The Boy Who Would Rule the World

by Brian Toal

  Fully loaded Kenworth's are huge machines. In the eyes of a twelve-year-old, they are more than huge. Enormous, massive, complex, awesome trucking-machines. This Kenworth was his father's own and it was outfitted with virtually every option Kenworth could provide. Two, high-backed, air-ride, bucket seats were installed up front. The driver's seat faced a dash a full three feet across. Gauges and dials of all variety filled its entire length and width: two air pressure gauges, two fuel gauges, four transmission temperature gauges, gauges for exhaust temperature, oil pressure and oil temperature, water temperature, fuel flow, air filter input, engine temperature and a bunch more, of which Chris was not sure of their purpose. The bunk area behind the seats was equipped with a double-wide bed with another single, fold-down bed above. His father had arranged to have a small set of dressers installed at the head of the bed and a colour T.V. and VCR. were placed above a coat rack and electric cooler at the foot. Underneath the lower bunk was a large storage area with a self-contained toilet mounted on tracks so it could be pulled out from under the bunk and the partition closed between the cab and rear. The upper bunk was folded into the wall during the day, and Chris sat on the lower bunk waiting for his parents to finish their discussion. He had pulled a small table across his lap from a recess in the rear wall and was sipping a Coke while watching reruns of Star Trek.

  He was happy. He wasn't going to have to go back into the hospital. He was with both his Mom and Dad, and they were moderately fun to be with. He was getting a vacation during school time and best of all, his Dad had just announced that they were going from Greensboro, North Carolina to Albuquerque, New Mexico to pick up a load of tires and then onto Seattle, Washington. His mother's parents lived in Seattle, and although he hadn't seen his grandparents in almost two years, they always sent him great Christmas and Birthday presents. His mom would probably want to visit them, since they were going to be in Seattle anyway and...who knows what they might get him? This was going to be a great couple of weeks!

  Sharon and Bob found Chris still propped up in the rear bunk, finishing off his second Coke. The Starship Enterprise was under serious attack by aliens and he barely looked up as they entered the cab, his blue eyes fixated on the small screen. Bob pushed in two buttons on the dash releasing the air brakes and put the truck into gear.

  "This is an easy trip for the navigator," he commented as he swung the truck out of the parking lot and over the overpass, towards Interstate 40. "We just stay right on 40 to Albuquerque."

  “When do you have to be in Albuquerque?" Sharon asked buckling her seatbelt and turning to look back into the rear bunk. "Chris, put on that bunk belt," referring to the overly-long seat belt that crossed the bed in the rear.

  "We have to be there on Friday," Bob replied, "before 5:00. I don't think it’ll be a problem as it’s only about 1,200 miles."

  "Great. It’ll be nice to get out West again." Sharon relaxed in her seat, as the rig reached traffic speed.

  Sharon phoned her sister at 5:00 that afternoon and to her relief Beth answered the phone.

  "Beth! God, I have been trying to get you for two days!" Sharon exclaimed as she heard her sister's voice. "Are you okay?"

  "Yes, I’m alright." Beth responded and then continued, her voice harsh, "but Chris banged me up more than I thought. I had to spend a day in the hospital and yesterday I wasn't in very good shape either."

  “Oh God." Sharon whispered. Another bit of guilt piled on her decision to keep Chris away from medical care. "What happened to you?"

  "I got a concussion from the planter Chris blew up and a good-sized gash in my shoulder. Where are you now?" Beth added.

  "Oh Beth, I’m so sorry. I phoned and phoned. I wanted to know how you were. I even phoned the hospital, but I guess you had been discharged by then."

  "Probably. But it was a close thing. Dr. Murance had almost all of his ribs broken. Where are you?"

  "Some place in Tennessee." Sharon answered vaguely, not really sure what town they were in. "What did Chris do to Dr. Murance?"

  "Smashed him against the wall with a row of filing cabinets. I see you have acknowledged the fact that Chris is responsible for the damage he caused and our injuries as well."

