Unidentified Phenomenon

by Damien Benoit-Ledoux

  “I’m glad this finally worked out,” Keegan said.

  “Me too,” Quinn answered.

  “By the way, I had a good talk with the mother unit about teenage independence, but mainly my independence.”

  “Oh?” Quinn said, intrigued.

  “Yeah, she felt horrible when I told her I screwed up a first date and we’ve agreed on some new freedoms and a renewed zeal to keep the family refrigerator calendar updated so we’re all on the same page.”

  “Cool. I’m glad that worked out,” Quinn answered. A moment later, his head buzzed with the familiar sensation of Blake’s proximity to his right. He looked over and spotted him instantly. His friend gave him a thumb’s up and then snapped a few pictures with his phone.

  Quinn turned back to Keegan. “So, um, I came out to my dads this week.”

  Keegan smiled and briefly squeezed his hand. “Is that why you didn’t flinch when I grabbed your hand?”

  “Possibly.”

  “What about school? What if Darien or someone from school is in the park right now and sees us?”

  Quinn smiled and looked into Keegan’s blue eyes again. Squeezing Keegan’s hand for a moment, he responded. “I don’t care what they think about me anymore. Today, I decided it’s much better to live my truth.”

  ❖

  Blake

  Blake sauntered toward the Player’s Ring building, happy to have photographed his best friend’s first date for him. He had hoped to keep it a secret to surprise Quinn, but the damn proximity power they had between them seemed to have increased its range. After sending the best photos to Quinn’s phone, he pocketed his cell phone and headed back to his bike.

  When he walked around the building, Darien, Kyle, and Tony jumped him. The latter two grabbed him and pushed him against the side of the building.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t sad and pathetic Blakey-poo pining away after his faggoty boyfriend.” Darien sneered at him, his arms folded across his chest as Kyle and Tony jeered and held Blake against the building. “Bet you wish he was holding your hand right now, don’t you, faggot?”

  Shit, I don’t need him to ruin Quinn’s first date with Keegan…but I can’t do anything in broad daylight, or can I?

  The sound of police sirens chirping caught their attention. “Hey!” an officer shouted from the passenger seat of a cruiser that rolled to a stop on Marcy Street next to them. “Let him go!”

  The two guys holding Blake quickly let go and backed off, looking ashamed and surprised they had been so foolishly caught.

  “Walk away, boys.”

  Darien, head down, did as the officer instructed, shoving his hands into his pockets. Kyle and Tony followed him, avoiding eye contact with Blake or the police.

  “You all right, son?” the officer asked Blake.

  He nodded. “Yup. They only surprised me this time. They’re just the school bullies.”

  “Yeah, we’re familiar with who they are.” Then, the officer motioned for Blake to approach the car, which he did. “I saw them jump you. What are you doing in the park today?”

  Blake grinned. “Honestly? I just took pictures of my best friend. He’s on a first date in the park and I thought I’d surprise him with a couple pictures.”

  The officer looked around. “Where is he?”

  Blake turned and pointed to the water’s edge. “The two guys over there wearing Clippers sweatshirts.”

  “Okay, fair enough. If Darien and his little punks harass or bother you again, call it in. What those guys did to you is called assault; it’s when someone acts in a threatening manner that makes you think they’ll hurt you. That’s unacceptable and illegal. Besides, three-on-one isn’t a fair fight for anybody.”

  “Ok, I will.” He waved as the officers rolled away, slowly trailing Darien, Kyle, and Tony to make sure they didn’t backtrack.

  I won’t need your help next time. I’ll be ready for those jerks and I’ll make them suffer.

  ❖

  “Blake!” Ralph yelled from the bottom of the stairs. Blake sighed and tossed the Avengers comic he was reading onto his bed. He pushed himself up, walked to his bedroom door, and opened it enough to stick his head through the opening.

  “Yeah, dad?”

  “Could you come down here, please?”

  Blake’s eyes popped open with surprise. Did my dad just politely ask me to do something? He must be sober. “Yeah, sure thing, dad.”

