The Sovereign Era (Book 1): Brave Men Run

by Matthew Wayne Selznick

  I tried not to hyperventilate. Something was wrong here, worse than some crazy homeless guy breaking in on us.

  “What do you want?” My legs jumped with tension.

  He licked his lips with a black tongue and asked his own question. “What’re you doing here? Not your place, is it?” He looked at me and his eyes literally flashed. “Or is it?”

  Byron took a step forward. “He’s just some bum.” He bunched his fists. “You better clear out, old man.”

  The intruder made a sound that was half laughter, half bark, and feigned a lunge at Byron. “You don’t live here!”

  I held up a hand to hold Byron back. I kept my eyes on the stranger. “I do. I live here.”

  He nodded and snorted. His nostrils and mustache were moist with snot. “I know it. But not now, eh? Not without your mother!” His eyes twitched, nervous and fast, to take in Lina. “Up here for a little fun? Playin’ hooky?”

  His stench made my eyes water. My throat was tight. I stepped up to him.

  Byron sounded cautious. “Nate…”

  My face was inches from the bigger man’s. His alien eyes never left mind. He trembled.

  We were nose to nose. The room shrank down. It was just me. And him.

  I opened my mouth, and sniffed.

  And I knew.

  I think I made some kind of noise. Maybe it was a sob. Maybe I was just gagging on his scent, so harsh, and so much like my own.

  I stumbled back. I think Byron had a hand on my arm. I sensed Lina next to me, but I couldn’t see anything except the stranger.

  Everything was over. Everything I knew, everything that made up my life up to that point, was done.

  I shook violently. Tears coursed down my cheeks.

  “You fucker!”

  He nodded and smiled. His thick, pointed teeth gleamed past the wiry fur of his beard.

  “That’s my boy!”

  I leapt for him. Byron tightened his grip on my arm.

  “Nate…”

  I shook him off. “Fucker! Fucker!”

  Lina touched my shoulder. “Nate.” I actually snapped at her. I growled like a cornered dog.

  She didn’t even blink.

  “Nate.” She squeezed my shoulder.

  Another sob burst from my chest.

  My father just stood there. That bestial smile was gone. He crossed his arms over his chest. His head tilted slightly, appraising.

  Lina’s other hand stroked the back of my neck. She addressed my father, angry, scolding.

  “He didn’t even know you were alive.”

  He chuckled. “I knew about him! I’ve seen him! Watched him!”

  The strength washed from my limbs. I think I was in shock. I swayed against Lina.

  “It was you in the Glen,” I said.

  He nodded. “Saw you last time you came up here with… with her. With your… with your mother. Came down to see you some more.” He laughed again, a short, sharp vocal burst. “You’re my son.”

  I could barely get the words through my lips. The world felt far away. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

  “I was. I was?” His eyes were bright, like he was enjoying some private joke. Or maybe he was just crazy.

  “I was,” he repeated. “I am. That guy’s dead. I’m not that. Nobody knows, ‘pert near. Nobody found me ‘cept I wanted them to.”

  He rocked on the balls of his encrusted feet. His arms swung at his sides. He shook his head back and forth. “Wanted to see you.”

  My father wanted to see me.

  I wiped my eyes and looked at him. “Why’d you wait? Why’d you make us think you were dead?”

  His eyes lost their shine. He looked away from me. “Not the same… world. Slower. Harder. You… and her, you wouldn’t...” His head tilted sharply. “Never said I was dead, exactly. Denver can tell you.”

  “Denver…”

  Denver Colorado, who called my father “that old spook.”

  The floor moved under my feet. I reached and found that Lina still stood right next to me, ready. Her solid support made me want to cry again. I found her hand with mine.

  “What happened to you? My mother thinks you died in a fire.”

  He flared his nostrils and rolled his eyes. “Fire? What fire? There wasn’t a fire… more like that’s what she told you.”

  My mind raced. “What are you talking about?”

