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I will be moving this website over to bluehost in ten days to help upgrade the style of the site and also the usability.  Please bare with me as we initiate the process over the next few days.

Thanks for your patience!

Charlie.

Firebird Part IV

I know where we can go" I repeated as I trudged across the street, not paying much attention to whether or not my mother was following me. I hunched down and got into the Firebird and turned her over. The engine roared to life, still happily warm from the long drive from Tennessee. 

My mother stopped dead in the middle of the street. She recognized the car. I knew it from just an hour or so before. A single tear started to roll down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away and stomped over to the passenger side of the car and hopped in.

She looked straight ahead "Let's go"

I slapped the car into gear and drove away, a bit of tire squeal coming off the pavement from the hot mid day sun. I drove straight out of town and onto the back roads. I was sure that if i kept driving out of town I would figure out where to go next. What to do with my mom. How we could run from her captors....my employer. I got the car into high gear on the highway, slipped over into the fast lane, and set the cruise control.

After about thirty minutes of silence, my mom looked over at me. " John" She said with a smile in her voice. "where are we going in my car?"

I looked her dead in the face. I nearly forgot about the road and had to slow down. "Your car?!" I exclaimed. "I woulds swore it was dad's"

"He told you?" she said, amused.

"No." I said, looking straight ahead, swerving between two semi's. "It was the first thing I divined..."

"Right before you  met me?" She said, shifting in her seat to face me.

I let the silence sit for a minute, not sure what to say next. I accelerated to match the speed in the fast lane. "I just wanted to see what you looked like before...before I met you"

"oh honey" she whispered, touching the nape of my next with her palm. She held it there a while. "I'm so sorry"

I drove along the highway, heading west with not much more on the road than a few semi's and some station wagons loaded with kids and luggage. The A/C lulled us into silence for the next few miles. Finally my mom asked the questions I hadn't answered before.


"so where are we going honey"

"Don't rightly know at the moment" I said, shifting in my seat. "I'm hoping that my buddy Greg will be at his shop in Nebraska, but he's usually off up north this time of year, hunting at his Camp in Alaska. If he is there we can get a new set of wheels that they can't trace, some new identities maybe. I'm not sure"

"and how did you meet Greg, John?" She asked. looking me straight in the face."

From work.

"Well, he was the mechanic that they assigned me for that region of the country...But Greg and I have been friends for 10 years or more now. He's always looked out for me, helped me with my driving logs if they were off, kept my tickets off the books at the company. He's a good guy"

"we can't trust anyone associated with them. Are you insane?!"

"insane enough to drive cross country with a woman who is claiming to be my mother, and sent me a book on reading the future."

I downshifted and crossed 2 lanes of traffic to make the exit. "We're going to Greg, he'll know what to do"

About three hours later we arrived at Greg's shop. It was down a dirt road that only went to his shop, and was a good 10 miles away from the main road. I figured we'd either pull up there to a bunch of black SUV's ready to snatch us, or not a soul would be visible. Fortunately for us there wasn't a soul there. 

The shop was a part of an old farming estate that got sold off. This portion used to be a large grass field that the previous owners used to pasture their cattle when they owned a few hundred more, and also to land small planes as it was flat, and the ground wasn't much good for anything except growing grass and landing planes. Right smack dab in the middle of the lot was a huge aircraft carrier, which was the location of Greg's shop. He had been working out of the building for the better part of 20 years, and had built up quite a clientele even though he was so far out in the sticks. He lived in an apartment he had built himself up above the hangar, inside the loft. He would either be home and we would have a chance, or we would be stranded out here, and the men in black would be here any moment to snatch us up.

"This is the place." I said, unbuckling and hopping out of the car.

"Greg?!" I hollered toward the hangar. "you com on out now ya hear?!"

I started to mosey on toward the hangar doors, and they started to slowly slide open as Greg hit the mechanical openers and the slow open from the center. I put my head down in thanks to the Lord as I walked toward the hangar doors. My mother didn't get out of the car.

"John, what in the hell are you doing" Said Greg, he didn't sound like his usual happy self.

"I can't have you here right now and you know it, the entire cavalry is out looking for you."

I looked over Greg's shoulder to his laptop on a picnic table behind him. thee on the screen was a flashing picture of me saying WANTED, right next to that was a picture of my mother with the same words.

"John, they're trying to get you listed as terrorists with the government. shit's gonna get real hot before it cools off, you need to leave the country. NOW." 

I looked at the pictures. I knew my mother could see them flashing form the car seat, even if it was some 50 feet away. I pulled the old pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and lit one up.

"Smoke?" I handed the pack to Greg.

"you know i don't do that shit, John."

"Yeah well me either, desperate times."

Greg took a cigarette and lit it. He coughed horribly from the first drag.

Greg was a short stocky guy, who had always been a hard working, nervous guy. He knew his way around most of the systems that I worked with, though, and always kept my nose clean. I had never seen him not in full denim, nor without grease all over him. He was constantly working on something. It wasn't always a customer's car either. He had build himself quite a few scratch built cars. Some made for off road, some for track racing. There were several race plaques hung up all over the hangar: showing first place trophies for many different types of races. Greg built his way to victory, and he was damn good at it. You could see the skill he had simply from the way he kept the hangar. Every tool had a specific place, every car sat in a spot that you knew was custom made around it. It looked like a museum exhibit, and a damn hard worked shop all at once.

Greg paced down the length of the shop once, took another drag, coughed, and duffed the cigarette out on the floor before picking it up and putting it in the trash. "Who smokes this bullshit?" he said under his breath. He walked back towards me as I laughed silently.

"John, I love you my man, but you gotta get the fuck out of here, you and that hot fuckin car of yours"

I looked over at the screen again, there on the screen, now cycling was a picture of us, and then a picture of the firebird.

"Well, looks like its time for you to do what you do best, Greg" I said with a smile, finishing my cigarette and putting it out in the gravel outside the hangar. "I'm gonna need the rat"

Greg looked at me like I had just insulted his mother, then he slowly smiled and nodded.

"No VIN, great off road....huge motor." He said as he walked toward a large pegboard that held all the keys. He snatched a huge Bowie knife off the pegboard that had a single short key on it. Scrawled down the blade of the knife it said RAT.

"We're gonna need to fill the reserve tanks if you want to make it to Mexico, though" he said, handing me the knife.

"We ain't going there." I said, grabbing the key from him. "Let's get them Jerry cans filled"

Firebird: Part III

The Firebird over revved as I took her around a corner a bit too fast and stayed on the power to keep it pointed down the road. These back roads had been paved just last year, so the trip was a good deal faster on them when heading toward Alabama than the highway. This was fortunate as I wasn't giving myself much time to make it to mom. The summer sun was just coming up over the trees as I headed South to Alabama. I was damn near triple the speed limit most times. Thank God there were no cops to stop me.



I kept the car pretty well on line thanks to the new pavement they had put down all over the back road the year before. It was a great drive to be honest: the sun off to my right, clipping through the trees. My Car popping through the gears easily as I handled her through the turns and we sped toward Alabama. The GPS was almost completely silent: on this road, it was a straight shot to the cafe. It was like my mother knew. I suppose she probably did.

The morning sun kept clipping through the trees. I checked the dashboard clock and it read 6:30. It looks like I'll make it there in time even if I keep it under the limit. I hit a couple more turns at speed, and then slowed her down to a reasonable speed to keep the cops off my tail and the townsfolk happy. I cruised her the remaining hour into Alabama.

This was the first time I was able to think about my mother. I literally couldn't remember her face. I couldn't remember what she looked like, or how she wore her hair as before she left. There were no pictures in our house of her: dad said he couldn't bare it, and  I never inherited any from him, except for one small one in his wallet, which was worn at the edges from sitting in his billfold for so long. It looked to be a picture from her senior high school picture. Didn't feel right keeping that. That picture was something between them, not something between us.

How would I recognize her? I had been spending so much of my life pretending to be this new man, that the boy I was was all but completely gone, along with his memories. I thought slowly about what she looked like when I was just a boy. Then I remembered the book:

"divining a memory is the most simple of beginning divination, and it is a great way to start your career as a diviner" 



I pulled the car to the side of the road. The GPS blinked warnings at me that I would be late if I stayed at this position for more than 3 minutes. I rummaged through my bag, looking for anything that might be a tether to my mother. I had almost nothing from my old life. I looked through everything in the back seat: looking for an old toy, a belt buckle, anything. everything I touched was absolutely something new. No memory as old as that, and no memories of mine.



I grabbed the e brake to pull myself around in the seat. I held onto it as I wished that I could remember what she looked like, closing my eyes and tilting my head up toward the rising sun.



