14 | Normal is Upside Down
Quinn
QUINN GRINNED AS THE WIND rushed past his face, his fingers playing in the breeze as he effortlessly flew through the air, zipping around the bridges of Portsmouth as people pointed at him from the ground. He laughed, blasting his way across the river’s surface while leaving a mixed wake of air and salt water behind him as he soared upriver toward Dover, looping around the Little Bay Bridges a few times. He flew upward, hovering about two hundred feet above the bay with Dover on his left and Portsmouth on his right.
“Eat your heart out, Superman!” Quinn yelled to the open air.
“Maybe I will,” a voice behind him answered.
“What?” Quinn whipped around and came face to face with Superman.
“You’re real?” Quinn sputtered, too stunned.
“Of course.”
“But you’re…a DC Comics creation!”
Superman laughed. “Where do you think the comics get their inspiration from?” He pointed at Quinn, then jerked a thumb back to himself. “They get them from us, real life superheroes, of course.”
Quinn nodded, confused.
Superman smiled and started to drift away. “Make sure you use your powers for good. I wouldn’t want to have to put you down, Quinn. Okay?”
“Yes,” Quinn stuttered.
“All right then. Take care!”
Quinn blinked, and Superman was gone. He twisted around again, looking for the man in blue and red, but he found himself alone, hovering in the air. Suddenly, he plummeted through the air, unable to stop himself from falling.
I don’t want to die!
Quinn’s eyes popped open as he gasped for air. He tried to sit up, but he whacked his head on something big and white.
“Ouch! What the heck?” he exclaimed.
Quinn’s eyes focused in the darkness of his bedroom and he found himself floating a mere six inches from the flat white paint of his ceiling. Stunned, he turned his head and twisted his shoulders to look down at his bed.
I can fly?
Suddenly, the bed rushed toward him as gravity pulled him down. He bounced on the bed, which protested his unexpected landing with a muffled creaking sound.
He chuckled and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Then, he pushed himself up and his body hovered in the air.
I can fly!
He grinned with excitement, his mind concocting a wild idea. He allowed himself to descend to the bed. He tiptoed to his closet and pulled out some black track pants and a navy-blue sweatshirt. Shoving his feet into some sneakers, he snuck downstairs and out of the house. Quinn quietly latched the back door to the house and tip-toed down the asphalt driveway. At two o’clock in the morning, it was unusually bright outside. A full moon lit the night sky with a blue hue around him.
When he was far enough from the house and out of earshot, he jogged to the Sagamore Creek bridge on Route 1A. Several cars went by, but at that hour, most of Portsmouth was fast asleep. When Quinn reached the bridge, he looked around to make sure no one was watching. Then, he grabbed the metal railing and jumped over it.
The rush of air on his face invigorated him as he spread his hands and legs, willing himself to level off and move forward, inches from the water’s surface.
Then, he flew.
All he had to do was think about where he wanted to go and how fast he wanted to get there and his body responded, moving through the air with swiftness and grace.
Boat docks whizzed past as he made his way toward the Wentworth by the Sea hotel, laughing to himself as he flew up and around it, arms spread back like a fighter jet. Strangely, the cool wind whipping at his face didn’t bother his eyes. He circled the famous hotel and dove down toward the water, accelerating over the Piscataqua River as he whipped through the slalom of islands. He could see everything around him in exquisite detail, despite the dark hour. For a moment, he assumed it was the moonlight, but he smiled when he realized it was his enhanced vision. Assuming his eyes were glowing, he leveled out at two feet above sea level and increased his speed, flying upriver, keeping to the New Hampshire side of the river to avoid tripping any motion sensors at the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard.
Following the course of an imaginary cargo ship and leaving a small wake behind him in the churning, powerful waters of the Piscataqua, Quinn flew under the drawbridges and made his way to the massive, green-arched Piscataqua River Bridge.
Quinn looked toward Atlantic Heights, where Blake lived. I hope I don’t trip our sensing thing…maybe if I keep my distance, it won’t happen.
