Storm Forged

by Patrick Dugan

  “What!” The cover flew off me as I leapt out of bed, wincing as the bruises from yesterday’s beating cramped. “You didn’t say anything about that!”

  She gave me the sympathetic eyes usually reserved for when I was sick. “No, you go back to bed, you’re tired.”

  The door closed. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” I yelled at the door. I threw on the closest clothes I could find from the floor. I rejected the first shirt I grabbed. It didn’t pass the smell test. Laundry would be in my near future, one of the chores Mom had passed on to me as part of making me a real adult. I dressed, ran my fingers through my hair, swished around some Scope, kicked on my boots and winter jacket, and ran for the front door.

  Mom sat on the couch, keys twirling around her finger. “Now if you could only do that on school days.”

  She picked up her briefcase, I picked up the two banker’s boxes with her documents, and we headed to the car. The boxes slid into the back seat, the top one promptly falling, but I caught it before the lid came off. After I climbed in the passenger’s side, Mom started the car, turned up the heat, hit the gas, and we were off.

  Mom clicked on the CD player. The Protectorate owned all the broadcasting, and a lot of older music had been banned as subversive. Most people hoarded CDs and DVDs of their favorite artists as you could no longer buy them. Springsteen played as she sang, off-key, to “Blinded by the Light.” I could tell she was lost in her own world until the song ended.

  She glanced at me with a smile. “Your father and I must have seen Springsteen twenty times before you came along.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s like you had a life before me.” I tried to keep the smirk off my face but failed miserably.

  “We,” she said. “We had a life before the Dark Brigade. Everything changed after the attack.”

  We rode in silence. What would life have been different if the Gifted terrorists, the Dark Brigade, hadn’t destroyed half of the world in an attempt to take it over? I’d still have a dad and no collar to start.

  Great Falls was the closest “city” to us. Redemption sat in the middle of nowhere, and Great Falls, a couple hours west of nowhere, but still within my two-hundred-mile leash of The Block. Once a month, we trekked in so Mom could pick up her caseload, drop off work for the paralegals, and generally bore me to death for an entire Saturday. The big thing for me is after she picked me up from The Secret Lair, we got to eat at a real restaurant for a change. Nothing really nice. Those places didn’t allow my type in.

  Mom pulled the mini-van up to The Secret Lair’s front door. I slung my backpack over a shoulder and tried to hop out, but Mom stopped me immediately.

  She grasped my arm before I could jump. “Now listen, Tommy. I want you to stay inside. Don’t go wandering the neighborhood.” I nodded and tried to jump out again. Another failure.

  “I mean it. This is not a good neighborhood. Promise me you’ll stay inside.”

  I checked to see if anyone watched me through the windows. It’s hard enough to make friends without being thought of as a mama’s boy. “Mom, I will.”

  “Okay, I’ll be back at four, and we can get some dinner after that. I love you.”

  “You too.” This time I got the door open and made it out of the Mom-mobile. I waved as she drove off to work.

  I tugged hard on the front door since it weighed a ton. Iron bars covered the cracked glass, which must be bulletproof since none of the cracks had gone all the way through. The smell bordered on intense. Hot dogs, incense, and sweat all mingled together in a place. The interior hadn’t seen sunshine in forever. Discolored bean bags dotted on the floor, most with teens and twenty-somethings of all shapes and sizes on them playing video games or watching the feeds from their favorite sites. Tables lined one wall, where a couple of guys played a board game and a few more sat playing D&D. The foosball and pool tables were empty, but it was still early.

  The owner of The Lair, Blaze, and his assistant manager, Max stood behind the counter. I’d been here enough that I knew the staff, and they knew me.

  “Dude, that’s your mom?” Blaze asked as I approached the counter. Blaze had to be almost sixty, skinny as a lamppost with a long gray ponytail hanging down his back to his belt. He owned the place but didn’t have a collar. Word around The Lair claimed he had worked with a team before the Reclamation, but since he didn’t have powers, he’s legal.

  “Yeah.” My cheeks burned with embarrassment. Even though I’d been here quite a bit, I still hadn’t made any friends among the locals.

  “Dude, she’s hot.” A big grin spread across his face.