  His lips snapped away from his teeth and his eyes went wide before he crouched and looked away from me. “I don’t know. How would I know? I’ve been away.”

  I shook my head. “No. You do know.” I felt cold. “She’s known. All this time, she’s known you were alive. Like this.”

  He straightened out and puffed up his chest. “Whaddaya mean, like this? You think there’s something wrong with me?”

  How could I? He was me, but… undiluted.

  “No,” I said quietly.

  “But there is, though.” His eyes narrowed. He scratched with his left hand deep into his beard. “I’m too much... me.” His gaze filmed over for a moment. He coughed a laugh.

  I said it again. “She’s known. Hasn’t she.”

  He shrugged. “Can’t say what she’s known or hasn’t known. I left right after you were born.” Again with the wet laugh. “I heard you had a pelt!” He shook his head. “I guess you shed, eh?”

  “My mother told me you died in an explosion, right after I was born. That you never got to see me.”

  His expression darkened. “No explosion. Nothing to explode, out there! I just left. Had to. She… Lucy... made that up.”

  I thought I’d feel something more, right then. My father was standing in front of me. He was alive. And he was telling me, in essence, that my mother had lied to me my entire life.

  I felt nothing. I guess that, right there, was something.

  “My mother. She knew you were like this?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Before he could say something else, he tilted his head back, sniffed, and ducked away from the door.

  I heard the car engine a moment later.

  Byron said, “What’s up.”

  “Car coming.”

  “Your mother?” Lina asked.

  My father jerked and his eyes flashed. Apparently he wasn’t ready to see her just yet. But I sniffed and said, “No. It’s not her car. Someone else.”

  I pulled the front drapes back just far enough to see a black sedan with opaque windows pull into the driveway.

  My father made a noise that I was sure couldn't come from a human throat.

  The driver’s door opened and a big guy in a dark suit got out. He wore sunglasses and had a blonde buzz cut. The front passenger door opened to release his redheaded twin. The second man cracked his knuckles and absently patted the bulge under his jacket.

  “Who the fuck..?” Byron stood next to me.

  The back passenger door opened.

  Doctor Brenhurst got out of the car. He pulled my mother out a second later.

  Byron almost knocked me over getting away from the window. I stared in shock and spoke to the man who shared my genes.

  “Do you know the man with my mother?”

  My father clearly didn’t want to look out the window. He acted like a cornered animal. Maybe that’s what we all were.

  “Look, dammit!”

  He didn’t have to. “That’s Lester.” His tone was somewhere between hysterical and defiant.

  Lina said, “Shit. Makes sense.”

  I stepped away from the window and went to the door. Everything was coming together. Everyone was here.

  “Come on,” I said. I swallowed hard and opened the door.

  From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Forty Three

  As soon as I stepped outside, the sunglasses duo took up positions on either side of Brenhurst and my mother. She tried to twist out of Brenhurst’s grip when she saw me, but he was apparently stronger than he looked.

  “Nathan!”

  There she was, held captive, apparently dra
gged here against her will, and all I could see was the woman who had made my whole life some kind of story. It was easier to look at Brenhurst.

  “Can I help you, Doctor?” My anger gave me the strength to at least sound glib.

  “Ah. Nathan. Yes you can.”

  Lina and Byron came out and stood behind me. Brenhurst smiled. “And your friends are here, too. I was hoping to find Mister Teslowski, at least.” He nodded to Byron. “Your parents are very concerned.”

  Byron’s response held just the slightest tremor. “Fuck you.”

  Brenhurst shrugged. “I need the three of you to come with us. Now.”

  My mother tried again to pull away from Brenhurst. “Don’t listen to this bastard, Nathan.”

  I stepped off the small wooden porch. “Let my mother go.” I sniffed. Where was my father?

  The two bruisers each took a single step forward. One of them took off his jacket. His shoulder holster was conspicuous. “Permission to activate,” he said.