When he flew under the bridge deck, he willed himself upward and soared to the crown of the bridge. At nearly three-hundred feet above sea level, Quinn alighted on the steel arch bridge near the flashing white light. He sat down on the apex, his legs dangling over the edge. In front of him, the tidal Piscataqua River and the night lights of Portsmouth and Kittery, Maine disappeared into the darkness of the unlit ocean in the not-so-far distance.
I can fly!
He shifted to the inside of the massive steel beam and looked down and watched the late-night traffic on the interstate below him, seeing car colors with incredible detail. Then, his eyes locked onto a familiar red car. Even though he sat a almost two-hundred feet above the road deck, he recognized the make and model of a red car that matched the one that almost clobbered that kid and his mother.
His mind flashed back to Daniel Street…the mother, the toddler, the brief squeal of tires, the loud bang, the airbag, the crunching metal…the man he almost killed.
His mood immediately soured as he thought of the near-fatal accident. Is it worth flying if I almost get someone killed? As cool as the powers are…something’s going to go wrong eventually. Tonight, it was simply flying, but what if I explode something…or someone…by accident?
❖
“We need to go back,” Quinn said, testing the waters with his friend.
“What? Go back where?” Blake asked.
The boys were playing Halo on Quinn’s Xbox together after school. Neither of them had track practice or work that day.
“To Rangeley, where all this started. To that cave.”
“Do you seriously think our parents would let us go up there again, after everything that happened?” Blake asked. “My father would kill me, or at least try to. The last thing we need is another hospital bill.”
Quinn swallowed nervously. “I know that, which is why we’d have to…lie.”
Blake nearly dropped his controller when the word came out of Quinn’s mouth. “You want to lie to your dads?”
Quinn paused the game as Blake looked at his best friend, a shocked expression on his face. “We’re already lying,” Quinn said sheepishly. He lowered his controller and met Blake’s gaze. “About a lot…about being normal when we're the first super-powered people on the planet—that we know of.”
“True.” Blake looked at the floor, unsure of what to say. “I mean, we…”
“What if we could go back and reverse what was done to us?”
“Reverse it?” Blake exclaimed, a bit louder than he expected. “Quinn, you can fly. Why on earth would you want to undo this?” He held out his hand, palm up, and the controls levitated upward and slowly rotated clockwise. I am not going to give up my powers, not even for you.
Quinn’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “When did you figure that out?”
“This morning. When I went to get coffee in the kitchen before showering, I reached for the mug and it slid across the counter to my hand.”
“No way! That’s awesome!”
“Yes way. I put the mug back and did it again. I spent the entire morning practicing and you know what the best part is?”
“No, what?” Quinn said, a grin spreading across his face. Suddenly, the controller in his hand floated up as well.
“I can control it.”
“Finally!” Quinn said, laughing. He grabbed the game controller from the air and flipped it around in his hand.
&nbs
p; “So, what is it you can do, exactly?” Quinn asked, shifting on the couch to face Blake.
“I can move things around, basically.”
“There’s a word for that but I can’t think of it. Magneto does it, but…”
“He can only manipulate metals. My coffee mug had no metal in it. Neither did my shower towel, the shampoo bottle, or the comic books I practiced with.”
“So, just little things?”
“Well, that’s all I practiced on. I haven’t tried to move a car or anything yet.
“Wow,” Quinn said, sitting back on the couch, watching Blake’s floating controller. Then, he frowned as his excitement deflated as quickly as it had inflated.
“I know this is awesome and stuff, but still I want to undo this. I want to be normal. I don’t want to be the guy whose powers accidentally hurt people.”
“Oh my gosh, Quinn! Are you still stuck on this? I thought we had just talked you off the ledge with having these abilities. You will never be the guy who intentionally hurts people. The minute you have a better grip on your powers you’ll be out there playing Superhero Boy Wonder.” Blake made air quotes around the nickname.
