Outcasts

by J. S. Frankel

  Seeing my teammates get their asses kicked in less than three seconds made me cautious. I moved in, feinted, slipped a punch the man threw, and I was pleased with my effort.

  One second later, though, I found myself on my back, courtesy of a leg sweep takedown. The breath rushed out of me. “Get up, kid,” the man said, his manner still pleasant.

  Scrambling to my feet, I charged him and got thrown down even faster, this time landing hard on my face. “Get up, kid,” the man repeated, and the very niceness of his voice made me want to bite him on the ankle.

  Once I got to my feet, the man signaled the three of us to stand in a line. Callie wore the same nondescript clothes as she’d worn the day before and stood off to the side. “How come she isn’t with us?” Neil asked, pointing to her.

  “That’s none of your concern,” Lucas said.

  Neil grumbled that Callie should take the lumps just as he had. She was in girl-mode and had obviously overheard the negative comments. Her mouth twisted in an unpleasant manner, but ever so casually she strolled over to Neil to ask, “Take my lumps, is that what you said?”

  “Yeah.”

  In a swift move, she grabbed his nutsack and squeezed. Neil let out a howl. Apparently, not all of him was made of rock. “Shut your mouth,” she said in a deathly quiet tone that was also full of the promise of inflicting more pain. “Shut it, or I’ll take your lumps. Got it?”

  “Yeah, I got it.” His voice came out in a strangled gasp of agony.

  Callie released him, walked by Joe who’d instinctively covered up, and gave me a wink before sauntering off. Awkward was awkward, but the instructor cleared his throat for attention, and his tone became more commanding. “That’s something I’ll teach you, too. I’m the first, last, and best teacher you’ll ever have. Suppose you run up against someone more powerful. I’m here to teach how to fight unconventionally.”

  Over the next few days at the Haunt—that’s what I’d nicknamed the training ground—I got tossed, rolled, squeezed, and punched. In turn, I learned the basics of how to slip out of holds. I also learned, if necessary, to thumb someone in the eye, smack their eardrums, go for their throats, or kick them in the balls. Dirty fighting ruled, and our instructor preached it at every waking moment.

  “Remember in a street fight, anything goes. Your opponent won’t hold back and won’t fight fair. You shouldn’t, either.”

  Point made, he waved all of us forward and urged us to hurt him. One minute later, I found myself flat on my face with his foot on my neck. Lesson learned.

  Wandering out of my room one morning, I found Lucas standing with his back to me. My teammates were still sleeping, so I decided to get a little flying time in. “Mr. Lucas,” I said, “are you okay?”

  He turned around, pistol in hand, and before I could do anything, he shot me three times in the chest at point-blank range. The impact staggered me, but wonder of wonders, no injury. It still hurt like hell, though. “What did you do that for?” Anger ruled, and my shirt tore open. Yeah, the wings had come out again.

  “Checking to see if you’re bulletproof. You are,” he answered as he walked away.

  The other three members of the group ran out from the passageways and over to me. “We heard shots,” Joe said. “What’s going on?”

  I rubbed my chest and stared at Lucas’ retreating back. That man was cold-blooded to the max. “Target practice.”

  Since I was invulnerable to small-arms fire, our leader decided to match us up. The goal was to see if we could outwit each other in combat. It was time to get mad, and I punched the wall. The pain pissed me off, and my wings immediately came out. The air was my territory, and I soared aloft well out of range, feeling at one with the ether.

  Callie stood on the ground, her long blonde hair waving in the breeze generated by my wings and Joe’s rotations. She looked up at me, hope in her eyes. Apparently, someone looking like a gargoyle didn’t bother her. At the same time, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She called out, “This is easy. You got this!”

  Concentrate. Think about her later!

  Easy was an overstatement. My opponents had abilities I didn’t possess. However, after analyzing them, Neil could be taken off his feet with sufficient wind. Joe couldn’t be shot when he spun, but toss an oil slick or ice at him and he’d slip.