  “Really?”

  “Totally, dude. Next time, have her come in and say hello.”

  “Okay, I will.” I had always thought Mom was pretty, but then again, all sons thought that about their moms. That Blaze said it shocked me.

  Max chuckled. He had shaggy, dark hair, and most of the girls flirted with him when he worked the front desk. “Blaze, take it easy on Tommy. You never know what powers lie beneath that quiet interior.”

  I grinned. “Powers? Me? I doubt I could power a light bulb. I’d probably be one of the guys who could pee rainbow colors.”

  They both laughed, but Max studied me seriously. “No, I don’t think so,” he said softly.

  I shrugged. “I’m gonna get some lunch.” They both waved goodbye, returning to their earlier conversation.

  I walked into the “café,” a cross between a 50s diner and a mosh pit. The chrome edge of the lunch counter sparkled around the concrete and glass chips that made up the surface. A hodgepodge of various styles and color, the stools stood around the base of faded teal green and back-lit bands of chrome. Mimi, the waitress, adorned with tattoos and piercings, her hair bright blue on one side and purple on the other, stood behind the counter. Today, she wore a dark blue t-shirt with a “Free Dominion” logo on the front. The only “normal” part of her was the gleaming silver collar around her neck.

  I stopped at the bar and waited for Mimi to notice me. “Hey, Sport, whatcha’ want?” She chomped on a large wad of bubble gum. A large bubble appeared, which promptly popped.

  “Hot dog and a Pepsi, please, ma’am,” I stammered out. Mimi made me a bit nervous.

  She nodded. “Dog and a pop, gotcha. You call me ma’am again, and I’ll punch your lights out, Champ.” She shot me a big smile, and her eyes sparkled with either amusement or malice. I couldn’t tell which.

  I handed her a couple of credits as she handed me the food. “Keep the change,” I muttered. She winked and went to talk to Max, who stood at the end of the counter. Mimi’s smile faded as they spoke. I made a hasty retreat.

  I grabbed a booth with a great view of the TV screen, pushing my jacket and backpack in before me. A couple of bashers lounged at a nearby table, arm wrestling. Three more compared their latest tattoos. A group of girls clustered around a table in the back, giggling and talking together, interested in me more than anything. They must go to school in Great Falls since I hadn’t seen them around Redemption. None of them had collars, so they were Norms. Must be here to see the freak show.

  The TV showed recaps of last week’s Saturday Night Showdown. Mom didn’t want me watching it since it showed Gifted dying for ratings. Most of the matches lasted until the “contestant” surrendered. When they announced a Gauntlet, a Gifted always died, but Gauntlets had only happened twice in my lifetime.

  Firework Farley had been on last week. His name derived from his ability to project bursts of lights from his hands. As Gifts went, he had pretty lame one. He fought against a robot enforcer. Farley ran around, blinding the robot’s sensors while trying to knock it down with the steel bat they gave him. It was over in the blink of an eye; the robot punched him once and down he fell.

  I pulled my new paperback out and began to read. I felt a tap on my shoulder. One of the girls from the lunch counter stood there. I glanced over and saw all her friends staring at us. The first things I noticed were her huge brown e
yes; they glimmered in the fluorescent light. Long brown hair, pushed behind her ears. I flushed a bit when I noticed how her V-necked sweater displayed her…

  “Mind if I sit with you?” she asked. My head jerked up, face flaring in embarrassment. She smiled at me, but I could tell she was nervous. Her friends must have dared her to talk to me.

  “I’m kind of busy,” I said, putting my nose back into my book.

  “Please, I just want to talk to you.”

  Against all better judgment, my hormones won out, and I heard myself say, “Sure.”

  She sat down across from me. “My name is Mandy. I go to Great Falls High. Are you new here?”

  “No, I live in Redemption.” Her eyes went wide, but instead of bolting, she gasped, clapping her hands together.

  “O-M-G, you must tell me all about it. You must be really powerful to be in Redemption,” she squealed in delight. “Is it true the high school is a prison? Are you worried they’ll gas you the way the Eastern Asia Block did? My school doesn’t have any Dissidents at it, but it would be cool if it did.”

