by Wid Bastian
This place doesn’t look so bad Mom, Neron said in his mind. It’s more like paradise than hell.
As they walked across the city Neron noticed all sorts of buildings, “Ministries” of this and that and “Departments” of such and such. He imagined them to be run by people who looked at video screens all day and typed letters and made important decisions. He had never seen so many healthy, smiling people in one place before.
He saw people of all color and creeds; people he had read about only in history books. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get from place to place. Neron heard them speaking many different languages. All he knew was English, but he knew people spoke using different forms of communication.
Above him, military planes were flying in formation and landing at an airfield that had to be very close by. Was this where the troops came from to defend the colonies? It must be.
Why doesn’t everyone live like this? Neron asked himself.
“We’re here, son,” Major Gorman said. “Welcome to H-TEC.”
The building looked brand new, as if they had just completed it yesterday. The entryway was done in brick and there was a beautiful fountain in the front. When they walked in it was obvious they were expected. A greeting party of five men and three women were waiting for Neron and the major.
“He’s early,” an older man, stocky and dark haired said. Neron sensed he was the person in charge.
“Neron was unwilling to stay in the hospital any longer. We thought it best to bring him here now,” Gorman answered.
“You don’t like hospitals, Neron?” the stocky man asked.
Immediately Neron sensed power in this man. Not tremendous physical or even mental power, but greatness nonetheless. This was a person to be respected, someone with wisdom.
“No sir,” Neron responded demurely.
“Can’t say as I blame you. You’re healthy anyway. Doctors are a necessary evil, nothing more.”
“I’ll tell Dr. Lazzari you send your regards,” Gorman said, laughing.
“Son, can you really turn the beasts into powder?” the stocky man asked.
“Evidently. I think so at least. I don’t really remember,” Neron admitted.
“Fascinating. Your hand, son. Tell me about your hand.”
“Not much to tell. It just sort of appeared when The Plague attacked New Fairbanks. I used it to kill them that much I do know.”
“He is unusual, Major. I hope he is everything we believe him to be.”
“Neron,” Gorman said as he handed him a plastic card. “Use this on the com system to reach me. Contact me day or night if you need anything. I’ll always answer when you call.”
“Thanks, I guess,” Neron said meekly. “What’s your name?” Neron asked the stocky man.
“Everyone calls me Nebo.”
“I have a question for you, Nebo,” Neron said.
“I may answer it.”
“Can I get hamburgers here?”
Chapter Twenty Six
Neron’s living quarters were larger than his family’s whole apartment back home. Unlike the other kids at the school, or at least the few he’d met so far, Neron did not have a roommate. His flat came equipped with a refrigerator, which was fully stocked at all times, a large soft bed, a sofa, chairs and tables and a huge video monitor. Clothes were provided as well; several of the light blue uniforms he assumed he was required to wear during school hours and an assortment of casual attire. He guessed they took the correct measurements for his clothes when he was in the hospital.
For a couple of days, Neron was given some time to adjust. He met with a lady who called herself a counselor. After giving Neron a series of tests she spoke with him. She listened more than she talked. Neron really needed someone to listen.
Miss Wells, the counselor, was a pretty, petite twenty five year old recently graduated psychologist. She was selected to be Neron’s confidant by the military hierarchy who were closely monitoring every aspect of Neron’s new life. Neron detected no guile in Miss Wells and he was right – although she was handpicked by the generals, they gave her no agenda other than to help Neron, to befriend him in a professional sense. Miss Wells was not aware that all of her conversations with Neron were being recorded and since she didn’t know, Neron could not detect any fear or anxiety in her that would make him suspicious.
Neron told Miss Wells all about his life in New Fairbanks. He described for her just how much he missed his mother and his sister and how sad he was they were taken from him. He also shared with her how he felt about what was going on inside his body. He was changing, becoming something else and improving. These changes both bolstered his confidence and tempered his sadness.
Neron’s most immediate concern was his right arm. Miss Wells looked at it and agreed with the very sensible precaution that had already been taken – Neron’s hand was wrapped in leather that three chrome buckles attached to his arm. The tips on the glove had a silver coating that prevented his fingers from sliding out the front. Since Neron was a natural left hander, he could still do things like eat, get dressed and write with his left hand, but tasks like typing and bathing proved to be a bit more cumbersome.
“What’s the black circle on your palm?” Miss Wells asked.
“I don’t know. It sounds dumb, but sometimes it itches,” Neron answered.
“I think you are a very important person, Neron. Do you like being important?”
“Not especially.” Neron hesitated for a second and then added, “I don’t like it at all.”
“Why not?” Miss Wells asked.
