“Con-concrete…” Melissa said, softly her eyes plastered to the window. “That's his! Go down, that’s where he is. That’s got to be it, that’s where I saw him last.”
“There’ll be no unnecessary stops,” the pilot said. “We’ve secured the priority.”
“Understood sir.”
“What? We—we can't just leave him!” Melissa protested, dragging her eyes from the window. “He right down there! You can’t just leave him!”
“It’s not a risk we can take, ma’am. The enemy could still be in the area,” a soldier said. “We have to get you to base as fast as possible.”
Priority? As fast as possible? The words cut through her mind like a sword as a chill coursed slowly down her spine and ragged fear grabbed her by the throat. Her eyes went wide as they turned back to the window and she paled as she realized that her guardian was probably dead.
No one could have survived that blast, she thought, sluggishly. If not for Shadow…I would not be here. I would’ve died, I would be dead.
Chapter 11
Train Ride
Alex walked out of the guest bedroom with a yawn. The hospital had served as his home for nearly two months. Most of it he could hardly bother to recall. In the name of work, Wilson had bailed on him half way through the third day. Later a relay of his orders shipped Alex from the hospital to a government provided house upon discharge.
Having held down the fort for nearly two weeks in the spacious accommodations, Alex wasn't exactly complaining...but he was lonely and a little frustrated. Alex, who had made a full recovery, had little more than a silvery white scar that curved horizontally. It started at his forehead and ran down along his hairline, then under his right ear.
You were lucky. He recalled the nurse's words. A few minutes too late and the repercussions for messing with your life energy could have stolen your eyes and left you blind.
Making his way down the stairs two steps at a time, Alex entered the kitchen. Grabbing a bowl out of the cupboard, and some frosted flakes from the pantry, he settled down to eat. The phone rang and he jumped. It was a home phone, the type that had its own mount on the wall and required no curly cord.
Reaching over, he picked it up. "Hello?"
"Yo, what's up Alex?" Wilson said.
"Oh...it's you."
"Eh? How cold."
"So what do you want?"
"Let me ask you something."
"And if I say no?"
"I'll ask anyway."
"Go figure."
"So Alex, you want to learn your titus limits and all that, right?"
"Yeah, sure—” Alex said, shoveling in a spoonful of cereal.
"Good, because I enrolled you in school."
Alex choked on frosted flakes. "Wait, you did what?!"
"I enrolled you in school—are you alright? I can hear you hacking through the phone. Who knew you'd be so excited?”
"I'm—"
"Thrilled I'm sure."
"Not even close—"
"Don't worry, the high school's curriculum revolves around titus...but it’s for elites so you might feel out of place at first. Though with your personality, I'm sure you'll fit right in."
"But I'm seventeen."
Wilson paused for a moment. "Yeah, and?"
"I'm a junior. I'm like a year from—"
"No, you're a freshman."
"Fresh-freshman?! What the heck, Wilson? My classmates are going to be like fourteen.”
"What are you even talking about? Your classmates are going to be around your age. All freshman start high school at sixteen. You’re a bit of an exception because you turned seventeen in the summer but—"
"Huh? Sixteen? So most graduate at…twenty?"
"Or twenty-one. High-school is commonly reserved for talented students who want to continue their titus education. Most students end their education before that, though. Some get jobs straight out, but the majority enroll in a two or four-year trade school depending on their major."
"So what, everyone starts school at eight? That's soo weird."
And kind of backwards, Alex thought.
"It’s efficient. Students learn the basics and join the workforce. Anyway I'm sure you'll fit in at Corpus. Their campus is huge. On top of being one of the most technologically advanced schools in the country they also have a ton of clubs, great sports teams—"
"That's not the issue."
"Then it's settled. Don't worry about tuition; it’s all on my dime...well, the taxpayers’ dime. Oh and the school has uniforms, so no need to worry about clothes."
