SPARKS: The Smoke & Fire Series (Prequel Book 1)

by Wesley, Michele

  Mycale fought the urge to yell for help. Not knowing how he had gotten here frightened him more than actually being wherever here was. As his eyes darted back and forth, a flash of movement stopped him.

  Lifting his head as far as he could, he called softly, “Hello.” Another boy in a bed a few feet away, didn’t answer. The boy was too busy fighting wrist restraints.

  Tears ran down the other boy’s face as thick leather straps anchored his hands to the bed frame. The boy was about Mycale’s age. He sported a black eye and badly bruised arms and legs. His attire was nothing more than a loose fitting hospital gown. Aware now that Mycale was looking his way, the boy’s hand strained against the restraint as he pointed.

  Mycale’s first instinct was to reach towards the boy, but the urgent look on the boy’s face urged Mycale to look in the other direction.

  A sharp snap kept Mycale’s hands near his waist. Taking in the sight of his bound hands was only one of the reasons Mycale’s heart stop. The unnatural silence of the room and hospital gown he wore were a few other reasons to have a heart attack. He yelled, “Let me out of these things. This isn’t funny. Let. Me. Out.” His chest heaved with nervous energy. Why can’t I hear myself? He asked, “Where in the bloody hell is the sound?” His parents would have disciplined him for saying ‘bloody hell,’ but he was sure this time was justified.

  The boy was still pointing. Raising his head as far as he could, Mycale’s eyes took in what his mind couldn’t understand. A woman and man stood over a girl two beds away. They unstrapped her as she screamed and tried desperately to fight them. No sound. She’s screaming with no sound.

  Speaking to the boy next to him, Mycale asked, “Where are we? Why are we here? Where are they taking her?” The boy gave no reply, but his haunted eyes held Mycale’s attention.

  Panicked, Mycale needed answers. He was surrounded by at least twenty beds, all filled with children. Some of the children were asleep, some awake, and some were crying and making desperate attempts to free themselves. Unable to hear what he was seeing, Mycale’s terror intensified. This had to be his punishment for some long ago delinquency he’d gotten away with.

  Pulling at his bound hands, he noticed his torso was also strapped to the bed. Wiggling and kicking his feet, Mycale yelled at the top of his lungs, but he couldn’t hear a thing. He felt the sound vibrate throughout his body, but his voice was lost in space never reaching his ears. The sound had been turned off, like it was being vacuumed from the room.

  Exhaustion was the only thing that tempered Mycale’s fight with the restraints. Fear and terror fought for the number one spot in his mind. He wondered if his mom and dad knew he was missing. Were they searching for him? Had his dad peeked into his room like he usually did? Was he ever going to see his family again? His father and brother would tell him to be a hard man. Fighting fatigue, he continued to try to free himself.

  Mycale didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he was being shaken awake by the same man and woman who had taken the girl. They stood above him, two soundless monsters. Immediately, Mycale fought them with everything he had. Twisting and turning his body, he yelled and screamed, “Don’t touch me. Leave me alone. What do you want with me?” Silence prevailed, sound would not break free and his words were neither heard nor acknowledged.

  Being pulled forcibly from the bed, Mycale intensified his attempt to fight. He flailed about like a fish out of water, but the man and woman together were too much for him. The lady held him by his arms while the man held his feet.

  Once out of the room, Mycale was struck by the sudden potency of sound. His flailing came to a screeching halt. Sound was back as the beautiful rhythms of life vibrated against his ears. Calmed by the familiar blanket of sound, Mycale’s body went limp as the man and women carried him towards the unknown.

  Mycale whispered to himself, “Stay calm and be a hard man.”

  While being carried down a dimly lit hall, Mycale scanned his surroundings. The nauseating scent of cleaning products, seeing varied areas lined with medical equipment, and cabinets of medical supplies suggested he was in some type of hospital.

  Turning into the only open door, they entered a larger room that held two smaller rooms. The smaller rooms were nothing more than large rectangular glass cubes. Fearing he was about to be put into one of the cubes, Mycale started to struggle again. Once inside the cube, the man and woman released him at the same time, dropping him. Before he had a chance to get up and protest, the woman and man quickly exited and a glass door without a knob slid shut.

  Locked inside, Mycale slammed his hands against the door and demanded to be let out. He yelled, “Let me out of here. When my dad finds out what you’re doing, he’s going to kick your butts.” Since the room was see-through at all angles, Mycale felt like a trapped hamster. He beat against the door until his hands became sore. Eventually, he took a seat in the only chair in the room and waited.

  The man and woman watched from behind desk, their eyes scanning as if observing a display. Both had notebooks in front of them, hands poised with pens ready to take notes.

  Watching the man speak to the woman, Mycale expected not to hear anything being trapped in a cube but he heard the man’s muffled voice. All of a sudden, the man’s voiced projected loudly inside the room. Looking around, Mycale saw a honeycomb-shaped button that must have been a speaker.

  The man said, “Mycale, if you show us your ability, we will send you back home.”

  Mycale didn’t understand. What ability? What exactly was the man asking him to do?

