The Sovereign Era (Book 1): Brave Men Run

by Matthew Wayne Selznick

“You don’t get it. Neither one of you do.”

  I paced back and forth between the living room and the kitchen. I didn’t want to be in the house with them any more.

  “You don’t get it,” I said again. I shook my head.

  “Thanks for the story.”

  I opened the front door.

  “Nathan, wait,” my mother said. I walked out, slammed the door. Of course, I could still hear Denver.

  “Let him go, Lucy. It’s a lot to take in.”

  “Fuck you, Denver!” I hollered from the driveway. Maybe if I hadn’t waited sixteen years to hear it all. Maybe then, I’d be all smiles.

  From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Fifty

  I walked. I thought about going to Mel’s, but something kept me from stopping when I came to his house. I didn’t want to talk to someone who hadn’t been there this morning. I didn’t want to have to explain everything; re-live it. Not yet.

  I ended up at Romita Park, where I lay down on the damp grass. I stared at the sky and wondered if I should go to Lina’s.

  I couldn’t be sure I’d be allowed to see her. I was basically responsible for putting Mr. and Mrs. Porter’s daughter through a life threatening traumatic experience. Because of me, they would probably be involved in a cross-fire of lawsuits between my mother and the government.

  Small insects lit on my arms, tasted, and flitted away. The grass tickled the back of my neck and the small of my back where my tee-shirt rode up.

  I stood up, brushed myself off. I was a mess. These were the same clothes I’d had on since I left the house last night to doorbell ditch Byron’s house. My shirt and jeans were stained with dirt and sweat and other people’s blood. I stank.

  I frowned. It didn’t matter, did it? I wanted to see Lina, and her parents had seen me like this in Kirby Lake. Changing clothes was not worth going back to face my mother.

  From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Fifty One

  It was a long walk. By the time I was in the right neighborhood and reached Lina’s house, it was late afternoon.

  I knocked on the door.

  Mister Porter answered. He had reading glasses on, his feet were bare, and his pale blue dress shirt was untucked. His eyes looked tired.

  “Hello, sir.”

  He frowned. “Nate?” He looked over my shoulder, then back at me. “Did you ride your bike?”

  I tried to catch Lina’s scent. “Um... I walked.” The door was open just far enough to fit his frame. The house beyond was quiet. “Is… is it all right to see Lina? Is she home?”

  Mister Porter regarded me with a curious expression. “You walked.”

  “Yeah.”

  He nodded, and seemed to make a decision. “I bet you’re hungry.” He opened the door and made room for me to come in.

  As I stepped inside, he wrinkled his nose. “Son, you’re a mess.”

  “I’m sorry… I haven’t had a chance to…”

  Tim appeared. “Hello Nathan!” he barked. He grabbed my hand and pumped it up and down. “Six!” He smiled.

  “Hi, Tim. Hi.”

  Tim continued to shake my hand for a few seconds, then turned on his heel and went upstairs.

  “You’ve made a friend,” Mister Porter said. “He doesn’t usually like to touch people.”

  I smiled tiredly. “I’m glad.” I really was. I felt like we had some things in common, in a way. “So, should I wait for Lina down here, or…”

  Mister Porter pushed the frames of his reading glasses onto the bridge of his nose. “Tell you what. Lina’s taking a nap, and to be perfectly frank, Nate, you’re in no condition to see her.”

  “Oh...” Damn. It would be a long walk home for nothing.

  He waved a hand. “No, don’t misunderstand me.” He touched my shoulder and led me down a short hall off the kitchen. “We’ve got a bathroom down here. Why don’t you get a shower, and I’ll see if I can find some clothes for you. You’re about Tim’s size, more or less.”

  A shower. Suddenly my whole body burned to be clean. “That… that’s really great.”

  He shrugged and smiled wryly. “Well, like I said, you’re a mess, and Lina’s mother probably wouldn’t have let you in the house if she’d answered the door. By the time you’re finished, I’ll make sure Lina’s up.”

