothing words in my ears. Her hand sliding over my head, brushing…brushing…pressing me close until I heard her voice through her chest.

  With a sting, blood welled in the marks on my wrists. My nails ached, coated in red. But they weren’t strong enough…never strong enough, not to carve through the skin, not to gouge out the numbers underneath.

  “Shhhh, Mark. Deep breaths. That’s good…that’s the way…my beautiful boy…my sweet beautiful boy.”

  I turned my head and buried my face in her warmth.

  There was a flare of humiliation…one tiny second where I thought, please don’t let Jamie see this. He’ll tell everyone, but then it was gone under the searing pain in my head.

  Just a nightmare…just a nightmare.

  I was home.

  Soft mattress under my body.

  The stink of sweat on my sheets.

  Mom holding me.

  Not back in that nightmare and the place where the music was so loud.

  Images flashed inside my head as the past came rushing back to me. Bloody images, splashed across the screen. Mouth wide, screaming. Pictures that flashed and flashed, with the music…the blaring sounds.

  Men in white coats swam to the surface. They gripped my arms, grinding muscle against bone until I cried…

  In that place. That place where they stuck things against my head. Where they strapped me to that chair, buckles cold against my skin.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she drew me close to her on the bed, and then lifted my head, sleep far away in her eyes. “It’s just a nightmare, okay? I’m not leaving you in that place. Never again you hear me? Never again.”

  Other steps now, heavier, slower. Dad didn’t rush…not for me.

  “Another one?” Dad growled from the doorway. “Third damn time this week.”

  I rocked…and rocked…

  “They said this would stop by now. But it’s almost every goddamn night,” Dad took a step…but not too close.

  Never too close.

  Not to me…not to the son who was broken…the son who was sick.

  “He’s only nine,” Mom’s voice was strained.

  I could feel Dad’s anger grow. “That’s four years. Four goddamn years.”

  “Not here, Chris,” Mom snapped. “Not in front of him.”

  Shudders eased…just tremors now—tremors that made my teeth clash. It was just a memory now…only in the past…only in the past. Not here. Not now… Not yet.

  I closed my eyes, squeezing tight. Tell them you’re okay. Tell them you’re sorry and that you’re okay. Tell them you’re okay, you hear me? Tell them you’re okay.

  TELL. THEM. YOU’RE. OKAY!

  I opened my eyes and pulled away. My voice squeaking, small and pathetic. “I’m okay now, Mom. Really, I’m fine. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again…I promise I won’t.”

  Mom flinched. Her lips smashed flat and turned pale.

  I told her. I told her I was sorry.

  Don’t send me back there…please don’t send me back…

  She searched my face, lingering on my eyes, until I broke the stare and looked at the blankets. Her fingers slid down my neck to the soaked shirt stuck against my back. “We’ll get you a clean shirt, yeah? Then maybe you can try for more sleep.”

  Dad glanced at me as she rose from the bed. I fisted the crumbled sheets and forced a smile. I was good at those. Good at pretending I was normal when we all knew I was anything but.

  A drawer was yanked open and she pulled my favorite shirt from the pile.

  “Is it a Wolverine night?” Mom turned toward me, shirt in her hands.

  I stared at the image on the front, Wolverine with fists raised high, steel claws punched through his skin and nodded.

  Her steps skimmed the floorboards. Wolverine’s face crumpled now as she tucked my shir
t under her arm.

  My fingers wouldn’t work, shaking and trembling as I reached for the bottom of my shirt.

  “You want me to…”

  I shook my head, grabbed the wet fabric and yanked. The shirt stuck against my face, leaving the stench of fear in my nose. My belly rolled, still I swallowed…and swallowed.

  You gonna be sick? I could hear the words before she spoke.

  “You gonna be sick?”

  I shook my head and dropped the dirty shirt against the bed. Cold closed in, licking the sweat on my skin. I shuddered and reached for the shirt under her arm. It was always the same…same nightmare…same fear. Same sickness.

  Same words.

