Kilburne 1 E-Book

Jens Christian Borch - Jensen

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

It seemed like Johnathan Pearce’s biggest problem was the arrival of a little brother just a month before his birthday. Now, his parents keep insisting they have something planned, that they have not forgotten. Of course, John never found out if they meant it. In fact, he never got to spend more than a few days as an older brother.
The day he returned with his family from the hospital was when an incident occurred in his small American hometown of Ferman. It’s not a day that will be recorded in history; for all intents and purposes, a freak storm descended on the city and destroyed his house and a nearby recycling plant. But John knows the truth. After all, it was him that drove off the monster. How, he doesn’t quite know, but now a one-footed lady has decided to mentor him so that he can get his powers under control.
And John is going to need to learn all he can. That monster was just the first. More of them are coming, and they almost seem to have a purpose. But someone couldn’t be deliberately summoning them, could they?

Kilburne is a biographical tale of John Kilburne, detailing his life from when he was young and far into the future. The first in the series, Bed of Roses, tells the story of how he came to his powers and how he learnt to control them. It is a series that has been long underway for me, something that I have been writing for over a decade under many different names and set at various points in time. Kilburne, however, is my most serious and polished attempt, and I cannot wait to write more in the series.
I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I had writing it.

Leseprobe

Jens Christian Borch - Jensen

Kilburne 1

Bed of Roses

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Prologue - 11 November 2023

“Gifted Enterprise has waited a long time for this opportunity, Mr Kilburne,” Biggs said into the microphone. “I have just a few questions for you, and your treatment thereafter entirely depends on your cooperation.”

Biggs stared first at the heavy steel shutters, then up at the monitor above them. A silhouette of a man was shackled down inside.

A tired voice rattled through loudspeakers. “Where am I?”

“Let’s start with your name. Your real name.” Biggs was ready with his electronic tablet and stylus; the transcription department always took their sweet time.

“You can’t do this to a US citizen. I have rights!”

“Your name!”

A moment passed, and then another one. “John Kilburne.”

“We are already aware of what you call yourself. Now, your birthname, please,” he stressed,

Another couple of moments passed in silence. Biggs turned to one of the cameras and rolled his hand. With a groan, the steel shutters split apart just a sliver. A ray of light crept through several layers of transparent plastic and hit the prisoner in the face. Instantly the loudspeakers filled the room with a piercing scream. Only when Biggs made the motion in reverse and the shutters joined again did the loudspeakers fall silent, except for a bit of gasping.

“You see, Mr Kilburne, we can do this the hard way or the easy way.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Bigg drew his eyes up to the monitor. The prisoner had withdrawn to a corner.

“Let’s leave it at that. I know that true identities can be a touchy subject, and we can always extract it later. Would you prefer to tell me more about your powers?”

Silence.

“Feigning ignorance isn’t going to work, Mr Kilburne, there were witnesses to your little fight downtown. Most of them swear to have seen light coming from your hands.”

“I would like my sunglasses back.”

Biggs slammed his fist on the table. “How this works is that you cooperate; then you may make requests.” He smoothed his hair back and took a deep breath. “Fine, your sunglasses then, let’s talk about them. Do they help you with your light sensitivity? How do you even see through them? Or do you just use them to hide your scars?”

Again, silence.

“You know, we wouldn’t have to be enemies if you would just cooperate. It would certainly make things more pleasant for you in the days to come.” Biggs sighed and got up. He was about to halt the interview when a thought struck him. “Before I go, would you indulge a personal question? You seem reasonably strong; I mean, I read the damage report, so why haven’t you escaped yet? Is it only because of the restraints and security measures, or do your powers really take that much out of you?”

More silence.

Biggs got up and approached the barrier. “Tell me, Mr Kilburne, do you think yourself special? That I have never seen anything like you before, so you deserve the royal treatment?” Bigg’s face contorted into a sneer. “Let me tell you, you piece of shit, I’ve been doing this for twenty years and I’ve seen all manners of freaks. One guy could consume people and take their shape, another was the avatar of a god. Tell me, how do you compare?”

“What happened to them?”

Biggs brushed his hand against the cold steel. “That depended entirely on how well they cooperated.”

Chains dragged across the floor. Did the prisoner somehow know that Biggs was close and had decided to meet by the divide? Impossible. The barrier was solid, and their conversation happened through microphones and speakers.

“You know, I think you make a good point. I should try to escape.”

Biggs felt the blood freeze in his veins and checked the monitor. The prisoner had to be right in front of him.

“Should we terminate the interview here?” a voice asked over his earpiece.