  "Oh Beth, please don't say it that way. Yes, I don't doubt Chris is responsible, but he certainly didn't mean to do it."

  "I don't think that is important, Sharon." Beth stated forcefully. "Chris needs help and he needs it now."

  "Yes, I know Chris needs help. But this is not the time. Bob and I have decided that we want Chris to travel with us for a while so that we, as a family, can decide what is best for him."

  "Sharon, I don't agree with your decision, especially now. There is a new doctor here and he knows all about this sort of thing. Apparently there have been several of these cases before. He has worked with all of them and achieved perfect recovery in all cases. Chris needs his help!"

  "Really?"

  "Yes. He can start work as soon as Chris returns to Detroit."

  "Detroit! Beth, Chris can't go back to Detroit. There is something there that affects him.” Sharon turned in the booth as a truck in the parking-lot blared its air-horn.

  "Well, if you’re not coming back to Detroit, where are you going?"

  "I’m not sure. We just need some time to ourselves, to sort this thing out. Chris, Bob and me."

  "Sharon, I think that is exactly the wrong move. What happens if Chris blows up again? Kills someone or a bunch of people. What are you going to say? He didn't mean it! Again?"

  "Chris says he has no problems now. And so far he has demonstrated that."

  "That's what he said before! Sharon if he kills someone, that really makes you a murderer as well. For not getting him help when he needed it."

  "Beth that’s a terrible thing to say!" Sharon exclaimed, hugging the phone tight to her ear.

  "But it’s the truth. Chris needs help and help is right here. A doctor who can stop this thing before he kills or before it kills him." Beth paused, "Sharon, I didn't mean to be so rude, but you must do something now. Running across the country will not help, sooner or later you know you’ll need to get professional advice. Do it now rather than later!"

  Sharon groaned, sagging against the side of the booth, her head turning towards the object of their conversation. From where she stood, she could see into the cab of Bob's Kenworth where Chris was talking amiably with his father.

  "Well Chris my man, what do you think of our little impromptu vacation?"

  "It's great!" Chris laughed, "any vacation during school is great. And I’ve never been to Texas before... Do Texan's really wear cowboy hats?"

  "Teexsaans, being Teexsaans," Bob drawled, "I reecon you miight seee aaa few."

  "Do you think I could get one? It’d be great to wear to school. The other kids would go wild!"

  “Well, we’ll see." Bob's voice became serious. "But I’m not sure you will be returning to your old school."

  Chris nodded, "I guess not, I wrecked my classroom didn't I?"

  "Well there’s that, I suppose. But I suspect we could get over that problem, if we had to. The problem is Chris, your mother and I are not totally sure what we should do. Whenever we do get back to Detroit, there’s going to be a lot of interest in you, from all sorts of different people. We may not have many choices where or when you go to school, or even if you go to school at all.

  "I can't go back to Detroit anyway." Chris replied quietly. "Not while that thing is there."

  "I thought you were just saying you wanted a Stetson Hat to wear back at school."

  "Yeah well, I forgot about what would happen if I went back to Detroit."

  "Chris, you know what this little vacation is all about don't you?"

  "Yeah, it’s to get away from Detroit and to make sure I don't have any more accidents. I guess, too, it’s to get away from those people Dr. Murance told Mom about."

  "Well, I wouldn't say we are actually running away from anybody in Detroit, although at some time
we will have to deal with the damage you did at the hospital and your school. We are just giving ourselves time to think."

  "And to let me do some of my own thinking, right?" Chris asked.

  "Exactly! Our first interest is you. We want to make sure you are alright and your mother and I think you need time to organize this thing. Learn how to cope with it yourself. Then we can all go back to... Well maybe not Detroit, but someplace and tell those doctors - see, there is no problem. Chris here has figured it all out."

  "Oh, I don't have any trouble stopping it anymore and I have got real good at doing whatever I want to do. I can turn the channel knob on the TV as well as turn it on and off. And like, the TV doesn't fall over or move or anything. It does exactly what I want it to do. Now, I don't even need to see the things I’m moving as long as I know what I want to have happen. I can look once inside the cooler and then move all the stuff around inside without even seeing them. Then later, I look to see if I moved them the way I wanted to."