“Okay, that’s never going to be my code name.”
Blake laughed, “Good, because it’s terrible.”
Quinn sighed as Blake continued.
“What was the point of talking with Mr. St. Germain if you want to undo this? Assuming we even can undo this. We got zapped with that energy stuff…Are you thinking about trying to get zapped again? I’m pretty sure that would only strengthen our powers, not take them away.”
Quinn thought for a moment. “You’re probably right.”
“Besides, we could barely recover from the first dose of energy. If a second dose is as equally lethal, we’ll end up back in the hospital and Victor Kraze will be all over us.”
“Ugh, I just want to be normal,” Quinn said, throwing himself back into the couch. He dropped his controller in his lap and rubbed his temples with the palms of his hands.
Blake became exasperated. “You still haven’t convinced me. What is so damn awesome about being normal? Adults get annoyed with teenagers when we defy normal and try to push the boundaries whenever we can. Now you just want to sit back and…not do that?”
“Pretty much, yeah. I want to be like everyone else, don’t you?”
“Well, buddy, you’re not like everyone else. You haven’t been normal since you realized you were gay and…”
“What?” Quinn said, his face contorted with hurt and confusion.
“You’re gay.”
“I know that. This isn’t 1950; being gay isn’t abnormal,” Quinn spat angrily.
Blake shook his head. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant at all. Come on, bud, you know me better than that.”
Quinn nodded. “Okay.”
“Think about it, though. You have two dads, who last time I checked, are gay. I think that’s awesome but it’s different around here. So, you don’t have normal in your life and haven’t had it for a long time. Until same-sex parents are widely regarded as normal, whatever that means in this case, you have a very non-traditional—but wonderful—family model. My alcoholic family isn’t normal either, with my alcoholic father and my functionally alcoholic and enabling mother, I'm the scapegoat for everything they mess up. We are already not normal by a long shot.”
Quinn’s brows furled.
“Careful,” Blake said, raising his hand in caution. “Let’s not accidentally burn the house down.”
Quinn laughed and nodded. “Yeah. You're right. Frustration tends to bring out the scorching heat super powers.”
“Look, Quinn, we cannot…not have these powers. They’re only going to get stronger and hopefully, we’ll be able to control them better. The only way we get to be normal is by trying not to use the powers and live like normal people, just like we did before. We figure them out, get them under control, and if you still want to be normal, don't use them.”
Quinn sighed. “I know, you’re right. I’m having a hard time accepting it.”
“Maybe if you came out to your dads, things would be easier for you because there’d be one less thing for you to hide. I mean, seriously, think about it this way; if you’ve got one normal gay thing going for you, it’s the whole same-sex parents thing. Your dads will still love you and outside of the jerks like Darien, no one at school will care. Besides, if you were out of the closet, I’m sure a certain Keegan Miller might take a newfound interest in you.
Quinn smiled and sat forward. “You think so?”
“You’re not out, Quinn. It’s not his job to push you out of the closet.”
Quinn nodded and readied his control. “All right, all right. I get the point. I still want to go back to Rangeley. We need more information.”
Blake sighed.
“If we can at least understand what it is, Mr. St. Germain can help us figure out how this happened. We’ll take our phones, take pictures, gather evidence. We can even go check out that museum Dr. Madison talked about.”
“And if we bump into Victor?”
Quinn shrugged. “Well, um…I don’t know. We just make up an excuse. We’ll think of something.”
“Okay, fine.”
“Good. Now that we have that settled, let's keep playing the game so I can kick your ass.”
“Never gonna happen,” Blake quipped.
Quinn chuckled the game resumed.
15 | Return to the Source
Quinn
QUINN PULLED THE SUV INTO the empty Woods Lake Campground parking lot and shut off the engine. He looked over at Blake, who had fallen asleep an hour ago.
“Hey,” he said, elbowing him gently.
“I’m awake,” Blake said, startled.
“We’re here,” Quinn said, chuckling.