“No, no, let him try. After all, a demonstration would go a long way to improve our relationship,” Biggs said. “Besides, it’s not like anyone has succeeded in escaping yet.”

A small light appeared in the prison cell. It was hard to tell from the angle of the camera, but it appeared to originate from the prisoner’s hand. Biggs forgot to breathe. Impossible. The prisoner had nothing on him that could produce this light, not torches or matches or anything like that.

He held it up so that there could be no mistake: the light wasn’t in his hand; the prisoner’s hand itself was glowing!

The entire cell filled with the light so that Biggs could see nothing on the monitor. It took a split second and the feed cut out, an error message dancing across the screen.

Biggs stared confused for only a moment.

The room shook and sirens began blaring, but the shutters seemed intact.

“Open it up. Open the goddamn shutters,” Biggs screamed. “I want to see what happened.”

The steel barrier split apart and revealed the plastic divide again. It was several layers thick and could withstand even high-calibre rifle fire and hand grenades, but… a spiderweb of cracks reached almost from corner to corner!

Biggs could not stop shaking. “Please tell me we caught that!” he said as gas filled the prisoner’s cell.

Part 1 – The Mysterious Lion Bird - 21 June 2010, thirteen years earlier

At the end of long rows of neat suburban homes, right up against the woods, stood a curious house. The ground floor was small with long, square windows, the first floor was big with small, round windows, and the whole thing was supported by pillars. It was here that Johnathan Pearce lived with his parents, though he preferred to go by John.

John sluggishly moved into the kitchen where his mother was munching on toast. Marilyn Pearce was scraggly looking despite nursing a bulge on her stomach.

“Good morning,” she said as John dragged himself up to the table.

John mumbled something and fumbled around the table with his hand. Marilyn nudged a carton of juice and a glass towards him.

“What’s the matter, honey? Don’t tell me you’re getting bored of summer break already.”

“Of course not. It’s just that Ragan’s busy preparing for his father’s business trip, and Phil’s having family over, so it’s just me here.” He cautiously grabbed the juice and started pouring.

“We promised you we’d go somewhere as a family… we just need to get the little one out first.” Marilyn drummed her fingers on her belly.

He buttered a piece of toast for himself, stealing a few glances at his mother’s belly. “Mom, I’m almost eleven, why am I getting a little brother now?”

Marilyn smiled and finished her toast. “Well, it’s not like we planned Ronald, but things happen sometimes. What about your homework then, have you started it?”

“Break’s just begun, I have plenty of time,” John said and stuffed his toast into mouth.

“You say that now, but things are bound to get hectic soon. You better get started soon or you’ll end up regretting it.” His mother slathered a piece of toast with first chocolate and then jam. “What was the subject again?”

“My future career. Not like I know what I want to be, anyway.”

“Well, you’re not going to become a lawyer like your dad or a doctor like me with your grades.”

John made a noncommittal noise.

Marilyn sighed. “It’s not that you’re not smart, Johnathan, you just need to apply yourself more.”

“I know, I know,” he said and left the table before she could begin on a tirade again.

Back in his room, he sat down at his desk and put his pen to the paper. Whatever he had in mind was always better than what he drew.

“Well, you won’t ever get any better if you don’t keep at it,” a friend had once told him, so that’s what John did. The only problem was inspiration. At first, he had drawn animals, but had slowly drifted to mechanical models. When his dad saw his drawings of weapons, he bought him an air gun which was now displayed on the shelf above his desk. If he got the time in the holidays, he would show John how to use it.

John sighed and flipped open his library book about cars. The Chevy Impala 1967 had drawn his interest several times, but he had never dared actually depicting it. What if it didn’t turn out all right? He had to hand in the book soon, though, so he threw himself into the task.

After a while, he had a mildly decent copy on his paper. He sighed deeply and sank back in his chair. He had a PlayStation 3, but he had already burnt through his library. He drummed his fingers on the armrest and got up.

John went out the kitchen entrance to the warm summer day and the backyard. The neighbourhood rules didn’t permit big trees, so his dad had bought a big parasol to shelter the terrace. He looked around for inspiration and his eyes fell on the house. John sat down on a bench by his mom’s rose garden and put the pad in his lap.

The pen reluctantly traced the contours of his home. With its simple geometric shapes, he only had to worry about perspective.

“You sure anybody lives here?” a quiet voice asked.

“I told you, this is where the freaks live. Now hurry up,” a loud voice replied.

John looked up. With pad in hand, he raced around the front and peeked around the hedge and saw two kids on the footpath outside his home.

“Why do you call them freaks?”

“Because,” the second kid said and grabbed a stone from the arms of the first one, “anyone who’d want to live in that freakish house must be a freak themselves.”