  I stood in the doorway of the bathroom. “Mr. Porter… you’re not upset?”

  He looked me square in the eye. “You think you screwed things up?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He nodded. “You kids saw some pretty awful things today, right?”

  “That’s why I wanted to see Lina,” I said. “Make sure she’s okay.”

  He kept looking at me. There was a lot of compassion on his face, and something else. Resolve, maybe. Or maybe, if he was angry, it wasn’t with me.

  I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t have a whole lot of experience with fathers who weren’t crazy animal men.

  “Get your shower, Nathan.” He closed the bathroom door.

  ~

  This was the extra, downstairs bathroom, and it was as big as the single one my mother and I shared at our house. The pressure in the pipes was strong, and the water was really hot. It was fantastic.

  While I was in there, Lina’s dad knocked on the door and left some folded clothes on the sink counter top. He scooped my own clothes off the floor and took them with him.

  After I finally turned off the water and toweled dry, I dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and a blue sweatshirt with “UCLA” embroidered across the chest.

  A strong, soapy perfume hit my sinuses when I pulled the sweatshirt over my head. My nose wrinkled, and I sneezed. Apparently, the Porters used a different detergent than my mother, and these clothes were freshly washed.

  I’d get used to it.

  Lina sat with her parents on the big couch in the living room. She lit up when she saw me.

  “You walked here..?”

  It was so good to see her. Since she left the police station in Kirby Lake that morning, I’d been carrying a heavy unease in my gut. I didn’t even realize it was there until the sight of her made it disappear.

  “I needed some air.”

  Mrs. Porter smiled as well, but her eyes seemed as tired as her husband's. “Do you feel better, Nate?”

  “I do, thanks.” I tugged at the sweatshirt. “Where’s Tim? I want to thank him for the clothes.”

  “He’s working on his numbers,” Mrs. Porter said. “But he picked those out for you himself.”

  I was touched by that. I took Lina’s hand.

  Mister Porter said, “I took the liberty of calling your mother, Nate. To let her know you were okay.”

  “Thanks,” I said, levelly.

  There was some strained silence. I wanted to talk to Lina. I didn’t know what to say to her with her parents sitting there.

  Mister Porter stood up. “We’re going into the back yard,” he said, as much to Mrs. Porter as to Lina and I. “Catch the sunset.”

  “Thanks again, Mister and Mrs. Porter,” I said.

  Lina and I were alone. I sat down next to her and gave her a long hug.

  “Are you okay?” Her breath was hot and sweet on my neck.

  I sighed. I was worried about her; she was worried about me. That’s what it was supposed to be about, I thought.

  “I’m better now.” I told her about Project: Rancher, and Brenhurst, and all the rest.

  “This morning,” Lina said when I was done. “Do you think that thing Brenhurst had – that box. Do you think it was supposed to kill your dad, too?”

  I remembered the look on Brenhurst’s face when we all noticed my father was gone.

  “Yeah, I think that was the plan. Brenhurst asked my dad if he was ready, right before he pushed the button.”

  “Ready to rest, he said.”

  “Yeah.” I thought about what Denver had said at the house. “And Denver Colorado told me I’d be dead if I was like my dad, with those little gizmos in him. Instead of, like
, naturally different… if that makes sense.”

  We sat on the couch, leaning into each other. My head was on Lina’s shoulder.

  “Lina.”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “It got crazy.”

  She pecked the top of my head. “Crazier, you mean? And it's not over, huh, what with your mom and my folks going after Brenhurst, and Brenhurst and Byron’s folks probably going after you and your mom?”

  That wasn’t even all of it. How could I live a normal life, now that I knew what I knew? Now that I knew what I was, and how I got that way? I wondered about Brenhurst’s agents, and Tyndale Labs, and Project: Rancher. I’d wondered how Byron was, all cut up and in the hospital. I wondered what his parents were thinking, right now.

  I felt like I couldn’t go home. I felt like the only place I belonged was in Lina’s arms. And I couldn’t stay with her on the couch forever.

