“Later, Pixie,” he called over his shoulder.
Hailey opened her mouth to protest, but then snapped it shut. If she complained, he’d probably never stop calling her that. She waited until he disappeared around a bend in the trail then pulled the cord to release the gate.
When she opened the kitchen door—slowly, in case Mom was sleeping on the sofa—the main living area was dark and silent. Familiar forlorn relief swept through her. Sometimes it was easier just not having to deal with her mother, but . . . the empty house . . .
She climbed the stairs to her room, thinking about Adrian Panagakos. His arms and legs were muscular and lean, but he didn’t seem the type who’d go out for high school team sports. He had to be fairly fit if he wanted to go trail running with her. Or maybe he was just glad to make contact with someone his own age. Leaving behind all your friends to move to a new town partway through high school had to be rough. Did he have a girlfriend back in Palo Alto? He might be more of a play-the-field type, it was hard to tell just yet. Was he part of the popular crowd, or did he hang out with one of the fringe groups?
A pang of envy struck her unexpectedly. Maybe the friends he had in Palo Alto weren’t really very good friends. Maybe he was relieved to escape them, to get a chance to start over. To reinvent himself.
There was no chance of that for her. Not here, not now. The school year was about to begin, and she’d have to face Jay and everyone else. But she needed to forget about boyfriend-girlfriend stuff and focus on soccer and her grades. There was no room for error, not when she was so close to what she wanted. She didn’t need any distractions, but . . . maybe having the new hottie in town nearby would be just what she needed to take her mind off Jay.
ISRAEL
by Aaron Patterson
Episode Four
IT WASN’T THAT HE hated his life; it was just that he hated who he was. He wanted to be stronger and stand up for himself, but never found the courage to do anything besides take it like a punching bag. Scrap that, his life sucked.
Israel James sat hunched over in the back of his family’s lame minivan. Foster the People cranked through his ear buds. Trees whisked by. His eyes got heavy. How long would this move last? A year, two? Did it matter? The idea of a normal life, whatever that was, flew out the window like so much air.
His little sister, Molly, was asleep. Her head bobbed from side to side as they navigated through the mountains. Her hands still had a firm grip on an advanced calculus book, as if passing him academically was all-important to her.
Israel turned up the music and clenched his fists. They’d been on the road for eight hours and all he wanted was to get out, move a little, and breathe some fresh air.
His dad caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “Almost there, sport.”
Israel eyed his father. It was as if he was a robot or something. It was all a show, the appearance of kindness and normalcy. Israel first started to notice the change when he was four. His best friend Frank Douglas would have him over for sleepovers all the time and watching Frank’s parents interact with each other was so different than what Israel was used to.
Israel missed Frank and his other friends. The move, the new town all represented more of the same. What was he supposed to do? Make more fake friends and get comfortable just to have to move again? He probably wouldn’t even get to finish high school before he’d have to move for the fifteenth time.
High School, that was a joke. He was the home-schooled reject, the odd guy in every town they had ever lived in. His mom didn’t really teach him, he had to do it on his own. She didn’t have the patience for it, and why they wouldn’t let him go to a normal school made no sense.
Something flashed in the woods just beyond the tree line and for a second Israel swore it was a bear, yet it had a metallic silver color. His heart pounded in his chest so fast that he actually gasped.
“Dad, stop!” Israel ripped his ear buds out and grabbed the back of his mom’s seat.
“We’re almost there son, hold it till we get into town.” His voice was calm and low, his ‘don’t push it’ voice.
He didn’t know why but he had to get out, needed to follow that thing he’d seen. “I have to stop . . . I’m gonna be sick! NOW!”
He was yelling, he never yelled, never so much as raised his voice. He was the quiet, brooding type. His face tingled and he flexed his legs, it was getting hard to breathe.
“Okay, okay, just don’t throw up in the car. Roll your window down if you can’t make it,” his dad said. He threw him an irritated look.
Israel stuck his face out the window as the minivan slowed and his dad pulled off the main road into a small dirt cutout. There it was again, a flash of silver in the trees, slowing as if following the car.
Before the van came to a full stop Israel sprang out and ran toward the woods.
Legs pumping, he could hear his mom calling after him. He didn’t care, it was nothing, he was nothing, it was—
Branches slapped his body and face. He tripped on something and went down hard. Dirt and rocks dug into his hands sending pain up his arms. He clawed at the ground and got to his feet. The wooded area opened up and a clearing of grass and wild flowers stretched in front of him. It was breathtaking, but something wasn’t right. This was not right, the woods, the trees, his beating heart and dry mouth.
Smelling the air, he waited. He didn’t know why, but he did. Breathing in the scent of pine trees and wet earth, he turned at the sight of movement a hundred yards or so, just north of the clearing.
A warm stream of urine ran down his legs as he stared at . . . what?
There were no words.
Knees weak, he fell to the ground shaking. Sobbing, he wiped at his eyes trying to see through his tears. He didn’t know what to do. There was a force calling him somehow as if they were connected. He liked it, yet a part of him feared what it meant.