“That’s it?” the first kid asked. “The house isn’t that bad.”

“Anyone who has lived in Ferman long enough knows this house. I hear the original architect hanged himself in the bedroom and you can still see his ghost wandering around. They were going to tear it down twenty years ago when these people moved in,” the second kid continued. “And, besides, they never come to any parties and they never do anything in town. It’s like they’re not real; like they’re trying to hide something.”

“This is just silly.”

“Okay, how about this. Their oldest kid was removed from the home. If that isn’t freaky, I don’t know–”

“What are you doing?” John asked nervously.

The two kids shared a glance. “Nothing. We were just leaving,” the first one said.

“Yeah, once we’ve done this.” The other one threw a stone and John shielded himself, but it flew over his head and hit the wall next to a window. “What are you going to do about that?” he asked and hurled another one. “You and your freak family don’t belong here.”

John felt his cheeks heat. “I’m not a freak.” He clenched his fists and the other boy pushed him to the ground.

“Come on, that’s enough,” the first kid said.

The second one grabbed John by his shirt and lifted him.

“You don’t want to be here, and no one wants you to stay either,” he whispered.

Suddenly the other kid was sprawled on the ground. John looked up and a shopping trolley had taken his place. An old lady stood behind it.

“What the Hell is your problem?” the boy asked as he got up.

The old lady glanced his way, but her eyes were far away. “I was born to murder the world,” she whispered.

“Whoa, what’s with her?” the first boy asked.

All the fighting energy, and the arsenal of pebbles, had left the second boy. “Never mind her, that’s just Old Lady Taker. Another freak.”

“Should we help her?”

The other boy shook his head. “Why bother? She doesn’t belong anywhere. Come on.”

He started to leave while the other boy looked at her a moment longer. Only once they were completely gone did John approach her.

“Hey, um… thanks, I guess,” John said and smiled. “I mean, you probably didn’t do that on purpose or anything, but I still appreciate it.”

“Kill…” Old Lady Taker said. “Kilburne. Willesden Green. West Hampstead.”

John shook his head. “Do you need any help getting home?”

Her head slumped down, her chin resting on her chest.

“Hey, you all right?”

He reached out and touched her shoulder. Her hand jerked out and grabbed his neck in a vice-like grip. The white in her eyes turned black, like someone was injecting ink directly into her sclera. “Not everyone is born into their powers, Johnathan Pearce. Even those who are, seldom knows.” A deep, echoing voice not belonging to a woman or a human at all gurgled from her throat.

“W-w-what?”

He tried to break free, but her bony hand had the strength of ten men and the icy cold of the grave.

“The time will come, and it will come soon. When you awaken to your powers, I trust you will use them with due consideration.”

The old lady became limp, and her hand dropped.

John backed away and froze in fear. He was nailed to the spot as the old lady, mumbling to herself, shambled off with her shopping trolley. Once she was gone completely from sight, John realised he had forgotten to breathe and took a deep gulp of air and collapsed on his behind in his driveway.

“What was that?” he asked, trying to will his hammering heart into submission.

He stretched his legs, and pebbles clattered away. He stared at them for a second and remembered why he had come out front. He kicked the rest of the small stones away before picking up his notepad. He put the pen back on the paper, but his blood was boiling and his hands shaking. Rather than finishing his house, he furiously slashed the paper and finally tore out the page. An elderly couple walked by and whispered to each other, but John ignored them. The pencil tapped the blank, dented canvas on his knees.

“What I want to be when I grow up,” he mumbled.

Almost by itself, the pencil began drawing an older man. John signed his first name at the top but his hand trembled when it came to his last name. He thought of the old lady again.

“Kilburne,” he said and wrote it. “Kilburne has a cool name. He’s not a doctor or a lawyer like his parents want him to be, and he certainly doesn’t live in a weird designer home from the sixties. He has a big family and he has lots of friends and… and he has a cool gun. He just does whatever he wants and no one’s telling him he can’t, because everyone thinks he’s the coolest.” As he said it, he wrote it and began adding the details.

“Sweetie, are you outside?” his mother called to him from the house. John’s ears perked at the alarm in her voice. “Come inside and put some clothes on, we need to go to the hospital now. It’s time.”

Chapter - 22 June 2010

“Son? Son?”

John blinked awake and looked around the waiting room. His father was looking at him. Henry was quite a bit shorter than his wife and a lot portlier, with a moustache and greying hair.

“What? What is it?” John asked and rubbed his eyes.

“You’re a big brother now,” Henry said and chuckled.

“You mean..?”

“That’s right. You want to see your little brother?”

John nodded. “Sure.”

His father turned towards one of the doors and held it open.