The next thing I felt was like being pulled toward the moon by a jumbo jet through my belly button. The rush was in intoxicating, but I could still feel my butt on the seat in the Firebird, I could feel the E brake still in my hand. In fact, I couldn't let go of the e brake if I tried. It was as if the E Brake handle was the thing creating this sensation. I flew until I felt the motion around me level out, and I opened my eyes, expecting a head rush from how little sleep I had gotten the past few days. Instead I opened my eyes and saw myself looking at my mother and father. They were young: younger than I had ever seen them, even as a boy. They were kissing. Kissing in a Firebird. Parked on this road. Their long, passionate kiss finally stopped, and I stopped looking away out of respect, and I got a good look at my mother for the first time.



She was short, with tight curls in her light blonde hair. She had eyes so big and blue you wondered how they stayed in her head. She had very slight features, and was a generally small person. My father was always a large guy, and seemed to be fully twice the size of my mother in every regard. They seemed to giggle over this fact as they cuddled eachother in the car, and snuggled down in some blankets in the front seat with the seats laid back to make a bed. Did they live in the car? Did they live in MY car? The car my father helped me rebuild? Is that why he got it for me?



The side thoughts snapped me back into the car, and the pain was incredible. It was like being fired from a cannon 100 feet above the ground and landing in a car seat. I leaned out of the side door of the car and vomited from the pain. I knew I couldn't pass out right now, so I took some good deep breaths and got to my feet. I rummaged around in the trunk for a small bottle of Jack I kept around in case I got in a wreck or a fight while out on the road and I needed to take the edge off. I took a large swig of it, and slowly walked back to the driver's seat, leaning on the side of the car the whole time, and hit the road again.



It was nearly time when I pulled up in front of the cafe we were meant to meet at. I looked at the large sign above, which was written out in pallet wood impact nailed across the brick front of the cafe:



THE CHOP SHOP



I looked through the big glass front of the cafe and just inside at the bar against the window there she sat. I saw her first and instantly knew it was her. The vision I had just a few minutes before had definitely helped. I slowly walked across the street, hands in my pockets, never taking my eyes off her. My legs still felt like I had ran a marathon, so the effort of just walking across the street made sweat well up in my face.



She caught sight of me and almost jumped out of her seat. She looked away again, after she was sure I had recognized her, and sipped her tea.



She still had that same blonde curly hair, although a bit more frizzy than what I had seen in my vision. There were smile lines across her forehead and at the corners of her eyes, indicating that she had been a laughter all her life, just like in the vision. Her eyes still seemed ungodly big for her face, but It just made her all the more expressive. It seemed as though she could have a whole conversation with you without opening her mouth. She could just use her big expressive eyes. She locked eyes with me again as I came to the sidewalk and  looked over to the front door, indicating it was safe for me to come inside and sit next to her.



I leaned heavily against the doorjamb as I stepped up into the cafe. My mother looked at me and knew I had divined something and not disconnected properly. you could instantly see the concern on her face. Concern mixed with pride, and joy, and sadness, and so many other feelings a mother must get after seeing her son, grown, alive and well after so many years. After being out and free, ready to get a coffee with her son for the first time.



I ordered a large black coffee and walked over to sit next to my mother. I got up onto the stool with a sign, and looked straight out he window, waiting for her to speak. It wasn't my first time talking to someone without needing to have it noticed. this was the most common way I got my jobs given to me. My mom must have known that.



"Johnathan, I can see you attempted to divine something recently, and apparently didn't disconnect from the vision appropriately" She said with equal parts of scolding, loving, and cold fact.



She sipped her tea from a ceramic mug "how long ago"



I sipped my coffee and enjoyed the first taste of caffeine I had since I had woken up. "about an hour ago, little less."



She looked straight at me. I didn't look back as to not raise suspicion "what are you doing."  I said, sipping my coffee again.



"Nobody recovers from a poor disconnect that quickly" she said, finally realizing what she had done and looking out the window, staying silent for a full minute before continuing " It usually takes three to five days before you can walk again."



"Well, I sure as hell feels like I should be in bed right now" I said with a cough. I sipped my coffee to relax the pain in my chest.



"This must be one of the reasons why men aren't allowed to divine...." she said trailing off "a man's strength allows them to flip in and out of visions more rapidly than women. I Imagine you could divine in real time, once you got used to the pain"



"that's a pain I don't want to ever get used to." I said looking out the window.



My mother did the same for a few minutes "I have missed you so much" She said, closing her eyes for a long time, trying to hold back the tears. "I'm so proud of what you've become Johnathan. So very proud"



She broke character after this point and looked straight at me. I could see the weakness in her face, she must have just divined the perimeter of the building to ensure we weren't being tailed. " I know that we've broken many laws, both magical and conventional to get here, but we need to. The company that we both work for has been looking for women like me to divine major political evens for personal profit. I have been able to give them just enough information to stop them from killing me, but its been very difficult. Most women can't withstand the pace at which they want us to work. They don't understand that divination takes a long time for both connection and disconnection, especially when divining someone whom you've never seen or spoken with before. Many women die from the pain of rapid disconnection, which they bring on after they get the information the receive. Sometimes by flashing a light in the room, other times with a bucket of cold water if the woman takes too long to disconnect herself.



I remembered the pain I was in from the one small vision of my mother: I couldn't imagine being forcibly removed from the vision time and again. They must have killed so many diviners....



"Johnathan, you need to help get me away from here, with the book. I'm the last one left. I've been able to keep myself alive for a year, long enough that they decided to reduce security since I was the only one left...." She sipped her tea and looked off into the distance.



"I suppose its not fair to say I'm the only diviner left alive, now there's you" She looked at me, not sure how to feel about her son being the first male diviner in ages.



"So what do we do now?" I said.



"I was hoping you could answer that" She aid with a giggle "I've made it this far, which is a good deal away from the facility I was held at. So let's get out of here and try and decide our next move.



I sipped my coffee again, looking out at the street. an old lady passed walking her dog. I thought about my mom getting old enough to do that.



"Alright, lets get out of here" I said, finishing my coffee.

" I know where we can go. "






To Be Continued

Firebird: Part II

I woke up the next morning on a cot in the garage that I left out there for just such an occasion. I seldom slept in the house in the summer as it got too hot, and I used the cot in the garage often as I would always be working on the Firebird.



I stumbled over to the coffee maker and got it working. I slid the garage door open and looked outside at the early morning sun. The wind was lightly whipping through the trees as the birds chirped their good mornings to each other. Dew was still on the leaves and the grass. The yellow early morning sunlight was shining directly into the garage. I had intentionally built the garage with the door facing east so I could wake up like this all summer long.



The Book.



I had almost forgotten about it while working on the Firebird last night. The Note. The Chop Shop Cafe. Alabama. 



I wasn't sure what to think. Should I trust this hocus pocus burning page that wrote to me? was it just some type of parlor tricks some kids down the street were playing on me? No way. Nobody knows that much about me. Shit, it had been so long I had nearly forgotten about all that. Took me a minute to remember my real name.

My real name. Nobody alive knows that name except her. It must be my mother. And she's in trouble. I need to help her.

If there's one thing my father never did, it was talk ill of mom. Whenever I asked he would say that she loved us very much, but she had to go away, and he missed her. I think he wasn't lying either. I think he didn't want to tell me what happened just for this reason as well.

I think he's rolling over in his grave if I'm working for the same sons of bitches that did this to us. to our family.  To me.



I grabbed my coffee and stomped inside and threw open the book. No more notes. I read on from the first page.



The art and science of divination has been known to a select group of people for many years. It is based around the simple usage of certain objects (called Anchors) to affix certain points in time to certain outcomes.  Utilization of these anchors, once created appropriately does not only allow you to foresee the future, but to alter it to your will as well.



I looked up from the book

 "no way in hell"



I walked away and dug in the back of my closet to get a pack of cigarettes I kept hid. I lit one up and sat back down in front of the book.



"Creation of these Anchors, then, can of course cause massive changes in the future, and must therefore be used with extreme caution. As your Master has already told you, you must read this entire book before attempting any of these spells. Your master has entrusted this ability to you, and She will expect you to have read this book in its entirety before she teaches you any more. Be sure to meet with your Master directly after finishing reading this book, as it will become unreadable to you in three days time.



I see my mother hasn't given me much space to learn all this. The damn book must be 600 pages long.



"As a young woman starting out in Divination, first you must learn the nature of Anchors. Anchors will be something significant to the situation at hand. As you only practice Divination for the good of others, and not for personal gain, the Item you choose to make an Anchor from will need to be of emotional significance to the person whom you are working with.



Young Woman? Why do they only talk about girls in this book?



"The Anchor you use will determine the power that you have to Divine what you wish to see, or change. A seeing anchor can be far weaker than a Change Anchor. For instance, a Seeing Anchor can be something as simple as a T Shirt the person owns, whereas a change anchor will need to be something specific to the situation that they wish to change, and also something that is very significant to the person whom you are working with. It is your duty as a young diviner to appropriately select the correct Anchor For your client.

So this is why Mom can't get herself out, its against their code to Divine for themselves. She needs me to divine for her.

I turned the page.