It turned and looked at him, eyes like glass. The monster stood well over ten feet tall and almost as wide, yet it moved so fast, so smooth. Like nothing he’d seen on earth before. Did it have fur? His mind ran through the possibilities but came up short, how could something so machine-like have fur? All he wanted to do was run, to cry in his mother’s arms and find comfort, but he couldn’t look away.
Then, it vanished.
Wiping his eyes again, he scanned the clearing.
Nothing.
Had he imagined it? His gut told him no but where had it gone?
The connection broke. Israel stood. He stumbled backward; the ground was black, charred, and smoking. Was there a fire? Why didn’t he feel it?
He was standing in the middle of some sort of blast area. His hands were warm and he turned them over to find that his palms were black as well. They didn’t hurt but the skin blistered and to his amazement the white flesh began to flake away and—heal.
“Almost here! Are you kids excited?” He looked up from his burnt hands at his father’s eyes peering at him in the rearview mirror of the minivan. How did he get back here? His arms were unscathed, his pants dry.
Was he dreaming? Burping, he held back the bile that wanted to come up. It was happening again, just like last time.
What was going on with him? He was living these things, and they were real. Sort of. There was no proof. This last one really shook him up, his palms still had black smudges and he could remember parts of it. How much was real and how much was all in his head? He remembered four other times he had an incident; it was not something he could forget.
“We’re thinking of letting you guys take a few classes in school this year, just to get you out more. You know, have a social life,” his mom said, but he couldn’t concentrate on her words.
Foster the People blared in his ears and he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. Searching the woods as they flew by his window, he could feel a tug, something calling him. This time he would not stuff it under, he needed to find out what was wrong with him.
“What is wrong with
me?” Israel muttered as they pulled into town.
“Where should I start? Neurotic, mean, ugly, and a complete bore.” Molly crossed her arms and gave him her signature grin, the one that said, ‘you’re beneath me in so many ways.’
“I wasn’t talking to you, just thinking out loud.”
“Thinking? Really, did it hurt?” Molly chuckled and Israel contemplated punching her in the arm.
Molly was younger than him by two years, but at 15 she was uber smart. And annoying. Her scores on state tests were off the charts and she was all but graduated. Israel didn’t like her much—well, that wasn’t true. He loved her because she was his sister, but she was a punk.
“Whatever Molly.” Nice, a brilliant comeback.
They pulled into the gas station and Israel unbuckled.
“No junk food you two. Think about your bodies,” his mom called after him. Molly rolled her eyes as she rounded the front of the mini van. She was tall for her age and showed signs of the change. Blonde and full of spunk, she always had boys flocking to her as if she were made of candy or something. Israel hunched over and pulled his hoodie up. He followed Molly into the Chevron.
“Think about your bodies,” Molly mocked. “Really Issi, she’s like the food Nazi. I hate hiding food in my room like a prisoner. A girl just needs some chocolate every now and then.”
“Yeah, well, you know how she is . . . I don’t think she is gonna change any time soon.”
“Did you know that she made me eat this nasty barley stuff the other day? She said it would help my cramps.”
“Ugh, Molly, gross, come on!”
“It’s true.”
Israel turned up his iPod and walked down the candy aisle. He grabbed a Snickers and a bag of mixed nuts. He paid and shoved the Snickers into his pocket, making sure to toss the receipt in the trash on the way out.
Climbing into the back seat he held up the bag of mixed nuts and his mom nodded approvingly.
Molly took forever as usual. Dad pumped gas and Israel closed his eyes and tossed a handful of nuts into his mouth. The blackouts, visions, or whatever they were worried him. Did he have a tumor or something?
His father sighed as he got into the van. “Gas prices are out of control. 98 bucks to fill up, 98 bucks!”
“Yes well, it’s all part of what we must pay to enjoy this great country. You should be glad we have a car and you got a new job.” His mother patted him on the arm.
Here they went again, it was their fake ‘we love everyone and never get stressed out about anything’ attitudes. Israel groaned and reached in his pocket, grabbing the Snickers bar.
“You’re right dear, it’s a small price to pay for what we have. We’re truly blessed.”
Gag.
“Hey Issi, you looking forward to taking a few classes at school this year, maybe make some new friends?”
“Um, yeah, sure.” He wanted a good friend like Frank, wanted it badly but he would never let his parents know that.
“Now son, you sound like you’re not excited about this. Just think—new house, new friends, new experience, it’ll be great!”
“Sure Dad . . . just tired, I’m excited—really!” It was all he could do to fake it, but he’d learned from the best.
Their new house was just okay. As expected. It was in the Waterford District, whatever that was. It was in the old side of town.
“I thought you were gonna make more money?” Molly said what everyone else was thinking but didn’t have the nerve to say out loud.
“I am making a lot more money, but we can fix this house up and make it our own. It will be a great character building project.”
“Great,” Molly muttered.
“What was that dear?” Mom said with a threatening smile.
“Nothing,”
“This is a great house.” Mom said. “It’s older, yes, but just think, you can make your rooms just the way you want them.”
Israel watched this exchange with some amusement. Molly should have known better than to expect something nice. It was not the James family style.
“Can we go in?” Israel said.
“Sure thing, sport. Go on in and pick out your new room.”