"I'm not going. I don't—I never asked you to enroll—no. I'm not going. I refuse. I didn't fall out of that haze to do more homework. This isn't even my world. You can't make me—"
"Well of course I can. I saved your life and arranged for the payment of your medical bills, gave you a place to stay and kept you fed. So you don't have a say. You're going, you'll like it and that's final."
"Excuse me?"
"Gesundheit."
"I didn't sneeze."
"Corpus Academy is very prestigious and with your natural talent—"
"Corpus—isn't that the same school you went to?"
"Yep, I'm an alumnus. I graduated in—"
"This is illegal. You're not my guardian, you can't—how did you even enroll me? You don't have my information."
"You gave it to me yourself, remember?"
"What? No I..." Alex trailed off recalling the form he filled out when he first met Wilson. He slammed his hand on the table, standing up so fast the chair fell back. "Damn it Wilson! Screw you! Like hell—"
"Now, now, don't be angry. This is simply the give and take aspect of friendship."
"Friendship? Last I checked you were a mentor."
"Instructor,” Wilson corrected. "Friendship is all about the give and take Alex. I help you, you help me. Don't you want to go back home? You want your inheritance or whatever, right?"
Alex's taut silence was an answer within itself.
"Hope is good. By the way, a car will be coming to pick you up momentarily, so be ready. Bye."
Wilson hung up.
"Son of a bitch,” Alex cursed, putting the phone back. Picking up the chair, and taking his bowl, he poured the soggy cereal down the drain and threw the bowl at the window.
A car horn sounded outside. Ignoring it, Alex grabbed a bag of chips. Settling onto the sofa, he drowned out the continuous beeping outside with the flat screen.
A hand snatched the remote out of his, causing Alex to jump. Narrowing his eyes, he recognized the stranger's sharp suit—a notorious trademark of Wilson's many bodyguards. Pressing a button on the remote, the guard turned off the TV.
Alex leaning back held up a hand, "What's up?"
"Why aren't you ready?" the man asked pointedly. He appraised the boy's attire, no shirt and shorts, with a deep-set frown.
"I'm not going."
Sighing, the bodyguard nonchalantly tossed the remote aside. Alex flinched as it hit the hard wood with a crash, its back opening, and batteries spilling out. Grabbing the blond by the arm, the bodyguard yanked the teen off the couch and preceded to half drag, half walk him up the stairs. Shoving Alex into a bedroom, the older man grabbed the door.
"Be out in five minutes dressed or else you'll be going in what you're wearing."
Alex frowned. "But—"
"Do what you're told."
“Whatever,” Alex said as the door closed. He dressed quickly, donning a wrinkly shirt and jeans. He was pulling on his last sock as the guard opened the door.
"Time's up, let's go."
~*~*~*~
The car door opened to reveal an ever-cheerful Wilson residing placidly inside. Closing the door in his face, Alex turned tail, and made a run for it back to the house. Catching him about the waist with one hand, the guard re-opened the door with another and tossed Alex into the vehicle like a rag doll. Falling into Wilson, who pushed him to the other side of the car. He winced as
the door slammed closed.
Wilson smiled. "Nice to see you again, Alex."
Alex scowled back. "Not happy to be here."
"Sounds like a personal problem."
"I told you I didn't want to go."
"Uh-huh...yeah, don't forget to put your seat belt on. It's a long drive to Corpus."
Strapping himself in, Alex looked out the window forlornly at his former refuge as the car began to pull out of the driveway. After a moment he turned back to Wilson. "Are we going by plane?"
"I hate planes."
"So we're going to drive? Just how far—"
"It's in Kiko."
“Where’s that again?”
“You’ll see.”
"Whatever. So why’d you enroll me?"
"It's good for you."
"Don't give me that."
"No seriously it is. Education is opportunity."
"Uh-huh, yeah."
"Don't believe me?"
