Legacy of the Defender (The Defender Series Book 1)

by Jacob Spadt

  I was, after all, in here of my own free will. They had no grounds to hold me involuntarily, but acted as if they did. Their instructions were to observe, but they were buying time, trying to find a loophole. Part of me thought, maybe there was a judge in the loop somewhere they coerced into a decision to hold me. After all, there was no way they could. They attacked me without provocation. The S.W.A.T. team helmet cams were proof. Eryn did her homework. I had to hand it to her.

  Today was the end of my un-official period of cooperation. Rather than days, it had been weeks. I went along good naturedly. The situation was as much a mystery to me as to anyone else. My questions needed answers too.

  The doctor looked at me over the broken nose I had given him. He did not seem angry. In his eyes was a look of curiosity and respect.

  “I know we have had our differences Diete – excuse me, Tathlyn. Your situation is very unique, and it has been a privilege to be part of it. From a medical point of view, you are in perfect health. Your physical condition is that of an elite athlete. Your mental clarity is keen. Our tests show no abnormalities.”

  “Did you have something specific in mind?” I asked.

  “Steroids tend to alter the mind and produce quick-to-anger responses. You’ve no doubt heard of roid rage. We have not caught on camera whoever has been slipping them to you all this time. Somehow, you were unaffected mentally. We also cannot find any trace of an anabolic agent in your blood work. It could be a new product. We suspect you have contracted a form of gigantism. There is no conclusive proof.” He paused. I sat there seemingly un-phased by his comments. What could I say? I was asleep for six years.

  “It’s just a working theory for now. The other weird part is your Sergeant friend has ordered your records sealed and taken. What we discuss stays in this room. You were never officially here,” he said.

  I still looked at him without responding.

  “Is any of this getting through, Tathlyn?” he asked.

  “You mean do I understand what the hell you are talking about?” I started. “Actually, I do not. Is that clear enough?”

  “Fair enough. As far as your wounds opening and healing on their own, I have no theory. Could it be an undiscovered viral strand? Sure. Could it be spiritual? As a doctor, I really don’t have a comment. Off the record, I suppose anything is possible.”

  “So I’m a freak,” I said, almost in a whisper.

  “That’s one way of putting it I suppose,” said the doctor.

  Whether or not he meant to pause for dramatic effect, he did.

  "You have been evaluated Tathlyn, to the best of my ability. The rage you experience seems to have passed for now. I can issue a clean bill of health. The truth is, I don’t know where we’d put you if we wanted to have you committed." He paused and looked me up and down the best he could with me sitting. “And I don’t think we have enough extra-large orderlies to make you do anything you don’t want to do.” He smiled and brought a new tissue to his nose.

  “Sorry about your nose, Doc,” I said.

  “It’s okay. The bleeding has stopped. Besides, I am certain you could have killed me. Try not to hurt anyone, ok?”

  “Will do,” I managed.

  “Oh, and another thing, with your file sealed and gone, there will be no more research or tests. This tied our hands. Whatever is going on with you, it belongs to you now.”

  He stood to go. I watched him. Who could blame him? They had done what they could. I could not really complain about my treatment. There were bound to be people, even groups, interested in figuring me out. At least they had kept the Press away. That is a headache I did not need.

  Besides back fisting the first orderly who tried giving me a shot when I was asleep, I behaved myself. The staff learned a valuable lesson that day. Deal with the giant when he is awake. Besides, I had no way of knowing his intentions. Anything could have been in that syringe.

  I drifted mentally. The doctor’s voice was a soft whir. When I refocused, the subject had changed to my previously scheduled appointments, which they cancelled. He was interested in having me come back on my own. He wanted to check in with me from time to time.

  Not a chance. Eryn and I would figure this out ourselves. She was the only person I could trust.

  I nodded and smiled. How could anyone explain scientifically how I grew in the span of nine weeks? Seven of those had been in a vegetative state, and I had not only tripled my body weight, but it had been solid muscle. How could a chemical induced coma add muscle? I looked like a bodybuilder. My appetite was ravenous.

