Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet

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Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet Page 3

by Kenyon T Henry


  “We’ll get this figured out, boy.”

  “How? How do we figure this out? I don’t know anyone else like this. I looked when I traveled. I went as far south as New Orleans, over through Tallahassee Florida, up through Charleston, and settled in Chattanooga. Nothing. I’m alone.”

  Waltz let out a big sigh. “I can help.”

  “How? How can you help?”

  “I’ve seen a lot on these streets and in life. I’ve seen things that most people wouldn’t understand and couldn’t grasp. I’ve seen this before. Not exactly like this, but close enough. I think I can help.”

  Stephen sat stunned. He wasn’t sure if it was okay to feel some relief or not. Are there really others like me? Really? Right here all along! His strong emotional response caused him to throw his thought.

  Waltz took a step back, grabbing his head. Stephen realized what he had done. In his excitement, he had lost control for a moment.

  “Waltz? Are you alright?”

  “Wow! That’s quite a gift you have there. You’re really excited about not being alone.”

  “You heard that, huh? Sorry.” Stephen reached to help Waltz back to the pool table to lean on it.

  “Heard it, yeah. But I felt it too. I could feel your emotion—the excitement, the confusion, and something else. You’re worried.” Stephen looked away from Waltz; he knew what was coming. “You’re worried that if you find others like you, they’ll be monsters.”

  “Yeah, that’s a real concern. Plus, how did I get this ability? Why am I different? Is it heredity or what?”

  “Don’t worry too much about it. We’ll work all this out. I can tell you this: I believe that who you are, who you choose to be, will always be up to you, regardless of any ability. Freewill is one of the greatest gifts God has given man. The actions make the man. Or, in some cases, the inaction. You ask God for help, he’ll give it.”

  “Thanks, Waltz, for understanding.” Stephen began sniffing. “You smell that?” His stomach rumbled at the smell of breakfast. He couldn’t remember his last home cooked meal.

  “Yeah, bacon. Smells like breakfast is ready. Let’s go eat, son.”

  The two headed up the steps toward breakfast. Sitting around with Waltz, Bernie, and others, who were passing through, gave Stephen comfort. It allowed him to forget his troubles for a short time and focus on the moment—something he had not done in quite a while.

  Chapter 2

  Stephen waited inside the old storage building behind the house. He looked around at some boxes they had sorted through shortly after his return. His breath turned to fog, and his teeth chattered. He understood why they needed to be in the building away from the short-term residents. Still, that knowledge did nothing to take the chill away.

  The door opened and Waltz stepped inside, locking the door afterward.

  “Did you get a good breakfast?”

  “Y-yeah.” Stephen’s teeth chattered.

  “Good. You’ll need your strength today. We’ve been working for weeks now, to help you control your gift.”

  “Is that what you call it?” Stephen rolled his eyes. “I feel like all we’ve been doing is torturing my mind, doing the same things over and over. Yes, I can read minds and even control others’ thoughts. I don’t think this is helping though. I think I’ve looked into all the minds in the shelter here, plus, everyone living between here and the next street over. Why can’t we bring Bernie in?”

  Waltz sighed. “I’d like to, Stephen. But things aren’t like they used to be between me and Bernie. I don’t know how to explain it. He’s just not the same Bernie. Something’s off.”

  “Maybe he just misses Bernard,” Stephen suggested.

  “I wish it were that simple. He’s been beaten down by life. I don’t think he and I would agree on this.”

  “But, Bernie—”

  Waltz interrupted. “Let’s just focus on this for now. Alright?”

  Stephen reluctantly agreed.

  “Hey, once we get you under control, you and I will need to have another talk. But, first things first.” Waltz pulled up a stool and sat down. “Stephen, I believe the key to you controlling your gift is by coming to terms with it. You have a hard time differentiating your memories and emotions because you still try to fight them. So they get all jumbled together after a while.”

  “You don’t understand, Waltz. Some of these memories hurt. I don’t want to feel them.”

  “I know.” Waltz walked over to a box and dusted it off. He pulled out a ragged brown bear with brown glass eyes. “Remember him?”