"Nope. Not in this case. I mean come on Wilson, I don't even belong to this world. What am I going to gain by going to one of its—"
"Gain? What are you talking about? You have everything to gain because at the moment your future is uncertain. You have nothing. No background, no credibility, even more so because you're an oddity. To get even a step in the direction of your goal, you'd have to take a multitude of tests just to start building what the normal kid at your age has in this country. And that'd be just the start, though...I doubt you'd get anywhere."
"Screw you. I already have a fortune."
"Not in this world. And you can't make it here without connections. But luckily you've got me. Rather than let your talent rot in the sewer, if I send you to a school like Corpus Academy, your future—as long as you're in this world—will be set in stone regardless of who you are or what you want to become."
"What do you gain from this, Wilson?"
"Justice and self-satisfaction."
"What?"
"Nothing, just know I'm happy to help. It's my job after all."
"What's your job?"
"I’m the Chairman of the Titus Association."
~*~*~*~
Thirty minutes later the car pulled up at the train station and Alex stepped out bewildered. "Why are we here?"
Wilson, closing the other door, got out from the opposite the side. "The train is faster."
"Train? Is the school that far? Can't we just take a plane?"
"What's wrong with the train?"
"What's wrong with a plane?"
"They hurt my ears."
"Well, they don't hurt mine."
"Why are you so against trains? They're safe, comfortable—"
"That's what you think."
"That's what I know."
After a moment, Alex turned and put a hand on the handle of the car door. "I'm not going on a train."
"What makes you think you have a choice?" Wilson said coolly. He rounded the car as Alex reopened the door. Before the blond could get back in, the bodyguard, who'd long since exited, the vehicle grabbed him. Twisting an arm behind his back, he struck the youth hard at the back of the neck. Catching him as his legs buckled and his eyes drooped shut, the guard glanced over at Wilson for orders.
~*~*~*~
Gasping, Alex woke with a start. Sitting in a plush seat by a window, he faced Wilson who was flipping through a sports magazine, a table between them.
"Good morning, sunshine,” Wilson said, not looking up. "Did you sleep well?"
"You knocked me out,” Alex accused.
"I may have had a hand in it."
I'm on a train.
As the mere notion of sitting within a locomotive's iron frame sank in, Alex fell into a panic. His breath shortening the, caught in his throat as hyperventilation set in. Eyes wide, he turned back to the large window, fist clenched, and began to pound on the glass, a scream of pure terror arcing up from the depths of his diaphragm.
“Let me off! Stop the train! We’re all gonna die!"
"Alex, calm down!" Wilson grabbed hold of the boy's arm. Green eyes, wild and almost feral in their desperation, met his. Yanking his arm from the man's grasp, Alex stomped a foot onto the low table, leaned forth and swung.
The scenery changed. Melting from the clear skies of autumn, it descended into the falling snow of winter which swept by in a storm outside the window. A calm came over Alex, flooding through his body with an overbearing sense of warmth and security. He was four once more and emulating the childish bliss of unassuming innocence. He beamed up at a plain young woman, his mother, whose ashen brown locks, highlighted by blonde streaks, brought out her hazel eyes. Sitting across from her, separated by the aisle, was a handsome young man. Strong jawed with disheveled dark brown hair, he had distant deep green eyes that appeared to harbor an ancient soul.
Alex sat nearest to the window. He, like his parents, was unware of the fate that awaited them. For him it’d be a life changing event that would shape his outlook on the world, setting the stage for a painful future that was wrought with loneliness and haunted by despair.
Smiling back at him, his mother ruffled his white blond hair. "Isn't the snow pretty, Alexander?"
The trio had been on the trans-continental journey for over four days. Their destination? Boston, where Alex's grandparents and younger siblings waited. The trip from Los Angles to Boston had been split between two trains. Already two hours in on the second, they had encountered multiple delays with the snow storm.
The lights flickered and the train car shuddered, a low creaking noise emitting beneath it as the locomotive rounded into a turn. The family resided in the back row of the last car, a lifesaving decision.
"What's going on?" the mother quavered, tucking long bangs behind an ear.