  "I see..." Bob said quietly. "Chris, maybe this trip isn't necessarily the time you should be trying new things. Maybe it would be best if you just tried not to make things happen."

  "But Dad, in order to make things not happen, I have to know how to make things stop happening. It’s the same thing!" He turned to face his father, his face earnest with intent to convince. "It's like...I’m seeing stuff all the time and every time I see things I don't like or out of place or should be fixed, I get little nudges or pushes in my head to fix them. Change them or make them better. And every time I have to stop myself from doing it."

  "Like what?"

  Chris' voice rose in exasperation. "Like forgotten coffee cups sitting on top of video games, crooked pictures on the wall, overflowing garbage cans, ugly people. Things I could change if I wanted to."

  "Ugly people?"

  "Yeah, I feel like I want to rip their skin off, straighten it out, yank the fat out and then stick it back on."

  Bob laughed, in spite of his anxiety. "Could you do that?"

  Chris answered quietly, "Actually, I don't know. But I have to constantly stop myself from trying."

  Bob was silent for a few moments as Chris turned away.

  Quietly Bob asked his son. "Chris, what do you think we should do?"

  Chris turned back towards his father and Bob was surprised to see two tears trickling down his cheeks. "I don't know."

  "There is no way Chris will return to Detroit," Sharon continued her conversation with her sister, noting that her telephone bill was going to be huge. "He is desperately afraid of something in Detroit. Chris thinks it could be that box from the camp he and Todd found. He even suggests Charlie might have something to do with..."

  "Sharon..." Beth cut her off in mid-sentence. "Whether Chris returns to Detroit or not, is not the point. We can arrange for him to get treatment elsewhere. I’m sure the doctor would go to whichever hospital, or city you had in mind."

  "Oh... Well, Chris might accept that."

  “Sharon, it seems to me, you are putting a bit too much emphasis on what Chris wants. Not what you should do. You need to get help, before he kills someone."

  "Wait a minute!" Sharon protested, her anger rising. "Chris hasn't killed anyone and I’m certain he is not about to. You seem to be awfully determined to convince me I’m in the company of some psychopathic killer. I’m with my son, not some crazed animal!"

  There was a pause. Then Beth spoke again. "Look, why don't you go on to the next large city and get a hotel room. Let us know where it is and we will come down and talk it over with you."

  "We! Who? You and Charlie?"

  "Yes, Charlie could come down with me."

  Sharon hesitated. "Beth, where is Charlie?"

  "Right here."

  "Did he bring that box or machine Chris talks about, back to Detroit?"

  "No, why would he do that?"

  "Because Chris thinks he did. Chris believes it’s responsible for all of his problems."

  "There you go again. Chris thinks this... Chris wants to do that... Chris is only twelve years old. I think what is more important is - what do you think?"

  "I think I believe Chris."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Chris knows he has been changed. You and I and Dr. Murance know he has been altered. These problems all began when he discovered that machine. And now he believes it is there in Detroit and Charlie brought it there."

  "So?"

  "So, I think I believe him."

  There was a pause and Sharon suspected Beth was talking with Charlie, although she couldn't overhear any of their conversation. She wasn't sure what she should do, but Beth's insistence that Chris was some sort of terrible killing machine annoyed her. When the two of them had talked before, both of them had been concerned about the role the strange machine might have played in both Todd’s and Chris’ injuries. Now it seemed Beth was ignoring any potential role it might have had and was putting all the blame on Chris, like he had purposely injected himself with some mind-altering drug.

  "Charlie did not bring anything back from the camp." Beth stated.

  "I see. I will tell Chris that." Sharon replied, her decision already made.

  "So, are you still going to continue with your travels?"

  "For the time being, yes. I don't mean to ignore your advice, Beth. God knows how often, in the past, I’ve turned to you for exactly that, but this time I will go my own way. If Chris didn't believe Charlie was involved, maybe I ...."

