Lycan Alpha Claim 3

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  “I see that you're anxious, son, but we can't make a snap decision.”

  “It's important to me, Dad.”

  Dad stood up and clapped me on the shoulder.

  Mom came to stand behind him, her gaze steady on mine. They'd think about it.

  John said he had to go and told me to read the rest of the papers.

  “Yeah, okay.” I'd been planning to do that, anyway.

  ***

  Dad sat down heavily in his usual seat for supper, steepled his hands, and looked at me. I popped a large piece of lasagna into my mouth and did the tongue dance, realizing too late that the food was hot as hell.

  “I know you've been through a lot today, Caleb,” Dad said, but I’m fascinated with how this connection with the dog unfolded.”

  Mom rescued me. “Why don't you let him finish eating, and we can get the gory details afterward, hmm?”

  Mom knew about The Hunger. I would often say, “I Hunger,” which loosely translated meant “What is there to eat in this house in the next five seconds?” My friends also had The Hunger, and we'd fall upon the kitchen table like locusts, and The Hunger would be abated, temporarily.

  “So, Caleb, what's going on beside dead stuff?” Mom turned, one hand on her hip, and carefully set a glass in front of Dad. She just missed jingling one of the tiny bells of her skirt. I was fascinated by my mom's fashion sense. I didn't truly think she had one, but she was a believer.

  “Nothing much besides Carson and Brett still being jerks.”

  Mom sat next to me, her skirt bells tinkling slightly as she adjusted her position.

  I really had their attention because I wasn't just blurting stuff out like usual. I wasn't in Jonesy's league, but I wasn't super-quiet like John.

  “I like this girl named Jade, Jade LeClerc,” I said. Just saying her name made my heart beat faster.

  “LeClerc?” Dad tilted his head. Mom looked stumped, too.

  “Ya know, her dad is a mechanic for the car shop in the valley.”

  Dad tried to hide a scowl, but I saw it.

  Mom didn't bother. “Terrible news, that.”

  I tensed. I wasn't going to let Jade get lumped in with her crap family.

  “Wasn't she—” Mom began.

  I cut her off. “Yeah, she was, and it's not her fault.”

  “Removed from a domestic situation,” Dad said then added, “Of course it wasn't.”

  A contemplative silence fell over the table. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, dust motes circling lazily in the air.

  “I'm acquainted with the father, and he is not welcome in my home, but Jade is. After all, with a family like that...” He trailed off.

  Mom finished for him. “She could use some positive affirmation.” She gave me a sly look.

  “Is she a cute girl?”

  I wasn't falling for that! “She's cute to me.”

  Mom huffed and crossed her arms. “Caleb Sebastian Hart!” she said teasingly. I didn't know if talking about a girl I liked was easier.

  Raising the dead, or girls... let me think.

  Dad joined in. “Now we have to know what your lady-love looks like just in case we pass her on the street and rudely not give salutations.” He winked.

  “Lady-love, Dad? So retarded!”

  “Caleb!” Mom cried.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. But it was retarded. Who said that? They couldn't help it, being old and all. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that Mom was Gramp’s daughter.

  “You have to be more sensitive with your language,” Mom said.

  “But lady-love?” I raised my eyebrows.

  “I guess that was a little out of date,” Dad said.

  “So tell us more about Jade,” Mom said.

  “Well, she’s really interesting.”

  “That's not what I thought about your mother when I first saw her,” Dad said with a smile aimed at Mom.

  Over share much? “I mean, she’s different than the other girls. She doesn't do that stuff girls do that's super-annoying.”

  Mom crossed her arms again. Uh-oh, I'd stepped in it.

  “What do girls do that's so annoying?” she asked in a fake innocent tone. (Translation: I will eviscerate you).

  I looked at Dad for help but he looked back, clearly, you couldn't have just said that.

  I was on my own.

  “She treats me the same all the time, not just when she's in the mood. She pays attention to what I'm saying. She actually listens.”

  A slow smile spread across Dad's face.

  Mom sat speechless—a rare occurrence—then said, “She sounds great. I like a woman that is self-possessed.”