WHY NO MAN MUST PRACTIVE DIVINATION

"Men are well known to possess no natural caring nature as women do. They also cannot control their urges to Divine for themselves. The last, great male diviner was Merlin, who worked directly for King Arthur and no one else. It has been recorded in the old texts that he himself was quoted in saying that women only should divine, and he was merely passing on the art to new woman apprentices as the art had become so injured during the dark ages with superstitions running so high. Never, under any circumstances teach a man to Divine, as the last men who were known to divine have caused massive turbulence in the flow of time, causing such tragedies as the Great World Wars, and the Holocaust.

I looked up from the book. I took a long drag from the Camel 100 I was smoking, and put the rest of it out on the metal side of my kitchen table, letting the ashes fall to the floor. Well, the book's open to me now, I can read it for 2 more days or so. Better finish it at least.



I sat in my garage for a day and a half, reading that book as fast as I could, taking notes, and making as much sense of the book as I could. Then, as I finished the last page, writing appeared on the second to last page.



"Noe that you have completed your reading, the book will be open to you as a reference. Simply speak your full, true name while having the book open to the second page, and you will have it available to you as a reference. only those who have had the sight passed down to them may do so. Practice you divination thoughtfully, and carefully as you grow into the new Order of Diving.



Good Luck.



The text in the book disappeared, and the red color seeped from the covers. The book looked as if it had been left in a dump, outside in the rain for years now. The leather became cracked and old, and the bindings looked incredibly weak, although the books till held together well enough. I was surprised the covers didn't disappear, Mom must've cut the covers off in an attempt to hide what she was mailing.



Mom.



I looked over to the Firebird. I had tuner her up well that first night the book came in, but now I had barely a half day to make it to Alabama. Looks like I'm taking the back roads.

Firebird

The open road had always taken good care of me. I had been into driving my entire life. It seemed like a great way to escape. When my mom decided to leave me and my dad when i was about 3, dad drove for 3 days. He said he was looking for mommy, but now I know he just needed to drive. So we piled into his old diesel pickup, and we rolled out on the vast Arizona roads and headed east to the flatlands and just drove. Drove until the bank account got a little less flush and we had enough for the couple of tanks of fuel we needed to get home. I remember him filling up from gas cans for us to make it back to the house. 

This is my first memory.



My next memory is my dad selling the house for an ancient Peterbuilt Semi. He straight traded that old Ranch house in The outskirts of Phoenix for a 20 some odd year old Peterbuilt and started doing local jobs. We would sleep in the rank old sleeper area in the back at night. The door didn't lock so well, so he would hold it shut with his foot at night, sleeping with his arm under the pillow. I didn't figure out until years later that he had a colt revolver with a single FMJ loaded into her underneath that pillow. I would just stay up and play with my cars all night long. all of my cars.




I remember him receiving a call, patched through the CB while we were doing a big regional run. My dad insisted that I did school, so it interrupted the CB radio school lesson I was listening to while we were driving out to our destination. I heard the Arizona State Police get on, asking my dad something about a hidden room in the house we sold, and that he was technically still the owner as the Deed wasn't transferred appropriately. Something about Coming back to Arizona for questioning.



My dad disconnected the CB radio and told me with a big smile that school was all done for the day. I cheered and bounced into the back of the truck to play with my race cars.



My Dad finally saved up enough cash for us to buy a small trailer in Tennessee. Way up in the Blue Mountains. I grew up there, and fell in love with girls, and rode bikes, and had a Nintendo. Except for that First few years of my life, I grew up fairly Natural. Things were great. I got into cars at around 16, once I got my license, and started building an ancient Firebird that my Dad had dug out of the junkyard down the street as the motor spun free. My dad took a month off Hauling to get her running with me before my License Test. I passed the first try. In my New Firebird. I loved that car. I still drive her. She keeps me close with my dad, God rest his soul.



Nowadays, I still live in that trailer up in Tennessee, though I never stop home much. I do transport of a different kind. I've been running small, important packages back and forth across the country in a somewhat legal courier service for years now. I had built up a good clientele, and the folks I worked with trusted me well enough. Contraband never seemed to be drugs or anything of the like, least I never seemed to get attention like the drug runners would. We usually parked our cars to sleep in the same rest stops out in the middle of nowhere, so I knew that I was doing something a little different. But the pay was good, and it kept m on the road in the Firebird, so I never much worried about anything else.



Company  I work for is a corporation called Applied Logistic Technologies LLC. They're a pretty large outfit, though nobody has ever heard of them. I got a pension, good benefits...hell, they even pay for my car repairs. I've gotten myself some damn good parts for the Firebird thanks to them. I even ended up building myself a damn nice garage out behind the trailer with the pay I get.



Then the other day I stopped back home to grab my mail and get any bills paid I might not have the last time I rolled on back to the homestead. I Pulled the Firebird into the garage, and pulled the steel door shut with a slam. As I walked bock over to the house to check the mail, I noticed that there was quite a substantial package in the mail box.



Inside of the mail box was the usual junk mail, a few bills I needed to pay, and a large manilla envelops that seemed overfull of papers. Was this some type of bullshit training booklet from work I needed to read? There was no return address, and there was a note card packing taped to the front with my Address. Nobody knows my address save for my boss.



Scrawled across the bottom, in marker, different from the pen used to write the address it said "OPEN IMMEDIATELY"



Not sure what it was about that package, but it made me feel uneasy. Not just the fact that nobody knew my address, but more like it was sent by somebody in trouble. The address seemed to be written hastily by someone who was in no place to send mail. The marker made it all the stranger. It looked like the same handwriting, but it was written seemingly at the post office, just before it was sent. The lettering was slightly smudged like it got rubbed against other mail after it was dropped din the box. The Envelope looked like it had been used about 50 times before, maybe to mail things, maybe just to hold this same pack of papers.



I set that package on my table, dealt with my other mail, and sat across the room from it, drinking beer staring at it for what felt like the entire night. I know it doesn't make a damn lick of sense, but it seemed like that package had something ominous about it, like it had a life of its own.



I finished my beer, and laughed at myself. What am I doing, being afraid of a damn package? I laughed out loud a bit, stood up, and went over to the package and cracked it open with my Bowie Knife, cutting it along the far edge near the top flap that was taped shut. I slid out the stack of paper.



It was a book, but the covers had been cut off. the spine was gone as well. Just the glue that held the pages together remained, some of it falling off in strings along the sides. The title page read "Applied Divination, Volume 1"



I laughed out loud "What a pile of horse shit" I said and went to the fridge to crack another beer and paw through this ridiculous package my secret admirer had apparently sent me.



I turned around to look at the title page again to have another laugh.



It read "SPEAK YOUR FULL NAME" In bold, block letters. directly below the title on the front page. It hadn't been there before. This was only my second beer, no way I missed that.



I stood there for a long time, looking at the words  and finished about half my beer. I turned off the TV in the other room, and turned the lights down. I'm still not sure why, but It felt like what needed to happen. I sat down in front of the book.



"John Able"



nothing Happened.



I smiled and finished my beer. What a stupid book, must have had some time release ink on the front page to make it seem magic. I turned the front page and went to the next one.



"YOUR REAL NAME"



I stared at those words a long time. I felt my stomach drop. Nobody had ever expected I had another last name since I was about 4 years old. My dad had changed our names to Able right after that call from the AZ police.



I cracked another beer, and grabbed the Jack off the kitchen counter. I set them down on either side of the book, making it look like some kind of weird hillbilly shrine.

I took a swig of the Jack, and set it back down softly next to the book. I cleared my throat, Not sure why, I guess so the book can hear my real name well enough.

"John Arnow" I said under my breath.

I took a sip of my beer, not taking my eyes off of the book. Nothing happened.

I laughed at myself for believing  in this kind of bullshit, even if just for a moment. I took another sip of my beer to get the burn from the Jack out of the back off my throat.

Then the covers of the book regrew. They seemed to just slide out of the nonexistent spine. They were blood red, and made of solid leather. There were brass rivets down the spine as it appeared. It looked like the book was one of those books rich folk put on their bookshelves as collector's items. On the spine, burned into the leather, and still warm to the touch it said in block letters "APPLIED DDIVINATION: VOLUME ONE"

After the book stopped shuffling on my table, it fell open to a page about halfway through the book, the pages were empty. Then they started writing like someone was drafting a letter to me somewhere else.  The letters appeared in beautiful curling cursive which looks very similar to fine calligraphy. 

Dear John,

I know this is hard to believe, but this is your mother writing to you.  I know I've been gone your entire life, and I'm sorry, but I had to be. Hopefully we'll meet soon and I can explain everything to you. I don't know how long I can write to you so I'll be quick.