  As for me, all I had to do was to stay aloft and dodge the heavy crates our rock-guy companion was heaving at me. Most of them missed, but one got through and connected with my chest, sending me into the wall. “Like a fly, man,” Neil yelled. “You’re like a fly, and I’m the flyswatter!”

  Yeah, and said flyswatter was about to get fly-swatted. Joe spun in his direction so fast, the centrifugal force which amounted to a mini-tornado took Neil off his feet and sent him into the wall. He hit hard, fell to the ground, moaned, and held his head.

  Joe stopped spinning and stood in the center of the room, not even breathing hard. “Guess who the winner is?”

  Guess who thought prematurely about winning? I swooped in and grabbed him around the chest, trapping his arms and lifting him high off the ground. For all his speed, he needed a solid surface to start. Up in the air, he was helpless... and he wasn’t splatter-proof. “How high can I fly, Joe?”

  All it took was one glance at the ground from him, and he screamed, “All right, all right, I give!”

  Lucas clapped his hands sharply and called, “That’s enough, Mitch.”

  After I landed, Callie tossed me a towel. “Thanks,” I said, wiping the sweat away. A sense of calm flooded my being, and I felt the shift of my wings melting into my body. At the same time, I stole a look at her. She was looking at no one else, only me.

  Her answer came quickly. “No problem.”

  If there was a connection happening, it was happening awfully fast. Still, we had a job to do and getting involved wasn’t on the menu—or was it? Lucas signaled us to stand in line. “You all did well,” he said once we’d assembled. “Remember, you have weaknesses, but so do your opponents. Exploit those weaknesses.”

  He then ordered Neil and Joe to hit the showers. Once they’d gone, Lucas turned to me. “Meditation time.”

  Meditation? “Any special reason why?”

  “To learn how to control your bodies. Mitch, your wings and claws come out when you’re angry. I noticed that at your parent’s house and here as well. So focus on bringing them out, but in a state of calm. Think about flight or something neutral and try to link it to your wings. They’re muscles, after all, and if you can control flexing a bicep muscle, you can control your wings.”

  To Callie, Lucas suggested thinking about being feminine. “I know it may not be what you want, but perhaps it’s the best way.”

  A sour expression crossed her face, but she nodded. The sight of her almost made me forget where I was, but then a sharp slap on my shoulder from Lucas jarred me back to reality. “Hey,” I said, feeling defensive. “You already shot me. Don’t hit me, too.”

  The answer I got sounded like something out of a soldier’s manifesto. “Less staring, more preparing.”

  Fine, less staring... hadn’t realized I was that bad. Concentrating hard, my wings did come out. “Nice job,” Callie said and flashed a pretty smile.

  “Uh, thanks.”

  We continued practicing, and by the end of an hour, I’d gotten to the point where I could bring my wings out at will and not have my face or skin color change. Callie seemed to have a little more trouble maintaining her female side, but said nothing. At the end of the time limit, Lucas told us we could call it a day. He began to walk off, and I asked, “Are you going home?”

  That caused him to stop and turn halfway around. “I don’t have one. I have a small apartment in Tacoma I use every now and then. Staying on the move suits me.”

  He then strode away without looking back. That man, he was one cold fish. Callie cut into my thoughts by asking, “Do you want to take a walk?”

 
Her question, asked bluntly but with a hint of sweetness, got me flustered. “Um, where?”

  “There’s a lounge down that way.” She pointed to a side tunnel I hadn’t seen before. We walked inside, and after a minute it opened up to reveal a ten-by-ten room with a long couch and a fridge full of cola. I cracked the tab on one and handed it to her. She sipped it slowly and then set the drink on the floor.

  After taking a seat, I kept my back rigid, hands in my lap, still acutely aware of her feminine to the max presence. I’d never felt this way about any girl before. “So,” she said, “what do you think?”

  “Think about what?”

  Waving her slender arm to indicate the room, her voice came out softly, but with a suggestive hint to it. “Of this place... me. Don’t lie. I saw you staring at me during your combat session. You’ve been staring at me since you got here.”

