by C. G. Cooper
“Benjamin Dragon - Legacy”
Book 2 of The Chronicles of Benjamin Dragon
Copyright © 2015 C. G. Cooper. All Rights Reserved
Author: C. G. Cooper
Editor: Karen Rought
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This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, locations and events are all products of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to actual events or real persons are completely coincidental.
Any unauthorized reproduction of this work is strictly prohibited.
Dedications
To Sir William C.: Thanks for your inspiration and your amazing enthusiasm for life. Keep reading like only Coopers can. I hope that one day you’ll join the ranks of crazy writers like your uncle.
To all the kids out there, young and old, short and tall, skinny and not so skinny: Enjoy life. Play without worrying about how you look doing it. Laugh a lot. Read until your eyes go blurry. Help a friend. And most of all, remember that we can all fly in our dreams.
To the Novels Live team: You inspire me at every turn. Thank you for being part of this awesome journey.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 1
Alone Again
The house was still, quiet, like someone had sucked out all the air and put dead space there instead. It even had that stale smell of a place where the AC hadn’t been on all day. Weird. No notes from my mom or dad. That was really weird. Even when they went to work they left me something like, Be home late, or, Save some pizza for me and don’t forget to tip.
My parents work a lot but they’re pretty cool. I mean, it’s not like I get into trouble. Well, at least that’s what they think.
I’m ten years old, but I’m two grades ahead of kids my age in school. That wasn’t my idea. It was my parents’ and the people at the school district. I still get my homework done fast, and my teachers try to treat me like I’m one of the others, but sometimes I hate it.
Some nights I pray that I could just be a normal kid with normal parents. Like I said, I like my parents, I love them, but they’re both successful (mom’s a big shot lawyer and dad’s a consultant) and good looking. You know, that kind of good looking where kids in your class make jokes about how hot your mom is or how cute your dad is? Yeah, that’s what I get to deal with. Maybe I’ll look like them one day, but for now I’m a fish out of water – too small, too smart, and, of course, there’s that other thing.
But I wasn’t really thinking about all that just then. Like I said, my parents were MIA, “missing in action.” After I turned the air conditioning on, every time it kicked into gear I thought it was the garage opener, and once I bolted for the door. Minutes turned into hours and still no word. I tried texting, then calling, and still nothing. I can take care of myself, so that wasn’t the problem, but recent events made me wonder if my other life had somehow affected my parents. Not cool.
There were people I could call, but I didn’t want to be a baby. Maybe Mom and Dad were having some “adult time.” I knew what that meant even though they assumed I didn’t. I’m ten, not stupid. But they always planned stuff like that way in advance so I could have a babysitter or go over to one of my few friends’ houses.
I thought about calling Nathan, my best friend who’d just been through the craziest time in my life with me, and somehow still wanted to hang out, but I remembered he was out of town with his parents. It was the end of the summer, so a lot of people were gone, trying to use up the last inches of summer left on the calendar. Same thing with Emily.
I tried my dad’s phone again. Nothing. Same with my mom’s.
By the time it started getting dark, I was getting panicky, kind of like getting shut in the janitor’s closet at school and left there by bullies until someone finally found you curled up in a ball, tears soaking your clothes. That happened to me once, two schools ago.
Video games couldn’t keep my mind occupied and I wasn’t hungry even though the fridge and pantry were stocked with every food I loved. I turned on the television and started flipping through channels. Nothing caught my interest. I went to what we had recorded and I settled on The Sound of Music, for no other reason than it reminded me of Mom. She used to sing me all the songs when I was a kid, especially when I couldn’t sleep or when I was sick. Doe, a deer, a female deer. Re, a drop of golden sun…
When I woke up the television had somehow switched to an infomercial, something about getting white clothes whiter than white. My phone said it was 3:17am. I didn’t remember falling asleep.
The lights were still on, but I’d left them that way. Dad always said that lights kept crooks away. I wasn’t sure about that, but then again, I was alone and it couldn’t hurt, right?
After a quick bathroom break and a snack of cheese and dill pickles (I know it sounds gross, but you should try it), I grabbed a fluffy blanket and took up my position on the couch. At least if I stayed downstairs I would be there when my parents got home.
But an hour later they weren’t there, and my stomach started to hurt. I wondered if what I had done, if what I’d found out about myself, had somehow gotten to my parents. What if they were hurt?
For a second I wondered if they’d just left me, figuring that life without a freak kid was better. No. They wouldn’t do that. Even though my mom still called me Benji instead of Benjamin, like I wanted, I knew I was one of the most important things in their lives. They told me that all the time, and I believed them.
No, if anything had happened, it was because I’d started some scary chain of events, like lighting a dynamite fuse and not having the time to put it out. It had to be my fault. It just had to.