The company you work for is after you. They've already captured me, and I'm writing form their testing facility where the run tests to see If I have any type of magical power. I don't. I simply know how to use the sight, just like you can learn as well. this book is the book that taught me everything I know.  The company hired you doing something that you're good at because they want to keep an eye on you. They make money using these magical powers to create military weapons. You have nothing to offer them, just like me. Now that my book is gone, I have only memory to work off of, and I'll quickly become a failed experiment. Hopefully I can escape. Hopefully they don’t realize that The book is what's missing. Hopefully we Can find each other. If you want to meet me, I will be at the Chop Shop Cafe in Addison, Alabama in three days time. Tear this page from the book before it starts to burn, the page mimics whatever I do to it, and I'm going to burn it now.






I love you.






There was no signature. The page started to burn slightly at the corner of the page, and I tore it from the book and threw it outside as fast as i could. I stood at my doorway and watched it slowly burn as I finished my beer.



I went inside and cracked another beer, and went out to the garage to work on the Firebird, and to think.

TO BE CONTINUED

Werewolf.

I rode my bike everywhere. I had done it as long as I can remember. Today, I was looking to get the package that my neighbor had promised me with to someone's house a few towns over. It was up a pretty big hill, and across a few larger highways, but I was sure I could do it. I had ridden that far before, and my neighbor knew he could trust me. I loved riding, and long rides were always better.



I grabbed the small package off of my front step. It was a small package: It looked like it could by a couple of coffee cups wrapped in a small towel. and that's about what it felt like too. It was completely covered in brown wrapping paper, and on the top of it in indelible marker it said "EDDIE" In bold, all caps letters. There was a not beside it.



"Cassie,



This package is very important, and must get to Eddie at his house in New Braytonville. You know where his house is, I've had you bring a few packaged to him before. Take your time, and whatever you do do NOT open the package.



I'll see you for lunch!



Grandpa"



No, he wasn't my Grandpa, but everyone in town called him grandpa, probably because he took care of near everyone who was younger than he was, and that was near everyone in town. He had lived there his entire life, and was that kind of guy who even though he was easily well into his eighties, he still shoved his own driveway, raked his own yard, and even went to the neighbor's house to help them after, too. You start to wonder if the work is keeping him young, or if he's just still so spy because of some inner determination. With Grandpa, you couldn't be sure. He didn't talk much about his younger years, and seemed to have just been this kind old man who lived in this town, and that's how it always was.



I grabbed the package, put it in my backpack, and threw my leg over my bike. The bike was an ancient 1980's Schwin road bike that I had picked up from the dump a few years ago. I always loved the old steel framed bikes, and so this one was perfect. It looked like the previous owner had never ridden it more than a few times: The paint was perfect. The gears all shifted smooth after I put on some new cables, and the brake pads were barely worn, although dry- rotted. I spent a good long weekend cleaning her up and she was just as quick and versatile as any of the newer road bikes I saw the Lawyer's rolling around on after work, struggling to get up hills.




I ripped down the road, toward Eddie's house. I had taken this trip a few times before, and I knew it was a long one so I had made myself a big sandwich for when I got there. The morning Sun was just high enough in the sky now to peek over the tall evergreens shadowing the road and put a nice warm glow on my face and arms. It was very refreshing after the long winter we had.



I turned the corner onto the main drag and continued until the turnoff for the mountain road came which would be the remainder of my trip. It was a 10 mile long dirt road that not many folks lived on. It was murder to modern car suspension thanks to the frost heaves in the winter and the ruts in the spring, but a bike had no problem dealing with it. I kept to the sides where the runoff from the snow melt didn't hurt the road as much and trotted right up the hill with a little bit of panting and heaving.



Then I saw it.



Two pairs of eyes out of the woods, accompanies by two large, dark shapes. Were they bears just coming out of hibernation? No, they were too fast to be bears, because by the time I turned my head to catch a better glimpse of what I had seen, they were completely gone. I looked again. I stopped my bike, and put a foot down keeping silent and listening. No leaves rustling from an animal running away. I looked slowly from left to right, looking for some sign of motion.



"Hello?"



No response came.



I started pedaling again, somewhat concerned about what may be out there. It was probably just a couple of hungry animals, looking for food after a long winter.



Then the smell came.



At first it was as if I had taken a very wrong turn out of the mountains and I was riding along the ocean, and it was just a few feet past the treeline. The smell of salt and dead fish and a little blood. Then that passed as a crested a hill. It was nearly noontime now. my concern about what was following me had made me ride a deal slower than I usually did.



Then I smelt it again.



this time there was no mistaking it. That was fresh, hot blood. And a lot of it. It must be everywhere. I could smell it coming from just around the next bend. I stopped my bike and went completely silent. Then I heard it. A gnawing, growling sound. It must be a wolf, or a feral dog eating its kill just on the other side of this bend. I grabbed my knife out of my backpack, and set my bike to the side of the road. I slowly and silently walked around the corner.



There was no mistaking it. I had read enough stories, and Grandpa had joked and told enough stories about them that I was sure it was a Werewolf. It had a stunted snout, and near human eyes, although right now they were glassed over, enjoying its fresh kill. at his feet were two full sized black bears, their necks town completely apart, by teeth and claw. the werewolf was so intoxicated by the blood and the food that he didn't even look up to see me.



I backed away still holding up my old fishing knife. my eyes were so fixed on that werewolf I couldn’t turn around. I eventually turned the corner of the road, and got to my bike. I picked it up from the ground, and as quietly as I could, mounted her to ride away and find another way to eddy's.



"Hey, Cassie!" Said a familiar voice behind me.



It was Eddie. He was covered in blood, and as naked as a newborn pup.



He Smiled "Can I please have my package now?"



I Screamed. Before I knew what was happening, Eddie was holding me, with his hand over my mouth. "Please don't scream, I don't want to have to end such a good friendship like this" His eyes glistened.



I let him slowly release me, and then took the package out off my pack, and dropped it on the ground.  He stared at the package for a long time, not seemingly caring that he was naked, or covered in blood, or that the package was getting drenched by the spring thaw mud on the dirt road. Eventually he heaved a huge sigh, and picked up the package.



"Thank you" Said Eddie.  and turned around, holding the package in one hand, limply by his side as he walked toward the shack he called his home.



I started to ride off.



"Oh, and Cassie!" he shouted back.



I stopped.



"Our little secret?" he asked, locking eyes with me. I couldn't help but think that his eyes looked as viscous as a wolf's in that moment.



I nodded, and rode home As fast as I could. Grandpa asked me if the package was delivered as he stopped by for our afternoon tea. I nodded, and refused to speak about the ride, or anything else.



"you saw him, didn't you" he asked. it didn't sound like a question.



"What do you mean? Eddie? Yeah of course I saw him" Trying to sound cool.



There was along silence. Grandpa sipped his tea and looked out the window.



"Eddie has been that way a long time. I make him medicine to help keep his urges at bay. I had feared I was going to be too late this time. This damn winter has made it so hard to.."



"YOU KNEW!" I stood up from the table. "YOU KNEW AND YOU SENT ME TO...to that MONSTER!?"



Grandpa kept eye contact with me, taking another sip of his tea.



"Of course I knew, that's a wizard's job." He stood up from the table. grabbing his coat and hat.



"oh no" I said "You're not leaving until I get some answers"



He threw a $100 bill on the table, and an old, leather bound book.  "Take these" he said. "Read the book, and then come to me."
 He shoved his hands in his pickets, jingling the change with his fingers.



"you're one of us now" he said, looking out the window, still jingling his coins.  "I'm sorry it had to be this way"



I looked down at the book, and picked it up and tried to read the cover. It was in some strange language. As I continued to stare at it, though, the characters shifted, and changed into words I could understand.



"THE WEREWOLF: MALADIES AND TREATMENTS"



"The werewolf.... But Grandpa-"



He was gone.

The Bar.

There was a small bar a few blocks into the darker part of town that I always liked to go to. I lived on the upper east side, but the bars over there always seemed to be full of people still putting on airs. Too many fake people. Not enough reality. Sure, there was your good amount of bar fights, and the beer was warm, the food was cold, but the people were real. And sometimes that what you pay your hard earned money for.

I had lived in the city for some fifteen years now. It was a big, crazy place that I hadn't ever quite wrapped my head around. But It seemed to me that the best place for someone to get lost was in a big mess of people. Someplace like the city. It had seemed to work.

Sure, I had my friends. There was Barry, who worked on the upper east side as a janitor for one of the big apartment complexes for actors and stock brokers and the like. He and I would head over to the Old bar across the tracks at least a few nights a week. It was our special bit of enjoyment: to see real people acting out their lives in a real way. No more prada glasses and coach bags and people keeping up with their neighbors for no god forsaken reason. We were both tired of that bullshit, we saw it all day long at work.

Me? I work as an accountant for a stock brokerage on Wall Street. Its damn hard work, and I'm there late many nights, but it pays well, and with the money I'm saving I'll be able to move away in a few years. Go buy myself a cabin in the woods somewhere else. Or a bungalow on an island somewhere. Something a little more slow paced. I could never understand folks who thought of the city as a destination, as a place to retire and grow old. Maybe that's just me.