  Always the same.

  She opened the shirt and slid soft cotton over my head. I fed my hands through, tugging it low before she grabbed the soiled one and straightened. “You good now, kiddo?”

  I gave a nod and eased back down. Soft pillow sank under my head. I wasn’t good…wasn’t good at all—but I was good at pretending. I was good with the lies.

  Cool sheets slid over my chest, and the warm comforter raced to catch up as Mom tucked the blankets around my neck and leaned over.

  She smelled of sweetness and pain…pain…pain…an image filled me, soft silver light flared against her skin. Pain. Yelling. I could hear them. Hear their screams and their hate. Hear my name…Mark…Mark…Mark…over and over again.

  Mom blamed Dad. Said it was his fault she sent me there. Said it was his fault I screamed.

  I saw him raise his hand, fist clenched. Eyes wide with rage. I saw him want to hit her…saw her scream do it! Fucking do it! You think I care if you hurt me? You can’t hurt me anymore than I am now! He was our boy and we did that to him. He was our boy and we put him in there.

  They said it would help him, Dad muttered, fist dropped to his side. There was a blank look on his face…like I had when I could see. But there was no silver glint in his eye—no flare of light like I had in mine.

  He didn’t have the sight…didn’t have the curse.

  None of them did.

  Not Mom, not Dad…not even Jamie.

  They said they could cure him, Dad took a step away. I didn’t know it would be like this.

  You didn’t care, Mom spat. You didn’t think about anyone but yourself. Just like you always do.

  I could hear them then, hear their hate and their words. They hurled them like knives…stab …stab…stab.

  Until Dad turned, grabbed the keys from the kitchen counter and made for the door.

  I knew now…knew things I had no right to know.

  I knew I’d never see him again.

  Knew Mom would forever be alone.

  With a sick boy with a silver light in his eye.

  And nightmares that were once real.

  “You okay kiddo?” Mom muttered and fluffed my hair.

  I gave a nod listening to dad’s footsteps out in the hallway.

  I didn’t know when the fight was going to happen. Didn’t know when Dad was going to leave.

  But I knew it would happen...

  Love you Mark. The words resounded in my head.

  “Love you Mark.”

  I love you too Mom.

  “I love you too Mom.”

  Knew it would happen…just like I knew everything.

  I closed my eyes and breathed deep. Footsteps padded to the door. Light flicked off, plunging me into darkness. I turned, curled my spine and slid my hand over the image on my shirt.

  Wolverine would save me. Wolverine with fists raised high. Wolverine with friends who did things…things like me.

  Silver light flared in the darkness, like a spotlight…until I closed my eyes.

  Chapter Two

  2008

  “Don’t,” Jamie muttered and picked at his sandwich. “Sit somewhere else.”

  Sniggers came from across the cafeteria hall. I turned my head. Harley, Brenton and the others smirked and looked down at the table.

  My grip tightened on the tray. Assholes.

  I flinched as a chair screeched on the floor across the hall. “What’s gotten into you?”

  Jamie said nothing, just glared at the cheese on his sandwich as though he could burn a hole through the bread.

  “Go away.” His words spat through clenched teeth. “Sit somewhere else.”

  But I didn’t sit anywhere else. Only here, every day…day after day…looking out for him, ‘cause he was too skinny and too small. “But you’re my brother.”

  His forehead creased. Jaw muscles flared as he picked at the bread…pick…pick…pick. I took a step lowering the tray to my side of the table. “Jamie…”

  He wrenched his head up, eyes wild. “Get the hell away from me!” His scream ripped through the cafeteria, stilling the lunchtime roar.

  Everyone turned toward us.

  Everyone stared as Jamie shoved his chair back. “I hate you! Don’t you get that? Dad left because of you and I hate you!”

  Panic raced, my pulse followed, booming in my ears.

  He looked just like dad when he yelled like that. Looked just like dad when he hated—and then when he left.

  “Freak!”

  Someone yelled from across the room. I just stared at Jamie…stared and stared.