I put the TV on mute and covered my face with my hands. Don’t cry, I told myself. Everything’s gonna be okay.
But everything wasn’t okay. I was alone and my parents were, well, gone. That word, GONE, started repeating itself in my head like a hammer that begins tapping and then turns into a thundering BOOM BOOM BOOM.
GONE, GONE, GONE, it went in my mind, over and over.
Then I stopped, and listened. The imaginary pounding went away and was replaced by something I didn’t hear as much as feel. Like someone taking their nails across the seat cushions you’re sitting on and you feel the tiny vibrations.
It came and then went. What was it? Resisting the urge to turn off all the lights, I crept up to my room. It was pitch black upstairs, but I knew my way around by feel. After letting my eyes adjust to the gloom, I crawled to the window. The thrumming was still there, like a cat’s constant purr.
I peeked out the window that overlooked my backyard. At first I didn’t think there was anything there except for the table and chairs we sometimes ate on. But then I saw movement. And then I saw it again. And then the clouds shifted and the half moon cast its spooky light down into the yard.
My throat caught. I felt like throwing up a little. There were three people right outside my house, all in dark clothing. On
e was standing totally still while the others looked like they were keeping watch, their heads constantly turning around.
I wanted to call the police, let them deal with the intruders, but something stopped me. It was because of who I’d become. I didn’t think I was a hero or anything, and it didn’t always work the way I wanted, but I wasn’t powerless.
Ever so carefully, I unlatched the window and eased it open, praying it wouldn’t squeak. It didn’t. Luckily, the screen was out too, courtesy of my, um, practice. I was glad that I had left it that way, or else this part might not have worked.
I knew from experience that the size of the window was plenty big enough for me to fit through headfirst. Flying was probably my favorite part about having my new…gifts. In the air I was free, looking down on the world. My domain in the clouds. But I’d never used my telekinetic power to sneak up on someone trying to break into my house.
It took concentration, and at that second my heart was bumping hard. I could feel it in my ears, like the thumping bass from a concert speaker. Closing my eyes, I tried to concentrate, the vibrations in my feet suddenly feeling more urgent. Taking a running start, I pulled a Superman and flew through the open window, hoping the three strangers wouldn’t see me. They didn’t.
Now I had a better view of what they were doing. The one standing still was concentrating, just like I had before I’d jumped. A Destructor, I thought. There were two mounds of dirt that he kept adding to with sweeps from his mind. The guy (I could tell it was a guy because he didn’t have a shirt on and the dude was ripped) was digging under my house. But why would they do that? Wouldn’t it have been easier to just bust down a wall or knock on the front door?
For a minute I just watched, thinking it was safer to just fly away, call my friends and let them handle it. But some small part of me was mad. These people were messing with my house, the home I’d finally found. It might’ve been different if Mom and Dad were home, but being alone, I felt responsible. I was the man of the house.
I gritted my teeth and swooped down closer.
“What are you doing?” I asked as calmly as I could, my insides rattling.
All three of them whipped around at the same time. I could see their faces now. Two were guys, probably in their twenties or something, and the other was a girl, her face looked like she’d been born with a Sourpatch Kid in her mouth. She was the first to do something, using her powers to fling one of the patio chairs at me.
I wasn’t only good at flying. I was good at stuff flying at me.
The chair stopped in mid-air and I thought about chucking it back at her, but I didn’t. Instead I asked again, “I said, what are you doing?”
The table and the rest of the chairs came next, along with most of the dirt that had been on the ground a nanosecond before. I stopped them all, and then set them down gently on the overgrown grass.
I realized at that moment that I could have crushed them all. Kind of like in the movies, if I’d really wanted to, I could have done it. But I hesitated. This was one of the things that Kennedy had warned me about, anger. Just like Yoda telling Luke in Star Wars and Mr. Miyagi telling Daniel in the Karate Kid, Kennedy always said that anger was the reason so many Destructors went bad.
Taking a deep breath, and watching with more than a little satisfaction that their faces had each turned shades of grey and white, I then asked again, “Last time, what are you—”
I didn’t get to finish. Before I could, all three jumped into the air and were gone. I waited one minute, then two, then ten. They didn’t come back.
Suddenly exhausted, I went back in the way I came, easily sliding in through my bedroom window. I couldn’t do it alone anymore. Three Destructors at my house? I felt ten years old again, small and weak.
Two steps down the hallway and my legs were shaking. By the time I got to the stairs I almost couldn’t move. The adrenaline was gone and I felt like I was going to pass out.
A moment later, I heard a loud crash from downstairs. That got my feet moving as I rushed to the bottom of the staircase. I waited, hoping I’d have enough energy to defend myself again. Footsteps in the front hall. Coming closer. Then the muted thumps on the hardwood floors in the kitchen and living room.