So Barry and I went on into our favorite bar on the west side. We ordered two buds with no intention of drinking the skunked garbage they called beer, but with the intention of paying patronage to a small section of the city that seemed to have folks that were still alive. Still here and thinking about their lives and their families and their friends, and not just about themselves. The bar was seemingly out of business when you looked at it from the outside: the lights were barely bright enough to see your hand in front of your face. There was no music playing, and the ancient jukebox in the corner was unplugged, with a huge hole in the speaker on the front of it from a fight long ago. The bar was cracked, although cleaned meticulously by the old lady that must either own the bar or just have worked there so long she had started to purchase stock in the company. Come to think of it, she was the only person who ever seemed to work there.

The front door was always shut tight, no matter how hot or cold it was inside the building. There was no air conditioning, and the heat didn't seem to work so well, either. In the winter, you could see your breath until there were ten or so folks in the small room, and then it would start to warm up.

As you looked around the walls as your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you recognized that there wasn't your normal bar wall decor here. There were strange pieces of taxidermy on the walls: animals merged together  in strange ways: The head of a raccoon on the body of a dog. A deer's head cnnected to a platypus were the two strangest ones. The thing that made them even stranger is that whoever bothered to make em had spent a damn long time making the eyes on them look near perfect. You would swear these things were alive. Some nights you could swear you could cath them moving out of the corner of your eye.

There were a number of old books on bookshelves as well. a large, long collection of them. All leather bound, and all in languages that nobody there seemed to understand. They were put in odd places around the bar. Some on a high shelft behind the counter, thers stacked in a corner and made into a tabletop for folks to sit at. There was also a number of walking sticks hung around the room as well, but each one seemed to have some type of marks ground into it. Not by whittleing, or even with a dremel or something, but it seemed as though someone had burned the symbols into each one in a violent, quick manner.

Barry and I got there late one Friday night, ready to enjoy relaxing in our favorite spot. The lady behind the bar scoweled at us and said nothing.

"Two buds please"

She slid them across the counter and instantly went back to ignoring us, watching her recorded soap operas on the Tv across the room from her. People were already in here talking. There was a couple in the corner who seemingly were just passing through, and knew they had come to a place they weren't ready for yet. They finished their beers quickly and left. Everyone else were regualrs: Two guys who worked the docks nearby were here and still smelled of the ocean and of pneumatic oil. Three old ladies that always came and ordered tea were chatting at the bar, the old lady behind the bar would join in from time to time. And there was one other man here. He was in a dark suit, and was extremely tall. He was the only man in the room on his cell phone. He was talking to someone, seemingly about business as he looked about the room.

He had only been there five minutes before the old lady's loud bark from behind the bar came to reach his ears.

"Ey, " She bellowed " We don't allow phones in 'ere"

The man stood up, and placed the phone on the table without finishing the phone conversation.

"Ma'am, I would like to buy your bar"

"Ain't fer sale"

"I'm willing to pay any amount you like, name your price."

She looked him in the eye, hers gleaming, and repeated herself exactly "Ain't fer sale"

The bar went silent as they locked eyes with eachother for a long time.

The man picked up his phone again to continue the conversation, ignoring the old woman.

She snapped her fingers, and the man looked down at his phone. everyone in the bar could see that the battery had died.

"No Phones" she said. eyes gleaming.

The man looked down at his phone and laughed. It seemed that that was exactly what he had been looking for. He pulleed out his checkbook.

"The Bar ain't for sale!" Barked the old woman. the two shoremen in the corner stood up and made their way toward the man in the suit, the old lady held up her hand to tell them to stop. They did.

"Now ma'am," Said the man in the suit." I'm sure we can come to an understanding, I'm willing to pay any-"

"It Ain't for sale, now get outta my bar before I throw you out" She coughed the last word violently. It seemed to shake the walls of the building itself. the glasses on the wall rang slightly.

The man in the suit smiled. He looked around for a long moment, now at the perfect center of the bar. with a flash the man pulled something from the inside of his suit coat and pointed it at the old woman. before I could make out what it was, the old woman had one of the staff's from the walls in her hand, and the man  in the suit had dissappeared completely. It wasn't so much that the staff had made him dissappear, or that he had evaporated, more that he was never there at all. Everyone looked around for him, and noticed he was gone. Nobody said a word. The two men in the corner who had stood up slowly sat back down, and went back to their beers and their conversation as if nothing had happened. The old woman shuffled slowly over to the wall, and put the staff back in its rightful place. She slowly sat down.

The room was quiet as she caught her breath.

"Everyone out" she gasped eventually. "we're closed" She looked extremely sad. The ladies sipping tea in the corner helped to pick up glasses slowly, and shooed us out of the bar.

A few weeks later we decided to venture back to our bar. The door was locked. We looked inside the windows, and the room was empty. No strange taxidermy, no walking sticks on the walls, no nothing. There was construction gear in there, and it was seemingly getting turned into a fitness studio. There was no sign of the old lady anywhere.

Barry and I will never really understand what happened in that bar thatvnight. but we learned one thing for sure. There's some type of magic in this world, and some of its bad, and some of its good. I have no idea what kind of magic the old lady had, or the man in the suit. But one of them won that day. I'm still not sure which one.

Wolfman

The Snow was deep and fluffy, making it hard to get through. The large field ahead of him was almost untouched: It looked like a sea of perfect white snow. something from another planet. Where no life had ever existed, and where nobody had ever set foot before. 

He stepped through the deep, fluffy substance, sometimes bounding through it to attempt to speed up but it never seemed to work. Eventually he was able to find a plce where the wind was a bit colder, and the snow had frozen and hardened. This allowed him to walk ontop of the massive heaves of snow and move forward at a regular pace, trotting along, looking about him. The wind whipped at his face, as he looked for a suitable place to hunt for the day.

As he reached the far side of the clearing it was nearly mid day, and the mid winter sun was high in the sky, but much farther away than he would hope for. This had been a long winter, and a difficult one when you live in the woods alone. He was hoping to find a rabbit that had lost its bearings, or maybe even a small raccoon. Something that would feed him for a few days so he could set up a small camp, and rest, feel human for a few nights, maybe even cook the meat this time. The last time he tried to set up camp the bears had come, and he had to scamper off into the forest as the laid waste to everything he had set up for the day, losing out on some very nice meat he had caught himself. It seems that even the bears are thrown off kilter by this unnatural-long winter, he thought as he started to sniff the air, hoping for the scent of a weak or tired animal somewhere in the distance.

None came.

He looked about himself. He wanted to find some old tracks that had been covered by the snow drifts, or maybe some recently broken twigs at about critter-height. He looked and looked and finally found himself a small path that had been created by what seemed to be a family of woodchucks. It looked as if they were staying the a thicket of evergreens just up ahead. He would need to wait them out until one of them moved to understand where they were living. Hunting like this was much easier in packs, but He had been alone like this for years, not quite accepted by anyone, and always alone. Always by himself.

Mid-day passed into late afternoon, and he waited, half buried in a nearby snowbank, and sitting perfectly still. Ever watching, hoping to see the woodchucks come up from their small path, looking for food. Finally, just as the sun started to set, the Male stuck his head out form the ticket, and sniffed the air. He instantly caught his scent, as the wind changed and betrayed his existence to the woodchuck. He sprung up from his hiding place, growling violently, and grabbed the woodchuk by the nect before the realization that he was there even had time to reach his brain. He would eat well tonight.

He carried the woodchuck happily off into the woods, finding a place where snow hadn't fallen much thanks to the thick treecover. Here he would be able to set up camp, just like he had many times before. Hopefully the bears will stay away this time.

He looked up at the sky, and saw that it was a full moon. He laughed to himself slightly, and decided he would sleep as he was tonight. he could worry about all that in the morning. and with that he ripped the woodchuck open with his mouth, and ate ravenously. When he was done, he howled at the still full moon, in celebration of his kill, and almost as a cliche to the day had he had had, and curled up on the warm bed of leaves beneath him to sleep.

The next morning came, and he knew it was time. He stood up on his hind legs, gripping a tree for stability. He slowly closed his eyes. He knew he would need all of his energy for the change. Sinking his claws into the tree bark, he grunted and moaned in agony as the off white fur on his back receded into his skin, as his claws slowly faded away and turned into human hands, as his knees changed direction, and snapped into regular, human form. The process took some 25 minutes to complete. It may have been longer-- the cold sometimes made it worse, but he wasn't so worried about that as he was about having the strength to make it to town as a man now. Today was the day he got to see his daughter, and it was her birthday.

He had been like this his entire life: Born into a small family who lived in the woods and lived off the land, even in a time where so few folks decided to live that kind of life. He remembered his father being off and gone for weeks at a time, and always asking his mother where he had gone. Then without warning he would bust through the door, exhausted, and with a fresh kill with him. Sometimes a squirrell or a raccoon, sometimes a bear. They always ate well: mother was an incredible farmer, and father had an eye for the hunt. He never saw him change, though. Mother didn't have the power.