  I frowned at her, letting pass the fact she’d just casually mentioned wiping out all the students in Redemption. The gas attack was an urban myth; Marcel had checked. “I thought most people hated Dissidents.” Maybe I had misjudged Mandy, the way most people misjudged me.

  She smiled sweetly at me. “My parents do, but my friends and I think they are really cool.” I could see her friends watching us, with lots of whispering and giggling.

  “So why did you come here, Mandy?” Pretty Gifted girls don’t talk to me, double for Norm girls, to the point that the odds of the Protectorate freeing the Gifted were better than a beautiful Norm speaking to me.

  A pretty blush lit her cheeks. “Well, honestly, I came on a dare.”

  “A dare?”

  “Yes, I told my girlfriends it’s wrong for people to be treated so badly, and they said I didn’t know anything since I had never met a Mutt.” She blurted out, before her hand covered her mouth. “O-M-G, I am like so sorry. I meant Gifted.”

  “And?” I snapped, a bit harsher than I should have.

  “Well, then they dared me to come down here and kiss a Gifted.” The blush intensified, staring down at her hands instead of me. “I don’t want you to think I go around asking boys to kiss me, but I wanted to prove a point to my friends. They thought I would have to kiss one of those toughs or the tattoo freaks, but then you walked in. I thought if I kissed someone, he should be cute like you.”

  “So you want me to kiss you? Here?” These things didn’t happen to me.

  “Oh, no.” She gasped. “I would die of embarrassment, kissing someone in public. I thought we could go behind the building.”

  “I don’t know. I promised my…” Okay, pretty girl asking to kiss me, and I’m about to tell her my mommy doesn’t let me leave the building.

  I firmly pushed Mom from my mind, excitement rising at the thought of kissing Mandy. “Ummm, I can’t be gone long.”

  She clapped. “Excellent, I’ll be right back.”

  She ran over to her friends, and the giggling increased. She came back, wearing a long navy-blue coat, and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.” Excitement radiated from her.

  “Okay.” Ever the witty conversationalist. I grabbed my jacket as I stood.

  As we passed through the lobby, Blaze called from his usual perch at the front desk, “Tommy, what’s up?”

  “I’ll be right back, just going out for a second,” I said, quickening my pace, putting my coat on so I could get out the front door before he could stop me.

  We walked around the black-painted brickwork of The Secret Lair and into a gravel parking lot behind it. A couple of cars sat unattended in the freshly plowed lot, probably the staff’s. Mandy led me back to where the fire escape came down from the roof. She pulled me under the overhang.

  “So you just want me to kiss you now?” I whispered, my voice quivering a bit more than I would have liked. I really didn’t want to admit that at sixteen my mom was the only girl I had kissed.

  Mandy laughed. “Like I would ever kiss a Mutt.” Her face twisted into an ugly sneer. I looked over, and her girlfriends were watching from the corner of the building. Three big guys wearing varsity jackets turned the corner, strutted toward us.

  “What’s going on, Mandy?” I asked, but I knew. This kind of thing happened to me all the time.

  The front guy, blond-haired and as pretty as Mandy, pulled her away from me. “Are you okay, babe?” he asked her.

  Fear rose from the pit of my stomach like water from a backed-up toilet. My eyes darted around searching for an escape. I’d been ambushed by the kids in Redemption, but they weren’t out to kill you.

  “Chaz, I told you I could get one of them out here,” she said, a cruel smile on her face. “I guess they are as stupid as they are lame.”

  Chaz barked out a harsh laugh. “I never doubted you, beautiful.” His two behemoth friends moved around to make sure I couldn’t run. I tried anyway but got thrown into the wall for my troubles. Mandy’s girlfriends moved closer to watch.

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I’ll just go back inside.” I knew it was hopeless when I said it, but I had to try.

  “After Mandy had to talk to you to get you out here? It’ll take her a week to get the Mutt stench off her. My friends and I wanted to see how tough you mongrels really are.” The other two laughed as each grabbed an arm to hold me still. Chaz must not be able to hit a moving target. He pulled back and punched me square in the stomach. The breath whooshed out of my lungs.

