Maximus Thatcher

by Robert Miller

  The police and fire fighters had arrived on the scene at the same time. By then, the rain had put out the main part of the fire and only a few small areas continued to burn. It had only taken a few minutes to douse the remaining fires, but the service personnel were soaked, drenched by the downpour.

  They had quickly stumbled upon Max, since he had dragged himself from the field all the way to the frame of the dojo. It was very easy to mark his trail: a large mud trail stretched behind him and large fragments of wood had collapsed on him as he lay there helpless.

  A furious effort by the firemen succeeded in releasing Max from the collapsed dojo and they rushed him to the hospital as fast as they could. On initial inspection, he appeared uninjured and the hospital staff were bemused as to how he had not been crushed by the falling wood.

  It was a Sunday morning and the policemen could find a hundred more important things to do than sitting around watching a boy all day. There had been no change in his condition and the doctors didn’t know if he was ever going to come out of his coma. In fact, they told the police that there was only a slim chance of him waking up. They had given Max two weeks before he was taken off life support.

  A week and a half passed and still nothing had changed. Two policemen had been detailed to check up on the boy. It was eight in the morning on Wednesday and the sun was already out in force, promising a beautiful day ahead.

  This was supposed to be the officers’ day off, however they had made this their last stop before returning to their families. They entered his room and one of them sat down on a chair next to him. “It doesn’t seem that there have been any changes to him.”

  “No, he looks brain dead,” replied the second officer.

  “Nothing we can do. Shall we go get a drink before we head home?”

  He was halfway out of his chair when both of their heads snapped in the direction of the heart monitor. It had begun to crash, indicating that Max’s heart was dying.

  One of the policemen rushed out of the room to find a doctor, but Max lay still, unaware that he was moments away from death.

  The doctor flew into the room, pushing the policemen aside, followed by two nurses. The doctor ripped off Max’s shirt in preparation for resuscitation. The nurses brought the crash trolley over to his bedside, charging it for the doctor to use.

  “Ready?”

  Both the nurses nodded and the doctor charged the machine, rubbing the paddles together before zapping Max. His body pulsed and his chest rose in the air for a second before once more collapsing to the bed.

  “Second time. Charge.” Zap. Max jerked once more but again nothing happened.

  “Third time. Charge.” Zap. The doctor was beginning to lose faith. The police officers could only watch in silence as the doctor tried for the fourth time to bring Max back from the dead.

  For a moment, nothing happened but then everything went black. The power had failed. Quickly, the officers pulled out their flashlights and pointed them at Max. One of the officers thought he saw a spark of light flick from Max’s body. He leaned in closer, casting a glance at his partner in the hope that he had seen the same thing, but the other officer was staring at the doctor.

  The back-up generators kicked in, but the police could see the doctor shaking his head in disappointment. He checked one last time for a pulse but was unable to find one.

  “Time of death…” he began, looking at his watch, but before he could continue, he cried out and took a step back.

  “What’s wrong?” asked the nearest police officer.

  “That’s weird. I just got shocked.”

  “Once more,” pleaded the nurse, handing the paddles to the doctor.

  Max lay there, apparently lifeless, but again the doctor recharged the machine, placing the paddles on Max’s chest. As soon as the electric pulse hit Max’s body, the machine exploded, pushing the doctor back and making him stumble and fall. Fire and smoke filled the room and the police officers grabbed the doctor and both nurses and dragged them out.

  The room echoed with the sound of the explosion and lit up like a lightning bolt. The explosion was so powerful that all the windows up and down the hall shattered.

  The explosion had come from within Max; built-up electricity had erupted from his body and the crash machine had allowed it release. A gaping hole in the wall showed the view of the outside.

  The electricity bounced from wall to wall; everything in the room but the bed and immediate area had been destroyed. Slowly, Max sat halfway up in the bed and drew his first breath.

  The nurse rushed to the door and gasped as she saw Max. His body had changed drastically and she no longer recognised her patient, the skinny boy. Her gaze drifted from his eyes down his body. He was bulky and heavily-muscled, with a set of abs that made her eyes widen. When she glanced back at his face, she realised that this, too, had changed. The jawline was more defined and in his eyes was a new coldness. He was no longer a boy, but a man.

  “How?” she whispered.

  Max looked dully at the nurse. He felt like a whole new being, confused, and not knowing who was breathing for him. This was not the body he had left back at the dojo. That boy had not been strong and his agility, smartness, awareness and reactions were below average. Something had changed. He began to realise that in all aspects he was now super human.

  He felt amazing. Curiously, he raised his hand in front of his face and examined it. Was this a dream? He could feel something flowing inside of him, a connection to something he did not understand. He felt that if he were to become weak, or was in need of extra power, that he could draw it from a well inside him.

  He ran his hand down his muscular chest and stomach and was surprised and shocked. How had his body developed so much in such a short time? If he were back in his old body, he would have had to train non-stop for a whole year to get these results.

