Aberrant Trilogy 1: Super Charged

by Franklin Kendrick

  “Thanks, Mom,” I say and turn to head out of the kitchen.

  Mae gives Mom a small wave.

  “It’s really nice to see you again, Mrs. Boding,” she says.

  “The same to you, Mae,” says Mom, her tone lifting. “You need to stop by more often. I would like that a lot.”

  “I will,” says Mae, and then she follows me up the staircase to Dad’s study.

  24

  Costume

  Dad’s study is exactly the way that he left it. Mom couldn’t move things around even if she wanted to. The memories are too painful. With every box that needs to be gone through, at least fifty memories will be unearthed. So, the easy solution is to just leave things where they are and pretend that they aren’t there.

  The study has bay windows at one end where my father’s desk overlooks the street outside. He couldn’t do work facing a wall. He always said that he needed the light and the distraction of commotion outside.

  The desk itself is an old wooden thing that was hand-carved. A gift from Grandpa. I reach beneath the underside of the desk and feel the etching of our names on the bottom of the right-hand lip.

  I pull my hand back suddenly, as if it has been zapped.

  Mom has the right idea when she says that she won’t go through any of this stuff. It is truly painful to look through.

  But, after the incident at the office, I have no choice.

  I need answers to my questions, and I need to look for that shard of the Vestige. It’s paramount that I get it back in one piece and find a strategy to keep it safe.

  Hopefully Bill Flagrant doesn’t figure out where I live - or more specifically, where Mom lives. A shudder travels down my spine and I stop for a moment. Mae notices.

  “What’s the matter?” she asks.

  I shake my head.

  “Just thinking about Flagrant,” I say. “I hope he doesn’t know where I live.”

  “I think it would be tough for him to find out,” says Mae. “Didn’t the publishing house put a bunch of false addresses in the books? P.O. Boxes and stuff like that?”

  “Yeah,” I say, remembering that now. My imagination was getting away from me. “Still. I shouldn’t have told him who I was.”

  “Do you know how many Bodings there are in this city?” says Mae, an eyebrow raised. “I think you’re fine for now as long as you don’t go broadcasting yourself. Now, let’s focus and see if we can find that shard and anything that will help you out with these powers.”

  We attack a bunch of cardboard file boxes in the corner, going through the pages. These are mostly outlines for story arcs and character sketches, which prove to be not so useful. I don’t have much luck finding the shard of the Vestige either, even though I look through tons of envelopes and packets. However, we do find more sketches of The Drone, and the resemblance to Bill Flagrant is uncanny. There’s no question that he has to be the inspiration for the character.

  I jot down some notes in my notebook, intending to look through the comic books this week and write down anything having to do with The Drone that I come across. Maybe there are some weaknesses in there that I forgot about.

  Most of my father’s notes consist of questions.

  I am finding more questions here than answers.

  His mind seems to work like mine, asking things and working the answers out on his own. The problem is that the answers must have been written down elsewhere because his free flow notes are mainly strings of questions that he needs to solve for his outlines.

  Who is The Drone? asks one question. What is his motivation? Vengeance? Power?

  Vengeance is interesting to me. Vengeance for what?

  How did he know my father?

  I jot down that lead and then look onwards.

  There aren’t too many more leads in all these notes, and we barely make it through two boxes before a few hours have slipped by. We didn’t find the shard of the Vestige either, but I need to be back at the train station on time or I’ll be late for school in the morning.

  I am just putting the cardboard boxes back when Mae pulls a lid off one last box and exclaims, “Oh my goodness. What do we have here?”

  I turn to look at her and watch as she pulls out a tiny safety lock box. It looks heavy.

  She glances at me, nodding.

  “Maybe there’s something in here that can help us?” she says. “Do you think it’s hiding the missing piece of the Vestige?”

  I shrug.

  “Could be,” I say. “Hopefully. Whatever it is, it has to be important because it’s locked.”

  I examine the box closely. It’s all black and dusty. The funny thing about it is that instead of a traditional lock, there is an indent the size and shape of the Vestige encased in a rotating circle.

  I pull out the Vestige and hold it up to the lock. As I suspected, it fits perfectly, aside from the missing piece.

  “Your dad was full of secrets,” says Mae.

  With three twists of the Vestige, the lock turns and snaps open.

  I don’t find the missing piece of the Vestige in the box, but what I do find is something that I never thought I would see. The sleek black finish of Super Guy’s visor catches the light and glints.

  I pick it up and marvel at how light it is. But, it still feels like it was built with quality.

  “Where do you think it came from?” I ask, examining the visor.

  “It had to be something your dad made,” says Mae. “If not, then he must have had someone else make it. Some company. Are there any markings on it?”

  I feel around the edges of the visor’s tinted glass. At first there’s nothing. I’m about to say that the thing is completely smooth when my fingers run across some embossed markings.

  Turning the visor so that it shines in the light, I make out tiny words etched into the right wing.

  “Spire Tech,” I read aloud. I glance up at Mae. “Have you ever heard of it?”

  She shrugs.

