Aberrant Trilogy 1: Super Charged

by Franklin Kendrick

  My stomach twinges when I realize that the three boys are Tyson and two of his buddies. They’re all wearing football jackets that blend in with the surrounding trees and foliage.

  “Great…” I mutter.

  “What is it?” asks Robby, but before I get a chance to reply, Tyson notices me.

  “Well, look who it is!” he calls.

  The two of us slow down and the group of footballers walks over to us, blocking our path.

  I try to follow Grandpa’s advice and ignore them, but it’s kind of hard when they’re directly in front of you. I glance down at the boardwalk.

  “Can we pass, please?” I ask.

  Tyson looks at his buddies, both hulking guys - not very muscular, but a heck of a lot larger than me - and grins.

  “Hear that?” he says. “The famous boy wants to get by.” He cracks his knuckles. “Seems like you forget that you’re not in the city any more, Boding. Out here nobody cares about your dad. The big guys make the rules out here, and we’re the big guys.”

  Robby sighs.

  “Are you really starting this, Tyson?” he says. “We’re going to be late for school.”

  Tyson jabs a finger at Robby.

  “If you don’t want to be even more late, I suggest you stay out of this, Collins,” he says.

  I glance back at Robby and see him gulp. Something tells me that he’s used to being bullied by Tyson because he takes a step back.

  “I’ll tell on you -” he starts, but Tyson cuts in, with a mimicking voice.

  “I’ll tell on you!” he says. His buddies laugh. “That’s all you’re good at. Squealing on me. Well, go ahead. Something tells me it will be too late by the time you get back.”

  Robby’s voice trembles slightly.

  “T-too late for what?”

  Tyson grabs me by my jacket, nearly lifting me onto my toes.

  “I think I recall telling Boding that if he caused any trouble, he would be paying for it.”

  I am not going to be harassed by this guy. I yank myself away and brush my jacket off.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  He motions to my jacket.

  “Where did you get that jacket?”

  I shrug.

  “It was my father’s,” I say. “Is there a problem? I’m entitled to wear it.”

  “Actually, that’s up to us,” Tyson shoots back. “You see, I remember telling you that this is our year to be football champions. And, last time I checked, you’re not a football player. You’re a scrawny poser. So, I think that jacket needs to come off, and I don’t want to see you wearing it again.”

  He goes to grab my jacket and I bat his hands away.

  “Don’t touch me,” I say, staring him down.

  This push-back makes Tyson glance at his buddies for a moment, letting out a laugh.

  Then they descend upon me in full force.

  I cry out as the two buddies pin my arms behind my back and Tyson gives me a punch in the gut. The air is pressed from my lungs and I gasp.

  “You really asked for it,” mutters Tyson.

  Behind me, Robby lets out a cry and turns to run down the boardwalk back the way we came.

  Tyson chuckles.

  “You better run, Collins!” he says. Then he turns his attention back to me. “What are we going to do to you to make you pay? One punch isn’t enough. We need something that will stick.” He looks around, then lets out an, “Aha! How’s about a little swim, Boding?”

  I look over the side of the railing at the dark lake water below and try to pull myself free.

  “No!” I say. “I can’t swim. Please.”

  Tyson wags his finger at me, giving a tisk-tisk sound.

  “There’s no better time to learn,” he says with a laugh. Then he motions to his buddies. “Boys, toss him in.”

  I cry out and try to kick free, but the football players are as big around as trees. No amount of kicking or fighting will do me any good.

  In one swift motion they lift me off my feet and then chuck me head over heels into the lake.

  The water is absolutely freezing. It’s not nearly summer yet, and the shock takes my breath away. My clothes are soaked and instantly become heavy. My shoes begin to drag me down.

  I kick, thrashing my arms, and my head breaks the surface. I gasp for breath and get a mouth full of murky water.

  Up on the boardwalk the boys are laughing.

  “Help!” I cry out.