  “And she's cute too, right?” Dad winked.

  “Yeah, there is that.” I grinned.

  “Oh, you two. Annoying guys.” Mom smiled.

  Dad said, “Tomorrow, we flesh out your abilities. What are you doing tonight?”

  Mom looked up from wiping the kitchen table.

  “Ah... John brought over some papers about the Parker kid.”

  “Don't you have a textbook from school that addresses these abilities?” Dad asked.

  “Yes, he does,” Mom said. “First semester in eighth grade they're required to have one-quarter health and one-quarter paranormal development.” She nodded at me. “They're linked, you know.”

  Yeah, they were linked all right. That health class had been the dumbest on the planet. I could never get the lame-ass music out of my head. Body changes. Everyone goes through... body changes.

  No shit, Sherlock.

  “Were you listening, Caleb?” Mom asked.

  I stared blankly at Dad.

  Dad said, “I asked if you still had the textbook here in the house from last semester.”

  I shrugged.

  Mom said, “Try under your bed. That would be my first guess.”

  I turned back to Dad. “I don't know. I'll take a look.”

  “Okay, good. Now that these events are coming to pass, a refresher would be an excellent pursuit of your time. The sooner the better.”

  I hopped up the stairs taking them two at a time. Tearing open my door, I launched myself on my bed, scooping up papers as I fell.

  I bent my head over them and began to read.

  CHAPTER 7

  Chocolate-brown eyes stared through the mist, luminous and shining. I blinked, and they were gone. My eyes flicked to my bare feet—boxers my only clothing. I took in my surroundings and realized with dawning horror that I was in the cemetery.

  I glanced at where I had seen the eyes, and the dog stepped forward, an inky silhouette in the midst of an ethereal fog. The mist was wet, swirling around my face and drenching my hair.

  The dog whisper-thought, Rescue me.

  His eyes bored into mine with an eerie intensity, that connection I'd felt since the accident still tying us together.

  Images flooded my brain, like a movie running frame by frame:

  A boy, close to my age, throwing a ball. The dog's pure joy at the chase, the return, and the reward of the boy's laughing acknowledgment of him.

  Then, a stranger coaxing me/us with food and a terrible trip in a thing of metal that moves. Alarming smells wafting in through a hole mostly covered with glass, too many to identify. Terrible loneliness from missing the boy.

  Suddenly, an opportunity to escape the confines of the frightening and noisy box that moves. The dog leaps through the hole that is sometimes glass and runs until he finds a road where he scents two boys. He knows they are close to his boy, and he will find his boy again. He pursues them.

  A metal machine hits him, and his life is ebbing away. Then one of the boys is there, calling to him. He struggles, deciding he wants to play ball again and be a dog for this boy. He lives.

  I snap out of the reverie of the dog's emotions. Our eyes lock, his imploring. I know that I am somehow responsible for his life. The midnight-black tail wags like a friendly exclamation mark, moving the mist slightly.

 
Beep, beep, beep, beep!

  I opened one blurry eye, slammed my palm down on the alarm, then flopped over on my back and lay there for a minute.

  Finally, I sighed, sat up and swung my feet around to slap the floor. The warmth of my bed clung like fingers, begging me to stay.

  Ignoring that, I walked over to the window and noticed the field shrouded in mist. Tall, western red cedar and Douglas fir trees were scattered like soldiers in battle, leading down to Clark Lake.

  I turned back, feeling uneasy from the dream, and went for the bathroom. A shower would chase the lethargy away. Thinking of Jade, I decided I would definitely find some clean clothes.

  But my thoughts strayed back to the dog. He had become a part of my life, whether I wanted him to be or not.

  After showering, great smells made their way upstairs; fried egg sandwiches. Yup, that was it.

  Sailing down the stairs, I plopped down in my seat.

  Dad looked up from his paper. “How did that reading go last night?”

  “Kinda scary.”

  Dad raised an eyebrow.

  “That Parker kid was a lot like me.”