His mother was propped up in bed, her hair a sweaty mess, holding in her arms a blue blanket with toy trains. The bundle shifted, and John saw his little brother for the first time.

“You can come a little closer,” Marilyn said.

John approached the bed. All he could see was the face. It split apart in a toothless yawn.

“Well, what do you think?” Henry asked, beaming with pride.

“Can I… can I hold him?” John asked.

“Of course.”

Marilyn carefully shifted the bundle and John grabbed it slowly. His father adjusted his grip and John stared into down into the eyes of Ronald, his baby brother.

“Still upset about getting a brother?” Henry asked.

John furrowed his brow. “I will protect him,” he said solemnly. “Ronald, as your big brother, I swear nothing bad will happen.”

Chapter - 23 June 2010

Ragan paced around his room. It was a large one, for sure, but there weren’t many more things here than in a normal boy’s bedroom. Round and round he went, biting his thumb all the while. Finally, he paused by a glass cabinet opposite his door. His reflection stared back at him from the many trophies. Science fairs, speech competition, a few sports trophies.

“They won’t be home today, right?” he asked. “The deal is that no one gets hurt.”

“Relax, would you?” a voice boomed as his reflection grew hazy. “I’ve told you a million times that John won’t be hurt.”

“Good. Good.” He lifted his hand, then lowered it again and looked back at the cabinet. “All right, listen, John means a lot to me. He’s a bit of a goofball, but he’s also my best friend, and the deal is over if he’s hurt in any way. You hear me?”

“Enough already, you have my fucking word. Now do you want to do this or not?”

Ragan breathed deeply and raised his hand again. “Anzu! Anzu, heed my call and come to me!” he yelled and pointed at his window.

A line began to shimmer outside, sparkling in all the colours of the rainbow. The line split down the middle and widened, further and further, until a pair of paws grabbed the sides. A mighty roar shook the windows. Ragan barely caught a glimpse of the beast before it spread its wings and was off.

“Stay on it,” he said and glanced over his shoulder at the cabinet. He could once more see himself in the shine of his trophies.

Chapter

“Come on, son. We’re home.”

The door opened, and John looked up from his Nintendo DS. To celebrate the birth of his little brother, his dad had given him a new game. It was a good distraction, but he was almost through this one as well.

“I’m telling you, we were not home again this soon last time.” His father’s moustache quivered as he went around the car. “Or the one before that,” he mumbled.

John swung out and planted his feet in the gravel driveway, nose buried in his handheld. His mother put an arm around him.

“Getting discharged early just means we’re home sooner,” she said and hugged him. “And you have a brother to play with now.”

John nodded.

His father came from the other side with a baby seat in hand. “And we’ve had that room empty for a few years now. It’s good to…” He stopped midsentence from the wilting glare of his wife. “It’s good to be back.”

“I could use a shower,” John’s mother said. “And my own bed.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie.” His father fished out his keys from his pocket and put a hand on John’s shoulder. He briefly glanced up from his game. “Johnathan and I can take care of Ronald.”

“Thank you.” His mother reached over and pecked his father on the lips. “It’s good to know I can rely on my two boys.”

A shadow fell on the house. They turned to the sky as a shape passed across the sun.

“Is that a plane?” his father asked. “I swear, ever since…”

A gust of wind assailed them, spraying pebbles everywhere.

“Donnerwetter!” Henry pushed down his hat, and Marilyn shielded John. “If it’s going to storm, we better hurry inside.”

As John’s father grabbed the handle of the baby seat, John’s mother put her hand over his. “It’s just a little wind. Why don’t you go for a little drive while I freshen up?”

Henry opened his mouth, but his wife looked at him sternly. He nodded and put a hand behind John.

“Really? Come on, I just want to go home,” John said.

“No complaining.” His mother kissed the top of his head.

“Yeah, there’s a really neat place I’ve been wanting to show you. We’ll be back in an hour, what do you say?” his father asked him.

“I guess.”

John dragged himself inside and slowly put on the seatbelt. Henry lingered with Marilyn.

“You don’t think it’s…” he said in a low voice, but Marilyn turned him around.

“Go. I’ll handle it.”

With the baby seat next to John again, his father grabbed the wheel and backed them out. He fiddled with the radio and a few notes faded into a hardware store commercial.

“Is everything all right, dad?” John asked

“Everything is fine. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just… what was that thing in the sky?”

“Eh, probably just a new plane from the Local Home Defense. Remember how the LHD took over the old military base last year?”

John raised an eyebrow. “But, dad, I think that thing had wings.”

“Planes tend to have those, son.”