As he got older, and started to recognize girls, his anger would change him. at first it would just be fangs in his mouth that would cut his jaw. Then he learned to change fully, to become a wolf. to become what his father had given him. He believe it was a great treasure, a gift. His ex wife, Melissa, did not agree. she had left him soon after she found out.

None of that mattered today. He dug up his clothes he had hidden in a plastic bag underneath this tree, and got himself dressed. He checked for his wallet, and opened it. An ID, a credit card that had long ago been maxed out, and $25 in cash. That should be enough, once I sell this woodchuck hide, he thought. he ran off toward the town, buttoning his shirt as he went.

although he preferred to be a wolf these days, he was a very handsome human man. He knew this, and it made his life all the harder, as he had no desire to be a part of this world, save for his daughter. He was tall, and slender. Some men said he was unnaturally tall as he stood at nearly 6 and a half feet tall. He shoulders were broad, and he had always had a hard time finding clothes that fit, especially at the goodwill stores he was usually forced to shop at. He had a tight, curly beard that gripped his face, seemingly holding in the ferocious virility that his face showed.  He remembered when he grew his beard. He remembered he was 14. He knew she would need him soon. She was turning 14 today.  The changes would come soon.

He found his truck at the edge of the woods: an ancient diesel ford with more rust than body, but it ran soundly thanks to an old family friend who knew these trucks better than himself. He would park the truck at the edge of the woods here often and leave the keys in it. Today it bore a note:

Hey,
Fixed the timing chain and gave her a tune up. You owe me some Venison!

Jim

He smiled to himself, and stuffed the note in his pocket. He would be hunting overtime this winter.

He fired up the truck. The engine sputtered to life, and he went to pick up his daughter. She was waiting by herself at the general store, their regular spot as dictated by the court. Her mother was nowhere to be found. She jumped into the truck.

"Hey sweetheart!" He said, he noticed there were tears in here eyes. "What's the matter?" he said, truly concerned. She was always so happy.

she wiped the tears from her eyes. "Daddy, I changed last night, and it was really scary" She broke down at the edge of the sentence.

He held her for what seemed forever. eventually she calmed down. The heat on the truck was just starting to kick in. They relaxed in each others embrace for a few more minutes. The he let her go and looked her straight in the eye.

"Its all OK dear, we knew this day would come." He wiped the tears from her eyes.
"Did your mother see?"

She shook her head.

"Good" He said, pausing, and looking out the window. Memories from their marriage came flooding back. He kept staring out the window. "Good" 

"Now lets go hunt"


He threw the truck into gear and the sped off toward the forest. They woodchuck pelt was forgotten about, the money was forgotten about. Her birthday was forgotten about, but not for her. This was the gift she had been waiting for 14 years to enjoy. A real day with her father, in his truest form, and she in hers.

Part 2

-Part 2- 

I Slowly opened my eyes. My stomach was still happily full from the Chinese food I had eaten the night before, ordered from the best takeout place in town. The marking on the white wall said "Carlos: Subject 35. Looking across the room was another sign stating in the same big block letters "Jake: Subject 34" 

We had lived like this for some months now. The Days sipping into weeks as we did a few small tests, watched our school lessons on a TV screen that was in our room (or played video games that were in the same room) Ate whatever we wanted, and generally ruled the roost. It was all a little strange. The small area we were located in was only a few small rooms: one where Jake and  slept and held what little personal effects we had after the fire, and a large television where our school lessons were broadcasted, where an indicator would pop up when we had a notification and needed to be somewhere, and where we had every single video game under the sun. It was stellar. 

Directly next to this room was our kitchen, which had all the regular amenities of any kitchen, except none of these rooms had real windows or any venting to the outside any of us could see. Just beyond that area there was a large, open room, about three times the size or a racquetball court, painted completely stark white, and lighted by small, powerful LED lights recessed in the ceiling about 100 feet up. In this room they would submit us to "tests." These really weren't much, a loud voice would come over the speaker saying "Ignite the table, please." Kevin was the most confused by this, because he had no idea what the hell "Ignite" meant. The first few times he started to cry, eventually he figured out he just needed to stare at the table really hard for a few minutes, and they would let him go back into his bedroom to play video games with me. I did the same thing. It worked out for a few months. 

Time passed like this, and everything was alright. Kevin was alive, I was alive. Neither of us were in jail, and neither of us Were without food or shelter. As a 13 year old with a 9 year old brother and no parents, this was all I could really ask for. Sure we were having shitty experiments run on us in some for every day, but at least we weren't homeless...right? 

As I sat up and stretched, and got my feet into my slippers, Kevin sat up as well. "Morning Bro" He said. "Want to play some more Destiny?" 

Just as he finished his sentence, The TV flickered on with a status update "PLEASE REPORT TO THE ACTIVITY ROOM" This was the giant racquetball court. We both shrugged, put on our slippers, and headed that way. 

On the way to the room, two guys in suits approached us. One of them we recognized as the regular security guard who worked with us, the other one was new: he seemed larger, his suit was nicer, and he was not happy to see us. "You" He pointed at Kevin "In the room."

He grabbed me by the arm "You're coming with me" 

They pulled me upstairs into a room I had never been in before. There were some 10 laptops set about tables, and a large flat screen TV at the end of the room, which gave about 15 different angles of Kevin, sit perfectly in the center of the giant Racquetball court.

"Now, Kevin." Said the man in the suit " I want you to tell me about how you lit your mother's house on fire" 

"I didn't do it!" yelled Kevin, stamping his foot " I told you guys that at the Police Station, and Its true!" He folded his arms and looked away. 

"Kevin, we know you did it." Said the man. I started to feel anger welling up inside of me. "You aren't going to get in trouble, just tell me how you did it. 

"But I DIDNT!" Yelled Kevin. "I just got angry because that man was hurting mommy." 

The room went silent. The scientists typing at the laptops turned toward the screen. 

"and you assholes couldn’t figure this out?" Said the guard to the Scientists. He turned to the microphone.

"So do you start fires when you get angry, Kevin?"

Kevin stood, silent, and thought for a long time. "I Don't know" HE said, shuffling his feet and walking around. " I think so. Maybe" 

He then fell down and cried " I never wanted to hurt anyone... please don't take me away " 

The Man held up the mic and said "get the sensors on" The scientists whipped into a frenzy, activating different sensors in the room. The sensors lit up indicators all over the flat screen in the room, measuring heart rate, blood pressure, brainwaves, and a bunch of other things I didn't understand. 

"Kevin, you aren't getting taken away." Said the head guard "But I need you to light the table on fire now" 

"NO!" Said Jake. "I'll never do that again"

"Jake, you're going to light that table on fire" Said the guard, his head trembling in rage "Or I WILL Take you away" 

"Hey man cut it out." 

"Do it Kevin, or I'll take your BROTHER AWAY"

"HEY, MAN, STOP!" 

"I'll take him away RIGHT NOW" 

"SHUT UP!!! YOU'RE SCARING HIM!!!" The scientists hopped up from their chairs and held me back from him. I was ready to kill him. My vision flashed red. Or maybe I saw the screen get covered in red. I wasn't sure which. A Second later I saw the screen flash a thousand warning signs , then go dark. 

"JAKE!" I yelled, and broke free of the scientists, running toward the door. The last scientist stopped me before I made it. 

"No! the back draft will kill us all! The fire has already reached the upper staircase."

He pointed to his computer screen. it was a top down map of our little living space. all rooms except for this one was showing "Fire compromise" Flashing in red over them. 

I started to cry. I started to scream. I kicked. I punched a scientist in the face. finally, they hit me with a sedative needle, and I went to sleep. 

I woke up with rain hitting my face. Next to me was long, green grass. I hadn't seen grass in ages. There was a small beetle walking by. Was I dead? Was I in heaven? The cold rain ruled at least one of those out. 

"Carl?" Said a familiar voice, sniffling in between syllables. "Ca-rl?"

I rolled over, and there was Jake, completely naked, and bald. He didn’t have a single scar or burn on his body, though. Just a lot of soot. 

"Carl, "I said sitting up quickly.  The speed of the motion made me realize that the sedative was still doing its job.

"Easy!" Said Kevin, reaching out, not knowing what to do. He shivered. 

"I'm cold" 

I jumped up, ignoring the rush to my head. I realized that we were about 100 yards outside of the fence of some type of government facility. I could see the drag marks in the grass from where Jake had dragged me out of the facility. I could see the single building among all of that grass, smoldering in the distance. There were no cars, no roads, no transport craft of any kind to be seen. It must have all been held underground, and probably destroyed by the fire. 

Jake's Fire. 

Jake had killed our mother. 

I looked at him, sitting on the ground, shivering. I needed to get him warm before we worried about anything else. I found some branches, and wrapped him up. I gave him my socks, my underwear, and the over shirt I was wearing to get some clothes on him, and Build a small shelter out of the boughs of the pine trees just outside the facility. 

