Half-Breed

by Zachary Smith

  Chapter 14

  Soot covered and centred between blackened scorched rings, I call his name once more. “Riley!?” Only to hear it replay on the rebound and nothing else.

  Hope quickly turned to panic, I run the length of the warehouse, begging that he’ll be ok. And as I pass the many smouldering desks and boxes my power has touched, I envision his short legs desperately moving at such a speed to keep ahead of the raw destruction my ability can cause, only to be wiped out as it engulfs everything it passes.

  Doubling back on myself, I search every inch of the warehouse only to find nothing. “Riley!” I yell again, straining my voice in the process.

  “Breath Mitchell.” I mutter. One. Two. Three. But still, my heart pounds within my chest, banging on my rib cage with such force I feel as if I’m about to tumble forward. “Again Mitchell!” One. Two. Three. Still, I can’t bring my breathing down to a comfortable level.

  Suddenly, I hear a cough so shallow and weak I can’t be sure whether my mind is playing tricks on me. Again, it sounds and before I can think, I’m climbing the leftover wooden crates stacked by what used to be the adjoining office. “Riley!” I beam, finding his soot-covered body lying behind them.

  Stumbling to his feet in a daze, I steady him as he makes an attempt over the crates, before brushing himself down and groaning when he realises how singed his clothes are. “I knew I shouldn’t have worn my favourite t-shirt.” He mutters through breaths.

  “You did this?” He adds, scanning the warehouse.

  I nod.

  “I knew you had power,” he says shaking his head. “But I didn’t know you had this kind of power.”

  The image of men in white coats flashes in my mind again. And if I were truthful, I wouldn’t blame him. He nearly died, by my hands. He has a right to sections me. Maybe it would be for the best.

  “You’re right! We shouldn’t mess with this again.” I utter.

  “What?” he shoots back. “This is exactly why we should attempt this again.”

  “But I nearly killed you!”

  “If you wanna make an omelette, you gotta break eggs or something… I dunno the saying,” he lectures. “Anyway, your power is immense and I’ll be honest when I say I underestimated it, I didn’t think you were capable of this.” He throws his hands out as if to display the wrecked warehouse. “But now I do know and next time I’ll be more prepared for when we tackle phase three. Together.”

  The serious Riley emerges again, but this time, I don’t care, I’m just glad he’s alive. “Thanks man,” I mumble, to which he smirks. Although I’m never one for giving compliments or expressing my gratitude, I couldn’t help myself. The moment was too real, too close to life and death, but still, he stays here, willing to help me. So the least I could do was thank him.

  “There is one big problem, though,” he worryingly states.

  “What!?” I frantically ask.

  “This place could really do with a tidy up.”

  Arriving at the canteen, I have to pinch myself to check if I’m dreaming, for Riley is already here, sitting at a table scribbling on a sheet of paper. To say I’m surprised is an understatement, as not once since we started college has he ever been on time, and certainly never early. “Good, you’re finally here,” he says before I have a chance to make a joke. “I have our itinerary for next week’s training.”

  I shush him. “Keep it down, what if someone was to hear you?”

  Effortlessly – but noticeably – Riley glances around the canteen, swaying his curls in the process, amidst the sea of people. “Like anyone here would take notice of our conversation. You should know that.”

  He’s right, the students here are far too busy talking in their small clicks, uninterested by the likes of Riley and me. We may as well be faceless mannequins.

  “So, it’s safe to say you’ve grasped how to activate your power,” he confirms. “And throw it, in small doses.”

  Having spent every evening for the last six weeks relentlessly training in the use of my powers at the warehouse, I’ve become somewhat of an expert at turning it off and on, but as Riley states, in small doses only. After losing control the first time, I’ve been holding myself back, scared to tip passed the point of no return. Much to the frustration of Riley, who constantly assures me, he’ll be fine, having built himself a shielded fort out of crates and doors, that he can hide behind just in case I have one of my outbursts.

  “Phase four,” he states, sounding serious again, a side to him I’ve had to become accustomed to. “Power overload.”

  “You want me to purposely overload myself, then try and stop it?” I question.

  “Yes. I think you’re ready.”