  Mandy and her friends laughed, cheering on Chaz. Big man, he can only beat up a guy with his arms held. “Is that the best you can do?” I spat. They might beat me senseless, but I wasn’t giving them the satisfaction of making me whine. “Maybe the girls should hold my feet for you.”

  “I don’t need them to hold your feet, Mutt!” Two more punches to my stomach paid me for my smart mouth. I could taste vomit he had hit me so hard.

  A stern voice came from behind the gang. “I think that’s enough.”

  Chaz spun to confront the intruder. There stood mild-mannered Blaze, his arms crossed across his chest. “Go away, old man. This ain’t none of your concern.”

  Blaze’s tone sounded pleasant, like he spoke with an old acquaintance. “The boy was left in my care. Which makes it my concern.”

  The tough holding my left arm loosened his grip. “Maybe we should just go.”

  “No, Sal, we came here to have some fun. Ain’t no old man gonna stop me when I’m having it,” Chaz said as he turned back to Blaze. “You want him. You go through me, old man.”

  Chaz pulled his arm back to throw a punch. I swear Blaze didn’t move, but the next second Chaz’s head snapped back, and he landed on the ground. Blood flowed from his nose and down his chin. Droplets splattered his varsity jacket.

  Blaze cracked his knuckles. “Young man, do yourself a favor and leave, now. I would hate for you to get hurt.”

  Chaz climbed to his feet, his nose still dripping blood. The girls all had looks of horror on their faces. Without an audience, Chaz might have left, but his pride was on the line.

  Chaz circled Blaze, fist up, ready to fight. “Sal, Joey, get him.”

  Blaze stood so still you would have thought him a statue. Joey moved to the right, while Chaz moved to the left. Sal let out a yell similar to a charging elephant, which he could be confused for from behind, and ran straight at Blaze.

  It amazed me to watch, though if you blinked, you’d have missed it. Blaze sidestepped Sal, kicked his feet out from under him, causing him to crash face first into the gravel. With a swift kick, he crushed Joey’s left knee, sending him to the ground screaming in agony. Sal started to rise, only to catch a kick to the head, which knocked him out cold. Chaz, all sense having fled his pea brain, swung at Blaze, who caught his arm, reversed his grip, and promptly broke his arm. A swift kick in the ass sent Chaz straight into the unconsci
ous Sal.

  “You broke my throwing arm,” Chaz wailed.

  Blaze stood over his fallen opponent, grabbed his chin in a firm grip, and stared into his eyes. “I’m walking in to call an ambulance. You will tell them a gang jumped you. The girls will back you up.” He looked at Mandy. She nodded like a bobblehead doll in agreement. “If you tell them anything different, it will not end well for you. Do we understand each other?”

  Chaz cradled his broken arm as he sobbed. He stared up at Blaze, fear written across his face. “Yes, sir.” Mandy’s girlfriends all bolted for an old station wagon, leaving her stranded with the injured boys.

  Blaze pointed at me. “You, come with me.”

  I gulped. I knew I was in deep trouble. When my mother found out, I’d be dead, if Blaze didn’t kill me first.

  Even with death imminent, or because of it, I stopped as I reached Mandy. “Still want that kiss?” I asked sarcastically. She turned and ran, crying. I thought not, but it was worth a shot.

  3

  Blaze jerked me by the arm, around the building, through the front door and straight to his office. I would have grabbed my arm away but for two things: first, I’m not strong, and second, he had me in a wrist hold that if I even hesitated, hurt so bad I thought I would pass out. So, as dignified as I could, I kept up the best I could.

  He threw the office door open, shoved me in, and slammed the door behind him. He looked as calm as a massing thunderhead. Okay, I would have been happy with a thunderhead. After watching him dismantle Chaz and his goon friends, I was a bit scared.

  “What do you think you were doing?” I could see the anger flashing in his eyes.

  “Well.” As you can tell, I have a way with words.

  “Trying to get yourself killed, perhaps? Your mother asked me to watch out for you and you go and run off with some chick you just met. Let me ask, are you brain damaged or just plain stupid?”

  “Ahhh, I guess…stupid?” Witty banter was my specialty. I wanted to curl up under a large rock and die.