  He gradually became aware of his surroundings and stared around him in disbelief. The walls were black and as he turned his head towards where the door used to be, he saw the nurse gaping at him in shock.

  The policemen scrambled to their feet and rushed to where the nurse stood.

  Max wasted no time. He found a spare hoody and track pants on a chair near the bed and hastily dressed in them. He left the robes from the dojo behind: they were of his old life.

  He walked over to the gaping hole that lay in the wall and was overcome by a desire to jump off the three-storey building. He had the distinct impression that this would not be impossible, but as he contemplated doing so, he heard a sound behind him and turned his head to see one of the police officers bolting towards him.

  “Stop!” yelled the officer, quickly cutting the distance between them.

  Max ignored him and, covering his head with the hood and calling upon the power he could feel deep down, he leapt off the building, smiling as he hovered in the air for some seconds before hitting the grass with a thud.

  He landed easily on his two feet, crouching down and feeling no pain. A normal human would have broken every bone in their legs or died outright, but Max felt nothing. He crouched low to the ground, placing one hand on the grass in front of him.

  He paused for a few seconds, his eyes closed, absorbing the meaning of his new-found powers. When he lifted his head and opened his eyes, a spark of lightning leapt from one to the other.

  He picked himself up and ran without a backward glance, his focus solely on getting as far away from this place as he could.

  He ran until he could run no further and found himself in a beautiful park in the middle of the city, with swathes of lawn, tall trees and flower beds covering an acre or so. There was a lake in the middle with a bridge across it and it was here that he paused for breath.

  He walked across the bridge and sat on a bench beside it.

  As powerful though he now was, he could no longer hold back his emotions. Tears streamed down his face as he recalled the events leading up to his hospitalisation and he heard himself sobbing. He ha
d no one left; every person he loved was gone. What was he to do? Where would his path take him?

  There were so many questions that needed answers. Who were his family’s killers? Why did his uncle and cousin have to leave him? Max couldn’t comprehend the fact that he was now totally isolated. No friends, no family and no money. Was he to perish the same way his family did, or could he rebuild his family’s name? Hours passed in thought until, finally, his brain had enough and shut down; he lay still on the park bench and retreated into sleep, away from the overpowering emotions.

  A growl from Max’s stomach made his eyes flicker and he slowly awoke. Turning onto his other side, he became aware of the hard wood upon which he lay and consciousness fully returned. It took him a good minute to ease himself off the park bench, wincing at the pains in his muscles as he did so.

  The air was warm and the sunlight reflected off the lake’s surface, making it look inviting. Taking a step towards it, he yelled in pain as his leg cramped up. Bending over and massaging his calf, he hobbled slowly to the lake, then crouched and splashed water on his face.

  “What is a boy to do?” he shouted, wiping a tear from his face.

  “Not a boy, a man,” came a voice from above him.

  Max tried to respond, but no words emerged. A man stood above him on the bridge, smiling. He carried a cane and his eyes were pure white and Max could tell that the man was blind.

  “Why would you think that?” asked Max, straightening to his full height.

  “Well, let me ask you a question: if you had the chance to save someone, would you?”

  “Yes, I would,” replied Max, honestly.

  The man smiled and pointed his cane at him. “Well, there’s your answer; if a boy has the courage to save someone, in my eyes, they’re a man.”

  Max didn’t know what to say. It was true that with every passing second he felt more and more like a man, leaving that boy inside of him behind. The blind man turned and slowly made his way towards the other side of the bridge.

  “Hey, old man! Wait!” Max jumped up onto the bridge and made his way over to him. The blind man stopped and turned towards him.

  “Thank you, Sir,” said Max softly, touching the man on the shoulder.

  “Don’t be silly. I haven’t done anything.”

  “But you have. You made me realise who I am.”

  “Ah, but it came from within you, not me.”

  “I guess you’re right,” smiled Max. “I’m Maximus.”

  “Nice to meet you, Maximus. My name is Bill.”

  The old man propped his cane against the wooden rail and leaned over to get the full reflection of the sun on his face. For some reason, Max felt calm in his presence and enjoyed the company that Bill was providing.

  “Tell me, young lad, what type of scar do you have on your neck?” requested the old man in a curious voice.

  “I don’t have a scar,” replied Max. The old man knew that this was not the case and had full confidence in his next answer.

  “Are you sure? Check again.”

  Max ran his fingers first down the left side and then down the right side of his neck and a shock went through him. He tried to talk, but found his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. It was impossible for this old man to know he had a scar: for one thing, Bill was blind and for another even Max himself had been unaware of its presence.

  “I’m taking your reaction to mean that you have just found out that you do have one. Some sort of symbol, if I am not mistaken.”

  Max touched the scar for a second time. “No, you are not mistaken. It feels like some sort of lightning bolt with a circle around it. How did you…?”