  Oh boy. Have I been that obvious? “Uh, well, it’s okay being here. And... and you’re really pretty.” There, I’d said it and meant it and what the hell was going on?

  Cal’s face suffused into a pretty shade of pink. “I sort of like you, too.” She offered a shrug. “You can’t fight hormones.”

  No, I guess you couldn’t, but all the same, I wondered about something. “Callie, if someone kisses you, is it like kissing a guy or a girl?” I hadn’t meant to sound clumsy or offensive, but I had to know what the situation was.

  To her credit, she didn’t get angry. “Right now, I’m a girl. I’m almost eighteen if you want to know, I think you’re cute, and I’d like to kiss you, too.”

  Done deal, and I leaned over to plant one right on her lips. They were warm and soft like I’d imagined any girl’s lips to be. Hated to admit it, I was a virgin at kissing and wondered if I’d done it the right way. Opening my eyes, she had a smile on her face and whispered, “Did that light your lamp?”

  Consider it lit. “Yeah, it did.”

  Suddenly, her manner turned shy. “But I feel that I have to change back now. It’s like a little voice inside me says it’s time. I can’t hold this shape forever. That’s why I wear non-gendered clothes. I can look decent as either a guy or a girl.”

  A second later, she turned away and became her male self again. I did my best to mask things by mumbling something to the effect that I hoped she’d become a girl again. “Yeah, me too,” she-now-he said in a voice laden with promise.

  The taste of her lips lingered, and was this what it was like to fall for someone? I didn’t know, but I was willing to find out.

  After our training period ended, Lucas had told us we’d be facing action soon enough. We’d run through simulations, we knew our roles and knew what we had to do. Neil was the battering ram, and Joe and I would do the knocking out if necessary, while Callie would provide the distraction by shifting from male to female and back again.

  However, while Neil and Joe were up for it, I had my doubts. Not about flying, no, but about Callie. She had no armor. She wasn’t invulnerable. “I’m a big girl,” she’d said to me when I pulled her aside to a private passageway and voiced my fears. She then shifted back to her male self. “Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

  We rejoined the rest of our group with Lucas off to the side, talking to someone on his cellphone. “Yes, sir,” he was saying. “We know, but the team is ready. I know... I know... all right, we’ll wait.”

  He then hung up, stowed his cellphone away, and turned to us with an expression of dismay painting his features. “That was the director of our group. We’ve been put on hold.”

  “What does that mean?” Neil asked.

  “It means we have to wait until we get the go-ahead from local law enforcement. Everything is red tape these days.”

  Notably, he didn’t tell us exactly who the director of this special group was or where the orders were coming from. This being a government plan, details weren’t in the cards. Joe then piped up. “So what do we do?”

  “You go home, go on with your schooling, and if we need you, we’ll call you.”

  His answer answered nothing, particularly news about a cure. Callie beat me to it. “Is Doctor O’Hara getting any results?”

  O’Hara had left after the fourth day, not even offering a farewell. As for Lucas, he offered nothing but a cold stare. “She’s working on it. That’s all I can tell you.”

  We left the next night. A truck was waiting a few yards from the entrance, along with a black-suited driver. He waved us inside, and Lucas took the front passenger seat while we piled into the back. “Callie, Neil, we’ll drop you off first.”

  Along the way, Callie whispered that she’d like to see me once I got resettled at home. “Yeah, me too,” I answered and slid my hand toward hers. I’d hoped she would ask me and I’d written down my phone number and email address, just in case.

  She clutched my fingers tightly and leaned over to whisper, “Thanks.”

  Neil observed us with an expression of distaste and said, “Get a room, will’ya?”

  Callie nailed him with a glare. “Neil?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up.”

  Present day

  I awoke, feeling refreshed from my nap, but also felt conflicted with the memories. The clock in the kitchen read ten PM, and tiptoeing my way upstairs I found my mother in her room, fast asleep. With nothing better to do, I went back to my room to check my messages. Nothing from Callie, but an email from Neil was there.