  He pulled the door open and made his way downstairs to the living room, where his father had just sat down in his recliner. Blake swallowed his excitement away when he saw four empty beer cans on the floor next to his dad.

  “Grab a beer, son, tonight we celebrate!”

  “Ralph!” Stella said with amusement in her voice, “He’s only sixteen, he can’t have a beer yet.”

  “Can’t say I didn’t try, boy!” Ralph exclaimed, shrugging and winking at Blake like they were best buds. He belched and then pointed to a letter on the coffee table. “Read that.”

  Blake rolled his eyes and focused on the letter on the coffee table. It rested next to a trio of lit vanilla-scented candles his mother had set on a stone trivet. He walked to the coffee table, picked up the letter, and started reading it.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Ralph blurted out, taking another swig of beer.

  A smile appeared on Blake’s face when he read the debt forgiveness letter from Rangeley Medical. Per Victor’s announcement a few days ago, an anonymous benefactor selected his case and generously paid the bill in full.

  “That’s awesome,” Blake said, smiling.

  “It’s about time something good happened to this family,” Ralph said, smiling from ear to ear.

  Blake studied his father’s drunken face. His eyes drooped and appeared slightly glassed over. “That’s great, Dad, I’m so relieved.”

  “I bet you are. Now you can go back to being lazy and playing games with your little friends. You don’t need to earn your keep thanks to Mister Anonymous Moneypockets.”

  Blake pushed down his rising anger. “I still have to work, dad. I have to buy everything for myself.” But it will give me more time to learn from Victor…

  “Don’t ruin the evening, Blake, it’s a good night for once. We’re celebrating.” Ralph glared at Blake and then took another swig of beer and rested his hand behind his head, focusing on the television program he and Stella were watching.

  Inside, Blake fumed. You’re such a jerk!

  The candles flamed up nearly two feet for a brief moment, startling his mother, who shrieked. Ralph looked over and grunted.

  “I need to go finish my homework.” Blake said, hoping the excuse would allow him to leave without further insult.

  “Yeah okay, whatever,” Ralph said absentmindedly.

  “Study hard, Blakey,” his mother said. Then, in a softer voice, she added, “Or you’ll never get out of here, know what I mean?” She jerked her thumb toward her husband. “Go make something of yourself.”

  Blake winked at her and nodded. If you only knew…

  He ran upstairs and grabbed a candle from the bathroom. Back in his room, he shut the door and rummaged through the junk drawer of his desk. A moment later, he found a lighter. He lit the candle and set it on the desk in front of him. Then, he backed up and sat on his bed, directly across from the candle.

  Okay, think about what you felt. Dad was being a jerk and he pissed you off.

  For a split second, the flame flickered and popped.

  Feel the flame, feel the fire in your veins…

  He reached out with his hand and the flame bent away, burning perpendicular to the wick. He pulled his hand back and the flame resumed an upright burn.

  Let the anger burn inside you…

  He glared at the flame and it grew a foot tall, flaming and flickering loudly as if it had been fed pure oxygen.

  He smiled wickedly and relaxed, allowing the candle flame to shrink back to normal. He brought his hands up in f
ront of him and reached out, his fingers extended like claws. A moment later, flames erupted on his fingers.

  He cried out in surprise and waved his hands rapidly through the air. Then, as abruptly has he tried to put the fire out, he stopped moving and stared at his fingers.

  Wait, my hands didn’t catch on fire…they ignited…

  He focused, and a moment later, his hands ignited again. Though he felt heat, he felt no pain and saw no burn marks. He rotated and moved his hands around, altering and shaping the flame as he learned.

  “Hell yeah!” he exclaimed, flicking his fingers at the same time. Two fireballs leapt from his hands and traveled across the room, igniting one of his Star Wars posters.

  “Oh shit,” he cried out, panicking. The flames disappeared on his hands and he grabbed the pillows from his bed and repeatedly whacked them against the poster until the flames went out.

  He stood in shocked silence, glancing between his right hand and the burnt poster. Then, he picked up his phone and texted Quinn: I can make fire.