  “Yeah,” I finally said. “Hey, seriously... are you okay?”

  She sighed. “I keep seeing everything over and over again. Did you know I could smell that gun? I could smell it.” She shuddered. “I could have done without that. And those poor men...”

  I sat up and kissed her gently. “I’m sorry, Lina. Really sorry.”

  “I know. But what else were we supposed to do?”

  I thought about what Byron had said. “Well, for starters, we could have gone right to my mother, instead of treating it like one of Jason’s little crime sprees.”

  “Yeah.” She kissed me back. “But we didn’t, and you got to meet your dad, for, like, the first time ever. And now you know the truth about stuff, right?”

  “Yeah,” I sighed. The truth didn’t do anything but add more questions. More opportunities to be deceived.

  “You hungry?”

  I was famished. Once again, we made sandwiches in her kitchen and tried to be a couple of normal kids in love.

  From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Fifty Two

  Eventually, Lina drove me home. We noticed Denver’s van was gone. Lina didn’t come in.

  It was about nine o’clock at night. My mother sat at the kitchen table. She looked relieved.

  “Nathan. I love you, you know.”

  I knew it.

  “I know, mom.” I stood on the carpet at the edge of the kitchen, arms slack, my balled-up dirty clothes in one hand. “I just… I don’t get it, yet. I’m really… angry.”

  It felt strange. I was used to being persecuted, feeling frustrated, misunderstood, disliked, helpless. This variety of anger was such a proactive thing. As tired as I was, when I thought about it, when I really felt it, it made me want to do something.

  “Angry with me,” she said.

  I nodded. “And with Brenhurst, and Denver Colorado, and… and with my dad.” I sighed, and hated the weepy tremor that shook my chest. “Why’d he take off again, mom? What’s the point, now, with everybody knowing everything?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m goin’ to bed,” I said, and left her in the kitchen.

  Friday was finally over.

  From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Fifty Three

  Saturday morning, I woke with a start from a dream I forgot as soon as I opened my eyes. The smell of blood faded from memory, leaving me confused and somehow hungry and nauseous at the same time.

  I rubbed my eyes. It was eleven. Late. That explained the hunger.

  I put together a quick, but large, sandwich in the kitchen. I could see my mother through the window, puttering in the back yard. When she saw me, she put down her shears, took off her gloves, and came inside.

  “How did you sleep?”

  I grunted. “Not well, I don’t think. Bad dreams.”

  “I can only imagine.” She nodded. “Nathan, what happened yesterday… do you need any help? Processing it?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Why? Is there something else you never told me?”

  Her face darkened. It looked to me like she was putting her guilt behind her. Seemed a little too soon, to me. “I’m talking about what we went through. You saw your father kill someone, Nathan.”

  “Yeah.” I thought about it. Did it bother me? Was I scarred for life? Should I be more freaked out?

  “Well?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. How am I supposed to react?” I took my sandwich and sat down at the table. My mother sat down across from me.

  “There isn’t any ‘supposed’ about this. That’s why I’m asking.”

  “I don’t know.” I took a bite and chewed and thought some more. I knew what she meant, after all. Post traumatic stress, or something like that. I thought about the dream that hid just beyond my memory. Was that part of it?

  “Well, how’s Lina?”

  I swallowed. “I think she’s okay.” I realized I hadn’t asked the same question of my mother... and I didn’t really care. That was the anger, I guessed.

  I asked anyway, probably because I figured I was supposed to.

  “What about you?”

  A shaky smile wavered on her face and her eyes got brighter. “I had… I had a good cry after Denver left, before you got home.” She laughed, barely. “I’m not all right. I saw my husband, alive.” She touched the corners of her eyes.

  “I still feel like he’s dead,” she said.

  A tinge of empathy tickled my conscience before a wash of cold nothing pushed it away. “Because of how he is?” My voice sounded distant to my own ears. My legs twitched, eager for flight.

  She nodded. Tears streaked her cheeks. “He’s not the man I knew.”