  Stephen nodded and smiled. He wanted to reach for the bear, but it was cold, and his hands were warm in his pockets.

  “You had this with you when I found you. I couldn’t get it away from you for months. It stayed in your room for years. You were seventeen before you asked me to put it away for safekeeping.”

  “Mom gave it to me.” Stephen’s voice cracked. After all this time, Brown Bear still elicited a strong emotion. “She said that Dad had given it to her on their first date. It’s all I know about him.”

  “I know. And you wouldn’t let go because it eased the pain. Eventually you did. Once you accepted your situation, you were able to start healing. Right now, you need to be able to start healing.”

  Deep down, Stephen knew they had been leading up to this. Stephen had been working hard at trying to remember details and pick apart memories. Stephen’s abilities had grown since he returned. He was able to hear thoughts from further distances probe deeper into other minds. However, he continued to have difficulty separating his life from others.

  “Okay, Waltz. What do I do?”

  Waltz handed Brown Bear to Stephen. “You’re gonna need this.”

  Stephen swallowed hard, knowing it would be very unpleasant.

  “You need to remember Tommy.”

  Stephen’s heart started to race.

  “We’ve tried everything else. You’ve read the entire neighborhood. Heck, I know stuff about people around us that I’d rather not know because of your ability. The control issue, I believe, comes back to your mind not healing after it’s stressed. I think that may have something to do with Tommy.”

  “Okay, I’ll try.” Stephen sighed and closed his eyes. Thinking about Tommy made him feel sick at his stomach.

  “Remember everything about Tommy. I think that once you are in someone’s mind, you leave some type of imprint or connection. But I think they also leave an imprint on your brain and that you’re struggling to reconcile what happened with Tommy. I believe you have a lot more information in there than you realize. Once you understand it all better, my hope is that the problem will resolve itself.”

  Stephen saw Tommy, red shirt and blue jeans.

  “Picture the first time you looked inside Tommy’s mind.”

  The image of Tommy changed. He wore a black hoodie and blue jeans. Stephen had just observed Tommy leaving Biggs’s place and followed him around the corner. He remembered getting into Tommy’s head looking for answers, trying to learn more about the operation.

  Waltz’s voice rang through. “When you got into Tommy’s mind, did you see anything that you weren’t looking for? Focus on the memories in the background, as though you are still in Tommy’s head.”

  Stephen searched for anything that looked different. For a moment he thought it would be useless. Instead, new thoughts began to flood Stephen’s mind. He saw Tommy’s girlfriend. He saw images of him with his friends at school. He somehow knew that Tommy had a mother at home that he took care of. He looked for Tommy’s dad, finding only sadness. Tommy never knew his dad. Stephen understood this feeling.

  “Now, remember the last time you saw Tommy. Remember how he felt.”

  An image of Tommy flashed in Stephen’s mind. Tommy lay on the street looking at Stephen, fear still in his eyes. He had fallen only feet from where Stephen waited around the corner. Stephen felt all the hurt and pain, the fear of the unknown that Tommy felt. But there was somet
hing he hadn’t remembered. Tommy was afraid for his mom. Who would take care of her? He wanted to hug her again.

  Stephen gripped the teddy bear tighter. Tears fell like rain.

  “Let it hurt, son. Let it hurt. You can’t continue running from it. You have to own up to what happened and accept your part in it.”

  Stephen fell to his knees. “He wanted his mom. That’s why I fought it so hard. I didn’t even realize.”

  “Stephen, I was wrong. You weren’t fighting Tommy’s feelings. You were fighting yours.”

  Holding his bear, he looked up to Waltz, his eyes still filled with tears. “I miss her, Waltz. I thought I had forgotten about her. She seemed like a distant memory, someone else’s life.”

  Waltz got to his knees and hugged Stephen. “You were hiding your own pain. It’s okay now, though. You’re not alone. And you don’t have to forget her to be okay.”

  Stephen hugged him back. “Waltz, I never should have run away. I should have trusted you with this. I’m sorry. I thought it was all up to me. I remember when Mom got sick, she told me it was okay to be sad. But I felt I had to be strong. When she died, I didn’t know what to do. The boys’ home was horrible. I ran, just wanting the pain to stop.”