  But you’re my brother. The words tasted like ash in my mouth. I gripped the tray and took a step. We’re family…

  Family…family…

  Jamie hated me. I could see it in his eyes now. See it hidden in the dark. The dark…always the dark. Images flashed inside my head. Always the same images over and over. A woman screaming. Blood. Words snatched away before I could read them… And the sound, the blaring sound…

  The tray shuddered under my grip until my wrist ached. It ached and ached and ached. I turned, gripped the tray and shoved between the chairs.

  Their sniggers followed me through the double doors, and then along the hall.

  “Okay, come on now!” One of the teachers yelled in the hall. “Back to your lunch.”

  Thud…thud…thud…the echo of my boots filled in my ears. Freak…freak…freak…

  They can’t hurt me…not anymore. The tray slipped from my hands to hit the floor with a crash. Juice spilled from the carton and leaked across the floor.

  I just left it there, left it all behind as I stepped up to the glass door, gripped the handle and yanked.

  Freak…freak…freak...the word haunted me as the glass door closed behind me with a bang. Basketball courts were crammed full, boys were screaming, yelling and shouting as I skirted the marked lines and made for grassy mounds.

  Freak…I’d heard the word whispered, but it was out there now…out there for all to hear. Out there for everyone to know what I really was.

  I clenched my fist and drove my arm against my side, hiding the numbers.

  Freak…freak…freak…

  Dad left us because of you!

  Freak…freak…freak…

  I hate you!

  They watched me from the courts, watched me from the grass…watched me from everywhere—my whole life.

  “Get off me!” A girl’s voice crested the rise to slam into me.

  Metal bars from the playground peeked over the mound. Painted tires and thick rope mesh followed as I drove my sneaker into the dirt and stopped at the top of the hill.

  “Gonna cry little sissy?” A boy snarled. I tried to place the voice…Hugo…Hugo Hungerford. “Go on, cry, cry for your momma.”

  “I hate you!” she screamed. “I’m gonna tell on you…I’m gonna tell the teacher!”

  Someone cheered, and then the others followed, laughing and sniggering, urging the bully on.

  I stepped around the thick trunk of a tree and found the brawl.

  Hugo had the girl on the ground, gripping the front of her dress. She was fighting, kicking him where she could, her skirt riding up her pale legs as she bucked and screamed. But Hugo was four times her size. Fat and ugly, inside and out as he looked down, watching t
he hemline rise past her knees to her thighs.

  “Get off her!” I shrugged my shoulders, sliding my pack down to hit the edge of the sand.

  Three other girls stood at the side of the playground, eyes riveted on the one-sided fight. If they were her friends, then they were a poor excuse.

  Fat reddened cheeks puffed as he turned his head. “Piss off.”

  His friends flinched as I glanced to them. “Get off her. I’m not going to tell you again.”

  “Or you’ll what?” Hugo glanced at the two boys beside the swing and turned to me and sneered. “Fucking freak. Yeah, I know what you are Mark. You’re a fucking freak. Dad says you were in the looney bin. Says your own parents put you there.”

  Fat fingers unfurled, dropping the girl against the sand before he stood. “Says your mo—”

  I crossed the sandpit, drew back my fist, and unleashed.

  Knuckles smashed into his face driving the fat piece of shit backwards.

  Blood shot into the air.

  My hand hurt…it hurt so bad. The ache pulsed, sending the tremor into my wrist. Still I didn’t cry…I didn’t even move.

  “My fucking nose!” he screamed and grabbed his face. “You broke my nose.”

  There was a second where I readied for charge and the fight. His eyes were wide…whites shining with tears before he burst out crying, whimpering and clutching his face. “You broke my nose!”

  They ran then…ran like rats, kicking sand from their shoes as they made for the grassy mound and were gone. My fist burned. I looked down at the reddened skin and then turned to the girl.

  She was younger, about nine, same age as Jamie. Stared at me as I took a step and held out my hand. “You’re okay now. He’s gone.”