  Remembering the strain I felt trying to hold myself together, sends a shiver down by spine. Last time we got lucky, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’ll be tempting fate and playing with fire, quite literally, if we attempt it again. It’s enough to make me refuse outright. “What if that was just the tip of the iceberg? We really have no idea what I’m truly capable of!”

  He pushes the piece of paper before me, it’s a little tatty but readable, with the type of training we’ll be completing on each given day. Only for next week, every day says ‘overload training’ beneath it. “You can’t run away from it forever,” he cautions. “It’ll come up again at some point, you know that.”

  Pulling my hat down to cover my face, I let out a sigh of frustration. “Fine,” I snap. “Next week it is then.”

  “Chill out, Mitch. You shouldn’t worry so much, like me.” He says, leaning back into his chair.

  “I said ok! Now can we please change the subject?” I demand.

  “Sure, how’s it been between you and Matthew??”

  Not the subject change I was looking for, but I’d take anything other than the constant chatter about my power. “Same old,” I reply. “We still hardly speak, but he’s at least started to say hello and goodbye to me now. Sometimes, he’ll even sit at the dining table while I’m there.”

  “Baby steps,” Riley reassures.

  “Yeah, he’ll have to speak to me eventually, right?”

  “Course!” he answers. “He’s your brother, he can’t ignore you forever.”

  Can’t he? Never have we gone this long without speaking, even as kids we could barely make it past two days of ignoring each other. I miss him and his annoying traits. For he’s the only one that truly knows what I’m going through, yet he’s nothing more than a stranger to me now.

  “Hey guys”

  Lost in thought, Riley and I recoil to find Aimee stood beside our table holding the straps of her pink rucksack and pulling them in tight. “Sorry to interrupt your conversation,” she jest, taking a seat beside Riley and causing him to freeze up. “But I have a gymnastics competition this weekend,” her brown eyes lighting up just by mentioning it. “And you guys promised me you’d come and watch, so…”

  The last thing I need is a hall full of people/victims, but she looks to me, scrunching up her petite nose and somehow I find myself agreeing. “Great,” she gushes. “I’ll be performing the balance beam, followed by the vault. The vault being my favourite, I’ve practised it since I was a child. I’m hoping to excel at it, aiming for a top score.”

  Looking as if she can’t stop herself, Aimee continues to explain how a gymnastic competition works, all the while switching between talking at myself, then Riley. And the longer she talks, the more excitable she becomes, making it difficult to understand a word she is saying as she quickens her speech, divulging information at a rate my brain can no longer process. “I’m sorry guys,” she laughs. “I just can’t control myself when a competition comes up. All that hard work I’ve put in can finally be recognised.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say kicking Riley under the table. “We’re looking forward to it.”

  “Yeah.” He says, sitting upright, rigidly.

  “Yay!” she beams, bouncing on her seat. “Here, let’s exchange n
umbers and I’ll send you the deets later.”

  After typing her number into both our mobiles – much to Riley’s delight – she bounds off through the canteen, with her rucksack bouncing up and down behind her.

  “Isn’t she just awesome?” Riley gushes as he watches her disappear into the distance.

  “Riley,” I interrupt, grabbing his attention. “What happens to you when Aimee is around?”

  He tilts his head, hanging it over the back of the chair. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain,” he sighs. “But when she’s around me my body freezes, throat tightens and all my normal thoughts become nothing more than a mess; it’s like my brain has melted away. So I can only see and hear her.”

  I narrow my eyes in on him. “But not speak to her?” I question.

  “Basically.” He confirms. “You’ll understand when you meet a girl you like.”

  I snigger at the very idea, not once have I ever thought about it, but he’s right, at some point, I will be in the same situation as him. “Let’s just hope it isn’t anytime soon.” I quip.

  I reposition myself in bed, desperately trying to get comfortable, but my body is not the problem, it never is. My mind won’t turn off for the night, unable to forget what Riley had said to me at lunch time. You’ll understand when you meet a girl you like. This has normally been the least of my worries, I’ve never really taken notice of any girls from college, the only one I speak to is Aimee, and as cute as she is, I could never keep up with her – not to mention Riley would never speak to me again. “Just sleep.” I mutter.