“No, like–”

Another burst of wind howled around them and John yelped. People fell into hedges or to the pavement. Grocery bags flew off and their contents spilled. Dogs escaped their owners’ grasp. Rather than enjoying their freedom, they barked.

“Dad, can’t you show me that place some other time? I don’t think we should be outside right now.”

John pressed his face against the glass, trying to find the shape in the sky again.

“Nonsense, it’ll be fine as long as we’re in the car. Hey, how’s your brother doing?”

Ronald was fidgeting, but still sleeping in his blue blanket, adorned with little toy trains.

“Fine.”

His dad chuckled. “Good, good. Ronald is going to need his big brother for a long time, until he gets strong enough on his own.”

“Hey, dad… is everything all right?”

“Of course it is, why wouldn’t it be?”

His father’s laughter sounded a little hollow, and John couldn’t shake a feeling churning in the pit of his stomach.

The winds came in jerks, pushing people around and ripping things out of their hands. Darks cloud gathered in the sky, making finding the odd shape was difficult. They passed a park eerily devoid of people. The fountains sprayed their water horizontally, and the trees swayed back and forth like they wanted to escape the ground. Cars were abandoned across the road, forcing John’s father to weave slowly between them.

A garbage can banged into the bonnet and his father slammed the brakes.

“Dad, can we please go back?” John pleaded and grabbed the seat in front of him.

His father took a few deep breaths and started the car again.

“Could you… could you play with your brother or something?”

John glanced sideways and found Ronald squirming in his seat.

“Stop ignoring me, please! What’s going on?”

“I know a place where we can be safe. From the storm, I mean.”

They left the park behind them as the sky turned a livid shade of blue.

“A storm warning has been issued through the greater Ferman area.” A voice interrupted the song that John hadn’t even noticed had come on. “All citizens are advised to stay indoors or seek shelter immediately.”

His father quickly turned it off.

“Are we being invaded? This isn’t like all the fighting in Europe, is it?”

“Don’t be silly, son, those civil wars would never happen here. Not again, I mean.”

“But the news is always talking about nationalist groups who want to hurt us. Maybe that shape from before is a fighter plane–”

“I’m sorry, Johnathan, but could you just go along with me and not ask any questions?”

John glared at his father but was interrupted by the babbling of his brother. Ronald fidgeted, so John grabbed a toy and dangled it above him. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” John said, making no effort to lower his voice. “You don’t care when no one tells you anything. Like why we have to live in a big ugly house, where my big brother went, why we’re going out into this stupid storm.”

“That’s enough,” Henry said.

John fell back into his seat and crossed his arms.

Outside the windows, the hospital came and went, quickly replaced by both a high school and a mall before factories popped into view. All the while, the winds buffeted them so that John had to grab on to something several times. The time passed in silence before the car came to a halt.

“All right, gang, here we are.”

John jumped out and shielded himself from the wind and the dust in it. “Where are we?” he asked and looked around the industrial area.

His father came around from the other side with Ronald in his baby seat. “You wouldn’t think it now, but your mother and I used to come here all the times. I’ve wanted to show you for quite a while.”

His father clapped his back, and John started walking, looking behind him for the shape but the sky had become totally dark. It could be flying around up there, and he would not even notice.

“Sure, but why now? Why in the middle of a storm?”

They dodged discarded fridges and shopping carts. Beer bottles and cans clanged away from their feet. They trampled through someone’s small garden as they aimed for an abandoned warehouse at the other end.

“Well, we’ve been cooped up in that hospital for a few days, and you were complaining about not having anything to do,” his father replied.

A faded sign indicated the warehouse had once been turned into a roller derby before being abandoned again. The doors had been closed, but age and vandalism had pried open a small hole. John was pressed through the opening before his father ducked in after.

“Well, what do you think?” Henry asked.

“Dad, really, what’s going on?”

Henry’s smile twitched. “Can’t I show my sons a cool place without ulterior motives?”

They went around the rink and came to a small shopping area.

Everything not nailed down had long since been plundered, but John could still see gum and stains from sodas and beers littering the floor.

“Ah, I remember when we first moved here, this place had just opened up.” Henry chuckled and went around the area. “Your mother would take us here all the time and I hated every moment of it. I’d always fall on my ass, the food was cheap and disgusting, and the music kept playing the same outdated pop songs.”

“Then why’d you go?” John asked.

“Because your mother loved it. It was worth all those things just to see her smile and hear her laugh. That’s why I was genuinely sad when they closed the place. I knew how much it meant to her. Now she has Zumba, of course, but this was something we’d do together.”

“Can’t you just do something else together?”