  “No,” Brenhurst said quickly. “Nathan. Please be reasonable. There’s no need to create any trouble.”

  “Byron,” I said. I was slightly surprised, and very relieved, when he stepped up and stood by my side.

  “Which one you want?” I could smell his adrenaline, almost overpowered by his fear, but there he was.

  Where was my father, damn it?

  The other big guy took off his jacket. “Stay where you are.”

  We were separated by about fifteen feet. I knew I could close the distance with a leap. I was pretty sure Byron could, too.

  I was shaking. I don’t know if I was scared. I couldn’t feel anything but rage. I wanted to feel blood on my hands. My fingers curled into rigid hooks. My legs twitched, eager to move.

  “Careful, Brenhurst. You know what we can do,” I said. “That’s the whole point, right? You knew the father, now you want the son.”

  I saw my mother go pale.

  Okay. She knew. Fine.

  Lester Brenhurst – Ten

  “What do you know about your father, Nathan?” What the boy said next would determine who spent the rest of their lives locked away, and who died right here.

  The answer became moot when a ragged blur shot from the side of the house and slammed into Agent Turban.

  It had been more than fifteen years since Brenhurst had seen anything move that fast. He realized finding Andrew here was not the surprise it should have been. They'd never confirmed his death. Why wouldn't he be here?

  Andrew’s presence changed everything. In a way, everything was now much less complicated.

  Brenhurst took the restraints off his agents with a word.

  “Activate!”

  From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Forty Four

  I didn’t get the chance to answer. Andrew Charters burst from the side of the house. He leapt – it was like he was flying – thirty feet, at least. He slammed into the blonde bruiser and they slid, hard, through the gravel.

  The redheaded bruiser pulled his gun.

  I’d never seen a real gun before. I froze.

  Byron was a blur past me, unnaturally fast.

  I heard Brenhurst yell, “Activate!”

  My father rolled on the ground with his opponent, snarling and spitting. Byron grappled with the other one for possession of the gun.

  An actual gun. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. It could kill any one of us.

  Lina yelled, “Nate!”

  I snapped out of it and went for Brenhurst. He tried to back away from me. I relished the naked panic on his face... right before I slashed it with my curved fingers. He grunted and released my mother.

  I took her arm and practically threw her toward the house, where Lina took hold of her.

  I looked back at Brenhurst. He wiped blood from three angry lines across his cheek. He didn’t seem scared any more, only winded.

  “Well,” he said. “Family reunion.”

  I took him by the throat. His pulse beat against my palm. “Call them off. Make ‘em stop.”

  His hands automatically came to his neck. He tried to peel my fingers loose.

  No chance.

  “Call them off!”

  He shook his head, as much as he could. He looked over my shoulder and smiled.

  I lifted Brenhurst by his neck and turned us both around in time to see Byron fly away from his opponent. He’d been thrown. Blood followed him through the air like the tail of a kite.

  The bruiser he’d fought rolled his neck like he was trying to loosen a kink. He walked over to the tangled mess of limbs that was his partner and my father and almost casually separated them. He tossed my father away with the hand that wasn’t holding the gun.

  My father twisted in the air, hit the ground on all fours, and shook his head. His hands and face were sticky with bloody dirt.

  A wet, cracking sound brought my attention back to the bruisers. Something was happening to them.

  Their clothes shredded. Hard, black, curving spikes, scarlet, wet, and shining, emerged from raw slits in their shoulders, elbows, knuckles, and knees. They weren’t wearing these weapons. They were growing them.

  Permission to activate, the one had said.

  They faced me, bristling.

  “Release Doctor Brenhurst. Now.”

  I threw Brenhurst to the ground and leapt back. I admit it, all I wanted to do was get some space between me and them. This freak was freaked out.

  Brenhurst stood up. He coughed and rubbed his throat. “Get the woman!”

  Redheaded freak – the one with the gun – ran for the cabin. Lina and my mother were inside. I started after him, but blonde freak stepped in front of me, a wall of spikes and horns. He stank of open wounds.

