Aberrant Trilogy 1: Super Charged

by Franklin Kendrick

  It glitters in the light as I hold it up to the mirror. I am absolutely dumbfounded. Where did this come from?

  The Vestige...

  The word lingers in my head as I continue to stare at the object in my hands.

  This entire episode gives me the chills.

  So many thoughts are running through my head, the first of which is that this isn’t possible. How can the Vestige, a fictional object that bestows superpowers upon its wearer, be physically in my hands?

  I used to play games around this object when I was a kid. I used to draw a star on a piece of white construction paper and my mom would string a piece of sewing thread through the top of it and I would run around the yard pretending I was fighting The Drone.

  Never in my life did I expect to feel something that was so real. Maybe once the merchandise for the movie was made, maybe. I expected it then, but not now. Not in the middle of nowhere Maine.

  Grandma suddenly knocks on the bathroom door and it makes me jump. My heart is pounding.

  “Shaun?” she calls from the other side of the door. “Are you alright in there?”

  I take a breath to steady my voice.

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Just a little wet.” I add for good measure, “I’m naked...drying off. Don’t worry about me, Grams.”

  This seems to do the trick because Grandma mutters something about getting a move on, and then I hear her walk back down the stairs.

  Once she’s been gone for about twenty seconds or so I open the bathroom door and hurry across the hall to my room. Once I’m there I make sure I lock the door behind me once more and yank some dry clothes out of my duffel bag.

  I set the medallion down on the dresser as I change. It feels good to be in dry clothes once again, not to mention being able to breathe fresh air. My shoes are a lost cause since they’re still soaking wet and who knows how long they will take to dry. So, I take out my flip flops and manage to pull myself together.

  Then I return to the medallion on the dresser.

  “This really isn’t possible,” I say.

  Taking it from its perch, I stuff it in my shorts pocket, making sure that the flap is buttoned tight. I don’t want to be losing this medallion on my way back to school - or on my way home, either. I need to do some investigating.

  If this is just a coincidence, then I won’t have to worry about keeping the star-shaped whatever it is. I can just throw it away.

  But, if it’s not a coincidence and this thing is the real deal...

  “Real deal,” I say with a laugh. Who am I kidding?

  Suddenly the image of my father pops into my head. It’s so real I can see the highlights on his hair and the sparkle in his eyes. It’s the same image that came to me just before I blacked out at the bottom of that lake.

  What was it that the vision of my father had said?

  Use it well?

  What did that mean? Could he possibly have been talking about this medallion? I thought that my mind was just hallucinating when I saw him.

  Could it be something more?

  I shake my head.

  Grandma yells from downstairs.

  “Shaun, hurry up!”

  I can’t keep wasting time with this. Odds are that this thing is just a fancy rock that someone threw away. Maybe it’s some Native American flint or something like that. An odd arrow head.

  Still, I need to make sure. There will be time on my lunch period to do some investigating. I reach into my duffel bag and pull out a battered graphic novel of Super Guy - Issue #1 and tuck it under my arm. Then I throw open my bedroom door and head out for school.

  11

  Super Charged

  School drags forever. I’m supposed to be focused on my classes, but it’s really damn hard to pay attention to advanced calculus when there’s a supposedly fictional medallion that gives people super powers in my pants pocket.

  My brain fixates on the medallion until at last lunch arrives.

  I grab a green speckled tray and pile whatever is in front of me onto it then head out into the sea of tables. Normally I’d be worried about where I am going to sit, but today it doesn’t really matter. To make things simple, Robby spots me from his seat near the corner of the cafeteria and calls me over.

  “Are you doing alright?” he asks as I plop my tray down.

  I groan.

  “I just want to be out of here,” I say and go to reach into my pocket. Just as I pull the medallion out, Kimberly sits with us. I’m surprised to see her since I didn’t think someone like me would be worth her time. I expected her to sit at the track table with the rest of the athletic girls, but she picks up her silverware and gives me a demanding look.

