“You’re absolutely right,” I say. I click off my phone and cradle it in my hands. “I’m not going to lie, though. I’m kind of nervous now. He asked to go on scouting trips with me to draw locations for the story.”
“Is that normal?”
I shrug. “Not really. Usually the artist does their own research. I think it’s different in this case because I’m the one in charge of the story. I mean, you don’t have someone other than George Lucas lead the team when he creates a Star Wars movie.”
Mae grins. “Unless he sells the franchise to Disney and gives up creative control.”
I chuckle. “I have no plans to sell the franchise,” I say. “What I mean is, the story is so high profile that nobody knew where it was going except for my father. Now that he’s gone, it’s all up to me. So, I can see that Austin wouldn’t want to just make up random things and waste time when there’s a specific plan for the ending of Super Guy.”
Mae taps her hands on the steering wheel.
“And is there a specific plan?” she asks.
I press my lips together and glance out the window. “In a way. The journal is as close to an outline as anything that my father ever wrote. I’m fleshing it out.”
“Well,” says Mae. “Don’t get too worked up over having an artist waiting for your direction. I’m sure he’s adaptable. Look at Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples. They created Saga without hardly ever seeing each other in real life. Austin lives in Boston, so I’m sure things will be a bit easier for you to collaborate, especially since you will want things to be so specific for your father’s vision.”
Now that I really think about it, writing this finale is a more monumental task than I anticipated. Sure, there’s more money involved than my retail job - by a wide margin - but, the work is also going to be scrutinized by millions of fans. The weight of the project begins to settle on my shoulders and I slump a bit in my seat. Mae raises her eyebrows at me.
“You’re freaking out over this now, aren’t you?”
“Yes I am!” I say, shoving my phone into my pocket. “I have thirty days to get a script together, and I have an artist relying me to deliver.”
“You’re putting way too much pressure on yourself,” says Mae. “The Drone is locked up. It’s not like you’re in a race to find out where the Vestige comes from so that you can unlock its power or something. You’ve already figured out how to use it, and the two of us are the only Aberrants in the world.”
“As far as we know,” I say, to which Mae nods.
“Yes. As far as we know. This whole ‘nailing down the origin of the Vestige’ is just a storytelling device at this point. It’s like the writers of LOST telling the audience what the black smoke monster is.”
“I’m still not satisfied with the answer they gave…” I say, rolling my eyes. This gets a chuckle out of Mae. She changes lanes.
“All I’m saying is that you don’t have to nail down the source of the Vestige. I doubt there is another one out there. After all these years, nobody else has emerged with superpowers, have they?”
I shrug. “I guess not.”
Mae adjusts her grip on the steering wheel. “I’d say you shouldn’t try to give the fans everything on your first writing project. If your father didn’t leave clear instructions, just let it be. You can always do the research for your own curiosity and - heaven forbid - make things up for yourself!” She keeps her eyes straight ahead as she adds, “And you don’t have to invite Austin on any of your scouting trips. That’s just a courtesy.”
“I know I don’t,” I say. “But, what if he finds out that I’ve done research without him? He’s nice to me now, but he might end up hating me by the end if I leave him out. That’s how it works, isn’t it?”
“Only in reality TV,” Mae chuckles. “Is it such a big deal if he goes along with you? I can go with you to make it less awkward. I think you’re obligated to use that fancy credit card that Mr. Crichton gave you. Think of all the lobster rolls we could buy with that thing.”
I chuckle. “I don’t think that’s the way he meant for me to use it. But, I do intend to do some research trips. You were going to be coming along with me anyway. I’m just worried because the places that I’m researching are places that my father wrote about in his journal. What if there are real things relating to the Vestige at some of these places, and Austin sees something he’s not supposed to?”
“That’s a stupid question,” Mae replies. “There will be things relating to the Vestige in pretty much all the places that your father wrote about in his journal. That’s the point. That’s the entire hook for Mr. Crichton. He wants authenticity, and I’m sorry to say that if Austin tags along, he’s going to get a front row seat to anything about the Vestige that we find. But, that doesn’t mean that he’s going to find out that the Vestige is real. It’s folklore, as far as the world is concerned. A piece of fake history, loosely rooted in reality.” She reaches out and places a comforting hand on my arm. “Don’t get too worked up about it. Maybe these places in Maine exist in real life, but the Vestige is a ‘fictional’ medallion that can be traced back to...wherever it comes from in your imagination.”
There’s a pause, filled by the hum of the car’s tires on the highway. Then Mae smirks.
“How do you think Austin is going to react if your father ended up writing that the Vestige was sent to Earth by aliens? Are we going to come across a spacecraft like Superman?”
This makes me laugh.
“I really hope not,” I say. “That would bring up way too many questions for me to answer!” I pause for a moment, then add, “Austin was wearing an X-Files shirt when I met him, though.”
11
A Warm Welcome
Mae and I receive a warm welcome when we pull into my grandparents’ driveway.
Grandma is pruning some of her flowers in the front garden and holds her wide-brimmed straw hat atop her head to keep it from falling off as she hurries to the side of our car.