  Mom set a plate in front of me with a perfectly centered, two-egg, cheese-laden breakfast. Steam rose from the eggs, the cheese melting at the edges. Ah... bliss.

  I waded into the food without preamble. “He also 'heard' things from animals. He was off the charts on his aptitude for the AFTD.”

  Dad said, “We know that.”

  He seemed annoyed. That I didn't need. I just found out I had this ability. Get the dog, get the girl; no pressure!

  Mom shot Dad a look. “What Dad means, is we'd like to hear anything that you felt could help you with this.” She gave me an encouraging look.

  I used my fork to shear off another corner of the egg sandwich and popped a satisfying hunk in my mouth.

  “Looks like he could see ghosts, also.” Dad shrugged. That was a typical aspect of AFTD.

  I looked up. “He could control them, too.”

  Dad exchanged a look with Mom, one of those annoying ones that said a lot but not to others.

  “That's not good,” he said.

  “If he can control ghosts, then that’s another useful tool. Being a cadaver manipulator is certainly rare, but controlling hauntings?” He threw up his hands.

  “I guess a little terror would go a long way,” I said.

  “Let me get this straight,” Mom said. “Caleb is what? A domestic terrorist now?” She looked incredulously at Dad.

  He nodded. “In a word... yes.”

  I checked the clock—ten after eight. Well, nothing was going to get in the way of my appetite. I stuffed down the remains of my breakfast.

  “Have you seen ghosts, Caleb?” Dad asked.

  “Nope,” I said, using the last bit of bread to wipe up egg yolk.

  Mom let out a sigh of relief. “I guess we don't have to worry about that.”

  I hated to burst her bubble but....

  “That was the last skill he gained before the government took him.”

  “What year did your reading say that he was transferred to the 'government school'?” Dad made airquotes.

  The FDA approved the drug that made us all able to “reach our genetic potential” in 2015. That year, all teens, nationwide, had been inoculated for a hell of a lot more than Hepatitis B. It'd all been in those papers. The more I read, the scarier the connections became. It was starting to stink like conspiracy.

  I said, “I think it was 2016.”

  Dad nodded. “Yes, that rings a bell.”

  Mom stood and picked up my plate. “You better skedaddle there.”

  “I have a plan,” Dad said. “We'll talk after school.”

  I stopped with my butt halfway off the chair. “You're gonna be here, Dad?”

  “Yes, I'm taking the day off. We'll experiment with your skills.” Since Dad never took a weekday off unless he had the barf-o-ma-tic, he must be really worried.

  “Don't forget we need to talk about the dog,” I said.

  CHAPTER 8

  I made it to class just as the final bell rang. I plopped down next to John. Jonesy sat across from us with his head in his hand.

  “What's your problem?” I asked Jonesy.

  “Can't wait for Sunday. I'm itching for payback.”

  John rolled his eyes.

  “What is it today, Wednesday?” I asked.

  John nodded.

  “Well, get over that. Let's talk while we work on this.” I looked down at my heart-shaped box.

  Mr. Morginstern sauntered over, hands thrust into his pockets.

  “Good morning gentlemen,” he said in his I-love-mornings voice.

  We mumbled hellos.

  Morginstern studied my box and pointed out some rough spots, explaining that if those weren't perfectly smooth, they'd hang up the lid.

  “You see this here.” He pointed at an almost invisible bump on the interior arc. “That is the kind of thing that can make a project frustrating.”

  Geez, really? The whole project had been pretty hard. I wished now that I had chosen a square, like Jonesy, or a rectangle, like John. Mother's Day was coming up. Mom always said she didn't care about presents, but I was starting to get a handle on girls, so I knew she would feel bad if I didn't do something nice.

  It was a ruthless minefield.

  Morginstern studied Jonesy's box and gave him a similar lecture, but he pronounced John's as ready for a lid. Jonesy and I looked at each other in perfect understanding—John just got stuff.

  Morginstern wandered off to bug the other kids, and we put our heads together football huddle style.