  “You can’t just fawn over that trinket,” she says. “Stop showing off and eat something. You look just as pale as earlier.”

  “Fine,” I say and shove three french fries into my mouth. While I chomp them down I examine the medallion. I set the thing down on the table and pull my graphic novel out of my backpack.

  Robby leans next to me to get a closer look at the medallion as well.

  “That seriously is super cool,” he says. “Stuff like that goes for hundreds of dollars on eBay, you know.”

  “I know,” I play along and set the medallion down on the table.

  Kimberly doesn’t seem phased by it.

  “Boys and their toys,” she says. “Stuff like that comes and goes. There’s always some new collectible to collect. That’s how they suck you in and keep you coming back.”

  “Well, lucky for Shaun,” says Robby, “his Dad is the creator. So, I bet he gets a lot of this stuff for free. Don’t you, Shaun?”

  “Sure,” I say. I’m preoccupied.

  I flip the page on my graphic novel and come to the part of the story where Super Guy - before he’s Super Guy - finds the Vestige. I place the medallion on the opposite page of the book and compare them.

  “It looks almost exactly the same as in the book,” I say. They are both shaped like stars, they are both the same color, and they both have a hole in the top to thread a string. The only thing different about the physical version is that it’s missing that chunk of the corner point.

  I’m about to ask Robby if he sees the same similarities on the medallion as me when a voice laughs behind me.

  I turn to see Tyson scoffing. He’s accompanied by the same two guys from the lake earlier.

  I groan.

  “Playing with your toys?” he says.

  “Finished trying to kill your classmates?” I shoot back.

  He takes a step back.

  “Ooh, getting all pissy on me?”

  “You’d be pissy too if you were almost killed,” I say and try to ignore the boy.

  But, if I know anything about Tyson (and he makes it impossible to not know anything about him), he can’t leave well enough alone. So, he forces his way onwards in the confrontation.

  “I don’t know why you’re so upset,” he says, trying to take a seat on the edge of the table. “Weren’t you sent here because you were trying to kill yourself on the top of some roof?”

  “That’s a lie,” I say. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself, and if I were you, I’d go away before you get into even more trouble.”

  “I’m not in trouble, though,” he says. “Your little buddy here? Robby? He called the school, but they have no proof that you almost drowned. You showed up here in dry clothes. So, I’m off the hook.” He holds a hand out in front of me like he’s presenting me to the cafeteria. “See? He’s all dry. And he’s still breathing! Playing with his little toys.”

  Tyson goes to grab the medallion off the table in front of me, but I’m too quick for him.

  I snatch up the medallion with one hand.

  “I said leave me alone.”

  “Oooh,” says Tyson. His two buddies are behind him once more. “It’s not you I came over here to see,” he says. “It’s Kimberly.”

  Kimberly looks up from her lunch, shaking her hair out of her
face.

  “Excuse me?” she says.

  “Yeah.”

  Tyson presses a hand down on the table to my right and leans over.

  “I came over here to ask if you wanted to go out with me sometime.”

  How original, I think. This guy is totally full of himself.

  I look over at Kimberly and see that her mouth is pulled into a smile and hangs open slightly. She looks to the left.

  “Really?” she says.

  Next to me, Tyson nods.

  “I’m being completely serious,” he says. “I bet you were waiting for me to ask.”

  Kimberly sets her silverware down on the table and sits back.

  “What took you so long?” she says. “We’ve only been going to school together for, what? Ten years?”

  Tyson smirks.

  “I was waiting for the right moment,” he says. “So, what do you say?”

  All of us at the table are looking at Kimberly. If I know anything about high-schoolers, especially typical high-schoolers, then simply asking someone to go out with you is a slam dunk when you’re a football star.

  But, to my surprise, Kimberly hesitates.

  The tension is so strong it could be cut with my butter knife.

  “You know what?” Kimberly starts. “No.”