  9 | His Eyes Opened

  Quinn

  A WEEK PASSED. THE WIND whipped up Congress Street, penetrating and blowing through the cotton material of the navy-blue hoodie Quinn wore, He pulled the hood up over his head, wishing he had brought a jacket along. The late September air turned colder that day and he wasn’t prepared. Work had kept him unusually busy that week, and when he wasn’t working, he attended several track meets in the area.

  “Hey, Quinn!” Keegan called out from somewhere across the street.

  “Hi,” he answered, looking for his crush. A moment later, he saw handsome face jogging across the street toward him.

  “Hi, handsome,” Keegan said, smiling. He extended his arms and hugged Quinn.

  “Oh, you’re nice and warm,” Quinn said, shivering. I so wish we could cuddle right now…

  “We can go inside if you want,” Keegan said, pointing at the Starbucks coffee shop.

  Quinn regarded him with mischievous disdain. “Really? You think I’m going to go into enemy territory?”

  “It’s warm in there.”

  “Okay, you’re right, let’s go.” They laughed and made their way into the shop.

  Instead of heading for the counter, Keegan pulled Quinn to an empty table at the front of the store. “So, I uh, had something to ask you. I wasn’t sure if I should ask, given…well, I mean, you’ll see…”

  “Okay,” Quinn said, grinning.

  “Um…yeah…I’ve never done this before, and I’ll totally understand if you say no…like, I won’t take it personally or anything.”

  Quinn’s grin grew. I’ve never seen him so nervous and awkward like this…it’s usually me who fumbles for the right words. I like not being the awkward one for a change…still, he’s so adorable right now.

  Quinn smiled and reached across the table with his right hand and grasped Keegan’s left hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an elderly woman look at them. He looked down at their hands, momentarily second guessing what he had done.

  Keegan paused and stared at their hands, too. Then, he looked into Quinn’s eyes and smiled. “Quinn, would you be my date at the Homecoming Dance next weekend?”

  Quinn’s stomach flip-flopped and the two ceramic coffee mugs on the table next to them cracked. Tears formed in Quinn’s eyes as his emotions surged and his heart pounded in his chest. A moment later, he felt woozy and lightheaded.

  He nodded and sniffled.

  “Yes,” he croaked, suddenly embarrassed at his cracking voice.

  “Aww,” Keegan said, smiling. “You’re so adorable when you’re nervous. I was so afraid you’d say no because you’re not out at school yet and I…”

  Quinn squeezed Keegan’s hand. “No, you’re adorable when you’re nervous, too. If I’m with you, I’ll be as out as I need to be.”

  Keegan’s smile grew even bigger. “Cool.”

  Then, Quinn’s face fell. “You’re not going to make me go to the football game, are you?”

  “Uh…” Keegan stammered. “I thought we…”

  “I’m just kidding. Of course I’m going to show my Clipper’s Pride!”

  “Oh, good,” Keegan said. “My friends were hoping we’d go to the game together. If your friends were going, maybe we could all sit together.”

  Outside the shop, a commotion distracted Quinn, his super hearing detecting screams and the frantic cries of running pedestrians.

  “Yes, definitely,” Quinn answered, half-paying attention to Keegan. Although he couldn’t see him, he heard a man’s voice yelling in the street, something about demanding to see Blue Spekter.

  Be smooth…figure out how Clark Kent or Bruce Wayne would have slipped away…

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the screen. “I don’t mean to be rude, Keegan, but I have to…uh, go.”

  “Oh,” Keegan said, disappointed.

  “Sorry, I’m supposed to meet my dad, which is where I was going, and uh, that was five minutes ago. Could we study together tomorrow at school?” Quinn asked, standing.

  “Yeah, I’d like that,” Keegan said, smiling again.

  “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Uh, bye.” Am I supposed to kiss him? I never know what to do… He turned and walked as quickly as possible to the High Street exit of Starbucks. Behind him, he heard the elderly woman speak to Keegan with a thick, Staten Island accent. “You boys are so lucky these days. My grandson is like you, and I love him and his partner to pieces.”