His father passed his hand across one of the tables. “Eh, I was never any good at rhythm or balance, and that’s all your mom wants to do in her spare time. We tried line dancing, once… man, what a disaster.” Henry leant his head back and laughed. “Listen, Johnathan, do you mind if we stayed here for a bit?”

John looked at his little brother, oblivious to everything around him. “I wish I could have seen this place before it closed.”

His father chuckled. “I don’t know, John, I think you take a little too much after me. But they also had these things called arcade machines. Used to take all my quarters.”

“I know what an arcade is,” John said and hit his father in the shoulder.

“You would definitely have liked their nachos. Just like your mom makes them.” Henry stuck out his tongue.

A blast of wind assaulted the warehouse and rattled the few remaining panes of glass. The roof creaked. A wire snapped and a lamp crashed down.

“Nothing to worry about,” his father said, directed at the crying Ronald.

John couldn’t help but feel cold in here. Also, he had left his handheld gaming console in the car, so all he could do was try to imagine his parents here. Out on the tracks wearing skates or eating nachos on one of the benches.

“Dad, how much lo…”

Something passed by one of the windows. His father was there instantly and held him tight.

“No matter what happens, don’t be scared and do exactly as I tell you.”

“What do you mean?”

A chunk of the roof smashed into the track. A gigantic paw poked through the hole and grabbed the edge of the hole. With no seeming effort, it peeled back the roof like a can of tomatoes. It all came crashing down in a cloud of dust. John screamed then coughed, trying to see through his stinging eyes. There was a snarl and a clacking as something heavy advanced across the vinyl floor.

His father put a finger across his lips as he ducked everyone behind an old counter. Ronald cried so he grabbed him from his seat and rocked him against his shoulder. John peeked over the top.

A lion’s head poked through the dust. Wings spread almost from one side of the warehouse to the other. They flapped, and the air cleared. Arms with clawed paws carried it forward. Its plumage was deep purple and black. Intelligent eyes scanned the area.

“Dad, w… what is that?” John whispered and jerked back down.

“I don’t know, son.”

His father dragged him into a hug.

The beast kept stalking the warehouse. It roared and flapped its wings and things tore off with loud groans and loudly crashed around them. Bits of railing lodged into the wall above them and plaster drizzled down on John. He felt like crying, like Ronald, but his older brother wouldn’t have approved if he had been here.

“Everything’s going to be all right, just as soon as your mother gets here.” His father closed his eyes and hugged them tighter.

The beast finally noticed the noises and advanced upon the hideout. Its paw hovered dangerously above them.

The clouds parted and light filled the warehouse. John blinked several times, just barely able to make out a glowing orb descending through the roof. A beam flew from the light and seared into the paw. The beast reeled and turned towards the source.

“What took you so long?” Henry sighed and pulled John up. “This is where we leave.”

As John was frozen in fear, his father had to yank at him. The beast turned towards them again, but another beam raked across its back. Its howls shook the warehouse.

“What’s going on?” John pleaded.

“I’ll explain later, just run!” Henry yelled; his hair matted with sweat.

Beams flew like machinegun fire from the sphere. The beast jumped from side to side and banged into the walls. Steel girders snapped like twigs and smashed into the ground. Lamps crashed down. The roof collapsed entirely, and the walls cracked. John screamed, his father yelled, and his brother wailed. They squeezed through the opening again just as debris fell behind them and blocked the hole.

“Dammit, this place was supposed to be safe,” Henry wheezed, his face beet red. “I was supposed to wait here if anything ever happened while you took care of things.”

He paused halfway through the empty lot, out of breath.

“You’re hurting me,” John said and pounded at his arm.

“I never imagined it would come to this.” His father released him and used the hand to wipe his own face. “Now listen to me, son, we don’t have much time and there’s something I must tell you.”

“What?” John rubbed his arm and looked up at his father.

His father shifted Ronald to the other arm, the baby seat lost, and turned back towards the warehouse. Light flashed out of all the holes as if a rave party was going on inside.

“Where do I even begin? Okay, so, you remember when your older brother…” His father fell quiet. He cleared his throat before continuing. “You remember when Lawrence broke his arm?”

John nodded. His brother had always gotten into trouble. “Mom got so angry when she found out you had taken him to the hospital.”

“Yeah, I freaked out a little bit, but the hospital seemed like the best option at the time,” his father said, bouncing Ronald up and down. “Your brother’s arm was fine the next day, Johnathan.”

“Huh? But you made him wear the cast for three weeks.”

“That’s because breaking your arm is not like scraping your knee.” His father sighed and kicked a discarded can. “You and Lawrence and Ronnie too, you are… well, you guys are special. And I don’t mean like how I tell you every day that you’re special; I mean that you have powers.”