  Tyson takes a step back, scoffing.

  “No?” he repeats like a parrot.

  Kimberly nods.

  “Yeah. I’m thinking no. But, thanks for the offer.”

  Tyson presses both hands onto the table now, causing our trays to tremble on the tabletop.

  “Don’t you know what you’re turning down?” he asks. It’s obvious that he’s used to getting his way. His voice is wounded, and the sound is pretty enjoyable to me at this moment.

  “I do know what I’m giving up,” says Kimberly, looking Tyson dead in the eye. “I’m giving up on a person who doesn’t hesitate to throw a classmate, who can’t swim, into the lake and then leave them there to almost die. So, thanks. But, no thanks.”

  That should be the end of the conversation, but suddenly Tyson gets violent.

  He slams his fist down on the table.

  “You can’t just say no like that!” he says.

  I turn to him.

  “Actually, she can,” I say. I pick up the Vestige and put it in my pocket for safe keeping. “You already escaped judgment once today. I think you should count yourself lucky and walk away again.”

  Speaking up seems to be the worst thing I could do, but I couldn’t help it. Tyson turns on me and gets right in my face.

  “You stay out of this!” he says, spraying me with spit.

  He goes to grab me by the collar of my shirt, but I am not going to sit back and take it this time. I reach up my hands and go to shove him away from me. But, what happens next is not something I could have imagined happening in my wildest dreams.

  My hand shoves towards Tyson, palm out, and it hits him squarely in the chest. Suddenly this pain happens in my forehead and temples, like a migraine has just seized me in its grip, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

  The next thing I know, I open my eyes to see Tyson flying across the cafeteria. His arms flap out like a wind-up toy, and he lands on his back about ten feet from where I’m sitting.

  When he sits up I see that his t-shirt is singed. Smoke emanates from the dark patch and Tyson gets roughly to his feet. His eyes are watering and his jaw trembles.

  “Let’s see who’s in trouble now!” he says, aiming a finger at me. Then he hurries out of the cafeteria, no doubt on a collision course for the principal’s office.

  Robby has his mouth hanging open behind me and Kimberly is giving me a look that I can’t read. Is she shocked? Embarrassed? It’s impossible to tell.

  “Wow!” says Robby. “You didn’t tell me that you were that strong in hand-to-hand! Why didn’t you fight them off down at the lake?”

  I’m not listening. Again, for the second time that day, I get up and leave my new friends on their own. Even when they protest from the lunch table, I don’t listen.

  I’ve snatched up my comic book, the medallion, and my backpack and make my way to the guidance office. Once there I inform the secretary that I am not feeling well and that I need to go home right away.

  Thankfully there isn’t much of a fuss. They call my grandmother and inform her that I am sick. She must have accepted it because fifteen minutes later she arrives with the car to bring me home.

  I play up the sickness for part of the drive and grandma promises to make me some soup. Once we make it to the house, I hurry up to my bedroom and lock the door.

  I sit on my bed and stare at the star-shaped medallion in my hand.

  “It’s real,” I say. “It’s actually here in my hand. The Vestige.”

  As if confirming my statement, the Vestige glows slightly. It lasts for only an instant, then it’s back to its normal self.

  I look up at the ceiling in disbelief.

  What in the world am I supposed to do with the Vestige? The list of things runs through my mind like a ticker tape.

  Protect it.

  Hide it.

  Fight crime with it?

  I roll my eyes. Yeah. Me? Fighting crime? I highly doubt that’s a possibility.

  Then one more essential thing I should be doing with the Vestige takes precedence over all the others.

  “I need to do some tests with this,” I say.

  12

  Pulse

  Once I arrive at home I hurry up the stairs, not talking to anyone. Grandpa hears me come in, but I can’t stop to talk to him. I need to figure some things out on my own.

  I’m so anxious that I’m sweating up a storm. I head into the upstairs bathroom and peel off my shirt, going to toss it into the hamper.