  I can come up and visit next Tuesday. My aunt passed away a couple of months back. We’ll talk once I get there.—Neil

  Well, at least he hadn’t told me to piss off. Today was Wednesday. As for Callie, I dithered over whether to call her or not. After telling myself the worst she could do was to say no, I dialed the number. A second later, a young, feminine voice came through—Callie’s. “Hello?”

  “Uh, hi Callie. It’s me, Mitch.”

  Silence for a beat, and then, “How are you, Mitch?”

  “Good,” I said, lying through my teeth. Couldn’t tell her about the attack. “Um, Joe said he emailed you.”

  “He did. I’ve been busy.”

  Oh. Well, it had been a long time, and maybe she’d found someone else. “Um, I called because I want to see you.” Silence ensued, and it was deafening. “Callie, uh...” Aware of the begging tone of my voice, I plowed ahead. “We don’t live so far away from each other, and I want to see you, if that’s okay. Please?”

  More silence followed, and for a moment I thought she was going to hang up. Then her voice, soft and comforting, came through. “When do you want to come out?”

  “How about Friday night? I can meet you at seven or so, and we could go for a walk or something.” Boy, did I feel like a dork. I’d never been very articulate, but this suggestion took the prize for dorkiness.

  Callie took her time answering, but at last her voice wafted through the phone line. “I’ll see you Friday, then. Good night, Mitch.”

  I hung up, feeling oddly content, but also wondering what exactly was going on. It didn’t matter, though. I had some other issues to figure out, mainly who or what was after me. And I also had a feeling this first attack wasn’t going to be the last.

  Chapter Four: Then and now

  That night passed peacefully enough, but the next morning a lot of unanswered questions still rattled around my mind, all of them involving the creature that had attacked me.

  No sense in worrying my mother about it. I found her in the kitchen making eggs and toast, the breakfast staple of champions. She asked me how I’d been doing. Time to lie and time to lie big. “It was a quiet night, so I just watched television and then crashed.”

  Her eyebrows arched in mock surprise. “Really? I wondered if you were training somewhere.” She put down the spatula and made a motion of wings flapping with her hands. “You know—flying.”

  Flying at night had never thrilled me. Bats flew. I was a person. My mother resumed cooking again, but her express
ion was sober. “Mitch, I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Your father dying so long ago, us not having money, and now you...”

  She didn’t have to say anything about me being a bat-guy—she knew. “Mom, I get it. You’re working hard, and I’m trying to get something, too. We’ll make it.”

  In response, I got a fleeting smile. It hadn’t been easy for her, either, putting up with numerous, nasty comments about having a genetically-challenged son. I only wished I could do something to help her out more.

  Breakfast over, she took off for work, after assuring me she’d be home at a reasonable time. “Have a good day,” I said as she got into her car and drove away.

  Once she’d gone, I ran to the forest for another look. The area had been untouched. It was just after eight AM and Chief Sullivan had already arrived, plastic gloves on, checking for clues. He saw me coming, offered a brief nod, and went back to poking around in the dirt.

  Sullivan finished his inspection with a grunt as he straightened up. He massaged his lower back and opined, while scanning the area, “I’m not a forensics expert.”

  “Didn’t the neighbors or the pizza delivery guy tell you anything?”

  He continued to massage his back. “The neighbors saw nothing. The pizza guy said he didn’t see anything, either.”

  That lying little scuzzbag! He’d most certainly seen Mr. Toad, but good luck with him backing me up now. As for Sullivan, he simply pushed his way through the brush, and I tagged along, wondering where all this was leading. Probably nowhere, but I had to ask. “So, did you find anything?”

  “Nope. If I had, I’d have told you.”

  I wasn’t so sure of that, but Sullivan halted, and I almost ran into him. “What’s going on?” I asked.

  He pointed to a mound of dirt, partially hidden by a clump of bushes. “Take a look.”

  I pushed ahead of him, the mound turned out to be a tiny hill of loose dirt. It came away easily to reveal a hole. Sullivan whistled between his teeth. “How about that?” He ran to his cruiser and returned with a flashlight.