Grandpa is inside, seated at the kitchen table with a large cup of steaming coffee and a newspaper splayed across the table. A smile breaks out on his lips as he turns towards us.
“I see you two made it safe and sound,” he says.
“Pretty painless,” I reply. “Mae’s a good driver.”
“Anybody can be a good driver,” says Grandpa as he stretches his arms in front of himself and gets to his feet. He gives me a quick hug and and does the same to Mae. “The real question is, can anyone be a good flyer?”
Mae and I share a glance. There’s an excitement in her eyes as she takes a breath, holds it, and then exhales. “Well, I’m sure not just anyone can be a good flyer. But, I intent to be one of the best. Along with Shaun.”
“Good,” says Grandpa, moving to place his coffee cup in the sink. “That’s the kind of confidence I like to hear. Are either of you hungry?”
Mae shakes her head and I reply, “Not really. We had a small bite on the way, but I don’t think either of us are starving yet.”
“That’s probably for the best,” says Grandpa, pressing his lips together. “I don’t need you two throwing up on me while you’re hovering ten feet in the air.”
I screw my face up in disgust.
“Dad didn’t do that to you, did he?” I ask.
All Grandpa does is raise his eyebrows. Mae laughs.
“That’s disgusting!”
Just picturing my father throwing up while flying is enough to make my stomach go all queasy. I swallow, forcing the feeling to settle, then say, “Now I’m really not hungry. What time are we starting this training?”
Grandpa is just wiping his hands on a dish towel when he replies, “We can start in a few minutes, if you’d like. It’s not going to be a non-stop kind of training. We’ll break for lunch at some point, but I like the idea of not wasting any time. You two can head down the road to Culver Field. The grass is overgrown a bit in the front, but closer to the trees we shouldn’t be spotted. Give me about t
en minutes to change, and I’ll meet you there.”
12
The Run-In
Mae and I are about halfway down the dusty back road when someone calls out behind me.
“Shaun?”
I stop and turn to see Kimberly Parker stepping out of the woods behind us. She brushes her blonde hair out of her face and flashes me a smile. I didn’t expect to see her on this day trip at all, even though she lives in the area. We got to know each other when I was cast out of the city and sent to live with my grandparents for a while. She actually came across my body after I nearly drowned in the lake.
I let out a short laugh, smiling back at her.
“Hey,” I say, reaching up to scratch the back of my neck. Mae comes to a stop behind me and crosses her arms. I can tell she doesn’t want to stop, but I can’t ignore Kimberly and risk word getting back to Grandpa that I’ve been rude to the neighbors.
“I didn’t know you were in the area?” says Kimberly as she catches up to us.
I glance at Mae, knowing full well that our plans are secret. So, I try my best to make something up that will sound believable.
“Yeah,” I start. “Mae and I are just visiting my grandparents for the day. Grandpa wanted some company, and we wanted to get away from the big city for a while.”
Kimberly notes Mae for the first time and I can see her eyes sizing up Mae’s attire. Kimberly squints a little, and it isn’t because of the sun.
“Hi Mae,” she says.
Mae simply nods. Then she turns her attention to me.
“Shaun, we really can’t stay to chat,” she says. “Your grandpa’s going to be waiting for us if we take too long.”
At this statement, Kimberly raises her eyebrows slightly.
“What kind of errand are you running?” she asks.
“Uh…” I stall. I really hate being put on the spot like this. “Grandpa wanted to surprise my grandma with some fresh blackberries. He figured if the three of us all picked at once, we would get a big enough batch to make a pie or something.”
“Sounds like fun,” says Kimberly, and I cringe as Mae gives a frustrated sigh. I’ve just made things more difficult. Luckily blackberries are in season, otherwise I would be found out in an instant. “Do you guys want some help?”
“We don’t need any help,” says Mae. This time I turn and give her a frown.
Stop it, I mouth. She rolls her eyes. I look back at Kimberly with an embarrassed smile.
“It’s sort of a family bonding thing,” I say, which is a stupid excuse because Mae is definitely not related to me. I suppose I can’t just leave her at the house if she’s my guest, so I trust Kimberly will fill in the blanks. “But, thanks for offering to come along anyway.”
Kimberly nods.
“You’re still living down in Boston, right? With your mom?”
“That’s right,” I reply. “I appreciate the country for a weekend, but I’m really a city boy. You can’t take it away from me.” I grin and catch Mae scoffing beside me. I ignore it.
“That’s good to know,” says Kimberly. “I’m considering moving to the city myself.”
I blink. “Oh? Really? What’s that all about?”
“I started looking at colleges,” she replies. “I really like Boston University. That’s not far from where you live, right?”
I scratch the back of my neck.
“Well, Boston is a big place. But, relatively close, yeah. You just take the subway.”
College. I haven’t even thought about college at this point. It’s not like I need financial aid or anything. Heck, even for a job, I don’t need a degree - that is, if this thing with Marshall-Crichton really does stretch into a solid career. That all depends on the fans.
For someone in a tiny town like Kimberly or even Robby, another friend I made back here, college seems to be an essential part of leaving high school.
Kimberly gives a soft laugh and shuffles her shoe on the dirt road.