  The old man gasped and Max could see in his face both fear and excitement. He began to pant, one hand on his heart, and it took him a few seconds to regain his composure.

  “Are you all right, Sir?” said Max in a concerned voice.

  “Yes, yes, I am quite all right, young lad, but I need you to do something.”

  “Sure, what is it?” Max replied, curiously.

  “What I’m about to give you is very important and before I give it to you I need to know that I can trust you.” Even though the old man was blind, he still seemed to hold Max’s gaze, his eyes boring intently into Max’s.

  “You can trust me,” replied Max and the old man smiled. From his pocket he pulled out a small, colourful ring, the same size as Max’s scar.

  “Put this on your scar. It is a dangerous world out there, Max, and your scar will get you into some real trouble.”

  “Why?”

  “You have just acquired a power, have you not?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Your scar is how I know. Now, this small plastic circle will camouflage that full circle of yours. Under no circumstances are you to take it off.”

  Max simply nodded his head, utterly confused by what was happening. He took the small plastic ring from the old man’s palm and laid it against the scar. As it made contact the circle disappeared, leaving only the lightning bolt visible.

  “Great. Let me explain a little, Max. The electric bolt identifies what type of power you have and the circle shows what level you are at. However, now that the circle is hidden you will feel the plastic draining your power so that you don’t over use it.”

  “What’s the meaning of all this, Bill? I don’t understand what’s happening.”

  “It is important that you tell no one about this,” said Bill urgently and Max nodded his head.

  Now he could feel the circle on his neck start to burn, glowing red hot, with the electric scar shining bright. He instantly felt a restriction to his electrical powers, feeling as if he could only draw from very the tip. His body shuddered and he suddenly felt tired and weak.

  “Is it supposed to feel like this?”

  “Yes, you will get used to it.”

  “Yes, Sir, but how long will it restrict me like this?”

  “Until you are ready to control it. Many dangers come with that scar you hold on your neck, which is why it’s crucial that no one knows.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Max asked.

  The old man grabbed his cane and straightened up.

  “I have risked too much. The last thing I will tell you is to control your anger. Try as hard as you can with the restrictions on your power. The seal will break when it’s time, but by that point you have to be aware.”

  With that, the old man turned around and began walking away.

  “Why do I have to cover the full circle?” called Max. “You haven’t given me a good enough reason.”

  “Because there is only one other person in the powers world who has a full circle like you, and he is a God,” replied Bill, harshly.

  Max heard the warning in his voice as Bill turned his back on him. All this new information was overwhelming; it seemed as if two worlds had collided, with Max in the middle.

  Once again becoming aware of his hunger, Max left the park in search of food. He had found a few dollars on the ground next to his bench when he woke up – offerings from passers-by who thought Max was homeless.

  He made his way down to the central shopping street, eyeing the expensive wares in the windows, until he reached a fruit stand on the pavement.

  “How much for two apples?”

  “Fifty cents,” replied the stallholder. He handed the money to her and grabbed two apples, which he ate slowly in an attempt to make them last.

  His hunger somewhat abated, he window shopped for an hour or so before making his way back to the park where he felt safe.

  It was Thursday and Max could tell by the position of the sun that it was around lunchtime. So much had changed in the space of a few days; he was supposed to be at the dojo with his cousin, Paul, at this very moment. He felt overwhelmingly sad that he would never again attend Uncle Jade’s classes. So many memories…

  He wondered what his family would think of his transformation. The only good thing to come from their death
s was that they would not have to live with this new situation that he himself was struggling to handle. Would he still have ended up alone if he had received the gift of his power with the dojo still standing?

  He walked slowly back to the park with his head down, trying to block out all the unwanted thoughts.

  It was a beautiful day and the park was full of runners getting some exercise during their lunch break. Max made his way over to the same bench upon which he had fallen asleep the previous night and heavily sat.

  For the first time he thought about his new powers. He held his hand out in front of him and tried to create a spark.

  Nothing happened.

  Calming his mind, he tried again and gasped as sparks surged out of his hand and up his fingers. Max stared at his hand in awe. The potential of his new power, he felt, was endless.

  He pointed his finger towards the concrete pathway and “pushed.” The electricity flew from his finger and struck the place he pointed to. He stood and looked down both pathways to make sure no one was watching and then sprang over to where the bolt had hit. The area of the concrete was completely blackened and a sudden joy filled Max.

  “What else could I do?” he asked himself in a low whisper.

  He got down on his knees and placed his hand on the ground. He charged enough electricity, opened up the connection inside of him and released it. Electricity pulsed though his arm and shot out of his hand. The pulse rippled through the ground five metres in every direction.

  He stood up, thrilled but dizzy from the energy loss. He was not yet used to controlling how much electricity he could expend and felt drained from the restrictions that the ring put on him. He brushed it off with a smile and took a walk around the park to ease his concerns.