  “I'm in deep crap,” I said. “I read the Parker kid's stuff last night. He had some stuff I haven't done yet, but if I play out like him, I’ll get them too. It's even more important that I not spike their radar on the AP tests Monday.”

  “Did your dad get the cerebral inhibitor?” John asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, he's got it, and he took the day off because he wants to go over The Plan.”

  Jonesy stuck out his jaw, leaning back. “What 'Plan'?”

  “I don't know. The minute we talk, I’ll pulse you and let you know.”

  “Kyle thought it was okay that we knew?” Jonesy stabbed a thumb at his chest.

  I laughed. “Yeah, you were there. There's no hiding any of it: the blackouts, the fugues...”

  “The cemetery,” John added.

  That reminded me. “Have Carson and Brett said anything?”

  John and I looked at Jonesy. Jonesy talked to everyone.

  “Not yet,” Jonesy said, rubbing his hands together with undisguised glee.

  As John leaned forward, his frizzy hair covered an eye. “Don't take this too far. We don't want to hurt them.”

  “Too much,” I said, winking at Jonesy.

  John smacked my shoulder. “Don't give him any ammunition, Caleb!”

  Morginstern looked our way. “Get back to work boys.”

  Jonesy and I picked up our eighty grit sandpaper and went to work on the bumps.

  John got up with a self-satisfied smile.

  “I guess I'll go over and use the jigsaw for my lid now.”

  “Don't be an ass,” Jonesy said.

  “Yeah, what he said,” I echoed.

  John walked off, his fro of hair flopping as he moved between the tables.

  CHAPTER 9

  Between bells, I tried to catch a glimpse of Jade.

  Crap, I didn't see her by the locker. Bending down, I tore open the zipper on my backpack without any of my usual finesse and threw my junk in my locker. I wasn't hauling all that to math.

  When I straightened, she was right beside me, close enough to touch.

  I gulped.

  “Hi,” I croaked.

  She flashed me a smile, the kind that reached the eyes.

  “Do you want to hang out at lunch?” My voice was steady. Yay for me.

  She turned her head to the side, and
that long curtain of hair swung forward, hiding her expression. Then she looked back up at me through the veil of eyelashes that bordered eyes that shone like emeralds.

  God, she was beautiful.

  “I'd like that,” she said. Those gorgeous eyes studied me. She wasn't a girl to fill silences with a lot of chatter, another great thing about her. I was making a list.

  The other kids would notice us being together. That's all that kids talked about, how much school sucked and who was going out with whom. Maybe I could tell her about my problem. The Js were cool, but I couldn’t show my friends my fear. Girls were better that way.

  As we turned away from each other, it slid through my mind that only having her in two classes sucked.

  Carson and Brett walked past, and Brett made a pistol hand, taking a shot at me. Dick. Carson threw his head back and laughed, delighted by his friends' cleverness.

  Jonesy's hairspray idea was sounding sweeter by the second.

  Math class dragged. John saw me study the clock and raised an eyebrow. Later, I looked back. He shrugged, his shoulder blades poking out like weapons and went back to studying, his hair a wall in front of his eyes.

  Afterward, I raced to my locker to get my backpack. I slapped on my beanie and took out my pulse. Pressing my thumb on the pad, I selected Music. I chose the oldies shuffle: Seether, Hinder, and Underwhelmed.

  Thinking into my touch pad: volume 15. The screen illuminated in phosphorescent green the correct volume and I thought: accurate.

  Music filled my ears, and I hummed a little as I slid through the throng, my mind already with Jade. Jonesy caught up to me, narrowly missing a posse of girls who giggled as he walked by. He took the time to wink and salute them with a fingertip, which caused another rush of laughter.

  I didn't know how he did it, but girls went nuts over Jonesy. He called it his “undeniable attraction.” Whatever. He was cool, but I didn't see him as manly.

  John appeared and fell into step on my left. Jonesy led the way through the crowd.

  I thought: volume five... then: accurate.

  “Jade and I are hanging at lunch today, guys.”

  Jonesy stopped dead in my path.

  “You're kidding. I mean, are you guys are like, going out?”