  But, they simply turn and leave.

  I thrash some more, struggling to find the edge of the bank beneath the water, but it’s over my head. There’s a drop off beneath me and my shoes pull me down.

  I take one last gasp before my head goes under.

  Then I sink.

  My vision goes all hazy. Everything becomes overlaid with bursts of white, blue, and red. I’m drowning. My lungs gasp for air but they are only met with murky lake water.

  As I said before, I can’t swim. Try as I might, no matter how much I thrash my arms and kick my feet, I can’t manage to pull myself to the surface. My shoes become heavy and my soaked clothes pull me deeper and deeper.

  I start to give up.

  My thoughts settle on my family. How hard will this be for Mom? Or my grandparents? Losing Dad was enough for everyone, but to lose me as well? Sure, I’ve been getting into trouble, but I’m sure Mom doesn’t want me dead. Perhaps she will find comfort that I will finally be reunited with Dad.

  My thoughts turn to Dad now. I should be seeing him soon.

  But, I don’t see him at the end of a dark tunnel. Instead his face comes into view, as if he just stepped through the muck at the bottom of the lake. He smiles at me. He’s wearing a convention T-shirt and his blonde hair, the same as mine, blows elegantly with an ethereal beauty.

  However, suddenly he frowns.

  “What are you doing?” he asks. His voice is muffled by the water in my ears.

  I shake my head - just barely - as my energy fades.

  Even if I want to respond, my lungs are too filled with water to make a sound.

  Dad continues.

  “You can’t give up, Shaun. This isn’t the end. The end hasn’t been written yet.”

  I struggle to keep my eyes open. Is he talking about my life? Or is he talking about his comic series?

  Suddenly he reaches out and grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze.

  “Use it well, son,” he says, his eyes locked on me.

  Use what well?

  His face begins to fade away. I want to cry out, to plead with him not to leave me again, but I can’t make a sound.

  My vision blurs out. Just before I give in to the darkness, I feel a hand grab my shoulder and pull me towards the surface.

  9

  Awake

  To my surprise, the next thing I feel is a heavy pressure on my chest and a spout of water spewing from my struggling lungs. I cough and heave. A rough feeling has settled in the back of my throat and my sinuses sting.

  I am on my back. The warmth of the boardwalk heats my trembling body. Both fists are clenched tightly at my sides.

  The sunlight blinds me and I blink a few times, my eyes squinting. Then I see the blue of the sky, and a face leans into view. I am hoping that it’s going to be Dad I see, but the person speaks and I know that it’s not him. Dad is gone.

  “Are you alright?”

  The voice belongs to a girl. I squint my eyes against the light and am taken aback when I see the golden hair and green eyes of the girl from the other day - the one that I barreled over.

  I try to shake the dumb look off my face.

  “I’m fine -” I start to say, but as I sit up a fit of coughing overcomes me. My throat is still aching from being filled with water. It burns and I fall back.

  “Woah! Take it easy!”

  The girl crouches next to me. Her sneakers squeak as she adjusts her perch and puts a hand lightly on my chest. My eyes slide shut for a moment, and I hope she doesn’t see how re
d my face must be.

  I try to move things along because having this girl so close to me, just crouching there in her silky shorts and Pine Grove High School t-shirt, is making things very awkward.

  “Where’s Robby?” I ask. “Did he go and get you?”

  I open my eyes and the girl shakes her head.

  “No,” she answers.

  I look around. Robby is nowhere to be seen. He must still be looking for help. Little does he know that I’ve already been pulled from the water.

  I sit up slowly. The dizziness in my head is subsiding, thankfully.

  “Thanks for pulling me out of there,” I say.

  Again, the girl gives me a confused look and shakes her head.

  “I didn’t pull you out of the water,” she says. “I found you lying here unconscious.”

  I blink.

  “Then, who pulled me out?” I ask. There is no one on this shore besides us.

  “Whoever did it, they are long gone by now,” says the girl.