  But still, my mind won't switch off. The problem isn’t about meeting someone, it’s about what I do after we’ve met. Would I need to tell her about my burden? And even if I choose to, then when? When is the right time to say I can summon fire?

  I groan, flipping my pillow and throw my face into the coolness. Once again it looks as if a sleepless night is ahead of me.

  Cars zip by, filling the once empty car park to the gymnasium. Of course, we just had to get here early, so says Riley. But we arrived to closed doors. I would have come later, I should have, but he wouldn’t have it. “Come on!” he begged, not wanting to miss Aimee performing. “Please can we leave now?” he kept repeating to the point I couldn’t take it anymore and agreed out of exhaustion from his many requests. Which led us to wait, sat on the pavement, watching the performers and other spectators filter in.

  Finally the doors open and within seconds Riley is to his feet, pulling me through the crowd, and in his haste, hits into an old lady. “Excuse me!” she hisses.

  “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, turning a light shade of red.

  Readjusting the strap to her bag, she huffs before storming off with her nose in the air. “Well, that was embarrassing,” I snigger.

  “Well, it wouldn’t have happened if you’d just hurry up.” He barks, pulling on my arm harder than before while treading more carefully.

  The gymnasium itself is an old building situated just outside of town, not far from the college. It’s made of grey stone with white framed windows and large double doors; a beautiful building I’ve come to photograph a few times. But for many years it stood empty, succumbing to the weather in its derelict state. Up until recently when it was renovated into a gymnastic and dance hall, and re-opened to the public. To walk inside is like jumping forward in time, the décor is modern and bright, with a mini arcade sat in the corner of the reception. The only part that has been left from the original build is the marble stairs, elegantly leading up to the second-floor spectator’s area.

  Signing in at reception is Aimee wearing a light grey tracksuit over a cream coloured leotard, with her hair tied back in a ponytail. And upon seeing us, she begins waving hysterically. “You guys made it!” she cheers, throwing her arms around us both.

  Feeling uncomfortable, my arms stay by my side and I lean in awkwardly, keeping the lower part of my body as far away as possible, to avoid a full embrace. I never hug people, especially in public. Although the same cannot be said for Riley who has his eyes closed and a massive grin on his face.

  Finally, she loosens her grip, allowing me to take a step back to my freedom. “Yeah,” I reply, rubbing the back of my neck. “Said we would.”

  “Yay! I’ve just heard I’m up last for both events. I can’t work out if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, what do you think?” She speaks fast again, skipping breaths, and it takes a moment to registry what she’s actually saying. “Either way, I have to give it my all, this is what I’ve been practising for right? I’m so nervous! Do I look it?”

  “No.” I quickly answer, unintentionally matching her pace.

  “Good! Oh, look, it’ll be starting in five minutes, I should really start to prepare.” She turns and bounces off towards her parents. “See you guys after.” She calls out.

  Muddled, I try and get my thoughts in working order again. After trying – unsuccessfully – to keep up with the large amounts of information she gave in such a short space of time.

  “Wow,” murmurs Riley with mellow eyes and the same beaming smile across his face. “That was awesome.”

  I shake my head, pushing him in the direction we need to go. “C’mon Romeo, let’s just find a place to sit.”

  The main hall is open, with high ceilings and seating placed around the outside facing inwards to the centre. We nab a couple of seats at the front, facing the run up to the vault, with a clear view of the landing spot. And it’s not long before the rest of the spectators trickle in, claiming the last few remaining seats.

  Next up, the gymnastics stroll in one by one with a wave as their name is called out, with Aimee being last to join the rest of the performers. “There she is,” whispers Riley as he nudges my side.

  And it’s not long before she notices us in the crowd, sending a little wink our way.

  “She sees us.” He adds, nudging me again, this time, harder.

  “Riley! I know.” I snap. “I don’t need a running commentary.” The burning feeling hits the pit of my stomach, and I close my eyes to shut out my surroundings, focusing on the movement of my chest until the feeling fades. If only it were that easy when I overload.