“My mother always warned me about being a special person. She didn’t like the government very much. She believed ‘special people’ were the ones the government sacrificed to The Plague.”
“What do you mean ‘sacrificed’?”
“These are her words Doctor, not mine, but I think she was talking about my father.”
“You miss your mom and sister, I know.”
“I try not to think about it too much. I can’t help it though. I still can’t quite believe they’re dead.”
“While it won’t be the same, you’ll make new friends here. The children at the school… They are like you in some ways. They have gifts too. You are all here to be protected, not sacrificed. It’s a miracle you survived, Neron.”
“Was it? A miracle I mean? It didn’t feel like a miracle.”
“What? The battle?” Miss Wells asked.
“Yeah, I remember more about it now. I know why the military is so interested in me. I can kill The Plague with this thing,” Neron said, holding up his right hand. “Or at least I could at New Fairbanks.”
“Take everything one step at a time, Neron. No one will rush you or make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I know you believe that, Miss Wells. You’re a nice lady.”
“Thanks. I like you too, Neron.” Miss Wells’ timer buzzed. Their session was over. “Ready to go see the school?” she asked.
“Sure, why not. Time to meet all the other freaks.”
“Neron,” Miss Wells scolded. “You are not a freak and neither are the other students. I know you’re -.”
“It was a joke Miss Wells.”
“Be careful what you joke about, Neron. Off you go then. See you next week.”
With that Neron left Miss Wells’ office and walked the short distance back to the school. Instead of taking the elevator up to his new living space, he kept walking down the hall toward the main entrance of H-TEC. Major Gorman was waiting for him.
“How are you?’ the major asked.
Increasingly Neron was becoming wary of Major Gorman – perhaps more irritated than wary. Mr. Aoky, Neron’s gym teacher back home, called guys like Gorman a “kiss ass”. They were always trying to gain favor with you. The main thing Aoky said about kiss asses was they could not be trusted.
“Let’s go inside. I hear they’ve got a target ball court. I’d love to play some ball,” Neron said.
The first level of the school consisted of classrooms and administrative offices. As Neron walked by he saw first graders, then pre-teens then a class full of kids a year or two older than him. Everyone, regardless of age, had on the same light blue uniforms. None of the kids broke rank to look over at him as he and Major Gorman passed. There was no talking or fidgeting in class and this made Neron feel strange. It seemed to him the kids were almost sitting at attention, their backs straight and eyes forward.
After the classrooms, Neron and Gorman passed through another set of double doors and entered the administrative offices. The expressions on the staff’s faces were very matter of fact. A few nodded to the major as they passed, but no one smiled. Neron wondered if anybody in this place ever laughed or kidded around.
Major Gorman knocked on the door at the end of a long hallway lined with plaques of merit. “Come,” was the response from the other side.
Nebo sat behind a huge wooden desk. Neron thought it had to be a hundred years old. It was made of a beautiful, dark wood and polished to perfection. Everything in Nebo’s office was arranged with precision and there was not a speck of dust to be found anywhere. On one side of Nebo’s office was a huge window overlooking the city. On the other side were rows and rows of pictures. Neron found this very odd because people almost never printed pictures on paper; they just looked at them on video screens.
“Ah, the prodigal son has graced our presence. I’m glad you’re here. Are you ready to begin your new life?” Nebo said this without looking up. He was busy organizing some papers on his desk.
“What’s a ‘prodigal son’?” Neron asked.
Nebo laughed, which made Neron feel a whole lot better. At least someone around here had a sense of humor. “That would be you, Neron. To say we’re anxious to see what you’re capable of doing would be the understatement of the century.”
“Who is ‘we’?” Neron asked.
“Alright kid. Let’s cut the crap. You know why you’re here. You killed over two hundred and fifty of the nasties at New Fairbanks before you passed out. We’ve got some grainy video showing you taking that right hand of yours and turning the infected into dust. No one else alive can do that.”
“I see,” Neron said condescendingly. “I guess that makes me special then.”
“You don’t like me much, do ya kid?” Nebo shot back.
“I don’t trust you. I don’t know you either. I don’t know anyone here.”
“You remind me so much of your father. Come over here for a second.” Nebo got up and walked over to his wall of pictures. “I took this picture myself. It’s been thirty five years. Recognize this man?”
Neron did recognize him, instantly. It was his father as a young boy. He’d seen pictures of him before.
“How well did you know my dad?” Neron asked.
“We were close friends. I was with him the day he died.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
“So you’re the new guy everyone’s yappin’ about,” an enthusiastic kid about Neron’s age said as he walked into room A-4. His purple spiky hair was perfectly manicured, but his one piece uniform was stained and sloppy. Despite his attempt to give off an “I don’t care” impression, it was obvious that he did. Not wanting to cause a scene Neron simply nodded.