“Right, okay.” Blake wiped his eyes and stretched in the car seat. “Sorry, didn’t mean to conk out on you.”
“It’s okay.” Quinn looked around. Leaves had already started turning in the cooler days and nights that Rangeley experienced in autumn. Though many tourists would travel far to see the vibrant colors, locals knew the turning of the leaves meant the arrival of snow in the months to come.
“I’m ready,” Blake said.
“I think we need to agree on something first,” Quinn said, shutting off the engine.
“What’s that?”
“Let’s not use our powers.”
“Why? It’s not like I can without getting pissed off or something.” Blake said.
Quinn could tell Blake was upset at his latent abilities. “If anyone up here knows what’s going on, I don’t want to tip them off that their cave thingy gave us abilities. We don't need to raise anyone’s suspicions.”
Blake nodded. “Agreed. Okay, let’s do this.”
The boys got out of the SUV and made their way to the cargo space at the back. Quinn grabbed the backpack of supplies they brought with them; a couple of super-bright LED flashlights, several bottles of electrolyte-filled water, climbing rope, and snacks.
He pulled the backpack on and then walked back to the driver side and put a note on the dashboard that read Gone Hiking with the date.
“Why’d you do that?” Blake asked.
“Look around,” Quinn said. “No one’s here. If something happens to us they need to know we’re out here. Besides, this place looks closed for the season. If the police come by, I don’t want them to tow the SUV. We’d be screwed.”
“Good point. As long as we’re home in time for dinner and don’t raise our parents’ suspicions, we’ll be good.”
Quinn nodded and sighed. He didn’t like lying to his parents, but the boys agreed they didn’t have a choice. They had to find out what was going on and they had to do it before six p.m., when Quinn would normally be home from dinner and track practice. Since he had the day off, Blake had called in sick to work and the boys played hooky from school to explore the cave in more detail. Thankfully, it wasn’t unusual f
or Quinn to take the SUV to school occasionally since Daddio would happily ferry Dad to and from his law firm. They’d probably have a lunch date together if Dad could pull himself away from clients for an hour.
Quinn locked the SUV and the boys made their way around the campground, following signage that directed them to the trailhead.
“It smells different,” Blake commented.
“Yup,” Quinn answered. The scent of summer in the woods had been replaced with the slow decay of leaves mixing with earth and the dying underbrush of the forest. “Looks different, too.”
No rain had fallen in several days and the forest floor, though damp in spots, was mostly dry. Their hiking boots gently thudded along the leaf-covered trail. Nature chirped and buzzed around them as several chipmunks squeaked their displeasure and scampered into the underbrush.
Thirty minutes went by and the boys continued hiking.
“Something’s not right,” Blake said. “I don’t recognize this part of the trail, at all.”
“We haven’t gone past the trees yet. Remember? There’s that huge line of fallen pine trees we followed.”
“I’m telling you, we’ve passed it. It’s back there,” Blake insisted.
Quinn looked around. Blake was right, the forest didn’t look familiar. “How did we both miss that? It was so obvious before.” He looked ahead shrugged. “Let’s go ten minutes more in this direction.”
“Okay, but I’m telling you we passed it.”
Five minutes later, the boys turned around.
“Told you, so,” Blake said, grinning.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s keep our eyes open for the trees this time. We can’t be far from it.”
Several minutes later, Quinn stopped. “Look,” he said, pointing up at an oak tree.
“What? Oh!” Blake exclaimed. Several of the lower limbs had been snapped off and several broken limbs half-way up the tree hung precariously, defying gravity while daring the next big gust of wind to send them crashing to the ground.
“Something hit those,” Quinn said. He started looking around for the fallen pine trees but didn’t see any.
“This is definitely the spot we left the trail,” Blake said, extending his arm and pointing into the woods. “Look, this whole line of trees is just…missing…like someone just scooped a straight line of trees right out of the forest.”
Accidental Awakening Page 15