  “It’s okay.” Waltz held Stephen at arm’s length. “Did you just remember all that?”

  “W-what?” Stephen thought for a moment before realizing that was a memory he had long forgotten. He smiled. “Yeah, I did. I actually remember it all.”

  “That’s great.” Waltz smiled back. “You made a breakthrough today.” Waltz stood up. “Listen, why don’t we walk and see what else you remember?”

  The two walked around the city for hours. Stephen recalled long-forgotten memories. He also told Waltz stories about people he had encountered over the years. Separating his life and that of others became easier the longer they talked. Eventually, the cold was too much, however, and they returned home to get warm. Then it was back to hanging with the guys at the shelter and doing the day-to-day work, just like old times.

  ****

  “Ahhh!”

  Waltz awoke from his sleep upon hearing a loud yell, which seemed to come from down the hall. He sat up. A faint glow from the light of the moon and distant streetlamps gave objects in the room discernable shape as he looked around, waiting. Nothing seemed out of place. The only sounds he heard were sirens blaring in the distance and dogs howling down the street, but nothing troubling.

  “No, no!” Stephen yelled.

  Waltz jumped from his bed and hurried down the hall toward the living room. As he neared, he could make out Stephen asleep on the couch, tossing back and forth. He must be dreaming.

  He approached Stephen cautiously, not wanting to startle him. Gently touching his shoulder, he felt what he assumed to be sweat covering his skin. Waltz whispered, “Stephen?” No response. He gave a more forceful shake. “Stephen. Wake up, boy. Wake up.”

  Stephen woke with a start and turned toward Waltz, before sitting up halfway. “Waltz? What is it?”

  “You were dreaming. Quite loudly, I might add.” He looked Stephen over and used his shirt to wipe the sweat from his hand. “Look at you, son. You’re soaked. You alright?”

  Stephen ran his hand across his forehead. “Yeah, I’m okay, Waltz. Just a dream. Every once in awhile, I dream about Tommy. I guess the work we did yesterday stirred some things up a bit. Trying to learn to control and distinguish my life from everyone else’s has been a little exhausting too.”

  “I think that’s a good thing. Bernie says it best. If the boat ain’t rockin’...”

  Stephen interrupted with his best Southern accent, “It ain’t a movin’.”

  Waltz saw movement in the hallway behind Stephen, and looked up to see Bernie standing there, looking sour.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but I heard you guys in here. I just didn’t realize I’d interrupt you pickin’ at me.” Bernie grinned.

  “Awe, Uncle Bernie, you know I’ve always loved your accent. In fact, if I’d known that’s what people in the South sounded like, I might have gone down there sooner.”

  Waltz chuckled.

  “Yeah, yeah. Well, I sure do miss the South. The only thing I miss more than the South is Bernard.”

  “I wonder if he’ll come back with that accent?” Stephen grinned.

  Waltz chimed in. “Oh, he already has the accent.”

  “Well, since I’m up—and being made fun of—I’m a gonna go in the kitchen and fix myself some hot cocoa. I don’t reckon anyone will be pickin’ on me in there.”

  Bernie walked into the kitchen.

  Waltz placed his hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “Are you alright, boy?”

  “Yeah, Waltz. I’m fine.”

  “Good. I’ll leave you to sleep, then. Besides, I need to talk about some things with Bernie, you know. He’s been asking questions about where we’ve been going.”

  “You mean when we work on controlling my abilities?” Stephen sat up, more erect.

  “Yeah. He’s seen the same stuff I have and all. He knows the same stuff I know. I’m just not ready to bring him in. This has become a sore spot for us.”

  “What are you talking about, a sore spot? Why can’t we just tell Uncle Bernie? He’ll understand. He could help.”

  “It’s not that simple. But maybe soon. We’ll see. Okay?”

  “Okay Waltz, whatever you say.” Stephen didn’t fully understand, but accepted that Waltz wanted the best for him. “You know best.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Waltz sighed. “Why don’t you lie back down now and get some rest. You’ll need it today.”