“I’m taking a tour there on Wednesday,” she says. “Dad’s getting me a train ticket for the afternoon. He has to work, so I’ll be on my own. I know he’d feel better if I had someone with me.”
She raises her eyebrows expectantly and I find myself stuttering.
“Uh…” I say, grasping at straws. Not only am I on the spot, but I have Mae’s negative energy practically wafting over to me. I feel my neck go red. “I think I have that afternoon free. Yeah. I’m sure I could show you around for a bit. I think that would be fun.”
I still need to put in my notice at the day job, but that shouldn’t effect my schedule as it is right now. Even if I get saddled with some shifts in the next two weeks, I can do my writing for the outline in the evenings.
“That sounds great,” says Kimberly. She blushes. “I’m glad I ran into you,” she continues. “I was actually going to email you to see if you’d be willing to meet up with me, but it’s better to ask in person.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see Mae roll her eyes and turn away from us.
“Maybe you can come too?” says Kimberly, obviously trying to diffuse the tension.
Mae waves a dismissive hand.
“I don’t know what my schedule is like. We’ll see.”
Kimberly seems slightly taken aback and nods. “Alright. That’s fine.”
There’s an awkward silence filled only by the sounds of the nearby lake - the humming of jet skis and people laughing. Then Kimberly turns her attention back to me and smiles.
“Well, say hi to your grandparents for me, then,” she says. She waves us off before continuing on her trek through the wooded path on the opposite side of the road.
Mae gives me the dirtiest look as we continue on down the road.
“What is that look for?” I ask.
Mae scoffs.
“What do you think?” she replies, putting on a horrible impression of me. “’Yeah, I think that would be fun!’ Are you kidding me?”
“You’re being ridiculous,” I say.
Mae turns so that she’s walking backwards, staring me directly in the face.
“Shaun, you’re completely hopeless. You really think that Kimberly is interested in you like that? I mean look at her!”
This makes me laugh. I haven’t seen Mae this heated since I accidentally spilled my Gatorade on her thesis paper.
“Are you saying that it’s unthinkable that a girl like Kimberly would like my company?” I ask.
“I’m saying that I never thought that she would be the kind of girl that you would be into.” She crosses her arms and turns around to walk normally. Her shoes scuff up a bunch of dry dust.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were jealous,” I tease.
Mae doesn’t give in to the tease. Instead she keeps her eyes ahead of her and steels her features.
“Let’s just get to the field, okay?”
13
Aberrant Training Begins
Waiting for Grandpa to get to the field is torture after the encounter with Kimberly. Mae barely looks in my direction and all sense of camaraderie that we had in the car is now gone. I try to smile at her, but Mae is having none of it. I have a horrible feeling that she’s going to make me pay for agreeing to meet up with Kimberly on Wednesday.
I practically throw my hands up in the air when Grandpa wades through the tall grass, parting it like Moses. He’s wearing a comfortable looking button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His jeans are clean and he’s carrying a leather notebook in one hand.
“Are you kids ready for some superpowers?” he asks.
Mae speaks before I can even open my mouth.
“Let’s get this started. I’ve been ready for a month.”
“Very eager,” says Grandpa, taking a seat on a large rock near the trees where the shade is. From here we can’t see the roadway, which sets my nerves at ease. We should be able to practice our powers without being disturbed, just like Grandpa said.
He flips through his journal,
scanning the pages.
“I brought my notes with me,” he explains. “These go all the way back to when I was your age.”
Mae and I position ourselves so that we can easily see the book. The leather is cracked and worn, though not so bad that the material is disintegrating.
“Wow…”
Every page of the journal is covered with tiny cursive writing. The words look like artwork with their ends flowing every which way. I can see sections of text that are very compact and neat, then there are others where Grandpa must have been excitedly writing because his words are looser and all over the place.
Every few pages there are drawings and diagrams - nothing like in Dad’s comic books, but Grandpa’s skills are good enough to be visually appealing. The sketches remind me of an old Boy Scouts Handbook that sat on Dad’s bookshelf forever and was finally lost in his corporate office somewhere.
“I hate cursive,” says Mae. “I have no idea how you can write with it.”
“To be honest, I sometimes have a hard time reading it, even after I wrote it,” Grandpa replies. “But, I get by. Alright. Let’s start by identifying the powers that you already know you have. Shaun - I know you have flight.”
“That’s right,” I say, reaching around my neck to massage the tense muscles in my left shoulder. “And I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”
“Excellent. What are the other powers you have?”
I take in a breath. “There’s only one more,” I say. “Energy blasts.”
“Yes…” mutters Grandpa, flipping through his notes until he stops on a particular page. “Pulse blasts, your father called them. I remember him giving me detailed descriptions of each hand movement he did and how that raised or lowered the power of the blast.”
“You’re going to show me those today, right?” I say, standing on my toes for a few seconds with excitement.
“I’m going to try my best,” he replies. “At the very least, you’ll leave here with a better understanding of your powers. Now, Mae.” He turns to her. “Shaun said that you tried flying?”
The Aberrant Series (Book 2): Super Vision Page 6