  Maybe it is good that my files are gone, I thought.

  I was in a coma for six years. In that time, I had been severely “wounded” dozens of times, with no apparent cause. Surviving the attacks must have made me stronger. The medical and scientific communities spent years trying to get answers. They loved sipping warm coffee and pontificating on their “findings” in all-day meetings. I had been their experiment. One of them wanted to be the one to make the official diagnosis. Get his name in a magazine. Win a prize. To them, it was a game. They had no idea what was happening to me.

  And now, thanks to the Sergeant, my file disappeared.

  I was having a hard time trying to figure out my dreams. Why so much fighting? Why so many creatures? My day dreams were bizarre, too. I found myself constantly tracing the outline of my new face with my finger. It was like an obsession. Something was more than missing. There were clues, but I was missing them. The dreams, both day, and night, overshadowed everything.

  Many mornings I woke up smelling blood. At night, I would sit up certain that I had blood all over me. Every time, I was clean, not a spot of blood on anything. Then one morning I felt moisture in my groin area. Fearing I had become a bed wetter, I was surprised to find it to be blood. The blood spawned a dozen theories, words I cannot even pronounce. It was similar to previous injuries, but the difference was there were no visible wounds before. The doctor ran tests thinking it was a nocturnal emission traced with blood, but he found no semen in the sample. I felt relieved that I could rule out bloody wet dreams as my problem. At last some good news for a change. I tossed it into the “weird” file and tried not to worry.

  One day at a time.

  Another different scent got my attention too. I do not know what it was, or what caused it, but it smelled of musk. I detected the scent on various people in the room at times. It was distant, but distinct. I logged it away for later. Too much thinking did me no good.

  The doctor continued to drone on about not finishing his work. My own thoughts had me lost in the day’s events. Who wanted me kidnapped? How could they have gotten away so easily? What would I do next time they tried? If there was a next time. They had already made three attempts. I had no reason to doubt a fourth was in the works. I was glad Eryn had not been there. I might have killed someone protecting her. She was the rock that kept me grounded. With her, I felt stable.

  Getting to see her every day was about the only high point in my life during those times. It did look good that I cooperative, especially after beating up the S.W.A.T. team. Jail should have been the next stop. Eryn’s quick wit saved the day. She had them worried about accusations of excessive force because of my size. Silly as it sounded, “Hey, you attacked my freakishly massive boyfriend for no reason!” Size discrimination. There is a concept. I was still surprised the charges went away.

  Doctor Price finished.

  “So that’s it,” he said. “You are no longer under the care of this facility. For security reasons, follow me and you will be escorted out the back.”

  My mind had faded completely. I barely returned to hear the last of his remarks. Standing up, my thoughts turned to a vision of myself running in the woods, hunting.

  I had never been a hunter.

  I drifted again, thinking about the vision, unaware of the room when the silence shattered.

  Pain.

  It was as if someone had hit me square in the nose with a board.
My guard dropped defensive. I could taste of blood on my lips. My tongue instinctively wiped it away. The orderlies outside the room turned and must have seen the blood and my reaction to it. They scattered like cockroaches in daylight. Two of them bolted from the hallway through a door at the end. The other two ran and hid behind pillars built out from the walls.

  Standing there with my fists clenched, my breathing got heavy as the adrenaline hit me. The smell of fear filled the room. A noise came behind me. Turning I saw the doctor trying to hide under a desk. Sound, like white noise, flooded my ears. Deafness rolled over me. The doctor’s lips were moving very rapidly, and I was suddenly aware that he was yelling something. Buzzing followed by a slight popping sound brought things back to into focus. The doctor was indeed yelling.

  "Stay calm, Tathlyn! Nobody hit you. No one even touched you. What the hell was that?” He was clearly scared.