  “Nope,” he said.

  It didn’t matter. My father tackled the redhead around the waist.

  Blonde grabbed me by the wrist. “It’s over, kid.”

  There weren’t any thorns coming out of his chest. I hit him there with my free hand, as hard as I could.

  He let me do it three more times before he twisted my arm behind my back and pivoted me. I felt the spikes on his knees press against my legs. He grabbed my flailing free hand with no problem, and that was that. If I struggled, he’d break my arm, dislocate my shoulder, or maybe rip my arm right off.

  Lester Brenhurst – Eleven

  Brenhurst got in the kid's face. His wounds throbbed with fire; his head felt like it was cracking in half... but Nathan Charters was captured, and Byron Teslowski was dying. Once they subdued Andrew, it would be over. The women were not even an issue.

  “Hold him,” he said to Turban.

  “Put him in the car?”

  He wondered if activation knocked points off their intellect. “Did I say that?” Brenhurst shook his head and strode to the cabin.

  The Charters bitch and the little punker girl stood conspicuously close to the telephone. That wouldn't do at all. The situation had to unfold according to his plan. He needed control.

  “Did you call?” Brenhurst drew his weapon; waved it in their faces. “Did you call?”

  Outside, someone screamed horribly. Lucille Charters just smiled.

  “Get outside. Now!” Brenhurst herded them to the door and pushed them through.

  From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Forty Five

  Blonde turned us around to face the cabin. My father still fought the redheaded freak, who had hold of my father’s wrists and had lifted his arms above his head. Black horns sprouted from the redheaded freak’s forehead. Blood from the wounds dribbled down his cheeks.

  Held suspended, my father’s chest and belly were exposed and vulnerable. His feet jerked, a foot above the ground.

  Each toe ended in a curved black claw. If he was a first-generation version of me, and my fingernails had been enough to slice Byron…

  My captor must have had something like the same idea. “Earl! The feet!”

  The guy looked down in time to see my father kick up with both hairy, f
ilthy feet.

  Earl screamed. It was the most hopeless sound I’ve ever heard. He dropped my father and doubled over.

  His insides fell out. The air filled with the smell of blood and new shit.

  Saliva exploded in my mouth and my stomach convulsed. My vision blurred with tears.

  My father grabbed Earl by the hair and lifted up his head. Earl wouldn’t let go of his gut, as if he had some hope he could hold himself together. Ruddy gray intestines tangled on his thorny knuckles.

  My father leaned in and ripped out Earl’s throat. With his teeth. Blood fountained.

  Blonde tossed me aside to go for my father. I hit the gravel and rolled, stunned. Bile choked my throat and burned my mouth when I spit. I fought to keep down baked beans and soda.

  I heard sirens. I shook my head rapidly, but the sound was still there; faint, but getting louder. Help was coming. The thought made me weak with relief.

  I stumbled to my feet. My father and the blonde freak squared off in front of the cabin. Byron was still on the ground, out cold. The gravel around him shone with blood.

  Panting, I moved toward the cabin. My mother and Lina were still in there with Brenhurst.

  The front door flew open. Brenhurst pushed Lina and my mother ahead of him. He had a gun in his hand. Another fucking gun.

  “That’s enough!” Brenhurst pushed the gun into the back of my mother’s head. She jerked forward at the contact and closed her eyes. When she opened them, they shined with rage and fear.

  Lina said, “Nate…!” Her own eyes were wild, panicked.

  Brenhurst moved the gun to her.

  “That is enough!” He looked past them to Earl’s body. “Jesus Christ! Charters, you damn fool.”

  My father just grinned. He and the blonde continued to circle each other.

  Blonde grew his own devil horns. “I can finish this one,” he said. “I can finish him.”

  The other gun was on the ground, next to Earl’s steaming, ravaged body.

  I could see that everyone could hear the sirens, now. The sound was painful to my ears, even if it did signal salvation.