"Jake" I said, once we were settled, grabbing both of his shoulders in my over huge shirt. "You need to tell me what happened. 

He Broke down and cried for along time. The rain drowned out just how loud the crying was. It was probably better for both of us. "I'm so sorry Carl!! I just didn't want that guy to hurt mommy!" 

He went on to tell me that he had run home quick to grab this awesome Magic Deck he had put together. He knew he could sneak in through mom's room, since she was almost never there during the day. He climbed up onto the garage room, and cracked the window to mom's room. 

That's when he saw a huge, masked man standing over our mom. He was asking her questions about "The weapon" and saying that it was hidden somewhere in the house. He said he had paid a lot of money for it, and he could collect whether her old man was dead or not.  He started to unzip his pants. 

Jake jumped into the house, kicking and screaming to get the man to stop. The man laughed, scooped him up, and tried to hit him to knock him out. 

"I remember the punch coming toward my face as he held me by the neck. After that, everything went red. "

We both held each other and cried. then we went to sleep. We slept late into the night, and we were finally startled awake by the sound of sirens in the distance. 

I snapped up. "They've found us" 

Jake and I ran through the forest, until the dogs could no longer be heard. 

"We have to find a way out of here." I said between shaky breaths, clutching my chest. 

We started to hear 4 wheelers starting up in the distance. It wouldn't be but a few more minutes before they blasted through the evergreen forest and found us. 

Evergreen forest....

"Jake." I grabbed his shoulders. " I know you don't want to hurt anyone, but can you light...just these few trees in front of us on fire?" 

"I don't know...." he said, pulling away from me in fear "Maybe. I'm afraid I'll hurt you." 

Jake, I'll run really far away, that way "I pointed toward the rising sun. "But I need you to light a little fire here to scare the guards away. OK?" 

"I cant!" Yelled Jake, sobbing again. "I'm so tired"

"You need to, Jake" I said, looking him dead in the eye. "You need to, or they’re going to take me away, and take you away, and run tests on you just like they did today. no more video games, no more Chinese food. Just Pain and suffering. That's what they'll do to you. That's what they'll do to ME" 

The trees in front of him burst into flames. Nothing changed really about him, though. He just looked kind of upset. Just a kid too angry. But its like he could focus all of that childlike energy right through his eyes.  

"Good!"  I ran past him, toward the sunrise "Keep going. 

The trees lit on fire, then the next aisle, then the next, and the next. He had gone too far.

"JAKE STOP!" I turned around, and grabbed him, and started to run toward the sunrise, the fire behind us making its morning splendor seem like a candle in a well lit room.

We hopped a bus. Then we hopped a train. Then we hopped onto the back of another train. We had no money, o we lived in vans in the junkyard in the town we landed in until I could steal an ID from someone about my age so I could go get a job to get us an apartment. I make Jake go to school. I worked at the Local Wal-Mart, bagging bags and picking up carts. We keep to ourselves and try to make sure to change our names every few months and move to another state. 

The kind of anger it takes to get it out of Jake is something immense. It's that deep down in your gut anger that feels like it comes from somewhere outside of you. Its that kind of anger that comes from a place deeper than feeling. It comes from a place where he knows people are doing real, real wrong, and it needs to be stopped. There is no arguing with that kind of anger. Hopefully I'll never have to see it out of Jake again. 

We had been running for what felt like days. The relentless rain and wind hadn't helped either. It had been along, tiring night running through the dark forest near the facility we had just escaped from, but hopefully it would pay off. Hopefully I would finally be able to keep my little brother safe.

We stopped in a small cave as the sounds of the barking dogs subsided. To catch our breath. To think. to re evaluate where we were. To take stock, maybe find a map at a local truck stop, Hopefully find a place we could hide for a few days while we figured out who we could go to for shelter, for rest. for safety.

My brother and I, we had been captured by this organization some 4 months ago. They were vary accomodating at first: letting us walk around the grounds as we pleased, even giving us free reign to go to the mall and shit like that when we wanted to essentially. All they asked us to do was to just show them our powers. The only problem was, we didnt have any.

A few months went by, and the guys in suits that started standing next to the nice guys in lab coats started getting anxious. Things weren't progressing as fast as they had planned. We could never hear what they were sying, and most of the time their faces were hidden, but we knew what was coming. If we didnt show them our amazing, mind blowing abilities sooner than later, things were going to get grim. As Far as either of us knew, there was nothing special about us. We were just two fucked up kids who grew up in a small town and got into some trouble. And now we were here. God help us.

My brother and I grew up in a normal house in a small town outisde of Portland. We skateboarded, we played videogames, and we skipped school. A lot. I don't know if it was me who egged him on or the other way around, but we were always getting into shit we shouldn't have. We were always breaking windows in old abandoned houses, or tresspassing in construction zones. Shoplifting or just causing trouble and mayhem. Our Mom had no idea how to deal with us. Dad had died years ago in a far away country in a plane crash, going to meet with some clients for anew defense contract. He apparently worked for some government contractor, but we never saw much of him. The insurance money that the company paid us covered all of our living expenses, and my mom never had to work, so she was always home, and always driving us crazy. This is probably why we were out of the hosue so much. On the streets, looking for shit to do that would get us into trouble.

Well trouble had found us. Jake and I had finally run to the end of our rope when we got picked up by the truancy officer in town one day, and taken back to school, where the principal called us into his office.. It was the 6th time this year that the truancy officer had caught us. We thought we were sly, paying one of our friends to call our names out in class, but the teachers had caught on, and they knew when we weren't there. My friend we had paid was in serious shit too, apparently he was being held in a separate room. As the truancy officer pulled up, there weren't just cop cars outside, but also a long line of black SUVs with no marking on them at all. All heavily tinted windows. All seemingly brand new.

"Whose cars are those?" I asked

"Shut up Carl, you're in serious trouble this time"

 The truancy officer pulled me out of the car and pushed me up the school steps, pushing me down the hall and into Mr Parson's: The Principal's office.

"Now, Carl" Mr Parson said, looking down over his glasses perched on his thin nose. His nearly bald head of hair waving in the breeze of the central air conditioning. "I know you've had a hard time in school, and I think we're all here just to help you, but something serious has happened, and we need to talk to you about it"

"If skipping school is serious, then you need a new set of hobbies" I said, looking down at my Vans.

Mr. Parson stopped, and continued to stare at me. He was apparnetly amazed that I was either telling the truth, or that I had the gumption to deny whatever he was talking about. The only problem is that I had no idea what he was getting at at all. Jake and I have spent the entire day up in the Gravel Pit, doing jumps with our mountain bikes. Around noon we went and got sandwiches from the local Subway, and that's where the Truancy offier got us. He knew our favorite hookie spots, but didn't want to tresspass on Gravel Pit property himself.

"Carl, 3 men were killed today"

The room went silent. I had no idea what to say. I literally didn't even know where this was coming from.

I stopped staring at my shoes and locked eyes with Mr. P.

 "Where's Jake" I asked.

"He's being held else where" Mr. Parson said "now if you could jus-"

"I won't say another fucking thing until he's in this room with me"

"Jake, you're in no position to negoti-"
"I don't give a fuck WHAT position I'm in, I won't say another word until my brother is here with me"

Mr. Parson looked me dead in the eye, his wispy hair still blowing in the HVAC. The HVAC spun down in our silence.

"I'll see what I can do"

Mr. Parson got on the phone, and made a call to the other room, I could hear the muffled sounds of a man's voice who did not sound farmiliar to the school. He sounded like he was a detective, or a police officer. He was abrupt with Mr. P. Then hung up on him. Mr P. Looked at the receiver in his hand, bewildered and afraid. He then slowly set it down on its hook, his slight hand slightly shaking as he put them back on his desk, folded neatly.

"I'm sorry, Carl, but Jake is in some very serious trouble. I think you might be the only one who can help him."

I had heard that man's voice. I had seen the fear in Mr. P's face. I knew three men had been killed. Or at least that's what Mr. Parson's said.

"Mr. P...Tell me what happened. Jake was with me all day...I don't understand" Tears were welling up in my eyes.

"Well, Carl, " Said Mr. Parson's clearing his voice, and looking around his desk to make sure it was tidy enough for such a conversation  "This afternoon around noon I received a call from the Local police department stating that your home was set ablaze, and Jake was seen running off, in the direction of the Subway where the two of you were found."

"Mom....I"

Mr. P looked down at his desk. he paused for a long moment. The HVAC kicked back on.

"I'm sorry Jake, her body hasn't been found yet"

-TO BE CONTINUED-

Hidden In The City

The City made me feel sick inside. I had never liked living here. I had always been a country boy at heart. But a man has to do what he has to. Work had dried up in the back country where I had grown up, ad I needed to find a place in this world for myself, so I headed east to the city. It was dirty. It was too big. It moved too fast. It made no sense to me why people would want to live like this. There was too much soot, and smoke, and fire, and other people to be angry at you and such. I Never wanted to live this way.