  As soon as he was outside, Quinn ran down High Street toward the parking garage. Once inside, he ran at super speed up the stairwell to the top floor. He looked around to check for bystanders and when he saw no one, he jumped into the air and soared over the gap between the parking garage and the building that housed Starbucks and a number of other shops and residences. He landed on the roof and peered down at the situation on Congress Street.

  Now, police cars had come in from four directions—Daniel Street, Market Street, Pleasant Street, and even the wrong way up one-way Congress Street—to isolate Market Square. In the center of the Square, a crazed man a wearing vest with lots of colorful protein shaker bottles attached to it screamed at the top of his lungs for Blue Spekter to come. He held something in his hand, but Quinn couldn’t make it out. A number of pedestrians were still standing on the sidewalks, gawking at the man, unsure of what was going on. Some were even filming the spectacle with their phones from a mere twenty-feet away.

  Seriously people? Run!

  Looking further to his right, Quinn saw the Portsmouth bomb squad driving up Congress Street against the one-way. Chief Tina Applegate stepped out of the lead vehicle when it stopped. She wore some kind of flack or bulletproof vest. Quinn studied the other police officers—all of whom wore body armor.

  Oh man…

  Quinn swallowed and looked at the deranged man again. Using his super vision, he saw what he missed earlier—that each shaker was filled with some kind of gray material and lots of small wood screws. The shakers and the vest reminded of something he had seen in the movies.

  “Aw, crap,” Quinn said to the pigeons on the roof with him. “He’s wearing a homemade bomb.”

  “Hello, sir,” an officer spoke into a squealing megaphone. Quinn shook his head, momentarily caught off guard by its loudness. He adjusted his super hearing and focused on the man instead of the police.

  “I want that son-of-a-bitch to answer to me right now!”

  “Sir, we hear you. Who are you looking for?”

  “Blue Spekter! I want that glowing freak, Blue Spekter!”

  “Uh, we hear you, sir. You want to talk with Blue Spekter. Could you tell us why?”

  Behind the man, Quinn saw two officers dressed in anti-bomb garb making their way toward him. This guy’s distracting him so those two can tackle him.

  “I want to know why he didn’t save my wife from that drunk driver! Why did she have to die instead of the man who fell from the bridge? Why did h
e choose him over her?”

  Oh man…

  Chief Applegate bent her head down and rubbed her temples with her hands. “Like we even know how to get a hold of the vigilante.”

  The negotiator fumbled. “Sir, we can try to locate him, but we don’t know how to…”

  “You find him!” the man screamed. “You find that blue devil or I let go of the trigger and go BOOM!”

  “Fall back, fall back, contact has a pressure trigger in his hand. Repeat, pressure trigger on scene, fall back.” someone said into a radio. Quinn saw the two bomb squad members approaching the man backtrack to safety.

  What do I do? What would happen in a movie? If this was a subplot, I’d fly over, grab the man, and toss him into the air or fly up with him so he couldn’t hurt anyone. The problem is, I have no idea if I’d survive the blast. If this was the main plot, I’d fly down to him and try to talk him out of blowing himself up. The trouble with that option is, I don’t know if I could reason with this nut job…

  Quinn stood tall. Making a decision, Quinn prepared to launch himself off the building. Well, Chief Applegate, it looks like you can’t do this one without Blue Spekter right now.

  Then, Quinn winced in pain, grabbing the side of his head, overwhelmingly aware of Blake’s proximity.

  ❖

  Blake

  What the hell is going on?

  People were screaming and yelling, running in every direction while tripping over one another and all the little dogs on leashes out for their afternoon poop walks.

  Victor checked his watch and pressed a finger against his ear. “There’s a madman downtown in Market Square. Apparently, he’s demanding to see…Blue Spekter. Something about not saving his wife from a drunk driver. The police have surrounded the area and the bomb squad is in play, but they’re not sure if the homemade bomb-vest he’s wearing is the only danger.”

  “In Portsmouth?” Blake asked incredulously. The two guards with them seemed nervous and fidgety. It might have been because they were ambling down Pleasant Street toward the danger.

  “Can you find Quinn with your sensing power?”