“I’m… special?” John looked at his hands. “But I don’t want to be special. Everyone already picks on me.”

“I know, son, I know.” His father heaved a sigh. “Listen, you don’t even have to worry about it. Your mom is going to take care of business, so we just have to let her do her thing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That light you saw, that was your mother.” Henry smiled and looked at John. “I don’t know what that bird monster is, but your mother’s strong. This is nothing she can’t handle.”

“Does this mean I can do that too?” John stared at the warehouse. It shook, threatening to collapse any moment.

“I don’t know, son. You’ll have to ask your mom when she’s done.”

The light faded and the noises died down. His father moved back towards the warehouse when a paw reached out through the hole in the roof.

“Back to the car. Now!”

John once again found himself dragged along, this time across the empty lot. Their car, however, was now upside down. A loud crash made him turn around. The monster, a few oozing streaks across its plumage, had crashed through the wall.

“Dad… mom…” John cried.

“No, son, it’ll be all right. Everything’s going to be fine. We just need to… to hide somewhere while your mother catches her breath.”

“Where?”

His father looked around as the massive beast strolled closer. One eye was closed, and blood dripped down its feathers.

“The recycling plant,” his father said.

They raced across the street. The monstrous bird but flapped of its wings. John was lifted off his feet. His father hugged a lamppost with one arm and grabbed his hand with the other, but they were both too sweaty. John glided out of his father’s grasp and flew through the open gates and into the recycling plant.

“Johnathan!”

The car scraped along the ground with an ear-piercing noise and slammed into the gates, blocking the way. John rolled down the road between containers. He got up slowly, his body aching. All he could do was watch the beast bearing down on his father.

“Find a place to hide; I’ll try and loop around to you.” His father disappeared from sight and the beast went with him.

John scrambled between the nearest row of containers and squatted down. He couldn’t stop himself from shivering and snivelling. He tried to think of his big brother, but he was too scared. It didn’t work. He hurt all over, and he could see his own blood. He closed his eyes and put his hands over his head.

“Johnathan, calm down.”

John peeked out and looked for the source of the voice.

The sphere of light hovered above the ruins of the warehouse. It flickered weakly and he could now see a woman within it. “Mom!” John shouted.

“Whatever happens, you must keep calm.”

The voice echoed in his mind as his mother mustered a weak beam. The beast growled and swatted her out of the sky.

John could see the beast over the top of the walls: it was making its way towards his mother. Rage bubbled up inside him. John clenched his fists and stepped out of his hiding place.

“Stop hurting my family!” he shrieked.

The beast paused. It leapt and in a single bound landed inside the recycling plant. John yipped and stepped back again. It propped its lion head close to him, observing him. John tightened his hands into fists and backed away. His rage was making him dizzy.

“What do you want from us?” John cried, snot bubbling out of his nose. He felt hot, like his blood was boiling. His skin was itchy, and he could not stop scratching.

“No! You have to stay calm, do you hear me?”

The beast lifted a paw. John ran back behind the container. The paw smacked down, and the container burst open, spraying plastic bottles everywhere. The ground shook. John stumbled and fell on his face.

“Get… get away from me!” He felt sick. His head burned, and his blood was fire.

The beast swept the containers out of the way like toy blocks. John fell to the ground. Cans, TVs, bicycles, and toilets rained down around him, some shattering into pieces.

He looked up as the bird crept closer. The fire felt like it was dripping from his eyes and mouth. His arm was living flame. Everything was fire and pain. Through the scarlet he noticed that his arm glowed. Distantly, he heard himself scream. He could only see the light. The bird roared and squawked at the same time.

Then things went dark.

Chapter - 24 June 2010

“What do you think happened here?” Phil asked, leaning across the police tape.

Ragan stared at the crater. “Hmm.”

“Do you think John was here?”

“You mean right in the middle of the explosion?” Ragan shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, he must have been at the hospital.”

“Right, because of his mom.”

The two stared at the former recycling plant. It was like God himself had reached down and scooped it out of the ground.

“You don’t think he was at home when his house was flattened in that storm yesterday?” Phil asked.

“Like I said, he had to have been at the hospital. Why would they have gone home early?”

“But we can’t reach him or his parents.” Phil sighed. “I wish someone would tell us how John is.”

“No news is good news,” Ragan said.

Phil nodded and withdrew from the crater. “Your dad must be able to figure something out. Can’t he talk with the police or something?”

“I’ll ask him.” Ragan bit into his thumb.