I had moved out here after Ann had left me. It was a long relationship. She had always loved me and I knew she did. I still lover her I think. I'm not sure. I hope I still do. I just wish that what had happened hadn't come between us. I wish I could explain what happened better to her.  I wish a lot of things. But that's not too important now.



We had met when I was doing roofing one summer up on the mountain working on rich folks homes that only come there in the winter to use the houses as a place to drink and eat and stay in while they waited to go ski at the resorts the next morning. It was damn hard work, but It was a good time as there wasn't much for people around. It was mostly me and the guys ripping nails, drinking beer and swearing all day long. Working on our tans, and making pretty damn good money while we did it. It seemed like this was the best of everything. She came along at this point. She just walked by one day with a sundress on. The guys didn't catcall, that wasn't what you did in the country. We just quieted down, looked at her, waved our hellos, and talked about her for the rest of the day. They all already knew. I looked at her way longer than most. I was struck by her beauty. I needed to meet her. I needed to know her name.



"Don't do it Ken"  Said Gerry, without looking up from the nail gun as he set a row of shingles. "you know the city girls are nothing but trouble. If you meet her at a party fine, but don't go for it. She's probably up here in the summer because she got in trouble in the city anyway. Daddy trying to hide her away from something.



"I don't know Gerry. I'll just say hi"



I was 21. I was an idiot. I was too young to know that Gerry was probably right. Gerry was also the only one who knew that I had visions. Now I'm not saying I'm clairvoyant, but I'll be damned If I can think of another name for it. I went to psychiatrists and doctors and specialists most of my life. My mother would take me about once every other year or so when she just couldn't explain away the things I knew about people anymore, and she would have me checked. The docs would test me, and Test my brain, and keep me in rooms for hours, sometimes what felt like days. And then ask me questions. I would know the answers. I shouldn't, but I did. Then they would want to do more tests. My mother would angrily refuse as they tried to keep me just for one more day, for one more week. For one more month. My Mother was shrewd, That's why she caught my dad when she knew he was selling stolen liquor out of our back shed. That's why she knew that she had to give fake names for both of us every time we went to the doctor. We would lave that doctor's office and never go back.



We lived like this through my childhood. But we always stayed in our same house tucked away in the mountain. It was the right place for me. Not so many people for me to "see." Not so many things to bother me. Or My Mother. It let me think on things. It let my mother rest, instead of worry. It was right. I can't imagine ever leaving there.



Then I met her. Her name was Ann. She was staying up at her parent's summer house for the summer. I started waving a little longer each morning when she walked by. Started asking her how her morning was. It wasn't much, but It was more than I had done ever before. Gerry was pretty much all who I had ever talked to. Gerry knew I knew him better than he even knew himself, and I was too afraid to get to know much anyone else, cuz god knows what I would find out. I had met too many old friend's of my mothers or father's that when I locked eyes with them, they had too much darkness, to much hidden. It would hurt my mind. It would scar it in some way, and I would need to sleep. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days. That's how my mother found out about my dad's little crime spree. And that he was cheating on her. And that we was fixing to kill us both and take the insurance money and move out east with the girl he had met. Would he have actually done these things? I can't tell. I just see what I see. And when you're 5 years old and you know your dad's fixing to kill your mother, you don't just keep that to yourself while you play with your firetrucks.



I'm letting the story get away from me, though. Ann kept walking by that huge house we were working on. Eventually I worked up the nerve to jump down off the high roof and walk over and say hello. I introduced myself. She told me her name was Ann. I told her that I would be off work at 6 that night. She said she would be around. She said her house was empty, and she would love company. She seemed to know me already. She asked me why I wouldn't look at her face. I told her I would see her tonight and bring by some good cider my mother and I had made from last apple season.



I put on my best shirt and pants and drove over there in my father's old Mustang that he had left in the yard. It had no plates on it, but it was super clean, and It was probably one of the nicest things I had ever seen. I rode up to her house and we got to know each other. It was a great, long night. We talked about a whole lot of nothing for hours and hours. She knew how to talk to a guy like me. We talked about the mountains, and the streams, and the weather. We talked about her, and her college, and how she was glad to be away from it all for a summer. Just enjoying spending time in the country until school started again. She was glad to have met me. I was glad to have met her, too. She asked me why I wouldn't look into her eyes again.



"It's not something I'm too comfortable doing"



"why? She said with a laugh "I won't bite you"



"Oh, I know that"

"Then look at me!" She said in the nicest way. and grabbed my face and made my eyes lock with hers.

And that's when I saw it. Nothing. Not a thing at all. She had shared herself with me through talking so simply, so completely that I knew her inside and out. Just from that night. Sure there were stories about a dog that died too young when she was 4, and some overbad fights she remembered from before her folks had split, but there was no darkness. no hiding, deep secrets that most folks always seem to have.  We fell in love that night. She didn't know why. I still don't think she does.



Three summers went on like this. Me and Gerry hung out our own sign and started working the houses on our own. We plowed roads in the winter to make ends meet, and fixed roofs and built decks and whatever else we pleased as the summer came along. Ann was there every Summer, and gone with the school season. Then she started visiting during breaks. I still hadn't met her parents. She never asked why I didn't much like other people She never asked why I spent to much time alone. It was like she knew. Like she already knew that part about me without me telling her. We started talking about starting a family up here. About her getting a job as a school teacher out here. About our kids, about our life. It was exactly what I wanted, and I couldn't be happier.



Then her father came. He was a tall, slender man in a suit that was too expensive for where he was. He came up in a big shiny car, and had a firm handshake and big white smile. I Introduced myself, and without thinking I had locked eyes with him. I was so happy to be with Ann I had forgot. She was too happy to introduce me. I locked eyes with him and I saw it. I saw that he knew everything. He knew I could see. Hew knew Ann showed me nothing. He knew I had fallen in love with her, and that the product his company had made had made her impervious to my sight. He knew what I was, and he wanted me. Why he didn't hide his thoughts from me, I could never tell.



I packed up and left the next morning.



I work down by the docks now. I keep my head low, I pack the boxes into the ships as they ask me. and Nobody much bothers me. From time to time, I'll see a man come up to me and ask me a question and make it a point to lock eyes with me. I'll see he works for that man in the suit, and I'll turn and walk away. I think he didn't realize that his little trinket didn't work one bit. I still don't think he knows. Ann really just didn't have a damn thing to hide. She loved me, and I loved her. That was the whole story.

 I spend a lot of time watching television, seeing people's stories fold out on that perfect little box. Its good to see stories like that sometime, when things work out so well. Work out so neat and they ride off into the sunset with a big THE END stamped across the back side for the frame.



Me? I don't get an ending like that. I'll be here I imagine most of my natural life. Just trying to stay clear of folks like that man in his suit, and Ann, and everyone else. Because when you can read a man's mind, you find out there's no one you can trust.

Friendships.

I'm not sure what I'll write about today. We had a beautiful bithday party for our daughter yesterday, and we also had a great time enjoying my good friend Jesse's daughter Aria's birthday party today. It was truly wonderful to see these old friends once again. It was a real great thing to see such good, old friends once again.

It's funny, how time gets away from you.  I realized that for some of the friends I saw this weekend it had been months. Its strange how fast time seems to pass with things like that. especially when you ahve a kid, a job, a house, nd a million other things ot worry about. It's strange how you can just all of a sudden look over your shoulder, and you realize you've been away from your friends for far too long.

It was really refreshing to be able to spek to my friends again about exercise, dubstep music, our kids, our lives, and realize that everyone's doing well. It's good to see such friendships last across time as well. I've always wondered if after a long time friends end up growing apart. People always seem to say that they do. I've only ever experienced my freidnships growing closer over time. As friends go on their own paths, and learn new things away from you, and oyu do the same, the friendship is still there, and it still grows. When you meet again, you' ahve new things to share, a new family you've made, a new accomplishment to share. And that's what grows your freindship.

Stephanie and I often lament our age demographic. We're a young couple, so our friend pool is a little different. We have a hard time spending time with friends from college, as most of them are stillliving a very much "collegiate style" life. We Enjoy spending time with them when we can and its always a blast, but with a child its hard tomake the time to see them, and to enjoy the time we have together. This means that our friend base gets a little segmented, as we spend good qualit time with our child-less friends often on a one-on -one basis, and spend the rest of our time organizing playdates with out child-ful friends. It works out, but it does create quite a time space between us seeing those we care most about.

I'm not quite sure what I'm trying to get to. I'm finding that as I get older, friendships get stronger, and better. Often times these freindships become the foundation of your life. Sometimes as you get older you realize that these friendships aren't made overnight, but take time. they take years to cultivate.

I don;t think I have much more to say about friendships. Old Friends: good to see you all this weekend. Lets hang out more.