“Word is you’re the baddest of all the bad asses,” the kid continued as he walked around Neron, sizing him up.
“I don’t know what I am, but my name is Neron. What’s yours?”
“Alexander Damien Murphy, but you can call me Dash.”
“Why ‘Dash’?” Neron asked inquisitively.
“Lets just say I’m quick. You’ll see. What’s your nickname?”
“How about ‘Superpunk’? That fits him,” another boy said, interrupting the conversation.
“Zip it Cenik,” Dash said. “You always gotta be flexing, always gotta be tough. Give it a rest.”
“You’re a skinny little runt,” Cenik said, reaching up to place one of his massive hands on Neron’s shoulder. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. People say you’re a killer. You don’t look like a killer to me.” Cenik lunged forward.
Neron wasn’t impressed. He deflected Cenik’s attack, sending him spinning in the opposite direction. Closing the distance between them, Neron grabbed Cenik’s arm and pinned him to the desk. Cenik’s blood started to rush - he countered and Neron reacted, dodging Cenik’s attempt to grab him.
Dash thought the abbreviated wrestling match was hilarious, as did the other kids. Cenik was the only one in the room who was not amused.
“Think you’ve got it goin’ on huh, Superpunk? We’ll see. Tonight at the -.”
Cenik stopped talking, Neron released him and Cenik moved quickly back to his desk. All the other students did the same. Mr. Bissell had entered the classroom.
“Recreation time is not until after fourth hour, Mr. Caldwell. Neron is new here, but I expect better from you. Horseplay in my classroom? That’ll cost you three hours of detention, Mr. Caldwell. Immediately after school.”
“I’ll be joining him in detention, sir,” Neron said, stepping up. “Being new is no excuse. I provoked Mr. Caldwell.”
“My, my. What is this? Leadership on display? Alright Neron, you may join Mr. Caldwell for detention. You’re both on janitor duty. Now, if you two don’t mind, we have mathematics to study. I realize it’s not nearly as exciting as combat, but math is a required part of your curriculum nonetheless.”
Looking over at Cenik, Neron noticed markings on his body. They were something like tattoos or maybe even intricate birthmarks and they were pulsing, lighting up like a firefly. Cenik’s face was bright red too.
“You embarrassed him,” Dash whispered to Neron as Mr. Bissell began preparing his podium for the day’s lecture. “I loved it and so did everyone else, well everyone but Cenik…Hey, by the way, what’s up with your hand?”
Neron had his leather glove on, but his palm was exposed. The black aura was throbbing, pulsing like a dull strobe light.
Mr. Bissell heard the whispering, but before he could single out Dash for chastisement, Dash jumped back into his seat.
“Alright then. We were discussing differential equations. Have you completed….”
^^^^^^
“These rooms need to be cleaned. They are mostly used for storage, but I have not had the time to tidy them up. I’m so glad you boys volunteered,” the janitor said. “Just put everything back on the shelves, wipe down the surfaces and mop the floors. I’ll be back in three hours. If you finish and do a good job, I’ll sign your detention slip and you’ll be done.”
“Yes sir,” Neron said with a smile. “We’ll do a good job.”
Cenik just glared at the janitor and didn’t say a word.
The janitor left. Neron and Cenik began to pick up the scattered boxes on the floor and arrange them properly on the shelves.
“You did well on the matt this afternoon,” Cenik said without making eye contact.
“Thanks. I have a tough time grappling with this arm, but I tried to hang in there.” The truth was Neron went easy on Cenik and while he made it look good, he let Cenik pin him twice.
“Thanks for doing detention with me. I didn’t want to do it solo. I get sent here a lot. The counselors tell me I kind of have anger issues.” Cenik said.
“No sweat. I’ve been sent to detention more than a few times. I get it,” Neron said.
“You? You don’t seem like a troublemaker, just the opposite,” Cenik said as Neron helped him lift an awkward sized box.
“I’ll bet I’ve been punished for misbehavior more than you,” Neron said.
“I’m always on their problem list; can’t seem to shake the reputation.”
“Where are you from?” Neron asked.
“The North Sea Islands,” Cenik answered. “We heard you were from Alaska.”
“Yea, New Fairbanks.”
“We saw video and listened to the reports. Hey, I’m not very good at sayin
g stuff like this but I’m sorry, Neron. I can’t imagine what you went through.”
Neron stopped working and looked at Cenik. He realized right then he’d made his first real friend since Shayla.
“Have you ever been attacked by The Plague?” Neron asked.
“Not in the islands. But I know what colony life is all about. A lot of the kids here, they come from a privileged background, but I can relate to living a hard life that’s for sure.”