  "Chris doesn't have the slightest idea of what he’s talking about!" Beth interjected. “Charlie has nothing to do with Chris' problems. It’s you and Bob who’ll have problems if you don't get him committed immediately. Also I..."

  "Beth!" Sharon almost shouted over the phone. "I think I’ll try and forget this conversation. Maybe it’s the concussion, but you’re treating me like some sort of criminal and even my older sister doesn't have a right to do that."

  "Sharon it’s just that I...."

  Sharon interrupted again. "Actually, I’m going to hang up now. I’ll call you again in a couple days."

  "Sharon!"

  She could hear her sister's voice shouting her name as she moved the receiver to its cradle.

  "I love you." Sharon whispered as she terminated the connection.

  SEVEN - FIVE

  Beth walked across her front yard, the cuts and bruises she received at the hospital still visible on her face and neck. Her long-time neighbours, Greg and Joyce Wren, watched her advance towards them, as they sat enjoying the evening air.

  "Hello, Greg. Hello Joyce." Beth said, as she drew closer, forcing a smile onto her face.

  "Goodness!" Joyce exclaimed as she noticed the bandage over Beth's eye. "Whatever happened to you?"

  "There was an accident at the hospital," Beth explained easily "and I got hurt slightly. It looks far worse than it is."

  "Oh no! And after all you have been through recently. That is terrible!" When Joyce had heard the news of Todd's terrible accident, she had been the first to offer her assistance. Beth however had coped with the crisis with her usual competence. "Come on up and have a seat. Greg and I are just enjoying the evening air."

  Beth forced an even larger smile. "Why thanks, I’ve been meaning to come on over for the last couple days but..."

  "But, I’m sure you must be busy with Charlie back at home." Joyce interrupted.

  "We were all glad to hear of Charlie's safe return." Greg spoke up, his large hands folded in his lap. Greg worked for the city, as a supervisor in charge of sanitation. "It must’ve been terrible for you, though...but I suppose it was a lot tougher on the other folks. Terrible." He repeated again, slowly shaking his head.

  "Yes, it’s been a trying few weeks."

  "And how is Todd doing?" Joyce asked.

  "Well, he’s better, but it’s still going to take some time for him to recover fully."

  "Yes, yes, I hear those sort of injuries do take time. Is he...is he...," Joyce paused
trying to find the right words, "...communicating better?"

  "Oh yes, he is much better than before."

  "And how is Charlie?" Greg asked. "We didn't see him come home, because I guess he got in at night. Joyce and I have been meaning to speak with him, but we haven't seen him about and..."

  "We didn't want to knock." Joyce interrupted. "You know, we weren't sure if he was up and about and we wouldn't want to get him out of bed just on our account."

  "Charlie’s fine. In fact, he has a favour to ask of you. We’re having a terrible time with a leak in our water heater. Charlie says he can fix it but he needs four hands and with these bandages I don’t want to risk getting them wet. We were wondering, Greg, if you could come over and take a look at it. Charlie says it should only take a couple minutes to fix - it’s just a bit tricky to get to."

  "Why of course, Beth. No problem. Anything I can help with, I'd be glad to."

  "Well, we hate to ask, but under the circumstances we don't have much choice."

  "Of course. Better to ask me, than call a plumber. In fact, I would have been damn annoyed if you had."

  "We certainly appreciate it."

  "No problem. Let me just get my shoes and I'll come on right over."

  "And anything I can do." Joyce added as Greg squeezed by them on the small porch. "Just let me know. If you want me to do some shopping or get a couple of meals. Don't even think, just give me a call."

  "Why thanks Joyce." Beth responded, leaning back against the porch railing. "I just might take you up on that. With work, visiting Todd, and now Charlie back at home, I just don't seem to have enough time."

  "Call me. Call me anytime and I’d be glad to help out."

  "It’s great to have neighbours like you." Beth did her best to sound sincere as Greg returned to the porch.

  "Well, let's go take a look at this pesky little leak. Should I bring some tools or has Charlie got his own?"