  Stephen fluffed his pillow and rolled over as Waltz went into the kitchen, sliding the pocket door closed behind him.

  Bernie stood at the stove with a pot on.

  “Are you still making hot chocolate on the stove top? Haven’t you learned to use a microwave?” Waltz patted Bernie on the back as he passed by, opened a cabinet, and got out two mugs before seating himself on the other side of the island countertop.

  “Yeah, it just don’t taste the same, Waltz. You know that.” Bernie looked a little too serious, and a little silly, as he poured more milk into the pot.

  “Yeah, I know. I just like giving you a ribbing from time to time.”

  Bernie chuckled. “Yeah! You and Stephen both.”

  Waltz smiled.

  “So, that boy’s got demons of some sort chasing him, huh?”

  “You noticed.”

  “Of course I noticed. It’s been a while. But I still see the signs. Does he know? Have you been working with him? You ain’t been telling me much.”

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry about that. I’ve been kind of stuck myself. I’m not sure telling him everything would be best for him right now. Plus, I think it’s best that he just work with me for now.”

  “Fine, I get that. Too many cooks can spoil the broth.” Bernie turned off the stove and began stirring the milk. “But you should tell ’em something, you know.”

  “Yeah, I agree. I think it’s time. But I need to spoon-feed him. Honestly, I feel a little guilty for not telling him sooner. This life can be hard to grasp. He’s already struggling with it.”

  Bernie poured the hot cocoa into the mugs. The aroma smelled wonderful. Waltz reached over and grabbed a couple of marshmallows from a nearby bag, then dropped them into his mug. “Two, right?” Bernie nodded and Waltz dropped two into his mug also.

  “When did you learn about his ability?” Bernie asked.

  “Well, I started sensing something when he was seventeen. But I couldn’t understand it.”

  “I don’t get it either. We know everyone, at least all the families. No one’s missin’. Is it possible his family belongs to the other side?”

  “Doubtful. You know it doesn’t work that way.”

  “What if this is different? What if we don’t know everything? What if something has changed?” Bernie took another sip.

  Waltz looked at Bernie, consideri
ng the possibilities. After all, this situation had been unheard of before Stephen. “I suspect something has changed. But I don’t think it’s that.”

  “Then what? Do ya think he’s not part of a family, not one of the Mighty?”

  The door slid open. “Who are the Mighty?”

  Waltz and Bernie turned to see Stephen standing in the doorway with brow furled and jaw clinched. Waltz hadn’t noticed that the door hadn’t been fully closed.

  “Uh-oh,” Bernie mumbled as he got up, heading toward the cabinet.

  “Well, now’s as good a time as any. Have a seat.” Waltz scooted a stool out from the edge of the island.

  Stephen sat as Bernie placed a mug in front of him and proceeded to fill it with hot chocolate.

  “Thank you, sir.” Stephen sipped from his mug. “What are we talking about?”

  “Uh-huh.” Bernie sat down. “You’re up, Waltz.” Bernie sipped from his mug some more.

  Thanks! Waltz worked his best sarcastic facial expression to show Bernie just how much he appreciated his support, while throwing his thought to Bernie.

  Hey. You’re handling this, right? Bernie set his mug down, returning the expression.

  Stephen frowned. “Wait, you heard that too? Bernie, you heard Waltz’s thought?”

  “Waltz, you wanna take it now?” Bernie asked.

  Waltz cleared his throat. “What did you hear, Stephen, before you came in?”

  “Hear? Oh, nothing. I just smelled the hot chocolate and thought a warm drink might help me rest.”

  Waltz turned to Stephen with a sigh. “Stephen, Bernie and I . . . Well, we’re part of a group of people called the Mighty.”

  Bernie cleared his throat.

  “Okay, fine, Bernie. Technically, we’re retired, inactive.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” Stephen looked straight at Waltz, not turning away.

  “One step at a time.” Waltz turned on his stool to face directly toward Stephen, who still hadn’t moved. “Do you remember King David and his men from the Old Testament?”

  “Of course I do. How could I forget? It seemed to be one of your favorite topics.”

 

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