  I touched my upper lip and felt the moisture already starting to recede. It seems I had smacked my face on the upper entrance as I started out the door. I forgot to duck. Everyone in the room panicked thinking I would go into a rage. The doctor was under a desk. His behavior was odd for a grown man. I found myself wondering what had happened to him as a child. Had there been an abusive parent? The thought took me to my own childhood. I remembered every time my stepfather ever laid a hand on me. Deep down the hate was there, but it did no good. He was dead. I had nothing. I did not even go to his funeral. Anger suddenly rose and the desire to break something filled me. Something inside me boiled. I wanted to inflict pain like the kind experienced all my life.

  My hands shook. It was rather rapid, almost like a vibration, but small and focused. A deep breath seemed to help. My nose pulsed with each beat of my heart. With each breath I took, the pain subsided. Then it stopped entirely. The pain fled, with no trace of soreness. No ache of any kind. I looked up and saw two orderlies peeking in at me. They were scared of me just standing there.

  Minutes passed and a small crowd of orderlies and nurses gathered. Murmurings circulated. I could hear it all; no matter how quietly they spoke. Everyone agreed. I was a freak.

  I heard a familiar voice. Eryn! She pushed her way through the crowd outside. She had become quite a friend. She approached me slowly. I felt a smile force its way to the surface.

  "Hi."

  "Hi,” I said in a low, defeated tone.

  "Did you try to hurt the doctor again?"

  “No,” I said. “My face hit the doorway.”

  I had to laugh. The memory of punching him in the nose was there. I looked over at the desk and could see him peeking out at me from underneath. He did look terrified. There was no blame. I felt more like a freak. I put my head in my hands and ran my fingers over my scalp. As I ran my fingers through my hair , I felt a lock come away in my hands. I heard Eryn gasp. I looked at my hands. They were full of my hair. I looked at Eryn. Her hand was over her mouth. She was shaking. She looked as if she was expecting me to lose it. I started to giggle out of sheer nervousness, not knowing what was happening.

  "Looks like I will have to shave my head," I said, awkwardly.

  The room was silent. Eryn tried to ease the tension with a nervous laugh. A few moments later the orderlies joined in and from under the bed I heard the doctor clear his throat. He crawled out from under his refuge, stood, and straightened his tie.

  "Well Tathlyn, you handled that quite well. You have shown you can control yourself. I will escort you out." His voice shook as he spoke, but he tried to look strong even though he had been cowering like a child just moments before.

  I stood up, letting the collected hair fall to the floor and moved towards the door. My eye line was above the door jamb. This would take some adjusting. Going in and out of rooms ducking was part of that equation. I could no longer afford any lack of awareness. Day dreaming or losing focus was dangerous now. My guard could never be down...ever again. I exited the office and looked at the room that had been my home for many weeks. A hand took mine. It was small and warm to the touch; it seemed to vanish in my grasp. I did not have to look to know it was Eryn’s, but knew what it meant. I smiled until the bright lights from the windows hit me, forcing me to shield my eyes with my free hand. My heart would do anything to secure whatever the bond was that was developing with Eryn.

  It was a good day after all.

  I stepped outside into the sunlight. There was trouble focusing in the brightness making me shield my eyes. Fresh air mingled with sounds both new and old. Eryn pulled her car up to take me home. Thankfully, it was a larger car. Anything smaller would have been pointless. With my size, I could not have fit. To my surprise, she walked around and opened the door for me. I smiled at her and my eyes happened to drift over her shoulder. She must have noticed as my eyes found my least favorite detective still sporting his cast he earned while grappling with me.

  He motioned with his good hand and pointed his fingers at me first, then his eyes. It was the proverbial, “I am watching you.” I laughed slightly and thought of how cheesy and cliché he was. He could teach a class on how to be a cliché. As I got in the car, my gaze fell upon him once more with a smile that turned into a cold stare. He looked at me for another moment before turning away. I knew I scared him.

  Hell, I scared me.