I glanced around the corner from where I was hiding and really did almost faint, but this time from relief.
Standing there in the middle of my house was Kennedy, my mentor, the man who looked both like he was one hundred with his long gray braided hair, and then eighteen, with his mischievous blue eyes. I inhaled when I saw the red gash on his cheek.
“Benjamin,” he said, his voice soft with relief. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I was…detained.” He touched the blood on his face like he’d just realized it was there.
I stood up and ran to him. He wrapped his arms around me and that’s when the tears finally came. I was safe with Kennedy.
“It’s okay,” he said, his usually playful almost British voice subdued for once. “We’re going to see your parents.”
Chapter 2
Roy
“We have to go,” Kennedy said, between gulps of water straight from the kitchen sink, something most adults would never do.
“Should I bring anything?” I asked, wishing he would explain what was happening. But I knew Kennedy wasn’t like that. He liked the mystery of things, and even though I was more mature than most kids my age, he still treated me like I was ten.
“Is there anything you can’t live without?”
“For how long?” I got that bad feeling in my stomach, like I was going to hear something I didn’t want to hear. It was the same feeling I always got before we moved to another town, another school.
Kennedy just shrugged and yanked a paper towel from the holder and wiped his face, the blood still there. “It could be a while. I’d suggest maybe a book or two, and your passport.”
“My passport?”
He nodded. “Your parents told me where it was in case you couldn’t remember.”
I remembered. Dad made me memorize the combination of the floor safe he’d installed in the master bedroom closet. “I know where it is.”
“Good. Let me run out to the backyard. Meet me behind the house in five minutes.”
I got the digital lock combination on the first try and the small door that was no bigger than notebook paper swung open. I pushed the neat stack of papers aside and pulled out three rubber banded passports, mine, Mom’s and Dad’s. There wasn’t much else I thought I should take except for the envelope of cash my parents kept in there, just in case.
I carried the bundle up to my room and grabbed my backpack, stuffing everything in. Next went my favorite books, The Crystal Shard, Streams of Silver and The Halfling’s Gem, all by R.A. Salvatore. They’d been my dad’s when he was a kid, and had the worn edges and duct taped spine to prove it. I tossed in a velvet bag full of old Dungeons & Dragons dice, too. My dad had promised to teach me how to play when he’d given them to me on my tenth birthday. For some reason that thought made me want to cry again. I bit back the tears instead.
Mom would’ve told me to take an extra set of clothes, so that’s the only other thing I packed in my bag. With my traveling stuff ready, I took one last look around my room. Something told me I might not be back for a while. What if this was the last time? I tried not to think about it as I made my way downstairs and out the back door.
Kennedy was over by where the three Destructors had been digging under the house. He had something in his hands that he was wrapping up in his brown suit coat.
“What is that?” I asked.
He dusted off the dirt from his T-shirt and said, “Something for your parents. Now, are you ready?”
I nodded, too afraid that if I said anything the tears would come again.
“Good. It’s a short flight to where my car is waiting. From there we take the train.”
We boarded the Amtrak train just after eight in the morning. Kennedy had to tap me on the shoulder to w
ake me from where I’d fallen asleep on a wooden bench despite the repeated announcements overhead. The night had finally caught up with me, but the thought of riding to Texas on a train for the first time got me moving. I’d never been on a train before, but I had seen plenty in the old movies Mom liked to watch. They always looked like fancy hotels on wheels with butlers serving froofy drinks and the passengers wearing tuxedos and pretty dresses.
The train we stepped onto was nothing like that. This looked more like a bus, with rows and rows of seats. It was clean, but nothing like I had imagined. Kennedy found us two spots and helped me put my bag in the overhead storage compartment.
My face was glued to the window before he sat down. Even if it didn’t look like the Orient Express, it was still exciting. I’d asked Kennedy why we didn’t just fly to Texas, and he said we were trying to keep a low profile. I knew that meant he didn’t want us being followed. Again came the unease that I’d started something which was now affecting my friends.
So as the train chugged out of the station, I stared at the passing sights. The small city turned to smaller towns and then fields as far as you could see, some tan with growing wheat and some lush and green. After a while I got bored and turned to talk to Kennedy, but he was asleep. Not for the first time, I wondered how old he was. With his tanned and super wrinkly face he looked like he was at least one hundred, especially when he was asleep. But when he wasn’t, and his blue-green eyes did that sparkly thing, and he moved like an athlete, I wondered if the body was really just a mask.
It wouldn’t have surprised me. If the last few months had shown me anything, it was that the world was a weird place. Who knew there were people like me roaming around with gifts that only seemed real in the movies?
That thought tumbled around in my head a while, and then I fell asleep too, dreaming of flying over a huge lake and up toward a snow-covered mountain.