Their thoughts were interrupted by a rhythmic clacking. They turned around and saw a woman squeezing past the barricades. The thuds came from a walking stick taller than herself, with a birdhouse on top. She wore fishnet stockings, the right one tied together where she was missing her foot, and a studded leather jacket. Her gaunt face was full of piercings, and her hair was dyed deep red.

“Jesus, what the fuck could have done this?” she whispered and pushed her way past the boys. They made a hasty retreat as the lady closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Chapter

“Still no deaths have been confirmed following yesterday’s explosion at the recycling plant, though several were injured. While the cause remains unidentified, the Local Home Defense have gone on record that they are not involved. Numerous protesters have flooded inner Ferman demanding answers and the LHD has responded by deploying soldiers on the streets. No link has been established to yesterday’s storm that demolished a house in the suburbs.”

Rose turned off the radio. She was short and brawny, with her blonde hair tied back to reveal a time-worn face. Her small pawnshop was crowded with customers and had been that way almost constantly since morning. That’s not what drew a sigh from her, however. “I guess it really must be a nationalist attack,” she said.

“Of course they would deny any involvement,” answered an old man. He tapped the glass of the counter. “How much for that gun?”

“You got a permit?”

The old man grumbled and fished out his wallet. “It just ain’t natural. The LHD is supposed to replace the world’s armies? What exactly makes the Local Home Defense any different to an army, just because you call it a peace-keeping force?”

“Old man, your permit expired in the seventies,” Rose said and held up his card. “I can’t legally sell you any firearms unless you get this renewed.”

The old man yanked back his licence. “It’s the end of the world and you won’t let me defend myself? What if that explosion was a nationalist attack? What if European cells have infiltrated America to retaliate against us?”

“I doubt anyone is coming for you specifically,” Rose said. “You’re more than welcome to purchase anything else in here, though.”

The next one in line put a sack on the counter and started dragging out jewellery like a magician with a never-ending handkerchief.

The bell above the door jingled. A woman in a dark suit and dark sunglasses entered, stuffing a dark hat under her arm. Even her hair was black.

The customers looked up from the many display cases and remembered they had other places to be. The man at the counter stuffed his sack again and followed everyone else out.

The woman approached the counter, and all the sounds died. Perhaps it was just the door outside closing, but the clocks seemed to have stopped ticking, the TV in the backroom muted, and even Rose’s own breath ceased.

“أنت روز بيترسن؟,” the woman asked.

Rose stared at her confused, again remembering to breathe. “Pardon?”

The newcomer pulled out a notepad, her eyes slowly gliding down. “Vous êtes Rose Petersen?”

“Now listen here, if you’re just going to make fun of me, then this is a bad day for it,” Rose yelled. “I’m very busy…”

The other woman held up a finger and studied her notepad again. “You are Rose Petersen?” she tried, her inflections all over the place.

Rose crossed her arms and nodded.

“I am Detective Ebadicael of the FBI.” She put away the notepad and produced instead a badge, and Rose held out a hand.

“Everything in here is above board, detective, so I really don’t know how I may be of help to you. We follow the law in here.” Rose scrutinised the badge and pushed it back.

The detective stared at Rose. Though Ebadicael had a charming face, Rose couldn’t help but feel a chill running down her spine.

“Uh, so, what can I do for you?”

“Would you and your husband be interested in taking in a ward of the state?” the detective asked and picked up her badge.

Rose blinked a few times, letting the sentence sink in. “I’m sorry, for a moment there I thought you asked me…”

“If you would take in a ward, yes. I am afraid I cannot divulge any details during this preliminary meeting, but I will still need to hear if you are at least interested.”

“Wait, hold on,” Rose said and waved her arms around. “Why would you want us to do it; there must be hundreds of people wanting a kid in this area. Did… did my husband enter us into the system? Because this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“A social worker will come to your home later today and explain the situation further.”

“Look, I haven’t said yes yet,” Rose said and slammed her hand into the counter. “And you still haven’t told me why you chose my husband and me.”

“My apologies, but time is of the essence here. Law necessitates that the ward be in the presence of legal guardians during all interviews and we would like to conclude the formalities ere he wakes up.”

“Ere?”

The detective flushed and consulted her notepad again. “Before. Before he wakes up. Now, what say you?”

Rose shrugged, still unable to wrap her head around the absurdity of the situation. “Fine, send the social worker around. Not like she’s going to allow a former prostitute and her con artist husband to have anything to do with a kid.”

“I am aware of your history.” Detective Ebadicael picked her up hat again and strode towards the door. “I will await the positive reply once you have talked with the social worker.”

“Wait, this wouldn’t have anything to do with that explosion at the recycling plant?”

Rose sprinted out after the detective, but the streets outside were empty. No cars were leaving, either. Rose scratched the back of her head.