  I felt the car lower on the suspension forcing me to adjust the seat. Eryn looked at me and for the first with a real smile on her face. Yet it was more than a smile, for there was something there unknown to me until now. Today, hope presented itself. I reached over and took her hand. A sigh escaped my lips.

  “Let’s go home,” she said.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  XXIX

  Awakenings

  It was not long after leaving the hospital that my first real glimpse of my coming path revealed itself. Everything was still cryptic and felt like layers of wrapping paper on a gift. Just as one layer came away, another layer appeared. I may not have been any closer to figuring out what was happening to me, but the consistent weirdness was pointing in a direction that scared me.

  I was staying in a second bedroom with Eryn for several weeks. The connection we shared was not hard to explain. Aside from my attraction for her, she had a quality about her that she just cared about people. That was a rare trait too. No one else at the hospital really showed an interest in who I was or what I was going through. To them, the freak was loose on society.

  Eryn understood me.

  Even though she could not explain my metamorphosis, she knew an explanation existed somewhere. She accepted my sudden hair loss and appreciated the insane shape of my body. My mentality changed as new experiences redefined me; I was no longer an ignorant teenager. Fitting into social situations was awkward weeks ago. I tended to stay quiet for fear of looking or sounding any more stupid than I already felt. This just added to the weirdness that had become my life. Science failed to categorize me.

  In a few short weeks, my thought processes gave me hidden insight. Clarity increased. All situations became tactical and strategic to me. My thoughts often focused on fighting and combat. When I would go on morning runs near Eryn’s house, I found myself analyzing the terrain as if looking for a tactical advantage in combat. How to approach these areas and what to do if a situation arose became a morning ritual.

  This was my life!

  Eryn shared a real interest in my thoughts and we spoke for many hours each night when she got off shift at the hospital. She asked me about what I remembered the most and what the “shrink” had asked me. Everything I told her was new and fascinating, but left me confused and exhausted. My dreams did not make any sense. Why was there so much violence? What purpose lay behind all the fighting? My guess was it had something to do with my childhood; at least this is what the shrink had said.

  Each day, the strangeness of my life became harder to understand, but easier to accept. My focus changed to the small things I could figure out, like trying to acclimate into a society that had moved forward without me. I
t felt a little like what my parents used to say about things changing so much that they could not understand. Yet in the same sentence, they tried to tell me they had been there, that they understood. That left me even more confused as a child. Now here I was, adapting to my new body that had freakishly grown. This was like a bad Twilight Zone episode.

  People stared at me as if I was a monster. Mothers pulled their young ones close and gave me a nervous smile when I looked at them. Sometimes if I smiled, they would visibly relax a bit but most would scurry away like rats after stealing some cheese, looking back the entire way.

  It felt like I caused terror in the streets with my mere presence. I did not feel sorry for myself; it was not a pity party. Instead, the pity was for the people that could not see anything but evil when they looked at me. There was not a lot I could do. No disguise would change my size. Walking the quiet streets from Eryn’s to the park each day, I realized this had become my new normal. My guard was never down, though.

  Then everything changed.

  The air was starting to warm as the morning sun rose. “Typical Washington weather,” I thought as the first true rays of the sun touched my eyes. I was six blocks from Eryn’s and striding quickly.

  A gasp came from my right. Half-expecting serious trouble, I almost turned ready to fight, only to find quite the opposite. A woman stepped backward off the curb and fell down at the sight of me. I heard a sickening thud as her head met pavement. Somehow, she managed to hold onto a child. It was bad enough she hit her head. The approaching car changed everything. I took the entire scene in at once. My mind registered the driver as she fixed her mascara in the rear view window. It had a Ford logo, a green paint job, and thumping of loud music blaring from speakers. The dazed woman lay in the street helpless, directly in the vehicle’s path. I saw the distance between them shrank rapidly. The child was silent. My body was both frozen and in motion. I made decisions without deciding anything. I moved without moving.