  The competition has already started by the time I am able to take it all in. Each performer completes their turn on the apparatus, then they wait until the next event. Finally, it’s Aimee’s go, and she performs the balance beam with such a calmed discipline – the complete opposite to her normal erratic self – I forget I’m watching her.

  Next up is the vault, Aimee’s favourite, and I can see why. The amount of control each performer shows is captivating, especially when they power towards it at such a speed. Standing by the starting line, Aimee stretches and shakes out her legs. Now in position, she waits for the beep, while keeping her focus forward.

  Nearly falling off the edge of his seat, Riley grips the armrest in anticipation. “Here she goes.”

  Aimee begins her run and furiously swings her arms, increasing her speed greatly as she glares at her target – the springboard. The focus in her face is intense, she looks like a completely different person, from the jolly smiling girl I’ve come to know, to a wild creature, ready to pounces on her prey. She then leaps into a cartwheel, hitting the springboard with a thud and flips over the platform with her arms in tight. The routine is executed so well, it looks as if her body is naturally gliding through the air, until she slams down onto the mat unevenly and wobbles to the side, causing the audience to gasp in unison. That’s when I notice her eyes, for a split second in her recovery they flicker from her natural brown to pure white, then back again. If anyone else was to have seen it, they would’ve shrugged it off as the light reflecting, or their mind playing tricks on them, but not me, I know what I saw. But it’s not only that, on her face, I can see she knows what she’s just done, her once focused look now replaced with one that is panicked, sketchy, and she forces the crowd a quick smile before running backstage.

  “Poor Aimee,” Riley
frets. “I hope that doesn’t ruin her chances.”

  He obviously didn’t notice, otherwise, he would’ve said something the second she landed, loud enough for the whole hall to hear. Unable to take my eyes off the empty mat, I debate whether I should confront her, expose her secret, and mine in the process. But I really have no idea what I’m dealing with, the use of whatever power she has was so fast I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. She could be much more powerful than me, or worse, even more unstable.

  Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed Riley standing directly in front of me, until he repeatedly calls my name, grabbing my attention.

  “Yes?” I flatly answer.

  “Want anything from the vending machines?”

  “No.” I shoot back, looking passed him to the backstage doors.

  “You sure? I’m buying.”

  “I said no.” I snap, unable to think straight with his constant chatter.

  “Geez, someone needs to lighten up a bit.” He grumbles as he walks away.

  Maybe I should just leave and confront her another time, but I already know I won’t unless I don’t do it now. So before I let myself overthink it, I push myself from the seat and walk to the backstage area, trying to convince myself not to turn back as I manoeuvre between the chairs. Aimee is a nice person, one of few I am able to have a conversation with, surely she can’t be evil? Hesitantly, I push on the door leading to the backstage hallway, which looks more like a storage room, with chairs stacks on top of each other and unused equipment. Aimee, with glazed eyes, stands in the first doorway which leads to a small room with a mirror, standing lamp and tatty old grey sofa in it. “Mitchell,” she groans. “I’m so disappointed in myself.”

  In my mission to confront her, I’d completely forgotten she is just an ordinary girl, who’d just choked in front of a hall full of people. She sulkily walks away from me and flops onto the sofa with her face planted into the cushions. Uncertain of my next move, I stay in the doorway, silent enough to make her look at me in wonder. “Are you ok?” She asks.

  “I know what you are!” I blurt out.

  She recoils, probably from my shock outburst, pushing herself up from the sofa. “I don’t understand what you mean?” she frets with a quiver in her voice.

  “You used an ability, a power, whatever you want to call it when you landed.”

  Her mouth drops in disbelief and she looks as if she’s about to cry. “Oh no,” she frets, grabbing the sofa with both hands tightly, turning her knuckles a white that matches her eyes.

  I know this panic, I’ve lived it, she’s losing control of her powers, and once again I’m the cause. The sofa begins to rattle under her, and I know I have no hope in getting away fast enough. Even if I could, would it be fair for me to leave everyone else in the destruction that is coming after I was the one to light the fuse? Either way, it’s too late now, my decision has been made for me. So I close my eyes, remaining with her, awaiting my fate that could end all this, and part of me welcomes it.