"It's probably just the storm,” the father said reassuringly, placing a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder. The distinct sound of metal grating against metal shrieked into existence as the car began to shake. Looking out the window, Alex blinked, frightened, catching the glimmer of sparks. The car began to tip, tilting slightly on its side.
Time slowed as the lights flickered and the caboose, along with the rest of the train, was pulled from the tracks and flipped. People screamed and tumbled across the rows into other bodies, the ceiling and windows alike. Nearly losing her son to the momentum, the mother put a leg on her seat and leaped, arms outstretched. Grabbing her child before he hit the ceiling she wrapped him in an embrace. Gravity’s laws prevailed and as the seats became the ceiling and the ceiling the floor, the mother fell, her back slamming into the metal roof.
The wind knocked out of her, spit flew from her mouth in a retching cough as she took on the brunt of the impact. Nevertheless, she held onto her child with a grip like iron. Her husband, who'd managed to cling to the arm of his seat, released the emergency lock on the window. Yanking it open as the car tumbled onto its side, he shattered the cracked glass of the car, the passengers received an icy welcome of wind and snow.
Burying his head into his mother's chest, Alex screamed, clinging to her as she did him. It was a domino effect; the train’s front body had tilted off course and dragged its body of cars down with it. Peeking out from his mother's arms, through a window on the row opposite of his father, the boy saw it, the cliff ahead. He wasn't the only one, the screams rose, as the train tumbled into its next flip and his mother fell from ceiling to floor.
"We're all going to die!" someone shrieked.
"Cliff!" shouted another.
"Izzy!" cried another. "Over here! The window!"
The wife, recognizing her husband's voice, in one desperate move, let herself go limp as the train flipped again. Body relaxed, she fell towards the ceiling like a stone to the ground before jerking head and body in mid-air. Flipping around and striking her feet against the ceiling, she used it as a platform. Pushing off before the car rolled into its next flip, she reached out desperately for her husband. Suspended in the air between their seats and the open window, risking his
own position, the father reached out and catching her arm, pulled her to him. The car flipped and his grip slipped to her palm but he held on, his expression tense and muscles straining.
"The window,” he wheezed.
Using her husband as an anchor the mother jerked forward. Letting go of her husband, Isabella caught the window's edge, then eased her child out, legs first, with her other hand. Smiling as tears descended in streaks down her face, she pushed him out with the last of her strength. She sent him off into the cruel winds of winter as the train began its descent off the cliff.
The boy opened his mouth to scream in protest, but the winds snatched his words. He witnessed the anguished expression of his mother as she mouthed, live. Then she was gone, snatched from him along with his father, whose last words he'd never hear.
Hitting the frozen ground like a rag doll, Alex tumbled head over heels through snow and ice. Falling into a drift, he disappeared in the sea of white.
After a few moments, his red nose poked through the snow, shortly followed by the rest of him. Tears poured down his face, his expression shocked and empty as he stared off into the distance. Eyes wide, he ducked as the explosion below sent a shudder through the ground that seemed to shake the core of the earth itself. Over the cliff, fire flickered amidst the darkness, its smoke rising into the night's sky.
In the Chicago to Boston train crash, of which estimated causalities had exceeded three hundred, only one had survived.
Chapter 12
Shocked
"Alex! Alex!"
Jerked back to the present, Alex found himself pinned to his seat, strong hands on his shoulders pressing him down. Arms strapped, palms down against the arms of his seat, he thrashed, kicking out wildly against his adversary. Trying in vain to clear his vision blurred by tears, he blinked rapidly, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat and the raw burning sensation that lingered there.
"Let me go! Get these things off me!" he shrieked, spotting Wilson in the aisle holding a bloody nose.
"Damn it Alex, calm down."
"Keep him as still as possible,” a woman's voice snapped as she approached strategically from one side, a needle in hand.
"What are you trying to do?! Keep—stay away from me! Stop—just stop the—"
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