  “Beats me,” she says. “We’ll have to look it up later. Is there anything else?”

  I feel around the wings of the visor and find a groove. When I press down on the groove it clicks inward and the inside of the glasses lights up with glowing blue words and symbols. Meters that monitor energy levels and GPS coordinates.

  One more thing from my father’s comic books is now a reality.

  As I put the glasses on I wonder how many more things I will find as I get deeper and deeper into this episode.

  “What does it look like?” asks Mae, leaning towards me. She can’t help but smile with anticipation as I look around.

  “It feels like some virtual reality gear,” I say. “I can read the symbols clearly.” I blink a few times, looking further into the room. “My focus keeps shifting. It’s like the visor is predicting what I’m looking at, and adjusting the text and meters on the screen to be unobtrusive.”

  “That is so cool!” says Mae. She’s in love with gadgets like that. I think she would sign up for shop class and metal working every semester if she could. “Can I see?”

  I take off the visor and hand it to her. She puts it on eagerly and marvels at how it all looks.

  “This is incredible,” she says. “Do you think it’s old? Or something your father had made more recently?”

  “I can’t imagine something like this would exist even five years ago,” I say. “It has to be recent.” I go over the name of the company in my mind, muttering it aloud to solidify it in my memory. “Spire Tech…”

  Mae clicks the power on the side of the visor and takes it off.

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” she says.

  I look at her, my eyebrows raised.

  “No. What does it mean?”

  “It means you need to pick out a super hero name for yourself. If you’re going to wear this visor, you need to have a name to go along with it.”

  “I could just use Super Guy,” I say, but Mae scoffs.

  “That is so cliche, it’s unbel
ievable.” She shakes her head. “No. You need to come up with something original. Something that describes you in a single word - or even two words.” There’s a glimmer in her eye as she looks far off, smiling. “I’d call myself Mecha.”

  I laugh.

  “Of course you would,” I say. “You’re always cutting meal apart, ripping wires out of things, and repurposing them. That makes total sense.”

  She hands me the visor and I look it over once more before folding it up and setting it down on the desk in front of us. I’m at a loss for my own self. I can’t find a few words that describe me as I am with super powers. Dad made it look so easy in his comic books. I would just steal one of those names, but Mae will not let me.

  I need to be original.

  I rub my chin as I ponder.

  “Are you coming up with something amazing?” Mae asks, but I shake my head.

  “I don’t know if I can come up with something just about me,” I say. “I don’t have many unique qualities. Most of them come from Super Guy. I mean, he could shoot energy and he could definitely fly. I don’t want to steal all the things that my father came up with.”

  “But, what if you put all those things into consideration?” asks Mae. “You don’t have to forget what came before, but you can memorialize it. Think of your father like an explosion. He writes these books, then he just explodes onto the scene. He’s gone now, but you’re left in his wake. You’re the fallout.”

  Something clicks in my brain.

  “That’s it,” I say.

  Mae raises her eyebrows. “Hmm?” she says.

  “Fallout,” I say. “That will be my superhero name. Just Fallout. I’m not as powerful as the first blast, but I’m just as dangerous.” I raise my hands up mischievously at Mae, and she ducks behind the table.

  “Stop it!” she laughs. “You can’t make jokes like that!”

  I laugh back at her, moving my hand around to follow her. It’s completely relaxed, so nothing will happen. But, it’s getting her going.

  “Why can’t I?” I ask.

  Mae stutters.

  “Because,” she says at last, straightening up as I lower my hand. She brushes her hair out of her face. “Well,” she continues. “I’d say we’ve found a lot more than we bargained for. But, at least you’ve got the visor to work with. Maybe it will help you with controlling your powers. You need to do more experimenting.”

  “You’re giving me even more homework now?” I whine, but Mae smiles at me.

  “It’s your medallion,” she says. “What good is it if you don’t know how to fully use it?”

  I groan.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice if my dad just left me a book with instructions?” I ask as Mae leads the way down the hall and back towards the stairs. I tuck the visor into my pocket. “He could have spelled it out for me, at least.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Mae replies and we head down into towards the kitchen.

  25

  Distant Memories

  Back in the kitchen my mom is still reading on her tablet.

  I linger outside the doorway, trying to come up with a way to bring up Bill Flagrant without being over the top. If I lead in with Flagrant, maybe I can get a feel for if Mom knows about the Vestige or not. If she doesn’t know, it’s better if she stays ignorant in case someone comes looking for it when I’m not here. If I can’t defend her, then she will be helpless against someone with a weapon.

  I decide to pull out my phone and am thankful to see a news story on the search engine about the attempted robbery at the publishing house this afternoon. Reporters are fast here.

  “Hey, Mom,” I say as I step into the room. She looks up. “Does the name Bill Flagrant ring any bells for you?”

  She sets down her tablet and places her hands flat on her lap.

  “Bill Flagrant?” she says. She thinks for a moment. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. Your father and I went to school with a Bill Flagrant. Where did you hear that name?”

  I hold out my phone.