“Thanks Dad.”
Israel made his way up the broken porch and into the damp smelling house. It was rather large and had a wide staircase leading up to a second floor. The paint on the walls was peeling and Israel guessed the place was over one hundred years old.
“This house is like a haunted mansion from a movie.” Molly groaned and looked around in disgust. “Mom, come on . . . we can’t live here, this place should be condemned.”
“Molly dear, it’ll be great, just you wait and see. Now be a good girl and go pick out your room. There are plenty to choose from.” Her tone dropped and Molly caught on to the inflection.
The house was huge. Israel counted six rooms. He found his as soon as he walked though the doorway. It was large and had a window with a window seat overlooking the street, and a side window that looked out over the neighbor’s yard.
There was no door but he could fix that. He’d lived in places like this his whole life.
Tossing his backpack onto the window seat he opened the door to a walk-in closet. This was perfect. He would never admit it to his parents, but this place rocked. It was old, creepy, had lots of rooms, and Israel was sure it held some secrets. He would make it his mission to discover all of them.
“Found one you like?”
Israel jumped at his dad’s overly-chipper voice.
“Uh . . . yeah.”
“Good. I’ll figure out something to give you some privacy. Can’t have a cool pad without a door,” Dad said.
Molly walked by the open doorway, thrust her head forward, and shuffled her feet as if she were being dragged to her death.
“Come on Molly, it’s not that bad. Pick a room and help me get the van unloaded,” Dad said.
Once he was alone again Israel munched on the rest of his Snickers bar and sat with his legs up in the window seat and checked out the house next door. It was one of the nice houses on the street and even had a pool.
He watched a girl swim laps and about choked when she got out. She was in a bikini and was tall with dark, nearly black, hair. Ducking, he watched her pick up a book and lay down on a towel.
Things were looking up. Cool old house, hottie next door, and his sister was miserable. Maybe this move wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Issi, Molly, dinner.”
Israel stared up at the cracked ceiling and let the room have him. He’d dozed off and must have really been out as most of his clothes were unpacked and folded neatly on the floor in front of his dresser.
The moving van showed up an hour after they arrived and the movers emptied the van and he was left to put his bed together. Israel didn’t have much furniture to speak of, a bed, dresser and a writing desk. He liked to write short stories, and maybe one day he’d finish a novel.
“Dinner.” Her voice was sharper and Israel rolled out of his bed and took the stairs two at a time. Everyone was already seated and at once he knew something was wrong. Molly sat stiffly and Mom and Dad were extra chipper.
“Have a seat, son.” Dad waved a hand to a chair across from Molly.
Heat burned his palms and the feeling was almost pleasant. Sitting down he waited.
“I went ahead and ordered us a pizza. I know, I know, it is so bad for you but I wanted to make this day special,” Mom said.
Molly had her head down and would not look at him. Something was definitely up.
The smell of pepperoni and hot cheese made Israel’s mouth water. Dad opened the large pizza box with a Garbanzo’s Pizza label on the lid. He placed a large slice on Molly’s, Mom’s, and his own plate. Shutting the lid Israel looked up at what Mom held out to him.
“Here you go dear.” She handed him an empty Snickers wrapper and a fork.
Stunned, Israel just stared at the wrapper unable to move. Mom leaned ov
er and placed the Snickers wrapper on his plate and slid the fork next to it.
“So, big day tomorrow. Molly, you and I should go shopping, pick out some cool stuff for your new room.”
Molly nodded and stared at her pizza, hair hanging over her face.
Dad took a huge bite and grinned. “Wow, this is amazing. I didn’t know how hungry I was till I took a bite.”
The Snickers wrapper lay there as if mocking him. Warm heat flared in his neck and arms. Keeping calm he looked up and smiled. “I know what you mean Dad, so hungry.” Taking the wrapper he crumpled it up and shoved it into his mouth.
He somehow managed to get it down and Molly finally looked up and smiled at him. It was not a cruel smile but one of knowing. They were in this together and no matter how they felt about each other they would always have each other’s back.
“Israel James. That’s a different name, are your parents religious?”
Israel sat on the edge of the examination table and shivered. “Sorta, but not really. I think they were being weird just to be weird.”
Doctor Bradshaw laughed. It was a good laugh, deep and pronounced. “Well, I guess that is as good a reason as any.” The big man placed the cold, no . . . freezing stethoscope on his bare chest and Israel breathed deep. He knew the drill.
“What do you think of Silverwood so far? Make any new friends?”
“Not yet. Just got in yesterday.” The paper on the table crackled and Israel tried not to move so much, it was annoying.
“I think you will like it, we got a good thing going here. I grew up here and even played football for the Silverwood Heralds. That may mean nothing to you now but they took state every year I played. Now . . . not so much.”
“You play quarterback?”
“Linebacker.”
“Nice.”
“I went over the charts your other doctor sent over. You have quite a history.” Dr. Bradshaw looked over his glasses at Israel and half smiled. “Do you know what you have? I mean to say, do you understand what it is?”
The 'Naturals: Awakening (Episodes 1-4 -- Season 1) (The 'Naturals: Awakening Season One Boxset) Page 4