  Great, I think. A mysterious person pulled me out of the water and didn’t even check to make sure that I was breathing. Perhaps it was Tyson and his gang. It would make sense that they pulled me out to make sure that they didn’t get charged with murder. But, all that would have been useless if they left me here to drown on dry land with my lungs still filled with water.

  I groan.

  “Well, anyway,” I say. “Thanks for coming to check on me. I’m Shaun.”

  “I know who you are,” the girl says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Everyone’s talking about you.”

  “As they do in a small town,” I say with an ironic smile.

  This makes the girl laugh a little, though I can tell she must be pretty concerned. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s looking me over like a nurse would, checking to be sure that I’m not going to keel over and die on her any second.

  “I’m Kimberly Parker,” she says. “My father lives on the other side of the lake.” She helps me to my feet and I cringe at the squishing sound that my soaking shoes make. Water is still dripping from my clothes and everything in my pockets is ruined - the wallet and all my cash will need to be dried out. “I see you found the short cut to school,” Kimberly says as I rest against the wooden railing on the board walk.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Though, it didn’t exactly end up being very short in the long run.”

  “What happened?”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Some punks came and threw me into the water. I guess I almost drowned.”

  My whole body is still trembling. I can’t seem to stop with sheer will power, so I press my back against the railing. This stops the trembling for a moment.

  “Did you see who did it?” Kimberly asks.

  “Of course,” I reply. “And so didn’t Robby. It was Tyson and a few of his buddies.”

  “Tyson?”

  Kimberly is about to say something else when the sound of feet clapping frantically on the boardwalk gets louder and louder and I look to my left to see Robby hurrying towards us. His face is as red as a tomato and his shoulders heave with every gasping breath. His glasses are nearly falling from his face.

  “I called the school!” he manages to say before doubling over. After a few gasping breaths he lifts his head slightly and says, “Hey, Kimberly...”

  “You two know each other?” I ask.

  “Of course...” says Robby. “We grew up...together...”

  Kimberly crosses her arms.

  “At least you called the school,” she says. “Did they say anything?”

  “Not really,” Robby says, catching his breath at last and standing up straight. “I’m assuming Tyson will be in pretty big trouble. So, they threw you in after all?” He notes my soaking wet state.

  I hold my arms out to my sides.

  “Sadly.”

  “And Kimberly pulled you out?”

  Kimberly raises her arms.

  “It wasn’t me. I’m as dry as a piece of paper.”

  Robby smiles widely and puts one hand on his hip.

  “So you managed to swim to shore after all.”

  “I doubt it,” I say. “The last thing I remember I was sinking to the bottom. Then I blacked out.”

  All three of us look at the ground.

  “It must have been Tyson, then,” says Robby.

  “That’s what I said,” Kimberly agrees. “I didn’t see him do it, but somebody must have pulled you out. Otherwise, that’s one heck of a miracle.”

  They’re both wrong. Tyson was leaving when I started to drown. But, I decide that I’m done arguing. I go to wipe some water from my forehead with the back of my hand and suddenly Kimberly points.

  “You’re bleeding!”

  I glance at my hand, which is clenched in a fist still, and am surprised to see that she’s right. Blood is running out between my fingers and thumb. I almost just smeared it on my face.

  “What the heck?” I say. “How did that even happen?”

  Did I scrape my hands against some rocks at the bottom of the lake before I blacked out? It’s possible, I guess. I didn’t even feel myself get sliced open.

  I open my fist to see what the damage is and nearly jump back in shock.

  There, in my palm, is a star-shaped piece of chiseled white metal: The Vestige.

  “What the heck is that?” asks Kim.

  But, Robby is already right next to me. His jaw drops and his eyes widen.

  “Are you serious?” he says. “That’s the Vestige!”

  “The what?” says Kimberly.

  Robby waves his arms around a bit.

  “The Vestige! The medallion from Super Guy? Don’t tell me you haven’t read it?”