  “He tried to rob the publishing house this afternoon,” I say.

  Mom grips the phone tightly and brings it close to her face, scrolling through the news story with interest.

  “Oh my goodness…” she says. “When in the world did he get out of prison?”

  “Prison?” I ask, my ears perking up. “He was in jail?”

  “As far as I remember…” she continues, scrolling through the article. “Yes, I was right. He just got out of prison. Wow. I remember, now.” She blinks a few times, shaking her head. “That was, what? Twenty years ago? Time flies.”

  She hands me back the phone.

  “Do you remember anything about him?” I ask, probing for information. “Besides that he went to school with you? Did he ever hang out with you?”

  “I never really hung out with him,” she says. “Your father used to be good friends with him back in the early years of high school. I never liked him, to be honest. He was creepy. We hadn’t even graduated when Flagrant was arrested for suspected murder. None of us really believed it. He was such a quiet kid. I remember he kept to himself. But, you just never know.”

  I think it would be too suspicious to take notes in front of my mom, so I keep mental ones, cataloging the info as quickly as I can. So, Flagrant was in prison, and he went to school with my dad. These are the things I couldn’t get from his writing notes. The puzzle pieces were starting to fall into place.

  “Who did he murder?” I ask.

  “His stepfather, if I’m not mistaken,” Mom answers. “It was so shocking. I guess I didn’t realize how much I forced myself to forget such a traumatic event.”

  “That’s normal, isn’t it?” I say. “Our minds work like that…suppressing traumatic memories.” I fold my arms. “Who would have thought that someone Dad was friends with would end up becoming a murderer?” The idea sends chills down my arms. I couldn’t believe that I barely escaped such a man by inches, even as he waved a gun in my face. I was very lucky.

  Mom shakes her head.

  “I don’t know,” she says. “He was very torn up about it. They were pretty close.” She makes a tisking noise as she looks at the article on her tablet. “And the police didn’t catch him?” she asks.

  I shake my head.

  I know what I have to ask, but I don’t want to be on the nose about it. So, I try to slip in the question as gently as possible.

  “Would he have any reason to come looking for you?” I ask.

  Mom sits up, giving me a wide-eyed stare.

  “Why would he come looking for me?”

  I unfold my arms and shove my hands into my pockets, looking to Mae who stands not far behind me in the doorway.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe he would come looking for people he used to know.”

  This suggestion causes Mom to raise her eyebrows and press her lips together.

  “I highly doubt he would come looking for me,” she says. “Like I said, we barely knew each other. The person he was close to was your father. There’s no chance he can get in touch with him now unless it’s at the cemetery.”

  Mom’s answer gives me relief. I won’t feel bad leaving her by herself now since Bill Flagrant wouldn’t come looking for her.

  I smile.

  “If he wants to leave flowers, he’s welcome to,” I say. “I’m sure Dad won’t mind.”

  Then I walk over to Mom and lean down to kiss her on the forehead.

  “I need to get going. I don’t want to miss my train back. Grandpa will kill me if I am late for school in the morning.”

  “It’s nice to see you taking things seriously,” says Mom with a smile. She reaches out and ruffles my hair. “Maybe I’ll come up a few days early and spend some time in Maine with you all. Some time at the lake might do me some good.”

  “It could do us all some good,” I say.

  Behind me, Mae reaches out and tugs at my shirt.

  “We really have to g
o,” she says.

  I start out of the kitchen.

  “Well, I’ll see you when I see you,” I say, turning to leave.

  Before I get out of the kitchen doorway, however, Mom speaks out.

  “I love you, Shaun,” she says.

  I pause, feeling some happiness return to me after such a long time.

  “I love you, too,” I say. Then Mae ushers me back to the train station.

  26

  The Train

  “Remember what you need to do,” says Mae over the bustling of the train station. “Lay low, and practice your powers when you can.”

  I smirk. “I don’t think it will be too hard to lay low in the middle of the woods,” I say.

  Still, Mae is serious.

  “Just make sure that nobody spots you. There’s a reason that super heroes have costumes and secret identities. If someone finds out what the Vestige is capable of, they will come for it, which means that they will have to come through you. You may be able to fly, but you’re not fast enough to dodge a speeding bullet.”

  I sigh. “It’s a shame that I can’t,” I say. That would have been a great power to have. But, I’ll have to make do with the two that I’ve been granted. Energy blasts and flight are more than enough to come to grips with. “And what about you?” I ask.

  “I will be working on your shoes,” she says. “So, whenever you practice, make sure you do it barefoot. I’ll come up to Maine next weekend and we can make sure that these things all work.”

  I nod.

  “It seems silly to do all this preparation,” I say. “What am I preparing for, besides Bill Flagrant? Nobody else should know about the Vestige.”

  “Bill Flagrant is a criminal,” says Mae. “I wouldn’t underestimate him. Haven’t you seen what ordinary people can do to cause terror? Imagine Flagrant with the Vestige.”

  A shiver runs down my spine and I straighten up. She’s right. It’s not a small thing I’m working to defend myself against.