  I chewed and swallowed slowly. “How do you know?”

  She wiped her eyes with a quick swipe of her hand. “Because he’s literally not,” she said.

  There was more than a little anger in her, too. It was easy to forget. “He let himself be changed by those things. He let himself… he let himself lose his mind.”

  I felt separated from myself. If only she’d told me the truth. I was old enough. I could have known. I gave her lots of chances, especially over the last two weeks.

  I looked down at my sandwich and finished it. I didn’t look up until I was done.

  “Can we go see Byron today?”

  My mother had been staring at nothing. Her focus came back to me.

  “Yes. We should.”

  ~

  I knew something was wrong as soon as we rounded the corner of the corridor to Byron’s hospital room. Mister Teslowski rushed down the hallway toward me.

  “You son of a bitch!”

  He took a swing. I arched my back and watched his meaty fist pass in front of my nose. His other fist came up for my stomach. I tensed and took it. It stung a little.

  Two Orange County sheriff’s deputies got behind him and held his arms. Where in the hell had they come from? I saw a nurse step out of a patient's room. She kept well away from the rest of us.

  Mister Teslowski’s face was deep red. His lips pulled away from his teeth. His eyes blazed.

  “Where is he, you fucking freak? What have you done with my son? Where is he?”

  “I don’t know! What’s going on?”

  My mother said, “What are you doing, attacking my son?”

  One of the cops said, “Mister Teslowski. Please calm down.”

  Teslowski looked over his shoulder and grimaced. His fists unclenched, but the fury on his face remained. “Fine. I’m fine.”

  The deputies let him go. One of them had a hand on his nightstick.

  Teslowski glared at my mother. “Mrs. Freak.”

  She stiffened. “How dare you..!”

  One of the deputies stepped between Teslowski and my mother and me. He spoke quietly and calmly.

  “Have you come to see Byron Teslowski?”

  I thought that was a ridiculous question. My mother said, “Well, we didn’t come to get assaulted, that’s for damn sure.”

  The deputy nodded. “Mister Teslowski’s son is not in his room. Would either o
f you have any idea where he is?”

  Not in his room?

  “Uh… maybe he took a walk? He heals really fast…”

  Mister Teslowski raged. “He did not go for a fucking walk, freak! What do you know?”

  The same deputy looked directly at Byron’s dad. “Mister Teslowski. Please keep a civil tongue in your mouth. Sir.” His partner stepped closer to Teslowski. Their shoulders touched. Teslowski flinched away.

  My mother said, “Nathan has been with me since last night. How long has Byron been missing?”

  The nurse finally joined the party. “We checked on him this afternoon. He ate lunch. That was two hours ago.”

  The deputy said, “So, the two of you haven’t seen Byron, and you don’t have any knowledge of where he might be?”

  I shook my head. “No. We came here to see him; to check on him.”

  “All right.” He looked at the nurse. “Was Byron able to get up and walk around?”

  She nodded curtly. “He was strong enough. The boy’s strong as an ox.” She gestured to the doorway. “But he had an I.V.”

  “Couldn’t he have taken it out?”

  She shrugged. “Well, I suppose he did, didn’t he? But we would have seen him leave. My nurses would have seen him. You can’t leave this wing without going past the nurses’ station.”

  “Um, officer?” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I, like, go into his room?”

  He looked quickly at his partner. Byron’s dad had no doubt told them about me. I figured there was nothing to lose. “I might be able to tell something.”

  The deputy looked at me sharply. He had a small scar across his left cheek.

  “How, exactly?”

  I looked at my mother. Her eyes blasted a warning. I felt that cold detachment come over me. I looked back at the cop.

  “I have your scent, and your partner’s.” His eyes narrowed. “I would know Mister Teslowski with my eyes closed. The nurse smells like the hospital and some kind of perfume. And I know what Byron smells like. I’ve known him for years.”

  “You’re a Sovereign? Is that right?”

  “Freak!” said Byron’s dad. The other deputy looked at him and shook his head once.