  The man continued. “We know that you have an ability, Mycale. There is no need to be afraid to show us. We are people that specialize in finding children like you. We are here to identify your ability and send you back home as quickly as possible. If you listen to us and do what we tell you to do, you can go back home. We have the means to make you forget this entire incident. As a matter of fact, one of our unbreakable rules is to ensure you forget any of his ever happened, therefore you can think of this as just a dream. You won’t remember any of this Mycale. We promise.”

  More confused, Mycale didn’t know how to respond. He noticed the man didn’t speak with an English accent like him. Mycale asked the only question on his mind. “Can I go home? I want to go home. I don’t know what you want me to do. Can I go home…please?”

  The lady had the nerve to smile. She said, “You need to show us your ability, Mycale. If you are here, it means that at some point you showed the potential for manifesting or having an ability. You may not be unaware of it yet.”

  After a moment of waiting, the man asked, “Have you ever done something amazing that you didn’t think was possible? Have you ever done anything that you saw a superhero do?”

  Although only ten, Mycale was smart enough to know that he couldn’t do anything he had seen superheroes do. He told them, “Az if. I can’t do anything like a superhero. That’s stupid.”

  The lady said, “Now, that simply is not true, Mycale. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  Mycale desperately wanted to give these people what they wanted so they would let him go home. He stood. His movement captured the woman and man’s attention, making them sit straighter in their chairs.

  Since he’d always done well in his Karate classes, he decided to show them some of his best moves. The man and woman didn’t stop him as he wore himself out showing them jabs, kicks, and spins. Eventually, Mycale took his seat, winded and out of breath. Once he caught his breath, he asked, “Was that good enough? I also know how to fish and hunt and catch insects.”

  The two didn’t appear impressed with his display. The man asked, “Can you fly, or make objects hover in the air, or move faster than a person’s eye can see you, or shift your body into animals and objects, or walk through walls? Do you have dreams and visions of things before they happen? Can you make yourself invisible? Can you move objects with your mind?”

  Stunned by the unusual questions, Mycale stared unblink
ingly. They were asking him things he knew to be impossible. Shaking his head, he wasn’t sure how to answer.

  Exhausted from the constant mix of unusual questions, all Mycale wanted to do was go home. Instead, he was dragged kicking and screaming back to the room with no sound and strapped to the bed. Taking in the scent of urine and maybe even feces, he closed his eyes and prayed he would wake up in his own bed. Too tired to fight, Mycale fell quickly to sleep.

  ****

  When the woman and man unstrapped him again, he wasn’t sure if he had slept for minutes or hours. Thirsty, his scratchy and dry vocal cords refused to project the words he attempted. Words didn’t matter in this room anyway, he remained silent despite his attempts. He didn’t fight while being carried back to the glass room, there was no use.

  This time, the boy who had been in the bed next to him was seated in the adjacent glass room. The portable rooms were in the same position as their beds and sat like two giant cubes. The other boy’s head constantly swiveled as the man and woman sat watching.

  Mycale took his seat. Both he and the boy waited, wondering what the man and woman had planned for them. Jumping about like a string-puppet’s, Mycale’s legs refused to stay still. Someone was approaching.

  Mycale took in the presence of two large men built like NFL all-star football players. Passing his room, he watched the men enter the boy’s room. Seeing the boy cower as the men stood at each side of him was a sign that they weren’t there to be friendly. The boy’s body sank inwardly as he dropped his head low to his chest, too frightened to look up at the men. Watching, Mycale prayed they weren’t planning to hurt the boy.

  Without warning, the men began slapping and punching the boy. The boy’s head jerked and snapped with each blow, making Mycale flinch and jump. Hearing the boy’s muffled cries, the vibrations penetrated Mycale’s body. All attempts the boy made to fight back were lost.

  Mycale stood, pounding the glass wall that faced the boy’s room. Screaming for them to stop, he hoped to draw the men’s attention.

  The sound of the woman’s voice flowed continuous through the speaker, but Mycale ignored her request to show his ability. Fearing for the boy’s life, he screamed louder and pounded harder. “Stop it. He’s only a boy. Stop hitting him, please.”

  The lady’s voice never stopped, “Mycale, show us your ability or they will continue to beat Ivan.” Hearing the boy’s name made the incident more personal.

  Yelling toward the speaker, Mycale said, “I don’t know what you want me to do. I don’t have any abilities. Please make them stop. We didn’t do anything.”

  Ivan’s beating commenced as the woman’s voice became nails on a chalkboard. Mycale pounded the wall harder. Suddenly, the wall shattered, making the man and woman stand behind their desk. Surprised by his own strength, he didn’t have time to think about it. Running over to Ivan’s room, Mycale slammed his fist against the outside of Ivan’s wall. He shouted, “Leave him alone you monsters.”