  Kimberly continues to listen to Robby talking about the series, but I’m not paying attention. I’m overcome with confusion at what is sitting in my hand. Is this really happening? The Vestige just appears in my hand after I nearly drown?

  “I didn’t know that they made souvenirs like that!” said Robby. “Where did you get it? Was it a Con Exclusive? I bet it’s super expensive.”

  I blink and shake myself out of my own thoughts.

  “Uh...yeah,” I say and tuck the Vestige into my jacket pocket.

  Then I start heading back the way we came.

  “Hey - where are you going?” asks Robby.

  “I can’t go to school with wet clothes,” I say over my shoulder. “You said you called the school?”

  “Yeah.” Robby watches me with a dumb look on his face.

  I continue walking, my shoes squishing with every step and leaving a wet trail of footprints behind me.

  “Tell them I’ll be late. I’m headed back to change into some dry clothes.”

  Robby hesitates, most likely confused by my abrupt departure, and finally manages to call out, “Okay! See you at the school!” before I duck around a patch of trees and out of sight.

  10

  Dry Clothes

  Now that I’m alone I trudge up the dirt path that leads through the woods and up onto the main road. My hand is still bleeding so I grab a bunch of the hem of my shirt and try to stop the bleeding that way. Being honest, it’s just a cut, but it does hurt now that I know about it. It’s one of those types of injuries - the ones where you didn’t feel it happen, but now that you know it’s there it stings.

  After a few minutes of brisk walking I arrive back at my grandparent’s house. They’re retired, so of course Grandma is still at home. She calls out as I enter the front door. The door slams shut on its own and I start for the stairs.

  “Ed?” she says. “Back so soon?”

  She comes around the corner and her eyebrows raise when she spots me.

  “Shaun? I thought you were on your way to school. What on earth happened to you?”

  I kick my shoes off onto the mat by the stairs and start up to my room.

  “Nothing,” I reply, just wanting to get away from everyone. “I slipped and fell into the lake.”


  Grandma frowns.

  “You should be more careful!” she says.

  I shrug as I get halfway up the steps, not stopping.

  “Don’t worry,” I say over my shoulder. “It won’t happen again.”

  Grandma calls up to me as I make my way down the hallway to the bathroom.

  “Hurry up and change. You’re going to be late!”

  I don’t bother replying. Instead I make my way into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, locking it for added privacy.

  My clothes stick to my body like a second skin. I throw off the football jacket and struggle to get my soaked t-shirt off my chest and throw it into the claw-foot bathtub. Then I go over to the toilet and grab a wad of toilet paper, bunching it into my hand to stop the bleeding. After a few moments of compressing the cut, the blood is stemmed and I relax my grip.

  With that taken care of, I turn my attention to the one thing that truly caused me to hurry back to the house.

  I reach into my pocket and take out the sharp star-shaped object that caused the injury.

  It sparkles a bit in the light. No bigger than a gold dollar, the tiny piece of metal is unmistakably hand-carved. Nature couldn’t have done this. Otherwise I would have simply thrown it back into the water and called it a sharp rock.

  No. This is much more intelligent in design.

  I set it down on the counter and open the medicine cabinet so that I can bandage up my hand properly. Grandma has some ointment that should speed up the healing, and I add a liberal amount before rolling some cloth bandages around my hand a few times. Then I tie it off with a metal clasp and return the items to the cabinet.

  Now I can inspect this medallion in full.

  The medallion is no bigger than a gold dollar. Its shape is almost a perfect star. The only thing stopping it from this perfection is the point on the top right is missing a piece as if it has been snapped off. The edges are sharp, though not as sharp as a knife. I had to be squeezing it pretty tightly for it to cut my skin like it did.

  The resemblance to the Vestige from my father’s comic books is uncanny. It even has a pin-prick hole in the top point where a thread would be strung to allow Super Guy to wear it around his neck.