  But, then I am stopped by the sight of Dad’s old football jacket. It’s crumpled into the hamper where Grandma must have thrown it earlier this morning. No doubt it’s still wet, but its moisture isn’t what catches my attention. One of the sleeves of the jacket is hanging out of the hamper and I can see that the thick cuff of the jacket is frayed. Picking it up I examine the cuff closer and find that it is ripped apart at the edge, and inside there is a small silver chain.

  “What in the world…” I mutter and pull the chain out. It is finely made and has a loop in the middle of it.

  I reach into my pants pocket and take out the Vestige, holding the chain up to it to compare. They look similar in color, and when I slip the loop into the opening at the top point of the star, it fits perfectly.

  That’s it, I think. That’s where the Vestige came from.

  It was hidden inside my father’s jacket. He must have sewn it into the lining for some reason. Most likely he was trying to keep it away from prying eyes, or people who would use it for evil or malicious intent.

  I shake my head, looking at myself in the mirror.

  I truly can’t believe this is happening. But, no matter what I believe, it is happening.

  Still, I need to test out these powers, preferably somewhere that is not a house that can be destroyed, so I slip the Vestige around my neck, pull on a clean shirt from my duffel bag, and hurry down the stairs.

  “I’ll be back for dinner, Grandma!” I call out. Then I’m out the door and down the driveway.

  The Vestige bounces against my chest as I walk briskly down the country road. There are no sidewalks in this area of town, so I kick up dirt along the soft shoulder of the road. My hands feel like they are filled with energy. This must be what Super Guy felt when the Vestige first came to him.

  Suddenly I let out a laugh and shake my head.

  “Super Guy is a made up character,” I mutter to myself. “It’s Dad who must have felt what I’m feeling back when he first found the Vestige.”

  But, how did he find the Vestige? Did it come to him mysteriously like it did to me?

  Those are questions that I tuck away in the back of my mind. For now, my focus is on testing out these powers.
>
  I come to a stop at a wooden fence, the kind made by sticking two rounded poles horizontally into the stakes, and look out beyond at a giant field of tall grass.

  “This is perfect,” I say. There are no houses around, and there are no animals grazing that I can tell. No chances that someone will see what I’m doing from the roadway if I wade far enough into the grass, and no chance that I will injure or kill something if I lose control. I’m lucky I didn’t do any permanent damage to Tyson back in the cafeteria.

  With one last glance around me, I step over the fence and make my way into the sweet-smelling grass.

  Insects buzz by me, zipping past my ears as they are stirred by my footsteps.

  I walk until I can’t see the road any more.

  On three sides of me, to my right, my front, and my back, are trees. They form a diorama of sorts, and they also give me easy targets if I can manage to make the energy blasts travel more than ten feet.

  A gust of wind tugs at me, rippling the grass like a rolling ocean of greens and ochres, as I plant my feet on the ground and face the trees. The roadway is to my left, so I will be sure not to aim anything that way.

  There’s a scraggly, dying tree in front of me. Its limbs snake this way and that, twisting up towards the sky. What little leaves it has are all brown. That will be my target.

  “Alright,” I say. “Here goes nothing…”

  I lift my arms up and aim the palms of my hands at the tree.

  Without over-analyzing it too much, I feel the energy pooling in the soft pads of my hands, and I pull my fingers back, spreading my fingers until they are taut, creating a stretched feeling in my hands.

  In an instant a rippling, purple energy appears, pooling at the center of each palm. It looks almost like liquid, but it’s not wet. It’s shimmering, rolling around like a sphere of light. Then, before I can get too good of a look, the spheres shoot out in front of me. They cut through the grass, singeing the ends of the ochre-colored blades, until the blasts of energy evaporate into thin air.

  The force of the blasts is so powerful that when I look down at my shoes I can see that there are tracks coming from my toes where I have been pushed back on the dirt.