  The men continued to pommel Ivan, raining down punches that intensified Mycale’s anger. Mycale’s pounding shattered the second wall of glass. He was so upset, he didn’t care about breaking glass or how he’d done it. Just as he ran towards the boy, Mycale was jerked back and slammed to the floor. His head collided hard with the floor, sending shooting pain to his brain and throughout his body. Immediately, his aching head was pinned under the man’s boot. As the groove of the boot pressed into his cheek, Mycale struggled to see if Ivan was okay.

  Unfortunately, Mycale found that his nightmare was just beginning. After having shown the man and woman he could break glass walls with his hands, they still denied his request to go home. Mycale wondered; What more do they want to see?

  After another round in the soundless room, Mycale and Ivan switched places. Again, Mycale didn’t know if it were a day later or hours later. Back at the cubes, the walls he shattered had been replaced.

  While being punched and kicked with no remorse, Mycale caught a glimpse of Ivan screaming for them to stop. His own desperate pleas and Ivan’s muffled screams were ignored. The strikes were hard and frequent, each lick booming through his body as he fought to protect his head and face. He’d given up his attempt to fight back when the force of one of the blows toppled him from the chair. Mycale rolled his body into a tight ball, each kick and punch a pain filled nightmare.

  At some point during the relentless beating, Mycale became filled with so much rage and hate he could no longer distinguish pain from anger. He was aware of the man and woman watching and of Ivan, who had never stopped yelling on his behalf.

  Mycale was beaten until his body physically stopped functioning. Reduced to a series of exhausting gasps, he no longer pleaded for mercy. A strong surge of an invisible force took his breath despite the crush of the harsh blows. Seemingly losing focus for only a moment, he came awake to the men holding something under his nose. As soon as he regained consciousness, his pain packed nightmare resumed.

  ****

  Countless beatings pushed Mycale beyond any limits he recognized. Why hadn’t he paid more attention to his parent’s lessons on how to pray? Attempting to pray for himself and the rest of the kids, he hoped his desperate words were somehow heard. It seemed the mission of his captors were to kill them all, but he wasn’t ready to die. He begged, “Please God. Don’t let these people kill us. We are only kids. We don’t know what they want.”

  Starved, thirsty, battered, and beaten, Mycale started to believe this was the last place he would ever see. A pair of children began to disappear and not return to the beds with each emergence of the man and woman. At first, there were four empty beds, then ten stared back at him. Either the children were dead or they had shown the man and woman something impressive enough to be sent back home.

  Back at the cubes, this was his third time being teamed with Ivan. This time, the men used electric prods, like the ones farmers used to prod livestock. Mycale knew he would later experience the painful sting of the prods. Ivan lost consciousness twice, but it didn’t stop his abuse.

  Rage and anger seemed his only friends, a toxic cocktail of emotions that made Mycale, of all things, extremely hot. Touching the glass, he realized he had literally become hot enough to melt the wall. Pushing against the wall, his hand sank into the glass. At first, only his face was hot, then his entire body. Since the man and woman refused to set him free, Mycale embraced the rush of rage and anger as it coursed through his body. His hands emitted a light glow that scared and excited him at the same time. Since he possessed nothing as strong as his anger and rage, he was convinced the intangible emotions had been converted into heat. He wondered if anger was the key to giving the man and woman what they wanted.

  They finally noticed what he was doing to the glass. It seemed his actions impressed the man and woman enough to stop Ivan’s beating. His distraction was a short lived one. Focusing, Mycale saw Ivan one moment and he was gone the next. Ivan had vanished.

  Ivan’s sudden disappearance drew everyone’s attention. The man and woman, along with the large men searched calling out angrily for the boy. While everyone was busy searching for Ivan, Mycale slipped through the jagged hole he’d melted into the glass.

  Once free, Mycale ran down a second hallway towards what he hoped was an exit. The only thing on his mind was getting out of this place and finding help for the rest of the children. Just as he pushed against the large metal door marked ‘exit,’ he was jerked backwards by strong hands and tossed over a sturdy shoulder.

  He didn’t fight while being carried back to the soundless room, but the sight of the bed drove him to start kicking and yelling again. Luckily, he gave a good enough kick to make one of the men cover his eye. Pain was evident on the man’s face, but Mycale’s small victory was short lived.

  The force of his body connecting with the hard mattress took his breath. A blow to his mid-section sent his stomach contents flying into the air. Weak and winded, he was unable to block or move away from another fist tra
veling toward his head. Just as his brain registered pain, his world went black.

  ****

  Mycale was at number nine for the repeated cycles of torture he had endured. He had been spat on, urinated on, nearly drowned, electrocuted, splashed with acid, deprived of sleep, and starved of food and water. Trapped in an endless cycle of abuse and pain, he began to reject the notion that this world was real. Was it possible he had died and landed in hell? His grandparents always preached about hell, but he never believed their stories until now.

  Countless beatings and muffled screaming tore at his heart and provided a grim reminder that he wasn’t dreaming. He was convinced his captors had found a way to turn off sound as additional punishment. Mycale was unable to see outside his soundless prison, so he couldn’t say if he’d been in this place a week or a month. Since there was no way to measure time, it didn’t exist in this place. There were only two sickening constants: the increasing number of empty beds and an endless supply of abuse.